Everyone belongs to many different communities and/or groups defined by (among other things) shared geography, religion, ethnicity, income, cuisine, interest, race, ideology, or intellectual heritage. Choose one of the communities to which you belong, and describe that community and your place within it. (Approximately 250 words)
"Jake, the buoy up on the bow is coming loose, I need you to get up there!"
For the first time I knew how it felt to fully realize the very real chance that I was about to die. It was not euphoric; my entire life did not pass before my eyes. No, I became unconscious, a machine if you will, just another part of the boat.
"Capn', that sail boat that was just behind us...its not there anymore"
As vociferous as twelve foot breaking waves can be when the wind is blowing thirty knots, one can still hear the coast guard on the radio, speaking of a sailboat that had went down.
"Do you think we should turn around and look for em?" but I knew the answer, we all did. When it comes to survival, one shouldn't turn around for a dead man when the broadside waves will push down a forty-two foot fishing boat like it's a feather.
It was as if the fear had eradicated any hesitation when my captain sent me up for the loose buoy merely minutes after watching the ocean swallow at least one man. My legs moved themselves; my hands grabbed the railing as if magnetized. A width of ten inches was all I had to get me up to the front of the boat as it jumped up and down, each wave acting like a giant firecracker being lit under the boat. "How many other fishermen have met their end like this", I wondered.
There is saying that people go fishing their entire lives, never realizing that it is not the fish they are after.
"Jake, the buoy up on the bow is coming loose, I need you to get up there!"
For the first time I knew how it felt to fully realize the very real chance that I was about to die. It was not euphoric; my entire life did not pass before my eyes. No, I became unconscious, a machine if you will, just another part of the boat.
"Capn', that sail boat that was just behind us...its not there anymore"
As vociferous as twelve foot breaking waves can be when the wind is blowing thirty knots, one can still hear the coast guard on the radio, speaking of a sailboat that had went down.
"Do you think we should turn around and look for em?" but I knew the answer, we all did. When it comes to survival, one shouldn't turn around for a dead man when the broadside waves will push down a forty-two foot fishing boat like it's a feather.
It was as if the fear had eradicated any hesitation when my captain sent me up for the loose buoy merely minutes after watching the ocean swallow at least one man. My legs moved themselves; my hands grabbed the railing as if magnetized. A width of ten inches was all I had to get me up to the front of the boat as it jumped up and down, each wave acting like a giant firecracker being lit under the boat. "How many other fishermen have met their end like this", I wondered.
There is saying that people go fishing their entire lives, never realizing that it is not the fish they are after.
