Back in the day, way back when all a man had was his gun and his horse, I was three and a half years of age. With a wiffle ball bat in my hand and scuba fins on my feet, I walked around dreaming of the MLB. I was playing wiffle ball in my backyard right by my grandparents’ pool, who resided in Kalamazoo, Michigan. My dad would lob the wiffle ball in there and I would briskly swing the bat as hard as I could to make contact, in which I did. Well, being in the head of a three year old, things get old quickly so I went swimming in the pool. I submerged myself into the pool without a life vest on and being new to swimming, I started to sink quickly towards the bottom. Jumping in the deep end put my life at a much greater risk than being in shallower water. My Dad being the alert man he is, noticed that I was sinking like a rock. My father quickly dove in and grasped me by my whitish-blonde hair and pulled me up to the surface. I am now even more grateful for my dad being there that day and practically saving my life. From this experience I gained the respect and gratitude towards my father. I learned that gratitude goes a long way, because I know if I was not thankful for this situation, I would have karma resting on my shoulders. This persuades me to act towards thanking someone for the opportunities they give me by saving my life.
May 28, 2008