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It is said we are our harshest critcites, we what we see in the mirror, to how we interact with the living world everyday. In some form or other, in our minds, we always overlook what we did that day. Pointing out more of the faults we made, wearing the wrong cloths, saying the dumb thing to the guy we like secretly, having been mean to friend then being a good friend, not telling out parents we love them. Such a list could go no for days, but this in just one 24 hour normal day for us. Not all of us are like this in thought, many do see the silver lining of the cloud, the glass half full, the over the rainbow where blue birds fly (my friend was humming the song). Then we have the people that are the mix of both. Who take sides of the good and bad, which beat themes up for saying the wrong thing, but still can laugh at running into a parked car while riding a bike. By layout all these examples, this is where I sum myself up. I am the mix of these two sides, which play out in everyday life and thought form for this young adult.

To look into my vales and morals, history is the best path for one to learning about themselves or others for that fact. I was born December 18, 1985 to one Louise Jean Zempel and Joe Zempel at the time of 2 in the morning, guessing. My birth in its self seemed to for tell a bit of my life to come, a fighter. My poor mother I say now was to be born at the end of November, but I ended up being almost three weeks late and also 35 hours of labor due to my cord almost choking me to death. Even when I was out, I didn’t breath for a few moments, but I did with a load yell. From start to birth, I gave my mother a fight just to be in this world. We laugh about it now, seeing how much I got her nerves and stubbornness. Yet life was not to happy ending for us, my father was a man of the can, loosing himself in his own dark past and not moving on. Beer becomes his way of life, and he often took it out on my mother those nights. Joe Zempel was not a bad man he was bright and an iron worker, he could have been a father and a good husband as my mother told me. Still due to his past and drinking, he set himself out on path of self desertion. This is why my mother left him in the year summer, 1987. Moving in with my grandmother in a little trailer park just outside of Bay City.

Ah, my grandmother Jean Ludy, a little woman at 5 foot even, built like tough wire and never bending for anyone or thing. Having raised four kids on her own, my grandma was a woman in every way. She was one point blankness, rueful to a fault, a fighter on many levels, and a crackle like laugh that might send anyone running for the hills. How much I love her. It was after my mother moved in with her, they moved to little U.P town known as Detour, where I spend my early childhood years of three to seven. Mom needed time to heal, and my grandmother took a place in my mind. Both woman worked full time jobs. Grandma went to being a bartender at the Fog cutter. She soon grows too loved by everyone in the town. Earning the name of ‘Mean Jean, the Dancing Machine,” often breaking out to jig or swing for the hell and joy of it. My mother took a job at the local saw mill. This in enough speaks of her charters. Being only one of four women to work at place with no running water or bathrooms. As the wood would slide off from being cut, she would grab it and place in a pile of measurement. She did this for five years, from the heavy heat of summer, to the bitter chill of winter. Louise Jean Zempel worked a job many would have left in just a few hours. She earned her respect from not only the men of the town, but many of the stay at home moms in Detour. Also, showing me you can stand on your two feet no matter what happens in your life.

Now the very heart of this little town is the church, or churches. From community events, to after school programs, the church is the soul of the little town. My grandma was a catholic, my mother not so much into the church, but she raised me to see life in nature and there is something higher to believe in. This is the native part of my little simple mind. The mix of these two values and outsights is part of core outlook on life and how I came to understand things then and a bit now. Yet one thing set me apart even then, I questioned everything, from the Catholic ideas, to the Baptist point of view with marriage. I did get rebuked from the local’s nuns for asking if God made bugs fly, or if he ever farted. That one got me a bit talked too, which is where I found the Baptist mister often laughing about such things of a child’s mind. This let me see the points of each view, I saw from my own standing that toe the Catholic Church was a place of kindness and love; they had a stricter view on life, while the local Baptist was looser and fun loving. Confusion played into my beliefs, I couldn’t get a slight answer from both those sorts of higher standing.

Which didn’t come even more clear when we left in 1995, Grandma got married and moved out, and me and mom head to Lelandal. Moving into a little apartment in the middle of now where it looked like. Surrounded by woods, high hills and fields of corn stalks. My flight of the imagination set fire on the discords I could make in the high hills and green woods of the land. Here is why realism set into my mind. Seeing how natured played out in the real world of the woods. This listen came in the form of a young red tailed hawk I named in my childish mind “Hawky”. Watching him fly over a hill, his shadow for a moment on top of mine. Nature embraced in wing and flesh. Seeing kill, diving down like a missal from heaven. Natures played out, what a wonder to see. This is where I saw balance, and my own understanding of connects in everything. Which is what I use everyday and thought forms in my own sight of the world.

Now that some of past is out, I will move to my judglement of others. No one is alone in this area, we all judge others, and it is part of being human in this day and age. Yes I have bias even with an open mind. Often coming out in my angry moments or when I speak of politics, operates, and even when I watch others from own silent wall fowler. I learn from my time in the woods and with people, to watch and learn. Then judge on how that person speaks, and interacts with people around them. When I get a loose understanding of that person I will speak with them and maybe push a little for friendship of some kind. This is a tool of use, yet growing up in the low income house. Value of a dollar is very well known to me, both then and now. So I do get a bit of anger at people that seem to though out how much these jeans cost at $150 or those shoes that cost $80. This is where I think to myself “That kind of money could pay off my phone bill or my dogs’ shots.” Where some see fashioned, I see a waste of resoues that could be used in better places, such as a bank account for future use. Or when a person might get a little peeved when they ruin a shirt and say “I’ll just buy a new one.” To me, money is not something to throw around, a few bucks can the difference between a shut off or food for the week.




Pensively, I try not to judge people by skin, race, religions or culture. I just see a human, like me. Some better off in the world, others worse in the world, and some the same as anyone else. Focusing more on shared themes then outside images. Always looking for the best in people if I can, but some are not always the best in people. We all share the commonly of a bad day, getting in a fight with your hair, tripping on a loose rug, spilling coffee on your pants (which sucks when hot). Yet, in own understanding and views of the world, some are given all the luck in the world. Almost if everything comes easy, grades, friends, money, jobs, and finding a ten dollar on the sidewalk. While others have to fight just to get a car to run, make ends meet, low paying jobs (even now with a collage degree), or finding that someone to trust. I do view the world as the cup half empty analysis. In a way, waiting for the worse to happen first. That my bias plainly stated clearly, where my anger comes from at times.
I have had to live a hard life at times, but always. My struggles have made me a better person in the long run. A bit more grown up and ready to take on the big bad world then some maybe from the higher up end of life. Mom says we are survivors for all this. She’s right. I know how to live and take move it to the next day. Still, I also know when to back down and sit under a tree, letting my life stand still for a moment. Enjoying all my hard work and coming this far in such a short time. Feeling a bit of pride when I look in the mirror for a moment, smiling and letting it reach my eyes in the real world. And in a way, being the me I want when I look back. Not many people can say that these days, to be able to be themselves in the world. Many us fear of being labeled, judged, and put into a catering like the rest of our fellow humans are everyday of every month.
“It’s” James Gordon, M.D. When I read this quote now and then, I realize how true it is, even more when living in the Soo as long as I have. It’s a bit strange maybe from my point of view on this one. I spent a few years down below, but even in my younger days, I saw how towns grew, how many different there are in a city. Here, it seems to stay the same. No new stores, or events planned, no different people or strange things to see. The Soo just stays to remain in a time lock. Cities change for the people to stay, trying to grow with new jobs and things to get tourism to peak in the warm days of summer, not here. We don’t do that, we realize on huge boats going though a lock day in and seasons out. It can only last so long with out the retentiveness lasting. We don’t encouge new buniss to come, or events planned. We just stick to the same old thing it seems, and that is also hurting out people, for we are loosing them and our youth to the changing of the world we don’t anything to do with. I hope that someday the Soo people see this and make the right choice before the last of our young people leave for greens pastures.
We do judge, all of us. Or we try to cover it up with religions, race, and such pretty words. From the President to the lowest drunk bum under the bridge somewhere in the city. Yet words can only be used to many times before they loose the meaning, and where does that leave us. Only the truth is left, which also scares the hell of out people even more then the lies.