The most inimitable place to be, besides in my husband’s arms, is Harrogate, Tennessee. The rolling hills, clean crisp air, and spaciousness all surpass the city life. The memories and joy I experience when I am there will always have a special place in my heart.
My house resided in the country. A cow field was my backyard, and I would play hide and seek with my friends behind the hay bales. From the moment we got home and put our Bratz Doll backpacks down until the moment the pinkish, yellow sun was setting, my friends and I were always in a new adventure. At times, the golden rays would shine and radiate without a cloud in the sky. The gentle breeze was just enough to make it comfortable. The grass had already dried from the early morning dew, making it look freshly cut and greener than ever. As we would run around making up games to play, my black and white English Springer Spaniel, otherwise known as Bubba, would follow us eagerly with his wet teeming tongue hanging out of his parched mouth and his tail wagging like a hammer in an ongoing alarm clock. In Knoxville, the population and space is far too crowded to enjoy pleasures like those in Harrogate. In a way, it is suffocating here, and I miss the feeling of peace and contentment when at home.
During winter season, it would snow fervently. My yard also consisted of a rather giant slope. Due to many hills and back roads that would get black ice very easily, school was called off frequently. My friends and I would get so excited and call each other to make plans to go sledding! I would jump in my thick, white leggings and blue nylon pants along with three pairs of socks and waterproof shoes. On top I would have two under shirts, two regular shirts, a small jacket, a large heavy jacket and a toboggan on. Layered and ready for the cold, I would run outside and find my aqua green plastic sled from underneath the back porch. It was crisp and cold outside, and the snow was a clean white ready to be destroyed by the power of my sled. Hours later our paths would be perfectly carved in the snow, and we would be ready to go in and change to dry clothes, watch a movie, and drink a cup of hot chocolate. Snow doesn’t fall in the city, and even if it did, there is no room to go sledding. These memories will not be forgotten.
When summertime came around again, the park was a popular place to be. I always made new friends, and there was always so much to do with these new acquaintances. Activities consisted of playing basketball at the court, playing in the sand, riding bikes, and rollerblading on the trail, playing on the jungle gym and tire swing, swinging, and so much more! Once my mom and I had our picture taken on the swings and put in the Knoxville News Sentinel. Sometimes the church congregation would have a picnic for everyone there, and we would grill and enjoy each other’s company. Even family reunions have been held there. The people in Harrogate are country people, down to earth, and content with the simple life. They are not concerned with the greatest and latest of things. This made the events at the park so much more enjoyable.
If I could, I would go back and relive some of these memories. No matter where I go, Harrogate will be home in my heart. No matter my age, Harrogate holds some of the most memorable and cherishing parts of my life.
"American Childhood"by Anne Dillard is a good example of using chronological organization. In this story, Dillard tells a memory from her childhood one winter morning when she was 7 years old and got in trouble for throwing snowballs at cars, being chased down an ally by an adult.
Introduction: Dillard uses a frame story to explain the other characters, setting and scene. She explains that at 7, she was used to playing sports with boys and that taught her how to fling herself at something. She then finishes the introduction by telling the reader "I got in trouble throwing snowballs, and have seldom been happier since".
Body: In the body of the paper, Dillard tells the story chronologically, in the order that it happened:
- Waiting on the street with the boys in the snow.
- Watching the cars.
- Making iceballs.
- Throwing the iceball and having it hit the windshield of a car, breaking it.
- The car pulling over and stopping.
- A man getting out of the car and chasing them.
- The kids running for their lives.
- The man chasing her and Mikey around the neighborhood, block after block.
- The pounding and the straining of the chase.
- The man catching them when they could not get away.
- The man's frustration and "You stupid kids" speech.
Conclusion: Dillard returns to the idea that this was her supreme moment of happiness and says if the driver would have cut off their heads, she would have "died happy because nothing has required so much of me since as being chased all over Pittsburg in the middle of winter--running terrified, exhausted--by this sainted, skinny, furious redheaded man who wished to have a word with us." She ends the piece with an ironic comment "I don't know how he found his way back to his car."