Writing Portfolio: Five Essays on America
















It was about two or three years ago. My grandfather said that he wanted to take me to the Fleet Center to see my Uncle Joe Rindone, who was recently inducted into the New England sports museum's hall of fame. He wanted to take me during my Christmas vacation. I had nothing better to do so I said sure. I really had no idea what the Hall of Fame was going to look like, or what kind of people were inducted into it.

I figured that it would have people like Larry Bird, and other big name stars I had no idea that it would have race jockeys that were from New England also. When we got to the Fleet Center, we went up to the Premium-seating floor, which is the floor that holds the museum. We walked around for a few minuets, looking at all of the other exhibits, until we got to the boxing section. My Grandfather told where all of the pieces of memorabilia had come from. He said that he had some of the old news paper articles. My grandfather told me that some of his old amateur trophies had come from his son.

My grandfather told me that my uncle was born in Roxbury, Massachusetts. And that he fought and trained out of Brockton, where he trained with the legendary Rocky Marcinao. (Who is also in the hall of fame.) At the end of looking at all of the old athletes that were in the hall of fame, we ventured outside and decided to have lunch. We went into a little pizza shop and had lunch. It was there that I asked him, what my uncle Joe’s biggest match was My grandfather told me that my Uncles biggest match was when he fought Sugar Ray Robinson, back at the old Boston Garden.

The fight he said was for the Pennsylvania region World MiddleWeight Championship. The fight was on October 11, 1950 and was scheduled for 15 rounds. The fight was good and had a lot of back and forth action. He told me that my uncle put up a good fight but was knocked out in the third round. Every time I get a chance to go to the Fleet Center I try and make sure that I see my uncle, who has since passed away.













At first glance it appears calm and peaceful. Almost to the point of being boring, but no quite. The ground is a light green hue and the sky a cloudless blue. The birds chirp in their trees while I sit, sit and take in my surroundings.
     A cat saunters into the field and crouches, I presume trying to catch an animal. There I sit and watch, no more than ten feet away from my feline friend, but he does not seem to notice me. Besides people sitting and watching the world go by, the only other time that people interact with the field is when the lawn is getting mowed.
In the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, “I am a transparent eyeball: I am nothing I see all” I often wondered what it would be like if people went unnoticed in their daily routines, the same way I am to the cat.
While I am there nothing seems to matter. However, I do not feel empty or left out. On the contrary, I feel like a young child who is out playing full and vibrant. I am also without any knowledge of what is going on in the world.
It seems that I am getting calmer and forgetting the goings on in the world, at least for now. I have often wondered how a person could stay by himself for an extended period of time It actually quite refreshing, the trees, the grass, all of the things that we take for granted when we are hustling and bustling through our own chaotic lives. Thing seem to be more meaningful.
A group of dried up leaves blows across the landscape. They are dead to Mother Nature, but they seem to come alive and dance to me. Telling me that there is love and warmth after we leave this Earth.
As I get up to leave my place, there seems to be more spring in my step. My eyes get brighter, my laugh a little louder, and my smile, well, that got a lot bigger. If I spend five minuets at my spot or five years, everything seems to be more beautiful after I leave. The birds seem to chirp a little louder, my feline friend seems to be a little warmer, and life just seems more exciting.












     It was an overcast sky when I went to bed the night before and the weather report called for about two inches of snow to fall on the ground. When I awoke the next morning just under two inches had fallen on the ground, and was now raining.
     I got ready for school, had breakfast and then I got into my car to head off to school. By this time the rain had turned into light drizzle and what snow had fallen on the roads was now cleared away.
     I turned on the radio and the deejays were making jokes about how even though there was no snow on the ground, and the rain had stopped, people still felt that they needed to drive twenty mile per hour below the speed limit.
     “I can’t believe how slow these people go! There is like no snow on the ground but wait it did snow so that means that we have to go ten miles per hour down the Mass Pike.” The deejay complained.
     I myself did not take the highways so I figured that I was all set. I cruised for about ten or fifteen minuets and then this Lincoln pulled out in front of me and went about ten miles per hour! By now the rain had just about stopped and there was absolutely no snow on the ground.
     “You have to be kidding me!” I yelled at the person in front of me, as I slapped steering wheel. “All I here about is how much the old people go five miles per hour and then it happens to me you have got to be kidding me! That’s it I have to call the radio station and tell them about this nit wit.”
     I picked up the phone and dialed the number and surprisingly it was ringing, the intern picked up and told me to stay on the line. About three minuets later I was on the radio complain to the deejay about the old person in front of me.
     “Steve?” The deejay asked making sure he had my name right.
     “Yea, that’s right. The person on front of me is going like ten miles per hour down Washington Street. It is ridiculous.”
     “Well Steve you have to remember that it did snow last night, and maybe a couple of flakes might have fallen on the road and actually stayed there.” He said sarcastically.
     With that I had good chuckle and passed the old timer to make my way on to school.












    “I Hear America Singing” by Walt Whitman really conveys a senses of national pride. His poem “I Hear America Singing”, although written to for the blue collar American, it can still be appreciated by that of the wealthy in the American society. It lets the people of America know that we as a whole, no matter what are job may be have a great sense of pride for what we do.
     Whitman uses free verse in his poem “I Hear America Singing” to show that Americans work so that we can live our lives as free people. Since we work, that means that we are in charge if our own destiny. We should no take lightly the fact that we have jobs.
     Whitman also uses the parallel structures to show that no matter what your job may be we, because we are American all are parallel, or equal to one another. All of the tradesman singing shows that they all have respect for their jobs, but they recognize the fact that without their fellow tradesman their particular job would be useless.
     Whitman also portrays a mood that is very much filled with pride for the land that we call America. This poem is chock full of national pride because it was written in the mid 1880’s which was a very prosperous time for the United States of America.
     Whitman’s poem “I Hear America Singing” is a poem that when you read it whether you are the richest of the rich or the poorest of the poor, it give you a sort of somber pride that only an American could feel for his homeland.






















     Sport is a physical activity that is governed by a set of rules or customs and often engaged in competitively.  My definition of sport is some what different, sport in my opinion, is a physical activity or game that has a defined winner. In other words, Baseball, Basketball, tennis and even checkers are sports. However some Olympic “sports”, figure skating, snowboarding, anything that is judged, is not a sport. That was made very clear at this past Olmpyics.  My sport is boxing which I do consider to be a legitimate sport, at the amateur and Olympic levels. Boxing can be dated all the way back to the Egyptians. Boxing with rules was invented by Jack Broughton when he introduced the  “London Prize Rules” These rules stayed into effect until 1883.  Boxing as we know it today is a result of “Queensberry Rules”, that introduced padded gloves and a three-minuet time limit for rounds. In 1888 boxing was officially recognized in the United States. In 1904 the first boxing match of the modern Olympics was held in St. Louis. The fights were featured for all weight classes and were competed totally by US competitors.
     Anthony Thompson, a boxer out of Philadelphia, won the 2000 Golden Gloves, and finished first in the National Police Athletic League tournament. He also received a sliver medal in the 2000 Olympic games as well. When asked why he decided to go pro and not train for the 2004 Olympic team, he answered, “The fun was gone in the amateur.” This, beside the fact that he needed to make money, has to be a main reason while people make the transition from ameature to professional athlete. After you have won numerous tourments and Olympic matches, you need to see if you are good enough to make the step to the big leagues.
     My father, who boxed when he was in high school, had a different approach to why he boxed. He boxed because his uncle was a professional boxer. “I had herd the stories that my uncle told me about how he loved the sport of boxing, and I deiced to box in the fall to keep in shape for basket ball season.” (Personal interview) Boxing is a great sport to keep in shape with and offers a fun alternative to just running cross-country.