Memory Brain Storm

This first story of my life I would like to title "The Curse of the Free Class Ring." During my freshmen year of high school my school had a Jostens’ representative come and sell class rings. The day the rep came my class had a meeting in the auditorium. In this meeting the rep. gave everyone his sales pitch on how important it was to buy a ring. At the end of the meeting there was a drawing; one lucky student would get the ring of their choice for free. As luck would have it, I was that student. Fast-forward to my sophomore year. Our schools Jazz band went to a jazz competition in Brookings. My friends and I were passing the time in SDSU's parking lot playing baseball with a wadded up piece of duct tape as the ball and a text book as the bat. I was playing out field at the time. One of my friends hit one towards an open school bus window. I jumped to catch the ball but instead my ring finger caught the buss window. My ring cut open the bottom half of my finger. I had to go to the hospital and get the ring cut off by a doctor because my finger had swollen up to much for the ring to come off. I later got the ring fixed, but i never wore it while doing sports again.




Ever since the seventh grade my grades football team has been undefeated. Going into my senior year everyone in our community expected great things from our team. During the regular season we went from game to game destroying our opponents. We won most of our games by thirty or more points. When the post season came around we were undefeated. We went into the playoffs very confident. We continued to win games by double digit numbers. As time passed our team grew very close, we referred to each other as brothers rather than teammates. We made it to the Iowa class 2A state championship game with a record of 13-0. The only team in the state we were left to face was the Solon Spartans. They had won the championship the previous two years. We fought a hard game, but in the end we lost. We ended the season 13-1, State Runner-ups. After the game there was complete silence. We were in for a long 4 hour bus ride home. The first half of the trip was dead silent. We stopped at Hardies for supper. As everyone started to eat we started talking. People started joking around and having fun just as if the game never happened. The last half of that bus ride was probably the most fun part of the whole season. I didn't realize it at the time but the old saying is true, winning isn't everything.



Some of my earliest childhood memories are of me sitting in my dad’s truck with my toy binoculars. My dad was there on the other side with the real thing. Hunting is my dad’s passion. That passion has been passed down through me. Hunting gave me a chance to connect with my dad. I have many great memories of hunting trips with my father, probably none more special than my first deer. When I was twelve years old I went deer hunting for the first time. I used my dad’s Remington Wingmaster shotgun. I had a thirty inch barrel, which is quite a bit larger than your average shotgun. The gun was much too big for any twelve year old, but it was spot on accurate. After a few days of hunting with no luck we decided to try a new place. My dad and I walked a grassy waterway a few miles from our home. We no more than stepped into the grass when a deer bolted out in front of me. I vividly remember my dad yelling "Shoot it" to me. I lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. The deer rolled head over heels and didn't move. I was ecstatic. I asked my dad if it was a doe, he told me that it was a buck. It happened so fast I had no idea what it was. My dad and I walked up to it and sure enough, it was a buck. It was a buck, a very, very small buck. It had two spikes, maybe six inches in length, but to my twelve year old self it was the best deer in the county. My dad and I hauled the deer back to our truck. We loaded up the deer and got in the cab to leave. Before my dad started the truck he turned to me and put out his hand for me to shake. I remember it like it was yesterday, he said "good job Jordan." That moment was the proudest moment of my life.