In today’s world music is more prominent in everyday life than ever before. It is almost abnormal to see someone without headphones wherever you go. But, their are some who attach, wearing headphones or listening to a certain kind of music as a juvenile thing to do. I think this is absolutely ridiculous. I say this because I think there’s room for all music.
Back when the previous generation listened to music, they were used to hearing voices like Sinatra express lovely thoughts and when they listen artists like Jay-Z they automatically assume its junk because he uses vulgar language and doesn’t sing. But, when you listen to an artist like Jay-Z and write it off as “junk”, it’s like looking at a poem and saying it has no meaning. The point I’m trying to convey is that some rap music isn’t just skin deep.
I was one of the kids that would bike to wherever they needed to go. I didn’t do it because my parents couldn’t drive me, but because I loved riding my bike. It might be because I love to pedal my heart out and feel the wind buffet against my body or it may be because of just how simple everything is on my bike. My family and friends hate my bike because they think it’s broken and I ride it anyways. When they say its broken they are referring to the wheel I bent when I got hit by a car while getting lunch, the chain that comes off from time to time, and the front breaks that no longer work for reasons that even I don’t know. But for some reason, whenever a part falls off my bike or I notice some sort of new damage to my bike it just increases my love for it. I think its because it reminds me of all the good times I’ve had on it. I remember one particular time when me and some friends were out partaking in some activities late at night that involved eggs and a friend’s cheating ex-girlfriend’s house. Long story short we assumed they were sleeping, we were wrong, they pulled into the driveway while we were admiring our work and me and my friend made a quick get away with my friend holding on to the back of my bike with him on a skateboard. The rest of our friends weren’t as lucky and let’s just say the father of the family had a way with words and knew the numbers of their parents.
Imagine walking the distance equivalent, to that of Detroit to Los Angeles in just one year. That was the reality for James Robertson. Every single day he had to walk a total of 21 miles to get to work and back because he couldn’t afford to get his car fixed and every single day a wealthy banker saw him walk until one day he offered him a ride. The banker learned his story and decided to share it out on Free Press. A young college student learned his story and had to help, so he created a fund to help James Robertson buy a car. In just one month he raised 350,000 dollars for James Robertson and the generous people at a Ford dealership gave him a Red Ford Tarus, free of charge. Today, James Robertson is enjoying his new apartment outside of the dangerous Detroit area he previously lived in and a well deserved time of leisure after ten years of hard work.
“You should never be proud of doing what’s right. You should just do what’s right.”-Dean Smith