<p>ok so if you want to see what I actually wroteon my essay, here it is:
(this is long)
Childhood ends in different ways for each of us. For some it comes slowly but methodically. Others seem to always be older, more serious. And then there are those like me, who have such love of wonder that childhood becomes a time to hold onto and savor. But childhood ends for us all.
People are shaped by their experiences. Whether those experiences are bad or good, each one affects each person in a different way and has a large part in making people different from one another.
Many events have molded me into who I am and, until I die, I will continue being molded by my surroundings and my experiences. Some events have been more influential than others. One particular event that occurred last year had a profound effect on me. This event helped me to focus on the future and my role in creating a positive impact.
On Christmas Eve day of 2004, my family and I were on our way to Washington DC. We hadnt seen my relatives in a very long time. I only remembered my younger cousins from the short weekend we had spent with them three years ago. My sister could hardly remember them at all.
That morning, the Christmas music was blaring, and the joy of the season seemed to fill the entire world. As we sang along to the music, the South Carolina countryside sped past the windows of the van.
My mother had been on her cell phone with Aunt Sandy repeatedly all morning long. What was the best road to take? What time would we be there? Should we pick up anything on the way? Had my grandmother arrived there yet?
However, when my mother picked up the phone one more time, the whole car got quiet.<br>
What happened? she asked in a very low voice, barely loud enough to hear. The sound chilled me. I thought that maybe my grandmother might have fallen again and hurt herself. But then my mother said quietly, Theyre all gone?
Competing images flashed in my mind as I pondered the phrase, THEY are all gone. THEY was plural, not singular. Not a term one would use when talking about one grandmother. All meant more than two. And gone - the most haunting word she spoke - could mean nothing less than gone from this world; gone from us.
My mother was driving, but she started to swerve and almost lost control of the car. My father told her to pull over so that he could drive while she talked on the phone. My fathers soft, gentle voice was an echo of my mothers. It was a tone of voice that expected the worst, and she obeyed him with the slightest nod. Just as we got back on the highway, she hung up the phone.
That phone call turned my familys world upside down. In a strained voice she explained that my Aunt Bev, Uncle Tony, and my precious little cousin Samantha, were all killed in a head-on collision on I-95 South in Pennsylvania. My other cousin, who had just turned twelve two days before, had miraculously survived the crash.
The man who hit them also died. He was only twenty six. Only later would we learn the driver of the other car was not only drunk but also high on cocaine.
My cousin, Stephanie, was unscathed physically, but she had been trapped inside the wreckage for 45 minutes before being rescued. She told my Dad later that evening that all she remembered was trying to wake her sister as the rescuers worked to cut her free. Fortunately, to this day she does not remember anything between the initial impact and the last moments of her rescue.</p>
<p>What we learned was that the vehicles were ripped apart and Christmas packages were thrown all across Interstate 95. Holiday traffic was snarled as the interstate was closed for hours. We were told by the authorities that the emergency workers were so traumatized by the scene that they required counseling afterward.
Our familys tragedy was broadcast nationally. This story appeared on CNN and Fox, along with numerous newspapers - including the New York Times. We avoided watching TV and shielded my cousin from the pictures that were constantly on the local news for days afterwards.<br>
The media was definitely interested. Reporters swarmed around my aunt and uncles friends and neighbors. Although we escaped the most brutal of the interviewers, several friends of my relatives were harassed by cameras and thoughtless reporters. Even on Christmas day itself, reporters hovered right outside my Aunts and Uncles house hoping for some news. My cousins neighborhood friend was asked how does it feel to lose your best friend on Christmas, causing the little girl burst into tears.
It all seemed so unreal. You see these stories on television everyday - awful tragedies happening to other. Then it became my life they were discussing. It was my family in the photos and videos. It was the vehicle of my relatives wrecked car that was blocking traffic on I-95 for 8 hours. It couldnt be real - but it was.
Though we experienced the horror of this tragedy, we also experienced great goodness. Kindness came from people near and far. The entire town of Sparta, New Jersey, where my aunt and uncle lived, came out to make sure we were never without food or just people to talk. This loving community set up several trust funds for my cousin. They bought her Christmas gifts to replace those that were destroyed in the wreck.
Letters came to my cousin from other parts of the country. People shared their own tragedies and offered us support and prayer. Though my father had just started a badly needed new job, the company owner gave him an unearned week off with pay so that he could stay and help with the funeral and other arrangements. We will never forget their kindness.
I have never supported drug use and I have never agreed with drinking and driving. But these feelings were superficial until last Christmas. Of course I already knew the repercussions of such abuse, but it was never made real until I experienced the pain from it myself. I felt such anger toward that twenty-six year old driver who had caused so much grief to my family and friends. My anger was so strong that I could barely contain it.
When I came home after the funeral, I read a newspaper article that quoted the drivers father saying he was extremely sorry for our loss. Then I realized that his family had also lost someone on Christmas and that they also had to deal with the additional pain of his choices. His choice to go out and party all night had caused not only his death, but the death of three others, and had orphaned a twelve year old child. When I came to this understanding I knew that I would forever be a strong advocate against such drug and alcohol abuse.
I am going into politics, and I know one of the platforms on which I will stand. I will succeed in getting my views heard and I will make a difference. I will do it not only for myself, but for my family, and especially for my cousin Stephanie. I will do it for my aunts friends, and I will do it for that young mans family.
My mission will be to prevent the pain that was suffered in this tragedy from happening to other people. I want to caution those who get involved in drugs and alcohol that when they drive they are putting many lives at risk. Their actions orphan children. Their actions affect people forever.
I am no longer a child. My past lack of urgency about school and achievement has been replaced by an intense desire to encounter and overcome whatever challenges I must to get into a position where I can help change both attitudes and behaviors that lead to tragedy.
I am not so naive as to believe that I can solve all the problems of the world. However, I do know in my heart that change only comes when committed people work to change things. I am committed to being one such person and I refuse to be powerless.
There are many other tragedies that face us, as a country and as a global community. Poverty, injustice, ignorance, and hate all must be confronted. The pain of loss and feelings of powerlessness are the same whether it is a child dying of hunger, war, or an auto accident. I have felt such pain, but I refuse to be powerless. Change can be achieved and I can influence that change.</p>