Beaver 1

It took me several days to come up with a topic for this memoir assignment. Why? Well, I
struggled with what I felt was the most important story to tell about my history of literacy. It
wasnt until I went through my timeline and considered each story behind the events and
sponsors that I was able to form an outline of my memoir and the different literacies I wanted to
incorporate. My first pass of this paper missed the mark. Even though I presented a part of my
history of literacy, I failed to tell my story. It wasnt until I read through a example memoir that I
gained a better understanding of my purpose. My struggle to write turned into a passion to share
a part of who I am. I learned a lot about myself through this assignment. I didnt realize the
impact of literacy on my life until now.
After completing my second attempt at my memoir, I made an appointment at the Writing
Resource Center (WRC) to discuss changes to enhance my message and to review grammar and
transitions. This appointment was helpful to me because I was able to talk through my story and
discuss possible conclusions. Because the conclusion is so important, I struggled with every
word. I must have re-written it five different times. In the end, I am happy with the work I am
turning in. It is my story. I am proud of how the paper flows and how the paper transitions the
story throughout the years of my life. I hope you enjoy reading it and that you can get a feel for
how this experience positively impacted my literacy development.

Beaver 2
Julia Beaver
Ms. Agosta
UWRT 1101
28 September 2016
Take Me Out to The Ball Game
Home Run! The crowd jumps to their feet cheering and waving their arms passionately in
the air. The announcer comes over the loud speaker giving a play by play of the batter crossing
the bases heading towards home plate. Music is playing in the background. An overwhelming
sense of joy fills the air. At seven years old, I am standing in the outfield soaking up the
excitement. I am dancing and cheering as I watch a young boy being wheeled around second
base. I love this Saturday morning ritual with my dad. Its our thing. To me, it is all a typical day.
But to most people at the ballpark, it is anything but typical. You see, to most, this day isnt about
baseball. Its about a day of respite, of acceptance and of finding joy.
As we arrive at the ball field dressed in our matching buddy shirts, my dad talks to me
about having fun and supporting our friends. I listen impatiently. I cant wait to see who my
buddy is today. He pulls into a space and turns off the car. Then he turns around to me and
smiles. He loves this day as much as I do. Its our thing. I jump out of the car and race toward the
entrance. As we approach the check-in desk we are surrounded by familiar faces. Today there are
twenty kids playing, fourteen with disabilities and six without. My dad and I are paired with a
disabled buddy. My buddy is eight years old and is in a wheelchair. His name is Sam. Sam and I
have been partners before and I immediately run up to him and give him a high five. He smiles.
Sam doesnt talk, but thats ok with me. I can tell when hes happy, frustrated or even mad just
by looking at him. Besides, I like to talk a lot, so we make a good team. As we wait in the

Beaver 3
outfield for the game to start, Sam and I toss a ball back and forth and I tell him a joke my dad
shared with me on the way over. He laughs with his eyes. I look over to the stands and see Sams
parents waving to us. We wave back and Sam shrugs his shoulders, tilts his head and raises his
eyebrows and we laugh. His parents are always waving and clapping while we play. Neither of
us is sure why they seem so happy. Were just playing like two friends. Our differences only
visible to others.
Sams parents have been coming to watch Sam play baseball for two years. My dad and I
have been a part of Miracle League for over a decade now. I grew up with it. I never saw it as
anything but a chance to have fun and hit a homerun, but the truth is, it is an organization that
serves boys and girls who have moderate to severe mental and physical handicaps through the
sport of baseball. Each child is paired with a child without disabilities. And it gives the parents a
chance to sit back and watch their children experience joy and perhaps even a sense of normalcy.
They sit, like Sams parents, in the stands, cheering wildly, just being parents. My father is
standing next to Sams parents, his arms crossed over his chest, a smile on his face. I wink at
him.
While I stand in the outfield talking to my buddy it never occurs to me that this person is
different than me. I mean, I know he is in a wheelchair and cant run for the ball, but it didnt
matter to me. I learned from a very early age that we are all special in different ways and that no
one is any better than anyone else. I learned that people dont always have to talk to
communicate. And I learned about compassion, understanding and patience. Attributes most
adults struggle with mastering, were second nature to me. My dad wouldnt have it any other
way. He grew up with a disabled brother who struggled to be accepted by other children. And he
wanted to instill in me a strong moral character, one of acceptance and inclusion. In my eyes,

Beaver 4
Sam and I were equals on that ball field. I cheered him on and he cheered me on, especially
when it came our turn to hit the ball. Sam first; I wheel him up to the plate, hand him the bat and
place the ball on the tee. The announcer says his name with enthusiasm as Sam swings the bat.
Home run! The music plays and the crowd rises to cheer as I run to Sam with a smile and give
him another high five. And then I run, pushing Sam around the bases. His arms waving as the
cool air tousled our hair. Im not sure who is happier, Sam or me? We are a team-- a very happy
team. As we round third base, Sam looks over at his parents and waves wildly with both hands.
He is a star. It is his time to shine while everyone stands and cheers him on and he is loving
every moment. And so am I. You see, it doesnt matter to us that every hit is a home run. It
doesnt matter that Sam is in a wheelchair. It doesnt matter that Sams ball only made it ten feet
from home plate. It just matters that we get to run the bases and feel that sense of excitement and
joy that comes with a cheering crowd and friends goading you on to the next base all while
Take Me Out to The Ball Game plays loudly through the speakers. I leave the field like I do
every Saturday, sweaty and tired, but so incredibly happy. It doesnt get any better than this.
There is no place else Id rather be.
Fast forward six years and I am a teenager, still coming to the ball field every Saturday
morning. At thirteen it is a bit harder to jump out of bed at nine in the morning and be excited
about anything, but I still am. My dad still drives me, only now I am old enough to volunteer
without him. Its still our thing. He still talks to me about compassion and understanding, only
this time I get it. This time I have a sense of purpose that I didnt have at seven years old. I have
a better understanding of my role and of the parents cheering in the stands. My dad stands by and
watches. I can see the same sense of pride in his eyes that I saw in Sams parents eyes so many
years ago. I walk slowly up to the entrance and get my buddy for the day. This time I am paired

Beaver 5
with an eight year old girl with autism. She is shy. I make my way over to her and we begin to
bond over tossing a ball, much like Sam and I did at seven years old. Our differences fade as we
toss and catch. She smiles a slight smile and I know we will be friends. We go through the same
routine. She hits a homerun and we run around the bases holding hands. It feels like the first
time. We are laughing and waving and singing along to the music once again blaring through the
speakers. It just doesnt get any better than this. There is no place else Id rather be.
Fast forward once again and I am seventeen years old. It is my last time volunteering
before I leave for college. It is a bittersweet day for me. I am sad to leave this part of my life, but
grateful for what this experience has given me. I am more tolerant, accepting, and grateful
because of it. I will carry what Ive learned into the next phase of my life. I wake up to my alarm
and reluctantly get out of bed. I get in my car and drive myself to the ball field. When I get there,
I walk the familiar path to the entrance. It all looks so much smaller than it used to. I take time to
observe the kids with their buddies. I see happiness. I see acceptance. I see genuine caring. As I
wait in line to get a buddy, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around to find my dad. Standing
there with tears in his eyes. You didnt think I would let you come your last day without me?,
he says. I smile, holding back tears. I doesnt get any better than this. There is no place else Id
rather be. And...Its still our thing.