Personal Narrative: My Drill Soldier

Being a decade apart is a tremendous age difference between my brother and me because no matter how closely related we are, we will always see through a different pair of lenses. I try to understand his stress compared to mines, but sometimes, it just does not make any sense. Whenever he plays his violin, all I hear is lack of responsibility, his aim for social status, and my mother’s failure of not giving him the golden spoon. Then again, I learned that the stress endured by his generation, which is the smartest, endures from the eye. During his sophomore year in high school, my mother and I purchased my brother’s first car so that she did not have to wait around for football practice to end. A few months later, he sold it because the air conditioning went out. One night, he drove home in a nice, …show more content…
cartoons than to ride on that muffled school bus. I hated walking miles through the projects and running from stray dogs in order to get home. This was always my speech to him when he gave me his long and drawn out songs about the delicate care of his reputation. However, I always buried him alive with a question my drill sergeant used to ask me; “Are you graded for your knowledge or their validation?” I guess that changed his mind on joining the military. Since my brother played around in high school, he was not eligible for any scholarships. I tried to adopt him so that he could use my military benefits for college, but my mother did not want to risk any legal confrontations. We suggested that he started at a two-year college, raise his grades so that he could become eligible for scholarship offers, and then transfer to a four-year college. He specifically made it known that student loans would not ruin his life or credit. Can you imagine the confused stare on my on my face? I asked him to help me understand his plans for college because I was