Our Christmas Surprise

Pets, which contain a wide variety of species, connote different things to each individual owner. Some perceive them as added family members and some, typically children, view them as playmates. In most cases, adults value animals, as they do their own children, by purchasing them toys and giving them treats when they accomplish things. Pets have the tendency to become spoiled when given excessive amounts of unnecessary gifts, as do humans. In today’s society, there are pet parlors, spas, and shopping centers for animals. These types of things may seem absurd to many, but they are now average daily routines for several pet owners. On the other end of the spectrum, there are many creatures roaming the earth without owners or anyone to care for them. Typically, they are ravenous, emaciated, wounded, and flea-infested. More often than not, these animals are looked down upon and not wanted anywhere near homes. Because they were not exposed to any type of love from a human, these animals see humans as enemies. Their curiosity of discovering the life of a human may leave them permanently in the ground or, in a more notable sense, in the home of a warm-hearted family. My suprises kitten, Elfy, has taught me that with only a small amount of love and affection, an animal can become much more than a pet.

There were two days until Christmas, and there was one gift left to purchase for my younger sister, Tina. She had wanted a new kitten ever since our last kitten had tragically died. My brother was playing outside in our woods when he noticed something bustling around throughout the brush. He searched around gallantly, but found nothing in the entire acre of snow-covered land. While taking his shoes off on the porch, he turned around to discover that a kitten had followed him home. He was sure that the kitten was the mystery he had been searching for in the woods. Being that my brother was very young, he saw no problem with allowing the unfamiliar kitten to enter our home. During this time, I had been upstairs in my bedroom, but I dashed down the stairs when I heard my mother scream. To my surprise, there was a kitten in my mother’s arms at the bottom of the stairs. Shockingly, my mother said that we were allowed to keep the kitten and present it to Tina for Christmas. Thankfully, Tina was not home during this time; therefore, we were able to keep it a surprise. I had never been extremely enthusiastic about animals due to a horrific past experience, but this kitten seemed so innocent and helpless. I have always felt an inner-responsibility towards helping others, and I knew that it was my duty to nurse this kitten back to good health. We began with feeding the kitten some tuna and water. The kitten was so small that it fit perfectly in the palm of my hand. We then attempted to give it a bath, which was not an easy experience. With a pair of rubber gloves covering my hands, I struggled to pick off as many of the hundreds of fleas on its body as I possibly could. My heart broke as the kitten wailed and shivered in the palm of my hand. I was able to confine the kitten to my bedroom for the first night, without my sister suspecting anything curious. I took it to the vet the next morning, which was an awful experience. Because this had most likely been its first car ride, the kitten was obviously frightened and made a mess of its bodily wastes throughout my car. I was worried that the veterinarian was going to force the kitten to stay in the hospital for the night, but after receiving his shots, he was free to leave. I took him home, for yet another night of confinement in my bedroom. Amazingly, I had provided this kitten with a second chance for a new life.

It was Christmas morning and we had finished opening our gifts. My brother and I had decided to name the kitten Elfy, because we considered him to be our Christmas surprise. I had created a bed for him out of a box and a blanket, which I decorated very nicely. I told Tina that we had a surprise for her and went upstairs to retrieve her gift. She had her eyes closed and was in complete query of what her present could possibly be. Luckily, Elfy was a very quiet kitten, and I was able to make it into the living room with him not making a sound. I laid the kitten on Tina’s lap, with her eyes still closed. When she opened her eyes, she immediately burst into tears. It had been a very long time since I had seen her as truly happy as she was in that moment. She loved the name that we had chosen for him, but she was not satisfied with our sleeping apparatus that we had created. I had grown to love the Elfy in the few days I had spent with him; therefore, I decided to buy him a real bed. I spent my entire Christmas break catering to the kitten and teaching him new things. Elfy plumped up quite quickly; he had eaten much more than any other animal we had prior to him. His fur became a brown and black fluffy mixture and his paws are pure white. He became more to me than simply a pet, but rather like another person to care for. Elfy grew into a healthy, affable cat that everyone would be blessed to have in their lives. Although he came into my life as a surprise, Elfy will leave as one of my best friends.

At first, the thought of another kitten was not very appealing to me. But after realizing the severity of his situation, I was compelled to save him. Elfy allowed me to complete things that I would have never normally thought to do. He taught me, without saying a single word, that with love and affection one has the opportunity to feel complete. Material things don’t last forever, but feelings can. Elfy’s life drastically changed when he showed up on our doorstep that frosty, winter morning, but he changed my life even more.

"Our Christmas Surprise"5 (photo taken by Caitlin King)

A Shocking Journey to Crick Hills

There are several bodies of water throughout the world that are held in high regard. The Red Sea, the Panama Canal, the Persian Gulf, the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, just to name a few, have been homes to quite a few historical events. Although these are familiar to most inhabitants of the world, there are several smaller bodies of water that are important to specific regions surrounding them. I reside in the small town of Scottdale, Pennsylvania, which contains many rivers and creeks that are vital to the town’s history. One site, in particular, is known to the community as Crick Hills. To those unfamiliar to the area, it is referred to as the “Blue Hole.” This name was established because of the immense depth of the water, which gave it a dark blue appearance. This significant landmark is near the outskirts of town and is located in the only true woods of our small town. During the summer months, Crick Hills is always full of excitement and large groups of people. This body of water contains much more than what is visible to the naked eye, though. The legends of what is beneath the water may be shocking to those who hear them for the first time, as I was. After I was told about these “so-called” rumors, I was naturally curious to explore the scene on my own. Prior to my journey into Crick Hills, I was ignorant to the true beauty and value that this important historical site has to offer.

I was quite intimidated by Crick Hills at first because of the horror stories I had heard concerning the area. It is said that there are numerous bodies and relics to be found beneath the water. There are several possibilities though, as to how they were lost there. There is a set of railroad tracks that sit on the hill above the creek. A locomotive, that was carrying goods into Scottdale, had been lost along its route. There was evidence that there had been a disaster along the hillside, and many believe that the locomotive had fallen off its chain in that exact spot. There was also a local mine shaft very close to the area several years ago, which had haphazardly collapsed. Along with the workers trapped inside, the shaft was enclosed with vast amounts of water and sunk to the base of the creek, never to be seen again. The Civil War played an enormous role in our country’s history, and there was a Civil War armory located in the woods surrounding the creek. There are no remnants left from the armory in the woods, but several of the artifacts can be found in our local historical house. Among all of these important factors, there are also cars, animals, and garbage floating around in the dark water. Whether it be remainders from the Civil War or parts from a lost train, they are all important to a true understanding of the importance of Crick Hills.

My first journey into Crick Hills was quite thrilling, yet scary at the same time. The weather was absolutely beautiful when we began our mile long excursion into the woods. We traveled through everything from high brush to man-made mud holes, while carrying our overly-packed bags. The mud holes were everywhere, almost as though someone created a track for quads and trucks to pass over them. We also had to cross over railroad tracks on a bridge, which was one of the most terrifying things that I have ever done. It seemed as though the bridge was never going to end, and we had to be careful not to look down at long drop beneath us while walking. We were also unsure whether a train was going to pass while we were crossing, which was exceptionally daunting. After passing over the bridge, we did not have much longer until we reached the hill in which the locomotive was thought to have crashed. It was such an extensive drop, but we decided to venture down the hill in hopes of perceiving something interesting. We were unsuccessful in our search, but we reached the heart of the creek. It was absolutely stunning, nothing like that of what I had pictured it to be. I had prepared myself for seeing car parts and dirty water, but my visions were entirely false. There were only a few other people there, which made me feel a little safer about diving into the water. There were two different rocks to jump off, one a bit higher than the other. There was only one side of the creek that was safe to jump into because there was an abandoned car very close to the surface on the other side. We became friends with the people who were already jumping, and they told us stories of people that had been hurt while at the creek, which may not have been the best choice. They told us of the person who had discovered the abandoned car while jumping into the creek. His foot went straight through the windshield, which left him with a hefty scar on his right leg. There was another story of a boy, who decided to do a back flip off the highest rock, but his trick was unsuccessful and it left him with a concussion. After hearing these stories, I was hesitant as to whether or not I wanted to get into the water. My friends convinced me that it was safe to jump into the area where the others were: therefore, I decided to jump off the low rock into the freezing cold water. It was an experience unlike any other, and the only thought in my mind was the absurd things that were beneath me. My imagination was soaring as I thought of the possible bodies that I was swimming on top of. We continued jumping for hours, but we had to leave an hour before the sun was going to set in order to be able to make it out of the woods. The journey out of the woods didn’t seem nearly as long as the trip into the woods, especially crossing back over the bridge. I imagined the union soldiers marching over the same land that I was and getting water from the creek that I was swimming in. It is an indescribable feeling to know that I am able to be a part of something so imperative to my nation’s well-being. My first journey into Crick Hills is one that will never be able to be replaced.

Crick Hills may seem as though it is just another body of water to those unfamiliar to the area, but it has been a place of learning for me. Prior to my journey, I was ignorant to its true importance because I had not been educated in its historical past. Because I reside in such a small town, I had never known the pure beauty of the nature that was so close to me. I have made several trips back to Crick Hills, teaching others of what I had learned, but nothing compares to my initial visit. I have learned that in order to obtain the true meaning of something, one must forget what others have told her/him, and create his/her own assumptions

Little Scottdale, Big Impact

It is said that childhood memories last a lifetime. Childhood is best described as worry free and full of excitement. There is one crucial part of a child’s life that many tend to look past though. This vital part of a child’s life is where he or she grew up. This not only includes their physical home environment, but also their surrounding regions. I was born in Virginia Beach, Virginia, but moved to Pennsylvania when I was quite young. We resided in the very small town of Scottdale, merely forty-five minutes south of Pittsburgh. Scottdale, a town unfamiliar to many, has been my home for nearly sixteen years. Scottdale is known for being home to the historical H.C. Frick Coke Company, several centuries ago, which we learned a great deal about in school. There are numerous aged Victorian-era mansions throughout the town, all dating back from the eighteen hundreds. There are also many new buildings throughout the area, such as the brand new library and Elementary School. Scottdale may not be a town of great historical importance to the rest of the United States, but it was of great significance to my childhood. Without being brought up in a small environment, I would have never been able to mature into the individual that I am today. Being able to make my own decisions as a child has allowed me to become a very independent and established adult.

Scottdale is a very small, close-knit community, consisting of nearly forty-five hundred residents. Because our town is so small, it is quite typical to smile and wave at familiar faces everywhere one may go. Scottdale is also a very friendly town. It provides a warm and inviting atmosphere to visitors, and it is a place that I am proud to call home. Having lived in three different homes in Scottdale, I have personally experienced the welcoming attitudes for new residents of the community. The second home in which I resided in was located directly in the middle of the town. The street was full of young children, which was quite shocking to me at first being that I came from a home surrounded by only two other children. Within days after our move-in, our new neighbors came to introduce themselves to us and asked if we wanted to play with them. One of these children grew to become my best friend, and we are still best friends to this day. This sense of welcoming and kindness was instilled in me at a very young age. Living in Scottdale has allowed me to become a much more amiable and outgoing individual. I am able to make new friends quite easily, which is something that many people struggle with. I am not afraid to show others who I truly am, even if there may be a question of acceptance. For example, I came to Washington and Jefferson College knowing only two people from my hometown. In a matter of three weeks, I have gained almost the same number of friends that I had in high school. This personality trait will also allow me to do extremely well in the career that I am currently trying to pursue: an international businesswoman/accountant. Many people believe that accountants are stuck in an office all day, but this is not always true. It will be necessary for me to make others feel as though they are wanted, which is a trait that comes naturally to me now. I plan to use my skills in order to portray the values of American businesses while attending meetings in foreign countries. My welcoming and outgoing personality will allow me to do extremely well in my future endeavors. While being a resident of Scottdale, I have learned to chase my dreams but to remain my true self in the process.

Growing up in a small community gave me a feeling of always being safe. This sense of protection allowed me to be an adventurous and independent child. My sister and I, along with our neighborhood friends, were very active children. We enjoyed being outside, searching for new adventures. We enjoyed riding our bikes around town, which was permitted because our parents knew we were safe. There are no busy highways near our town, unlike those surrounding large cities, for our parents to have worried about us riding past. Loucks Park, located in the middle of the town, is a popular place to go during the summer months. There is a softball field, basketball and tennis courts, a water sprinkler, several jungle gyms, an enormous slide, a pavilion, and a concession stand that is open during certain events. Every summer day around noon, our neighborhood crew would ride our bikes to Loucks Park for the free school lunch. Our parents enjoyed this even more than we did because they did not have to prepare lunch, and we could stay at the park and play for hours. The park was known for being one of the safest parts of the town. Along with this sense of protection was the independence and freedom that we enjoyed as children because we were able to roam freely around the town. We were on our own for majority of our time, which prepared us for letting go of our parents as teenagers. We did not lean on our parents for everything, and we were able to make our own conscious decisions. I learned responsibility at an early age, which allowed me to move towards independence sooner. I was able to adjust quite easily into the college experience because I was not entirely dependent on my parents. Scottdale has truly aided in my growth towards becoming a fully independent woman.

Scottdale is a very family-oriented and laid back community. Yes, many people live hectic lives, but the majority of the residents never forget the importance of family. Growing up in a rural, country atmosphere, rather than a bustling city, has taught me to be patient. Although patience is such an important character trait, many Americans struggle in this area. Lack of patience can result in anger and rage, which is more evident in larger cities. Scottdale has its fair share of crimes, but the crime rate is not nearly as high as in other cities. Patience is a character trait that many strive for but are not able to achieve. I take much pride in being able to control myself in hectic settings, which I am only able to do because of what Scottdale has taught me. Along with achieving patience comes balancing a busy schedule with a family. The demand of family life with a career may be stressful, but it is something that Scottdale has proved to be entirely possible. The importance of family was invested in me at a very young age. Quality time with family can be accomplished in a variety of different ways. My family, in particular, made it a goal to eat dinner together at home as much as possible. My mother is an extraordinary baker, and she always made our favorite desserts. She put her heart and pure love into every meal, which was greatly appreciated by our entire family. This was time for my family to talk to each other about the events taking place in our individual lives. Being around my family so often has taught me the importance of caring for and loving one another. In today’s society, it is quite easy to forget about the value of family. Scottdale has provided me with skills to remain patient in a busy world, while also remembering the importance of family. For instance, although my life schedule is packed-full with school, homework, and a job, I never forget to let my family know how much I truly care about them. Every week, I pick a family member to write a letter to. This does not have to be composed as a long letter, though; it is sometimes only a few sentences. It only takes up a few minutes of my time, and the blissful reactions from my family make it worth every minute. It is easy to fall under the pressures of everyday life, but Scottdale has provided me with the knowledge to overcome these difficult endeavors.

Overall, living in Scottdale has been as much of an influence in my life as my parents have. I have inherited the beliefs and virtues that are standard among our community members. I have grown into an independent, free-spirited individual. The relationship with many of my other community members has allowed me to become a more diverse and complex human being. I am going to be able to use the skills that I learned as a child in order to make a better future for myself. I know that I will always have a special place in my heart to call home, no matter what the circumstances may be. The endearing childhood memories of growing up in a sheltering community have helped define who I am today and who I may become tomorrow.

Black Ice: A Dangerous Phenomenon

Credited to dfinf2 from: Black Ice Destruction

One can never be sure that they will be safe every time he or she enters a motor vehicle. Whether it is a beautiful, sunny day or a terrible winter storm, there is always a chance for disaster to strike. There are many precautions one can take, though, in order to attempt to prevent these events from occurring. Seatbelts, speed limits, stop lights, and always being cautious of one's surroundings are just a few of these precautions. Although one may feel as though he or she is fully prepared for any problems that may arise while behind the wheel, there are some issues that are nearly invisible to the naked eye. There is one very dangerous occurrence that many people tend to forget about while venturing out onto the roadways on a cold, frosty day. This hazardous and often deadly phenomenon is formally known as black ice. The term black ice may be referred to in a number of different ways, but there is one common description among all of them: it is destructive. For the most part, black ice can be described as frozen ice, typically present on roadways. A tragic personal experience has led me to believe that black ice is a dangerous and simply uncontrollable happening.

Black ice is common worldwide, but its effect is different depending on the location. It may be used to clarify any type of ice that is formed on roadways, but this is a sweeping generalization. In comparison to other types of roadway ice, black ice is abnormally sleek ("What is Black Ice?"). Black ice may also be referred to as "glaze ice" or "clear ice" because it does not have an apparent color attached to it due to its consistence of air ("What is Black Ice?"). The term black ice was established because the black asphalt and paved roadways can be seen through the ice. Black ice tends to appear wet rather than icy, which makes it dangerously surprising to anyone traveling upon it. Typically, it is created when any form of liquid reaches a roadway that is below freezing temperature ("What is Black Ice?"). It may also occur during a dry period though, when water mixes with oil or dust. This creates a very slick roadway, even somewhat worse than when it is mixed with just water ("What is Black Ice"?). In all instances, it is extremely difficult to stop once one has reached black ice. Consequently, this is the reason why black ice is so horrific and in many cases, fatal.

A terrifying personal experience has allowed me to comprehend the tradgic effects of black ice. It was a frigid Friday morning, and I was driving my sister and myself to school. Although it was a very frosty morning, there was no snow on the ground. We had left our driveway and we were rounding the first corner when I lost control on black ice. It was a corner that dropped into a hill, which made the situation even worse. I slammed on the brakes, but there was no hope for us to stop. We were headed straight for a guard rail on the right side of the road, so I immediately turned the wheel in the opposite direction. My small red Pontiac Sunfire spun around two complete times before landing in a ditch along the left side of the road. Thankfully, there were no cars heading towards us or we could have been seriously injured. We were stuck sideways in a ditch and thought all of the commotion was finally over. Suddenly, another vehicle flew down the hill and missed my car by only a few inches. We decided it would be a lot safer if we exited the vehicle in order to call someone for help. We were standing alongside the road when a truck stopped to see if we were alright. In the midst of our conversation another car flew around the corner, was unable to stop, and smashed right into the truck. My sister and I were completely distraught at this point, but we could hear the fire department coming our way. They had a very difficult time retrieving us because the road was so slick and nearly impossible to walk on. Finally, our parents arrived at the scene and took us to school, even though we were a few minutes late. My car had to be towed to my uncle’s automobile shop in town, where it was fixed. Fortunately, there were only minor damages and a few scratches to the paint. But most importantly, my sister and I were not injured during this dilemma. This experience has taught me to be well aware of my surroundings, which was something I had never put a tremendous amount of thought into before this event. Without this event occuring in my life, I would have never been able to tell other's of the severe effects of black ice.

In most cases, one does not realize the severity of a certain incident until it affects them personally. This is the reason there are so many accidents on our roads today, which is something that could be prevented with just a little more effort from civilians. AAA in Washington describes what drivers should do in winter driving situations in their "How to go on Ice and Snow" article ("How to go on Ice and Snow"). They state that, "To minimize the dangers associated with winter driving, both the vehicle and the driver must be prepared in advance. For the driver this means approaching winter driving with the right frame of mind...("How to go on Ice and Snow")." Although it may not seem necessary to prepare until it becomes a danger to one's life first handedly, black ice must always be accounted for during winter driving. As long as one is aware of the consequences and what to do in order to prevent them, black ice will not be able to control drivers any longer. Black ice is a natural phenomenon that many tend to forget about unless there is snow covering the roads, which allows it to be as deadly as it is. With only a little preparation and care, there is a possibility that black ice could not be classified as a killer on the roads anymore.




Works Cited:

Fondren, Gia. “What is Black Ice?” Even Though it Looks like a Clear Day, the Roads Could be Slippery. 2006. 9 October 2008, <http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/19460/what_is_black_ice.html?cat=27>.

"How to go on Ice and Snow." AAA Washington and Northern Idaho, 2008. 1 December 2008, <http://www.aaawa.com/news_safety/traffic_safety/howtogo_ice.asp>.

My Father and Loucks Park are One in the Same

The small town of Scottdale, Pennsylvania has been my home for the past fifteen years. Being that I reside in such a small town, very few events take place. There is one place in Scottdale though, that it always very crowded during the summer months. This special place is called Loucks Park and it is located right in the middle of town. Loucks Park contains everything that a child would ever need to keep them occupied for an entire day. There are basketball, volleyball, and tennis courts, several jungle gyms, swings, a huge slide, a water sprinkler, and my personal favorite, a softball field. Loucks Park may be a fun place to spend time at for some people, but it holds a very special spot in my heart. I learned how to play softball at Loucks Park, but more importantly, it was my father who taught me. My father has never been extremely involved with my life, except when it comes to softball he is extremely active. Loucks Park is the one place that both my father and I can relate to. My father is very passionate about softball and he has passed down his love for the sport to me. Softball is one of the few things that my father and I have in common, which makes it very important to me. Every time Loucks Park is mentioned, I can only think about the memories that I have shared with my father there. Most children know their father as a provider and protector, but I see my father as a friend and a softball coach.


Loucks Park was one of my favorite places to go as a young child. My father would take my sister and me to Loucks Park almost every Sunday and Tuesday during the summer. After our church services on Sunday mornings, we would change in our van and walk across the street to the park. There were usually tee-ball games doing on during this time, so we would sit on the bleachers and watch them. Our father would attempt to explain to us what was going on, but we were too preoccupied with wanting to go play on the jungle gyms. On Tuesday evenings, we would go to Loucks and practice on the softball field when no one was there. He taught us how to throw and catch a ball, something that neither of us could do very well at the time. He also had bought a tee for us to practice hitting, which was quite entertaining for us. My father had not realized the true potential of my strength until one certain incident occurred. We were practicing our hitting, and I had finally begun to understand how to do it. My father went onto the field and stood in front of the pitching mound in order to stop my ground balls. They usually did not go very far, but this particular time I hit the ball so hard that it landed right on my father’s shin. He did not have a glove, therefore; he had nothing to stop the ball with, nor was he expecting it to happen. Instead of yelling in pain, my father ran over to me, gave me a high-five and said, “Great Job, Kiddo!” Although I was quite young at this time, I will never forget how proud my father was of me on that specific day. From that moment on, my only goal was to learn how to become the softball player that my father had always wanted me to be.


When I was six years old, my father signed me up for the Greater Scottdale Girls Softball League (GSGSL). This is our town’s local business sponsored league, which plays all of their games at Loucks Park. I started out in tee-ball division, where I made many new friends. Each division lasts three years; therefore, I knew the basic rules of the game by the end of this division. My father took me to every single practice and stayed to watch me the entire time. On the drive home, he would complement me on everything that I did right and let me know what I needed to improve on. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this was terrific bonding time with my father. He let me know how proud he was of me every day, which made me feel like I was very special in his eyes. Every time you move up a division, you get placed into a draft and put onto a new team. My father decided to become my coach though, so I was automatically placed onto his team. I was ecstatic about this, but it also made the game a lot more serious because I wanted to win every game for him. Our coaches were our pitchers in this division, and my dad practiced pitching to me almost every night. I did very well with having him as my pitcher and could not wait to show off my skills at our first game. It was a bright and sunny Sunday afternoon at Loucks Park for the first game of the season. I did not sleep very well the night before because I could not wait for this day to come. My dad was always a spectator at my previous games, but now he was right on the field with me, which made this an extremely important day. I was third up to bat with my father pitching, and the two girls before me had hit very well. My nerves were nearly jumping out of my body as I stepped up to the plate. My father looked at me, gave me a smile and said, “You can do it, Caitlin. Just relax.” I could not relax though, and I began to shake after I missed the first pitch. The second pitch had come in too fast and I missed again. My mind was racing at this point because I knew I only had one more chance. My hands were sweating profusely as he released the third pitch. When I swung the bat, it completely slipped out of my hands. I ran into the dugout and began to cry. My father came in to comfort me and this was the first time I felt how much he truly believed in me. He reassured me that everyone makes mistakes, which is something young children tend to have a hard time believing. My father made me believe that I could do anything I put my mind to. His words of encouragement that difficult day still affect my life today. Every time I want to give up, I think of his belief in me and it gives me the urge to continue. I am now able to see my father as more than a coach, but rather a very important support system in my life.

The next level, titled the intermediate division, was my most difficult time at Loucks Park. My father decided to be my coach again, which I was very excited about at first. He let me chose our shirt color and I picked periwinkle, which he was not extremely thrilled about. In this division, we got to pitch to each other instead of our coaches. My father had been practicing with me for a long time because I wanted to become a pitcher more than anything. It seemed to come naturally, and I actually was a very talented beginner. We were top in the division, with our biggest competitor one game behind us. I had been pitching extremely well throughout the season, and I was confident that I could pitch against our biggest rivalry. My dad felt that same confidence in me and he started me as pitcher for the game. It was a cool, gloomy Tuesday evening, but Loucks Park was as crowded as I had ever seen it. Our entire season was riding on this one crucial game. We were ahead the entire game, but only by a few points. I was pitching and hitting very well, and I was sure that we were going to win. It was the last inning, and the opposing team was up to bat. There were two outs and they were down by one point. They had girls on first and second base, and their best hitter was up to bat. My dad came out to the mound and assured me that he knew I could strike her out. He seemed as though he was not nervous at all, but I knew that he was. My dad hated to lose, even if we played as hard as we could. He went back into the dugout, stood along the fence, and gave me a wink. I took a moment to breathe before I stepped back onto the mound. This was the most important pitch of my softball career up to this point. I got into my stance and threw the first pitch. It was a strike, right down the middle. I only had two more to go, and the game would be over. I decided to throw the second pitch inside, and she swung and missed just like I had hoped. The crowd was going crazy at this point, but the only voice I could hear was my father’s. He was yelling along with the rest of the team, “C’mon, Caitlin!” I knew that if I could just strike this one girl out, he would be the happiest man at Loucks Park that day. Glaringly, I approached the mound and looked my opponent straight in the eye. She snarled back at me as I got into position. I threw a perfect pitch, but it was just a little too perfect. She swung the bat so hard, it sounded as though she hit a cement block. I watched as the ball flew over my head and rolled to the fence. The girl that had been on first base was rounding the third-base corner when our outfielder threw the ball in. The first girl had already scored to tie the game, so we had to get the out in order to continue to play. My body was trembling as the outfielder threw the ball to me. I stuck my glove out, but completely missed the ball, which allowed the girl to score. My father screamed at me, and I fell to my knees and began to cry. I was not upset that we lost the game though, but because I knew how disappointed my father was with me at that moment. I walked off the field, but no one said a word to me. It was completely my fault that we lost. If I had thrown a better pitch, we would have easily won the game. I didn’t think that I was ever going to be able to forgive myself. I walked off the field that day believing that it was going to be my last game. I walked over to my mother who was in the bleachers and told her that I quit. She told me that it was just a game, but she didn’t understand how much more it was to me. After two hours of anticipation, my father finally came home. He came up to my room and gave me a hug. I broke down into tears and told him that I was never going back to Loucks Park again. He began to look at me in a way that I had never seen before. At that moment, my father began to tear up as he told me how proud he was of me. I couldn’t believe that he still had faith in me after all of the mistakes I had made. He told me that he could see the dedication in my eyes the entire game, but could feel my apprehension as we went into the last inning. He reassured me that it was only one season and that I had many more to come. My father told me that he would not trade me for the world, not even for the best softball player in the country. Although my mother tried to comfort me after the terrible incident, my father was the only one who could give me the strength to move on. He apologized for yelling at me at the game, but he felt he had to be harder on me than the rest of the teammates. He promised to never yell again, but to give words of inspiration instead. At this moment, my father and I created a bond that no one would ever be able to break. He became the one person that I could confide in, no matter how terrible my action may be. Loucks Park allowed me to gain a new confidence in my father, and I realized that he would always support me.

My last years at Loucks Park were some of the best years of my life. I went from junior to senior division, with my father as my coach. We started attending tournaments during my junior division. My father and his good friend decided to pick an all-star team from the league. They paid for us to attend tournaments throughout the rest of our years in GSGSL. We traveled to many towns, such as Washington, Plum Borough, Penn Hills, McKeesport and Crafton. We won some tournaments and we lost some, but we became extremely close as a team. They became like sisters to me and our coaches were like our fathers, even though only one was really my dad. We earned so many trophies as a team, and we dedicated all of them to our coaches. I truly enjoyed seeing the expressions on my father’s face when we won tournaments. We decided to begin a home tournament at Loucks Park, in memory of the founder of the league. I spent a lot of time with my father while organizing this tournament, which was great bonding time for us. I realized how intelligent he truly is, which I had never known before because I wasn’t around him often. We started this tournament my junior year in high school; therefore, I only got to play in the tournament twice. During my last year in GSGSL, my father decided that he did not want to be my coach. Being a coach was very stressful at times, and he wanted to be able to relax and enjoy my games. I was so used to having my father there with me on the field that I it just didn’t feel the same anymore. I felt like I lost the passion for the game when I lost my father as a coach. He did not realize that his decision was going to cause a negative effect on my game. I tried so hard to impress my father as a coach that when he wasn’t there, I felt no need to perform at my best. My final year of GSGSL was not how I dreamt it would be in any way. Although my senior year did not go as well as I hoped, the rest of my years at Loucks Park left me with unforgettable memories.
Loucks Park was the one place that brought my father and me together. We spent almost every summer day together, which meant a lot to me being that he was not very involved in any other aspect of my life. As a child, I did not realize the significance of the time I spent with him practicing softball. I also did not realize how important softball was going to become in my life. My father hadn’t always supported me in everything that I did, but when it came to softball he was with me every step of the way. Loucks Park allowed us to open up to each other and express out true feelings towards each other. Although he got upset with me on many occasions, he learned how to talk to me about issues rather than to yell at me. I believe that without the opportunities that Loucks Park has provided us with, my father and I would not be as close as we are today. We have spent a large portion of our lives at Loucks Park and it holds a very dear place in both of our hearts. Loucks Park allowed me to spend time with my father that I would not have normally had. I am thankful for every moment that I spend with my father, but our time together on the softball field will be treasured in my heart forever.



^all above photos taken by Caitlin King