Intro #2 for contrast

My present self would be so disappointed in the old me. How could I have been so “young and dumb,” as the saying goes? Could just four years in the Army really change a person so much? How could a person of 28 years be considered a man when just six years earlier many would say he was a juvenile? Could a few drill sergeants and a couple combat tours really change a guy so much that he would completely change his view on school, family, and even life itself? I say yes.

contrast essay

One person who has lived two different lives. This is my world. I was once entitled Sgt. Burke, a much more stoic label than the plain “Mr.”, I sport now. I served four years in the U.S. Army before retiring two years ago and cannot say I don’t miss it. I never would have believed how much I would change after entering the service at 22 years of age. I figured I had been through enough socialization and had enough life experience to be comfortable in my own skin and very set in my ways. I was naive. From the break-down and build-up in basic training to the harsh desert training leading into two tours in Iraq, I experienced the most significant change since adolescence. Now as a civilian once again, I can see a dark contrast between the life I led before the army and the one I lead now. The changes have become obvious in my motivation levels, determination, and zest for life.
In the years following high school, I wasn’t the driven man I am now. I floated around from one meaningless job to another in search of that weekly paycheck that might pay all of my bills. I had no goals; no want to continue my education, and no need for a family. I went from delivering auto parts to delivering electrical supplies to even working in meat factory producing hot dogs (a story I’ll save for later). I lived in several cramped apartments with good time friends never holding a girlfriend for more than a few months. It wasn’t much of a life but it suited my needs at the time. Fast forwarding six years to the present, I find myself in a much different state of mind. Living with my girlfriend of two years and her seven year old son, I have become not only a veteran but a student, a part-time father, and soon to be a construction foreman. I am in my last semester of a civil engineering degree struggling to obtain a balance between work, school, and life at home. The days of binge drinking and the “I don’t give a shit,” attitudes are over. I couldn’t be happier.
Before the service, I was always willing to accept the easier road. Always ready to throw in the towel and say “hey, it wasn’t meant to be... screw it.” This mind set often got me into an even deeper hole and often instead of solving problems it was easier to pull the old ostrich trick, shoving my head into a dark hole to shut out the world. If it was between a twelve pack and a power bill, I rarely ended up thirsty. In 2009 however, things have changed. Maybe it was the military mind set or just maturing over time but I have to come to realize that pushing problems into the shadows only fixes them short term. Of course I bring in a little more money than back than but with that only comes bigger bills. I have become an individual determined to not be that slacker I used to be. The bills roll in while the checks roll out. The piece of mind I get from having all ducks in a row is a whole lot better than letting life’s little problems pile up in the corner.
The sad existence I had years ago consisted of living one day at a time. I never was one to stop and smell the roses or relax and enjoy a purple sunset. I went from one activity to another at a fast pace only worrying about the day in front of me. This way of life changed during my two tours in Iraq, when I was part of dangerous patrols nearly every day. I never really knew if I was even going to make it back to the states at the end of it all. These times of stress and fear turned my priorities in life upside down. Now I still find myself every morning, thinking to myself just how lucky I am to be alive and not crawling off a hard cot in the arid deserts of the Middle East. I’ve learned how to let my bagel toast completely and maybe even allow myself the extra minute to put some butter on it. I’ve realized that the two minutes I might save by speeding around town like Mario Andretti, isn’t worth a hundred dollar ticket and the peace of mind I gain by checking out the view instead is priceless.
So many people in the world think every day, “Oh man, wouldn’t it be great if I just could just go back and live those glory days over again.” I think what these people are remembering is the silver lining on a very dark storm cloud. Yes, of course when I think back to those single days, living in a trailer eating noodles from a plastic package, I remember how nice it was to have zero responsibilities and live only for tomorrow, but I also remember the anxiety of having unpaid bills and no light at the end of the tunnel. Just like the people dreaming a teenage fantasy, I would like to go back to those days of living by the railroad tracks in a dumpy apartment. The only difference being not to have more good times but to slap my younger self upside the head. I would most likely say in my now mostly-mature voice, “Nate...why don’t you get your head on straight and get your life together already.” And of course my previous self would most likely say, “yeah… whatever dude, I have an appointment with Wheel of fortune in fifteen minutes and I think my Ramen noodles are burning!”

Isearch background

My love for hunting and the outdoors began at birth. My father was never around growing up but thank god I had my grandfather and uncles to teach me the ways of the woods. I have hunted whitetail deer and grouse my entire life in the Maine forests and it has become more of a passion than a hobby. Recently I feel as though I need a new outdoors challenge. Watching shows on TV and talking with friends about duck hunting as shed some light on a new sport I would like to pursue. Not only have I been thinking about hunting waterfowl forever but it just so happens that I now own a beautiful chocolate lab. Cash has become a perfect specimen of a water dog. He is almost two years old now and solid muscle. He still hasn’t lost that eternal puppy exuberance that comes with most labs but his intelligence is incredible. He seems to grab any training I throw at him and run with it. He is a fish in the water and retrieves like a machine. I feel that with some persistent training this spring and summer, Cash and I will be enjoying a bountiful duck season this upcoming fall.

Esay #2 Classification

I load the round, I aim, the gun cracks, the game falls, and I retrieve my prize. If all goes well this is the story. No matter what the designated creature, if the hunt goes well and all work pays off, I’ll be heading back to the lodge with my bounty. Hunting in my family is huge and always has been. With each of Maine’s seasons that come and go, so do the hunting seasons. With the states bountiful hunting opportunities and gorgeous backdrop of mountains and streams, I am faced with a decision. I ask myself which of the available hunts out there is the most desirable. Would it be staring at a whitetail bucks warm breath on a frigid November morning or maybe watching a giant gobbler come into my decoys responding vocally to my hen yelps. Of course there is always the thrill of waterfowl, watching a mallard scream in like a B-52 bomber over my perfect homemade blind. Although all of these outdoor experiences thrill me and many other Mainers on a daily basis, there must be one that stands out above the rest like that favorite rifle sitting high on the mantle.
The elusive and majestic whitetail deer stands out sharply in comparison to other woodland creatures found in Maine. It’s the second largest game found in our state and without a doubt one of the most mysterious. Anyone who has lived here for a couple seasons or more can recount seeing multiple deer or even a small herd feeding in roadside fields during the winter and spring. At the end of summer comes November and that first rifle crack when the deer almost seem to vanish with the morning sun. Now I am not sure what possesses us hunters to crawl out of our sacks during the frigid fall mornings to chase after these brown ghosts but something ingrained in the deer hunter’s DNA fills me with excitement every year when I hear the leaves crunch beneath my boots on opening day. The thought of a freezer full of delicate venison makes my mouth water as I dream of bagging that monster buck lurking through my favorite bog. I scout the area for a year finding the most popular beat down game trail. I pick out a tall beech tree which sits straight as an arrow seemingly waiting to support a deer stand. All of the planning, details and hard work that go into whitetail hunting all pay off when I see the glimmer of antlers coming down my path. It is hard for me to imagine a better feeling than seeing my preparations pay off with a nice healthy buck to bring home.
The next hunt on our safari through Maine is the wild turkey. Many may say that it is merely a hideous bird and one would be better off claiming their prize butterball at the local grocery store but turkey hunting is much more. What I am dealing with here is an eagle-eyed, master of vocal sounds, prehistoric bird. Hunting these 20 to 30 pound gobblers means paying special attention to lifelike decoys, perfect camouflage, and realistic calls. As I sneak out into the edge of a clearing in the prone position, placing the Tom and hen decoys perfectly, I know that any quick movement or flash of shiny metal will tell all turkeys within a mile that I am here. It is a battle of wits whenever hunting these wizards of the forest. I think it is this cat and mouse, Tom and Jerry game that attracts me so much to them. I know that the flawless execution of time tested methods will be the only way I’m going home with a trophy Tom.
The third and possibly least graceful game discussed here is the common duck. Don’t get me wrong here, the duck is well known for its precision eyesight as well as discerning hearing. Using the different duck calls available on the market today take lots of practice. Hunters blowing their brains out on a three hundred dollar duck call sounds basically like an air raid warning to our winged friends. Careful preparation must be taken to construct intricate blinds and hours of practice calling and shooting clays must be performed to be effective in the marsh. Watching a lab retrieve the fowl is amazing. The feeling I get when watching a dog I trained myself perform is hard to match.
With the countless memories gained from trudging through miles of twisted and rugged Maine landscape in pursuit of all sorts of Wiley animals, there is no way I can say any of my hunts have been inferior. I may have liked certain aspects better than others but when all is said and done, all the experiences combined have been woven together to create in me a tapestry of love for Maine’s wilderness. Whether it’s tracking that monster buck through the swamp or sitting motionless, camouflaged in deep green brush watching a huge turkey, it’s not the quarry I’m after but the untouched beauty of the state and the pride of keeping my family tradition alive that makes them all equally priceless.