Welcome to Braggsville by T. Geronimo Johnson Page A

it. I won’t repeat here the names they call me.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  My father took it hard because that was the one thing we did together that my mom just wouldn’t go for. But he hasn’t given up on me, right now he’s snoring soundly, thinking that I’m pecking away at a letter to UGA.

    Freshman applicant prompt:
    (Revision)
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Describe the world you come from—for example, your family, community, or school—and tell us how your world has shaped your dreams and aspirations.

    Dear Sir of [sic] Madam,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  My mother helped me write several previous drafts of this personal statement. In them, we listed accomplishments such as the Eagle scouts, the volunteer work for the local Red Cross, and my membership (for one day) in the Braggsville Historical Preservation and Dissemination Society. We also listed my participation in several school organizations and the time I saved my cousin from drowning, saved a cat from a bird, and saved my grandmother from certain starvation when she wandered off into the Holler and got lost. I also claimed a long-term interest in about a dozen majors that aren’t even related.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I learned a good word in the process: logorrhea. Not only were those letters too long, and had too many fancy words, the biggest problem was I didn’t remember many of these things. I will not dare to question their veracity. It was my mother who spoke those words, mind you. But the fact that I could neither remember these renowned events with which my extended family regaled each other around the Green Egg, nor supply my own memories, explains exactly how my world has shaped my dreams and aspirations. As my cousin Quint would say, I’ve been worked over by a one-armed potter.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  It is not a college admission board who I write at this late hour, long after the parental units have retired because I need to write this on my own, it is to a parole board that I write.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I love my family and my town. My parents never went to college, but have done right by me all their lives. They didn’t take my schooling for granted and they made me study and take summer classes, and made me read all those test-taking books because they wanted me to go to college, but neither could tell me what for, other than that I have to. And for years I never understood why I have to, especially when they want me to go right up the road. But I need to get out of shouting distance of this place where everyone secretly calls school, Juvie!, and openly calls prison, School!
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  So in addressing the parole board in this hearing I feel I must demonstrate that I have changed, that I have atoned for whatever sin caused me to be born in this partially dry county, that I have learned my lesson. And I have.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  I have learned that no matter where you go to school, it’s what you do after school that counts. But, we don’t have an afterschool program. I have learned that kids from all different areas can get along if given a chance, but our schools rarely meet and have only limited contact with other schools. I have learned that sports can bring people of different races and colors together to work for a common goal, but I don’t play sports and we only have one team, and it has only one race on it. I have learned that with access to public health care people avoid dying unnecessarily painful and lonely