- Route: Ozarks
- Ride Year: 2022
- Hometown: Fairview, TX
- School Year: Senior
- Major: Plan II & Mechanical Engineering
- Email: firstname.lastname@example.org
Born from family rooted in East and West Texas, my current home is here in the middle at UT. Before that, I grew up in Fairview, TX. My hometown is south of Oklahoma and north of Dallas. It used to feature a beer can Christmas tree off the main road, about a half mile from the sign talking about “keeping it country.” They hit the sign with a D5 Dozer and now its territory is occupied by a RaceTrac and a bougie strip mall.
Anyway, I enjoy all sorts of things. A nice “roll” in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, a good piece of land, and tall tales come to mind. Alongside those sources of enjoyment, I enjoy my time here in a few niches: The Walker Fellowship, Normandy Scholar Program, and a few others.
I’m of the opinion that we can’t say much about ourselves if we can’t talk what we love. You’d be here too long if I wrote about the people I love, so as far as I’m concerned stories are the next best thing.
Earth Rhythms & The Southwestern Tempo (https://www.statesman.com/entertainmentlife/20200217/texas-history-j-frank-dobie-lsquoearth-rhythms-and-southwestern-temporsquo)
Joey’s feature (https://www.dallasnews.com/sports/other-sports/2017/07/24/watch-triple-amputee-wounded-in-iraq-wins-jiu-jitsu-fight/)
Why I Ride
“You know there’s no speed limit in the left lane,” Grammie said with a slender smile. We zip by the other cars in her little white sedan, one...by one...by one…
Grammie knew how to buck the mores of her day. While her beauty, and the heartbreak she brought to many small-town youths were indisputable, her vibrance toward life shone through her aging years. Her intentionality shone through her every expression.
But she lost her hair. Slowly at first, then all of a sudden. It fell indiscriminately; it fell without realizing that each little curl withering away was once the focal point of my newborn eyes. In time her graceful movements slowed, until she moved very little at all.
But as she lost her hair, she would proffer a cock-eyed smile to me, just before revelling with joy for her new wig. Grammie had cancer, but she contained multitudes of experience, expression, and humanity. And I couldn’t tell you about her cancer before you learned a little about that, because cancer—because pain—never could define her.
I ride for Grammie. I ride for my relatives who've narrowly missed cancer's final consequence; I ride for the others who forever rest because of it. I ride for a future where all of our family's' possibilities, plans, and stories are no longer at cancer's mercy.