Diagnostic Essays

English 111-23

Original Diagnostic Essay
Eighteen years old, a year out of high school and working in a chainsaw factory with the feeling of old age coming at me at an exponential rate. I was grateful to have the job I had at the steel factory on Lynnhaven Parkway. It was a good job with good benefits and decent pay. Having the fresh new title of adult wasn’t really panning out the way I thought it would. I wasn’t ready for school just yet, I had some exploring to do, and it just so happened I have family on the west coast of Sweden.
At about the same age, my dad had gone to Sweden to see where his father nad mother were from and lived there for a few months. So, when I told him I wanted to go to Sweden and work on the charter sailboat that Lars Eric operated, he was more than happy to make it happen. Lars Eric was a longtime good friend of the family and Bertol was a cousin. Bertol was looking forward to having me come live with him. Ina bout three weeks from mentioning it to my dad, I was sitting on a plane thinking about how I never wanted to put an orange logo’d weedeater in a box again.
On my last flight of the trip there, I went through every emotion possible to feel, granted that was the third time I ahd been there but it was the first time I had gone by myself and with intentions of living there. The wheels of the plane touched down and I was there, one of the best feelings I ever felt. Bertol’s wife, Corinna, picked me up from the airport, her English being very little and my Swedish being a lot less, the hour long ride to Kladesholmen was comforting to know I was among family and friends even without so many words. From the time I got there until the time I left I was meeting family that knew me but I didn’t know them. I was amazed at how much connection and close ancestry I had to the country. I got to celebrate my 19th birthday with my Swedish side in Sweden.
I started working on the Hamlet a week after I got there. I was definitely ready to work and learn aboard a 75-foot, two-masted schooner. Lars Eric knew me from when I was a kid, but working for him and getting to know him and his family was one of the best parts of the trip. My second cousin Victor lived two minutes walking away from Bertol and me and he was my age so we hung out all the time. The charters I took on the Hamlet were some really good times, too. Most of them being three to five days long, we would go to destinations anywhere from two hours to ten hours away.
I never thought that I would fly 18 hours over the Atlantic and stay for three months, have a job and everyone around made me feel like I was 18 minutes from my home. I was fortunate enough to be able to meet family with the same blood running through our veins with accents and delicious food and completely different perspectives on certain ways of life. I will definitely go back sometime soon; that summer I spent in Sweden exposed my family tree roots and it will stay with me forever.

Revised Diagnostic Essay
When I was 18 years old, a year out of high school and working in a chainsaw factory with the feeling of old age coming at me at an exponential rate, I was grateful to have a job at the Stihl factory on Lynnhaven Parkway. It was a good job with good benefits and decent pay. Having the fresh new title of adult wasn’t really panning out like I thought it would. I wasn’t ready for school just yet, I had some exploring to do, and it just so happened I have family on the west coast of Sweden.
At about the same age, my dad had gone to Sweden to see where his father nad mother were from and lived there for a few months. So, when I told him I wanted to go to Sweden and work on the charter sailboat that Lars Eric operated, he was more than happy to make it happen. Lars Eric was a longtime good friend of the family and Bertol was a cousin. Bertol was looking forward to having me come live with him. Ina bout three weeks from mentioning it to my dad, I was sitting on a plane thinking about how I never wanted to put an orange weedeater in a box again. I worked at the end of the assembly line for the weedeaters in the packing department.
On my last flight of the trip there, I went through every emotion possible to feel, granted that was the third time I ahd been there but it was the first time I had gone by myself and with intentions of living there. The wheels of the plane touched down and I was there, one of the best and worst feelings I ever felt at the same time. Bertol’s wife, Corinna, picked me up from the airport, her English being very little and my Swedish being a lot less, the hour long ride to Kladesholmen was comforting even with the lack of communication, just to know I was among family and friends. From the time I got there until the time I left I was meeting family and friends that knew me but I could not return the familiarity. I was amazed at how much connection and close ancestry I had to the country. I got to celebrate my 19th birthday with my Swedish side in Sweden.
I started working on the Hamlet a week after I got there. I was definitely ready to work and learn aboard a 75-foot, two-masted schooner. Lars Eric knew me from when I was a kid, but working for him and getting to know him and his family was one of the best parts of the trip. My second cousin Victor lived two minutes walking distance away from Bertol and me and he was my age so we hung out all the time. We went to the Archipelago off the coast and just hung out all day with his friends who in turn became my friends. Although I was traveling a lot on charters, Victor and I took a few day trips to various destinations on the west coast of Sweden. We went to Gothamberg many times, which is the nearest big city from Kladesholmen. We talked about going to Stockholm and to Oslo, Norway, but never made it. More importantly, we just hung out and got to exchange cultural information on the younger generation. The charters I took on the Hamlet were some really good times, too. Most of them were three to five days long, and we would go to destinations anywhere from two hours to ten hours away. On the charter trips we took, we entertained anyone from a company getaway charter to a wedding aboard the Hamlet. Actually I attended a second wedding while I was there, which was a picnic that turned into a surprise wedding for my cousin, Johan. The people being surprised were my cousin’s parents and most everybody else that attended the picnic.
I never thought that I would fly 18 hours over the Atlantic and stay for three months, have a job and everyone around made me feel like I was 18 minutes from my home. I was fortunate enough to be able to meet family with the same blood running through our veins. They had accents, delicious food and completely different perspectives on certain ways of life. The Swedish people are more uninhibited than the average American. The social acceptance of alcohol is more tolerable and maybe all this is because they live under a Socialist government, but nonetheless, the quality of life was more sought after and achieved through good times with good people than I had witnessed in America. I will definitely go back sometime soon; that summer I spent in Sweden exposed my family tree roots and it will stay with me forever.