Memoir of a Family Member Essay (Article Sample)

Student’s name
Professor’s name
Course
Date
Memoir Essay
Whenever we sit down for some family time, my father always reminds me of the first time I held a tennis racket. His mouth tweaks to show the white of his unaligned teeth. Then he retells my fear of starting to learn the game that would become my heartbeat for over a decade.
I was only four at the time, and my hands were so dainty and small, too small to hold the handle as it should be held. The table was higher than my waist line, such that my belly button was pressed against the table’s edge all the time. The net seemed a mile or so away from me, as my height was greatly to my disadvantage. When the coach tossed the bat my way, I shifted my weight leftwards and didn’t even try to hit it back. He looked at me blazing eyes like I had committed the most blasphemous act. He got another bat from his trousers side pockets and tossed it again. I tried hitting and missed big. The third time he tossed it became my luckiest one - I smacked it back and it flew right on his bulbous nose.
At that time, the world was quite a different place. Parents and mentors were not as close to their children as they are now. Parents simply interpreted fear as a weakness. There was no encouragement cuddles and an: “I know you can do it.” Although there were no insults or beatings, there were simple threats like not eating candy for a week if you failed. My father was one of these parents. When I played, he would stand a meter or so from me as if to make sure I wouldn’t run away. Instead of strength, I felt the pressure to perform. But I knew that he meant well.
My table tennis lessons were always scheduled at the town hall, a big hall where almost every kid from the hometown used to come learn games. It was a big, spacious mammoth of a house with a jungle green façade. The entry was an always open double-door with two French windows on either side. There was an alley tiled with black, shiny tiles right at the center. From this central pathway, other paths branched out at intervals of about two meters. The third branch led to the table tennis game. Three tables, sometimes four, stood elegantly on the course surface of pebbled tiled. I always found kids playing there. I would wait for a game to end before requesting a challenge.
As I came to learn, table tennis is a sport loved by many, the world yonder. The history of table tennis started way back to the eighteenth century in the USA. It was a simple game with simple rules. Some Lawn Tennis players would criticize it of being a lazy game where running was greatly minimized. It, however, picked quickly and gained massive traction. In about two years, Table Tennis tournaments were being organized and winners were recognized. It reputation changed from a lazy game to classy one. When I picked up the sport, only a few children in the neighborhood played. Perhaps it was this classiness that drew me to it in the first place. The most interesting part of table tennis is when you serve. You feel as if you are in total control of the entire world,