Literary Magazine 2014

Et Umbra
Lux
Volume MMXIV
Edition 4
2014
Literary Magazine Staff and Editors
Production Editors: Jack Saxton, Brooklyn Wilson
Art Editor: Madelynn Woodard
Assistant Art Editors: Valeria Lopez
Editor: Clyde Kelly
Assistant Editors: Kaitlyn Birch, Valeria Lopez, Kaylie Wilson, Ben
Nguyen, Emily Peña, Noah Merck, Samantha Summerville
Faculty Advisor: Lyndrid Patterson
Photography Editor: Jack Saxton
Table of Contents
On The Cover
Flower.............................................Erika Plummer
Poems
Tumble Down........................................................Maddie Woodard
Transparent Eye Poem.............................................Ashley Nelson
Forever Beautiful.............................................................Kaylie Wilson
The Mighty Triceratops...........................................Maddie Woodard
Ten Chicks....................................................................Ava Bergeron
Two Doves....................................................................Gavin Armour
Autumn Leaves..............................................................Rhea Chawla
Chasing the Stream............................................Georgia Warnock
Visual Arts
Modern Alice..................................................Korrie Teffs
Lipstick.........................................................Tess Mosely
Portrait of Jolie.....................................................Marissa Dutton
I Carry Your Heart......................................................Artemis Hopps
The Root Tapestry...................................................Ashley Nelson
Wonder.............................................................Rachel Robertson
Will You?...............................................................Grant Russell
Short Story and Memoirs
He’s at Work...................................................Brooklyn Wilson
Grand Master...........................................................Ellie Luciani
Ve Que An Tet....................................................................Ben Nguyen
Harry.........................................................................Samantha Allen
Airborne....................................................................Ben St. John
The Search For Meaning.............................................Maddison Stocks
Table of Contents
Visual Arts
Protection..............................................Maddie Woodard
Keith Haring AIDS Quilt.........................................Sydney Yancy
Self Portrait Reading................................................Suheyla Kipcalki
Pop Portrait..............................................................Korrie Teffs
I Carry Your Heart...............................................................Tori Glover
Essays
Should Euthanasia/Physcian Assisted Suicide be Legalized
Ben Nguyen
Bike Lanes...............................Jack Saxton
A Right We Must Maintain...........................Brooklyn Wilson
Racial Profiling; America’s New Form of Injustice............Ellie Luciani
Taking the “Lady” Out of the Ladies Missionary Society
Georgia Warnock
Should Foreign Language Classes Be Required in High School
Noah Merck
Water Conservation in Georgia..........................Ellie Luciani
Visual Arts
Liberty Tio..............................................Gabby Heath
Made In China.......................................Abby Loggins
Eagle.....................................Adrea Farre
I Want You!................................................Charlsie London
Lady Liberty.................................................Ashley Beltran
Coca-Cola........................................Ariana Granski
American Made......................................................Haley Grimes
Table of Contents
Other Works
Obituary....................................................Owen Farley Klacik
Obituary.........................................................................Noah Merck
Shake the Ground....................................................Ellie Lucani
Visual Arts
Wood Duck...........................................................Molly Holcomb
November Afternoon......................................Haley Grimes
Barn..............................................................Samantha Summervile
Mallard.................................................................Daniel Lewis
Trees............................................................Aylin Contreras
Watchful Shadow.......................................................Jack Saxton
Poetry
Tumble Down
Maddie Woodard
Tumble Down
I’m the one who is writing this poem
Writing and writing, on and on,
As the words,
Tumble down,
The page
I’m the one who loves reading books, but hates writing poetry
Boring, boring,
boring poetry
Writing is a chore, but maybe if I think about it,
Poetry’s
Not that bad
It seems as though I’m the one who could care less about stanzas,
When truly, they rush down like a waterfall,
Like water droplets,
My words fall like rain,
Couplets gathering in a puddle below
I’m the one, who secretly wishes I could write good poetry,
Like Frost, Poe,
and Dickinson
Each word they put on a page meant
something,
But I leave the page shallow, like a pond without rain
No deeper meaning
I’m the one, who wants to leave
something behind,
A quote,
A story,
A song,
A sound
When truly I know, only my words
Will tumble
Down
Transparent Eye Poem
Ashley Nelson
I watch as the leaves hold fast to the branches,
As one hanging over cliff clings to a rope.
The trees’ limbs persist in the pursuit of protecting their precious leaflets.
The Wind cares not for the fate of the Oak’s offspring
And beats the leaves mercilessly off the tree.
I watch as the bees risk the crisp air and harsh gusts for their queen.
They fly from flower to flower attempting to acquire enough food to return home.
The cruel gale thrusts the drones back lengthening their trip and making their
Labors that much more strenuous
The Wind cares not for the fate of the bee
And creates torturous work for the creature
I watch as the mortals step out into the brisk cold
A determination in their features only such stubborn a race could posses
They head off to the same buildings as always
The small ones run outside intent on enjoying my day regardless
The larger ones follow to watch
The wind causes their bodies to shake and skin to rise
The breeze whips their hair into their eyes blinding them and roars to deafen them
The Wind cares not for the fate of the humans
And punishes them for entering his domain
They, all of the creatures think they have the best of him
But whether they ignore him or fight him,
He wages relentlessly
They believe they can be stronger
They fail to realize he was here long before they came,
And will be long after they go.
Forever Beautiful
Kaylie Wilson
Swaying in the gentle breeze, are the bright new pansies all around.
Trees are filled with moist, green leaves, believing they are sunshine bound.
Each has a form of the same old tale, with a drastically different end.
Which will stay forever beautiful, and which will slowly descend?
When chilling cold and piercing winds come to pick a fight,
The pansies stay and hold their ground, while the leaves fall dead by night.
How strange that a plant as lovely as the pansy, can outwit the coldest fiend,
Yet the leaves, once green and healthy, were utterly, horribly demeaned.
Perhaps it has to do with roots, the foundations of its life,
If not happy in solid ground, roots can cause much strife.
The leaves, in life, had endured a long and never-ceasing struggle.
Not the pansies, which in life stayed forever, forever beautiful.
Mighty Triceratops
Maddie Woodard
T h e M i g ht y Tr i c e r at op s s t a n d s ,
f ore v e r s t i l l ,
t h e s t on e s t at u e t h e re t o s e e .
A l w ay s u n m ov i n g
t h e p e r f e c t g re e n s c a l e s ,
the eyes,
t h e h or n s , a l l t h re e ,
m a k e it s e e m prou d a n d h e av y.
B ut w h at d o e s it h av e t o b e prou d of ?
In t h e s c h e m e of t h i n g s , it i s s m a l l .
T h e w or l d s u r rou n d s t h at d i n o s au r, a n d a rou n d
t h at w or l d t h e s o l a r s y s t e m ,
t h e g a l a x y,
the universe,
T h e v a s t n e s s of t h e p l a c e w e c a l l h om e
i s s o bi g w e c a n’t b e g i n t o d e s c r i b e it .
Ev e r e x p a n d i n g .
A n d w e c a l l t h e t r i c e r at op s m i g ht y.
Ten Chicks
Ava Bergeron
Going up to my hen
for the first time in three weeks,
excited to see how many babies
she hatched,
only to find five
two black
two cream
one striped.
Disappointment.
The following day
five more were running around
two black
four cream
three striped
and one black and white.
My favorite.
He looked like a penguin
so I named him Chilly.
Nature was unfolding around me.
I was horrified at the thought
of those innocent, little chicks
dying because of lack of protection,
so I decided to act.
I kept them inside my house,
gave them warmth, food, and water.
A mom in my own little, childish way.
Two Doves
Gavin Armour
Two, that’s how many there were.
The doves were just sitting there looking happy.
Sitting there,
just sitting there in the water.
Sometimes they would splash around.
I sat there watching, wondering, how
just two little birds could seem so calm and relaxed
while the world around them was so chaotic and destructive.
Two
that’s how many there were.
Autumn Leaves
Rhea Chawla
Summer starts to fade, autumn is here
The days get crisper
As the leaves start changing into their colorful attire
Looking so regal and rare
In gold, orange, brown and red
There is a chill in the air, when fall nears
Such a splendid sight
To see the leaves descend gracefully, from their throne
Telling their story from the year that has passed by
The sun begins to set
Blazing orange rays
Catching the fallen leaves in their entire splendor
A gentle evening wind blows
Carrying the autumn leaves high,
Twirling them around for one last winter dance
Chasing the Stream
Georgia Warnock
Tromping through the woods,
no clue of direction.
A brook runs its course
and becomes a compass for my navigation
of unknown territories.
I follow where it goes,
proceeding where it flows. Modern Alice
by Korrie Teffs
Lipstick
by Tess Mosley
Portrait of Jolie
by Marissa Dutton
I Carry Your Heart
by Artemis Hopps
The Root Tapestry
by Ashley Nelson
Wonder
by Rachael Robertson
Will You?
by Grant Russell
Memoirs
and
Short Stories
He’s At Work
Brooklyn Wilson
My mother slowly separated the pasta from the water in the old kitchen strainer
she had used for years. Her eyes are still young with hopes and dreams. I walk to her
and tug on the lowest part of her shirt,
“Momma, what are you cooking?”
“I’m making you some mac-n-cheese.”
“Yay!” I love mac-n-cheese!
“Okay, now go sit down so I can finish cooking.” She says as she sets the cooking pot
back on the stove.
I walk out of the kitchen and skip around until I find my way to the couch. The
completely random and un-educational show about a hyperactive sponge is on and I am
ready to watch. This show is one that can catch my short attention span.
Soon the commercials come on and I have to endure it, but that’s okay because momma
is walking towards me with my macaroni. My undeveloped heart is pounding as my
brain sends a message of excitement to my veins. She sets it down on the sofa tray beside me and then she takes a seat for herself. As soon as she sits down I say,
“Momma, I want some chocolate milk.”
“Awww. I just sat down.” She always says that, but as always she removes her body from
the year old sofa and ventures back into the kitchen.
While she is in the kitchen, I watch the commercials on TV. Of course there’s
some talking lizard that is trying to sell some sort of box with a car on it; and a Polly
pocket doll, in which I’ve already asked Momma for a thousand times; and then there is
some house with a burglar, then a fire, and then a fire truck.
I don’t really know what they are trying to sell, but it reminds me of Daddy’s fire
truck. I love getting in Daddy’s fire truck. It’s so big and it’s fun to pretend to drive in it.
Wait, where is Daddy?
“Momma,” I say as she hands me my chocolate milk, “where is Daddy?”
She sits down and sighs. She takes her time and then says, “He’s at work.”
“But he worked yesterday.”
“Yes, he had to work another shift. Now eat your macaroni before it gets cold.”
10 Years Later
I wake up. It’s Saturday morning and I can hear the stray crickets giving their last
night chirps. I roll over to look at my clock. It’s almost 10am. I get myself up and make
my way down our hallway. It’s the same house I’ve lived in for almost 13 years, and I’ve
memorized the sound the floor makes as someone walks down it.
I walk into the living room to find my mother sitting on the couch alone. The sun
is shining bright through our large living room windows. It seems as though it’s going
to be a good day to go outside. I see that the TV is on and I notice that my dad’s truck is
not in the driveway.
“Is Daddy at work?” I ask her,
“No, he left.”
“Well where did he go? Is he at the store?”
“No, he left.” Now tears are streaming down her face. I still don’t fully understand
the extent of what she is saying. When one of your parents leave it usually ends in divorce…… I don’t even want to think about it.
I take a few minutes to digest what she is saying. My dad is gone. I don’t know
where. Mom is sad… or mad, and I have confused emotions.
I take a seat beside her and hug her. It’s the only thing I know to do. I feel like crying
but more so I feel like punching a wall. I never thought this would happen. My parents
never argued. What made him leave? My mother had told me that he left for about six
weeks when I was around three or four years old. She told me that he begged to come
back, and she let him, thinking that he had changed. Now here I am almost 13 years old
with a repetition of my unremembered past.
Soon my grandparents arrive to comfort my mom, something I am not good at. I watch
TV as my mother re-explains what happened over and over again, and how she will not
let him come back this time. At about 1 o’clock I ask my mother what I can have for
lunch.
“Wait just a little bit.” She says to me as my grandparents are leaving. As they are getting
in the car my mom tells me that my brother, his wife, and my nephew are coming over.
I am starting to get excited because I love Jentry as well as my brother and his wife. Despite the unfortunate circumstances I know I can find time to smile for my favorite and
only nephew.
About ten minutes later they all come over. I give Jentry my usual hug. Jentry smiles and
says, “Aunt B, can I have some macaroni and cheese?”
“Sure.” I walk him inside and set him down on the couch. I then go off to start the macaroni while my mom is talking to my brother and Lacey. It takes it about ten minutes to
cook and then I have to let it cool so Jentry doesn’t get burned. After I let it cool, I grab
Jentry a small spoon and take it to him.
“Mmmmmmnnnnn” he says as he eats it.
“Is it good?” I ask.
“Yessssss!” he says in his three year old squeak.
“Hey Aunt B, where’s grandpa?”
I freeze at the question. What am I supposed to tell him? I can’t decide so I say the first
thing that pops into my mind.
“He’s at work.”
Grand Master
Ellie Luciani
A stained gray booster seat hangs from an oak tree, floating back and forth in
the wind, connected only to this world by two strands of yarn tied carefully to its armrests. A white undershirt, spoiled by sweat, clings to the inflated stomach of the man
in the rocking chair. A puff of the dirtiest smoke escapes from his cigar, meandering
about the wraparound porch until the Southern wind has gently dispersed it into the
summer sky. White paint slowly peels of the house, leaving spots of untreated wood.
A Confederate flag whips in the wind, its hole torn fabric not caching as much air as
it used to. Deflated. But then again, one could expect something that’s been struck by
lightning to survive this long.
The pit-bull stares at the cars, making no movement to attack them from his
place behind the fence that encircles the yard. His habitat is a wasteland of forgotten toys, broken parts and deformed weeds. The man’s face squints as he tries to get a
picture of who is in the cars that pass. A Southern tradition is to watch the traffic. As
his features compress, I catch a glimpse of his eyes. A shiver rakes my body and for
a moment, I lose myself in his glare, falling deep into a history of pride, supremacy,
undeserved dignity. Seeing him outside his house is an astonishing revelation that not
many people get to experience. The whispers of locals fill my ears, circling in a spiral
of biased gossip.
“Grand master of the KKK”, one boy whispers.
“The flag has been shot down by lightning three times, and each time he puts it
higher up in that God-Forsaken tree,” a woman reveals.
“He’s racist- Bless his heart,” another voice chimes in. He has not stopped his in-
tense gaze. I peer through the windows of the car to try to see his face. My excitement
has snowballed into a hope that I might catch him in his robe, or doing something
terrible to another human being so I could tell the stories and have something important to say that makes me even with everyone else. But the graying man has gotten up
from his rocking chair, and now is standing under the very tree that proudly displays
the battered flag, pushing a little girl on the homemade swing. Her pigtails fly as she
gets higher, and the burst of momentum adds to her glowing smile. She radiates happiness and safety.
How could I have judged someone based on how he looks? I know most of the
murmurings to be true, but I can’t blatantly ignore the scene set in front of me just to
keep believing that this man is not human, just pure evil. I judged him, and no matter
how racist he is or how much hatred is deep within his heart. For that moment we are
the same. Equals. The light turns green and our car pulls away, leaving a man and his
grandchild in their yard. By this time he has probably forgotten about the wide eyed
girl in the minivan. But I will never forget.
Ve Que An Tet
Ben Nguyen
It was a hot and humid morning in February. A seemingly usual day in South
Vietnam, but today was different, it was Vietnamese New Year (Tet). I wake up to the
sweet smell of a hoa lai flower on the window sill, in the small two story house of my
uncle’s. It was 2008, and I was in the small city of Vinh Long, the city that my father
grew up in. I take another deep breath of the flower, then I get myself ready for the
day. I go downstairs to see my dad and he asks me.
“Do you know what day today is?”
“Yes! Where is my money?”
I smile to my father. He chuckles then hands me my lucky red envelope, my favorite
part of the New Years. He then opens the front door for me and we head out to the
streets where the celebrations had already begun. We enter the street as a dancing
dragon is preforming. It has big yellow eyes and a red body with black scales, a metal
dragon. I hear the loud drums that play in synchronization with the dragon as well
as people in the market talking. On each side of the street were street vendors selling clothes, gifts, and food. The streets were covered in red and yellow paper lanterns
and paper cuttings, as well as traditional cherry blossom trees and hoa mai flowers. It
was if my dad opened the door of happiness for me as I was shocked in amazement at
the colorful decorations but more importantly the dragon. I immediately begged my
dad to go watch the dragon. We watched for a few minutes when the worker inside the
dragon saw my interest and says.
“Would you like to control the eyes?”
“Of course he would.” My father abruptly answered for me.
I was nervous but excited and climbed on the worker’s shoulders. He showed
me the controls, there were two puppet handles, one controlling each eye. He then
instructed me to wink in a synchronized pattern with the other dragons. But I must
not had heard him and did whatever pattern I wanted. My dad realizes this as well,
and he was afraid that I might fall off the worker, so then he tried to get me back. A
struggle ensued for my father. The loud drums from the dragon performance made
the worker unable to hear my father’s requests. The dragon, with me inside, marched
further down the street. I had forgotten about my father at the time as I was enjoying
my time as a parade star. My mother and sister found my dad. They had been shopping for gifts and food.
“Are you guys having a great time?”
“No! I have lost Minh in the metal dragon!”
He frantically tells them and they proceed to chase me down. They did not have much
success either, as the streets were narrow and they were stuck behind crowds of other
people, mua lan performers, and mía street vendors. After short pursuit, they eventually caught up with me. My father asks the worker politely to put me down.
“I think my son has had enough time to play with the eyes.You should let other kids
play with it.”
“Oh, I am sorry. I had forgot that I have had your child the whole time,” The worker,
embarrassed, replied to my dad.
He then put me down and I returned to my family. I was afraid that I was in trouble
and promptly apologized to them. My mother told me it was my father’s fault and
began to scowl at him. But they quickly put it behind them as they saw that I was safe
and had had the time of my life in that dragon. While we ate at a dim sum restaurant,
my mom explained that I needed to be beside her or my father at all times under all
circumstances and that on this type of day it was very crowded and I could easily get
lost like I almost did. I understood and promised that I would always stay by their
sides. I had gone on an adventure in an exotic country. It had almost taken me as I
nearly got lost in it, but I survived and loved it. We then spent the rest of the day visiting relatives and going to temples, then at night we listened to a Vietnamese Tet music
concert and lastly, watched amazing fireworks.
Harry
Samantha Allen
I cover my small head with the covers and hug my knees to my chest as I listen to
the light pitter patter of small footsteps outside my door. No, he’s coming! I think, horrified, as the door lightly creaks. I can only scream, as his deep voice taunts me. “Meow.”
It’s been years since that cat, Harry, has been gone. Though his malicious meows
still haunt me, I remember the first time I saw the little demon. I was barely a toddler,
but the hatred between us was so vivid and obvious, especially once he made his first
hiss. He knew I hated him; I knew he hated me.
Knowing my family adored me more than that flea-ridden beast, I made sure to
make it clear how horrid he was to me. Although, I didn’t expect they actually liked that
thing! But they adored him, and he wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon.
The atrocious things he would do still flash in my mind. Every day there was a
surprise, and it was never a good one. The beast would scratch the furniture; knock
down pictures, which happened to be of me; he would even defecate behind doors! Although, my ignorant mother and father only gave him a pat on the head and made up
bad excuses for the creature.
“He’s sick.” My father would say, holding the wild thing in his arms.
“He’s just a cat.” My mother sympathetically sighed, as she got a plastic bag. “Cats
do this sort of thing.”
And to make matters worse, he didn’t do these things only in the daylight. I recall sleeping peacefully on a happy night. The clocks all struck midnight, but of course
didn’t make a sound, because that would wake us all up. Though I didn’t have to fear
a clock dinging in the middle of the night, my only fear was of the fuzz ball with the
pointed teeth lurking under my bed at night. When I heard the hiss, I could only
scream, as he dashed out of my room to leave me without proof.
“He wasn’t in here!” My father would scold. “You’re just imagining things!”
“He’s right, sweetheart.” My mother would only back him up. “Now go back to
sleep.”
And as soon as the lights were off, it would all happen again.
The thing I looked forward to the most in my young life were vacations, because
for once I wouldn’t have to fear my own home; my own room; my own bed. We didn’t
leave the house often, for if we did, the beast’s caretaker would demand a tip for the
many scratches along her arms and legs.
Though, my mother needed a break every once in a while from the exhausting
nine hours a day she would sit down in a chair and count numbers. So, lucky for me, we
would go.
One very specific vacation, we decided to leave the furry beast with a kennel.
They weren’t happy to hear we were leaving him for a week, and I wasn’t surprised. We
soon after headed out for the beach, where we went once a year to escape the same old
every day we were always immersed in.
Every vacation was a little slice of heaven. Full of badly taken photos, saltwater in
our eyes and more importantly, smiles. It was a happy time, even when we three were
cramped together in a smelly, hotelroom in Florida. Though, my anxiety filled nerves
could never settle down, because I knew once we got back that furry brute would be
waiting for me.
On the car ride home from our mini heaven, my legs shook with fear. My arms
obtained goose bumps and my throat became dry as we pulled into the kennel’s parking
lot. We walked into the door, and my heart skipped beats. And as the nurse walked to
our family with an empty pet carrier in her arms, my young eyes could only widen.
She then proceeded to tell my parents of their loss. He had died of old age. Their
devastation was nothing, compared to my excitement. My heart now beat faster than my
smile had widened. I could only fake a mournful frown as my heartbroken father sat in
a chair holding the beast’s collar in his grasp.
We went home and for once I didn’t have to check under my bed for a monster, or
behind my door for fecal matter. With a smile on my face, and the room pitch black, I
hopped into my bed without a single bad thought in my head. My mortal enemy was no
longer there to haunt me.
Airborne
Ben St. John
When I was eight, I thought that if I peddled my bike down the driveway fast enough that I
could take of just like a Boeing 747. My parents kind of insisted on teaching my sister and
I that when you do not succeed then you should try and do it again. So Sarah and I would
always go around running into things, jumping over that, or in my case trying to fly. By age
eight I still thought I could soar like a bird if only I had the right equipment. I remember my
rickety bike I had had since I was four, the handle bars were bent downward and it was just a
mess. That bike to me was the holy grail of a two wheeled peddling machine.
I knew I had to learn to fly over the summer. Even my parent’s henced it was a “good”
idea. They took me to Home Depot and let me select the exact materials that my genius plan
required. I had come up with a scrappy sketch to erect the greatest ramp in the history of
elementary school. It took about one week to complete the grand runway to the clouds. To
me it looked like something that would transpire from Harvard graduate, but looking back
on it, it was a disaster. My parents just could not wait to see me shoot for the moon.
One day I woke up feeling confident, so I proposed my departure to my encourag-
ing parents. My plan was to use the road we lived on as a landing strip for when I need to
come down and to always wear a helmet just in case I ran into some turbulence up there. I
had already oiled up the chain to my bike and made last minute inspections to the “runway”.
Finally it was time. My parents with the camera ready to document this historical moment.
I took off down the driveway, perusing swift speeds; it felt like I was in the USS Enter-
prise flying past stars. I hit the jumble of wood that was fastened together with Elmer’s glue
and miscellaneous garbage. I couldn’t believe it, I was flying... head first for the hard asphalt.
I splattered on to Channel Drive looking like a fool. I ended up breaking my arm and getting
a slight concussion. But I never tried to fly again. I did learn a lesson that I myself could not
fly, but I still think being a pilot is one of the coolest jobs around.
The Search For Meaning
Madison Stocks
With each day, our memories blur. What was her voice like? Her walk? Many people
don’t know what it feels like to be so young and to not be able to remember a friend you
always hung out with. Throughout my life, I have learned lessons and this one had affected me the most. Most things in life you may not understand and that is okay. I have
learned that true strength is pushing through the hard times when you don’t understand, and still coming out on top.
Last year I spent the night with two of my best friends Kristina and Hannah. Once
we all woke up, we logged into Facebook together as we came across a video. It was a
group of pictures put into a video with quotes. We all began to cry. So we thought it
would be a good idea to let balloons of her favorite color go. Later that day, we wrote
notes and put them inside purple zebra balloons and we let them go. We also planted a
purple flower in honor of her with a note attached, “Forever and always in memory.”
Megan Lea Alfonzo and I were very good friends. We hung out at every cheer-
leading exhibition and many competitions. Megan was a beautiful young girl: she had
blondish, brown hair and was a very sweet Christian . She always knew the right thing
to say at the right moment. Megan was that type of girl who would keep to herself, but
would help you up when you needed it. As of the year 2011 we continued getting closer.
We had about three days until a competition at the Gwinnett Arena, and one day until practice. The next day, I was headed to practice as my mom began, “Madi did you
hear? Megan Alfonzo off of junior white passed away last night in her sleep. I’m so sorry
Madi.” I began to cry, not sure what to do. I didn’t quite understand how this could happen to such a young girl. I got to practice and my team joined as we cried and supported
each other. In the cheer world when this happens, it affects us all and we all stand together as one.
Our competition day arrived at the Gwinnett Arena. As my team began to sit
down and support Megan’s team performance, we saw the team come out hand in hand.
An announcer began to speak, “Please bow your head in honor of Megan Alfonzo.” I
will never ever forget those words. We then began to bow our heads in prayer. Once the
prayer was over, junior white competed in honor of Megan and received white roses as
they walked off stage. Meanwhile, our entire gym and the arena began to cry together in
support of a beautiful young girl who meant so much to us all. Here one moment, gone
the next, you never know if you will live to see tomorrow.
My heart still aches in sadness and tears still flow. I now know that not all stories
have a happy ending. You never know what will happen next in life. Most things in life
we just don’t understand and that is okay.
The Old Farmhouse in My Heart
By: Morgan Langley
We sadly drive past the old farmhouse that now stands lonely and empty. Its worn white paint
is chipping badly and the porch looks like it could fall off at any minute. This is the house that
once contained so much talk, laughs, games and good food. We usually slow down here and
turn onto the long dusty path which leads to the house, but today we just keep going down the
little highway near Dola, Ohio. We keep driving for about 20 minutes to a nursing home in a
nearby town. We park and walk inside. As I stroll up to the double doors, memories start to
replay in my mind. My steps slow, and my thoughts drift off to the old farmhouse.
It’s Easter at the Good’s house; all the cousins are here and the flowers are in bloom. “Girls,
come sit at the table, and I will explain the rules!” Grandma Good exclaims. “Everyone is allowed to find 5 eggs, and only open them when you get back to the porch. Come take a basket!” The eggs were always filled with money—quarters, nickels, and dimes. Then we would
come inside and grandpa would give us a special silver dollar from his collection.
I re-gather my thoughts as we walk inside the nursing home and my mom signs us in. The
front room is designed like a café with tables and paintings on the walls. To the right, there are
chairs and a bird cage with lots of little birds flying around chirping happily. But the people
here are not like the chirpy birds, and I sense that they don’t want to visit this strange café.
Most look sad. Some have smiles, but you can tell they are just a cover for the real sadness
they are holding inside.
My mind begins to drift again—back to the old farmhouse.
“Let’s all say the prayer now. Morgan Lee, hold my hand,” Grandpa would say, reaching out
his hand to me. We usually had fried chicken, his favorite, and most times he couldn’t say the
prayer fast enough, eager to start devouring his food so he could ask for seconds. I take a napkin and hand it to him; he smiles and wipes off his greasy lips. Eating was his passion.
“Morgan, come on, Grandma is down this hall to the left. We are going to see her first,”
Mom says. I follow my parents and three younger sisters down the hallway but my mind is
thinking of us standing before an old refrigerator, covered with photographs.
“Who’s this, Grandma?” My sisters and I chant at the same time, all of us holding a different picture. Grandma always had so many pictures on her refrigerator because she had so
many grandchildren and great grandchildren. She would tell us who was in each picture, and
then we would try to remember them from past Christmas celebrations we had with the whole
family every year.
We get to Grandma’s room that she shares with another lady. She says they won’t let her
be in the same room with Grandpa because he always wants her to help him, and she’s not supposed to lift him.
I go over and give Grandma a long hug and then stand by her side, holding her hand the
whole time. We have some pictures for her, but she has no refrigerator to hang them on. She
only has a small bulletin board with a couple of tacks. We hang our pictures up with the ones
she has on her wall and promise to bring more tacks next time. It’s hard not to think of us sitting around that old round table, all holding different puzzle pieces.
“I don’t know where this piece goes!” Grandma says, looking the piece over and trying
to fit it into every empty space. She was always so determined, and we always had to finish that
puzzle. At the end, Grandma would pass out ice cream from the big clear containers. We never
wanted to take the puzzle apart, so we just left it on the table while we ate.
I look around Grandma’s part of the tiny room and notice there is no table for puzzles.
Grandma keeps apologizing for forgetting to send cards because she doesn’t have her calendar
to remember the dates.
All too soon, we say our goodbyes and go down the hall to find Grandpa’s room; the
outside of his door has a name plate with a piece of paper slipped in which reads “Virgil Lee
Good.” This place is so different from the house that contained his treasures, all stowed away
upstairs.
“What’s upstairs? Is there magic stuff up there, Grandpa?” My sisters and I always wondered about the treasures that were hidden upstairs.
“It’s all my old antiques, coins, and my treasures!” We all giggled and Grandpa went
back to telling his stories of the war, the weather, and crops or farming. He always smiled
so big, and we would all cramp into the little living room, while listening. Grandpa is in his
favorite chair, some of the family sits on the couch and others on the piano bench, while my
sisters played with dolls on the floor.
“Morgan Lee!” Grandpa shouts, holding out his arms for me to settle in. He is really
happy to see us. His room is very small, and he doesn’t have his chair, his TV, or his hidden
treasures. The walls are pale and don’t have much life. He is sitting in his wheelchair eating, but
of course there is no fried chicken for him here.
“How are the crops this year, Virgil?” my dad asks. Grandpa always loves talking about
the weather and crops.
“They’re okay. Ardie has been out there working on them. I will be out of here soon
enough to get back to them and the house. ” My dad stays quiet; Grandpa doesn’t understand
this is his home now.
We continue talking about school, the weather, and all of our sports. The whole time he
has a firm grip on my hand. He squeezes it sometimes, as if to make sure I am still there with
him. We eventually say our goodbyes and tears come to his eyes as we leave.
We get in the car and start driving back home. We pass the little white farmhouse again,
and the memories play in the air as distant yet familiar pictures. The words are strung together
like a movie replaying in my mind. The paint is still chipped, and the porch is still sagging. The
tree swing in the front yard slowly rocks back and forth in the wind. The house may be worn
and empty now, but it will always be full of precious memories for me. Memories of unconditional love and laughter that I will carry in my heart forever.
Protection
by Maddie Woodard
Keith Haring AIDS Quilt
by Sydney Yancey
Self Portrait Reading
by Suheyla kipcaki
Pop Portrait
by Korrie Teffs
I Carry Your Heart
by Tori Glover
Essays
Should Euthanasia/Pysician Asisted
Suicide be Legalized
Ben Nguyen
Sue Rodriguez died slowly of Lou Gehrig’s disease (ALS). Lou Gehrig’s disease is a terminal illness that has no cure or treatment today that halts or reverses it. Sue lived for
years knowing that her muscles would slowly die each day until the day that she would
choke to death. She could not take it, so she begged the courts of Winnipeg, Canada
to let her doctors be allowed to preform euthanasia. However, they refused. She lived
in terror, not knowing when she will die, until a doctor covertly broke the law and
performed euthanasia to let her die in peace and without suffering. It is terrible when
a suffering person such as Sue, is rejected to die peacefully. Euthanasia should be legalized and should be an option for a patient that has a terminal disease.
People should not be declined their right to die. In a similar case to Sue, a
woman in England, Diane Pretty had a terminal illness known as motor neuron disease. The pain and problems the disease has given her greatly destroyed her quality of
life and she could not endure it any longer. She stated “I want to have a quick death
without suffering, at home surrounded by my family.” The disease took its course and
made Diane unable to move and then made it hard for her communicate easily. She
then took her case out to court. The case ended with Diane denied her rights. It would
only be weeks later that she would die in a hospital under exactly the conditions she
had wanted to avoid.
The majority American population agree that euthanasia should be legalized. In
2006, a survey by Gallup Poll found that 69% of Americans agreed that when a person has an incurable disease, that doctors should be allowed to end the patient’s life
by their or their family’s request. According to a another study by Angus Reid Public
Opinion, 70% of people agreed, that legalized euthanasia would give people who are
suffering an opportunity to ease their pain, 11% were unsure and only 19% disagreed.
In another similar study, they asked 1,902 physicians if they would be willing to hasten a patient’s death who has a terminal disease, 11% said yes by prescribing medication and 7% to administer lethal injection, despite both acts being illegal. Based on
these surveys and studies people are agreeing that euthanasia should be legalized.
Euthanasia and physician assisted suicide is legal in various countries around the
world. These countries include Belgium, Luxembourg, Colombia, India, Ireland, Mex-
ico, Switzerland and the Netherlands. Switzerland has permitted euthanasia and physician assisted suicide since 1942. Switzerland has organized a group, known as Dignitas, who specializes in preforming euthanasia. People have come all over the world
to Switzerland to end their suffering. At one point, 180 British citizens had travelled
to Switzerland just to be euthanized. They have helped over 1000 people in their clinics in Zurich. Switzerland is like an open door to peace and tranquility to terminally
ill patients. Physician assisted suicide is legal in four states in the U.S: Montana, Oregon, Vermont, and Washington. These four states have the same rule and procedure
for physician assisted suicide. The patient must be at least 18, who only have 6 months
or less until expected certain death. Citizens in these states agree that assisted suicide
should be an option for a terminally ill patient.
Euthanasia should be legalized to save resources and medical costs from keeping
a terminally ill patient alive and instead used for patients that have a higher chance of
survival. In 2009, Medicare paid fifty billion dollars just for doctors and hospital bills
during the last two month of a terminal patient’s lives, which is higher than the budget of the United States Department of Education. Ira Bylock, a doctor that specializes
in the ICU, said that it costs up to $10,000 dollars a day to maintain someone in the
ICU. The ICU cares for patients with the most severe and life-threatening illnesses
and injuries. Every year it gets approximately 4 million admissions. The average mortality rate ranging from 8-19% or about 500,000 deaths annually. When patients unfortunately do not make it, they are hooked up to machines and are restrained, not
peacefully like they can if they have the option for euthanasia.
Patients that have a terminal disease began to develop depression and will cease
to communicate. A study by Bayl University Medical Center says that, “Depression
is both associated with intense suffering and a cause of intense suffering, yet it is not
inevitable.” The incidence of major depression in terminally ill patients ranges from
25% to 77%. Once they develop it, they will cease to communicate with doctors, nurses and their own families. Delirium is common in the final stages of a terminal illness, it characterized by an onset of changes in cognition and awareness. People won’t
let an old dog suffer, so why let your ill patient endure a life of pain? These patients
are denied a painless death and will develop depression in addition to their quality of
life.
People might argue that if euthanasia becomes legalized that the slippery slope
effect would take place. Also, if it is legalized, it would not be able to be regulated and
controlled. The slippery slope will not be a problem; a properly drafted legislation
can draw a firm barrier across the slippery slope, having guidelines and regulations to
euthanasia. People argue that euthanasia cannot be controlled and regulated and that
it will lead to people put to death without their consent. This would not be an issue
because each individual case will have to be approved by court, doctors would have to
be certified for preforming euthanasia or assisted suicide, so euthanasia will be regulated and not done at random.
Euthanasia is a growing controversial topic in America. Based on studies and
surveys of the American people, the majority believe that euthanasia should be legalized for terminally ill patients that wish for that option. There have been cases in
where people have been denied their human rights and are left to die in conditions
that painful and leave them with no dignity. It is expensive to keep these terminal
patients alive, about ten thousand dollars a day. If people cannot die a peaceful and
painless death, then can they expect to happen? People should not be forced to stay
alive if they have a terminal disease, they should rather have the option to die peacefully without suffering and quickly; therefore they should have the option for euthanasia.
Why Cities Should Build Bike Lanes
Jack Saxton
Across the nation in nearly every city there is someone pushing for a bike lane.
While most people object with claims of the project being too expensive or waste full
when you look closer you find that there are many good reasons to build bike lanes.
Bike lanes not only benefit the community but the people that live there as well.
“I am a cyclist and I often find myself riding alone or in a small group with an
unusable shoulder as our only space to ride. On our favorite route I have to ride for
about three miles on a very busy two lane road the speed limit of this road is between forty five and sixty miles per hour. One day on this road I found myself a half
mile apart between the closest members of my group. It was beginning to rain when I
turned on to the road and then it was a steady drizzle when a car came by almost hitting me I of course got caught in the car’s tailwind and had to wrestle my bike to avoid
getting hit by the next car. Many people that may ride bikes are too afraid to because
of the risk of getting hit by a car. With the addition of bike lanes even to just major
roads would put people at ease to get out and ride their bicycle.
“A bike runs on fat and saves you money; a car runs on money and makes you
fat.” One way that bikes benefit the community is their health value. According to
Bicycling.com, the average male weighing one hundred and twenty five pounds riding at leisure a pace burns four hundred and fifty four calories riding a bike for an
hour as opposed to a car where the user burns zero. Biking is also an aerobic activity
which means that it strengthens endurance and the lungs. Biking also makes it easier
to go to sleep and reduces stress levels. Even though bikes are a wonderful resource
to get fit and healthy people are scared to ride on public roads because of low maintained shoulders, if they are even there at all. Biking is not only good for people that
have health issues now, but it is also for the people that don’t have any too. According
to national studies, children who bike are fifty percent less likely to be overweight as
adults. But it’s not only the children who need the bikes and bike lanes it’s the adults
too. Women who bike just thirty minutes a day have a lower risk of breast cancer. People who commute to work have lower blood pressure and men who ride are less likely
to have mental problems. Another national study showed that people who bike have
higher self confidence and are less likely to commit suicide. Bicycling is also good for
the lungs People for Bikes did a study and urban bike commuters are exposed to less
pollution than a bus commuter.
Adding bike lanes to communities would also be good for business and the
general economy around where they are put in. Here’s an example when someone that
wants to get into biking or a cyclist goes into a bike shop he or she may spend money
on components or on a whole new bike. This puts money into the economy and helps
the bike shop where they purchased the bike. Then they ride on the bike lanes which
gave a job to someone to build and they use it making a job for someone to maintain
it. Then they tell their friends and the cycle repeats. Studies have shown that national
health spending could be reduced by some seven hundred and forty seven billion if
every community had bike lanes and facilities. They also said that a company with
one thousand employees two hundred eighty five thousand dollars a year, two hundred and eighty five thousand dollars that they could spend on employing someone
else. That in turn would make more jobs and raise the amount of working Americans.
New York City found out that businesses near bike lanes had a forty nine percent sales
increase. Adding bike lanes will also bring the local real estate value up. This is when
the local economy gets stronger then the home values go up because that’s where
people want to live. New York also found that rents along the Times Square bike lanes
increased seventy one percent in two thousand and ten, the highest of and where in
the city. In Saint Paul Minneapolis for every four hundred meters a house is closer to
a bike lane the house value increases five hundred ten dollars.
People might try to convince you that bike lanes are “too expensive to build or
that they don’t make good use of the effort.” In the city of San Francisco it would cost
four hundred forty five thousand dollars to make one mile of bike lanes while the city
spent over one and a half million per mile on adding the new underground subway. If
one city can spend that much on making a path for something that doesn’t even power
its self, then it can definitely find enough money to fund a lane to safely transport self
powering ways of transportation. The need is also there too; according to People for
Bikes forty seven percent of Americans say that they want more bike paths in their
community. In fact, a Center for Disease Control study found that community-based
bike paths are “money well spent” meaning that they are more efficient than most
chronic disease preventing measures and the best part is that they are free for anyone
to use.
Bike lanes also make the area that they are put in safer not only for physical
safety but for your properties safety too. Adding a bike lane makes your house safer
for you and your children. Bike lanes add a “buffer” between the road and your children so that if they do get a little too close to the street it is less likely that a car is
going to be heading towards them. The addition of bike lanes also makes the area
safer for adults and other drivers too; eighty four percent of New York bikers feel safest when a “green” or bike lane is put in were they ride. The city also found that that
drivers that never ride bicycles “overwhelmingly report greater comfort” when driving
next to a bike lane. Accidents can also go down with the addition of bike lanes once
New York add their “green lane” project on Columbus Avenue all traffic crashes decreased thirty four percent, speeding decreased, dangerous and illegal sidewalk riding
nearly stopped, and commercial loading space increased. A bike lane is where a bicycle belongs Texas did a review of local studies and found out that bikes and cyclists
are safest on marked or off road paved bike lanes. On average according to research by
Bike Law a cyclist injury advocate group says that a driver could speed once a day and
only get caught every thirty five years, and that one out of every four hundred and
thirty eight people who run a red light is caught.
Adding bike lanes could also help the environment and the air quality of cities.
In Philadelphia cyclists ride two hundred and sixty thousand miles commuting daily,
this saves forty seven thousand four hundred fifty tons of carbon dioxide from being
put into the atmosphere each year. If twenty percent of kids in school would walk or
bike to school we would save four point three million miles of driving each day over a
year three hundred and fifty six tons of carbon dioxide and over twenty one thousand
tons of other pollutants would be saved from being emitted each year. In two thousand and eight the number of miles that Americans rode rose three percent, also in
the same year traffic congestion decreased by thirty percent.
On the whole, we need bike lanes in our communities. Not only for the environmental benefits, or the economic benefits, we need to add them because they will
draw people together. Without the noisy engines or seclusion of cars people will talk
when they ride on the road together then friendships will form and then the community will be more willing to help each other and generally become tight knit, a tight
knit group of people in the community is the back bone to a stronger economy. Eighty
three percent of the people around 15th street in Washington D.C say that their bike
lane is a vital part of their community. We need bike lanes the demand is there and
there is obviously a multitude of benefits, so why not build bike lanes they benefit
everyone, they help the economy, and most of all they make our streets safer. I think
Valentino Rossi says it best, “Riding a bike is an art – a thing that you do because you
feel something inside.” The thing he is talking about there can be described as drive,
passion, or enthusiasm, the very things that drive a community to do better.
A Right We Must Maintain
Brooklyn Wilson
Our nation was founded on our personal freedoms, such as the freedom of
speech, the right to bear arms, and the right to remain silent to not incriminate oneself
in the court of law. These freedoms were set in motion when a few pilgrims fled to the
new world to receive religious sanctions, and sparked again when Americans wanted
their independence from Great Britain; it was this independence that made our forefathers see that rights of all men are equal under God. Through the many trials of our
nation, the declaration that all men have the right to keep and bear arms, and that the
government cannot infringe upon that amendment is barely standing today. Sadly, the
lines between rights and privileges are becoming less and less defined due to an over
politically correct society. The right to bear arms is important to our country’s culture
as well as our fundamentals in keeping the role of citizens over the role of government.
Although we still have the right to bear arms, the government is still in complete
control over who can buy weapons and what weapons we can buy, which contradicts
the second amendment. Our past and first President George Washington stated, “A free
people ought not only to be armed and disciplined, but they should have sufficient arms
and ammunition to maintain a status of independence from any who might attempt to
abuse them, which would include their own government.” Our country was founded
upon freedoms, and our country’s freedoms are set in stone and non-negotiable.
People claim that having some gun control is good, but if only certain people are allowed the freedom of this amendment, it is not a right but a privilege to those who are
considered eligible. Rights are for every man and every woman, not any specific group.
Yes, we must take into consideration the safety of others, but to have limitations on a
right is unacceptable. These limitations are not just on the second amendment. There
are limits on other amendments too. Take the first amendment for example, every
American has the right to free speech, religion, press, and assembly, yet there are certain
words that are not allowed in our country and certain places you cannot assemble. Some
limits may seem good, but where do we stop? The second amendment is important in
protecting not just the right to bear arms, but all of our rights.
The U.S government has tried to control what arms the American people are able
to purchase, clearly defying the part of the 2nd amendment that states that the people
have the right to bear arms “and shall not be infringed”. The U.S government has already
infringed upon the 2nd Amendment, because there are so many regulations that it is
difficult to get arms. Many people do not know how serious this is in terms of our freedoms. Our rights are slowly being eroded away by an ever growing socialistic society. It
is a hill and we are falling ever so slowly.
Some people may say that our forefathers did not know how our world would be
shaped today, therefore they didn’t know best when it came to arms, but they did know.
During the American revolution the British red coats decided to eliminate the source
of the people’s power—their fire arms. The Americans did not comply with their orders, and they actually started stealing the British’s stockpile and using it as their own
firearms. This is what led to our free nation, The United States Of America. Thomas
Jefferson once said, “The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and
bear arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government”. Our
forefathers knew exactly how the government would try to gain power because they had
seen it in their time.
One of the problems with people not recognizing what is going on, is they choose
not to. Many people do not want to be pointed at, therefore they are silent. It is not that
our government wants to destroy the foundation of our nation, but they are trying to do
what is best for the American people which is slowly turning to a Marxist society. People need to realize that life is not fair, therefore not everything is equal.
People would like to say that gun control stops irresponsible people from harming
others, but in reality it does not. Wayne LaPierre (the NRA Executive Vice President)
once said, “The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun.”
Many people would agree with this statement however many on the far left do not believe in this statement of freedom. If a person wants to harm someone they will find a
weapon somewhere, illegally, and do what they were going to do. Now to stop maximum
damage it will take a responsible citizen, who owns a gun, to possibly stop this person.
The right to bear arms in our great country has been around for almost 200 years,
and is one of the most important amendments of our nation. Without this amendment
the people’s rights would not be protected, for they would have no way to defend themselves from foreign enemy, or even our own government. It is important that we speak
out to stop the massive amount of gun control from being implemented on the American people, because it is a slippery slope and once you’ve begun to go down, it’s hard to
climb back up.
Racial Profiling: America’s New Form of Injustice
Ellie Luciani
The sun beats down on the small panhandle town of Tulia, Texas. It’s 1999, and an undercover cop is hard at work, trying to bring down a drug ring. According to the American
Civil Liberties Union, Tom Coleman was a police officer with a “checkered past and self-declared fondness for racial epithets (a tag put on a certain race).” He single handedly arrested
10% of the town’s black population, based solely off of his racist testimonies. “The Panhandle
task force was the beneficiary of Coleman’s lies. The more busts he made and the more convictions he helped win, the more federal grant money the task force received,” said Randy Credico
of the William Kunstler Fund for Racial Justice. In other words, for every person arrested and
found guilty, the more money got to Coleman. The worst part is the 38 people convicted were
in jail for four years before their case was dismissed. Imagine being trapped like a dog in a
cage, treated like a criminal, looked down upon for something you didn’t do. Picture being
convicted of an awful crime when the only thing you did was watch your skin color offend a
police man. This is why Pro-Racial Profiling laws should be removed from the American legal
system so that all Americans have the same rights no matter what their race is.
Racial profiling is a practice used by law enforcement to find people who could be drug
dealers, illegal immigrants, terrorists or gang members. It targets people of color for law investigation and enforcement, isolating communities and causing distrust toward people of races
other than white. The police are supposed to protect and serve us. How is it serving people
when they can’t get on an airplane because the wear a burka? How does it protect people who
have gotten arrested purely because they are Latino and drive an old car? Under the Obama
Administration the FBI has been given the ability to investigate potential terrorists because
they are from the Middle East. In New York, police can stop pedestrians in the street and
search them if they look “suspicious”. According racialprofilinganalysis.neu.edu, suspicious
means non-white, because almost 90% of pedestrians stopped in 2006 were colored. Racial
profiling is slowly becoming legal. “Certain terrorist and criminal groups are comprised of
persons primarily from a particular ethnic or geographic community, which must be taken
into account when trying to determine if there are threats to the United States,” said Michael
Kolton, an FBI spokesman, to the Times. How can this be legal? How can the “land of the free”
allow its people to be investigated unfairly? Sadly, there are laws today that allow law enforcement to judge people based off of race.
Humiliated, embarrassed, angry. A young African-American sits in what used to be his
car, weeping. He was pulled over in what he thought was going to be a routine speeding ticket.
Instead, the trooper called for backup. They pulled apart his car, taking off the paneling, dismantling the entire car. They did a more in depth than necessary search for drugs, but they
found nothing. After handing him a speeding ticket, the officers casually drove off, leaving the
innocent victim alone in his wrecked SUV. “You’ve gotta learn to play through it. Even though
you haven’t done anything wrong, the worst thing you can do in a situation like that is to become emotionally engaged when they do that to you.... Because if you do something, maybe
they’re going to do something else to you for no reason at all, because they have the power.
They have the power and they can do whatever they want to do to you for that period of time.
. . . It doesn’t make a difference who you are. You’re never beyond this, because of the color of
your skin,” says David A. Harris in his book, The Stories, the Statistics and the Law: Why Driving Black Matters.
Is this the America you want to live in? A place where anyone can collect thousands of
dollars of damage to their possessions because a cop thought the color of their skin was suspicious? This is not the America our founding fathers fought for. The America our Constitution
calls for is one with no bias due to race. No judgment of people based off of appearance. Our
most important law is not being upheld by the highest branches of our government, and it
goes against everything we as Americans should stand for.
Not only is racial profiling against the principles of America, it is a financial burden to
the people targeted by the police, and lets many people abuse the system. If a police officer
chooses to pull over a black person and not a white person for speeding, that’s one more ticket
the black person has to pay for. Over time, the tickets add up, and the white person never gets
justice for what they did. This becomes a danger to our laws, because white people will begin
to believe that they can do whatever they want. They believe that the law would rather pull
over a colored person than a white person, so they behave in whatever manner they see fit.
This becomes a danger to other drivers, pedestrians, and citizens trying to abide by the US
laws. We have laws for a reason, and racial profiling does not help enforce them, it gives people
opportunity to break them.
The practice of racial profiling has become a self-fulfilling prophecy. If the government
says that black people are more dangerous drivers than white people, the cops will pull over
more black people. Black people will get more speeding tickets, and then the statistics will
show that more speeding tickets are given to black people, completing the circle, proving the
government is right. But are they? According to Americanprogress.org, colored people make
up 30% of the US population; however they make up 60% of those in jail. 1 in 15 African
American men are in prison, compared to the 1 in 106 of white men. Are black people 5.1%
more likely to be criminals than white people? Or, like in New York, are they just 90% more
likely to be arrested? At first, the data seems to prove that racial profiling is justified. But, a
closer look at the numbers has proven otherwise.
Racial profiling should be eliminated from the US legal system. All laws that are in place
that allow racial profiling to happen should be edited to remove the opportunity for racial profiling to be a method of law enforcement. Racial profiling is unconstitutional, demoralizes our
police officers and is dangerous to society. While some might argue that is it a necessary part
of keeping the US a safe place, it is an unfair way of judging someone’s criminal intent. Racial
profiling is a crime not only by the government but by the people who should be protecting us.
People of any race, nationality or religion are capable of doing awful things to humanity and
that is all the statistics the government should need.
Taking the “Lady” Out of the Ladies’ Missionary
Society
Georgia Warnock
To Kill a Mockingbird, written by Harper Lee, shows many aspects and parts of Maycomb,
a town similar to many in the South during the early 1930’s. One of the sides of Maycomb
shown is the Ladies’ Missionary Society. This group consists of women throughout the area
that come together for a gathering over tea. Lee shows the weakness and flaws of similar women in the time through the ladies discussing the matters of the county. The shallow and shortsighted women of the Ladies’ Missionary Society fail to have the qualities of true ladies in spite
of their elegant tea party setting.
The ladies of this group are ignorant; they choose to help a stranger but cringe at the
thought of lifting a hand to help their own neighborhood that has similar needs. The women of
the Ladies’ Missionary Society want to help J. Grimes Everett, a “saintly” (309) missionary that
was “living in that jungle” (308) to help the ‘Mrunas’ that “not a white person’ll go near ‘em,”
(309). Mrs. Merriweather “made a pledge in [her] heart” (309) to spread J. Grimes Everett’s
message for all to hear. The ladies of the group see this as a great Christian act to help improve
the world, but the truth is that the ladies are oblivious to their own neighborhood. They are
unable to see the actual needs in their own neighborhood. When they speak of Maycomb, they
choose to see how amazing it is and overlook the faults that they could be improving. They tell
Scout that she is “a fortunate girl. You live... with Christian folks in a Christian town. Out there
in J. Grimes Everett’s land there’s nothing but sin and squalor.” (309) They neglect that Maycomb isn’t a necessarily Christian town and that the citizens do not always act as Christians.
They behave as if J. Grimes Everett’s area is not comparable to Maycomb even though there are
similarities of racial prejudice and the destitution. They serve a foreign land when there are
still many problems and needs in Maycomb that they choose to ignore.
The ladies of the group are indifferent and closed-minded to the black community in
Maycomb. After the trial’s unfortunate verdict, the Ladies’ Group complains about how the
african-americans are reacting to the outcome, “I tell you there’s nothing more distracting
than a sulky dark... Just ruins your day to have one of ‘em in the kitchen.”(310) They don’t have
empathy or try to see how other races are seeing this because these women are indifferent to
blacks. The ladies look at blacks like they are just workers, not humans with feelings or reasons
to behave in a certain way. They are closed-minded and unable to see that humans of a different race are still people. Mrs. Merriweather is not open to helpful change; she expresses her
opinion saying, “that Mrs. Roosevelt’s lost her mind- just plain lost her mind coming down to
Birmingham and tryin’ to sit with ‘em.” (313) These ladies do not have empathy or the ability
to see how the trial’s outcome is affecting others.
The ladies of the group are ungracious and rude, traits a true lady would never have.
Mrs. Merriweather starts to rant about how “there are some good but misguided people in this
town.... some of ‘em in this town thought they were doing the right thing a while back, but all
they did was stir ‘em up.” (311) When she talks about the ‘misguided folks’, she is distinctly
addressing Atticus and how he ‘thought’ he was doing good, but instead was causing more
trouble in her eyes. Miss Maudie points out the hypocrisy but asking “His food doesn’t stick
going down, does it?” (312) as a way to show that Mrs. Merriweather is insulting Atticus while
being in his home, served by his cook, invited by and speaking to his sister. Some women in
the group are ungracious and rude even to the host and their family. The ladies also brazenly
ask Scout what she wants to be when she grows up. Miss Stephanie continues the future occupation questions with a rude remark, “Why shoot, I thought you wanted to be a lawyer, you’ve
already commenced going to court.” (308) She alludes to Scout going to the courthouse as a
way to make herself seem better and to disgrace Scout. Individuals in the Ladies’ Missionary
Society are ill-mannered and discourteous to even the hosts of the gathering.
The shallow and short-sighted women of the Ladies’ Missionary Society fail to have the
qualities of true ladies in spite of their elegant tea party setting. They show the qualities that
true women would never dare to have. They are ignorant, indifferent and closed-minded, rude,
and ungracious. These women paint a portrait of themselves as anything but a true lady.
Should Foreign Language Classes Be Required in
High School
Noah Merck
Every state has a different way of approaching foreign language requirements, but should
foreign languages be required in high school? There are many different opinions on taking a
foreign language. Some say it shouldn’t be required at all and some say students should take it
9 years (www.ncssfl.org). No matter where anybody lives, a foreign language should be a requirement to take every year of high school.
Approximately 62% percent of the states in the US require at least two years of the same foreign language to graduate (www.ncssfl.org); however, none of them require a foreign language
to be taken every year of high school. New Jersey is the only state that requires more than 4
years of a foreign language, but it does not have to be taken in high school. The states should
just simply make the students have to take a language every year of high school. Students have
no idea how much they can profit from taking a foreign language in high school.
Many students say that learning a foreign language, such as Spanish, French, or Mandarin, is useless. They don’t think they will ever use these languages in the future. Learning a foreign language can be much more valuable than some students realize. Learning a second language provides countless opportunities. “Being bilingual is an asset colleges look for in student
applicants; it’s not only relevant to college but after college as well” (TheHuffingtonPost.com)
When someone is applying for a job, and on the application it says that they are bilingual; it
will help them to get the job. Any place of employment can benefit from hiring someone who
is bilingual, especially if the business is in a culturally diverse area. Wouldn’t you be more
likely to re-visit a business where the employees can communicate with you effectively?
Knowing another language can help tremendously with simply having to communicate.
In addition to making a person a more valuable employee, knowing a second language could
make it easier to function in everyday life. Simple tasks, such as going to the grocery store,
hiring contractor, or speaking to a customer service agent on the telephone, would become
just a little bit easier. The simple act of learning a second language automatically increases the
number of people with whom you can effectively communicate by thousands. The chance students have to learn a second language – without it costing them any money or additional time
outside their ordinary school day – does not last long; students need to catch this wonderful
opportunity before it walks out the door.
Living in America, we are surrounded by many different cultures and races from many
different countries. The Hispanic population has increased dramatically over the past decade.
More people have been learning Spanish so they can simply communicate with their neighbors. This is also part of why students learn Spanish, French, Mandarin, or other languages.
The United States has one of the highest immigration rates in the world, and the ability to
communicate in another language can be useful when it comes to communication, both day
to day and in the work field. Approximately 15% of the US population is Hispanic (cia.gov),
and while whites are still the majority in the United States, there are currently more minorities than whites being born. There is more of a need to learn another language now than ever.
If students don’t learn a language in high school, they will be ignorant like Bob Ewell from To
Kill a Mockingbird when they grow older.
Some people, however, have quite the different idea, that learning another language in
high school is completely useless. Some would say that it only matters if you are able to communicate with friends and family, that it is not important to communicate with those of different cultures. A person only has to take a moment to notice how global our economy has
become to realize that communication with people in a much wider circle than those with
whom they are closest is almost essential today. Plenty of people would say that you can just
as easily be hired without being bilingual. While this may be true in some professions, many
more could use people that can speak another language. Many students will say that taking
a language just occupies a class each day. While of course it is a class during the day it is very
helpful, and is preparing them for many future opportunities.
No matter what foreign language a student chooses to take, it will most definitely benefit
them in the future. More and more professions need people that are bilingual, and colleges are
more likely to accept bilingual students. No matter what job a student has when they are older,
knowing another language, whether they think so or not, will help them. Many will argue
against the benefits of learning a second language, but the truth is that all students should be
required to take a foreign language all four years of high school. Any student that takes a foreign language all four years of high school should be confident that they are making the right
decision.
Water Conservation in Georgia
Ellie Luciani
In 2006, a vicious drought struck Georgia. Lake Lanier was emptied, the rivers became
streams, and the politicians cried out for change. My neighborhood sent out notices, informing us when and how we could shower, water our gardens, and do other things that had once
seemed unimportant. As a six year old, I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t take a long
shower, or go to the water park. Alabama and Florida began to fight Georgia for control of the
water, and several other issues were left neglected because of the severity and need for water.
If water had been properly conserved, this drought would not have hit such a hard blow on
Georgia. Water conservation is important for the state and citizens, on a personal and general
level, as it can keep all of us happier, healthier and more able to focus on the important things
in life.
Water conservation is important for everyone in the State and the region . When we are
conserving water and doing our duty, our politicians can work on improving other factors in
our lives, rather than fighting other states for water rights. In 2006, many states began campaigning for our water, and it seemed like the only thing on the Governor’s agenda was “Water
Conservation”. He said that by conserving our water, it wouldn’t affect the state so much to let
other states have some water from our rivers, this battle for water drew our politician’s attention away from other things, like making new laws to improve our lives, or improving our
state’s economy. If we had been conserving water in the first place, our politicians wouldn’t
have had to worry about letting Alabama and Florida have some of our water.
Water conservation is important for me because water is important for the future. The
everyday things like brushing your teeth, taking a shower, or taking a drink of water depend
on us not wasting our resources. When water is limited, everything else in our life becomes
limited. Vegetables shrivel up and die, buisnesses stop production, and staples like meat, fruits
and milk are hard to find. That directly effects me, my family and my county. The agricultural
sector in Georgia accounts for 2.5% of the national agricultural income. Without water, our
agriculture sector declines rapidly, and our economy crashes. Life as we know it depends on
us being responsible with what we have. In order for us to continue living comfortably and
healthily, we need to remember the importance of conserving water.
Water conservation is a necessary facet of our lives as Georgians. It can keep the state
and it’s citizens content and safe, without worrying about whether we have enough water to
survive. When we look at the beautiful Lake Lanier, or tube down the Chattahoochee river,
we can truly appreciate water conservation. The future of our state, economy, and generations
to come depend on us. As Benjamin Franklin once said,“When the well is dry, we know the
worth of water.”
Liberty Trio
by Gabby Heath
Made in China
by Abby Loggins
Eagle
by Andrea Farmer
I Want You
by Charlsie London
Lady Liberty
by Ashley Beltran
Coca-Cola
by Arianna Granski
Other Works
Obituary
Owen Farley-Klacik
Dr. Owen Farley-Klacik, age 97 of Gainesville, Ga., passed away on Monday, Dec. 14, 2097. He
was a dedicated follower of Christ through Gainesville First United Methodist Church, and
worked very hard as an orthopedic surgeon at the Longstreet Clinic. He passed away peacefully in his sleep.
He did live a great life; he was born on March 20, 2000 in Norfolk Virginia to Stephen Klacik
and Megan Farley. When he was four years old his family, including his newly born sister
moved to Gainesville Ga. He had a great education growing up; he attended Mt. Vernon elementary school and then the DaVinci academy for middle school. His high school years were
spent at North Hall high school where he learned to enjoy sports medicine. He later went to
the University of Georgia and received his Bachelors degree in biology. He was accepted into
Clemson University for Medical school. He worked very hard and then went to residency to
become a sports medicine doctor. During his schooling he met the love of his life Adriana
Musgrove and they were married on July 2, 2029. He spent his life with her working as a fulltime doctor for 37 years back in Gainesville, and raising two children, Mark Farley-Klacik and
Morgan Farley-Klacik. He was a member of his church with his wife and children and they did
many things to help the community, like, Great day of service, helping Toys for Tots, and they
helped the wounded warrior foundation. They truly showed God’s love through service.
Survived by, Spouse, Adriane Farley-Klacik (Gainesville GA.) First son Mark Farley-Klacik
(Clermont GA.) First daughter Morgan Farley-Klacik (Gainesville GA.) Younger Sister, previously Paige Farley-Klacik (Philadelphia PA.) Grandchildren include, Jason Farley-Klacik,
Stephanie Farley-Klacik, Sabrina Farley Klacik, Rich Farley-Klacik, and Ian Farley-Klacik. Predeceased by, Father Stephen Klacik (Gainesville GA.) Mother Megan Farley (Gainesville Ga.)
Funeral Service, Dec. 18, 2097 at 11:oo a.m. Memorial Park Funeral Home. Pastor Terry Baker,
open to all who want to share respects.
Obituary
Noah Merck
Noah Daniel Merck, age 101 of Lexington, GA., passed away on Sunday November 27, 2101.
He was born in Athens, GA. on December 31, 1999 and was the son of late parents Daniel
Berry Merck & Stacey Huff Merck.
Noah went to the University of Georgia received a degree in law and was a lawyer for 30
years in Atlanta, GA. He then moved on to be a part of the GA state Supreme Court as head
justice for 25 years. At age 80, he was the oldest person ever to be elected on the U.S Supreme
Court. He stayed there until his health started to decline. He resigned from the US Supreme
Court when he was 90.
From the time Noah was a young child he always loved music and wanted to direct an
orchestra so from the time he was 30-70 he was the director of the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, and also composed a few pieces of his own that the orchestra was able to perform.
He played the bassoon from the time he was 11 until he was 100 he had to stop playing due to
asthma related issues.
Noah married the late Emma Metzdorf, of Chicago, in 2025, and they were married for
55 years until her death in 2082. They had 3 kids: Noah Daniel Merck Jr, Mary-Margaret Merck, and Elijah Colquitt Merck. All of his children are deceased, and survivors include Grandchildren: Mary Merck, Lily Wiley, & Noah Merck III. Great-grandchildren: Hayden Wiley,
Noah Merck IV, and Kylar Merck, and Great-great-grandson Noah Merck V. Services will be
held on Tuesday November 29 at Lexington Baptist Church.
Shake the Ground
Ellie Luciani
Shake the ground
I’m upside down
Fallin’, Fallin’
Hard and fast--Breathe the air
Something’s not there
Hopeless Moments
Always last--(Chorus)
That last bit of faith
The adrenaline
We were surroundedThat last bit of hope
When you take a deep breath
---A Breath--What is love?
Why is it wrong?
It’s hope in darkness,
A poor girl’s song--What is Hate?
How can it be
Shake the Ground
Ellie Luciani
We judge somebody
On their family?
(Chorus)
Shake the Ground
(End)
Wood Duck
by Molly Holcomb
November Afternoon
by Haley Grimes
Barn
by Samantha Summerville
Mallard
by Daniel Lewis
Trees
by Aylin Contreras
Watchful Shadow
by Jack Saxton