A-ZFILES
A-ZFILES 2018
Selected Works for the Allen-Stevenson Archives
FILES The Allen-Stevenson School 132 E 78th Street New York, NY
The A-Z Files is founded in memory of Zach Levy (1985-2011), Class of 2000. All those who knew Zach came away smiling. He was warm, charismatic, and fiercely witty. He had a big heart and is remembered well for his generosity. Between his lifelong passion for writing and love of kids, he’d be happy to see this publication born in his honor. We all miss him very much.
EDITORS Kerim Eken ‘00 Jonathan Klebanoff ‘00
DESIGN Caitlin Mulcahy Eken
A-S ADVISORS Peter Haarmann David Kersey h’98
ALUMNI DIRECTOR Samantha Koss
STUDENT REPRESENTATIVES Nathaniel Edelson ‘20 Luke Jovanovic ‘19 Vivek Laddha ‘20 Benjamin Nayman ‘19 Jordan Wasserberger ‘19
SELECTION COMMITTEE Adam Levy ‘97 Michael Levy Jonathan Klebanoff ‘00
COVER ART Conservatory Water Sam Hecker ‘20
Copyright 2018
Helen Levy Kerim Eken ‘00 Peter Haarmann
INSIDE COVER ART Robby the Unicorn Sebastiano Williams ‘21
© The Allen-Stevenson School
Produced by Action Graphics, Inc. 800 365 6687
“A word is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just begins to live that day.�
-Emily Dickinson
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Foreword Holden Lipton ‘19 pg 8 Fall Balloon Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 12 School Sebastiano Williams ‘21 pg 13 Dear Adi Ben Forman ‘19 pg 14 Bamboo Path Luke Sarsfield ‘21 pg 16 Mao China Luke Jovanovic ‘19 pg 18 The Flower of Life Luke Sarsfield ‘21 pg 20 Summer.Winter Austin Greene ‘19 pg 21 In the Night of the Morning Grant Pinkos ‘19 pg 24 Sunset, Hampton Bays Luke Jovanovic ‘19 pg 25 Amethyst, Magician Supreme Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 26 Sestina: Imagination Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 27 The Garden of Hope Luke Sarsfield ‘21 pg 29 Burning Glacier Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 30 To Build a Fire Dylan Collins ‘21 pg 34 To Build a Fire Adam Gall ‘21 pg 37 Feet Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 40 Irish Blessing Alex Fratepietro ‘21 pg 42 Irish Blessing Vivek Laddha ‘20 pg 43 Irish Blessing Andre Phillips ‘21 pg 44 Irish Blessing Neil Thompson ‘21 pg 45
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Pinnacle Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 46 Irlanda Nimetleri Jeremy Negrin ‘21 pg 48 Irischer Segen Sebastiano Williams ‘19 pg 50 Bendición Irlandesa Charles DeMarco ‘21 pg 52 Cortina Italia Federico Arengi-Bentivoglio ‘19 pg 54 ほんと (Reality) Omotola Olorode ‘19 pg 56
Anarchy Nathaniel Edelson ‘20 pg 58 Empire Sam Hecker ‘20 pg 62 Broken Glass Ford Holmén ‘20 pg 63 NY57 Sam Hecker ‘20 pg 67 Titans Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 70 2018 Upper School Winning Speech Ben Forman‘19 pg 72 Everything in the Air Samuel Smith ‘20 pg 75 2018 Middle School Winning Speech Alex Pourfar‘22 pg 76 The American Promise Alex Korman ‘15 pg 80 Rolling Waves Thomas Harris ‘18 pg 81 Hammock Will Schutt ‘96 pg 82 Bits of Self Denton Smith ‘94 pg 84 Acknowledgements pg 86 Donors pg 87
FOREWORD Holden Lipton ‘19
D
ear Zach, Although you aren’t with us today, I would like to write about the many memories we experienced and help the Allen-Stevenson community understand how thoughtful, comforting, and kind you were. Forgive me if this embarrasses you or shines the light on you too much, but you deserve praise for the incredible human being you were. Eight summers ago on a beautiful July morning, my parents, Hunter and Tara, dropped me off for my first day at Hampton Country Day. I got out of the car not knowing one person and not wanting to leave my parents. I was hysterical, repeatedly saying, “Mom and Dad, please don’t leave me.” Eventually, after minutes of arguing with my parents, I got out of the car with my backpack and hat on and started walking to the grass yard to wait. I was by myself, talking to no-one, not even another counselor, when out of nowhere, a young man stood by my side, introducing himself. I introduced myself. We talked 8
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for minutes, speaking about baseball and basketball and other activities we were involved in. After the conversation with you, I was so delighted to know that I had someone who was looking out for me. You were someone who was kind to all, even if you didn’t know them. The little gesture of you deciding to come over and introduce yourself made me tremendously comfortable. Overtime, you went from being my first buddy at Hampton Country Day to being a fixture in our home in the Hamptons. You and I would play a wide range of sports, from playing football to swimming, You and I always had a fun time when we were with each other. As the summer of 2009 came to an end, you were figuring out what you wanted to do in life. You had talked about writing movies in Los Angeles, but weren’t quite ready to make that move yet. Instead, you decided to take the job as our family’s “Manny” back in New York City. During that time, my youngest sibling was born, and you were a huge support for my sisters and me. Some days, you would pick my friends and me up from AllenStevenson and take us to Central Park to play football. Looking back and thinking about it, it amazes me, how personable you were, able to interact with young boys with all different personalities, some of which were not the easiest. After a few short months of spending time together, 9
Foreword
you became the big brother that I always wanted and the third son to my mom and dad. You had become part of our family. As much as you enjoyed your time with kids, we all knew you had a bright future and wanted to move into the professional world. My father recognized your wish and offered you a job at his company. You spent more than a year at my father’s company, before moving to Los Angeles to pursue your career in screenwriting. When you left New York, you promised to stay in touch. I am very proud to be able to graduate from the same school as you, and I hope as I leave Allen-Stevenson, I can positively affect others in the way you did in your short lifetime. Thank you, for being a wonderful role model to me, and your support and encouragement during a transitional time in my life will always be greatly appreciated. Love, Holden Wyatt Lipton
Holden Lipton ‘19 is an eighth grader at the Allen-Stevenson School - he enjoys competing on varsity sports teams, singing in Ms. Demko’s chorus, and performing in Gilbert and Sullivan under the direction of Mr. Kersey. Holden looks forward to being a freshman at the Poly Preparatory School next year, where he hopes to continue pursuing the passions he developed at A-S, including playing basketball and baseball.
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12 Fall Balloon Gregory Stone ’19
school Sebastiano Williams ‘21
Morning after Morning after Morning School, school, school Sometimes it is boring but never too cruel Head to my locker get ready for class But right at that time I hear the Fire Bell Blast I go around the corner - talk to my friends That never works ‘cause I get in trouble over and over again Race back upstairs - everyone talks The teacher reminds me - walk, walk, walk At 12:15 my stomach starts to grumble I fly down to get food - on the stairway I stumble My stomach now full - I hurry to class When opening my locker my books topple en masse It is now 3:30 - time to go home The teacher tells me - your day was not good Stay after school - so there I stood!
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Dear Adi Ben Forman ‘19
Your aura of light punctured me Your kindness blew me away For I never thought it was possible to be so sweet So enthusiastic So inspirational When you lived in a world that was quite the opposite. Only you Adi could laugh in the eye of a storm And smile when clouds fell from the sky Cancer may have ripped up your body But it couldn’t touch your soul. You possessed the bravery of a lion The fearlessness of a tiger For you faced death right in the eye, with nothing. No ammunition, no guns, no allies Your only protection was yourself, Your spirit, strength, and heart.
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Yet even with nothing, you put up a battle for the ages. A staring contest with death that lasted two and a half years. Sadly, death never blinks And neither does time. Because three years later I feel like I have started to forget Forget your fear bending smile Forget your contagious laughter Your innocence. But I can’t forget I cannot forget a child who taught me more about life, death, and perseverance than any grownup ever will. You are an inspiration Aditya. A hero And you can never forget heroes.
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Bamboo Path Luke Sarsfield ‘21
A winding, sandy pathway leading to prayer The destination - a beloved shrine Where Buddha lies in peace and harmony Along the path, variations of green The welcoming bamboo stretches high up into the sky Lining the path for the pilgrims While walking, the tilting grasses sway With every delicate breeze, they bow and sing
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Bamboo Path Luke Sarsfield ‘21
Mao China Luke Jovanovic ‘19
A revolution is an act of violence, not a dinner party. Cut academic and increase political content Were educated to love the party, and our leader
Even if we didn’t understand it. Took to the Streets They missed so much schooling; work in factory and in field By the time the revolution ended,
Chaos of the Cultural Revolution closed schools Took several decades to repair.
Little Room for these Millions of people to have productive careers. Called the “Lost Generation”
Economy… Moving like a
riderless horse
Industrial production fell 12 percent 18
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When the
Chaos of the revolution
was strongest. Everyone was the same
Poor and Poor
Industrial Output an average
10 percent over 15 years
disarray Destroy the Four-Olds!
Annual Planning:
Middle Class, Teachers
corrupt the masses Physically attack all Moved by extreme patriotism,
A whole generation of young Chinese were ready
To Die for him, To
Kill for him
Humiliations
Public were commonplace The bourgeoisie beaten up, left unconscious
died Everything under heaven is in utter chaos the situation is excellent. Several hundred thousand people
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The Flower of Life Luke Sarsfield ‘21
Summer.Winter Austin Greene ‘19
SUMMER the clean-washed shine of the mornings we spent that summer in complete selfishness SUMMER the super suicide society of the summer session blitzball was the surprise of the summer everybody played it SUMMER don’t start awarding prizes until you’ve passed the course the tree is waiting SUMMER august arrived summertime splendors of new hampshire free and happy in the summer of 1942 phineas was very happy SUMMER sour and stern mr. patch had been given a good laugh for once he broke into the charmed thoughtless grin of a man fulfilled 21
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SUMMER I would notice him chuckling quietly to himself in a kind of happy disbelief SUMMER his wet hair plastered in droll bangs on his forehead that’s the most fun I’ve had this week SUMMER they retained much of their dreaming calm SUMMER WINTER during the winter most teachers regarded anything unexpected in a student with suspicion seeming to feel that anything we said or did was potentially illegal WINTER wintery devon if you broke the rules then they broke you WINTER one of my legs wouldn’t stop trembling
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whether from cold or anger i couldn’t tell WINTER there were threats to enlist that winter WINTER winter’s occupation seems to have conquered, overrun and destroyed everything WINTER so that now there is no longer any resistance movement left in nature WINTER all the juices are dead every sprig of vitality snapped and now winter itself, an old, corrupt, tired conqueror, loosens its grip on the desolation, WINTER grows careless in its watch sick of victory and enfeebled by the absence of challenge WINTER so depressing war all winter cogitation and deadness of winter WINTER
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In The Night of The Morning Grant Pinkos ‘19
If I see it in the morning; in the night, I run I can run far off till the window closes nigh I can see the sun dwindling in front of my eyes In the night I yell In the night I can feel the immense cold In the night I can see beyond But in the morning I can only see
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Sunset, Hampton Bays Luke Jovanovic ‘21
Amethyst, Magician Supreme Gregory Stone ‘19
Sestina:Imagination Gregory Stone ‘19
Wonder is in every human. Inspired by ancient lore, we dream of far-flung galaxies, of good and evil locked in eternal struggle. Through our saga we become ascendant. The one ascendant has painstakingly written an epic saga. It is and always is a struggle To craft of old new lore To create of dreamstuff a true human To float among the galaxies. Many dwell within the galaxies: races of fantasy, alien but human, their background steeped in lore, characters of the writer’s saga. Who will triumph, ascendant? If there ever was one, who will win the struggle? In every human is the timeless struggle between the fallen and the ascendant which will continue to shape our saga and mark us as human.
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Sestina:Imagination
The Earth spins between the galaxies as sagas fade into lore. The writer of lore sits at her desk, thoughts whirling like galaxies, pondering the universe as a mere human. Though clear in the mind, the ascendant is made from winning the struggle and imbuing knowledge into a saga. Not everyone can write a saga, But we can all win the struggle. Not everyone can become ascendant, But we can all dream of distant galaxies. Out of our efforts come lore and we understand what it is to be human. The ascendant saga is formed of humanity. The galaxies of lore are brought to Earth. The struggle is yet to be fought; after all, we are only human.
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The Garden of Hope Luke Sarsfield ‘21
Burning Glacier Gregory Stone ‘19
To Build A Fire Dylan Collins ‘19
A dim and little traveled trail led eastward through the fat spruce timberland The main Yukon trail The high earth-bank The Yukon lay a mile wide and hidden under three feet of ice On top of this ice were as many feet of snow A foot of snow had fallen The trail was faint It was nine o’clock Day had broken cold and grey There was no sun nor hint of sun, though there was not a cloud in the sky That chereful orb It was all pure white, rolling in general undulations Save for a dark hairline This dark hairline was the trail-the main trail that led south A thousand miles and half a thousand more The absence of the sun from the sky, the tremendous cold Fifty degrees below zero meant eighty-odd degrees of frost 34
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It was ten o’clock The level stretch of woods for several miles The curves and bends and timber jams Usually the snow above the hidden pools had a sunken, candied appearance Traps At twelve o’clock the day was at its brightness Where high water of the previous spring had lodged a supply of seasoned twigs A roaring fire Seventy-five below zero The soft, unbroken snow seemed to advertise solidity beneath Not deep Life or Death In the underbrush of several small spruce trees High-water deposit of dry firewood Seasoned branches and fine, dry, last year grasses The cold of space Matches Fire Success Fire, snapping and crackling and promising life with every dancing flame No wind had blown for weeks 35
To Build A Fire
Each bough was fully freighted Avalanche Fresh and disordered snow Treacherous tree Rotten twigs and bits of green moss Dry grasses and tiny twigs High-water flotsam Birch Bark A certain fear of death, dull and oppressive Creek-bed along the old, dim trail The banks of the creeks, the old timberjam, the leafless aspens, and the sky Freezing Cold Most comfortable and satisfying sleep The brief day drew to a close in a long, slow twilight Under the stars that leaped that leaped and danced and shone brightly in the cold sky Winter
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To Build A Fire Adam Gall ‘21
The main Yukon Trail Through the fat spruce timberland Indian Creek Country A steep bank Creek trail Nine o’clock Day had broken cold and gray, exceedingly cold and gray The Yukon Lay a mile wide and hidden under three feet of ice Old timber jams On top of the ice was three feet of snow Winter All pure white Cold No sun nor hint of sun, though there was not a cloud in the sky Colder than fifty below That cheerful orb, due south, would just peep above the skyline Dark hairline that curved and twisted from around the spruce covered island to the south
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To Build A Fire
Fork of Henderson Creek Rolling in gentle undulations where the ice jams of the freeze-up had formed Trail was faint Bering Sea, a thousand miles and a half a thousand more Dim and little-traveled trail led eastward 10 o’ clock Changes in the creek Roundabout Crackle of snow hidden ice skin They were traps Sunken candied White unbroken surface 12 o’ clock day was at its brightest Sun was too far south to clear its journey on the horizon Springs that bubbled out from the hillsides 6:00 pm after dark No signs, soft unbroken snow seemed to advertise solidity beneath 70 below High water deposit of dry wood A roaring fire Sharp, explosive crackle
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Foundation Fires snapping, crackling,success Green moss Fine dry last years grasses The leafless aspens 75 below zero Avalanche Life and death The brief day drew to a close in a long, slow twilight A certain fear of death Most comfortable and satisfying sleep Under the stars
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41 Feet Gregory Stone ‘19
Irish Blessing Alex Fratepietro ‘21
Over the water and atop the cliffs may you find peace and love May our island, filled with vast green fields and meadows, be protected May suns and rains bring you to the end of the everlasting rainbow May the people that protect our land be blessed May a leprechaun lead you to a good life May the peaceful land which we are on thrive in its beauty May you spend your life on the highest hill and look over the water forever And find the way to a life rich with love.
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Irish Blessing Vivek Laddha ‘20
May your spiritual faith guide you through life’s hardest times May God bless you for your kindness to all his creatures with His love May the green fields of Ireland lead you to the path of greatness May your patriotism lead our country to its finest success May your family appreciate, and love you for what you have achieved And until it is time, May you live a very satisfying, healthy existence
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Irish Blessing Andre Phillips ‘21
May your joys be as colorful as a rainbow Your concerns, as white as the clouds May your future be as bright as a pot of gold And may happiness spread and fulfill your dreams May God forever grant your prayers And comfort you with an angel’s breath May the wild valleys be filled with green And thousands of flowers bloom within May the vast fields have sheep roaming about And the shepherd guide them into the light of God May the winds drift you to the right destination And the gentle whistle from the wind set you free May the sailors light tower point the way out for you And keep you safe in the waters during the night
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Irish Blessing Neil Thompson ‘21
May the shamrock clover bloom in your garden, May your sons grow up to be strongest of men And your daughters the mightiest of lasses, May God do his part to guide you to the path to heaven, May love stay in your heart and burn deeply, May our island give you the best fish and the most glorious gold And may your health and sanity remain splendid, May our orange, white, and green flag do you no wrong, Old friend may the rainbows that roam our land lead you to a glorious pot of gold, And the double rainbows shine until we meet again, old friend.
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47 Pinnacle Gregory Stone ‘19
Irish Blessing Jeremy Negrin ‘21
May there be love and warmth spread throughout the hills, cliffs and roads, May your path be lit with rainbows, May you always be presented with new opportunities, And, may you make your decisions based on reason, May your challenges turn into successes, May you live a happy and healthy life, May you always have someone by your side, And, may you be blessed with a caring family, May you be surrounded by loved ones at all times, May you be treated equal to others in the world, May you be blessed with inner peace, And, may the world live in harmony
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Irlanda Nimetleri Jeremy Negrin ‘21
Yolunuz sevgi ve şefkat ile döşensin, Önünüz gökkuşağı ile aydınlansın, Hayatınızdan yeni fırsatlar hiç eksik olmasın, Kararlarınızı her zaman sağduyu ile alın, Önünüze çıkan engeller başarılara dönüşsün, Mutlu ve sağlıklı bir yaşamınız olsun, Yanıbaşınızda size her zaman yardıma hazır bir aileniz olsun, Etrafınızda her zaman sizi sevenler olsun, Her zaman adil bir yolda yürüyün, İç huzurunuz hiç eksik olmasın, Ve dünya her zaman uyum içinde yaşasın
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Irish Blessing Sebastiano Williams ‘21
May your struggles be less and your stress evaporate May your achievements be plentiful and well-earned May nothing but kindness enter your door And God rise above you and bestow upon you joy May the angels of heaven dance to the rhythm of your life May your dreams become reality and guide you through the path of the years to come May good fortune be yours and may your life give you gladness And may blessing be shared with all people who will look up to you and are near you at all times
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irischer Segen Sebastiano Williams ‘21
Irischer Segen Mögen deine Kämpfe weniger sein und dein Stress verschwinden Mögen deine Erfolge reichlich und gut verdient sein Möge nichts als Güte deine Tür betreten Und Gott erhebe sich über dich und schenke dir Freude Mögen die Engel des Himmels zum Rhythmus deines Lebens tanzen Mögen deine Träume Wirklichkeit werden und dich durch den Weg der kommenden Jahre führen Möge das Glück dein sein und möge dein Leben dir Freude machen Und möge dieser Segen mit allen Menschen geteilt werden, die zu euch aufblicken und immer in Ihrer Nähe sind
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Irish Blessing Charles DeMarco ‘21
May your worries be less May your grace be more And let nothing but happiness come through your door May your hinges of love never become weak May God fill your heart with the enjoyment of life May love and laughter fill your heart And brighten your most challenging day May each petal on the shamrock bring you luck and good health And your best friend be like a four leaf clover, Hard to find And lucky to have
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bendición irlandesa Charles DeMarco ‘21
Que tus preocupaciones sean menos Que tus dones sean mas Y que nada sino felicidad entre por tu puerta Que tus lazos de amor nunca se debiliten Que Dios llene tu corazón con el disfrute de la vida Que el amor y la risa llenen tu corazón E ilumine tu día más difícil Que cada pétalo de trébol te traiga buena suerte y salud Y que tu mejor amigo sea como un trébol de cuatro hojas: Difícil de encontrar Y suerte al tenerlo
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Cortina, Italy Federico Arengi-Bentivoglio ‘19
The frost seeps from the mountain’s face, Calmly settling before our eyes. We had awakened at seven, Donning our suits, Buckling our boots, And hopping in our coach’s van. Arriving at Cristallo, we unloaded. Quickly hauling our backpacks filled with race gear to the chairlift. The winter breeze collides with my face as I fasten my helmet. I ascend with my three best friends, Quickly pull down the window, Slowly removing my gloves. I reach the summit, And set up track. First run, Second run, Third , From dawn I race, Training, Living, Cortina, Skiing.
Cortina, Italia Federico Arengi-Bentivoglio ‘19
Il gelo filtra dalla faccia della montagna, cadendo con calma davanti ai nostri occhi. noi ci siamo svegliati alle sette, Abbiamo indossato i nostri abiti, Chiuso I nostri scarponi, E saltando dentro il van del nostro allenatore. Siamo arrivati al Cristallo, abbiamo scaricato le nostre cose. Trascinando velocemente gli zaini pieni del nostro equipaggiamento sportivo fino alla seggiovia. Mentre chiudo il mio casco, la brezza invernale si scontra con il mio viso. Salgo con i miei tre migliori amici, Rapidamente tiriamo giÚ il finestrino, Lentamente togliendo i miei guanti. Raggiungo la vetta, e imposto la traccia. Primo giro, secondo giro, Terzo, dall’alba che corro, Allenamento, Vivo, Cortina, Sci.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=56GuTzwcf1I&t=12s
Reality Omotola Olorode ‘19
Reality absence of joking, laughing and any existing true good will appearance of jealousy always understanding what happened but you never wanted to you fell Gene jounced the limb you understood this fantasy realm of yours does not truly exist panicking but very optimistic you go through life no war all games no negative all positive you own something many want 56
ほんと Omotola Olorode ‘19
ほんと 冗談がなくなる 笑いと 全部 ある 本当の いい 嫉妬が現れる いつもわかってるくせに だけど あなたは 聞きたくなかった あなたは 落ちました ジーン 葉っぱをさわった あなたの想像の世界はない 怖がって だけど まえむき あなたは 生きる 戦争はない 全部楽しみ 否定はない 全部前向き あなたはみんなの欲しいものを持ってる
Anarchy Nathaniel Edelson ‘20
Vultures circled above the ruins, screeching as they dived to get their share of the corpses below. The ruins of buildings, charred and black from fire, provided little shelter for those who were barely alive. The screams rang throughout the valley as the dying became the dead. No winners. No survivors. The last man had fallen about an hour ago from a fatal chest wound after stabbing his adversary to death. All that was left of the flag of Mishgord was the metal pole on which it had hung. Gradually, the screaming stopped. Silence hung over the town as the vultures ascended into the air. One keen-eyed bird spotted movement on the ground. He dove down eagerly.`` A lone scream pierced the silence as the vulture dug his beak into flesh. It was followed by a screech and then a thud as the bird collapsed on the ground, a dagger in its chest. A man could be seen clawing out from the rubble. Rubbing his head, the man attempted to stand up, but collapsed on the ground. He lay back down, fighting the urge to close his eyes and accept death. Suddenly, a 58
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horn sounded and his eyes snapped open once more. Faint hoofbeats echoed through the ruins, growing louder and louder. A voice barked out commands, but the man could not distinguish what they were. He managed to sit up, and spied a column of horsemen approaching the town. They were dressed in shining golden armor, not a scratch tarnishing the polished surface. They were heavily armed, and rode in perfect formation, grimacing with distaste at the dirt and ruins below them. The lead horseman dismounted and surveyed the wreckage. “Total destruction,” he said, kicking at a piece of debris. Turning to the man next to him, he ordered, “Fan out and search for survivors.” The injured man tried to call out, but found he could not. Luckily, one of the horsemen noticed him on the ground. “This one’s alive!” he shouted. The lead horseman ran over. “Who are you?” he asked. The man did not respond. “I am a captain of the army of Mishgord. Who are you? What happened here?” The wounded man was angry at the kingdom for not being there to protect the town. They could have saved the women and children, the good fighting men. They could have saved the cornfields and the forest. 59
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They could have saved the cozy houses and the town which took years to build. But instead they waited. They came too late. They weren’t there when the attack came. They weren’t there when the manheard the fighting, when he grabbed his sword and stepped outside to be greeted by the gruesome scene of the battle. They weren’t there when, in the confusion of the smoke and the yelling, he stabbed his neighbor by mistake. They weren’t there when the stack of bodies grew higher and higher. But he was too tired to voice his anger, and he hoped that if he told them what he knew they might help him. So he used the last of his energy and spoke. “They came without warning,” croaked the man. “Tried to take over from Old Major Hartiw. He wouldn’t let that happen. They killed the town watch, but they wouldn’t stop there. They were all bandits and criminals caught up in the frenzy of battle. They killed their own leader. Every man had to defend his household.” He tried to lie back down but the captain shook him awake. “What happened next?” he insisted. With great effort, the man continued.“Then,” he said,“somebody dropped a torch on a pile of straw. It lit on fire. The entire town was burning. There was no order, no sides. I could not tell friend from foe.” The captain gave a meaningful glance to 60
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his second-in command. “We must return to the nearest fort with all haste,” he said. He turned to the man. “I would help you, but I have no medical supplies. You would not survive the journey. I am sorry.” The cavalry spurred their horses and rode away. The man’s vision blurred and distorted; he looked one more time around at the destruction of the town, at the wreckage and bodies that served as his bed. He wondered who might be lying beneath him. Maybe his family, or his friends. Killed from the stabbing of swords and the smoke and heat of the fires. The world began to fade from the man’s eyes, and he did not realize that the cavalry was gone. Thinking they were still listening, the man breathed one last sentence. “It was anarchy.” Then his head fell back onto the dirt and he died.
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Empire Sam Hecker‘20
BROKEN GLASS Ford Holmén ‘19
As the sun peeked over Manhattan’s Empire State Building, Leonard Scott’s alarm clock came to life, releasing its loud, constant, bell sound: the sound of urgency. His modern electronic shades began to rise as the world slowly transitioned from night to day. The room’s gloominess and sorrow were replaced by natural sunlight. He rolled onto his side. The king-sized bed was half empty. Leonard had been alone for a few months. It had been very hard for him. He’d just turned 50. He turned his body to face the alarm clock. It was flashing 6:45 a.m. With one broad swing of his arm, Leonard attempted to hit the “snooze” button. Not only did his careless arm-swing knock the clock to the floor; but he also hit the glass of water on his bedside table to the ground. The glass shattered on impact. “Shoot,” said Leonard aloud to himself. He did not want to clean that mess up. After several minutes, he slowly got out of bed, groaning and moaning as his spine straightened. As his feet touched the marble floor, he flinched.
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Broken Glass
He had stepped on a shard of glass. Leonard let out a loud expletive and sat back down on his bed. He slowly and carefully turned his foot so he could see the glass. A small, edgy, piece protruded from the sole of his foot. He grabbed the side of the glass between his thumb and pointer finger and counted down. “Three. Two. One!� he muttered to himself. He jolted his arm back, pulling the glass out of his foot. Blood dripped out of the wound and stained the bed sheets. He stood up and limped his way to the bathroom, leaving the shattered glass on the ground. He grabbed his medicine kit, which he kept under the bathroom sink, and placed a large bandaid on his cut. Leonard then continued with his morning routine as if nothing had happened. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and gelled his hair, which was short, black, and had some gray in it. He then walked over to his wardrobe. He put on a white collared shirt, gray slacks, navy blue tie, and a gray jacket to match. This suit had been his father’s. He stepped into the kitchen on his way out to get a quick glass of water. As he pushed the glass into the water-dispenser on the outside door of the fridge, he looked at the framed photo just to the 64
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left of him, which was on the kitchen counter. A frown appeared on his face, and tears started to form. It was hard for him to see that photo. It was a photo of Jenny. Jenny was Leonard’s fiance. They were engaged in April. It was now December and the wedding was set for January. Jenny had passed away about three months ago, in September. It was an unexpected death. She died of brain embolism. After drinking a glass of water, he grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door. Leonard let the door slam behind him. He clicked the elevator button. The elevator was currently on the 22nd floor, and he was on the 8th. He checked his watch. It was 7:30 a.m. As he stood there, waiting for the elevator, he was lost in thought. He was jolted back to reality when Shane, his neighbor, opened his door and walked into the hallway. “Hey Leonard!” said Shane. “Happy to see you. Ya’ know, I got a new DVD player at my house, so if you ever want to relax and watch a good movie, I’m down!” “Sounds terrible,” said Leonard. “I’ll pass.” Shane frowned. He stood there thinking about Leonard. “If you ever want to talk about what happened to Jenny, Leonard, I’m here 65
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for you,” Shane said. “We need to get you back to your old self, man.” Leonard had not been the same since she died. Leonard stood there in silence, as if he had not heard what Shane said, or as if Shane had not said anything at all. He did not want to talk about Jenny with Shane. He didn’t want to talk about her with anyone! The elevator arrived, and Shane stepped inside. Leonard stood still, lost in his own thoughts and didn’t get in. Like a deer in the headlights, Leonard stood on the elevator platform, looking into the elevator until the doors closed. Eventually, the elevator came back to his floor and he took the elevator down alone. The empty elevator ride seemed to last forever. As Leonard walked out his apartment building, he pulled out his new iPhone and opened up the Starbucks Coffee app. He then ordered his coffee to be ready at the Starbucks just outside his office, next to the Empire State Building. He ordered his usual “Venti Pike” with one shot of espresso. Leonard had worked for Bank of America for 19 years. He had been doing the same thing for years, and he disliked it. He made his way to the Citi Bike pickup spot near his apartment, the one on 53rd and Madison. He always biked to 66
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work. As he walked down Madison Avenue, he saw many people, some on the phone, some eating, some walking dogs, and some going to work like him. As he approached the Citi Bike Pick Up he realized there was only one bike left. The rest were taken. Leonard started walking faster, as he did not want to lose this bike to someone else. Just as Leonard was crossing the street to get to the bike, another man appeared. The man was wearing a black suit, and like Leonard was carrying a briefcase. “Don’t you dare take that bike!” Leonard shouted from across the street. He ran and lunged towards the man who already had his hands on the rental bike. “Please get off me, sir! This is my bike. Wait for the next one. I need to get to the hospital fast. My brother was in a car accident.” The man looked very distraught. “I don’t care,” said Leonard. “This is my bike! I’m taking it.” The man ignored Leonard and put his card into the chip reader. As the man was releasing the bike from the dock, Leonard violently shoved the man to the ground. Leonard grabbed the bike and began walking away with it. He didn’t care about that man or his brother. He didn’t care about anyone. 68
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“Screw you!” the man screamed. The man got up and ran towards Park Avenue, waving his hand in desperation, trying to call a taxi. • • • • • Leonard rode the bike to Starbucks and picked up his coffee. He then went to work and went on with his day. He was rude to all those he came in contact with. It had been like that for a while. When Jenny died, he changed. He stayed to himself and he became very reclusive. He closed himself off from the world, and as a result, his morals and sense of humanity rotted inside of him. At the end of his day, Leonard went home and watched the same action movie he had for the past few days,Taken 2. When the movie ended, he heard music from Shane’s apartment. It sounded like a Christmas party. Leonard had been invited, but he did not want to go. Instead, Leonard climbed into bed and turned his lights off, only to wake up the next morning and step on the glass once again.
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Titans Gregory Stone ‘19
2018 UPPER SCHOOL WINNING SPEECH Ben Forman ‘19 Do any of you know what the biggest nuisance in our society is? No it’s not terrorism, its not guns, it’s not Lavar Ball. Its meat. Now don’t get me wrong, I love meat. The juiciness of a nice steak. The distinct taste of chicken wings. The divine smell bacon makes when it is sizzling on the grill. I love meat, I truly do. With that it really pains me to say that I believe we should all be vegetarian. Wait, before you all start zoning out, just give me a chance to prove to you why a nice nice burger isn’t so nice after all. Imagine, being trapped in a jail cell with nowhere to go. You have lived in that jail cell for your whole life, never allowed to leave. Not once in your life will you see twinkling stars, a bright blue sky, or even the sun. You will always be a prisoner, just like your parents, their parents, and parents generations before them: This is the life of a pig, cow, or chicken, 30,000 of which will get murdered during this very speech. Not surprisingly, these animals are treated like dirt. They are beaten, tortured, and forced to live 72
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in their own feces and vomit. Some are starved, and others are boiled alive. By eating meat, all of us are encouraging this mistreatment. We are employing businesses that will treat animals in the worst possible conditions in order to make the most money possible. But all hope is not lost. If we stop eating meat, those businesses will no longer exist, and animals will be given the freedom they deserve. Being a vegetarian is healthier than eating meat. Now I know for most of you that doesn’t matter, but it should. Vegetarians have a lower risk of heart attacks, colon cancer, and a reduced chance of developing kidney stones. Aside from that, vegetarians also happen to live longer than meat eaters. I mean, meat is super duper tasty, but is it really worth your life? Meat is killing our planet. Why? Well, animals happen to fart a lot. With every one of those farts come dangerous greenhouse gases like methane and carbon dioxide. Those gases will prevent heat from escaping our planet, warming the planet up at a dangerous rate. According to the food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, meat contributes to around 20% of the world’s total greenhouse gas emissions. That is more than cars, planes, and trains combined.
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After that spiel, you might be surprised to hear that I’m not vegetarian. I know, I know, how could I be so hypocritical? I mean I did try, around a few years ago, but it ended up being too hard to maintain. Meat was all around me, and it tasted so good. Because of that I stopped thinking about the hardships animals go through. Since I wasn’t the one killing them, I didn’t have to think about the pain they went through. I believe we all go through that experience daily. When someone eats a juicy burger, they don’t think about the helpless cow who needed to die for their snack. When someone eats chicken fingers, nobody imagines the chicken suffering as its getting boiled alive. Although inconvenient, this denial of truth must come to an end. We need to start addressing where, and how our food is getting to us. Then, hopefully we can end our meat addiction and start to respect our fellow earthmates, not murder them.
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Everything is at a Different Perspective 33,000 Feet in the Air Samuel Smith ‘20
2018 MIDDLE SCHOOL WINNING SPEECH Alex Pourfar ‘22 In South Sudan, Congo, Uganda and the rest of Africa, there are more than 120,000 child soldiers who have been forced to leave their families in order to fight for a country that they might never grow up to see again. These children carry guns and ammunition into the battlefield to fight against grown men to protect their country. But let me ask you, do those kids deserve to be killed in battle? Do those kids deserve to leave their families to fight? Do those kids deserve to have their childhood and education snatched away from them by war? The answer is simple. When a nation or group uses child soldiers in their army, it takes away from our generation’s chance to have a brilliant and powerful future. Education is a vital part of the world’s progress and the use of child soldiers is taking that progress away. When any country takes away a child’s education they basically take away his chance to have a promising future. That was proven by Nelson Mandela who always said,“Education is the most powerful weapon we can use to change the world.” 76
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That fact is definitely not being embraced by more than 15 countries using child soldiers however it definitely should because with a plentiful education children can apply their knowledge to finding peace without having to kill. In the end, child soldiers are deprived of education which is one of many necessary parts of life. When kids take up arms and head into battle their childhood is permanently damaged. This can destroy a child’s life because although children learn in school, they also learn many valuable lessons in their childhood and making them fight is taking their childhood away. One day, Kailash Satyarthi, an Indian activist said, “...Look at the world with a child’s eye...,” That sounds like an amazing idea; However, it isn’t any use to those children who only have ever looked at the world from a soldier’s eye. Finally, many amazing children leave their family for the first time to be killed in battle. For all you know, those kids could have changed the world. I know if you were sending your child away you would want to know that he is going to be safe. I know you would want to know he was going to be okay, and I know you would want to be sure that he is going to come back alive. 77
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Well, numerous parents with kids in the army are never able to be sure they will see their children again. According to The Human Rights Watch, “In Sierra Leone, rebel forces have systematically recruited children, some as young as 7 years of age.” I can’t think of a single person that would want to send their 7 year old kid into the army. However, we are in New York and we have a choice but thousands of parents in countries all around the world don’t have a choice. But if we stop the use of child soldiers we can help those parents and all of the children being forced to fight. These kids are being totally disrespected and not cared for. When a nation or group uses child soldiers in their army, it takes away from our generation’s chance to have a brilliant and powerful future. So just think for every day you’ve spent in school, children all around the world have been fighting. Just remember for every day you’ve spent playing, many children have spent forced to kill. Just remember that if we stop the use of child soldiers, we can change the world for countless boys and girls. Thank you.
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The American Promise Alex Korman ‘15
No rhyme or reason, Certainty is treason, In the land made of sand, Where the honey doesn’t pour, And the money isn’t yours. Dream little dreams, Play them in your head, While mired in the masses, Trampled half-dead. Stand tall on the precipice, Don’t look down, Trip to make the fall shorter, It’s a long ways to the ground.
Alex Korman ‘15 is a Senior at Riverdale Country School. He will be attending Whitman College in the fall where he will be pursuing the 3/2 Physics and Engineering program with Columbia, while double majoring in computer science. He will also be continuing many of the activities he started here at A-S, including playing the cello and college basketball.
ROLLING WAVES Thomas Harris ‘18
Life is just like a wave None of the water the matter stays the same, It’s the energy, the force, the feeling, that travels thousands of miles, aware of the chance that it could just die off, On the off chance, that it hopefully, will turn in to something beautiful
Thomas Harris ‘18 is currently a freshman at Columbia grammar and Prep school. He is a hockey player and surfer who loves the beach.
HAMMOCK Will Schutt ‘96
Because the word hammock has a ham and mock in it I imagine I’d be happy to have wasted my life in one, though muck is the way we say mock, face-down in the muck or mucking about, i.e. behaving in an aimless manner, e.g. slumped in a hammock with your hams suspended a foot above the dry grass, the golden muck. Green, sheepish Columbus, the ham of history, writes in his journal: “A great many Indians came to the ship in canoes to barter their cotton, and hamacas, or nets, in which they sleep.” Granny knot. That’s the knot with which we’d secure our hammock to the pitch pines behind my grandmother’s cabin. Given the ease with which the knot was un-slipped, and the unsteady, unworkable hands of my grandmother, I assumed that the name granny knot must have been another example of young men mocking old women.
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In Itzamal, yellow city of the Yucatan, the carriage-pulling horses docile in the confines of the plaza wore brightly-lit hats with floral bands, so that each horse looked like both horse and rider, but all Zach wanted was to bargain for a hammock lashed to the beam of a market stand. Though its leisurely yet restless motion may be an adequate emblem of a poem’s thinking, if you think I’m going to make the hammock a metaphor, think again. Mock, mock is the sound the hammock makes as it swings. Just now looking it up, I learn that granny knot is a corruption of granary knot, a knot for cinching the necks of grain sacks, the kind of sack you might find amid the spellbound harvests on a wall in Antwerp or Barbizon or hauled out of a steel facility and loaded onto the back of a truck by a man who, heading home after a day’s work, dreams of bounty, and whose dreams, I imagine, take the shape of a hammock.
Will Schutt ‘96 is the author of Westerly and translator of My Life, I Lapped It Up: Selected Poems of Edoardo Sanguineti. He currently lives with his wife in Baltimore where he lectures at the University of Maryland, College Park. His stepfather is none other than David Kersey.
Bits of Self Denton Smith ‘94
We’ve rolled with the dopest. The coldest utmostest. Heard flows so deep we got nice off osmosis. Please dont get vexed. The world cant hope to hold us. Each line is another entry in to our magnum opus. Minds connect in meditations done way before the Chopras. Weaved all across the world but never did cross over. Just shined off the grind as rays from the solar. Now behold the doper, colder pen holder. We open our minds up and rhymes drop like boulders. Ideas in the brainstorm stronger than the winds of a hailstorm heralding the arrival of a never ending series of tornadoes of thought. So let it be written. It can only be given. That which is priceless can never be bought. Irony of ironies that a pen could grant such freedom that one could only gift one self. Oh what wonders in ink on my shelf. Oh what blunders to think of thyself. Oh what sunders our link to ourselves?
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Look within or go without. Binary transcendence. We each walk our own route while seeking to stand out or blend in. Sunrises of the soul happen all the time. The whole day is morning. Greet the dawn, carpe diem before the day of your mourning. There is all the power in the world in being you and your highest self. There is absolutely none in being anyone else. No threats. Just promises. From my best selves to me. May we live forever and forever grow. Evolve constantly.
Denton Alexander Smith ‘94 is... The second son of Joy and Victor(y). One of the Brothers Smith. Prone to waxing poetic. Currently scheming through a life of rhyme. Living in interesting times. NYC born and bred, Jamaican plate and soul fed. Subsidizing his happiness by engaging in entrepreneurial ventures and artistic endeavors. A veteran basketball player at West 4th Street, a captain and championship winning coach. A father and a husband. One bad man. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.)
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
W
e would like to thank everyone who has helped us get here. This is the sixth edition of the A-Z Files, which would not have been possible without the generosity of all our donors and the support of the entire Allen-Stevenson Community. Thank you to David Trower for allowing us to memorialize our childhood friend and to David Kersey for guiding us in the appropriate direction to do so. Samantha Koss who picked up the torch this year in helping us reach our goal. A special thank you to Peter Haarmann. His sustained encouragement year after year makes the A-Z Files come to life. He is joined by the wonderful assistance of Steven Cohen, Susan Lukas, Lisa Anderson and Aidan Fennelly. And finally to the Levy Family: Helen, Mike, and Adam, we greatly appreciate you allowing us to share the spirit of Zach with a future generation. We appreciate Holden sharing some of his reflections whom Zach always spoke of fondly. Lastly, we must acknowledge the administration for taking on the publication’s financial responsibility, solidifying A-Z Files’ role in the Allen-Stevenson experience. A heartfelt thank you to all!
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DONORS Zachary P. Levy ‘00 Memorial Fund
NOBEL SOCIETY Michael & Helen Levy, Lawrence D. Hite, Richard & Denise Mulcahy PULITZER CIRCLE Zeynep Eken, Helen & Howard Freedman PEN/FAULKNER FELLOW Arielle & Cliff Bayer, Ayse & Necdet Bezmen, Meredith Thalheimer , Joan & Charles Blanksteen, Caitlin & Kerim Eken ‘00, Nermin Esen, Izzie Lerer, The Ken Pollak Family, Fran Lippa & Rick Rohn, Beth & Bob Sheehan, Will Sheehan MAN BOOKER BOARD Josh Aghravi, Dan Friedman & Michelle Andelman, Anonymous, Virginia Volante Appel, Paul Arnhold, Berin Bezmen, Jonathan Blanksteen ‘00, Jamie & Aaron Books, Lauren & Ryan Borg, Joshua Chaffee, Anne Chellas, Ian M. Dana ‘97, Matthew Dresher, Jess Eisen, Allison Feldman, Ginevra Figg, Micheal Friedman & Lauren Fedorko, Alex Friedman, Alex Funk ‘00, Lara & Adam Gillman, Jordan Gillman, Paul 87
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& Renee Haas, Steven Handwerker ‘03, Scott Handwerker ‘00, Debbie Cooper & Kevin Handwerker, Tim Howell, Dana, Jeff & Matt Hynick, Lauren Wood & Conor Izzett, Tim Kirby ‘00, Jon Klebanoff ‘00 & Maya Deshmukh, Susan Hirschhorn & Arthur Klebanoff, Brian Lamb, Ethan Levy, Adam Levy ‘97, Erin Levy, Jacqui & Ron Liberman, Jamie Magid ‘91, John Murray, Katie Robin, John Rosen, Rachel Rosenberg, Emily Rudman, Benjy Sarlin ‘00, Matthew Scharfstein ‘00, Kate Schlosstein, Megan & Midhat Serbagi ‘97, Dillon K. Springer ‘00, Joshua Steinberg, Christopher Stone, Deborah Forte & Peter Stone, Nicholas Tapert ‘00, Cameron Tung, Kevin VanLandingham, Melissa Wilner, Rachel & Jared Zolna NEWBURY CLUB Anonymous, Anonymous, Jessica Barrett, Jamie Bass, John Benedetto, Talin Bezmen, Lauren Appel & Karyn Brownson, Jordan Cerf, Katy Cheng, Tim Clinton, Susan Crile, Amy D’Annunzio, Serra Eken, Amanda & Zach Fox, Lauren Freedman, Louise & Howie Freilich, Elaine & Arthur Friedman, Claire Friedman, Mike Fung, Lindsey Goodman, Lauren & Brian Koffler, Ben Krauss, Abby Leber,
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Josh Levy, McFly Levy, Ben Lewis, Sam Lichtenburg-Scanlan, Tal Madanes, Lisa Ray, Alex Rosario ‘00, Sarah RuelBergeron, Hadley Springer, Samantha Steinberg, Carter Stone, Damian VanCamp ‘00, Jas Wagstaff, Jeff Warren, Melissa & Jared Weil, Jay Woodworth & Frances Fox, Jessica Zanan SUPPORTERS Jonathan Aghravi, Beth Appel, Guillermo Artiles, Caitlin & Eric Bitzegaio, Ari Bornstein,David Braily, Jay Caretsky, Ben Carron Greg Cayne, Brook Cohen, Sarah Claspell, Leila Cohan-Miccio, Matt Cutler, Andrew L. Daidone, Ashley Eisenstadt, Matt Elkin ‘99, Adam Fields, Jack Germain, Pete Haarmann, Alex Ingram ‘03, Derek Jacobs, Tommy Kahn, Brian Kennedy, Alex Klein, Prescott Loveland, Andrea Lusso Matt Moskovciak, Jack Pesin ‘97, Josephine Porco, Janna Raskopf, Mike Schutzer, Becca Skolnick, Laurence Smith ‘00, Ashley Springer ‘97, Maria Sternfeld, Gilmar Valencia, Paul Welsh, Alex Whitman
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THE ALLEN-STEVENSON SCHOOL 2018