A-ZFILES
A-ZFILES 2020
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.
Dedicated to John Loengard ‘49 1934-2020
EDITORS Kerim Eken ‘00 Jonathan Klebanoff ‘00
DESIGN Caitlin Mulcahy Eken
A-S ADVISORS Peter Haarmann David Kersey h’98
ALUMNI RELATIONS Liz Roberts Jennifer Ziplow
STUDENT REPRESENTATIVES Chase Myers ‘22 Dylan Collins ‘21
Luke Sarsfield ‘21 Lorenzo Brigode ‘22
SELECTION COMMITTEE Adam Levy ‘97 Michael Levy Jonathan Klebanoff ‘00
COVER ART Untitled 1 Oliver Putzer ‘22
Copyright 2020
Helen Levy Kerim Eken ‘00 Peter Haarmann
INSIDE COVER ART Unicorn Jackson Smith ‘23
© The Allen-Stevenson School
Produced by Action Graphics, Inc. 800 365 6687
“Perhaps the mission of an artist is to interpret beauty to people-the beauty within themselves.�
-Langston Hughes
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Foreword William Schutt ‘96 pg 10 New York City Jackson Smith ‘23 pg 12 The Big Apple Maurya Srivastava ‘23 pg 14 Untitled 3 Oliver Putzer ’22 pg 15 Reflection Ari Dubner ‘23 pg 16 Central Park Jackson Smith ‘23 pg 18 Untitled Alexander Fratepietro ’21 pg 20 Verdun Dashel Myers ‘22 pg 21 A Summer Sunset Lleyton Hutfilz ’23 pg 22 Desert Sky Ari Dubner ‘23 pg 24 The Raven Leo Fiszel ‘23 pg 26 The Raven Ethan Chung ‘23 pg 27 The Raven Gabriel Viscogliosi ‘23 pg 28 The Raven Maurya Srivastava ‘23 pg 29 The Raven Ari Dubner ‘23 pg 30 The Raven James Peck ‘23 pg 31 The Raven Robert Wholey ‘23 pg 32 The Raven Phillip Negrin ‘23 pg 34 The Raven Daya Singh ‘23 pg 35 The Raven Wesley Chi ‘23 pg 36 Quiet On Set Sebastian J. Burns ‘23 pg 37 2024 Pierce Harris ‘23 pg 38
TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Raven Matthew Fratepietro ‘23 pg 39 The Raven Ryder Rasch ‘23 pg 40 An Encounter With Danger Sebastian Irausquin-Petit ‘23 pg 41 The Raven Sebastian Henriksson ‘23 pg 42 Untitled 1 Oliver Putzer ’22 pg 43 Untitled 2 Oliver Putzer ’22 pg 44 Le Petit Noir by Claude Debussy William Silverstein ‘22 pg 46 A Hunger That Travels The World Lorenzo Brigode ‘22 pg 47 Where The Red Fern Grows Phillip Negrin ‘23 pg 50 The Raven Sebastian Irausquin-Petit ‘23 pg 51 A-S Run Phillip Negrin ‘23 pg 52 The Lap Of Luxury Sebastian Burns ‘23 pg 53 Doctor’s Orders William Jokela ‘22 pg 58 2020 Upper School Speech Manas Ramesh ‘21 pg 65 Untitled Abstract Compositions Alex Melnitzky ‘02 pg 68 Untitled Owen Strock ‘96 pg 70 3/26/2020 Owen Strock ‘96 pg 72 4/5/2020 Owen Strock ‘96 pg 73 Canterbury Cathedral Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 74 Sunrise at the Grand Tetons Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 76 Antelope Canyon Gregory Stone ‘19 pg 77 Acknowledgements pg 78
FOREWORD Will Schutt ‘96
I
n these disorienting months of lockdowns and social distancing, I am grateful, at least, for time. Especially time to read more than the headlines in my newsfeed. Working from home, at what feel like human rather than SpaceX rhythms, I finally have enough hours in the day to tuck into the big tomes that I’d been putting off. Poetry, stories, novels: memorable characters and musical language are a balm for all the bad news. Recently in my reading, I came across this quotation, attributed to Plato: “When the mode of the music changes, the walls of the city shake.” I don’t believe it’s word-for-word Plato, but in my search to confirm its provenance Google produced little more than a spool of dubious subtweets and notable quotables. No matter; what interests me is the sentiment. It interests me because it troubles the idea that art (music, literature, etc.) makes nothing happen and instead invests art (music, literature, etc.) with 12
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the transformative power that I have long felt art has. If not the power to change society than at least to change the folks who help shape society. I know, I know, me and my feelings… Yet lately there have been numerous examples of this brand of faith in art. Many of us have been freed from the four walls of our homes for the length of a livestream concert, a virtual museum tour, a poetry reading on Zoom. I can only imagine what Zach Levy would be up to now, and how many of us would have the time to log in and hear him read us one of his wonderful stories. So it’s with gratitude that I greet the creative work collected in A-Z. I am happy to see Allen-Stevenson students keeping the faith—and rattling the walls.
Will Schutt ’96 is a poet and translator. His most recent translation, Atlantis: A Journey in Search of Beauty, by Carlo and Renzo Piano, is forthcoming from Europa Editions. He is the brother of Nicholas Schutt ’94 and stepson of David Kersey h ’98.
New York City Jackson Smith ’23
THE BIG APPLE Maurya Srivastava ‘23
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Untitled 3 Oliver Putzer ’22
Reflection Ari Dubner ‘23
REFLECTION Ari Dubner
‘23
It can be hard to tell the difference between up and down, A reflection from reality, The difference between a smile from a frown, Or what is flat, from what is round.
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CENTRAL PARK Jackson Smith ‘23
A haven of green in a jungle of grey A break from the cars swerving every which way Where birds can chirp, where children can play A place to take a stroll at the end of the day At the heart of the city lays a grand centerpiece A place of tranquility, a place of true peace
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Central Park Jackson Smith ’23
Untitled Alexander Fratepietro ’21
VERDUN Dashel Myers ‘22
In Verdun the days were so long The French and Germans started strong And it went for almost a year The air was filled with so much fear In Verdun the days were long Thousands of deaths among the throng The soldiers started out headstrong A year gone: the winner unclear In Verdun war did start The bloody fighting just seems wrong For Europe used to get along And the fighting was so severe Millions of bullets did appear Death made sunlight not belong France torn apart, in Verdun
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A Summer Sunset Lleyton Hutfilz ’23
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DESERT SKY Ari Dubner ‘23
Dunes roll by in the almost black A rattlesnake plans its attack The moon is coming back The Desert is pitch, pitch black
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Desert Sky Ari Dubner ’23
THE RAVEN Leo Fiszel ‘23
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxJ_bNDEPqM&feature=youtu.be
THE RAVEN Ethan Chung ‘23
Looking deep into the nebulous night, my body shivers with fearful fright, Closing carefully my chamber door, the increasing panic is hard to ignore, Ignore the persistent rapping, and the eerie sounds and tapping, The hollow bellowing, bellowing on my oaken door, Rushing to the back of the room, thinking, doom is at my chamber door, Only this and no more.
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THE RAVEN Gabriel Viscogliosi ‘23
Suddenly the window reflects lighting, timbers that fierce were frightening, Now I hear my lost Lenore, her aura here forevermore. Pacing towards the wide window, struggling to keep my balance, Falling back I hear scratching, scratching at my chamber door. “Lenore!” Racing towards the window, scratching engulfing the room,”Lenore?” Silence there and nothing more.
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The Raven Maurya Srivastava ‘23
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkiH8DVbIa4
THE RAVEN Ari Dubner ‘23
https://youtu.be/kEDQH-JI6k0
THE RAVEN James Peck ‘23
Looking into the darkened night, glancing at the brazen lamp light. As every individual bleak sound centered its being aside the door. The still silence, ceaseless as I longed for Lenore’s guidance. To this mysterious person I spoke, broke - it’s only this visitor I abhor. This I uttered- an impersonation announced the word Lenore! Forever pain, and nothing more.
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THE RAVEN Robert Wholey ‘23
The depth of the never ending night, brought me such formidable fright, But will this terrible tapping at the door bring back my lost Lenore Ear shatteringly loud lightning, brightening momentarily the silent sky, The bird swooping next to my silent chamber door, ‘Tis some bird,’ I mutter, “soaring next to my chamber door, This it is, and nothing more.”
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The Raven Robert Wholey ‘23
THE RAVEN Phillip Negrin ‘23
THE RAVEN Daya Singh ‘23
The perpetrator is at a loss, while I sit here alone, considerably cross, What a waste and folly, “’Tis some pestering prankster for sure,” As I douse the luminous light, night crept in through my open oriel, Unlike a king, I fling, sling the confidence I possessed before, Scared for my life, I dread the fearful future, I keep telling myself, “Tis some pestering prankster for sure.”
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THE RAVEN Wesley Chi ‘23
As the silvery silence settled, I felt quite unnaturally unsettled. Feeling the once joyful presence that I have felt before. A familiar chill ran up my spine, of a beloved woman once mine. I must ask, was I not divine? Divine enough for you, Lenore? What did I do, was there a sign, that you needed much more? This is what I ask, my Lovely Lenore.
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QUIET NEW YORK CITY Justin Durso ‘20
Never Sleeps Empire State Building Wall Street
ON
Yankees Opera at Lincoln Center Rumbling Subways Knickerbocker Central Park Island in the Harbor Times Square Yellow Cabs
SET
A NOVEL BY SEBASTIAN J. BURNS Quiet On Set Sebastian J. Burns ‘23
2024 PIERCE J. HARRIS
THE YEAR OF TERROR
2024 Pierce Harris ‘23
THE RAVEN Matthew Fratepietro ‘23
Suddenly a streak of lightning, each sound of thunder fearfully frightening Curiously I check the entrance, from the rear I hear a roar From behind, I hear tapping, by the window shutters flapping Then the tapping comes again - again softer than before Opening the window wearily, I find it empty as before Nothing here at my chamber door.
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THE RAVEN Ryder Rasch ‘23
I sit strangely spooked, denying what seems to be the truth, My thoughts loop like ladled soup as noises return to my chamber door, Images of extremely tall men staring through curtains Heartless and lean, mean, and oh, so much more Staring, staring at my chamber door Silently glaring at my chamber door
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An Encounter With Danger Sebastian Irausquin-Petit ‘23
THE RAVEN Sebastian Henriksson ‘23
I then see lightning, most incredibly frightening, As I close the door, I scurry across the floorCrashing upon my couch cushion, I wonder, is this all an illusionI retreat, nearly falling, falling against my chamber door I hear something once again, is it my lost Lenore? But I know she breathes - nevermore.
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Untitled 1 Oliver Putzer ’22
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Untitled 2 Oliver Putzer ’22
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LE PETIT NOIR BY CLAUDE DEBUSSY William Silverstein ‘22
https://youtu.be/nEF_DJOO2Tc
A HUNGER THAT TRAVELS THE WORLD Lorenzo Brigode ‘22
“We have become not a melting pot but a beautiful mosaic. Different people, different beliefs, different yearnings, different hopes, different dreams.” That was once said by Jimmy Carter, former president of the United States. And what was he speaking of? Immigration. Immigration is the sole reason we are a “beautiful mosaic”. Each tile held together by a marvelous craving, a craving that is a hunger for freedom, a better life, an escape from evil, or possibly just a fresh start. Close your eyes, envision this beautiful mosaic. Then, envision people taking it apart, piece by piece, people who are anti-immigration, people who do not want immigrants to enter this country, people who say that immigrants are the cause of all our nation’s problems. It is a verifiable fact that our country, the great USA, was built on the broad shoulders of humble immigrants. The Transcontinentanl Railway, The New York Subway System, The Brooklyn Bridge, ‘God Bless America’, and even the White House were all made by immigrants. That people think immigrants do not belong in our country is foreign to
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me. Why do I use the words hunger, and craving? One major part of our culture is food, food that both sustains us and defines us. If I could organize a potluck to teach people about immigration, I would invite the president and other world leaders who don’t believe in the value of immigration. To subtly sway their opinion I would use our common love of food. All of the great foods that exist in our country would not have without immigration, and the culture that the immigrants brought with them. Using my own cultural heritage as a starting point, I would serve bibimbap, a traditional Korean dish, and pasta amatriciana, which is a traditional Italian dish. Since this is a potluck, everyone is supposed to bring something. I would ask my guests to bring a traditional dish from a country that I had assigned them in their invitation. Most likely the dish they would choose would be one that is popular in America. After dinner, and after we have all eaten such wonderful food, I would remind them that we would not have known of these foods, and would not be able to appreciate them, if the Irish, Chinese, Korean, Italian, Spanish, and many more other cultures had not settled in our country, and have chosen to make it great with their foods and work ethic. This would lead to a discussion of the many 50
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other things that make our country great and were made by immigrants. Lastly, I would look everyone at the table in the eye and tell them that every single one of them is able to live in this country because one of their ancestors, no matter how distant, was once an immigrant. Hopeful and starting anew in a beautiful new country filled with hope. That country? America, the very country I am sitting in. For some die-hard immigrant haters, I know that I could not possibly sway their far too polluted minds to agree that immigrants are a good thing. I only wish to try to convince and inform. The importance of this issue is immense, and if we choose to ignore it, or if we choose to stop the flow of immigrants into our country, America will die. We will no longer be the greatest country in the world. This is because our country flourished because and with the help of immigrants. And if we do not continue to flourish with immigrants, we will not flourish at all. Remember, everyone is truly “American.� America is everything, all countries, all cultures, all people. We the people of the United States form an idea. The Idea of America is a land with everyone, for everyone. That is why we all belong here.
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WHERE THE RED FERN GROWS Phillip Negrin ‘23
Boggle Challenge
Boggle Answers
Ann, Billy, Dan, Grandpa, Racoon, Track
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THE RAVEN Sebastian Irausquin-Petit ‘23
Boggle Challenge
A-S RUN Phillip Negrin ‘23
https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/348360396/
THE LAP OF LUXURY Sebastian Burns ‘23
As you walk up the long wooden gangplank into the R.M.S. Titanic, a steward guides you, your wife, Katherine, and your fouryear-old daughter Ada to your stateroom on B Deck. Also coming with you is Ada’s nurse, Rebecca. Your cabin is beautiful, and it includes three bedrooms, a parlor, and electric light and heat. It is one of the most opulent suites on the Titanic. Every stateroom is as grand as a room in an elegant hotel. There is everything onboard from a Turkish Bath to a Parisian cafe. After a few days at sea, you get to know some of the other first-class people aboard Titanic, including millionaire John Jacob Astor, Benjamin Guggenheim, Isidor and Ida Straus, the co-owners of Macy’s, and George Widener. Ada likes to play with some of the other children in first class, such as little Loraine Allison, Douglas Spedden, and Lucile Carter. It is April 14th, 1912, and your days aboard Titanic are coming to an end. After a quick breakfast, Rebecca dresses Ada and you attend a church service in the firstclass dining room. You decide to take a
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relaxing walk on the open promenade deck, lined with wicker chairs. You peer outside to see the deep blue ocean, sparkling in the late afternoon sunlight. Just then, Ada says, “Look, it’s Loraine Allison and her little brother Trevor.” You know their father, Hudson Allison and their mother, Bess. You went to dinner with them a few nights ago, where you talked about how wonderful the voyage is. Afterwards, you go to lunch in the beautiful French Verandah Cafe. You order Parisian tea and biscuits, and eat fine pastries and sandwiches. Katherine turns to you. “James, I just heard that we’ll be docking on Tuesday night instead of Wednesday morning! Isn’t that exciting?” It really is. After lunch, you walk out of the Cafe and notice something. The temperature has dropped. “Ada, it’s too cold. Let’s go indoors,” you tell her. “Yes, please!” She smiles, and you quickly return back inside. Later that night, you find out that you and Katherine are invited to a party that Eleanor Widener is hosting in the honor of Captain E. J. Smith himself at Gatti’s restaurant on B Deck. It is one of your last nights on the ship, and it might be nice to have some time to yourself. Katherine is going either way, 56
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and you both really love parties. But this also might be your only chance to be alone aboard Titanic. What will you do? You decide to go to the party, which is wonderful. You love eating, talking, and gossiping with your friends, and the food is even better than in the dining room. You dine on a la carte style italian wines, cheeses and pasta. Mrs. Widener is an amazing host. In the middle of the party, Captain Smith retires to go to bed. You even get to know some of the other people there. After the party, you and Katherine relax in the lounge and enjoy the night. It is very quiet. Then, you both walk down the Grand Staircase to B Deck. As you make your way to your cabin, you check your watch. It reads 11:22. You kiss Ada goodnight and slide between the sheets. You think about what an amazing voyage it has been. New faces, exquisite parties, and wonderful rooms. You plan to go swimming tomorrow in the deluxe heated saltwater pool. New York is just a few short days away! Then you will be back at home. You are just about to fall asleep when the ship turns slightly, and you hear a grinding noise. You turn the light on and look at the clock. 11:40. Just then, Katherine wakes up. “Did you feel that?” she asks. “Yes,” you respond. You’re not sure if 57
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the ship is damaged in any way, but it is good to be cautious. You feel it is better to stay in your cabin. If there is any real danger, you are sure to be told of it. You climb back into bed and turn off the light. Later, you are woken up by knocking on the door. Your watch says seven minutes past midnight. You step out of bed and answer the door. It is a steward. “Sorry to interrupt, but the captain has ordered all passengers to the Boat Deck with lifebelts on,” he says. “We recommend you dress in your warmest coats tonight, as the night brings a chill.” He then hands your lifebelts to you, opens your closet, and gives you your coats, hats, and gloves. Then he leaves. Lifebelts? This must be a real emergency. “Go wake Ada,” you say to Katherine. “I’ll go get our things.” Ada is sleepy. Rebecca dresses her and she brings her blanket, stuffed animals, and her doll. Rebecca grabs more of Ada’s things and stuffs them into a carpetbag. Katherine has all of her personal belongings with her and she is holding your lifebelts. You put yours on and help Rebecca put Ada’s on. Rebecca puts her vest on and helps with Katherine’s. You pack your suitcases and leave the stateroom. Rebecca has little Ada in her arms. Soon, you make your way up the Grand Staircase. Once you arrive at the Boat 58
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Deck, you feel a slight tilt. You almost overlook it, but it is there. The ship is slanting down. Is the Titanic sinking? You’re not sure, but where do you go? Will you go to the Port or Starboard side? On the Starboard side of the deck, the steam from the funnels is earsplitting. You see that First Officer William Murdoch is directing passengers into Lifeboats No. 7 and No. 5. Music is playing. The mood seems to be very calm and relaxed, as many passengers are not convinced that the Titanic is in any real danger. To you, getting in a lifeboat seems like a good idea. Katherine partially agrees, but she isn’t that sure. Rebecca thinks you should. 12:36, your watch says. Just then, Murdoch pulls you four towards Lifeboat No. 5. “Come along now,” he says to you, “Let’s get you into this boat.” You could get into this lifeboat or wait for another one. What will you do?
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DOCTOR’S ORDERS William Jokela ‘22
“When did you begin to feel this… presence?” The therapist’s office is painted a light beige and is well lit. The walls are decorated with certificates and awards detailing Dr. Lucre’s accomplishments. He walks around the room, admiring them, while his patient sits quietly. “Ms. Person?” “It’s always been there. An invisible force, lingering, watching. I remember the first time I felt like it was choking me. My parents had just told me they were getting a divorce; it got worse after that.” “Choking you? This presence can make physical contact with you?” “Not exactly. It feels like I’m being choked, but when I reach to my neck to try and stop it, there are no hands. At times I wake up in the middle of the night, and I feel something sitting on my chest, I try to push it off, but there’s nothing there. It’s gotten a lot worse since I moved to the city.” “Why don’t you tell me what happened on the day you moved in?” Dr. Lucre’s patient sighs, fidgeting on the maroon velvet couch, “I had just finished bringing in the last of the boxes and
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furniture; it took me almost half the day. I couldn’t hire a moving company, so I got some help from my friend from college, John.” “Is this John a romantic partner?” “Um, no. We’re just friends.” “Okay…” Dr. Lucre scribbles something on his notepad, “Continue.” “I thanked him after we had finished, and I went back into the apartment. I went to the window to have a cigarette — I know it’s bad for me, but I get so stressed whenever I try to quit. The apartment is on the eighth floor of this massive building, so it would be a nice view if it weren’t for the billboard six feet away from the window. It was then that I felt it. It was breathing on my neck. I dropped my cigarette and turned around. I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there. I could feel it watching me.” Dr. Lucre’s face fills with concern. “Jane, if you can’t see or touch this entity, why do you think it exists?” “Because I can feel it, you may not, but I do. I can’t see it or touch it, but it’s there, it’s real. I’m not crazy.” He shakes his head looking down at his notes. “Continue.” “I stumbled backward, nearly falling out the window. I took a cautious step forward, still feeling its gaze. It was early at this point, maybe six or seven? I decided 61
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it would be best if I took a bath, drank some wine, and went to bed. Take my mind off it, you know?” “As you should.” “I microwaved some ramen that I had asked John to get me before he left and started to run the bath. I had my dinner while I watched TV. I poured a glass of wine, grabbed my book — I never have the opportunity to read anymore between college and work — turned off the faucet, and climbed into the tub. I was actually having a pleasant enough time distracting myself until I was pulled under the water, knocking my glass of wine into the tub, and completely submerging my book. I writhed in the tub for what seemed like an hour, screaming, splashing, attempting to get my head out of the water for long enough to get one breath. And then, as fast as it started, it stopped. I was on the brink of drowning, and it let me back up for air. It was playing with me, pushing me until I was nearly dead, and then keeping me alive for more future torture. I clambered out of the tub as fast as I could just staring at the rosé-colored water. I sobbed on the wet tiles of the bathroom floor, unable to tell the difference between the bathwater that had splashed out of the tub and my own pathetic puddle of salty tears.” There was a pause. “You drink rosé? I’ve always preferred a 62
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nice glass of white wine, a merlot blanc. You see, red is too strong for me, and I’ve always hated the idea of rosé. Pick one! You can’t be both!” Dr. Lucre laughed to himself writing something on his notepad. Jane looked at him with utter confusion. “Oh, are you wondering what I’m writing on my notepad? They’re jokes! I’m looking to make a career out of stand-up comedy. I guess it would be one of the many professions I’ve had. After graduating from college, I decided to travel the world — I consider that my first job because traveling can be so very taxing. Do you travel, Ms. Person?” Jane shakes her head slightly, her eyes following Lucre as he continues telling his life story. “I wasn’t any mooch either; I earned all of my money to travel the world when I was born into an incredibly wealthy family. Anyway, when I became bored of that, I went into finance, Wall Street, investment, blah, blah, blah. To be honest, I had no idea what I was doing, but I did a great job and made a lot of money too! Returning to college I received my doctorate — which is much easier than many people think, they practically handed it to me — and voila - I am now a therapist — I really wanted to help people, and have the title — which is how you see me here now. My next vocation - a comedian. I’m not very funny, but I’ll make it work as I always 63
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do.” Dr. Lucre looks back at Jane with a huge grin on his face. “Oh, listen to me prattle on about myself! We’re here to find out the root of your deep-seated delusions and mental illness. Go on.” “I- um, I don’t remember what I was saying.” “You were crying on the floor of your bathroom and couldn’t tell the difference between the bathwater that had splashed out of the tub and your own pathetic puddle of salty tears,” he read from his notes. “Oh… I tried to get to bed after that. I had gotten so used to being attacked by it throughout my life that it wasn’t that difficult to fall asleep after. I woke up at one or so. It was pitch black and silent. I knew it was in the room, so I just lay there, completely still. It climbed on top of me, and sat on my chest. It was a strange feeling; it wasn’t heavy, but it was crushing me, pinning me to the bed. A few hours of that and I decided to try and escape. I rolled off my bed, hitting the floor and gasping for air. I crawled across the room trying to reach the door. It grabbed my ankle, but I managed to squirm my way out and rush to the hallway. The walls had this horrible beige wallpaper and harsh fluorescent lights and it seemed to go on forever. The cheap carpet chafed my feet and the lights burned my face. Every door I tried to open was locked and when I screamed for help no one came. I 64
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tripped; it pulled me back, back into the apartment. I thrashed and got out of its grasp once more. I saw my opportunity to escape and took it. That’s when I jumped out the window.” Another pause. “You’re lucky you survived.” “I don’t feel lucky. Ever since then it’s been stronger. It’s in the room right now, and I can’t get rid of it.” “I think I know your issue; you’re crazy, Jane, but I can fix that. I’m prescribing a lot of drugs, that’s self-explanatory, but I’m also suggesting something else. You need to get married and move to the suburbs and have two beautiful children, a boy and a girl. You need to care for these children while your husband works in the office. You need to have friends in your cul de sac, close friends, but not close enough that you speak intimately to each other. Maybe you won’t enjoy your new life, but your escape can be hobbies like knitting or gardening that you equally despise. You will grow distant from your husband over time, but act like you’re happy so the other couples still envy you. You will watch TV and buy what’s shown in the commercials, even though you will never use those things. When your children leave for college it will be difficult, but you can turn one of their bedrooms into a home gym in which you will barely exercise, 65
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but it will be good storage space. When you die, you will be buried next to your husband, and in a couple of generations you will be almost completely forgotten. I’m sure this will cure you, Jane. Now, goodbye!” Jane is shooed out of the office, the door shutting behind her. She stands there for a second, limping her way out of the building, ready to follow her doctor’s orders.
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2020 UPPER SCHOOL SPEECH Manas Ramesh ‘21
Namaste. A powerful gesture of respect. A universal gesture spiritually, mentally, and physically fit for our life and time. Namaste should replace our handshake. Namaste has been used for centuries, however, it has only been mainly used in Southeast Asia. It is a sign of respect. In my culture, my family and I go to a Hindu temple from time to time. In there, I am keen on giving respect to all of the people around me, whether they would be a priest or another believer. With the amount of distrust we have in each other, namaste’s sign of respect, and yes, zero bacterial transfer, namaste should be used around the world. Why Namaste and not a happy smile and wave? Well, Namaste represents our spiritual connection: our similarities as one species. Kansascity.com, a spiritual site says Namaste has “its spiritual connotation and its motto of all for one and one for all”. With all the distrust people have with one another, specifically to one race/ethnicity, Bbc.com reported: “This constant bombardment can result in heightened anxiety, with immediate effects
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on our mental health with constant feelings of threat.” Namaste provides support and guidance for each one of us and that is something that is needed in society. On another aspect, which everyone in this call knows about, is our extreme cautiousness. Specifically to the sense of touch. Namaste is a distant gesture. What this means is that it does not require touch. It focuses on mentality, not your physicality because it shows you recognize each other for the way we all are. There is zero bacterial transfer, which is perfect for today’s society. At Allen-Stevenson, we were doing elbow bumps, but bacteria can go anywhere. When you lay your elbow on a table or touch it with your hand, bacteria will still spread. Namaste will negate that. But there might be a question of religious background towards Namaste. However, Namaste is like any other idea that started from certain backgrounds. For example, yoga is actually something that originated from Indian holy texts. That is why yoga instructors use Namaste. The literal meaning of Namaste is “I bow to you,” but most people that use it as a friendly gesture don’t bow. Instead, it means you teach me and I teach you. My mother simply uses it to say good morning and to have an educated day. How do we spread the message of using 68
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Namaste? Well, whenever you talk to your friends or peers through a call like Zoom or Facetime, you can start to use Namaste. This way, there could be better trust between each one of us. And to that, I say Namaste to you all.
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Untitled Abstract Compositions Alex Melnitzky ‘02
Untitled Abstract Compositions Alex Melnitzky ‘02
Alex Melnitzky ’02 taught himself to paint in college and continued painting throughout law school. After graduating from the Benjamin N. Cardozo School of Law, he joined the New York Attorney General’s Office and then a law firm that defends doctors and hospitals in medical malpractice actions. After practicing law for five years, Alex left his legal career to pursue an MBA at Cornell and graduated this May. He now will be pursuing a career in investment banking but plans to continue painting during his free time.
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72 Untitled Owen Strock ‘96
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3/26/2020 Owen Strock ‘96
I swing the axe It’s best when I don’t think I let the blade talk Finding the grain Smiling when I hear That hollow knock Of the wood giving way Working the cracks Until the stump Is a pile of tinder Then stacking it in neat piles The mess contained Making Lincoln logs Out of these lost days Brushing off the blade Taking a deep breath Asking the weapon to tell me In its sharp, simple way That it will all be ok
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4/5/2020 Owen Strock ‘96
The sun spins a tale Of hellfire and darkness And like planets We circle up Rubbing our cold hands by the ruby coals Waiting for our ghost story As the cinders spin and flail Into the hungry night Not seeing That it sees right through us Vespers at the altar of light Already gone Just incense and memory
Owen Strock is a cinematographer and a member of the Allen-Stevenson class of ‘96. He is a graduate of Middlebury College and a member of IATSE Local 600. When he isn’t shooting films, he loves to snowboard, write and hang with his daughter Maisie and wife Tess.
A-Z FILES
76 Canterbury Cathedral Gregory Stone ‘19
A-Z FILES
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Sunrise at the Grand Tetons Gregory Stone ‘19
Antelope Canyon Gregory Stone ‘19
Gregory Stone ‘19 is a past contributer and a sophmore at Choate Rosemary Hall.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
W
e would like to thank everyone who has helped us get here. This is the eigth 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. Jennifer Ziplow who has made every effort to continue the publication in its intended form. 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 Lisa Anderson, Susan Lukas, and Aidan Fennelly. We appreciate Will Schutt’s words of wisdom and other talented alumni who join this year’s student work. 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. A heartfelt thank you to all!
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THE ALLEN-STEVENSON SCHOOL 2020