Phoenix Magazine June 2021 by BEPPhoenixmag

Phoenix Magazine 2020-2021

Cover Designed by Michelle Lu '24

This past year was full negativity with all of the new changes and occurrences made to protect ourselves from COVID-19, but through it all, the Phoenix rises from the ashes, full of virtue and positivity to brighten up the year, and inspires us with new thoughts of gratitude, shown by the words used to outline the wings.

Phoenix 2020-2021 Bishop Eustace Preparatory School 5552 Rt. 70, Pennsauken, NJ

Mr. Jim Brady ……………………………………………………………………………Moderator Grace O’Brien ’20, Erin Sullenberger’21, Charlotte Gottilla’21, Alexia McConaghy’22, Victoria Bui’22, …………................................................................................................. Executive Editors Sara Ledyard’22, Emma Smithwick’22 ………………………………………………….Executive Assistants Sara Ledyard’22, Anya Kazemi’24, Kristen Coffman’22, Olivia Burghardt’22 …………Photographers Michelle Lu’24, Abigail Dlug’22 …………………………………………………………Artists Contributors Ace Asim 21 Nia Bellopede ’21 Isabella Blanchard ’20 Victoria Bui’22 Olivia Burghardt ’22 Lorenzo Carletti ’21 Erin Cavanagh’21 Alyssa Cavella ’20 Kristen Coffman’22 Callista Crisinino ’21 Josette DeGour ’24

Dickson, Luke ’21 Charlotte Gottilla ’21 Autumn, Granroth ’21 Brendan Hoag ’21 Cameron Huber ’20 Liz Innocenzo ’21 Shannon Jefferis ’21 Katie Kempter ’21 Lauren Kueny ’21 Nick Lao ’20 Sara Ledyard ‘22

Lexi Leese ’21 Michelle Lu ’24 Meg Lyons ’21 Bella Masso ’21 Kristina Medina ’21 Asha Mohpatra ’21 Sarah Mullen ’21 Kaleb Monasterial ’21 Nicole Nordone ’21 Sierra Panvini ‘24

Andrew Pasco ‘20 Jackie Reagan ‘21 Emma Smithwick ‘22 Rachel Sobocinski ‘21 Ann Stettler ‘21 Erin Sullenberger ‘21 Nick Ward ‘21 Ashley Welde ‘21 Ellie Wheeler ‘21

Dedication After an absence of one year, the Phoenix Magazine returns for 2021. We dedicate this edition of the magazine to Ms. Joan Cecil, a former English Department member, and the moderator of the magazine for many years. We followed the template that you established and your belief that all members of our school should have an opportunity to share their writings with the Bishop Eustace community. Thank you for showing us the way.

For their support of our efforts, special thanks to: Dr. Jacqueline Coccia Mrs. Marylou Williams Mrs. Annette Masso Mrs. Kat Burke-Esposito

Table of Content Why I Love Football

Red Phoenix

Anxiety and Stress

Isle of Planes

Abandoned, Second Semester Senior

10 Seconds Later, And

oh, would you look at Her?

My Savior

New Normal, Through a Screen

“Emma”: A Lovely, Fun, and Humorous Novel

When Opportunity Arises, The Climber

What Gives Me Hope

Winter Crew Sonnet, Graduation Haiku, July 20, 1969

Lost and then Loved

Interview – Dr. Coccia

Interview – Mr. Pepino

A New Decade and a New Meaning to Life

Opportunity

Changes, My Favorite Places

Our World, Quarantine

False Perception, Spring

The College Process

Good Morning

A Fowl Sonnet

She Who Wears a Mask

Bedtime Sonnet, The Human Mind

Students vs. Learners

The Sun, Emma Best

Dreams, Don’t Blink

Love, Sunrise

Cottage in the Woods, Flowers

My Experience in a Vegan Household

Transcendence, A Short History of Nearly Everything

The Eve of a New Beginning, The Friend I Used to Have, COVID

Quarantine, Nighttime, Haiku, Changes

Tuesday, 19 March 2020

What do I say, Tempest

Grad Year

Senior Year, When Time Was Silenced

A Bull Ride, But Not a Full Ride, The Endless Rainy Day

Hopeless

lavender, Trees

Lava cake, oven fries disappointment in my eyes

Something, something night sky

A Tribute to Sisters

Magic of Nature, Types of Love, The Sky

Flowers

Frankenstein, Fried Onions and Poinsettias

A Scholarship Essay Prompt Asks Me . . .

Dinner Table

Rumors – Drama

The Fox, mistakes, Advertisement Brought to You . . .

Inspiration

The Dinner Party

The Poet

Strangers to Ourselves

A Brief Satire about Bad Grammar

What it Means to Dance

Horoscopes

Why I Love Football – Erin Sullenberger Sometimes I feel utterly ungrateful for the thing that keeps me motivated every day. Some of my recent experiences along with social media have changed the scope of my appreciation towards this wonderful sport, and finally, I’d like to officially recognize exactly why I love football. Last summer, I traveled to Germany with an exchange group, and I had the wonderful opportunity to play football with a team of German boys. To say that I had a good time would be a total understatement. As I ran by and passed to the players around me, I felt their love for the game. They were incredibly creative; they tried out different moves, different runs, and different shooting techniques. They played like no American I had ever seen before. They played with such love, such passion --- as if football was their whole world. They played with their hearts. And since then, all I’ve wanted to do was go over to Europe to play professionally. If I ever have the chance to play with players like that again, I want to be able to feel the European love and passion for the game again. I’ve traveled to Europe on a few occasions, but on my first trip, I experienced the immense passion that football has on these people. I was planning to attend a Bayern Munich quarter-final Champions league game against the Portuguese Benfica. The afternoon before the game, my father and I were getting some pizza in a small shop in center-city Munich when we came across a crowd of Benfica fans, singing and dancing. They traveled halfway across Europe for the team they love, and as I watched them scream and run around with such love fueling their every move, I couldn’t help but smile. Additionally, I watched a short TV series called The English Game, and one of the most important ideas I took from the show was that football really does bring life to people. During the Industrial Revolution, lower-class people were forced to work in unbearable conditions, but the one thing that kept them motivated was being able to watch their hometown football team compete every Sunday. Football really was their life. This morning, on Instagram, I scrolled across a video of a bunch of African children playing football barefoot in the mud. Perhaps if I were living in a third-world country without much going for me, I, too, would play in absolutely any condition. But sitting here, on a warm bed, in the United States of America, makes me wonder if I could ever demonstrate that much dedication to something. But watching these children playing from their hearts made me realize something. Oftentimes, I have bad games or I don’t train as well as I would have liked. Because of human nature, I make excuses, telling myself that there had to be a reason (outside of my laziness or carelessness) that I played poorly. But as I sit here watching these Africans play, I think to myself how lucky I am to live where I live, play where I play, and be who I am. In honor of those who don’t have proper opportunities to play football at their highest potential, it is my responsibility to never waste a moment of the game. I must be the best player that I can be, for 7

I’ve been given such a wonderful opportunity that I cannot misuse. I watched a documentary last week about why football is such a brilliant sport, and one of the key things I took away from it was how much it impacts the world, specifically outside of the sport and its fans itself. Football reunites countries during civil wars, such as Rwanda in the 1990s. I learned that the opposing sides of the war took breaks to play and watch football matches against each other. Not only does it create peace, but football connects people of different political views from different countries: in 2012, the G8 Summit was paused to watch the penalty shootout for the Champions League final. No matter who you are, where you’re from, or what team you support, lovers of football are a part of one worldwide family. No other sport has this much importance. But now, as I write this essay, I’m so grateful for everything that football has given me. Of course I’ve learned about teamwork, responsibility, and leadership, but more importantly, I’ve learned how to commit my whole self to something I love. I’ve learned how to appreciate what I have. I’ve got at least five years left (senior year and college), but when my time for playing is over, I don’t want my love for football to end there. I want to give back. I want to travel to Africa as a volunteer and play with the children (and adults). I want to relish in their emotion for the game. I want to learn from them. I want to live in England and be a season ticket-holder for my favorite English team: Chelsea FC. I want my career to revolve around football. I haven’t given much thought to how the remainder of my life will pan out outside of football, but one thing’s for sure: so long as I can experience the game, I will be happy.

Red Phoenix – Michelle Lu Bird of fire, Burning bright, Burning passion of new life. Be my sun, Be my light, Be my new shining knight. Soar to the sky, Higher, higher, For what awaits you Is yours to seek. Your desires, Your dreams, Yearn to be reached. Be filled with joy, Be free! Forget your worries, Forget your pain. From dust and ashes, Rise in flames, And fill the earth with your warmth. Live life to your fullest,Don’t let your efforts be for naught. Take me with you, Lift my burdens, Lead my view. For once I knew, I envy you, For I could not make it true. But for you, It is different. You rose from the ground, The lowest of the low, Yet you shined through everyone, Spared the weak, And took that peak! Both renowned and revered are you, The great red Phoenix!

Anxiety and Stress – Brendan Hoag Another day begins, Number six-thousand, five-hundred and ninety-two. Xerox my stresses from yesterday on through. It doesn’t matter when that project is due, Eventually, I’ll get it done by powering through. Then onto the next and the next, then the next and the next. Yes, please give me more, my mental health doesn’t protest. Another day begins, Number six-thousand, five-hundred and ninety-three Done with school, but still going for the degree. Since every day feels like the last, There’s no distinction between present and past. Really just living to work, and nothing less, Energy’s been sucked out, but must keep working for today. Students suffer under a state of constant stress, Silently working for a break that’s always three days away.

Drawing by: Abby Dlug 10

Isle of Planes-Nick Ward Always watching upon the shore They looked so peaceful before the war. I ran with my toy across the lawn. Yet not a day I’ve been sad those days were gone. KRRRR KRRRR This is L7-091 requesting… KRRRRR For the sun never seemed brighter than when in the sky. The dreaming was never as good as the fly. It’s a shame so many wanted to settle down. CCCHHTT CHHHT CHHTTTHH We are sending them right away stand by. Please stay calm. CHTTHT They would search for something already been found. I was found; I still am. KRRR CHHT KRR No please God I don’t want to die. Please not now. I’m not ready yet don’t let me go. CHTHTT KRRRR CHHTT Although now I see I should have tried more when I swam. DUH DUH DUH EOOWWWWWWWW No kill me get rid of me now. I can’t be captured. Let me go I don’t want to suffer I’ve suffered enough OOWWWWWWWWWWWW

Even now I can’t worry. It was an emotion always devoid of worth I hear him screaming for God in his fury That he was going back into Earth. The dirt would have to wait for the will of the sea We couldn’t have left there was no reason to flee. For I had promised on the Isle of Planes I would not leave only leave remains. This was my life no purpose in regret. I still have solace though all I could hear was fret. Every pilot must land to fly again. The joys for now must be had by other men. KRRRSSSHHHHHhhhhhhh…

Abandoned – Sara Ledyard There it is, Again. That burning feeling in my stomach, In a place I can’t seem to describe. I knew it would happen. I knew you would leave. I wish I could say I’m surprised.

Second Semester Senior – Asha Mohapatra “Late again,” they laugh. Drawing by: Sara Ledyard She couldn’t get out of bed that morning, but smiles. “I’m so tired, I need coffee.” they sigh. She nods, an insomniac, hasn’t had a full night of sleep in months “You didn’t even study,” they laugh. She reread the same page over and over last night, her ADHD has been worsening. “You always have plans.” She can’t stand to be at her home anymore, alone with her thoughts. She jokes about the bad grade on her calculus quiz, But fears she’s lost her drive, her intelligence, her purpose She’s gone boy crazy, Mindless distractions to avoid self-reflection. Everyone can’t wait to see where she goes to college, She dreads hearing back from her schools, she knows her applications were a mess. She’s just a second semester senior.

10 Seconds Later, And – Kristina Medina One moment and we’re born into this world Our stopwatches start 00:00 becomes a thing of the past. Too fast, our days go by Tick, tock, says they Where have these years gone? There are times where I question: Did I do this? Should I be doing this? For my mind is forgetful, Unreliable-how long has it been? Five seconds have passed, Unrelenting, time is Memories as proof that what’s happened has happened. Six years later, I wonder where I’ll be. The future is filled with uncertainty But time is a consistency Tick, Tock Tick, Tock. Seventeenth year has gone by. No longer will I be the dancing queen. Ate all the meals mommy has made. I will miss them dearly when I leave Nighty-night I’ll say. To later wake up to more deadlines, more tests, more homework, More conversations, more experiences, more opportunities, More music to hear, more videos to watch, more pictures to draw, More, more, more. I could use a Tic-Tac Where was I again?

10 seconds later, and – Well, who knows? Only time— (Nah, I won’t bother with a cliché saying) The past is the past, Time goes on, Life goes on Who let time in charge anyway? (Time may be consistent; The future may be uncertain, But that’s a-ok)

oh, would you look at Her? – Kristina Medina oh, would you look at Her? she—so close, yet so far. seemingly within the grasp of a hand, but so far out of reach stuck in place, stuck in sand from afar i cast my looks for i, a mere pebble, enduring the wrath of dear Mother, cannot reach Her, cannot even compare to Her on a pedestal for all to see to admire Her beauty. Mother Nature mocks me so, the quiet sounds of rain hitting against this persistent pest—truly a pane. a reminder of what i cannot have i stand before my love, a barrier on my path. the ridiculousness of it all, i let out a laugh. oh, how long to be with Her. the feelings of The fallen ones i understand, for the temptation— it certainly is grand, to take, to have, to love something that only money can solve, but alas, the god of my world, no where to be seen evident in the emptiness of this wallet in hand, again, i must say, i understand

Drawing by: Sara Ledyard

with my eyes, i can only see doing anything but such would be Heresy my feet, they still, my hands on the window sill, my eyes, they see oh, would you look at Her? It is Her; it is She my one forbidden love . . . . . . Hershey

My Savior – Asha Mohapatra My Savior 5’1” on a good day, yet so intimidating, She tolerate like no other. We bicker like an old married couple, Smiling the whole time. We have the same Myers-Briggs personality type, Yet are complete opposites. I am always late, while she is always early. Days at school without her, I am lost. I see her all day at school, on the weekends, after school, The only person I don’t get sick of, my platonic soulmate, my person. Her house is my home, I drive over when I need a hug and am met with open arms. My picture is on the mantle, next to Jackie and Alex. She is pretty, She is my rock, My savior, Jackie Smith.

New Normal – Sarah Mullen Masks conceal The universal emotion of happiness The facial expressions that make us human And connect us as a species Quarantining isolates Human beings Who are social creatures by nature Made to live communally Screens drain Our energy and motivation We could stare at a screen for hours Until it was mandatory Wearing a mask, staying apart, and communicating via technology The very things that must be done to reunite us make us feel more divided than ever The very things that must be done to protect us contradict our innate human nature Oh, the irony.

Through a Screen – Bella Masso Through my screen, through your screen Oh, that painfully familiar scene The pixels dance across your face The sound only discombobulates The artificial light traveling through the space Only for me to freeze on your machine The hum of the motor fills the dead air Though at the hospital next door, the decay has become commonplace We forget how lucky we are to have a safe place To use our little laptops To clip clap clop on the keys To connect, though virtually One day, relief will come Drawing by: Sara Ledyard For those of us left to see it.

"Emma": A Lovely, Fun, and Humorous Novel – Erin Sullenberger Emma, published by Penguin Random House, a $9.00 masterpiece was written by Jane Austen. Consisting of 453 pages, Austen’s work can be valued by many different audiences, which is one of the assets that makes it so superb. The leading protagonist, Emma Woodhouse, “handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition” is perhaps one of Jane Austen’s most classic yet unique characters. While writing her novel, Austen did not expect many of her readers to adore her unconventional heroine, who possesses many flaws, including social ignorance and arrogance. She reportedly stated, “I’m going to take a heroine whom no one but myself will much like.” However, there is just something so attractive and relatable in Emma’s character that makes it difficult for readers to put the book down. Between Emma’s matchmaking mishaps, laugh-out-loud humor, and romantic twists, Emma is undoubtedly one of Jane Austen’s greatest novels, and it deserves a place on the shelf of the best British classics. Early in the novel, Emma establishes herself as being forever single, stating that she could never marry anyone and leave her poor father at home by himself. Ironically, though, Emma believes that she is meant to match her friends together in romantic relationships, considering that she had been the reason for her former governess’ marriage to a certain Mr. Weston. Although another protagonist, Mr. Knightley, who is always skeptical about Emma’s plans and beliefs, stiffly warns her to drop her match-making habits and do something practical instead, like reading a book, Emma indulges herself with this new role as Highbury, England’s chief match-maker. Her first romantic blunder comes to pass when she, having befriended the young, single but poor Harriet Smith, attempts to pair her new friend with Mr. Elton, who is undoubtedly “out of Harriet’s league” in all aspects (wealth, appearance, career, etc.) except personality. Throughout the entire ordeal, the reader is nervously overseeing the affair, expecting Emma’s plan to horribly fall through, which it eventually does but in a surprisingly unforeseen manner. Emma, though, who is too vain to see her faults, carries on with these silly schemes, but the end result, although somewhat predictable, brings total satisfaction to the reader. Not many authors can physically bring a reader to laugh, but Austen masters this technique on multiple occasions when describing the utterly comical cast of characters in Emma. Satire seems to be Austen’s chief tool, for she masterfully intertwines relatable comedy to real-life perceptions of 19th-century British society. Miss Bates, for example, talks so much that in some instances, her dialogue fills up two entire pages! There are lots of people today who know someone who can talk for ages, and Emma’s silent lamentations of Miss Bates’ behavior makes the reader laugh because it’s so relatable. Similarly, Mr. Woodhouse’s ridiculous concern for the welfare of every character makes the reader chuckle. Nobody but Mr. Woodhouse would seriously think that anyone could die from a little draft, but we all do know someone who’s always freaking out about everyone’s health and safety. It’s just nice to know that we’re not alone in our opinions of others ㅡ our good friend Jane Austen felt the same way. Just like the plots of every other one of Austen’s brilliant top sellers, Emma is furnished with romance around every corner. As noted, Emma is a beautiful, young woman who would be suitable for any lucky bachelor’s desires, but unfortunately, Emma states early on that she does not wish to marry. Luckily for all of the suitors in town, there are other pretty women, such as Miss Fairfax, Miss Taylor, and even Miss Hawkins, to find their fancy. Yet, anyone well-versed in the Austen community knows that Marianne Dashwood eventually found Colonel Brandon while Elizabeth Bennet ultimately decided upon Mr. Darcy, 18

and so Emma falling in love was not entirely off the table! The match-maker gets matched in a lovely resolution that brings the story to fruition. The ending of Emma is perfectly satisfying, and no loose ends were left untied. Despite how wonderful the novel was, Autumn de Wilde’s recent movie adaptation of Austen’s classic does not do it enough justice. One of the aspects of Emma that makes the novel so appealing is that the reader can follow along with Emma’s inner thoughts. Although Emma is an outwardly flawed character, by understanding her mindset, the reader becomes sympathetic to why she acts the way she does ㅡ a lot of it has to do with her upbringing. This particular aspect of the novel is special, for none of Austen’s characters in her other books seems to be as intimate with the reader as she is. In Pride and Prejudice, for example, Austen focuses on both Jane and Elizabeth Bennet, and in Sense and Sensibility, Elinor and Marianne Dashwood share the spotlight, but in Emma, the reader only really knows Emma. And despite what Austen predicted, the reader grows to love her. In de Wilde’s adaptation, however, the viewer, unless having read the novel, does not really know Emma’s situation and mentality, and thus, is left to view her as just arrogant. Beautiful scenery and lovely costumes decorate the movie set well. And one of De Wilde’s most original additions is the bit of unprecedented humor she incorporates, but the casting of this movie, unfortunately, ticks off more negative checks than positive ones. Perhaps Anya Taylor-Joy’s underwhelming acting had to do with the script write, but nevertheless, Taylor-Joy made Emma seem like an inconsiderate, selfish, untouchable character. Even in the moments where the reader was supposed to sympathize with her (for example, after the numerous times Emma’s match-making failed), Emma came across as more bothersome than anything else. It’s difficult to see one of Great Britain’s most classic novels only mediocrely displayed, but any true Austen fan will always appreciate Emma, despite its disappointing movie adaptation. In spite of being a lengthy novel, every minute of Jane Austen’s masterpiece is well-worth the time. To experience the joy, the laughter, and the relatedness in almost every chapter of this precious work is priceless. And being able to see the development of such a flawed character into a mature, married woman makes the novel complete. Although Austen’s books are stereotyped as being “girly romance novels”, boys, who have a mature appreciation for literature, could also be able to find an interest in exploring the satire and character development of Emma. Teenage girls may find this novel intriguing, too, for Emma is said to be just like the 200-year-old version of Cher from Clueless, a popular teenage movie. Emma is probably meant to attract the adult population in general, considering that it is more difficult to follow and comprehend for younger readers, but it can be enjoyed by the younger generations as well. And as probably assumed, British literature enthusiasts would definitely enjoy this classic novel.

When Opportunity Arises – Ashley Welde Given the chance, would you go back in time? Did you allow yourself to learn and grow, Or was your headspace at an all time low? The past year has certainly been a climb, But what did you gain from all the downtime? At first, I’ll admit, the days passed very slow, But oh, how I miss that quarantine glow. It was not a disservice, just out sign. Tomorrow is not guaranteed; live now! Within the restrictions, do what you can, Better your mind and body; take the vow. Do something you’re proud of your whole lifespan. Then when it’s all over you can say “wow, Look who I’ve become, such a wise young man.”

The Climber – Lorenzo Carletti Up ten-thousand feet and maybe more, The climber reached heights never seen before. Never taking a moment to stop, He only wondered what was at the top. This endeavor he had begun in his youth, A lifelong commitment to discovering the truth. He had left all he had known behind, Without being sure what he hoped to find.

Photograph by: Sara Ledyard

The village down below sang his name, Told tales of the climber who dared trespass into the sky, And though he had earned great respect and great fame, The message never reached him up so high. And so time went on and so the years passed. And the climber finally arrived at the crest. And he stood and looked down, and saw no one around. The village had already declared him deceased.

What Gives Me Hope – Erin Sullenberger Throughout the past couple hundred years, the United States has been viewed as a place of refuge, a place of hope. Families who were getting persecuted for their religious beliefs sought a home in the land whose “streets were paved with gold”. Individuals who could not manage to own more than a square foot of land took to the seas to restart their lives where they thought they could prosper under the American Dream. Immigrants, today, are still risking their lives just for the chance to step foot onto this American soil of freedom. And I am a grateful American citizen; do not get me wrong. I have been given such splendid opportunities to flourish in this country. I live with a wonderful, adoring family who provides me with all the love and support I need. I will soon be attending college at the magnificent Boston University on an athletic scholarship, and, if all goes well, I should be debt-free by the end of my four years there. But, despite all of these opportunities with which I’ve been blessed, there has always been an empty part of my life. I had always fantasized about moving to a foreign country. I’m a natural writer who loves to revel in peculiar and far-flung ideas, and that has always just been who I am. But I’m also a lover of the game of soccer. I love to play the beautiful game, and I love to watch it as well. And the international sense of community I’ve always felt with every European game I watch on TV has drawn me even closer to this sport because, as I indicated, I’m a lover of foreign cultures. I love watching the fans dedicate their lives in a way I’ve never truly experienced toward the same team I love. Last summer, I spent a month in Germany on an exchange program. But before I ventured off to pursue the vacation of my life, I had the opportunity to host my fellow exchange student here in America, and moreover, I had the opportunity to meet all of the other fellow German exchange students in our group. There was one evening where all of the students convened in the high school gym to face off in a soccer match: Germans vs Americans. That was undoubtedly the most exciting part of that half of the exchange, for I met two Germans who also adored the game as much as I do, and we had a great time playing together as international opponents. On the second night after I arrived in Germany, I attended a birthday party with about fifty or sixty other Germans and Americans. Rather than doing the typical "party" activities, I opted instead to play a game of soccer with some of the Germans. I had such an amazing time, and one of the boys I played against there invited me to train with his team. So of course, a week later, I purchased a set of soccer cleats and walked onto the field with about twenty local german sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen-year-olds. Throughout the entire hour and a half, I had had such an amazing time revelling in the culture. There was one instance where the German word for shoot is schiess, and I, trying to blend in with the German culture, accidentally said scheisse, which is the sword, and I’ve never cursed even in English before! All of the guys laughed along with me, but nevertheless, the entire match was unforgettable. By the end of the training, I had had such a wonderful time. I received a text message from one of my new friends that read: “It would be great if you could play with us again…. You are also very good, a lot of my team members said that. In Germany, we didn’t met so often a female soccer player with the quality and the ambitions you got. Be proud of that, it’s very special.” Of course, some of the language is incorrect, considering that a native German wrote this to me, but that message practically made the highlight of my trip, for I then truly understood what the cliché love for the game means. My favorite thing to do in the world is the same as it is for millions of others: we all love to play soccer (or football). And now, I was creating an international community of friends whom I could always visit and with whom I could always play.

My best friends from that trip ended up not being those with whom I was on the exchange. My best friends became the guys with whom I had the opportunity to play soccer. However, Germany has never been the place where I’ve always wanted to live. I had often dreamed of moving to England where my favorite professional soccer team plays. And even after this incredible trip, I still wanted to move to England, for the international community there is also second-to-none. Soccer is such a beloved sport all throughout Europe, and so that love for the game persists everywhere. After college, I want to move to England. I want to visit my old friends in Germany and play another game of soccer with them. This is a goal of mine in life. Last week, I performed absolutely horridly on an AP Calculus test. I’m sure of it, but nevertheless, I’ve had to reassure myself that math isn’t the end of my life. In ten years from now, I want to be living firsthand in the European soccer community just like I did last summer. The idea that I can always return to that environment gives me hope. Whenever I say the words England or Germany in the context of soccer, goosebumps run up and down my spine. I know that I’m meant to be there. No matter what happens, no matter if the end of the world seems near (almost like it does with this coronavirus), I know that I will always have my America as my refuge. I will always be able to return to those grassy streets of gold. I will forever maintain the hope that I can always return home.

Photography by: Anya Kazemi 22

Winter Crew Sonnet – Meg Lyons Yearning to soon be back on the river, Waiting for the day our coach lets us know. Thoughts of the gray erg make the team shiver. With frustration, we use the ergs to row There’s a need to be faster every week, Coach reminds us of awaiting medals. Challenging us until we reach our peaks, Exceeding limits, beating new levels. Three months of erging makes muscles so sore, Sweat and tears become part of the routine. Post practice pain makes some fall to the floor, Wishing to be in boats, off the machine Finally coach says it’s time to return, Medals we practiced for, now we must earn

Graduation Haiku In a wink, schools out In a blink, I will move out Close my eyes, lights out

July 20, 1969 – Charlotte Gottilla My grandparents watched the moon landing in a tuxedo and a wedding dress. Walking down the aisle, One small step for man. Black and white TV buzzing through the noise of their reception, One giant leap for mankind. A brave new world.

Lost and then Loved – Nia Bellopede Like a ship out to sea, caught in a storm Looking for a home and a place to dock. A lost child wondering how to conform Or a lion looking for their pride and rock. In the dead of winter when all is dark, Or spring when the rain hides any light of day, Or summer’s end when you lack any spark, And fall when all the flowers go away. Hopelessly wandering from place to place. Seemingly lost with no destination. Always searching for that beautiful face, And picturing that nameless creation. But then I found you, perfect face and all, And I couldn’t help but he then fall.

Photograph by: Sara Ledyard

Interviews Doctor Coccia – Emma Smithwick Doctor Coccia steered the school through the dark months of the pandemic and she was a beacon of hope for the Bishop Eustace community. Since many people escape the troubles of the world through reading, the editors thought that it would be interesting to find out what type of literature Dr. Coccia enjoys to read when she has time. Emma: Dr. Coccia, what is your favorite type of literature? Dr. Coccia: As I mentioned, many of my favorite books fall into that "literary realism" genre. Many of the books I have enjoyed over and over again are The Great Gatsby and Invisible Man. I am drawn to books about relationships and the human experience. Emma: What is your favorite book? Dr. Coccia: My favorite book is The Great Gatsby, but when I was a child, I was particularly drawn to myths, fables, and fairy tales. Again, I always enjoyed learning about human nature and the experience of others as a way to make connections Emma: Who is your favorite author and poet? Dr. Coccia: My favorite author is F. Scott Fitzgerald, and my favorite poet is Emily Dickinson. When my college schedule allowed opportunities to enjoy electives, I chose topics like Emily Dickinson and Creative Writing. Emma: What is your favorite book series? Dr. Coccia: My daughter and I share a love of reading. She enjoys reading so much, she is now pursuing her Ph.D. in English and teaching Literature at University of Michigan. My fondest memories are of the countless hours we spent reading books together. When she was around nine years old, she particularly loved a series about medieval mice called Redwall. Now that she is grown, we still try to read together when our schedules permit. We just started My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante, and this is also part of a series. This book also explores relationships over time. Emma: What is your favorite play? Dr. Coccia: I love to see A Midsummer Night's Dream on stage. It is a beautiful production, and, like many of my other favorites, explores relationships. Another favorite is Ibsen's A Doll's House. I remember reading this as part of my summer reading in high school, but I did not really engage with the text until we returned to school in September. My teacher led us through a close reading of the play followed by a trip to see it on stage. An enthusiastic teacher who displays genuine passion for literature makes such a difference.

Emma: What is your favorite type of writing? Dr. Coccia: When I was young, I used to love to write fairy tales and fables. This goes back to another wonderful teacher I had over the years. As an adult, I do not have many opportunities to write for pleasure. When I wrote my dissertation, my research was a phenomenological study. I researched the experience of women in leadership and worked closely with six women to learn their stories. My advisor introduced me to Theory U by Otto Scharmer. This book discusses the importance of establishing trust and emphatic listening to open our minds, hearts, and wills to allow the truth to emerge. The professor was so enthusiastic about Scharmer's work, and it was very helpful when I completed my study. I was looking forward to hearing Dr. Scharmer speak at a conference last year, but it was postponed due to the pandemic Emma: What is your favorite quote? Dr. Coccia: My favorite quote is from Jane Eyre. "Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs." I try to always remember that, even when it is challenging to do so!

Mr. Pepino – Alyssa Cavella Alyssa: Throughout your time at Eustace, what was the biggest change you had to endure? Mr. Pepino: Although I love teaching and connecting with many students, having six classes this year has been a huge change. My schedule does not allow me as much time as I’d like to prepare my lessons. I feel that this change also affects the way in which I interact with my students. I get caught up in the stress of juggling six classes and sometimes miss those moments to truly connect with my students. Despite this challenge, I have learned to persevere and adapt in order to be a positive role model for my students. Alyssa: If you had a chance to change something in the past, what would it be and why? Mr. Pepino: I wish that when I graduated college, I would’ve spent a couple years living in California. I have traveled there several times and the culture there just amazes me. Everyone is just so relaxed and the whole atmosphere is just way less rigid than the East Coast. I truly enjoy traveling to California and I wish I would’ve spent more time there. I don’t carry much regret at all, this is just something I wish I had done. Alyssa: What is your favorite thing about teaching at Eustace? Mr. Pepino: Eustace is truly a family. I can confidently say that my favorite thing at Eustace is the people around me. The students constantly amaze me with their intelligence and growth. My fellow colleagues are amazing and I thoroughly enjoy their company. When I am at my job, I feel secure and supported by everyone around me. I highly doubt that everyone is able to say this about their jobs. I consider myself lucky to be able to come to work each day knowing I can depend on students and faculty to bring joy into my morning. Alyssa: What is one thing that you wish you could implement or change at Eustace? Mr. Pepino: One thing I wish I could implement at Eustace is more faculty and student interactions. The bond between students and faculty during field day and the faculty-student bowling tournament is amazing. These type of activities are a valuable way for students to connect with their teachers outside of the classroom. Faculty are also able to see their students in their element outside of the classroom. However, I feel that these types of events should happen more throughout the year. Some examples would be a faculty-student ping pong tournament or a softball tournament. Alyssa: Do you think change is a positive thing or a negative thing? Why? Mr. Pepino: I believe that change is positive when it is implemented correctly. When people are not flexible, change can negatively affect the community. When change occurs, it is necessary that the change is a step forward instead of backward. If a change is made in order to take a step forward and it is implemented correctly, then I truly believe change is a positive thing. Alyssa: If you had a chance to go back to college, would you go? If so, what degree would you pursue? Mr. Pepino: If I had a chance to go back to college, I would go back and get a degree in cinematography. I have always been interested in film and if you ask my students, I have many stories to tell. I love my degree in Statistics but I would just like to broaden my horizons and follow another one of my passions. Alyssa: For the students you have had freshman year and senior year, what has been the biggest change in their personalities and skills you have noticed? 28

Mr. Pepino: For students I have had freshman year and senior year, I definitely see an increase in their skills that they have developed from certain classes and teachers. The students might have become more mature since freshman year but freshman and seniors have something in common: they are looking forward to something. Freshman are excited to start their high school journey while seniors are looking forward to making a big change from highschool to college. Both classes have something to look forward to and a goal in mind. Alyssa: Do you have any advice for students who are struggling with change? Mr. Pepino: My advice for anyone who is struggling with change is to embrace it. Allow yourself to give it a fair chance to work. Take time to experience it first before you result in anger and rebellion. Change can be a very good thing but you will never know if you don’t allow yourself to experience it first.

A New Decade and A New Meaning to Life – Erin Sullenberger It’s currently 11:48 PM on December 25, 2019, and for the first time in, I think, forever, Christmas has not been the most exciting event of the latter portion of this year. The new decade is knocking right on the front door, and I am still on the other side of the house. And all of this change is inevitably causing me to think about how quickly life is passing. Soon I’ll be entering into the third decade of my life! World War I could have occurred four times over during my lifetime, and when I realize that George W. Bush was president when I was born, I immediately think about how this seven-year-old girl at my church probably even has no idea who Obama is. I can remember staying up until midnight on December 31, 2009, to celebrate the turn of a new decade. I was spending the evening with some old family friends, and that night, I fell asleep almost immediately after the Times Square ball dropped. When I woke up the next morning, one strange thought danced through my head: Is this a dream? And from that moment onward, I have always had this crazy thought in the back of my mind that everything that has occurred since 2009 has actually been a very long dream that my younger self has concocted. I think that I can be reassured by my readers, however, that we are, in fact, entering 2020! And that leads me to my next topic: the year 2020. For me, my parents, and their parents, we think of the ‘20s as the Roaring 20’s. Will my children think of the 20’s as this approaching decade? Will they no longer picture the 20’s as fraught with unconventional flappers, prohibition, ...the Great Depression… (and oh Hoover)? Will they envision the 20’s as an era filled with the upward rise of Greta Thunberg and her devotees? With perhaps a second executive reign of a businessman with iconic yellow hair? With TikTok as the universal platform for communication? A hundred years before I was born, the turn of the 19th century had just occurred. Therefore, I view the entire 1900s period as a somewhat recent span of one hundred years. Slavery is ancient, but the Civil Rights Movement was around when my grandmother (who was just visiting for Christmas dinner) was growing up! Her great-grandmother or so may have owned slaves! Oh God, how time changes. My children will view the 1900s as medieval, and I will be there, thinking, “Oh, just a couple of years before I was born, there existed another century! And you kids think that 2020 was a hundred years ago!” My parents are about eighty percent convinced that the world’s perception of eating meat is going to rapidly change within the next few years. They have just become vegan because a couple of Netflix documentaries have challenged the universal belief that meat is the only source of protein, whereas animals are simply the platform through which plant protein is stored. Apparently eating meat has more negative effects than positive ones. And to be honest, their veganism has sparked a bit of skepticism inside of me. I ate turkey tonight for Christmas dinner, but before tonight, I have been mostly vegetarian. By the way, for context, my father used to be one of those weekly orderers of meat-lovers double cheese pizza. See how crazy this is? So the world is changing right before me. I have a handful of neighbors who are all under seven years old; they were born in the 2010s! I have vivid memories of the 2010s! I feel like the entire world should revolve around me - the entire world should age with me. But it won’t.

My one friend is an unofficial philosopher and a firm believer that life has no meaning. One day, everyone will die. This does not mean, however, that you should not try to live a good and successful life. This only means that your life will ultimately mean nothing. And I believe that is true… almost. He asked me before this simple question: What is the meaning of your life, Erin? What keeps you motivated? He does not believe that there is any real reason for him to move through the world. And considering that my life up until now has made utterly no permanent impact on the world, I have had to re-examine this question. It is a fact of life that not everyone - yes, NOT everyone - will be remembered in this world. I believe that anyone can make themselves noteworthy, but I also believe that only those destined to make a mark on the world will do just that. I do not know if I am meant to make a mark on the world, and I would rather not concern myself with that thought process too much. I am not going to change the world by doing something that I am not passionate about - so that is where I decided to start my discussion on the meaning of life: passion. Having a passion means having the true love of something (singular or plural). It could be a person, an object, a sport, a game… anything, really! I have determined that I possess two passions: soccer and writing. First, I have dreamt since the fifth grade of moving to England someday so that I can work for the English Premier League, own Chelsea FC season tickets, and play pick-up soccer with people out on the streets. I traveled to Germany on a couple of occasions, and on both trips, I was able to play pick-up with some locals, and in both scenarios, those games were the highlights of my trips! I love playing soccer. I love the competition, the drive, the desire to win, the commitment, the teamwork, etc. Second, I absolutely love to write. I have written novels since I was in fourth grade, and I have finally finished a good one that I’m hoping to soon publish! Writing is my outlet to release my feelings and my creativity. It unleashes my real personality that dull schoolwork seems to lock inside of my head. Therefore, I achieve a sense of happiness when I am playing/watching soccer or when I am writing. So when my friend asked me what the meaning of my life is, I responded that it is to be happy. Not everyone is meant to make their mark on the world so the least you can do is make your time on Earth as enjoyable as possible. I have always played soccer, and I have always written stories or novels, but up until this year, something was missing. I was not happy. Before, I was depleted. I was mixed up in awkward stages of physical change, fragile friendships, and ultimate self-destruction. Basically, throughout most of my schooling, I was a perfectionist. I could not mentally handle any grade lower than a 97, and when this objective was challenged, many tears and panic attacks resulted. This year, I have dedicated specific days of the week to spend time with my sister, my dog, and the rest of my family. I have finally found the perfect balance between work and fun, and better yet - I am enjoying working. Up until this year, I dreaded waking up in the morning. Now, I cannot wait for the weekend to be over so that I can start the week. I have a new group of friends this year. When I spend time with them, we talk about sports, video games, or even philosophy. I forget about any work or obligations that I have, and I live in the moment. So what I am trying to convey is, my friends also make me happy. My life is both complete and incomplete in different ways, but now, I am enjoying every second of my day. I have, in fact, had quite a few family and personal complications, but by having the sources of my happiness readily available, I am able to overshadow the negativity with a sort of light of positivity. I will forever be grateful to my family,

my teammates, my Chelsea boys, Google Docs - the feeling that surges through me every time I approach a blank document is priceless - and probably most recently important, my friends. Online personality quizzes have gone from classifying me as an INFJ-T introvert to an ENFJ-A extrovert in the span of three years. I think that’s crazy. The meaning of my life, I must clarify, is not the universal meaning of life. I believe that happiness is the key to living, but perhaps it is not for other people. My philosophical friend asked me if committing murders makes someone happy, then should they pursue their desires to achieve their perception of the meaning of life? Obviously no, so he proved that the meaning of life is all up to the eye of the beholder. Then should I really overthink this whole turn-of-the-decade business? I have not accomplished much in life so far, but in the end, does it really matter? If my passions are enough to allow me to change the world, then I will pursue the alteration of the universe, but until then, what should I do? I suppose I should continue to all-around improve myself, and most importantly, remain happy. 2020 may be the decade in which A LOT of things happen. Most people tell me that these years will be the best time of my life. It’s such an exciting decade, and when I look back at this passage in ten years, I know I’ll laugh. I wonder what will happen. But I think my number one New Year’s Resolution is to just be happy, and everything else will follow.

Opportunity – Andrew Pasco During my ten years as a competitive swimmer, though especially once I reached high school, I never understood why my teammates seemed to consistently improve while I often stagnated. One meet per year I performed to my expectations, but during many more meets throughout the year I emerged from the pool disappointed. I do, however, have the ability to control my own fate. My coaches always encouraged me to keep working hard, and I took their motivation to heart. I was by all measures one of the hardest workers in the pool. I knew that if I let the failures negatively affect my work ethic or discourage me, I will never reach my true potential. However, after yet another poor championship competition at the end of my sophomore year, I had to question myself a little. What needed to change? Was it time to leave the pool? I did not realize it yet, but my situation would have to get worse before getting better. The diagnosis came in November, after four different blood tests to “make sure” and an upper and lower ‘scope to “really make sure.” Sure enough, I had Crohn’s disease, and although some would become disheartened by this, I finally had an explanation for my fatigue and inconsistent swimming performance. I wasn’t going to sit around and feel sorry for myself but instead used it as motivation for the future. While this was certainly not a failure for me in a traditional sense, my lackluster performance in the pool finally made sense and this diagnosis actually gave me hope. These recent set-backs would not stop me from reaching new goals, especially with a properly-targeted improvement plan. I didn’t give up when I was at my weakest physical state and this persistence will pay dividends in the future. Living through my failures before I understood the root cause taught me that perseverance is an essential component of eventual success in all areas of my life. I have now been given a gift of a new opportunity to succeed and reach new goals I never could have before. In a way, my diagnosis was a blessing, because I know myself better now, and I know how to push this true version of myself to its potential.

Changes – Cameron Huber During an intense lacrosse game, my friend fell on her knee and was rushed to the hospital. Once observing her bandaged knee, I was oddly intrigued, leading me to look at knee ligament diagrams and form a diagnosis on my own. Before my friend’s accident, I did not consider the category of sports medicine, for I planned to become a veterinarian. I decided to challenge my sudden change in interest by interning for my assistant field hockey coach, Dr. Trina Liskos ‘95, who is an orthopedic physician. The first day I interned will forever mark a special transition in my life, for my eyes seemed to be opened up to a new world. I was fascinated by every test Trina did and how quickly she was able to process the patient’s symptoms and determine their diagnosis. One patient, a wrestler named Joe who came in for trigger points, further pushed my passion by sharing his story with me. As a dedicated wrestler, he frequently was injured, and Trina would relieve his pain through specific trigger points. He then went on to discuss the connection he was able to form with Trina, inspiring me to pursue a bond with my future patients. Joe was so thankful for Trina and her hard work, that he offered private self defense lessons for Trina and her family every month. The heartwarming and simple story confirmed my eagerness to pursue this career in order to help others and in turn establish a relationship with them. Luckily, Trina noticed my enthusiasm and invited me to return weekly. Each time I opened the door and listened to a new patient’s story, I immediately had butterflies in my stomach.

My Favorite Places – Erin Cavanagh Wegmans, Trader Joe’s So many options to choose Here I can find joy.

Our World – Erin Cavanagh In this world, where the buzzing never seems to stop Where likes and comments reign supreme And girls stare at other bodies, dying to swap Their so-called influencers make up a deadly regime In this world, we are pointed down narrow down paths to success Towards money and promises of power Doctors and Lawyers, they say, never fail to impress But where in our journey did our inspiration begin to sour? In this world, the old and young are dismissed, Far too feeble and far too naive Only they are able to peacefully coexist And follow their dreams to lands of satisfaction the rest can only hope to achieve

Quarantine – Liz Innocenzo Although some saw it as a time of isolation I saw it as a time of connection Through the power of written words. Communication with my friends Didn’t seem so improbable Through thousands of messages And late night Facetime calls. In a span of several months We connected over shared troubles Each phrase Brought a sense of hope In a seemingly hopeless time Bringing us closer Than ever Before.

False Perception – Liz Innocenzo We surrender our attention to movies and magazine Where we see perfect humans And we look in the mirror, We wonder, naively, why we are imperfect. Through diets, Heavy amounts of exercise And starvation, We burn ourselves out, Setting fire to that special sense of individuality. It is only until this fire leaves behind the ashes of wisdom, That we realize that these perfect humans, Simply, do not exist.

Spring – Luke Dickson Spring had just sprung in early March And the flowers were beginning to bud. Suddenly, the world came to a halt; The future - more mysterious than ever. Learning was paused, sports were no longer And the only place always open was the Grocery store. The world was as loud as a whisper. Masks stopped us from breathing the Fresh air. The people of the world, their Personalities grey and hidden. The new life Brought by spring was no more. Summer came and tensions rose. The world lost its breath. People filled the streets in search of answers. Violence and Fire took the only store that was always open and Left nothing but the floor. The months that came next were Especially difficult. Unrest and slander Between two parties caused outrage. The world had been hurt, our country, Beaten and sore.

Eventually, the end of the darkest year arrived; However, hugs and time with family would Not be an option this year. We waved from A distance and stayed home with family – Awaiting what the new year had in store. It was not time for new beginnings, A chance to be better and be more graceful. We remember all those that were lost and Celebrate their lives. The need for love Is now more important than ever before. Spring has now sprung in early March And new beginnings are on the horizon.

The College Process – Luke Dickson Do grades measure a person? Sleepless nights to get work done Are not at all fun. They happen so we can achieve a letter. Does that make a person better? We memorize, read, and write. We study and do work at home all night. All of this is done to get into a school For a piece of paper, who is the fool? Money and stress take over our lives As we look for a new place to thrive. We then put our application forth; all for some Stranger to measure our worth. The waiting game then goes on for weeks And each passing day makes it all more bleak. We sit and stare for an update to show. What do we do next if we get a “no”? The answers to these questions are simpler than they seem And we must awake from this unconscious dream. Grades have set an unfair bar. No stranger can tell us who we are. Grades do not measure a person.

Good Morning – Erin Sullenberger I heard you come home last night Oh, darling I’m sorry – did I awaken you? Yes, love, but no matter – I went right to bed That’s fine, dear – good morning. I heard you stumble up the stairs last night Oh, yes, I had the light off and – But that’s fine, love – I went right to bed It was the crooked step, I say – all right, good morning. I heard the moaning again last night Oh, I know – it was a horrible dream. I figured as much, love, so I went to bed I feel much better now – the water, the coffee – oh, good morning. I heard you singing last night – it was rather loud, love Oh no, that was Ernest Chaplin from next door – I’ll tell him – If it happens again, all right, but there’s no need to – I’ll tell him tonight dear – good morning. I heard you crying last night, and I – Oh, I was thinking of Jack Kennedy Love, it’s been a year, and never has that bothered – I fully understand it now, dear – good morning. I heard you fall to the floor last night Oh, damn maid forgot to dry the marble, that’s all But it was all right when I went down there, love You must have forgotten, dear – good morning. I found the bottle outside last night, love Oh, Ernest always goes a bit heavy on the – I smelled it when you crawled into bed Fine, I had two drinks, dear, but that was all – good morning. I found you in the kitchen last night, surrounded by bourbon Oh, dear, there is a perfect explanation – You would not awaken, so I called the medic, but then – Yes, I awoke and went to bed – good morning. I watched you settle into your casket last night Oh, dear, I never meant to leave you alone I awoke in bed without the comfort of your skin I hope you slept all right, and have a – good morning.

I entered the kitchen and expected to dispose of the bottles I felt a sense of relief when they were all gone I no longer have to live under the pretense I knew all along, love – I knew. And yet, my heart beats with excitement Love, I miss you, and I don’t But for the first time in the last decade I think I’ll truly have a good morning.

A Fowl Sonnet – Charlotte Gottilla You roam the grounds, uninhibited and free. One with nature, a relic of times long past, Your vast domain extends all over the country. You are the product of evolution, an ideal beast at last. Your sure path frees me from the confines Of now-meaningless schedules and start-times. You are not concerned with human designs And you are not ruled by the clock’s ticking chimes. No one will sway you once you embark on your quest. No waving hand nor blaring horn nor angered word Will stop you as you persevere without rest. Fixated on your journey, you cannot be deterred. Men may want you to move, but you will refuse You are insolent and headstrong, a Canada goose.

She Who Wears a Mask – Nia Bellopede Every morning she arises. She puts on a mask, Without fail and no questions asked, And moves throughout her day, Always changing her faces. Around her friends, She always smiles and makes fun. With her family, She is pleasant and bright. Out in public, She is quiet but confident. But when she is with them, Her many faces crack. They get a glimpse of her, With her guard down and no walls up. Then, when she is all alone, Her mask is fully removed. Her true face is shown. She is open. Vulnerable, Real. All of the cracks and fragments That have been glued back together again and again, She fixes then all at the end of her day When she no longer has to play. Then, she goes to bed Without any thoughts in her head And restlessly sleeps Until her alarm again beeps And her days move on to repeat.

Drawing by: Abby Dlug

Bedtime Sonnet – Lorenzo Carletti The clock on the wall ticks at a steady pace, And the dull moonlight tell me time to rest, Though the thoughts in my mind swirl with great haste, The space between my ears is filled with jest. I stay awake, wondering what to think, To soother the steady lightening in my head, A chain of thoughts connected link to link, A steady stream of questions end to end. Why do stars twinkle and why do they shine? And how do great eagles swim through the sky? Why do Europeans make the best wine? And how does pumpkin turn into pie? Till suddenly the noise decides to stop, And grants my eyelids a short time to drop.

The Human Mind – Autumn Granroth The human mind is a scary place, It exposes you to things others never face My mind works at its own pace, Leaving me with thoughts, I’d rather erase A chemical imbalance I embrace, But therapy makes me feel like a disgrace It is hard to feel normal when anxiety puts you in a different headspace Down the rabbit hole I go, a cat and mouse chase I struggle to catch my breath - my diaphragm deflates, Insomnia leaves me with steps to retrace Why is my heart pounding? Why am I shaking? Questions never answered, the search still awaits I must prepare for tomorrow’s cat and mouse chase.

Students vs. Learners – Ace Asim Students and those who learn aren’t the same, One does, the other thinks. The student does his work with the intention of completion, The learner makes sense of his work the intention of understanding. School is easier for students, But not easier for learners. A class for a student is a new chance to work, A class for a learner is a chance to learn. But aren’t students just learners who lost their way? Those who wanted to learn but couldn’t? Shaped by the demands of school? A place where learning is less appreciated than the work done.

Photograph by: Anya Kazemi

The Sun – Sara Ledyard

The Sun breaks the darkness in the morning, Using the sky as its canvas, To demonstrate its beauty – Making us all feel a little bit more special. The Sun keeps us warm, Kisses our skin, And lets the grass grow taller. And at the end of the day, The Sun waltzes through the sky, Leaving an incandescent trail For us to admire.

Photograph by: Sara Ledyard

Emma Best – Nicole Nordone My best friend, my soulmate Never before have I met someone like you You bring such a sense of sunshine into my life No one understands me like you When I am with you, I feel a rush of energy And life. When I am without you, I feel incomplete. You make me forget life for a bit. You make me feel genuine happiness, No one else do I feel connected to besides you. I love you unconditionally, my soulmate. To the moon and back, I will love you forever

Dreams – Nicole Nordone I have such big dreams, I have such big hopes. There is so much I want to do, Yet I feel so stuck. I want to live, to travel, To learn, to experience, to love I need to live a normal life again, Yet I feel so stuck. I sit behind a computer screen, Counting down the days to my graduation. “The best four years of your life.” And I feel so stuck. One day it will get better, I tell myself everyday. That makes everyday a little easier, Thinking when I can feel free.

Don’t Blink – Katie Kempter Don’t blink, they said, four years go by fast, Always make memories that you know will last. And while I knew what they said, I didn’t quite hear. Oh the things I would do to go back to freshman year. The dances with friends, That I never thought would end. Those close games that gave me a rush, Or just walking down the hallway, excited to see my crush. Don’t blink, they said at the beginning of freshman year, While it might not feel like it, the end is near. High school provides memories that will always be with you, Instead of holding back, attack each day and pursue. And now I’m a senior, with nothing figured out; My mind seems full of emptiness and doubt. Unsure of who I am and who I want to be, With the changes I am about to endure, I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Love – Katie Kempter 44

When it’s good it’s great, When it’s bad it’s worse. But all of my thoughts, Are always you first. There comes a time when love is no longer enough; Respect and reassurance is what I need. And while letting go can be tough, I need to put myself first in order to succeed. What was once so good, Has now lost its spark. What once brought me joy, Now makes me feel dark. When the time comes that I decide to let you go, Just know that I wanted nothing more than for it to be us in the end. I have to give myself the chance to grow, But I’ll always love you, even if just as a friend.

Sunrise – Lexi Leese The darkness sits in the sky Waiting for the sun to appear And climb into the horizon clear On that beautiful morning in July. The colors from this supply A piece of art above the frontier, With just a tiny smear Of white from clouds passing by. As the sun rises higher The sky goes from pink to blue. It seems as if its only desire Is for you to look up at it too, And think not of anything prior But be captivated by this view.

Cottage in the Woods – Lexi Leese 45

The vines climb up the wall And moss covers the stone, As if it was to be known As some sort of protocol. The chimney doesn’t stand as tall Its fallen bricks now lie alone. The plants are far past overgrown Even in this cold season of fall. The brown shutters turned black And the front door was split The once beautiful cottage looks more like a shack Than anyone would want to admit. Nature always takes back What truly belongs to it?

Flowers – Jacqueline Smith Flowers Down by the river There laid a flower, She hopes he would forgive her For leaving him at that hour. Looking out at the water Holding the flower towards her heart, She remembered what he mother taught her, She thought she was smart. She sighs and turns around, Once she hears a sound. She turns around astounded To see him at the picnic ground. He comes to her with another flower in his hands, And the look in his eyes shows that he understands.

My Experience in a Vegan Household (and How That Has Shaped My Eating Philosophy) – Erin Sullenberger 46

Last October, I was roaming around my kitchen, searching for an afternoon snack when my father walked in. He opened the refrigerator, removed an apple, and casually remarked, “I’m going vegan.” My eyes shot open ㅡ I couldn’t believe it. My dad was a meat/cheese-lover, who would fight my mom over ordering a sausage pizza instead of a vegetable one. With disbelief, I replied, “No, you aren’t. But okay.” And he replied, “Seriously. With my new job in the food industry, I’ve learned a lot about how veganism affects both your individual health and the environment. Also, I watched a Netflix documentary ㅡ” I scoffed, “A Netflix documentary? Alright then.” I returned to the refrigerator and removed a yogurt, replying, “I bet it won’t last two weeks.” It’s now August, almost September, of 2020, and my parents are coming upon a year of being vegan. Back in February, I decided to become 5/7ths vegan; essentially, I would eat a whole-foods, plant-based diet between Sunday and Thursday, leaving Friday and Saturday as my “cheat” days. I wanted to experiment with a “better” nutrition plan simply because one of my New Year’s resolutions (as everyone’s is) was to eat better. At first, I found that eating a vegan diet was fairly easy. Because we hardly had any non-vegan foods in the house, I felt like I was (mostly) eating my normal diet. We had stopped making chicken for dinner last fall, and so I didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything. But, because I thought I was eating very well throughout the week, I began to abuse my “cheat” day privileges. I would ensure we had ingredients to make loaded nachos, grilled cheese sandwiches, macaroni and cheese, spaghetti and meatballs, etc. Ultimately, I started feeling crappy. I was drowsy, and I wasn’t seeing any physical gains that should have complemented my vigorous workout schedule. I stopped having “cheat” days and started becoming really cognizant about what I was eating. I ordered a plant-based nutrition reference book, and over the course of the summer, I read a couple of pages every day. I took diligent notes, and once I finished, I decided to conduct an experiment. For thirty days, I would calculate every aspect of my diet (that was plausible for me to keep track of). Every day, I printed out a chart to track my calorie, fat, saturated fat, sodium, protein, carbohydrate, oil, sugar, calcium, potassium, iron, etc. intakes. In the last column of the chart, I had my “target” numbers based on my height, weight, and level of activity (I figured this data out from the nutrition book). By the end of my experiment, I felt like a math genius, for I was constantly adding and taking percentages of numbers in my head. :) But, I learned to become very particular when selecting my meals. Now, I’m great at assessing how healthy a product is based on its nutrition label, and I've even started to cook my own foods that are nutrient-dense. I still maintained my 5/7ths-vegan pattern of eating, but overall, I was a healthier eater.

And from all of my readings and experiments, I’ve come up with my own philosophy on how to eat well: Vegan diets are excellent for your health. They require you to consume the proper amounts of fruits, vegetables, grains, etc. Many critics of plant-based diets harp on about the lack of protein intake, but they 47

are mostly mistaken. All proteins we consume (in the world) originated from plants. The animal protein we humans eat is recycled from what those animals once ate, and so between nuts, beans, tofu, seeds, etc. there are plenty of sources of protein for vegans. Also, vegan diets ensure that you consume plenty of vital vitamins and minerals. With such a varied plant-based diet, it’s hard to avoid eating enough fruits, vegetables, etc. The concern of a low vitamin B12 intake exists, but that can concern easily be overcome by consuming fortified products or supplements. Furthermore, vegan diets are extremely helpful for maintaining a healthy, natural environment. Dairy farming, in particular, requires an incredibly high amount of natural land to be destroyed and converted to pastures. Producing plant-based foods requires less energy from fossil fuels as well as a smaller use of land and water. And, if I’m being the stereotypical “plant-based-eater”, then not killing animals to make food also helps maintain a natural environment. I’m a big believer in putting only things that were meant to be in my body in my body. By examining human dental structures, it becomes clear that unlike other carnivores, we humans don’t have teeth meant for meat-eating (according to the Netflix documentary Game Changers). Perhaps God, or some higher power, didn’t intend for us to eat meat. Also, I try to stay clear from supplements, including supplemental vitamins. I don’t like taking medicine for when I have a cold (even though my mom makes me), and so, in general, I don’t like putting unnatural things in my body. Furthermore, I avoid processed foods as best I can. Besides the high sodium, sugar, and fat, I’m not sure how many processed foods are made, and so I try to steer clear of them. However… and I put a BIG emphasis on however. I do like to treat myself. I still eat two slices of pizza for our family “Friday night pizza but now pizza/tomato pie” evenings. Over the course of a week, I probably have about 2-3 unhealthy/semi-unhealthy meals. And, of course, every week I make mistakes. Sometimes I’ll snack too much on my parent’s tortilla chips, but I’ve accepted that this just happens. I still do my best to avoid non-vegan items. My weekly unhealthy meals often consist of meat and/or cheese, but I know it’s best to be smart about what I eat. Last week, I ordered a chicken parm sandwich from a restaurant and ate the whole thing for dinner. The next day, I felt drowsy and fatigued ㅡ a feeling I hadn’t often experienced since I changed to a healthier, mostly plant-based diet. I made sure to eat extra well the next day, but I’ve come to learn what my limits are. To demonstrate what I normally eat, I listed out what I ate/am eating today below: Breakfast: a bowl of whole-grain muesli “cereal” with almond milk Lunch: a bowl of vegetable soup with a slice of whole-wheat bread Dinner: I plan to steam broccoli, grill tofu, and maybe add some vegan mashed potatoes Dessert: a bowl of frozen berries

Throughout the day, I’ll eat a piece of fruit or have a handful of pretzels with peanut butter as a snack, but this is generally my meal plan. I hoped this article was helpful to some of you ㅡ I’m not trying to convert anyone to veganism, but this is a subject I’ve recently been passionate about, and so I figured I’d write something on it. Essentially, I think it’s important to have a well-balanced diet, no matter if you’re vegan or not. 48

Transcendence – Sara Ledyard I’ve always thought that the most beautiful creatures were ones with wings. Maybe it’s because when something goes wrong, They can fly away.

A Short History of Nearly Everything – Charlotte Gottilla “Oh my God, Charlotte,” exclaimed my father, “What is in this backpack?” We were packing--for a beach weekend, a road trip, any family vacation--and I was bringing A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. All 544 pages of it. It’s not the longest book I’ve read, but with it’s hardcover and overbearing presence in the limited space of my carry-on bag, it certainly seemed like the biggest. My exasperated parents have spent mornings before countless vacations imploring that I bring another, smaller book, and at times I’ve wondered if I should just leave A Short History behind, but I’ve never done it. I like my giant book. It’s just big enough that when I hold it, the spine fits perfectly in the space between my thumb and the second knuckle of my forefinger, the dust cover is frayed around the edges from being jostled in backpacks, and the pages smell like a mix of paper, ink and sunscreen. It was my go-to vacation book for every vacation from the time I picked it off my mom’s bookshelf during eighth grade to the time I finished it at my aunt’s house in Houston during junior year. The book is perfect for vacation: Bill Bryson’s tongue-in-cheek, frequently tangented narration, and his nontechnical yet scientific subject matter lets me put it down when I unpack my bags and pick it up four months later right where I left off. Plus, it has enough pages that I know I’ll have something to read for the whole trip. It’s not just the book itself that I like, it’s the entire process of reading it--sitting cross-legged on a plane seat or lying on a beach towel, using a hotel key or foreign currency as a bookmark, and looking up from the page to accept a bag of airline pretzels or watch passersby. The familiar rustling as I turn a page would combine with the sound of waves or city life or a language I do not understand, the weight of the book in my lap would press me down onto a chair or park bench or rental car backseat. People talk about reading as a way to escape their environment, but A Short History enveloped me in my environment, absorbed me into whichever new place I was reading. To me, that’s well worth the trouble of not being able to fully zip my suitcase.

The Eve of a New Beginning – Autumn Granroth On the eve of a new beginning I watch life pass me by A few wondrous months before committing August comes and I will cry A sister kidding, a father forgiving, a mother reminiscing When I look around I take a big sigh Yesterday is thinning, tomorrow is grinning It is a bittersweet thing to say goodbye A new journey unfolds, an adult I am becoming May first marks a date in which I must reply A distance between us I will be living Though my heart holds them close by A clock is ticking in anticipation of Thanksgiving In a few short months our reunion is nigh

The Friend I Used to Have – Erin Sullenberger We were two impeccably normal girls She, a brunette, with a kind demeanor Me, a happy kid, decked with blond curls. We were always together – I loved her. I would dance with her – my closest of friends, I would confide in her for five straight years. The friendship we shared had no right to end, But circumstances must always appear. Four years passed – I went south to visit her. I hesitantly met her at the door. She had stringy blue hair and wore a fake fur, She spoke strangely, and I looked to the floor. I said, “You look odd, and you act so, too.” She replied, “It’s not me who changed – it’s you.”

COVID It all stopped in March, There were no endings, Or beginnings, just end.

Quarantine – Rachel Sobocinski Two weeks turned year long. A thing so unexpected To change perspective.

Nighttime – Lauren Kueny I watch the sun go down beyond the sky, The moon is now the focus of the night; The trees become an illusion to my eyes, I wonder if my future is in sight. The stars turn into what seems like a dream; Is it risk that will allow me to be free? I need to leap so that I can redeem, Every chance that is given to me. Every chance that I take will bring me close, But fear of failure will bring me down hard. I need to trust my guts and engross, And lead a life to live unscarred. I watch the sun come up above the trees, I know that I can finally be at ease.

Haiku – Lauren Kueny Empty open mind, I attempt to close my eyes. Nothing is inside.

Changes – Anonymous And yes, things will change, It’s inevitable; time isn’t fair, But at the same time, it’s what makes that special event – Tossed caps in the air. The thing about time Is that there will never be enough But when it brings you people that make it mean something Live it up.

Thursday, 19 March 2020 – Ace Asim I’m in a confused and upset state of mind. It’s sad to see what’s going on with the Corona Virus and how it’s affecting people. I’m mainly upset because the American habit of hoarding has once again come about. People are selfish. In light of the news of the virus in the country, I went to go get some bananas for my house and other essentials like milk and eggs at the grocery store. When I got there, there were absolutely no bananas left. Now my family couldn’t have a healthy snack to eat. I need bananas especially because of my low potassium intake. From the looks of it, people buy way more than they need to. I saw people buying all of the cans of black beans left, leaving none for anybody else. This is what bothers me the most. People are too busy worrying about themselves. What about the people that come to the grocery store an hour later, desperately looking for black beans and can’t find any? What about those people who are poor and can’t afford much, but all of the cheap items they want to buy are gone? This makes me upset and I feel for them. They should have the same amount of opportunity to get the food and items they need. People need to start caring for each other more. The way to overcome this tough time is not by buying everything in sight, it’s buying enough and helping each other out. Hoarding, at this point, is hurting more people than it is helping. It’s a confusing time as well. People can’t go to their jobs; they are staying at home with their families. People are living with each other after a long time, especially kids who go to college and live there, coming back home to live with their family after a while. People with jobs are trying to find ways to keep money flowing. Teachers are finding ways to teach their students--props to them by the way. It’s a tough time and a confusing one. This kind of thing hasn’t happened in a long time, so acclimation is tough. People aren’t used to this. I’m not used to this. School at home is weird. Last week, things were pretty crazy as well. I remember making fun of the Corona Virus and thinking it was China’s and Italy’s problem until right before last week; I heard of the first confirmed case of Corona Virus in my hometown, Cherry Hill. This scared me, but also made me realize that it’s now America’s problem. I was more optimistic. I thought that if people just took care of themselves, this problem would go away quickly, but the opposite happened. There are more cases now and I am sitting on my bed under quarantine. This was a really quick change of pace. Times have changed a lot ever since last week. This change has been confusing, scary, and upsetting. But like last week, I am optimistic that we can get through this tough time.

What do I say? – Brendan Hoag What do I say? In a world that’s gone digital, Where even communication isn’t physical, When all the letters appear on my display, I must ask myself, what do I say? Do I type in all lowercase To attempt to sound like I’m in a casual headspace? And how can I convey tone, When I’m typing on my iPhone? All of my conversations feel so dispensable But I at least want them to be comprehensible. So while we’re all stuck inside, wasting away I must ask myself, what do I say? By texting someone am I imposing on them A set of responsibilities from which more headaches will stem? And should I feel guilty just for asking How someone is doing, given all the masking? Or am I just overthinking While my cursor stares back at me, blinking. And this isn’t something that should cause me dismay, While I finally figure out, what do I say?

Tempest – Anonymous Droplets race down the window panes, Like a disappointed child’s tears of pain, For he has been promised an entire bag of sweet lollipops, Only to have it snatched from his hands and replaced with a singular gumdrop. We wear rain boots and use umbrellas to stay dry, But it’s futile to try, Because the moisture still finds a way To chill us to the bone anyway. Everyone hunkers down inside, Eyes glued to the window, petrified. Their mind runs rampant, And they regret taking those sunny days for granted.

Occasionally, sunlight slips through the clouds, Offering hope for clear skies to the crowd, But the warm ray only lasts a minute at most, Until the clouds diligently shift back to their posts. Time is warped due to the absence of light, At the end of the storm becomes less finite. Over and over, day blends into night, Creating an endless cycle of midnights. Walking the dog down the driveway, Or finishing that literature essay. Suddenly feel like chores to be delayed, As the scale tips to favor all work and no play. The weather forecasters keep disagreeing, Over whether the storm is a drizzle, a hurricane, or something in between. The level of disunity between past predictions and current reality is obscene, As countless experts in the field are called to intervene. Crippling uncertainty has reared its ugly head, And people are wondering as they lay at night in their beds. When will this rainy day get better, Because nobody can control the weather.

Grad Year – Jackie Reagan The thing about time Is that there will never be enough. It tricks us, saying, “Here, enjoy me, But not too much.” It moves so smoothly Like silk, slipping away Through our fingertips, friendships, fantasies— And yet it constitutes our day by day. And now, it seems to be moving, slipping More quickly than ever As the days left till we depart dwindle down, Time really is so clever. And yes, this poem is cliche: “High school truly does fly by.” It’s what the seniors told us when we were freshmen And now we understand why. Because just when we’ve started To resolve our doubts And grown closest and fondest Time interjects, “You know, imma head out.” My best friends and I, We’ve already cried And we know we should be making the most of our time left. Believe me, we’ve tried. And we succeeded, we did, Under the restraints placed before us But when you love other people Leaving will never be glamorous. That being said, I’m proud of our efforts To beat time in the way we could, By building relationships that will last forever. And yes, things will change It’s inevitable; time isn’t fair But at the same time, it’s what makes that event special— Tossed caps in the air. The thing about time Is that there will never be enough But when it brings you people that make it mean something Live it up. 56

Senior Year – Shannon Jefferis Ahead of me I see A bright future and career And behind me I see Treasured memories with my peers But my time was not always treasured For I could not see How much it would measure When there was little left for me I was too caught up In what was ahead I wanted to be a grown-up But I was a kid instead I eagerly waited For time to pass There was nothing more I hated Than a long boring class Freshman year flew And so did the next years If only I knew The weight of senior year tears They said ‘high school will go fast” And trust me they were right For now it’s in the past With graduation in sight

When Time Was Silenced – Shannon Jefferis You do not hear the tick of the clock anymore For time no longer makes a noise Nor do you hear the school bells ring or the church choir sing For time no longer makes a noise You may see the sun rise or the moon fall into the sky But each day is disguised as the one before For time no longer makes a noise The roaster will crow and the wolf will howl But they are simply confused For time no longer makes a noise Time used to be loud especially when there were crowds But quarantine came and sound disappeared For time no longer makes a noise But wait! There is still hope! Do you hear that in the distance? It’s a ring! A ring so small now only few may hear But there is a ring in the distance and it is coming near For time will soon make a noise 57

Photograph by: Sara Ledyard

A Bull Ride, But No Full Ride – Ace Asim At this time of year, when results come out, I can’t help but think about All of the late nights, All of the countless fights, That I had to weather Thinking it would end better. Yet now as I see my results I cannot see my name come up On the list of those who succeed, Rather I see myself just as me. Nothing fancy, nothing rewarding This experience has been quite unrewarding. I see all my friends move ahead, But I am just sitting here, on my bed Wondering what I lost, Wondering what it cost. School for me was like a bull ride, It took so much just to hang on. And now, I see almost no light at the end, And I can’t comprehend How after all of this work and no play, I wouldn’t even be able to shout, “Hooray!” How all this life was a bull ride on a rocky ship, With not one full scholarship.

The Endless Rainy Day – Anonymous The endless rainy day Emerged as eerie, dark, and gray. I never would’ve bet a twenty, That one day would soon become many.

Hopeless – Ashley Welde Some virus on the news, how could it be? It’s over in China, so far away, The first case, oh no, is it here to stay? School is closing, now we have two weeks free. It was fun at first, then the truth hit me; The death rates began rising by the day. No one knows if we’ll make it out okay, And years for a vaccine, how many, three? It has been four months, with no end in sight. We are all trying to remain hopeful, But the end of the tunnel holds no light. No one seems to offer a proposal, And if this continues, we might lose the fight. Please, someone, stop the sickness that's global.

Violet (love)

Drawing - Abby Dlug

lavender - Ann Stettler if someone were to ask me, “how would you describe your favorite color to a blind person?” i would tell them lavender lavender is tranquil elegant and clean with a soft voice and a british accent. it feels like brushing your hand across a piece of satin and tastes like a cool glass of water with a refreshing, delicate z i n g. it is as light as the feeling of vapor on your skin as smooth as the feeling of ebbing ocean waves with your feet buried in the sand. it is sweet and earthy like rose petals and it is warm like the sunrise on your face. but i think most of all seeing lavender is taking a deep breath and for a moment being at peace with yourself.

Trees – Ann Stettler When most people encounter a tree, they don’t think much of it. Trees are just another commonplace of nature, To cut down when inconvenient, To exploit when profitable, To ignore when they work so hard to bloom in all their beauty Each and every spring. When my grandmother encounters a tree, She greets it like an old friend. Trees are gentle creatures To park her car beside as she feeds the birds by the lake, To talk to when she prays, To admire in all their forgotten beauty As she tells the granddaughter standing next to her, “If only they could talk, they could tell us some good stories.” 61

Lava cake, oven fries, disappointment in my eyes – Kaleb Monasterial Lava cake My lava cake My oh so perfect lava cake Very sweet, kinda bitter In the oven baking. Little boys, my little guys In the oven, watch them rise They’ve cooked not long, I expect half baked Take them out, it’s only cake. Lava cake, lava cake My precious, perfect lava cake That flow of yours gone too soon Eating sadly with my spork. Lava cake, my lava cake Sadness, but no lava cake How I should have watched you bake Here I sit, my negligence. Oven fries, in my eyes There’s no wrong time for oven fries When to make these oven fries? Later. I’m not feeling it right now. Oven fries, the crinkle kind! The very bestest kind of kind! Today’s the day I make those fries! Not today. Today is bad. Not the day for fries, I find. Today’s the day. It Has to be. Today’s the day I make those fries Today’s the day, no other day. I have to make those fries today. Critical hours, 1:30 am In the oven they go. Finally, my oven fries It’s taken too long, I know. Oven fries, these oven fries. Late or early oven fries? Not my best, but not my worst. My negligence, art thou mine curse? My lava cakes, my oven fries 62

I look up to the moon, I cry “Miss Moon” I yell and I implore “Why can I never do more” Oh the moon, she’s just like me Shining dimly, none can see Hard at work, but always late Consigned to having this shared fate.

Something, something night sky – Kaleb Monasterial On my lap, the funny cat sits Under the canopy, a sea of stars. A moment that could last forever.

A Tribute to Sisters – Erin Sullenberger Before my younger sister was born, I desperately yearned for a younger brother. I vividly remember one evening my mother coming into my bedroom and asking me for name recommendations. I was entirely convinced that the little baby that was living inside of my mother would be a boy, and so I passionately responded that Albert, and only Albert, would greet me in late May or early June. Of course, my parents chuckled to each other, and when I discovered that my Albert did not exist, I must have felt a sense of disappointment. I cannot claim to remember exactly how I felt, but I certainly must not have been thrilled. After all, I was three years old, and all I wanted was a little brother. Naturally, the age of two is considered to be one of the hardest times during which a parent must raise their child. I can recall that during one afternoon after preschool, I discovered my now two-year-old sister playing (and probably breaking) all of my Polly Pocket toys that were secretly stashed in my bedroom. I complained, of course, but as the oldest child, every accusation I made to my parents was 99% my fault to begin with. Well, it’s been many years since that devastating, yet typical, day and my perception of my little sister has drastically changed. I tell her sometimes that she ought to be the older sister since she never fails to make me laugh or smile when I am upset, and on the other hand, most of the times she’s upset, it’s my fault. There was a time during my high school career where I was going through some complications, and I would return home after school crying. My mother was there and my extraordinarily comforting dog was there, but I never seemed to truly get better until I was in my little sister’s arms. Thank God for sisters! There is something, I think, that is so special in a bond between two sisters. I can just give my sister a look, and we know exactly what the other sister is conveying. We have so many different hand gestures that we use to communicate in front of our parents, we are both learning German so that we can talk in a language that nobody else can understand, and we even attempted once to document our complaints in the form of a secret diary written in invisible ink. I have told her all of my secrets, and although I suspect that she is withholding a few from me, for the most part, her life is an open book. Of course, there will always be arguments between the two of us. I have been trying to get my sister to read a list of my favorite books for years now, and she has just decided to begin the first book on the list. She actually stole the book from me, wrapped it as a Christmas gift addressed to me, and when I opened it confusedly, she announced that she would read it. It was probably one of the best gifts that I received. Having a sister is just so wonderful because I know that she will always be there for me. I have never gone through a phase of my life where I’ve had one consistent best friend or group of best friends. My best friend has always been my little sister. In half a century from now, the two of us will probably be grandparents, and we’ll still remain best friends. Sisters are the cure to any malady, whether it be mental, physical, or emotional. There are always rough times between sisters; no family can avoid those good-old-fashioned “she did it” - ”no, she did it” arguments, but in the end, having a sister is totally worth it.

Magic of Nature – Ellie Wheeler People may believe that magic isn’t real but that is further from the truth There is magic all around you if only you know where to look The calming sounds of a river flowing The sun setting into the horizon painting the skies in breathtaking color The birds chirping as they fly throughout the sky Nature is full of magic if you only stop to look Magic is real and one only needs to go outside to prove that its the truth

Types of love – Ellie Wheeler There are many types of love in this world The love between father and son The love between mother and daughter The love between close friends And the love between soulmates If the world has so many types of love, Then why is it filled with so much hate?

The Sky – Sara Ledyard You make me feel like summer in the coldest winters. You make me happy when the entire world fights for sadness. You make the room turn a tint of pink, The way the sky does when the sun sets. You make me feel the way the sky does. You make my head swirl, With pinks and purples and oranges and yellows, All mixed together, Creating a perfect sky. I feel light. I never see an end. Your clouds give me visions of the future. And like a puddle in the grass, The reflection of your love is written all over my face. Photograph by: Sara Ledyard

Flowers – Sara Ledyard If you look at a grass field, Often you’ll see a lot of tiny flowers. These flowers are picked occasionally, Admired, But not special. Because if you look further, You’ll realize that there are hundreds just like it. And if you look even further, You’ll realize that most of those tiny flowers, Are actually weeds. Seemingly beautiful, But ultimately dangerous to anything trying to thrive. If you look at a grass field, You might see a flower. Not a little, deceitful weed, But a true flower. This flower stands taller than the weeds, Bathes in the sunshine, And makes its colorful, strong presence known Known to any who are lucky enough to pass by. These flowers aren’t simply admired, They are gawked at. They are unique, incredible, breathtaking And make the weeds around it look much less significant. But under the soil, Where we cannot see, These weeds steal growth from the beautiful flower. Even after that, These tall flowers bring joy and love into the eyes of its beholder. Many want to savor that feeling forever, But refrain from picking the flower. Why? Instead, many move on to a less significant flower, Because there are hundreds just like it. Because they know the tall flower should be left, To thrive, To grow, And to spread love.

Frankenstein - Sara Ledyard Frankenstein. Created by a madman. Made to be feared. Mismatched. Disproportionate. Green. A freak. He was programmed to be evil before he had a choice: doomed to a fate void of love. He was meant to be scary. Meant to be evil. In a way, we’re all frankensteins. Everyone has felt like a freak. For me, it’s my above average height that strangers never fail to notice. For some, it’s their weight. For others, it’s their facial features. But unlike Frankenstein, we aren’t doomed to a loveless future. Because one day, someone is going to come along and love every part of you that makes you feel like a freak.

Fried Onions and Poinsettias – Sara Ledyard I love the way you love fried onions. Cheesesteak? Extra fried onions! Burger? Extra fried onions! You loved them. I know I’ll never be able to look at a fried onion without thinking of you. Dad got dinner. Cheesesteaks with fried onions. That wasn’t on purpose, But I ate my meal and thought of you. Poinsettias. Whenever Mom and Renee and I went to the grocery store during spring, The first thing we would go to see is the poinsettias. They always made my Mom’s eyes light up. Their beautiful red petals of varying sizes, The deep green stems, The most simple, yet most beautiful flower. You are my poinsettia. We couldn’t see them without thinking of bringing you some. So, Mom put a few in the cart and we carried on. Every single spring. I’ll miss the way you loved poinsettias. When Uncle Micheal told me that you stared in awe at the poinsettias we brought you, It made me feel closer to you. I love the way you loved fried onions. I love the way you loved poinsettias. I’ll never forget the way you loved those things. Though you must leave, 67

For God is escorting you to Heaven, I will remember you with fried onions and poinsettias.

A Scholarship Essay Prompt Asks Me About the Merits of Technology – Anonymous Michelangelo paints the Sistine Chapel across the screen of an iPhone X. The same fingers that once delineated the Book of Genesis Now swipe through hundreds of pictures; He can see more art in an hour than in his entire first lifetime. His old canvas fit the measurements of the Temple of Solomon, Sacrosanct and ancient. Today, his work is instead measured in pixels As Instagram is configured onto the screens of a million followers. Half a millennium ago, he carved his masterpiece from a block of passed over stone, Still today he crafts David from imperfect materials, He reflects divinity on metal and silicon as he once did in marble. As children, we are told what we put on the Internet stays forever. What a comfort that would be to the artist who once said, “I am a poor man and of little worth, who is laboring in that art that God has given me In order to extend my life as long as possible.” Born again, he will see that he has been outlived five hundred years by his work. Tell me that the man who sought to put heaven on a ceiling, Would not rejoice to put that ceiling in the hands of anyone who wished to have it. Tell me that he would not see the beauty of a medium that transcends marble and canvas, I tell you that in technology he would find The potential for the eternal beauty that he spent his life chasing.

Dinner Table - Rachel Sobocinski Sitting down at the table, we begin with prayer, Praising God for the blessing of fresh air. Whispering a joke at the pause, Eric awaits for his applause. Slightly receiving praise, He continues with another phrase. Dad becomes tired of his antics And resumes with a lecture on semantics. Around the table, the laughter ensues From the joke about garrulous Greg and his booze. As we enjoy our meals, Mom tells a story that puts us in our feels. Phil shares another random fact Causing Andrew to detract. Matt discusses another day with the fish And Victoria complains about another broken dish. Tim remains quiet throughout most of the meal, With occasional remarks on the current ordeal. One by one, my jokes receive attention, Contrary to the idea of the youngest being pretentious. I reminisce on these days, Knowing there is always a new phase. Sometimes saddened by the constant change, I always remember we will never be strange.

Drawing by: Sara Ledyard

Rumors - Victoria Bui Characters: MARIA, a woman known in the town allegedly whisking away good husbands from good wives. THE JUDGE, the newcomer in town, duly just and virtuous. CAIA, a loving grandmother with a constantly burning fireplace in her home. IRENE, ASTRID, ELLISON, the grandchildren visiting their grandparents’ forest cottage. THE EXECUTIONER, loyal to the townspeople above all else. VILLAGERS, loyal to their own interests along with a status quo expected to be filled by all. Scene 1: The Judge and the Judged Enter MARIA, THE EXECUTIONER, and VILLAGERS. MARIA is led in by THE EXECUTIONER in chains, with VILLAGERS booing and jeering as she is bound to wooden stocks. MARIA: Please, please, I am not what you say I am! THE EXECUTIONER: As if there is a single person in this town who would deign to listen to you spreading your filth to the good people here. MARIA: Is that not for the Judge to decide? THE EXECUTIONER strikes MARIA. THE EXECUTIONER: Do not believe yourself to be so intelligent. Remember your place. THE JUDGE, entering: And I would expect you to assume yours. This trial is commencing. THE EXECUTIONER: I deeply apologize. Good citizens, I present to you the honorable judge who is presiding over this case. VILLAGERS: Finally, she will no longer tarnish our names. Look upon this! This, her crime, her wretchedness, and know! THE JUDGE: Know what? What is there to know? VILLAGER 1: She steals our children away when they are meant to be working! MARIA: So that I may teach them how to read . VILLAGER 2: Though she is wed, she has yet to bear any children. MARIA: If you saw my husband, you would not wish to tend to a potato with him, much less a child. VILLAGER 3: She is cursed to be barren as a result of her evil doings! VILLAGER 4: Our husbands do not even hear our voices when they see her.

MARIA: Is it truly my fault if I was blessed with beauty? VILLAGERS: Such arrogance! THE JUDGE: The accused may say their piece. MARIA: They have no love for me. Believe not their words. Believe me. THE EXECUTIONER: Quiet, fool. You will no longer cast your spells. To stoop as low as to make an attempt at enchanting such a righteous man – MARIA: I refuse to be silenced. THE EXECUTIONER: Then perhaps I am meant to silence you myself. THE EXECUTIONER raises his axe. THE JUDGE: I bid you to stop. Remember your place, and remember mine. Miss Maria, you stand before this guillotine, charged of being an adulteress by your own spouse. What say you? MARIA: I say that these accusations are unfounded. I say that I have done no wrong in accordance with the law. What have I to say? I have much more to say, but that is all that is relevant to the innocence I myself possess. THE JUDGE: Then why? MARIA: “Why?” THE JUDGE: Yes, “why?” You stand on trial. You may very well be hanged for all to see at this moment. The crowd around us wants you dead. Why? MARIA: They say that I am a witch. That I cast spells under the cover of night, steal away their children, steal away their husbands and wives. I must ask, are you new around here? THE JUDGE: I am, but it would only serve to make me more impartial. MARIA: As long as I am within the confines of this town, there is no judge who could set me free and live to see another day. Between THE JUDGE and MARIA is an understanding - guilty or not, MARIA will suffer greatly. The only difference is whether or not THE JUDGE is willing to suffer with her. THE EXECUTIONER: And for good reason. Not a soul here wishes for you to have free reign with your potions and wicked lies. MARIA: The only lies in my vicinity are those told about me. THE JUDGE: Quiet, both of you! I will return with a verdict on the morrow. Take her to the jail. VILLAGERS: You would be wise to cut her tongue all the while. 72

THE JUDGE: That is not for you to decide. This matter will be revisited. THE JUDGE, revolted, exits first. He has no plans on returning before the court. Exeunt MARIA, THE EXECUTIONER, and VILLAGERS. Scene 2: The Cottage in the Forest Surrounded by numerous trees stands a small home with a steady stream of smoke rising from a stone chimney. Enter CAIA, IRENE, ASTRID, and ELLISON. IRENE: Grandmother, what kind of story was that? ELLISON: Why would they all speak so weirdly? CAIA: In my day, they would say that you speak weirdly. IRENE: Now you’re just being silly! CAIA: Hmph, as if it was not a good story. My pride has been wounded greatly, how shall I ever possibly recover? CAIA turns away from her grandchildren to prepare a cup of tea for herself . IRENE: By telling us something interesting, that’s how! Where’s the adventure? Where’s the romance? CAIA breaks out in a grin, unbeknownst to the grandchildren. She turns back to face them, feigning offense at their words. ELLISON: Oh, or maybe the judge is going to run away -- no, that can’t be right... He’s too righteous for that... Or is he -- I’ve got it! I’ve cracked the code! He’s the villain sent to help the witch in order to destroy the town! IRENE: I’m not sure that’s where the story is headed… ASTRID: Elli, have you been listening at all? ELLISON: I’m just saying... It’s got to have some flavor at some point! CAIA: And you would be right on more than one thing. I will continue. Perhaps then, I will be of more entertainment value to you hungry vultures. Exeunt CAIA, IRENE, ELLISON, and ASTRID. Scene 3: Judgement Night falls over the town, veiling secret dealings in shadow… Enter MARIA and THE JUDGE, divided by only steel bars in the town jail. THE JUDGE: Truly, the overall lack of diligence in this town would be troubling, if not for its hand in my favor. The simple jailors sleep while the persecuted innocents weep.

MARIA: Who goes there? Has someone finally come to reap my soul and allow me my dignity with a quiet death? THE JUDGE: As if a being so grim would think themselves worthy of standing before such beauty. MARIA: And yet, it is you that stands before me. I nearly did not recognize you without your gloom, O Righteous One. Are you as righteous as they say you are? You seem to desire something from me. The lightness of tone shifts as the air thickens. MARIA is unsure as to what to expect in the few seconds that THE JUDGE takes to ponder her question. THE JUDGE: Are you as evil as they say you are? MARIA: You know the answer to that as well as I do. THE JUDGE: Then we understand one another. Though my reputation in judgement proceeds me, I am neither the epitome of sound conscience, nor am I a grossly self-serving person. That is why I will be setting you free. MARIA, laughing bitterly: Your verdict is going to be rejected in the same instant that you voice it. THE JUDGE: Which is why it will not be voiced, but rather, put into action. MARIA: What are you saying? There is an implication there that I am afraid I have not quite caught. THE JUDGE: Ah, I have yet to throw it, fair lady. MARIA: Oh, I would rather be burned at the stake than to bear your horrid humor for even a minute longer. THE JUDGE: At the cost of your freedom? MARIA: My...free...dom… You cannot possibly be intending to release me wayward of the law. I would become a fugitive. THE JUDGE: You will. Merely a slight inconvenience that can be evaded with ease. MARIA: And what of my married state? As long as I draw breath, I am bound to my lawfully wedded husband. THE JUDGE: Arrangements will be made. The main priority is escorting you beyond the town limits. You must cover as much ground as possible before sunrise. The farther the distance is between you and the town, the better. MARIA: You do not wish for anything in exchange. THE JUDGE: Nothing, except for the knowledge that I have done what I am sworn to do. Do you know which way the closest town is?

MARIA: You would wish to prolong my suffering. The neighboring town is close in distance, and also in personal connections. That will not do. I have thought of leaving this town before, but there is nothing for miles except for our sister town. Trapped! Forever will I be trapped here! Good sir, you have the best of intentions at heart, but you have a hope born out of pure naivete. Leave me here, lest you have a desire to be a slave to the whims of the townspeople. Through the steel bars, a hand is placed on the shoulder of MARIA . THE JUDGE: At the back entrance are my two horses. You will shed your bindings, no matter how far your horse must take you. MARIA: Even if I must go to the ends of the earth? THE JUDGE: Especially if you must go to the ends of the earth. The jingle of keys directs the attention of MARIA elsewhere. THE JUDGE holds the key to her escape. The door of the jail cell opens with a loud groan. MARIA steps forth from the cell. She stretches her muscles in preparation for the long night ahead. Exeunt MARIA and THE JUDGE. Scene 4: The Bountiful Green Enter CAIA, followed by the jubilant IRENE and ELLISON, with a reluctant ASTRID trailing behind the group down a winding trail leading to a river. CAIA: Does it not feel liberating to be in the great outdoors? ASTRID, scowling: The “great” outdoors? What’s so great about a buncha bugs? It smells icky out here. ELLISON: Lighten up, little sis! ASTRID: Don’t tell me what to do. Why are we here anyway? CAIA: Why, for the dramatic effect, of course. Tell me, dear girl, have you ever felt connected to the earth? Straight ahead, you can see a single stream of water that provides for the whole forest. Turn your gaze upwards, and… Up ahead, birds sing their arias for the dense mass of trees to hear. They cease their hiking to soak in their surrounding environment. ASTRID: So what? It’s just some water and birds. Like that’s anything special. IRENE: Stop being rude. It’s not Grandmother’s fault if you can’t handle it. CAIA, laughing: No need for that, Irene. She inherited the love of the hearth from her grandfather. Come with me, I would think you to be a fanatic of what I have to show you.

CAIA, IRENE, ELLISON, and ASTRID walk towards a wooden structure, from which “neigh”-ing is heard. IRENE: Horses! Grandmother, I didn’t know you had horses. CAIA: It must be even more surprising when I tell you that these codgers are older than you three. Older than your parents, even! ELLISON: Like the two horses from your story! CAIA: Exactly like them. Astrid, a penny for your thoughts? ASTRID: You really think you can win me over like that? One of the aged horses leans over its gate to place itself directly in front of ASTRID, who reaches out to the horse. ASTRID is pleased when the horse nuzzles into her hand. ASTRID: Fine! Maybe the outdoors is kind of cool. But only the horsies! ...Grandma? CAIA: What is it? ASTRID: Can you please keep telling the story? IRENE: Please do! Does Maria get to escape? CAIA: Indeed, she does. ELLISON: What about the Judge? Is he going to be kept prisoner? IRENE: Oh, will he take Maria’s place to free her? ASTRID: Of course not! He’ll run away with her and start their own town together! CAIA: In due time, my dear grandchildren. Perhaps all of your answers are before your very eyes. IRENE: Grandmother, please stop speaking in riddles. CAIA: Then I eternally renounce speaking, and you are never to be able to discover the fate of Maria and the Judge. IRENE: You can’t do that to us! ASTRID: Oh, please, Grandma! CAIA: ...Your pleas are satisfactory, but I will not grant you mercy for another time. The cheers of IRENE, ELLISON, and ASTRID startle the birds as they exit. CAIA glances at the horse that had taken a liking to her granddaughter.

CAIA: I am in eternal debt to you in more than one way. Thank you, old friend. CAIA exits. Scene 5: Final Trial Hours before the sun rises over them, MARIA and THE JUDGE enter. The line drawn in the dirt indicates the border of the town, at which two horses bring their gallops to a halt. To the left of the stage is beyond the town limits. To the right of the stage is the town that never loved MARIA. MARIA: After I cross here, I am to be christened anew. THE JUDGE: You wish to change your name? What if...by some happenstance, your name is purged of each and every allegation made against it? MARIA: It is not a matter of the law. Even if “some happenstance” comes to pass, the townspeople will hold their biases against me, and I will remain unsatisfied with carrying around the same name with which I have been berated with. There is more to this life than that. His gaze fixated on her, THE JUDGE basks in the moment with MARIA and her unbroken spirit - since the moment they met, protecting that has become his purpose. THE JUDGE: There is only so much time before dawn breaks. The fault is all mine. I had wished to provide you with ample time to leave. MARIA: You say that we are short on time, and yet our pace has ceased in its increase. THE JUDGE: This is my farewell to you. MARIA is stunned into silence. Given my time constraints, the best plan I could possibly execute was not meant for the both of us. Unfinished business must be taken care of, after all. MARIA: I beg of you, do not leave my side. Where am I to go? Who is to aid and guide me? You have led me to this point, therefore it is your duty to see this through to the end. THE JUDGE: It is the duty I have undertaken, which is why I cannot follow where you go. Grant me your blessing. Please, let me set you free from this place. MARIA: This town is where virtue goes to die. If you so ache to melt the chains that would otherwise cling to me, then you must protect your righteousness. Promise me that when you return to me, your heart will be as pure as the moonlight that shines upon your face. THE JUDGE: So sure are you that we will meet again.

MARIA: We will. THE JUDGE: How so? With your own mouth, did you not say that there was nowhere to go past this very line? MARIA: They may find us, but it will be worth it if you return to me. To the north of here lies a forest. It is rumored to be cursed, yet it is filled with life. When you are done here, you must find me. THE JUDGE: And how will I know where to find you? MARIA: I will build a fire. MARIA takes the hands of THE JUDGE in hers .I will build a fire, I will shed this life, and we will stoke the fire to create a home for us. Promise me you will seek me out. THE JUDGE, pressing his lips to her hand: All that you ask of me, I hold myself to from this moment on. Wait for me, will you? MARIA: When the stars have been long extinguished, there will still be a fire waiting for you. With wetness on her cheeks, MARIA can no longer bear seeing THE JUDGE in her line of sight. Saddled atop their horses, they linger in the silence. Not a single thing is guaranteed for either of them. THE JUDGE: We have burnt enough time as it stands. Go, before any suspicions are aroused. I must return to the town. Pray not for my return, but for my success in clearing away any remnants of our business in the town. I understand that you are to fashion for yourself a new identity, but it will be in our best interest to deter the town from giving chase. MARIA: You will convince them of my innocence? THE JUDGE: They are to be convinced of your death. As of now, you are dead, murdered by my own hands in the name of justice. MARIA: To think death to be an option most viable… THE JUDGE: “‘Til death do us part.” MARIA: Part of wedding vows, yes? But why - Oh, you cunning fox. Tears of sorrow are turned into tears of laughter. Their hands are intertwined all the while. The laughter dissipates quickly after. I believe we both have places to be... I will wait for you. THE JUDGE: In the forest? MARIA: In the forest. MARIA and THE JUDGE separate their hands as their horses place distance between the two of them. They look at one another once more. THE JUDGE forces himself to turn away, and exits stage right. MARIA draws a deep breath, and exits stage left.

The Fox – Callista Crisinino The Fox Completely free, Yet, utterly alone. No real family, No real home. But no responsibilities, No expectations, No pressures. Living in the moment, But is it happy alone? Does the fox know loneliness, Or is it happy? Living freely alone.

mistakes – Nick Lao ‘20 go on with life and make mistakes some flaws are not things to regret. an open mind is what it takes to learn from them and not to fret. by being right you’re learning less so being wrong should never ache. the second time could be the best for lessons, go and make mistakes

Advertisement Brought to You by Grammarly - Anonymous Why can’t people spell? It’s really not that hard Knowing the difference between there, their, and they’re Will really take you far. I get it, some words are challenging Some are genuinely hard. But come on, really? Have some grammar regard. “Its” is not “it’s”, “your” is not “you’re” “Lose” is not “loose” – need I go on more? “Affect” is a verb. Whereas “effect” is a noun. And although not really spelling, The use of “I could care less” really make me frown. I sound like a know-it-all I’m aware, I can tell. But it’s free to utilize technology Grammarly’s spell check does it well.

Inspiration – Isabella Blanchard ‘20 Music is one of the most inspirational aspects of my life. When I was four, I began taking piano lessons in the stuffy basement of a house ten minutes across town. My teacher was an old woman who spoke almost too quietly to understand. But the music that she made was beautiful, and the expression and feeling with which she played was entrancing. As I continued piano lessons at the Moorestown School of Music, my teacher was young, just out of music school. The emphasis was on dynamics. I took a greater interest in technique- in the exact fingerings and expression that was necessary to convey the tone of a piano piece infused with my own spirit. I soon learned that the perfect sound was unachievable without perfect practice. There was no way to both cut corners and play effectively. Playing a song was about more than hitting the correct notes. It was necessary to spend painstaking hours at the piano to play with beauty and expression, as my teachers did. In fourth grade, I joined my school orchestra and began receiving lessons at school to play the violin. Once I learned the basics, playing the violin became a source of relaxation and joy. Through the numerous pieces that my orchestra played throughout elementary and middle school, I loved the practice. Through high school, in addition to practicing the violin I have had the opportunity to make lifelong friendships with other string players and band members. An essential aspect of conveying a song's tone is practicing each component of the piece, from the length and pressure of each bow stroke to vibrato on the strings. Over time, this affinity for details transcended music and began to manifest in other aspects of my life. To grasp difficult concepts in the classroom, I needed to possess a comprehensive understanding of each individual topic, as well as all of the basics. Striving to improve my skills on the violin has also taught me that some things take more than a day to accomplish. Although it may not be possible for me to master a piece in one practice session, with consistent and unyielding effort I am able to measure significant increases in my performance.

The Dinner Party – Erin Sullenberger Updated: July 31, 2020 After dreaming last night that I was given a certain assignment in one of my old English classes, I decided that it would not be such a bad idea to complete this task. My assignment was to create nine characters with completely different personality types, invite them to a dinner party (hosted by me), and organize them around a circular table. The objective of this task was to put them in the best order so that Character A would not bother Character B who would not bother Character C, and so on. Ultimately, the task was to create the easiest-going dinner party possible. So on that note, I will begin to describe my characters: Mr. Xander Jones was a drunkard, who could recite his ABC’s at his best, and he was never to be seen without at least two packs of cigarettes in his back left pocket. He had long, tangled hair, and tan skin (probably due to his lack of bathing). He did have a wife and three children, yet their mutual acquiescence was that he would not mind them so long as they did not mind him. He was about forty-years-old, and he worked at a small business firm in southern Philadelphia. His best friend from college owned the firm, which probably accounted for the reason Mr. Jones had not been fired for fifteen years. Nonetheless, Mr. Jones was well-known to smoke and drink excessively during meals, so I was not too thrilled that he would be joining us this evening. Ms. Delvia Ross looked to be in her mid-eighties, but nobody knew for certain. She had snow-white hair, wrinkles that covered her face as a mask does, and dull-yellow teeth from her many, many years of living. She was practically ancient, but those who possessed a certain palate of manners understood that it was probably more polite to not ask her in what year she was born. She seemed to want to cover her age with a handful of cosmetic products. Furthermore, she was a very judgemental old woman, for she seemed to only speak to young women so long as they appeared neatly groomed. And most of the time, it sounded like she only spoke to them about young men and partying. I believe she had a couple of husbands throughout her lifetime; although, I do not think any of them are still around. Nevertheless, it seems that if she was still capable, she’d be on, at least, her tenth husband. Mrs. Gally Hopkins was probably the most talkative person I ever met. She was in her late twenties, and I believe she was married to a young man named Fred, but I never really saw him around to say much about him. He must have been an introvert, however, in order to balance out her outrageously extroverted personality. Basically, she never stopped talking about anything: work, friends, handsome young lads (evidently, she got along well with Ms. Ross), pets, social media, and more than I can even remember. Therefore, I suspected that she would be the slowest eater at the table since she would never take a pause to eat her meal, and she certainly was not the type to chew with her mouth open! Mr. Wilmot Anderson was the stereotypical old man who hated almost everything about existence besides his ancient dog. He was never married, but he spoke of his dog Lady as if she were his wife. Sometimes I felt bad for him, for I often considered that he would not be such a pessimist if he had a wife. He needed some sort of light in his life, and unfortunately, I do not believe that his three-legged Lady was doing the trick.

Miss Elivia Baker was probably not even an adult yet, and if I were guessing, I’d say she was only sixteen. She was very quiet, for she was not the prettiest specimen, and I think that this fact severely affected her confidence. I did not expect her to be much of an issue at dinner this evening, for she would probably be too shy to interact (or really, to upset) any of the other guests. The only problem I could foresee was if she started to get comfortable and act out-of-character, she would be sabotaging my strategic seating order. Mr. Jett Nelson was a middle-aged man with a wife and six kids. He seemed very family-oriented, for when he spoke, he only talked about his darling Daisy and his little Rick, Riley, Rando, Rima, Ralph, and Raquel. I believe he was a lawyer since he always conducted himself in a very professional manner. He was groomed very neatly, and in fact, he was quite handsome. I often spotted Ms. Ross and even Miss Baker making side glances toward him. He was always very cordial, though, and I suspected that I would take favor in him this evening so long as he would cease to stare at Mrs. Hopkins. Mr. Barron Jackson was undoubtedly the loudest person I had ever met. Like Mrs. Hopkins, he talked incessantly; however, unlike Mrs. Hopkins, his commentary was mostly, if not always, full of excessive complaints. He was a very large man, too, and he had very beady eyes and extremely large teeth. I’m surprised that his teeth have not gotten in the way of all of his noisy chatter. I believe that he was married once, but I do not know the status of that relationship. Furthermore, I do not think that he ever fathered any children. Perhaps had he had a little one to look after, he would have learned to control his volume so as not to interrupt his child’s precious sleep. Miss Nevaeh Wilson was a very beautiful young girl, who had probably just graduated from college. She was a children’s model in her youth, and I believe that her claim to fame was her brief appearance on a cereal commercial. I think that that commercial aired about fifteen years ago, but it is still the only topic that ever comes out of her mouth. She does not talk excessively nor loudly, but when she does talk, the conversation always seems to end with the same line: Yeah, that was like when I starred on TV back in 2005. She never seemed to get involved in pointless or drama-filled conversations, however, which gave her a somewhat virtuous claim. She seemed like a mostly-good character since she was very polite, honest, and down-to-earth. And although the following remark does not dampen her individual profile, I have noticed Mr. Nelson splitting his stares between both Mrs. Hopkins and Miss Wilson. Mr. Orion Harris was about the same age as Miss Wilson, and I detected that he might have known Miss Wilson from some prior gathering. Nonetheless, Mr. Harris was one of the sloppiest eaters I had ever seen. He was very thin, yet he ate excessively. Previously, I had seen him reach over other people in order to obtain salt and pepper. He often spilled his drink or sprayed spaghetti sauce across the table while he slurped up his pasta. I anticipated that he would be the spectacle of the table during the brief moments that Mrs. Hopkins or Mr. Jackson took a moment to breathe. He hardly ever spoke; however, when he did speak, his voice was high-pitched, and it sounded like he was speaking gibberish. Based on these descriptions, I would probably seat my guests in the following order: Mr. Orion Harris, Mr. Xander Jones, Mrs. Gally Hopkins, Miss Elivia Baker, Mr. Wilmot Anderson, Mr. Jett Nelson, Ms. Delvia Ross, Miss Nevaeh Wilson, Mr. Barron Jackson, and then me. Mr. Jones, who would probably be too drunk to notice anyone, would not mind Mr. Harris. Along the same thought process, Mrs. Hopkins would be too talkative to notice Mr. Jones’ drunkenness. Furthermore, Miss Elivia would be quiet enough while Mr. Nelson would seem too professional for them

to bother Mr. Anderson. Ms. Ross would enjoy small talk with Miss Wilson, and as a result, Miss Wilson would not pay too much attention to Mr. Jackson’s loudness. I would be seat myself between Mr. Jackson and Mr. Harris since I would be too busy wandering around preparing food to really notice their foibles. To be clear, none of these descriptions are based on real people. I used obscure names so that they would obviously not reflect anyone specifically. I simply wanted to exercise my use of character development to execute a fun assignment. If anyone has a different order of seating, I would be more than happy to read about it in the comments!

The Poet-Nick Ward His eyes looked over the last line one more time. Perfection. The word rang through his head as he looked at the plaques on his wall. This one will not just be another to the collection. This one will be special. His house was an expanse, his cups were goblets, his backyard was a frontier. Yet all the opulence could not match the size of his accolades. Even so, it took nearly fifteen minutes to get from the typing room to the sailboat. Ravens gathered upon a single withered, icy tree next to the dock. He stopped and looked at them, realizing he had just come across an idea for another poem, without realizing he had written it six times before. He passed by the nursing home, where he would always read his poems to the elderly. It reminded him of how they raged and raged against the dying of— well he actually never knew why they were quite so angry. They were the subjects of his poems as well. And the old baker who lost his wife. And the old woman who used to be a girl. They were all rather old. He passed by the famous museum which housed Ramesses II. No one ever thought much of Ramesses until The Poet saw him. He saw in one image the past, the present, the future, greed, immortality! Everyone else just saw a statue. But when he spoke the people listened. And they all flocked like ravens, or uh, doves to see the king glisten

He passed by his ex’s house. Just the visage reminded him of how she was like a summer’s day. Overbearing, oppressive, and bothersome when working around the house. He left her in the coldest day of ’64, for every time he was with her he wore a mask, (like the many others he wore in life) but this one was the least comfortable at all. He loved writing that poem as well. When he arrived at The Publisher’s house, he found the old curmudgeon in solitude, An Island all by himself. He’d soon like to write about him too. He handed over the poem in a folder. The Publisher opened the folder and wept. Then he laughed. Then he went around his office smashing things. The poet had predicted such rage would occur. “What a strong center this has. For generation’s on end they will speak of its layers. It will take more than ten thousand scribes to deduce all its meanings.” The Poet grinned, shared a drink with The Publisher, and departed. The Poet returned to his house, sat in his chair, The Ship anchored safe and sound. But as he began to write more, the phone rang. The poet community was thrilled, although the people believe there is no such thing. One after the other they congratulated him on his Magnum Opus. The Poet slept better that night than he had in years, for the life of a poet is hard. The novelist battles against the page. He battles against the amount of detail, the flow, the grammar. The poet battles against the human condition itself. He learned that from a poem. The Poet knew the next day his poem was published. His friend was always fast like that. When he turned on the news, he saw a wonderful sight. people cheering in the streets! All for one poem! But they weren’t cheering, they were jeering cursing screaming. They were tearing down statues and burning up poems. One woman stood on a ledge above the crowd. “The trees can be gold or green but they will never be seen. They can be alive or dead

but they will never be read They can be light and dark, but they will no longer be art. For they will be nothing more than trees. Nothing more!” The People cheered her on, but the poet looked on in wonder. He never saw a poet as incredible as her. And so The People, so tired of nonsense, burned all the poet’s poems and many poems of the past. The fire consumed “fire” until the word was no more. But the last poem did not need much fire for burning. Despite all its deeper meaning, despite everything it had to say, the last line the poet was so proud of wasn’t much of a line at all. For the page was blank.

Strangers to Ourselves - Sara Ledyard “We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.” -Kurt Vonnegut I find that in this current era, people, especially the large population of angsty teenagers, are afraid to be who they are; to show their true colors. We are who we pretend to be. Somewhere deep down, we desire to be individuals, but the norms that society inflicts upon us keeps us from embracing who we truly are. I once saw a commercial for depression medication. In the commercial, a woman had a smiley face on a piece of paper attached to a popsicle stick. When she had to hide her sadness, she held up her popsicle stick and pretended to be happy. I find that a lot of people do the exact same thing. Not necessarily because they are trying to hide their emotions, but instead, hide their uniqueness. Why? Because people are so afraid of being shunned by society and becoming outcasts that they ignore any part of themselves that might be different or special out of fear that it might not be accepted. The major issue with holding up our own popsicle sticks is losing sight of who we are. Imitation will become reality, but that small voice in your mind that knows something is against your own morals or beliefs will never go away. It’s similar to that feeling when you know you forgot something but cannot for the life of you remember what it was. We become strangers to ourselves, wondering where we got lost along the way. It’s easy to follow the crowd and get lost in pleasing others, subsequently making it easy to forget who we are. On the bright side, we are not contained behind the bounds of our popsicle sticks, for it is a choice. We can pull them off our faces whenever we please, but many feel they aren’t brave enough, so they leave their popsicle sticks and remain unhappy. It may seem impossible to show your true colors after hiding behind your popsicle stick for so long, but all it takes is a little self-confidence and a lot of bravery to embrace your uniqueness and become friends with yourselves.

A Brief Satire About Bad Grammar – Erin Sullenberger My grandmother used to walk around, or sit around, really, and simply, correct the grammar of my family and me. She used to say: “Of whom are you talking: her or she?” if I briefly would mention that “Me and her went to the store.” But I think that she was utterly annoying and ill-informed when she said these things. Because really, grammar doesn’t matter, and nor does punctuation or spelling, for that matter. If you speak the English language which everyone, does, one should no eggzactly what I mean. Moreover, when people correct other’s mistakes, they, are indicating that they are stuck-up and better than others: I don’t; want to live in a world with stuck-up and snobby people. And on the reverse, people 85

who are not stuck-up are always nicer people? I, for won, would not; at all: want to be friends with someone other than someone whose nice. Besides… “To who is she talking” or “What is she doing that for” or “Me and him went to the dance?” does not bother me at. All. I might as well say then - since it doesn”t bother I; - “Good, my day was well,” or “That effected me so great” because I don”t care and by the way like I said it doesn”t matter. However; won day me did speak with a English teacher and, good, him said that grammar “is the key to unlock any language.” Him said, “It is important to study so that our language is standardized and proper.” Him also said, “It sounds good to the ear, too,” Witch obviously isn”t true because if won speaks grammar good then you again just sound meen. If me is being honest, good then, nothing really matters! Were all people. Were all make misstakes. Punctuation? Speling, and gRaMmAr is stoopid. Theirfor, riting dos not mattere at alll! Shakespeere and Dikkens and Austen. all of my favorit authors of --- don”t meen any-thing. Because me live in present wenn nothin matteres...

What It Means To Dance – Erin Sullenberger At any given celebratory event that promotes dancing, such as high school proms, sweet sixteens or banquets, there are always three distinct groups of people: those who sit and admire the scenery, those who awkwardly stand beside others who are dancing, and those who leave everything out on the dance floor. Ever since I was old enough to really enjoy myself at such events, I was always a part of the former third of party-goers. Last year, however, I ventured into the latter half of dancers, not caring what anyone thought of my horrendous dance moves that I will soon describe. I was sitting around a table at my good friend's birthday party while the DJ was hopelessly attempting to garner some excitement on the dance floor. I cannot even recall exactly what feeling came over me, but I up, requested the DJ to play Billy Idol's Dancing with Myself, and I spent the next four minutes or so prancing about in such a horrible manner that it was almost embarrassing, except for the fact that I did not care. I distinctly recall doing this move where I would hop from foot to foot with synchronized arm movement. I danced alone on the dance floor in front of about one hundred people for the remainder of the evening because there was such a grand feeling of pleasure that overwhelmed me that I did not want to stop. I persuaded my friend to join me in a performance of Dancing Queen, and by the end of the song, he was smiling, wishing that the DJ would replay this Abba classic. Eventually, there were spots of all three of my aforementioned types of party-goers covering the hall, and to no surprise, I was in the center of all the excitement. By the end of the night, I was filled with such a large surge of adrenaline and happiness that I could not wait for homecoming, half a year later, to dance again. There is such an amazing aspect of dancing, I think, that goes completely unnoticed. First and foremost, dancing brings about such a great sense of confidence. Now, at every event I attend, I am the first and last person on the dance floor. Also, I think that dancing is a way to express who you really are. By no means am I a decent dancer, but by putting myself out there, moving the way I do, I show that appearance doesn't much matter: being who you are without caring what other people think does. And even more so, I think that dancing by myself really allows me to express who I am. When you're engaged with a partner or one among a crowd of dancers, then your individuality doesn't shine. I love being able to convey how fun and exciting dancing is for me when I'm in my own circle, leaving everything I have on the floor. Furthermore, when I start to dance by myself, then my friends like to join me, and then my fun only increases. And lastly, dancing is a way to help me relax and return to my raw, normal self. While studying for midterms and finals, I take a break every hour to dance in my room. Before I took my online 2020 AP 86

exams, I danced. In either occasion, it didn't matter what song came on. All that mattered was that I was being myself, building my confidence, and enjoying something that was, ironically, supposed to be stressful. Although this year's prom was cancelled, I'm looking forward to being able to dance next year. Hopefully the DJ will take my request and play Dancing with Myself!

♈ Aries: Mar 21 - Apr 19

2021 ‘Scopes!

Energetic, enthusiastic, and competitive. You will gain some control back of your life this year after adapting from the loss of control in 2020.

♉ Taurus: Apr 20 - May 20 Reliable, resilient, and resourceful. You will often feel as though you are at a crossroads this year, which will help you to develop patience.

♊ Gemini: May 21 - Jun 20 Adaptable, open, and inquisitive. You will find out more about yourself this year.

♋ Cancer: Jun 21 - Jul 22 Instinctual, emotional, and empathetic. Last year, your life changed significantly, and so this year will be more run of the mill.

♌ Leo: Jul 23 - Aug 22 Vivid, outgoing, and passionate. You will learn how to give up control and let go this year.

♍ Virgo: Aug 23 - Sep 22 Sensible, faithful, and mellow. This year will be challenging for you, but it will also present many opportunities to prove yourself.

♎ Libra: Sep 23 - Oct 22 Sensible, faithful, and mellow. This year will bring out your artistic and creative side.

♏ Scorpio: Oct 23 - Nov 21 Enthusiastic, brave, and inventive. This year will make great strides in your family and career life.

♐ Sagittarius: Nov 22 - Dec 21 Extroverted, positive, and humorous. This year will be a turning point in your life.

♑ Capricorn: Dec 22 - Jan 19 Persistent, regimented, and self-sufficient. This year you will step out of your comfort zone and become more carefree.

♒ Aquarius: Jan 20 - Feb 18 Strong, profound, and inspired. You will have a strong connection with your intuition and with time this year.

♓ Pisces: Feb 19 - Mar 20 Compassionate, insightful, and creative. You will have a strong connection with the spiritual world this year.

Phoenix Magazine June 2021

Articles inside

Horoscopes

The Dinner Party

What it Means to Dance

The Poet

Inspiration

The Fox, mistakes, Advertisement Brought to You

Rumors – Drama

A Scholarship Essay Prompt Asks Me

Frankenstein, Fried Onions and Poinsettias

Flowers

A Tribute to Sisters

Magic of Nature, Types of Love, The Sky

lavender, Trees

Something, something night sky

Hopeless

Senior Year, When Time Was Silenced

A Bull Ride, But Not a Full Ride, The Endless Rainy Day

Grad Year

Tuesday, 19 March 2020

What do I say, Tempest

My Experience in a Vegan Household

Transcendence, A Short History of Nearly Everything

Love, Sunrise

The Eve of a New Beginning, The Friend I Used to Have, COVID

Cottage in the Woods, Flowers

The Sun, Emma Best

Students vs. Learners

Bedtime Sonnet, The Human Mind

She Who Wears a Mask

A Fowl Sonnet

Good Morning

False Perception, Spring

The College Process

Our World, Quarantine

Changes, My Favorite Places

Opportunity

A New Decade and a New Meaning to Life

Interview – Mr. Pepino

Interview – Dr. Coccia

Winter Crew Sonnet, Graduation Haiku, July 20, 1969

Lost and then Loved

What Gives Me Hope

“Emma”: A Lovely, Fun, and Humorous Novel

When Opportunity Arises, The Climber

Why I Love Football

oh, would you look at Her?

My Savior

Isle of Planes

Anxiety and Stress

New Normal, Through a Screen

Abandoned, Second Semester Senior

Red Phoenix