PRESS START: Towodi 2019

Press Start

Towodi 2019 VOL. 14 MCHS

Table of Contents Inside cover:

“One Life “- a poem by Eli Waters

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Table of Contents “Sassy Lady: artwork by Kayla Moore

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Featured artist: Liana Benton “Hands” “No Emotion” “Untitled” “The Bees’ Knees”

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“City Reflections” a photo by Isabelle Hahn “A Poem, Yay” poetry by Stiles Ramsey

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“Not Yet” poetry by Talayla Banks “Gallop” a photo by Aislinn Pendergast

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“Illogical and Unnecessary” short prose by Cuminos “Polar Consequences” artwork by Brennon Campbell “Buttons” poetry by Ashley Johnson

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“Mirror” poetry by spokenwicked “Under the Waves” a photo by Julianne Archer

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“The Lunchbag” a short story by Hannah Robertson

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“Crushed” artwork by Zainab Alsuweydi

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“Fruit Basket” artwork by Abbie Herrin “Up Close” artwork by Zainab Alsuweydi

Sassy Lady

By Kayla Moore 2 TOWODI 2019: Press Start

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“Enslaved” poetry by Anna Silva-Vilchez “Model Status” artwork by Zainab Alsuweydi

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“Land of the Free” artwork by Dani Williams “Anemone” artwork by Fizza Rehman

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“Tryolvia” artwork by Mason Pender “Borderline” artwork by Aine Thompson

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“Just Abandoned, Not Empty” artwork by Abbie Herrin “Gas Station Gothic” a short story by LCW

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“Giraffe” artwork by Abbie Herrin “Swan” artwork by Abbie Herrin “Silver Rain” a poem by Ashley Johnson

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Featured artist: Tess Davenport “Puppy Eyes” “Chucks” “GT350 Reflection”

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“Vietnam Green” a story by Reese Nifong

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“Equity” artwork by Dani Williams “Bugs Life” artwork by Dani Williams

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“There Are Few” a story by spokenwicked “Kitty” a photo by spokenwicked “Happy” a photo by Lexi Schein

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“Night Sky Dreams” artwork by Maya Angelou “Details in a Starry Night” a poem by Phoenix Day

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“The Value of Memes” an essay by Daniel Jung

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“Childhood Happiness” artwork by Ire Olayeye

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“Calm Before the Storm” a photo by Molly McCreary “Yellow” artwork by Jocelyn Chavez

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Special recognition: “Hiawatha” art by America Garcia

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Towodi Staff

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Colophon

TOWODI 2019: Press Start

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Hands

By: Liana Benton

No Emotion

By: Liana Benton

4 TOWODI 2019: Press Start

Untitled

By: Liana Benton

Level 1 Featuring Liana Benton

Towodi: Why did you name the photos “Trip�?

The Bees Knees

Liana: ,WÂśV SUHWW\ PXFK EDVHG RÉŁ RI GLÉŁHUHQW GUXJV DQG WKHLU HÉŁHFWV Towodi: What was the backround behind “The Bees Kneesâ€??

Liana: , JR WR FDPS DW :RRGODQGV DQG P\ JURXS RI JLUOV ZKR ZHUH \RXQJHU WKDQ PH WKH\ ZHUH UHDOO\ LQWR WKH SKUDVH Âł7KH %HHV .QHHV´ IRU ZKDWHYHU UHVDRQ VR , MXVW WRRN WKDW DQG UDQ ZLWK LW Towodi: What does “The Bees Kneesâ€? mean?

Liana: It pretty much means “You’re SUHWW\ FRRO´

By: Liana Benton

TOWODI 2019: Press Start

5

City Reflections

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By: Stiles Ramsey

6 TOWODI 2019: Press Start

By: Isabelle Hahn

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By: Talayla Banks

Gallop

By: Aislinn Pendergrast

TOWODI 2019: Press Start 7

Illogical and Unnecessary

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By Brennon Campbell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¶P DQ HYHU LQFKLQJ FORVHU GRRP $QG \HW , VWLOO GRLQJ LV VRPHWKLQJ WKDW , HQMR\ GRLQJ <HV P\ GHFLGH WR W\SH :K\" :HOO EHFDXVH LW¶V IXQ , DFWLRQV DUH LOORJLFDO DQG XQQHFHVVDU\ DQG WKH\ JXHVV +RZHYHU WLPHVHUYHU , XWWHU WKLV UHVSRQVH ZLOO XOWLPDWHO\ FRVW PH PRUH ZRUN LQ WKH IXWXUH , IHHO DV LI ,¶P GHFHLYLQJ P\VHOI 2I FRXUVH ,¶P WKDQ ZKDW , UHIXVH WR SXW LQ QRZ %\ DOO PHDQV KDYLQJ PRUH IXQ QRZ EXW ZLOO , EH KDYLQJ WKH ZKDW , DP GRLQJ LV VWXSLG DQG , VKRXOG EH KHOG VDPH DPRXQW RI IXQ ZKHQ WKH XQJRGO\ DPRXQW DFFRXQWDEOH IRU LW +RZHYHU , PXVW DVN ,I ZKDW RI ]HURV LQ P\ JUDGHERRN SUHYHQWV PH IURP , DP GRLQJ LV ZKDW PDNHV PH KDSS\ LV LW UHDOO\ JRLQJ WR WKH FROOHJH , ZLVK WR OHDUQ DW" 3UREDEO\ WKH ZURQJ WKLQJ WR GR"

Buttons

By Ashley Johnson 3XUSOH %XWWRQV IDOOLQJ RÉ£ RI JROGHQ WDEOHV LQWR VLOYHU SXGGOHV

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TOWODI 2019: Press Start

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By spokenwicked

Photo: Under the Waves

By Julianne Archer

The Lunchbag

By Hannah Robertson The chaotic cluster of children ceased to flip words off of their enthusiasm as she possible could, which, to be fair, wasn’t very tongues as they sat on their own designated spot on the much. alphabet rug. Class had begun. All of the children sitting on “Whoa! Your dad goes into fire and stuff?” the colorful assortment of letters A through Y were all “That is so cool!” Willow beamed with a joy she had never felt gripping their most prized possessions with a pride so radiant before: a sense of pride in her family. it made their smiles glow. All except for the child on Z. A “Mmhmm! He… he fought a fire with his hands! And there through Y whispered to each other excitedly, anxious to show was smoke and fire and he saved a baby from a burning house!” off their wonderful treasures, while Z just sat there silently Words were spilling out from her without any thought attached fiddling with the smooth feel of the hat in her lap. to them. Her only concern was to prolong this wonderful feeling “Alright, everyone. I know Show and Tell is a special day, she felt. And it worked. but let’s remember to be quiet while people present, okay?”

Even a day later, everyone was still buzzing about Willow’s The class performed an unsynchronized nod. Mrs. Williams brave father. She loved this foreign amount of attention from was pleased to see their general cooperation. It truly was a them. Questions and comments swarmed her left and right. special day. “Alright, then! We’ll start with A and work our “Willow, your dad sounds super cool!” way back to Z.” “Your dad must be so brave!”

A vivacious child sprung up from her letter with such The compliments were overlapped by the calm introduction of liveliness that her pigtails bounced long after she had stood the school day the teacher gave. up. She gave a toothy grin and stuck her arm out as long as “Let’s get ready for class, okay?” possible to broadcast her wonderful show and tell to the “Do we have to? I wanna hear another firefighter story about world.

Willow’s dad!” A boy asked.

“My daddy’s a police officer!! See?! This is his old badge!!”

“Yeah! Pleaaase?” The girl pleaded.

She was so excited to show off that “There will be plenty of time for stories on “She couldn’t let the class know Monday.” she slurred her words together into her dad died before she was one long incomprehensible word “What’s on Monday?” An ignorant boy that the class could not decipher, but born. How embarrassing would asked. the sight of the badge excited “Monday is Career Day! I have been that be?” everyone. Being five or six years old, reminding you guys for a month.” they were attracted to anything that “I’m bringing in my dad for Career day! He’s sparkled, and many of them leaned forward or stood up to get a police officer! He can be friends with your dad Willow!” The a better view of the glistening badge. girl on A added.

“My papa fought in the army!” The boy who represented the “Yeah… friends with my dad…” Willow knew that there was letter B was much more shy, but his item followed the same no universe where they would be friends. Even if he was still premise as hers: a representation of their father’s heroic deeds, alive. He was a crook. A murderer. But, she made sure not to in his case, a medal. In fact, every student followed that express her doubts. She smiled as strongly as she possibly could premise. until the day was over. Her strength and maturity for her age was “My pa is a lawyer!” undeniably because of her father’s tragedy.

“My daddy’s a doctor!”

When she sat down in her mother’s minivan, she could not My dad is dead. help but erupt into tears.

Z sat alone on her square. She grasped the plastic fireman “W-Willow…! What happened?” hat in her chubby fists. My dad is dead, she thought. She did “It wasn’t costume day…!” She managed to shriek in between not dare to let the phrase slip off of her tongue. She couldn’t her desperate gasps for air. Her mother wanted to decode this let the class know her dad died before she was born. How message, but how could she with such insufficient clues? embarrassing would that be?

“Sweetie, if your firefighter hat wasn’t for a costume, then what “Alright, and our last presentation is… Willow’s!” else…” Slowly the message defogged in her mind, leaving her Willow has always been a sensitive child, and her teacher with only one sad possibility: her dad had once again let her took note of that. She gave her extra attention, hoping to down. maybe ease her into liking kindergarten as much as the “I’m sorry, Mommy… I didn’t want to lie… I just wanted to others. It didn’t work, but who is to say she never tried? have a cool hero like everyone else did…” On that day, the Willow gripped her hat and stumbled onto her legs. She hidden angry sector of her mother boiled once again. It was a faced the class anxiously. She took a deep breath, fearing the good thing that he had passed away, because if he hadn’t he worst of her classmate’s reaction, then spoke. would have experienced the rage of a loving mother firsthand.

“My dad is a firefighter.” She muttered with as much And what a sight that would have been to see.

10 TOWODI 2019: Press Start

However, her anger was minuscule in size when compared to the compassion in her heart. The very sight of tears on her blessed child’s face made her heart drop to her feet. She could feel the sorrow of her heart even in her blood. Her sorrow was so strong that it took the reins of her speech and excused Willow from school the next day.

Willow came home and cried on her bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to time tick by. What was she going to do when she went back? Tell them it was a lie? Or respond with another lie?

While she sat in her room, long after her tears had subsided, she pondered solutions in the silence. She appreciated the silence, she needed it.

She needed it to think properly, and she had it. She always felt like she did.

And she appreciated it.

Her focused silence was shattered by the abrupt cry of a vacuum cleaner. It was ear-piercing to her, making it hard to concentrate. How was she supposed to think with that vacuum cleaner interrupting her silence? Why did her mom have to vacuum now? Now! When she needed silence more than ever!

Willow snapped. She whipped out of bed and swung the door open to face her insensitive mother.

“I’m trying to think,” she growled under her breath “and it’s impossible to think with your stupid vacuum

By Zainab on!” She screamed so intensely that she could hardly make a sound by the end of the sentence.

She never heard her daughter speak with such passionate rage before. She knew that this attitude was once again her father’s fault. He had let her down. Maybe she needed a new father, her mother thought. But after her beloved turned to villainy like that, how could she ever love again? And as she looked at her Willow, face red with rage, she saw that villainy in her beautiful, crystal blue eyes, too.

She shut off the vacuum, and walked down the hallway without another word. Willow watched heartlessly as she escaped her field of vision.

The next morning, Willow woke up with her mind refreshed. Maybe she was too harsh the day before, but the memory of their interaction was fuzzy.

Instead of vacuum sucking, today she heard the clacking of computer keys. Her mother was there, at the end of the hallway, typing on a document linked to the school website.

She wrote an email to her teacher, explaining Willow’s

absence and asking for forgiveness. Being in kindergarten, it would take Willow very long to write a sentence, let alone a paragraph as long as that email. I guess she spends a lot of time working on things for me, she thought, even though she works so many jobs. That must be hard. For the first time, it was almost as if Willow could read her mother’s mind. All of her worries for her became clear in a language too powerful to transcribe into words: the language of a mother’s love.

Throughout that entire day, her mother did nothing but work.

She never once rested, and she never once thought of herself. She had three jobs, drove her daughter to school everyday, and kept the house in order with no one in mind other than her precious Willow. As a result, the house was always clean, there was always good food on the table, and Willow never felt unloved.

When Monday rolled around, Willow swallowed her pride and agreed to return to school.

“Are you sure? What about career day?”

“I’m just… going to tell everyone the truth.” Her mother smiled at this response. The villainous fog in Willow’s eyes were but a distant memory.

The car rolled up and paused in front of the entrance to the elementary school.

“Don’t forget your lunch bag.” Her Alsuweydi mother added. She handed her a brown paper bag with a smiley face drawn on the top. Beneath the smiley face was a message that Willow could not read very well. Her mother read her confusion and reacted.

“I love you.” She read aloud. Before Willow spoke again, she took a long look at the thoughtful message.

“Can you come inside with me?” Willow asked.

Together they walked the halls to the classroom, hand in hand.

When they reached the door, Willow looked inside and saw policemen in uniforms, and doctors with stethoscopes. Panic spread throughout her body. Her mother kneeled down to her and whispered gently.

“If you changed your mind, I can leave.” But Willow ran inside, gripping her mother’s fragile hand with all of her might. She ran up to the front of the class onto the platform they were to perform on, and she raised her lunch bag into the air. The room was silenced by this bold move.

“My mom packs my lunch everyday. She always writes nice things on it. Today, she wrote this.” She broadcasted the bag to

Crushed

continue on page 12-->

TOWODI 2019: Press Start 11

“The Lunchbag” cont. from page 10

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Fruit Basket

By: Abbie Herring

UP CLOSE

By Zainab Alsuweydi

12 TOWODI 2019: Press Start

Model Status

Enslaved

By Anna Silva-Vilchez , ORRN RXW WKH ZLQGRZ There’s so much out there %XW ,¶P EHKLQG ZDOOV 6WXFN EHKLQG ZDOOV , ORRN DW WKH VWDUV 6HH KRZ IDU WKH\ DUH But I’m behind bars Stuck behind bars

By Zainab Alsuweydi

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TOWODI 2019: Press Start 13

Land of the Free 7KH ODQG RI WKH IUHH LV DERXW WKH FRQWUDGLFWLRQ WKDW GHVSLWH EHLQJ WKH ODQG RI WKH IUHH ZH HQVODYH DQLPDOV

By Dani Williams

anemone Its supposed to be a visual UHÃ&#x20AC;HFWLRQ RI WKH DQRPHQH Ã&#x20AC;RZHU LQ D SHUVRQ

By Fizza Rehman

14 TOWODI 2019: Press Start

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By Mason Pender

Borderline 0\ SLHFH UHSUHVHQWV WKH ERUGHUOLQH RI OLIH DQG GHDWK LQ D VXUUHDOLVWLF VW\OH

By Aine Thompson

TOWODI 2019: Press Start

15

Just Abandoned, Not Empty

By Abbie Herrin

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By LCW

16 TOWODI 2019: Press Start

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Giraffe

Silver Rain 'URSV RI VLOYHU UDLQ FDVFDGHG RÉ£ RI JROGHQ RDN WUHHV

By Ashley Johnson

By Abbie Herrin

Swan

By Abbie Herrin

TOWODI 2019: Press Start 17

Puppy Eyes

By: Tess Davenport

Chucks

By: Tess Davenport

18 TOWODI 2019: Press Start

Level 2 Featuring Tess Davenport GT350 Reflection

By: Tess Davenport

TOWODI 2019: Press Start 19

Vietnam Green BY: Reese Nifong I ran out to get the mail once. The asphalt, hot Hoang stopped coming. I kept waiting, checkfrom the summer sun, stung my bare feet.

LQJ WKH PDLOER[ IRU DQ\ PRUH \HOORZ HQYHORSHV The envelope was torn and yellow, bright like I gave up around wintertime when the yellow the daisies that climbed over the edge of the GDLVLHV LQ WKH Ă RZHU ER[ EURZQHG DQG ZLWKHUHG Ă RZHU ER[ LQ WKH \DUG My mother counted down the days until Tam Hoang. my brother came home â&#x20AC;&#x201D; until he got leave. I She was my penpal. The middle school had ZDLWHG WRR DQ[LRXV ZLWK WKH DQWLFLSDWLRQ WKDW given us a pen and paper one year and required everything would go back to normal again. that we write something to someone who was so But it wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t the same. far away, someone we had never even met.

The brother that came back wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t mine.

I sat there for a long time and stared at the I tried to talk to him. For a while, I thought empty sheet of paper, unsure of what to write. maybe he would snap out of it, like this was I told the stranger I lived in America and that I some strange phase. He just stared back at me had an older brother and a dog named Bailey.

OLNH D JROGĂ&#x20AC;VK EHKLQG JODVV (PSW\ I sent a photograph too. A Polaroid, creased at 2Q WKH Ă&#x20AC;UVW QLJKW , ZRNH XS ODWH WR WKH VRXQG the edges. of screaming. When I walked down the hallway, I And a few weeks later, Tam Hoang answered. saw through the crack of my brotherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s door that She sent me back a letter that my mother was clutching him. said she lived in south VietÂł, VDW WKHUH IRU D ORQJ WLPH They were rocking together on nam, somewhere I couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t his bed. Now I think they looked and stared at the empty like bamboo rafts in the muddy pronounce, a small village on VKHHW RI SDSHU XQVXUH RI waters of a Vietnam river. the curled tail of the country. I struggled to understand in my He was saying things. Things what to writeâ&#x20AC;? privilege how anyone could live about a little girl with dark, dark the way she did. hair, blood streaked red across While she took care of her siblings, I would her face, down her clothes. Things about how he spend my evenings in front of the television with had killed her. my magazines, feeling very grown-up, yet I could At his funeral, I wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t sure what to say. I not understand why my mother was clutching stood up on the podium and said things I canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t my brother so tightly when she told him goodremember now, all of it a smudge in my memory. night. After my bedtime, I would sneak into the ,W ZDV GLIĂ&#x20AC;FXOW WR UHPHPEHU D WLPH ZKHQ KH ZDV hallway and listen to my parents. Though their whole. I watched him slowly spiral until I couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t voices were merely whispers, I caught words recognize him anymore. His body was here, but here and there. Words about Vietnam and my his mind was back there. Back in the jungle and brother. the rice paddies.

It clicked somewhere in the back of my mind It took me a long time to realize that there that Vietnam was where Tam Hoang was from. were only losers in wars. The thought had hit And then in what seemed like a nightmarish me suddenly when I saw on the news that the blur I could not understand, the number was troops were withdrawing. I had always known called on the television â&#x20AC;&#x201D; my brotherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s birthday, it. I thought of all those men, haunted like my and I was hugging him goodbye at the base. brother, and all those little girls with dark, dark 0\ Ă&#x20AC;QJHUV FOXWFKHG WKH DUP\ JUHHQ IDEULF RI KLV hair. All of them laying in ditches, blood streaked uniform. When the car pulled away, all I saw was GDUN UHG DFURVV WKHLU IDFHV Ă&#x20AC;VKERZO H\HV VWDULQJ that green. Vietnam jungle green. up into the green, green jungle. Vietnam green.

In March of that year, the letters from Tam

20 TOWODI 2019: Press Start

Equity

Bugs Life By: Dani Williams

By: Dani Williams

TOWODI 2019: Press Start

21

There Are Few By:spokenwicked

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22

TOWODI 2019: Press Start

Kitty

By:spokenwicked

Happy

By:Lexi Schein

Details in a Starry Night By: Phoenix Day

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Art: Night Sky Dreams By: Maya Angelou

TOWODI 2019: Press Start

23

The Value of Memes

By Daniel Jung

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“Childhood Happiness”

TOWODI 2019: Press Start

25

Calm Before the Storm

Yellow

By Molly McCreary

By Jocelyn Chavez

26

TOWODI 2019: Press Start

A SPECIAL CONGRATULATIONS TO AMERICA GARCIA! Art Scholarship Winner

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27

Kat Ataelsaid

Emily Bryant

Lila Lunsford

Anna Silva-Vilchez

Eli Waters

Talayla Banks

Aislinn Pendergast

Stiles Ramsey

Isabelle Hahn

Alexandria Schein

LIT MAG

Mason Pender

Faheemah Fabre

2019 STAFF Nora Neff Advisor

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