Excelsior – Spring 2024

Excelsior Excelsior

Spring 2024

Ridingaferriswheelwithyourfriends,visiting yourgrandmother’shome,snugglingyourfavorite stuffedanimal,playinginthebackyardofyour childhoodhome:inretrospect,thesemundane occurrencesareoftenthesweetest.Alongwith springflowerscomeschange.Transitions–toan uppergrade,warmerweather,graduation-cause ustolookbackfondlyatourpastexperiences.

Whetherit’sdaydreamingofalifethatnolonger exists,missinganairplanecompany'sgoldendays, orlongingforsimplertimes,nostalgiacanpresent itselfinmanyforms.Inthisissue,studentsexplore thecomplexitiesofwhatweremember,whywe remember,andhowwewanttoberemembered. Bestwishes,

AbigailCallaghan

can you grieve a Home? can you grieve a Home?

By Eliana Holerca

we’veallgrieveddeath, itdoesn’tmatterwhyorforwhat. somesay griefislove inaheavycoat, andforthedeathofpeopleandpets itmakessense.

butcanyougrieveaHome? notjustthewalls,butalso thememories,thepeoplewewould’vebeen ifwewerestillThere?

thehomeworkwewould’vedone thetearswewould’vecried thefriendswewould’vebroughtover thedinnerswewould’vemade, theFuture wewould’vehad ifwewerestillThere?

theFuturethatwasjustwithingrasp! theFuturethatwasnevermeanttobeours. so…yes, youcangrieveaHome, butyoucan’tgrievethequiltsorcupsorclothes becausetherealquestionis… canyougrieveaFuture? andtheansweris Yes.Yesyoucan.

Cold(Brew + Foam) Cold(Brew + Foam)

By Abigail Callaghan

Amidstthewreckageofappleseedsandhodgepodgeattemptsatmodesty,Evecowered. Fear,theyclaim,wastaughtbyredapplepeelsonatonguewhichonlyknewsweetness.They lied.Fearwastaughtasshecowered,byEden’sgates,intheshadowofG-d,asHequeried:If giventhechoice,wouldsheeattheappleagain?Andshehadtoconcedehersubsequentyears insqualorwereworthherimpetuousness,forwhileinonemomentshewipedAbel’sbloodoff Cain’sfists,inanother,shebroughttheappletoherlips.

Time’saslinearasyourpredictedvsactualplots–ajumbledmessofdataresemblinga rollercoasterratherthanaperfectline.Allmomentsexistsimultaneouslytoallothermoments yourmotherclaimsintheshadowofyourchildhoodhousebeforeyoutumbledownthehill. Sowhileyou’rehumming“Naive”underneathyourbreathasyourplotstrendtoward linearization,she’stuckingthecoversunderyourchin,andbeforeyoushutyoureyesdon’t forgettoglanceatembroideredrosesonyourcurtainsforthey’requiveringfromthewind. Wouldyoustillrunifyoucouldspotthefinishline,astwolaceslieinyourhands,and you’redrawingbackyourarms?Thebullet’spiecingtheair,insecondsyou’llbesweptintoa cacophonyofshoes.Allthatends,ends;fatalismisborninreminiscence,notzeitgeist,but swearyouwerecognizantofyourfragilitywithonefootonthestartingline.Drawbackyour arms,forthoughyouwillfinishbruised,youcanstillrun now.

Sotakeyourbruisedhandandtypeyourlittlestories.Besuretobrushthegraphitefrom yourknucklesbeforeyougochasingaftertwozerosforthey’llturntobondorderseventually.

Haut les cœres * (chinup):beforeyousmile,wipeyourclammypalmsonsatinandwhisper“Tu vois, moi aussi j'ai peur *”(youknow,I’mafraidtoo).Predictyourimpetuousnessinanoveland personifyyourdreaminthecharacter“Rose”forasyoushutyoureyestosleep,youimagine thoseembroideredroses.

Everydoghastheirday;lieandsayyourswasunderneaththewarmthofanewborn autumnsunasheuttersyourname,pointedlyignoringtheglancesbackfortheleavesare quiveringabovehisheadfromthewind.Butit’s2a.m.onaSaturdayandNoahKahan’sthe soundtracktoyoursecludedpitchblackroomandyou’vediscardeddiatomsandaburning phoneforaburninglaptoptotypeyourlittlestories.SleepwalktoSACinthemorning humming“Homesick”thoughyou’veneverfeltmoreathome,(andisserendipityonlysweet becauseoftheabsenceofstrifeorthecontentsofthemoment?). This isyourday;order… “Orderforcoldbrewwithcoldfoam?”

TastethecoldfoamasEvetastedtheapple.ForthoughyouwillbebanishedfromEden, whenyou’reatitsgatesandG-dasksiftheapplewasworththeaftertaste,youcansay: “Yes.”

itssweetnessfilledeverycornerofmycave satisfyingthepinkdragoninside thesunapplaudedmewithitsrays andtheblurryhouseshookwithlaughter

way eticattractiontothispieceof ustgrewin

Where are you Boeing? Where are you Boeing?

By Sasha Portnoy

Inthenineteensixties, Whenjetsroamedthesky IfitwasaBoeing Youwantedtofly!

WhenBoeingwasgreat, Noonecouldwait Forthenextplanethey’dcreate

Allseatsintheair Werefirstclass,noploy. Itwasjustandfair Andallflewwithjoy.

Oh,thosewerethegooddays, Theelegantplanes. Theyweresomuchbetterthantrains…

OhBoeingwhathappened? Why’rescrewsfallingoff? Youpushedawaytalent Andfelloffthetop.

Itwasall‘boutmoney, Executives’greed. You’renolongerrunning Theoldesteemedcreed.

Yourquality’slacking Andbureaucratslie, Techniciansareslacking, Andpeoplecoulddie.

Oh,gloriousBoeing, Pleasebeyouoncemore! Letsseetheplanesgrowing Likeneverbefore.

Withscrewswheretheyshouldbe, Attachedwithrightforce. Iwishthatyouwouldsee, You’reonthewrongcourse!

Youfindthebestpeople Andtreatthemlikekings! ridyourselfofevil Andspreadwideyourwings.

It’s Never Too Late For You It’s Never Too Late For You

By Layla Zaatreh

Itisnevertoolateforyou.

IfonedayIwastowaketoyouatmydoor, Iwouldletyouinwithoutquestion.

Iwouldsityoudown, Makeyouawarmcoffee, Andsimplyletyouspeak.

Inmyworstdays,yourwordsconsoledme, Yourvoiceagentlehum, Yourphrasesakintohymns.

Letmedothesameforyou,singyouthatsamequietlullaby, Tilyoureyesfluttershutandyourmindisatrest. Itisnevertoolate. Iwillalwaysacceptyou.

Ifonedayyouweretotellmeyou’vecommittedsomeunconscionabledeed, Iwouldletyouin, Sityoudownwithsomewarmcoffee, Andallowmyselftobeshunnedalongsideyou. Youarelikeasong. Everybreathyoutakeisanelegantnote, Everywordyouspeakisacreativelyric.

Youareadelicatetune, OnethatIwillrepeatuntilyourgentleversesleavemedeafened. Eventhen,Iwillrereadthelyrics.

Itisnevertoolateforyou.

A Perfect Storm A Perfect Storm

By Abigail Callaghan

Doesthesailoraboard Andrea Gail, asthewaterrushesfromthecreakingmetal, fighttokeephisheadabovewater?

Orrather,doeshesink, Weigheddownbycarnivallightsandastickyhandinhis?

Keptbythegreenlightandtheaftertasteofsaltwheneverwind brusheshisneck.

Keptbytheskythatappearsassea,antheseathatwasskyon quietdays.

Keptbythewarmthoftheboilerandechoesoflaughterstillin hisears asheslippedintohisbunk.

“Andwouldyourunaway?”Hewasaskedatoptheferriswheel wherenoboats,nofishingports,noswordfishnetscouldbe spotted.

“Andwouldyoubecontentwithmundanity?”Wasthe rephrasedquestion.

Forthewaterlovedhimonce, andhisallegianceneverwavered, sograve-fellowsistheonlyfittingoutcome.

A Coupon for a Car Wash

By Chloe Escanillas

mom, whenyouputyourcarinneutral andtookyourhandsoffthewheel itwaslikewehadjustarrivedattheaquarium eventhoughicouldbarelyseeoverthedash andthepassengerairbagcouldn’tdetectmyexcitementinthedark atfirstiwasscaredtoembraceit ihadsomanyquestionsforyou

whatarethesewavynoodlesslappingagainstourcar? wouldallofthesebubblesliftourcartothesky? willthesegiganticblowdryersmakemyeardrumsburst?

yousmiledandsaideverythingwouldbeokay youwouldprotectme andyoudid withtheradioblastingourfavoritesong andthewindowsrolleduptight butnowthatihavemyowncar i’mnotsureificandoitonmyown ithinkmycarlooksdirty andtheonlyaquariumi’veeverknown istheoneclosesttowhereveryouare ifit’snottoomuchtoask couldyoudrivemetothecarwash?

YouMightMissIt YouMightMissIt

By Audrey Qian

thedreamwasn’talwaysthissweet butitisrightnow andthediner’slightsarewarm asyouhumasongfromtheshow. you’llhavetowakeupsoon ohpleasebutonemoreminute seetheplatesareemptynow they’replayingamongusnow yourhumming’schangeditstune.

yourdaywillhavetostartsoon ohforonelasttimethough twentychecksareonthetable somelaughtermeltsintochatter Showmehowtoremember.

ohwait!justonemorething beforethesunmakesusforget youaren’tactuallyasleep youwillbe soon soon butnotrightnow underthewarmlights asyoujoinin laughing. (Canyouhearthemelodyring?)

I hate talking about my feelings

By Matthew Sauls

Ihatetalkingaboutmyfeelings

It’sasifwhenIspeakthemoutloudtheylosehalftheirmeaning

MymomhastaughtmenottosaythewordhateyetIstilluseit

I’vedonethingsfortheplot

Idugthegrimeunderneathmyfingernails

Rippedoutmylashes

Staredatmyselffor40mins

Justtobe40%satisfiedwiththepersonstaringback

Ihatetalkingaboutmyfeelings

Doyouhearit

Thebanter

Thechatter

Thelaughing

Thegossip

Thesmellofwetdogsandstuffedfaces

OrdoyouwatchLiesrunningdownthroats andkneadingthereintestineslikedough

Wenormalizecomplainingaboutprivilege

Andnormalizewallowinginpain

Ihatetalkingaboutmyfeelings

SoIstare

Andlisten

Tosoundsoftheconeofaworld

Opinionsofothermattermorethanthepeoplesayingthem

Heartheglideofwordsonthewalls

Ihearthepassingofcars

Ihearthemgettingclose

Andheartheairbeingsuckedbehindthem

Theyleavenothing

Iseestoriesbehindeachvehicle

Andsobsofrainclingingtherebacksides

ButbeforeIneversaw

Ineverheard

Becausetheworldthenwasn’tmyoysterbutaplayground

AplacewhereIcouldfindmyfriendsontheswings

Ormysisterontheslide

Aplacewheremybiggestproblemwasfindingwoodchipsinmyshoe

Ilovedtalkingaboutmyfeelings

Do You Remember?

By Ojurereoluwa Kassim

DoyourememberwatchingcartoonsatthecrackofDawn

Runningdownstairsforbreakfastwithoutayawn

Excitementpeakingforthedayahead

Nomyriadofhomeworkwaitingtoberead

Doyourememberdashingthroughthehallsfilledonlywithlaughter

Thebouncingrubberballseveryonechasedafter

Thefeelingsofexcitementburstingwiththebellchime

Anhourofrecessmeantalmostunlimitedtime

Doyourememberthesplashingofwater

Theburningsummersunshiningonourskin

Thefeelingoffloating andtheserenitywithin

DoyourememberwhenourHappinesswasunending

Notdependentonhowmanylikesyournewestpostwasgetting

Thefeelingthatatnightyoucouldrestassured

Thatyourfuturewassecure,yourdreamsensured

Becausewhenduskarrivesallthatremainsisfeelingsandthoughts.

The Edge of Seventeen The Edge of Seventeen

By Archisha Sonig

2012

Thechirpofbirdsandtherelaxinghumofthecricketssurroundsherasshesitsonthedockonthe edgeofthelake.Theducksfloataround,somedivingforfoodwiththeirfeatherybuttsintheair, somepreeningtheirfeathers,andsomesleeping.Thedragonfliesdanceonthewater,theirthinlegs leavingthesmallestripples.

Herprincessshoeswithneon-orangelacesandherbluepolka-dotsocksstuffedinthemsittothe leftofher,andherteddybear,namedDaisy,sitsontheright.

ThebeepsoftheUHaultruckslowlybackingupintoherdrivewayechobehindher.

Shewondersifshe’llseethislakeagain.

Shewon’t.

6 2014

Shelooksoutsideherbedroomwindowandseeswhitefluffsofsnowbillowingdowntothe parkinglotinfront.

Sherumblesdownthestairsandopensthefrontdoorwithsuchferocitythattheglassdoorbangs againstthebrickwall.

Inherfrogpajamas,outsideonherporchatnineinthenight,sheisaloneagainoncemore. Shesitsonthestepsleadingtothedoor,andwatchesastheflakesslowlytumbletotheground. Sheplacesherhandonthethinlayerofsnow,herhandslightlystingingfromthecold. Butshedoesn’tcare.

Shelaysdown,feelingthesnowmeltthroughthebackofhershirt,thecoldwaterrunningdown herback.

Snowflakesfallonherfaceandeyelashes,asasmallsmileappearsonherface.

Shewondersifshe’llbelikethisagain.

Shewon’t.

8 2016

Sheliesdownonherbed,readingabookasshehearsthefaintbangingofadoorandvoicescalling hernametocomeoutandplay.

Shelooksupfromherbook,andrushesdownthestairs.

Thedoorflingsopen,andshesmilesassheseesherfriends,theirscootersandskateboardsinhand, runningouttothesidewalkasshefollowssuit.

Afterhoursofplay,theycollapseonthegrassunderneaththeflagpole,scratchesontheirelbowsand arms.

Thesummersunishighupinthesky,shiningontoherfaceasthecoldbreezeblowsthroughher hair.

Shefeelsthepricklesoffreshlycutgrassonherbackandlegs,andrunsherhandsthroughthem untilshefeelsayellowdandelion.

Sheplucksitandholdsituptothesun.

Theskyisthebluestshe’severseen.

Thesunbeamsshinethroughthedelicatepetals,crowningtheflower.

Shetwirlsthedandelionandwatchesitdanceinthelight,ashereyesdroopwithcontenttiredness.

Justasshe’sabouttoclosehereyes,herfriendsscreamforhername,andshestandsuptogoonone lastadventure.

Shewondersifshe’llseethemagain.

Shewon’t.

10

2021

Shewatchesthemovingtruckdrivedowntotheendofherstreet,takingarightanddisappearing. Shehearsthesprinklersoflawnsgooff,theirsongssplashingontothegrass,formingdewdropsthat shineintheeveningsun.

Sheholdsherpillowinonehand,andherblanketinanother. Shehearsherdadcallinghername,ashersisterandmothermaketheirwayintothecar. Shestaysstill.

Shecloseshereyes,andhearsthemusicofherneighborhood. Theswayingofthetrees. Thegiggleofchildren.

Thedogsbarkingthroughtheirwindows. Thebirdschirping.

Sheopenshereyes,andfindstearsslowlywellingup.

Shewipesthemaway,opensthedoorofthecar,andsitsinside.

Sheopensthewindow,sticksherheadout,andwatchesherbelovedhometurnintoasoulless house.

Shewondersifshe’llbebackagain.

Shewon’t.

14

2024

Sheflipsthroughayearbookandstaresatthefacessheonceknew. Theschoolssheoncelearnedin.

Thepeoplesheoncemet. Themomentssheoncelived.

Apileofotherssitsnexttoher,waitingtobeopened. Butshe’sscaredtoopenthem.

Maybeit'sbecauseshedoesn’twanttoremember. Ormaybeit’sbecauseshedoesn’twanttoforget.

Terrorist Assemblages

By Nina Nehra

Iwonderifyourmotherletyoudream.

Theoneswherehomesmellslikejasmine, wherepickledvegetablesareateverydinner, wherewomendrumwithresilience, regardlessofthebangsandbulletsoutside.

DidIsaythatyou’relikeme?

Webothhavemotherswhopersevere, almoststubbornly,oneswhomakesurethe culturethattheseforeignerstriedsohardtoerase, willonlycomeoutofusifwebleedout.

Theechoesofournamesarebombsininterrogationrooms, threatstoeverysingleairportsecurityprocedure, indicatorsofalifeinpoliticsweneverchose. Westandasobelisksandgatesoftheoldworld.

Wecomefromwomenwhoreapcrops,whowill initiatearitualofswitchingthenewschannelto musicvideosofbellydancersandKathaksothatyoudon’tseeyourselfinthat Iraqichild’sbody.Andyouwatchthemdancewithhurtfeet,yourthroata shrinetotheirrhythm.

Yourfatherisbulletsaway,wrappedinacottonshroud. Butyouarenotanorphan,foryouholdontohisstubbornness,ablessingonly giventhroughblood.Andtheideaoflivinginyourhomeseemslikeabridal fantasy asyourmotherssingsongsofhomecoming.

Candle Smoke Candle Smoke

By Audrey Qian

Tendrilsofsweetsmoke

arecraved,pupilsdilated, eyesbearintoprettypiping, desiringinvisibility,youwaited. Anotherpassingyear blownoutindenialoftime becausetherunningwax, ruinseverythinginitsprime.

Discordantnoteshalt, Youbreatheinandobtain ephemeralparticles thatenthrallthebrain.

Whatisityousmell?

Maybecrusttoair—cyclesrevived, burningringsinringstocelebrate eachyearthetreesurvived. Orrancidindustrialbyproducts, perhapsaginghasaprice thesenseevolvedtodetectpoisons Thereisnobeautyinmeltingice.

Thelightscomebackonandyouwince Didyouremembertomakeawish?

By Eliana Holerca

When I Wake Up

By Sherry Wang

wheniwasfive,ihadatiny,twin-sizedbedfullofstuffedanimals, tothepointwheremymomwonderedhowimaderoomformyself. theyallhadtheirownnames,personalities,stories ms.cowfromthefair,beebeethebumblebee,jeffreythegiraffe… everynight,ihuggedadifferentstuffedanimalasifellasleep becauseididn’twanttheotherstobesad.

afewyearslater,iswitchedtoaqueen-sizedbed, whichwouldhavemadeyoungermeecstatictofillwithstuffed animals. butiwasn’t.

big kids don’t have stuffed animals. soihidthem inthecloset, basement, boxes hopingtheyallgottheirturn.

To Be Remembered

By Abigail Callaghan

Whenthestormcame,itcameonsuddenly withsharpgales,askylikeatapestryofsomeGreekhero’sfall, andfistfulsofrain,descendingasanafterthought. Yougrabbedyourdogandscamperedfromthegroundthatwasalreadyturningtomud. Asthelastofthelilacswerewashedaway, StarTrekVoyager,Course:Oblivionreplayed,wherethecrewofvoyagerduplicated andthefakecrewtriedtosendrecordsofthemselvestothegalaxybeforetheydisintegrated, inordertoberemembered.

Timeislinearinthesensethatit’sexperiencedsequentiallyasthepagesareinabook, andsure,allmomentsexistsimultaneously,butyoucan’tescapetobetterdays; youhavetolivethroughthestorm.

IntheheatofJuly1977sixyearoldNickSaganabandonedhissoccerballforhiscouch. LindaandCarlSaganbroughtoveramicrophone,andaskedwhathe’dlikeextraterrestrialstoknow. Hepressedhislipstothemicrophone,ignoringhowhisparent’sfriend,AnnDuryan,lookedathisfather. “HellofromthechildrenofplanetEarth.”

Hisfatherengravedhiswordsontogoldplatedcopper, hismotheretchedtheinstructionstoplaythedisks, andAnnDuryanhandedtherecordstotheVoyagerProbes,launchedthatSeptember. Today,Nick’sgreeting,thethenSecretaryoftheUN’sintroduction,andChuckBerry’sJohnnyBGoode aretheonlyrecordingsofEnglishoutsideofthesolarsystem.

WhenNick,yearsafterhisparent’sdivorce,andhisfather’sdeath, satdowntowriteCourse:Oblivion,hesaidhewantedtoexpresshumanity’s ”needtoberemembered,needtoberecorded.” Perhapshewasinspiredbytheknowledgethatbillionsofmilesabovehimwere: thehymnofanoldmanlivinginthewreckageofhishouse Beethoven’sfinalcompletepieceofmusic, ayounggirl’s,fromHuancavalica,marriagesongforhersister, SaturnV’sliftoff, thebrainwavesofAnnDuryan,thinkingofhowshelovedNick’sfather, andayoungNick,beforethestorm immortalizedintheinfinityofspace. Forwhentheearthisswallowedbythesun andthebonesofthosewhorememberusareincinerated, shuttledacrossthegalaxywillbeabookmark, toourpageintime.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Editor-in-Chief 2023-2024:

Abigail Callaghan ‘24

Editors of Spring 2024 edition:

Archisha Sonig ‘25 & Sanjna Thoguru ‘25

Co-Vice Editors-in-Chief:

Eliana Holerca ‘24

Nina Nehra ‘24

Sherry Wang ‘24

Secretary:

Chloe Escanillas ‘24

Editors:

Shifa Eraj ‘24

Sophia Opong ‘24

Audrey Qian ‘24

Sarah Yan ‘24

Ojurereoluwa Kassim ‘26

Special thanks to...

Ms. Angelos, Club Advisor

Dr. Loy

Dr. Chodl

Ms. Bautista-Burk

Mr. Domanski