Dear Lily

Dear Lily,

I know it is peculiar to write twice to you in a week, but a bizarre feeling came over me, and I felt the urge to write once again.

            Over here it is complete chaos. The court has gone into a state of anarchy. The number of occurring calamities is becoming larger and more frequent. Several people­­–more than the usual–have been arraigned and apprehended for committing crimes that I know for a fact they didn’t do. It hurts to see cells of prison filled with innocent people. Even with people like me as lawyers the injustice we saw everyday when we were children still occurs. I should have known that assimilating into a group of people who call themselves impartial, and are nothing but that, would not be imminent.

            But, that isn’t the reason why the urge to write to you came. I understand now that a type of anger has been building up inside me; that the dissensions that I face everyday at court and the interrogations that are now meant to attack innocent people have been affecting me more then I would like. Lily, I’m not the same boy who promised he would come back for you 20 years ago.

            So when I heard about you father–his death– I went back to those sweltering summer days when we would sit far out by the river and you would go on about the cruel man he was. How, at first, your mother had loved him and he had thought so much of her, lionized her. But as the years passed he stopped being the sweet, meticulous man who paid attention to everything your mother did, and started to become the T-ray you knew. You said it was because of building anger–anger that I, now feel.

            For that reason, I do not think you or I should continue writing. I do not want to become T-ray–I don’t want you to become your mother. I don’t want years to elapse and with them, our love for each other. I want to think back and remember Lily, the girl I loved; not Lily, the girl to which I was only a shackle.

            I love you more than you can imagine and although this is the final letter, it is not the final time I will think about you.

Sincerely,

Zach

The Problem We All live with

         In 1964, 4 years after the Little Ruby Bridges scandal had started, Norman Rockwell painted The Problem We All live with. The painting depicts the scene in which a little African-American girl wearing a white dress, famously know as Ruby Bridges, who became one of the icons of civil rights and integration. She is walking to her recently integrated elementary school in the 1960’s. Around her there are 4 U.S Marshals which seem to be escorting her to elementary by their formation; two in front and two behind little Ruby Bridges.

Looking closer, you can see that on the wall behind her there is black and red, washed out paint that spells out “NIGGER” and “KKK” across the wall. Other than that there are tomato stains resulting from fits of hatred by white people who were against desegregation, and who would throw the tomatoes at this innocent girl.

But despite all of this, the facial expression that is registered on Ruby Bridges face is not an angry one, not even a worried one. It is a calm one, and looking closer, you can see her head is even held high. In a way, her body language matches those of the U.S Marshals, as it seems she is just playing along, being her own “little soldier”. It is a face of a naïve and innocent little girl, a girl who does not fully comprehend the hatred toward her. Even though the signs of hatred are portrayed obviously in this painting, thinking from the point of view of that little six year-old on November, 14, 1960, she is oblivious.  Even a now grown up Ruby Bridges commented, “That girl in that painting, at six years-old, knew absolutely nothing about racism. I was simply going to school that day.”

Although I cannot speak for other people, I do believe that when looking at this Norman Rockwell painting, the first thing that impacts you is the cruelty, the hatred that was directed towards this little girl. After all, she was, in fact just trying to get to school. It shows that people went crazy with ignorance. THIS was not who they should have been throwing tomatoes at; in fact, no tomatoes should have been thrown AT ALL. And it is for that same reason that I think Norman Rockwell decided to paint this scene.

Norman Rockwell was NOT known for painting scenes with these types of impacts. His paintings were usually about the normal American family. However when The Problem We All Live With was shown,it completely defied what he was originally known for. In all, he had never painted anything like it:

I believe that the reason he did go out of his comfort zone was because he wanted to make a point. That what these cruel and insensitive people were doing was UN human like; savage for that matter. It was simply not right to attack and innocent girl like that. And anyone who was sane and whole hearted would have known that. Other than that, the fact that the painting illustrates Ruby and not the crowd shows that he wanted to specifically show that this girl, with pig-tails and her little white dress was not a target. He is showing the importance of this brave six year-old, who although thought she was simply going to school, did so much more than just that.

Travel Journal: Back to jUSt us

    My brother and cousin our now gone, leaving me and my sister alone with my parents. It's what im actually used to, since my brother left when i was in 1st grade and my sister only left about two years ago. But them leaving also means one other thing...being bored. I mean when my dad asks if we want to go to corner store we run down those stairs like nobody's buisness. I mean its pretty exciting when all you do all day is sit around.SO imagine when he asks if we want to go get icecream; saying we get excited is an understatement.                
     When people visit us, even if its my brother or cousin ( I think my sister is the only exception) we always go out and visit places. But i guess that's over now. Its okay though, no pity for my boring life. I've got my sister, who is pretty good to be bored with. Except for when she hits me....or punches me...or pushes. But other than THAT...well, yeah, i guess its fine.

Travel Journal: Dont take me out

     Normally during vacation my family gets a little crazy about what we eat. During vacation, because my mom doesn’t want to cook at all, (and none of us have any chance of cooking without burning the house down, other than MY delicious quesadillas - _ -) she leaves no other choice but to go out and eat. And EVERY SINGLE vacation I feel like my family WANTS me to die of eating too much.

      It always starts with a simple suggestion of going to eat at La Mar.  Whenever we hear those two inoffensive syllables we are naturally happy. But after about a week the same word makes you want to cry and be happy at the same time.
     Worst thing is that it NEVER stops its constant. Of course for the rest of my family its fine. People like my brother get hungry every two hours. But for me and my sister, every time they talk of going out we try to get out of it.
      Every time we end up going anyways. Worst thing is that normally they ask for platters without consulting us. So when I and my sister are walking back to our table from the bathroom, we see a HUGE plate of samplers and realize its going in the same direction as us.
       Honestly I’m only a tiny bit glad for my siblings to leave. I’m ready to go back to homemade meals. Even if it’s just rice and chicken; that okay with me.
PS: It’s so amazing how I'm writing about food, while everyone else’s travel journal has ACTUAL stories. So I’m sorry, this vacation hasn’t been the best.

Travel Journal: Clear skies

     My vacation so far hasn’t been exactly the most exciting; but today I woke up waiting for nothing more than a good day. Me and my family went all the way up to San Blas today and spent most of the day there. Of course no trip is ever perfect, at least not for me and my family. First of all,  5 in the morning?  I wanted to throw the pillow at my dad for waking me up. I nearly fell asleep in the bathroom.    The driver, ironically called Pacifico, picked us up at our house at about 5:30 and the whole way to San Blas he had on the loudest gospel music. In addition to that, he sang, THE whole way. Thank god for the loudest song on my i-pod and replay button. Other than that the day was good, no rain, clear water and clear skies all the way. I swear I could live at the beach.

San Blas 2011
Me and my sister

Lost Michaela

Michaela, she was known for being one of the few in her grade that was prudent and kept her grades up all year round.  Unlike our lackadaisical classmates her enthusiasm and school spirit exceeded any of the teacher’s expectations. Of course if you met her after those few months of tragedy in her family, you wouldn’t have known her like that. You would have never suspected that behind those bad grades and rebellious attitude she used to be the teachers one and only favorite. At the start of 12^th grade, the months past, she became troubled.  Her respectful attitude turned into an audacious one that teachers did not like or appreciate.

       I watched as more and more frequently, her serene manner in class disappeared as she would rankle teachers by mutiny against school work. No one knew exactly what had caused the recent change in this, before, conscientious girl. I knew though, her father had told me. I used to be her friend, that is, after all that had happened to her. But whenever in a principal’s, teachers, or counselor’s office (normally because they had confiscated things Michaela would pilfer from various students) they would ask her why she had become like this.

      She would never specifically depict the reason, only give certain inklings. She’d answer the questions with something along the lines of “There is a profuse amount of events happening in my life” and would leave at that, leaving everyone clueless.

       She found herself being rebuked by teacher’s everyday and just like me they grew despondent as to if she would ever go back to being the girl they all missed. On graduation day I watched from a distance as she sat among the parents, never having been able to graduate because of her slovenly class work. She sat watching as every single one of her classmates got on stage, received the award and stepped down. As I stepped up, I saw as she stood up and clapped the hardest she could, a smile on her face. I knew that girl I missed was somewhere, she wasn’t lost.
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Confession Tuesday: Destiny killed the Cellphone

I confess that when my parents heard the loud noise of a cellphone falling down 4 flights of stairs, it didn’t entirely happen accidently.  When my phone fell out of my pocket onto the floor, I was supposed to bend down and pick it up (something someone normal would do). But I stared at that piece of metal and plastic that I called my phone. So this is what happened, because that phone was everything I never wanted and because I’m particularly lazy on the weekends, I kicked it instead. Honestly I didn’t mean for it to go down the complete 4 flights of stairs,. Just one or two, I don’t know, maybe the phone wanted to die completely. Maybe it was destiny that the phone went all the way. But when it did fall all the way, i imagined my parents killing me. 

To top it off I ran all the way down stairs only to find my mom staring at the phone blankly. I looked at her, then the phone, then back at my mom. I literally threw myself at the floor; hugging that phone as if it was my new born baby. I whined and moaned for my mothers sake, but inside all I could keep thinking about was, when’s my birthday? Oh right the 26th. Great, I guess that’s when I get my new phone. I was having a joy fest in my head as my mother called Dad to tirade me about the responsibilities of having a cellphone. All I heard at the end of that conversation was what my father whispered to my mother. “I guess we have to get her a new cellphone for her birthday, we were going to anyways.”

To read more Confession Tuesday click,here.