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While the breeze wrestles at the beginning of dawn, I feel a brisk wind against my face awakening me to memory of his golden skin. I lean forward to greet my reflection from the dark blue lake. In this moment I feel loss. A part of me is missing, until the brisk wind temporary fixes my loneliness. For a brief moment I can feel him in the breeze.
Krista Duffett |
Dirt imbedded in the sole of my shoes, salty sweat dripping down my forehead, I focus at the top of hill where the colors of the trees contrast each other creating a beautiful array of reds, oranges, yellows, and greens. My feet pound against the incline fighting to make it to the top of the hill. After vigorous running I make it to the plateau of the hill overlooking miles of trees. A sense of calm consumes me. I see the lake where I spent my childhood days building sandcastles on the beach. It is here I call home.
Krista Duffett |
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The thick grass roof hangs down just above the bamboo door and light peeks in through the crack underneath it The palm trees gleam in the early morning sun. shifting slightly in the warm breeze. The colorful tropical bird startled as I walk by. A patch of palm shades my camera for the perfect picture. Bright with color my surroundings impress my mid western mind. Such paradise; for a moment the world stops.
AJ Cunningham |
Light seeps under the crack in the door.. tropical landscape behind it. Standing tall, the youth adjusts his britches. Looking up at his older brothers, a vision of his older self in his mind. Proud he stands—a grin upon his sun tanned face. Lemonade sets the mood for this summer day. Playful yet relaxing, he cherishes every moment they are all together. The hammocks are soon taken up for an afternoon siesta.
AJ Cunningham |
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Meg Schleppenbach |
When I go home for each break, one of the first places I visit is our basement music room. I wait until everyone has left the house, and then I creep downstairs to sit on the old wooden piano bench. I place my fingers on the old, worn-out ivory keys, and I immediately know what each note is just by touching the key. Playing through my childhood songbooks, I sing at the top of my lungs, untouched by fears of embarrassment. I am perhaps most honest and open while sitting at this piano.
Meg Schleppenbach |
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Along the trail the snake sees its prey and goes after it. It decides to hide behind this small, red bush that is at the top of the hill. Strategically it creeps up on the little rodent and because of its dark colors, such as green and black the snake can’t be detected by the small prey. As it gets closer a gust of wind sweeps through and the snake is startled.
Kristin Card |
This old gray haired man who lives next door in a yellow house with blue shutters that is run down always sits in his house and only comes outside on nice days to sit on his porch. His wife died about ten years and then he lost his job at the oil refinery because it closed down. I don’t quite understand everything but he seems to be a very lonely man. If he has children they don’t come very often and he is always wearing the same clothes and his little red four door car has sat in the old garage for about a year now.
Kristin Card |
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Sometimes I wonder how my aunt Mary is even part of my family. She is by far one of the strangest people I know. My earliest memories of my aunt are quite strange and somewhat baffle me. Mary and her husband, Bud (who is equally as strange as Mary), adopted two boys, ages three and one. Their parenting techniques were quite hysterical and always provided my immediate family with weeks of laughter following their weekend visits. First of all, the nicknames that Mary gave her sons were funny—Tooner and Rooch. What was that all about? Mary was constantly squeezing and kissing her children. Now, I know this is a normal thing for a parent to do. However, the lengths and extremes that my aunt and uncle went to were obnoxious and abnormal. As my cousins grew older, my aunt’s favorite disciplining phrase became, “poor choices!” Weird. She would actually put them on the floor in the corner of the room and proceed to sit on them and count to fifteen, all the while repeating, “poor choices, Tooner,” and “poor choices, Rooch.” Keep in mind that my aunt is not a small lady. Granted that her behavior of sitting on my cousins was not painful and harmful to them, it was still very awkward and unpleasant. Family holiday gatherings were very weird and instead of laughing at my aunt Mary, we began to dread even seeing her weird behavior. I haven’t really seen my aunt or even talked to her in probably over five years. She is one strange lady.
Alexis Iffert |
I absolutely love going to Walmart! Even if I don’t need to buy anything, I will still jump at the chance to tag along with some of my friends. Walmart is one of the most magical places on earth, excluding Disney World of course. There is so much to do and so much to see. You never know what you will find and what you will leave with. From the electronics area to the craft section and from the hair products to the toy aisle, there is always something to gawk at and dive into. If I don’t have a time limit, I could probably spend hours in the store. Actually, on some boring weeknights, I find myself going to Walmart with a few friends with no set plans. We will simply run through the store, playing and fooling around with stuff. Usually, we get threatened by at least one worker to stop causing such a ruckus on those nights. No matter what I go into Walmart for, I can almost guarantee that I will have either a bottle of diet soda or a small bag of candy in tow when I leave. Super Walmarts are the best!
Alexis Iffert |
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Have you ever had a dream so real that you thought it was real? Recently, I had just such a dream. In the dream, a new form of transportation had been created, that allowed the traveler to reach his destination within seconds. There was something about the way mirrors are made that, if you hooked this little device to a mirror, allowed it to be turned into a sort of portal. Then, all you had to do was step through the mirror, and set out at your destination. My first, fussy thought upon awaking was that it had been a dream, then I “remembered” that it was real, because I’d “seen” commercials for it on TV! Of course, once I really woke up, I realized it was just a dream. But it was still some time before my mind fully believed that fact.
Beth Stiner |
Each spring brings thoughts of fun, summer, the end of school work, the fair…and saying good-bye to friends. This year I will be saying good-bye to my dear friend and roommate of two years, Cathy Sadowski. I realized this on a conscious level for the first time while we were on one of our road trips with our third musketeer, Stacy Radliff. Friends always say they’ll keep in touch, but it’s never the same between them once they no longer see each other every day. That’s why we should cherish the time we have with the people love, while we have it.
Beth Stiner |
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His back room is a sanctuary of old couches with cushions re-covered where the stuffing poked through and pictures of dogs playing poker. His 19-inch window to the world is broadcasting makeovers on Maury louder than any outside noise, as he sits with a warm Bud Light by his side from a day’s worth of sipping. In and out of sleep, his head nods to his chest covered by a threadbare polo shirt made useful when wintering in Florida, but Midwest chill leads to an electric bill influenced by 80 degree heating and his gnarled appendages are frozen in a “cigar holding” position, the outcome of a habit given up 3 years ago. My Grandfather is ready to move on to the next world. Everything that impacts him here has happened already, and he pats the arm of the couch next to him, empty almost four months from the hand that wore the gold band now on his left pinky finger.
Brianne Marsel |
Under the twisted giant in my grandparent’s back yard, I had my own ocean. The wave of earth that stood at the very breaking point of crashing without ever actually, was a refuge from summer sun and storm, and a site of life from flower to box-elder bug. Picnics of mulberries and root beer were as common as childhood building of cloud castles, accompanied by the far off bellowing of a certain neighbor’s penned in bull, and the buzzing of mid day bee luncheons in the flowers all around.
Brianne Marsel |
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Evangelos Mosxonos is my Papouh. He came directly off of the boat from Samos Island and began immediately to make a life for himself and his family. There is no one who is more proud of his culture and of his new American culture as my Papouh. He is a carpenter by trade and can make anything out of wood. He works with a precision and work ethic that is lost in today's world of mass production. He is a gardener and can make anything grow. When I played basketball in high school his face would glow with pride from the side of the court as he yelled rough comments in Greek at the other girls. He is my grandfather, and my heritage.
Medea Mosxona |
A sign as you enter Durand boasts that Durand "has it all." Nothing could be farther from the truth. In reality, we have 5 bars, a school, a grocery store, 3 churches, a car dealer, a funeral home, and a hairdresser. The tiny town is nestled by cornfields, where the young Durand kids go to work at every summer, earning money detasseling corn. The streets are safe to ride your bikes on and there are no stop lights of any kind. Deer occasionally run through the town, chased by hunters. At the funeral parlor you can also buy furniture; it is also painted a unique shade of peach. Durand is probably not on your map.
Medea Mosxona |
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A long walk into the forest, you can find many interesting things. You can see how beautiful nature is, see the little animals scurrying about, and hear the trickle of a stream..
Jane Millikin |
A friend that hasn't seen you in awhile, is debuting in a theatre play. Apologizes of not being able to make it, just doesn't seem right since you've been friends for years. Minutes after she's on stage, she walks off and notices you in the crowd.
Jane Millikin |
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Kim came to visit
me in December. She woke up on Saturday morning with a silence that woke
me up in reaction. Though she is a loud, vivacious 20-year-old woman/child,
she doesn't speak at all in the morning when she first wakes up. Her response
to my “good morning” or “what do you want for breakfast?”
is usually a nod of her head and a dumb smile that suggests she is just
trying to be difficult. Her blonde, chin-length hair was laying in every
direction on top of her head, and her blue eyes were hazy and half-shut.
Finally, she began talking over a bowl of Rice Crispies. She described
the dream she had in the middle of the night, which, while it was hysterically
funny to her, was mildly annoying to me. The dream mirrored her life very
closely-it was exaggerated and she was making herself sound more glamorous
than she really is. The details escape me now, but I do remember that
she was Miss Popularity in her dream, the center of attention. She probably
drove up in a yellow Mustang-her dream car-and had everyone staring at
her-the woman envying her, the men gawking at her. I got up from the table
to put my cereal bowl in the dishwasher and I headed right for the shower.
The room was not big enough for Kim, her ego, and me, and it was too early
for me to be faced with her occasional arrogance. She could tell I was
not amused. But we were best friends again by that night.
Shannon Kroner |
Growing up, my second home was a campground that my family has camped at since I was two. The white stone streets lead to rows and rows of luxury campers of all sizes. Motor homes, park models, and travel trailers line streets with names like Shagbark and Thistlebrook. The campground is heavily surrounded and filled with gigantic trees that used to comprise a very dense wood. 25 years ago, space was made for a children's camp which then became the public family campground it is today. The general store is surrounded by a playground, basketball court, two swimming pools, a dance pavilion, sand volleyball courts and a field used for softball and field games. A tributary to the Fox River runs through it, and beyond this creek is the remainder of the woods which is now covered with man-made trails where children play make-believe and teenagers sneak away from mom and dad. Every weekend in the spring, summer and fall, the campground is flooded with families from the suburbs of Chicago. Some families, like mine, have a permanent lot with their own private fire ring. Other families come just for the weekend or for a week-long vacation. The come bearing everything from travel trailers to pop-up trailers to tents and sleeping bags. Children overrun the common areas, while the adults either watch their children swim and play, or the sit around the fire rings, have a few beers, grill some hotdogs and breathe in the smells of campfires, smores and country air.
Shannon Kroner |
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It always smells the same fresh way. The carpet's old but still looks good. Whenever I come home Mom has made something yummy and the furniture is dusted. When I'm away at school, my room stays clean! The yard is beautiful, fruitful with flowers.
Rachel Perry |
When you first meet her, she seems like a bundle of energy. She laughs so loud, at first it's funny. When she needs you, she's your best friend. Her room is a mess, symbolic of her life. She has so much stuff, but never uses half of it...just holds onto it in case it can help her some day...she takes it all for granted. She's your best friend...till a boy comes along, then she's no where to be found. I'm just a little bitter.
Rachel Perry |
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standing there My grandfather is the kindest person I know. I remember he used to do this trick where he would make a quarter appear behind my ear. He wears hats and plays golf, like all grandpas do. It is funny, but he has to have a bowl of ice cream every night at eight o'clock. He likes to watch televisions shows about court and detectives like Law and Order; he calls it “The Law and Order” and it makes me laugh. He also likes to sit outside in the summer and look at the constellations in the stars. When I was little he used to point them out to me. Every time we call my grandparents and tell them my family is visiting, he stands in the driveway and waits for us. Kerry Hammergren |
paris night A year ago I traveled to Paris. My friends and I went to every museum and monument that we possibly could in the week we were there. It was amazing to see all the things I had only seen in pictures. We went to the Eiffel Tower almost everyday, just to look at it again. The different restaurants, bars, and shops showed us Paris life. We got many annoyed looks from Parisians as we walked down the street, because we were obviously tourists. We did crazy things like sing loudly in public places, talk in fake accents, eat entire baguettes while walking down the street, and stay out until sunrise and ate breakfast at a sidewalk cafe. It is a dream of mine to live there. Kerry Hammergren |
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Every first Saturday
of the month my church gets together for Family Fun Day. We usually have
attendance from almost everyone from out church. This past Saturday we
met up and had a great time! Some played basketball, while others preferred
dodge ball and volleyball, and some even played Jenga, checkers, and other
fun games. Not to mention, the delightful food that was there! I had a
chance to play games (needless to say) that I hadn’t played in a
while. After all of the activities I slept well Saturday night!
Nikki Garry |
At my church, the
first Sunday of the month is usually Communion Sunday. Communion symbolizes
the acknowledgement of the crucifixion of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
As we eat the bread and drink the juice this symbolizes the “body”
and “blood” of our Savior . . . With Easter gone, we all wore
white again— everyone dressed in white symbolizes unity and purification.
Needless to say Sunday was a great day to break out the spring colors.
As I left church, I thought that it actually felt like spring was here!
Nikki Garry |
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I am going to write
about meeting the girl of my dreams, sort of like an angel sent from above.
She's an angel but she's also a human therefore she doesn't have any wings.
Matt Eichhorn |
This place I am writing
about is my favorite place in the entire world. It's not just one specific
place because there are many of these places. When I am there I feel very
peaceful and confident.
Matt Eichhorn |
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Book in hand, she
sits back to wall. Blonde hair long down her back, Christine reads and
smiles. She hangs around the coffee shop, listening to poetry and fiction
readings and bands while drinking hot cocoa. Her style is her own. Eclectic,
Christian, literate, musician. Dave Mathews comes over the radio while
she reads Poe and Hemingway. We kid her for taking twenty minutes longer
than either of us to get ready, and we chastise her taste in men. Only
because she is a friend of ours, of myself and of Michelle. I met Christine
first, but it is her roommate who I fell in love with, and both who have
become close friends. She is one unto herself, as she toils over her pages,
and distracts herself with a guitar. hand covering book . . . Brock Peoples |
Walking through the woods, while alongside the lake is a path my feet have often traveled, but not so lately. By a deer path betwixt two springs the way is shown. Under a roof of oak and within a fence of thorn. A clearing is open, peaceful and remote. The grove stands alone in its uniqueness, a place to hide from society. The sounds of nature surround it with the lullaby. I sit peacefully next to an illegal flame. The sparks float up on a sudden breeze as my words fill the page.
Brock Peoples |
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There was once an old tree that stood across the road from my house. Its branches spread way out and then drooped to the ground like a big canopy. My cousin and I made chairs, cabinets, and an underground safe out of cement blocks that had been thrown under the tree. We even made steps that led into our tree house from the ditch. That tree was our summer home each day until the sun went down. All that remains of the tree today is an overgrown bush that grew in its spot.
Natalie Kussart |
Vada Krall was born in 1914 in Cerro Gordo, Illinois. She lived on a farm out in the country and had to help with chores as soon as she was old enough. Today, at 86 years old, she is still doing chores. Vada takes care of many people who are 10 to 15 years younger than she is by getting their mail every day, driving them around, and taking them out to eat. At family functions, she still does most of the cooking and hosting. I am constantly amazed at how selfless and kind she is, and I am proud to call her my grandmother.
Natalie Kussart |
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Sitting on the step, I see a girl walking by. She has this look on her face that looks as if she is coming from a place that in some way made her unhappy. She has a fast walk with a determined look on her face. I wonder where she is going to now.
Joan Leach |
There is a place where I am happy. I can sit in the room and feel content. The laughter is over the bickering and the drama is at a low level. I am welcome with open arms and have trouble leaving. This place is a sense of security and love.
Joan Leach |
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I had never been to California before. My expectations of it were much different than its reality. My visit was in mid March. I hoped for warmth, much like Florida's. As I stepped off the plane, I felt a chill. Still, it was beautiful. I dreamed of a warm day at the beach, but I did not get it. Not that I didn't visit the beach. I did, and it was beautiful. Far more beautiful than any beach I had ever seen before.
Stephanie Ford |
Time stood still when
I was a child. Days were endless hours of play. Loved ones were unaging.
Some days were brightened by her. She, my mom's mom, loved me in every
way possible-ways nobody else could. She seemed faultless and her reprimand
brought more shame than anyone else's. I loved days spend
Stephanie Ford |
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Tim is my brother. He has always been rather careless of all things such as his hair and cleanliness. He and I have different ways of looking at problems and the world. He lives in a small shack resting on the bluff of one of the smokey mountains in asheville, NC. As a musician he spends his day playing the drums, caring for his dog, smoking as much as possible, and breathing in mountain air. While most of the world is never content and most people spend their life looking for something(s), Tim prides himself on his contentedness with little material wealth. He is content and happy to look at the world in the most plain way possible.
Joe Kramp |
Everyone should spend at least 20 minutes a day outside. I have a place in the park next to campus where I go to flush out and clear my mind every day by listening to the birds and the water running over the rocks while I take a piss in the dirt. Everyone needs to get away from other people and the world and this is my place...it is one of the places where I am born again from death through every second of my existence.
Joe Kramp |
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Driving to school this morning, my windshield wipers did not work. It was pouring down rain, and I drove 50 miles to campus. The thunder was not crashing and the lightning was not striking, but it was a heavy downpour. The sky was so gray; it played a huge role in my mood, as well as the way the rest of the day was sure to go. When I had finally arrived to campus with about 30 seconds to spare, I got out of my car, and ran to class, never missing a puddle. I made sure my feet hit every inch of mud possible.
Justin Matthews |
Walking through the woods, I knew I could not be far. I heard that familiar sound of robins chirping while nursing their young high up in the nests. That familiar scent of fresh grass also filled the air, tickling my nostrils. The sun beat down on the path, lighting the way, but the shade from the trees high above was enough to keep me comfortable. My canteen splashed behind me in my backpack as I quickly hiked down the trail. Just then, I heard mother call me “lunchtime.”
Justin Matthews |
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There is no greater love then knowing you always have someone so special so close to your heart. Let alone having this very special person living with you. Some one you can talk to when nobody else understands, a shoulder to cry on when you are not having a good day, an extra pat on the back when you are making accomplishments. She has filled my life with such happiness I could not even express in words. One thing I love most about his very special person is she has to be the greatest cook I know. When I come home for break and walk into my house there is nothing like the smell of Grandma's cooking. She is the most amazing cook. The smell of her pasta sauce is the best ever. Then on top of everything else she is making it is just so wonderful. There is no greater feeling then the love of your grandmother, I thank God everyday for her unconditional love and support!
Gia Drouzas |
A place where it looks like the water meets the sky and never ends. Where I can completely let every frustration loose and forget about everything except where I am at that very present moment in my life, and my faith and relationship with God. Nothing is more beautiful to me then being able to see your self in that present moment and the beauty of our surroundings. Our society today is so rushed that we do not take the time to appreciate what we have and what God has given us. The ocean is a place where I can let all my fears go and appreciate that very second of my life.
Gia Drouzas |
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He is one of my most favorite people in the entire world. When I was away at school and he had to stay home a for a semester he would never start or end the day without letting me know I was on his mind. He has been one of the most incredible people I have ever met. I tried to push him away many a times, but he would not give up on something, he knew, was for real. It's been a year since I dragged his heart through the ground, but now I appreciate and cherish him more than ever. If it is true about our soul mates, I think I have found mine. He started out as my sociology project partner, and now I think we'll be partners for life. I miss him when he's not around, and think about him when he's right next to me, he's one of a kind.
Dorina Aguilar |
The smell of fried food on the stove, mixed with the aroma of scented candles lit to try to hide it. Anxious to see what is new in my room, I take those few steps to my doorway. My room is so empty with the bed still and untouched; the same bedspread draped neatly atop of it. The lace curtains, once my favorite, are now dingy white, it is time for a change. The same paintings of children playing in the fields of flowers hand on my lilac walls. My feet are welcomed back by the old rough carpeting that mother has been wanting to change since I was 12. I'm 21 now and although the walls may not say it, this is still MY room.
Dorina Aguilar |
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“Home is where
the heart is.” I always heard this saying growing up and thought
it was just a cute saying someone thought of. It was put in picture frames
and embroidered on pillows to help people decorate their houses. Not until
I moved away and went to college did I understand how true this quote
really is. Really, even at first I didn't get it. But as I get older and
more mature, I am learning to really appreciate being back at home, in
mom and dad's house. I catch myself sometimes calling school my home,
and it is, temporarily. But, no matter where I go and who I live with,
I will always have a home in Amo, IN where I grew up. Whenever I pull
into the driveway and look around, I get a rush of memories and feelings
from living in that house. Home may not look like it did when I was a
child, but I can still remember exactly the way it used to be. I don't
just consider my house and yard my home, but the whole neighborhood is
a home to me. It is such a small town and I know almost everyone in it.
One road goes through the entire town, and it has small side roads going
off in different directions from it. Every other town is at least 5 miles
away, in any direction. The people in Amo really do have their own community
of neighbors and friends. It will always be my home and will have a piece
of my heart stuck right in the middle of it.
Tonya Parrish |
Every little girl wants someone to play with when they are little. Little girls like to play house, play barbies, and play dress up. What fun are those games when you have to do them alone? Little girls are funny when they don't have anyone to play with. They start watching people and try to pick out the most fun adult in the house. Then, they do it. They corner that adult in a room with no other adults to influence them, they get their best puppy dog eyes and lips, and they ask. “Will you play with me?” This simple phrase is said with such sadness and such cuteness. It is impossible for any one thing to be so sad and so cute both at the same time, except a lonely little girl. It is so hard to be that adult cornered in the room with that innocent, sweet, adorable monster. So, of course the adult says, “yes, I would love to play with you.” Then you hear the high pitched squeals of delight as the little girl runs down the hall to her room, only to peek out seconds later and yell, “Are you coming? Hurry!!” After that, the adult never thinks twice about it. There is nothing they could possibly be doing that compares to the look on that child's face as she plays her favorite games. forgotten dinner Tonya Parrish |
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The music sounded through our bodies as easily as through the air. Men and Women in suits, dresses and business casual danced with the drunkenness induced by rich food and lack of sleep. Blue and Gold pins bearing the Greek letters Alpha Phi and Omega gleamed from every breast. We danced and laughed with strangers, brothers who we connected to through the strong bond of shared ideals. Our group staying later than we intended, we crossed over to enemy territory and caught a ride back to the hotel with three brothers from Illinois Wesleyan. No school rivalry was mentioned as we shared the forty-minute car ride back to Charleston in the back of a small Honda. We laughed and talked as brothers. Later that night, our chapter returned and gathered in our hotel rooms, and, school by school, they joined us. Northern, U of I, and finally, Illinois Wesleyan. All in one room, all laughing, all brother.
Brock Peoples |
I never pictured myself
anything comparable to a sorority girl. Instead, those were the girly
girls that I always made fun of—girls that wear too much makeup,
fake giggle in front of boys, wear pink pajamas. Now, I am a Pi Beta Phi.
I wear the same amount of makeup as I always have. I am friends with guys
and girls and treat them the same. I do have some pink pajamas, though.
When I looked at Greek life, I only looked at the generalized opinions
they've acquired over the years. Now, I see Greek life as another great
way to get involved in campus life and get to meet fun new people while
doing so. The fact of the matter is is that without the girls in my house,
I would have probably only been great friends with the girls from my floor
freshman year, the girls on the volleyball team, and other Biology majors.
I'm a very outgoing person but sometimes it's difficult to establish and
maintain great friendships without an overall commonality. By joining
a house, I've had the opportunity to establish this commonality with eighty
other girls. They may not all be my best friends but they're more than
just acquaintances. Each and every one of these girls adds a little something
to my life. They come from a variety of family lives, cities, and areas
of study allowing me to become more cultured and well-rounded. I feel
that I've learned so much about people and myself just by watching others
in action.
Erin Crow |
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The white-haired man
hobbled out onto the front porch and stretched as he watched the sunrise.
The gentle breeze was just cool enough to give him goose bumps. A golden
retriever ran by yelping at the chickens wandering across the freshly
mowed front lawn. A loud peacock sounded its first call of the day. Walking
slowly towards the hen house, the man anxiously hoped for fresh eggs.
Feeling the smooth, warm eggs in his hands made him smile and he cautiously
worked his way back toward the house. Minutes later, sizzling and crackling
of the eggs began. Scrambled eggs start off the new, busy day. Grandma's kitchen Jennifer Clements |
Forty sets of snow boots step out onto the lawn. The snow still falling from the day before makes a perfect carpet of white fluff. The loud giggles sound in anxiousness as we pass the metal kitchen trays up to the front of the crowd. Pushing her coal, black hair from her face, a single girl cries out in excitement as she shoves off from the top of the large hill. The crowd screams behind her as her as she flies down the snow and spins to a halt 5 minutes later. Sometime later, forty sets of cold, wet snow boots head back to the warm house to drink hot chocolate and talk of their adventures.
Jennifer Clements |
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The lake is where I go when I need to relax. I have a spot along the lake that I found a few years ago. Only local fishermen know its value, and none of them are there in the middle of the day when I usually need its comfort. A winding broken road leads to some parking spots on the shoulder; that's usually where I leave my truck. To the untrained eye, all that lies between the lake and the road is a grassy area with scattered trees. However, when you walk beyond the trees, the field dips down and narrows into a strip of grass leading down to a small pond. At the bottom of the strip of grass, where the land meets the pond, there is a very shallow area of the water that is laced with large, flat rocks, perfect for stepping-stones. Each time I visit the lake, I walk across this nature-made bridge of stones, and on the other side of the pond is another strip of land, which runs into a 10-foot long stone bridge. Beyond the bridge is the serenity of the lake. The bridge is elevated above the strip of land, making it even higher up off of the lake. I usually climb over the edge of the bridge and just sit on it-I sit and watch the mesmerizing repetition of the small, subtle ripples in the lake. I can see a large bridge in the distance, but no sound from any cars disturbs my solitude. In that moment, my mind clears and I float away on the water.
Shannon Kroner |
It is a beautiful spring day on the campus of Millikin University. I love it when the weather is nice here because of such a small college campus, you can see all kinds of people outside enjoying it. I look out my window and I see boys playing basketball, girls laying on blankets, and others just outside walking to and from places. I also think of my freshman year, I would often see these same sights, but on a different place on campus. For example, there would be people playing Frisbee or soccer in the front lawn of Shilling and still more girls laying out on blankets. I love being outside when it is nice. There is so much to do. For example, I could run on the track or in the park, or I could roller blade, bike, play softball, or even basketball on the court in the Woods. I like the atmosphere that warm weather brings with it. People are friendly and happy. It seems that people are in better moods. It is great living on a campus where I am able to witness such activity. Often, once out of college, adults don't have time to really enjoy time like this…at least not on a daily basis. It seems that no matter how busy students are, they can find time to enjoy the great weather.
JoDee Whitlock |
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Sleeping peacefully, my dog's paws jerk. Fast pace breaths and muffling noises comes from her cute little mouth. Her white and brown spotted body shakes occasionally and her eyes are rolled back into her head. Not a very pleasant sight—but creates laughter among my family. Poor Sophie—she is having a bad dream. We all stare for her next move. Her lips imitate Elvis—we are beside ourselves laughing. Suddenly, the front door opens and she jumps up barking hysterically, she’ll never know that we were all staring and laughing at her while she slept.
JoDee Whitlock |
A six year old girl searches and searches for the perfect jar- desperate for her quest tonight. Sunday morning after church her shoes tap lightly in the old run down shed up the hill from her house- tap, tap, tap and stops. The sun shines through the broken window of the rusty brown shed and reflects radiance on a lonely jar sitting high upon a shelf. Curiously the curly blonde hair, and big blue-eyed girl jumps trying to grab her finding. After worthless attempts she locates a step latter and rapidly moves it toward the high shelf where her jar is. Eyes wide and mouth open—it’s the most perfect jar she’s ever seen. It’s crystal clear with tiny holes in the lid. Her heart beats faster as the day turns to night. The springtime air consumes her with anticipation. She looks outside to see nothing but blinking lights. What a beautiful, peaceful night. She runs outside with her jar.
JoDee Whitlock |
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In a single room,
run down shack she lives. One bed shared with three brothers. Just four
walls separate her from being homeless. Sometimes when they are all asleep,
she lays on the damp mossy riverbank watching for falling stars. And,
when she finds one, she knows all will be well. Someday she'll escape,
these big yards… and narrow minds.
Darrin Thurman |
Following a certain
winding road, you find a hill that has the greenest grass you will ever
see. From the top one can see what seems to be the entire world. Sometimes,
my best friend and I drive there and sit, talking about our lives. We
discuss the usual: how to end starvation and which senior girl we dream
of dating. But the best thing about this hill, it gives us the drive to
follow our dreams. From this hill we can see the world, the same one we
plan to conquer.
Darrin Thurman |
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She was dressed in a nice shirt and dress shorts. Her makeup was beautifully done. We were sitting in the convertible, with the top down of course. The fireworks were about to be ignited, similar to my heart. She took my breath away. Her long blonde curls, and then there was that smile. That one moment of awkwardness, I remember so well. My hands were trembling, and my palms sweating. I leaned over to kiss her as red and blue sparkles began illuminating the sky.
Darrin Thurman |
It is hard for many
people to see my friend Kerry for whom she really is. She has a hard exterior,
with a great deal of sarcasm attached to it. Most people see her as funny,
as outgoing, and as involved. However, few see that she is also acutely
intelligent and, at times, even sensitive. Kerry is one of my friends
most interested in philosophical ideas and discussion. She is far from
shallow, and, though she sometimes seems hard to others, is also deeply
concerned about the welfare of others in the world. She is one of my best
friends.
Meg Schleppenbach |
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A bright red machine travels down small town roads. Grandpa's place needs mowed. Five blocks south of our house on the back roads we practice driving our lawnmower as if it were a car. We stop at stop signs and yield at yield signs. Even though they weren’t always complete stops. No one was around to criticize. The back roads were hills but the lawnmower didn’t notice. We see the green roof of our grandpa’s two story yellow house- almost there. I hope we have enough gas. We arrive in grandpas one acre yard filled with huge oak trees. The mower starts and so do we. A square fashion- my sister in the front and I in the back—one hour later the yard is complete and looking spectacular. We see grandpa smiling and laughing in the window. He can’t hear very well but somehow he always knew when we were done mowing. We go inside to collect our earnings but can’t pass up the candy in our own little candy jars specifically for each girl. The candy jars look like fat people with big stomachs where the candy is placed. We smell like gasoline and have green shoes, but grandpa finds it amusing and laughs some more. Our job is done. Back home to eat lunch. Grandpa is gone, but the memories are still there. Mowing his yard may have seemed like a hassle then but thinking back it was well worth the time. I know Grandpa is still smiling.
JoDee Whitlock |
My uncle owns four cabins in Ironwood, Michigan. Every year or two, a group of my family drives up to the cabins to spend quality time together. Since Lake Superior is only half a mile away from the cabins, we usually walk down to the beach to wade in the water or go fishing. We also go hiking to waterfalls that are in the area. My uncle wants to sell the cabins now that he is older. Of course, I will be sad if he actually does, but I will still have all the wonderful memories to hold onto.
Natalie Kussart |
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In a dressing room filled with haphazard assortments of costuming and abandoned water bottles, there is a sense of calm among the chaos. Four porcelain sinks are filled with remnants of that night’s make-up application and innumerable bobby pins. Through a thick wooden door with a grill cut in the bottom, I look upon a room of memories. Pre-show speeches, last time tears and years of experience are contained within walls the color of week old lettuce mixed with mint toothpaste. Concrete floors show the battle scars of generations of stagecraft in the mottled paint splotches, and props from shows gone by are amassed into a cluster of wooden jungle in the far back corner. A CD player just outside the girls dressing room is blaring They might be Giants music, a tradition passed on for no reason other than everyone says it is a tradition. Tonight is opening night.
Brianne Marsel |
There is a day of the year when every high school girl’s dream is to look and feel like Cinderella. This day for me was in early spring, warm and the sun was shining. All my friends and I gathered at a house to get ready for the dance. About four hours later after, curls, lipstick, pearls and satin were all in place we went to meet our dates. Not exactly our Prince Charmings, they all nervously fixed their bow ties and held a box with a corsage. Looking around when we got to the hall there were only a few people dancing and many single girls drumming their fingernails on the table. Glitter and balloons awkwardly decorating the room and slow music was playing all night. It wasn’t anything too special, but someday a little girl will have something to ask her mother about. Kerry Hammergren |
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My sister is beauty. She is 8 months older than I, and everything that I could never be. Where I am nonconfrontational she stands up for herself; where I am athletic she is naturally skinny. Every man that meets her wants to date her, every girl that meets her wants to be her. She doesn't have very many friends that are women. She can't handle back stabbing and conniving. She is passionate and lives for every moment in a way that author's write poetry about. She could shave off her black hair and still be the prettiest girl in the room. When we were little I would do anything she would do. We would hide in a hollow oak tree after school and talk or play games, just she and I. She is my protector and my best friend.
Medea Mosxona |
She looked in the mirror as she combed her hair. The frown on her face and the fear in her eyes told the story. She saw tears quickly coming, but held them back with that sort of restraint that only heroes are capable of. She thought to herself of how he had abandoned her. She convinced herself, however, that she was not thinking that. Then, three young boys walked into the room wearing suits. They, too had the look in their eyes.
Justin Matthews |
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During the summers of my high school years, I worked for my next door neighbor at his mechanic shop. It was such a small town shop with the name Bert’s Auto Service. The customers had mostly been customers for life as had been their parents. They were loyal and understanding if problems ever arose. The physical appearance of the shop is nothing spectacular but goodness how do I love it. When you enter the front door, you see blue walls lined with an antique car wallpaper border that I hung a few summers ago. Lining the shelves are old plaques and certificates that have been faded by the sun beaming in through the matching mini-blinds. As you leave the office, you see the actual garage part. The walls are lined with cabinets and shelves of tires, filters, and gauges. The parking lot usually looks like a used car lot because it is always packed. There is a constant flow of cars in and out. Most of them need work, but sometimes you’ll get your regulars that just like to stop by and shoot the bull. My favorite part about the shop is the people. You have to be quick and witty to be able to keep up with the boys. You get poked fun at for everything you do, but you always have your eyes alert to be able to throw it back at someone else. It’s all in good humor, and I know that any one of those guys would be there for me.
Erin Crow |
Although I’m closer to him now, I was never Daddy’s girl growing up. Instead, I was my mother’s shadow. I couldn’t do anything without telling her every delicate detail. Staying the night at friends’ houses was never a huge deal but deep down I was scared out of my mind and somewhat sad because I thought my mom would be missing out. Geez, I don’t know why a middle aged woman wouldn’t enjoy a 1st grade slumber party! She has a very unique way of making everyone feel so special and so loved. Thus, I felt guilty that I got to out and have fun while she had to stay home and clean and whatnot. I remember going to one particular slumber party. They had an activity of painting t-shirts. They had so many fun colors. I didn’t have my mom there though to see all these vibrant colors and my, my, she would be missing out on so much if she didn’t see each and every single one of these paints. So, what did I do? Well, I made a giant rainbow on my shirt just so I wouldn’t feel guilty for leaving her out. It sounds so ridiculous to me now, but at the time, it seemed like a great idea. My mom has been my strength and my support for so long. I never fear telling her anything, unless I think she’ll be disappointed in me. She’s somewhat naïve but has become more “cultured” as her kids have gotten older. Through the years, I got irritated at her for being so naïve. She was not the most in style mother. She didn’t drive a fun car, nor did she drive fast enough. After getting irritated with her, I would get irritated with myself for getting irritated at such a softhearted, wild tempered woman. So, as you can see, it was a lose lose situation. All my little irritations really amount to about nothing in the whole spectrum. Sometimes they say we are harshest to the ones we love most. I don’t know why this is and I do hate it, but sometimes it proves true.
Erin Crow
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© 2002,
Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.