“Can’t you hear them?” she whispers. “Can’t you hear the angels?” When I think about my grandparents, my head is flooded with vivid memories of them. I hear my grandpa’s deep laughter ringing in my ears as he tells me a story about camping. I see a flash of green as I remember the color of the vest my grandma used to always wear. It is as if I can feel the soft fabric against my cheek like I did when I hugged her. For me and many others, memories of our grandparents are engraved into our thoughts. But sometimes, even though we so distinctly remember them, grandparents don’t always remember us in the same detail. This is the scenario that the main character, Maggie, in the story “Grandma’s Angels” by Mariana Stevenson, 12, finds herself in. Maggie’s grandma has Alzheimer’s, a disease that causes memory loss and cognitive impairment through the deterioration of brain cells. In the story, 13-year-old Maggie is visiting her grandmother. Although Maggie loves and vividly remembers her, her grandma has no recollection of Maggie or Maggie’s father. When Maggie’s father realizes that his mother’s wedding ring is missing, a frantic search to find it ensues, and emotions run very high. Through this ordeal, Maggie finds herself evaluating her own feelings about her grandmother’s Alzheimer’s and questioning whether her grandmother is truly okay. From Maggie’s heartbreak and sadness when her grandmother does not remember who she is to her father’s panic when they cannot find her grandma’s wedding ring, the piece brings you on an emotional journey that I believe holistically portrays the effect of Alzheimer’s on a family. It is an experience that I can personally relate to. While my own grandma was never officially diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, there was no denying that she showed signs of cognitive impairment. Sometimes I think about how she could never remember that my name was “Sam” not “Jennifer” or that I couldn’t speak Chinese. I was a preteen when it first started to happen, so whenever she called me by my cousin’s name and asked me for something in a language that I didn’t understand, I just sighed and gave my mom a look in the stereotypical annoyed teenager sort-of-way. However, looking back, I realize that my “annoyance” was just a facade. I was trying to hide how sad and hurt I was that my grandma couldn’t remember something as easy as my name. Deep down, this is why I love “Grandma’s Angels.” The author’s characters express hurt and sadness that I had been too fearful to express in the past. The story doesn’t shy away from more difficult emotions. “My heart aches for a moment as I look at her. Grandma’s faded blue eyes show nothing. There is no sign of recollection at all,” and “I’m angry that Grandma has to experience a disease like Alzheimer’s” are just two snippets in this story that demonstrate the feelings of fury or dejection that Maggie experiences. For the protagonist to so clearly accept emotions like this conveys a message that it is okay to be sad or angry about things that seem unfair to you. This speaks so much in itself. How often do we hear the words “don’t cry” or “there is no need to be sad”? When did we get to the point where feelings like this are something that we need to hide? Often, when we think of children’s writing, it’s associated with a “happily ever after.” Sometimes children’s stories are expected to be blindly optimistic. But we must remember and recognize the pieces that are honest about reality even when reality isn’t perfect, like this story. Because, in the end, life isn’t perfect—it’s filled with complications, twists and turns, and unexpected challenges. Don’t be afraid to write about things that are hard or sad. In Stone Soup, one difficult topic that there are a lot of stories about is illness. One of my favorites is “We No Longer Go Outside” by Stella Lin, 12, which is told from the perspective of a dog whose owner has cancer. One thing you will notice in both “We No Longer Go Outside” and in “Grandma’s Angels” is that although there are feelings of sadness, there is also an overwhelming feeling of hope. This hopefulness evolves from the fact that writing about something difficult helps you heal. This is an idea called catharsis, often characterized by the release of emotions and the subsequent relief that comes from this. You can see this in action through the last lines of “Grandma’s Angels”: “I realize everything will be OK. Grandma will be OK. I can hear the angels.” Through processing her emotions, Maggie realizes that even though her grandma and her family may be facing a challenge, everything will be fine in the end. Sometimes we all get signs in life that tell us this very message. My grandparents passed away recently. I think often about where they are, and how they are doing. Are my grandparents with each other? Are they happy? Do they think about me or the rest of family at all? In a way, this piece was a sign for me; a sign that although I will probably never know the answers to these questions, everything is still okay. This story encouraged me to face my emotions, emotions that everyone will go through at some point in their lives. And I hope that like Maggie, we can all be brave enough to express and face these more difficult emotions head-on, comforted with the knowledge that, in the end, everything will work out. So next time you are sad or upset about something, consider writing about it! It just might help you feel better. Author Bio: Sam Rozal is currently an undergraduate student at the University of California, Santa Cruz. She is studying Biology and Environmental Studies but is also exploring other fields in the humanities and social sciences. Growing up, she absolutely adored books, especially the Boxcar
Teaching Children
Writing Activity: personifying objects in poetry
This writing activity by Allison Finley is based on the poem “A Fraction of an Inch” by Abigail Rose Cargo, 13, published in Stone Soup, March/April 2017 Seeing Fractions of an Inch Everywhere After reading the first two couplets of Abigail Cargo’s poem, “Fraction of an Inch,” I was nostalgic for the many days I have spent fishing with my brothers and exploring the bays in Lake Tahoe over school breaks. Abigail’s poetic description of the connection the water and boat share reminds me specifically of how those trips almost always ended: when leaving a lake or ocean, it was always a fight to return the boat to land. Since my friends and family only went out boating once in a while, there was always a comical and stressful chaos in remembering how to get our boat back on its trailer. While the more experienced people on both sides of us would trailer their boats away quickly and effortlessly, my fellow shipmates and I would clumsily fight the water to claim back what was ours. Once the boat would finally start to get onto the trailer, we would slowly crank it further out of the water, a fraction of an inch at a time. At the beginning of the poem, Abigail does an amazing job depicting the back and forth that goes on between the truck and the water. The water’s “new prize”—the boat—must be skillfully put back onto the truck’s trailer. The water fights the truck back when “the waves bouncing off/ the boat’s hull” are a fraction of an inch from connecting with the rubber of the wheels. But this fraction of an inch is enough to cause the red truck’s wheels to spin ineffectively on the muddied concrete slab. Even though this poem is specifically from the point of view of the boat and the water, it reminds me of how this experience is always such a chaotic shift from a peaceful day we just had out on the water. Ultimately, I’m drawn to the way Abigail’s style emphasizes the fact that even the smallest measurement can add up, and that you’re always only a fraction of an inch away from something changing at anytime. Instead of focusing on all of the action happening around her, Abigail beautifully focuses on the little details of the scenes: the “Waves of green foam/ rolled over the railing/ in a calm firmness” and “the rippling water/ pool[ed] at the edge of/ a concrete slab.” It’s these little details in the first scene that bring her to talk about life and death. I love the way that breaking down the scene in front of her in this way makes her think of such complex changes in life. After considering “how closely/ life and death are related,” Abigail introduces a completely new scene: two birds circling each other above their prey. While this scene is much darker to reflect the tonal shift, the image presented is just as familiar an image to me as the first one, and it is as effective in depicting how all it takes is a fraction of an inch in one direction or another to change everything—especially “a fraction of an inch/ to the left,” for the chickens below. Abigail’s perspective throughout “A Fraction of an Inch” is mature. She personifies the water and the boat and then looks into the relationship between the two. To personify an object means to make something that is not a person like a person. In this poem, both the water and the boat “did not want” something. If you are inspired by the style of this piece, I encourage you to try personifying the objects around you to think about how they relate to their setting and to each other. What do they want or not want to happen? What do they see or experience? You might also try, like Abigail, to slow down a moment of chaos to focus on what each object is experiencing. Once you start slowing down, like Abigail, you’ll probably start seeing these fractions of an inch changes everywhere. Author Bio: Allison majored in Literature at UCSC. She first got involved in the literary journal world through Matchbox Magazine, which features and distributes poetry, prose, and art across the University of California system. Allison has been involved with Matchbox during her entire time in college and she has filled the position of editor in chief for the past year. She loves the entire, magical process of making a journal—which is what made her want to get involved with Stone Soup. This spring, Allison graduated from UC Santa Cruz. She plans to pack up her two rabbits and her ridiculous amount of used books and move to LA.
Art Activity: imagining, planning and drawing complex imaginary worlds
This art activity by Olivia Joyce is built around 8-year-old Li Lingfei’s Artist’s Portfolio, published in Stone Soup’s March 2018 issue. Use the link to open the portfolio in a separate window and look closely at the images as you read Olivia’s responses to Lingfei’s work, and think about her drawing activity ideas. Stone Soup publishes many intriguing and entertaining submissions of poetry, short stories, and book reviews. While the writing is often incredible, the artwork Stone Soup publishes is especially fascinating to me. I love seeing how artists express themselves and take on specific styles in their art. The work of the artist Li Lingfei, age 8, stood out to me in particular for its style and imagination. Li Lingfei’s portfolio was published in Stone Soup’s March 2018 issue. It included watercolor paintings of entire worlds that she had imagined, as well as a construction of a house in the shape of a cat. This piece, titled “Cat House,” caught my attention first because of its unique geometrical design and patterns. Lingfei mentions that “Cat House” is inspired by a famous building in Spain, called Casa Batllo. Some artists might feel concern about using other art for inspiration, but I find that this is one of the best ways to create something new and unique! “Cat House” and Casa Batllo might bear some similarities (Casa Batllo’s roof resembles a dragon, and “Cat House” resembles a cat), but their look and style is markedly different from one another. As I looked more closely at all of Lingfei’s work, I saw that the bright indigo and yellow color scheme appeared in her paintings in addition to “Cat House.” The similar colors provide a thread that connects all of her work together, making it feel more united and whole. When I examined each of Lingfei’s paintings individually, I saw that they told stories and included images of multiple people and creatures. Even now, each time I look at one of her paintings, I observe something new. For example, in “My Chinese Dream,” I noticed the most obvious images of two planets and a rocket first, but the second time I looked at it I noticed the Octopus King waving from the corner, and the yellow mist that surrounds each planet. In this way, Lingfei’s artwork is dynamic, providing depth and leaving room for many interpretations. It is clear to me that Lingfei let her imagination guide her when creating these works, which I felt was essential to creating something interesting and beautiful. My favorite of her paintings is “Sky City.” It shows a city inside a jellyfish, floating in space. Aliens or people fly in a squid spaceship outside of the city, and within the bubble, hamburger hovercrafts and ice cream rockets zoom around mushroom- and jar-shaped buildings. The more I look at this painting, the more curious I become about it. Can the city move across the galaxy, or is it more like a planet with an orbit? Is the mushroom building really a mushroom, or just shaped like one in the way “Cat House” is shaped like a house? Would people be happier if they lived in “Sky City,” or on Earth? I think that it is important for art to raise questions and spark curiosity, and Li Lingfei’s artwork did exactly that. As a response to Lingfei’s work, I’d like to ask our readers to try, in a single image, to create a world as complex and detailed as Lingfei has created in each of her images. To do so, you should plan ahead. You might begin by writing out a brief description of the place you’re imagining—and then drawing it. Or maybe you just want to tell your mom or your dog about what you’re planning to draw. Either way, have a plan in mind so that you make sure to have room for everything you want to include in your drawing! Once you’re ready to begin, remember to use the full range of colors and to fill up the entire page—and then submit to Stone Soup! We can’t wait to see your masterpieces! Author Bio: Olivia’s favorite books are the Harry Potter series, which she has loved since elementary school, but she also loves The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman, and anything written by Sharon Creech. She is in her third year at UC Santa Cruz where she studies literature and writes poems and stories. At schoo,l you might catch her eating too many chocolate croissants or sprinting to catch the bus.
