January/February 2006

A large hand wiped the tears from Tom’s small red eyes. “Don’t worry, son,” he smiled, “I swear we’ll come back.” Tom hoped so, with all of his eight-year-old heart. But it still hurt so much to watch his father and brother go off to war. Even though President Lincoln needed soldiers, Tom still puzzled over why it had to be his family. “Why not John or Mary’s? Why did my father and sixteen-year-old brother Stephen have to go to war?” he asked himself. This terrible war. Why, thought Tom, why? For three long years Tom believed his father and brother were coming back. He still did but he felt his poor mom was losing hope. He heard it in the way she spoke and the way she acted. But life went on. Tom’s mind grew faster than his body. At age nine he was only three-and-a-half feet tall. Now at the young age of eleven he had barely grown a foot from the last measurement. He was pushed and bullied by schoolmates and teachers alike, most likely because of his size but also maybe because he was so smart. So instead of playing outside like everyone else, he dedicated his life to reading and learning just like his biggest heros, his dad and brother. He thought about them more than ever as the years went on. Right in front of their house was Grant’s army, its flag billowing in the breeze The old pages crinkled as the wind blew the yellow dog-eared book. Tom sighed. Even with his few savings, made from selling wild blackberries, his mother wouldn’t let him buy a new book. I’m sorry Tom, but money’s too tight. Save it for something useful, yak yak, blah blah, Tom thought scornfully. To him, reading was very important. Though he knew he had to help support his mother, sometimes be wanted to be like his other hero: Lewis Carroll. Almost no one around there ever heard of him. It made Tom crazy to think that Carroll was unknown. It was an outrage. Don’t they know who’s creating modern literature? he angrily thought. All that mattered to everyone else was strength and appearance. But now he barely had time to read. He had to do chores like go into town on errands, feed the animals and so much more. His days were full. As much as he wanted, his reading time was becoming shorter and shorter. How come no one believed in being smart? Tom shut his book. He took a deep shaky breath. Inhale, he thought, careful now, exhale. He was bored and grouchy as he thought about his life. His mom had stopped his schooling, which was the only thing that made him happy (apart from learning in books and thinking about the old times with his dad and brother). She made him chop wood or hunt or feed the animals or harvest the crops. Tom knew she missed his dad and brother as much as he did but she tried not to show it. She was a strong brave woman, like a mom should be, but was very stern. And when she got angry, you did not want to be there . . . Every week Tom would go into town with her. They would go to the general store and, every week, Tom would ask Mr. Cameron, the owner, if any letters had come. None ever did! Where can his father and brother be? he thought. Tom puzzled over this question as he had a hundred times before. He knew that joining the army was the right thing to do but a war was very scary. Now the idea of them dead was circling in his mind, getting closer and closer to his believing it. “Get out,” he silently screamed at the horrible thought, “out! out!” He clenched his teeth and balled his hand. “OUT!!” he screamed out. His shout even surprised himself. In an instant his mom raced through the door. “What happened, Tom?” she yelled, her small face slowly turning white. “Are you hurt?” Tom silently looked up at his mom, her small figure layered with patched and ragged clothes. Tom wiped his black hair from his eyes. “Nothing,” he muttered in sadness, “nothing.” Her face relaxed. She understood how he felt. She took a seat at the fire while Tom looked out the window, slowly watching the snowfall. “No letters came?” she nervously asked. “None at all,” he sighed. “None at all.” She adjusted her dirty bonnet. “It’s time to go home,” she said. Life on the farm without Father and Stephen was hard and stressful. Aside from the extra work he now had to do, he missed their friendship. While his mother was kind and loved him very much, there was something special that connected his father and brother to him. Maybe because they were all men. Plus there was no one around to help, or teach him many of the chores. Tom was now forced to do, like how to shoot or how to cut down trees. No man could ever support a family or just a mother without learning these skills. It was impossible! Although Tom was not that big or strong he believed that with enough practice, skill and knowledge would come. Every day, with his spare time, he practiced everything he needed to know. It might take time but he was convinced he could be like his father and brother. But even when they had been there, the family barely got along with so little money. Between the bad crop seasons and the poor game, they were forced to stop buying many of the things they wanted. Tom thought this was unfair. All his other friends were as poor as him, but at least they had their whole family. Worst of all, after his dad left, his mom asked Tom to quit schooling so he could work. Tom missed it terribly. As a young child, he

A large hand wiped the tears from Tom’s small red eyes. “Don’t worry, son,” he smiled, “I swear we’ll come back.” Tom hoped so, with all of his eight-year-old heart. But it still hurt so much to watch his father and brother go off to war. Even though President Lincoln needed soldiers, Tom still puzzled over why it had to be his family. “Why not John or Mary’s? Why did my father and sixteen-year-old brother Stephen have to go to war?” he asked himself. This terrible war. Why, thought Tom, why? For three long years Tom believed his father and brother were coming back. He still did but he felt his poor mom was losing hope. He heard it in the way she spoke and the way she acted. But life went on. Tom’s mind grew faster than his body. At age nine he was only three-and-a-half feet tall. Now at the young age of eleven he had barely grown a foot from the last measurement. He was pushed and bullied by schoolmates and teachers alike, most likely because of his size but also maybe because he was so smart. So instead of playing outside like everyone else, he dedicated his life to reading and learning just like his biggest heros, his dad and brother. He thought about them more than ever as the years went on. Right in front of their house was Grant’s army, its flag billowing in the breeze The old pages crinkled as the wind blew the yellow dog-eared book. Tom sighed. Even with his few savings, made from selling wild blackberries, his mother wouldn’t let him buy a new book. I’m sorry Tom, but money’s too tight. Save it for something useful, yak yak, blah blah, Tom thought scornfully. To him, reading was very important. Though he knew he had to help support his mother, sometimes be wanted to be like his other hero: Lewis Carroll. Almost no one around there ever heard of him. It made Tom crazy to think that Carroll was unknown. It was an outrage. Don’t they know who’s creating modern literature? he angrily thought. All that mattered to everyone else was strength and appearance. But now he barely had time to read. He had to do chores like go into town on errands, feed the animals and so much more. His days were full. As much as he wanted, his reading time was becoming shorter and shorter. How come no one believed in being smart? Tom shut his book. He took a deep shaky breath. Inhale, he thought, careful now, exhale. He was bored and grouchy as he thought about his life. His mom had stopped his schooling, which was the only thing that made him happy (apart from learning in books and thinking about the old times with his dad and brother). She made him chop wood or hunt or feed the animals or harvest the crops. Tom knew she missed his dad and brother as much as he did but she tried not to show it. She was a strong brave woman, like a mom should be, but was very stern. And when she got angry, you did not want to be there . . . Every week Tom would go into town with her. They would go to the general store and, every week, Tom would ask Mr. Cameron, the owner, if any letters had come. None ever did! Where can his father and brother be? he thought. Tom puzzled over this question as he had a hundred times before. He knew that joining the army was the right thing to do but a war was very scary. Now the idea of them dead was circling in his mind, getting closer and closer to his believing it. “Get out,” he silently screamed at the horrible thought, “out! out!” He clenched his teeth and balled his hand. “OUT!!” he screamed out. His shout even surprised himself. In an instant his mom raced through the door. “What happened, Tom?” she yelled, her small face slowly turning white. “Are you hurt?” Tom silently looked up at his mom, her small figure layered with patched and ragged clothes. Tom wiped his black hair from his eyes. “Nothing,” he muttered in sadness, “nothing.” Her face relaxed. She understood how he felt. She took a seat at the fire while Tom looked out the window, slowly watching the snowfall. “No letters came?” she nervously asked. “None at all,” he sighed. “None at all.” She adjusted her dirty bonnet. “It’s time to go home,” she said. Life on the farm without Father and Stephen was hard and stressful. Aside from the extra work he now had to do, he missed their friendship. While his mother was kind and loved him very much, there was something special that connected his father and brother to him. Maybe because they were all men. Plus there was no one around to help, or teach him many of the chores. Tom was now forced to do, like how to shoot or how to cut down trees. No man could ever support a family or just a mother without learning these skills. It was impossible! Although Tom was not that big or strong he believed that with enough practice, skill and knowledge would come. Every day, with his spare time, he practiced everything he needed to know. It might take time but he was convinced he could be like his father and brother. But even when they had been there, the family barely got along with so little money. Between the bad crop seasons and the poor game, they were forced to stop buying many of the things they wanted. Tom thought this was unfair. All his other friends were as poor as him, but at least they had their whole family. Worst of all, after his dad left, his mom asked Tom to quit schooling so he could work. Tom missed it terribly. As a young child, he