My Vicksburg, by Ann Rinaldi; Harcourt Children’s Books: New York, 2009; $16 Fourteen-year-old Claire Louise Corbet has always lived a life of medicine because her brother and papa are both doctors. Now more than ever there are hospitals, sickness and injuries around her. Claire Louise is living in the Civil War battle of Vicksburg. During the battle, most families of Vicksburg are living in dugout cave homes. Claire Louise’s cave serves as a home for Mama, herself, and her little brother James, while her older brother and papa are serving in the army. The fighting is so heavy that people can only leave their caves or houses during the Yankees’ breakfast, lunch and dinner breaks. To occupy these days, everyone, including Claire Louise, must find something to do. My favorite part of the story, even though it is not the main theme, is Claire Louise’s work at the hospital. This might be because I want to be a doctor, or it might be because my uncle and grandfather are doctors. Either way, I think the hospital part of My Vicksburg is very impressive. After visiting the hospital with her brother, Claire Louise decides that she would like to contribute her time to helping the wounded soldiers. Claire Louise decides to visit the hospital twice a week and write letters for the injured Brave Boys, as her mama calls them. When Claire Louise goes to the hospital she walks across town to the makeshift tent. The environment at the hospital is very different from her regular life. Many men are wounded, amputated, bleeding, and sad. Some are even dead. The nurses sometimes move these dead soldiers to keep the wounded men’s spirits high. The first time she goes to the hospital, Claire Louise is scared by all the injuries. Claire Louise decides to keep coming despite her fright because she is dedicated to the help she is providing. At the hospital people are glad to see her. The sight of a young girl rouses hope in many soldiers. Sometimes Claire Louise does favors along with her task of letter writing. At one point in the story, she brings sweet potatoes to a soldier because he is hungry. Claire Louise’s main duty is to write down the words of the wounded. Many letters are written to wives, mothers, and children, saying that all will be well and that they loved their family very, very much. One soldier, dying of typhoid, asked Claire Louise to record his words to his wife. He then loudly recited an epic love letter, saddening both nurses and other soldiers. Although this story took place long ago, I think it has many similarities with 2010. People still want to help out just like Claire Louise did. In our time with the Iraq War we could use some of the lessons Claire Louise learned. Because our war is so far away, many people feel there is nothing we can do to help. Yes, it is true young girls can’t visit army hospitals, but we can write to those serving, say thank you, or connect ourselves other ways. The soldiers will appreciate anything anyone does. By the age of fourteen Claire Louise had undergone conflict in her country, her city, even in her family. This is a story about facing conflicts, growing up, and learning lessons. Claire Louise lived 150 years ago but there are things we can relate to today. Whether you are interested in historical fiction, working out conflicts, medicine, or the Civil War, you can find something worthwhile in My Vicksburg. Grace Russell, 12Belmont, North Carolina
March/April 2011
Photos in the Hayloft
Retrieving her iPod, Jenny scowled and stared back at her grandpa Jenny yawned, getting ready. She had only slept three hours because of all the gaming she had done. She popped her iPod on and headed down the stairs. She had promised to help, so that her grandpa would keep quiet about how good it was for young people to do chores. He was so old-fashioned. She never did chores at home, so why here? She pulled on her angora sweater, slipped on her suede boots and headed for the barn. Inside the barn, Jenny saw cobwebs loosely hung around the whitewashed cement ceiling that now looked more brown than white. It was dirty and musty; the ground was full of hay that had been flattened by dirt and manure. Old milk pumps were mounted on every stall. Some of the black-and-white jersey cows were staring at Jenny with their deep, hazel eyes, while others munched on the hay in the troughs in front of them. She only came here because her parents were busy traveling all around the world with their jobs, and they had bribed her with the latest laptop in the stores if she spent the summer with her grandpa. Jenny already knew which laptop she wanted. It was hot pink and had all the latest features. She couldn’t wait to get it. Bessie stared at Jenny and made a loud and low moo. Taken aback, Jenny stepped backwards into manure, sending her iPod whirling through the air and landing on its face. “Great to see you,” Grandpa smiled. “Come over here and help hold Bessie, while I work with getting this calf out. You hold her tail out and don’t let her swish it.” Retrieving her iPod, Jenny scowled and stared back at her grandpa. The smell of the barn and now her new suede boots drifted up to her nose. She turned and raced out the door, scraped her boots off on the grass, and ran into an old barn. She pushed open the red, wooden door, climbed up the rickety old knotted-wood ladder that led to a hayloft and stationed herself behind some fresh hay. Pitchforks leaned against the walls and clumps of hay were scattered all over the floor. She swept away the loose hay with her feet to make room to sit among the hay bales. The hay stung her back but she was so relieved to be away from her grandpa and that old cow. She had heard her grandpa holler for her, but whatever he had yelled, she was too far away to hear what he had said. Why did her grandpa always make her do things that she didn’t want to do? Making her get up early in the morning just to feed those cows, or making her listen to his growing-up stories. Didn’t he know that she didn’t care? So what if he grew up during the wartime? It didn’t have anything to do with her, so it was just a waste of her time. She never really listened anyway. She tried to turn on her iPod, only to find that it needed to be charged. She looked around, searching for something to do, and spotted an old, leather walnut-brown suitcase tucked behind some rusty rakes, hoes and shovels. She pulled the dust-covered suitcase out of the heap, dusted it off and carelessly undid the buckles. She ripped open the lid, only to find piles of black-and-white pictures, about 300 in all. She flipped through them, scattering some on the floor. There were many pictures of people she didn’t know and landscapes she had never seen. There were a few pictures of her grandpa growing up. Some pictures had her grandpa, about ten, playing the mandolin. That mandolin was now in her parents’ glass cabinet. Nobody played it anymore. She wondered why they even kept it. One particular picture caught her eye; it was the figure of a tall young man. He had dark thin hair and his eyes gleamed with adventure, as if ready for anything that was yet to come. He was wearing an old brown shirt and had ripped and tattered brown pants held up by suspenders. It looked like he was standing on a cobbled street, lined with many buildings. Jenny yawned. She made herself a pillow of golden-brown straw and fell asleep. * * * “Boom!” Jenny bolted up, suddenly wide awake as some concrete debris dropped inches away from her head. Scanning, she saw no windows but only a door slightly ajar. The air was getting thicker and she dropped to her knees and started to crawl towards the door. With all her might, she pried it open. A woman came rushing out, shouting, “Come, child, we must get to shelter!” She firmly grabbed Jenny’s arm and dragged her out of the building and onto a cobbled street below. Jenny knew the woman wasn’t speaking English, but somehow she could understand her. It was the language her grandpa sometimes spoke; it was German. “Let go of me! I don’t even know you!” Jenny snapped. She coughed. She could barely catch her breath. Suddenly, the building she was just in collapsed into rubble and dust. “We’ll find your family later, but now you and I must get out of here before another bomb hits,” the woman insisted. Jenny looked around; she could see burning and leaning buildings, roofs caved in, and walls gone. It looked like a river of fire all around her. Some people were screaming and running, while others lay motionless on the streets. Jenny even saw a woman with her hair and clothes on fire! Where was she? The woman dragged Jenny down the road. They finally stopped and went inside a concrete shelter. Inside, people were huddled together. Kids were crying and parents quietly wept. It seemed like everyone was in shock. The air-raid sirens pounded in her ears. Jenny wanted out of there. She couldn’t think. Tears
Through Each Other’s Eyes
The tiny wolf scrambled to keep up with her brothers and mother as she trudged through snow that reached up to her chest. She felt her legs go numb as she tried to walk in mother’s paw prints. She gave a wail of protest as the blinding snow swallowed the dull shadow of her mother in a whirl of gray and white. The wolf pup felt the snow clumping in her paws, stinging them. The pup cried out as the ground gave way under her small gray paws, sending her tumbling into darkness… Sakura woke with a shudder that passed through her fur and rippled the pale gray peltage. Sakura still felt the loss of her family afresh. She remembered whimpering pitifully in a paw print of her mother when she had lost her brothers and mother in a blizzard. Then warm shapes, pulling her gently around them, soft as living furs. She remembered waking in a warm nest, the clumped snow washed off her. In this new family, she felt cared for and loved, but even so, her family was still gone. Her brother had been found not far away, howling and almost unconscious. Sakura couldn’t stand sitting here alone with her thoughts. She could never outrun the memory of looking at her beloved brother, hearing his wailing of fear, his gaze staring at her, though she knew he could no longer, and never again, see her. * * * The girl ran her hands through caramel hair, her pale cheeks stained with tears. She kept repeating in her head how he couldn’t have been dead, how he was faking. But she knew her beloved Champ was dead, his age failing him and crippling him. She knew him as her little black lab puppy, still gnawing and jumping with mischievous innocence. She remembered him chewing furniture and eating both human and dog food, his impatient yips when she tried to teach him to roll over. But she knew that it was all memories now. So she had kept running from the house, until she had reached the dull gray sea, almost reflecting the hazy, blue-less sky that shone no sun. She had taken refuge on a rough, bark-like rock on the edge of the cliffs. She had cried there all morning, feeling as if there was to be no happiness again. Can you really see your own soulful self in an animal’s eyes? Suddenly there was the crackle of twigs. The girl whipped around to see a large pale gray wolf slide out of the pines bordering the cliffs. The girl quickly grabbed a nearby rock, ready to throw if the wolf lunged. But the creature’s eyes were not aggressive or hostile; the golden depths seemed to be filled with grief and sadness. For a moment the girl saw her own liquid brown eyes reflected there, and for a moment she saw a pulsing light of rainbow colors there. Can you really see your own soulful self in an animal’s eyes? She remembered a similar feeling stirring when she met the brown eyes of Champ, but she never saw anything like this. Then the wolf dipped its head as if respectfully. The girl was in awe. She felt no need to fear this creature. She dipped her head in a response. She felt mesmerized by the golden depths of the eyes. * * * Sakura saw the girl staring her in the eyes, drawn by something. Sakura felt something else though, a pulsing emotion of sadness. She closed her eyes and saw darkness, but still the girl, with a blue and purple bubble of sadness around her. The wolf saw a strange dog in the girl’s eyes, and the sadness intensified, like a growing fire. Then she heard the girl gasp, as if whatever she had been staring at in her eyes, the connection had broken. Sakura knew that the dog had been important to the girl. In fact, it reminded her of someone… * * * The girl watched the wolf leave. She sighed, knowing the moment couldn’t last forever. She slumped back on the rock, wondering what to do. Then there was more rustling. The wolf returned, gently guiding along a handsome black wolf. The girl was painfully reminded of Champ, with his smooth black coat, his warm brown eyes, and his slightly flopped ears… The wolf nodded and nuzzled the black wolf ’s ear. The girl guessed they were talking. The black wolf walked toward her, his brown gaze unwavering. He’s blind, she thought. But when he stumbled and she caught him, she knew she would take care of him and love him as much as Champ. The two creatures, girl and wolf, looked at each other, brown meeting gold. They knew they had solved a problem together, and Sakura knew her brother would be cared for. The two spirits departed, one holding the young wolf, the other holding pride, and they disappeared in the mist, knowing they could heal in peace. Alex Carmona, 12Montebello, California Jordan Lei, 12Portland, Oregon
