I didn’t know That going to my new school Would mean four long nights Away from you. I didn’t know I would miss your scratchy face When you kiss me, Wrestling on the bed, Climbing on your back Or into the “rabbit hole” To watch TV together. I didn’t know Just how much I’d miss your funny faces And my favorite Hungarian love song About meeting the girl at seven-thirty Under the stars. I didn’t know How much I loved Your gentle “slamming” me into bed, Your never giving me a straight answer And the footballs we throw to each other. I know now how much you love me Because you drive the long miles To San Francisco Working extra, Returning only after everyone is asleep Just for me. You leave before dawn, but You call every morning and night Just to say you love me millions. The only thing ever scary about you Is losing you. It breaks my heart And unfolds it That you work so long and hard Just for me. Mark Roberts, 10Windsor, California
May/June 2001
Colors of a Champion
It wasn’t the best night for the race. Earlier that afternoon, a torrential downpour had drenched the ground. The air was thick and humid and the sky a murky gray soup. Dense fog was beginning to envelop the landscape. The tote board flashed the condition of the track—SLOPPY. Judy Garland was depressed. She had trained hard for weeks, enduring the whiplashes of her rider, Jose Montegna. Clearly, she was a champion, at least in her last few races. But that had been on other tracks, dry, fast tracks where her hooves could dig in like claws and propel her forward as swiftly as the rushing wind. She had never raced at this track and she had never raced on muddy ground. The competition was fierce here and she knew it. There was Southwind Diamond, Arapamack, Frisky Fame and especially Stormont Zodiac, all of them stronger, faster and more sure of themselves. Judy didn’t have much of a chance. The odds on her were 45 to 1. “Two minutes to post time,” the announcer warned. The trotters were just finishing their show rounds, parading in front of the crowd in the stands hoping to attract more bets. You could bet any amount above the one dollar minimum. At 5-to-1 odds, the winner would collect ten dollars on a two-dollar bet, and half that amount if the horse placed or showed. Most people bet on either their favorite number, a name they liked, or the color of the horse’s outfit. It was mostly guesswork. “And they’re off!” the announcer shouted Judy was number 4 and she was all decked out in bright lemon. Southwind Diamond was number 1 in black gear, Arapamack sported number 5 in blazing pink, Stormont Zodiac was number 2 in red, and Frisky Fame number 3 in neon green. There were four others, numbered 6 to 9, all in hot, flashy colors. At 1 to 1, Stormont Zodiac was clearly the crowd’s favorite. The riders guided their trotters to the back stretch and lined up behind and across the white truck that awaited them. Suddenly, the truck spread its gates like two straight wings on an iron bird. Slowly at first, it began to roll down the track, the horses and riders following close, all in a straight line. “The field is in the hands of the starter” echoed from the loudspeakers in the stands. The crowd had placed their final bets, and together as one group they surged to get as close to the rail as possible. People watched in tense silence as the horses came around the bend toward the starting line. The riders leaned back in their two-wheel harnesses, one hand on the reins and the other whipping their horses’ backsides. Swish! Snap! The tail of the whip stung their hides. The animals, trying to get away from the next lash, sprung forward, their legs stretching, straining and pounding through the grimy mud. Judy was scared. For a moment the giant, white lights in the stadium blinded her, and in that moment an image flashed across her mind’s eye. She was in a stable, just born, stumbling to get up for the first time because her legs wouldn’t support her. After a few minutes, she felt some warm air on her face. She opened her eyes and looked up to see her mother breathing heavily, gazing into her eyes and almost whispering without even moving her lips, “Welcome to the world.” Then suddenly, she felt a nudge on her rear. She turned around to see her father poking his nose under her belly as if to say, “Get up.” Judy struggled. She pushed her back legs out behind her, trying to get a foothold. When her feet were stable, she moved her front legs into position and pushed up. She pushed with all her might, her leg muscles straining so that every part of her was rigid. Her knees were still bent but she forced them upwards, shifting her body weight when she moved. Finally, with one last effort, she straightened her knees and stood up. She stood there panting and snorting, then looked up into her mother’s eyes once more. Again, without opening her mouth, the mother’s gaze penetrated her baby’s thoughts, “Your name is Judy and you are a champion.” As the truck picked up speed, so did the field, but still close together and straight across. Judy was fourth on the inside, next to Frisky Fame, then Stormont Zodiac and Southwind Diamond on the rail, and fanning out to the right of Judy, Arapamack, Charlie Whiskey, Great Expectations, Dreams Are Free and Anitra. There were nine in all, each one a champion, each one determined to wear the blue blanket of victory. Around the turn, they came toward the starting line. The truck lurched forward, folded its gates and veered off to the side. “And they’re off!” the announcer shouted. Once around the mile-long track and one of them would cross the line first. Instantly, the crowd began to cheer, each man for his horse, “Come on, Whiskey . . . Run, Stormont . . . Let’s go, Dreams . . . Move it, Frisky . . .” The babble of voices filled the grandstand, excited, angry, hopeful voices. Some people jumped up and down, others pumped their fists into the air, still others closed their eyes and prayed. A foreign language rose high above the crowd, “AndintheleadArapamackfollowedbyFriskyFameStormontZodiacAnitraCharlieWhiskeyJudyGarlandSouthwindDiamondDreamsAreFreeandbringinguptherearGreatExpectations.” She was suddenly back racing her father in the golden fields of home Thirty-six hooves splashed mud as each horse in the field of nine fought to gain an early lead. The riders in their chariots, their goggles all splattered with dirt and water, sliced their whips through the air. Frisky Fame lunged ahead in a burst of speed, followed close behind by Stormont Zodiac and Anitra. Judy was doing her best to keep up with the rest of the field but her back legs, not used to the sloppy mud, slipped and
Mind’s Eye
Mind’s Eye by Paul Fleischman; Henry Holt and Company: New York, 1999; $15.95 D0 you know what your mind’s eye is? It’s your imagination. In this book a sixteen-year-old girl, Courtney, meets an eighty-eight-year-old lady, Elva, nursing home in which both of them are living. Courtney is paralyzed from the waist down and Elva has a disease called Alzheimer’s. Alzheimer’s is a disease that makes you forget everything. If your closest friends and family come to visit you, you may have no recollection of who they are. In the book Elva sometimes thinks Courtney is her sister because of her Alzheimer’s. This book is about the two main characters, Courtney and Elva, taking an imaginary journey to Italy, with an old guidebook for a guide. Elva wants to take a trip to Italy because before her husband died he asked her to go for him. Now she can’t go because she is too old and sick, so she wants to go on the journey through her mind’s eye. She got an old guidebook on Italy, only to find that she can’t read the tiny print. I felt sorry for Elva at this point, because she loves to read, and to find that your eyes are getting bad when you really need them is sad. Elva has to rely on someone else’s eyes to read for her. She chooses Courtney’s eyes. She invites her on the journey through the mind’s eye. Courtney is reluctant, but she is so bored that she goes along. The book shows how unpleasant and boring a nursing home can be. First of all, the nurses are untrustworthy. They steal from the patients. The patients have no way to entertain themselves since the TV doesn’t work and they can’t even go out to breathe some fresh air. I would hate to live in a nursing home because in the book it gives you the impression that nursing homes are awful places. Elva talks to Courtney a lot in the beginning of the book and Courtney doesn’t listen to a word Elva says. I know what this feels like because it has happened to me many times before! Courtney seemed to be like any other teenager. She likes sleeping in till eleven o’clock! Courtney and Elva were complete strangers in the beginning of the book. They became friends only because Courtney was bored and Elva had nobody to talk to. At first I thought of Courtney as an unattractive teenager, but as the book went on Courtney became much nicer because she learned a lot from Elva. The most important thing she learned was that to survive in a nursing home she had to use her mind’s eye. This book sends a good message because it shows you can use your imagination for anything. One thing that I didn’t like about the book was the style in which it was written. It was written completely in dialogue like a play, which I felt made it more difficult to read. You have to concentrate harder since there are no paragraphs explaining what’s going on. Also, it seemed to jump around a lot. However, I thought the author’s descriptions gave you a very good idea of what the characters were experiencing and I could picture myself there. The topic was sometimes depressing but sometimes I felt really good for the characters. I felt good when they seemed to be enjoying themselves on their imaginary journey, but not when Courtney was being mean to Elva by ruining it. I felt sad when Elva died, but in a way I also felt good for her, because she lived a good life and with Alzheimer’s and bad eyes I feel she wanted to die. This book deals with subjects like illness and old age, and being alone in the world, that are rather depressing. Even so, after finishing the book, I didn’t feel sad. Instead I realized how your imagination can turn even awful things into something pleasant. That is what makes this book worth reading. Meenakshi Dalai, 9Naperville, Illinois
