I rested my back against a picnic table and looked out over the main beach and glassy lake. From where I sat I could see the steep bank of the dam, its grass rippling and darkening against the sky. That sky! A powerful mixture of grays, whites, and blues all day, it couldn’t make up its mind whether to rain or shine on us. But now shafts of light poured through the clouds here and there. And people came to the State park carrying rain jackets over their arms. They walked up and down on the trails; they fished; they even picnicked and swam. Most of all, they brought their beloved dogs.

Who put Jesus Christ on the Cross?
Was it the Jew?
Was it the Roman?
Was it you?
Was it me?
Was it Peter?
Was it James?
Was it John?
Was it Mary?
My friends! It is all of those.
I put Jesus Christ on the Cross.
You put Jesus Christ on the Cross.
With our sins we’ve done this.
The one act of mankind together.
It doesn’t matter who you are. We are all guilty of sin.
We have broken the commandments of God.
Romans 3:10 says: “As it is written, There is none righteous, no, not one:”

Many fools sing ballads and do not wonder who put them in their heads. Once one sang a simple song, a pretty tune with plain words: “Come play along the precipice—don’t worry that the cliff is steep—the little flowers on the brink are daisies, but their roots grow deep.” I saw the daisies in the green grass—bright little things, and strangely appealing. They seemed to beg me to pluck them, their sunny faces hinting at a promise of carefree happiness. To my right and left, travelers left our narrow path. They hummed the fool’s song as they wandered ever closer to the flowers and the cliff.

I went to visit my uncle late in the evening, as it was my custom to do once every fortnight. As I knocked on the door to his flat, the landlady approached me and expressed no little concern that he had not come out in some 48 hours, but as he enjoyed his privacy, and was annoyed at any breach in it, she had not deigned to enter herself. Upon hearing this, I hurriedly took a spare key from her and opened the door. The room was a mess, completely torn up, and the bedroom door was locked.

Throughout our lives, there is rarely anything so important to us as acceptance. In school or at church there is the "popular" group, and everyone, or nearly everyone, wants to be in it. Even if we are not "popular", we all want to have friends. The feeling of being accepted by someone; known for who we are, and yet still loved, is something each one of us yearns for.

The day came, and after lunch I put on a shirt and tie and walked around reciting Gerard Manley Hopkins poetry aloud. My junior project final began at 4:30pm. By the time my Modern literature class commenced at 3pm, everyone besides me had been through their junior project finals and passed. Happily, by the time I stood waiting in the hall for my turn to begin, I felt that I would pass, too. And I did.

A number of thoughts have been running through my mind of late, on the subject of J. R. R. Tolkien in relationship to the recent films put out, based upon the first and second books of his trilogy. I would be apt to suppose the dear man in a most wearying state of despondency if I did not believe him to be in Heaven by now. If he is, it is a wondrous mercy, and if not, alas! I pray he shall be there shortly. One can hardly suppose him to be rejoicing at the moment, in consideration of the two recent films. At least I, for one, cannot.

Huge, sharp, jagged, obstinate.
Ever standing,
never giving in.
Hit, beat, routed, overwhelmed.
Ever shunning,
never letting go.

Large, rough, rugged, resolute.
Ever staying,
never giving way.
Knocked, struck, battered, buffeted.
Ever holding,
never giving up.

written January 23, 2002

Okay, so it is really no secret. I wanted to be pretty. Yes, it was vanity, but sin or no sin, we all have a bit of it. So, realizing that my teeth were, shall we say, less than gorgeous, I persuaded my parents to finance braces for me. It actually took several years, but, on Wednesday, January 22, 2002, I got braces. And this is how this very important day went....

Crickets all, sing tonight,
when you see the moon shining.
Cricket song, like the moon,
lights up dark skies,
dark worlds,
dark thoughts.
So sing , sing tonight,
sing the cricket song.

Shining, like diamonds,
haunting, like shadows,
singing the song of ages, ancestors,
crickets.

You sing of death,
you sing of life,
sing of the moon.
Your song is heard tonight. So sing, sing tonight,
sing the cricket song.

age = 13-16