Period 5 vignettes

Berta Alex Hammer I needed help. I had 2 kids and had recently divorced my husband. Being a single parent is very difficult.

When I was 18 I moved to America. My parents decided that they wanted me to have a better future. You see I am from Hungary and I had a horrible childhood or at least knew it would’ve been better if I moved to America sooner.

When I moved here I had to leave behind all of my family except my parents, but besides that I would never go back. When I moved here I originally lived in a nice city in New Jersey, but I had to leave because I couldn’t afford it.

I moved to a place in Cleveland and I still live here to this day. I’ve lived here in Cleveland for 2 and half years. When I first moved here I was 20 years old and I never appreciated this town. The only reason I still live here is because I have a job here.

I work in a clothing store. This is the most popular clothing store in the town therefore I make good money. My job is the cash register.

Sometimes this job becomes incredibly boring.

People complain when I make a mistake on billing of course that’s when I charge them more, but when I charge them less than I was supposed to they don’t do anything.

One time I was charging a man who bought a leather jacket and a tshirt. He said I charged him too much I read over the bill and… I didn’t charge him wrong. The man was very angry and I was scared because the man was very big and very muscular. He tried to make me change the bill. I was so scared I gave him money back and he ran.

Ever since than my pay at the store has been lowered and life has only gotten worse. I wanted to leave this town very badly. I would lie in my apartment and want to leave. I would pray to G-d that I would get out of this place. A couple weeks ago it was almost my 23rd birthday and I saw a garden. It was the ‘Community’ garden. I was glad I saw this. I could meet some neighbors and get some nice fresh air outside of my clothing store.

I planted potatoes. My mother used to make them and use them for a delicious soup. I wanted to make them just like she did and have that delicious soup again.

Each day for 14 days I went to check on my plants and excitedly saw it sprout and progressively see it grow bigger. At the end of the 14 days my relatives came in for my birthday.

They asked if I wanted to leave. They said they had a place back in Hungary for me to stay. I had to think if I wanted to leave. I finally was making friends planting and I have recently been hired for a new much more entertaining job as a planter.

I made my potato soup every day and sold it at a local shop. One man who tried it named Kent tried it and told the whole town how delicious it was. Ever since that day a couple days ago my pay has tripled.

I am considering moving into a bigger apartment in the neighborhood, but I can’t do that if I move back to Hungary. I decided to turn the offer down. It was nice to see my relatives, but I didn’t want to move back to Hungary.

Now I am hopeful for the future. This garden has brought my both friends and money. I am finally living in a nice apartment and I can afford good meals (I make my own a lot of the time). I hope I can live here in Cleveland for a long time.

JOSE By. Aaron Klein Hi my name is Jose and I am from Mexico. My life aint so easy liven with my two bros. My parents left me at the age of 8 it was a harsh time from there on. With my two bros by my side I could tell that this would be a long journey. Luckily when my parents left us they left us with some cash but not enough I new I had to find a job fast. Its been a year that we have been wandering around and we were running out of cash, I had no idea where I was and that was not good at all.

We were in a small town and I knew at least that and I saw a sign that said HELP WANTED I thought that this would be the perfect job. I went in and came out with a smile on my face I got the job and we would be staying hear for a while. Since I didn’t have money for shelter we found a shed in the back of the store for my two bros to stay in. it all seemed to be falling in to place. I started the next day and made about 50 dollars that day it was a dream come true we had money.

Day after day I went in and out of the store. One day when I was working a man came in to the store and wanted to buy 50 packs of seeds and I asked him what they were for. He told me that it was for a community garden that a little girl started. I know right then that I would want to be a part of that garden and maybe I could meet some friends there that would talk to me. I asked the man if it was possible if I could help out with the garden he said to me come on I will show you it. I said hold on one second I had to ask

my boss if I could leave work early he said sure as long as I worked harder the next day I said of course. So this man and me I didn’t even know were heading off.

We arrived at the most beatifull thing that I have ever scene in the world it was the garden. I got out of the car to go check it out and I wanted to know if I could have a job there selling the fruits and vegetables. They all said yes thinking it was the best idea ever. I thought that this would be great it would be fun and my two brothers and me would have a place to stay. I went back to the store and told my boss that I quit. I got my brothers and we headed off to the garden they would be able to help too.

We arrived and we greeted everyone and thanked them for letting us do this. That night we went to bed early because we had to wake up early to sell food. That day we were amazing we ended up making 100 dollars that day. We were shocked because by the end of the week we were living in an apartment. We just kept making money until winter came and we had enough to support us through out the winter. I ended up finding a great job in the middle of the winter.

I was better off there I thought me and my two brothers were growing up together. From hear on the story could only get better. One day when I was working the next customer came up and they looked really familiar. I stared at them as flash backs were zooming through my head. Boom it hit me the next words that came out of my mouth were mom dad what excitement.

We ended up all moving back together and my brothers were happy to even though they never really knew them. We moved out of the apartment and went to live with our parents. Our lives turned out to be great from there on. I couldn’t believe that we were all together again. This was all put together by one thing the community garden.

Christina Amanda Ribeiro I sunk deeper and deeper into my chair as my 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Miller waited to call on a student for the homework, question number one. Back in Brazil, I would always have my hand raised but here I wouldn't dare to. I was afraid that I would mess up my English and say something wrong.

I moved to "The Land of Opportunities" as my parents called the United States Of America and me and my brother called it "The Torture Country" 5 months ago in January. It is now May first and I don't understand why we moved here in the first place.

I have a rough time in school here in America. It's hard to make friends in a new country that doesn't speak the way you do or dress the way you do. The kids in my 5th grade class aren't very excepting of me.

On the first day being in their class them all just stared at me like I had a million heads. I tried to take part in the class knowing just a little English that I had learned from school in Brazil. I said "plant" and not "add" when we were solving an addition problem and I cried everyday after school just wanting to go home and not just any home my real home were I was born and swam in the bright blue ocean everyday. I missed it all.

I told my mom what had happened today and started to cry like I always did. My mom tried everything to get me to actually like this country and enjoy it but nothing worked. But today she had another method. My mom got me off the bus as always but we didn't go in the house. We walked down the sidewalk and she had me close my eyes and pretend like we were walking on the beach with the warm sand and the waves crashing on the shore.

I told my mom that I am having a hard time speaking the language here. She said she would find a tutor for me. Then the next day after school when I got off the bus I saw my mom with a red headed man. Then in Portuguese she said "Christina this is your new tutor Sam. He will be helping you and your brother with your English. I jumped up and down because now I won't be the kid in the back of the room who no one knows about.

Now I can tell them.

Everyday my brother and me met with Sam. Sam knows just about everything about words. Like the root word, the language it came from, the meaning, and if it's a verb, noun, or adjective. That’s what we've been working on. I told him about when I said plant and not add. So Sam brought us down to a garden to show us what a plant is.

We walked down the street to this beautiful garden with all different kind of plants and all different kinds of people. There were tomatoes with the brightest red color.

There was laughter and joy in this city that I hated. I thought to my self-how could I hate this place it's wonderful.

Sam used the garden as a classroom just for me and my 3td grade brother could learn. Sam taught us colors and different types of foods that the Americans eat. I loved it.

One day Sam picked us up from school and we walked right down to the garden on Gibb

Street with a packet of seeds. I asked Sam in a complete sentence in English with no stutter "What are you doing?"

He understood me and said, "We are going to plant tomatoes because on the first day at the garden Christina, you loved their bright red color.”

We all got our own piece of land in the garden to plant our tomatoes. We learned words like seed and soil while digging many little holes for the tiny baby tomatoes seeds.

Then after we watered them we waited for them to sprout.

When we got home that day I told my mother about the garden and she wanted to come with us everyday to go plant some American food and a good way to meet the neighbors.

When I went to school Monday I answered a question for the first time and no one laughed or stared they just listened to what I had to say. Then at lunch a girl named Kim invited me to sit with her. After school when I came off the bus I was no longer crying I was smiling.

Even Sam saw a difference in me today I wasn't shy anymore and either were my tomatoes. They finally sprouted from the ground and weren’t scared to come out into the light. It was free just like me.

Bobby

By: Kyle Sambolin There I was watching out my apartment window looking out as someone gets jumped in a dark alley. It’s late and I don’t want to over sleep for my job in the morning at the local pizzeria. The next morning it is still dark out at 6:30 in the morning that’s a little unusual for it to still be dark in the spring. As I’m walking to the store a burst of fire came out of the pizzeria as I flew to the ground. I watch in horror as people dive out still alive and on fire. That was a year ago, now I’m the owner after Bob the old owner died in the fire.

He was close to me and treated me as if I was the brother he never had. He had sisters, not like me, I had no family. I was out to fend for myself for several years until I came upon a man standing outside as I was sitting as if I were dead, on the sidewalk. He came up to me and said “Hey kid do you want some pizza?” I was astonished about how nice he was. He made me a whole pepperoni pie of pizza. After that, I asked if I could stay for the night in the pizzeria and he said “anytime”. Now I don’t need a family anymore, I’m married to the pizzeria. Now I lost a brother, I just feel like life is slower without him. Everyday I wake up in more and more pain. I walk slower and feel like I need a cane. But today I’m taking a different route to work, as I notice through the darkness the colors I see in this lot I’m walking by. I have never noticed it before even though I had a clear view of it all the time from the pizzeria. I stopped and stared at the colorful flowers, green plants, and plump vegetables and think of how people created this. Later that day I see people working together in the garden like they have been friends for many years. Then I saw a lady getting robbed and a person from the garden saw this and he told his friends and they all ran after the man. They caught the robber. When that happened it just gave me a feeling that I could be safe again. After my shift was finished

at 6:00pm people were still watering and fertilizing their plants. While I walk over there I’m still figuring out what I should plant. I thought of roses because Bob always enjoyed the smell of them and that’s what made me think of him. Whenever I look at the garden I think I have honored Bob after I planted and cultivated those roses. Now he can rest after all this time of waiting for me to plant roses for him. As I walk by every morning I see my roses and I think of him and the rest of my family. Now very old I can only stare at the garden as the colors of it change each season and I can see the remains of my flowers.

SHUAVE Brandon Seiden As I watched the ball bounce in the street, my heart went CRAZY. Sweat poured down my face like an out of control waterfall. I thought of something to say but I was too late. "Watch out for that car!” me.

I guess not.

I could've sworn she heard

That day my best friend Cara passed

away.

Back in Brooklyn, we didn't see that many cars come by, in my area at least. If they did, they were either drive bys by gangs or the police.

My neighborhood is the

worst place I have ever been. One day, I hope to get out of the ghetto and change the world by going to Yale. I have been bright, but not bright enough to not go by the park on my way home from school. I’ve been shot multiple times.

I’ve been to the hospital multiple times. My parents abandoned my brother and I when I was just born. I moved to Cleveland about 5 years ago.

I moved here with my brother

Zack. We knew our Aunt Shualls.

I would love to go to

Cavaliers games with my brother, but the tickets are too expensive. My brother only works on odd jobs.

I help him

out sometimes, but the money is only enough to support us with necessities. Things we only wanted have never been an option for us. We only buy what we truly need.

I am not able to work because I am too young. My aunt works a few blocks away at PS 121. her teach.

I volunteered to help

I am quiet the voluntary guy.

When I was

younger I volunteered for the fire department.

Now I want

to do this, but I can’t.

On my way to my aunt’s house, I passed by a garden on Gibb Street. I had never really thought anything of it, but

I took a stroll through it.

I was thinking about starting a garden right near my bud, Curtis. here.

We have been friends ever since I have moved

The thing is, I wouldn't have any time to care for

my garden.

A few days later, I decided to start one. I met

David who started a garden on the other side of Curtis. He came from Morocco. We talked a while together. Just Curtis, David, and me had long talks every afternoon.

I grabbed some gardening supplies from my aunt’s house and got busy. My brother always told me that mom would grow the most delicious tomatoes. I dug a shallow hole with the shovel and I filtered out the crumbly soil for rocks and plastic. I got some tomato seeds and dropped them lightly into the hole. When my tomatoes started popping up from the blossoms that had once stood, my heart thumped with joy. I knew that Curtis’ girlfriend loved tomatoes so I gave him a few of my best. He finally got back together with her after she saw his sign that said, “Lateesha’s Garden.”

I live my life with no worries because I know you only live one life. I live with no worries, and with just a small hope that my parents will come back for me. But for now, I can only hope.

Kristina By: Catherine Costanzo I have never been one to judge, but this neighborhood just doesn’t seem like the place to get a quality education. Sure there are lots of kids, but none of them would be a good influence on me. I wish I knew that before I left home. Permanently.

In Ireland, there are so many families that home school their children. Some of the lads and lasses never learn how to do anything but the family trade.

That’s why I left. I want to be an architect. No one in me family could teach me that! Besides, there’s no way me mother could teach me anything with her two jobs. One during the day, one at night. She barely had time to cook for us. But I guess I should be thankful to her. She worked so hard so me brothers and I would have food to eat every day. On top of that, she had to pay the expensive hospital bill. Me dad is a temporary resident at the hospital. He has cancer. I wish that he would get better so that we could have a normal life again and I could learn from me mam, but those are foolish wishes. They are never going to come true. Never. I have to keep saying that to meself so that my hopes don’t get too high when I hear of some good news from the doctor.

So I now live in the United States of America. I had to find me own apartment, since me family couldn’t afford to lend me some money right now. I was 17, short, and had long red hair that I couldn’t do anything with. I needed to find a job, and soon. I

only had 15 dollars and 23 cents! But who would hire me? I can barely lift a school pack, let alone do heavy lifting for food and clothing stores. Without a job, I would have no place to sleep anymore, no food to eat, no new clothes, and nothing to do ALL DAY. I was walking along Gibb Street looking out for Help Wanted signs, but at the same time enjoying me stroll on a day as beautiful as this. We used to have days like this all the time in Ireland. I passed right by it at first without even knowing that there was anything there at all. Then, as I was walking away, me ears caught the faintest breath of voices, carrying to me from about 500 yards away. I backtracked, keeping me eyes and ears open wide. I strained to hear what was going on. Crime? Possibly. Drunks? Not at this time of day. Then what was going on?

As I got closer, I could see that there were two people that were the center of attention. An old man and a young lass. She suggested that the people should let water run from the spigots into garbage pails. People clapped, and the old man gave her a bill.

What? Was this some kind of plan for an attack on someone? If it was, these people sure were stupid! They were talking about it right here on the side of the road where anyone could hear them and call the American Gardaí. That’s what the Guardians of the Peace of Ireland, or the police force of the Republic of Ireland, were called for short. I walked slowly past the crowd again, pretending that I was just having meself a nice little stroll.

They didn’t seem to notice me, or they just didn’t care.

I took a few deep breaths and walked over there. I had to know what was going on!! I found a little old lady that I think is called Ana and asked in a low voice, “What are you all doing here?” She laughed. “Why, didn’t you know? We have a garden going here! That nice man Sam had a contest to see how children thought that we should get

water to the plants and this little girl here won!!” I winced at the loudness of her voice.

Several people were turning to look at me. Then I noticed that all of them were smiling, not hurling insults or making fun.

“All of you have things planted in this garden?” I asked Ana. She replied, “Most of us do. I don’t have a plot here because it hurts my back, bending over these plants all day. But people here are like a family, always looking out for each other and caring for others’ plants when they are missing or sick.” “Wow…” I breathed. “I wonder what I would plant here.” Ana had evidently heard me because she answered, “That’s the spirit!

You can plant anything you like!”

I thanked her and ran the rest of the way to the apartment I had found when I first moved here, above a dry cleaning store. I asked the man working down below if he knew where I could find me some seeds. He said, “Ah, you is planting at the garden, too?

Very good, very good.” He then gave me directions to the drugstore. I thanked him and then ran to the drugstore. I knew what I was going to plant. Potatoes!! I could send some back to Ireland to let me mam know I was all right! It’s a good thing I ran, because the man only had one packet of potatoes left, but it was enough. I paid him with the last of the money I came with.

Later that afternoon I went back to the garden to plant me potatoes. I was surprised to see how many people were there, working. I picked out a spot in the middle of the people. Who knew, maybe the people around me would become great friends some day! After I had me potatoes planted I went over to a friendly-looking Indian man that was growing some kind of purple vegetable. I asked him, “Where in India did you come from?” He answered, “I came from Delhi. I lived there with my sisters.” We

talked about what we were planting. The purple things were called eggplants. He grew them all the time in India. I asked what he did in Cleveland. He replied that he owned a cloth store. Back in Ireland, I used to mend clothes for me brothers, because they were always playing around and ripping their nicest clothes. So I knew a little bit about cloth meself. It turned out that Amir [that was the Indian man’s name] was looking for a clerk who could also help sort out boxes before and after the store opened and closed. I asked if I could apply for the job. He answered, “Sure, why not? You seem like you could do a little bit of lifting AND mathematics!” He smiled. I smiled back. “Thank you so much!” He replied, “You’re welcome.”

Maybe me dream of becoming an architect would have to wait for a while. But right now, I think that I would like to spend some time enjoying the sunshine in the company of future friends in the Gibb Street garden.

Crayo Christina Bellero One day I went into this horrible town. I was doing my regular walk so I stay strong with the little food I eat.

(B.T.W. I am a hobo). I turned onto Gibb Street. There was a garden. I needed somewhere to sleep so I decided that was a good place. I waited until the sun went down and everyone left before I walked into the garden. The first thing I saw on my left was big juicy Tomato. I was starving so I went to get one. I started to walk toward the tomatoes and then a hobo started to chase me with a pitchfork. I said “ahhhhhhhh! Why are you chasing me?” Then the hobo said, “ You can’t take these tomatoes.” “I wont I wont” I yelled. He stopped and I tripped over some rocks. He helped me up. We started talking. I apologized for going to take the tomatoes. He forgave me anyway. He told me how he got hooked up with a place here because he guarded the tomatoes. I asked him if I could stay in the garden to. He said “sure as long as you don’t take anything.” I promised I wouldn’t. I learned his name was Royce. The next day Royce introduced me to Curtis. He was the one who was growing tomatoes. He gave me one and I thanked him. I ate all around it then I took the seeds out of the middle and made me own little garden. I watered them and gave them care. After a few days I saw little stems. It made me happy so I started to care for them some more. The stems just kept

growing and growing. Some people who worked in the garden taught me how to grow them and how I needed a stick to make sure the stems don’t fall. The next day I searched in the near by woods. I was looking. The woods were kinda scary with a lot of animas in them. I went up to an open spot where I found the perfect stick and I picked it up. Then I heard the rustling of the bushes. I froze. What if it was a vicious animal? I told my legs to run but they wouldn’t move. Then a head poked out. It didn’t look big or scary. After a while the rest of the body came out of the bushes. It was a little dog. It walked over to me and started to lick my face. I looked at the dog. It had a collar but only a rabies tag, no name. I decided to keep him and let him sleep with me. When we walked back I put him next to me and fell asleep. I was afraid he might run away but I hoped he wouldn’t. The next morning I woke up. The dog wasn’t there. It made me sad. But when I looked at my garden I became happy again. I saw little green tomatoes. I wanted them to grow as big as the guy who gave them to me. I watered them and gave them a lot of care. Then when I looked at everyone else’s garden I saw the dog in the person with the purple eggplants garden. He was eating one that fell on the floor. I told him bad dog and picked him up. I told him not to go near the plants and he listened. I never saw him near the plants again.

A few days later I looked at my tomatoes. They were pink. After a few more days they were reddish-pinkish. One day I woke up and I was going to water them, I looked at them. The dog was circling them. They were fully grown. I stepped back and admired my work. I never had anything of my own before. I felt special having this garden of my own. “Yes this garden is mine.”

Crystal By: Crystal Williams Long brown hair, hazel eyes, 13, “pretty”. That’s what my mom used to tell me.I try to be positive and not think about the past, but it’s hard. Me and my 2 sisters Niya and Leyah live with our grandparents. My parents were attacked one day and I wouldn’t leave my sisters there alone. So I took care of them for 4 years now. I was forced to care for them and grow up, so they could be successful in school. My grandparents gave us lots of money for food, school, clothes, and other stuff we needed. They would often go on vacation a lot leaving us here, for school. My grandparents and my sisters are all I have here. I would never give up and leave my sisters with someone else. I love them, and I think they love me too. I don’t know where my parents are but I think they are alive.

Over the years I learned how to cook, clean, do hair, and other skills my mom taught me.

I had a dream of a garden every night in the past week. It was strange. Each day I got up 2 hours before school and for 5 minutes thought about why I had that dream, I`ve finally got it! I think I got those dreams to tell me that Im not alone and that the life of my love ones should be enough to comfort me when im scared or depressed. 3:00 Saturday morning I got a phone call from the hospital saying that my parents were attacked and was in a coma. I felt like I was hit by a lightning bolt in my right side. My eyes was watery and poured water out like a watering can. I was scared, worried and sad all at once because I heard that some don’t come out of the hospital, they just check in and never come out. I listened to the doctor but the phone shaked more than a rattlesnakes tail, he

said they’ve been in there for 2 months and that my mom was the first one to awaken and a few minutes later my dad woke up. I cried even more, my sister said I sound like niagra falls, out loud. This time I cried for joy I am overwhelmed with happiness. All I could do is sing. Sing until I loose my voice or until they come home which is tomorrow. When my grand parents came home from the store I told them the great news and they said that they will take us all out for a walk. While walking the garden started appearing in my head just now. I see nasty tasting eggplants, lateesha`s tomatoes, lima abean plant, some golden rod and more. I feel close to something that feels good, like apart of me that was separated from me but within me at the same time. My grandma said this last street is the last one, so I hoped that it was a good one. When we saw this big building, I think it is the best part of this walk. Walking right in front of it feels like I was a tiny spec of dust. So cool! I got that image again but I was getting a headache now and I saw it. I saw the garden, the garden that relax and guide me through the stress and pain that was never expressed out loud but always felt deeply inside of me. The garden. That garden. I believe that garden brought my parents back to me. I love that garden even though I thought that it was always a dream but I use to wish was real. We walked through the garden and I felt like it was heaven. I was here, in my safe place.

1Seymour Rechtzeit By: Danny DeSanti

"You’re nothing but a foolish child."

That's what I get around here. That didn't bother me. Keep walking and don't stop for any reason. That’s my thinking when I'm outside walking in these streets. It is very dangerous in on this street, Gibb street. My father and I lived in Poland with the rest of my family, but, when I was eight years old, my father and I moved here to Cleveland. I speak Yiddish and English. People make fun of me because of it. I learned English by watching a lot of television and listening to other kids talk on the playground. I really caught up with it fast. For my father, he couldn't say a word in English.

My name is Seymour Rechtzeit. I am now eleven years old. I came here for a career in acting, singing, and performing. My uncle was already here and that is how my father and I got here, from my Uncle buying tickets for us to come over. My dad had to answer a bunch of questions. But for me, I had to take exams, for instance a health exam, to see if I was sick. I didn't pass and I had to stay on the island for a couple of days. I finally reunited with my father and uncle and we set off for a career. I performed in everything and everywhere. Now, I'm taking a break.

My father and I have been living here for four years now. Right now, my father is very ill. My father can't even speak English. People think he is mute. So, I usually do the running around stuff. Now I am on my way home from the drugstore to pick up some medicine for my father.

As I was hurrying along I went past a lot. This was the lot that everybody says it has garbage from years ago. But I saw only flowers, vegetables, plants, and even some small trees. There has to be at least thirty two people in there working. It was amazing Everybody seemed so friendly, happy, and having a good time. You don't see that much around here. This place is known for it's murders and other horrible things.

People were discussing how to get water to the plants. One person said we should gather cans and when it rains we'll get the water that filled up the cans and pour it on the plants. The person said this because an apartment blocks the sun and the rain from the plants. I agreed. I wanted to participate because I feel like I would be doing something nice for this community. I mean, all that I did here was, since me and my father moved here was travel place to place and perform. I did nothing do give back to the community.

I realized that this was my chance. I pounced on the opportunity.

I quickly ran back to my apartment and told my father about the idea. He loved it.

All he said was, "Son, if you do this you have to be careful. There is many dangerous things out there and I don't want you to get hurt. You are the only person I have in this country besides Uncle Thompson." The whole conversation was in Yiddish, you wouldn't understand. I then quickly ran to the market and got six cans. That night it rained. I placed all six cans on my balcony. I had enough water to drench the whole garden.

That afternoon, I brought my cans to the garden. Nobody has ever seen me there

before. I nice, old lady came over and said,"Thank you but how did you know we needed water?" I replied,"Your welcome. I'm sorry but I was listening to all of your conversations and heard you needed water. I ran to the store and set my cans out the night before and collected the water." A gentleman stepped towards me, I believe his name is Amir. He lives in my apartment building."Aren't you Seymour Rechtzeit, the performer?"

"Yes, sir." He looked at me strangely. "How nice of you to take your time out of your busy life and help us. This garden is what made us a family. But now, we need water to help this garden survive and you do this great deed to help us?" I replied again,"Yes, sir."

Amir didn’t understand. My life wasn’t that busy. But, I didn’t interrupt him because this was to good of a moment to ruin. "Can you plant?" That was the question that sparked a beautiful relationship. A relationship between a garden and a family. Best part is that I'm now apart of this family.

I plan on planting nice, juicy, red tomatoes. I'm making them for my father and uncle. This is the vegetable my family always grew in Poland. When I gave my father the tomato, he started to tear. He then said," a dank aych." Which means thank you in Yiddish. I now feel great inside. I've done something great for both my family and my new friends. I know now that I need to keep participating in the garden so the garden will keep on growing. Everybody is a major role in the development of a wonderful garden. I am too. I need to understand that.

I hate Cleveland. They call it the city of immigrants.

Yeah, more like the city of immigrants that want to go home. I moved here two months ago from India. I don’t know why people want to come here. I mean, what is here? If anything, India is where Americans should be coming.

Back in India, people are friendly and you can do pretty much anything you want. In America, there always has to be some reason or explanation.

There is also a lot of stuff that we had there that isn’t in America. I miss the samosas and chai and all the food I could eat there. I miss the autos and the movies and playing cricket. Most of all, I miss Radhika. Me and Radhika have been friends since we were like a year old. We have done

everything together, from getting yelled at by our teacher for feeding the stray dogs around our school our lunches, to crying when her grandmother passed away. We also go everywhere together like the time we went to Pathivasa and rode buffalo carts, to climbing the hills to the temple in Tirupathi.

I try to talk to her everyday but the time zones are so messed up that most of time I call her, her mother says she is sleeping. I got used to the standard sleepy voice, “So sorry, Priya. It’s one in the morning here and Radhika is sleeping.” But through the calls that have been answered, I have been missing her even more. She told me that she got the cat that she has been begging for. The one we were supposed to look after together. That had been the plan since the beginning of first grade. Guess that’s not gonna happen.

School here is rough, too. I speak pretty fluent English because of movies and stuff and I don’t have that bad of an accent but I can’t make any friends. No one here really wants to talk to me cause I’m kinda an outsider. I came in the middle of 7th grade, so everyone already has a group of friends and everything. It’s not like a want to make friends with these pampered, stuck-up, Americans anyway. Also, some of the kids make fun of me by

pretending to have really bad accents. But it really doesn’t really bother me a lot because I will not, I repeat, will not be staying here much longer. As soon as I find a way, I am hightailing my way outta here.

My days here have been pretty lonely. I’m an only child and so far have zero, zip, no friends. And since this stupid place hasn’t heard of updating their stores with Indian movies and magazines or getting any good channels on TV, I pretty much have nothing to do. I mean, seriously, back in India, we have both American and Indian stuff. And they say this place is “technologically advanced.” Yeah right, dream on.

So I pretty much fill my walks home and spare time with thinking. I pretty much just relive my life but with the perspective and knowledge I have know. There is actually a lot you can learn from that. Like I realized that whenever I have that icky pasta at school immediately followed by some gulabjamun from home, the day would not go well. But there is a down side to that. It makes you rethink all your decisions. Like that one time me and Radhika got into a fight because she wasn’t really doing good in school (I always have been sorta a mother slash older sister figure to her), and I told her mother. Radhika wasn’t allowed to go outside for the next two weeks when it was past six and she had to study all the time. She won’t talk to me

for almost a week but then, when she got her report card which said she had came first in the class, she absolutely loved me. But there are times when I remember the look on her face, of pure hatred, and I regret doing it.

Especially if I had known I had been moving to America that same year, I would definitely not of. I mean, what harm is a couple of bad grades?

That same annoying thing happened when I was walking down Gibb Street. This wasn’t a route I usually took but I was experimenting with ways to get home quickly because all the gangs I heard were roaming around (I forgot to mention that another thing I’m pretty good at is eavesdropping.

The trick is to look so preoccupied that no one who suspect you of listening).

I was absent-mindedly kicking a soda can around as I was dreaming up ways to get back at the kids at school who made fun of me when I bumped into someone.

It was a white girl that had long red hair and blue eyes. Her face, even though it looked the same age as mine, was crinkled with smile lines.

She was also lugging a watering can that was obviously too heavy for her to hold. We just stared at each other for a second.

“Sorry about that,” she then said indifferently, as she put the watering can down, that task itself taking her full concentration, “I tend to

not look where I’m going because I’m caught up in what’s going on around me.”

The girl glanced casually at me, and then she did a double-take. “You’re that new girl from school! You’re…wait…don’t tell… Priya right? I just nodded my head at her, my brain trying to find a way to get away from the American girl. All of a sudden, the girl stuck her hand out, the spontaneity causing me to flinch. “My name’s Annabelle. But you can just call me Belle.” I stared at her hand, not exactly processing the action. She, an American, wanted to

shake hands with me? There is no way that’s happenin g. After about a minute of awkward silence, Annabelle slowly put her hand down. “You speak English, right?” she asked as she looked at me quizzically. Now she wants to make

fun of me. Not happening.

“Yeah,” I murmured, my voice cracking a bit. Why can’t I just say

what I think! I bet I sound like a total pushover.

“Belle! Where are you with that watering can?!?!” a voice called, sounding a bit annoyed but still full of love.

“Coming, Dad!” Annabelle shouted back. Then, she turned to look at me, a big grin spreading wide across her face. “Well, I guess I’ll see ya around then!” Annabelle gave me a cheerful wave and took off, half running, tugging that watering can behind her. I stood there, unable to move,

dumbfounded by the exchange. My eyes followed the redhead’s figure to a garden.

It looked like one of the gardens in the paintings of royal Indian gardens my family hangs in our house. The garden was full of many different plants. There were violet eggplants, red tomatoes, green lima bean, and so much more. But even more startling were the different the people. There were Caucasians, blacks, Koreans, Mexicans, Asians, and pretty much any ethnicity that you could think of. They were all talking, working, and smiling.

With each other. Sort of like they were all brothers and sisters, part of one big family. Then I caught myself. Priya, look at yourself. Do you really want

to be part of that stupid garden? It’s just a couple Americans messing things up like they usually do. Just walk away.

But as I as strode away, I couldn’t help but to look back at the scene behind me. But it’s not just Americans there, I thought to myself.

There are also other foreigners like me in the garden. And they look like they are having fun. A war of emotions was being waged inside me. One part told me that me that I was turning away an amazing opportunity by walking away from Annabelle and the garden and that I should turn around. The other was telling me that I was stupid for rethinking it. But before I could

stop to myself, I spun around and ran back to the garden.

I stopped once I reached the fence that encompassed it. I saw Annabelle’s ginger hair, which was almost impossible to miss, on the other side of the garden. I took breath and slowly walked in. What I saw as I passed the mini-gardens shocked me. There were so many people, of different races, all in one small space. I saw a Chinese woman giving funnels to a couple of Americans to help them pour water. There was a Mexican pregnant teenager who was chatting away with a middle-aged black woman as they weeded their gardens. It was like someone had stuffed the entire world into this one garden.

As I neared Annabelle, I saw she was talking to Amir, my neighbor, who had become friends with my family because we were from the same part of India. That’s weird. I never thought of Amir to be one to mix with other

from different places. Wasn’t he the one who told me the Polish are scary strong and cook cabbage? She suddenly spun around and we were face to face again. Her face was at first shocked, but then it looked like she was trying to remember something.

“Pulamukulu….na…nadara…..um…ma?,” she said, looking at her feet shyly. Then she looked up at me, her look telling me she was waiting for my

reaction. She wants to plant sunflowers with me? She went to Amir to learn

how to say that Telegu just so that she could be my friend? Wow. My eyes started to tear up just a bit. Get a grip and say something.

“Sure,” I said, smiling at her. And as I followed Annabelle, no, Belle, to her garden, the warm sun shining down on us, I realized something. I just might like it here after all.

Giangrasso

Make one wrong turn in Cleveland and you end up in the trashiest neighborhood in town.

I would know. I’ve lived on Gibb Street for 8 years. Those 8 years were the worst years

in my life. Because I’m Italian, people figure I’m some sort of pasta-lovin’ Ginny from the Mafia. The thing is, I do like pasta. Anyways, I hate this neighborhood. And just about everyone in it. There’s crime, drugs, murder, and that feeling of just hatred in the air. There are more gangs than buildings. My cousin was jumped, stabbed and killed by some gang. I basically figured, unless we move, I’m done for.

But the other day I saw somethin’ that changed this neighborhood. It changed for the best. I saw three people plantin’ something. What it was, I don’t know. Like I knew I should, I put my head down n’ kept walking. The next day I saw it again. Same people same place same deal planting somethin’. Now I was confused. Today I saw them again.

I wanted to know what they were doin’, so I went against what I have always done, don’t get involved. I walked casually by and slipped into the lot, the one I’ve always know to be filled with garbage.

If that wasn’t one of the best decisions of my life I don’t know what was. I walked over to this Asian girl, she looked bout’ 12 or 13 years old. I prayed she wouldn’t pull a gun on me, and walked over and asked, “Uuhhh, hey… what are you doin’?” I asked.

No response. Maybe she didn’t hear me. So I asked again. Still no response. I asked this time it was louder. She didn’t answer. I started getting mad. If she didn’t me to know what she was doing, she could have said so. This time I tapped her on the shoulder, “Hey, what are you doing,” I asked.

“Oh me? I’m planting my garden,” she responded.

It just dawned on me. This wasn’t a gang; it was a community garden. I no longer was afraid of this neighborhood I was proud of it. It did seem like much, a group of

people planting lettuce and carrots. But it was; it had a much deeper meaning than that. I realized that I just stood there for a few minutes and responded, “Cool, how do you join?” I asked.

“All you do is plant,” she told me.

“Great, thanks for the help!” I yelled as I ran down to the convenience shop and got some seed. I started to head back to the garden when my mom called for dinner. I slipped into my house and ran up to my room. I tucked the seeds in my draw and ran down stairs.

That night, I barely slept. I wanted to plant so badly. The next day I jumped up bright and early to go plant. I ran to the garden and started a small garden for myself.

This no longer was the trashiest neighborhood in Cleveland; it was my favorite.

Maria

By Michael Weymouth

I hate living in Cleveland. I always have.

My biggest regret in life is moving here from Naples. My name is Maria Antonelli. I came over from Italy in 1956. I was 40 years old and only had $56.43 to my name. I decided to move to Cleveland to meet up with my sister.

That was about 30 years ago. My sister died in 1962 and I haven’t seen any of my family since her funeral. I feel as if they have abandoned me. The only reason I stay is

because I can’t afford to move.

One thing that they don’t tell you in the emigration office is that you can’t get good produce in Cleveland. Back home, you could find a vendor of the finest fresh fruit and vegetables on every street corner. Here, everything is either frozen, canned or disgusting. Without the essential tomatoes, basil and garlic, I have no way of making my marinara sauce.

Ok, a sauce may not sound like the most important thing in the world. To many, it isn’t. But in Italy, a good tomato sauce is a symbol of home. Of better times. Of family.

Without my sauce, I have no way of connecting with the homeland and my family.

I usually take a walk around the neighborhood every day for exercise. Today was no different. However, what happened on the today’s walk was. There were people planting things in that old trash lot. It seems as if they had turned it into a garden.

Although I was very interested, it was getting dark so I decided to make my way home.

Cleveland isn’t the safest place at night.

The next day I awoke with one thing in mind. I would go to the lot and start my garden. On my way to the lot, I stopped by the store to pick up some seeds and a trowel.

As I walked from the store to the lot, I think I was smiling. I was excited to finally start a connection to my family back home. They were all farmers. And now, I could be one too.

Upon arriving to the lot, I was prepared. I picked a spot for my garden. I knelt to the ground and felt the cool, dry earth. I unpacked the trowel and the seeds. As I lowered the trowel to the ground, my hand started to shake. I don’t know why. Maybe I was nervous. I scooped out dirt and dropped one little seed into the hole. I covered the seed

with the soil and held my breath. I watered the seed. Then I repeated the process for the other seeds. Then I moved on to the next packet. Then the last packet. I stood up and wiped my hands on my pants. I looked at my garden and took a deep breath. I had done it. I had planted my garden.

Every day I watered my seeds on my daily walk. And every day I felt like I met a new gardener. I was making friends for the first time in years. I didn’t feel lonely anymore. I was part of this garden. I was part of the community.

Every 3 months on the first of the month during growing season, I would trot down to that garden early in the morning. For an old woman, that's around 8:45. I stop at the store on my way there to pick up some more seed packets and some plastic containers. With my gear in hand, I head down to the garden. Upon arrival I kneel on the ground and begin my work. I pick the plumpest tomatoes, the freshest basil, and the largest garlic cloves. After placing those items in their respective containers, I plant the new seeds. Then I get home. When I get to my house, the real work begins. When I cook, there isn't anything stopping me until I finish.

After all of that work, I head down to the garden at about 5:30 with my spaghetti marinara. When I see all of those friendly faces waiting for me around that large picnic table, I feel like I’m home. Home isn’t defined by where you are. Home is where you’re surrounded by people who care about you. When I'm at that dinner, I can't seem to think of any other place I'd rather be than Cleveland, Ohio.

Gabriel

By Nick Diamandis

I changed the oil and then turned the keys. The engine roared loudly. I work at an auto shop on Gibb Street. When I moved here from Lebanon my dad owned an auto shop and gave me a job. I have lived in Cleveland for one year now and I still do not know any of my neighbors. My brother and I went to a night school to learn English. My parents don’t know much of the language.

I am 28 years old and I live in a small apartment with my brother. We were the only Lebanese people in the neighborhood. I think that’s why nobody will talk to us.

There are different groups in the neighborhood. The groups are of peoples own race.

I was on my way to work when this Italian guy ran into me. His name was Andre.

He told me about a community garden in the neighborhood. “I’m going to find a spot at the garden to plant basil for my family”. I wanted to see the garden, but I had to get to work. I asked Andre where the garden was and he told me to follow him. He was the first person to talk to me ever since I moved here.

When I saw the garden I felt so alive. The garden stood out from the whole neighborhood. I saw everyone together and laughing. I wanted to plant something in the garden after I saw it. When I get off work I’m going to see what seeds I can buy.

I just got my weeks worth pay today. I was thinking of planting strawberries because I grew a lot of them in Lebanon. I still miss it there; I miss the clear blue water at the beach. I wasn’t very excited to come to America. My father came here first for money and then I came with my brother for a job at his shop.

When I finally finished working and cleaning up I went to go find Andre to get

some strawberry seeds. He was at the garden watering his basil when I found him. He showed me this French guy named Pierre who sold me strawberry seeds. I bought the seeds for five dollars. I sprinted to the garden as soon as I received them. Some people thought I was foolish for being so excited over strawberry seeds. When I got to the garden I picked a spot where the sun was shining. The soil was so moist and dark when I rand my fingers through it. I sprinkled the strawberry seeds over the rich soil and comforted them with another layer of soil on top of them.

The strawberry seeds made my life so exciting. I didn’t want anyone to touch them so I saw this kid who slept in the garden every night and asked him if he can make sure that my strawberry plant would stay safe. He was already making sure that another person’s plant was safe but, he still agreed to guard mine. I gave him some money for food in exchange for keeping my plant safe.

Days passed and my strawberries became coming out. Everyone was so fascinated of how big and red they were. People introduced themselves to me as I did to them and they were asking me questions about my plant. I finally started to get to know all of my neighbors. We were all talking and laughing together. The garden brought people together. The garden made happiness. The garden changed my life.

FRANK By: Nicholas Farrauto

The kids in my school think that my parents are in the Mafia just because I’m Italian. But they are not! I am 10 years old, and I’m in the fifth grade and at least I hoped that it was not true. I didn’t know much. We are the kind of Italian’s who mind our business, stay to ourselves and do not get involved in other people’s problems. Besides, I did not that I have any friends. I have two brothers, and together with my parents we live in a small apartment on Gibb Street. I share my room with my two brothers. It’s ok because I have enough room.

I always loved tomatoes. When I was younger I would only eat tomatoes, nothing else.

It was an early Saturday morning with the sun shining through my window waking me up to a new day. I decided to get up, get an early start and take a nice walk. I loved Saturday’s because they were the start of the weekend and I never wanted the weekend to end. In a few weeks school would be closed, and I would be school free. I would have the entire summer to enjoy. The only thing that I liked more than the weekend was the summer. Anyway, while I was walking on the street near my apartment house I saw this man named Sam, who lives in the apartment building next to me. He was putting seeds in the black dirt in the empty lot between our two apartment buildings.

He was planting pumpkins. He had this boy with him who I didn’t know and they were

going to try selling the pumpkins in the neighborhood and try making a profit. This got me thinking and I wondered if this was my chance to do something for my street.

Something had to be done, their had to be change. I asked them if they would help me got some more people and turn that ugly lot into a garden that we all could be proud of. Over the next few days we got a bunch of people to help clear all the garbage out of the lot and get it ready for more plants. Everyone that helped to clean the lot got a small plot of land all to themselves. I looked in the garden to see what they had. Some people planted pretty flowers, some planted trees for shade, and some planted vegetable plants to feed to their families. A man named Curtis had already planted tomatoes. I felt so upset because that was the only thing that would make me feel like myself again. There was a small spot to plant my tomatoes in the middle of the garden. I looked at the tomatoes that Curtis planted. There was a sign that said “Lateesha’s Tomatoes,” Curtis named it after his exgirlfriend and he was tending to them. I talked with him for good tips to help me start my garden and maybe help me to grow my tomatoes big and healthy.

With Curtis’s help I bought some tomatoes seeds down at the local 5 and 10 cent store and it said on the packet that it would take about 7 to 10 days before the plants begin to grow and then about a month for the tomatoes to become little red balls that would ripen on the vine. It seemed like forever for these tomatoes to grow. I couldn’t wait for these tomatoes to grow and become beautiful red delicious tomatoes so I could eat them. I wanted to be able to view my work immediately. I felt that I was in a tomato competition and all I wanted was the gold medal but there was a wall blocking me from achieving that goal. I just had to have the best tomatoes in the garden. They couldn’t be just ok tomatoes, they had to be perfect round red tomatoes.

My parents used to tell me “anything that is good is worth waiting for”. I decided to plant my tomato seeds and start waiting. I waited, and waited, and waited! It seemed like forever.

I went in the garden to go and check on my tomatoes every day, hoping that the time would come for me to take the fruit to my parents to show them what I had been doing all this time in the garden. I even brought my brothers to the garden but they would rather play in the street than work with me. Finally my tomato plants had grown from little green sticks to fully mature plants with many yellow flowers and the big circular tomatoes I hoped for. They looked good and some were still a little green and some of the tomatoes were on the ground. I had a paper bag in my pantry in my house. I ran home to get the bag, and then when I came back to the garden I put all the little tomatoes that had fallen to the ground in the bag to ripen on our window sill. Soon I was done picking the last tomatoes for the day and I had some time on my hands and I didn’t know what to do.

So I decided to look around and snoop in garden like a 10 year old spy. I wanted to inspect what everyone planted in the garden. I saw that this girl was around my age. She is 9 years old and her name was Kim. She planted lima beans and they were looking like they were going to die. I decided to help her and I got a pale full of water and brought it over to her so she could feed the lima beans. Every day when I went to check on my tomatoes I would find her carefully tending to her lima beans. Our friendship grew as our plants matured. We became very good friends and I learned a lot from her and our crops. More than one world collides in this garden.

And my parents loved the tomatoes. It was perfect.

Pierre by scott Langhamer America sure isn’t like France.

I remember the day my

parents dragged me out of Europe and into here.

Although I

was just a little seven-year-old kid when I moved. I don’t remember much of my homeland. Now I am twenty-eight, I lost most of my French vocabulary and speak fluent English. It’s

just my mother, father, and my little brother here. I used to live in my own apartment, but then things changed. My father has something wrong with his liver and needs major surgery. Right now he is in the hospital and out of work.

We need a lot of money that my family can’t afford, and we have to pay rent. So I had to move back in with my mom and brother and get a second job.

When my second job ended I was dragging my feet home.

It was getting dark and needed to go to the store and buy some groceries for dinner. On my way there I saw the vacant lot. I do not know why the people still call the lot vacant when it is full of little gardens. Then I continued my way to the store and started to think. If I will make my own garden I could save some money then buying it at home. But what could I plant? Then it hit me at the check out counter in the store. Champagne grapes. I remember the farmer I used to live near. He used to give me ripe sweet champagne grapes.

The next day I went to the market but could not find champagne grape seeds. So I went to seven different markets. Still could not find them. I was going to lose it but my little brother said to order on line. So I did. I ordered five packs of seeds. It came with extra pack of strawberry seeds.

I was so anxious to get them. Even

though I had no experience about gardening I set out to get my spot in the lot started.

It took six days for the packs to come. My mother found the box outside the door. She opened the box to see what was inside. Then called me to come in the kitchen with her heavy french accent. I told her what they were for and then she took a deep breath. Mother told me if I have time I could garden. I snatched the packs out of her hands and dashed to the lot. When I went to the lot I noticed that two more people came to garden. It was very hard setting up those grapes. I did not know tempeture they grow at or how much water they need every day. I could not go on the computer to search for the information. My brother sold the computer so he can contribute for the surgery bill.

He

bought the computer with the money he got from a drug deal.

He is a good kid, it is just his no good friends. They are the ones who bring him into the deals. All the thugs in cleveland

do there business in Gibb street. Eric never

told me he does drug deals but I caught him holding the drugs. From that day on I forbid him from that way he was living. I never told my mother about that day. I hope he is out of that life and made a fresh start. He is old enoughf to know what is right and what is wrong without me telling him.

In a few

weeks I started to see my grapes grow. When

I checked up on my grapes I brought the packs of strawberry seeds with me. I sold the pack to a nice man named Gabriel. the grapes were getting plump. I decided to give the grapes another day. As I was watering I caught a glimps of a old lady looking through a pair of binoculars. She seemed to take intrest in a little girl. The little girl was growing some sort of beans. Then I went back to work. I left the garden to get some fertilizer. When I come back I see my little brother pick off a grape. I really was not mad. I asked him how it tasted. He said it was sweet but a little tart.

The next day I

went to the hospital with my family

to see how my father was doing after the surgery. I brought some grapes I picked from my garden. We went into the room and saw my dad talking to the docter. After the docter went away we started talking. I gave my dad the grapes. He inhaled them. I guess that was the only thing he at all day. Then while he was chewing he told me how to make the grapes into champagne. I could not wait to make Champagne!

Since my dad is back on his feet, I can quit my second job. I started making plans to get back in my apartment. My brother went out to get the dry cleaning. While I shared the bottle of champagne with my folks. Two hours passed by.

The phone rang. I put it on speaker. It was the cops. The news was about my brother. When I heard what happened I dropped to my knees. My mother was sulking. This day will not be forgotting.

Isabella America.. nice? my life in Italy was much better then this dump. My life became worse when we moved here, away from the family farm 6 months ago. Mother said it would be very nice and I would enjoy it very much. I miss waking up in the early morning and going out into the field and taking care of the animals and planting vegetables. I miss my grandparents and everyone else back at home in Sicily. By the way, My name is Isabella, I moved here six months ago with my mother and three sisters. My father died when I was seven years old and now I am thirteen. I go to the local school here. The school isn't very nice. Kids around me do very bad things, I am actually pretty scared. School is also very awkward because i don't speak very good English, my grammar is good but I have a very heavy Italian accent so it doesn’t exactly come out that well. I just want to go

home. One day when I was walking home from school I saw a lot, with people planting things in it, so more of a garden I think... well whatever it was, it was kinda like home. They were many different types of plants, I saw millions of different colors. It was comforting. I felt happy again, it wasn’t exactly like the farm but it was as close as I was going to get in this place! I didn't really feel like going in the lot, so I just went home and did my daily routine of doing my homework, playing with my sisters and then eating my dinner. It kinda sucks because I never ever do anything. But one day I decided to break the cycle... I went and I saw the garden. It looked like it was in a dump. So, I went in and I looked at it and there were many different. types of vegetables and people. They all looked like they liked each other and that they were friends. This was different for our community because nobody talks to each other. Its like they all hate each other. It was cool to see these people bond over something nice. I decided to walk in, when I was in everyone just stared at me. At first it was awkward, but then everybody just turned away so I kept on walking. I found a nice little area that was good enough for me to me to plant in. I really wanted to talk to the person next to me but I was way to shy and decided not to-maybe

another time. I didn't really know what to do since I didn't have any seeds so I just kept on digging with my hands. After twenty minutes of just digging this lady came up to me and gave me seeds in my hand. I asked her what they were and she replied by saying they were just lettuce seeds. The women helped me put in the seeds, I knew how to do this but didn't want to be rude so I didn't say anything. After she helped plant the seeds she sprinkled a little water on top. I smiled said thanks and left. I was happy that I was actually going to do something now, I wouldn’t stay at home all day doing nothing. I would actually have a life. Right when I walked in through the front door my mom asked me why I was so late, I told her why and she was happy that I was actually getting into something I could do with the community and something that would remind me of home. I quickly ate my dinner and ran into my room to get ready and sleep. I just laid there in bed, thinking about how much fun I was going to have with this planting. I realized that there were a lot of kids my age there and I was going to probably make some new friends! And if I like it, I am gonna tell my sisters about it. This was gonna be the start of something new and special. I could just feel it

Simran Ghooi

Ike

The bullets rang out through the field. Creeping through the

grass barely 1 foot an hour can get very boring. Spot the target, pull the trigger, dead.

That was my mission. I’m an Israely soilder fighting in Germany. Well, sniper actually. I got accepted into the sniper unit 2 years ago. Every one of my missions have been successful. Now I’ve spotted one of the FBI’s most wanted terrorists. He’s in my crosshair. I can see him. No, he moved behind a tree. He’s walking to his car. I have to hurry. BOOM!!!! Headshot. Now I’ve done the easy part. I still have to run for my life.

The men start running after me. It’s hard to run in the hot ghillie suit and hold my Springfield sniper rifle. I had a pistol on my side ready for close quarters. 20, 15, 10, 5 more yards to the chopper. I jump in and we take off. My general tells me good job, were heading home. Another successful mission.

That was in 1944 in World War 2. I got drafted when I was 18 from Israel. I was born in 1936 in Jerusalem, Israel. I wanted to come to America for a new opportunity and my friend recommended Cleveland. I had no idea what Cleveland was or what it was like. I came to America after I was released from the army. I live in the trashiest neighborhood in Cleveland. There have been so many crimes on Gibb street. I never have anything to do. I was walking home from buying groceries one day when I stumbled onto a community garden. There were so many happy faces and people. Even though people weren’t participating they were still looking happy. I thought nothing of it and continued to live my boring life as a nobody in the US but a war hero in Israel. A couple days later I walked by and someone offered to give me some cucumber seeds. I took them gladly. I

finally feel like I’m a part of something. I feel important in America. I walked over to an open spot and planted my cucumbers. They sprouted in a few weeks. It reminded me of Israel and how we used to plant. I finally found out how I fit in, in America. It feels good to call this place home.

MAY

BY VANESSA SCOTT I woke up in my apartment in Cleveland, Ohio. Breathing in the fresh air, I knew today was the big day. I was finally turning twenty-one. I was now an adult. I would now be able to vote and even drink. Not that I was planning on going to bars every night. I had a career to work on. It just felt nice to be able to do almost anything now. I was planning on becoming an artist. I already took some art classes and even won many art competitions. In school, my grades were always good. Not like that mattered. I knew I was becoming an artist anyway but my parents always told me that being smart could help any job. They were very carefree until our taxi company went bankrupt and my parents started stressing over finding work fast before we couldn’t pay the mortgage. Sometimes I didn’t get my parents. My dad wasn’t a strict business man even when he owned the taxi company. A lot of my friends had dads that were constantly looking at their watch and basically just looked so formal all the time. My mom was obsessed with hunting. I always thought that was just weird but that’s what happens when you grow up with a family living in the

woods. I told my mom it was cruel but of course I couldn’t get in the way of her passion.

It was like my passion for painting, I wouldn’t let anything get in my way. I loved painting the sunsets and the clear oceans in the Philippines but I couldn’t stay there. They country was in poverty. I couldn’t stand seeing the families in the street and it’s not like I wasn’t having it bad either. My parents were killed in a robbery leaving me with a debt on my hands. The man who robbed us thought we were rich because we owned a taxi company when we were actually bankrupt. Every time I saw someone on the street, somehow it reminded me of my parents, probably because it was always a family, and the feelings of anger and sadness were brought on me. I knew I had to leave when I got the chance. I didn’t want to stay in the Philippines with the memory of my parents; I wanted to start over. It turns out my cousin was leaving for America to attend college and I decided to come along. It was the perfect opportunity to escape my debt and have a fresh start. As soon as I arrived I studied hard to get a scholarship to the Cooper Union School of Art where I’m studying at now. It’s only been one year since I’ve been here and I already feel intimidated. The people here are mostly rich or extremely gifted. I feel an outsider to them. My art wasn’t outstanding like many others but I had my own style that many of the teachers complimented me on. That didn’t stop me from feeling like the runt of the litter. All the art projects I’ve handed in so far were simply average which is considered horrible here. I needed one amazing project to keep me from failing, but this last project was said to be the hardest of the whole year. It was my last chance, and I needed to show them what I was capable of. The idea of the project was to show bringing together or unity. I didn’t get it at first until my teacher told us it meant what we thought it meant. Which actually didn’t help at all, it just made me realize why people thought

this project was hard. I went home for spring break. I didn’t dare tell anyone where I lived back in Manhattan; this place was considered dirt to them. The ride to Cleveland was a long one and I barely had any money for gas. I spent the time thinking of what to paint but I never was able to come up with anything that would be good enough for the school to even consider a little above failing. The project was due in a month and spring break will probably be the only time I’ll have for this project and I needed something spectacular.

I walked out of my apartment and went out for a walk. The excitement of turning twenty-one was immediately gone when I reminded myself of my art project. Most of the other kids by now would probably already have started painting and I haven’t even thought of an idea. Then I saw the garden. I wasn’t sure if because it was so different than anything else in Cleveland but it looked beautiful. There were so many different plants that made the garden seem so colorful. But there was something different about it.

Anyone can tell this wasn’t your average community garden in Cleveland, maybe even in Ohio. The many different ethnicities separated it from other gardens. There were Blacks, Caucasians, Mexicans and Asians all together without arguing or getting into to fights constantly. I was surprised to see that no one was taking advantage of this community garden by growing marijuana or some other illegal drug; it was expected to happen here.

Everyone seemed to be perfectly fine cooperating with each other. I saw funnels being handed and even water being shared. People were talking to their neighbors regardless of their race. I walked into the garden. No one paid much attention to me; they were busy gardening or talking. People here would usually stare; it was kind of creepy. I was surprised to see a hunky guy there. Most guys like him would be constantly around girls,

not wasting their time in a garden. I found out the reason why he was there when I saw him walk over to patch of tomatoes. They had a sign that read Lateesha’s Tomatoes. He must be doing this for his girlfriend. I wouldn’t think it’s for his mom.

“Stop staring, he’s taken.” I looked over and saw an Asian elementary school girl chuckling.

“Wasn’t planning on to, besides I could already tell,” I said.

“Hi I’m Kim. What’s your name?”

“May” She suddenly started staring at my feet. I looked down and to my horror I saw that I was stepping on a patch of lima beans. Oh my god, these must be hers.

“Oh my. Are these yours? I’m so sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to.” I said.

She looked up at me and then laughed. What? Are these not hers? Why is she laughing?

“Don’t worry,” she said, “they are already dead.” I looked down and saw that they were already wilted. Oh. Thank god.

“You look lost” she said. Did I really?

“Yeah this place looks amazing” I said.

“Yeah people here get that a lot.” She looked over and quickly said hi to bunch of people.

“Everyone is so friendly here. It’s different from the rest of Cleveland.”

“I know. It’s as if the garden is bringing everyone together. I actually think it is. I have to go now. It was nice meeting you,” she said before walking away. What she said somehow reminded me of my art project. The garden was bringing everyone together. It was like the theme of my art project. Tomorrow I’ll be here with a paintbrush and canvas.

I knew what I was painting.

Neoke By: Vivek Lam Hi my name is Neoke. I just moved to Cleveland, Ohio from India because I think there are better job opportunities here and because my parents enrolled me in a college.

I arrived here by boat from India. I had to go around the cap of Africa, onto the Atlantic Ocean and into New York. From there I took a train to Cleveland, Ohio. It is only my second day of being in Cleveland and I have no place to stay. I needed to buy an apartment room here, but the money back in India doesn’t have much value in America.

While I was walking down the street I saw a garden and many people happily talking with each other and gathering together, just like in India at parties. I missed my friends, relatives and family that I left behind. Back in India I would plant many plants and eat them, they tasted really good and I missed doing that. I barely have enough money for some bread everyday. I’m scared of this town, but it is the only place cheap enough for me to rent an apartment room in about a month’s time when I have a job. My parents also enrolled me in a college here, so I have to stay here. Today I decide to sleep in the garden at a corner, but I keep an eye on the man hiding behind the corn.

This morning I wake up and see a man guarding his tomatoes like they were gems. I got to know him since I would probably see him in the morning everyday till I get an apartment. He said that his name was Curtis and the man I saw last night was Royce. He protects Curtis’s tomatoes and protects everyone’s plants from the people who try to steal them. He would sprint at them with a pitchfork in his hand and scare them away. I noticed that I just spent all my money on a sleeping bag and can’t get much food.

Curtis gave me a tomato and smiled. He was just like my friends and family back in India.

I decided that I would grow tulsi the national plant of India. I am going to grow tulsi because it was my families’ favorite plant to eat and my parents gave me a pack of Tulsi seeds as a reminder of them. I wasn’t thinking of planting them until now. If I have no money I can’t grow any plants because I need to get water for the plants. As I was walking around the town I saw a help wanted sign up on a store. I rushed in and found out that there were three other men waiting to apply for the job. They were all not qualified for the job and now it was my turn to try out for the job. They looked at me and made me stock shelves and carry the food. After about 30 minutes of labor they said, “You have the job”. I was so excited that I would finally be able to earn money for myself and not rely on my parents for everything I wanted.

I’m so excited I can plant my Tulsi plant today because while I was walking into the garden I talked with a very nice lady who told me how to get water for my plants.

Most people in the garden are getting water this way. To get water you have to put out your garbage cans on a rainy day and place them next to the gutters of the apartments.

Next a lot of water will fall into your garbage can over night. Someone threw an empty

garbage can out in the garden overnight. I was the first one to find it, so I got to keep it, but I was shocked when I heard that this place used to be a place were everybody would throw their trash. That’s probably why that garbage can ended up in this garden.

I picked a perfect spot for my tulsi plant that matched all the requirements for my Tulsi to grow. It needs full sun, so I chose a place with plenty of sunlight and I gave it plenty of water.

I was walking down the street when I heard a BANG, BANG, and BANG; just when I thought I was finally used to Cleveland the fire of gunshots rang through the streets. In front of my I saw four cars racing down the road and they all were shooting at each other. I was in the middle of a gang war. One person in the car saw me and pointed his gun at me. I dove behind a gate and just missed getting shot. One of the cars turned and chased me. Just before I was almost about to get shot again a dove into the garden and the people there made the car turn back.

This garden and the people in it just saved my life. I feel a connection to this garden. It was a sign of protection and freedom, everyone in the garden could meet each other and care about each other much more than they normally would. There was something about this town that I could not part with even if I had a chance.