Stray Shot 2014 by The Frederick Gunn School

Contributors: Fatema Almeshqab Sherry Che Cen Kelsey Dobler Andy Douglas Yuichi Fujikawa Evan Hirsh Jen Hylwa Gerry Kahari Jaewon Jenna Lee Miranda Levin Sam Levin Shannon O’Connor Kori Rimany Laura-Delight van Tartwijk Ataman Ubğur Emma Ward Nick Weinstein Jessica Qi Xu Jeffrey Zhijing Zhou

Stray Shot 2014

STRAY SHOT 2014 Editors: Sherry Che Cen, Andy Douglas, Connor Eckenrod, Joe Fallon, Brandon Garzione, Evan Hirsh, Gerry Kahari, Jake Mandl, Ian Morris, Jared Tolley, Jeffrey Zhijing Zhou Faculty Advisor: Mr. Benson

The Gunnery Washington, Connecticut

CONTENTS

Cover illustration by Yuichi Fujikawa (photo by Jeffrey Zhou)

Sonnet by Sherry Cen………………………………………………………………………….…….1 I loved the one by Lee- Jung – Ha, translated from the Korean by Jenna Lee…………2 White Haired Ezra Pound by Jong-Sam Kim, trans. from the Korean by Jenna Lee...4 Poems by Kim Sowol (1902-1934) trans. from the Korean by Jenna Lee………..…….5 The Evolution of a “Dream Deferred”essay by Kori Rimany………………………………6 Change by Miranda Levin…………………………………………………………………….……..9 Stars and Dandelions by Kaneko Misuzu trans. from the Japanese by Jenna Lee….10 Loose by Nick Weinstein………………………………….………………………………………..11 White Hospital Bed by Miranda Levin………………………..…………………..……………12 Five Letters To My Mother by Nizar Qabbani, trans. from the Arabic by Fatema Almeshqab13

Two poems by Kelsey Dobler………..……………………………………….…………………...22 “Though This Be Madness, Yet There is Method In’t” essay by Sam Levin………..23 Free Fall by Andy Douglas……………………………….………………………...…………..…29 Mirror and Reflection by Evan Hirsh…………………………………………………………..30 Poem by Shannon O’Connor…………………………………………………………………..….31 More Than I Can Take by BLØF translated from the Dutch by Laura-Delight van Tartwijk...32 Dance By The Sea by BLØF translated from the Dutch by Laura-Delight van Tartwijk……….34 Forgotten by Laura-Delight van Tartwijk (translated from the Dutch by the author)…………..36

Otherwise by Ataman Uğur……………………………………………..…………………………40 Three Haiku by Ataman Uğur……………………………….……………………………………41 Glue by Jen Hylwa………………………………………………..……..………………………..…42 Go away by Emma Ward……………………………………………………………………..….…43 Dream seeker by Dai Wangshu, translated from the Mandarin by Jessica Xu……….44 The Rainy Lane by Dai Wangshu, translated from the Mandarin by Jessica Xu…….46 On The Things They Carried essay by Kori Rimany…………..…………………….…….49 You are in Tsingtao photos, drawings, and text by Jeffrey Zhijing Zhou…………..….53 Memorial Address by Jenna Lee…………………………..………………………………..…..64 End of the school year by Gerry Kahari……………………………………………………….69 The editors thank Ms. Kjellson, Mrs. Theobald, Mr. Martin, and the many other faculty members who have assisted us in this endeavor. For back issues of Stray Shot, go to Students and then the Student Publications area of The Gunnery website.

Sonnet by Sherry Cen Beside the gurgling cool brook I lay My head reclines upon earthâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s soft reeds And listens to the chirping birds sing praise to a happy day Oh leaping frogs do stay and cut thy speed As we salute the happy spring and praise the April breeze The new green sprouts their prayers in harmony make The branches stand tall and the reeds bend their knees And birds sing lustily as the beginning of another day breaks Sweet soothing showers bathe the springing flowers Long days prolong the hours and bring sprouting seeds And bright colored sunflowers that cling to laden bowers The light reflecting the verdant gold and rose-red beads Oh happy time the days that bring warmth to many hearts Do not from us hide thy gentle smile nor from our sight depart

The Evolution of a “Dream Deferred” Essay by Kori Rimany

In her collection of short stories that work together as a novel, The Women of Brewster Place, author Gloria Naylor describes Brewster Place as the home of women who have each dealt with a “dream deferred” (Hughes 1) that poet Langston Hughes describes in his poem, “Harlem.” Both Gloria Naylor and Langston Hughes suggest uncertainty in the outcome of these deferred dreams; however, while Hughes uses metaphors to suggest a negative outcome, Naylor uses the character of Mattie Michaels to demonstrate hope and the positive impact of a dream deferred. At first, Mattie’s dream of a connection with her loved ones (both her parents and her son) “fester[s] like a sore” (Hughes 4) and hinders her ability to move forward in life on Brewster Place. In the same way that Hughes compares a “dream deferred” (Hughes 1) to a painful and “fester[ing]” “sore” (Hughes 4), Naylor suggests that Mattie’s dream of being a wanted and needed family member is initially painful to her. For instance, the narrator describes that a “kinder way” (49) for Basil to hurt her other than leaving her would be “hitting her in the face” (49). Mattie is a woman who has suffered through pain resulting in a “pile of torn clothes and bruised flesh” (24) caused by her own father, so for her to express this sentiment highlights that the degree of pain felt by Basil’s absence, and thus the degree of pain felt by remembering this “dream deferred,” is greater in magnitude than the physical pain that caused her to leave her childhood home. Over time, the “sore” (Hughes 4) heals and Mattie’s dream of a connection with her loved ones (her parents and her son) “sags/like a heavy load” (Hughes 9-10), but

the weight of this “load” acts as a reminder and motivation for Mattie to build relationships stronger than the failed ones that propel her dream. The weight of this “load” is defined by memories; for instance, Mattie names her son “Basil” to trigger memories of “the taste of sugar cane” (25) and “the smell of wild herbs” (25) that are characteristic of her childhood home, and thus this name of a child who “tie[s] her to that past” (25) acts as a constant reminder of the lost relationship with Butch, and consequently her lost relationship with her parents and her permanent exile from home as a result of Butch. However, Mattie’s constantly triggered memory of her life before Brewster Place encourages her to treat her relationships on Brewster Place differently. For instance, unlike in her relationship with Basil, in her friendship with Etta Mae, Mattie has learned how to walk away, as she demonstrates when she leaves Etta alone after an argument about her promiscuous behavior. She has mastered “the art of timing” (70) with Etta, and her relationship with Etta is stronger because of this new skill, where as with Basil Mattie “had been so proud that he [Basil] always turned to her” (43) that she was unable to give him space to grow as an individual. Although Mattie’s dream deferred has a positive impact on her own life, she recognizes the negative impact that similar dreams can have on a young woman, and this recognition highlights her greatest progress as an individual. In the same way that Mattie recognizes Basil as “all she would ever have” (22), Ciel sees her daughter as “the only thing [she] ha[s] ever loved without pain” (93). Mattie purges Ciel of the “poison of reality” (100) that is her lost babies and lost man because she sees this dependency on absent loved ones as having the ability to become Ciel’s own “dream deferred” (Hughes 1). Mattie now has the perspective to recognize the dangerous nature of a deferred dream, and by cleansing Ciel, Mattie cleanses herself of this danger.

Mattie’s dream of a strong and lasting connection with those individuals that surround her carries her to Brewster Place, but the progress that she makes with how this dream deferred impacts her is what defines those future relationships that she builds in her new home. Through her seven short stories, Gloria Naylor illustrates the evolution of the impact of Mattie’s dream deferred through her interactions with others, and thus illustrates that contrary to Langston Hughes’ implication, a “dream deferred” (Hughes 1) has the ability to become a positive fixture in an individual’s life.

Change by Miranda Levin Snow still on the ground, Grass starts to break its way through, Symbolizing spring. Flowers blossom now, Heat begins to climb higher, Swimming and sunscreen. The warmth seems to fade To cold, chilly afternoons, Red and orange fall. Dead leaves blow away, Snow hurls itself to the ground, Pushing winter in.

星とたんぽぽ / 金子みすゞ by Kaneko Misuzu 青いお空のそこふかく、海の小石のそのように、夜がくるまでしずんでる、昼のお星は目に見えぬ見えぬものでもあるんだよ、見えぬものでもあるんだよ。ちってすがれたたんぽぽの、かわらのすきにだあまって、春のくるまでかくれてる、つよいその根は目に見えぬ。見えぬけれどもあるんだよ、見えぬものでもあるんだよ。

Stars and Dandelions by Kaneko Misuzu translated from the Japanese by Jenna Lee Deep inside the blue sea, just like a shiny stone in the ocean, stars are sunk deep down there until the night comes. Although it’s invisible, it’s there. There are things you just can’t see. A weak, wilted dandelion is hiding between the rocks quietly until spring knocks on the door. Although strong and tough, its root is not seen. Although it’s invisible, it’s there. There are things you just can’t see.

Loose by Nick Weinstein Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s two A.M. Darkness Floats down off the sky, bringing sleep and rest But not to all Not here Peace is elusive, dodging all seekers Comfort escapes Slipping Through the cracking window that brings iced air Around my mind Thoughts move Shifting and straying from their dark prison Images flood Fill space Intruding into every empty nook Making demands Asking To be noticed, craving some attention Never give in Refuse Clash back against the deafening voices Earn victory Rejoice Tomorrow brings the same cold ritual

White Hospital Bed by Miranda Levin You are my favorite miracle, Out of all these individuals. But I’m glad I don’t have to give my prayers to you Because I know we’ll make it through whatever happens. I don’t care how we proceed, I just care that you know me And how I’ve got bags under my eyes Like I’ve been carrying weight for a long time I’m shortminded, thinking about the wrong side Of the railroad tracks, where my Grandma says they all die But if you think about it, everyone fights for compromise This time I think that I can prophesize That in that room where I promised I would never leave you, No matter if we all eventually go to that White hospital bed, I watched you lay there And almost turn into a ghost Ghost, I know you’ve had a bad day But that’s okay, love, because I’m by your side Through all those times we’ve held and cried Because I know that we all eventually go to that White hospital bed, I watched you lay there I never knew what pain you had to bear You were just in the midst of feeling tired And that all you prayed for and desired Was to escape this precious world And find a new place yet to be unfurled But all you did was land right in that White hospital bed, I’ll be here forever And when I think of you, I form a smile on my face Because throughout these years We’ve both been out of place That smile on my face, I’m going to give to you. The best people feel the most It’s just so unfairly true. 12

poems by Kelsey Dobler TwoTwo poems by Kelsey Dobler

Simple Man TheThe Simple Man loved three things in life: He He loved three things in life: Ladies without opinions Ladies without opinions Wooden handle umbrellas Wooden handle umbrellas and bread with butter and bread with butter hated loud noises He He hated loud noises hated bright colors He He hated bright colors hated large crowds He He hated large crowds ... and I was complication ... and I was his his complication

Without TheThe BoyBoy Without claws He He seessees claws in the branches of trees in the branches of trees monsters in shadows andand monsters in shadows demons release thethe demons release buries beneath He He buries beneath covers in bed his his covers in bed Sadness Sadness andand fearfear a lovely duet playplay a lovely duet feels more strongly He He feels far far more strongly than most other boys than most other boys because he has because he has hadhad more evils than far far more evils than joysjoys

“Though This Be Madness, Yet There is Method In’t” essay by Sam Levin

The tragic hero of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Prince Hamlet of Denmark is first the victim of immense tragedy and then the instrument of the tragic suffering of others. True to Northrop Frye’s analysis, Hamlet is a veritable conductor of negative energy as he slowly deconstructs the lives of those around him. Already in an unstable and depressed state due to the untimely death of his father, Hamlet’s world is shattered when his father’s ghost tells him that his uncle Claudius, “that incestuous, that adulterate beast” (I.5.42) who has already married Hamlet’s mother, is “the serpent that did sting [Hamlet’s] father’s life” (I.5.39) and “now wears his crown” (I.5.40). Hamlet’s madness, or “antic disposition” (II.1.175), although described by Hamlet to some other characters as feigned, certainly has at least a tinge (if not much more) of reality as he descends into a brutal quest for revenge. The whirlwind of suffering caused by the actions of a vengeful and merciless Hamlet is inescapable to those around him and is the impetus to dark, hectic, and morbid events that cause the foundations of the lives of the characters in the play—especially Gertrude, Ophelia, and Claudius—to slowly and painfully collapse around them. Hamlet’s madness, as well as his grief, causes much distress to those around him, especially his mother. One can note the upbeat and optimistic

manner with which she conducts herself in the second scene of the play, where she consoles a moping Hamlet: “Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off, / And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark” (I.2.68-69). However, it is possible that she herself is acting to please her new husband and secretly has not put the past behind her. Clearly, although Queen Gertrude has dutifully played the role of the smiling, optimistic wife, she still inwardly grieves at least a small amount for her first husband’s death and feels remorseful over her quick marriage and its impact on her son. This remorse is evidenced later in the play, when Gertrude implores her son to cease his berating: O Hamlet, speak no more. Thou turn’st my eyes into my very soul, And there I see such black and grained spots As will leave there their tinct. (III.4.88-91)

Clearly (both) Hamlet’s words (and the memory of King Hamlet) touch Gertrude to the core. In addition, the feigned madness of her son causes her great distress, as it is clear that she is unable to cope with the combination of her first husband’s death, her son’s madness and grief, and the betrayal of her former brother in-law and current husband. A sense of abandonment creeps upon her from the moment that Hamlet begins scolding her, and demands, “Have you eyes?” (III.4.67), suggesting that she is incapable of proper judgment. Her dismay is magnified to the point that the ghost of Old King Hamlet appears to Hamlet, telling him to “step between her and her fighting

soul” (III.4.113). Despite the fact that Gertrude’s pain is assuaged by the revelation that Hamlet is not truly insane, her lot in life is not greatly improved. She is still the wife of her husband’s murderer, a gnawing fact that Hamlet does not hesitate to continually remind her of, detracting from her selfconfidence and mood. It is cruel irony that her death by poisoned drink occurred just after her happiness had peaked when seeing her son as his normal self again. Nonetheless, it is Hamlet who initiates the fatal sequence of events that breaks the House of Denmark, and thus he is responsible for the misery and death of his mother. Ophelia, Hamlet’s love interest, is equally shattered by the vices of Hamlet’s vengeance. Ophelia is an incredibly naïve and innocent girl to begin with, and she knows little of the ways of the world, especially pertaining to romantic exchanges. While giddy over Hamlet’s apparent interest in her, she is counseled by her father, Polonius, to “not believe his vows, for they are brokers… / The better to beguile” (I.3.126-130). Hamlet’s antic disposition, an alteration to his character that causes him to look like “he had been loosed out of hell” (II.1.82), plays directly into this advice and cuts her to the quick, shattering her heart. Just as Hamlet is playing his own game with her (and everybody else), Polonius and Claudius manipulate her by thrusting her into awkward situations to attempt to decode the enigma that is Hamlet’s state of mind. Hamlet’s actions further confuse her when he demands of her several times, “Get thee to a nunnery” (III.1.121). Expecting forward, even inappropriate advances of love, passion and obsessive entreaties, Ophelia

instead encounters a maelstrom of offensive or incomprehensible comments. Her confusion is magnified as shortly afterwards, during the performance of “The Mousetrap,” Hamlet publicly embarrasses Ophelia in the theater with numerous sexually flirtatious quips, such as “Here’s metal more attractive” (III.2.107) and “Lady, shall I lay in your lap?” (III.2.110). This device of Hamlet’s is particularly brutal because not only is he destroying his relationship with Ophelia, but he is also hurting her feelings and besmirching her honor simply to put on an act of madness to distract Claudius. Things go from bad to worse for Ophelia, as her love interest becomes her father’s murderer, destroying her hopes for a future with Hamlet, eradicating her sanity, and eventually transforming her into a helpless wreck. Harping on the subjects of unrequited love and death, Ophelia descends into Siren-like singing, which is strong foreshadowing for her subsequent death by drowning. One can only wonder if her death was caused by a desire for “her own salvation” (V.1.2) or simply a vice of her madness. Either way, Hamlet’s wanton quest for vengeance and destruction is the cause. Although Hamlet’s devices caused the ruin of Gertrude and Ophelia, King Claudius is the primary object of Hamlet’s ire and quest for vengeance. Hamlet’s designs cause Claudius to degenerate from a confident, remorseless usurper into a mortified, paranoid, desperate villain. Assured of his own security after committing what he views to be a perfect murder, Claudius shamelessly attempts to act like a father and friend to Hamlet, stating, “with no less nobility of love / Than that what dearest father bears his son / Do I impart

toward you” (I.2.110-112). Hamlet is less content with the situation, quipping that Claudius is “A little more than kin, and less than kind!” (I.2.65). The above passage illustrates Hamlet’s rejection of Claudius and his enduring grief for his recently deceased father. Although his dislike of Claudius at that time was simply due to Claudius’s marriage with Gertrude and his overbearing attitude towards Hamlet, it is soon amplified by the revelation that Claudius is the man guilty of the recent regicide. Hamlet’s vengeance begins in earnest with the performance of “The Mousetrap”, “the thing / Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king” (II.2.543-544). Upon viewing a spot-on reenactment of his crime, Claudius is angered and, retiring to the chapel, breaks down: O, my offense is rank, it smells to heaven; It hath the primal eldest curse upon’t, A brother’s murder. Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharp as will. (III.3.36-39) It is important to note that this meltdown is due to fear and not to remorse, as Claudius concludes his “prayer” with the admission that “My words fly up, my thoughts remain below” (III.3.97). As Claudius’s level of desperation increases, he first attempts to have the English rid him of Hamlet. When this treacherous ploy fails, he plots with the impassioned Laertes to murder Hamlet (IV.7.108160). When Hamlet finally fulfills his revenge and kills Claudius, it is fitting that Claudius’s death is by his own poisoned cup and blade, both turned upon him by Hamlet.

As the rod that conducts the “divine lightning” of vengeance, Hamlet’s machinations cause the terrible suffering and eventual death of Gertrude, Ophelia, and Claudius. As chaotic as his tactics were, they were at least at first considered and with a single, understandable and calculated purpose. Although Polonius once stated that “Though this be madness, yet there is / method in’t” (II.2.204-205), one must wonder if Hamlet’s feigned madness and antic disposition metamorphosed into a madness that was very dangerous and real.

Free Fall by Andy Douglas I look out at the view of the skyline at twilight drinking in its radiant beauty for the last time. I peek over the side of the building down at the people going about their lives below me completely ignorant of what was about to come their way. I pause to take one last deep breath before I stepped up on to the ledge. I trembled at the thought of the sweet salvation my inevitable contact with the pavement below would bring me. I assured myself one last time that this was what I wanted and I was ready for whatever would come next. I took the step over and begun to fall. Flying faster and faster towards my eternal sleep below I realized something very important. That something was that this was a monumental mistake. Oh why did I do this I still have so much to live for? I’ve never seen Paris I’ve never fallen in love all of that will be much more difficult if I’m plastered all over the sidewalk. What will my family and friends think? They’ll be so disappointed and wonder for the rest of their lives what could have possibly driven me to take such drastic action. Now that I think about my life is not so bad. I have a decent job a not so shitty apartment good friends and family. Why would I ever leave all of that behind for this? Now when I think about it how did I even get to the top of that building? While running all of that through my head I didn’t realize how close I was getting I screamed and put my hands up and just before I hit the ground it turned into my bedroom floor. I look up and realize that I’m still in my room still alive and now late for work.

Otherwise by Ataman Uğur I complain about my shoes, They’re worn out. I complain about my homework, And my chores that I don’t care about. I don’t like the food today, It ain’t my fault I hate broccoli. Snow on the ground and the land is shining white, The driveway I have to shovel is all I see. I complain about my 27-inch TV, But I won’t lie; I’m hard to please, I don’t like having dollar bills, I prefer franklins, My life is just a tease. I complain about my boring life, I could be in a war or in a dangerous place, I complain about my boring and safe life, About the lack of challenges I face.

Three Haiku by Ataman UÄ&#x;ur

Puma Through the rainforest, Puma, has eyes everywhere, It sits and watches.

The Sound Sound in the bushes, What animal might it be? Undetectable.

Dawn The sun is rising, Illuminating nature, And injecting light.

Glue by Jen Hylwa So what if you’re the rubber And I’m the glue. And everything you say Sticks right to me, And not to you. And when you realized what has happened, You will be overcome with sadness. But it doesn’t matter to you. Because in truth I am the glue. But in reality you are the fool. The things you say, The things you do. Damn, I feel like a fool. But when I figure how to be the rubber, Then you will finally realize the struggle It was already rough, but you made it double. I say it doesn’t matter, So when the footsteps go pitter patter, I put on a face to make it all laughter. But one day I will grow too. And all those things will come back to you.

Go away by Emma Ward Go away I want to lay In my bed Alone I think it’s best I skip that test I’ve got a nasty Cold As for that sport You make me play I’m no good anyway So I think it’s best You let me rest Upon my bed today

雨巷戴望舒撑着油纸伞，独自彷徨在悠长，悠长又寂寥的雨巷我希望逢着一个丁香一样地结着愁怨的姑娘／她是有丁香一样地颜色丁香一样地芬芳丁香一样地忧愁在雨中哀怨哀怨又彷徨／她彷徨在这寂寥的雨巷撑着油纸伞像我一样像我一样地默默行着寒漠，凄清，又惆怅／她默默地走近走近，又投出太息一般地眼光她飘过像梦一般地像梦一般地凄婉迷茫／像梦中飘过一枝丁香地我身旁飘过这女郎她静静地远了、远了到了颓圮地篱墙走尽这雨巷／在雨地哀曲里消了她的颜色消了她的芬芳消散了，甚至她的太息般的眼光丁香般的惆怅／撑着油纸伞，独自彷徨在悠长，悠长又寂寥的雨巷我希望飘过一个丁香一样地结着愁怨地姑娘

poem by Dai Wangshu (1905-1950)

The Rainy Lane by Dai Wangshu, translated from the Mandarin by Jessica Xu

The Rainy Lane by Dai Wangshu, translated from the Mandarin by Jessica X

Holding an oil-paper umbrella Wandering in thisumbrella long Holding analone oil-paper Long and lonesome rainy Wandering alone in thislane long Back I wishrainy to encounter Long and andforth, lonesome lane A girl and forth, I wish to encounter Back A girl like a lilac, saturated with melancholy and anxiety

A girl A girl like a lilac, saturated with melancholy and anxiety She has The color of lilac She fragrance has The of lilac The depression color of lilac The of lilac The fragrance of lilac Sighing in the rain The depression of lilac Sighing and wandering

Sighing in the rain

She wanders the lonesome lane Sighing and in wandering Holding an oil-paper umbrella Like She me wanders in the lonesome lane Just like an me oil-paper umbrella Holding Walking silently Like me In coldness, desolation and melancholy

Just like me Walking silently She quietly moves towards me In coldness, desolation and melancholy And closer She casts that glance at me Sheif quietly moves towards me As regretting She farther and farther away Andiscloser Like dream She a casts that glance at me Like sad and cryptic dream As ifaregretting

She is farther and farther away

In myadream Like dream A lady passed by me Like a sad and cryptic dream Like a lilac Silently passing by In my dream Farther and farther A lady passedthe by decadent me Until reaching fence Like a lilac Until the end of this rainy lane

Silently passing by

Farther and farther In the depressed symphony composed by rain Her color disappeared Until reaching the decadent fence Her fragrance Until the enddisappeared of this rainy lane All disappeared Even regrettingsymphony glance In theher depressed composed by rain And melancholy Her lilac-like color disappeared Her fragrance disappeared All disappeared Even her regretting glance And lilac-like melancholy

On The Things They Carried essay by Kori Rimany

In his collection of pre-war, war, and post-war narratives, The Things They Carried, Tim O’Brien writes with a purpose explained by his statement, “I want you to know why story-truth is truer sometimes than happening-truth” (171). O’Brien’s definition of “true” is not the conventional definition of “fact,” but instead it is defined by the extent to which a story can render raw emotion which is similar to the emotion felt by a story’s characters. Storytelling and the revelation of this “story-truth” are Tim O’Brien’s ways of preventing the war from taking his life as it did his friends’ lives – in both the physical and moral sense of the word “life.” Before the war, Tim’s storytelling began as his way to preserve his innocence and avoid losing the memories of who he was as a boy in this state of innocence. As Timmy at age nine, O’Brien deals with the loss of his first love, Linda, by retreating into his dreams, and thus retreating into the “magic of stories” (231). This magic (that he perceives) is the ability of the stories he creates in his dreams to help him pretend to be with Linda in the short time after her death, but as time goes on, these stories in which he imagines himself with Linda become his way of preserving those memories, and “saving” her and himself. For example, in one of his stories, O’Brien sees himself in a conversation with Linda in which she expresses that “’I guess [death]’s like being inside a book that nobody’s reading’” (232). Tim wants to write this “book,” which is the embodiment of Linda, by telling stories. The stories he

tells are not just Linda; they are Timmy, as well, and although Timmy and the innocence of Timmy died when Linda died, Tim, the writer, can preserve who he once was as Timmy through the memories and emotions he conveys through the stories he tells. Just as Timmy told stories in his childhood to avoid losing Linda and the state of innocence they existed in, as an adult Tim tells stories about war to avoid losing the feelings the war produced and the person he has become as a result of those feelings. In his short story, “Field Trip,” for example, O’Brien unintentionally emphasizes the necessity for story-telling and the story-truth, as he returns to Quang Ngai Province, Vietnam twenty-years after witnessing Kiowa die in the same place. He returns to “an empty field on the edge of nowhere” (174), but this field is the same place that had once “embodied all the waste that was Vietnam, all the vulgarity and horror” (176). With the passing of time came the passing of memory, and even the exact setting cannot render the exact emotion and hold the same significance as it did years before. Through story-telling, however, writer O’Brien is able to preserve a part of himself by preserving the emotion felt on that same field. This emotion, preserved through the writing of “In the Field,” is one that reveals the storytruth that O’Brien’s lack of courage “carried consequences that lasted forever” (170). This consequence is that his outlook on life changed and the experience caused him to “grow cold inside” (176). The story-truth and the emotion it renders in Tim, not the setting of the story itself, is what causes him to come to the realization that the same mud that took Kiowa’s life also took a part of his

own, as he recognizes that “all the old ambitions and hopes for myself [were] sucked away into the mud” (176). Writer O’Brien is able to preserve this emotion of near-loss that he felt twenty years ago and, in this manner, is able to preserve a portion of himself – a portion invigorated by the realization of his near-loss of self through this story-telling. Although the story-truth revealed that Tim lost a part of himself in that mud, the emotions revealed through these story-truths also shape a new perspective – a perspective which allows Tim to see objectively how the war could not, in fact, take his entire life. In the vignette, “The Ghost Soldiers,” Tim’s near-complete loss of the person he once was is mapped out as he seeks revenge on Bobby Jorgenson, the medic who caused Tim physical harm. Tim explained that, “I wanted to hurt Bobby Jorgensen the way he’d hurt me” (191), and this emotion is why he hatches the plan to set off noisemakers attached to ropes. At this point, his raw emotion can take him, as a person, in two directions, and at the beginning of the stunt, he enters a world in which “there was nothing moral” (200), and where “right and wrong were somewhere else” (198). Through the narrative, O’Brien illustrates how solider Tim is moving further and further towards a different person – a person who is abandoning his past “fine liberal values” (191) and adopting a “deep coldness” (191) in their place. Just as it appears soldier Tim is losing completely who he was as a person in the past, writer O’Brien snaps soldier Tim’s perspective back into reality as he expresses “I was down there with him [Jorgenson], inside him” (199). At this climactic moment in both the stunt and Tim’s emotional journey

through the stunt, soldier Tim whispers, “’now you know’” (200), in reference to the fact that now Jorgensen knows what terror feels like. Tim’s malicious intent of hurting Jorgensen is replaced by a new purpose of uniting Tim and Jorgensen. The terror which both men have now felt brings a new sense of closeness because the terror entails “shedding your own history and your own future” (201). Because writer O’Brien juxtaposes these two purposes – to hurt and to bring together – in his writing, O’Brien himself, along with the audience, is able to see how soldier Tim came back from his state of nearly giving up who he was as a person. Through the writing of “Ghost Soldiers,” O’Brien exposes the story-truth that he does not allow war and the emotion of war to take his life. Where a brain tumor took Linda’s life and the mud took Kiowa’s, the war took Timmy’s life and innocence and made O’Brien into Tim. Tim, however, through the use of storytelling and the exposing of the emotions in storytruths, is able to prevent the war from taking Tim and the values and morals that Tim stands for.

You are in Tsingtao photos, drawings, and text by Jeffrey Zhijing Zhou

Ba Da Guan Ba Da Guan literally means "the eight great pathways". It is a historical mansion area located near the coastline in the city Qingdao. It is made up of 8 streets named after the eight great military forts in the ancient times. During the time from 1897 to 1914, it was a residential area for the German officials when Qingdao was a German territory. It is very special in the city because each street is lined with a single species of tree. Along the streets are houses built in a variety of European architectural styles.

Kiautschou Governorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Mansion Kiautschou Governorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Mansion was built half way up Signal Hill in 1907, and designed by German architect Racha Horowitz. Its configuration was typical of German buildings during the William Era. It cost over one million marks and covered 44000 square feet. Residence is the only use for this building. Previous mayors in Qingdao, Mao, King Sihanouk, Ho Chi Minh, former Australia Prime Minister, Hill, and lots of other leaders lived there for short periods of time. Nowadays this kind of architecture is extremely hard to find anywhere worldwide.

Kiautschou Governor’s Hall Kiautschou Governor’s Hall, constructed during the years from 1904 to 1906, was designed by the German architect Friedrich Mahlke, and based on the style of European public buildings around 19th century. The two wings of the building, covering an area 80,800 square feet, are exactly symmetrical. It was officially handed over to the administration on April 2nd, 1906. The building originally served as the German civil government office for the time Qingdao was a leased territory. It was known as Gouverneurspalast, or the Governor’s Palace. During World War I, Germany was defeated by the Japanese Navy in the Siege of Tsingtao. After the Paris Peace Conference in 1919, the Chinese Government failed to gain Qingdao back. The Treaty of Versailles decided to transfer all German property in Qingdao to Japan. Later the building became the Japanese occupation headquarters, until 1922, when China regained sovereignty. Before and during World War II, Kiautschou Governor's Hall was again used by the Japanese as their command post, from 1938-1945. The building was subsequently used by the Kuomintang government and by the People's Republic of China after 1949. It served as Qingdao's town hall until 1992. This building was only used as a government office building. In 1996, Kiautschou Governor’s Hall was listed on the Major Historical and Cultural Site Protected at the National Level.

St. Michael’s Cathedral After the Kiautschou Bay concession, German missionaries were planning to build a church to inspire Chinese people in a religious way. St. Michael's Cathedral is the product of a strong German presence in the 19th century. It was originally designed as a 200-meter-tall three-aisled Gothic church, but the conquest of Qingdao by the Japanese after World War I put this plan to an end. Although it was only 56 meters tall when the construction was completed, St. Michael’s Cathedral was still the highest building in Shandong Province and the only church in China before People’s Republic of China was founded.

Hua Shi Lou Next to Ba Da Guan on the coastline, there is a huge rocky turret, built in 1932 by a Russian rich man; Hua Shi Lou combines Greek, Romanesque, and Gothic styles. It is constructed of different kinds of stones. Its special multicolored outer face inspired the local nickname for the structure, "the colorful rock building". It was said that before Mao won the civil war, the leader of Chinese National Party, Chiang Kai-shek, used to live in the building. After new China was founded, Hua Shi Lou was used as a reception house for foreign visitors.

Tsingtao Brewery Another great impact of German colonization was the foundation of Tsingtao Brewery Company in 1903. The original propose was to satisfy those foreign businessmen and soldiers’ demand for beer. The Tsingtao Brewery was founded by The Anglo-German Brewery, an English-German joint stock company. It was called the Germania Brewery at that time. It was extremely popular once the beer went on the market. Soon it won the golden prize in The Munich Oktoberfest in 1906. During World War I, a Japanese beer company bought all the shares and started to sell the beer around the world. “After Japan's surrender and its retreat from China, the Tsingtao Brewery was turned into a Chinese brewery under ownership of the Tsui family and supervision of the Nationalist government in Nanjing.”2 The company was privatized and was finally renamed Tsingtao Brewery Company Limited. Nowadays, Tsingtao Brewery is exported to more than 70 countries and has become the largest brewery in China. Based on the Barth Report in 2006 and 2007, Tsingtao Brewery became the eighth largest beer company in the world. In Qingdao, people use plastic bags to contain fresh beer every day. [photo credit: lengxiaoh.com]

"Tsingtao Brewery." Baike. Baidu, n.d. Web. <http://baike.baidu.com/view/438550.htm>.

Memorial Address by Jenna Lee I do not remember my father’s face. I do not have any memories about my dad at all. The only thing I know about my dad as a person is his face in the picture. When other kids in kindergarten bragged about their fun trip with their dad on weekends, I just listened to them, thinking of what I did with my mom. Luckily, I was never lonely or sad about my father’s absence. In fact, I never felt I needed one, because my mom and my family tried to fill me with a lot of love so that I didn’t even care about his absence. Therefore, sadly, I actually don’t know my dad that much. However, when I was young, my mom used to tell me about my dad. According to my mom, my dad was the most sincere and romantic person ever in her life. My mom once told me that when

she first saw my dad, she thought ‘This is the person I was looking for!’ Unlike other ‘boys’ she met in college, my dad was truly a gentleman. After my parents got married, they never fought or argued over things; they always loved each other and they still do. It was a snowy day of January of 1997. I was three years old, in my Korean age. My family lived in an apartment, and there was a huge garden (more likely a shared field) in front of my apartment. There was a huge snow in Daegu province of Korea, where usually it is very hot. Taking pictures on special occasions, like a snowy day, was a matter of course to my family; the first snowy day for their first daughter was probably unforgettable. My dad wore his orange jacket that he wore everywhere he went; I wore my favorite red coat that my aunt bought for me. Red-and-white striped wool coat, black corduroy pants, and red shoes. I did not miss my woolen hat. As usual, my family had a great time. Most of the time, mom took the pictures for me and my dad; it was proven when my mom took all of the pictures of me and my dad from the album, because the whole album shrunk to half its original thickness. Anyway, the snow was a big deal for my family, and they were so excited to show their little girl a new world. They decided to take pictures in the apartment garden, where usually nobody went except homeless cats or the security guard who roamed around the apartment building. The ground was covered with white snow, and nobody interrupted the very moment of my family – just perfect for the picture. My dad held me next to the fence, smiling happily as if he had everything in this world. That day, my dad and I were totally photogenic, but my family did not know that this best shot would be last picture that we would take as a family. My dad was a professor in college. Although he was only 29 when he became one, he was respected by many people. He met my mom when he was 31, and my mom was 26. According to my grandparents and aunts, compared to his friends, my dad was much more intelligent. But at the same time, he was my

family’s photographer. My mom and dad used to take a lot of photos when they were dating. After I was born, they took hundreds of photos and put them inside my album. From the moment I was born, my dad always had his camera in his hand. Not only the film camera, he also had a video camera, and recorded various moment of my childhood (now, those films and videotapes are sleeping in my grandparent’s house’s closet). Two days after the day my family took the happy picture, my dad had to go to the airport to pick up someone. It was part of his work, so he had to go despite the horrible weather. My dad was a very sincere person, so he would have not wanted to miss his work. As shown in the picture, the weather was very cold and snowy for a few days. When it rains, it pours; the day my dad left the house was not only snowy, but also windy and rainy - it was a storm. Full of anxiety, my mom did not want my dad to go to the airport in that terrible weather. Saying good-bye to me and my mom, my dad left the house. Unfortunately, that was the last word that my mom would hear from him. My dad took an airport limousine in the early morning. Despite the harsh weather and the early hour, there were a few other people going to the airport. Including the driver, people on the bus were very tired. It was raining and snowing outside and the road was very slippery. Although more attention was required, the driver must have been worn out from consecutive rides; the driver fell asleep while driving. It was only for a short moment that he lost control of his mind and body, but the consequence was irrevocable. When the driver realized what he did, it was too late; the bus slipped, hit the guardrail, and rolled down to a field under the highway. When the bus rolled down, my dad hit his head very hard and passed out. When he was moved to the hospital, he was in deep coma. He slept like that for two weeks. He could not respond to my mom’s cry, nor could hold me like he did in the picture. He could not greet my grandparents with a smile like he usually did before, and he could not go back to his office and teach college students. He was sleeping deeply and quietly, for two weeks. Eventually, the doctor declared brain death. My dad could not wake

up again, and my entire family had to send him away like that without preparation or good-bye words. My dad was 35 in Korean age, and his early death was a huge shock to his family and friends. Ironically, my dad was the only one who passed away because of that bus accident. Even the driver survived, which seemed totally unfair to my family. My grandparents and aunts were losing themselves. To my family, the driver was a murderer who killed the one we loved. The driver went to jail after the accident, but now, I don’t know whether he is out of jail or not. My entire family went through hard times that I can’t even explain in hundreds of pages, but they never let me feel sad or lonely. During my dad’s absence, my mom told me that my dad went to America to study. My dad was a professor and I knew that, so it made sense to me. Although he never called me, never wrote me, or never visited me for six years, I believed what my mom told me. My grandparents often took me to my dad’s grave, telling me that we are going on a picnic, but I never realized that it was where my dad was sleeping. There wasn’t any sign, and my grandparents never said anything special about the place. The only thing they said about my dad in front of me was how intelligent he was, and asked me if I hated him for not coming back from America. I never hated him for not being with me, because I thought that was a matter of course for all the fathers. I don’t know what hit me, but I never thought that it was weird to live only with mom. I was nine years old in Korean age when I found out about everything. A few months before my mom decided to remarry with another nice gentleman, she told me about my dad’s death. I could not believe what she was saying, and told myself that it was not true. I did not go to school, called my mom a liar, and cried all night with my dad’s pictures. That was why my mom took away all the pictures of dad from the album except this picture, and I hated my mom for a long time. The last picture of me and my dad is so important to me and my family. My dad could not see this picture, because there were no digital cameras at that

time, and printing film took almost four days. At the moment when my dad was smiling with me in the snow, when my mom was happily taking the picture, when the whole family was just filled with happiness that their little girl was experiencing her first big snow, no one knew that the tragedy was waiting for us and was ready to destroy our sweet days. Although now his body has gone through the cremation because no one could take care of his grave, he is still alive inside my grandparents, aunts, and hopefully my mom. This picture is still in my grandparents' house, on the wall in a huge print. I have a smaller version of the same picture in my room; it is laminated and stuck on my closet. I see it every moment I live and remember him all the time. Although now I have the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s nicest stepfather, my dad will always be my only dad. I love you, dad. Congratulations to Jenna Jaewon Lee for receiving Honorable Mention in the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards for this essay.

End of the school year by Gerry Kahari The life, the lemonade, renegade pair of shades Kick back relax go ahead Look at the all the friends we made I'd hate for it to end today But we gotta live as if it could Don't want to do my homework But my parents think I should From winter nights to spring days The school year was always fun Thank you to all my friends who made me want to stay at Gunn Top gunn is full of studs And bottom is a bunch of weirdos Ian is definitely number 1 He walks around in his speedos

Stray Shot 2014