America is full of factories and people that pollute the air and the land. Pollution is a big problem today in our country and it is ruining many places that were once beautiful. One of the current biggest problems is littering. If you look around, litter is almost everywhere. Litter consists of bottles, paper, and other things that have been used and thrown out onto the ground instead of into a trash can. Careless people have dropped or thrown it wherever is most convenient, not thinking about the damage the trash will cause to the earth.
People can be very lazy. They throw their empty cans and paper bags out of the windows of their cars onto the streets while driving along. The trash doesn't go away though; it sits on the grass until an innocent animal like a deer comes along and tries to eat it. Many deer have died from trying to eat litter. More often than not the item that they think is food is actually made of metal or plastic, which causes the unsuspecting animal to choke. Birds are also known to try to eat certain types of trash, which can make them either extremely sick or even kill them.
The cans can also crush grass and flowers which kills them and makes the surrounding area much less pretty. The cans sit on the side of the road for years until some kind person comes to throw them away. Often, nobody comes to take them where they belong and unfortunately they can be washed away by a rainstorm into little streams and then rivers. If litter gets into rivers and streams, it can kill the fish and other animals that live there. The water coming from the rivers is also the same water that we drink; the litter makes it dirty and unhealthy.
Without help from people around America, our country will soon be an ugly place to live. In a few years, if nothing is done about the litter, all the places that Americans love the most will be covered up in garbage. Nobody will be able to swim in the lakes and rivers because they will be filled with broken bottles and covered in oil spills.
Factories let off lots of coal dust and smoke into the air, which makes it hard for people to breathe. The dust coats the trees and grass as well as homes, making cities dirty and causing people to cough. In the past few years, more children have been diagnosed with asthma and most people think it is caused by the factory smoke. The coal is dug from mountains all over the country, and workers cut down trees and mine until the once beautiful scenery is a pile of dirt. We need to reduce the amount of foresting and mountain-top removal before all of our forests and mountains are gone!
All hope is not lost, however! We don't have enough people willing to make the effort to solve our big problem. You can help to stop people from ruining our country's natural beauty by asking some friends to go pick up litter near your house. If every elementary school student in the country started a litter pick up group, the United States would be a much cleaner, prettier place to be. You can get your classmates to draw posters that educate people about what litter does to the earth. Make the signs colorful so that more people will notice them and write in large, bold letters. You can even write letters to your mayor telling him about what your class is doing to try to solve the problem. He or she might want to help with your effort and maybe your community will get involved too.
To stop the energy companies from ruining mountains and forests, you should encourage your parents to try fluorescent light bulbs. They let off less heat than incandescent bulbs when they are turned on, so they use less energy and therefore less coal. If you get your friends to try these new bulbs, everybody will save money and the environment will be cleaner because of it. The sooner the world makes a move the better and you can begin the movement! Ask your parents to find out what local opportunities there are today.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
March Writing Assignment (Final Draft)
As I passed through the front hall, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I could hardly recognize the beautiful woman staring back at me from the glass; this woman was an innocent, charming guest, rather than a hardened spy. I admired my dress, and my sophisticated hairstyle, smugly knowing that the notorious Jack Rabitt would never realize that his arch enemy was about to finish his successful robbing career in a single night.
I had been invited to a party organized by an undercover agent, who was pretending to be a rich banker who was celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of his business with several of his most notable clients and associates. He had slowly built up Jack's trust over the past few years, and today was the day we had all been waiting for. The house that he had rented was nicely furnished, and it was built upon a stretch of beautiful countryside, with a long gravel driveway, forests to the East and West, and rolling pastures to the South. Driving up towards the house, I had had my doubts about the location, because it provided such an easy escape for the notorious criminal.
I turned away from the mirror, and headed for the West lounge, where all of the other guests were chatting happily, drinks in hand. Skirting a group of loud gentlemen, I scanned the room for his ugly face, with its permanent leer and his multiple gold teeth. He was nowhere to be found, no matter how hard I searched. I wondered if he was late, or if he had found out our clever scheme. I sat down on a convenient couch, and struck up a conversation with a man who sat next to me, looking bored.
"Sally Doolittle," I said cheerfully: my alibi was perfect. I was supposed to be a dental hygienist, which meant that when I finally noticed Jack, I could mention his gold teeth.
"Mark Fisher," he replied, smiling briefly. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance." We exchanged a few other trivial remarks, but soon I got up and walked out onto the terrace. I wondered if Mark was in on the plan, or whether he actually believed that it was a cocktail party. I stood by the railing, and looked down the driveway, feeling disappointed. Had Jack been there, I would have seen him by now. I could only cling to the hope that soon I would see another car approaching. Deep down, I realized that my mission was failed, so I turned to go back to my car. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Whipping around, I saw only a flash of gold teeth.
"Excuse me, but I could swear that I recognize you from somewhere," he drawled. I quickly pressed the alarm button concealed beneath my white gloves. It would alert my special team that I had found Jack, and that they should make their move within minutes to ensure a speedy arrest. I clenched my teeth angrily, realizing that I had left my gun lying on the passenger seat in my Audi, so I was now entirely dependent on the officer who would direct the operation. I hated feeling like I was powerless to do anything.
"Um," I stuttered, mind racing for a comeback. "You must be Jack," I stalled, "we met years ago, at a party. Sally Doolittle; how very nice to see you!" I could see the confusion in his eyes, as he tried to remember the nonexistent event.
"Of course," he said politely, "would you care for a drink?" Where is my team of policemen? I thought. "Of course," I said, and he took my arm. We sat down at the spacious wooden bar, and after ordering our drinks, he talked about his job as a banker. You fat liar I thought, You're a banker's worst nightmare! I wondered if he had taken precaution and prepared for the situation that would soon befall him. Suddenly, I heard a loud crash. The team had arrived, taking down the door with them. Their guns were pointed in every direction, unsure of where Jack was. "HOLD YOUR HANDS UP ABOVE YOUR HEADS, THIS IS THE POLICE! Jack froze, hands in midair. "Gotta go, sweetheart," he muttered through his teeth. I lunged for his arm, hoping to hinder his escape.
"Nice seeing you again," he grinned, sidestepping me easily. Before the police team could react, he reached inside a pocket, and threw something that exploded with a loud crack, letting off an opaque mist. I cursed loudly, knowing I was powerless to stop the wily criminal from making another escape. The policemen tried in vain to get rid of the mist, but by the time it cleared, Jack was gone. I stormed up to the policeman in chief.
"You buffoon! You could have come undercover, and we would have caught the slippery crook!"
He looked embarrassed; "We'll catch him next time?" he tried.
"Search the building and the surrounding area on the double," I shouted as I turned to the rest of the team. I sighed heavily, as the panicked guests rushed around the room, asking questions and shouting among themselves. "Since you messed up my scheme, you can handle them," I said coolly to the officer.
I turned on my heel, and stamped out the front door, slamming it behind me. As I opened the door of my car, I noticed a hastily scrawled note on the driver's seat. "Nice disguise, Rachel. You'll never catch me!I tore it up, and stepped on the gas pedal, my tires throwing up gravel behind me. Next time, I wouldn't forget my gun.
I had been invited to a party organized by an undercover agent, who was pretending to be a rich banker who was celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of his business with several of his most notable clients and associates. He had slowly built up Jack's trust over the past few years, and today was the day we had all been waiting for. The house that he had rented was nicely furnished, and it was built upon a stretch of beautiful countryside, with a long gravel driveway, forests to the East and West, and rolling pastures to the South. Driving up towards the house, I had had my doubts about the location, because it provided such an easy escape for the notorious criminal.
I turned away from the mirror, and headed for the West lounge, where all of the other guests were chatting happily, drinks in hand. Skirting a group of loud gentlemen, I scanned the room for his ugly face, with its permanent leer and his multiple gold teeth. He was nowhere to be found, no matter how hard I searched. I wondered if he was late, or if he had found out our clever scheme. I sat down on a convenient couch, and struck up a conversation with a man who sat next to me, looking bored.
"Sally Doolittle," I said cheerfully: my alibi was perfect. I was supposed to be a dental hygienist, which meant that when I finally noticed Jack, I could mention his gold teeth.
"Mark Fisher," he replied, smiling briefly. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance." We exchanged a few other trivial remarks, but soon I got up and walked out onto the terrace. I wondered if Mark was in on the plan, or whether he actually believed that it was a cocktail party. I stood by the railing, and looked down the driveway, feeling disappointed. Had Jack been there, I would have seen him by now. I could only cling to the hope that soon I would see another car approaching. Deep down, I realized that my mission was failed, so I turned to go back to my car. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Whipping around, I saw only a flash of gold teeth.
"Excuse me, but I could swear that I recognize you from somewhere," he drawled. I quickly pressed the alarm button concealed beneath my white gloves. It would alert my special team that I had found Jack, and that they should make their move within minutes to ensure a speedy arrest. I clenched my teeth angrily, realizing that I had left my gun lying on the passenger seat in my Audi, so I was now entirely dependent on the officer who would direct the operation. I hated feeling like I was powerless to do anything.
"Um," I stuttered, mind racing for a comeback. "You must be Jack," I stalled, "we met years ago, at a party. Sally Doolittle; how very nice to see you!" I could see the confusion in his eyes, as he tried to remember the nonexistent event.
"Of course," he said politely, "would you care for a drink?" Where is my team of policemen? I thought. "Of course," I said, and he took my arm. We sat down at the spacious wooden bar, and after ordering our drinks, he talked about his job as a banker. You fat liar I thought, You're a banker's worst nightmare! I wondered if he had taken precaution and prepared for the situation that would soon befall him. Suddenly, I heard a loud crash. The team had arrived, taking down the door with them. Their guns were pointed in every direction, unsure of where Jack was. "HOLD YOUR HANDS UP ABOVE YOUR HEADS, THIS IS THE POLICE! Jack froze, hands in midair. "Gotta go, sweetheart," he muttered through his teeth. I lunged for his arm, hoping to hinder his escape.
"Nice seeing you again," he grinned, sidestepping me easily. Before the police team could react, he reached inside a pocket, and threw something that exploded with a loud crack, letting off an opaque mist. I cursed loudly, knowing I was powerless to stop the wily criminal from making another escape. The policemen tried in vain to get rid of the mist, but by the time it cleared, Jack was gone. I stormed up to the policeman in chief.
"You buffoon! You could have come undercover, and we would have caught the slippery crook!"
He looked embarrassed; "We'll catch him next time?" he tried.
"Search the building and the surrounding area on the double," I shouted as I turned to the rest of the team. I sighed heavily, as the panicked guests rushed around the room, asking questions and shouting among themselves. "Since you messed up my scheme, you can handle them," I said coolly to the officer.
I turned on my heel, and stamped out the front door, slamming it behind me. As I opened the door of my car, I noticed a hastily scrawled note on the driver's seat. "Nice disguise, Rachel. You'll never catch me!I tore it up, and stepped on the gas pedal, my tires throwing up gravel behind me. Next time, I wouldn't forget my gun.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Final Draft WA-4
The Wedding
Chapter 1
I was minding my own business in a corner of the little building, right near my little hole in the wall. Today, a crowd filtered in to my home, rudely disturbing my peaceful rest. I was frustrated, because the same crowd typically came once a week, but they had come yesterday as well. Before my very eyes, men in horrid black suits, and women in distasteful dresses had filtered in through the doors, and had begun to sit down in the seats.
The organ lady had nearly stepped on me, as she made her way to the organ, and had proceeded to bang out some of the most awful sounds I had ever heard. A ridiculously dressed woman, in a white sack had flounced up the aisle between all of the benches and was now standing hand in hand with a terribly ugly man who kept scratching his nose. I couldn't decide whether to let them finish their little celebration, or shoo them out of my home. After I had put up with an old lady sneezing all over my favorite prayer book, and a brat stealing some candles from a side table, I made my decision. I would scare these freaks out! I sauntered out on my hind legs, onto the steps in front of the altar.
I came to a halt in the center of the steps, right in front of the podium. Knowing that the humans were no doubt awed by my powerful presence, I raised my claws high into the air, and put an immediate stop to the preaching going on behind me with a high squeak. "Ladies and gentlemen," I began grandly, but I was cut off by a screech. "Rat!" It was the sneezing hag. Raising my claw indignantly, I was about to put a stop to the terrible noise coming out of her mouth. Suddenly, I saw the priest running after me with his heavy book. "Good," I squeaked, "finish her!" But, suddenly, the old man flipped the book high above his head, and brought it down as hard as his skinny little arms could muster. I dodged his frail attempt easily. I scolded him, "She's over there, stupid!!" Nevertheless, he brought the book down again, and everything went black....
Chapter 2
The wooden door creaked open. I shivered, feeling a chilly draft filtering in through the door behind me. I wasn't entirely sure that the old man who was walking me down the aisle was going to make it all the way up to the altar. Just then, I saw my fiancé’s great aunt, who waved enthusiastically at me. I smiled coolly, remembering her four hour long speech at our rehearsal dinner; half of the guests had fallen asleep.
Suddenly, she sneezed. I watched a naughty little boy putting some candles in his pocket. I saw Jim, standing with his best man. Before I could reach him, I saw something dart across the stairs underneath the altar, where the priest stood. It looked like a rat. It came to a stop in front of the podium, and I saw a tail. It raised two little arms, and let out a humongous squeak, louder than the blaring organ. The church went silent.
As I stared, the old man escorting me fainted. I supported him with one arm, and held myself up using a pew. The rat began to squeak angrily at the congregation, and I heard a scream. It was Jim’s great aunt. The priest sprinted forward and thwacked at the rat with a bible. The rodent easily evaded the old man, and it pointed a skinny arm at the priest, and began to squeak.
As the incredible scene unfolded, I began to question my decision to marry Jim. While I was busy holding up an old man, he was scratching his nose in awe of the cheeky rat. Furious, I yelled angrily at him, "forget this; we're so totally over!"
He didn't turn around as I stormed out of the building, tearing off my veil. I kicked the limo driver out into the street, climbed into the car, and tore off down the street, hoping never to see Jim or his great aunt again.
Chapter 1
I was minding my own business in a corner of the little building, right near my little hole in the wall. Today, a crowd filtered in to my home, rudely disturbing my peaceful rest. I was frustrated, because the same crowd typically came once a week, but they had come yesterday as well. Before my very eyes, men in horrid black suits, and women in distasteful dresses had filtered in through the doors, and had begun to sit down in the seats.
The organ lady had nearly stepped on me, as she made her way to the organ, and had proceeded to bang out some of the most awful sounds I had ever heard. A ridiculously dressed woman, in a white sack had flounced up the aisle between all of the benches and was now standing hand in hand with a terribly ugly man who kept scratching his nose. I couldn't decide whether to let them finish their little celebration, or shoo them out of my home. After I had put up with an old lady sneezing all over my favorite prayer book, and a brat stealing some candles from a side table, I made my decision. I would scare these freaks out! I sauntered out on my hind legs, onto the steps in front of the altar.
I came to a halt in the center of the steps, right in front of the podium. Knowing that the humans were no doubt awed by my powerful presence, I raised my claws high into the air, and put an immediate stop to the preaching going on behind me with a high squeak. "Ladies and gentlemen," I began grandly, but I was cut off by a screech. "Rat!" It was the sneezing hag. Raising my claw indignantly, I was about to put a stop to the terrible noise coming out of her mouth. Suddenly, I saw the priest running after me with his heavy book. "Good," I squeaked, "finish her!" But, suddenly, the old man flipped the book high above his head, and brought it down as hard as his skinny little arms could muster. I dodged his frail attempt easily. I scolded him, "She's over there, stupid!!" Nevertheless, he brought the book down again, and everything went black....
Chapter 2
The wooden door creaked open. I shivered, feeling a chilly draft filtering in through the door behind me. I wasn't entirely sure that the old man who was walking me down the aisle was going to make it all the way up to the altar. Just then, I saw my fiancé’s great aunt, who waved enthusiastically at me. I smiled coolly, remembering her four hour long speech at our rehearsal dinner; half of the guests had fallen asleep.
Suddenly, she sneezed. I watched a naughty little boy putting some candles in his pocket. I saw Jim, standing with his best man. Before I could reach him, I saw something dart across the stairs underneath the altar, where the priest stood. It looked like a rat. It came to a stop in front of the podium, and I saw a tail. It raised two little arms, and let out a humongous squeak, louder than the blaring organ. The church went silent.
As I stared, the old man escorting me fainted. I supported him with one arm, and held myself up using a pew. The rat began to squeak angrily at the congregation, and I heard a scream. It was Jim’s great aunt. The priest sprinted forward and thwacked at the rat with a bible. The rodent easily evaded the old man, and it pointed a skinny arm at the priest, and began to squeak.
As the incredible scene unfolded, I began to question my decision to marry Jim. While I was busy holding up an old man, he was scratching his nose in awe of the cheeky rat. Furious, I yelled angrily at him, "forget this; we're so totally over!"
He didn't turn around as I stormed out of the building, tearing off my veil. I kicked the limo driver out into the street, climbed into the car, and tore off down the street, hoping never to see Jim or his great aunt again.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
The Wedding (Draft 2)
The wooden door creaked open, with a loud whine. I tried to suppress a grimace at my less than perfect entrance. I shivered, feeling a chilly draft filtering in through the door behind me. I couldn't help strutting down the aisle, watching all those people turn around and stare.
I just knew that I looked gorgeous, with my white dress and fashionable veil. I wasn't entirely sure that the little old man who was walking me down the aisle was going to make it all the way up to the altar. Just then, I saw my new husband's great aunt, who waved enthusiastically at me. I smiled coolly, remembering her four hour long speech at our rehearsal dinner; half of the guests had fallen asleep. Suddenly, she sneezed; it was so loud that I found it a miracle that she hadn't blown half way across the church. I noticed a little boy putting some candles in his pocket, and had to stop myself from telling his mother to teach him some manners. My eyes drifted to the front of the church, where I saw Jim, standing with his best man. Before I could reach him, however, I saw something brown dart across the stairs underneath the altar, where the priest stood waiting to begin the ceremony. It looked like.. a rat. The little brown object came to a complete stop right in front of the podium, and I saw a long tail. It raised two little arms, and let out a humongous squeak, louder than the blaring organ. The church went quiet and the woman with the huge glasses who had been playing the wedding march spun around in alarm. As I stared, still in shock that such a small animal could let out such a huge noise, the old man escorting me fainted. I supported him with one arm, and held myself up using the pew next to me. The rat, or whatever it was, began to squeak angrily at the congregation, and I heard a scream from my right. It was the great aunt who had given the four hour speech; somehow, I was not surprised. The priest had evidently decided to take matters into his own hands; he sprinted forward, bearing his heavy bible, and thwacked away at the rat. The rodent easily evaded the old man, and before my eyes, it pointed a skinny arm at the priest, and began to squeak even louder.
As the incredible scene unfolded before me, I couldn't help but question my decision to marry Jim. His family was boring, and while I was busy holding up an old man, he was scratching his nose in awe of the cheeky rat that was steadily ruining my wedding. Without waiting to stay and see what happened, I yelled angrily at him, "forget this; we're so over!"
He didn't even turn around, as I stormed out of the building, tearing off the veil that I now hated. I kicked the limo driver out into the street, climbed into the car, and tore off down the street, hoping never to see Jim or his great aunt again.
I just knew that I looked gorgeous, with my white dress and fashionable veil. I wasn't entirely sure that the little old man who was walking me down the aisle was going to make it all the way up to the altar. Just then, I saw my new husband's great aunt, who waved enthusiastically at me. I smiled coolly, remembering her four hour long speech at our rehearsal dinner; half of the guests had fallen asleep. Suddenly, she sneezed; it was so loud that I found it a miracle that she hadn't blown half way across the church. I noticed a little boy putting some candles in his pocket, and had to stop myself from telling his mother to teach him some manners. My eyes drifted to the front of the church, where I saw Jim, standing with his best man. Before I could reach him, however, I saw something brown dart across the stairs underneath the altar, where the priest stood waiting to begin the ceremony. It looked like.. a rat. The little brown object came to a complete stop right in front of the podium, and I saw a long tail. It raised two little arms, and let out a humongous squeak, louder than the blaring organ. The church went quiet and the woman with the huge glasses who had been playing the wedding march spun around in alarm. As I stared, still in shock that such a small animal could let out such a huge noise, the old man escorting me fainted. I supported him with one arm, and held myself up using the pew next to me. The rat, or whatever it was, began to squeak angrily at the congregation, and I heard a scream from my right. It was the great aunt who had given the four hour speech; somehow, I was not surprised. The priest had evidently decided to take matters into his own hands; he sprinted forward, bearing his heavy bible, and thwacked away at the rat. The rodent easily evaded the old man, and before my eyes, it pointed a skinny arm at the priest, and began to squeak even louder.
As the incredible scene unfolded before me, I couldn't help but question my decision to marry Jim. His family was boring, and while I was busy holding up an old man, he was scratching his nose in awe of the cheeky rat that was steadily ruining my wedding. Without waiting to stay and see what happened, I yelled angrily at him, "forget this; we're so over!"
He didn't even turn around, as I stormed out of the building, tearing off the veil that I now hated. I kicked the limo driver out into the street, climbed into the car, and tore off down the street, hoping never to see Jim or his great aunt again.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
The Wedding
I was minding my own business in a corner of the little building, right near my little hole in the wall. It was a nice place to live, because it was quiet (except for one day a week, when a crowd of people gathered to listen to a boring little old man speak) and the windows were colorful,letting in nice light. I liked to curl up just behind the baseboard, and take a mid-afternoon nap every day before i settled in for the evening.Today, however, a crowd filtered in and rudely disturbed my peaceful rest. I was frustrated, because the same crowd was typically not due back for a week, and they had come yesterday as well. Before my very eyes, men in horrid black suits, and women in distasteful dresses had filtered in through the doors, and had begun to sit down in the seats. The organ lady had nearly stepped on me, as she made her way to the organ, and had proceeded to bang out some of the most awful sounds I had ever heard. A ridiculously dressed woman, in a white sack had flounced up the aisle between all of the benches and was now standing hand in hand with a terribly ugly man who kept scratching his nose. My whiskers twitched in annoyance; who did these clowns think they were? I ventured out a little further, trying to decide what to do. I couldn't decide whether to let them finish their little celebration, or shoo them out of my home. After I had put up with an old lady sneezing all over my favorite prayer book, and a brat stealing some candles from a side table where i loved to sit, I made my decision. I would scare these freaks out and they would never come back. But no, I thought to myself; my mother rat had always told me to be polite. So, with that in mind, I sauntered out on my hind legs, onto the steps in front of the altar. I strutted proudly across my stage, and came to a halt in the center of the steps, right in front of the podium. Knowing that the humans were no doubt awed by my powerful presence, I raised my claws high into the air, and put an immediate stop to the preaching going on behind me with a high squeak. "Ladies and gentlemen," I began grandly, but I was cut off by a screech. "Raaaaaaat!!!" It was the little hag who had sneezed. Raising my claw indignantly, I was about to put a stop to the terrible noise coming out of her mouth. Then I heard a slight shuffling behind me; glancing over my shoulder, I saw the priest running after me with his heavy book. "Good," I squeaked, "finish her!" But, suddenly, the old man flipped the book high above his head, and brought it down as hard as his skinny little arms could muster. I dodged his frail attempt easily. Putting my paws on my hips, I scolded him, "She's over there, stupid!!" But as soon as the words had left my lips, he brought the book down again, and everything went black....
Sunday, November 23, 2008
"Letters About Literature"
Dear Mr. Wilkinson,
I recently read your book, Oblivion's Altar, and was very moved by its powerful message. In history at school, I studied the settlement of the Americas by white pioneers and the effects their concept of 'Manifest Destiny' had on the Native Americans who already lived there. Before reading your book, the material seemed dry and dull, and although I knew it was a tragedy, relating to their struggles was nearly impossible for me. When Oblivion's Altar was recommended to me, I agreed to read it, but I expected to put it down quietly like several other books about history that I deemed 'boring.' I was wrong; contrary to my original judgment, I found that I simply could not stop reading.
The life of Chief Ridge opened my eyes to the cruelty of the white men that pushed the Cherokee farther and farther West, pushing them onto the trail of tears. Through his story, I was able to experience for myself the grief he felt while watching helplessly as his people suffered, and blamed him for not being able to stop the pioneers. I felt the inexplicable sadness that he felt, when he realized that the culture he knew no longer held any meaning in the steadily changing world. The incredible sacrifice he made when he gave up his son, so that he could learn about the culture of the white man, made me realize just how tragic and serious the situation was. The faith he had in Andrew Jackson's treaties and promises was genuine, and it made me angry to learn that the president did not sympathize with their plight; instead he exposed the Native Americans to the cold realities of westward expansion, displacing families, forcing women and children to pack their things and move, and dishonoring the Cherokee warriors. Andrew Jackson and Chief Ridge were pragmatic, but Ridge was forced to bring the terrible news to his people and urge them to move, instead of facing certain death if they stayed. His attempts to make peace with Jackson and his followers were dismissed, because they regarded Ridge as an uneducated savage.
Before reading your book, I only knew the pioneers' side of the story, a tale that involved courageous settlers who expanded the great country that we have today. Now, I realize that the settlement of the West was more than just glory and gold; thousands of people suffered for the Americans' gain, and today, the Native Americans are hardly remembered for the bravery they showed when faced with losing all that they had ever known. The detail in your book allowed me to realize that Chief Ridge was viewed as a traitor by his people for wanting to submit to the white men who oppressed them, rather than watch his family and friends die, and to experience for myself everything that happened during Ridge's lifetime. Ridge was a hero and a man who gave his life for everything he believed in. I will never view that time period in the same way after reading Oblivion’s Altar. Thank you for providing me and many other readers to come with this incredible insight into history.
Sincerely,
Brodde Lamb
I recently read your book, Oblivion's Altar, and was very moved by its powerful message. In history at school, I studied the settlement of the Americas by white pioneers and the effects their concept of 'Manifest Destiny' had on the Native Americans who already lived there. Before reading your book, the material seemed dry and dull, and although I knew it was a tragedy, relating to their struggles was nearly impossible for me. When Oblivion's Altar was recommended to me, I agreed to read it, but I expected to put it down quietly like several other books about history that I deemed 'boring.' I was wrong; contrary to my original judgment, I found that I simply could not stop reading.
The life of Chief Ridge opened my eyes to the cruelty of the white men that pushed the Cherokee farther and farther West, pushing them onto the trail of tears. Through his story, I was able to experience for myself the grief he felt while watching helplessly as his people suffered, and blamed him for not being able to stop the pioneers. I felt the inexplicable sadness that he felt, when he realized that the culture he knew no longer held any meaning in the steadily changing world. The incredible sacrifice he made when he gave up his son, so that he could learn about the culture of the white man, made me realize just how tragic and serious the situation was. The faith he had in Andrew Jackson's treaties and promises was genuine, and it made me angry to learn that the president did not sympathize with their plight; instead he exposed the Native Americans to the cold realities of westward expansion, displacing families, forcing women and children to pack their things and move, and dishonoring the Cherokee warriors. Andrew Jackson and Chief Ridge were pragmatic, but Ridge was forced to bring the terrible news to his people and urge them to move, instead of facing certain death if they stayed. His attempts to make peace with Jackson and his followers were dismissed, because they regarded Ridge as an uneducated savage.
Before reading your book, I only knew the pioneers' side of the story, a tale that involved courageous settlers who expanded the great country that we have today. Now, I realize that the settlement of the West was more than just glory and gold; thousands of people suffered for the Americans' gain, and today, the Native Americans are hardly remembered for the bravery they showed when faced with losing all that they had ever known. The detail in your book allowed me to realize that Chief Ridge was viewed as a traitor by his people for wanting to submit to the white men who oppressed them, rather than watch his family and friends die, and to experience for myself everything that happened during Ridge's lifetime. Ridge was a hero and a man who gave his life for everything he believed in. I will never view that time period in the same way after reading Oblivion’s Altar. Thank you for providing me and many other readers to come with this incredible insight into history.
Sincerely,
Brodde Lamb
Sunday, October 12, 2008
The Cat: Final Draft
It was a cold and rainy day and the cat sat on the edge of the steps, switching its tail back and forth slowly. The old rocking chairs on the porch stood, sentinels behind him, creaking back and forth slowly in the gentle breeze. The cat opened his yellow eyes wide and stretched, slowly, venturing forth into the light drizzle. He meandered along the front walkway and leapt lightly up onto the low brick wall that surrounded the yard. He watched the road, as if waiting for someone, and from time to time he patrolled up and down the length of the wall.
Finally, the headlights of a car appeared, twin swords cutting the mist. The cat watched as it pulled into the driveway. He jumped down and ran across the rough gravel to the door, meowing loudly as the man and woman walked towards the front steps. The man reached down to pet the cat with one hand, while opening the door with the other. She walked inside, leaving wet footsteps glistening on the ground. "Whose cat is this?" he asked her, and then laughed surprisedly, when the cat ran through the door and skidded across the slippery floor. Turning on the light, he followed, shutting the door behind them.
"Oh, you let him in the house? Jim, you know we can't keep him." she said, putting the mail down on the counter and bending down to check for a collar. "We don't have time to take care of him with the schedule at the hospital, and he's probably just lost!" Jim scratched his head. "He doesn't have a tag and I've always liked cats," he said stubbornly.
She pushed past him lightly, and walked into the living room where the cat was purring softly, asleep on one of the armchairs. "We should take him to the pound and see if someone is there to pick him up." she said. "Hey, kitty," she whispered. The cat opened one large yellow eye crabbily and then shut it again. He began to purr more persistently, and she stood up, not certain what to do.
Jim was watching from the doorway. "See?" he said. "He wants to stay!" He gestured at the cat, which was now sprawled out on the armchair, head on paws and back legs dangling over the edge of the seat. “Well, there’s nothing we can do today,” she said, walking back into the kitchen. Secretly, she didn't want to put him out any more than Jim did. “But I hope he knows that we have nothing to feed him!” Jim smiled, sitting down in the seat next to the cat and turning on the television.
The next afternoon when Jim got home, the cat was waiting on the wall for him again. That morning, Jim had gently scooped the cat up from his warm chair, and put him on the front porch, after repeated complaints from his wife. He had been hoping to see the little cat again, though he forced himself to be prepared for the worst. He opened the car door, and then the trunk. He slung the bag over his arm and picked up the purring cat, which had begun to rub against his leg. He walked through the door and set the cat down on the floor, opening the bag and pulling out a collar that fit in the palm of his hand. Jim sat down on the floor and put the collar on the cat. He then pulled out several cans of food, which he stacked in a cabinet.
Later, she opened the door to find the two sitting on the couch watching the television. The cat jumped down and began to rub against her leg. “He’s got a collar now,” said Jim smugly, grinning at her from his seat. She smiled, bending down and scratching the cat behind the ears. Somehow she knew that the cat would be staying.
Finally, the headlights of a car appeared, twin swords cutting the mist. The cat watched as it pulled into the driveway. He jumped down and ran across the rough gravel to the door, meowing loudly as the man and woman walked towards the front steps. The man reached down to pet the cat with one hand, while opening the door with the other. She walked inside, leaving wet footsteps glistening on the ground. "Whose cat is this?" he asked her, and then laughed surprisedly, when the cat ran through the door and skidded across the slippery floor. Turning on the light, he followed, shutting the door behind them.
"Oh, you let him in the house? Jim, you know we can't keep him." she said, putting the mail down on the counter and bending down to check for a collar. "We don't have time to take care of him with the schedule at the hospital, and he's probably just lost!" Jim scratched his head. "He doesn't have a tag and I've always liked cats," he said stubbornly.
She pushed past him lightly, and walked into the living room where the cat was purring softly, asleep on one of the armchairs. "We should take him to the pound and see if someone is there to pick him up." she said. "Hey, kitty," she whispered. The cat opened one large yellow eye crabbily and then shut it again. He began to purr more persistently, and she stood up, not certain what to do.
Jim was watching from the doorway. "See?" he said. "He wants to stay!" He gestured at the cat, which was now sprawled out on the armchair, head on paws and back legs dangling over the edge of the seat. “Well, there’s nothing we can do today,” she said, walking back into the kitchen. Secretly, she didn't want to put him out any more than Jim did. “But I hope he knows that we have nothing to feed him!” Jim smiled, sitting down in the seat next to the cat and turning on the television.
The next afternoon when Jim got home, the cat was waiting on the wall for him again. That morning, Jim had gently scooped the cat up from his warm chair, and put him on the front porch, after repeated complaints from his wife. He had been hoping to see the little cat again, though he forced himself to be prepared for the worst. He opened the car door, and then the trunk. He slung the bag over his arm and picked up the purring cat, which had begun to rub against his leg. He walked through the door and set the cat down on the floor, opening the bag and pulling out a collar that fit in the palm of his hand. Jim sat down on the floor and put the collar on the cat. He then pulled out several cans of food, which he stacked in a cabinet.
Later, she opened the door to find the two sitting on the couch watching the television. The cat jumped down and began to rub against her leg. “He’s got a collar now,” said Jim smugly, grinning at her from his seat. She smiled, bending down and scratching the cat behind the ears. Somehow she knew that the cat would be staying.
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