Archive for November, 2011

Hero, by Kayla Peschong

The word hero can be construed in so many ways. A hero has many definitions. A common definition of a hero is a mythological or legendary figure that has great strength or abilities. A hero can also be a warrior or a man admired for his achievements and noble qualities, even someone who displays great courage. The most common definition of a hero is someone who’s admired for their brave deeds and noble qualities. To me a hero is someone that is always there for me, who I count on always being there when I need them. Being a hero doesn’t mean you have to be able to fly through the air and save the day. Being a hero is much more than that. Simply being the inspiration or motivation in someone’s life can make you a hero. The neighbor next door could be your hero or the stranger that pushed you out of the way of an oncoming car. I could go through and give so many more definitions of a hero, instead I’m choosing to use the real stories I’ve gotten from interviewing people I know.

My first interview was done with a high school student. Her name is Kristina and she is sixteen years old. I first asked her what she thought a hero was. Kristina’s definition of a hero is someone that you look up to and inspires you to do better. I asked Kristina who her hero was and she said that her mom was her hero. Her mom is her hero

because she has always been there for her through the bad and the good. Her mom is a single mother to four kids with no help. She looks up to her mom because she does everything in her power to support there family. Sometimes her mom had to do things that she wasn’t proud of but she had to do them in order to survive. At one point in her life her family was homeless with nothing and her mom changed that. Kristina has a great mother and in her eyes she’s heroic (Bernadette).

The second person that I interviewed was my best friend. Her name is Jen and she is twenty-seven years old. First I asked her what her definition of a hero was. Jen defined a hero as someone who is courageous and is selfless by putting themselves in harms way to protect others. Jen’s heroes in her life are her parents. They’re her hero because they’ve taught her good morals and set good examples. Her parents always gave up time, money, and energy to make her the person that she is today. She understands her parents aren’t perfect but they always tried to teach her right from wrong (Schlinsky).

I thought the next person to ask what a hero is was me myself. I think a hero is someone that makes the biggest impact on your life. A hero to me keeps you believing in others and having hope for tomorrow. It took me a nice amount of time to realize who my hero was. After thinking about it for a while I realized that my two precious little girls were my heroes. My little girls are always there for me when I happy and when I’m sad. They have taught me more than any other person in my life has. I learned how to develop patients, which for me wasn’t an easy thing to do. They also showed me what

unconditional love was and how it felt. My children give me confidence and courage to stand up to the many hardships that I endure. They’ve given me the inspiration that I needed to do better in every aspect of my life. Most of all they’ve made me the woman I have become today and a better person for tomorrow and for that I can only thank them. Ayanna and Karma are my precious angles and they have no idea that at such a young age they are someone’s hero. They don’t even know what a hero is. Not only do my girls depend on me but I depend on them as well. My girls are my hero.

My conclusion of a hero is very simple, for the fact that any person can be a hero. It doesn’t matter how old or young you are. It makes no difference if you’re a girl or a boy. A hero is any person who is admired for qualities so grand and achievements so great. No matter what your definition of a hero is there is no wrong answer. No matter who your hero is they are your hero and for that they’re special to you because of the impact they’ve left on your life. I know it took me a while to figure out who my hero is, as it did for the people I interviewed. I think everyone should take the time and think about whom that special person is and why they’re your hero. You might just shock yourself with your answer, I know I did.


Bernadette, Kristina. Personal Interview. 7 November 2011.

Schlinsky, Jennifer. Personal Interview. 5 November 2011.

Beautiful Flower, by Neelam Thakor

Silent, Skinny, by Breanna Klugiewicz

Unfaithful, by Heather Gaworski

I wonder if you think of me sometimes
Can I tell you I miss you
Or would that be too hard for you to hear
I hold on to our secret reality
Thinking tomorrow would be too soon
The unknown is almost too close
But not far enough to get my chance
It hurts to much be your convenience
But it brings me back every time
It may be complicated, but not difficult to imagine
Each time you take a piece of me
Now I’m left here
Waiting for our return

Broken Pieces, by Heather Gaworski

He struggles with any chance to be normal
People only see him on the outside
The inside fighting to maintain control
No one sees the perfectness of the whole picture
The confusing stairway leading to a blank face
The mind is a beautiful thing to hold on to
Screaming inside waiting for the pathway to appear
His feelings I endure patiently
I hurt through him and with him
Always questioning the answer
When I thought you wouldn’t make it through
I was standing there
Waiting for you to fall

Lady on the Stair, by Rachel Richardson

While You’re Away, by Eileen Rugolo

Think about me,

Just once in a while

During all those shows,

That will make you smile.


And I don’t mean,

Just the rock bands

I’m talking about,

Those with the tans.


I ask that you,

Don’t join in those games

And please don’t,

Get any names.


The only one,

That should be on your mind

Is the one at home,

That is basically blind.


From all the things,

That will go on up there

I have to be strong,

And not have a care.


I’m trying to believe,

And to trust

I do need your help,

And this is a must


This is hard on me and,

I know you know why

The hurt is so deep,

I sometimes still sigh.


So be faithful,

And be true

Not only to me,

But, also to you.


These next five days,

For you will be fun,

But, I’ll be wondering,

What has he done?


So, please don’t you lie,

And do tell the truth

For I can take it,

Though, I might not be couth.


Give me the respect,

That couples do share

Do what you want,

But, buyers beware!


I know that you love me,

I love you too

Don’t toss me aside,

Like some old shoe.


We’ve been through a lot,

I’ve been there for you

Through all those tough times,

With your work and your school.


I care so deep,

For this relationship

Let’s not have a Cadot,

Make it take a dip.


Think about me,

Just once in a while,

That alone,

Will make me smile.

But, It was Mine, by Thandi Ganya

Summer had always been my favorite time of year. The warm breeze travelled gently through my dark brown hair, all braided up and decorated with pink burettes to compliment the buttons on my overalls, carrying with it the warm scent of August air and the gleeful sounds of the singing robins. It felt like they were singing just for me. The sweet aroma of the flowering tree just outside of our apartment building filled my nostrils as I breathed in its natural allure. Observing all the lively, exciting colors of not-quite-fall, I noticed that it was the most beautiful tree I had ever seen. Soft, pink petals fell slowly past the slender, white trunk of the small tree, gently into the plush green grass. Fuzzy bumble bees zoomed all around looking for just the right flower to turn into honey. I never understood why people were so afraid of them—they were so cute, yellow and fuzzy.

Mommy took me across the street to Humboldt Park to play. I rode along comfortably in my little red wagon, fully equipped with the two most important things essential for any day trip: my grey penguin blanket to line the wooden bottom of my wagon and a box of graham crackers, tucked safely in my lap in case in got hungry. My mind allowed itself to wander, deep in thought about what kind of adventures we might go on today. Perhaps we would watch fish swim around the pond. Or maybe we wouldn’t. Maybe we would go to the jungle gym so I could try my hand at climbing the monkey bars. I wasn’t afraid of falling, the thought never once crossed my mind. However, the swings were pretty fun as well. I decided I’d do both. The moments ticked by suspensefully. The longest forty-five seconds of my life were the ones I waited to get to the park. I killed time by asking Mommy as many “what if” questions as I could before we got there, for she knew the answers to every last one of them. Sometimes she got tired and said she didn’t know, but I knew that she did. I knew that she knew the answer to everything and she could do anything in world because she was my mommy.

Eventually, finally, we got there. It was as beautiful as always. The sun illuminated the picture perfect sky, light blue and utterly cloudless like a painting worthy of display in the finest art museum ever built. I could hear the big kids laughing and playing in the vast, endless field, some distance away. One day I would know what they were laughing about and I’d laugh too. I could see fathers with their sons, ready to go fishing and daughters, most of them a lot older than me, with their mothers, playing and running jubilantly. There were little tiny babies in their strollers accompanied by both parents. The mommies played with their little tiny toes while the daddies smiled, taking in all the wonder and magic of the miniature human cooing at that pure bliss that lit up their faces. It didn’t cross my mind to ask myself if I had a daddy once, when I was a little tiny baby. Mommy, who knew everything, was all I needed.

We stopped for a quick second in front of the most magnificent tree in the whole park. Its leaves were all still green though many of the other trees had started to slightly change colors. Suddenly, without warning, a squirrel raced down the tree, fast like the road runner and pilfered the graham cracker right out of my hand. I sat in utter disbelieve, watching the dastardly squirrel race back up the tree again. “Mommy!” I shouted, pointing desperately up above. She took one look up and gasped with almost the same look of disbelief that I wore except it carried a slight hint of humor at the squirrel in the tree clutching the half eaten graham cracker. Then, as if this wasn’t enough, the squirrel raised the cracker as high up in the air as its little arms would let it and waved it around as if to mock me. I burst into tears. “Mommy! Get it back!” I screamed, for I knew she could. Mommy could do everything—anything in the world.

“I can’t” she said softly, fighting back laughter “the squirrel has it.” It had already begun taking small bites out of the corner, waving it in the air every few nibbles.

“No! It’s mine!” I reprimanded, “That’s not nice!” But the squirrel wouldn’t listen. It continued to gnaw at my graham cracker until finally deciding to disappear into the abundant shelter of that tall tree. “Mommy!” I screamed again. “Mommy, get it back its mine! Its mine!” but, she wouldn’t and I didn’t understand why. I knew she could. She could do anything and she knew everything.

My anguish quickly turned to anger. I was livid that, that rotten squirrel could take something that he knew wasn’t his. I would’ve told his mommy had I known where she was. Maybe she was out searching for food. She would bring home as many nuts and berries as her arms and her cheeks could carry only to find that when she got home, he will have already ruined his appetite with a half eaten graham cracker that wasn’t his and was probably too big for him anyway. Tears still streaming down my face, I ignored Mommy’s frequent attempts to get me to forget about my graham cracker by offering me another one, but I couldn’t—it was mine. Why didn’t she understand that? Why didn’t she get it back? Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe the squirrel was just too fast and the tree was just too tall for her to reach. I refused another one anyway and sat with my legs crossed and arms folded until all the anger was gone. And even though I played just as happily as always, I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, stop thinking about my graham cracker. It was mine.

Rebuilding Milwaukee, by Angela M. Perrow

Rebuilding Milwaukee;

The Marquette Interchange Project

Milwaukee, Wisconsin


The old bridges stood high and strong for so long

Even the strongest structures can wear down over time

We must observe when its time to rebuild

Patience and tolerance will help us during the process


Even the strongest structures can wear down over time

New structures can bring new directions

Patience and tolerance will help us during the process

A new path will get us to our destination safely


New structures can bring new directions

Something we passed by for years we see for the first time

A new path will get us to our destination safely

The money and time spent will be worth it in the end


Something we passed by for years we see for the first time

How beautiful to see something you love everyday knowing it was there all along

The money and time spent will be worth it in the end

These strong, sturdy, rebuilt structures will last until we are gone


How beautiful to see something you love everyday knowing it was there all along

We must observe when its time to rebuild

These strong, sturdy, rebuilt structures will last until we are gone

The old bridges stood high and strong for so long

Preserving Milwaukee, by Angela M. Perrow