Youths of America

              I was listening to the radio in my car and I listen to the music that was playing on each station as I switched between them to find a good song to listen to.  Then I started to wonder about the lyrics and words that are used in songs.

            Shit.  Faggot.  Fuck you.  Ass hole.  Bitch.  Crap.  The list can go on.  When I arrived home, I sat down and turned on the television. On MTV and other reality television shows they kept repeating those terrible words.  I switched to Nickelodeon, Cartoonnet Work, and the Disney Channel that allowed children to be children.  I started to wonder about how many children still watch these cartoons and when do they start switching to the rap music and the “older” channels? 

            I walked into town and went to my town’s park.  It was a little pass three on a Friday afternoon.  The children from the middle school were out, having fun with their friends in the park and talking to girls or boys.  I saw high school kids drive by in their cars that had more than one person.  I sat on a bench and took out a book and I watched the younger children hanging out. 

“Hey you!  Fuck off!” one of them yelled at me and another one called me a bit and another one yelled faggot.  Eventually they got bored with me and left me alone but when they told me those terrible things I felt sad for them.  They laughed at each other as they called me one thing after another.

“How old are you kids?” I asked them innocently. 

“Eleven and twelve,” one of them said and then yelled another terrible word at me.  Then they started to talk among themselves. 

            Eleven and twelve year olds yelling those words at someone they do not know.  They probably do not understand how hurtful those words were to some people.  Did they always yell that at adults?  Even their own parents?  What was this country coming to and yes I do mean country.  I’ve traveled outside the country and in many of the places I’ve been to, none of the children were like the awful children in the United States. 

            These terrible words were becoming to be the norm for young children in the United States.  I started to wonder if the adults who wrote the songs or the adults who produce the television show knew how their influences were effecting the youths of America.  If they were on live television and told the country that saying curse words were wrong and that they would stop using it in their songs and televisions, would it effect the youth?  I answered with yes because those songwriters, singers, producers, and so on are the youth’s role models and whatever they do, the youth do.  So if they say, “saying curse words are wrong” then I believe the youth will follow them. 

            They do not know how they are affecting the children in the country.  It’s not the children’s fault or the parents.  Even if parents made them stop watching television or listening to certain music, the kids will find ways to do those things.  So do those certain adults know what they are doing to the youths of America?  Making them yell curse words at people they do not know, make fun of others, and disrespect their parents?  They probably don’t because they do not have children of their own or they just don’t see it. 

            “It’s no one fault,” I remember hearing as a child and to this day I still believe in that saying.  Yes, the famous people are doing things that children will mimic, but if they do not know what they are doing is wrong, then it’s not their fault.  It’s never anyone’s fault but maybe if we took those words out of music and television shows, things will start changing for the youths of America.  Change is a difficult thing but eventually everyone has to adapt to it. 

            All I could do in that park that day was sit back, look up at the sky, and remind myself of how wonderful my life is, even if those kids yell mean things at me.  Those words are not going to change who I am because in the end, the children do not know any better.  Once they are older, maybe they will understand and I can only hope for the best. 

The History of Hatred

              I look back during my time in school from elementary school through high school.  In my history classes I learned about how African Americans were enslaved and then were free after the Civil War.  I learned how the Jews were put into camps during Nazi Germany.  I learned how a man named Martin Luther King Jr. fought for the equal rights of African Americans.

            My grandmother was born in 1920 and she told me stories about her life and how she was picked on for being Italian.  During her time no one like the Italian and the Irish because people thought they were taking their jobs and were going to take over. 

            In sophomore year, I learned how on the West the people hated the Chinese because they thought they would not be able to assimilate and the cultures were too different for the citizens of the United States at the time. 

            During World War II, I learned how citizens of United States who were of Japanese origin were put into camps.  They were taken away from their homes by force and were taken to an unknown land in their own country because people feared them.  Even people who never met a Japanese person became frighten after Pearl Harbor. 

            In history class I learned how people struggle because of who they were and were judge based on the color of their skin, their heritage, or their beliefs.  I started to admire the people who fought for their rights, including those who fought for the rights of others although they did not share the same heritage, beliefs, or colors of the skin.  And by reading the paper and listening to the news, I learned that this hatred continues, and not just in another country that is far away, but in my own country! 

            There are many people who disagree with gay marriage and call them “faggots”.  I know some people do not believe it in because of religious reasons, but then I see children and they just mimic their parents.  They are not able to think for themselves and I wonder if they will ever be able think for themselves.  I also questioned the bible about gay marriage. It is written in the Old Testament, but I could find nothing about it in the New Testament.  Did this mean that God changed his mind?  Also, Jesus taught us to love one another as I have loved you.  So why do people continue to hate, if our savior taught us to love?  Does that mean they are going against Jesus and his teachings?  If Jesus was here, right now, watching my country and the whole world, would he be upset with those who continue to hate but still love him?  I also question why God made a man love another man or a woman love another woman and the only thing I could come up with was that he was testing us.  Testing us to love and accept different people.  Testing has always risen in the human history and I realized that there would never be a time when we are not tested by God or some supreme being. 

            For those who follow the gospel, I question them.  Jesus taught us to love everyone and everything, so why do you hate?  Jesus never taught us to hate.  What about the story of the Good Samaritan?  The Samaritan hated Jews and the Jews hated them, but in the story it was a Samaritan who saved the life of a Jew, while the Rabbi and a scholar left him for dead.  Doesn’t that mean anything?  Wasn’t Jesus telling us to overlook everything we knew and to care for one another?  God created man in his image, so when we see someone we should remind ourselves that God created them in his image and we should not question God why he made a man a man or a woman a woman. 

            Love is a powerful thing.  Loving a friend, parent, child, relative, pet, and even another human being who we would want to be with for the rest of our lives.  So why is it wrong for a man to love a man or a woman to love a woman?  It’s love and it can take many forms and can be strong during difficult times. 

            I know what people may say about me if they read this or listen to my beliefs about gay marriage and gay couples.  Although I am not gay, I still believe they have rights because they are humans as well, are they not?  I studied the bible and the teachings of Jesus and he taught us to love.  Every story he told his followers were about love.  So then, if someone hates someone just because of whom he or she is but say they follow the teachings of Jesus Christ, then would that person be a hypocrite?  I would say yes because if you hate someone, then you do not follow the teachings of Jesus. 

            What would you do, if you died and stood before Jesus?  I believe Jesus would question you why you had so much hate.  You would probably ask him what he was talking about.  Jesus would tell you that you hated gay people and you would tell him why you hated gay people.  But then I believe Jesus would ask you, “I taught my followers to love one another.  So if I taught love, then why do you hate?  Why did you become a lost sheep?” and you would probably say why but I believe in the end, Jesus would be sad and no matter what you say, Jesus would still question why you did not love. 

“Love one another, as I have loved you,” 

Rescue: A Dog's Tale

            You think I forgot, but in reality I remember everything, starting from when I was very young.  I remember my mother and my brothers and sisters and how we played together and slept together next to our mother.

            Although we were happy and always bouncing with joy, the time came when we no longer wanted to be with our mother, but instead wanted to make a family happy.  At night while we slept, we dreamed about our new home and the humans who we will be sharing our wonderful life with. 

            As days went on, each one of us was taken home, hoping for a perfect family who will love us forever.  We did not care if we were taken to a house or an apartment.  If the family was big with kids or just a bachelor or bachelorette who wanted a partner to keep them company.  The only thing we wanted was a place to call home.

            Eventually, just like my brothers and sisters, a family choose to take me home.  They were a young couple and they gave me a name that I was honor to have.  I licked their faces and promised them (although they could not understand me) that I would always love them, protect them, and make them happy. 

            As years went on, we ran through some rough times (such as house training) and some wonderful times (like going on long walks) and as each time passed, I loved it all.  I was happy and had a wonderful home.  I thought that I would stay with you forever and that no matter what, you would be at my side. 

            But then I needed medication and you decided that you could not afford it.  For years I stood by your side and when I needed you the most, you decided to take me somewhere.  I sat in the back of the car, not knowing what was going through your heads.  I was wondering if you were taking me to the vet or a friend’s house.  Instead you took me to a shelter and said your good-byes to me.  I watched you leave, wondering when you would come back to pick me up. 

            A stranger put me in a cage and it was a very small and cold cage compared to my big and warm house.  I laid down, waiting for you to come get me.  The stranger who put me in the cage looked at me with sad eyes. 

“I’m sorry buddy,” he said and wrote something on my cage and left for the night.  It was dark, cold, and small.  But even though I was in that cage, I still told myself that you were coming back.  That no matter what, you were going to come back.

            Early the next morning, a young lady came in and saw me.  She talked to the man who put me in the cage last night and the man seemed happy to see her.  They opened my cage and the lady petted me.  I gave her a smile and wagged my tail.  I was telling her that even though my humans left me, I was going to be okay because they were going to come back. 

            The man then gave the lady a leash and she attached it to my collar.  She took me outside in the cold morning air and put me in the back of her car.  She smiled at me, which seemed both happy and sad.  I thought she was going to take me to my humans but instead she took me to a small house and put me in another cage. 

            Although I was back in a cage the lady came by everyday and allowed me to play outside with other dogs, although they were much younger then me.  That was when I realized that you were not coming back.  The others and I talked to each other about our “old” humans and the others informed me that you were not going to come back.  At first I told myself that it was not true, but eventually I learned that you were not coming back and I became very sad. 

            I lay down in my cage and was wondering what I did wrong.  Did you love me?  Did you miss me?  What did I do wrong?  You had me for almost ten years and just like that, you left me.  Although I knew you were not coming back, deep in my heart, I was hoping that you would change your mind and come back for me. 

            Months went by and I still lived in the cage along with the other dogs that I became very fond of.  But many of them found new homes and I started to think that for the rest of my life I would be stuck in a cage because of my age.  But then one day a woman and her college daughter arrived at the shelter. 

            The daughter was looking for a younger dog, but once she saw me, she said I was perfect!  I licked her face and her mother’s and let them pet me.  I really wanted to get out of that cage.  I knew that deep down in the daughter’s heart that she was sad and when she took me home, I knew why.  The daughter just lost a dog that she had for fourteen years. 

            When I discovered why she was sad, I went up to her and lay down next to her feet while she was watching TV.  I told her that I know you are sad because you lost a companion and a friend.  I bet you loved your dog very much.  I lost my humans and I became very sad because I loved them and they gave me away but now I need someone to make me happy. 

            Many months passed and the whole family loves me.  Although I live in a new house, with a new backyard and a new family I still dream about my old home with my old family.  Although they gave me away, I want them to know that I will never forget them and I will always miss them.  But now this girl needs me and I found a purpose in my life once again, to become a companion and friend.  And somehow I know that this family and I will not separate, not until death comes to get me.  But for now, I wish for you to know that I am happy and I love my new life but even though you gave me away, I love you too.  

The Journey

              I packed water, bug spray, and sunscreen.  I put a cap on and wore light clothing.  I put the backpack over my shoulder for the journey.  I woke up before the sun was up and left a note on the table for my parents.  I told them that I would return before dark from my journey to find answers to my question.  I opened the front door and stared at the nature that surrounded our house.

            The sky was cool but I knew it would get warmer.  The sun was just about to rise and I watch the leaves on the trees bend in the soft wind.  I saw the trees in the woods extend for miles.  I knew that our house was the only house on this mountainside.  I closed my eyes and heard the bugs and the birds started to sing as the sun rose.  I took in a deep breath and set out on my journey. 

            I started fourth grade in September and it was still really warm out.  I always felt a part of my class until around the holidays.  When the holidays came, everything changed. 

“Pakal, are you going to midnight mass?” asked one of the kids my class. 

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You celebrate Christmas, right?”

“Yeah,”

“So then you go to mass, right?”

“I do not know what that is,” and my classmate explained to me what mass was.  I told him I’ve never been to such an event or even set foot in a “church” but I told him that my family has a private temple. 

“Are you Jewish?” asked another kid in class. 

“What’s Jewish?” I asked and my classmate explained to me what being Jewish meant.  I told him that I was not Jewish or I though I wasn’t. 

“Do you wear a small hat on your head?”

“I sometimes wear a baseball cap,” I told her.

“But you said you go to a temple.  Do you wear your hat?”

“My parents won’t let me.  They say it is against the rules,”

“Then you’re not Jewish,” The teacher then told us that snack time was over and to returned to our seats.  My classmates started to whisper among themselves and certain times I could hear my name.

            I walked higher up the mountain.  The sun just rose in the east and I started to get tired.  I knew the mountain well and I knew that I wanted to head high up into the mountains to think.  I found a large stick and used it as my walking stick.  I prayed the Goddess of nature for presenting this stick to me and continued on my journey. 

            We were supposed to get a gift for a person in our class.  We picked a name out of a bowl and I got Lauren Flexter.  I knew that Lauren really like horses and took horseback riding lessons.  My mother took me out to get her a present.  I got her the newest Barbie that came with a horse.  The lady who helped us told us that it was the brand new thing and I was hoping that she would like my present. 

            When it was time to present our presents I gave my present to Lauren who said thank you to me and loved it!  She said it was on her Christmas list for Santa and she said that I was the best kid in the class. 

            A boy named Billy O’Pit came up to me.  He had his hands behind his back and he seemed nervous.  Billy was a shy kid and extremely skinny and tall for his age but he was a very nice kid. 

“Hello, Billy,” I said with a huge smile on. 

“Hi, Pakal,” he replied back without looking at me.  The teacher asked if everyone got his or her presents and I told her that I did not. 

“Let me see the list of names.  It says here that Billy was supposed to give you a present,” and the teacher gave a looked at Billy.  The whole class was staring at us. 

“Billy where is Pakal’s presents?”

“I don’t have one,” Billy said looking down.  The whole class was silent and I felt a bit sad that I was the only one in class who did not get a present. 

“Well, where is it?” asked the teacher. 

“I have a note from my parents,” Billy said and handed it to the teacher.  The teacher read it and seemed very upset over it. 

“Billy?” I asked.

“I’m sorry Pakal but my parents are strict Christians.  They do not believe in mixing a religion,” he said.  That was when I started to feel different from the class. 

            The sun was high in the sky and it was no longer cool but hot.  I took out my water bottle and drank from it.  I made sure to drink a little so that I would save some for later.  I sat on a huge rock and prayed to the spirits for guidance and I prayed to Jesus.  I started to feel as if my journey was useless but I told myself that I had to continue. 

            During the holidays my mother took me to the temple.  The temple had a symbol of Hunab Ku in a cross to show our dedication to him and to Jesus.  We had no chairs but mats instead.  My mom and I sang hymns to Jesus and then prayed.  My mother started a fire in the fire pit and was telling me the importance of the four elements. 

“What’s wrong?” asked my mother. 

“Am I Jewish?”

“No,”

“Do we go to a ‘church’?”

“We have this temple.  Why do you ask, Pakal?”

“I don’t like my name.  Why can’t I have a normal name like John, Peter, Matthew, Carl, Phil, or something?” I said to my mother with anger in my voice. 

“Pakal, your name has a huge meaning.  You were named after a great leader of our people.  Pakal was a ruler and brought to his city-state an age of peace and progress.  To this day, he is believe to be the greatest Maya leader,”

“Did he believe in Jesus?”

“No,”

“Why?  I believe in Hunab Ku and the other Gods but I also believe in Jesus but even though I do, the other kids say I’m not a true ‘Christian’.  I believe in his teachings but the other kids say I do not follow the teachings of Jesus.  They say it is wrong to believe in many Gods,” My mother held me in her arms and gave me a smile and a kiss on the forehead.

“You are special, Pakal.  You have something that your classmates do not.  You are being raised by two different religions but remember that through these religions you keep alive your ancestors and your culture.  Listen to me my son, never favor one above the other and always be proud of what you believe in.  Very few children live in a similar household to your own,”

“There are others like me?”

“Yes and each one is special,”

            I lost track of how long I was walking but I started to get tired.  I sat down under a tree and while sitting I saw a deer.  I knew a deer was very important to the Maya Goddess and I took this as a sign to continue.  I thank the Goddess and while walking I started to sing a song in the honor of Jesus’ father, God.  Like my mother said, never favor one.  I am half Catholic and half Maya and I promised myself that I will never choose one over the other because they are both a part of me. 

            My curiosity got the better of me and I told my parents that I wanted to visit a local Church.  My father knew where there was a Catholic church in town and my mother became very concern.  My father said that maybe exposing me to more to my Christian side, I would gain a bit more knowledge about Jesus and his father along with my father’s religion. 

            We went to the Church on a Friday right after school to avoid mass and a crowd of people.  My father told me to dress my best and we went inside the Church.  It was a huge round room with a table in the very center on top of some stairs.  My father told me that the benches were called “pews” and that the center of the Church where the table was, was called the “altar”.  At the very end of the Church was a church with Jesus on it and my father told me that it was called a “crucifix” and it was to remind the Catholics of their savior. 

“Hello,” said a voice and a man dressed in all black came out to see us. 

“Hello, father,” said my father.

“He’s your dad?” I asked.  The man in black laughed a bit at my confusion.

“No.  Father is what we call a priest,”

“What about the females?”

“There are no female priests,” said the Father. 

“Females become nuns,” my father told me. 

“May I asked who you two are?  I’ve never seen you before,” said the Father.

“I’m Mr. Ricciardi and this is my son, Pakal.  I’m just teaching him,”

“I see.  Why don’t you sign him up for our Sunday school program?  Did he make his communion?” I looked at my father with confusion. 

“My wife and I want to teach him at home.  There are certain things that we want to teach him.  That is our decision,”

“You do not have any altars for the Gods,” I said and my father and the priest gave me a surprise look. 

“Young man, there is only one true God!” the priest said and then he turned to my father, “I do not know how you are raising your son as a Catholic sir, but in my position I would sign him up for Sunday school right away!  Young man, have you ever ate the bread or drank the wine of our Lord, Jesus Christ?” he asked me with a red face.  I shook my head, “Out!” he yelled and my father grabbed me and we walked out.  I made a decision to never go back there, ever again. 

            I did not have a watch on me but I was guessing that it was pass three in the afternoon.  I was halfway up the mountain, almost near my goal.  I have not seen any animal since the deer, but I had seen a few birds, chipmunks, and rabbits.  My mother taught me to respect all living things and that they are my distant relatives and my father taught me that everything has a spirit.  Each time I saw a small creature I thank them for accompany me on my journey.  But eventually they disappeared and as I got near the top of the mountain, I realized that I was alone. 

            Since my father took me to a Church, my mother wanted to take me to a Native American Church.  She told me that this was different because the Native American Church was a couple of different tribes that put their religion together. 

“What tribe are you from?” asked one of the kids. 

“Maya,” I told him and he looked at me in confusion and told me that the Maya were not a tribe. 

            My mother and I went up to other people and most of them looked nothing like us.  My mother told me that their ancestors were from this land or near by while our ancestors were located in Central America.  I kept hearing different tribes. Lakota, Cheyenne, Crow, and more.  No one said Maya. 

“Hello, I am Shaman Five Feathers,” said a woman who approached us. 

“Hello, I am Gabriella and this is my son, Pakal,” she said introducing me.  She told the Shaman that we were from Central America and she seemed very interested but I did not feel like I belonged.  They kept talking about the “Great Spirit” and legends that I never heard before.  My mother had to remind me that their tribes are different but similar while ours was extremely different compared to North America.  I found this Native American Church to be too confusing and too far away from the beliefs that my mother taught me.  It was too complicated to follow and just like with the Catholic Church, I decided not to go back. 

            My feet started to hurt really bad and I sat down on a log and took off my shoes to find blisters on my feet.  I knew this journey was going to be difficult but I wanted to try it.  I was already to far along that I could not turn back.  I put my shoes back on, poured water on my head, picked up my walking stick, and continued.  That was when I noticed that the wind stopped.  Now there were no animals and no wind. 

            It was raining outside and my classmates and I had to eat inside the classroom due to the bad whether.  I was eating my regular PB&J sandwich along with a juice and carrots. 

“I hate the rain,” I heard someone in my class say.

“I hate it too.  It should just go away and never return.  It ruins our recess,” I heard someone else say. 

“But we need the rain so that the grass can grow and the crops.  If there was no rain then there would be no corn, squash, vegetables, grass, and trees,” I told them.

            Once when I was little I was so bored that I wanted to play outside and I said that I hated the rain and the rain God.  My mother had a fit and told me to never say that again.  She told me how the rain brought us food and trees and nature.  She told me that the rain God, Chaac was not a mean God but was nice and kind.  She taught me to respect the rain.  That day we prayed to Jesus to ask him to stop the rain along with Chaac.  But the rain continued so we prayed to St. Jude, hoping that the rains would not flood the town and cause houses to over flow with water. 

“Who cares about that?  I just want to play,” said one of the kids complaining about the rain. 

“We need the rain,” I said in a low voice.

“Your weird.  Why don’t you cut your hair?  It looks like girl hair,” said one of the boys. 

“Warriors don’t cut their hairs.  Only cowards,” I said and a group of boys looked at me.

“Did you call us cowards?” asked one. 

“That’s not what I meant.  I meant that, I’m not allowed to cut my hair.  I can only cut it if I’m in mourning,” I told them but they were not listening.

“He called us cowards!”

“It was an accident,” But one of the boys grabbed my shirt and threw me to the ground.  He pinned me on the floor.  I kicked back but I could not get up.  I was stuck and a bunch of boys kept me down on the floor. 

“Say you’re sorry!”

“Sorry!”

“Like you mean it!” The whole class was silent and everyone stared at us.  Even the girls watched and no one ran to get an adult. 

“Grab a pair of scissors!” I heard someone yell and I freaked.  They were going to cut off my hair!  But just when a boy grabbed a pair of succors, an adult came in. 

“What’s going on in here?” he asked and we were all dead silent and I laid on the floor in relief. 

            I made it to the top of the mountain and the sun was just about to set in the west.  I sat over a cliff and looked down.  I saw my house and farther down I could see the town.  I could see cars moving, people walking, and the small shops in town.  I stood away from the edge and sat down.  I closed my eyes, took in deep breaths, and meditated.  I focused on the reason why I went there.  To ask the Gods, Hunab Ku, Jesus, the Saints, the spirits, the Virgin Mary, anyone who could tell me, who I am. 

            I saw visions of my classmates, the Churches I visited, and my parents.  I felt calm and the visions were in front of me like a movie.  I recalled all my happy moments and my difficult moments.  I just wanted to know who I was.  After what felt like a while a opened my eyes to spot a dove, flying high in the sky and underneath it was a white tail deer. 

“The white tail deer is an important animal from our home land,” I heard my mother’s voice say.

“The dove is a symbol of Jesus.  The only son of Hunab Ku,” I heard my father’s voice say.  I then found the answer.

            After my long journey and my meditation, it finally came to an end.  I was half Catholic and half Maya.  I follow the teachings of the Gods along with the teachings of Jesus and the saints.  Because of them, I am who I am.  I discovered that I am Pakal Ricciardi, and I was proud to be me because I discovered that I was special. 

            It was dark out and I was about to head home when I saw a light from the woods.  I recognized the uniform of a ranger. 

“Is that you Pakal?  Your parents are worried about you.  The whole town has been looking for you all day.  What are you doing up here, buddy?”

“I came here to find out who I am,” The ranger took off his hat and wiped his brow.  He seemed relieve to have finished his climbing up the mountain. 

“So did you find out who you are?” he asked panting. 

“Yes, I am Pakal Ricciardi and I represent my ancestors from my mother and father side of the family,”

            It was around midnight when Pakal returned home to his parents.  The dove landed on a branch of the tree, at the highest peek of the mountain, next to a deer.  The deer turned into the Goddess of nature, Ix Chel and the dove turned into Jesus Christ. 

“We bless you, Pakal,” they said in unison and that night the boy slept peacefully in the safety of his home and his guardians.  

The Curse Family of Klaus

              I was always standing next to my father.  I watched him sit at his wooden desk that had been in our family for generations.  I watched him do the paper work and he taught me what to sign and why and to read everything carefully.  Sometimes he took me to the factories and told me that someday it would be mine.  He showed me his office in the factory and I stood by his side to watch him work.  I always knew I was going to inherit my father’s business and even as a child I stood proudly next to my father.  I was proud to continue the family’s work.

            In the mansion we were not allowed to enter the east wing.  It was off limits to everyone.  Only a few servants could go there to do their work but no one in the family ever went.  But I knew that someone very old lived there.  When I played outside, I saw him watching from one of the windows and at night, I would catch him looking out into the ocean.  Father would never tell him who he was or why he was in our house. 

            One night, when I was twelve years old, I decided to go into the east wing.  The hallways had pictures of people who I could only guess were my ancestors and there were many doors.  In the middle of the hallway, I saw the man and I walked up to him.  He was very old and sitting in a wheel chair.  He was skinny and had wrinkles all over his face and hands.  He was almost bald and he seemed like he could barely lift his head. 

            I walked up to him and stared at him, face to face.  I watched his blue eyes stare back into my green eyes.  I could tell that at one time his hair (what was left of it) used to be a darker color.  He spoke very soft and with a scratching voice.

“What is your name?”

“Thomas Klaus,” I answered him.  He looked at me from head to toe and for some reason I felt as if I was standing before God. 

“Who are you?” I asked with a strong and quick voice.  I showed him a face that said “I do not fear you,” The man only smiled back. 

“I am Mr. Klaus.  One of your ancestors.  I’ve been alive for over three hundred years,”

            I sat at what was once my father’s desk, now my own desk.  When father died I took over the business and soon I would start training my daughter, my oldest child.  The clock said it was almost six at night and I got up from my desk and went into the dining room. 

            The dining room had a very long table, with one chair at the very front which was my seat.  Behind my seat was the fireplace that was always burning and above the fire place was Mr. Klaus’ portrait when he was younger, shortly after he founded the business, over three hundred years ago. 

            After I sat down, Aunt Caroline came in with my daughter.  My daughter took her place on my right side and her aunt sat across from her. 

“I love how you did your hair today, Ruth,” I said to my daughter.

“Aunt Caroline did it.  She says a lady must always be neat and tidy.  She even gave me her pink ribbon to hold my hair back,” Ruth said with a smile.  Aunt Caroline was my father’s sister and due to being the second born had no inheritance in the business.  But to make herself useful she became the “nanny” of my children.  Even when I was a child, Aunt Caroline was strict and impatience.  She also favored girls among boys. 

“Where is the food, the chief is so slow.  We should get a new one.  This one is getting old,” said Aunt Caroline. 

“The food will be place once everyone is here.  Is Ian out?”

“I do not keep track of that…fool,” said Aunt Caroline. 

            Ian was my father and Aunt Caroline’s cousin.  Since his own father was the second born child, he too had no inheritance to the business.  Due to that, he was often seen as part of the low class in our family but he was still a Klaus and thus held some status among us.  But because Ian’s side of the family got the short end of the stick, he often went out to the local bar and met exotic women.  He stayed out late and sometimes did not return for a few days. 

“I heard that he is meeting that Indian woman,” said Ruth.  Aunt Caroline gave Ruth a look and then had a look of disapproval on her face. 

“Really, that boy will bring shame to our family.  He should be of some use around here instead of using his parent’s money for booze and women,” said Aunt Caroline. 

“I do not agree with his actions either, but he is still a Klaus and any member of the family is welcome to live here.  After all, family is number one.  Never forget that,” I said to both of them. 

            The door to the dining room opened and my youngest child, Bremen walked in and took his place next to his aunt. 

“You missed your lesson today,” Aunt Caroline said without looking at her great nephew. 

“Where were you?” she asked with a strict voice.  Bremen sat at his seat without looking up from the table. 

“He doesn’t talk to anyone, remember?  He’s crazy,” said Ruth. 

            I gave Ruth a look and she look down at her empty plate with disappointment and then I looked at Bremen, trying to see if I could read his mind.  Bremen was always distant from the family and me.  He never connected with anyone and never spoke a word.  The doctor said that nothing physically was wrong with him so the reason why he doesn’t speak is because he does not wish to speak.  Bremen was often in his own world and loved playing with his blocks, dinosaurs, and action figures alone.  Aunt Caroline was extremely strict around him especially since he did not talk and had his “own” schedule such as, he decided when to go to class, when to wake up, and when to do what he wanted to do. 

            The servants came out with the dinner and placed them in front of us.  They filled our glasses with soda for the children and wine for the adults.  I had to tell them that Ian would not be joining us for the evening.  When everyone received their dinner we ate quietly.  Aunt Caroline kept complaining about Bremen because he was not sitting straight but Bremen ignored her, which made Aunt Caroline even more furious.  When everyone finished their dinner, we left and continued with our lives.

            As I walked towards my office I caught sight of Bremen entering the east wing.  I knew he was going to see Mr. Klaus.  I told my children that the east wing was off limits.  Ruth obeyed, but Bremen was always drawn to that place since he was a toddler.  I tried many times to stop him but he kept finding ways of getting there.  Eventually I just gave up but I started to notice that as Bremen got older, he spent more time in the east wing with Mr. Klaus.  This upset me because it was said that Mr. Klaus always favored the first child, so I did not see why Mr. Klaus took an interest in Bremen, the second child.  He should take more interest in Ruth, the first child and the one who will take over the family business. 

            It was almost ten at night when I started to get tired.  The children already came in to say good night.  Ruth was in her pink pajamas and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  I kissed her back and patted her head.  Bremen was still in his clothes and walked passed me to stare out the window. 

“Bremen, say good night to your father,” Aunt Caroline said.  Bremen ignored her and I told her that it was all right.  I told Bremen good night and he turned around and walked out of my office without saying a word or looking at me. 

“I’ll give that child a good beating,” I heard Aunt Caroline say but I knew she wouldn’t.  I told her that I did not want my children to be beat and if I found out she was hurting my children, I would throw her out of the mansion and she would be banish. 

            I got up from my desk and walked to the door.  I shut the light off and headed for my bedroom but on my way I saw Bremen.  I was wondering what he was doing up so late at night.  His sister was asleep and so was Aunt Caroline by now.  Most of the servants were gone and Ian was probably still out having a great time.  I quietly decided to follow Bremen and I was not surprise to see him going to the east wing. 

            Before entering the east wing I felt something that I could not describe.  I knew I felt anger and hate.  Mr. Klaus was alive for over three hundred years and only I knew about that because that information was only passed down from first-born to first-born.  Mr. Klaus seemed to be in charge of Bremen, but not only Bremen.  The whole family!  I had to order his food and clothes.  I had to pay for his medical bill and much more.  He was not just controlling Bremen, but me as well.  He probably also controlled my father before me and his father.  By the time my father died I was supposed to be the patriarch of the family but instead Mr. Klaus is because he is old and wise. 

            I also hated him for favoring Bremen over Ruth.  Ruth should be the one sneaking around.  Ruth should be the one he sees everyday, not Bremen!  Ever since Bremen was born I always wanted to be able to interact with him.  Play with him outside, watch his favorite TV shows with him, make a fort with him, and much more but Bremen favorites Mr. Klaus over me.  Bremen probably doesn’t even acknowledge me as his own father.  This increased my fury. 

            I walked into the east wing and walked to the door that was the bedroom of Mr. Klaus.  I knew that I had enough!  I opened the door and I saw Mr. Klaus sitting in his wheelchair, looking out towards the ocean.  I picked up a book of his and I walked towards him.  When I was right behind him, he turned around but he had no fear, it was as if he knew I was going to be there.  When I saw his face I became furious.  I hit him over the head with the book and kept hitting him and hitting him.  I did not care that he was already dead, I kept hitting him.  Blood got on my shirt, face, pants, and shoes, but I kept hitting him over and over again. 

            After what felt like hours I stopped.  I could not believe what I had just done.  I had killed one of my own kin!  Not just a kin, but an ancestor!  Tears went down my face because I knew I broke the number one rule, family first.  I just knelt there on my knees, screaming in my head.  What had I done?  Then I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head. 

            Bremen watched his father fall to the floor, dead, with the screwdriver in the back of his head.  Bremen looked at Mr. Klaus’ body and his father.  He felt nothing.  Not happiness, regret, anger, sadness, he felt nothing.  But he felt hurt when he watched his father kill his only friend but after killing his father, he felt nothing. 

“I am free,” Bremen said and he softened his fists.  In one of his fists he dropped a pink ribbon.  

Waiting for Super Heroes

           I don’t know where I am.  I could be in a village, or a small town, or a city.  Either way, the only thing I know is that I was walking and then I stopped to look up at the sky.  I’m waiting.  I’m waiting for a hero, like the super heroes on television.  Superman, Batman, Spiderman, Ironman, and the list can go on.  I’m waiting.  But I know that no super hero is coming to save me because they are not real.  But I wait because I have false hope.  I’m waiting.  I know that I am going to die waiting for nothing because there are no super heroes.

Jesse and Jesy

            We became friends in elementary school.  I don’t remember which grade we were in when we first met.  I don’t remember how we had become friends.  All that I remember is that now and today we are still friends, even after we finished high school and our first year of college. 

            I was born on September 18^th 1992 and he was born on September 17^th 1993.  I grew up with everyone calling me “Jesy” and he grew up with everyone calling him “Jesse”.  Although we share the same month, almost the same date, and the same name, we are extremely different, yet we are very close. 

            Many times we were in the same class from elementary school to high school.  We were in second and fourth grade homeroom together.  We had the same history class in 8^th grade, the same English class in 9^th grade, and then the same Children’s Literature class in 12^th grade. By the time we were in our sophomore year of high school, Jesse was in almost every honor’s class while I stayed behind and suffered from my learning disability. 

            Jesse was perfect in every way.  He had an advantage over me, especially being a white male while I am a minority female.  I knew that would help him in life since he would never have to face being persecuted as a woman or a minority.  The world will be easier on him then it will to me.  I was called every mean word in the dictionary for being a female minority.  Slut, whore, spic, and the list can keep going. In elementary school I was teased for my Hispanic heritage, often being called “cleaning lady”.  Today Jesse has a job at the I.T. department where his father works while I work with other Hispanics at Dunkin Donuts.  I love my job but I do not want people to think that I am an illegal alien who does not speak English.  The truth is, I never learned Spanish except in school.  I was adopted by a white family and grew up in the United States all my life.  But despite all that, people will always see me as a dirty illegal alien who probably has three to five kids already and never went to school or learned English.  But when someone sees Jesse, they see an intelligent young man.  A white young man who can share a purpose in the world where whites are the ruling class.  This is one of the realities I have seen since I was a child.

             Jesse wears glasses because he has bad eye site.  That’s the only medical problem I can think of that he has.  Not me.  I too have eye site problems but that’s not even the beginning.  I was diagnosed with depression at seventeen and I have PCOS, which caused me to become pre diabetic.  I take pills every day and every few months the doctor has to take my blood for testing.  I see a pediatric specialist, psychiatrists, and a therapist.  Along with an eye doctor and sometimes an ear doctor due to my hearing disorder.  My life has been full of doctors since I was fourteen, almost fifteen years old.  I hate getting tests and I had it when needles are put into me and I’m stuck wondering if my sugar level went up or down.  Just recently I discovered that my liver is not doing good and now I have to worry about that as well.  Jesse has eye problems and needs to wear glasses.  He’s lucky; he does not have to worry about his liver, ear, and sugar level along with his eye site.  Again, he’s perfect because those medical bills are not rising for him.  He’s probably going to live longer then me too. 

Jesse is gifted.  Always getting A’s since we were young, being in KQ (knowledge quest) a class for gifted kids in elementary and middle school, and getting in to many honor courses in high school.  He is very intelligent and smart.  He is the perfect student.  He never misses classes (unless he is sick or family emergencies), gets the work done, participates, and studies.  In our freshmen English class he was able to memorize all 80-vocabulary words and in junior year got a perfect score on the math part of the SAT’s.  He is a truly gifted child that any parent or teacher would be proud of.  I’m the exact opposite of gifted. 

In many of my courses in school I barely passed and this goes as far back as elementary school.  “She just barely made it,” I remember my teachers telling my mother.  It made me upset and at first I did not understand until I was older.  While Jesse was placed in KQ, I was placed in special reading and writing courses.  In middle school I was put in a special math course.  By the time I was in high school we discovered my learning disability of dyslexia.  In school I did not do well on exams, I got a 1250 on my SAT, I barely passed many of my courses, and in junior year I decided to give up.  If Jesse was the kid and student that everyone wanted, then I was the kid and student that no one wanted.  If Jesse is gifted and special, then I am nothing.

            Today Jesse and I visited our old high school.  Before leaving, Jesse and I visited one of my favorite teachers.  Jesse had him in his senior year of high school and I had him twice during high school.  We talked for a while but somehow I could tell that my favorite teacher admired Jesse more than me.  Despite looking up to him, having him twice as a teacher, going to him for help, and trying to prove to him that I’m doing well in college, he looks pass me for Jesse. The teacher I admire most and the only one who connected with me in high school, favors Jesse above me although he knows very little about Jesse.  He’s not the only teacher who favors Jesse, many of the other teachers we had together or had at the same time also favor Jesse above me.  I’m like Jesse’s shadow and Jesse is the body.  Jesse is physically there, while I am there as a see through.  They all acknowledge Jesse but no one acknowledges me.  Jesse is special, gifted, healthy, and someone to be proud of.  Then there is me, nothing.  Just an average student who does not exists in the world or among the people who I look up to and see as heroes.  It makes me sad and disappointed in myself. 

             No, I do not hate Jesse.  I envy him and I am proud of him too.  I’m happy to be his friend and when I was down and sad he was always there.  He’s a great friend and I would not ask for another.  Everyone that we know, especially in school, acknowledge Jesse and are proud of him while no one says anything to me except for one person: Jesse.  Only Jesse knows how hard I’ve tried and I know that he is proud of me.  But I know that and I want others to be proud of me as well.  But I learned that when everyone does not acknowledge or care about you, its difficult and hard in the world.  But that one person, who does see you for a person and not a shadow, is worth dying for. 

Jesse was born lucky.  I was lucky to be born.