Sunday, August 30, 2009
23 is at it again!
Friday, August 28, 2009
Who needs Bookclubs???
Gavin had some Honors English homework to do over the summer. He procrastinated, but the outcome was amazing. He is so like me when it comes to putting things off and yet so much better at pulling it off.
He had a few books that he had to read, essays and projects that he had to do and turn in the first day of class.
This one really blew my mind and tugged at my heart. I am quite convinced that teenagers are moody because they are required to read such SAD books.
I wont summarize the book,
his project
[Postcards he wrote and illustrated
from one character, Robin, to another, Uncle Richie]
should give you the best of its work:
Dear Uncle Richie,
I remember the postcards I got from you and my dad and how you said that you were nervous and jumpy, my sentiments exactly. We’re not in Iraq yet but it’s like back when I got measles back in New Jersey. I wouldn’t change sitting around back home for the adventures I’m going to have. Camp Doha in Kuwait is great. We actually eat on plates instead of trays, like in Jersey. I miss you all, tell mom and dad I say hello.
Yours,
Robin
Dear Uncle Richie,
I met a comrade named Jones, but everyone calls him Jonsey back home. He is staying at camp Doha with me in Kuwait. He said he came here to get a little experience so that when he goes home he can open his blues club. He loves to play blues guitar and when he gets home he plans to play blues six nights a week. I don’t understand what he is saying sometimes, but that’s ok I think we’ll get along just fine.
Yours,
Robin
Dear Uncle Richie,
It’s so hot out here! Today we are moving in to Iraq since we’re part of civil affairs we’re supposed to head in to Iraq and start building up the economy again. As we drove along the rode in our Humvee there were body bags lining the sides of streets. It really made me think that this is really serious out here. We’re supposed to not see much action because the Marines took care of the dirty work, but I guess we’ll see. I still have my gun on me all the time and my heart constantly is beating fast… I don’t know who I should be afraid of.
Yours,
Robin
Dear Uncle Richie,
I thought that when we were going to cross the boarder the Iraqis would pretty much be done but the fighting between the Sunnis and Shiites is still going on so we might see action. We have people in prisoner of war camps, or POW’s. We have been sent in to rescue them, it is frightening but I am ready for anything. I miss the streets of Harlem and the music I heard on the streets. The sounds are different here, much different.
Yours,
Robin
Dear Uncle Richie,
We walked in to a coffee shop today and were surprised to see that it was being used as a medic facility. There were many people inside laying on floors and tables. A few people were in critical condition, it was horrible to see. I saw a man with more blood on his robe than any man should ever lose. He had beads in his hands as he dropped them I picked them up and put them back in his fingers. I don’t know if he could see me, but he looked.
Yours,
Robin
Dear Uncle Richie,
Victor Rios got a huge package today. Everyone gathered around because they always do when someone gets a package, just in case its food. As he opened the package it said it was from Wyoming. Victor told us he ordered a monkey necklace from Wyoming but it was just a small thing; it wouldn’t need a box as big as the one was opening. Attached to a huge stuffed monkey was a note saying, “I’m so proud of what you boys are doing over there so I'm sending you this monkey instead of the small one you won on the eBay auction. Enjoy!”
Yours,
Robin
Dear Uncle Richie,
Today we were driving to PR green zone in the Humvee and a group of bandits shot at us hitting Victor in the legs and fingers. He will be ok, they think they can save all but two of his fingers, definitely his thumb though, so that’s good news. We’re all rattled but we’re getting used to loud gunfire and staying attentive. That’s how it is over here always hearing gunfire and having to be ready to act. It gets old but you cant let it get to you… you’ll go crazy!
Yours,
Robin
Dear Uncle Richie,
The time is flying by so fast it but it feels like I’ve been over here forever! The funeral for Pendleton was today. News of one of our own dying confirms the fact that we all are constantly in life threatening situations over here. I think of how he showed us pictures of his two daughters and how when he got back he was sending them to college. As they flew his body off in the Medevac with the camera man I couldn’t help but cry.
Yours,
Robin
Dear Uncle Richie,
I had to go to the bathroom so badly, but as I went to open the door an Iraqi came out, his hand cusped over Captain Miller’s mouth. I saw his AK-47 and quickly shot his face. I saw the other man in the bathroom searching through his jacket. I tried to tell him to stop! Don’t move! But no words came out. I pointed my nozzle at his chest he struggled and I don’t remember firing, just seeing his head explode against the wall of the bathroom. I now rolled as someone who had killed. That was not a name I enjoyed, neither carrying nor the thoughts of it. I checked if Miller was ok. She said that I had saved her life but hadn’t saved her soul from being ripped apart. Oh how I wish I could have.
Yours,
Robin
Dear Uncle Richie,
We were running from insurgents while in Fallujah. It was pitch black and the light of firing gun barrels lit up the sky. We were saving the children from the Iraqi men. One child was hurt and Jonsey ran to his rescue, I heard Miller call out, “He’s hit! He’s hit!” We carried Jonsey and the blind child to medics. I prayed for Jonsey not to die. The following day news came to me of Jonsey’s death; it hit me that even though he had dreams of going home to his blues club he would jeopardize that for an innocent stranger. It put in perspective just how serious this was, again.
We are all being relocated including me. I will be headed to Germany in a few days all alone to find new friends. Uncle Richie, I understand now why you didn’t talk to me about Vietnam. I think when I have children I won’t tell them about my going to war or what I’ve done here. I will tell them something because I want them to know about war. But are there really enough words to make them understand?
Yours,
Robin
Gavin, 9th Grade English Project