RSVP Spring, 2016 Issue 39, Volume 1

R.S.V.P. STAFF

EDITORS Marissa Mahoney Lily Elkwood

STAFF Ashton Clancy Isabella DelNegro Jacqueline Erler Danielle Goldwert Alexandra Greenberg Rebekah Lo Joseph Mahoney Himani Nayyar Jared Rush Megan Singh Madeline Twinning Wei Xu

Advisor Mrs. Joan Fernandez

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FOREWORD

Dear Reader,

RSVP- Ranney School Verse and Prose. In this magazine we invite you, our reader, to indulge in the beauty of language and power of art. We challenge you to find a way that each piece can relate to your experiences, but most importantly we wish to ignite your love of all forms of literature. We are not just students at a high school; we are scrutiniz- ers of the everyday events that occur around us. We question ideas and concepts and ex- press our thoughts and feelings in all forms. We would like to thank our writers and art- ists for eloquently putting those questions into pictures and words. Their devotion, passion, and dedication shows on every page and we encourage you to create in the same way.

We would also like to thank Ms. Shipley for allowing us to display her students’ artwork throughout this magazine. And to our staff we would like to say thank you for all the hours you have given to this magazine. It would not be a success without your efforts. Our final thank you goes to our tremendous advisor Ms. Fernandez for sharing her wisdom and expertise to make this magazine happen.

We hope that this magazine keeps you intrigued with each page. Enjoy!

Your Editors,

Lily Elkwood and Marissa Mahoney

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Table of Contents

Verse

Time by Kayla Conley ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….7 Colors of the Rainbow by Isabella Arege ………………………………………………………………………….……………..8 Alarm Clock of Sunshine by Luke Price ……………………………………………………………………………………….8 Life by Sam Metzger ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..10 Makes the World Go Round by Zarrah Siddiq ……………………………………………………………………………..11 Here’s to All by Sofia Cioffi …………………………………………………………………..…………………………………..15 Holding Your Breadth by Julianna Poupard …………………………………………………………………………………17 Eyes by Akash Verma ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….18 How Does She Love? by Anthony Moscato …………………………………………………………………………………….18 Caustic Acquaintance by Rebekah Lo ………………………………………………………………………………………….21 Clockwork by Caroline Epstein …………………………………………………………………………………………………...22 The Spark by Ben Iglesia …………………………………………………………………………………………………………..29 What a Wonderful World by Grace Economou ……………………………………………………………………………...29 Sirens of the Deep by Rose Faccone-Stockwell ……………………………………………………………………………….31 Summer is Ending by Hazem Ani …………………………………………………………………………………………….46 The Future by Victoria Martorana ………………………………………………………………………………………………46 Change by Grace Economou ……………………………………………………………………………………………………...47 Straining to be Heard by Rose Faccone-Stockwell ………………………………………………………………………...49 Midnight by Rebekah Lo …………………………………………………………………………………………………………...50 No Reply by Taylor Gill …………………………………………………………………………………………………………….51 I Can Feel the Cold by Ben Zalewski and Taylor Zenner ……………………………………………………………….52 Reflection by Kat Allen …………………………………………………………………………………………………………….54 Nature Changes by Alya Hozayen ……………………………………………………………………………………………..55 flower by Madeline Shanley ……………………………………………………………………………………………………...56 Rainbow by Ashley Biswal ………………………………………………………………………………………………………..56 Peace by Ava Atanacio ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………...57 February 15, 2003 by Jillian Ross ………………………………………………………………………………………………58 The Art of All Times by Sofia Cioffi …………………………………………………………………………………………...60

Prose

Lions and Tigers and Bears by Dana Schioppo ……………………………………………………………………………….9 Teenage Wasteland by Olivia Smith …………………………………………………………………………………………..13 Bob Dylan and Justin Bieber by Molly Tobin ………………………………………………………………………………..16 Finding My Calling by Leslie Liu ………………………………………………………………………………………………19 Autocorrect by Daniel Blumenkrantz ………………………………………………………………………………………….20

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Remember Sunday by Rose Faccone-Stockwell ………………………………………………………………………….25 The Store Switcheroo by Ben Iglesia ………………………………………………………………………………………….30 Dream Big: Becoming George Clooney by Sid Sharma ………………………………………………………………..33 The Little Polish Dance by Danielle Sobieski ……………………………………………………………………………….34 Finding My Passion by Jennifer Wicks …………………………………………………………………………………….35 The Ideal Summer by Nicole Nadler …………………………………………………………………………………………..36 My Father by William Zheng ………………………………………………………………………………………………….37 The Tech Guru by Avneet Singh ……………………………………………………………………………………………….40 Life on Stage by Sofia Cioffi …………………………………………………………………………………………………...41 Heritage by Julius Ferenc ………………………………………………………………………………………………………….42 Blissful Beijing by Leslie Liu ……………………………………………………………………………………………………43 That Time We Went to Poland by Danielle Sobieski ……………………………………………………………………..44 Change is Good by Olivia Smith ……………………………………………………………………………………………….47

Art

Cover Art by Lily Elkwood The Roaring Wave by Veronica Shaw …………………………………………………………………………………………..6 The Creek by Brooke Nadler ……………………………………………………………………………………………………….10 Pick you Poison by Sarah Klein ………………………………………………………………………………………………...12 Reaching for a Hand by Lily Thatcher…………………………………………………………………………………………14 Bright Lights by Rachel Patel …………………………………………………………………………………………………...20 Phases of the Moon by Rebekah Lo ……………………………………………………………………………………………...23 A Different Perspective by Danielle Goldwert ………………………………………………………………………………..24 Big Brown Bear by Harper Herman …………………………………………………………………………………………….28 The Lady in the Hat by .Anna Effenburg ……………………………..…………………………………………………….32 Sippin by Sarah Klein ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..38 Look Deep in My Eyes by Danielle Goldwert ………………………………………………………………………………...39 My Trip to Greece by Pooja Nayyar ……………………………..…………………………………………………………….45 “Untitled” by James Geraghty …………………………………………………………………………………………………...48 Solitude By Kyra Conley ………………………………………………………….……………………………………………...50 The Hudson by Rachel Patel ……………………………………………….……………………………………………………...51 Flowers in the Moonlight by Rebekah Lo ……………………………………………………………………………………...52 Nature by Kyra Conley …………………………………………………………………………………………………………….53 Reflection by Rebekah Lo ………………………………………………………………………………………………………….54 Round and Round by Anna Csiky …………………………………………………………………………………………...55 The Field by James Geraghty ……………………………………………………………………………………………………..58

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The Roaring Wave By: Veronica Shaw

Watercolor

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Time By: Kayla Conley

They sat under trees and sang to guitar tunes Sitting around a fire under the moon, To them the world was beautiful and the days brighter They were young then most of the times high Caught in a mood that overtook the 1960s And named all “hippies”. But time changes, and so did they, How their personalities would change they could not say But they smiled wider and sung a little louder And let their hair grow a bit longer. Vietnam was burning and they demonstrated for it to stop. And waved their arms for peace at Woodstock. They listened to the Beatles’ “Let it be” And let time flow as it saw fit. Scissors clipped the pages of the calendar, And a decade quietly turned into another, Boys became men and girls became women, The freedom of their youth made their future better, Leading to success in their careers, That could not be predicted from their style of fashion. They experimented with different drugs and philosophies, And fought against the authority of their societies, New technologies brought new opportunities After a while they could no longer be hippies. When they became adults their priorities changed Time changed their beliefs and ambitions Giving their lives new missions Placing new power on their hands, As they felt the pleasure of being parents They became older and mores settled, To watch their business empires grow, And their children learn vocabulary, But the earth keeps spinning, And the clock keeps ticking, Our time might be limited, but not our lives, Only through change can we survive, And transform the world for the better For our children and future generations.

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Colors of the Rainbow By: Isabella Arege

Looking towards the bright blue sky, I see a yellow sun cry, Tears of sadness begin to clear Spring is near!

As I see the green grass grow The violet flowers begin to show In the crowd I hear the cheer Spring is near!

As we watch the re-orange sunset I know it is a day that I will never forget I shout aloud so they may hear Spring is near!

Alarm Clock of Sunshine By: Luke Price

It was bright and early morning, The sunshine was anything but boring, As it came through my bedroom window. It reminded me of a yellow, new apple even through the sun is jumbo, Shiny, round, and bright in color. Everything else seemed duller It brought peace to my room which I imagined as a magic kingdom, As the beams conveyed a gorgeous sense of nature and freedom. However, it made me think of the future too, And what nature has to come, for me and you

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Lions and Tigers and Bears By: Dana Schioppo

The doctor smiled as he entered the operating room area. He flaunted his audible

Donald Duck tie that I was always thrilled to play with. Even at the age of four, I intrinsi- cally knew what would lie ahead, and internally, my fear began to build. With a smile, he explained to my mom and I that another surgical procedure would be needed to expedite my recovery. My mother inadvertently expressed her fear as the nurse came toward me, ready to take me into the operating room. The second surgery I was about to endure was necessary to fix an unforeseen complication that had occurred from a procedure that had taken place earlier in the week. I was certain that the pain would follow again and that it would be as difficult to bear as it was before.

Lying on the stretcher, looking up, I found my inner strength. As I looked up and en- visioned children playing in a field of lollipops and gumdrops on the ceiling, my fear was assuaged. As they wheeled me in the stretcher, to my left, murals of giraffes and elephants of the vast Savannah were passing me. My fear was lessened by my thoughts, and a calm feeling came over me. Much to the surprise of the medical staff, I was chuckling as they wheeled me into the operating room. The actions of the staff were meritorious, as their pro- fessionalism transcended their obligations. The last memory I had was the smell of the sweet cherry flavored gas and the doctors’ funny looking hats and face masks.

Upon waking up from my deep sleep, the light of the sun peaking through my window surrounded me. I was able to identify spiraling planetary orbits dangling from the lobby ceiling as I glanced out the door of my room. The doctor and nurse arrived at my bedside, which abruptly ended my daydream. I was told the nurse was just there to take my blood test. She reached for my hand and inserted a tiny butterfly needle.

The events surrounded the complications and my second surgery enabled me to have a proclivity toward finding my inner strength in times of distress. I learned to use my thoughts and dreams to ameliorate my personal stress and to transcend a painful reality.

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Life By: Sam Metzger

In the future we pray to have peace, War and crime we hope will cease. The sunshine will brighten everyone’s day, And all will smile their troubles away. Flowers will bloom and apples will grow, The future seems bright so let’s take it slow. Everyone will sing a Bob Dylan song, So let your hair down and come sing along

The Creek Photograph By: Brooke Nadler

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Makes the World Go Round By: Zahrah Siddiq

Times are tough Sacrifices are to be made It has to be saved Can’t make one mistake

Yet it makes the world go round

Can’t always get what you want But what you want is what you “need” If you don’t have this the things you want become daydreams

Yet it makes the world go round

This one piece of paper controls your life It has one number on it and it can create strife Too little is not enough too much is enough to stay alive It can tear you apart You’ll barely survive

Yet it makes the world go round

It causes killings, anger, hostility galore Then you sarcastically ask yourself “is this what I paid for?” I see wreckage and garbage while I roam through the streets I see a rich man walking when another can’t find a meal to eat

Yet it makes the world go round

But there are good things too It’s always up to you You wish for one million dollars What are you going to do?

You could give it all to charity And help your brothers and sisters Or keep it all to yourself And become the ultimate trickster

Do not fret it may seem scary In anyone’s hands it makes them feel merry It is the dictator for all that is bound All because it makes the world go round

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Pick Your Poision By: Sarah Klein

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Teenage Wasteland By: Olivia Smith

I don’t need to fight to prove I’m right. I don’t need to be forgiven. I’m

back at that fork in the road once again and I’ve realized something.

Creativity is dying like the plant that somebody often forgets to water that sits next to my kitchen sink. It’s ironic how that stuff works, how somebody can neglect to recognize something so beautiful. I don’t know why this occurs but I think it’s in relation to growing up. Maybe creativity is lost when people start telling you what to do, what’s right and what’s wrong. Or maybe it’s when they stopped letting kids be kids and started putting pressure on them to be the best. As people mature, their dreams become more realistic and they tend to lose their imagination.

The fun disappears. But I don’t need to fight to prove I’m right.

It’s only Teenage Wasteland.

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Reaching for a Hand By: Lily Thatcher

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Here’s to All By: Sofia Cioffi

Here’s to the one’s who can’t sleep tonight Here’s to the one’s who forgot how to fight Here’s to the one’s we’ve been dreaming of Here’s to all those people watching from above

Here’s to the feelings that made us this way Tip your hats to the people who pushed us away Raise your glass to the people who feel too much Here’s to the one’s who can’t be judged

Here’s to the apologies that won’t be forgiven Three cheers the thoughts that just can’t be written Here’s to the things we can’t touch Say a prayer for the heartbreakers who love too much

Join hands with the people who we betray Sing for the people who made it through today Find peace in the confusion, a vast shade of grey Let’s talk about the emotions we all underplay

Here’s to the memories, the dreams. and the wishes Here’s to the living, the dead, and the sleeping Here’s to the curious, that can’t leave it alone Here’s to the minds about to explode

But most of all, here’s to the weird, the magical, the crazy The people who want to make you smile daily The one’s that are happy, in indescribable ways Who taught you to live bravely throughout those seemingly endless days

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Bob Dylan and Justin Bieber By: Mollie Tobin

Bob Dylan: Hey teen pop sensation Justin Bieber. How are things?

Justin Bieber: They’re ok Bob Dylan, they’re ok. I’m trying to make a comeback from the fool I made of myself these past couple of years.

Bob Dylan: I hear you. There’s nothing wrong with self-reinvention.

Justin Bieber: You’re right. Now, about music. I’m in a bind. How do I write about something meaningful to the world when all the people are interested in is violence, cursing, and lame-o lyrics? Honestly, that’s the only type of music I’ve been producing.

Bob Dylan: It’s not about writing lyrics that mean something to the world; it’s about writing lyrics that mean something to you.

Justin Bieber: I’m lost. Why would someone care about the issues I’m having or the struggle to stay relevant in pop culture.

Bob Dylan: Whether you realize it or not Justin, there are people who think the same things about being in their own environments. From 1962 to 2005, the 48 rec- ords I made were not based off world wide issues. They were about issues close to my heart--the civil rights and antiwar movements of the sixties.

Justin Bieber: But how can writing lyrics about my own issues and struggles impact others? I want them to listen to my music as they did to yours. I mean, you were the most influential songwriter of the decade. If you were me, what would you do?

Bob Dylan: Figure out what is important to you and let it speak to you so you can speak of it to others. For me, that was political and social commentary. My success came from my ability to relate to others, not the other way around. Be yourself Justin, stay clean, stay positive, but most importantly, stay true to yourself.

Justin Bieber: You are truly an inspiration. Now, let’s make some music.

‘Recording’ light in the studio turns on

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Holding Your Breath By: Julianna Poupard

Holding your breath, All of this waiting, anticipating, And all you can do is just hold your breath. Pray there will be more oxygen to breath when tomorrow ends. The clock keeps Tick Tick Ticking away, but it feels like a lifetime between every second. Ten, Nine, Eight. Your stomach ties up in knots. Seven, Six, Five. Your palms are sweating , hope slipping through your slick fingers. Four, Three, Two. Head feels faint, world spinning out of control. One. One more second past the last/ One more minute until the sand runs out. One more day until tomorrow. But I keep holding my breath, hoping, Making promises I know I can’t keep, just waiting for tomorrow To end.

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Eyes By: Akash Verma

I walk around my garden And all I can see Are flowers All around me

I walk around the world And I do not see Peace Surrounding me

Perhaps it is time For a change No better time than our prime It wouldn’t be that strange

It is not that much of a pickle To figure this out Perhaps it is time for a change

How Does She Love? By: Anthony Moscato

How does she love herself in despair and depression? How does she love herself with wrinkled skin? Does she not know that he can love her on any summer’s day? And that he is hurting in the well of all these sorrows How desperate you would be, and lonely- How agitated; And your hatred would come forward Like a raccoon at night, You would cry like a fully automatic sprinkler. You would quiver, and squall and shudder And I too should shudder, Waiting. Tears and hate- And yet I know I could have your love forever

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Finding My Calling By: Lesile Liu

One story my best friend told me about her father, nationally recognized physician Dr. Peter Staats, profoundly affected me. During a flight, a potential Ebola emergency called for the immediate attention of a doctor, and her father stepped up to mitigate the issue. His honorable actions made me appreciate the most powerful and valuable skill set that any human could possess: the inherent ability to save a life at any given instance. I want to have meaning in my career, and so I looked up to modern medicine to give me direction. When I visualized myself in a white coat, I was shocked by how clear the im- age was and how suitable it was, considering my passion for the sciences. Although I am simultaneously terrified and exhilarated by this career path that awaits me, I also believe opportunities that inspire a mix of both fear and excitement are the ones most worth pursuing.

In order to confirm I was on the right track, I sought to gain exposure to the medical field. I contacted several of my friends’ parents, known doctors, and received the chance to shadow anesthesiologists, cardiologists, and surgeons. Through the procedures, they performed ranged from basic examination to intense surgical procedures, each and every one was novel and intriguing to me. The first doctor I ever shadowed was a well- respected anesthesiologists. Within seconds, she efficiently eased the patient into uncon- sciousness so a gastroenterologist could begin a colonoscopy procedure. On another occa- sion, I witnessed a professional surgical team perform a type of open heart surgery, known as a coronary artery bypass graft. Rather than being intimidated by the organs and blood, I was inspired by the capabilities of modern medicine and efficient coordina- tion of the surgical team under immense pressure. To see a heart manually stopped, oper- ated on, and subsequently restarted, while attached to a machine that artificially pumped its blood for four hours, was one of the most perplexing and fascinating things I have ever seen. I was eager to learn from the experts, and demonstrated a knack at grasping definitions, concepts, and procedures. Needless to say, I was in my element.

In addition, I decided to dedicate my free time to Riverview Hospital as a patient care volunteer. The time I spent in the stroke unit with recovering patients reinforced the values of communication, sympathy, and patience in health care. I remembered that medicine was not only about meticulous operations and intensive research, but interact- ing with the patient, understanding their individual needs, and treating the condition. The gratitude I received by consoling anxious patients and distraught family members was extremely fulfilling. Now, the only future I can see is one where an M.D. follows my surname.

Last year, I was overwhelmed with grief when my grandma was diagnosed with cancer, but her failing health sharpened my resolve to become a doctor. The medical staffs’ patience in explaining her condition, dedication to improving her health, and care for her comfort struck a chord within me, and I was even more motivated to follow their steps. I knew from this point forward that I wanted to dedicate myself to a worthy purpose in life and improve people’s well-being.

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Autocorrect By: Daniel Blumenkrantz

I’m frustrated to the point of outrage over the little demon that lives in my phone. With the best of intentions, it twists my words. Autocorrect, designed to improve my life and make me a more efficient typist, has a mind of its own. Every time I send a message, it has to interfere and give its two-cents. A simple message saying, “Mom, I’m driving… be home soon” turned into, “Mom, I’m drinking… be home soon.” The conversation that followed lasted much longer than it would have taken my mom to figure out what I meant with the misspelled “dribving.” Although autocorrect proves to be useful in correcting simple spelling mistakes, it oversteps its boundary when it corrects multiple words and changes the meaning of the sen- tence. It can also create an embarrassing situation. In my first email to Mr. Tillett it “corrected” his name once, and I caught it, but it insisted and “corrected” it again without me noticing. Autocorrect oversteps its boundaries, causing outrage and embarrassment for all of us alike.

Bright Lights By: Rachel Patel

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Caustic Acquaintance By: Rebekah Lo

Innocuous comments or so they seem seem bereft of other schemes

Hidden and captious words chip away away at my soul My confidence sways

“Why do you bother to speak at all?” “All alone, huh?” “you always fall”

Tired of your carping covert: well you try try and still blatant motive? please, why?

If you still rankle from a schism in past days days you have had to expound your ways

Irascible? I am now because your lack of guts guts to tell me why I drive you nuts

Next time you input do not dare doubt doubt that your convolution will be called out

There is no more time for these petty games games are for puerile I hope you feel the same Next time just tell me your ‘issue’ if you will will you just enlighten me or will you chide me still?

Caustic acquaintance is your title fitting? fitting? Or a change of heart finally acquitting? RSVP Spring 2016 21

Clockwork By: Caroline Epstein time is a gift time to connect time to talk with time, is silence Time is Silent meaningless questions meaningless answers time holds the Past, Future, and Present what is it measured in? hours, days, years or in the memories created held in the minds of loved ones moments that are everlasting

Time holds love and happiness but time holds hardships and sorrow too time is a Gift when time is all that is left it is time to know Time to connect Time to stop regretting

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Phases of the Moon By: Rebekah Lo

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A Different Perspective By: Danielle Goldwert

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Remembering Sunday By: Rose Faccone-Stockwell Lyrics by All Time Low

He woke up from dreaming and put on his shoes… My eyes open and my vision is blurry. I blink and try to rub my eyes with one hand, but both come when one is called. I struggle to separate my hands, but they will not budge. My head pounds. The pain filters in, and I stop struggling. I try to breathe through the pain. Everything hurts. He hasn’t been sober for days… My legs are in an uncomfortable position. I try to move them. I can’t. Desperately, my legs buck themselves, unaware of the noise they’re making, to try to be free of the mermaid-like position they’re in. How cool would it be to be a mermaid… Remembering Sunday… they had breakfast together… A slap connects with my cheek, sharp and swift, and muted laughter enters my subconscious. I am still once more, the only sounds heard to me are the ringing in my ears and the lyrics flowing in my soul. I know this song… I like this song… Maybe… But two eggs don’t last like the feeling of what he needs… Needs? Whose needs? Now this place seems familiar to him… I am pitched forward as we stop, and I realize I’m in a car. How did I get here? My eyes search around, suddenly slightly more aware of where I am. The world looks like it would were I on hallucinogens. My brain is fuzzy. All I can see are four swirling walls with no windows and the two fuzzy front seats, large arms with many tattoos on the armrests. The only other thing I know: don’t move. Movement is pain. Movement creates more pain. She led him upstairs… Upstairs… Was I upstairs? My apartment? I can’t remember… The pain comes back into my consciousness. My body involuntarily curls in on itself. More pain. My body convulses. More pain. My stomach rebels. More pain. His lips find my neck and they bite. He bites me. I don’t feel the pain. “Now you are mine. And you will be mine forever. You will never leave.” He grabs me around my waist and throws me over his shoulder. I am seeing the world upside down, but I prefer the upside down world to the right side up one. Well I guess I’ll go home now… I am thrown on a bed. I guess I’ll go home now… His lips are back on my neck and I feel a warm rush. My blood flows to where his mouth meets my neck and the rest of me slowly begins to numb. I guess I’ll go home now… My eyes start to close. He is the last thing I see. Terror is the last thing I feel. Music is the last thing I hear. The last thing I will ever hear. I guess I’ll go home. My world fades to black once again.

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He’s determined to call her bluff… who could deny these butterflies… they’re filling his gut…

Not butterflies… no… no more… please…

I heave, but there is nothing left. Nothing left but the pain and the awareness of the wetness on my cheeks.

I try to close my mouth, but I find I cannot. My hands lift to my mouth and finding there is a thick band there; even if my stomach had been full, there would have been no place for it to go.

I’m gonna ask her to marry me…

No. No! I told you I would not marry you! I said no! I said you scared me! No, no, no!

Waking the neighbors, unfamiliar faces… he pleads though he tries… but he’s only denied… now he’s dying to get inside…

The fog clears a little more as the lyrics flow through. My neighbors covering for me, urging me to get out of my place. They said that he wouldn’t stop. That he would never stop.

The neighbors said she moved away…

I left. I fled to a friend's house. They told him I was gone. I asked them to. I had nightmares for weeks. Always the same.

They were always the same. He came. He always came. He found me. I was powerless. I could do nothing.

Funny how it rained all day… I didn’t think much of it then but it’s starting to all make sense…

Yes, it had been raining. I had enjoyed it. It had brought me peace. Some peace for the first time in months. I stared at the rain all day, hopeful. Hopeful that things were finally getting better. I should have known better. Hope is useless. Hope always lets you down.

Oh I can see now… that all of these clouds are… following me in my desperate endeavor…

It’s my fault. I knew it. I knew I shouldn’t have tried to make it work with him. I knew that after the first time he slapped me. He was just so contrite! Said he loved me. That he couldn’t live without me. It was just so nice to be wanted for a change…

More tears trickle down my cheeks and another slap resounds. This time on my ass. There is more muted laughter. I realize I have plugs in my ears. He doesn’t want me to know where we’re going. Where are we going?

The car stops and the back door is opened. I am grabbed by multiple hands and patted down. They grab whatever is left of my electronics from my pockets and I watch as my earbuds, my most valuable possessions, go into the trashcan on the corner.

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I’m not coming back… I’ve done something so terrible…

I am dragged up to the door of a house I don’t recognize, and I realize that once I cross the threshold, I will never be seen again. There will be no more music, no more life, no more happiness. Nothing. Nothing except whatever awaits me on the other side of the door.

I want to scream, I want to jerk around, I want to do something. I can’t; I am bound in every way possible, and I will never escape.

As soon as I’m through the door, it’s slammed behind me and I press my forehead against the wood, too afraid to look around. Wanting to see nothing. Wanting not to be able to see or feel or hear anything anymore.

Hands touch me gently on the shoulder from behind. I flinch, but that’s about as much as I can do. I don’t have the energy for more. I’m terrified, but I’m so tired.

The hands take the earplugs out, and next the mouth strap.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take care of you,” he says, his breath smelly and hot on my face, but bitterly familiar. It’s him. It was always him.

I’m terrified to speak… but you’d expect that from me…

He turns me around and kisses me, hard. His tongue invades my mouth and I’m powerless to stop it. All I can do is hope and pray for it to end. End quickly.

It won’t. I know it won’t.

I never should have…

His assault finally ceases, but causes something infinitely worse to happen. He’s gone for a second, but back before I can blink. He cuts the restraints on my legs, but my hands stay bound. He hooks a finger into the cloth encircling my wrists and drags me to the foot of the steps. My steps are halting and resistant. My own little rebellion.

“It would be wise for you to follow me, or else I will be very angry,” he warns me. I immediately quicken my pace and trip over the bottom stair; his laugh is harsh and mocking. My hands are still tied; my face smacks the wood. My vision blurs again.

Keeping an eye on the world… from so many thousands of feet off the ground… I’m over you now I’m at home in the clouds… towering over your head…

He yanks me up again and I see stars. I’m faintly aware that there is blood dripping from my nose. The taste tickles my tongue.

“You stupid girl. That’s gonna cost you love,” he tells me. His smile is sickly and his eyes are malignant. Distantly, dread leadens in my gut.

He pushes me up against the wall and he pulls the material of my shirt near my neck aside.

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His lips find my neck and they bite. He bites me. I don’t feel the pain.

“Now you are mine. And you will be mine forever. You will never leave.”

He grabs me around my waist and throws me over his shoulder. I am seeing the world upside down, but I prefer the upside down world to the right side up one.

Well I guess I’ll go home now…

I am thrown on a bed.

I guess I’ll go home now…

His lips are back on my neck and I feel a warm rush. My blood flows to where his mouth meets my neck and the rest of me slowly begins to numb.

I guess I’ll go home now…

My eyes start to close. He is the last thing I see. Terror is the last thing I feel. Music is the last thing I hear. The last thing I will ever hear.

I guess I’ll go home.

My world fades to black once again.

Big Brown Bear By: Harper Herman

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The Spark By: Ben Iglesia

Nothing starts without a spark Make a single flick And you can lighten up the dark. A blaze of glory can shine And cover the earth but it is simple a small flame At the time of its birth. Revolution does not rise and people do not rebel until one man emerges and sparks it with his spell.

What a Wonderful World By: Grace Economou

The day begins with the red sun breaking the dawn. It is not long until the yellow striped umbrellas are lined up in rows. Or the orange volleyballs are passed over the net, which towers over the children. As the daytrippers leave their cars in the parking lot, they pass through the fence lined with the green sand dunes. The sunlight reflects off of the sparkling blue ocean waves. But before long, the water looks like purple glass, only interrupted by the ebb and flow of the tide. The sun sets in a pink sky, and sinks lower and lower until it disappears under the horizon. There are no longer white clouds blocking the sun, which beat down on the swimmers hour after hour. Instead, the sky fades to black, to darkness sprinkled with the light of a few twinkling stars.

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The Store Switcheroo By: Ben Iglesia

My tenth birthday present was easily the greatest one I have ever received. As a celebration of my birthday, my parents and I went to New York. We were there to see a theatre performance with my cousins. While staying in the city, my parents told me that we had to go to a certain clothing store, and that we would need to take a taxi to get me there. I begrudgingly went with them, even though I was not very fond of shopping for clothes.

My parents had the taxi stop a few block away from the clothing store. They told me that the traf- fic was too thick, so we would have to walk the rest of the way to the store. While we walked, I saw a pet store coming up. I ran to the window, and saw a bunch of small, adorable puppies playing in the window. I looked up to my parents and asked them if we could take a detour to check out the pet shop. They agreed, and I ran into the store. Indies, there were cages full of dogs and cats and an upper floor where people were able to privately interact with a pet in the store. When my father entered, an employee approached him and called my father by his name. I found this odd, but my dad said that he just knew the man from work, so I brushed if off as coincidence. I ran all over the store, checking out all the animals that I could see. My parents then told me to go upstairs, and I followed them into our own private room. Minutes later, an employee brought in a white-and- brown male puppy, which the employee gave to me. I thought that the store was just letting me play with one of the dogs (as I was a child), so I took the opportunity and enjoyed the puppy’s company.

While playing with the puppy, I asked my parents who dog this was, and they told me that it was my dog. At first, I didn’t understand what they meant, and I asked my parents what they meant.

They repeated what they said earlier and said that the puppy was my birthday present. I stood in awe and was at a loss of words. I just believed that we were going to a clothing store, but it turned out, my parents had lied about the clothing store. The pet store was actually the main objective of the trip to New York City; my parents just wanted to show me our family’s newest member. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I couldn’t control my happiness. I grabbed my new dog and held him close, and his fur rubbed against my face. My true birthday present was not a performance or bunch of new clothes; my present was a new best friend. RSVP Spring 2016 30

Sirens of the Deep By; Rose Faccone-Stockwell

Lurid songs are sung,

Giving such pleasure that men would die for it.

These women take pride in their power—

Pride in the fact that they lure men to lose their lives.

Their minds.

Their souls.

They feast on the damage they do.

Boast.

Gloat.

Their prideful personality requires it.

When they sing,

Move,

Laugh,

Men go wild.

Only other women can see the ugliness that lies beneath.

The tether that becomes so strong that nothing,

Not scissors,

Not shears,

Not even fire can snap the rope and bind.

These sirens,

Half women-half mermaid,

These creatures…

They’re mythical right?

Or are they?

Vixen (n.): a shrewish or unpleasant woman; a sexually attractive woman;

Vixen: a siren without a tail.

There are two ways to say everything.

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The Lady in the Hat By: Anna Effenberg

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Dreaming Big: Becoming George Clooney By: Sid Sharma

When staring deep into his eyes you can see the amount of success he has achieved in his career. When standing next to him, you can smell the powerful fra- grance that points out the amount of demeanor and confidence in his personality. Finally, when you hear his name, George Clooney you are reminded of fame, for- tune, and a good-hearted will. This is why when I dream big, I dream of becoming George Clooney.

George Clooney is a middle-aged man, but is simply doing it right. He has the defined features which makeup the industries highest respected stereotypical star. Clooney has definition to his fit body, such as a built chest, arms, back, legs, and lets not forget about his six-pack. These are all things I would aspire for when I become middle aged. Clooney also starts trends that the entire world tends to follow. He made grey hari, a sign of an old man, into a new handsome look that ladies state as “sexy” and “hot”. Even though having these looks and this type of persona is flatter- ing to the female gender, I aspire to be these things simply for myself. I would love myself so much that I wouldn’t share my uniqueness and greatness with anyone else. They wouldn’t deserve me. I feed off of this idea where I want people’s eyes to be blinded when they look in my direction by a bright halo like glow, and at the same time an uplifting “ahhhh” would be ringing in their ears . I dream of becoming the ideal man, or even ideal human being. I dream of becoming a god-like figure to all.

These dreams I have for the future are big and I expect myself to meet all the criteria expected of becoming George Clooney Materialistic fantasies are a big part of the life style I dream about. I dream about my 50,000 square foot estate to be lo- cated near or around Greenwich, Connecticut. It will be here I will have my butler, Charlie, bring my cars around to the front of the house. I will not require a chauf- feur due to the pleasure of driving the exotic cars I would own. I dream of having Emerald Lagasse as my house chief. He would prepare a five star meal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner on the daily. I woul make sure he would perfect my favorite dinner meal which includes the finest steaks found in the country cooked perfectly medical with streamed broccoli and beans. It would also have a side of beautifully crafted truffle mac and cheese. I dream to have all of this one day. I dream on having the looks, the estates, the cars, and the world’s finest food. I dream of becoming George Clooney. RSVP Spring 2016 33

The Little Polish Doctor By: Danielle Sobieski

"Możesz być małym doktorem." (You can be a little doctor.) My Polish great grandmother first proclaimed this to me at the age of 5. Ever since I was born, my great grandmother, Helena helped to take care of me. She was a very big part of my early childhood. From the moment she uttered those words and painstakingly handcrafted my first doctor's uniform, which was white and had my name embroidered on the top left lapel, I knew that I wanted to help people.

In the summer of 2009 when I was 11 years old, my then 90-year-old great grandmother's health started to take a downward spiral. She began to have mini strokes and di- minished control over her thinking and her actions. The day of her first stroke is as clear to me now as it was when it happened. We were huddled around Babcia in the kitchen having an unscripted lesson on the art of making pierogies. Suddenly, I noticed her incredibly strong arms weakened and the left side of her face began to droop. At once I knew something had happened and our beloved Babcia was changed forever. I immediately alerted everyone and we called 911. The incredible care and concern she received from the nurses in the hospital that day was a watershed moment, for me.

Around my 12th birthday, it became obvious that my Babcia was going to need the care of a nursing home and after an exhaustive search we found the perfect one. I often visited my Babcia with my mother or grandmother by my side. This was practically a daily routine for me. Sometimes it felt to me that I went to visit her more than her own children did. I came to know the doctors and nurses well, and I observed them as they caringly treated my great grandmother.

After being in the nursing home for several months, my great grandmother passed away. I felt a strong desire to give back to Bey Lea Nursing home for the tireless and gentle care my Babcia received. At the age of 13, I started volunteering in the nursing home and began to contribute firsthand to the care and well being of the residents. My responsibilities steadily increased and at the age of 16, I was offered a paid position at Bey Lea. As these responsibilities increased, the depth of my calling also increased and I began to experience not only the physical needs of the residents, but started to share in the sadness and loss of their own families when one of them moved to hospice or passed away.

When I started to shadow my favorite nurse, Evelyn, I was able to gain a more in depth understanding of the complexities of nursing. A resident named Edythe took a fall and had to get several stitches in her head at the hospital. Learning that nurse Evelyn would have to remove these stitches about 5 days after Edythe returned, I made sure I was scheduled to work that day so that I could be a part of this experience. When the moment came I stood in the room and held Edythe's hand while the procedure began. By the time Evelyn came to the last two stitches she asked me if I would like to remove one. I eagerly accepted this challenge and took out the stitches slowly, making sure that Edythe was not in any pain.

All of the experiences that I have described in some small way contributed to my ever growing desire to help others. This progression of life events made me realize that the varied and wonderful field of Nursing would be the best way to accomplish this.

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Finding My Passion By: JenniferWicks

The summer before seventh grade, I was rehearsing a dance at my camp. At this point, I had been dancing for nine years, so I wasn't worried about messing up. On the day of our performance, we were rehearsing in a cold, concrete basement. I was practicing my split, something I had done countless times before, when all of a sudden there was a shooting pain down my right leg, and I couldn't move. My body failed me as I slipped into the split. I was carried out of the basement and rushed to a nearby hospital. The doctor's diagnosis was that I just had a sprained muscle and that I would be fine in six weeks. I knew something was wrong with the diagnosis because I continued to be in excruciating pain, so I went to a different hospital. After an MRI, CAT scan, and X-Ray, I learned I ruptured my hamstring, tore my adductor, fractured my pubic bone, and had a hip impingement. In other words, my hamstring ripped off some of my bone and was sitting on my nerve. I think I laughed because I was in so much shock that something I've done countless times over so many years caused the biggest injury of my life. My laughter marked the first stage in the five stages of grief: denial; I could not believe my body could so easily fail me. Within a year my life was turned upside down. I had constant hip injections, I inevitably had to quit dancing, and had my first surgery the following summer. Part of my bone was removed, my nerve was moved, and my muscle was reattached. The fracture healed on its own, but pieces of bone are still floating around the injury site and the impingement remains to this day. While recovering from surgery, I was told I wouldn't be able to do most sports. I was so angry at myself for failing at something that I was suppose to be good at. This second stage, anger, took over my life. I would cry all of the time, which just made me even more mad. Eventually the anger stopped and I moved onto stage three: bargaining. I told myself that maybe if I took care of my body more then I could dance again. Obviously, this was not logical, and when I realized that, I fell into major depression. I didn't even want to dance anymore. I didn't care about taking proper measures to help my hip heal; I even refused going to physical therapy. With time, I began to get over my depression and started to accept the injuries culminat- ing with the last stage of grief. Acceptance was the hardest stage of all; I had to recognize that things would never be the same, but I could not and did not let that stop me from overcoming my failure. Freshman year, I decided to take on a new challenge: crew. My doctors did not support my decision but I assured them I knew my limits and would be careful. Re-entering the sports world was extremely difficult, especially with an injury. There were, and still are, times when I get really frustrated with my performance, but I have to remind myself that I am not as strong as I once was. I have to get hip shots period- ically, and I'm in pain every time I row. However, I've found a group of people that end- lessly support me in everything I do, and I'm happier than I have ever been. I've come to realize that life isn't always what I want it to be, and failure will happen, but accepting my failure has allowed me to move on and find strength inside me I could not find before.

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The Ideal Summer By: Nicole Nadler

For a high school student, the ideal summer plans are to relax and forget about schoolwork, not to spend every weekday interning at a preschool. However, for the past two summers, I have chosen the latter because the satisfaction that I receive at the end of the summer is incomparable.

Volunteering, whether it is taking care of younger children or working alongside my peers to support a worthy charitable cause, has always been one of the most meaningful ways to spend my time.

Service, to me, is about more than just completing hours for an award or institutional recognition.

What drives me to volunteer my time is the personal sense of accomplishment I feel when I see how

I can make a positive impact on other people’s lives.

The preschool summer program is unique and particularly interesting to me for two reasons.

One being that the program highlights different ways to teach to children as well as help them learn. These different techniques ready the kids for the upcoming school year which can lead to a significant amount of success during the year. The second reason I find the summer program so worthwhile is the fact that I get to participate in something that I get to participate in something that I am extremely interested in. I plan on studying nursing which, granted, is not a preschool teacher, but there are similar roots. During this internship, I interacted with parents, children, teachers, and other interns which allowed me to learn and perfect people skills as well as being flexi- ble, cooperative, and caring. Even though not all of these skills are new to me, the internship gave me time to really become comfortable with putting the wellbeing of others at the top of my list.

These ideas carry over into my prospective nursing career.

As the head intern this summer, I developed important relationships with the teachers as well as the students. For eight weeks, this daily routine structured my summer and motivated me to be productive with my days off.

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My Father By: William Zheng

Throughout my life, I admired one person: my father. My father is the person who means the most to me. He is the one who told me to never give up and push towards my dreams. There are probably millions of words to describe my father, but one word that stands out is hardship. Everyday when the sun rises and sets, he goes to work with passion and determination. As an entrepreneur, my father’s duty is to look out for his business and progress throughout the day.

My father always says that “it’s not too early to give up and lose hope for your dream. Just keep on doing what you do.” These words motivate me throughout my life. My father came to America when he was 18 years old. He didn’t go to college or receive a good education. Despite this, he is a wise man who knows how to make a living and profit. He created a restaurant business and worked everyday with no limits, no breaks, and stayed open during holidays and dangerous weather conditions, like Hurricane Sandy. My father’s restaurant is still active with great accomplishments throughout the last 20 years.

From the past years, the popularity of his business has increased drastically. I am so happy that all of his hard work has paid off. I am constantly inspired by my father’s work eth- ic. Not only did he do this for himself, but also for his family and staff.

He became a great role model for me. I want to be just like my father and hopefully surpass him with great length and achievement. His determination has inspired me to be a successful person and stive one day to become a great businessman. In college, I will show him that I will have a great career and live a healthy life from his work, kindness, determination, and hardship.

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Sippin By: Sarah Klein

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Look Deep In My Eyes By: Danielle Goldwert RSVP Spring 2016 39

The Tech Guru By: Avneet Singh

My sister had always been something of an idol to me. During my freshman year, my sister was managing stage crew for your school’s Theater Department. Since she had to stay after school almost every day, I had to stay after school with her for convenience of my parents driving only once to pick us up. I was staying after every day so late that I decided to emulate my sister and join stage crew for the Twelfth Night. I didn’t enjoy moving props on and off the stage, so I decided to quit stage crew and try my hand at acting. I didn’t go for a lead role because my confidence wasn’t very high during my underclassmen years. I ended up playing a character who was part of an ensemble in the musical Man of la Mancha. I didn’t like having all of the attention on stage, so I quit that too. My sister recommended me to join tech crew. I had already met the people who were in it and they were nice, so I talked to proctor Mr. Cotter and joined. I stayed with Tech Crew for my entire high school career. Doing Tech Crew is a “learn as you go” experience, meaning you can’t read manuals to the Behringer X32 sound and ETC Ion light boards and be ready for production. You have to be there during practices getting the commands down and learning the cues. If you failed, you fixed it and moved on. During my freshman year, I obviously had no experience, so the senior in charge, Matt Callahan, sent me to do one of the many different trivial tasks in Tech Crew, such as changing mic batteries or playing sound effects or tracks. Once he left, however, I had to learn how to do the bigger jobs, which involved handling boards and making the mic lists. I expanded my horizons a lot more in sophomore year. Our senior Tech Guru had fled to college and we were lacking experience. By now I had realized that I was going to Tech for the rest of my high school career, so I went all in. Instead of only helping out with the Upper School productions, I also started helping with the Middle School production “Thoroughly Modern Millie,” the Lower School production “Schoolhouse Rock,” and the Coffee Houses, which were talent shows at my school. The reason I picked my experiences as a Tech Crew member for my college es- say is that if I were to pick one thing that defined my presence at Ranney School in high school, it would be Tech Crew. This club gave me a purpose in high school. It was the extracurricular club that defined me. I was the student who would go help during school-wide meetings when the podium wasn’t working or when the teacher was inviting an outside performer and they needed my help giving him what technical support he needed. Providing this technical assistance made me feel as if I was giving back to my school.

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Life on Stage By: Sofia Cioffi

The happiest moments of my life are spent on stage performing. I’ve been performing with bands since I was six years old. Every show brings me the same bub- bly feeling of excitement and pure happiness. In the summer of 2015 my band and I played the Food Truck and Rock carnival. This show changed how I felt to be on stage and I’ll never forget that feeling. The Food Truck and Rock Carnival, is in Clark, New Jersey. It is a music festival featuring huge bands like Arthrax, Slash, Myles Kennedy & the Conspirators, and Stone Temple Pilots. We all got there early to make sure we could stop at each truck to try all the amazing food. Food alone could have made this the most amazing experience ever. After we fully recovered from eating so much, we took the stage. I was extremely excited to be playing a festival, but I figured there would be many people watching us because there were so many other amazing bands. I was so wrong. We started our set with ‘Since I’ve been Loving You’, by the iconic Led Zeppelin. At first, just our friends and family were watching, but as the song picked up more people started to listen. By the third song I looked up and couldn’t believe my eyes, there were over 200 people standing and listening to us play. I started to feel more comfortable and my excitement peaked. We all shared this incredible energy that was projected through our songs. There were few mistakes, but that’s just Rock and Roll. Every song gave us more energy and more excitement. We ended the set with uninvited by Alanis Morissette. The crowd went crazy. I looked up during a break in the song and I couldn’t contain my excitement. The harmonies gave us chills, the crowd gave me energy, and my happiness brought me close to tears. This show changed the way I felt on stage because it gave me more confidence and reminded me just how much I love playing music. I think of how I felt during this show before I get on stage. To top off the best day, I went to a Yankee/ Mets game in which the Yankees won 11-2. All I could feel was happiness, excitement, energy, and pride. I was proud of the entire band because we played such a memorable show. I was excited for what would come next. I had enough energy after that to never stop performing. This was the happiest I have ever been in my life and I will carry that feeling with me for the rest of my life.

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Heritage By: Julius Ferenc

My family rarely takes vacations to the beach. I’m not saying I’ve never made a sandcastle, but usually we like to visit museums, take guided tours, and generally learn about other cultures. My father’s hometown, Suwalki, is in Poland and we keep a car there that comes in handy when we want to take a classic family road trip. When I was 13 years old, my family and I made the 9 hour drive to visit Auschwitz represents what horrible things people are capable of doing to one another. It was important to us to honor his memory and to further educate ourselves on what atrocities were committed there. There weren’t really any children there younger than I was, and if I hadn’t understood everything that the camp stood for before, I knew enough from my parent’s explanations and warnings that I had prepared myself for something aw- ful. The first stop on the tour was a 20 feet long by 10 feet wide prisoner barrack, oddly without any beds. The tour guide explained that although the room was meant to hold 200 people, “The prisoners of Auschwitz did not have beds unless they held the position of ‘kapo.’” The ‘kapo’ was a camp policeman chosen from among the Jewish prisoners and given the responsibility of daily round ups and or- ganizing marches. The next stop on the tour was the Commandant’s Rudolf Höss quarters, furnished in a big lavish building and containing every luxury and amenity available in the 1940s. As the tour moved from room to room, I could feel the growing fury and resentment of the other tourists toward the monster, Höss. I still cannot understand how someone can return to such a comfortable home in the evenings after spending his day subjecting hundreds of people to the most brutal conditions. The tour was finalized at the crematorium. This part of the tour was the hardest to bear since this was where the remains of the gassed prisoners were dragged in to be actually disposed of, by cremation. I imagined all the scared people that passed through the camp, and I imagined my great-uncle’s body being pushed onto a heap of dead bodies, and I began to really cry. While we all stood silently in the cement room, I realized that the other tourists who were on the tour with me were German adolescents on school trips. This is the part of the trip I remember most vividly because it provided me with comfort knowing that these young students were being taught to respect their nation’s past and to respect hu- manity. It is important to learn about past mistakes in order to prevent tragedies from repeating themselves as the world moves onwards.

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Blissful Beijing By: Leslie Liu

The summer of 2014 was my favorite summer of all When my family and I left for our bi-annual trip to china to visit relative, I expected a vacation filled with hours of traveling, boring dinners, and tedious conversations. At first, the visit followed these exact guidelines. For two weeks, we traveled by train, car, and plane to five provinces, visiting second cousins, aunts and uncles, and the newest additions to the lineage. Approaching the last three days of our trip, we flew to the capital of China, Beijing, to enjoy some family time. In prior years, I had never spent more than a few hours in Beijing before transferring flights to another ma- jorly populated city. Naturally, I was brimming with elation and ready to explore the active city.

Intending to suffer the groggy and sluggish company of my parents while delving into the city life, I was thoroughly surprised when one of my closet table tennis friends from America called me exclaiming that he was also in Beijing. Ad- ditionally, another mutual friend of ours who was a Chinese native was visiting his hometown at the same time. Right away, we made plans to convene, and they served as my ticket out of accompanying my parents.

Weaving through the bustling inhabitants of Beijing, we made our way to the

Haitian district, renowned for their eccentric food markets. We squeezed into a narrow street lined with carts and eager sellers, appreciating the energetic buzz of the crowd. Together, we dared each other to eat a variety of questionable goods, from fried scorpion to fermented plum juice. The experience, discovering the cul- turally abundant beauty of Beijing, easily topped my list of vacations.

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That Time We Went To Poland By: Danielle Sobieski

When I was 11 years old, me and my family took a vacation to Poland. We had been to Po- land many times before this one, but this one was one of the ones where I was old enough to remember what was actually going on. This was one of the several times that I had gone to Poland with my whole family. The flight in total was 9 hours, but we took two connecting flights which made it even longer. To make things worse than the amount of hours we would be spending flying and in airports my mom and Allison were forced to take a different flight than us. The first flight went well, we had a nice big spacious plane with meals and snacks. The second fight wasn’t as good as the first one, but was good enough. It was on a smaller plane, and most of the people didn’t speak any English.

When we arrived in Warsaw, we were welcomed by some family members who were excited to see us. We had not seen most of these family members in 3 or 4 years. After we got picked up at the airport we drove to my Ciocia and Wujek’s (Aunt and Uncle) house which was around 20 minutes away from the airport. Once we got there we were welcomed with a big dinner meal. Since it was around 5pm, we ate what we call in America dinner, even though in Poland we would usually just eat obiad, which is the equivalent to lunch but much bigger. For our late obiad we ate Zupa ogorkowa (cucumber soup), Ryba smazona (fried fish fillet), Placki Kartoflane (potato pancakes), Kapusta (Sauerkraut), Surówka z marchewki (carrot salad). After we ate our dinner, we begun to unpack everything. By the time we unpacked everything and got settled in, we were all very hun- gry and decided to have some dessert and tea, which would usually be called kolacja.

The next day we decided to go to the cemetery because it was November 1st, also known as All Saints Day, which is a very popular holiday in Poland. When we got to the cemetery, we walked outside where there were vendors selling things to be put by the gravesites. We bought chrysanthe- mums, wreaths, and candles to put by the graves of our family members. We met up with other family members who were visiting our deceased family members, prayed and walked around the cemetery to pay our regards to the countless number of families praying. When we were done walking around the cemetery and praying we all went outside to the front of the cemetery where the vendors were. My mom’s favorite tradition as a kid was to buy the taffy candies called Pańska skór- ta. When we were finished eating the taffy we decided to take a train to visit our cousins in Kra- kow. When we arrived in Krakow, we took a taxi to our cousin’s apartment and then we went to a restaurant to have dinner. When we arrived at the restaurant we were surprised to find all of our family from my dad’s side there. They planned a family reunion and surprised us with it. We ate a lot of very traditional polish food and danced with our cousins. It was a little hard to communicate with them, because the younger kids had not learned english yet, but we were able to communicate to our older cousins.

This was a very interesting vacation because we were able to experience All Saints Day which is a very important holiday in Poland. It was also one of the only times that we were able to see almost all of our family members who live in Poland and it was so nice to see all of our family on my mom and dad’s sides. Even though me and my family have visited Poland many times, this was one of the times that sticks in my brain as “that time we went to Poland”. We were able to see so many people and really connect with our roots by celebrating a holiday that is sad but also happy at the same time.

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My Trip to Greece Both Photograaphs By: Pooja Nayar RSVP Spring 2016 45

Summer is Ending By: Hazem Ani

It is time for the season to change

No more golfing at the range

The new season will kill the flowers

And all the homework will take hours

There will be no more peace

And no more trips to Nice

Doing school work will be quite an pickle

While I watch my grades trickle

The Future By: Victoria Martorana

The Future is a scary thing and place.

The future is not just in 20 years or 30 years,

It’s the day after today.

The second after this one,

It’s all the future.

We are constantly living not knowing the future,

The outcome of things,

What’s real or not.

Not knowing what is right,

Or what is wrong.

Live each day how you want to, you’re always living in the future,

Everything you do affects the next event that happens.

As weird as it sounds.

The future is NOW.

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Change is Good By: Olivia Smith

I found myself in a desk at an unfamiliar school about three years ago. The though of being there was unusual and made my palms sweat. Nobody knew me. I knew nobody. High school is a scary thing in itself and add the idea of switching schools makes the matter worse.

I was always told that change was good. My dad often says it in our morning pep talks. But this mild change was scary and resulted in something extraordinari- ly great. It allowed me to open up and crawl out of my shell. Yes dad. You will forever be right. Change is good.

Change By: Grace Economou

Looking forward to the year ahead,

A big part of our lives will soon change.

Our class has come so far along,

Everyone standing tall like a flower.

But forced to decide where we want to spend the next few years,

We have each been put in quite the pickle.

As decisions are made and choices become final,

We say good-bye and wish each other peace.

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“Untitled” By: James Geraghty Acrylic Painting

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Straining To Be Heard By: Rose Faccone-Stockwell

What do you say when there’s nothing to be said? When the words you write don’t matter anymore, and the sounds you make meet deaf ears. When all you’ve ever. wanted. is for your words to NOT go in one ear and out the other because you might actually have something important to say. Something that changes the world. Or doesn’t because how much are words actually worth? If no one reads nowadays then what are we doing? We’re shouting at walls! We are trying to sew wings on what was never meant to Fly. However. There are some people Some very very special people. To whom words are not useless. To whom words can make or break their mood Their day Their life. To whom the proper usage of words can make them love you forever. Or hate you forever. It would be up to you to decide the goal. All you need is the right person to listen.

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Solitude By: Kyra Conley

Midnight By: Rebekah Lo

Gently lay my head down Darkness comes to drown me Currents of emotion Endless waves of feeling

Slip deeper into thoughts Pressure is increasing Photograph Ever sinking slowly Still body is sleeping

Several thoughts swim by me My mind is kept awake Hoping to breathe easy I need it to be day

Hours seem to glide by Silently turn my head Small glow in the distance Sun to come to surface?

No, it’s just the moon out Pensive wave creator The clock reads 12 am Halfway through the darkness

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No Reply By: Taylor Gill

The darkness of the night engulfed the glowing red light, everything came to a stop the cars all froze the trains come to a halt and the midnight breeze began to fade.

The earth is stuck, no sounds no movement not a single sign of joy or depression.

I questioned myself. Although this was not a dream, it was my reality I craved an answer but there was no reply

So here I stand no sounds no movement looking at nothing I asked myself, why? But still there is no reply

The Hudson Drawing By: Rachel Patel

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I Can Feel the Cold By: Ben Zalewski and Taylor Zenner

In the darkness where hatred grows My loathing rises and it starts to show I try to hide it but sadly I fail I attempt to stop it, to no avail Then I wake, I sit up and ponder How I could I ever get so caught up but no longer I’m sorry I just start to wonder How did I make this whole thing a blunder

In the night I hear you go Out the door Out in the snow And I can feel the cold I can feel the cold

I begin to kinda lie I make stuff up and then deny You thought that it went awry when you came here, now alive But when you start to think about that in the time when you vowed

Flowers in the Moonlight Photograph By: Rebekah Lo

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Nature Photograph By: Kyra Conly

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Reflection By: Kat Allen

When you look in the looking glass, do you see the mistakes of your past? Do you see who you are, or all of the afflictions that have left you scarred?

Is that why you refuse to look? Do you want to remain an unread book? You act as if your life is not odd, But in the end you are putting on a façade.

You put on a mask everyday, in order to hide your past in some way. You put on a show for all of your peers; Everything is not as it appears.

But when you’re alone and forced to look; something you must do by hook or by crook. Do you known who’s looking back or is it a visual representation for all that you lack?

Reflection Phototograph By: Rebekah Lo

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Round and Round Photograph By: Anna Csiky

Nature Changes By : Alya Hozayen

Watching the ducks on the pond is a lovely sight The sky is so blue; the sun is still warm; the trees are Crimson The ducks swim and fly and play as if summer will last forever They eat scraps left behind by playing with children Do they know that winter will come and freeze the pond over? How will they find their food then? How will they provide for their families? Instinct will take over Hopefully, they will find their aback to the pond in the Spring

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f l o w e r By: Madeline Shanley

A little flower once bloomed. Sadly, it bloomed too soon.

There was no peace, Canarage, to say the least

There needs to be change, Which the flower did arrange.

Rainbow By: Ashley Biswal

When anger and rage come into my head,

The color I feel is a deep roaring red.

For orange, I feel a bit warm and free,

It’s pretty and fun and vibrant with glee.

Yellow is the color of happiness and cheer,

Giving me a smile that lasts for a year.

The color of leaves, plants, nature and life,

Is green full of harmony and surely no strife.

However, there’s blue that fills me with sadness,

But at the same time I feel a deep, dark calmness.

Indigo is a very responsible color,

It fills me with faith, intuition, and valor.

Finally, violet gives me a sense of mystery and power,

The color of royalty is luxurious like a flower.

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Peace By: Ava Atanacio

Peace is a weird thing.

We’re constantly trying to find it,

and keep it.

Once we get it, we expect it to be there forever.

As soon as the situation changes, and peace is removed

we get upset.

Of course we should be upset, nobody or nothing

should disrupt peace.

But, this happens time and time again.

Over and over this happens,

like a flower dying in the winter

and blooming in the summer

into a never ending cycle.

Why do we continue to frustrate over this?

Why haven’t we just accepted there can never be eternal peace?

Whenever we find ourselves in a pickle

we always freak out.

Life is constant trial and error

cause and effect

stimulante reaction.

If we know, that once we achieve peace

it’ll be taken away,

why do we keep fighting for it?

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February 15, 2003. By: Jillian Ross

February 15, 2003.

New York, New York.

East River.

We’re here illegally,

Protesting.

Protesting against

Violence,

Turmoil,

Death.

5am.

The crowd’s gathering.

10am.

We’re 100,000 strong

And marching,

Marching towards

Peace

Marching towards

A safer future.

It’s loud.

Smells of sweat

The Field Acrylic Painting By: James Geraghty

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Tears,

Frustration,

Hope.

People run.

With stone.

They attack

Scream,

Yell,

Claw.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

We need to be

Calm,

Reasonable,

Controlled.

The crowd composes itself.

We’re marching.

We’re sending a message.

We’re united.

But I guess it didn’t matter anyway.

31 days later,

The US enters war.

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The Art of All Times By: Sofia Cioffi

Music is an art, of the finest quality Music is a story, in which emotion is portrayed Music is an outlet, for all the best people Music is a title, of every decade

But over the years it lost its magic Over the years it lost its heart Over the years it lost its emotion Now its all about being number one on the charts

Let’s start in the 40s, the late 40s to be exact Nat King Cole wrote a masterpiece of jazz, Orange Colored Sky It’s got rhythm, it’s got soul, And it’s got a groove that makes the time fly by

Next came the 50s This special man named Elvis sang about his Blue Suede Shoes He opened up the world to rock He stole hearts singing the blues

Then we got the 1960s Peace and Love man, Woodstock The Beatles came out with Yellow Submarine And took a notorious stroll across the Abbey Road cross walk

The 70s are when rock really stepped it up Deep Purple’s Smoke on the Water blew minds Bands like Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, the Stones, and Queen came together They changed music completely, some call them masterminds

Now not many people like to talk about the 80s Big hair and leg warmers should stay a thing of the past But the Indigo Girls had some hits like Crazy Game Which brought an end to the disco times at last

The 90s were a beautiful time for music Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Radio Head and Green Day Green Day touched hearts with Tune of Your Life It’s weird to think that now Green Day is on Broadway

The 2000s are when it started to go down hill Musicians create for the charts and not themselves, They disregard art and instead create noise Does anyone wonder why Taylor Swift’s Red sells?

The effort is gone, instruments replaced with computers Unfortunate voices tuned to illegitimate perfection

Music started with the best Mozart, Beethoven It peaked from the start but just downgrades over time

Each decade has musical Gems But they’re becoming scarcer through times

We should right to bring back the music The Art of all Times

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