Sultana A Journal of Student Writing
College Preparatory & Developmental Studies Community and Technical College University of Alaska Anchorage 2006-2007 Introduction
ifteen rugged miles southwest of the highest peak in North America, Fresides another monster of a mountain the Tanana Indians in the Lake Minchumina area once named Sultana, as claimed in the writings of an early 19th Century amatuer climber, Rev. Hudson Stuck. This peak, more commonly known as Mt. Foraker, stands in Denali’s shadow in height alone. According to the Alaska Mountaineering school, climbing Sultana is a “formidable mountaineering challenge of the highest caliber.” Most sea- soned climbers suggest a successful climb of Denali as a prerequisite for an attempt at Sultana.
Students and faculty chose the journal name Sultana to represent the often strenuous climb our student writers make on their way to the top of their own peaks in life. The challenges they overcome, the struggles they endure, and the accomplishments that await them is embodied in the name Sultana. Comprised of student writings from Preparatory Writing courses at the University of Alaska Anchorage, this journal aims to bring these writings from the shadows and reveal the student diversity in voice, character, and spirit found on our campus.
Sultana Production Team: Jon Bracone : Christopher Brobst : LaTasha Clay : Rattikal Cochran : Rebecca Dawkins Dustin Dreifuerst : Shirili Green : Jonathon Howell : Heidi Jacobo : Claudine Magloire : Karen Parrish Jilleen Rocili : Katie Schurosky : Christopher Smaw : Helena Spector : Marjorie Tully
Lead: Don Rearden
Editing, Layout, Design: Sarah Kirk
Special Thanks: Jun Reformado for his stunning painting of Mt. Sultana. Dean Jan Gehler and CTC for making the production of Sultana possible. Gerry Busch for championing the cause. Shannon Gramse for his technical help and design contributions. Table of Contents
Jennifer Parker-Taylor 4 A Lessoned Learned: Try Pixy Dust! Andy Lopez 5 Cookies from Italy Hagar Elgedawe 6 Traditions Mark Polito 7 Chill Out at Posada del Sol Jamie San Jose 8 An Undercover, Modern-day Holocaust Samuel Giacalone 10 Meet Me at the Hill
Lacey Watson 11 My Anchor
Mai Xiong 12 Seeing & Believing Julie Rucker 13 My Adoption
Tim Gwinn 14 Fishing Buddy
Sung-Hae Kim 15 My Favorite Childhood Story:
“The King has Donkey Ears”
Wesley McQuinn 16 The Weight of Memory
Lorene Bastida 17 My Angel, Fabian Christopher Brobst 18 American Pig Dog Lorena Nay 20 A Brother Gone & The Change of Hands øElena Browne 22 Valentine’s Day Mark Tiedemann 22 Friday Night
23 Contributor Notes
I could have used some pixy dust Jen Parker-Taylor while trying a triple gainer nosedive from the top of my bunk bed, hit- ting the floor like bowling ball. It’s A Lesson Learned: undeniable that my childhood also lacked exciting journeys of the mind. With this story I have found another Try pIXY DUST! connection to my children through adventure, and discovered the im- portance of imagination and the certainty that we can fly, even if only his first mate Mr. Smee. They t’s said you learn from your through stories. I are greeted by Peter Pan and the children. This couldn’t hold more In a complicated but interesting amazing Tinker Bell. Throughout truth for me. I started searching twist of similarity and contrast, this the ups and downs of their esca- for my favorite childhood story, story has touched my life. I find that pades, Jane is freed. Her denial which sounds easy enough, by being a mother and not having much of imagination and reverence of flipping through pages of excerpts of a childhood, combined with rais- responsibility leave Tinker Bell from 101 Classics. I was shocked ing children, has many intricacies. ill, and Peter Pan and The Lost to find that I don’t have one. The My life mirrors Wendy’s in part of Boys are soon imprisoned. Jane next stop…my own children’s this story; I am a mother who wants is then faced with betraying her bookshelves. I perused the pages to teach my children things that new friends or fighting along side of Disney’s 2002 Return to Never- enforce the idea that good prevails. them. When Jane allows adven- Land (a sequel to J.M. Barrie’s Captain Hook thinks he has finally ture and faith to become part of Peter Pan); it immediately be- won and says, “I did it! I’m free of her life, she takes her newfound came clear this story could be my Peter Pan forever!” But, Peter Pan allegiance to Never-Land and window to imagination, adven- and Tinker Bell, with all the good- with her belief in magic brings ture, and excitement. The story ness they possess, fool the Captain Tinker Bell back to life. Together, demonstrates how we all want yet again. I could have used my own Jane and Tinker Bell set Peter Pan to capture our childhood and its Peter Pan in some of my more thrill and The Lost Boys free. Finally, many exhilarating voyages we can seeking voyages of youth. There is Captain Hook is conquered once take within our minds, and en- also a contrasting parallel, where I again. courages an emphasis on the idea am not like Wendy at all; instead, I There is a parallel between that good prevails over evil. resemble her daughter Jane. In this my childhood and Jane’s. I, like This story takes place in parallel between my childhood and Jane, have difficulty letting go Never-Land, an imaginary realm Jane’s, I am also finding many valu- of reality and embracing whimsy created for a journey of the heart, able lessons through a childhood and imagination. Thinking back mind and soul, where Captain story that illustrates the influence of on my mischievous childhood, Hook and Peter Pan are adversar- good’s prevalence over evil. I’m reminded of my own spirit in ies in an ongoing struggle of good Through my own children and the Jane, “a serious twelve year old.” versus evil. Through her stories, story Return to Never-Land, I have Jane is portrayed as a stern non- Wendy of the magical Peter Pan, revisited my youth and in doing so believer of Never-Land and child- now grown up, is passing on her I have opened my imagination to ish dreams who says, “Peter Pan own childhood journey to her excitement and adventure. I learned isn’t real, and people don’t fly.” children, young Danny and almost the lesson of moral value contained Tinker Bell’s very life depends on teenage Jane. In a night-time ad- within the pages of a children’s book. the belief of those around her, in venture of her own to Never-Land, As an adult and mother of three, her ability to make anything fly Jane was mistakenly kidnapped I have to wonder, who wouldn’t with a sprinkle of pixy dust and by the sinister Captain Hook and want to stay young - forever. a little bit of faith. In my youth,
Sultana Andy Lopez Cookies from Italy
This last semester I was in Florence, Italy, attending Apicius—The Culinary Institute of Florence. While I was there, the classes that I retained the most information were for baking and pastry. When I first decided I wanted to attend culinary school back in Third Grade, I thought I would always want to make really fancy dishes that cost an arm and a leg, but while I was in Italy, I decided that I liked baking and making pas- tries more. There is just something about it that clears my head and relaxes me. While I was over seas going to school, I never had to write papers or book reports, but I did write a bunch of different recipes. These cookies I’ve provided for you here are not only extremely easy to make, but they are also very tasty. In Italy, they don’t use the same measurement system as us Americans do; they use the Metric System. I didn’t bother to convert the measurements in order to show the recipe in its original form. If you decide to make these cookies, you will need to use a metric scale. I hope that one of these days you will take a few moments to whip up a batch of these delicious treats. Enjoy! Speculos: “Cinnamon Cookies”
Ingredients -Cane sugar 200 grams -Cinnamon 8 grams -Butter 200 grams -Salt 2 grams -Sugar 60grams -Baking powder 6 grams -Whole eggs 50 grams -Whole milk 15 grams -Flour “O” 400 grams
-Cream butter till soft and easy to work with -Add both sugars to butter, mix well -Add eggs and milk, mix well -Last, add flour w/ cinnamon, salt and baking powder, easiest to mix by hand - When dough cools, roll out till 3 mm thick and cut into cookie shapes -Cook on a big baking sheet @ 190˚ Celsius for 20 minutes
Sultana imagine. (So now you know why I can’t resist it!) And what is better to Hager Elgedawe Traditions do with all that food than invite every single one of your friends. Of course your friends are generous and will bring their own food over, too! At the end you have this huge feast every day to show that we have something other people don’t have. Or you can hen you hear the word but my mom tells him to fast simply be kind and not greedy and W“tradition,” what comes half the day because he’s still give all this glorious food to the poor. at you? Some people instantly small. I don’t even feel the fast This next part is especially for think of food, or gifts, or just because everybody is busy doing kids because the exact day after plain fun. All I think of is food- something. Even if you don’t Ramadan ends, it’s Eid. Eid works -food, glorious food, wonderful, want to, it’s a requirement to stay like this: First everyone has to put fabulous, tasty food! active during Ramadan because on NEW, never before worn, clothes. Well, sorry, but I can’t stop Ramadan is a month where every Second we all get together to pray. myself when Ramadan comes Muslim is supposed to feel how Third we have another FEAST! around. I guess I’m going too poor people live--they have no Fourth the kids get both their far; let’s start from the top. shelter, little clothing, and no presents and money. And if you’re Ramadan is actually an Islamic food. The strangest part is that cute enough, you can earn up to at tradition that comes once a year when Ramadan is all over, people least $100 just going from one adult for one month. It’s when kids and are sad and wish it never ended! to another. Fifth the grown ups have adults both fast from sunrise to Enough talking about Ramadan to take the kids somewhere really, sunset. You’re probably thinking, in general, let’s talk about what really fun. You can spend Eid as a whooooo! But actually it’s not we do during Ramadan. Let’s turn family with your friends, but some that hard and not all kids fast; our attention back to the glorious people choose to spend the morning they have to be old enough to fast food! One of the traditions in as a family and at night they spend the whole day. Or take my seven Ramadan is that all the ladies with all their friends. -year -old brother, for instance: cook, cook, and cook. At the end I really like my culture! He begs to fast the whole day, there is more food than you can Sultana Mark Polito CHILL OUT AT POSADA DEL SOL
osada Del Sol is an all-inclusive resort on the island of Guanaja, a territory of Honduras. The resort Pis an Old Spanish villa, surrounded by a lush tropical landscape. The sounds of toucans and wild parrots, along with a colorful majestic sunset, is what comes to mind whenever I think of my fi rst day on that beautiful island. Sometimes arriving late has its benefi ts--what a terrifi c fi rst impression! My guest quarters were high on a knoll with the ocean as my backdrop. The bed was prepared ahead of time in anticipation of my arrival: The bedspread was pulled back, and on each pillow was a chocolate treat with a fantastic, colorful orchid along side. Tired from my long fl ight, I laid down on the bed and the last thing I remembered was the sound of the waves and the gentle breeze I felt as I fell into a deep sleep. In the morning, a bell was sounded to alert the resort visitors that breakfast was about to be served. As with all meals, the breakfast was served buffet-style. The waiters were from the mainland and wore bright tropical shirts. They made sure that we never had an empty cup of coffee and that our meal was to our satisfaction. Our hostess, Diane, was from Florida. She was responsible for explaining the daily itinerary, as well as making sure we were having the time of our lives. The fi rst morning on the island, we went scuba diving and I was in awe of the clear colorful world that was opening to me. I proceeded into a short, barrel-type cave, fi lled with a massive group of silver fi sh swimming in a circular motion. On the other end of the cave, the ocean world became a tranquil setting of different types of tropical fi sh on a beautiful coral reef. The dive master, Jose, used this particular area to feed a local green moray eel. I sat still on the sandy ocean fl oor and watched in amazement as the eel was provided with a coffee can full of shrimp. I was later told that the eel was following right behind us as we entered the cave, but with the massive group of silver fi sh, it went unnoticed. The eel came to each diver in hopes of securing another meal. We were able to run our hands along the body without worry that the eel would take too kindly to this type of interaction. The peaceful world of the ocean, with all its beauty, has mesmerized me like watching a child taking their fi rst step. I had six more days to look forward to, and if my fi rst morning dive wasn’t enough to hook me on this adventure, my afternoon dive swimming among a group of gentle dolphins surely did. For the next six days, I dove every morning in a crystal clear ocean within a world of living coral and species of fi sh tha t d rain ed all m y anxi eties and left me with a pea cef ul w eek I w il l n e v e r fo r ge t.
Sultana 7 Jamie San Jose An Undercover, Modern-day Holocaust
use their power to prevent the spread enocide is the systematic and (Darfur Conflict). The conflict G of human genocide or else human planned extermination of an entire escaladed in 2003 between two genocide could possibly occur on nation, race, political or ethnic group rebel groups, the JEM (Justice American soil and that is something (Dictionary.com). The term “geno- and Equality Movement) and the no American citizen wants to ever cide” may sound bad enough, but SLM (Sudan Liberation Move- experience. But what if I were to add the word “human” before it and ment) (Darfur Conflict). Both say that there was a “modern day you get double trouble. An example groups are involved with the holocaust” occurring right this very of human genocide that has occurred mass murdering, raping, and minute? A majority of people would in Earth’s history is the infamous looting of the Sudanese civil- be in disbelief because if human Holocaust, which occurred during ians (Darfur Conflict). Because genocide were ever to occur today, World War II (Holocaust Encyclo- of this, millions of people were “human genocide,” or “mass mur- pedia). Reflecting on the damage of driven from their homes while dering,” would be the headlines of human genocide by looking at a de- thousands of the non-Arabic newspapers and televised news re- structive event such as the Holocaust population in Darfur died by ports. But in this case, Darfur is one makes people wonder... What if this spring 2004 (Darfur Conflict). of those things that barely anyone were to happen again at this day and Despite all that’s going on has heard of. Darfur is “an under- age? The Holocaust may have hap- in Darfur, the majority of people cover, modern day holocaust.” pened decades ago, but look at what here probably don’t even know Darfur is found in the western happened in Bosnia in the 1990s. what the conflict in Darfur is side of Sudan, Africa. Darfur con- The US Assistant Secretary of State, about. It’s a shame because our sists of Furs, Masalits, and Zagha- Richard Holbrooke, referred to the government has a clue of what is was (Black Africans) and Baggards conflict as “the greatest failure of the going on, but they are hesitant to (Arabic tribes). Despite the fact that west since the 1930’s” and this event help out with the Darfur conflict. these groups were both Muslim, they occurred just a decade ago (Bosnia The United States of America is a still clashed heads with one another Genocide). As a result, 200,000 very wealthy nation and we usu- (Darfur Conflict). First of all, Darfur people died in Bosnia between ally help out countries when they was known for handling slave trades 1992-1995 (Bosnia Genocide). But need help. For example, we do- (Darfur Conflict). The Arabs in Su- the damage done in Bosnia can’t nated millions of dollars to help dan referred to the Black Africans as compare to the damage done dur- the tsunami victims in the pacific “slaves” as well (Tinsley). However, ing the Holocaust, where 6 million this past year and we also are the differences amongst the groups Jewish people were murdered by the known for helping provide the were shown through their individual notorious Nazi’s (Holocaust Ency- poor people in Africa with food. economic needs (Darfur Conflict). clopedia). The Holocaust and the We have done other countless The Arabs and the Zaghawas were Bosnia genocides proves that human actions to help countries in need, nomadic herdsmen while the Furs genocide is a serious issue and it but we aren’t willing to help out and Masalits were sedimentary farm- needs to be taken care of right away the human genocide problem in ers (Daruf Conflict). That said, the or else more people will continue to Darfur. different groups started to fight over die everyday. Looking at past historical water resources and access to land The US government needs to events, we know the outcomes Sultana of human genocide. Our government ing to take action to end the hu- wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. even said we would help out coun- man genocide occurring in Darfur Wikipedia.com. 7 tries that are experiencing genocide today? We may feel that we are November 2005.
put into consideration the ways we Darfur and hopefully our govern- 7 November 2005.
occurring in Darfur, we should take “ Bosnia Genocide- 1992-1995= BBC News. 26 October it in our hands to do something about 200,000 Deaths.” Marchforhuman- 2005.
Sultana us to the barracks where we would spend the night and learn the hor- Samuel M. Giacalone rible news that four out of the five men had been killed. We were crushed and silent. Mr. Scott Powell, the Camp Ranger at our camp for Meet Me many years; Mr. Michael LaCroix, a loving husband and father who had made the trip with one of his sons; at the Hill Mr. Ronald Bitzer, a Scoutmaster of one of the troops in Alaska for National headlines read hired to set our tents had arrived many years and father of two Eagle “Four Scouters die at the Jambo- and began to lift the tents. They Scouts; and Mr. Michael Shibe, a ree.” One of the most exciting ad- lifted the first tent with ease, but Scouter who made the trip with his ventures a scout can make turned when it was time for the second twin sons—these men had all passed in to a tragedy in the blink of an tent to be raised, the contractors in the accident. The fifth Scoutmas- eye—a trip seventy-five of my asked for assistance from our adult ter suffered severe electrical wounds fellow scouts and I would never leaders; five assisted. They agreed and some scarring but survived. forget. to help, not knowing this simple act Those men who passed will never be On July 20, 2005, I and of kindness would be their last. forgotten by me or any of the scouts two Alaskan contingent members They raised the tent us- who made that trip. Due to the shock made our way down to Wash- ing all their might, bringing much of the experience, about twenty-five ington D.C. where we spent four shade for the rest of us. The tent scouts went back home immediately. days touring the national monu- reached farther than anyone, even Those of us who stayed for the rest ments, libraries, and museums, the contractors, had predicted; in of the Jamboree would always say, meeting thousands of other scouts a split second, the tip of the main “We are finishing what they had who were there for the same pole for the tent scraped an over- started” if we ever doubted ourselves reason. We were attending the head electrical line. Time stopped, to why we did stay. 2005 National Scout Jamboree, the air filled with smoke and We all enjoyed the trip in special which would be held at Fort A.P. electricity, the tent collapsed and memory of those who had passed in Hill Virginia, one of the biggest a fire blazed. The scouts searched the 2 year effort to bring us down events for a Boy Scout. One or frantically for help as the electric- from Alaska. On our last day at more troops from every state and ity swept through the ground and camp, we went to the site of where it several countries would attend. through our scout leaders. The all happened, bringing back painful On July 25, 2005, just five days smell of burning flesh and the memories of that tragic day. After after arriving in D.C., my troop sight of the leaders dying made it we said our goodbyes and remi- began our long bus ride to the Hill hard for those of us who knew we nisced some great times we had en- shouting to other scouts, “Meet us couldn’t do anything to save them. countered with our fallen heroes, the at the Hill!” (the post’s nickname) Three of us ran into the tent to try troop buglers sounded off, playing the place where this momentous and help, but no matter what we Taps. Our silence kept for most of gathering would take place. All of tried the electricity kept us back. the night. The next day we boarded us had been saving birthday mon- Very soon guardsmen and EMTs the bus to the airport. The sorrow ey, Christmas money, allowances cleared the area and we gathered we felt was gone, and only happi- for a year to make this trip. The about six campsites away, joining ness for all the good times remained. hard work preparing for the event another troop that cared for our Today we all know these four men was finally paying off. When we fear stricken troop mates. After are in a better place, watching over arrived at the Post, we unloaded about an hour, we were moved to us all, and we understand they will our gear and started setting up headquarters for a debriefing of the meet us again at the last hill we will camp, our home for the next week accident and what would happen ever have to climb. and a half. The contractors we had next. The Guardsman transferred Sultana 10 Lacey Watson My Anchor
It’s a clear dark night, not a light in the sky except for the peaceful twinkle of the stars. In the distance I can hear people talking and laughing. The sound of the water rippling against the shoreline as my breathing begins to follow the pattern. I smell of marshmallows being roasted over a smoky campfire. The birds are singing their good night songs to each other. The majestic, delights of wilderness are all around me. I sit slouched against an old weathered log: the feel of the cool rocks and grit between my toes, the sand sifting through the webs of my fingers. Oh, the joy and peace of nature surrounds me. As I stare at the elegant night sky, I think about my life and the reason things have happened the way they have. My mind slowly wanders as my eyes fall upon the Little Dipper, and at that moment I realize that in a way it looks as if the Little Dipper is pouring into the Big Dipper, or is that what everyone sees? I am in absolute awe and amazement at the sight of the stars and how they line up to form mysterious patterns. I start questioning myself, wondering why I am a part of this complex world and what my life may have in store for me. I inhale a long, deep breath and feel the cool night air fill my young lungs. Oh, it’s the sweetest, most vibrant air I have ever breathed; I become so relaxed to know that for a few minutes nothing matters to me except for what is right above me, the wide-open sky. As my eyes glide from side to side and all around, I see the most remarkable sight. At first I think that it was a shooting star, but as I watch it glides through a spa- cious range. I realize it has to be more. It has a bright white head with a long, brilliant blue tail that drags for miles. I watch it until it disappears behind the rolling hills and distant treetops. I sit there for a while longer thinking how many other people have seen the same marvelous sight. I come to find out later that it was a meteor named “Hale-Bopp.” I look back on that memory and realize how lucky I was to see such a sight. To me this is the most peaceful place on earth and I realize that no other place can calm my every emotion. It is because of this place that I am able to relieve my daily stress. My aunt came over to help me on the day of my court hearing. She asked me to sit down and to take a few deep breaths. As I started to relax, she softly spoke to me and told me to close my eyes, and as I did she explained that I should think of some- thing that comforts me. My peaceful spot was what I thought of, and I remembered all the sights, sounds, smells, touches, and even the taste of the air from that amazing night. Now, whenever I’m having a bad day or a just need a moment of peace, I close my eyes, put my fingers together, and instantly I’m brought back to that night. That place is and always will be my refuge and my anchor to be able to survive this ever- changing world.
Sultana 11 Mai Xiong Seeing and Believing It was a regular school I was returning to my day with the sun shining as the class room on the third floor, children chased one another in which was three doors away from the playground, kids screaming at the stairs. As I got past the first the top of their of lungs. Sitting door, I felt a cool breeze behind by herself on the swing was my me. I turned and looked to see little sister, Souamee. She was if there was a window open. around seven years old and in the There was no open window, so I to wait for my uncle. I grabbed his First Grade. That day she just sat turned back and headed for my shirt and pulled him along with me. there staring out into space. “Hey classroom. As I grabbed the door As we got on the bus, he yelled, Mee! What are you doing here knob, I heard an old man call my “Mai! What about Uncle? He won’t alone, aren’t you going to play name in a sad voice, “Me Mai!” be able to find us.” I looked at him with boy you liked?” I asked, but Quickly I turned. but there was and told him that Uncle isn’t here. she didn’t say anything. I sat there no one there. I thought it was my It was maybe someone else he saw. for a while wondering, is she mad uncle calling me since he was It was starting to scare me, the way at me? Out of nowhere she said, the only one who calls me “Me they saw him here. If he really was “Hey, Mai, how come Uncle is Mai” in Hmong. But it couldn’t here, why hadn’t I seen him? here?” I looked right up. “Stupid! be—my teacher said my uncle As the bus dropped us off at Don’t say such a thing. Uncle is wasn’t at school. So I opened home, Souamee came running out, sick, why else would he be here?” the classroom door and went in. “Mommy’s talking to Daddy on the I asked. “Don’t call me stupid! That whole day bothered me. I phone, so don’t talk too loud.” And I did see him,” she yelled. The knew I had heard my uncle, but she ran back in with my little brother bell rang and quickly my sister why didn’t I see him? Maybe my and me chasing after. ran inside. I started to scan the sister made me go nuts with her, I That night my dad came playground. Why would Uncle be thought to myself. home, we were all watching TV here? My sister must been nuts. It was time to go home, when he came up and touched every It wasn’t long until they so I hopped downstairs to find one of my siblings’ heads. My dad called me down to the office. my little brother, Nhia, who was was crying; he told us that our uncle “Mai, can you talk to your little in the Second Grade. He was in had passed away that morning. So sister for a second please?” asked a yellow t-shirt and blue jeans who was it that my younger siblings a teacher. As I went into the room, with his backpack hanging from saw that day? Who’s voice was it that I saw my sister sitting in the one side of his shoulder looking called me? Was it really my uncle? back at her own little red table. out the window. As I stood beside My younger siblings never men- She looked up and smiled, “Mai, him, he looked at me and asked, tioned it to my parents; it was kept as Uncle was here. I told you. He’s “Hey, Mai, is Uncle picking us up a secret between us kids. We thought feeling a lot better now.” I turned today?” What is he talking about, of it as him saying goodbye to us and to the teacher, “Was my uncle re- I wondered. Why is he saying the kept it to ourselves. ally here?” She replied, “No, your same thing as Souamee? Without We have a saying in our cul- uncle wasn’t here. Your sister’s thinking, I started to walk away ture that children who have not lost been talking to herself the whole from him and towards the door. one of their baby tooth are able to time since she came back from He ran after me, “Hey, where’s see spirits of loved ones whom have recess. And I didn’t understand Souamee?” he asked. “They sent passed away. And then once a child anything she said.” The teacher her home early,” I replied, “Come loses their first tooth, they can no thought it would be best if my on or we’ll miss the bus!” But longer see these spirits. We believe sister spent the day at home. Nhia didn’t want to go; he wanted it’s the same as an imaginary friend. Sultana 12 Julie Rucker My Adoption There are things in your when I was 5 years old. Even though my birth mom. I used to feel bad life you will overcome that might I didn’t know what it meant, I can about saying this, but Shauna make you appreciate life in different still remember the day my mom told wouldn’t have been able to give ways. You might overcome a fear, me I was adopted. I remember the me what I have been given. I was or you might achieve something you way I reacted towards hearing that. put in a family with a mom, dad, thought you would never achieve. I also remember always feeling out and an awesome brother. I have In order for you to appreciate your of place in my family because I was a huge family with 16 cousins, life more fully, you may have a the only blonde haired, blue eyed a bunch of aunts, uncles, and life-changing experience. For ex- member. My mom, dad, and brother I wouldn’t trade them for the ample, my life changed the day I all had brown hair and brown eyes. I world. Shauna contacted me on was born. When my mom found out finally understood what being adopt- my 18th birthday and that was she was pregnant with me, my life ed meant and learned to realize that the scariest thing in my life. The was already changing and I was not being adopted was a good thing in my more we talked on the phone even brought into this world yet. In situation. I have always viewed my- the more I realized how I wasn’t this essay I will take you from when self as being special and was lucky to very fond of her. She was ob- I was born to being a 5 year old and be placed in such a loving family. Af- sessed with herself and wasn’t up to my life now. ter I found out about being adopted, interested in finding out things When I was born, my mom I asked my mom questions everyday, about me. I invited her to my and dad were in a relationship that but she couldn’t answer some until I graduation and she was too busy could be classified as “unhealthy”. I was older. to come. I love Shauna for what used to think I was the end result of Today, at 19 years of age, she did, but she isn’t my mom. that relationship, but I have grown I know so much more then I knew My mom is an amazing woman to realize that it was just everything when I was 5 years old. I went to who raised me from day 5. and I was the icing on the cake. My counseling for a year to figure out Your life can change in mom and dad decided to stay togeth- more about my life. In counseling I many different ways. People er until I was born. My birth parents found out a lot of information about might say that your life can only made the decision to put me up for change by surviving an impos- adoption as soon as I was born. sible storm or an accident. In my I was born in Las Vegas, Nevada, opinion, there isn’t a rule that and the parents I have today flew to states what is life changing and be there when I was born to legally what isn’t. The only way you adopt me. My birth mom, Shauna, know what is life changing is if and my birth father, Dennis, had 5 it has a big effect on the way you days with me at their home to decide view your life. My birth parents if their decision was the right one. gave me one of the greatest gifts Five days went by and Shauna and I could ever ask for. I can fi- Dennis met my parents at the air- nally say that I have defeated my port. That is when my mom saw me negative thoughts towards adop- in Shauna’s arms and knew she was tion and can move on knowing getting the baby girl she had always that I wasn’t given away for a prayed for. That was the moment my bad reason, but for a life chang- life changed completely. ing one I will never forget. I found out I was adopted Sultana 13 Tim Gwinn Fishing Buddy
I had just turned twenty-one years old that summer I met my friend Phil. We were introduced by my uncle Terry at the “Salty Dawg Saloon” in Homer, Alaska. I had seen this man around the around the town and in the saloon; we had spoken in passing and we also met briefly just moments be- fore our introduction. Phil looked like what I call a “crusty old sourdough” with his long brown hair pulled back into a pony-tail and a salt-n-pepper beard that hung down to the top of his stomach. The skin on his face looked as tough as shoe leather and it was wrinkled like a well worn pair of pants with permanent creases at every bend and curve. I did not know when I met him that Phil would become a great friend and fishing buddy. Phil was in his mid-fifties when we met; he smoked cigarettes and drank alcohol a lot, and his health was not in the best condition. When fall came, I went back to Anchorage because I was just in Homer for the summer to work for my uncle. In the late winter, Phil had a heart-attack and he was rushed to Anchorage where he underwent quadruple by-pass surgery. From the operation, he had a long recuperation process. He couldn’t afford to stay at the hospital, so he came to live at my grandparents’ house. Phil and I shared my room for about two months; that’s how our friendship began. The summer after Phil’s surgery, he began fishing with my uncles, grandfather, and me. Phil fished com- mercially and for sport most of his life, so all that experience made him a great fisherman. Phil taught me a lot about salmon trolling, a type of fishing. Since my grandfather and Phil would have serious arguments when they fished together (luckily, they haven’t yet killed each other!), I go fishing with Phil alone. Sometimes he raises his voice at me when I make mistake or I’m not fishing the way he wants me to. He gets grumpy, but that doesn’t bother me, I just ignore him. Two years after Phil’s surgery, his heart condition began to worsen, yet he was still smoking and drink- ing. He had to breathe with oxygen, which he found a nuisance to carry a bottle with him. As the years went by, he had a couple of mild attacks and fainting spells. When he would go fishing, he would not take the oxygen with him on the boat. I was always terrified when we would go fishing after he got sick again, and even more so without the oxygen. I was just waiting for him to have an attack of some kind. Then, one day out on the water fishing, he did. We had started fishing, Phil was fine, and I would check on him. Within fifteen minutes, I hooked into a King Salmon, and as I brought the fish closer to the boat, Phil’s breathing began to weaken. I circled the fish around the boat twice with Phil giving chase behind with the net to pick the fish out of the water. Phil then became weak, his breathing shallowed, and the color of his face became blue-grey, then pale. He sat down on the anchor box at the bow of the boat and I continued to circle the boat two more times. I kept looking back to see how Phil was doing. He told me to keep talking to him so he would stay awake. With his eyes closed and his breathing shallow, he still kept muttering out orders. I got very scared when I heard silence for more than a minute. I stayed as calm as I could while I was try- ing to land the fish and seemed to watch my friend dying. I got the fish ready to bring into the boat right next to Phil. Though he was weak and in and out of consciousness, he stood up and netted the fish and then I helped him bring it into the boat. He sat sound and let out an enormous sigh of relief. Then he began to get his strength back. I motored us back the harbor, ready to call the coast guard. After a while he was feeling better and he took over and brought us home. That was a fishing trip that Phil and I will never forget, and I am so glad that his life was spared that day. Besides, he’s my friend. I love him. Who would I go fishing with if he passed? Now I make Phil take oxygen with him each time we fish. Sultana 14 Sung-Hae Kim My Favorite Childhood Story: “The King has Donkey Ears” When I was a little kid in king gives orders to cut down all the until he dies. He did not tell even Korea, I would sit in the same spot bamboo trees, and the strange sound though he knows he is going to die. everyday at 6 o’clock. I was eager to is no longer heard. As time passes, There is also a moral watch my favorite animated televi- the trees grow, and the strange regarding the importance of hav- sion program. This time of day was sound is heard from the hill again. ing an optimistic attitude. Because great fun for me, for the animated The king thinks more carefully and the king “does not want to look program showed me fairy tales in decides not to try hiding his ears ridiculous,” he thinks that hiding vivid and colorful scenes. It also anymore. The king is without anxi- his ears is the only way to solve his taught meaningful lessons through ety and uneasiness, and the people problem. When the echo is heard the use of a simple story structure live happily in a peaceful country. again, he gets more anxious about with comical characters. I thought Throughout the story runs his ears. I think the awful-looking that the main characters in the the theme of responsibility. Even ears can be interpreted differently program existed in real life, so what though people start to wonder why as a gift from heaven for the king they did and said was enjoyable and the king is wearing the strangely big to help govern well because he has exciting and it would sometimes and heavy crown, the crown maker something which other kings do astonish me. One episode which keeps the king’s secret. Eventually not. The ears can be rather helpful I liked the most is “The King has the king causes the crown maker to govern the country by helping Donkey Ears.” Of course, the main to die because of the pressure of him listen to what people say and character was exaggeratedly big keeping the secret, by making him what people want from their king. with funny-looking ears that caught feel like “His heart would burst!” It is also a good thing if his donkey my attention. This story teaches the The crown maker has such a sense ears make people laugh and live valuable lesson of responsibility and of responsibility that he did not tell happily. His pessimistic attitude the importance of having an optimis- anyone, and that made him sick. The caused so much suffering, hence tic attitude. moral is evident when the crown children will find the value of an This story is a tale about maker goes to the bamboo forest optimistic attitude. a king. As the king comes to the to shout out his secret. He wants to Sometimes people are frus- throne, his ears suddenly start to overcome the uneasiness of keep- trated and become scared, but if we grow like donkey ears. With great ing the king’s secret by shouting out show a sense of responsibility, we anxiety, he hires a crown maker to the truth in the bamboo forest. This may overcome these difficulties, make a crown high enough to hide event in the story illustrates how like the crown maker did. Trying to his donkey ears. The crown maker hard the crown maker tries his best hide from hard situations can cre- promises the king not to tell anyone to keep the secret. ate even more difficulties. I can see about it. The crown maker suf- The moral is also shown by that happiness in life can be influ- fers from keeping the secret of the how he suffers from keeping the enced by a person’s perspective. king. He becomes ill and eventually king’s secret because he remains Life can be changed 180 degrees if dies. When he knows he is going to faithful to his end. The crown maker people change their way of think- die, he goes to a bamboo forest to shows a sense of responsibility. ing. The king’s decision makes all shout out the secret. He said, “The When the echo from the hills starts, the difference to his life and other king has donkey ears! The king has the king realizes that hiding his ears people’s lives as well. A positive donkey ears! Ah ha ha ha ha.” He will not help him be a better king. attitude gives us the wisdom of shouts over and over to his heart’s This leads to resolving the conflict handling situations wisely, which content. After he dies, the echo of the story. Thus, I learned a les- is a valuable gift to children. is heard from the bamboo forest son of responsibility from the crown whenever the wind is blowing. The maker’s death: He keeps the secret Sultana 15 Wesley McQuillin The Weight of Memory
A response to Tim O’Brien’s “The Things They Carried”
The memories that they went into battle with were of home: the smells, the tastes, the companionships. Once in battle these memories were still inside them and the memories would be re- flected upon, perhaps for hope, for purpose, or for the yearning of a loved one. These were easy memories to carry. However the new memories made in battle were not always as pleasing, such as the memory of a dying comrade, the memory of defeat, or the memory of one’s own pain. These very heavy memories they carried for the rest of their lives.
Sultana 16 Lorene Bastida My Angel, Fabian
My mother and brother waived their arms in anger fiercely, frustrated for not being able to per- suade each other to do as they each wanted. They shouted in a mixture of Spanish and English. My brother raised his voice and firmly, but desperately said to my mother, “No, Mom, you don’t have to go!…Para que vas ir hasta ya?” He leaded with my mother to do as he suggested. As my mother wiped the tears from her face, she sat down, exhausted. The immense amount of sadness I saw through my mother’s eyes weak- ened me. Feeling as though my role in the family was that of a referee, I tried to avoid being seen, got out of their way, and made as little noise as possible. I was afraid to leave their sight and risk missing something important, but I needed to get to the kitchen. It was about time for my chocolate chip cookies to be taken out of the oven before they turned to charcoal. However, to get to the kitchen I needed to cross their path. I got off the old couch and glanced out of the living room window where I saw my little brother Isaac and his best friend Buchi laying on the front lawn, competing over who could stare at the sun the longest. But at 94 degrees in San Diego, their top record stood at half a second. “Isaac! Stop doing that, menso!” I yelled. As I turned to look at the clock, I could hear my cookies sizzling as if crying for help. I toughened up and sprinted between my mother and brother. Overwhelmed with relief of not being detected, I waited until the intense conversation settled down. Then, I carried the small tray of cookies out to my brother Fabian, hoping he’d smile and be happy again, but out of the corner of his eye, “Not now Lore!” he ex- claimed. “Fine then, more for me!” I responded and walked back to the living room. As I lowered the volume on the TV and glimpsed outside the window to make sure Isaac had stopped staring at the sun, my heart sank when I heard complete silence. The yelling had stopped, my chocolate chip fetish was gone, and so was my brother Fabian. My mother was making drastic, life-changing decisions, and at fourteen years old, I had no say on what was being decided. A full house was nothing new, and I was used to having my aunts and cousins around all the time. As we all gathered for a regular lunch, my mother handed me a plane ticket with my name printed on it. It read: “Departing: San Diego CA, 12:40am, Arriving: Anchorage, AK 11:00am.” Her decision was final, we were leaving. My sadness turned to anger as the day of our departure grew closer. The reasons for my family moving out of state didn’t make sense to me: Why were we mov- ing so far away for my stepfather’s business? Why was he making so much more money in Anchorage than in San Diego? Why wasn’t my brother packing his bags? Knowing my brother, he wouldn’t give in. He would not do as my stepfather said. He stood his ground and would not lower his pride. He had been disrespected in the past and swore to never allow it again. Wishing my brother could hear my cries, I qui- etly begged him not to leave me, but he didn’t realize how much I needed him and his help. Praying my brother would dramatically arrive at the airport and reunite with my little brother Isaac and me, I held his plane ticket tightly. Broken hearted, I read, “Angel Fabian Bastida: Departure: San Diego 12:40am” as we lifted off the ground. I would never again be as complete as I was when with my older brother. I needed him as I grew up, I needed his protection, his advice, and his love. Hoping I could turn back time, I regretted not saying what I felt as my mother and brother fought. I should have made him raisin cookies. I should have made him more. Sultana 17 Christopher Brobst AMERICAN PIG DOG
Darkness fills my concrete cell next to me keeps trying to I have taken to drawing pic- palace of security, although I’m communicate through the wall. tures on the floor with the dirt in my cramped and sometime during the Why did I neglect paying atten- cell, knowing that with each passing past hour the blood has neglected tion back in San Diego when minute I may be ripped backwards to travel to my legs, causing hor- the instructors at survival class from my surroundings by one of the rific pain. I choose to remain, as if covered tap coding for prisoners many guards. Information is what there is a choice to remain knowing of war? What was so important to they seek, but I cannot give them only that outside my cell there is me on that day? It couldn’t have what they are after. To do so would nothing but agony. If it wasn’t for been that important. If I had paid be a betrayal of country and I would the fear of death, I would protest attention, I now would be able to not with whole heart ever feel Ameri- my current dwelling conditions, a communicate with someone with- can again. “Return with honor” has room three cinder blocks tall, two out the fear of a beating from the become the phrase passed around the and a half wide, and three long. My guy we have since named “Jug- camp during the few times we have perch a nine inch long, four by four gernaut.” What a joyous thing been allowed to amass as a group block of wood situated inconve- that would be. since the day we were captured. We niently as if protesting the already The guards walk atop our communicate secretively amongst cramped situation on the floor. I cells banging pipes, boards, or ourselves, usually in a classroom wish it would move to allow myself whatever they can get their hands where they try to use the cultural a stretch, even for a minute. on. Sitting stripped of dignity and advisors to persuade us into faltering Each of the seventy-three clothes in the scorching heat, the in our patriotism. flight crewman incarcerated here torment continues. Do my captors There’s something wrong, would rather be somewhere else— ever sleep? They must, but you I can sense a presence behind me. anywhere else—but inside the walls could never tell. Above our heads Quickly, but not quick enough, it of this camp. The stench of my own large steel poles jet into the sky. seems I return to the war criminal fear fills the air in the cell and I They are loud speakers, emitting position. The guard has noticed. In have a splitting headache from de- a sadistic collection of noises, my mind I pray it’s Amnesty Interna- hydration. The only comfort items sounds, and the constant rambling tional, the Red Cross, or some other provided are two small coffee cans of a poem: “Boots.” I never wish benevolent group that has come to located behind me at the opening in to hear this poem again, and yet set me free. As if I was never inside my cell, the urination and defeca- it is so etched into my mind that my cell to begin with, my body is tion can, and the potable water can. I hear it even when it isn’t play- planed out horizontally and I sail into Knowing which is which is steadily ing. Rudyard Kipling must have the courtyard between the rows of becoming harder to tell apart as the known when he wrote “Boots” cells. swill that my captors have sup- that it would cause this much tor- “American pig dog—you plied has more dirt than water and ment. were not in proper position!” The resembles gelatinous mud. It’s only heavily accented, broken English fills the wetness that allows me to force Try-try-try-try-to think o’ some- my ears as once more I find myself it down, for with each swallow I am thing different -Oh-my-God-keep- being the target of Juggernaut’s slowly becoming more delusional me from goin’ lunatic! amusement. Maybe this was the and dehydrated. Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin’ warning the officer in the cell next to TAP, TAP TAP TAP, TAP up an’ down again! There’s no me was tapping? That doesn’t mat- TAP, TAP TAP. The officer in the discharge in the war! ter now as once again Juggernaut is Sultana 18 turning me into a five foot human again. I begin to tell little truths, Assembled in rows of eight pretzel. small trinkets of information. I can’t the commandant has gathered us I try to think of cool breezes, let them know the whole story, for in front of his office. The flag of a of surfing the waves at Ocean Beach, this may be the only thing which small, very militant country flaps of fishing the rivers in Alaska—but keeps me alive in the next inter- from a pole in his well-manicured none of that helps. I am now at the rogation. My answers must have yard. Disgust fills me as his nation- mercy of my captors. The large, appeased them, for the commandant al anthem blares from the speakers. haphazardly “twenty-two” tattooed waves me away in disgust. Why am I here? I am not going to upon my chest no longer seems to be The sun crests the top of the pledge my allegiance to his flag, my “war criminal number” but rather tree line, and birds chirp their good nor to his country. Faintly in the a target for the fists of my interroga- mornings. I have survived another background, I hear the familiar tors. night. This cannot continue! The whomping of rotor blades. As they “What are you doing in my strain is too much and I have not get closer, a small welling of tears country? What was your mission? slept in weeks. All the prisoners fill my eyes as I hope they are Why did you bomb the school and who have survived the night will coming to set us free. church?” Each question is asked so fast, followed with a barrage of blows. I cannot comprehend what I did to deserve this. I know if I tell them what they want to hear, it will all be over. I resist as long as I can, which only irritates them. At this point I have been forcibly introduced to every wall within the small room as I am tossed from one interroga- tor to the next. The commandant of the camp sits at a small metal desk taking drags from a pungent cigar. The smoke irritates my nostrils as I collect my thoughts and fathom a be- lievable story that is short and point- less. I know that if I tell a complete lie, I will be found out. I cannot tell them the truth because it may jeop- ardize the next prisoner’s chances of soon be divided into work details Looming overhead the flag survival. to beautify up the camp. What a of a distant country flaps eagerly My captors have done their joke--there cannot be beauty in against the pole till it rips from homework and know who I am. this place; if there is, I have yet to its lanyard. The speakers belch Even in this little country the free find it. Smells of the camp staffs’ out the last of the foreign national information on the Internet has breakfast lofts through the air. Oh, anthem. The helicopter approaches betrayed me. A dossier is sprawled to have a small morsel of it would to a hover over the camp. “The Star upon the desk in front of the com- be heaven. The scraps that are not Spangled Banner” blasts from the mandant. What could they possi- eaten are fed to the dog they keep loud speakers, the Stars and Stripes bly know? Each question has been around. Am I not as worthy as is quickly run up the flag pole and tailored so that there is no way I can that dog? I think to myself, one of my captors remove their outer accurately tell a falsehood without these days I will kill that dog and clothing, revealing the uniforms of being caught. The Commandant feast upon its flesh. For the time soldiers and sailors of the SERE stands from behind his desk and being, I will be content to eat the training camps all-American Armed reaches to his belt holster, removing rare grub worm, the spaghetti of Forces. Tears pour from my eyes. a hand gun and asking the questions camp. The ordeal is over. I survived. Sultana 19 Lorene Nay A Brother Gone and the Change of Hands
Imagine living in a world where the sun to get up,” in a soft harmonious voice. I’m the baby in shows itself for a mere two hours a day in the the family, six of six, and you’re never to shake a baby. winter and never sets in the summer. Imagine liv- Even at the age of fifteen, I was the baby; I will always ing where the only way to get fast food is to catch be the baby. it yourself. Imagine growing up in a village of This time, I was so confused, so tired and con- 3,500 people above the Arctic Circle, in Kotzebue, fused. I yelled out “WHAT?” She stuttered back “Lor…. Alaska, “just a few miles from nowhere.” In the Lorena, wake up.” Without even thinking, I yelled at her winter of 2004, I spent my nights dawdling aim- “Go to bed! You’re drunk!” Now she grabbed me firmly. lessly in front of the television, inside, away from I knew something was seriously wrong. My mom mut- the white ice land. Drifters, like the snow with the tered to me “Lorena, Iri…. Iri, he’s dead.” I told her no wind, wandered in and out of my room, sometimes and that she was drunk and she yelled embracing me, staying for a rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond. “LORENA, IRI IS DEAD!” My room, or as my stepfather calls it “The Bat I immediately called my best friend Eva, who Cave,” was dark and decorated with posters, hats, lived just two doors down. I didn’t tell her much, but I and the eerie glow of the television. told her to meet me in the place between our homes. We On a night, dark and dragging constant have been meeting there, in the middle of our homes, to every other night, I was fortunate to have the since I could remember. She didn’t ask any questions company of my sister in-law Albertha, and my two and in the dead of the night, in the middle of winter, we nieces, Aleasha and Kayla. Albie (Albertha) had both raced outside. I held her tight, crushing my head not been feeling well, so my brother Iri set out to into her chest. Under the star filled sky, she asked me, the store for whatever would make his wife feel “What’s wrong?” I released my head from her chest and better. He returned with a crate of ice cream, candy whispered, “Eva, Iri…. Iri, he’s dead.” I screamed so bars to go around (mine was a Snickers), and a loud, I lost it. I was hit by an ice storm and I couldn’t smile that brightened the darkest of nights. As I stand anymore. The blizzard began. devoured the Snickers in an everlasting ecstasy, I After two funerals for Iri, one in Kotzebue and remember smiling and thinking “I love my broth- another in Noorvik, everyone in the family was worn er.” I told him so: “I love you Iri.” He returned his out. The house stood empty and the dark nights contin- love and I drifted off. ued, but even without the television on, my room was Living in ecstasy seemed to remove time. eerie. And outside, the cold winter ice continued. The My family and I were together and that’s all that storm was over, but it left behind bluffs and mountains mattered. A few nights later the night was going that I would need to climb. as planned: I was sitting in my room watching the Iri had lived just three houses down the road television, but this time I chose to sleep in my sis- from me, right next to Eva. I was the youngest and he ter Pauline’s bed instead of my own. I had drifted was the second oldest. I was his baby sister. I got what I off around 12:30 A.M. I don’t remember what I wanted. He gave it to me. He helped me with everything. dreamed and it doesn’t matter. Two hours later, at One morning, a few weeks after Iri died, I tore out of 2:30, my mom was shaking me. My mom never bed, late for school. I raced outside to my snowmachine shakes me. Her method of waking me up was and pulled on it for twenty minutes. I couldn’t get it always “Lorena, good morning Lorena. It’s time to start. I was thinking, “If Iri was here, I would have Sultana 20 already walked over to his house and he would have living in such an isolate place has its perks; however, started my snow machine. He would have started it in the number of deaths that occur and the number of two or three pulls.” After twenty-five minutes of pitiful funerals endured due to suicide is so great that I feel I attempts to start my snowmachine, I laid limp, strad- have gone to enough funerals to last any other Amer- dling my piece of junk and thinking. It was then that I ican’s lifetime. My brother did not commit suicide; understood that my brother, my Iri, was never going to it was an accident. Along with my brother’s death, be there. He doesn’t live next door anymore; he can’t however, numerous other suicides and accidents have start my snowmachine for me. I have to do everything. occurred in my life. Each person was special, each one Alaska has enough space to spread each of taught me a lesson that it is up to me to decide what I its residents out with one square mile to themselves. do with that knowledge. I was once told that knowl- That’s an awful lot of space for one person. No one edge is power and that no one can take your knowl- wants to be alone. Oftentimes, people feel alone and edge away from you. If I’ve got the knowledge and so many people have died for one cause or another, I figure, I might as well use it. My knowledge of loss is not a happy, exuber- ant possession; however, it has given me strength, and it has toughened me in ways that allow insignificant mishaps to be just that, insignificant. This knowledge of loss in many situations gives me a position where I can be on the same level as another when they are in tough times and to be there for them. This knowl- edge has given me less than it has taken, so I keep and share my experiences with those I feel need my help because back home. I’m not the only person who at one point needs another’s helping hand. I needed my brother’s hand that morning with my snowmachine, but what I learned was that Iri’s helping hand has now become my own; I just hope that I can be there when I am needed. Sultana 21 Elena Browne Valentine’s Day
Roses are red, violets are blue. Am I gonna get something this year, too? This question arises when it’s holiday time: Will I see him, smell him, or just think ‘bout him in my mind? Deployment this, deployment that… Does anybody care when I hear this I get a heart attack? Oh, I know that birthdays, Christmas, and Valentine’s can be celebrated later, But no one cares that this doesn’t make me feel better. The only thing to make my Valentine’s Day this year Is his smell, his touch, his being near. Now it’s Valentine’s Day, and I am happy to say, That the love of my life is with me here today.
Mark Tiedemann Friday Night
Hey little car get out of the way I’ve got to get this farmer his hay Flying down the road like a bat out of hell You’d better move over if you want to stay well I don’t care if you think I’m a road hog This ol’ truck can drive through any mud bog With my gun rack and monster tires All that is left behind me is a lot of fires Got to get home for some soap and water Got to get back to pick up that farmer’s daughter
Sultana 22 Contributor Notes Lorene Bastida, a freshman at UAA, moved Lorena Alice Ikkaaŋŋuraq Nay is an Iñupiaq to Alaska from California five years ago. She from Kotzebue. This is her first year at UAA. She is hopes to use her writing skills to help translate studying Biological Sciences and hopes to return important documents from Spanish to English home to work as a medical doctor. and vies versa for those who can’t. Jennifer Parker-Taylor moved to Alaska 22 Christopher Brobst is from Anchorage. He years ago from California. She is recently married, showed up late to his own enlistment into the has three children, and owns a local business. Her Navy because he wanted to go fishing the night husband is currently deployed in Iraq. She plans to before. He arrived at the processing facility the major in Business Administration, with an emphasis morning he was to fly to basic training wearing in Management. hip waiters and smelling of salmon. Mark Polito is majoring in Medical Assisting. He’s Elena Browne was born in Russia and lived in Alaska since 1979 and hopes to write a de- raised in Germany. She is moving to Georgia tailed story of his life to leave to his kids. with her American soldier husband and three- year old daughter. She plans to major in Speech RemiasReform ado, Jr. (“Jun”) was born Pathology. in the Philippines. He is the force behind a collec- tion of poetry based on women’s names, What’s in Hager Elgedawe was born in Anchorage a Name? Jun’s artistic talents spread across many to parents who born in Alexandria, Egypt. She modes, from carving to painting to poetry. hopes to become a lawyer and to get a degree in Criminal Justice. Julie Rucker is from Wasilla and is majoring in Elementary Education. She loves kids and snow- Samuel M. Giacalone is a 17 year old IDEA boarding. home-schooled student, majoring in the Crimi- nal Justice. He has been an active member of Jamie San Jose is a sophomore at UAA, ma- the Boy Scouts of America program since 1998. joring in Elementary Education. She was born and raised in Kapolei, Hawaii, and plans to return to Timothy J. Gwinn was born in Fairbanks. teach at her elementary school. He is 30 and is in his first year at UAA. Mark Tiedemann, born in Midvale, Idaho, Sung-Hae Kim is from Korea. She is a mar- moved to Anchorage in 2003 after completing basic keting major in her sophomore year at UAA. training with the Alaska Army National Guard. He is a heavy-duty diesel mechanic and working on get- Andy Lopez was born and raised in Palmer. ting his degree in heavy duty diesel. He is currently in his 2nd year of the Culinary Arts program at UAA, spending Fall Semester Lacey Watson is a single mother who just 2006 in Florence, Italy. moved to Alaska from Oregon. She is majoring in Nursing. Wesley McQuinn is a life-long Alaskan who is pursuing a career in law enforcement. He cur- Mia Xiong was born in Minneapolis and moved to rently works in construction and likes to spend Anchorage in 2000. She is a first-generation college time with his family and watchhis dachshunds student who is majoring in Accounting. She speaks run around in circles. Hmong fluently as well as some Japanese and Chinese. Sultana 23 Cover art: Mt. Sultana by Remias Reformado, Jr., 2007 Spraypaint on paper. 14” x 24”. Courtesy of the artist.