THE WALRUS 2 0 1 6 VOL. 50 SAINT MARY’S HALL SAN ANTONIO T E X A S And I asked myself about the present: As human beings, we constantly search for answers in the past, present, and future. We want to control time, and yet we know we are powerless in its presence. All humans want a purpose to their current condition, but still there are incongruencies that seem unavoidable. Kurt Vonnegut explores these same issues in his novel Slaughterhouse Five. This year’s The Wal- rus staff presents this exploration of time and space as a way to examine identity. Each sculpture, photograph, painting, and poem looks at who we are in relation to the larger universe. HowHow WideWide ItIt WasWas HowHow DeepDeep ItIt WasWas Cover Art by Alicia Amberson (12), “Pool Blues,” Acrylic The Walrus 1 Alicia Amberson Acrylic Pool Blues Cover J.T. Garcia Sonnet Sonnet 40 Gabriella Feuillet Acrylic For James B 3 Michael Casey Poem Heartbreak 41 Paige Cabianca Pencils & Leather Pencil Sculpture 5 Mia Tolin Brass, Steel, & Copper Brooch 41 Madeleine Espy Nails & Foam Future of Hate Constructed 5 Gabriela Escalante Personal Essay Behind the Curtains 42-5 Teresa Kepes Ceramic/Mixed Media Fake Coral Reef 5 Harrison Stafford Digital Photograph Chapel 43 Tom Bugg Poem Mourning Shave 6 Elizabeth Anne Casillas Drawing Landscape I 44 McLean Carrington Gouache Reflection 6-7 Julia Newton Collage Summer 45 Alex Sugg Watercolor & Sepia Escape Artist 8 Marshall Webb Short Story In a Pineapple Under Lake 46 Bailey Roos Poem Words 8 Michigan Sophie Schoenbrun Short Story The Letter 9 John Janes Digital Photograph Beach Polar 47 Ellie Eddy Charcoal Jack 9 Lena Hill Brysacz Personal Essay Tapping 48-51 Mary Barnett Poem A Lull in Time 10 Ellie Eddy Scratchboard Drawing Fist 49 Rose Wallace Poem simplicity’s whisper 10 Margaret Amberson Sculpture Lamentation 50 Ellie Eddy Digital Photograph Windshield 10-11 Daniel Lemke Acrylic Skull 51 Marian Hill Song Lyrics Album Title 11 Tom Bugg Poem Final Rites 52-3 Elizabeth Anne Casillas Short Story Perennial Monsters 12 Marian Hill Digital Photograph The Waters of Mars 52-3 Avery Travis Digital Photograph Fire 12 Diego Carrisalez Digital Photograph Cocoon 54 Sophia Allen Digital Photograph Boy 13 Jeremy Ritter Poem Gravestone of Sand 55 Michael Casey Poem The World’s Unease 13 Maddy Shetler Oil Pheasant 56 Megan Lira Gouache Feelin’ Fruity 14 Carson Wolff Mixed Media Blob 56 Gabriella Feuillet Personal Narrative I Juiced to Feel Foreign 15 Spencer Nastala Digital Photograph Body Floating 56 Marian Hill Digital Photograph Natural Beauty At Its Finest 16 Anne Rubsamen Poem The Devil Is Real! 16 Gabriella Feuillet Personal Essay Navigating the Red Sea 17 Andrea Sala Poem Time to Leave and Wonder Why 18 Sophia Gomez Digital Artwork Disconnected Reality 18 Margaret Schupbach Digital Photograph Rings 19 Anne Pentland Poem The Locksmith 19 Submission Policy: Alicia Amberson Acrylic Internal Decay 20 Natalie Curran Personal Narrative Villes et Secrets 21 The Walrus welcomes submissions from any Annemarie Pickering Digital Photograph Trapped 22 member of the Upper School student body Cita Atwell Poem Barbie Girl 22 from August through February. Teachers are Mikayla Greiner Graphite Self-Portrait 23 also encouraged to submit work for their stu- Cita Atwell Short Narrative Unafraid 23 dents. All work is judged anonymously, so we Thomas Hart Paper & Cardboard Interior 24 ask that all submissions arrive without a name Bailey Roos Poem Time 24 on the piece and with the required submission Natalie Curran Poem Separation 25 form. Submission forms may be obtained from Ross Spears Digital Photograph Iceland 25 Mrs. Amy Williams-Eddy or a literary maga- Ellie Eddy Acrylic Dead Wasp 26 zine staff member through email. Digital sub- Tom Bugg Poem Lunchtime Beat 26-27 missions are preferred and sent to aweddy@ Tim Taylor Acrylic Self-Portrait 27 smhall.org along with a submission form. All Marian Hill Digital Photograph Armed 28-9 digital photographs and artwork must be 300 Cole Patterson Poem Haiku Challenge 29 dpi and large enough for printing. The Walrus Gabriella Feuillet Collage The Test of Grit & Valor 30 staff works during lunch, after school, and ev- Nicci Mattey Personal Essay Woodchips 30-31 ery Sunday after spring break to complete the Spencer Nastala Photo Collage Concurrent Play 31 magazine. Marshall Webb Poem Seuss’ McGroose: The 32 Table of ContentsTable Drawbacks of Lorax Elizabeth Smith Gouache Ossa Et Mors Renatus 32-3 Editoral Policy: Cole Patterson Short Story Lunch in Verona 34 Ali Tolin Cardboard & Paper Venice Landscape 35 The Walrus editorial staff reserves the right to Alexia Salingaros Screenplay Time Out 36-7 edit minor errors such as gramatical and spell- Elizabeth Anne Casillas Inkwash Painting Sleepy Feet 38 ing problems, while other submissions may be Bailey Roos Poem The Blanket 39 returned to the author for other requested cor- Elizabeth Anne Casillas Ink Seated Figure in Circle 40 rections. “For James B,” Acrylic by Gabriella Feuillet (12) “For James B,” 2 How Wide It Was, How Deep It Was The Walrus 3 4How WideItWas, HowDeep ItWas “Fake Coral Reef,” Ceramic/Mixed Media by Teresa Kepes (11) “Future of Hate Constructed,” Nails & Foam by Madeleine Espy (11) “Pencil Sculpture,” Pencils & Leather by Paige Cabianca (11) The Walrus 5 Mourning Shave A Poem by Tom Bugg (12) A walk along the razor’s edge Separates life and death. The perpetual growth of tiny hairs, The passage of time sheared away, Left smooth and new. But only for a time Before the cycle repeats The passage of days and years, As we grow gray, from the inside out. In dark epiphany We lose our footing, And stumble, confused Until we fall over the edge End it all Blade in hand Shearing away what’s left beyond the hairs That they will grow no more–– As they fall into the sink, Washed away and forgotten, All the little specks Silenced by rushing water. “Reflection,” Gouache by McLean Carrington (11) 6 How Wide It Was, How Deep It Was The Walrus 7 The Letter A Short Story by Sophie Schoenbrun (10) Dear Paul, Even though you left me on the street all those years I paused the television right in that moment and called ago, I know that I am doing a whole lot better than you in life the police. I just thought that you should know that little de- right now. tail, know how angry I still am with you, even after sixteen Last week, I was sitting on the couch with my new fam- years. ily, munching on homemade popcorn with my new brother, The police eventually sent over a prosecution lawyer when a commercial break interrupted our favorite show. It to ask me if I would testify against you, and I want you to was a newscast, breaking news, and all I read was your know that I did hesitate. I wasn’t sure what was better: testify name. against you and finally get my justice, or not testify and then “Paul Reuben,” the reporter announced, “caught red never have to see you again. handed after his fifth armed robbery, and the possible charg- I shook the lawyer’s hand and said that I would meet es he might face. Coming up, at nine.” him the next day to discuss my testimony. My new brother James leaned over the popcorn and Today, seven days later, I am writing this letter to you, whispered a question, “Isn’t that your real dad?” because I have no intention of speaking a word to you at the If my brother were any younger than seven-years-old, trial next week. Oh, and one word about that: I am not the I would have been greatly taken aback, but I nodded to him forgiving type. silently, without a glimpse of a familial it’s-okay smile. I was adopted into the family before he was born, so I took it upon Signed, myself, when he became old enough, to fill him in on my The daughter you never even named very early childhood and what horrors were waiting on my doorstep when I first came into the world. Don’t think I don’t know what happened when I was oh so young, when mom left you for a life much greater than the one you could provide. I know that you purposefully “forgot” to feed me or change my diaper or even answer when I cried out on a daily basis, in the hopes that one day I would just stop, and I know that when I didn’t, you just put me in a box and left me on the curb with your garbage. I also know that “Escape Artist,” Watercolor & Sepia by Alex Sugg (11) & Sepia by Artist,” Watercolor “Escape you moved out of town that very same day. If it weren’t for my wonderful new parents who came by the hospital the day I was uncovered and took me in, I would most likely be dead. I was very lucky, but you probably wouldn’t have cared anyway. My parents took my brother to bed once nine o’clock Words came around, but I stayed awake, scanning the little televi- sion screen for any scrap of the story about you. It came on A Poem by Bailey Roos (12) about fifteen minutes in, and it took up the rest of the news- cast’s time. Words will continue to be a word, People, I guess, are much like words, “Paul Reuben was detained early this morning after his a sound long after it has lost its meaning, simply placeholders in the expanse of time, fifth recorded armed robbery, his first time to be caught on but once it is repeated all it does is simply echo, doomed to vanish into vapor, inevitably, any of those occasions.