Carpe Diem
2005
St. Pius X Catholic High School
Volume XV
Art
3
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
12
14
16
19
21
26
27
Photography
Ceramic Box by Margy LaFreniere
Graceful Woman
by Danielle Brutto
To Walk Along the Sidewalk
By Carolyn Hernandez
Still Life of Toys By Megan Kisling
The Giving Tree by Andrea Bessey
Face by Colleen Smith
Wetland Wonder
by James Watters
A Still Life of Life
by Mary Ellen Hogan
Pretty Peppers
by Shannon Barnes
John by Anna Kramer
To Play Bagpipes by Pierre Watson
A Musical Life by Laura Papania
A Loving Mother’s Touch
by Lauren Elliott
Frog by Taylor Davidson
Life Quilt by Lindsey DiRito
Poetry
4
6
8
9
13
17
23
24
25
28
At the Intersection
by Thom Schulte
Reality by Mackenzie Ricker
I Hear My Paintbrushes
Wispering
by Colleen Smith
Society by Nolan Storey
The Waffle House
by Sean Robinson
Dreams by Parker Gott
Two Old Men by Pam Kennedy
Bailamos by Ijeoma Okoro
I Just Don’t Get You
by Lindsey Rodney
The Trail by Sidney Provenzano
1
3
5
5
13
15
15
16
17
18
20
22
22
23
24
25
28
BC
BC
The Streets of Savannah
by Nina Bleacher
Self-Portrait by Allison Basham
Benched by Clare Sweeney
Fountain at 999 Peachtree
by Ryan Mckenzie
Roses by Lauren Dick
The Office Park by Sarah Asip
Very Watery Nature
by Mallory Phillips
Intentions by Laura Papania
Stairs and Art
by Bradley Handziuk
Sunflower by Brooke Stoker
A Child’s Innocence
by Chris Philpott
Jackson by Erin Conboy
Play Time by Brenna Berling
Day After Rain
by Stephanie Sizemore
Silver Bells by Mary Ellen Hogan
All You Need is Love
by Emily Sutlive
Footprint in the Sand
by Taylor Jackson
The House by Molly de Gorgue
Harmony by Kendall Broussard
Fiction/Non-Fiction
10
14
18
20
26
The Complete Baffoon’s Guide
To Being An Indie Rocker
by Ijeoma Okoro
Alone by Lauren Lightfoot
Will You Sign My Yearbook?
by Shauna Stuart
Rita’s Lessons by Laura deGive
El Tucán y Su Naríz
by Andrea Bessey
Carpe Diem 2005
Volume XV
Streets of Savannah
Nina Bleacher
St. Pius X Catholic High School
2674 Johnson Road NE
Atlanta, Georgia 30345-1799
404.636.3023
Carpe Diem 2005
1
Carpe Diem Staff
Editors
Joanna LaPaglia
Robin Nevetral
Business Manager
Artwork
Joanna LaPaglia
Cherise Basham
Addy Edwards
Prose/ Short Stories
Erin Conboy
Brooke Stoker
Samantha Stewart
Publisher
Joanna LaPaglia
Poetry
Mackenzie Ricker
Robin Nevetral
Kathleen Hendrix
Allison Basham
Brandon Echols
Tasha Posid
Photography
Kelli Weingartner
Jaclyn Darcy
Madeline Timm
Laura Pendergast
Stephanie Byron
Brenna Berling
Natasha Mattesi
Steve Spellman, Principal
Adviser
Rachel Braham
Publisher
Print Direction, Inc.
2
Carpe Diem 2005
Self-Portrait
Allison Basham
Ceramic Box
Margie LaFreniere
Carpe Diem 2005
3
4
Carpe Diem 2005
Benched
y
S
Clare weene
Fount
ain at
999
Peach
tre
Ryan
McKen e
zie
Carpe Diem 2005
5
Reality
playing
Picture a perfect woman
Delicately trace her shapely curves
Notice this: no lines or angles
Her form is not mathematics
but pure artistry
She epitomizes Poise
Beauty,
the statuette, the Aphrodite,
--The Model
Ruben sculpted her,
Donatello molded,
Rafael and Michelangelo
brushed her form upon
the mountains, the Heavens.
For so many ages
tireless centuries,
star-studded eons
of idolatry,
She was the Renaissance’s
the Enlightenment’s
the Industrial Revolution’s
“IT” Girl
Those who beheld her...well,
Men’s hearts melted in awe, while
Her protégés, wanna-be’s
admired her simplistic,
yet elegantly graceful
style.
She had lapped it up,
loving to languor
in the adoration
of her ardent
adorers.
Her fashion statement:
Pale, fresh-faced skin, yet
tinged with an
underlying rosy
radiance.
She glowed
Her voluptuous form,
ever-so-slightly-sheathed
in a robe that draped her waist
and hung off her shoulder,
6
Carpe Diem 2005
peek-a-boo
Blonde ringlets
coifed at the nape of her slender
neck...
a stray curl kissing her cheek.
She was a Natural
She was a Model
Oh.
but not so much
And not for long.
One day she fell
Tumbled from her pedestal,
Tangled, wrapped mummy-like
in her ivory shroud
Her flawless image shattered.
You see,
fame
and renown
and such trivial things as
Beauty
can go to one’s head
implanting the seedlings
of ideas
of ponderings
that ferment.
The Model cannot just be set
cross-legged on a shelf
to be gazed at
to be smiled at,
and wondered at... Oh no.
The Model wants more.
She wants to prove
how much more she can do
how much more she can become.
This was the new rule
and She was no Exception
She could not settle on being
a body in the spotlight
Isolated, elevated...Definitely not.
She desired to be an Entity,
a life in the spotlight
Intermingling with her worshipers
Graceful Woman
Danielle Brutto
By: Mackenzie Ricker
She flirted with The Media
she yanked it onto the dance floor,
dodging publicity stunts, handbag lines,
cosmetic chains, book signings,
movie premieres, night clubs,,,,,,,
She whirled and twirled
Spinning out of control
Under the Pressure
Until she ran dead on into REALITY
And it crushed her.
You see,
we are but human,
--even The Model
humans must acknowledge
that REALITY exists
--even The Model
REALITY looms overhead
Daunting, mocking
REALITY is a jealous force
--of even The Model
REALITY feels threatened
when challenged
by Overachievers
by Goal-Setters
by Dabblers
by Artistes
--by even The Model
all who question
the authenticity of REALITY,
who defy it, deny it, push it to its Limit
forcing it to finally
push back.
And oh, does it.
The Model had danced herself,
(gaunt and haggard)
over the e
dge
had acted the part,
but lost pie ce s of h er sel f
in the characters
She had ridden the tortuous wave
of the Parties, the Concerts,
the Bars
and it drowned her
---She was washed up--onto the shore,
onto the pages of
The Magazine,
with her hair ripped
her robes tattered
her body in shreds.
Focused in the Camera Lens
ready for her photo shoot:
The Model peers furtively
from behind her Mask
of animal waste and
byproduct make-up
her greasy, hairspray crusted,
chopped up locks
screen her from the harsh glare of
the Lights
Her bony chin tilts, her heavy eyes
d
r
o
o
p
her spine curves, her knobby knees bend
right angles, she angles
towards the camera
She is a skeletal form,
worn out,
painted up,
decked out,
propped up.
Once upon a time
There was an Idol
perched upon a pedestal.
Turn the page of Vogue
and She’s a Doll
propped up on a stool.
To Walk Along a Sidewalk
Carolyn Hernadez
And so The Model fell
onto the Silverscreen
into the Party Scene
smack into the middle
of the 21st Century
She fell in love with
The Camera--their affair nearly
destroyed her
Thank-you REALITY.
Carpe Diem 2005
7
of Toys
Still Life
isling
Megan K
8
Carpe Diem 2005
The Giv
ing Tree
Andrea
Bessey
Carpe Diem 2005
9
The Complete Buffoon’s Guide to Being an Indie Rocker
by Ijeoma Okoro
You’re tired of MTV’s mainstream music offal. You’re nauseated by the
overproduction of bogus boy bands and bubble gum pop princesses. You want to be
edgier… hipper… independent! But you don’t know how to start? Don’t worry! Just
follow these simple instructions so that you too can join the secret society of
the Indie rock hipsters who cast their disdainful glowers upon the pedestrian music
industry.
If you want to play the part of an Indie rocker, you need to look like one. Don’t
let people fool you into believing looks don’t matter- they are wrong. Smack them
upside the head and shut your ears whenever they start on their inner beauty
harangue. To create this rocker persona you need to develop a complete disregard
for hygiene. Who needs combed hair and clear skin? If you have any makeup or stylish
jewelry, throw it out. If you own any designer labels, give them away. If you possess
anything that could possibly be linked to a current trend, get rid of them .Everyone
knows Indie rockers never wear anything more than vintage, undersized t-shirts
in vibrant colors. Hot pink, neon green, and purple work, but avoid white and black.
A white t-shirt looks forced and awkward while black is more suited for the Goth
scene. Also the correct pair of pants can distinguish a phony from the real deal.
A tattered pair of jeans is usually the easiest solution, but even those are much
too obvious. To be a true Indie rocker, you must procure and wear Dickies. The more
ragged they are, the better. Make sure you have your second- hand Converse AllStars. And no outfit is complete without a few strategically positioned buttons
expressing your contempt for the capitalist system, the name of your favorite
obscure band, or a cartoon from your childhood. Be careful! Too many buttons
arranged in a distinct geometric shape shows too much consideration went into
your outfit layout and that would completely undermine your Indie guise.
So you’ve got the hair and outfit down? Well, you’re nowhere near the finish
line. It takes more than bed head hair and a tight t-shirt to pass of as an Indie
rocker. Looks aren’t the only thing! To successfully pull of the façade you need to
work the attitude. Everyone knows Indie rockers never show emotions beyond the
scope of boredom, indifference, and condescension. Always keep your shoulders
hunched, your voice dripping with disdain, and your eyelids droopy hidden behind
thick black reading glasses. Your posture tells a lot about yourself. It’s best to
keep a nonchalant stance at all times no matter what the situation. Even when
you’re engaged in an intense discussion evaluation the best albums of the Velvet
Underground and the Stooges, maintain an appearance of utter insouciance. When
you look like you care, you’re obviously not a true Indie rocker.
But the key element to the Indie rocker brain is revulsion for all things un-Indie.
If you find yourself singing along to the local pop station’s latest remix of “Toxic”
Face
Colleen Smith
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Carpe Diem 2005
by Britney
Spears, donate
your radio to
charity. If you
have a favorite
character
from MTV’s
Real World
series, kick in
your television
set. If you
get a monthly
subscription of
any periodical
that has age
references
in the title
including and
Wetland Wonder
not limited to Seventeen, Teen People, and Teen Vogue, don’t burn
James Watters
them because that would be harming the environment (which is so
un-Indie), but recycle them immediately. Everyone knows Indie rockers never allow
mainstream influences pollute their superior nonconformist minds. You are required
to absorb only obscure alternative music that no one has ever heard of, but you
must dropped them as soon as they become famous. You cannot mention bands like
Violent Femmes or Pixies because everyone is familiar with their music. Randomly
throw in an esoteric band name like Galaxie 500 during an Indie rocker gathering
and you get instantaneous acclaim. Also, true Indie rockers participate only in antimainstream activities. The best way to expose your maverick side is by protesting.
It doesn’t matter what you’re protesting exactly, just as long as it appears to be a
profound problem or social matter that is not in accordance with the Indie mode of
thinking. Create a catchy slogan or jargon for your issue and you get bonus points.
But if your issue or slang becomes too popular than you lose all your Indie cred
(Indie-speak for credibility).
Have you rejected old hygiene habits? Are you dressed in an eccentric
outfit found in the bottom barrels of your local thrift store? Have you perfected
your jaded facial expression? Do you only listen to unknown alternative bands on
dedicated music labels? Have you picketed at a bizarre demonstration? If you
answered “yes” to all these questions then dust off your Chuck Taylor’s and pat
yourself on the back- you are officially and Indie rocker! But remember don’t be too
excited. That would mean you are trying to look cooler than you actually are. And
everyone knows there is no greater sin the Indie world.
Carpe Diem 2005
11
f Life
Life o gan
l
il
t
A S Ellen Ho
Mary
12
Carpe Diem 2005
Pretty Peppers
Shannon Barnes
Roses
Lauren Dick
Carpe Diem 2005
13
Alone
Lauren Lightfoot
The pungent odor of decaying flesh
encroaches my nose. I do not see the source. I
scream and yelp and nearly choke yet no one comes to
save me from this nightmare. My family. Dead. Everyone I
love in the world. Gone. They left me alone.
I wander from house to house, neighborhood to neighborhood,
city to city and find cars, homes, and streets filles with dead bodies.
I do not know the causes of their deaths. I am the last person on earth
and it’s not as exciting as I thought it would be.
This world betrays my precious illusions. It was not this way in my dreams.
I am supposed to be able to do what I want for as long as I want without
consequence and they are supposed to pop in and out whenever I need them.
They do not pop in. They are not retuning to me. Visions of fairies and stardust do
not cloud my mind. My friends do not fill this world, emptiness does. This world is
abandoned. Deserted. And I am all of those things as well. No laughter fills my heart.
Not a tear of joy leaves my eye. There are tears, however. They fall silently as I
realize that my screams and sighs will not be heard by anyone.
Why did this have to happen to me? Maybe I wished for it once or twice, but
never seriously. What did I do wrong? I wish I could take back every cruel thing I ever
said
I do not deserve this.
I try to retrace my thoughts in my head. Maybe there is a solution. An answer.
Sadly, I cannot think of one. Everyday in school I can spit out answers left and
right. Who killed Desdemona? What is a common ion? I know those answers. This
should be no different, but it is. I can’t remember. I can’t piece together my
memories well enough to know what I did to bring this upon myself. I can’t even
pull myself together well enough to stand up and stop crying in the middle of
the street. Where should I go?
Maybe this a dream. Maybe I’m only imagining this.
I race back to my home and climb into my bed. The thick comforter
and pillows swallow my fragile body whole.
Sleep is my only deliverance and with this deliverance
comes peace, complacency, and stillness. All things that
this world lacks, with or without people. All things
that I have searched for only to cause more
chaos and disorders. My search is over
now. I am free to dream.
John
Anna Kramer
14
Carpe Diem 2005
rk
fice Pa
The Of h Asip
Sara
Very Wate
ry Nature
Mallory Ph
illips
Carpe Diem 2005
15
s
tion
Inten ania
p
a Pa
Laur
16
Carpe Diem 2005
Stairs and Art
Bradley Handziuk
To Play Bagpipes
Pierre Watson
Carpe Diem 2005
17
Will you sign my yearbook?
By:Shauna Stuart
As my second year at St. Pius X Catholic
High School draws to a close, I begin to reflect on
sophomore year, and I wonder What exactly have
I done this year? I have reflected on this school
year’s past experiences, but it wouldn’t be so easy
without the help of my trusty yearbook. Every
year, the week before school ends, the students at
St. Pius are given a yearbook, whether we want it
or not (we all pay a 100 dollar yearbook fee at the
beginning of the year, so it would be stupid not to
take one). We all crowd around the huge table while
the journalism students hurriedly try to find a name
and cross it out. When we
finally get our yearbooks,
we all rush off to our
corners with our friends
to sign them and giggle
over the pictures. This
is a tradition and we all
love it, but I still wonder:
What exactly makes a
yearbook so special in
the first place?
When we first
get the yearbook, we
all complain a little bit
too loudly about how
‘bad’ we look because our faces were too shiny or
our hair wasn’t lying exactly right that day we had
our pictures taken. We either smiled too much so
we look fake, or smiled too little so we look angry.
Whatever the reasons we have for not liking our
pictures, we always protest adamantly about our
friends looking at our school photos. At the same
time, we practically turn to the same page it is on
in the yearbook and say, “Don’t look at it! I look so
bad!” even though we really don’t think we look that
awful. We are human beings. We search endlessly
for compliments to feed our need egos and to feel
accepted. So when our friends say, “No you look
really cute in this picture” we smile and say, “Thanks”
because we secretly thought so all along.
Next, there is the yearbook signing. Yearbook
signing may not seem like a huge deal, but there is
more to signing a yearbook than simply writing a
18
Carpe Diem 2005
message and a name. There is an art to signing a
yearbook. Signing a yearbook does not simply involve
writing. It also involves body language. For example,
if a person singles you out in a crowd of people and
asks you to sign his or her yearbook, then that
person obviously really cares about your friendship.
On the other hand, if you just happen to be standing
there when he asks someone else, he may just ask
you to sign it because he doesn’t want to be rude.
Once you and another person actually exchange
yearbooks, thinking about what to sign can be very
difficult. If the person is a good acquaintance, but
not one of your closest
friends, you may not
want to write too short a
message because it might
give the impression of being
indifferent and impersonal.
Then again, if you write
a message that is too
long and sentimental, the
person may think that you
are too clingy. To solve
this problem, you may
Sunflower
peek over the cover of the
Brooke Stoker
other person’s yearbook
that you are signing and
watch him or her sign yours so you can get an idea
about how long your message should be. Signing a
good friend’s yearbook can prove to be even more
difficult. You and a friend may have a wonderful and
fun-filled year full of classes, parties, sleepovers,
and conversations in the hallway. But I guarantee
you, once it comes time for you to sign that friend’s
yearbook; you will not have a clue what to write. So
you will give it back to your friend and say, “I’ll sign it
later, so I can think of something really good. Just
reserve that page for me.” What you are really
thinking in your head is, “What can I possibly say
that can take up a full page?” When you finally do
sign that friend’s yearbook, you use a paragraph
to write about how great the year was, another
paragraph for private jokes that only the two of you
share, and yet another paragraph about how great
the year was.
Of course, one can’t forget the special sign
off to make one’s message truly special. There is
always the original, “Luv ya” or “C ya later”. “Sincerely”
always sounds so formal, but “from” sounds so
plain. Of course, there is the dreaded and overused
“H.A.G.S.” which stands for “Have A Great Summer”.
Whoever made
up that acronym
should be shot.
Nevertheless,
the sign off
is
always
important. It’s
like the cherry
perched atop the
whipped cream
of the ice-cream
sundae. Without
the perfect sign
off, a message
just isn’t right.
Everyone
wants to sign
a yearbook or
have a yearbook
signed.
An
underlying goal
of us all is to
accumulate as
many signatures
as possible. If
we ask someone
to
sign
our
yearbook and we
don’t have a lot of
signatures yet,
we may casually
say, “Oh. I just
got it, so not
a lot of people
have signed it
yet.” People never ask, but a person signing your
yearbook may do that preliminary “flip” through the
front and back covers, appearing to be searching for
room to sign. While this person is “searching” for
room, he or she is actually subconsciously looking
to see how many signatures you have and checking
to see if he or she has more than you do.
Like with every popular situation or fad, there
are always the rebels. When you ask them to sign your
yearbook, these so-called yearbook rebels always
say, “I’m not into the whole yearbook ‘thing’, but I
guess I can make an exception.” Then they casually
take your yearbook, sign it lackadaisically, and hang
it back to you, as if it were no big deal. These people
would gladly sign your yearbook, but not offer you
theirs. These
same
people
feel flattered
when they are
asked to sign a
yearbook, just
like everyone
else.
It is
human nature
to feel needed
and accepted.
Signing
a
yearbook
m a k e s
someone feel
special. Even if
they aren’t into
the yearbook
“thing”
they
still feel happy
to sign it.
Sometimes,
living
can
make a person
feel invisible,
especially being
in high school.
People are so
busy
trying
to find where
they fit in that
they don’t have
A Musical Life
Laura Papania
a chance to
recognize you,
much less themselves. It is like the world is a stage,
but no one is watching the production because we
are all too busy acting to notice the show has
started. Sooner or later, someone will notice you.
That person will pick you out of the crowd and watch
with an “inner” eye. That person will see you, and
you will see them. And they will ask you, “Will you
sign my yearbook?”
Carpe Diem 2005
19
Rita’s Lessons
Laura deGive
pronounce the syllables of Marguerite’s Magnificat.
It is the first day of Kindergarten at St.
Sr. Rita is working with some of the younger
John Neumann School, and I am standing with
pageant participants behind me, herding them
my mother just inside the doorway of my new
around like a mother duck. “Good, Marguerite!” she
classroom with my new teacher, who is advancing
calls over her shoulders as I finish the studiously
towards me to shake my hand. I step backwards
as she steps forwards, retreating into the hallway. memorized speech.
Coming around the altar, she moves
My backward motion is halted by a bump and a
towards me, ready to offer her advice on how to
soft exclamation of surprise.
improve my presentation. Then, as if in slow motion,
Whirling around to
face this new peril, I
she slips and falls backwards, an expression of
fearfully look up into the
face of my
surprise on her delicate features. A cry of alarm
attacker. I am met by
the
escapes my lips, but as I start to move to her side,
kindest pair of eyes
the teachers in attendance rush forward and
I have ever seen
hover over her, demanding to know
and a wonderfully
if she is all right. I change
comforting smile.
course and usher
This is no fiend;
the children
this is a nice
behind me
old lady with a
off of the
pair of large
altar, and
glasses
then
I sprint
perched on
as quickly as
her nose
I can to the
and a
school’s front
crown
office to get
of neatly
help. Realizing that
trimmed gray
there is nothing
hair. I could stay
more I can physically
standing there just looking at her,
AC
h
do
for her, I wonder
i
ld’s
examining the way her large silver cross
Chri Innocen
what she would want
s Ph
shines in the fluorescent lighting or the intricacy
c
ilpot e
t
me
to be doing. In an instant
of the fine wrinkles that frame her eyes, but my
I have it.
mother immediately appears behind me, urging me
Rita’s
second lesson: when you
to apologize for my minor collision. After a moment
find yourself in a crisis, pray, pray, and pray some
or two of listening to me stammer an attempt at
more.
an apology, she rescues me with a light laugh and
After a time spent in recovery, Rita visits
“That’s quite all right, dear. Welcome to St. John
the
school.
I glimpse her from the other end of
Neumann. My name is Sister Rita.”
“A sister,” I think. “I’ve always wanted one of the hallway; she is surrounded by teachers and
staff wanting to know if she will be better soon
those.” This is the first lesson she taught me: you
and whether she needs anything. Amazed, I stand
can never underestimate the power of a smile.
apart from the group and watch her patiently
Seven years later, I am standing on the
answer each person with humility and kindness/
altar steps, rehearsing for the annual school
the bright smile on her face extend to her eyes,
pageant on the life of St. Marguerite D’Youville,
foundress of the Grey Nuns. Slowly and carefully, I which are crinkled at the corners in cheerfulness. I
20
Carpe Diem 2005
know that if I had been in the middle of that much
condescension, I would have been more than a little
prickly. I realize that she knew how worried we had
all been about her and that at that moment people
surrounding her needed to be comforted. This
was her third lesson to me: in a trying situation,
be humble, patient, and above all compassionate,
because you never know what the other party is
going through at the time.
When the day of the pageant rolls around, I
find myself standing in her tiny office, dressed as
St. Marguerite D’Youville. Even though I have been
to countless rehearsals and spent many evenings
fixing the words of the speech in my mind, my
hands are shaking from nervousness. Rita looks at
me, carefully adjusting my veil, and I wonder
why on Earth she picked me to be her
Marguerite. I am so afraid
that I will disappoint
her. Her warm
hands enclose
mine, steadying
the, she gives
me her ever ready
smile. Then, silently,
she unclasps her
silver cross from
around her neck and
fastens it around mine.
Reverently, I touch the
cross, and then I throw my
arms around her neck. She
laughs a little and hugs me
back, and I realize that I am
no longer afraid.
Lesson number four: fear
can only truly
be conquered by love.
I am standing in my high school’s chapel,
between Sr. Rita and my old grade school principal,
Sr. Dawn. We are posing for pictures after a Mass
of Thanksgiving offered for the Grey Nuns in
Atlanta. I haven’t spoken to Rita in person for at
least two years, and I am anxious as to what she
will think of me. Dawn half-jokes: “The retired sister,
the active sister, and the sister to be. Aren’t we a
sight?”
I glance at Rita, wondering what her reaction
will be to this statement. “Now, Dawny,” Rita says
with a smile, “Don’t pressure her. That’s the Holy
Spirit’s job.” I smile with relief.
Hidden in those lines is Rita’s fifth bit of
wisdom: never attempt to take on any of God’s
responsibilities.
A breeze wafts through the trees on a calm
evening in the summer of 2004. Taking a deep
breath, I walk through the doors of the church.
There are many familiar faces in the tiny crowded
vestibule. My eyes fall on Dawn, standing to the
side with a line of
people winding
around her.
Her eyes are red
from crying. I blink
hard. The news
of Rita’s death
had come very
suddenly and
harshly to
me because
I had been
unaware
of the
A
h
Touc
s
’
r
e
h
tt
Mot ren Ellio
g
n
i
Lau
Lov
severity of
her illness and I heard
of her passing weeks after the
funeral through a newspaper article. The
church chosen for her memorial Mass in Atlanta
is of a moderately large size, but I know that her
friends will fill every pew.
I wait in Dawn’s line, wondering what I will say
to her when it is my turn. The tidal wave of grief
threatening to overwhelm me must be nothing like
what is filling Dawn’s heart. Then I am standing in
front of Dawn, who is vigorously wiping her eyes.
When Dawn sees me, she exclaims, “Here’s one that
Rita loved!” and embraces me. For a moment, we
stand there crying together, and then she breaks
away to talk with the next person in line.
Rita’s final lesson: love is eternal.
Carpe Diem 2005
21
son
Jack oy
b
Con
Erin
22
Carpe Diem 2005
Playt
na Be ime
rling
Bren
D
Step ay Afte
rR
hanie
Size ain
more
Carpe Diem 2005
23
Bells
Silver gan
o
llen H
ary E
M
24
Carpe Diem 2005
All You Need Is Love
Emily Sutlive
Carpe Diem 2005
25
Frog
Taylor Davidson
El Tucán y Su Naríz
Andrea Bessey
Los tucanes son aves con narices muy grandes y coloridas. No es la
verdad que las narices siempre hayan sido asi. Habia una vez cuando las
narices parecian normales con una tallas pequenas. Sin embargo, cuando
ellos empezaban comer el cereal de los Fruit Loops, sus vidas cambiaron
por siempre.
Un tucan con una nariz pequena y sin colores brillantes comia
frecuentamente los Fruit Loops, porque, como todoa los tucanes, le
gustaba comer frutas. (Los tucanes no se preocupan por su salud y
comen comida con mucho azucar.) Un dia por la manana, este tucan
queria comer Fruit Loops otra vez, pero solo. El era muy avaro, decidio
que el se levantaria mas temprano que los otros. Luego, el podria comer
todos los Fruit Loops sin compartir. “Es necesario que yo los comsuma
rapidamente,” el tucan penso. Si los otros tucanes nunca vinieran, el
terminaria comer su desayuno antes ellos se despertaron. Por lo tanto, el
se apresuro y entonces, sufrio las consecuencias.
Durante este proceso, mientras el se apresuraba con avaricia, po
26
Carpe Diem 2005
estaba tenida de varios colores de
los Fruit Loops, como anaranjado,
amarillo, rojo, verde, y azul. Este
tucan era muy codicioso, y habia
querido comer todos los Fruit
Loops para su desayuno, todos los
tucanes hoy tienen unas narices
grandes y de colores brillantes.
Para prevenir otra
situacion similar, los
tucanes ahora son
muy sociables y
siempre viajan en
grupos de 6 o
mas. Si un
amigo
tucan
finalmente,
los Fruit Loops
salieron. El estaba
muy emocionado
quee los Fruit Loops
hayan sido removido por
fun. El no estaria como alegre
con los resultados.
Era desmasiado tarde. Los
Fruit Loops habian estado en su nariz
por mucho tiempo y, por lo tanto, su
nariz estaba muy hinchada. Tambien,
los colores de los Fruit Loops habian
sangrado sobre su nariz y ella
necesitara
ayuda con
este accidente,
los otros estarian
alli para asistirle.
No es seguro que los
tucanes esten solos.
Con la ayuda de otros en un
grupo, ellos no se descoloraran
o agrandaran otras partes de sus
cuerpos. Es la razon que el tucan
mas famoso del mundo, Tucan Sam,
siempre esta con sus sobrinos
jovenes.
Lin
ds Lif
ey e Q
Di uil
Ri t
to
accidente, su nariz se puso en el
centro de unos Fruit Loops. Era
muy doloroso para el tucan. El
estaba solo y no podia remover
se nariz de los Fruit Loops. “Nariz,”
el dijo, “Trabajemos juntos para
removernos. Uno, dos, tres…
!Vamos!” El tiro los Fruit Loops,
pero ellos no movian. “!Ojala
que los Fruit Loops no
esten sobre me nariz
para siempre!” el se
dijo. El intento
por muchos
diea hasta
que
Carpe Diem 2005
27
28
Carpe Diem 2005
Footprint in the Sand
Taylor Jackson
Contributions and Support
SPONSOR (up to $24)
FRIENDS ($25 - $49)
Mary Jean Good
Randy and Mary Hanzlick
Tom and Weesi Kisger
Deborah Coroman and Steve Pettie
Jane Grutchfield-Groenier
Christie and Nate Jones
Mary Ann and Thomas Creagan
Jennifer and Phillip Carver
Joe and Kay Greenwood
Mr. Stan Bird
Mr. Mike Scirocco
Grummer-Strawn Family
Debra Thiele
Matt Lammers
Gail Goodman
Georges Jeanty
Lunch Room Staff of Mrs. Green,
Mrs. Birmingham, and Mrs. Variano
Nancy and Steve Bittner
Virginia and Bill Lane
Steve and Debby Lackley
Frank and Jackie Walsh
David and Beth Summers
Jenn and Chuck Martel
Charlene Klister
Posid Family
Chris and Tina Press
Ernie and Shirley Byron
Williams Family
Rebekah Jennings Murphy
AJ McCray
Donny Magana
Tyler Aardema
Shauna Stuart
Caroline de Golian
Casey and Remington Reynolds
Anthony LaPaglia
Colleen and Michael LaPaglia
Carol Magana
Peter and Mary Ann Green
CLUB ($50 - $99)
David and Cecilia Edwards
Peyton Family
Bob and Rosalie Carlston
Steve and Julie Byron
Gretchen and Joe Conboy
Ron and JoAnne Maloney
Rob and Diane McLaughlin
Steve and Dee Stoker
George and Judy Walton
Cyndi Nevetral
Jim Walsh
Steve and Patrice Pendergast
Honors ($100+)
John and Susan Euart
Jon Aardema
TGIF Potato Snacks
Joel Quartarone
John Bekkers
Paul and Lynn Darcy
Pat and Bob Timm
Halpern Enterprises
Berling Associates
Carpe Diem 2005
29
Molly The Hous
e
de G
orgu
e
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ony
Harm rd
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all Br