"Freedom has its life in the hearts, the actions, and the spirit of men" -Dwight D Eisenhower (short story)

     For weeks I have experienced more pain and witnessed more murders than man, woman, or child should ever have to bear.  Carrying the dead from the gas chambers to the mass graves that are being filled at a faster rate than they can be dug has left the stench of death clinging to my threadbare clothes.  But worse than the beatings, starvation, and killings is the lace of hope and will to fight back.  It seems as though the warmth of the sun is  directly connected to the spirit of the people.  And each day it grows colder and colder.  I know that if something is not done to uplift my fellow Jews the internal war that each individual is desperately fighting will soon be over.  And if these wars are not won, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that none of these people will ever regain their sense of pride and self-worth.
     As the round-faced guard approaches me I am frozen with fear that he has somehow found out about the message that has been spreading around the camp and that I am the one responsible.  because this message is dangerous to our captors for it gives us hope.  The message is so simple and yet so powerful.
     It is no secret that the Americans are fighting to free us, we have seen the airplanes fly over with heir symbol.  and we hear the bombs being dropped, each time growing louder and louder.  Now we can feel the vibrations underneath our feet.  The message, my message, has spread like wildfire from one end of the camp to the other, leaving a trail of hope.  And hope alone is our most powerful weapon.  the Nazis cannot defeat it with guns, beatings, bombs, or even death.  I am afraid but I am also proud because whether or not I have been discovered as the one who started this uncontrollable, unquenchable thirst for freedom.  The Jews in this camp will not have their fight, their pride beaten out of them ever again.  Of this, I am sure.
     The guard comes toe to toe with me and I know that I will be killed in front of the camp before the day is over, in an attempt to squash the hope out of the camp.  But as I see this in the guards eyes  the guard can see in mine that it will do no good, that a light has been lit that will never be blown out again.  The guard lets out a long, slow breath in my face and I can smell the greed, hate, and violence wash over me.  All the guard can see when he looks at me is an insignificant Jew.  To him I am a waste of life.  But the message that has breathed the breath of life into this camp resounds strongly within me.
     "Time to come with me."  the guard rumbles.
      I look him square in the eyes and proudly say "I will come with you and meet my death, but your effort to dampen the souls of these people comes to little, to late."
     The mud squelches beneath my cold bare feet as I begin the long trek to the front of teh camp where every prisoner has been gathered.  The air crackles with conflicting emotions.  Emotions of freedom that looms on the horizon, but even with this new-found hope the shoulders of my companions sag under the weight of what is to come.
     As all the guards turn towards me in unison I keep my head held high with pride and I whisper my last goodbyes.  The silence of the night is shattered by the sounds of guns being fired, of bullets biting into flesh.  But I feel no pain as I open my eyes.  The shots were fired; the shots that are still ringing in my ears didn't send hot lead pouring into my body and they have not been fired by the guards.  But by the Americans.  The camp is consumed by shouts of joy, relief, and above all else laughter.  And it seems and though freedom was closer than anyone could have ever imagined because we are free.  We are free, at last.

compare/contrast essay

    When you visit a place that you have never been to before you don’t really get the chance to understand the values on which that society was built.  One of the best ways to learn about a foreign culture is to learn from their folklore.  Most folklore is somehow rooted in the thoughts and opinions of the people that founded that particular place.  Coyote and Wishpoosh is a Native American folk tale that shows the belief of the power and personality that animals posses, according to the beliefs of the Indians.  The Canadian piece of folklore that I read also expresses the importance and value of animals.  The Bells was a Mexican folk tale that made apparent Mexico's major connection to the dead or the spirit world.  All of these folk tales show an important belief of their homelands where they were first told.
    In the folk tale Coyote and Wishpoosh the classic tale of good versus evil begins the tale of how the Indians became to be.  Coyote is determined to defeat Wishpoosh so that none will have to fear the selfish creature ever again.  When Coyote finally triumphs over Wishpoosh he distributes the various pieces of Wishpooshs’ remains all throughout the land giving life to the different tribes of the Native Americans.
    In the mountains, a young husband, his wife, and mother struggle to get by.  As the days go on the husband and his mother grow weak from lack of food but the young wife remains healthy and strong.  Soon the husband and mother grow suspicious and discover the secret to the young woman’s good health.  The wife is using her powers to draw fish from the river and as the husband watches this he carefully remembers the words she says so that he will be able to get fish for him and his mother.  When the young woman wakes she sees and smells the fish that her husband and mother-in-law are eating and knows that her secret has been discovered.  She flees to the forest but it is to late her fate has been determined by her wrongdoings and she is turned into a plaintive owl and will wander through the air as a lonely bird for the rest of her life.
    In Mexico the greed of one priest affects many lives.  for a long time this priest hoarded away money from the congregation.  After he had put away a chestful of gold he buried it along with the body of the man that he killed to guard the money.  He had every intention to go back and get the money but his health took a turn for a worse and he died before he could get his money.  He told the man next to him on his deathbed that all one would have to do to find the money was to “follow the bells”.  A poor man with a family heard of the buried gold and he heard the bells one night so he took his shovel and went to dig up the gold.  He had not taken into account the ghost that was left to guard the gold.  The man with the shovel does not get all of the gold but the ghost sees his good intents for the money and leaves him enough money to pay for his son to go to school and to help the family financially.

All three of these folk tales has a strong theme of greed and how it is punished.  The Native American and Canadian stories both show how close the two cultures are to nature, specifically animals.  The Hispanic fold tale shows the strong connection that their people have with the dead.  All cultures vary when it comes to folk tales, but they also have surprising similarities.

The Boys of Fall

Throughout the years a major problem has been building in our school systems all over the country.  This problem is made apparent in the song The Boys of Fall by Kenny Chesney.  The football players of this generation walk down the halls as though they own them.  Teachers give them free passes because they got in late the night before.  And all schools preach about “education first”  but when more money goes into the athletic fund than the academic fund, well actions speak louder than words after all, don’t they?  Don’t get me wrong, I love football and I really love it when the home team creams their opponents.  But when the boys who score that winning touchdown or recover a fumble are allowed and almost expected to strut through the halls come Monday morning, that’s when The Boys of Fall have crossed a line that was put in front of them for a reason.  

As a student in high school I have witnessed the arrogance of the football players.  Granted,not all of the guys on the team have a putrid aroma of pride oozing from their conceited minds.  A number of the guys are determined hard workers who do their best in all their classes, not just football.  It is unfortunate that no matter how many decent guys there are on a football team it seems that they will always be outnumbered by the bullies and the thugs who play the sport for recognition and to get to slam people down on the ground without getting sent to the Principal's office.  This is a problem my friends, one that thousands of people are willing to ignore just for a chance at that state championship title.