Blind Faith will Open your Eyes to Happiness

                            

Christmas universally should be a time for giving.  The reason the holiday exits is for only one reason- God giving us His son so we could see the best example of what God wants from us.  The problem for most of us, unfortunately, is that we were not with Jesus at that time, giving us the opportunity to see.  We have to believe without seeing, and this is where we sometimes fail.

Our generation has been brought up with the best technology has to offer.  So much so, that we no longer even have to imagine the expressions on the faces of our friends and families when talking on the phone.  We can skype.  Rarely do parents of dissatisfied teenagers pick out and buy a Christmas present to remain a surprise on that wonderful morning.  Those teenagers shop online, seeing and picking out their own present for fear of being disappointed.  Well teenagers, I bet you can't google "show me faith" and have the mighty screen pop out your request.  This kind of faith can only be seen within your heart.  It is not on the computer screen or even in a book.  This faith you will have to find on your own.

Scrooge, the legendary holiday character created by Charles Dickens, lived a life of torment until he was given the chance to see what his lack of faith  did to his life.  Take a lesson from Scrooge and picture your life in 50 years.  Did you spend your life doing whatever it took to succeed financially, or did you spend your time succeeding spiritually.  I am no expert on the right path to happiness, but I'm sure to be truly happy we have to stop thinking about our own wants and needs and start being Tiny Tims -  giving of our hearts when we have nothing else to give and knowing we would gladly give everything up to keep God in our hearts.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving

Thanks for the giving of sunlight,

Allowing shimmering light on water.

Thanks for the giving of heat,

Allowing frost to melt to dew.

Thanks for the giving of rain,

Allowing the changes of colors.

Thanks for the giving of soil,

Allowing the growth of nature.

Thanks for the giving of life,

Allowing these miracles to happen.

Thanksgiving

Pasta and Peace

Lots of activities took place in our little community over the weekend.  My mom's first cousin on the Adams side of her family, Connie and Connie's daughter Katherine, and Katherine's kids, Grace and AJ, came for the weekend.  Being the first weekend for deer hunting and Connie and Katherine not interested in hunting, the cousins decided a few years back to come to "the farm," as they call it.  They are overjoyed when the weekend they visit is the same weekend the Chiarottino side of the family is making tortelinis for their Christmas meal.  

Many years ago, the Chiarottino descendants decided to make tortelinis for our ever-growing family, for the Christmas day meal.  With over 75 people who wander down to my aunt and uncle's house on Christmas Day, it was getting to be impossible to feed everyone the traditional meal.  So, now we set aside a Saturday in November to make the much-loved Italian pasta called tortelini.  Therefore, this past Saturday my Aunt Brie, as I call her, set out the white cloths and covered her huge kitchen table while allowing space for the tortelini makers.  Aunt Brie makes and rolls the dough on an old-time, wooden ironing board then transfers the rolled, paperthin pasta to the waiting hands at the big table.  Everyone has an assigned tasks and much like a factory toaster line, the tortelinis get cut, stuffed, twisted and placed on a large sheet cake pan in order to be frozen and bagged later.  This procedure started at 9:00 and continued into the afternoon with one much-needed lunch break.  Connie and Katherine even got to take a few tortelinis home to St. Louis.

While we were making tortelinis, down the road Julio, my mom's first cousin on the Chiarottiono side, was bringing his wife Michelle home after giving birth to twin girls, then fighting for her life in the hospital for one week.  We were all so grateful to have her home with her babies where she belongs.  Today when I looked from my house toward Julio's house I saw the glorious sight of just 
their three vehicles in the driveway.  For the last week their driveway has been visited continually with family and friends helping with the daily chores and with the new babies.  Now the driveway, less crowded, seems peaceful and calm.  The storm is thankfully over, and the calm is a welcomed sight.

The Chill Disappears in the Warmth of Their Hands

     The year was 2013 in the month of October when I first experienced the "chill."  I was sitting in the creek bed of sand and rocks.  The lack of rain throughout the summer months had caused the once green grass to disappear, leaving huge cracks the size of a Missouri Grand Canyon to meander like lightning streaks on the ground.  The once-full creek, desolate and bare, made a sandy beach of sorts.  As the "chill" moved through me, I quickly looked around me thinking a breeze had moved in.  However, the fall leaves of gold and orange stood motionless which giving me an eerie feeling down to my toes buried in the sand.

    My family had gathered, as they have been doing since 1979, in the field of the Chiarottino farm to celebrate the life of my great grandfather, Grazeo Chiarottino.  He had died in this field while chopping wood, and an annual picnic in the very spot of his death had emerged.  Fun, food and exploring are always the main activities for the day.  This day started no differently than any of the others until the "chill."  I took a concerned look at my family around me and noticed something very strange.  It appeared I was looking at them through glasses which made them seem distant and not a part of my world.  Their actions seemed to be deliberate and in slow motion and yet seemed quite normal.  Then suddenly it occurred to me, I couldn't hear the obvious noises I was witnessing.  I shook my head and banged on my ears but to no avail.  The only sound I heard was my heart beating faster and faster.  As I stood up, I noticed my feet weren't touching the sand anymore.  I seemed to be floating and yet walking at the same time as if a transparent floor were beneath my feet.  I tried to walk toward my family, who were up the hill a short distance from me, but instead of getting closer to them, I seemed to be moving farther and farther away.  I kept wanting them to look at me and notice I was in trouble, however, they had no reason to search for me because they had no reason to worry.  I had always spent most of the day during this annual picnic away from the crowd and finally in the late evening i usually would find my way up the hill to head home.  Fully aware the time was around noon, I knew they would not come looking for me for a long, long time.

    The transparent conveyor belt took me farther, farther away from the comfort of my family, and all the while I kept feeling this uncomfortable chill in my bones.  Then suddenly as if I had turned off a television picture, my family disappeared, and I was standing on the ground once more.  The trees around me were absolutely beautiful with the leaves in the brightest autumn colors I had ever seen.  I started walking, not knowing where I was heading.  In the distance I heard the sound of a car approaching.  I turned in the direction of the motor sound, and I saw a blue, antique car moving slowly in my direction.  After observing the car for awhile, I realized it was the old, blue Ford owned by my great-great uncle Mike.  This old car has been parked in the dump pile located in this very field for years.  Instead of mice-eaten upholstery and rusted frame with four flat tires, the car was perfectly in tact, shimmering in the sun.  As the car approached, I noticed there were no occupants- the car was driving itself, and the steering wheel was turning ever so slightly as if an invisible person were guiding the car straight to me.  When the car stopped in front of me, the passenger door opened as if to say enter, and so I did.  At this point after closing the door, I realized the "chill" had left and a very calm and peaceful feeling replaced my fear.

    The car drove on for a time, but we didn't seem to be driving in the field or even on a road.  As we drove different visions moved past the car windows, and I noticed the visions were events of my past; events such as vacation spots, birthday parties, and holiday celebrations.  The visions were so real I felt I could reach my hand out the window and touch them and become a part of that time again.  I didn't move; however, I simply sat back and watched.  As I was watching the visions, I noticed the scenes were going past in decreasing chronological order.  I was no longer 18 years old, but ten, then five, then one, and then the car stopped.  

    After the car stopped, my passenger door opened, and I stepped out.  When my foot hit the ground, everything went pitch black.  I could no longer see.  The thought of not seeing should have terrified me, but instead I felt an enormous sense of calm coming over me.   I walked a few steps when I felt a distinct presence surrounding me, and then someone took my hand, and I knew I was to follow.  Blindly we walked hand in hand until I saw a light ahead of me.  The light at first was the size of a pinhole, and as we walked closer to the light, the hole increased in size.  I felt as if I were walking through a tunnel, and felt such desperation to reach my destination.  The only concern I had was of course, what was my destination?

    After what felt like several minutes of walking, we reached the end of the tunnel.  The scene in front of me was nothing short of miraculous!  Standing in front of me was a group of people surrounding a little, white house.  I'm sure you're  thinking why is that miraculous?  The house in front of me was the house my family refers to as the "homestead," and the people surrounding the house were children of all ages and sizes.  I couldn't be sure of the identities of each child but I knew they belonged to this vision and therefor seemed very familiar.  The children were enjoying games such as tag, hide and seek, and Annie over, just to name a few.  Some of the children were riding trikes and mini cars up and down the sidewalk.  I tried to interact with some of the kids, but no one paid any attention to me.  When I turned to ask my friend from the tunnel a question, he or she had disappeared.  So, willingly I stood and watched the activities of the children who obviously could not see me.  After a while I made my way to the swing in the yard and sat down to enjoy my time in this special place.  While I was sitting, I tried to examine each of the children to discover his or her identity.  So many of them had similar facial characteristics; some with dark hair like mine , but most had light brown hair like my older sister.  A few of the children sported a full head of tightly woven curls and in the barn were two red-headed children deep in conversation.  Even though the children's hair colors varied, the similarities in their expressions were noticeable.  I also noticed many children who did not share these qualities at all as if they were just visiting the "homestead."  The only thing I was absolutely certain of, was all of them belonged in this scene at this home.  

    The children were enjoying themselves, evident from their smiles and laughter.  At one time, some of the children made their way to the barn and filled a gunny sack full of hay that was scattered on the floor.  Then with a long rope which was tied to the barn rafters and also tied to the end of the sack, the children took the sack up to the top of the bales and then jumped for an amazing swing through the barn.  After a turn on the swing, some of the children made their way back to the yard, but needed to walk carefully or they could end up with a couple of fresh cow patties squished between their toes.  Fortunately a few kids were having a water fight with the hose, so cleaning up was a snap.  A little children's pool was located on the cement pad next to the shanty, and I noticed a little boy with black hair sitting and splashing in the pool.  I seemed especially drawn to this little boy.

    Just about that time when I was admiring the little boy, the familiar "chill" came upon me.  This time, the "chill" was really a chill.  Suddenly my vision turned to white, and each of these rambunctious kids was wearing snowsuits and trudging through the snow.  Each was carrying a sled.  Some sleds were older sleds with the old fashioned runners, and some were plastic toboggans.  It was then I noticed the children were dressed quite differently from each other.  The styles of clothing varied from the styles of the 30's to the styles of today.  It was with this observation, I realized my vision had allowed me to witness many different groups of children from different decades.  I quickly turned around to look for the little boy from the pool and I couldn't see him.  Disappointed, I turned away and then heard the bang of the house door.  Turning to look in the direction of the sound, I saw a little girl with a bright pick snowsuit on running or more accurately waddling toward the others who had already commenced sled riding down the enormous hill.  When the little girl unknowingly passed me, I realized it wasn't a little girl at all, but was the little boy I had been gazing at earlier.  

    After several minutes of enjoying the sled riders, I noticed the snow melting and like the snow, the children's winter clothing disappeared.  Back in the house yard, kids were piling up the thousands of dead autumn leaves.  What fun they were having jumping into and throwing those leaves.  By one of the huge, magnificent looking trees, some children had hauled water to the sand pile to make mud pies.  I wandered through the yard in awe of the simplicity of the play activities and yet each and everyone were having a wonderful time.  I sat down once more on the much-loved swing to simply take in the vision of memories I had been given.  Some of the visions I witnessed were my memories and some were not.  I understood I had been given a gift.  I was given the gift of hundreds of other children's memories relating to this remarkable home.  Then, as I had just relaxed, I felt the "chill" and suddenly sadness enveloped the space surrounding me.  The dinner bell hung on the post by the barnyard fence was ringing and the children were walking away.  Each walked hand in hand going in various directions and all with a glow of happiness on their faces.  As they were walking away, that familiar touch of a hand grabbing my hand developed and I was being guided back through the tunnel to the blackness within.  

    The blackness was not frightening anymore.  My heart was full of pure pleasure and I desperately hoped it would not go away.  When we reached the beautiful blue Ford, the passenger door once again opened for me allowing me to sit on the immaculate upholstered seat.  As I placed my hand on the seat, I felt something different.  It wasn't a cloth feeling from the upholstery, but the feel of soft leather.  I could not see the object, but I let my fingers explore.  As I moved my fingers inch by inch in several directions, the object became clear in my mind- a leather jacket or coat.  I kept my hand there as I traveled, feeling certain I was heading back to 2013 and the picnic.  

    The visions once again passed by my window only this time in increasing chronological order.  Anxious to get back to my life, I was captively watching each scene with great anticipation.  Just when I took comfort in the thought of returning, I noticed I couldn't recognize the scenes any longer.  I had passed the scene of the picnic and hadn't stopped.  The visions passing my window were foreign to me.  I believed I was actually in the scenes; however, I could not recognize myself anymore.  The "chill" came and went as we were traveling, and I became terrified.  I tried to open the door of the blue Ford, but I could not.  I was trapped- never to return to my life, I surmised.  Suddenly the car stopped; the door opened; I stepped out, but this time when everything went black.   I had some comfort from the previous experience.  And then it dawned on me.  I had traveled beyond 2013, and I was so excited to get a glimpse of my future.  The familiar touch of a hand guided me through the tunnel following the light.  I was absolutely sure what I was going to see, and my heart was exploding with excitement and pleasure based on what I had seen earlier at the end of this tunnel.  And then I fell!  My body landed on the sand of that barren creek and my family still on the hill involved in the same activities as before, unaware I had left.

    Many times I have wondered what I was not allowed to see at the end of the tunnel and why it was kept from me. What would the vision have been?  One thing I know for sure, is the hand that guided me in and out of the tunnel was a hand of caring and love.  The touch of that hand is the memory that will last long after the visions have faded.

The Forgotten

The barn stands lonely,

Longing for the noise of farmers within.

The rafters hold on desperately,

To save the noble walls.

Vision through the tattered windows,

Blocked from waving yellow.

Soon will see,

As harvesters appear.

Will they notice the barn?

Will they care to preserve?

The barn stands lonely,

With one constant friend.

To shower with light,

And give the barn hope and strength.

Waiting....

Changes

    Change, whether its accepted or not, will happen, much like the changing of Missouri seasons.  However, even with changes there can be joyous occasions.
    Yesterday, my family met at the home of my grandma and grandpa Adams.  They have been gone for almost ten years, but last night I could feel their presence with us in their newly painted rooms of yellow.  My mom had invited "the aunts" and some cousins over once more before the weather gets cold.  She and her sister try to keep Grunda's house alive, but also have decided to be financially fugal and not run the heat in the house.  So, early yesterday morning my sister, Dominica, ran down to the empty house and plugged in the lone space heater and cleaned up a bit.  When everyone arrived at 6:00 in the evening, the house was warm and inviting.
    Before entering the house, the gang sat on the leaf covered lawn in lawn chairs chatting and sharing stories.  My mom and Dominica found another lover of sports and was coaching little cousin Emma on the correct way to throw a softball-not like a girl.  I was sitting with Sparky watching the other cousins running and playing some sort of game, listening to the crunching of thousands of leaves that have already found their way to the ground.  As the sun was setting and the air was cooler, someone said it was time to eat.
    My family slowly made their way into Grunda's home entering from the front door.  I always find this to be so odd since when my grandparents were alive, we never entered from the front.  We would head down the sidewalk, round the back of the house, and climb the small porch steps to enter from the back.  As we all gathered in the kitchen, our favorite hangout, the smell of chili floated through the rooms beckoning us to enjoy.  The women were busily placing the food they brought on the counter, causing Grunda's kitchen counter to look like a colorful patchwork of food.  At the end of the evening, the patchwork colors, as always, had disappeared.
    For the majority of the evening, I sat in the living room listening to the many, many, conversations in the kitchen.  One group would get louder in order to be heard, and so on, until someone would let out a loud whistle or whoop in hopes to gain some quiet and shortly thereafter the many conversations would grow in volume again.  It has to be this way- it has always been this way.  This has never changed.
    When our stomachs were satisfied, temporarily that is, a game of cards commenced around the kitchen table.  The few who were not playing cards found their way to the living room.  Usually this is my clue to leave to find another isolated spot, but for some reason last night I remained.  The other younger cousins had left to go to the Lenzini's, so I was left to enjoy the adult's activities.  Amy, Geno and my mom decided to sit in the living room with me and talk.  Every now and then I was asked to participate, which I graciously declined.  However, once my mom and I got into a wrestling match on the floor, and this caused both of us to get the giggles.  Even Geno and Amy couldn't  stop laughing.  The card players, now miraculously quiet, enjoyed the game of "Hand and Foot" with a homemade pocket shaped like a foot draped around their necks.  To the outsider this could look odd and also hilarious, but the foot has a definite need in the game of "Hand And Foot."  As I understand, each player has two groups of cards; one called the "hand" which is played first and one called the "foot" which is played after the completion of the "hand".  In games past the "foot" would get lost and really disrupt the flow of the game only to be found under the leg of one of my aunts who had forgotten she placed it there for safe keeping-hence the need for the pocket foot in which to place the second group of cards.  A change for the better!
    As the evening came to a close, "the aunts" got one more cup of coffee, and something sweet to eat.  Edythe Anne had made an apple cake from a recipe belonging to my great-great aunt Mary, the much loved woman who has been talked about fondly all of my years.  Unfortunately, she passed away long before I was born.  Aunt Mary has always been synonymous with the original homestead; the home in which many, many, of her nieces, nephews and great nieces and nephews found heavenly refuge within its walls.   "The aunts" had another sweet choice last night - pizzelles.  After my mom, dad and sister cleaned out my dad's grandparent's basement, they found Noni's pizzelle press.  Dominica and Mama made a batch yesterday in honor of Noni who had made so many during her life with us.  Daddy talked about not only the hundreds of pizzelles Noni made for my parent's wedding 20 years ago, but also hundreds of zuccarinis.
    As my family left, one by one, out the front door, not the back, I heard them thank my mom for inviting them and express what a good time it had been.  Each of them, I'm sure, were thinking of the many changes our lives have seen through the last ten years. However, this particular change has not dampened our moods one bit as was evident with the high volume of food and conversation this now-empty house experienced last night.  So, in my grunda and papa's house, whether you enter from the front or the back door, good memories will always be found happily, swirling around in the rooms of this very special home.

"Faith Pathways"

Art and explanation by Antonio Prokup

See the First in the Series, "Autism Pathways" HERE

Second in the Pathway Series

    Do paths in your life always lead somewhere, or are there dead ends?  Most paths in my life have been bumpy with life altering circumstances, but one path has always been clear to me:  the path of faith.  My paths, luckily, have always led me away from the evil found in this world.  The very dark existence of evil has never been close to my heart.  Why, you may ask, have I been able to avoid the temptation?  Faith!  Faith, (buttons), has led me to the gloriously golden side of life.  When this God given faith was placed in the middle of my heart at birth, it eventually spread throughout.  Some days the faith was strong and bright, but unfortunately there were days it almost disappeared. I found this path, toward God (keys) easier to follow when it led me to a place with walls in which the people inside shared the same bright, untainted faith.  This faith will eventually lead me to a place where all people are perfect with no disabilities (spheres without holes) and I will be enveloped in the glow of my faith.

Why Do You Read?

  

    Why do people read?  We read for information, inspiration, or simply entertainment. It has always been viewed by the majority, reading is a good way to improve your existence on earth.  I believe this as much as every avid reader I have ever encountered.  But, and I'm going to offend the reading world now, but I truly believe reading, like everything else in your life, should be done in moderation. 

When anything else is done to excess, it leads to concerns, so why not reading?  Let me explain.  I have been reading lately what can be considered inspirational stories. And, in fact they have inspired!  But too much inspiration can lead to a feel of inadequacy.  At least that is how I feel today.  To be constantly told that if I were to think right, pray right, or believe just right, miracles can happen. 

 I do believe in miracles and always will, but it's  exhausting waiting for one and thinking I am not worthy.  So, from now on I'm going to just live my life as best I can.  I will pray, of course; however, I will not let another writer's words seep into my soul.  I will, in moderation, derive inspiration and or information from their words, but in the end I will live my life according to my words, whether they are typed or spoken.  In the end, God will hear both!

I'm reading "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" next!  Whew!!

Refreshed, Renewed, Rejoice

 "Taking on  a new life" is the feeling I got when I stepped into our church, Sacred Heart, in Bevier last week.  It has recently been painted.  The last time it was painted, I've heard, was 40 years ago.  The altar society decided to paint it the same brilliant, yellowish gold as before.  This choice of color allows for everything in the church to glow, especially the elegantly majestic altar.  Therefore, this new paint job brought a new, refreshed, and rejuvenated feeling when I walked through the doors.

The paint may not be the same color as the painted walls my mom remembers from her childhood, but all things change.  The trick with accepting change is to look always for the positives incurred with that change.  Has the change in the color, changed the purpose of the building?  Has the change in the color caused change in the way we worship?  Has the change in color caused our faith to waver?  The obvious answer is no.  

Thus, this change has limited us in no way.  In fact, I see the change has accomplished a sense of pride from the members of our parish.  Pride to continue with mass when the church was being painted and pride when lights  glowed late into the evening as the altar society ladies cleaned and carefully placed the beloved statues back in their places of honor.  This pride and, of course, faith will live much longer than the brightness of the newly-painted  church.  However, this fresh new look brings fresh new energy to the members of Sacred Heart.

Sammie, My Security Blanket

I have had two weeks with my service dog, Sammie. She is a beautiful, full-blooded black lab. She is not quite a year old, but not as active as you might think. Sammie plays hard in the house with our other little dogs, Eddie and Blondie, but when the service vest is on, she immediately becomes calm and all business. My mom holds the leash attached to her collar, and I hold the leash attached to the vest.

On the second day Sammie was with us, we put both her and I to the test. My mom had planned a huge day. So, with Dominica along also, we went to eat at our cafe in the pharmacy. Sammie was very good and sat under the table. She impressed us so much. But the best was yet to come. After going to our church to complete our weekly duties, we went to Orschlen's and Walmart. I know my mom was nervous and anxious not knowing what to expect, and so was I. Somehow holding on to the leash gave me a sense of comfort I have never felt in a public building. We shopped in both places for maybe 30 minutes each, and Sammie and I performed to perfection. Normally I would need to hold on to a cart and when stopping I would sit on the floor. I did not ever feel the need to move or bolt away. It was an amazing feeling.

At home, Sammie has little freedom. We want to allow her time to trust us so we can trust her. We have a cage in my room, and Sammie sleeps in my room every night. It is fun to have a companion with me all the time. Sparky, my outdoor yellow lab, is being quite protective of me, but I hope the two dogs will get along in the future. Maybe I will have Sammie as my indoor companion and Sparky as my outdoor companion.
Sammie has changed my life so much already ---- going to classes with me at school and walking through a crowded hallway with the school bell ringing. I can only wait with excitement for the new activities and adventures yet to come. Sammie allows me to blend a little better into society, although she is so adorable everyone aches to pet her. However, please don't. When she has her service vest on, she is working. So, therefore, if you want to play with her, come to my house. We are the house with now five dogs, 16 cows, and a three-legged cat.

Class of 2014: We Have Arrived!

The Final Year!

Today is the first day of my senior year at Bevier High School. What an exciting feeling to have made it through all the grades when it was quite possible the best I would ever do was to attend a state school. Thanks to the many people who have helped me here at school, I will be able to graduate with the friends of my class of 2014.

Today during our class meeting I was elected secretary, and I am honored to do that for this class. They have always looked at me with eyes of acceptance and respect, and I love them for that. Yes, I grew up with them so they have adjusted, but never in 13 years have I felt inferior to them or have they made fun of me. I believe that is a remarkable thing to say.

I am fully aware of the fact that our lives will soon go in entirely different directions; however, I know with complete confidence when each of them says my name in the future, even 20 years from now,  my classmates will say it with a smile and with love. I know that's how I will always feel about them----the class of 2014.

Worth the Wait

    Time is either loved or dreaded depending on the circumstances.  When school starts in August time will be hard to accept, each day, until the 3:15 bell rings for dismissal.  And yet, that time will seem to fly when May comes and I am no longer at Bevier High.

    Well I'm sure you are wondering where I am going with this.  Time, this past week, was kind to me and was definitely worth the wait.  My grandma Prokup has always lived very far away from me.  I have had little time with her and on those rare occasions when our families were together, because of my constant fear of the unknown, I kept to myself.  So, time and God were extremely patient with the situation and allowed me to finally make a connection with my grandma.  This past week she seemed to understand me better and I was able to allow her into my world.  We shared not only space but words and experiences.  I am definitely looking forward to time passing quickly to be able to see her again.

Family

What makes a family?  A family whether small or large, is a family because of shared experiences and unconditional acceptance.  Well this past week our house was full of family members of the very large Prokup clan.  My dad has 8 siblings and all but 3 attended the first family reunion at our home.  Every available bed was taken to accommodate the 20 heads that needed a place to rest after a very successful gathering.  A party was planned for not only the reunion but to celebrate the 80th birthday of the head of the clan, my grandpa.  There was food, drink, perfectly decorated cakes by my aunt Linda and to end the evening- a spectacular fireworks display, thanks to my dad.  And so, we, the Prokups, added to our list of shared experiences in order to continue this very large and unique family.  

A Look into our Final Home

    I have always dreamed about heaven and thought it was a place of peace and contentment.  I still do.  However, after reading Proof of Heaven by Dr. Eben Alexander, I am so sure what I see in my dreams will come true.  Without a doubt!

    Eben Alexander is a neurosurgeon who was in a coma for seven days.  During those seven days his brain was not working, but also during those seven days Eben experienced heaven and was in the presence of God and other beings he referred to as angels guiding him through.  As I was reading the book, I kept jumping for joy inside because I could see and feel the place Eben was describing.

    Many nights I lie awake imagining what being in heaven and experiencing perfection would feel.  I have always thought it would be a place where I finally would be able to verbalize my thoughts.  However, from this book I learned communication, as we know it to be here on earth, is not the way they communicate in heaven.  According to Eben, their mouths did not move and yet they communicated in such a clear and concise manner with complete and total understanding.  What a miraculous way to communicate- not with just your mouths and ears, but with your eyes, heart and soul.

      Dr. Alexander also believes now because of his time in heaven, that God puts evil on Earth so we, with a free will, are given the opportunity to make the right choices.  He also says the amount of good on earth outweighs the amount of evil.  Throughout the book Eben continually expresses the love God has for everyone, even those of us who make the wrong choices.  I am so grateful to know what I have always known, that God is forgiving.  We always are given the opportunity to make amends, even when we think there is no hope of eternal happiness.

    After his time in heaven and his complete recovery, Dr. Alexander has read numerous accounts of near death experiences and compared them to his own experience.  The one thing I find very interesting is not once have I ever heard from those lucky few the distinctions of religions.  As far as I know, not one person who has been lucky enough to experience life after death has indicated a certain religion being recognized during their time in heaven.  Each one simply experiences an enormous feeling of love from a Supreme Being.  What a wonderful feeling to finally be in a place with no competition, no jealousy, no imperfections, and no anger.  Someplace where even I will be accepted by everyone --- and heard.

Epilogue of Final Portfolio

As I read these pages and tried to find the author
within each piece, one thing kept boldly staring me
in the face. The person who wrote these words
loves words and how they blend together to create
an image for the reader. The image I see of this
author is one of glorious colors of light seeping
through his existence. It is obvious his physical life is
different than most, but heartache cannot be found
in his words. He has no room for what if's or
maybe's because what he is searching for he
peacefully and gratefully has found. The light at the
end of his tunnel will hopefully be a glorious reward
for his indescribable faith that seems to guide him
forward.

The Title of My Final Portfolio, "Seek and You Will Find Me."

"Seek And You Will Find Me" has two purposes. If
you read these pages carefully, you will find the real
Antonio somewhere among the words. I love the
written word. I survive by the written word. My
whole existence is because of the written word.
However, if you look deep, not only at the words,
but where the words originated, you will find
someone else standing right beside me helping me to
convey the written word to you.

WHO I AM!

SON - I am the son of not only Jamie and Janet Prokup but of my
spiritual Father who will guide me in the right direction.

CATHOLIC - being Catholic is not only my religion but a major part
of who I am.

PROPHET - I am a modern prophet of sorts willing, through the
written word, to talk about God to whomever wants to listen.

DISCIPLE - I will always do my best to spread the word of God
through my actions.

BELIEVER - I believe in the goodness of people and in this world
because ultimately I am a believer of God.

SPARKY

Pets are considered to be a person's best friend at times. For me
that is so very true. My dog Sparky is my best friend and loves to
be with me as much as I love to be with him. When I go outside, no
matter what time of day, Sparky runs to me wagging his tail in great
anticipation of what I may do. Most of the time he fetches rocks,
which he has been known to do for hours, but sometimes he just sits
by me. We seem to communicate in silence and understand each
other perfectly. I am soon getting a service dog which I am excited
about. However, the last thing I want to do is hurt Sparky's feelings.
Knowing Sparky, he will accept our new friend with open paws!

Treasured Memories

Someones junk may be another person's treasure. Most things I
treasure, may seem undesirable to others but to me they are special.
The one item I treasure probably more than any other is the candles I
have in my room.

When my Grunda and Papa died, the funeral home
graciously offered us the opportunity to purchase large candles with
pictures of my grandparents on the glass candle holder. My candles
are both placed on my dresser and fortunately sitting far away from
the window. This fact has kept them from fading so the pictures are
still bright and beautiful.

We have only lit the candles once so not to
use up all the wax. I love that I am able to look at Grunda and Papa's
healthy and glowing faces and remember their presence in my life.
What great memories I have of both. Their light will forever glow in
my room and in my heart!

State Academic Bowl Finalist Making History

Students in sports have the opportunity to compete and be recognized on several levels and throughout their career at school. The academic achievements of a student, however, is not recognized as much. Sadly, as a result, teams such as academic bowl teams suffer from lack of participants and .: lack of importance. So, anytime a school the size of Bevier manages to put together not only an academic bowl team, but one that is truly competitive in the state, it is remarkable. That is exactly what happened in Bevier in the spring of 2013.

 I, Antonio Prokup, was privileged to be a part of this remarkable team. The team coached by Brian Toll consisted of 10 members, sophomores through seniors. Team members were Seniors Heath Petre, Tayler Hedworth, and Chandice Gladbach. Juniors were Andrew Peter, Aaron Peter, Jeremee Nute, Blake McElhaney and me. sophomores were Emily Bader, and Jacob Peukert. These 10 students worked very hard at their sport and represented our school well.

On the morning of May 3, 2013 my mom and I got up early to follow the team to the schools very first appearance at the state level in academic bowl. I was so excited to be a part of such a monumental occasion. I was determined to be with the team and to represent Bevier. I even was able to be a part of the team photo and anyone who knows me will know how rare that is for me to say.

After the photo, our team made their way to the first game room. Extra chairs had to be brought in to accommodate our enormous fan following. Some official even said that Bevier has a standard of bringing their whole town when supporting their teams. Unfortunately, after playing 3 games and ending with a record of 1 and 2 we did not make it to the final four.

Coming home with 5th place, however, was something we should be proud of and I of course will never forget the experience. The four starters will forever have my sincere admiration for a job well done. Now when I walk through the halls of Bevier in 20 or so years and see my name along with theirs in the trophy case, I will forever be grateful to them for not only their intelligence but their desire to be on the team. This desire led our school's making history.

An All-purpose excuse

Dear Mrs. Pappenfoht,

I am so sorry I am late for school. You won't believe what happened to me today.
Actually, I am having trouble believing it myself.

Today, like any other day, I woke up in my quiet room. The house was quiet also
because my dad had already gone to work and I always get up before my mom. So, I just
lay there listening to the blissful silence. All of a sudden I heard this horrible sound
outside my door. When I opened the door, I immediately gasped with fright. There in my
living room was a spaceship full of tiny polka-dotted people with black eyes and green
antennas. They rushed toward me and took me into their spaceship. I was so frightened
and yet somewhat intrigued. It must have been the writer in me - enjoying the adventure
to write about later. So anyway, when they closed the door and somehow magically flew
away, I was fully aware of the magnitude of this experience.

Then suddenly I was dropped off onto what must have been their planet. It felt weird because I was unable to see any light at all except a faint glow of blue in the distance. As I walked toward the
glow all I could feel were fluffy clouds, or at least that's what I thought they were. When I
reached the glow, I heard a faint voice in the distance. I was having a hard time hearing
what was said. Then with a snap the fluffy clouds smacked me in the face and was
ripped away from me. At that instant I heard with great clarity, "Antonio, get up I over
slept!" As my mom grabbed my blanket and yanked it off, there i was in my own room
with only the blue light on the tv screen illuminating my room.

So, you see, Mrs. Pappenfoht, I could say I was late because I simply overslept, but it is
much more useful for this writer to say I went to another planet instead of your English
class.

Nano Nano,
Antonio, or better know as Prork

Through Fear Came Satisfaction

I have a fear of so many things and places I could write volumes, but the one place I remember as
fearful and yet amazing was the Mark Twain Cave. I was in fourth grade when our field trip that year
was to the Mark Twain Cave in Hannibal, Missouri. I'm sure my mom had to believe I would never enter
the cave. But, off we went with the class for the day. I'm sure she thought if all I did was picnicked with
the class, then the trip was successful. However, in true fashion when the others got up to go through
the cave, my mom told me we were going to try. I remember being so nervous and afraid. And sure
enough when I saw the entrance to the cave I backed away and bolted in the opposite direction. My
mom did not want to force me, but fortunately Beth Ashenfelter's mom, Genia, decided to make an effort
and coaxed me not only to the mouth of the cave but over the threshold and into the amazing interior. I
will forever be grateful to Genia for caring.

Once inside the cave, the feeling of closeness was overpowering but I didn't want to leave. Even
though I felt so cramped and claustrophobic I was so very much intrigued with the sites within the cave.
As I walked past the walls of the cave I could feel the cool and almost slimy feeling as I brushed by. The
air was chilly and yet refreshing at the same time. The colors from the lights shining on the stalagmites
and stalactites looked like icicles of rainbow colors shimmering in the darkness. The little stream that
meandered through the cave moved along calmly and was hypnotizing to watch. If I had my choice, I
would have sat by the water all day. But, unfortunately tours move fast, sometimes too fast, to enjoy
every aspect. As we walked along the curvy path we stopped to take pictures and I think I was even in
a few. My mom and I were at the end of the line so not to impede someone else's pace. After what
seemed like a very long time, the cave's walls appeared to be moving closer to me. I knew it was time
for me to exit, but each time I looked up all I saw was another bend in the curve.

I was trying to enjoy all the sights, but ached to see a glimmer of sunlight. I walked faster and
refused to stop for photos anymore. I could tell my mom was worried how long I could take the pressure.
And then I saw it. As we rounded what was the last bend, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel! My
heart jumped and I ran outside - back to my comfort zone and back to familiarity. To this day, I don't
know how I was able to walk through the mouth of that cave, but through the fear I experienced another
world.

To Kill A Mockingbird Short Answer Thought/Journal Topics

 Lee uses Mayella’s flowers as a symbol to give the reader an insight to Mayella.  Other than being poor and one of several children, Lee does not give a written description of Mayella Ewell.  However, the geraniums tell us, if we care to listen.  First, they are in slop jars because she cannot afford fancy pots.  Secondly, they are well cared for to me representing many things.  The flowers are the one thing she can control.  The flowers are beautiful helping Mayella feel less  poor and uneducated each time she looks at them.  And most importantly the well-cared for flowers show the tenderness deep within Mayella that no one has ever bothered to see, except for maybe Tom.

 The unknown is always mysterious and sometimes fearful.  Because Boo Radley had never been seen by Scout, she uses what information she can gather.  From stories handed down and because it was fun entertainment, she considered Boo to be somewhat of a monster.  Even when she thought the gifts in the tree were from Boo, she wouldn’t except that he was kind, because she had no information to back it up.  Now because he was standing in front of her and she had witnessed him helping her beloved brother, all fear was removed.  How sad that most adults act exactly as Scout did, today.  Without faith, trust and acceptance, all people are Boo Radleys.  In the words of the Little Prince, Boo and Scout tamed each other.

I don’t believe that the mad dog was to represent anyone.  I guess you could compare him to Bob Ewell, meaning a community is better off without a diseased being in their midst.  But, I believed the mad dog was simply to show Atticus in a different light.  The children learned their father had been one different young man than he was now.  They also learned what attributes Atticus wanted his children to admire and model.  Being the fairest man in Maycomb was more important than the best shot.

Young Scout believes only gifts can be exchanged between people, but Scout and Jem gave more than gifts to Boo.  Because of circumstance Boo was forced to remain hidden but his windows were his escape.  Without ever communicating, he loved Jem and Scout by simply watching them grow up.  I’m sure he treasured their daily activities like people treasure gifts.  Also, Scout gave numerous things to Boo during their one and only encounter.  She gave her time, attention, patience, understanding, respect and her hand in love as they walked silently to his porch that was no longer mysterious or fearful.  She not only walked in Boo’s shoes, she walked with him while in her own.

Night Motif/Archetype

Smoke

24-28  the Jews are crammed in a train car and one of the womewn starts screaming “fire”.  The others are bothered with her after they cannot see a fire and she continues yelling.  Later when they arrive at the camp they see the fire and smoke.

32-33  Elie and his father see the flames in a huge pit while walking forward.  They watched babies being thrown in and were heading there.  They were stopped right before they were to be pushed in.

37---after being at the camp and suffered several beatings, they were standing mostly in silence because of exhaustion and disbelief.  They whispered because of the heavy thick smoke that burned their eyes and stung their throats.

104 –after being evacuated from their camp, and with liberating soldiers on their heels they were transferred to a new camp.  As they walked into the camp, they barely noticed the crematorium’s chimney standing right in front of them.

Smoke in history has either meant communication or danger.  In these examples it not only is communicating to the Jews danger but threatening death.  They will never see smoke again without remembering how it looked or smelled of the death, of their families, friends, community and faith.

Smoke ---burn, smolder, incinerate, char

No, because these synonyms do not bring the smoke into your vision.  Using the word smoke not only allows you to see the smoke but smell it.

Smoke throughout history has been used for communication.  The need to communicate between Indian tribes made smoke necessary.  However, smoke has traditionally communicated danger.  In my life smoke has a third meaning. 

As a child smoke entertained me.  The smoke rising and twirling in the air fascinated me and still does today.  I didn’t ever seem to feel the danger that most people experience when seeing smoke.  Then my grandmother died and I experienced smoke in a different manner.  The priest used incense around the coffin.    I found out later that the use of incense was to symbolize our prayers being sent up to God.  I love this particular tradition of my church.

Therefore, smoke will always remain sacred to me.  How different my vision is than Elie’s.

Note in a Bottle

The water is splashing on my face as I lay on my back in my dilapidated row boat.  How long have I been floating in this desolate bay?  Does anyone know where I am?  As I slowly, raise my achy body over the edge something hits my boat.  When my eyes focus, I pick up a glass bottle.  Within the bottle is a very old, yellowed, folded, paper dampened by years of water seeping through the cork.  I carefully unfold the paper and am astonished by the words that appear before my eyes. 

Dear reader, I have been stranded on this island for five years and write every month in hopes of being found.  My boat capsized and I had no way of contacting anyone.  So every month I take one of my wine bottles and put a note within, hoping it will find someone who will take the time to open it. 

My heart is racing.  Every year I have taken this same boat trip in memory of my grandfather who five years ago went fishing and never returned.  We looked and looked for him but to no avail.  So, today when I packed my lunch to fish near the same spot where grandpa was last seen, all I thought about was having a good time.  But then something went terribly wrong.  A storm came up and while trying to row, I lost both oars and have been drifting for hours.

As I look toward the horizon I notice a small island in the distance.  Because the storm was so severe, the waves took me close enough to the shore.  As I furiously paddle with my hands I notice a man on the beach.  His hair is long and his beard is even longer.  He has very little clothing on which allows me to notice the lean, muscular legs and arms.  As we make eye contact, the most beautiful blue eyes are staring at me.  I have found my grandpa.

Proposal for Sophomore Bully Script

Takes place at the bus stop & school, a teenage girl named Faith has met the most popular boy “Zach”
 and they have started to communicate by texting. He leads her on to believe that she’s beautiful, but is just planning to break her heart.

When the bus pulls up and faith gets on, nobody will let her sit with them because she’s not what they consider “popular”, and the boy she has been texting is the only who’ll let her sit down because it falls perfectly into his plan and everyone is laughing on the bus because she thinks he really likes her when he doesn’t.

Later, at school a group of the most beautiful popular girls find faith in the bathroom, they tell her that Zach wants to meet her after school at the play ground and the girls tell her that they want to give her a complete makeover because they want her to look pretty for him knowing it was just a joke.

Faith looks forward to this all day and once seventh hour bell rings she runs to the playground to find the group of girls who did her makeup and Zachwith one of the girls hanging all over him, the whole time their laughing at her & she finds herself in the fetal position, crying. Not knowing what’s going to happen next, when finally the whole group walks away, laughing hysterically.

Faith walks home, completely distraught and upset and once she finally reaches her house, she runs inside; seeing if anybody is home or not, she goes into her mom’s room to find out that she wasn’t there to console her, she walks into the bathroom to see what the girls had done to her & she realizes that they made her look hideous, without any hesitation she grabs the bottle of Vicodin her mom has on the counter, walks into her room, locks the door, writes a note & pops the full script. 

Graduating From the Impossible to the Possible

                The house was like a pinball machine, people bouncing back and forth from room to room busily attending to their assigned task.  We were getting dressed and ready for my eighth grade graduation.  Mama and Dominica had just arrived from attending the state track meet, while I relaxed at home.  Actually, relaxed is probably the wrong word to use.  I was extremely nervous and anxious.

                I have never been very good about being the center of attention.  I hate walking into a crowded building, let alone walking up on stage in the middle of that crowded building, but that was what was expected of me.  My mom had discussed with me, and had written on paper what I needed to do from the time I walked in the gym throughout the rest of the evening.  This is the first time my mom had written instructions for me on a piece of paper and this proved to be very helpful.  Throughout the ceremony I visualized that list of instructions and was able to follow them.  I managed to make my body do what I wanted.

                This feat was not taken lightly.  I have a hard time making my body act in a socially acceptable manner most of the time.  I am sure it is because I am nervous and over stimulated, but this lack of control has caused many problems for me in the past.  I know my mom was concerned about me not only not going to the stage to receive my diploma, but running around the gym as well.

                She wasn’t the only one concerned.  I was petrified.  And as I moved around the house getting ready that night, I wanted to just stay home.  I remember thinking how disappointed my parents would be if I didn’t perform well and that kept me going.  I wasn’t made to wear uncomfortable clothing, which helped immensely.  And only the shirt was new and that felt comfortable as well.  So after getting dressed and taking a few pictures we were off.

                My mother got my mp3 player and headphones out and we walked in the gym.  With the headphones on I felt safe and less anxious.  I did not have to take the group picture or even walk in with the class, so I sat and waited for the ceremony to begin.  The song the class entered in with was loud, but a good choice, and I liked it.  The whole class looked poised and mature and I was feeling quite mature myself.

                Things were going nicely, and then my mother got up for her speech.  I know she was concerned about what I would do when she left my side, but I felt fine and relaxed.  This may have been because, Karen Dent, my OT was there also, or I was just so determined to do well for my parents.  So thirty minutes later I had not moved and had enjoyed listening to my mom’s speech.

                Now the big moment arrived and again my mom said that I didn’t have to go up the stairs for my diploma.  However, when Mrs. Murphy said Antonio Edward Adams Prokup, I walked calmly up the stairs, grabbed the diploma and stood for a photograph.  I had done it and I was so proud of myself.  I walked back down and saw the pride in my mom and dad’s eyes.  I knew that all the anxiousness and worry and preparation had paid off.

                This event has stayed with me as one of my greatest triumphs because it was so very hard for me and yet I was able to overcome and succeed.  I remember the wonderful feeling I had inside because for a little while I wasn’t any different than anyone else.  I will always remember how thankful I was to my mom for preparing me, and to Karen for attending and supporting me.  I am a very lucky person indeed.

Torey Hayden

            The room is messy, with toys slung around and opened bottles of paint on the floor.  Ten children are moving quickly around the room, except for one little girl huddled in the corner.  A woman dressed in jeans, sweater, and tennis shoes is sitting on the floor playing with the girl in the corner.  While everyone is noisily playing, the woman and the little girl appear to be in their own bubble oblivious to the others.  As the woman gets up, the little girl says, “Torey, don’t go!”  It is the first words spoken from the little girl to her teacher, Torey Hayden.

Torey Hayden is a child psychologist, special educator, and advocate for children with disabilities.  My mother has read several books written by Torey Hayden.  I have listened to her talk about her and what a wonderful teacher she is.  Through her stories about Torey, I have developed an interest in her and her books.  My mother won’t let me read her stories because she says they are too graphic and I would be upset with the neglect and abuse shown in the books.  Still I find her interesting and a very talented and caring person.

Torey Hayden has brown hair and a stocky build.  She wears jeans and baggy sweaters and loves to get down and dirty with her students.  She loves animals, classical music, reading, writing, and is an avid trekkie.  She also can build and repair computers, which in her words makes her a geek.  She has been married and divorced and has one daughter Sheena.  They currently live in Whales.

Torey has literally saved children’s lives by reaching them when no one else could.  She has taught the kids that no one else wanted, and has many times saved them from life in institutions.  Many have graduated, gone to college or at the very least have jobs as waitresses or factory workers.  Many of them have Torey Hayden to thank for helping them through difficult childhoods in circumstances that were beyond their control.

I believe the education world needs more teachers like Torey Hayden.  Her compassion and love for these children made an everlasting impact on their lives.  If all educators cared even a little for each student as Torey did about hers, the schools would develop wonderfully independent and confident young people.  I would love to meet Torey someday.  Maybe she could break my silence.

There is Always a Mockingbird; Just Listen for Their Song

             How does one look beyond the surface of a human being to find the “mockingbird” living deep inside?  In Harper Lee’s classic novel, published in 1960, To Kill A Mockingbird, many characters show dreadful behaviors allowing us to believe a mockingbird is absent from their being.  I believe that all human beings are or have at one time in their life been a mockingbird.  Unfortunately only the very young or the very accepting can find that goodness.  Harper Lee masterfully is able to show many “mockingbirds” throughout her story, possibly even those who are the least likely.

Mrs. Dubose, is to Scout and Jem as far away from a “mockingbird” as can be.  Mrs. Dubose is cantankerous, to the point of evil.  Mrs. Dubose says mean and hateful things about Atticus, and seems to dislike everything about the Finch family.  Each time Scout expresses her dislike of Mrs. Dubose to Atticus, Scout is told to have patience and understanding.  It is so hard to care for someone when they clearly do not appear to like you.  But, Scout soon learns that not everything is as it appears.  Mrs. Dubose is not concerned with being liked and admired, she is fighting a battle most people would not attempt and she wins.  At this point Scout and Jem see the true “mockingbird” within.

 “A lady?  Jem raised his head.  His face was scarlet.  After all the things she said

about you, a lady?”

Atticus says:

“She was.  She was.          …………..I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of

getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand.  It’s when you know

you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through

no matter what.  ………..She was the bravest person I ever knew.”

Mayella Ewell is the saddest of all the “mockingbirds” in the story because she is trapped in the birdcage and can’t get out.  Mayella is trapped by ignorance, poverty, and fear.  Because of ignorance and lack of education Mayella is forced to live the same life as past generations.  Because of poverty, Mayella is limited on how much she can improve on her way of life.  And, because of fear, Mayella’s hands are tied, when asking for help could be her only way out.  And, still, the “mockingbird” inside finds a way to express itself.  The geraniums are Mayella’s way of having control of an uncontrollable situation.  Only a person with a tender heart could create the beauty of a healthy plant for all to enjoy, especially Mayella.

“One corner of the yard, though, bewildered Maycomb.  Against the fence, in a line,

were six chipped-enamel slop jars holding brilliant red geraniums, cared for as

tenderly as if they belonged to Miss Maudie Atkinson……..People said they were

Mayella Ewell’s.

Boo Radley is the most obvious of the mockingbirds.  Scarred with stories about Boo’s odd and sometimes violent behaviors, Boo is forced to remain hidden.  Somehow through actions, that at first seem mysterious and frightening, Scout and Jem find the warmth in Boo long before they meet him. Random gifts in the tree, Jem’s folded pants, and the blanket draped in love on Scout’s shoulders are all signs of a true “mockingbird”.  This “mockingbird” is receiving apparently nothing for his gifts, or is he?  Boo is receiving the chance to watch Scout and Jem grow up as Boo observes them from a distance.  Boo’s most miraculous song is sung when he saves Scout and Jem’s life.   Boo is not only rewarded for his efforts by Atticus’s appreciation, but more importantly Scout’s love and acceptance.  Scout sees the “mockingbird” in Boo and walks in his shoes for a while.  Scout repays Boo for his kindness by giving Boo her heart and her hand.

The most unlikely “mockingbird” is Robert E. Lee Ewell.  Bob Ewell is a victim of alcoholism, ignorance, poverty and more importantly anger.  For generations the Ewells have lived a life of laziness, which brought them to the point Bob is today. Bob Ewell sees no way out of a miserable situation so therefore Bob lashes out at the people closest to him, his children.  God did not make this life for Bob.  Bob chose his way of life and can’t seem to climb out.  Does that mean a “mockingbird” does not exist in Bob, or is it because we as a society cannot see what is good about Bob Ewell? 

Do you believe in destiny?  Do you believe when God closes a door, he opens a window?  I do.  And because I do I can say that Bob Ewell was a “mockingbird”.  His last song was his best song because his death brings life to his children.  Possibly the ignorance and poverty stops with his death. And without Bob’s death, Boo would not have been discovered as the most obvious “mockingbird”.  Life is complicated, so obviously discerning who is evil and who is good is just as complicated.  Don’t judge anyone, including Bob Ewell, until you walk in his shoes!

I believe that all human beings are or have at one time in their life been a “mockingbird”.  Looking, finding and accepting that is hard, but worth it in the end.

 

Wandering Souls

The thing I detest the most in this world is the wandering of souls.  People without direction or purpose leads to wandering which leads to chaos.  Wanderers walk blindly trying to find love and acceptance, and during the search become angry and disrespectful.  If somehow they could find God or any supreme being to use for guidance, he or she would light the way.  Imagine a world of driven human beings.  There would be less crime and more respect for others.  Eventually peace and love found for the wandering soul.

To Study the Stars...

The study of stars and planets has always intrigued me.  I do most of my thinking and pondering when sitting outside.  What is up there?  Who is out there?  And how can I learn more?  These questions swarm around in my head constantly.  To find answers to these questions, I need to research the job of an astronomer and what is needed to become this desired profession.  Not only am I interested in the astronomer, but the astronomer who is able to write the information down for all to read.  Therefore a second occupation should be researched, that of an author or writer.

            The astronomer/writer would have various duties throughout their day.  The astronomer would observe the skies through recording devices unlike the astronomers of old.  The picture of astronomers gazing through a telescope is unfortunately outdated.  They at present spend very little time observing and most of their time is spent analyzing their observations.  After hours and hours of collecting data they are ready to put the information on paper.  Writing this information, either for a scientific magazine or a science textbook is grueling and time consuming work.

            In both occupations, the astronomer and the writer, their work spaces are quiet and secluded.  The astronomer would spend the majority of his time in a lab pouring over film and analyzing and hypothesizing.  The writer would obviously need a work space that was quiet and conducive to quick and fast production, especially if the writer was trying to meet deadlines.  Both of these work environments suit my personality.  Crowded places make it hard for me to concentrate, let alone write something worth reading.

            There are many requirements to be either an astronomer or a science writer; however, interestingly enough, there are some overlaps.  According to science careers on science buddies.org, both require imagination, creativity, and the ability to see the abstract.  even their high school requirements are the same.  Both areas should take classes in chemistry, biology, physics, algebra, geometry, and calculus.  The astronomer needs these subjects to understand his job.  The writer needs these subjects in order to write about astronomy successfully.  A writer, of course would need to also take English courses to learn the art of communicating through the written word.

            To be a successful astronomer, one would need not only a bachelor’s degree but a masters and a PhD.  The writer need only have a BS degree to be a science writer; however, I am certain the more classes one could take beyond that degree, the better.  Both degrees will take some planning and saving.  The average cost of attending a college to obtain a BS degree is 25,000; however, to obtain a degree in astronomy the school’s tuition may be as high as 36,000.  To continue on with a masters one would need another 27,000.  To obtain a PhD one could need anywhere from 10,000 to 15,000 depending where he or she attends.  Needless to say scholarships and financial assistance is necessary.