Written in response to the book, Night, by Ellie Wiesel. Sam's letter was awarded the top prize in the 9th through 12th grade level III competition of the Letters About Literature contest co-sponsored in Pennsylvania by the Pennsylvania Center for the Book. She was the sole winner out of 550 contestants and will receive a check for $150 and a $50 Target gift certificate at an awards ceremony at Pennsylvania State College on April 26, 2008. The letter will also go on to competition for the national award among entries from the 50 states and the District of Columbia. Congratulations, Samantha!
Samantha Weber
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Dear Mr. Wiesel,
“When you think that something is the end, it is really only the beginning.” To me, this means that when one chapter ends in your life, good or bad, you can be sure that a new chapter is about to begin. Death has been one dreadful ending to a chapter of my life and the beginning of a new one. Earlier this year my twenty-one year old brother, Zach, died in a tragic hiking accident in the Alps, forty-five minutes from his Air Force base in Aviano, Italy. I couldn’t get past the timing: his tour of duty was up and my parents and I were to meet him at the Pittsburgh airport in three days! In your book Night, you shared your personal struggle to survive during the Holocaust with me. You lost your family, friends, and your faith. This year I lost my brother, my best friend, and, for a time, my faith, but the chapters continued after I closed your book and with your help, turned the page in my own life.
Zach passed away in April, and I had not seen him in eighteen months. My whole family was yearning for his homecoming, but not the one that would happen by way of a flag-draped coffin with military escort. Through reading your tragedy, I found a connection with my own, especially where you had to say goodbye to your mother and sisters. I remember the last time I said goodbye to my brother in early January 2006. After one of the best Christmas and New Year’s holidays our family had ever had, my parents, Zach’s best friend Chris, and I took him to the airport, sending him back to the Air Force in Italy. In the car, the silence was as oppressive as the longing we all had for one more day with each other. We arrived at the airport and walked, reluctantly, with Zach to security. I clung to my brother and then watched, tearfully, as he walked through the gate. Saying goodbye is always a hard thing; but when it’s for the last time, nothing really compares to it. Hugging and waving goodbye to Zach back then will always be cemented into my “hardest-moments” memory, but like every ending chapter, another chapter follows.
If the chapter in my life that began with Zach’s death had a title, I think it would be “Surviving.” It began in darkness as I went through all the necessities accompanying Zach’s death: visitations, the funeral, memorials; and then all his belongings coming home, followed by dark days of looking for him on IM and not being able to call him; not hearing from him on my birthday. I questioned God. If there was a God, how could he have let the ground fall from beneath Zach’s feet? Why did he let him venture onto the ledge alone? Why did my brother, who seemed to love God with all his heart, fall ninety meters into a ravine with no rescue possible? He’d been so safe there in Italy rather than in Iraq; was God just cruel to have him die right before he would be safely home? You also questioned God, and I knew your answer: “Your eyes were opened and you were alone – terribly alone in a world without God.” My fingers fumbled as I turned page after page in Night, waiting, wanting, along with you, for God to intervene, but he didn’t. Instead you were beaten, worked, starved, cold, and moved from camp to camp. You waited for the end, whether it came by rescue or by death. I waited for an answer to my “Why” questions, but they didn’t come either.
As I turned the last page in Night, depravity became a tangible feeling that flowed from your book up my arms and into my heart. Then, I looked out my window at the trees glowing orange and red and yellow; the sun was setting behind them and clouds wisped white across a pink sky. Stunning! The warmth of the picture before me soothed my aching soul and God’s presence, like the sun, lit up the room. The magnificent masterpiece before me was proof of God’s goodness, and I realized that no matter how many ghastly events happen, His goodness will always outweigh the hatred and darkness that sometimes emanates from the soul of mankind.
Although I greatly miss Zach, I know that it is time to turn the page in my life and start to read, no live, the next, exciting chapter. Reading how you answered your questions about God helped me to realize the mistake I was making in my own answers. I want to thank you for sharing your story, and I hope both our stories will have happy endings.
Sincerely yours,
Samantha Weber
Friday, March 14, 2008
Sunday, March 9, 2008
2006 Letters About Literature - Honorable Mention, 8th grade
Dear Mr. Avi:
Throughout my life I have heard people say, “When you think that something is the end, it is really only the beginning.” I began to believe that shortly after I read Crispin, The Cross of Lead. When Crispin’s mother dies and he is declared a wolf’s head, he believes his life is over. He has no family, no house, no food. He has nothing; he is nothing-- or so he thinks. Crispin loses hope and believes the end has come, but, instead, his future has just begun.
Only a few weeks after I finished your book, my brother took me aside, sat me down, and he told me that he was going into the Air Force and would leave soon after his graduation. This was hard on my whole family, but I felt as if he was personally betraying me. All my life he and my older sister had been very close, doing everything together, and I always felt left out. However, my day came when my sister went off to college. My brother and I became extremely close, and, for the first time, I didn’t feel lonely. When my brother decided to go into the Air Force, only two years after my sister had gone to college, I felt that same lonely, resentful feeling. Crispin felt the same way after he was declared a wolf’s head and his mother died. I thought that my losing my brother was an end to all friendships, all happiness, all fun. Soon after my brother left, my family also left the church that we had gone to ever since I was in kindergarten. Now my feeling of resentment and loneliness grew to a whole new level. I was angry at my brother for leaving me and at my parents for making me leave my church family. I was wrong to be angry. The end of my brother’s childhood and the end of my family’s participation in our old church was really only the beginning of a bigger, brighter future.
All of this I came to realize after reading your book, Crispin. Although the transition to the new church was difficult just as Crispin's transition from a slave to a nobleman was, I found a whole new church family that included teenagers, lacking at my old church, who welcomed me into their lives. Crispin also showed me how selfish I really was: my brother went into the Air Force to find his future; it had nothing to do with leaving me behind. With his being permanently gone, I also grew up. No longer depending on other people to entertain me or make me happy, I began finding things to do on my own. And, when it came to my homeschooling, I assumed the responsibility for my own studies and didn't need incessant prodding to get things done.
Mr. Avi, your book unlocked a whole new view of life to me: not to linger on the past but look with hope to the present and the future. Now, when people say, "When you think that something is the end, it is really only the beginning," I think of your book and the window of opportunity it gave me to grow up and move on just as Crispin did. Thank you for provoking me to learn to not linger on the past, but, instead, to look ahead to the future.
Sincerely yours,
Samantha Weber
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And this is the text of the letter she received congratulating her for receiving an honorable mention award:
Dear Samantha:
I am writing today to congratulate you. Your letter to Avi about Crispin: The Cross of Lead has received honorable mention in the Letters About Literature contest co-sponsored in Pennsylvania by the Pennsylvania Center for the Book. Now in its 23 year, Letters About Literature is a national essay contest sponsored by Center for the Book in the Library of Congress and Target Stores. The award winner for Level II (7th -8th grade) is Jenny Uehling, a seventh grader from Glenside, PA.
Samantha, you are one of only two people among nearly 500 contestants who will be receiving this honorable mention letter. That means that you letter was selected by the national screening committee; judged by the Pennsylvania Center for the Book’s screening committee as one of the 10 best letters in the state, and then chosen as the best letter in the state by two of Pennsylvania’s six judges. Your letter received a first, second, or third place vote on all six of the judge’s ballots. Because of your high score on the balloting, the close vote in your age category, but mostly because of your excellent letter, we have decided to award you a special distinction citation. As such, we are asking you if you will allow us to place your letter on our website—the only letter to be so honored beyond the three winners for the three age groups. Furthermore, we will be sending you a certificate acknowledging your work and a check for 50$ to celebrate your accomplishment. You have every reason to be proud, Samantha.
In the next few weeks we will also be sending a press release to your local newspaper if you and a parent are willing to give us permission to do so.
Congratulations to you and your parents. We encourage you to keep writing!
Throughout my life I have heard people say, “When you think that something is the end, it is really only the beginning.” I began to believe that shortly after I read Crispin, The Cross of Lead. When Crispin’s mother dies and he is declared a wolf’s head, he believes his life is over. He has no family, no house, no food. He has nothing; he is nothing-- or so he thinks. Crispin loses hope and believes the end has come, but, instead, his future has just begun.
Only a few weeks after I finished your book, my brother took me aside, sat me down, and he told me that he was going into the Air Force and would leave soon after his graduation. This was hard on my whole family, but I felt as if he was personally betraying me. All my life he and my older sister had been very close, doing everything together, and I always felt left out. However, my day came when my sister went off to college. My brother and I became extremely close, and, for the first time, I didn’t feel lonely. When my brother decided to go into the Air Force, only two years after my sister had gone to college, I felt that same lonely, resentful feeling. Crispin felt the same way after he was declared a wolf’s head and his mother died. I thought that my losing my brother was an end to all friendships, all happiness, all fun. Soon after my brother left, my family also left the church that we had gone to ever since I was in kindergarten. Now my feeling of resentment and loneliness grew to a whole new level. I was angry at my brother for leaving me and at my parents for making me leave my church family. I was wrong to be angry. The end of my brother’s childhood and the end of my family’s participation in our old church was really only the beginning of a bigger, brighter future.
All of this I came to realize after reading your book, Crispin. Although the transition to the new church was difficult just as Crispin's transition from a slave to a nobleman was, I found a whole new church family that included teenagers, lacking at my old church, who welcomed me into their lives. Crispin also showed me how selfish I really was: my brother went into the Air Force to find his future; it had nothing to do with leaving me behind. With his being permanently gone, I also grew up. No longer depending on other people to entertain me or make me happy, I began finding things to do on my own. And, when it came to my homeschooling, I assumed the responsibility for my own studies and didn't need incessant prodding to get things done.
Mr. Avi, your book unlocked a whole new view of life to me: not to linger on the past but look with hope to the present and the future. Now, when people say, "When you think that something is the end, it is really only the beginning," I think of your book and the window of opportunity it gave me to grow up and move on just as Crispin did. Thank you for provoking me to learn to not linger on the past, but, instead, to look ahead to the future.
Sincerely yours,
Samantha Weber
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And this is the text of the letter she received congratulating her for receiving an honorable mention award:
Dear Samantha:
I am writing today to congratulate you. Your letter to Avi about Crispin: The Cross of Lead has received honorable mention in the Letters About Literature contest co-sponsored in Pennsylvania by the Pennsylvania Center for the Book. Now in its 23 year, Letters About Literature is a national essay contest sponsored by Center for the Book in the Library of Congress and Target Stores. The award winner for Level II (7th -8th grade) is Jenny Uehling, a seventh grader from Glenside, PA.
Samantha, you are one of only two people among nearly 500 contestants who will be receiving this honorable mention letter. That means that you letter was selected by the national screening committee; judged by the Pennsylvania Center for the Book’s screening committee as one of the 10 best letters in the state, and then chosen as the best letter in the state by two of Pennsylvania’s six judges. Your letter received a first, second, or third place vote on all six of the judge’s ballots. Because of your high score on the balloting, the close vote in your age category, but mostly because of your excellent letter, we have decided to award you a special distinction citation. As such, we are asking you if you will allow us to place your letter on our website—the only letter to be so honored beyond the three winners for the three age groups. Furthermore, we will be sending you a certificate acknowledging your work and a check for 50$ to celebrate your accomplishment. You have every reason to be proud, Samantha.
In the next few weeks we will also be sending a press release to your local newspaper if you and a parent are willing to give us permission to do so.
Congratulations to you and your parents. We encourage you to keep writing!
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Anna Eichner's Award Winning Ltr to the Author of Peter Pan
Anna Eichner
1695 Saxonburg Blvd.
Tarentum, PA
15084
Dear Mr. Barrie,
When I was a little girl, it seemed that all I wanted to do was grow up. I wanted to go to school and have a lot of homework like my older cousins. When I turned fourteen I believed I had finally gotten my wish. Of course, I realized that fourteen isn’t really a grownup yet, but it seems to be the age at which everyone expects you to act like one. After all, at fourteen you start your first year of high school! But when I reached it, Mr. Barrie, I found myself longing for thirteen and twelve again. The picture that was painted for my future did not match the vision of younger days. I had to do well on my SAT, get accepted into a good college, graduate with honors and then get a job and work until I died. I had reached the height of my younger ambitions, and it wasn’t any fun at all.
But then, while I was volunteering at the library (that’s another thing that I knew I had to do, volunteer hours look good on college résumés) I saw Peter Pan on the shelf. Having nothing better to do, I took it home with me and started reading it. I’m not going to tell you how it made me shriek with laughter and cry buckets of tears, because I’m sure you hear that kind of praise a lot. Instead, I want to share with you two things your book helped me come to grips with. Peter helped me in one of them, Wendy in another. I don’t think one was more important than the other, but I will go in chronological order; for you see, these lessons took a while to sink in.
After my second trip through your book, Peter became my constant companion. I can quite honestly say that, like Wendy, I was completely smitten by him. At a time when I was assailed by deadlines and an insane amount of “grownup” things to accomplish, I felt that Peter was the one safe thing to hang on to. It seemed that, while everyone was bent on pushing and dragging me into the grownup world, Peter had hold of my other arm and stubbornly held me back. I wanted him to! I wanted to stay a child and put off responsibilities for a time. Peter Pan gave me a companion that didn’t worry about the latest fashions or the newest gossip. Peter didn’t mind when I blew off school work, or sang (loudly) in the shower. I had begun to leave “childish” things behind, but now I had found someone to make me linger a bit longer.
In addition to helping me stay young, your book also helped me to grow up. While I read about Wendy’s adventures, I knew in the back of my mind that she would eventually leave the Neverland, go home, and grow up. At first, I didn’t understand why she would even think about leaving! To my mind, she had it made, no grown up worries, no one telling her what to do, and no responsibilities. I was angry with you during the last chapter when you told about how she grew up, and perhaps that’s why I didn’t catch what I think you were trying to say. Childhood is free of worry and responsibility, but if I didn’t follow Wendy and choose to accept the worries and responsibilities, I’d never know the joys that come after them. Wendy’s story helped me realize that if I didn’t accept the grueling hours of study, I’d never feel the thrill of getting an A+ on my test. Peter Pan does have “ecstasies innumerable,” like you said, but he can never experience the relief that comes after a long night of worry, or the joy of being in love with another person (a joy that I am personally looking forward to). When Wendy understood this, I did as well. Again, I found myself wanting to grow up, but not as I did when I was younger. This time I understood most of it wouldn’t be fun, but there would be spots of joy that I would miss out on if I failed to step up to my responsibilities.
So, that’s what Peter and Wendy taught me. Two lessons, one about staying young, the other about growing up. I’m fifteen now, the age that I set in my mind for irrevocable growing up. Peter Pan rests on the top of my bookshelf, surrounded by sprigs of dried rosemary and model fairies. I don’t have much time to read it now, between all of my classes and my newly acquired job, but I still remember Peter and Wendy. They are still as much a part of me as when I spent hours imagining their “unrecorded” adventures. Perhaps Peter would be angry with me for growing up, but that doesn’t matter much anymore. You see, I’m no longer angry with myself.
I know Peter is impossible to reason with, but if you ever see him, try to explain that growing up isn’t as awful as I thought it would be. And, while you’re at it, say hello to him for me.
Sincerely,
Anna Eichner
1695 Saxonburg Blvd.
Tarentum, PA
15084
Dear Mr. Barrie,
When I was a little girl, it seemed that all I wanted to do was grow up. I wanted to go to school and have a lot of homework like my older cousins. When I turned fourteen I believed I had finally gotten my wish. Of course, I realized that fourteen isn’t really a grownup yet, but it seems to be the age at which everyone expects you to act like one. After all, at fourteen you start your first year of high school! But when I reached it, Mr. Barrie, I found myself longing for thirteen and twelve again. The picture that was painted for my future did not match the vision of younger days. I had to do well on my SAT, get accepted into a good college, graduate with honors and then get a job and work until I died. I had reached the height of my younger ambitions, and it wasn’t any fun at all.
But then, while I was volunteering at the library (that’s another thing that I knew I had to do, volunteer hours look good on college résumés) I saw Peter Pan on the shelf. Having nothing better to do, I took it home with me and started reading it. I’m not going to tell you how it made me shriek with laughter and cry buckets of tears, because I’m sure you hear that kind of praise a lot. Instead, I want to share with you two things your book helped me come to grips with. Peter helped me in one of them, Wendy in another. I don’t think one was more important than the other, but I will go in chronological order; for you see, these lessons took a while to sink in.
After my second trip through your book, Peter became my constant companion. I can quite honestly say that, like Wendy, I was completely smitten by him. At a time when I was assailed by deadlines and an insane amount of “grownup” things to accomplish, I felt that Peter was the one safe thing to hang on to. It seemed that, while everyone was bent on pushing and dragging me into the grownup world, Peter had hold of my other arm and stubbornly held me back. I wanted him to! I wanted to stay a child and put off responsibilities for a time. Peter Pan gave me a companion that didn’t worry about the latest fashions or the newest gossip. Peter didn’t mind when I blew off school work, or sang (loudly) in the shower. I had begun to leave “childish” things behind, but now I had found someone to make me linger a bit longer.
In addition to helping me stay young, your book also helped me to grow up. While I read about Wendy’s adventures, I knew in the back of my mind that she would eventually leave the Neverland, go home, and grow up. At first, I didn’t understand why she would even think about leaving! To my mind, she had it made, no grown up worries, no one telling her what to do, and no responsibilities. I was angry with you during the last chapter when you told about how she grew up, and perhaps that’s why I didn’t catch what I think you were trying to say. Childhood is free of worry and responsibility, but if I didn’t follow Wendy and choose to accept the worries and responsibilities, I’d never know the joys that come after them. Wendy’s story helped me realize that if I didn’t accept the grueling hours of study, I’d never feel the thrill of getting an A+ on my test. Peter Pan does have “ecstasies innumerable,” like you said, but he can never experience the relief that comes after a long night of worry, or the joy of being in love with another person (a joy that I am personally looking forward to). When Wendy understood this, I did as well. Again, I found myself wanting to grow up, but not as I did when I was younger. This time I understood most of it wouldn’t be fun, but there would be spots of joy that I would miss out on if I failed to step up to my responsibilities.
So, that’s what Peter and Wendy taught me. Two lessons, one about staying young, the other about growing up. I’m fifteen now, the age that I set in my mind for irrevocable growing up. Peter Pan rests on the top of my bookshelf, surrounded by sprigs of dried rosemary and model fairies. I don’t have much time to read it now, between all of my classes and my newly acquired job, but I still remember Peter and Wendy. They are still as much a part of me as when I spent hours imagining their “unrecorded” adventures. Perhaps Peter would be angry with me for growing up, but that doesn’t matter much anymore. You see, I’m no longer angry with myself.
I know Peter is impossible to reason with, but if you ever see him, try to explain that growing up isn’t as awful as I thought it would be. And, while you’re at it, say hello to him for me.
Sincerely,
Anna Eichner
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Writing Club Assignment re if an animal you knew could talk
Mekia = M-eh-key-a
“Mr. Mekia, tell us a story! Please!”
“Umm, I don’t know, I have to get back to my house soon. I’ve been gone for over 3 hours now.”
“Please, please, please! Mr. Mekia! Just a little one!”
“Well, ok, just a short story. Forty-six years ago in early December, my tale begins. The sun was falling off the edge of the world for the evening as I lumbered up onto the porch and knocked at the door after another 3 hour excursion into the back woods. Patiently, I waited to be let inside. Time ticked by slowly, however, and my sore feet began to ache. I laid down on the porch and my heavy eyelids began to close. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, I heard a sly voice behind me.
“Now what do we have here?” the voice jeered.
“Frantically I searched for the origin of that appalling voice, but there was no soul, that I could see, around. Eyes are known to fail, but noses never do, so I sniffed around the porch hunting for that devilish creature. The voice hissed again. This time, however, it was not cunning enough and my eyes caught the…the…the…cat.”
“A CAT????” the pups piped.
“Yes, a cat.” Mr. Mekia moaned.
“I had seen this c-c-cat around before, but this was the first time it had come up to the house. It was a disgusting animal. Its body was long and scraggily and appeared to have not been fed for a very long period of time save the few mice and small rodents it had eaten from around the yard. Its fur was white with black spots – or maybe it was black with white spots? I couldn’t tell. Nevertheless it was ugly in my eyes as it sat on the pasty white-painted fence and licked a paw and swept it across its face.”
“So, how is the human unit that inhabits this cube with red shutters?” the cat inquired.
“They’re excellent, why do you ask? You don’t plan on living here do you?” I questioned.
“Why else would I have been hanging around this property for the past couple of weeks? Of course I plan on living here!” declared the cat.
“Well you can’t live here. We have a full house. There is no room.” I said
“Well, obviously, someone will have to leave!” replied the cat.
“I don’t think so,” I answered, “because I have no plans on kicking anyone out!”
“We’ll see.” said the cat.
A few days later that cat had moved herself into the garage. I decided to have a heart-to-heart talk with it. Say, cat, I said, “I imagine you think it’s just me who doesn’t want you here, but the truth is that it would be deadly for you to actually take up residence here. “
“And why is that dog?” questioned the cat.
“Four reasons – Duncan, Will, Shelley and Nike. Shelley was born down the road in a barn and brought home by 9 year old Alexa, who’s mother had said “no cats” but whose father, in a very out-of-character mood, had told her she could keep it when she brought it home to show everyone. Shelley had 45 kittens, none of whom are alive today. Of the 45 Duncan and Will lived here the longest. I think they were allowed to stay because they played together in rather entertaining fashions as they mounted surprise attacks at one another and put on extreme acrobatic shows. Their toilet habits however, got them into trouble. They were competitors with one another and not only marked their territory outside but began marking it in the basement as well. Once that was discovered, their end was near. They went off in the family car together and never returned. I always suspected they were drowned in the river; I know the cat carriers they left in came back empty.
Nike’s situation was very sad as well. Nike was barely weaned when he got into trouble. He had actually been sleeping in a bed alongside the youngest child in the house and perhaps if this little girl had been more responsible and fed him once in a while, he wouldn’t have gotten into so much trouble about jumping on the kitchen countertops and helping himself to the family’s dinner every day. I’m not sure what happened to Nike, but the youngest child cried for many days, when he disappeared. I suspect he too went for a long car ride.
I know for a fact that the mother cat, Shelley, was once taken across the river and left there. I was quite pleased to no longer be annoyed by her myself, but was as shocked as the rest of the family when she reappeared one day about 6 months later, only to secure a breeding spot for her kittens inside the drop ceiling in the basement. The whole basement was turned upside down trying to find where she had hidden herself and the surprise of finding six newborn kittens seemed to drive the family elders’ berserk. What happened after that is unspeakable even for me. I’m sure that I could adjust to your presence here. The only rules I would insist on are that you use the litter pan and do not wash your paws in my water dish. I will have little to do with you as I cannot stand the trauma of the awful deaths I associate with you felines. Still want to stay?”
“I don’t believe any of your high tales. See you inside Doggg!”
“So, did she actually move in Mr. Mekia?” the pups wanted to know.
“Unfortunately, yes.” answered Mr. Mekia. “and you know that black and white, or maybe white and black cat, I still can’t tell which it is, but you know that dreadful cat that lives with me now?” asked Mekia.
“Yeah, that dreadful beast that hisses and swats at us when we come near?” the pups moaned.
“That’s her. So, far she is still here, but not for long, I’ll come up with a reason for the Family to dispose of her, just like I did with the others!” divulged Mekia as he turned to go home.
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