Today Samantha brought home her cap and gown and recounted her amazing last day of *official* high school, filled with teachers, counselors, and students’ tears of sadness as this most-loved class of 2010 prepares to graduate and move on in separate directions. Teachers have said that every once in a while you get a class of students that is amazing, and this one was amazing in personality, character, accomplishments, initiative, charity, brotherly love and respect. I’m glad for the different educational venues Sam successfully navigated from public school kindergarten through 8 years of home education beside her brother and sister, to entrance into Freeport Area High School where she blossomed as an individual of strong character, defined beliefs, religious, political, and social, and realized her potential as a leader, a speaker, a friend, and a hard-worker. She learned to make friends and be a friend while keeping family first. She graduates with a 4.3 gpa and is headed to Grove City College where she will play soccer, major in English, and pursue their pre-med program.
But while Sam’s off to celebrate the last day, I sat down on the couch and while twirling her 2010 tassle on my finger, I was drawn back to my own high school experiences. I entered 9th grade after newly moving to Silver Spring MD. Previously I’d attended a public elementary school in Washington DC, and then bussed to a private school in rural Maryland where I’d had good friends but no one lived nearby. We’d moved because my mother had remarried a man I strongly disliked, a not-recovered alcoholic who eventually shot and killed her when I was 19. Those were literally rough years for me and only one teacher/class sponsor really came alongside me and was my friend – Mr. Hite, who left before I did and became a priest. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed till just a moment ago, sitting on the couch thinking of these wonderful times my daughter has enjoyed and all the plans for graduation and baccalaureate and a graduation party in July still to come.
My class’ last week of school, just as is planned for Freeport, included several days of practicing. We had an outdoor stage on the football field as I recall – that was Plan A. Plan B was to move the ceremony into the school auditiorium in case of rain. My class was over 600. (The whole week was somewhat spoiled for me already because my real father who’d taken off shortly after I was born had written a letter to my mother that I was not to have seen, but did, recounting every penny he’d ever spent for my upkeep as a caution against anyone expecting him to help with my college. My grandparents who lived with my mother and I were my only stability. So, the big day arrived. I think my father did show up with pearl earrings as a gift, which would have been fine if I’d never seen his letter. My mother gave me a Bulova gold watch (don’t remember if my grandparents gave me a gift of not) What I remember is that we lined up outside when it was obviously about to pour rain. When the sky opened up, we stood and got soaked. Eventually word was passed around that everyone should go to their homeroom to get their diplomas. The halls were packed. I eventually got to my homeroom; I think most kids were already gone by the time I got there. I fished through wet cardboard boxes, found my diploma, and drove home or maybe went to a party, don’t recall.
Like Sam, I’d worked hard and mostly excelled in high school, was well liked by most teachers, had put on the school’s first Senior Banquet with am amazing talent show that won me a good bit of recognition, worked behind stage for school plays, did some artwork for the school, and was a class officer. During our senior year, I came up with the idea to build a big wooden, coffin-shaped, box and painted it with school colors. It went in a display case and we filled it with all the memorabilia we could gather from high school years. At the close of school, several of the boys carried it to storage in the school attic – to be opened at our reunions. I was suppose to organize the first reunion – sadly, I never did and have never even heard if our class ever had a reunion. Northwood High School, home of the Indians, robbed the class of 1964 of their graduation, I feel sadder about it tonight than I ever have, but am thankful Sam is having this wonderful experience.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Unknowns - A Story for Mr. Grasha, Honors Chemistry
The Tracker
“Oh, No!” Please. Don’t. I am begging you.” I pleaded.
Today was Sunday June 20th, 2009 -- my sister’s wedding day. She had just gotten back from getting her hair done at the salon and I was already fighting off a curling iron, a tube of mascara, a bridesmaid, and the photographer. Rachel, the maid of honor, was now holding me down and I was forced to be still. Of course every time she tried to put some kind of junk on my face I either squinted or jerked. I already had some black, purple, and blue streaks all over my face but I was not going to let her win without a fight. As you can see, I am not the bride, so why all the preparation? I had to go through all of this torture because I had to walk fifty-four steps down the aisle between two rows of white chairs, up onto the stage, and turn around all without tripping. Despite my athleticism, this was no easy task because not only was I forced to smile and act all lady-like but also I had to do it in a dress and heels. Ugh, the dress. It was time. This was definitely the worst part of this whole event. Truthfully, I could handle all the make-up; I could handle the dancing, but wearing a dress all day? No! That was too much. Nevertheless, Rachel hung the dress on the shower rod, pushed me into the bathroom, and locked the door. Soon, she set me free and I emerged dressed and ready to get the whole wedding over with. I looked in the mirror and realized that I didn’t look half bad. Personally, I preferred my more comfortable clothes back at my apartment.
It was time. I could hear Rachel frantically calling my name and I filed into line with the three other bridesmaids and the rest of the wedding party. Rachel handed me an aluminum lantern (we were carrying these instead of flowers) and I waited patiently to be given any last minute instructions. This was when it hit me, my sister was getting married. Emotions surfaced as I looked off my back porch at all the people in my backyard waiting for the processional to begin. I had always thought it was pretty stupid to have the wedding at our house, but now that it was actually happening, I realized how special this day was going to be, despite this tight dress. To be honest, I was surprised Lindsey had asked me to be in her wedding, I hadn’t really seen her in five years.
After I graduated from New York University in 2004, I was quickly scooped up by a private investigative firm in Manhattan. My family, however, did not know this. They thought that I worked for a publishing company, reading manuscripts and drinking coffee in a nice corner office. To them, I was moderately successful in a world of commas and periods. Period. But that wasn’t my real life. In reality, I was different from most women my age. I was organized, intelligent, and punctual. My job required a certain appearance, and when the Company’s previous agent, Leah, went rouge, I was recruited. My first day on the job I was completely transformed. I had grown up a rebellious tom-boy who hated make up, dresses, and anything girly, which was why I had to act the part now that I was back home for Lindsey’s wedding, but now, I had changed for the position. Presently, long straight dark brown hair lay gently against my back. I have soft olive colored skin. My eyebrows are slim and perfectly plucked. I am tall and physically fit. However, as perfect as my hair, face, and body are it is my eyes that attract the most attention. My name is Alex, and I am The Tracker.
My reflective thoughts are brought back to reality as the music begins and the first bridesmaid steps off the porch. When she gets to the back row of chairs, I take a deep breath and start my walk with my lantern daintily swaying in my left hand. This was no normal walk down the aisle. This was a “one, two, three, four” count. In the rehearsal we tried the “step-right, step-together, step left, step- together” but my father somehow was not able to do this. He would always step with the same foot forward and practically trip my sister. I am now halfway down the grassy aisle between the white chairs and all the guests. As I step, “one, two, three, four” my eye catches sight of one of the men from The Company. I know what this means – I’m needed right away for a new mission. I need to come up with some kind of distraction, need to find a way to get out of here immediately. Suddenly an idea pops into my head and I step into a small hole in the yard and I feel myself losing my footing and I am falling, falling…fallen. The agent from the Company slips out of the aisle and is leaning over me to help me up. Just as we were trained, he whispers two words indicating the level of emergency: “Copper Corkscrew” and gives me a small yellow pill that will help me fake a life-threatening medical emergency. I swallow the pill, and as my body begins to seize, the Agent explains to the guests and my family that he is a very good friend of mine and a doctor and that I need to be life-flighted to a hospital in New York City. My condition appears to be contagious to the touch and since he is the only one who has touched my skin, he is also the only one who should go with me to the hospital. Despite the hysteria from my family, it works like clockwork and we get out with relatively little difficulty.
Within ten minutes The Company’s helicopter arrives on scene and takes the Agent and I away. As soon as we are out of sight, I’m given the ok to wake up. Immediately, I am briefed on the situation: a Russian operative, Vladimir Smirnov, has smuggled in sulfur mustard that he plans to use to launch a chemical warfare attack on NYC at 2100 and it’s my job to find the suspect since I am the Tracker, after all. I’m informed that I am being sent back undercover to the active Russian mob, led by Nikolai Kurznetsov, a cover I had kept for the last three years before I got out just six months ago. The Agent tells me that I will be dropped off a few miles outside of the city where everything I need for my mission will be waiting for me. Quickly, I change into dark jeans, a slim-fitting t-shirt, and a black leather jacket while the Agent downloads further information and instructions to my PDA. The Agent hands me an ear piece that will connect me with the head intelligence officer, Christian Brauer. We land, and I jog over to the black 2010 Audi TTS Coupe waiting for me. Vroom, vroom, I’m off and speed towards an abandoned building in the center of the city where I know Nikolai Kuznetsov will be working on some kind of arms deal.
Kurznetsov is disgusted when I walk into the smoky three-story abandoned building he is working out of. Immediately, two of his men, Viktor and Dmitry, pounce on me like a cat on a mouse and I am slammed up against a brick wall. One of his body guards punches my ribs. My extensive training has prepared me to block out the sharp pain in my side and I stand tough, never dropping my eyes from Kurznetsov. The other guard begins to pat me down to check for weapons, perhaps enjoying himself a little too much. Kurznetsov walks towards me and curses in Russian. He demands to know what my business is coming here in the middle of his preparation for his arms deal.
“I heard there’s going to be a chemical attack on New York City that’s happening later today and I want in” I respond.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Alexandra. The only thing going down today is my arms deal and you are interrupting. Shoot her Viktor, she is of no use” Kurznetsov replies in his thick Russian accent.
“Я знаю, что будет нападение сегодня, и я повторяю, я хочу дюйм Вы должны мне, я сохранил ты жизнь дочери” I retort.
“Kurznetsov tosses me a nickel and says: “I’m not running the operation, but I’ve heard rumors that Vladimir Smirnov is. I don’t where he is or how to find him, but I can make a few calls. We’re even now.”
An hour later I walk back to my car as I wipe Kurznetsov and his men’s blood off my hands. I can’t afford to have loose ends. I jump in the driver’s seat and speed off towards an auto shop where Vladimir’s men are supposedly assembling the chemical weapon. Will I be lucky enough to catch them before they move the weapon again? Probably not, these types of missions are never that easy. Beep, beep my ear piece informs me that my deadline has been moved up to 1900. With no time to waste, I floor the gas pedal and watch the speedometer rise from seventy-five to eighty to eighty-five and then to where it finally rests at ninety. Within minutes I park a few blocks away from the auto shop and take a couple seconds to observe my surroundings. As my eyes scan, I find an adjacent abandoned building about eighty meters away from the auto shop. I pop my trunk and pull out the M24 Sniper Weapon and a bag of other supplies. As I climb the steps of the abandoned building, I assume there will be at least three men with Vladimir. One will probably be out back, the other out front, and one inside with him. That means I need two clean shots, one for Vladimir and one for his hopeful replacement inside.
I reach into my bag and pull out the thermal binoculars. There are four men in the auto shop, just as I suspected. I assemble my M24 and look through the scope, waiting for Vladimir to come into sight. My finger rests on the trigger, sweat drops slide down my skin in anticipation, but my body holds perfectly still. Suddenly, a man slides into view, I assume it must be Vladimir’s right hand man. I count back from three in my head to pull the trigger: “three, two…”
“Stop Alex. Stop” my ear piece exclaims.
“What Christian? He was in my line of fire!” I sigh as I let my finger fall off the trigger.
“We just got new intelligence; Vladimir isn’t in the building anymore.”
“Do you have any new leads?”
“No, nothing, however, we’re only an hour away from the deadline.”
“He had to have moved the weapon somewhere where he can release it to a very populated area within the city -- a subway or some kind of festival, perhaps?”
“I wish I had more information for you, Alex, but I’ve got nothing on this end. It’s up to you.”
I pounded my fists into my head. Think, Alex, think I said to myself. My right hand slips into my pocket as I try to figure out Vladimir’s next move. Suddenly, my fingers grasp the nickel Kurznetsov gave to me and it hits me – the Staten Island Coin Show kicks off at 1900 today.
“Clear-Chloride, Nitrate, Good-Golly!”
There will be thousands of people there and that has to be where Vladimir is planning to launch his attack. I jump into my car and speed towards Staten Island.
Upon arrival, I grab my SIG Sauer P220 handgun and sprint towards the center of the coin show. I know Vladimir will have had one of his men plant the sulfur mustard canister somewhere near the middle, and I also know that Vladimir will want to push the big red button himself from somewhere where he can watch. I scan my surroundings and my eyes lock on building directly outside of the probable strike range – Vladimir must be in there. I quickly turn around and head towards the only window within range of watching the imminent strike. My calves burn as I climb the steps, but I push on. I stop at the fourth floor and pull out my gun. I slip through the door and look towards the window. Nothing.
“Gah! I must have been wrong!” I think to myself.
Suddenly, a figure appears in front of the window and I recognize the man as Vladimir. I slide quietly against the peeling wall-paper and stop directly behind him. In one swift motion, I grab him and press my gun into his skull.
“Drop the remote Vladimir. It’s over” I whisper in his ear.
He gently sets the remote down and I handcuff him.
“Christian, I’ve secured the remote and have Vladimir in custod…”
CRASH!
“Alex! What was that noise?” Christian shouts.
“Vladimir. He jumped out the window. He’s dead.” I answer.
“Great. Just great. Well, at least we found him before he could set off the weapon. I just had some other Agents secure the canister; it was hidden underneath a table at the coin show. Pack up, Alex. Good work today. I’ll send some men over to clean up Vladimir’s body.” Christian said.
Three weeks later I was back at my parent’s house – my sister’s wedding had been rescheduled. No one in my family let me out of their sight after my “medical emergency.” Everyone was completely freaked out by my sudden illness on the original wedding date, and I just couldn’t seem to convince them that there was nothing to worry about now. Nevertheless, my mom watched everything I ate, touched, and drank like a hawk, even now her eyes were locked on me as I stepped “one, two, three, four” down the aisle between the white chairs again. As I walked, I constantly prayed, behind my smile, that I would not trip or throw my lantern and catch anyone on fire. But, despite my prayer, it happened: I stepped in a small hole and lost my balance. Although I wobbled a little bit, no one seemed to notice. I caught my balance and kept going, and then I was finally done. I now watched as the other two bridesmaids followed. Then the music changed and I watched as my sister walked down the aisle, probably praying the same prayer as me to not trip and fall. She was walking with my dad, and she was smiling. She was really excited. I looked at my dad’s feet and noticed that he was doing just fine, walking normally. Lindsey was now looking into Seth’s eyes and the pastor started the ceremony.
“Oh, No!” Please. Don’t. I am begging you.” I pleaded.
Today was Sunday June 20th, 2009 -- my sister’s wedding day. She had just gotten back from getting her hair done at the salon and I was already fighting off a curling iron, a tube of mascara, a bridesmaid, and the photographer. Rachel, the maid of honor, was now holding me down and I was forced to be still. Of course every time she tried to put some kind of junk on my face I either squinted or jerked. I already had some black, purple, and blue streaks all over my face but I was not going to let her win without a fight. As you can see, I am not the bride, so why all the preparation? I had to go through all of this torture because I had to walk fifty-four steps down the aisle between two rows of white chairs, up onto the stage, and turn around all without tripping. Despite my athleticism, this was no easy task because not only was I forced to smile and act all lady-like but also I had to do it in a dress and heels. Ugh, the dress. It was time. This was definitely the worst part of this whole event. Truthfully, I could handle all the make-up; I could handle the dancing, but wearing a dress all day? No! That was too much. Nevertheless, Rachel hung the dress on the shower rod, pushed me into the bathroom, and locked the door. Soon, she set me free and I emerged dressed and ready to get the whole wedding over with. I looked in the mirror and realized that I didn’t look half bad. Personally, I preferred my more comfortable clothes back at my apartment.
It was time. I could hear Rachel frantically calling my name and I filed into line with the three other bridesmaids and the rest of the wedding party. Rachel handed me an aluminum lantern (we were carrying these instead of flowers) and I waited patiently to be given any last minute instructions. This was when it hit me, my sister was getting married. Emotions surfaced as I looked off my back porch at all the people in my backyard waiting for the processional to begin. I had always thought it was pretty stupid to have the wedding at our house, but now that it was actually happening, I realized how special this day was going to be, despite this tight dress. To be honest, I was surprised Lindsey had asked me to be in her wedding, I hadn’t really seen her in five years.
After I graduated from New York University in 2004, I was quickly scooped up by a private investigative firm in Manhattan. My family, however, did not know this. They thought that I worked for a publishing company, reading manuscripts and drinking coffee in a nice corner office. To them, I was moderately successful in a world of commas and periods. Period. But that wasn’t my real life. In reality, I was different from most women my age. I was organized, intelligent, and punctual. My job required a certain appearance, and when the Company’s previous agent, Leah, went rouge, I was recruited. My first day on the job I was completely transformed. I had grown up a rebellious tom-boy who hated make up, dresses, and anything girly, which was why I had to act the part now that I was back home for Lindsey’s wedding, but now, I had changed for the position. Presently, long straight dark brown hair lay gently against my back. I have soft olive colored skin. My eyebrows are slim and perfectly plucked. I am tall and physically fit. However, as perfect as my hair, face, and body are it is my eyes that attract the most attention. My name is Alex, and I am The Tracker.
My reflective thoughts are brought back to reality as the music begins and the first bridesmaid steps off the porch. When she gets to the back row of chairs, I take a deep breath and start my walk with my lantern daintily swaying in my left hand. This was no normal walk down the aisle. This was a “one, two, three, four” count. In the rehearsal we tried the “step-right, step-together, step left, step- together” but my father somehow was not able to do this. He would always step with the same foot forward and practically trip my sister. I am now halfway down the grassy aisle between the white chairs and all the guests. As I step, “one, two, three, four” my eye catches sight of one of the men from The Company. I know what this means – I’m needed right away for a new mission. I need to come up with some kind of distraction, need to find a way to get out of here immediately. Suddenly an idea pops into my head and I step into a small hole in the yard and I feel myself losing my footing and I am falling, falling…fallen. The agent from the Company slips out of the aisle and is leaning over me to help me up. Just as we were trained, he whispers two words indicating the level of emergency: “Copper Corkscrew” and gives me a small yellow pill that will help me fake a life-threatening medical emergency. I swallow the pill, and as my body begins to seize, the Agent explains to the guests and my family that he is a very good friend of mine and a doctor and that I need to be life-flighted to a hospital in New York City. My condition appears to be contagious to the touch and since he is the only one who has touched my skin, he is also the only one who should go with me to the hospital. Despite the hysteria from my family, it works like clockwork and we get out with relatively little difficulty.
Within ten minutes The Company’s helicopter arrives on scene and takes the Agent and I away. As soon as we are out of sight, I’m given the ok to wake up. Immediately, I am briefed on the situation: a Russian operative, Vladimir Smirnov, has smuggled in sulfur mustard that he plans to use to launch a chemical warfare attack on NYC at 2100 and it’s my job to find the suspect since I am the Tracker, after all. I’m informed that I am being sent back undercover to the active Russian mob, led by Nikolai Kurznetsov, a cover I had kept for the last three years before I got out just six months ago. The Agent tells me that I will be dropped off a few miles outside of the city where everything I need for my mission will be waiting for me. Quickly, I change into dark jeans, a slim-fitting t-shirt, and a black leather jacket while the Agent downloads further information and instructions to my PDA. The Agent hands me an ear piece that will connect me with the head intelligence officer, Christian Brauer. We land, and I jog over to the black 2010 Audi TTS Coupe waiting for me. Vroom, vroom, I’m off and speed towards an abandoned building in the center of the city where I know Nikolai Kuznetsov will be working on some kind of arms deal.
Kurznetsov is disgusted when I walk into the smoky three-story abandoned building he is working out of. Immediately, two of his men, Viktor and Dmitry, pounce on me like a cat on a mouse and I am slammed up against a brick wall. One of his body guards punches my ribs. My extensive training has prepared me to block out the sharp pain in my side and I stand tough, never dropping my eyes from Kurznetsov. The other guard begins to pat me down to check for weapons, perhaps enjoying himself a little too much. Kurznetsov walks towards me and curses in Russian. He demands to know what my business is coming here in the middle of his preparation for his arms deal.
“I heard there’s going to be a chemical attack on New York City that’s happening later today and I want in” I respond.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Alexandra. The only thing going down today is my arms deal and you are interrupting. Shoot her Viktor, she is of no use” Kurznetsov replies in his thick Russian accent.
“Я знаю, что будет нападение сегодня, и я повторяю, я хочу дюйм Вы должны мне, я сохранил ты жизнь дочери” I retort.
“Kurznetsov tosses me a nickel and says: “I’m not running the operation, but I’ve heard rumors that Vladimir Smirnov is. I don’t where he is or how to find him, but I can make a few calls. We’re even now.”
An hour later I walk back to my car as I wipe Kurznetsov and his men’s blood off my hands. I can’t afford to have loose ends. I jump in the driver’s seat and speed off towards an auto shop where Vladimir’s men are supposedly assembling the chemical weapon. Will I be lucky enough to catch them before they move the weapon again? Probably not, these types of missions are never that easy. Beep, beep my ear piece informs me that my deadline has been moved up to 1900. With no time to waste, I floor the gas pedal and watch the speedometer rise from seventy-five to eighty to eighty-five and then to where it finally rests at ninety. Within minutes I park a few blocks away from the auto shop and take a couple seconds to observe my surroundings. As my eyes scan, I find an adjacent abandoned building about eighty meters away from the auto shop. I pop my trunk and pull out the M24 Sniper Weapon and a bag of other supplies. As I climb the steps of the abandoned building, I assume there will be at least three men with Vladimir. One will probably be out back, the other out front, and one inside with him. That means I need two clean shots, one for Vladimir and one for his hopeful replacement inside.
I reach into my bag and pull out the thermal binoculars. There are four men in the auto shop, just as I suspected. I assemble my M24 and look through the scope, waiting for Vladimir to come into sight. My finger rests on the trigger, sweat drops slide down my skin in anticipation, but my body holds perfectly still. Suddenly, a man slides into view, I assume it must be Vladimir’s right hand man. I count back from three in my head to pull the trigger: “three, two…”
“Stop Alex. Stop” my ear piece exclaims.
“What Christian? He was in my line of fire!” I sigh as I let my finger fall off the trigger.
“We just got new intelligence; Vladimir isn’t in the building anymore.”
“Do you have any new leads?”
“No, nothing, however, we’re only an hour away from the deadline.”
“He had to have moved the weapon somewhere where he can release it to a very populated area within the city -- a subway or some kind of festival, perhaps?”
“I wish I had more information for you, Alex, but I’ve got nothing on this end. It’s up to you.”
I pounded my fists into my head. Think, Alex, think I said to myself. My right hand slips into my pocket as I try to figure out Vladimir’s next move. Suddenly, my fingers grasp the nickel Kurznetsov gave to me and it hits me – the Staten Island Coin Show kicks off at 1900 today.
“Clear-Chloride, Nitrate, Good-Golly!”
There will be thousands of people there and that has to be where Vladimir is planning to launch his attack. I jump into my car and speed towards Staten Island.
Upon arrival, I grab my SIG Sauer P220 handgun and sprint towards the center of the coin show. I know Vladimir will have had one of his men plant the sulfur mustard canister somewhere near the middle, and I also know that Vladimir will want to push the big red button himself from somewhere where he can watch. I scan my surroundings and my eyes lock on building directly outside of the probable strike range – Vladimir must be in there. I quickly turn around and head towards the only window within range of watching the imminent strike. My calves burn as I climb the steps, but I push on. I stop at the fourth floor and pull out my gun. I slip through the door and look towards the window. Nothing.
“Gah! I must have been wrong!” I think to myself.
Suddenly, a figure appears in front of the window and I recognize the man as Vladimir. I slide quietly against the peeling wall-paper and stop directly behind him. In one swift motion, I grab him and press my gun into his skull.
“Drop the remote Vladimir. It’s over” I whisper in his ear.
He gently sets the remote down and I handcuff him.
“Christian, I’ve secured the remote and have Vladimir in custod…”
CRASH!
“Alex! What was that noise?” Christian shouts.
“Vladimir. He jumped out the window. He’s dead.” I answer.
“Great. Just great. Well, at least we found him before he could set off the weapon. I just had some other Agents secure the canister; it was hidden underneath a table at the coin show. Pack up, Alex. Good work today. I’ll send some men over to clean up Vladimir’s body.” Christian said.
Three weeks later I was back at my parent’s house – my sister’s wedding had been rescheduled. No one in my family let me out of their sight after my “medical emergency.” Everyone was completely freaked out by my sudden illness on the original wedding date, and I just couldn’t seem to convince them that there was nothing to worry about now. Nevertheless, my mom watched everything I ate, touched, and drank like a hawk, even now her eyes were locked on me as I stepped “one, two, three, four” down the aisle between the white chairs again. As I walked, I constantly prayed, behind my smile, that I would not trip or throw my lantern and catch anyone on fire. But, despite my prayer, it happened: I stepped in a small hole and lost my balance. Although I wobbled a little bit, no one seemed to notice. I caught my balance and kept going, and then I was finally done. I now watched as the other two bridesmaids followed. Then the music changed and I watched as my sister walked down the aisle, probably praying the same prayer as me to not trip and fall. She was walking with my dad, and she was smiling. She was really excited. I looked at my dad’s feet and noticed that he was doing just fine, walking normally. Lindsey was now looking into Seth’s eyes and the pastor started the ceremony.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Why I Am Running for Vice Chairman, Armstrong GOP Comm, May 2010
If you've followed my blog posts from the beginning, obviously I have been concerned with the hidden nature of the committee and the lack of representation across PA and the the country. As a County Coordinator for Sam Rohrer for Governor, I promoted not only Sam but also the county committees’ existence and role in the election process. Many eyes were opened and people stepped forward to seek committee seats. With that accomplished, my next goal is to bring Republicans together within the precincts, starting with my own. If this can be accomplished, what a strong foundation we can build!
In Armstrong County, the election of 108 committee people has almost tripled the membership from the previous year! As someone who eagerly sought increased participation and representation, I am thrilled by the results. This is the right kind of change! Other changes are needed, and the first is to effect a change in leadership.
I am supporting Ron Davis for Chairman. Ron moved to Armstrong a few years ago and has an enormous amount of experience in Republican Committee work from his years in Allegheny County. He knows how to bring people together and facilitate opposing interests to get real work accomplished with fairness to all. I am also supporting Andy Evans of Apollo for Treasurer. I’ve known Andy as an elder in the PCA and also as a successful businessman and CPA, and now the Tax Collector for North Apollo.
My resume is much more limited, but I too have a respect for individuals and want to see the Republican Party be the best it can be - which means being open, principled, and inclusive. I firmly believe that if we do "the right things," great rewards will be forthcoming. Manipulation, secretiveness, expediency, and cronyism are some of our enemies. Our strength will come from the ideas, initiatives, talents, and leadership that each of you will bring to the committee! Viewing the Committee as a pyramid, the base is where its strength lies. My vision for the Committee is that it is not led, but leads. The power of the Committee should come from the Republican electors in the precincts, flowing through the Committee system, to impact candidates and incumbents from here to Washington.
In Armstrong County, the election of 108 committee people has almost tripled the membership from the previous year! As someone who eagerly sought increased participation and representation, I am thrilled by the results. This is the right kind of change! Other changes are needed, and the first is to effect a change in leadership.
I am supporting Ron Davis for Chairman. Ron moved to Armstrong a few years ago and has an enormous amount of experience in Republican Committee work from his years in Allegheny County. He knows how to bring people together and facilitate opposing interests to get real work accomplished with fairness to all. I am also supporting Andy Evans of Apollo for Treasurer. I’ve known Andy as an elder in the PCA and also as a successful businessman and CPA, and now the Tax Collector for North Apollo.
My resume is much more limited, but I too have a respect for individuals and want to see the Republican Party be the best it can be - which means being open, principled, and inclusive. I firmly believe that if we do "the right things," great rewards will be forthcoming. Manipulation, secretiveness, expediency, and cronyism are some of our enemies. Our strength will come from the ideas, initiatives, talents, and leadership that each of you will bring to the committee! Viewing the Committee as a pyramid, the base is where its strength lies. My vision for the Committee is that it is not led, but leads. The power of the Committee should come from the Republican electors in the precincts, flowing through the Committee system, to impact candidates and incumbents from here to Washington.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
LTE published Butler Eagle 4-21-2010
Return power to the people
Most people in the country are registered Democrats or Republicans, but what has this meant? Probably not more than holding a political philosophy and pushing a lever to vote every four years.
And yet the parties have extraordinary power, and that power begins in the county committees at the grass-roots level.
In Pennsylvania, in the Republican Party, every voting precinct in a county elects two people to seats on the Republican County Committee. The problem is that this level of government is virtually invisible.
Can people name one of the committee people representing them in their voting precinct? Probably not.
And it is highly likely that no one is representing them.
In Armstrong County, there are 74 precincts; however, in the election on May 18, when committee people will be elected to four-year terms, only 22 of the precincts have even one person running. Fifty-two precincts will have no representation.
From the county committee, representatives are chosen for the Republican State Committee, and from the state committee representatives are chosen for the Republican National Committee. These committees have enormous power, and when it becomes concentrated in such a few people who might be entrenched in the system, the influence of big money, special interests and control of the ballots, endorsements and campaign money has huge potential for abuse.
I am told all of this is true for both parties across the entire nation.
Voters can change this on May 18. First, they should go to their voter registration office and find out if anyone is running in their precinct.
Second, if no one is running, it is not too late. Anyone can run as a write-in candidate. Only 10 people need to write in one's name (uniformly) on the ballot.
Additional information is available by googling the National Precincts Movement and, in Pennsylvania, the PA Precinct Activists.
This is the key to returning power to the people at the grass-roots level.
Alison Weber
South Buffalo Township
Armstrong County
Most people in the country are registered Democrats or Republicans, but what has this meant? Probably not more than holding a political philosophy and pushing a lever to vote every four years.
And yet the parties have extraordinary power, and that power begins in the county committees at the grass-roots level.
In Pennsylvania, in the Republican Party, every voting precinct in a county elects two people to seats on the Republican County Committee. The problem is that this level of government is virtually invisible.
Can people name one of the committee people representing them in their voting precinct? Probably not.
And it is highly likely that no one is representing them.
In Armstrong County, there are 74 precincts; however, in the election on May 18, when committee people will be elected to four-year terms, only 22 of the precincts have even one person running. Fifty-two precincts will have no representation.
From the county committee, representatives are chosen for the Republican State Committee, and from the state committee representatives are chosen for the Republican National Committee. These committees have enormous power, and when it becomes concentrated in such a few people who might be entrenched in the system, the influence of big money, special interests and control of the ballots, endorsements and campaign money has huge potential for abuse.
I am told all of this is true for both parties across the entire nation.
Voters can change this on May 18. First, they should go to their voter registration office and find out if anyone is running in their precinct.
Second, if no one is running, it is not too late. Anyone can run as a write-in candidate. Only 10 people need to write in one's name (uniformly) on the ballot.
Additional information is available by googling the National Precincts Movement and, in Pennsylvania, the PA Precinct Activists.
This is the key to returning power to the people at the grass-roots level.
Alison Weber
South Buffalo Township
Armstrong County
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
What Lies Ahead
What Lies Ahead
Throughout high school, I have been blessed to be surrounded by exceptional and effective leaders who were marked by honorable character and selfless service. I’ve learned a good leader is resilient and will find a way to rebuild the world when it begins to collapse. I’ve also been told that if I want something to change, I have to be the change I want to see in the world. It is for this reason that I want to pursue a career in medicine.
After enduring several serious sports injuries, I’ve made it my life’s goal to help other injured athletes not only get back onto the field but also avoid injuries to begin with. This is the change I hope to affect as nothing is more devastating to a committed athlete than to be told he should never play again. My pursuit of a medical career is not driven by a desire for a hefty salary but by a desire to provide exceptional care for athletes. . Overcoming my own athletic disappointments developed my stamina and perseverance while my competitive nature caused me to set my educational goals high. I plan to major in English and take the prerequisite classes for the MCATs so that I can go on to medical school. I have applied to the University of Virginia and Grove City College and have already been accepted to the University of Pittsburgh and Texas A&M. Any of these schools will provide me with the education and clinical and research opportunities as an undergraduate student that are necessary to realistically pursue a career in surgery.
I agree with Marian Wright Edelman when she said, “Education is for improving the lives of others and for leaving your community and world better than you found it.” My own athletic journey drives me to pursue a career in medicine and I’m anxious to begin studying.
Throughout high school, I have been blessed to be surrounded by exceptional and effective leaders who were marked by honorable character and selfless service. I’ve learned a good leader is resilient and will find a way to rebuild the world when it begins to collapse. I’ve also been told that if I want something to change, I have to be the change I want to see in the world. It is for this reason that I want to pursue a career in medicine.
After enduring several serious sports injuries, I’ve made it my life’s goal to help other injured athletes not only get back onto the field but also avoid injuries to begin with. This is the change I hope to affect as nothing is more devastating to a committed athlete than to be told he should never play again. My pursuit of a medical career is not driven by a desire for a hefty salary but by a desire to provide exceptional care for athletes. . Overcoming my own athletic disappointments developed my stamina and perseverance while my competitive nature caused me to set my educational goals high. I plan to major in English and take the prerequisite classes for the MCATs so that I can go on to medical school. I have applied to the University of Virginia and Grove City College and have already been accepted to the University of Pittsburgh and Texas A&M. Any of these schools will provide me with the education and clinical and research opportunities as an undergraduate student that are necessary to realistically pursue a career in surgery.
I agree with Marian Wright Edelman when she said, “Education is for improving the lives of others and for leaving your community and world better than you found it.” My own athletic journey drives me to pursue a career in medicine and I’m anxious to begin studying.
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