Have you ever felt completely invisible?
Do you ever wonder if your existence matters?
As I sit here in the hallway, at the top of these stairs, I wonder if I should even be at this party. I don’t know anyone. Well, I know their faces, but that’s hardly enough to have a good time. I don’t like to drink anyway. But the music is thumping downstairs, and they’re all screaming and carrying on. Maybe it isn’t so bad. At least it wouldn’t be so bad if Kio was here.
Kio is my best friend. Well, she was until she flunked British Literature last semester. She got all pissed at me then. And then she started dating the nicest guy in school. You know how it is. People forget about you, and pretty soon you find yourself going to parties you never intended to be at.
Yeah, so even though Kio would never have come, I wished she was at this party because then we could be talking about how to make espresso or how the light fixtures above the stairs are crooked. Instead of that, I’m just here listening to strangers get high and drunk. I sure don’t feel bad about it, just bored out of my mind. School was a real bummer, but my class sure knows how to throw a stupid, illegal party.
Chaperones are hard to come by, so tonight’s hostess and most glamourous girl in the senior class has been known to say. I agree. None of our teachers gave a crap about what we did on the weekends, as long as we threw together our homework and were somewhat over the headaches by Monday morning. The seniors lucked out this year because we had Mr. Stripe first period for economics everyday. He likes to talk and doesn’t care if you listen. And for some reason, announcements aren’t made and attendance isn’t taken until second period. So, lots of us skipped first period. It’s crazy that only like two of the guys got in trouble for it. And that’s just because they flunked. Personally, I like economics, just not so darn early in the morning. The unholy hour of eight in Wisconsin has always been dampened by cold commutes to school by way of dropping off my little twin brothers at the elementary school eight blocks from Cheddar High.
Man, what a name for a school. Schools should not be named after cheeses, but in Wisconsin, cheese is big. Martin and Marvin’s school is simply Red River Elementary, but once you get into the seventh grade, you have to tell people you go to Cheddar Public. Next year the twins will have to bear that burden of embarrassment. I have for six years now. Seriously, I think that two of the five colleges I applied to rejected my application because of the name of my high school.
Aside from Harvard and Stanford, I guess the other three were fairly impressed by my class rank and my ACT score of 33. British Literature was my best class, of course. Heck, it’s why Kio decided to hate me. I don’t get why she started dating Rick, though. He was my main rival in that class. The only reason I was even invited to this party, although I’m pretty much a nobody, is because I was the first female valedictorian from Cheddar. Like anybody besides my parents and grandma care about that. Even Mart and Marv don’t know what a vale-dict-whatsitcalled is. I doubt half my class knows what it is either.
Well, my speech today impressed Jackson Tenniman. He invited me, and is probably looking for me right now in a half-drunk stupor. But I’m here, at the top of the stairs, just thinking about those stupid lights, and wanting to reach out and fix them, but afraid of catching someone’s eye. They might tell Jackson where I am.*
STARBUCKS COFFEE, SMOKY AND INTENSE
The Starbucks company commands a leading position among global companies as it continues to experience dynamic growth and enjoy a worldwide welcome. I am proud to be a part of those welcoming arms. Although I don’t usually reserve intimate emotions for corporations, there is something about this one that draws me in so profoundly.
Whenever I walk into Starbucks, I feel a kinship with the others sharing the cafe. Whether it’s due to the smooth jazz that pours over me, or the smoky smell of coffee that engulfs me, I don’t know. But there is this feeling that the world has stopped as I step to the counter to order my hazelnut mocha. As I wait in anticipation, I fidget and carefully choose a precious napkin and an elegant plastic spoon. There is something mesmerizing about staring at the mound of whip cream atop the joy-giving tonic.
Well, as I sit there soaking in my surroundings, reading a book, writing a poem or letter, or talking to my friends, I enjoy what some might call psychological detachment. Starbucks is my escape from the frigid business world. When I reach that haven, I have stepped into the home of a business that stands in salute to the creation of coffee and those who are devoted to drinking it. The business tactics of Starbucks never cease to amaze me. There is so much behind the warm green logo and the allusions to Moby-Dick and The Odyssey. Among these symbolic reminders that life is a journey work the people that give Starbucks its beckoning voice. The employees are not only friendly and polite, they are always well-groomed and looking sharp in their matching black pants, white polo's, and green aprons.
Starbucks has grown from 15 stores and 100 employees in 1987 to more than 6,200 stores in 30 countries with approximately 65,000 partners (employees) serving more than 22 million customers worldwide each week. No other coffee company in the world can claim such a success. Out of gratitude to its faithful customers, Starbucks is in the process of launching a new customer appreciation program in a new phase for the Starbucks card. Up until now, the card has mainly been for loyal customers who don’t like loose change, and for gift-givers; but soon, customers will be able to save and benefit from the card in new ways. This is an exciting opportunity for me as I now have four cards because many of my friends view the Starbucks card as the perfect gift for a coffee-lover like me.
Starbucks looks to produce social, environmental and economic benefits for communities in which it does business. They practice conservation and recycling, and were named as one of the “100 Best Corporate Citizens” by the Business Ethics Magazine in 2000, 2001, and 2002. They were also named the “Most Admired Company” by Fortune Magazine in 2001 and 2002. Starbucks is a partner for sustainability and is recognized by much of the world community as such.
That deep, intense comfort I feel in a Starbucks cafe stems from the Starbucks Company’s efforts to respect human dignity and their determination to enrich life.*
AN UNPRECEDENTED ACHIEVEMENT
IN KOBE YOUTH SOCCER
Kobe, Japan
24 youth soccer teams from six prefectures gathered in Osaka the weekend of March 28 for the Kansai Regional Youth Soccer Club Championship Tournament sponsored by Fuji-pan and Nikkan Sports. For the first time in the nine year history of this event, which is open to Japanese fifth grade teams, Kobe’s own Wakakusa Youth Soccer Club was able to dominate and make it into the semifinals.
Wakakusa began the tournament with a 7-0 win and followed it with an 8-0 win on Friday to qualify for a first bracket seat. Saturday’s single game yielded a 2-0 win over the Setta Higashi Youth Soccer Club and a place in the semifinals. On Sunday, Wakakusa faced the Purple Sanga Juniors, the junior division of the professional club team from Kyoto whose members must pass a skills test to join. Despite their loss to this team, which went on to win the tournament, Wakakusa was able to finish tied for third place.
Leading scorers for the tournament from the Wakakusa team were Tomoya Kuroki and Keita Iida. Wakakusa captain Naoto Ando led the team’s offense in assists. Tatsuya Kuroki and Josiah Trim anchored the defense. No goals were scored against the team until the semifinal game.
Josiah Trim, the only non-Japanese player to play in the tournament, is a fifth grade student at Marist Brothers International School in Suma Ku, Kobe, and is a starting defender for the Wakakusa team. Before attending Marist, Trim attended and played soccer at Wakakusa Elementary School during his second and third grade years. He has continued with the team, and has had opportunities to build relationships between Marist and the Kobe community.
The Wakakusa team was eligible to participate in the championship tournament as it finished as one of the top four youth soccer teams in Hyogo Ken in an early March tournament. Four members of the Wakakusa team have been playing together from the first grade; and ten of the eleven starters have been playing since second grade. Naganobu Fujiwara has been the club’s president for twenty years. Saburo Nagai has been the qualifying team’s coach for all six years of it’s existence.
The team has high hopes for winning more games on the local and regional levels to qualify for the national tournament held annually in June.
Televised coverage of the event was broadcast on April 7, Monday, at 9:30 am on ABC channel 6. Some Wakakusa players were interviewed including captain Naoto Ando and defenseman Josiah Trim.*
THE SAGA OF THE SKY
Not knowing what was out there, beyond the clouds, seemed to be her only worry. No, she was not going to turn back now. She had been working for years to get to this point, through junior high, high school, and years of college to make it to where she now stood. She was on the brink of her dreams. One more step would turn her childhood daydreams into reality. She had given up friendships, sports, hobbies, and even guys to keep her grades up and to do extra studying. She had sold her life in order to achieve what she wanted more than anything. There was no way she would not be going up in the next shuttle, up and beyond gravity. She would defy nature along with a team of other professionals. She would prove her mettle. She didn’t need anything but success to be happy.
She swung her long, blonde pony-tail as she straddled her mountain bike. Her well-toned legs pumped up and down as she forced herself to go faster and faster towards the NASA base. Coming to a screeching halt at the security gate, she pulled out her I.D. so Bill could let her in. The gates opened and she peddled her bike to the bike rack near the massive front entrance of the looming main building. People bustled in and out of buildings and along the paved streets of the base, which looked more like a small city. She stopped to grab a Gatorade at the vending machine before heading in to work. Taking a left and heading past the elevators, she shot up three flights of stairs before reaching the fourth floor lobby where she was meeting Edmund, leader of the mission and the rest of the team for their last procedure meeting.
He was a short, stubby fellow with gristle on his chin and floppy ears. He really wasn’t your typical mission leader, and that’s what made him so special. He’d listen to anybody’s problems. He met with Bill, the gatekeeper, for lunch twice a week just to talk about aerodynamics and physics. Bill had aspired to be an astronaut when he was in his prime, before a terrible accident left his brilliant mind confined to a wheelchair. Edmund knew these things, and not many other people did. Edmund knew about how much she wanted this. He knew the sacrifices she had made. She didn’t tell many people much, but Edmund was different. He was definitely her best friend right now. He left her alone and gave her her space, but always knew when to talk, when to be “nosy”.
Tomorrow was the day they would be taking off, so some of the media were already gaining passes to get on base and bug people. She hadn’t been bothered outside the base until this morning, when some little kid had asked for her autograph at a red light while her bike was stopped and he was on his way to school. She had obliged, and even managed to smile, but she wasn’t usually too sociable in the mornings.
“Hi there, Sky. How are you this glorious morning?” Edmund was his usual cheery self.
“Already sweating, I see,” commented the only other female on the mission. Jeanelle was a totally different idea from Sky, in that she cared more about wearing sexy clothes to compliment her sharp mind than taking care of her health.
“I’m doing fine, thank you. Am I the last one to arrive?”
“No, Shanon isn’t here yet. Oh, wait, here he comes,” responded Edmund to the ring of the elevator and the appearance of Shanon Gallagher, the navigator.
Edmund started the meeting as everyone sat down. Jeanelle crossed her legs on one end of a large red sofa, while Shanon sat next to her in an open spot between her and Greg London, assistant navigator. Head of NASA, Tom Ives, stood to one side, arms crossed. The rest of the team, four others in all, took their respective places in the matching red chairs. Sky set her bulging backpack to the side and took a seat on the floor. Scattered about the room were guards and other men and women involved in organizing the whole mission. Pens clicked and papers rustled as Edmund spoke in his calm, sure voice.
After the meeting, the room organized itself into a few separate groups of people. Then, they formed a sort of procession that marched down the stairs and out the front doors. The team was loaded onto a bus to go to another building to get changed, and then everyone else scuttled off to finish last-minute details. Phones in Houston buzzed as communications began playing its most important role, keeping everybody connected. After changing, the team was taken to the launch pad to rehearse the boarding process for one last time. Then they were shuttled back to the medical building for one last check up. It took all morning and part of the afternoon. Edmund encouraged them all to get sleep, so everyone on the team felt rather forced to get to the dorms where they would be spending perhaps their last evening and night on earth. No one going on this mission had much family to speak of, except for Greg London, whose wife and two children would be anticipating his return. Sky had severed what little connections she had to her home town, which included family ties. The only person she kept in touch with was her ninth grade physical science teacher, Mr. Bond. He was excited for her. Countless times he had tried to help her out with the social side of things, even vainly trying to set her up with his son, but Sky’s vision had not wavered. She kept him on her e-mailing list because he had taught her so much of what she knew. He had personally tutored her, recognizing what promise she showed. She owed him a lot of gratitude.
Sky couldn’t care less if she never saw any other human beings besides her mission team ever again. It wasn’t that she was depressed; she was independent. She had never felt the need for someone to lean on. Edmund’s presence was a comfort, but she could do without anyone, really. She would be happy to fly off to another universe and live in her own little world by herself until she breathed her last breath.
At about five a.m. she heard someone in the hall. She was a light sleeper so she crawled out of bed and pulled on some sweats and a decent t-shirt she had brought with her. Pulling on her jogging shoes, she peered out the door into the dimly lit corridor. She recognized Edmund stealing away towards the elevators. Sky decided to follow. The team wasn’t scheduled to wake up until eight, so five was a queer time to be taking a walk.
After following him for about ten minutes and managing to keep herself hidden from his sight and hearing, she realized they were coming up to the gate. Sky guessed that Edmund wanted to say goodbye to Bill. She was right. Bill wheeled himself out of the booth, with something on his lap besides the plaid blanket he always had. She concealed herself next to the recycling bins and listened with all her might. She had no idea as to why she was so curious.
“Thank you so much, Edmund. This means a whole lot to me.”
“It’s my pleasure, Bill. You’ve taught me so much over the past four years we’ve known each other. Before the accident and after we’ve been friends. This is something I want to do for you with my whole heart.”
“I always wanted..” Bill choked and began whispering strained words of which she could only catch a few, “...wanted...kid...wings...stars...up there...”
Then all was silent. Sky decided to take a peek at what was happening. She saw Edmund lean down a bit to say something into Bill’s ear. He took what Sky could now see to be a bag from Bill’s lap and embraced him.
“He’ll make it,” was all she heard Edmund say. They shook hands and looked at each other a moment more before Bill began to wheel back into the small gate-keeping building and Edmund turned to retrace his steps back to the dorm. Sky continued to sit there for about ten minutes before she made her way back to the dorms as well.
No one had noticed her absence, including Edmund, and eventually everyone woke up. Procedure took over and everything became formal and businesslike. Sky marveled at the organization of it all. It had taken years to make this happen. Everything progressed in a controlled order, and it wasn’t too long before Sky found herself blinded by the glare of flashes from cameras, and the deafening roar of crowds singing the national anthem and cheering. The team was loaded onto their shuttle and buckled in with the utmost care and precaution. Everything was checked and double-checked.
“T-minus 10, 9, 8 ,7 ,6 ,5, 4, 3, 2, 1,” and the blast of the engine rocketed Sky’s wildest fantasies into tangible actuality.
When everyone on the rocket regained consciousness and all necessary communications with Houston were completed, the team changed from their take-off uniforms into the space wear they’d have on for the rest of the mission. Then Sky turned to Edmund.
“I saw you leave this morning. I have to confess I followed you,” she admitted.
“Really? To Bill’s?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I just had this weird nudging feeling.”
“It’s okay. Your presence didn’t make it any less special for us,” he smiled.
“Can I ask you what was in the bag? Or is that being outrageously nosy of me?”
Instead of replying, he floated over to where he had taken off his take-off suit. Out of a secret pocket that Sky had not known about, Edmund pulled an old, ratty-looking, well-loved teddy bear with only one eye. It had two cotton ball filled, home-made wings sewed onto it’s back. Sky didn’t know what to say. Edmund spoke instead.
“Bill wanted, from the time he was a little kid and put these wings on his teddy, to go and explore the stars, to fly high up there, up here with this dearly loved bear. Since Bill couldn’t make it in body, I promised to bring this teddy bear, his heart, so that Bill could fly.”
For the first time since she was six and had fallen off a bike while attempting a wheelie, tears filled Sky’s eyes. Her tears floated off into the no-gravity air as her body began to convulse with sobs. Edmund pulled her gently into his arms and stroked a stray hair back. For the first time in her life, she felt pain inside. For the first time ever, she felt longing. Here she was, behind the sky, discovering new, foreign worlds outside herself, when she had not even discovered the wide world within.*
THE CATCHER IN THE RYE
Shortened Version of Chapter Two in a Purely Descriptive Format
The door to old Spencer’s room had been open, but I knocked so as not to appear rude and all. He was sitting in this big, old leather chair and was wrapped up in a huge, threadbare blanket, probably patched together for him by one of his dead grandmothers years ago. But he got a big bang out of telling everyone he’d bought it off of some Navajo Indian hag when him and Mrs. Spencer went to Yellowstone like four years ago for vacation. When he noticed me he decided to yell,
“Caulfield? Come in, boy!” (7) as if I was deaf. He was always doing that, yelling and all; he’d always gotten a kick out of it. When I walked in I saw there were pills and medicine all over the place and it smelled like Vicks Nose Drops. At that minute I regretted ever coming.
The whole thing was getting me pretty depressed, because he went into this coughing, hacking spell the second I got in there. It’s bad enough having Spencer for a teacher; I don’t know how the heck I came up with the idea of visiting him since he was sick. I’m not too crazy about sick people, especially if they’re old. They always wear those ratty bathrobes and their chests and legs are always showing. And they wheeze like an old harmonica rattling off-key. So there he sat, white, hairy legs sticking out from his puke red bathrobe. He told me to sit on the bed, so I did.
“So, you’re leaving us, eh?” (8) he asked.
“Yes, sir, I guess I am.” (8) I was flunking four of five subjects that semester, his course included.
“How do you think your parents will take the news?” He was getting real annoying. Just sitting there, looking down his big nose at me on the bed, acting like he had the tiniest bit of interest in how I lived my life.
“Well...they’ll be pretty iritated about it. They really will. This is about the fourth school I’ve gone to.” (9) Then, he started nodding. He always did that. Once in a while he’d grunt, but most of it was nodding. In class, if he asked you a question, even if all you were saying was crap, he’d just keep nodding until you were finished answering and then thank you and answer the question himself. Even if you got the answer right he’d say it all over again. Anyway, he nodded more than any other human I’ve ever known in my entire life.
Sometimes, people tell me to act my age, and I get pretty bored with it because I really don’t care. I’m seventeen now, but sometimes I act like I’m thirteen, I guess, but I really don’t care. So I sat there watching him nod. Then he started picking his nose, except he was trying to act like he wasn’t picking it. It was only me in the room besides himself, so I guess he thought it was okay. I didn’t care, except it’s pretty disgusting to watch someone pick their nose.
“I had the privilege of meeting your parents when they came to speak to the school counselor a couple of weeks ago. They’re grand people.” (9) I hate that word, grand. It’s so phony that I think I could throw up every time someone decides to use it. Some words are like that, real phony and all. It kills me how people can be stupid enough to say ‘em all the time. They say the word with this air that says, “I just used a wonderful word,” and that’s so phony it makes me sick. Some people are phony, too. Like old Spencer was a phony if I ever met one.
The air didn’t only smell of Vicks Nose Drops, but it was really starting to creep up onto my tongue. The air was just too stale; I coughed. Plus, the bed I was sitting on was kind of damp. The room really needed a dehumidifier. I got the goose bumps and shivered at the grotesque, muggy sensation crawling up my spine. He was going on and on about my crummy grades, especially my history grade, which was the class he took pride in teaching, so my eyes began to roam the walls. They were as bare as you can imagine the walls in an old person’s room would be. And since Mrs. Spencer had her own room, there was absolutely no femininity about it. Whitewashed walls, brown carpet, twin bed, terribly damp, big, fat leather chair, and only a stingy bureau sitting in a cold, lonesome corner staring at me, the intruder, as if I had done something to offend them.
“Well, good luck to you, boy. I hope you gain some concern for your future. Life is a game, you know.” (8, 15) Yeah, yeah, yeah, and I’m the sorry loser. He started nodding again, with this real serious look on his face. Suddenly I felt real sorry for him, having to sit around in his dingy room without even a television so he could watch some phony show. I was sorry as heck. I said something to assure him that I was just going through one of those phases everyone goes through in attempt to end the conversation so I could get out and not have to be so depressed. He offered me a cup of hot chocolate, but I made up an excuse about having to go to the gym. Then we shook hands and all that crap. It made me feel as sad as heck.
“Get better soon, Mr. Spencer.” (15)
“Good-bye, boy.” (15) I closed the door on my way out, and he yelled one more thing at me. I think it might have been “Good luck”, but I hope not, because it sounds terrible to yell that at someone if you think about it.*
Works Cited
Salinger, J.D. The Catcher In the Rye. Massachusetts: Little, Brown and Company, 1951.
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