12th Grade – English

In this week’s headline news, Al Capone has been sentenced to 11 years in prison and fined $50,000 for evading the payment of his Federal income tax. He was said to owe $215,000 in taxes from his underworld profits. The Government has been trying to rid Chicago of its gangsters and for a few years now. The plan is to send undercover agents into the ring of gangsters and find proof to convict them of evasion of income tax. Capone was the seventh and most important victim. He had been the objective of the plan since day one. During the sentencing, Capone seemed very nervous. He fiddled with his fingers and laughed oddly. Perhaps his days of crime are over.

In other news, Amelie Earhart became the women to complete a flight over the Atlantic ocean. The President sent a message to Earhart saying “You have demonstrated not only your own dauntless courage, but also the capacity of women to match the skill of men in carrying through the most difficult feats of high adventure.” She completed the voyage exactly five years after Charles Lindbergh his transatlantic flight. The flight did not go exactly as planned according to Earhart. Her gasoline gauge broke, causing a leak. She was forced to land prematurely in Londonberry instead of her destined target, Paris. In any case, this truly was a great feat.

On a more somber note, Charles Lindbergh’s 20 month old baby has been stolen. According to the story, the baby was taken during the night right from its crib while it was sleeping. There was no trace of evidence left by the thieves, only a note demanding a $50,000 ransom for the return of the infant. Law enforcement has had no luck finding the kidnappers, and they fear that any knowledge of exposure to thieves would lead to child’s peril. Mrs. Lindbergh is very worried about the baby because it was recovering from a cold. With the weather the way it has been the past few days, she is not sure if the baby could survive in these frigid conditions.

Franklin D. Roosevelt was just elected President in a landslide. It was the most decisive Democratic victory in the history of the country. Republican nominee Herbert Hoover was a distant second in voting. The electoral vote totaled as follows: Roosevelt – 472, Hoover – 59. The total amount of electoral votes needed to win are 226, so as you can see, Roosevelt won by a gigantic margin. The only states that Hoover won were Delaware, Pennsylvania, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, and Connecticut. Roosevelt is eager to step in and do his best to serve the country.

In one last bit of news, the television was first demonstrated at an Associated Press meeting. The broadcast show was titled “Looking at Tomorrow.” The television showed a picturized review of world affairs from a National Broadcasting Company studio. It was the first time a mobile televisor had been used to depict the news and keep the press informed of new happenings. The program was transmitted to monitors several blocks away from the NBC station. One can only wonder if this new technology will expand to common folk.

Playing the saxophone and music have been some of the biggest joys of my life. I first started playing in fourth grade, which is the earliest the school would let you begin band. There were many instruments to choose from: trumpet, trombone, clarinet, and drums among others, but the saxophone was the instrument for me. I had listened to my Pop-pop play his saxophone for me when I visited, and I wanted to be able to play along with him. He was very good because he had been playing since he was my age. I hoped, and still hope, to some day be as talented as he was.

When I first got my saxophone from the school, I was eager to play, but I had no idea how to even put it together. My band instructor gave me and my fellow saxophonists our first lesson on how to assemble the saxophone, how to hold it, and how to blow into it. I went home and practiced with minimal success. I practiced everyday, and with the help of Pop-pop, I could play a few simple songs like “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and “Mary Had a Little Lamb”.

Over the months I became better and better. I breezed through the lesson books we had in school. I was really proud that I learned how to play so quickly. I was the best saxophone in the band. I could even play some easy jazz songs with Pop-pop. I continued my success over into the middle school, and then in seventh grade I had the chance to play in jazz band.

Jazz band was what I had been working hard for. Pop-pop, as most old people, was enthusiastic about jazz. I wanted to make him proud and be jazz band. I knew it would mean a lot to him if I made it in. There were auditions to get in, and I was fairly nervous beforehand. I had practiced the audition music for hours, so I really had no reason to worry, but I did nonetheless. The audition went really well and I made lead alto saxophone! I was very excited, I had not only made jazz band, but I was also lead saxophone. Pop-pop almost had a heart attack he was so happy. I did well in jazz band during seventh and eight grade; I even had a couple solos. I always got very nervous during solos, but I played through my anxiety. Our jazz was exceptional and we won awards from competitions we entered.

Also during middle school, I was asked to join a band with some kids I knew. I wasn’t the best friends with them at the time, but I thought it would be fun and that I’d eventually get to know them better. I wasn’t familiar with the type of music they wanted to play, but I soon learned. Ska is a type of music that is a mix of jazz, punk, reggae, and rock to put it best. It is very upbeat sounding. Most ska bands have vocals, electric guitar, bass, and a horn section comprising of a combination of trumpet, trombone, and saxophone. I loved the music when I first heard it, and I still do. I agreed to join the band, which was called “Six Foot Smurf”.

We covered a few songs to get started, and then we eventually made a few originals. We practiced fairly regularly, so within a year we were ready to play shows. Our first show was at the school dance, which I couldn’t attend because I had to go to a wedding. I was angry at my parents for making me go to the wedding and missing our first show. We played a few other small shows in garages and churches. We started to get better and finally played a real show in West Chester when we were freshmen. We had to open the show, but we were glad we had the chance to be a on a real stage.

Up to this point, I had become less and less interested in the band and the saxophone. Finally, one practice things were just not going well and I quit the band. I was fed up with the whole band experience. I thought I would eventually become good friends with the band members, but it just didn’t happen. I never did anything with them outside of the band. I was never told about practices or upcoming shows. So, abruptly I quit.

After that, I had no drive musically. I still participated in concert band and jazz band, but I wasn’t really into the music. I just played because my parents made me. I became totally separated from the music I had loved. I didn’t listen to music or really practice my saxophone for two years.

About a year ago my Pop-pop died. When he died, something kicked in and I realized that I had gone two years without music. Music was a monumental part of his life, and his death made me realize how music was once a huge part of my life. My friends had been going to concerts and finding new bands to listen to while I was in a daze. I couldn’t believe that I had missed out on so much. I frantically listened to all the new ska music my friends had found. I started to practice for jazz band again. I started to practice for fun.

That is where I am today. I am in the process of starting a new ska band with some friends. I am lead alto in jazz band again. I listen to music every chance I have. I am happy again. Hopefully I will never again stray from my love of music. I don’t know how I ever lived without it.

4:30 on a Sunday morning. My dad nudges me and says, “Time to get up.” I awake out of my dream state, cranky because it is pitch black out and I do not realize what is happening. It is far to early for me, a ten year old, to wake up. I rub my eyes and try to fall back asleep, then something hits me and I realize that today is the day. Today is the day I am allowed to go to the Renningers farmer’s market in Adamstown! I sluggishly crawl out of bed and drag myself into my dad’s old beat up green van. He used the van for his work, which was salvaging old buildings for antiques – like stained glass windows and church pews – and then selling them for his business. The van had many dings and scratches on it and clutter in it, but I loved it. I liked how it stood out with its bold green color; it was almost like an extension of my dad. There were only two seats in the front, the rest of the van was seatless in the back to store cargo and supplies. I crawl into the back of the van and lay on the ground trying to sleep again, but I was too excited. This was the day I would finally see the place my dad had told me about. He’d gone there several times, and the place sounded mystical. He told me about the antique dealers there and how they sold anything you could imagine. I was really eager to see if this was true. I couldn’t fathom what I was going to see in a short while.

The ride up to Adamstown seemed like five hours though it was really only one and a half. I couldn’t wait to get there. My dad tuned the radio to a religious channel, which played church songs played on a pipe organ, though I never really considered him very religious. I guess that was supposed to be our substitute for church that day, as we would be missing it. I remember peering up to take a glance out of the windshield and seeing the sunrise – the sky was a bluish, purplish, reddish color with swirling clouds. It was serene, especially with the religious music in the background. We drove into the sunrise all the way to Adamstown.

Before going to Renningers, we stopped at the gas station to fill up. I didn’t want to wait an extra three minutes to get to the farmer’s market and see everything, but I was rewarded for my patience when my dad let me get a pack of hockey cards when he was paying for his gas inside the station. This was a big deal for me, as I was never really allowed to get anything on a whim before this, but starting right then, my dad began the tradition of buying me a pack of hockey cards every time we stopped for gas before going to Renningers. I thought my dad was the best for buying me a pack every week. I then came to my senses and realized that we were not here to buy hockey cards; we were here for the farmer’s market. I looked up and lo and behold, we were there!

We pulled into the entrance and I hear the tires chew up the gravel. I look ahead and feel very disappointed; all I could see was a long, one story, boring white building with lots of doors. I look out the window to the right and I see some weird looking birds fenced off that resembled ostriches. My dad said they were emus. Where were all of the antiques? Where were all the toys? What is this place with weird looking birds and a vanilla building? We kept churning through the driveway and someone directed us toward parking. We pulled forward, and then behind the building I finally saw what we were here for. Hidden behind this mundane building was a cornucopia of vendors lined up with tables full of anything and everything, and people bustling about trying to claim whatever catches their eye.

My dad parked and I sprung out of the van. I couldn’t wait to get close up and see all the interesting things I had only glanced at, but first we ate a quick breakfast of hot chocolate and some oddly cut circular french fries with ketchup; the breakfast of champions. After finishing, I could look at everything there was to offer. I remember scanning the old, rickety, gray plywood tables stocked with items from the past. We went up and down the rows of tables examining all the interesting things. There were wooden chests, old magazines, glass bottles, comic books, iron gates, records, stained glass windows, sports cards, carved wooden figurines, clocks, and any other antique or knick-knack you could think of. My dad looked mainly for wrought iron gates, stained glass windows, and vintage glass bottles, which he could sell for his business. He would stop to look at the items that caught his eye, inspect them, and if he was satisfied, the bartering process would begin.

“How much is stained glass window?”

“Seventy-five dollars, it’s a very nice window.”

“Yeah, but it’s damaged, I think it’s only worth sixty dollars?

“Well, hmmmm, I can’t sell it that low, how about sixty-five dollars?”

“I’ll take it.”

It amazed me how well my dad was able to bargain with those people. He could talk almost anyone into selling something for less than they wanted. If they refused we would continue on, then come back later with the item still sitting there. My dad would then offer them the same price again and they would reluctantly give in.

The things I was interested in were old comic books of Spiderman and the Hulk, vintage Pez dispensers, Star Wars memorabilia, Beanie Babies, actions figures, yo-yo’s, cap guns, and anything to keep a kid entertained. The only thing that diminished my excitement were the weird looking people sitting behind the tables. It seemed like the same person stared at me from behind each table: an old, weathered, gray bearded man missing a tooth or two smoking a cigarette drinking their black coffee. These country folk scared me a little because at home I had never really seen these types of people. These vendors never spoke to me, just kept a close eye on me. I suppose they were afraid I would rip the comic books or knock over a porcelain figurine, but I was always very careful. I had a great time looking at everything even though I never really bought anything. The intrigue of the different items kept me entertained.

Once we had found our treasures for the day, we dropped them off in the van and headed into the boring white building. The doors led inside to a comfortable, lively market full of more antiques. I couldn’t believe that the boring building was actually very exciting inside. The indoor vendors sold mostly the same things as the outside ones, but the items seemed to be more valuable to me, maybe because the vendors inside were more like people I had seen before. None of the people inside stared at me while I looked at their comics, they seemed more civilized. My dad bought a few more random antiques inside, like an old doll or painting, talked to some buddies he knew, then we headed home. I was more than satisfied with the experience. I wanted to go back every Sunday, even at the expense of losing a few hours of sleep.

I cherish this experience because it is one of the best times I had with my dad before he passed away. I went with him to Renningers farmer’s market every other Sunday to search for antiques to buy and resell. Just him and I, then when my sister was old enough, she would come, too. I enjoyed the cites and smells of the market, it was so much different from home. I had never seen most of the items the vendors offered at the market. The people at the market were of a different character than people from home; they were more backwards than people I’d known. Their life revolved around the farmer’s market, and I found that interesting. When I was the age of ten, it was a new experience that I enjoyed; it was an escape from the sometimes repetitive life at home watching television and playing video games all day. When my dad passed away we had to give up his business because my mom couldn’t run it by herself. I haven’t been back to Renningers in a while, but I will always have that first memory of being there with my dad.

When I first learned how to drive, I drove very cautiously. I drove nearly five hours in empty parking lots before I was ready to go on the open road (rather my mom made me go on the road). I always made sure I drove exactly the speed limit and completely stopped at all stop signs. I didn’t want to be a reckless driver and get in trouble with the law. As time went on, I became more comfortable with the road and I loosened my driving restrictions. I began to drive faster, around ten miles per hour over the speed limit and occasionally I didn’t completely stop at stop signs. After I had racked up fifty hours of driving, taken driver’s education, and had behind the wheel training with an instructor, I set out for my license. I obtained it on my first try, and I was proud of that. Most people I know took a few tries to pass the driver’s test. I was excited, but I didn’t have my own car. I knew I could only go out as often and my parents let me.

The first time I drove by myself was a big shock. There was no one there to tell me if I was driving too fast and to slow down. I was in charge of my driving; I was responsible for my actions. The first few times I was alone I tried to abide by the speed limit, but after a while I once again became comfortable with the road. I started to drive a little faster and more casually.

Then one night my friend invited me to his house to watch a movie. My parents agreed that I could drive over, since my friend only lived four minutes away. It was around 9:00 PM and it was dark out. I followed my normal procedure of pulling out of the driveway. I looked left, no one there. I looked right, no one there. I looked left again, no one there. I began my right turn out of the driveway, then out of the corner of my eye I saw two lights flying towards me coming over the hill.

I panicked; I didn’t know what to do. This nitwit was going around sixty miles per hour on my thirty-five mile per hour road. Should I stop? I was already more than half way in the road. Should I pull out really fast and hope he can slow down in time? I made neither of these choices; I reverted to my old ways. As I said a prayer, I nonchalantly pulled out of the driveway at a safe speed and slowly accelerated towards the thirty-five mile per hour speed limit. I heard the speeding car blare its horn as it approached me. I continued on my leisurely pace. I thought, “As long as I’m following the law, I’ll be fine. I don’t need to speed up.” Almost as quickly as I heard the horn yelling behind me, I saw a streak of lights to my left. The driver had turned into the oncoming lane to pass me. The car quickly peeled away from me. The sound of the horn and the lights faded away and the car was out of sight within ten seconds. I meanwhile, was still going the speed limit all the way down the road to my friend’s house.

It didn’t quite hit me until after I got out of the car, but I could have been killed right then! I actually wasn’t really sure if I was still alive. I replayed the moment in my head numerous times while I was at my friend’s house. I couldn’t really concentrate on the movie. I remembered looking back to my left before pulling out, seeing no one, and then as I was already more than half way in the road I saw the car speed over the hill to my left. What if I had done something different? If I were to speed out of the driveway, would he have still tried to pass me? It would have taken him longer to pass me and a could have he could have hit a car in the oncoming traffic. What if he lost control as he passed me? What if I sped out of the driveway and lost control? He could have hit me at a very high speed. What if there was an oncoming car? He was going too fast and I was going too slow, so I don’t think he could have stopped. In the end, I decided that I probably made the best decision. There was nothing I could really do to stop the mistake of someone else.

Then I began to ponder, what if I was the one speeding over the hill. What would I have done? I thought for a while, but realized that I don’t have to ever be in that situation. It was a really bad situation that could have been easily avoided. If he wasn’t speeding, I would have had time to see him and stop pulling out of the driveway. Even if I had been pulled out of the driveway too soon, he would have been able to slow down if he was going the speed limit. He wouldn’t have had to risk passing me and driving into oncoming traffic.

I had an epiphany at that moment. I then understood why speed limits and rules of the road are so important. They prevent accidents from happening. They save lives. Now when I drive, I make sure I’m following the speed limit very closely. I don’t want to be that guy flying over the hill putting someone who is following the law in a bad situation. I don’t want to ignore a stop sign and hurt someone who did make a complete stop. Without that scary moment, I still might be driving too fast and eventually pay for it. I now know to follow the rules.