A Moment Too Late

February 9, 1934

“Welcome back to Q107.5! Before we get back to today’s top hits, we have Jay with the weather. Take it away.”

“Thanks Johnny. We seem to have hit a record low temperature of -7°F. Write this on your calendars people! February 9, 1934…”

“How ya doin’?” said my husband quietly. He peered over at me, driving with one hand, reaching for my hand with the other.

“Charles, keep your eyes on the road!” I scolded him, “You don’t want an accident with the baby in the backseat!” I looked over my shoulder at our beautiful baby boy, sound asleep. He has his father’s blond hair, and my mother’s honey brown eyes. We named him John, after Charles’s favorite actor, John Wayne. He has only been our child for about an hour since I was cleared from the hospital, but the love flowing through every pore of my body towards him is overwhelming, suggesting the love of an eternity.

I turn back around and face the front, my head leaned against the window, eyelids drooping. It is 11:00 p.m., but the streets are surprisingly bare for New York City, reminding me of my teenage years down in Tennessee.

*          *          *

Ahh. Home sweet home. Charles opened the humble oak doors, and a warm gust of air swooped over us. He helped me carry my bags inside, limping slightly under the weight, while I held John.

“Thanks, Char,” I said, smiling at his old nickname.

“Sure thing, Carrie,” he winked, smiling at mine.

I laughed at our memories, so childish yet wonderful.

“Should I feed John before we go to bed? I don’t want him to wake up hungry or something tonight.”

“He will be fine. Look at him, he’s dead asleep, he wouldn’t wake up if an automobile came crashing through that wall right there,” he said, pointing at the living room wall.

“I guess so…”

“You’ve had a rough night, get some sleep. You deserve and need some rest.”

“Okay, thanks Charles. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

*          *          *

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Aaargh!”

It is 8:00 a.m. I forgot to turn my alarm off. Again. My hands search aimlessly across the bedside table for the alarm; aggravated, I hit the off button.

I look over at Charles, looking so peaceful and relaxed, completely undisturbed by the alarm, and I remember – John!

I go to his nursery and find him sound asleep, just as I left him the night before. Exactly how I left him. Shouldn’t he have moved in his sleep, even just if it was just a little bit? He hasn’t cried at all either. Don’t most babies cry? He hasn’t woken up since last night. Dr. Reed said he should wake up every six hours or so. It’s been nine.

I pick him up from his crib, panicking at the sight of his small, unmoving body. I can hear him breathing; his breath is shallow, but undoubtedly there. That’s good. Quickly, I go back to the bedroom.

           “Charles,” I whispered urgently, “Charles, wake up!”
           “Mmm, Carrie? What’s wrong?” he said groggily.
           “I think something’s wrong with John. He hasn’t woken up at all. Shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”
           “Caroline, he’s fine,” he assured me, “He’s a baby – babies sleep a lot. It’s okay, he’ll wake up when he wants to wake up.”
           “Yeah, I guess you’re right..”
           “Sweetie, haven’t you learned anything over the past four years? I’m always right.” He teased.
           Still uneasy but less tense by his jokes, I lay John down on the bed between me and Charles. He leaned over John, looking at his son like the proudest father in the world.
           “Hey there baby. It’s your daddy. And there’s your mama. Now I know you can’t understand me but you listen here, I will always love you and do everything I can to make your life as good as it can be. That’s a promise. And don’t you every forget that.”
           He looked up at me, and his eyes widened, bewildered.
           “What’s wrong?!”
           “That was beautiful,” I replied, tears of joy streaming down my face. My two favorite boys are here with me, a part of this perfect moment.

*          *          *

           “Something smells good!” said Charles, walking through the front door.
           “Just a hotdog and potato chips for lunch today,” I said curtly, “Sorry.”
           “Uhh.. it’s alright?”
           “Okay.”
           “Is there something wrong..?”
           “Charles, John still hasn’t woken up. It’s noon!”
           “I’m telling you, the baby is fine.”
           “Okay, whatever you say.”
           “Don’t worry about it,” he insisted, “but I have to go back to work now – I’ll try to come home a little early.”

*          *          *

           It’s 3:00 p.m. Okay, that’s enough. I don’t care what Charles says, I’m taking him to the hospital. I should call him though.
           Ring, ring, ring!
           “Edward Jones, this is Charles speaking, how may I help you?”
           “Charles. It’s me. I’m taking John to the hospital. I think you should come.”

*          *          *

           John is in intensive care, and all I can do is sit here and wait! Where is Charles? He should be here by now! Gahh, how is John doing?
           “Caroline! Where’s John? How is he?”
           “He’s in intensive care, Charles. I told you something was wrong. I just hope he’s okay.”
           When he didn’t respond, I look over at him. He had gone to the chairs lined against the wall and sat down. I tried to read his expression – nothing.
           “Charles..? Are you–”

The door opened and Dr. Reed came out with a resigned look on his face.

“I’m afraid we have some bad news. Caroline, you might want to sit down as well.”

I did as I was told.

He slowly exhaled, “He didn’t make it. I’m so sorry. He had a severe case of jaundice. If he had been brought to us sooner, we might have been able to save him, but.. I’m sorry. We tried everything. There was nothing else we could do.”

Dumbstruck, we simply stared back at the doctor.

“Well I will leave you two alone, you can see John if you would like. If there is anything we can do for you, let us know.” And Dr. Reed disappeared through the doors.

We sat in silence for a moment, when I looked up at him. I could read his expression now – an expression that clearly said, “I should have listened.”

I stood up, took him in my arms, and we mourned for our lost son.

*          *          *

ONE YEAR LATER – February 9, 1935

           “Charles! Can you come help me? I dropped the blanket and if I go down I’m not coming back up!”
           He came through the door, and handed me the dropped blanket.
           “Thanks. I forgot how hard it is to have a stomach this big around!” I laughed. It feels good to laugh. This past year has been hard, and a year ago from today, John was born. I still cry myself to sleep often for our loss.
           “Well, it’ll be over soon. She’s ready to get out of there!” he said, touching my stomach.
           Ouch! What was that? Probably just the baby kicking. Ouch! Nope, I don’t think that’s it.
           Charles was there in an instant keeping me steady, sensing that something was wrong.
           “The baby’s coming!”


--Marie

February 9, 1934

Folklore of Different Cultures

Every culture has hundreds of stories, myths, and legends. However, each culture has certain qualities, differentiating them from the folklore of other cultures. They tend to have similar themes, story lines, etc. However, they could be very different depending on the culture it originated from.                Army of the Dead is a ghost story from the United States. It takes place in Charleston, South Carolina, soon after the Civil War ended. A laundress and her husband had just moved to town, and every night at midnight, the laundress was woken by a noise outside. However, when she looked out the window, there was nothing there. When she asked another laundress about the noises, she told her of the soldiers that died without knowing that the war had ended. These soldiers rose every night to go off the battle. Although her husband warned her not to look, one night, she decided to watch the ghosts go by, and when they vanished, her arm was paralyzed. There are certain things that we are supposed to see, and there are certain things that we are not supposed to see. If it is not for the eyes of particular people to see, then there is a reason.                Heron and the Hummingbird is a story started by Native American tribes.  It takes place before Darwin had discovered his theory of evolution. The heron and hummingbird were good friends, both sharing the fish and fruit that they ate. One day, they decide that there was not enough for both of them to share, and made a deal. They would race, and whoever won would get all the fish in the world, when the other would have only fruit. The hummingbird was sure to win.  Therefore, he had fun, taking breaks regularly, while the heron flew steadily and constantly. Four days later, the hummingbird arrived at the finish line to see the heron sitting smugly at the end.  The hummingbird took the race lightly, assuming he would win, due to the heron’s awkward, large body and wings, and he lost. He learned to never underestimate anything, because they may not be as they appear to be.                The Wailing Woman is a common story in Mexico. It took place in Mexico, where a Spanish soldier met a native woman. They fell in love, having two beautiful children. However, the soldier came from a wealthy family, and his family did not approve of his marriage and threatened to dismiss his inheritance. He returned to Spain to look for a Spanish wife. Blinded with rage, she drowned her two children in a river. When he learned of the fate of his children, he was furious. The woman ran into the woods, having gone insane, and searched in the river for the children she murdered. When she couldn’t find them, she drowned herself. Instead of going to Heaven, as punishment for her crime, she was forced to roam the land for the rest of eternity to search for the children she would never find. If the Spanish soldier had not left for money but stayed with the woman and children he loved, none of this would have happened. Nevertheless, it did happen, and the woman should have thought before she acted, for there are consequences to be considered for every action, whether good or bad.                There are obviously differences and similarities within these stories. In Army of the Dead, it had a specific time when it took place, while the other two did not. However, Heron and the Hummingbird and The Wailing Woman gave a specific time period in which certain events occurred, when Army of the Dead did not. And yet, Army of the Dead and The Wailing Woman gave a specific place, while Heron and the Hummingbird only gave a vague time. A similarity between all three stories, is that they all had more than one character involved, and each story stressed the importance of evaluating consequences before taking action. --Marie

Useful Education

The mindset of many teenagers is that our education is useless to us. When will we ever use a skill such as diagramming sentences, knowing the stages of photosynthesis, or finding the solution to an inequality? Most likely never.  However, there are certain in-school activities that we feel are irrelevant and unnecessary, such as writing these thINKs, as well as journaling when we read. What we do not realize, is that these skills are, in fact, used in the real world, and it is essential for us to learn. We must be able to make connections between two different things, and we must be able to ask appropriate, reasonable questions to fully understand something. A good example of a situation in which one would need these abilities is if one was a detective or a criminal investigator.

In The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson, sixteen-year-old Harriet Vanger disappeared without a trace. It was as if she had simply evaporated from the face of the Earth. This unsolved case has never stopped haunting Harriet’s great uncle, Henrik Vanger, as well as the investigator of the case, Gustaf Morell. Forty years later, Vanger, the aged former CEO of the prestigious Vanger Enterprises, hired journalist Mikael Blomkvist to do all he could to find the truth of the fate of his great niece.

Blomkvist was given all police records on the case, and as he was reading the reports, he was jotting down questions he wanted answers to, as well as small details that he noticed within the pages of the unsolved mystery. “By late evening, when he closed the binder, he had filled several pages of his own notebook – with reminders and questions to which he hoped to find answers in subsequent binders.” (pg. 147) – This is putting our reading journals into the real world. “A note sent at 11:20 a.m. stated that P-014 (police car? patrol? pilot of a boat?) had been sent to the site.” (pg. 148) – Just like the criteria for this very assignment, he is asking questions about what he is reading.

We ask ourselves, why do we have to do these reading journals? Well, this is why. Although it is in a different situation and context, it is still the same concept. Maybe the next time we want to complain about pointless work, we should ask ourselves whether it really is pointless or not.

--Marie