Carpe Diem - St. Pius X Catholic High School
Carpe Diem - St. Pius X Catholic High School
Carpe Diem - St. Pius X Catholic High School
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<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong><br />
2005<br />
<strong>St</strong>. <strong>Pius</strong> X <strong>Catholic</strong> <strong>High</strong> <strong>School</strong><br />
Volume XV
Art<br />
3 Ceramic Box by Margy LaFreniere<br />
6 Graceful Woman<br />
by Danielle Brutto<br />
7 To Walk Along the Sidewalk<br />
By Carolyn Hernandez<br />
8 <strong>St</strong>ill Life of Toys By Megan Kisling<br />
9 The Giving Tree by Andrea Bessey<br />
10 Face by Colleen Smith<br />
11 Wetland Wonder<br />
by James Watters<br />
12 A <strong>St</strong>ill Life of Life<br />
by Mary Ellen Hogan<br />
12 Pretty Peppers<br />
by Shannon Barnes<br />
14 John by Anna Kramer<br />
16 To Play Bagpipes by Pierre Watson<br />
19 A Musical Life by Laura Papania<br />
21 A Loving Mother’s Touch<br />
by Lauren Elliott<br />
26 Frog by Taylor Davidson<br />
27 Life Quilt by Lindsey DiRito<br />
Poetry<br />
4 At the Intersection<br />
by Thom Schulte<br />
6 Reality by Mackenzie Ricker<br />
8 I Hear My Paintbrushes<br />
Wispering<br />
by Colleen Smith<br />
9 Society by Nolan <strong>St</strong>orey<br />
13 The Waffle House<br />
by Sean Robinson<br />
17 Dreams by Parker Gott<br />
23 Two Old Men by Pam Kennedy<br />
24 Bailamos by Ijeoma Okoro<br />
25 I Just Don’t Get You<br />
by Lindsey Rodney<br />
28 The Trail by Sidney Provenzano<br />
Photography<br />
1 The <strong>St</strong>reets of Savannah<br />
by Nina Bleacher<br />
3 Self-Portrait by Allison Basham<br />
5 Benched by Clare Sweeney<br />
5 Fountain at 999 Peachtree<br />
by Ryan Mckenzie<br />
13 Roses by Lauren Dick<br />
15 The Office Park by Sarah Asip<br />
15 Very Watery Nature<br />
by Mallory Phillips<br />
16 Intentions by Laura Papania<br />
17 <strong>St</strong>airs and Art<br />
by Bradley Handziuk<br />
18 Sunflower by Brooke <strong>St</strong>oker<br />
20 A Child’s Innocence<br />
by Chris Philpott<br />
22 Jackson by Erin Conboy<br />
22 Play Time by Brenna Berling<br />
23 Day After Rain<br />
by <strong>St</strong>ephanie Sizemore<br />
24 Silver Bells by Mary Ellen Hogan<br />
25 All You Need is Love<br />
by Emily Sutlive<br />
28 Footprint in the Sand<br />
by Taylor Jackson<br />
BC The House by Molly de Gorgue<br />
BC Harmony by Kendall Broussard<br />
Fiction/Non-Fiction<br />
10 The Complete Baffoon’s Guide<br />
To Being An Indie Rocker<br />
by Ijeoma Okoro<br />
14 Alone by Lauren Lightfoot<br />
18 Will You Sign My Yearbook?<br />
by Shauna <strong>St</strong>uart<br />
20 Rita’s Lessons by Laura deGive<br />
26 El Tucán y Su Naríz<br />
by Andrea Bessey
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
Volume XV<br />
<strong>St</strong>reets of Savannah<br />
Nina Bleacher<br />
<strong>St</strong>. <strong>Pius</strong> X <strong>Catholic</strong> <strong>High</strong> <strong>School</strong><br />
2674 Johnson Road NE<br />
Atlanta, Georgia 30345-1799<br />
404.636.3023<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
1
Editors<br />
Joanna LaPaglia<br />
Robin Nevetral<br />
Artwork<br />
Joanna LaPaglia<br />
Cherise Basham<br />
Addy Edwards<br />
2 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> <strong>St</strong>aff<br />
Prose/ Short <strong>St</strong>ories<br />
Erin Conboy<br />
Brooke <strong>St</strong>oker<br />
Samantha <strong>St</strong>ewart<br />
Publisher<br />
<strong>St</strong>eve Spellman, Principal<br />
Publisher<br />
Print Direction, Inc.<br />
Business Manager<br />
Joanna LaPaglia<br />
Poetry<br />
Mackenzie Ricker<br />
Robin Nevetral<br />
Kathleen Hendrix<br />
Allison Basham<br />
Brandon Echols<br />
Tasha Posid<br />
Photography<br />
Kelli Weingartner<br />
Jaclyn Darcy<br />
Madeline Timm<br />
Laura Pendergast<br />
<strong>St</strong>ephanie Byron<br />
Brenna Berling<br />
Natasha Mattesi<br />
Adviser<br />
Rachel Braham
Self-Portrait<br />
Allison Basham<br />
Ceramic Box<br />
Margie LaFreniere<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
3
4 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005
Benched<br />
Clare Sweeney<br />
Fountain at 999 Peachtree<br />
Ryan McKenzie<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
5
Reality<br />
By: Mackenzie Ricker<br />
Picture a perfect woman<br />
Delicately trace her shapely curves<br />
Notice this: no lines or angles<br />
Her form is not mathematics<br />
but pure artistry<br />
She epitomizes Poise<br />
Beauty,<br />
the statuette, the Aphrodite,<br />
--The Model<br />
Ruben sculpted her,<br />
Donatello molded,<br />
Rafael and Michelangelo<br />
brushed her form upon<br />
the mountains, the Heavens.<br />
For so many ages<br />
tireless centuries,<br />
star-studded eons<br />
of idolatry,<br />
She was the Renaissance’s<br />
the Enlightenment’s<br />
the Industrial Revolution’s<br />
“IT” Girl<br />
Those who beheld her...well,<br />
Men’s hearts melted in awe, while<br />
Her protégés, wanna-be’s<br />
admired her simplistic,<br />
yet elegantly graceful<br />
style.<br />
She had lapped it up,<br />
loving to languor<br />
in the adoration<br />
of her ardent<br />
adorers.<br />
Her fashion statement:<br />
Pale, fresh-faced skin, yet<br />
tinged with an<br />
underlying rosy<br />
radiance.<br />
She glowed<br />
Her voluptuous form,<br />
ever-so-slightly-sheathed<br />
in a robe that draped her waist<br />
and hung off her shoulder,<br />
6 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
playing<br />
peek-a-boo<br />
Blonde ringlets<br />
coifed at the nape of her slender<br />
neck...<br />
a stray curl kissing her cheek.<br />
She was a Natural<br />
She was a Model<br />
Oh.<br />
but not so much<br />
And not for long.<br />
One day she fell<br />
Tumbled from her pedestal,<br />
Tangled, wrapped mummy-like<br />
in her ivory shroud<br />
Her flawless image shattered.<br />
You see,<br />
fame<br />
and renown<br />
and such trivial things as<br />
Beauty<br />
can go to one’s head<br />
implanting the seedlings<br />
of ideas<br />
of ponderings<br />
that ferment.<br />
The Model cannot just be set<br />
cross-legged on a shelf<br />
to be gazed at<br />
to be smiled at,<br />
and wondered at... Oh no.<br />
The Model wants more.<br />
She wants to prove<br />
how much more she can do<br />
how much more she can become.<br />
This was the new rule<br />
and She was no Exception<br />
She could not settle on being<br />
a body in the spotlight<br />
Isolated, elevated...Definitely not.<br />
She desired to be an Entity,<br />
a life in the spotlight<br />
Intermingling with her worshipers<br />
Graceful Woman<br />
Danielle Brutto
To Walk Along a Sidewalk<br />
Carolyn Hernadez<br />
And so The Model fell<br />
onto the Silverscreen<br />
into the Party Scene<br />
smack into the middle<br />
of the 21st Century<br />
She fell in love with<br />
The Camera---<br />
their affair nearly<br />
destroyed her<br />
She flirted with The Media<br />
she yanked it onto the dance floor,<br />
dodging publicity stunts, handbag lines,<br />
cosmetic chains, book signings,<br />
movie premieres, night clubs,,,,,,,<br />
She whirled and twirled<br />
Spinning out of control<br />
Under the Pressure<br />
Until she ran dead on into REALITY<br />
And it crushed her.<br />
You see,<br />
we are but human,<br />
--even The Model<br />
humans must acknowledge<br />
that REALITY exists<br />
--even The Model<br />
REALITY looms overhead<br />
Daunting, mocking<br />
REALITY is a jealous force<br />
--of even The Model<br />
REALITY feels threatened<br />
when challenged<br />
by Overachievers<br />
by Goal-Setters<br />
by Dabblers<br />
by Artistes<br />
--by even The Model<br />
all who question<br />
the authenticity of REALITY,<br />
who defy it, deny it, push it to its Limit<br />
forcing it to finally<br />
push back.<br />
had acted the part,<br />
but lost pie ce s of h er sel f<br />
in the characters<br />
She had ridden the tortuous wave<br />
of the Parties, the Concerts,<br />
the Bars<br />
and it drowned her<br />
---She was washed up---<br />
onto the shore,<br />
onto the pages of<br />
The Magazine,<br />
with her hair ripped<br />
her robes tattered<br />
her body in shreds.<br />
Focused in the Camera Lens<br />
ready for her photo shoot:<br />
The Model peers furtively<br />
from behind her Mask<br />
of animal waste and<br />
byproduct make-up<br />
her greasy, hairspray crusted,<br />
chopped up locks<br />
screen her from the harsh glare of<br />
the Lights<br />
Her bony chin tilts, her heavy eyes<br />
d<br />
r<br />
o<br />
o<br />
p<br />
her spine curves, her knobby knees bend<br />
right angles, she angles<br />
towards the camera<br />
She is a skeletal form,<br />
worn out,<br />
painted up,<br />
decked out,<br />
propped up.<br />
Once upon a time<br />
There was an Idol<br />
perched upon a pedestal.<br />
And oh, does it.<br />
The Model had danced herself,<br />
(gaunt and haggard)<br />
over the e<br />
dge<br />
Turn the page of Vogue<br />
and She’s a Doll<br />
propped up on a stool.<br />
Thank-you REALITY.<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
7
8 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
<strong>St</strong>ill Life of Toys<br />
Megan Kisling
The Giving Tree<br />
Andrea Bessey<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
9
The Complete Buffoon’s Guide to Being an Indie Rocker<br />
by Ijeoma Okoro<br />
You’re tired of MTV’s mainstream music offal. You’re nauseated by the<br />
overproduction of bogus boy bands and bubble gum pop princesses. You want to be<br />
edgier… hipper… independent! But you don’t know how to start? Don’t worry! Just<br />
follow these simple instructions so that you too can join the secret society of<br />
the Indie rock hipsters who cast their disdainful glowers upon the pedestrian music<br />
industry.<br />
If you want to play the part of an Indie rocker, you need to look like one. Don’t<br />
let people fool you into believing looks don’t matter- they are wrong. Smack them<br />
upside the head and shut your ears whenever they start on their inner beauty<br />
harangue. To create this rocker persona you need to develop a complete disregard<br />
for hygiene. Who needs combed hair and clear skin? If you have any makeup or stylish<br />
jewelry, throw it out. If you own any designer labels, give them away. If you possess<br />
anything that could possibly be linked to a current trend, get rid of them .Everyone<br />
knows Indie rockers never wear anything more than vintage, undersized t-shirts<br />
in vibrant colors. Hot pink, neon green, and purple work, but avoid white and black.<br />
A white t-shirt looks forced and awkward while black is more suited for the Goth<br />
scene. Also the correct pair of pants can distinguish a phony from the real deal.<br />
A tattered pair of jeans is usually the easiest solution, but even those are much<br />
too obvious. To be a true Indie rocker, you must procure and wear Dickies. The more<br />
ragged they are, the better. Make sure you have your second- hand Converse All-<br />
<strong>St</strong>ars. And no outfit is complete without a few strategically positioned buttons<br />
expressing your contempt for the capitalist system, the name of your favorite<br />
obscure band, or a cartoon from your childhood. Be careful! Too many buttons<br />
arranged in a distinct geometric shape shows too much consideration went into<br />
your outfit layout and that would completely undermine your Indie guise.<br />
So you’ve got the hair and outfit down? Well, you’re nowhere near the finish<br />
line. It takes more than bed head hair and a tight t-shirt to pass of as an Indie<br />
rocker. Looks aren’t the only thing! To successfully pull of the façade you need to<br />
work the attitude. Everyone knows Indie rockers never show emotions beyond the<br />
scope of boredom, indifference, and condescension. Always keep your shoulders<br />
hunched, your voice dripping with disdain, and your eyelids droopy hidden behind<br />
thick black reading glasses. Your posture tells a lot about yourself. It’s best to<br />
keep a nonchalant stance at all times no matter what the situation. Even when<br />
you’re engaged in an intense discussion evaluation the best albums of the Velvet<br />
Underground and the <strong>St</strong>ooges, maintain an appearance of utter insouciance. When<br />
you look like you care, you’re obviously not a true Indie rocker.<br />
But the key element to the Indie rocker brain is revulsion for all things un-Indie.<br />
If you find yourself singing along to the local pop station’s latest remix of “Toxic”<br />
10 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
Face<br />
Colleen Smith
y Britney<br />
Spears, donate<br />
your radio to<br />
charity. If you<br />
have a favorite<br />
character<br />
from MTV’s<br />
Real World<br />
series, kick in<br />
your television<br />
set. If you<br />
get a monthly<br />
subscription of<br />
any periodical<br />
that has age<br />
references<br />
in the title<br />
including and<br />
not limited to Seventeen, Teen People, and Teen Vogue, don’t burn<br />
them because that would be harming the environment (which is so<br />
un-Indie), but recycle them immediately. Everyone knows Indie rockers never allow<br />
mainstream influences pollute their superior nonconformist minds. You are required<br />
to absorb only obscure alternative music that no one has ever heard of, but you<br />
Wetland Wonder<br />
James Watters<br />
must dropped them as soon as they become famous. You cannot mention bands like<br />
Violent Femmes or Pixies because everyone is familiar with their music. Randomly<br />
throw in an esoteric band name like Galaxie 500 during an Indie rocker gathering<br />
and you get instantaneous acclaim. Also, true Indie rockers participate only in antimainstream<br />
activities. The best way to expose your maverick side is by protesting.<br />
It doesn’t matter what you’re protesting exactly, just as long as it appears to be a<br />
profound problem or social matter that is not in accordance with the Indie mode of<br />
thinking. Create a catchy slogan or jargon for your issue and you get bonus points.<br />
But if your issue or slang becomes too popular than you lose all your Indie cred<br />
(Indie-speak for credibility).<br />
Have you rejected old hygiene habits? Are you dressed in an eccentric<br />
outfit found in the bottom barrels of your local thrift store? Have you perfected<br />
your jaded facial expression? Do you only listen to unknown alternative bands on<br />
dedicated music labels? Have you picketed at a bizarre demonstration? If you<br />
answered “yes” to all these questions then dust off your Chuck Taylor’s and pat<br />
yourself on the back- you are officially and Indie rocker! But remember don’t be too<br />
excited. That would mean you are trying to look cooler than you actually are. And<br />
everyone knows there is no greater sin the Indie world.<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
11
A <strong>St</strong>ill Life of Life<br />
Mary Ellen Hogan<br />
12 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
Pretty Peppers<br />
Shannon Barnes
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
Roses<br />
Lauren Dick<br />
13
Alone<br />
Lauren Lightfoot<br />
The pungent odor of decaying flesh<br />
encroaches my nose. I do not see the source. I<br />
scream and yelp and nearly choke yet no one comes to<br />
save me from this nightmare. My family. Dead. Everyone I<br />
love in the world. Gone. They left me alone.<br />
I wander from house to house, neighborhood to neighborhood,<br />
city to city and find cars, homes, and streets filles with dead bodies.<br />
I do not know the causes of their deaths. I am the last person on earth<br />
and it’s not as exciting as I thought it would be.<br />
This world betrays my precious illusions. It was not this way in my dreams.<br />
I am supposed to be able to do what I want for as long as I want without<br />
consequence and they are supposed to pop in and out whenever I need them.<br />
They do not pop in. They are not retuning to me. Visions of fairies and stardust do<br />
not cloud my mind. My friends do not fill this world, emptiness does. This world is<br />
abandoned. Deserted. And I am all of those things as well. No laughter fills my heart.<br />
Not a tear of joy leaves my eye. There are tears, however. They fall silently as I<br />
realize that my screams and sighs will not be heard by anyone.<br />
Why did this have to happen to me? Maybe I wished for it once or twice, but<br />
never seriously. What did I do wrong? I wish I could take back every cruel thing I ever<br />
said<br />
I do not deserve this.<br />
I try to retrace my thoughts in my head. Maybe there is a solution. An answer.<br />
Sadly, I cannot think of one. Everyday in school I can spit out answers left and<br />
right. Who killed Desdemona? What is a common ion? I know those answers. This<br />
should be no different, but it is. I can’t remember. I can’t piece together my<br />
memories well enough to know what I did to bring this upon myself. I can’t even<br />
pull myself together well enough to stand up and stop crying in the middle of<br />
the street. Where should I go?<br />
Maybe this a dream. Maybe I’m only imagining this.<br />
I race back to my home and climb into my bed. The thick comforter<br />
and pillows swallow my fragile body whole.<br />
Sleep is my only deliverance and with this deliverance<br />
comes peace, complacency, and stillness. All things that<br />
this world lacks, with or without people. All things<br />
that I have searched for only to cause more<br />
chaos and disorders. My search is over<br />
now. I am free to dream.<br />
John<br />
Anna Kramer<br />
14 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005
The Office Park<br />
Sarah Asip<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
Very Watery Nature<br />
Mallory Phillips<br />
15
16 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
Intentions<br />
Laura Papania
<strong>St</strong>airs and Art<br />
Bradley Handziuk<br />
To Play Bagpipes<br />
Pierre Watson<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
17
By:Shauna <strong>St</strong>uart<br />
Will you sign my yearbook?<br />
As my second year at <strong>St</strong>. <strong>Pius</strong> X <strong>Catholic</strong><br />
<strong>High</strong> <strong>School</strong> draws to a close, I begin to reflect on<br />
sophomore year, and I wonder What exactly have<br />
I done this year? I have reflected on this school<br />
year’s past experiences, but it wouldn’t be so easy<br />
without the help of my trusty yearbook. Every<br />
year, the week before school ends, the students at<br />
<strong>St</strong>. <strong>Pius</strong> are given a yearbook, whether we want it<br />
or not (we all pay a 100 dollar yearbook fee at the<br />
beginning of the year, so it would be stupid not to<br />
take one). We all crowd around the huge table while<br />
the journalism students hurriedly try to find a name<br />
and cross it out. When we<br />
finally get our yearbooks,<br />
we all rush off to our<br />
corners with our friends<br />
to sign them and giggle<br />
over the pictures. This<br />
is a tradition and we all<br />
love it, but I still wonder:<br />
What exactly makes a<br />
yearbook so special in<br />
the first place?<br />
When we first<br />
get the yearbook, we<br />
all complain a little bit<br />
too loudly about how<br />
‘bad’ we look because our faces were too shiny or<br />
our hair wasn’t lying exactly right that day we had<br />
our pictures taken. We either smiled too much so<br />
we look fake, or smiled too little so we look angry.<br />
Whatever the reasons we have for not liking our<br />
pictures, we always protest adamantly about our<br />
friends looking at our school photos. At the same<br />
time, we practically turn to the same page it is on<br />
in the yearbook and say, “Don’t look at it! I look so<br />
bad!” even though we really don’t think we look that<br />
awful. We are human beings. We search endlessly<br />
for compliments to feed our need egos and to feel<br />
accepted. So when our friends say, “No you look<br />
really cute in this picture” we smile and say, “Thanks”<br />
because we secretly thought so all along.<br />
Next, there is the yearbook signing. Yearbook<br />
signing may not seem like a huge deal, but there is<br />
more to signing a yearbook than simply writing a<br />
18 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
message and a name. There is an art to signing a<br />
yearbook. Signing a yearbook does not simply involve<br />
writing. It also involves body language. For example,<br />
if a person singles you out in a crowd of people and<br />
asks you to sign his or her yearbook, then that<br />
person obviously really cares about your friendship.<br />
On the other hand, if you just happen to be standing<br />
there when he asks someone else, he may just ask<br />
you to sign it because he doesn’t want to be rude.<br />
Once you and another person actually exchange<br />
yearbooks, thinking about what to sign can be very<br />
difficult. If the person is a good acquaintance, but<br />
not one of your closest<br />
friends, you may not<br />
want to write too short a<br />
message because it might<br />
give the impression of being<br />
indifferent and impersonal.<br />
Then again, if you write<br />
a message that is too<br />
long and sentimental, the<br />
person may think that you<br />
Sunflower<br />
Brooke <strong>St</strong>oker<br />
are too clingy. To solve<br />
this problem, you may<br />
peek over the cover of the<br />
other person’s yearbook<br />
that you are signing and<br />
watch him or her sign yours so you can get an idea<br />
about how long your message should be. Signing a<br />
good friend’s yearbook can prove to be even more<br />
difficult. You and a friend may have a wonderful and<br />
fun-filled year full of classes, parties, sleepovers,<br />
and conversations in the hallway. But I guarantee<br />
you, once it comes time for you to sign that friend’s<br />
yearbook; you will not have a clue what to write. So<br />
you will give it back to your friend and say, “I’ll sign it<br />
later, so I can think of something really good. Just<br />
reserve that page for me.” What you are really<br />
thinking in your head is, “What can I possibly say<br />
that can take up a full page?” When you finally do<br />
sign that friend’s yearbook, you use a paragraph<br />
to write about how great the year was, another<br />
paragraph for private jokes that only the two of you<br />
share, and yet another paragraph about how great<br />
the year was.
Of course, one can’t forget the special sign<br />
off to make one’s message truly special. There is<br />
always the original, “Luv ya” or “C ya later”. “Sincerely”<br />
always sounds so formal, but “from” sounds so<br />
plain. Of course, there is the dreaded and overused<br />
“H.A.G.S.” which stands for “Have A Great Summer”.<br />
Whoever made<br />
up that acronym<br />
should be shot.<br />
Nevertheless,<br />
the sign off<br />
is always<br />
important. It’s<br />
like the cherry<br />
perched atop the<br />
whipped cream<br />
of the ice-cream<br />
sundae. Without<br />
the perfect sign<br />
off, a message<br />
just isn’t right.<br />
Everyone<br />
wants to sign<br />
a yearbook or<br />
have a yearbook<br />
signed. An<br />
underlying goal<br />
of us all is to<br />
accumulate as<br />
many signatures<br />
as possible. If<br />
we ask someone<br />
to sign our<br />
yearbook and we<br />
don’t have a lot of<br />
signatures yet,<br />
we may casually<br />
say, “Oh. I just<br />
got it, so not<br />
a lot of people<br />
have signed it<br />
yet.” People never ask, but a person signing your<br />
yearbook may do that preliminary “flip” through the<br />
front and back covers, appearing to be searching for<br />
room to sign. While this person is “searching” for<br />
room, he or she is actually subconsciously looking<br />
to see how many signatures you have and checking<br />
to see if he or she has more than you do.<br />
Like with every popular situation or fad, there<br />
are always the rebels. When you ask them to sign your<br />
yearbook, these so-called yearbook rebels always<br />
say, “I’m not into the whole yearbook ‘thing’, but I<br />
guess I can make an exception.” Then they casually<br />
take your yearbook, sign it lackadaisically, and hang<br />
it back to you, as if it were no big deal. These people<br />
would gladly sign your yearbook, but not offer you<br />
A Musical Life<br />
Laura Papania<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
theirs.<br />
These<br />
same<br />
people<br />
feel<br />
flattered<br />
when they are<br />
asked to sign a<br />
yearbook, just<br />
like<br />
everyone<br />
else. It is<br />
human nature<br />
to feel needed<br />
and accepted.<br />
Signing a<br />
y e a r b o o k<br />
m a k e s<br />
someone feel<br />
special. Even if<br />
they aren’t into<br />
the yearbook<br />
“thing” they<br />
still feel happy<br />
to sign it.<br />
S o m e t i m e s ,<br />
living can<br />
make a person<br />
feel invisible,<br />
especially being<br />
in high school.<br />
People are so<br />
busy trying<br />
to find where<br />
they fit in that<br />
they don’t have<br />
a chance to<br />
recognize you,<br />
much less themselves. It is like the world is a stage,<br />
but no one is watching the production because we<br />
are all too busy acting to notice the show has<br />
started. Sooner or later, someone will notice you.<br />
That person will pick you out of the crowd and watch<br />
with an “inner” eye. That person will see you, and<br />
you will see them. And they will ask you, “Will you<br />
sign my yearbook?”<br />
19
It is the first day of Kindergarten at <strong>St</strong>.<br />
John Neumann <strong>School</strong>, and I am standing with<br />
my mother just inside the doorway of my new<br />
classroom with my new teacher, who is advancing<br />
towards me to shake my hand. I step backwards<br />
as she steps forwards, retreating into the hallway.<br />
My backward motion is halted by a bump and a<br />
soft exclamation of surprise.<br />
Whirling around to<br />
face this new peril, I<br />
fearfully look up into the<br />
face of my<br />
attacker. I am met by<br />
the<br />
kindest pair of eyes<br />
I have ever seen<br />
and a wonderfully<br />
comforting smile.<br />
This is no fiend;<br />
this is a nice<br />
old lady with a<br />
pair of large<br />
glasses<br />
perched on<br />
her nose<br />
and a<br />
crown<br />
of neatly<br />
trimmed gray<br />
hair. I could stay<br />
standing there just looking at her,<br />
examining the way her large silver cross<br />
shines in the fluorescent lighting or the intricacy<br />
of the fine wrinkles that frame her eyes, but my<br />
mother immediately appears behind me, urging me<br />
to apologize for my minor collision. After a moment<br />
or two of listening to me stammer an attempt at<br />
an apology, she rescues me with a light laugh and<br />
“That’s quite all right, dear. Welcome to <strong>St</strong>. John<br />
Neumann. My name is Sister Rita.”<br />
“A sister,” I think. “I’ve always wanted one of<br />
those.” This is the first lesson she taught me: you<br />
can never underestimate the power of a smile.<br />
Seven years later, I am standing on the<br />
altar steps, rehearsing for the annual school<br />
pageant on the life of <strong>St</strong>. Marguerite D’Youville,<br />
foundress of the Grey Nuns. Slowly and carefully, I<br />
20 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
Rita’s Lessons<br />
Laura deGive<br />
pronounce the syllables of Marguerite’s Magnificat.<br />
Sr. Rita is working with some of the younger<br />
pageant participants behind me, herding them<br />
around like a mother duck. “Good, Marguerite!” she<br />
calls over her shoulders as I finish the studiously<br />
memorized speech.<br />
Coming around the altar, she moves<br />
towards me, ready to offer her advice on how to<br />
improve my presentation. Then, as if in slow motion,<br />
she slips and falls backwards, an expression of<br />
surprise on her delicate features. A cry of alarm<br />
escapes my lips, but as I start to move to her side,<br />
the teachers in attendance rush forward and<br />
hover over her, demanding to know<br />
if she is all right. I change<br />
course and usher<br />
the children<br />
behind me<br />
off of the<br />
altar, and<br />
then I sprint<br />
as quickly as<br />
I can to the<br />
school’s front<br />
office to get<br />
help. Realizing that<br />
there is nothing<br />
A Child’s Innocence<br />
Chris Philpott<br />
more I can physically<br />
do for her, I wonder<br />
what she would want<br />
to be doing. In an instant<br />
me<br />
I have it.<br />
Rita’s<br />
second lesson: when you<br />
find yourself in a crisis, pray, pray, and pray some<br />
more.<br />
After a time spent in recovery, Rita visits<br />
the school. I glimpse her from the other end of<br />
the hallway; she is surrounded by teachers and<br />
staff wanting to know if she will be better soon<br />
and whether she needs anything. Amazed, I stand<br />
apart from the group and watch her patiently<br />
answer each person with humility and kindness/<br />
the bright smile on her face extend to her eyes,<br />
which are crinkled at the corners in cheerfulness. I
know that if I had been in the middle of that much<br />
condescension, I would have been more than a little<br />
prickly. I realize that she knew how worried we had<br />
all been about her and that at that moment people<br />
surrounding her needed to be comforted. This<br />
was her third lesson to me: in a trying situation,<br />
be humble, patient, and above all compassionate,<br />
because you never know what the other party is<br />
going through at the time.<br />
When the day of the pageant rolls around, I<br />
find myself standing in her tiny office, dressed as<br />
<strong>St</strong>. Marguerite D’Youville. Even though I have been<br />
to countless rehearsals and spent many evenings<br />
fixing the words of the speech in my mind, my<br />
hands are shaking from nervousness. Rita looks at<br />
me, carefully adjusting my veil, and I wonder<br />
why on Earth she picked me to be her<br />
Marguerite. I am so afraid<br />
that I will disappoint<br />
her. Her warm<br />
hands enclose<br />
mine, steadying<br />
the, she gives<br />
me her ever ready<br />
smile. Then, silently,<br />
she unclasps her<br />
silver cross from<br />
around her neck and<br />
fastens it around mine.<br />
Reverently, I touch the<br />
cross, and then I throw my<br />
arms around her neck. She<br />
laughs a little and hugs me<br />
back, and I realize that I am<br />
no longer afraid.<br />
Lesson number four: fear<br />
can only truly<br />
be conquered by love.<br />
I am standing in my high school’s chapel,<br />
between Sr. Rita and my old grade school principal,<br />
Sr. Dawn. We are posing for pictures after a Mass<br />
of Thanksgiving offered for the Grey Nuns in<br />
Atlanta. I haven’t spoken to Rita in person for at<br />
least two years, and I am anxious as to what she<br />
will think of me. Dawn half-jokes: “The retired sister,<br />
the active sister, and the sister to be. Aren’t we a<br />
sight?”<br />
I glance at Rita, wondering what her reaction<br />
will be to this statement. “Now, Dawny,” Rita says<br />
with a smile, “Don’t pressure her. That’s the Holy<br />
Spirit’s job.” I smile with relief.<br />
Hidden in those lines is Rita’s fifth bit of<br />
wisdom: never attempt to take on any of God’s<br />
responsibilities.<br />
A breeze wafts through the trees on a calm<br />
evening in the summer of 2004. Taking a deep<br />
breath, I walk through the doors of the church.<br />
There are many familiar faces in the tiny crowded<br />
vestibule. My eyes fall on Dawn, standing to the<br />
side with a line of<br />
people winding<br />
around her.<br />
Her eyes are red<br />
from crying. I blink<br />
hard. The news<br />
of Rita’s death<br />
had come very<br />
suddenly and<br />
harshly to<br />
me because<br />
I had been<br />
unaware<br />
of the<br />
A Loving Mother’s Touch<br />
Lauren Elliott<br />
severity of<br />
her illness and I heard<br />
of her passing weeks after the<br />
funeral through a newspaper article. The<br />
church chosen for her memorial Mass in Atlanta<br />
is of a moderately large size, but I know that her<br />
friends will fill every pew.<br />
I wait in Dawn’s line, wondering what I will say<br />
to her when it is my turn. The tidal wave of grief<br />
threatening to overwhelm me must be nothing like<br />
what is filling Dawn’s heart. Then I am standing in<br />
front of Dawn, who is vigorously wiping her eyes.<br />
When Dawn sees me, she exclaims, “Here’s one that<br />
Rita loved!” and embraces me. For a moment, we<br />
stand there crying together, and then she breaks<br />
away to talk with the next person in line.<br />
Rita’s final lesson: love is eternal.<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
21
Jackson<br />
Erin Conboy<br />
22 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
Playtime<br />
Brenna Berling
Day After Rain<br />
<strong>St</strong>ephanie Sizemore<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
23
24 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
Silver Bells<br />
Mary Ellen Hogan
All You Need Is Love<br />
Emily Sutlive<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
25
El Tucán y Su Naríz<br />
Andrea Bessey<br />
Frog<br />
Taylor Davidson<br />
Los tucanes son aves con narices muy grandes y coloridas. No es la<br />
verdad que las narices siempre hayan sido asi. Habia una vez cuando las<br />
narices parecian normales con una tallas pequenas. Sin embargo, cuando<br />
ellos empezaban comer el cereal de los Fruit Loops, sus vidas cambiaron<br />
por siempre.<br />
Un tucan con una nariz pequena y sin colores brillantes comia<br />
frecuentamente los Fruit Loops, porque, como todoa los tucanes, le<br />
gustaba comer frutas. (Los tucanes no se preocupan por su salud y<br />
comen comida con mucho azucar.) Un dia por la manana, este tucan<br />
queria comer Fruit Loops otra vez, pero solo. El era muy avaro, decidio<br />
que el se levantaria mas temprano que los otros. Luego, el podria comer<br />
todos los Fruit Loops sin compartir. “Es necesario que yo los comsuma<br />
rapidamente,” el tucan penso. Si los otros tucanes nunca vinieran, el<br />
terminaria comer su desayuno antes ellos se despertaron. Por lo tanto, el<br />
se apresuro y entonces, sufrio las consecuencias.<br />
Durante este proceso, mientras el se apresuraba con avaricia, po<br />
26 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005
accidente, su nariz se puso en el<br />
centro de unos Fruit Loops. Era<br />
muy doloroso para el tucan. El<br />
estaba solo y no podia remover<br />
se nariz de los Fruit Loops. “Nariz,”<br />
el dijo, “Trabajemos juntos para<br />
removernos. Uno, dos, tres…<br />
!Vamos!” El tiro los Fruit Loops,<br />
pero ellos no movian. “!Ojala<br />
que los Fruit Loops no<br />
esten sobre me nariz<br />
para siempre!” el se<br />
dijo. El intento<br />
por muchos<br />
diea hasta<br />
que<br />
estaba tenida de varios colores de<br />
los Fruit Loops, como anaranjado,<br />
amarillo, rojo, verde, y azul. Este<br />
tucan era muy codicioso, y habia<br />
querido comer todos los Fruit<br />
Loops para su desayuno, todos los<br />
tucanes hoy tienen unas narices<br />
grandes y de colores brillantes.<br />
Para prevenir otra<br />
situacion similar, los<br />
tucanes ahora son<br />
muy sociables y<br />
siempre viajan en<br />
grupos de 6 o<br />
mas. Si un<br />
amigo<br />
Life Quilt<br />
Lindsey DiRito<br />
tucan<br />
finalmente,<br />
los Fruit Loops<br />
salieron. El estaba<br />
muy emocionado<br />
quee los Fruit Loops<br />
hayan sido removido por<br />
fun. El no estaria como alegre<br />
con los resultados.<br />
Era desmasiado tarde. Los<br />
Fruit Loops habian estado en su nariz<br />
por mucho tiempo y, por lo tanto, su<br />
nariz estaba muy hinchada. Tambien,<br />
los colores de los Fruit Loops habian<br />
sangrado sobre su nariz y ella<br />
necesitara<br />
ayuda con<br />
este accidente,<br />
los otros estarian<br />
alli para asistirle.<br />
No es seguro que los<br />
tucanes esten solos.<br />
Con la ayuda de otros en un<br />
grupo, ellos no se descoloraran<br />
o agrandaran otras partes de sus<br />
cuerpos. Es la razon que el tucan<br />
mas famoso del mundo, Tucan Sam,<br />
siempre esta con sus sobrinos<br />
jovenes.<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
27
28 <strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
Footprint in the Sand<br />
Taylor Jackson
Contributions and Support<br />
SPONSOR (up to $24)<br />
FRIENDS ($25 - $49)<br />
Mary Jean Good<br />
Randy and Mary Hanzlick<br />
Tom and Weesi Kisger<br />
Deborah Coroman and <strong>St</strong>eve Pettie<br />
Jane Grutchfield-Groenier<br />
Christie and Nate Jones<br />
Mary Ann and Thomas Creagan<br />
Jennifer and Phillip Carver<br />
Joe and Kay Greenwood<br />
Mr. <strong>St</strong>an Bird<br />
Mr. Mike Scirocco<br />
Grummer-<strong>St</strong>rawn Family<br />
Debra Thiele<br />
Matt Lammers<br />
Gail Goodman<br />
Georges Jeanty<br />
Lunch Room <strong>St</strong>aff of Mrs. Green,<br />
Mrs. Birmingham, and Mrs. Variano<br />
Nancy and <strong>St</strong>eve Bittner<br />
Virginia and Bill Lane<br />
<strong>St</strong>eve and Debby Lackley<br />
Frank and Jackie Walsh<br />
David and Beth Summers<br />
Jenn and Chuck Martel<br />
Charlene Klister<br />
Posid Family<br />
Chris and Tina Press<br />
Ernie and Shirley Byron<br />
Williams Family<br />
Rebekah Jennings Murphy<br />
AJ McCray<br />
Donny Magana<br />
Tyler Aardema<br />
Shauna <strong>St</strong>uart<br />
Caroline de Golian<br />
Casey and Remington Reynolds<br />
Anthony LaPaglia<br />
Colleen and Michael LaPaglia<br />
Carol Magana<br />
Peter and Mary Ann Green<br />
CLUB ($50 - $99)<br />
David and Cecilia Edwards<br />
Peyton Family<br />
Bob and Rosalie Carlston<br />
<strong>St</strong>eve and Julie Byron<br />
Gretchen and Joe Conboy<br />
Ron and JoAnne Maloney<br />
Rob and Diane McLaughlin<br />
<strong>St</strong>eve and Dee <strong>St</strong>oker<br />
George and Judy Walton<br />
Cyndi Nevetral<br />
Jim Walsh<br />
<strong>St</strong>eve and Patrice Pendergast<br />
Honors ($100+)<br />
John and Susan Euart<br />
Jon Aardema<br />
TGIF Potato Snacks<br />
Joel Quartarone<br />
John Bekkers<br />
Paul and Lynn Darcy<br />
Pat and Bob Timm<br />
Halpern Enterprises<br />
Berling Associates<br />
<strong>Carpe</strong> <strong>Diem</strong> 2005<br />
29
The House<br />
Molly de Gorgue<br />
Harmony<br />
Kendall Broussard