The Catalyst
2023 LCHS Literary/Arts Publication:
"The Lives That Could Have Been"
A catalyst, by definition, provokes change and action, which is exactly what this publication aims to showcase. The Catalyst is a compilation of poetry, short stories, essays, portraits, photographs, and the innermost thoughts of innovative Lansdale Catholic minds.
As Crusaders, a keen eye for creativity is ingrained in our school spirit. Within these walls, we're taught to defy boundaries, to share our unique gifts and talents for the betterment of all. As such, students and staff submitted literature, art, and music which collectively embodies their own personal narratives, while celebrating all that comprises a Crusader heart.
This special edition of The Catalyst, titled "The Lives That Could Have Been," is meant to represent a love for the possible. Whether reflecting on past regret, love lost, lessons learned, wisdom gained, or hope for the future, each piece is marked by the profound impact of our experiences, and, perhaps more importantly, how we choose to respond to and remember them. May we continue to share our stories.
Musical Representation
Amy Garcia ('24)
"The Lives That Could Have Been"
Michael Lagrutta ('24)
I sit here, in the late hours, resting in restlessness
As I contemplate the ebb and flow of life
Which is sickeningly sweet to the bitter end
Perpetually made anew by the constant reinterpretation
Of that which was, is, and will be
Yet how often do we mind that which wasn’t, isn’t, and won’t be
In these disappointments, there is a new appointment
A charge to live life new and a chance to die to self
A chance to rummage through the squandered sources of true wealth
For it is in the head hung low and teardrop moistened eyes
That we come to face the curses that are blessings in disguise
For we mourn the loss of loved ones,
But what of hopes and dreams?
For we’ll reunite with relatives,
But a lost ambition seems
To be so quickly forgotten and replaced by evermore
As we grow thicker skin and hardened hearts yet still refuse to mourn
Our lives never lived and chances never taken
Our dear ones never loved and the hands never shaken
Because worse than missed opportunities is potential never known
Because only in the doing is reality ever shown
One can think and write and wail and fight all within the mind
But until you run that route or ask her out, the truth can’t fully shine
Man is not for simulation, but for real experimentation
To love, to lose, to feel, to numb
In this human race, we’re called to run
A jagged path with many forks
Leading lives of any sort
Hopes realized and dreams fulfilled
By blood, and sweat, and tears all spilled.
So please take courage, have some heart.
If not before, then now we start
To live your life not just on whim
But to thank your lives that could have been.
Mindspace
Amy Garcia ('24)
Out of Control
Emily Ryan ('24)
Eastern Pennsylvania
Kerry McCullagh ('24)
Little towns in Eastern Pennsylvania,
Full of little kids who grow up in the blink of an eye,
And they say time moves faster when you’re having fun.
Because when I’m with you,
An hour feels like a minute or two,
And a minute ago we were so young.
Friday night football games,
Sunsets over soccer fields,
Picnics in thunderstorm rain,
But we don’t leave.
Spending every weekend,
Hanging out with our friends,
Just trying to keep them
Because eventually we’re leaving.
Leaving Eastern Pennsylvania.
We’re aiming for the sun.
But who knows when we’ll get there,
We still feel so young.
But no matter how much we wish it would,
Time’s not slowing down for us.
We’re all going different places,
Going different speeds.
Everybody’s changing,
Overnight, it seems like,
We don’t got much time left,
And time’s not slowing down for us,
Not for kids in small towns in Eastern Pennsylvania.
Finding Strength in Others
Cami Mawby ('23)
I became who I am today sitting on the edge of a hospital bed holding a bag of Crayola markers. The bliss of ignorance in my childhood protected me from the burdening fact that I could lose my father to a malignant brain tumor. At five years old, all I knew was that dad was in the hospital because of something called “cancer,” but I had no idea what that meant. My mom would drive me to see him every day. He managed to make hospital life seem luxurious. I thought it was fabulous that his bed was adjustable, nurses brought him food, and he had his own TV. My dad always encouraged me to ask questions. I pointed to the needles in his arms and asked if they hurt, and I was relieved to learn they weren’t causing him pain.
Every five-year-old has their favorite toy, but my top choice was usually a bag of markers. My dad instilled his own love of art in me. I began to draw on him in his bed, giving him various “tattoos”. And so, naturally, when one of the nurses came in to check up on my dad, I offered her a tattoo as well. Although this occurred 12 years ago, I still vividly remember the light blue bubble I drew on her arm and the appreciative smile she gave me afterward. There were a lot of smiles in that hospital room, something you don’t usually imagine. I didn’t know it back then, but these little moments of positivity helped my dad stay strong, and eventually win his battle against brain cancer.
My parents worked very hard to protect me. They protected me from the fact that I could have lost my father. They continued to protect me throughout my life, but as my teenage years approached, what I needed was protection from my own thoughts. I suffered immensely from anxiety; it plagued me on a daily basis. I struggled to be the bright little girl my parents knew. I began to suffer in school, sports, and most of all socially, all of which were areas I used to excel in. Every day was a battle, but luckily I still had my parents fighting for me. They supported my decision to begin seeing a therapist. I learned many methods to cope with my anxiety including drawing to relieve stress and controlling the stimulation around me. While I saw a lot of improvement, I still didn’t feel like myself.
During the summer before my senior year, I started taking antidepressants. Each week I felt myself
settling down, little by little. When it came time for my senior retreat, Kairos, I was incredibly nervous. This retreat was largely social with a lot of built-in self-reflection time, two things that I feared greatly. Luckily with the assistance of medication, I was able to calm my restless thoughts and open my heart to this incredible experience. Through growing closer to my peers, I learned how many people were struggling like I was. I finally realized there was no need to worry because I was surrounded by good people. I began to see things the way I had when I was younger.
In that hospital room, I didn’t have a worry in the world thanks to the love and support from my parents. For years my anxiety told me that I was unworthy of love and that I had to shut people out to prevent heartache. With great endurance, I broke through the wall my anxiety had built. Allowing others into my heart and truly accepting their love has completely changed me. I realized true happiness comes from the little things, like sharing bubble tattoos with the ones you love. While I no longer romanticize hospital life, I am incredibly grateful for lifelong healing and blessings.
Original Song: "B-Side"
(Instrumentals, Vocals, Arrangement) by Kevin Coulter ('23), aka Bumba!