Who am I? What life events impacted me and shaped me to become this person? The 8th grade memoirs featured here seek to answer these questions.
"The Spectacle of Sandy"
by Luke Kugler
I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE.
It was a normal night in October 2012. I was 3 years old and it was a cloudy and somewhat warm day in Oyster Bay, New York. My mother and I were in the living room building a tall tower of blocks. When I got into bed, I was super tired and was eagerly awaiting bedtime. As I finally put my head down, I heard the loud wind whipping around the corner of my room. I could not go to sleep. I thought I could just cover my ears and try again, but the sound was so loud nothing could mute it.
When I got up in the morning, I remember my mom asking, “Do you want to take a walk outside?”
Once outside, I could not believe what I was seeing. The smell was moist and earthy. The environment was destroyed. I heard the residual winds from the night. It was like a whole new world. There were several massive trees laying across the driveway and leaves blanketing the pavement. The world was a wreck. I was disoriented. PSHHHH! A gust of wind hit me and brought three leaves whipping into my face.
My mind was scrambling. I was confused and worried. I thought, Is this the world that I have to live in? Will it be like this forever?
We continued to walk around the house, astonished by the sights. Typically, I would wander, but on this morning I held my mother’s hand firmly. Plants with no leaves, broken structures, uprooted trees, disaster. The outside patio was destroyed, my swing was mangled in branches, the green of the grass had disappeared and was overcome with debris.
The power line fell down and was lying across the street. It caught on fire. THE POWER LINE WAS ON FIRE! Flames came off the wood, crackling with the black smoke in the sky. The fire spreading along the wood was scary. My mother immediately dialed 911 and informed them of the debacle.
A few minutes later, I heard red and blue sirens blazing and getting closer. I saw the fire truck arrive and put out the fire in under one minute.
Life was on fire. My young mind could not comprehend what was happening and going on around me.
We went back inside the house because we had enough to see outside. I smelled the candle coming from the kitchen that my dad lit because the power was out. I walked to the kitchen and started crying. At the moment, I had no idea what was going on. It was too much for me.
I was too young to understand about natural disasters. I made sense of it all by relaying the scene as a scary one, like a storybook, but the reality was shocking. I will forever remember this day. At the time, it was the worst thing I had seen in my life. Superstorm Sandy was one of the worst storms New York had experienced in decades. Whenever the wind howls outside my windows, I am reminded of this memory. Similarly, when someone asks me about my most prominent childhood memory, I tell them this.
Excerpt from "The Race"
by Maalika Mehta
4:00 AM. This is what the luminescent clock beside me reads. I jolt up in bed, my head spinning in response. I groan, touching my head, then reluctantly step out of my warm sheets. I pull on a tank top, t-shirt, long sleeve, white turtleneck, and finally my racing jacket. Already sweating in my layers, my mom and I hop in the car en route to the Schuylkill Regatta Grounds. I pass out in the backseat, music blasting in my ears.
7:00 AM. The Philadelphia sun greets me angrily with a slight downpour of rain as I step out of the car to a frigid breeze. Sipping a warm vanilla latte, my breath fills the air with warm smoke. I jog over to our tent, where the trailer metal is so cold it could turn my finger into an icicle with one touch. My coach swiftly greets me, then turns over to his whiteboard again. Shifting my weight, I stood there awkwardly on my phone for about 30 minutes until my friends showed up. I had memorized the race course over and over and over again, until the twists and turns were indented in the back of my brain.
7:45 AM. Madison slowly jogs over to me, obviously drowsy. I high five her, and together we walk to get breakfast. I grab a plate full of creamy, yellow eggs and crispy potatoes. I sit on the edge of the grounds, sipping a Celsius and dangling my legs back and forth over the rushing water. Progressively, more and more people join me by the end of the cliff. We make small talk but mostly enjoy the frigid yet comforting atmosphere in silence.
9:00 AM. My race is at 9:30AM, so I start putting the boat together and gathering my crew for some motivational pep talk. My crew consists of Scarlett, Brinley, Jordan, Gabby, Maddie, Charlotte, Camryn, and Madison.
9:25 AM. The crew gets hands on the boat and ready to lift when I realize that we’re missing two people. Brinley and Jordan have disappeared from the group and I’m absolutely panicked. The racing grounds are huge! Did they get lost? Did they accidentally launch with varsity? The team splits up, looking for Brinley and Jordan everywhere. Finally, I spot them near the edge of the course eating a bowl of mac and cheese.
9:30 AM. We’re late, late, late, and even more late! There’s already a huge line of boats waiting to be checked and I mentally sob. The guy who’s handling the boat check is about 105 years old and takes absolutely forever to check the boats.
9:35AM. The boat check finally gets to us. We flip the boat and the guy runs the seats on the tracks. Five of the seats promptly fell off. I immediately get on my knees and fix the boats, shoving my mic and speaker in my pocket. Finally, all of the seats are nice and secure.
Bow Four rows slow but effective strokes as we travel up the race course. The Schuylkill race is 2.5 miles long. We launched about midway in the travel lane, so we had to slowly travel up 1 mile up the race course, then speed all the way down for 2.5 miles. I reach into my pocket and pull out my speaker, all tangled. Untangling it, I plug it into the boat and pray. My boat had been switched last minute and I hadn’t been able to test if my speaker was compatible with my new boat, but I knew I was going to be screwed if it didn’t work. I can scream pretty loud, but I don’t think I can scream loud enough for a 60 feet long boat for 2.5 miles. The speaker crackles loudly as soon as I plug the system in. My rowers wince, so I quickly dial the crackling down to a low hum.
“Testing, testing, 123!” I say to the speaker. No response.
“Bow four, can you hear me?” I yell.
“No!” Camryn yells out.
I fiddle with the speaker a little bit longer and blow into the speaker.
“Testing, testing, 123!” Dead static.
I massage my temples and yank the wire out of the boat.
“Alright, I have no mic so I’m gonna have to yell this!” I yell out.
Finally, we reach the start. Getting ready to turn out of the travel lane to the race lane, I turn my attention to the marshall. We’re two boats away from starting and my nerves are spiking out of my skin.
“Ready Bow #10456….”
I hear a loud beep and they’re off!
“Ready Bow #10457…”
That’s us! My rowers get up to the catch, and the beep calls for us.
“GO!” I scream as loudly as I can.
The wind rushes past me as I slowly rock back and forth in my seat from the speed. Mindlessly rambling motivational things, I can see my rowers' passion and determination.
I panic as two boats whoosh past us.
Frantically, I call, “Brinley, you’re the new stroke seat! Race pace, let’s move it!”
We’re halfway through the race, and it’s not looking too good for us. I hear quick breathing in the middle of the boat. Ignoring it, I keep shouting my calls to keep the crew’s spirits up. Then, Gabby says the absolute worst thing I could’ve ever heard at that moment.
“Maalika, Maddie’s not breathing!”
My head wraps around that exclamation. I quickly pull myself together for Maddie.
“Weight enough!” The boat stops in its tracks and my crew whip their heads back to help Maddie.
“Marshall! Marshall!” I wave my hands back and forth to the marshall floating about 100 feet away.
“Marshall!” The marshall speeds over and I can see in her face that she’s annoyed at the interruption.
“What?” she asks boredly.
I knew the marshalls at this race were hard to deal with, but I didn’t think they would be this rude with a girl who’s having a health problem.
“She’s not breathing!” Gabby says, fanning Maddie as she lays down on Gabby’s lap. The marshall unstraps Maddie, who can barely move, and pulls her out of the seat.
“You guys are disqualified. After the two bridges that are coming up, do not complete the course. Immediately turn into the travel lane after the bridges.”
And with that, the marshall speeds away.
Landing at the dock and walking back to the trailer is a blur. I can’t think, I can’t focus. I walk over to my coach, numb. He sees my almost frigid state of mind and sighs.
“You did all that you could. It was a good call, health over sports any day.”
He pats my shoulder, “Don’t stress it, kid.” He walks away.
To this day, even while doing the most mundane tasks, I still get shivers down my spine thinking of this experience. The guilt that I felt in me after the race still remains as a pit in my stomach. Even though this was definitely one of the most traumatizing experiences of my rowing career so far, in the last five months I’ve been able to use this to grow and expand my expertise in rowing. Hopefully, next year I’ll be able to put this first time behind me and conquer this moment with success and victory.