My turn finally came. As I nudged Cowboy forward he stumbled, and almost fell, much to the delight of the other riders. I jammed my hat down on my head, stroked Cowboy’s big red neck and entered the arena. At the signal, we dashed toward the first barrel, quickly whipped around it and with perfect precision rounded the second and thundered on to the third. We tore around the final curve and shot for the finish line.
No cheers filled the air. The end of our run was met with surprised silence. With the sound of my heart pounding in my ears, I heard the announcer call our time. Cowboy and I had beaten Becky and her fancy thoroughbred by a full two seconds!
I gained much more than a blue ribbon that day. At thirteen, I realized that no matter what the odds, I’d always come out a winner if I wanted something badly enough to work for it. I can be the master of my own destiny.
Barbara L. Glenn
Shining Down
You must be the change you wish to see in the world.
Gandhi
One dark morning while driving to work, my dad, Clayton Kavalinas, swerved to avoid a deer in the road. His car skidded on black ice, hit a guardrail and spun into an oncoming truck. He died in the crash. He was only thirty-five years old. Streetlights could have helped prevent the accident, but there were no lights on that stretch of highway called the Marquis of Lorne Trail on the outskirts of Calgary, Canada.
I was only eleven when he died. I was devastated over the loss of my father, especially when I realized that his death could have been avoided. In a two-year period, my father and one other driver were killed, and twenty-nine accidents happened on that area of the highway. Time and again I thought, How could I find a way to make my dad’s short life really count?
I felt triumphant when I figured out what I could do. I decided that I would try to get some lights put up in that area to help other drivers see better.
Once I figured out what I had to do, I fought as hard as I could to get new lights on that road. But I didn’t realize what a big deal that would be! I was determined and very motivated. I didn’t want what happened to my father to happen to anyone else.
I was studying government in school, and I tried to find a way to increase public pressure on city hall to install lights. With help from my classmates, I handed out flyers at homes and shopping malls, and obtained over three hundred signatures on the petition needed to grab the attention of the politicians in charge of road safety issues. I contacted them, too, and told them what I was trying to do. I was pretty amazed when some of the politicians actually listened to a kid! Finally, there was a meeting at city hall about the need for new lights.
Before the meeting, the local media found out what I was trying to do and reported on the problem. The reporters helped people in the area “see the light” and acknowledge the danger on Marquis of Lorne Trail.
With TV, radio stations and newspapers covering it, more people understood why lights were needed. They also learned what it was like for a child to lose a father. A lot of people told me they were touched and they decided to help. The public pressure began to rise and within four months from the morning my dad lost his life on that highway, the city council agreed to spend $290,000 for new lights.
Sometimes, going through the accident over and over, in order to make a point, was a hard thing to do emotionally. At times, I had hard nights and I cried. But at other times, I’d be really happy and proud that my dad’s life was the one that made the difference in helping to save many other lives from fatal accidents.
I was never so proud in my life as I was on September 16, 1996, nearly a year after I lost my dad. Speaking through a walkie-talkie at the side of the road, I gave a city worker instructions to turn on the lights for the first time. During the same lighting ceremony, I was given a plaque from the City of Calgary honoring me for my public service efforts. Since then, the number of collisions on Marquis of Lorne Trail has been drastically reduced.
While helping many people I’ll never even meet, I think I also helped my mother, my younger brother, Shaun, and my little sister, Kaitlin, become more determined to continue to enjoy life. I helped lift their spirits, and they were there to support me. We all cried together. We all laughed together. We all thought about life together. My dad’s death brought us closer together as a family, making something positive come out of the situation and helping to ease our grief.
But it was really my dad who ended up teaching me a lot about determination, courage and faith. In his own way, through this project, he helped me grow up. I learned that if you’re determined, if you put your heart into something, you can overcome any obstacle. You can accomplish anything.
Life goes on now. The cameras have stopped filming and the civic leaders focus on other problems. But the streetlights will always be there to help me get through difficult times.
I know that I’ll always be reminded of the terrible accident and I’ll still suffer grief from losing my dad, but I gain comfort knowing that area of the highway is now a safer place. I feel my dad’s presence there. I’ll always have the comfort of knowing that every night, a little bit of Dad is shining down.
Michael Kavalinas, sixteen
As told by Monte Stewart
Dreams
They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world. Someone to love, something to do and something to hope for.
Tom Bodett
When I was three years old, I slept on a very small bed in a large room with twenty-five other boys and girls in an orphanage in Hungary. Being the youngest boy in the building, I got picked on often because I was the smallest. My sister, Kristin, protected me when she could, but the older boys were really mean to me. Kristin and I had been taken from our birth mother when we were only babies because she couldn’t take care of us.
When I was about one year old, Kristin and I were taken in by a lady who became our foster mom. We thought we’d found a home and had really grown to love her, when about a year and a half later, she decided she couldn’t afford to keep us any longer. She told us that she was taking us to the orphanage for a visit, but she never came back to pick us up.
We had lived in the orphanage again for about six months by the time Christmas came. None of us got any presents at all. I had only a few clothes of my own and no toys. We got two meals a day but the bread was hard and the food was terrible. I had one good friend at the orphanage named Attila, and we used to talk a lot about what it would be like to have somebody come and take us away from there. Our dream was to have a real family and do things that most other kids did. I had never even gone swimming or seen a movie in my life. Sometimes Attila, Kristin and I watched the only show they had on television, which was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Two or three times, people came to the orphanage and talked to my sister Kristin and me, but they never came back to see us again.
One day, this pretty lady with big hair and a big man with glasses came to see Kristin and me. We couldn’t understand what they were saying, but the Hungarian girl who was with them told us that they had come from a faraway place called America. We spent a lot of time with them that day, and I told Attila what a good time I had.
They came back to see us every day for a week and took us for ice cream and long walks. The Hungarian girl told us that the man and lady wanted to adopt us and take us back with them to America. We were so excited and happy.
When I told Attila what was going to happen, he was very sad and didn’t want us to leave him there. I told him he should ask the big man if he would take him so that he could come to America and be my brother. The next time the man and lady came, he jumped up into the man’s lap and asked him if he could come with us. But, since the man didn’t speak Hungarian, he didn’t know what Attila wanted and just smiled at him.
Kristin and I flew on a great big jet plane to America. Things look very different but wonderful here. All the food tastes great, and I have my own room with a big bed and lots of clothes. I got a stuffed animal of my v
ery own: my first toy.
Everyone was really nice, and our neighbors even gave each of us something called a bicycle. It didn’t take long for me to learn to ride. Christmas came and there were lots of boxes under the tree for Kristin and me. America is a great place and I am very happy here.
After a year, we went with a group of kids to a special ceremony where we were made citizens of the United States! After the ceremony, two men with a TV camera came and asked us questions about what life was like in Hungary. That night we were on television like the Ninja Turtles!
I hope that Attila got to see us and I wonder if he knows that dreams really can come true.
Ryan Kelly, ten
2
ON
FRIENDSHIP
When you are sad I will dry your tears
When you are scared I will ease your fears
When you are worried I will give you hope
If you want to give up I’ll help you cope
When you’re lost and can’t see the light
I’ll be your beacon shining so bright
This is my oath that I pledge to the end
Why you may ask?
Because you’re my friend.
Nicole Ritchie, fifteen
The Forgotten Friend
Friendship without self-interest is one of the rare and beautiful things of life.
James Francis Byrnes
It was my tenth birthday—double digits—and I would have the biggest party ever. The guest list, which I kept at the back of my homework assignment folder, began with a few close friends. But in the two weeks before that special Friday night, it had quickly grown from seven girls to a whopping total of seventeen. Nearly every girl in my fifth-grade class had been invited to sleep over at my house for a big celebration. I was especially happy when each guest I invited excitedly accepted the invitation. It would be a night of scary stories, pizza and lots of presents. But as I later realized, I would truly treasure only one gift I received that night.
The family room was a flurry of shouts and bursts of laughter. We had just finished a game of Twister and were lining up for the limbo when the doorbell rang. I hardly paid attention to who might be at the door. What did it matter, really? Everyone I liked from school was there, in my family room, preparing to lean under the stick held by my two sisters.
“Judy, come here for a minute,” Mom called from the front door.
I rolled my eyes and shrugged to my friends as if to say, Now who would dare bother me at a time like this? What I really wanted to say was, It’s tough being popular!
I rounded the bend toward the front door, then stopped. I know my mouth dropped open and I could feel my face turning red, for there on the front porch stood Sarah Westly—the quiet girl who sat next to me in music class—and she was holding a gift.
I thought about the growing list in the back of my assignment folder. How had I forgotten to invite Sarah?
I remembered that I only added a name to the list when someone had shown an interest in me (like kids do when they know someone is having a party and they don’t want to be left out). But Sarah had never done that. Never once had she asked me about my birthday party. Never once did she squeeze into the circle of kids surrounding me at lunch time. And once she even helped me carry my backpack while I lugged my science project to our third-floor classroom.
I guess I had forgotten to invite her simply because she wasn’t pushing to be invited. I accepted the gift from Sarah and asked her to join the party.
“I can’t stay,” she said, looking down. “My dad’s waiting in the car.”
“Can you come in for a little while?” I nearly begged. By now I felt pretty bad about forgetting to invite her and really did want her to stay.
“Thanks, but I have to go,” she said, turning toward the door. “See you Monday.”
I stood in the foyer with Sarah’s gift in my hands and an empty feeling in my heart.
I didn’t open the gift until hours after the party had ended. Hours after the games, the food, the ghost stories, the pillow fights, the pranks on those first to fall asleep and the snores.
Inside the small box was a ceramic tabby cat about three inches tall with its tail in the air. In my mind, it was the best gift I had received, even though I was never really into cats. I later found out that the figurine looked exactly like Sarah’s cat, Seymour.
I didn’t know it then, but now I realize that Sarah was my one true childhood friend. While the other girls drifted away, Sarah was always there for me, ever loyal and supportive. She was an unconditional friend who stood by me, always encouraging and understanding me.
Although I’ll always feel bad about forgetting her, I also realize that I might not have discovered Sarah as a friend had I remembered to invite her to that unforgettable tenth birthday party.
Judith Burnett Schneider
Backfire!
Actions, not words, are the true criterion of the attachment of friends.
George Washington
It was spring at last. The sun was high in a cloudless sky. Birds sang. Flowers bloomed. Best of all, it was Saturday—a perfect day to be out playing with friends. The problem was, we’d only been in town two months so I hadn’t made any friends. My family moved a lot. It’s hard when you’re always the new kid on the block.
So, here I was, stuck with my baby brother John and Mary, the new sitter, while Mom and Dad were out of town on business. It was not going to be a fun day!
Just as we started lunch, the phone rang. I hopped up to answer it. “Hello, Morrell’s residence. Lou speaking.”
“Hi, Lou. It’s Alicia.”
My heart did a rapid pit-a-pat-pat. “Alicia Whitman?”
She giggled. “You know another Alicia?”
“No.” There was only one Alicia: the most popular, prettiest, richest girl in my class.
“I called to invite you over to my house this afternoon. We can ride my horse.”
“Hang on. I’ll ask.” Heart racing, I ran to the kitchen. “Mary, can I go play with my friend Alicia this afternoon?”
Mary was trying to scoop peas off the floor faster than my brother dropped them. “Where does she live?”
“Only a few blocks from here,” I said, picturing the fancy brick house that we passed on our way home from school. I held my breath.
“Would your mom let you go?”
“Sure, she would. Please, Mary. Please, please, please.”
John dumped the whole dish from his highchair.
“Oh, all right,” Mary said with a sigh.
I rushed back to the phone. “Alicia, I can come. What time?”
“One o’clock?”
“Great. See ya then.”
I was so excited I could hardly breathe. I was going to hang out with Alicia Whitman! Ride her horse. Every girl in class wanted to be Alicia’s friend.
“Come eat your lunch,” Mary called.
“I’m not hungry. I have to get ready.”
I chose my outfit very carefully: my best shorts, clean T-shirt and brand-new shoes. I even washed my face and combed the tangles out of my hair. When I was satisfied, I called, “I’m going now, Mary.”
I set off. The sun beat down on my back and bounced off the sidewalk. Cars and trucks swished by on the highway. I didn’t care about the heat or the noise. I was too busy daydreaming about the possibility of becoming good friends with Alicia. I’d liked Alicia from the first day. We were a lot alike. We both loved to read. Our hands were the first up to answer questions. We mostly got A’s. We both liked to play sports, although Alicia was always picked first and me last. And we both were horse-crazy. I just knew we could be best friends—if we had a chance.
The sidewalk stretched on forever and ever. It hadn’t seemed this far in the car! My shirt was getting sweaty and one heel in my new shoes hurt like crazy. I stopped and pulled down my sock. A big, fat blister had bubbled up. Youch! I kept going, walking on my tippytoes. It couldn’t be that much farther now,
could it?
Several blocks later, across the highway, I saw the meadow with Alicia’s horse, Buttercup, in it. Now all I had to do was cross four lanes of traffic. I sure hoped I wasn’t late!
Cars and trucks whizzed past me. I waited the longest time for a break. When it came, I made a mad dash to the other side. Whew! I was there.
The Whitman house was surrounded by big, old trees. The cool shade felt wonderful. I smoothed my hair and my shorts. My mouth was dry. I hoped Alicia would offer me a cold drink right away. I walked up to the front door and rang the bell.
No one answered.
I rang again, then knocked. No one came to the door.
Maybe they were out back? I walked around on the brick walk. There were no cars in the driveway. No one on the fancy rock terrace either. I knocked on the back door.
Nobody came.
Alicia’s tree house was empty, too. I climbed up to check. Except for Buttercup, the whole place was deserted!
I couldn’t believe it. Had I heard Alicia wrong? Didn’t she say today? Why would she invite me and leave? Maybe she’d gone to pick me up? That was it! Alicia didn’t walk to school or ride the bus. A shiny black car brought her and was waiting when school was out. She wouldn’t expect me to walk all the way out here. We’d just missed each other.
Happily, I went back and sat on the front steps. I waited and waited and waited. It got later and later. No Alicia. No Whitmans. Nobody came.
I sat there with my head in my hands, growing more disappointed and confused by the minute. I finally decided that Alicia wasn’t coming, so I got up and trudged home. I was ashamed of myself. I’d been so hungry for a friend that I’d fallen for her mean trick.
101 Stories of Changes, Choices and Growing Up for Kids Ages 9-13 Page 5