Clowns, Mockingbirds, and I

My English Writing Portfolio By Will Cromarty

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Jack Robertson on Okinawa

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Post #3

What About Us on Okinawa?

May 8th, 1945

Okinawa, Japan

            Men were marching in the downtrodden mud, with weary looks on their faces, ready to give up. They were pained, but not the kind of pain morphine can still. It was pain that was immeasurable. We had heard on the radio that the Allies had gotten Germany to surrender, and some man named Churchill named it VE day.[1]I was drained. It was just marching in the rain, just to fight the Japanese again. Nothing mattered greatly to me anymore. Betty had gotten herself a new boyfriend. Law was KIA after he had helped me to the battlefield hospital. My father had passed away from a heart attack. Nobody cared about us anymore.

            Sitting around, listening to that radio, we worried that nobody would care about us anymore, and that the American war effort would stop, said one.  We’d have to fight these good-for-nothings with sticks, said another.[2] I didn’t care. Let the Japanese kill me, it’d be a release from all that torments me now.

            I marched up the mud, starving like always,  in the pouring rain reminded me of that all-too familiar Morton salt jingle, which made me miss my mom’s cooking, which was pre-war days, and long before I was put on a near starvation diet. My belly felt empty, even though I had beans. The only good thing these meals did was build up muscle.

            We kept marching, and there was a Japanese base near us. We started to pull out our guns and shoot at them. I thought “Then they’ll shoot at us, and well shoot at them again, and what will we have accomplished?” Nothing was the answer.

            In battle, I was brooding. On the past, and what the future held for me. I remembered landing on Okinawa on the first of April[3], my first battle since D-Day. I remembered Law, and his wisecracks. I remembered. I ran into position, hiding behind a rock, which was all too familiar. I watched two doughboys joking with each other, and cussing out he Japanese. One pulled out his gun and exclaimed, “I’m going to get that son of a-” and the gun clattered on the ground. He fell to the earth, and said, “I’ve got a cut, have any Band-Aids?”, and just like that he was dead.

            I fired off a round from my M-1 Garand, and then I breathed. I smelled desperation and loss of hope all around me. I thought it was the end for me. This is what death smells like. But then, the pitter-patter of the rain clinking against my metal helmet was enough to remind me that I was human. I had found my purpose. As the battle waged on, I kept shooting…and shooting…and shooting…and shooting. I felt alive…

            Then agony. Blood was everywhere. My side was like a piece of Swiss cheese. My life flashed through my eyes…And suddenly, I was talking to Law. Was I dead? Then I woke up, again, in the hospital, in America. My wounds were so severe that the Army had shipped me back to my homeland.[4] I was free, and alive! They had healed me. Now I could move on, however changed I may be.  I have some scars to show for it…

    [1] Haugen, David M., ed., World War II Primary Sources (San Diego, Calif.: Lucent Books, 2003), 112-113.

[2] Haugen, World War II Primary, 111-112.

[3] Encyclopædia Britannica Online School Edition, s.v. "World War II," accessed May 1, 2013, http://school.eb.com

[4] Schneider, Carl J., and Schneider, Dorothy. "Military Life" World War II, An Eyewitness History. New York: Facts On File, Inc., 2003.American History Online. Facts On File, Inc. http://www.fofweb.com  (accessed April 29, 2013).

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D-Day invasion

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Entry #2

Operation Overlord

June 7th, 1944

Normandy, France

            Bodies were strewn everywhere, leaders barking out orders, soldiers scrambling for cover from the ffffffffrrrrraaappppp of the German machine guns. I jumped off from the landing craft into shallow water, and I slowly waded to shore.[1] I ran, and hid behind a huge dune. I was out of my league here, in my first battle. In front of me, gunshots were erupting everywhere, and there was a faint sound of landmines going off behind me. The cries of soldiers wanting their mothers pierced the air. Above my head, Spitfires were flying by enemy planes, firing off dozens of rounds.[2] Gunpowder was bursting from both sides, overwhelming me with its burnt metal and dirt odor.

             Behind the dune, I was panicking. Germans were shooting at us from the pillboxes, and every time I looked up, their machine guns would kick sand up in my face. I looked across the beach, and there was Law, shooting at the Germans with his Tommy gun behind the jagged rocks. I ran over to him, narrowly escaping the mortars of the Germans. Lawrence, or Law as the men in my unit called him, was one of my best friends back home. He and I would race down the highway in our suped up cars, trying to go one better than each other. On these beaches he was changed. Gone was his cheery attitude; he no longer laughed at the joked he uses to crack up hysterically at. His green eyes were creased, the result of many sleepless nights. His blond hair was mud stained. He was changed, but we still maintained our strong friendship.

            He told me “Lovely day isn’t it? I’d love to have some tea with you, and chat, but I’m too busy shooting these Germans. I hope you’ll join me” This quip gave me a glimmer of the old Law in the Pre War days.

            I pulled out my M-1 Garand, and I started to shoot. I was reloading when an 88 flew over my head and landed fifteen feet away from me. It exploded, and the shrapnel hit my back. There were multiple places that were bleeding freely[3], and I found it difficult to breathe. Law looked over at me and he scooped me up, and ran me over to the nearest medic. It was then I passed out.

            I woke up in the hospital on the beach.   There were doctors, and nurses running around everywhere. I saw hundreds of injured and sick people on their beds.[4] Some were sobbing quietly, others had their mouths open in pure shock. A nurse came over to me, and I was fed a meal of ghastly canned beans and metallic-tasting water. I as lying on my bed, and yet my back was feeling better. I asked the nurse why, and she said “Thank the medic. He saved your life. In fact, you may be able to serve again soon enough.”

The nurse walked off, and I was lying on my bed, missing Betty. I thought of how her bright red hair would flow in the wind, and how she had that giggle that could make you laugh. I stated to read her letter, and I could her soft voice reading the letter aloud to me. “Dear Cutie Pie, I sure miss you. Penasco just isn’t the same without you here, and quite frankly, neither is my life. The other day was little Joey’s birthday. Can you believe…?”

[1] Ruggiero, Adriane, American Voices from World War II (Tarrytown, N.Y.: Benchmark Books, 2003), 38, 39.

[2] Sheehan, Sean, The Technology of World War II (Austin, TX: Raintree Steck-Vaughn Publishers, 2003), 24, 25.

[3] Bigelow, Barbara C., World War II: Primary Sources, ed. Slovey, Christine (Detroit: UXL, 2000), 179.

[4] Schneider, Carl J., and Schneider, Dorothy. "Military Life: The U.S. Army and the

     European Theater of Operations: September 3, 1939–May 8, 1945." World War

     II, An Eyewitness History. New York: Facts On File, Inc., 2003.

     American History Online. Facts On File, Inc. http://www.fofweb.com

     (accessed April 29, 2013).

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A draft notice

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The Year At War Journal Entry 1

Uncle Sam Wants YOU!

  May 11th, 1944

Peñasco, New Mexico

He was all over the place. Everywhere I went, Uncle Sam was pointing at me with his wizened hand, staring at me with those intense blue eyes. His face was plastered on anything with a wall.[1] The Army wanted me and all of my other classmates to join ever since Pearl Harbor, because we’re eighteen, perfect for their needs[CM1] . My father told me “Jack, you can’t let them draft you. You have your whole life ahead of you. Run away to Canada. Do whatever it takes to escape the draft.” As it was, I did not run away, even though I should’ve.

However, all of my worst dreams came true a month ago. I had been forced to register[2] with the draft lottery right after Pearl Harbor,[3] and that was the last thought I gave the draft. I looked at the telegram and on it was the dreaded words “JACK ROBERTSON, You are hereby directed to present yourself for Armed Forces physical examination to the local board.” I had no choice but to comply or end up getting fined and jailed.

My father and I walked over to our local Army office, and we went inside. He told me “Don’t worry Jack. There’s no way they’ll pick you. No way at all…” He kept going on and on about it, as if he was trying to convince himself of it. I walked into their medical examination room, and I took a seat on the bench. The room was nothing special; it consisted of four pastel yellow walls, another Uncle Sam poster, and an examination table. The room had its unique stench. It was a blend of salty sweat, and the distinct reek of rubbing alcohol.

There was an eerie silence. I was waiting on the exam table, alone, the tranquility occasionally perturbed by the agonized sobs of some unfortunate man. Finally, a doctor by the name of Gonzalez came in and checked me fully. He tested my eyesight and my motor reflexes to make sure I wasn’t 4-F.[4] All this time, I was thinking how this was a test I didn’t want to pass. I kept thinking “I’m too skinny, they won’t want me. I’m easily nervous. I heard that people with brown hair and blue eyes won’t be as likely to be put into service. They can’t take me…”

Dr. Gonzalez came back in and told me to sit down. He put [CM2] a hand on my shoulder, and simply stated in his gravelly, yet caring voice. He told me that the “Army saw me fit for service, and I had to report to Base AF-1794 and that I shouldn’t panic, and that I shouldn’t think it was the end.”

What happened next was a daze. I trotted [C home and told my parents the news. I was to be shipped out the next day. My mom right then, went out and made me a feast. It consisted of a savory ham with creamy mashed potatoes that had just come from the oven. Mouth watering, I indulged, as it may be the best meal I get in a long time.

[1] Kathleen Krull, V Is for Victory: America Remembers World War II (New York: Knopf, 2002), 14.

[2] Stallings, Melissa. "Selective Service System." In American History. ABC-CLIO,

     2000-. Accessed April 23, 2013. http://americanhistory.abc-clio.com/.

[3] American History, s.v. "Conscription," accessed April 25, 2013.

     http://americanhistory.abc-clio.com/.

[4] Krull, V Is for Victory, 30.

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Santa with a electric guitar

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Preclass 4-25

We were sent to the principal's office to "work out our differences"

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He had greasy hair, and he played electric guitar. He thought he was hot stuff.

Will Cromarty, Preclass 4-25

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Alcoholism in The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

Alcoholism in The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

            There are countless quotations in The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian that depict the feelings on alcoholism by a Native American. This excerpt shows how the protagonist, Arnold feels about alcoholism in his reservation. Arnold feels upset that so many of his friends and family turn to alcohol, which ends up killing them many times.“All my white friends can count their deaths on one hand. I can count my fingers, toes, arms, legs, eyes, ears, nose, penis, butt cheeks, and nipples, and still not get close to my deaths. And you know what the worst part is? The unhappy part? About 90 percent of the deaths have been because of alcohol. ...And he didn't know that all Indian families are unhappy for the same exact reason: the fricking booze” (Alexie 200). Alexie is saying that the reason so many families are unhappy are because that alcohol, which he says accounts for 90% of deaths on the reservation. Arnold also states that many Native Americans are depressed because of the alcohol. He also alleges that many people die because of alcohol, with it being the direct or indirect cause of death. Alexie’s statements align with what leading experts have to say about this matter.             Leading experts that have researched the matter of alcoholism among Native Americans have research that are similar to the events depicted In the Native North American Almanac, it states that one of the leading health problems facing Native Americans is alcoholism. “As of 1988, Native Americans are four times more likely [than the general us population] to die of alcoholism… two and one half times more likely to die of Kidney failure... It had been estimated that 75 percent of all accidental deaths among American Indians are related to alchol. Alcholism is the number one problem facing American natives today.  Alcoholism contributes to many other forms of death and illness, including accidents, suicide, homicide, diabetes, birth defects, and pneumonia. Alcohol abuse has been related to half of all the crimes commited by adults on Indian reservations” (The Native North American Almanac, 270-271).  This quote corroborates Alexie's claim that alcoholism is a large factor in Native American life. The passage says that 75% of accidental deaths amongst Native Americans are due to alcohol. It also contributes to suicide, an extreme form of, in most cases, depression.  This further proves that real life can and does imitate fiction.

            In The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, events that are depicted are similar to real life. In the novel, Arnold depicts his fathers’ struggles with alcohol, as well as his fathers’ friends’ struggles. This quotation in the novel takes place when it is Christmas, and his father has just gone off on a drinking binge. “I got you something." He said. "What?" "It’s in my boot" I picked up one of his cowboy boots. "No, the other one," he said. "Inside that foot-pad thing." I picked up the other boot and dug inside. Man that thing smeled like booze, and fear, and failure. I found a wrinkled and damp five dollar bill. "Merry Christmas" he said. Wow. Drunk for a week, my father must have really wanted to spend those last five dollars… He could have spent that five bucks and stayed drunk for another day or two. But he saved it for me. It was a beautiful and ugly thing.” (Alexie 151). This quotation shows how alcohol is such a large part of his father’s life, that if he gave Arnold money, it was almost a miracle to Arnold. These quotations show how much alcohol is part of Arnold’s life. “Alcohol and drugs are hard facts of life for too many urban and reservation Indians. Native Americans are five times more likely to die of alcohol-related causes than whites, according to the U.S. Surgeon General. Chronic liver disease and cirrhosis — diseases associated with alcoholism — are the sixth leading cause of death among Native Americans. They are not even among the top 10 in whites” (Indian Country Diaries 1). This quotation shows the brutal reality for many Native Americans in terms of alcohol.  Hence, there is very little fiction to Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, and real life examples.

            Therefore, in the novel The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian by Sherman Alexie, the depictions of alcohol are comparable to the descriptions of real-life Native American alcoholism; and thus is an accurate depiction of life on a Native American reservation. Arnold’s family and friends die due to alcohol related causes. This is the same as what leading experts have to say, which is that alcohol abuse is an epidemic among Native Americans... Arnold’s descriptions of the trials and tribulations of alcoholism are close to real-life. However, Arnold’s description is unfortunate. Alcoholism to this extent should not be happening on Native American Reservations. The US needs to do something about this, and fast.

        Works Cited

Alexie, Sherman. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian. Illus. Ellen Forney. New York: Little, Brown, 2009. Print.

Indian Country Diaries. PBS, Sept. 2006. Web. 28 Feb. 2013. <http://www.pbs.org/indiancountry/challenges/abuse.html>.

NCBI. N.p., n.d. Web. 28 Feb. 2013. <http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/3068262>.

Paynter, Susan. "INDIAN ALCOHOLISM CAN HIT CLOSE TO HOME." Seattle Post-Intelligencer [Seattle, WA] 20 Sept. 2000: B1. Global Issues In Context. Web. 28 Feb. 2013.

Rose, Cynthia, and Duane Champagne. Native North American Almanac. 2nd ed. Detroit: UXL, 1994. Print.

"Slideshow: The pine ridge indian reservation." http://billmoyers.com/content/slideshow-the-pine-ridge-indian-reservation/. Bill Moyers, n.d. Web. 28 Feb. 2013.

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Be Different

Stargirl

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Stargirl Journal #3

I entered the ball with style, elegance, and flair. I entered on the side of bike, being “chauffeured” by Double D. (Dori Dilson) I walked down the red carpet, and everybody stopped, and looked. At me. I could feel time was at a standstill. The trees stopped swaying. The tennis nets stopped being nets. The air stopped, even. The sun stopped shining, and I felt a cold rush pass me on my skin. I looked in the corner, and saw Leo, hiding behind a shrub. Then everything resumed. I walked down the carpet, and I hear my favorite song was on. (FYI, it’s chicken noodle soup.) I st6arted dancing, alone. Everybody shunned me. Leo stared. Guy Greco spun his baton like a baton twirling maniac. Then a slow song came on. I was dancing with Glitter (My ukulele), until this good looking guy named Raymond Studemacher comes up and starts dancing with me. At the end, people started talking to me again. I almost felt normal. (Normal for me anyway) Then the bunny hop started. I started with Raymond and his girlfriend, and then more people joined in. I was at the front, bunny hopping past the tennis courts, past the swimming pool, past the shimmering bits of mica in the desert, past senor saguaro, past my enchanted place, and we kept hopping. Then I decided we had to come back when we could barely hear the music. We were hopping for hours.

Of course, everything that goes up most come down. By this I mean if you’re on top of the world, someone will bring you down from that. When I got back, I saw Hillari Kimble waiting for me, and I waved. She slapped me across the face. FYI, she has puny slaps. I kissed straight on the cheek, and walked out in Style.

As I write this, I am in the car to Minnesota. We sold our house. I gave my “files” to Archie. The day before I left, I found out they would start building a school on my enchanted place. I am keeping another diary, for Leo, if I ever find him.  

I never got to say bye to Leo. But I just know we find each other again. We will. 

With love,

STARGIRL

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Stargirl Journal Entry #2

Journal 2

Anyway, I was shocked that Leo hadn't heard or been to an enchanted place. It should be a crime! I took Leo out into the barren Sonoran desert, with frogs croaking underneath us and little bits of glimmering mica in the ground. It’s good to know in case I ever run out of glitter for Glitter, I can rely on nature. OH my, look at me, talking about unicorn dandruff! So, we were walking, and I told him Iceland had official enchanted places. He was sarcastic, but in his dreamy sarcastic way, he said “Where would that be? Oz?” 

Leo also didn’t want to scream. I told him it’s the best way to exercise your vocal chords, and besides, we were in the desert, so who’ll hear him? Maybe Cinnamon, but that’s beside the point. A minute or so later, we got to the place. It was beautiful, with a tall majestic saguaro, like Senor Saguaro. I call her Senorita Saguaro. There were prickly pears, and the occasional tumbleweed. It was peaceful.

I had to teach Leo how to visit an enchanted place, so I told him to take his shoes off, and he took them off. I saw his feet and they look so un-feet like. Almost…beautiful. Oh, Sparkles look at me, so in love with Leo’s feet! I better go play Glitter, and get my head back.

Where was I. Oh, yes, the enchanted place. We took our shoes off, and sat in the desert. The Key, I told him, was to do absolutely nothing. I sat down, and I looked out.. Then my mind went c  o  m  p  l  e  t  e  l  y  blann…

Oh hi, I was lost for a moment there, just meditating. My mind was erased of all thoughts, just blank nothingness, You should try, you look like you need it, Sparkles.

STARGIRL

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Stargirl Journal Entry #1

Stargirl

I rushed down the hall, and I found the video room. I said hi, and Leo’s friend, Kevin told me what to do. You know Sparkles, Kevin seems a little too uptight. He needed to visit an enchanted place! I told him so, and he yelled “Sit down!” I pulled out Glitter, and I tried to sing him a lullaby to relax. He needs some more glitter, and rainbows, and sparkles in his life. Then I showed Leo Cinnamon, and Cinnamon told him “Hi Leo.” Leo waved awkwardly, and then Kevin Started talking to his invisible friend (My guess) by saying “Greetings...And hello to hot seat.”  I made kevin hold cinnamon, but then, as soon as he touched it, I went up to his chest And crawled into his shirt. He started to scream, I was thinking, “relax, it’s only a rat!” Then Kevin told me he always wanted me on the “Hot seat” I acted all surprised, and I rose up from the seat in mock-shock (I like that rhyme!) and I yelled EEEEEEYIIIIIKKKKESSSS! Later, the “Jury” started asking me questions. They were making fun of me and my name. It made me wonder, and tell me the truth Sparkles, is Pocket mouse a weird name? No? Oh thank you Sparkles. Anyways, the jury kept telling me that I don’t say the pledge of allegiance right, that It’s bad to cheer for the other team, and that I make friends in a strange way. I think it’s perfectly normal. Then Jennifer St. John told me that I’m nosey, then the Grinch (Hillari Kinmble) told me that I’m weird, and the whole jury laughed. They were making me feel so bad, I wanted to cry, Why can't these people appreciate life, and spread happiness, and sparkles, and glitter, like unicorns. The whole jury was laughing at me. Only Kevin and Leo, and that teacher, Mr. Robineau weren’t laughing. I started to cry, then after the camera’s stopped, i ran down to the bathroom to cry. That, Sparkles, is my day. Excuse me, I have to go to the store and get some glitter for my tissues. I’m almost out. Stargirl

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Lies