Summer 2005

UBMS was a blast

But now it is in my past

Meeting new friends was the best

Even when some of them could be a pest

I learned a lot of useful things in meetings

Even when they were in evenings

Memories were engraved in stone

Even for when we all grow old

I loved the time I spent with you

I hoped that you loved it too

My time is up to spend with you

Remember me and I will always remember you.

A short story by Christina Moore . . .

Sea of Stones

                He made the day a lovely picture, with golden rays of sunlight that shown from a cornflower-blue horizon and landscapes of ripe green grass. But suddenly, He sponged the canvas with his wet brush, causing everything to blur and darken. It seemed as if The Painter with his dim, faded color palette, had wiped his brush across the land. So, as we walked through the gates of Arlington Cemetery, my world seemed to become the perfect picture of interwoven death and freedom.

            "Oh, my gosh," I whispered in awe to myself as I gazed at the surroundings, "Look at that."

            All around me, there were graves. The rectangular stones stood in rows, like an elongated line of dominos, if one were to be disturbed then the others would fall too. They were two hundred, forty thousand blank canvases, all with a different name and invisibly symbolizing the colorful life of each one. With a video camera in hand, I attempted to capture an image of every stone, but the line was too lengthy and we were being hurried along.

            "Come on guys, we need to hurry up. Changing of the Guards starts in a few minutes," Steve reminded once again, though at that time I scarcely noticed his comment, for something caught my eye.

            To the right of my path, was a bouquet of flowers lying on a grave and I zoomed in with my camera. It was inscribed with the name Charles J. Kambis, who was known as a cook and engineer that served in one of the World Wars. The blossoms in front of the stone were stained of deep blue, scarlet, and pure white, which gave a beautiful contrast to its background and held a meaning. Sure, it was a symbol for American freedom, but it was more than that, it was a symbol of someone's loss and another's gain.

            The picture, though briefly shown on camera, was glued to my mind as I wandered down the path to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Only then did it really hit me.

            "Just think," I spoke to the camera, "every headstone signifies a life that was lost. And for every life, at least one person has mourned."

            A clump of emotions collided within me, bringing tears to my eyes. It was as if I was a young child again, looking at an ocean of the deceased heroes and heroines, feeling small and insignificant in comparison to the power of individual courage and sacrifice. Yet, in some ways I grew by this new awareness of the world's suffering and the strength of one person's commitment to our nation. I had read about this place before and how could I not, Arlington is one of the most well known cemeteries in the country. But never did this realization occur, until that moment. I guess it was the plain fact that I was walking upon the ground, where underneath, just a few feet away, there laid someone who had died for my freedom. Not only one though, thousands of people, who did it not only for my freedom but for the freedom of millions in our nation today. There were individuals who fought in the Revolutionary War, World War II, and Persian Gulf War, among many others that were marked by the stones.

            Those who fought lost their lives, and although they won a place without suffering, we the citizens gained more than we lost. We've gained countless freedoms that enable us to live in a way others can just dream of, like our ability of expression and a chance at education. Even now, there are thousands, risking their lives, chancing fate, and facing the enemies to keep the people of America secure and their rights protected.

            Several citizens, including me, never take notice the price of these freedoms and so the thought of the probable actions of others came to mind. Would they act with nonchalance in a place where an honorable death is shared between thousands? Are these massive grave areas invisible or just a common image viewed by many that the sight no longer provokes the viewer? These thoughts ran throughout my mind, and finally rested heavily upon the heart within my chest. Unsteadily breathing, I arrived at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier with one lasting thought. The stones aren't just rocks, but a lasting impression of sacrifice upon our world.

  A poem by Samantha Mills . . .