Monthly Archives: September 2019

End The War

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Mr. John Lewis,

While reading the first section of your book MARCH, I felt my body fill with pure rage at the inhuman acts people are capable of. The illustrations in your book depicted violence and hatred without having to say a single thing. The bombing of church left innocent people murdered and the remaining nervous and worried that they were going to be next. This act of hatred inspired some to fight back, others to flee, and left me wondering how I would react. It is impossible to know for certain considering we are many years past this tragic event, however I could not help compare the deaths of the innocent black children in your book to the deaths of innocent black children we see in the news today. It opened my eyes allowing me to see that racism then and racism now is not much different. The civil rights movement shed light onto the horrid acts that black people had to endure, yet here we are with nothing changed. 

I would always say I can not imagine living in a world where such acts of violence brought on by a simple biological difference could occur, yet we do live in that time. That time is now. Many people would argue that the problem of racism has gotten better, that it is nothing compared to the bombing of the church in your book. I disagree. Racism still exists in 2019, though it has changed the way it presents itself. I admire your optimism, believing that we as people will eventually live in a world without racism and that we are capable of true equality and improvement. The time for change is now and we have a long way to go. We need more people of power speaking on the violence towards minorities.

Sincerely,

Maddy Suarez

#EndTheWar #ChangeIsNow #WeAreEqual

 

Goodnight Room

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When I was a little girl my sister used to read me to sleep. I remember laying in bed, bundled up in my fuzzy and comforting blanket, waiting excitedly for her to walk through the door with my favorite book Goodnight Moon. We would turn the lights off, with only the gentle, warm glow of my night light left. When I was younger me and my sister never spent much time together, because of the age gap she was into different things and understandably would much rather hang out with her friends than her little sister. Because we never spent time together I looked forward to our reading time before bed. It is something we did every night no matter where we were; at our dads, at our moms, on vacation; no matter what she would always read to me, “Goodnight, stars. Goodnight, air. Goodnight, noises everywhere”. And it continued, until eventually I went to a new book. 

 

Where the Wild Things Are. The book that caused my imagination to soar. I had transitioned to reading by myself, but my excitement never faltered. I connected with Max, as most children would with the desire to have a place of their own. To get away from nagging parents and form our own rules. As Max’s adventures into the forest of the wild things unfolded, I pretended I had no idea what was to come, no matter how often I indulged myself in the book. Eagerly turning the page, until I reached the end, where Max left the wild things and returned to his own room.

 

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