Time Well Spent

I slowly approach the bed in the middle of my grandparent’s room. My heart aches. I gently touch the familiar wood of the bed frame, and the worn quilt that rests across the bed. The neighbors were so nice to come over and clean things up. I can’t help it as the first tears fall down my face. I miss my grandparents so much. My body shakes as more tears cascade down my face. The situation becomes real as I walk through their house. They weren’t here to greet me. Nana didn’t have dinner ready when I got here. The porch lights weren’t on. They were gone. Permanently. I lay back on the bed, tears still flowing, and my mind takes me to the days I spent with them.

I watch, mesmerized as Nana goes about her daily routine. My eyes are glued to the gigantic curling iron that frightens me a little bit. As a young girl of only 7 years old, I sit, very amazed at how confidently she waves the scorching hot wand around as she uses broad gestures to get her points across. She deliberately curls each piece of hair until she is satisfied. Then, she picks up the brush and smooths the defined curls, making them appear natural. I bounce in anticipation of what comes next. I love watching Nana put on her astonishingly bright pink lipstick. It fits her personality perfectly. She’s so vibrant and unique, bold and unafraid. I take in how she slowly and carefully traces the natural outline of her lips. When finished, she places her lipstick back in her ancient makeup basket. She looks right at me. She looks right into my eyes and says, “Now the difficulty in wearing such bold lipstick is making sure it never gets on your teeth.” We both throw our heads back and laugh because we both know that before this day is over, Nana will have gotten some lipstick on her teeth. I notice how the skin around Nana’s eyes crinkles. I love her smiling eyes. She laughs at herself, and I take a moment to appreciate her ability to do so.

My heart races and my hands shake. I knew I shouldn’t have come in here, but I had always wanted to know what was in these drawers. I slowly reached toward the second drawer; I already knew that the top drawer contained a copious amount of hair bows that Nana had purchased for all of her granddaughters.

Nana’s voice startled me out of my thoughts, “Joanna, what are you doing?” she asked, her voice carrying no trace of accusation.

“I,” my voice wavered as guilt began to overwhelm me, “I was wondering what was in these drawers.” I gestured to the drawer I had come so close to opening.

“Oh, Jojo. You know you can always ask me anything. Right?”

I nod my head. I had experienced Nana’s grace and mercy many times before. I absolutely know that I could ask Nana anything. Shame floods into my heart. I couldn’t help but ask myself what had driven me to go behind Nana’s back.

“Well, I came up here to tell you that everyone else has gone to finish some chores in the barn, and some people went with your mom and Aunt Rhoda to the Walmart in Linton. Would you like to go help with the chores, or would you like to do some exploring with me?”

Her eyes gleam when she finishes. I know exactly what I want to do. She knows exactly what I want to do. She pulls over a chair, as she has some trouble with her knees, and doesn’t want to sit on the floor. She grabs the handle of the second drawer.

She showed me all the pictures in those drawers; she showed me her life. She told me the stories behind every picture; she told me all about her life. That afternoon was so special, and certainly well spent.

I stare at the Bible that lays across Nana’s lap. The pages are worn and some are even torn. I know the tears are not from abuse, the situation is quite the opposite actually. They are from years and years of dedicated use. Nana reads from this Bible every day. Her hand glides across it as she reads it. Her hands are wrinkled from years of being a teacher, a loving mother, and an inspiring grandmother. Her hands are soft and gentle. Her wedding ring glistens even in the dim light, a token of almost 50 years of marriage, and a symbol of a promise that has been well kept. I am nestled in the gigantic bed between Nana and Grandpa John. Grandpa John has glasses on, and is reading from Luke. I have my glasses and am reading from Matthew. Nana has her glasses on and is reading from John. I smile contentedly. Grandpa John smiles and closes his Bible. I take this as my cue to close mine. He gives me a quick hug after I climb out of the bed. He says, “Goodnight Joanna Banana.” I laugh at the nickname he gave me years ago. I scurry around to Nana’s side of the bed. She pulls me into a tight hug. When she releases me, she tells me sincerely how much she loves me.

I walk to the end of the bed and slide into my sleeping bag. As Nana turns out her light she bids Grandpa John and me goodnight. The room is filled with darkness. I lay staring into the darkness. Soon, the room is filled with snores, and I smile to myself. The constant noise is a comfort as I am lulled to sleep.

The shrill echo of the phone ringing interrupts my conversation with Jessica. My mom smiles at me and says, “Hey Birthday Girl. I bet it’s for you, you better go answer it.” I return her smile before I run into the kitchen to grab the phone.  I press the button and immediately the shrill ringing stops. I hold the phone up to my ear and brightly greet the person who has yet to be identified. I only have the chance to get out a hello before Nana and Grandpa John begin to sing Happy Birthday to me. They are both strong singers, and I am amazed at how good they sound together. I walk to my parents’ room while I listen. They sound wonderful. I can imagine them sitting up in their bed, each singing into their own phones that are placed on either side of their bed.  When they finish off the 4th verse, I laugh out of pure joy. “Happy Birthday Joanna! We love you!” they chorus.

“Thank you for calling!”

“So, how was your day?” Grandpa John asks.

“Well I just opened the present you sent me! The jacket fits perfectly, and I am actually wearing it right now!” I say a little louder than usual, in an attempt to make it easier for Grandpa John to hear me. I look down at the soft, turquoise jacket that had just arrived in the mail.

“I’m so glad!” Nana exclaims. I know she was the one that found me this jacket. She has a real talent for finding practical and meaningful gifts.

We had been able to talk for almost half an hour more. They always wanted an update on my grades, and my activities. Nana was always especially interested in my swimming. They gave me detailed updates of how their life on the farm was going. I cherished those Happy Birthday phone calls.

My eyes are red from tears at this point, and I curl into a protective ball. I want protection from the circumstances. I want Nana to comfort me. Instead, I pull myself up from their bed, walk in a determined fashion down the stairs, pull the cover off the piano, and sit down. My fingers hover above the keys. I debate internally over what to play. What would Nana want to hear? I start one of her favorite songs, Ripples. It was one of the songs that I played for her the most. She loved how happy it sounded. The cheerful refrains were a harsh contrast to my mood, and the atmosphere of the dimly lit house. I hadn’t even finished the song, when I realized that I had begun to play the familiar cadences of Amazing Grace.

I bounce in my seat between Buddy and Nana, and I look around the circle of chairs. I make eye contact with my mom and I give her a smile, she returns it before my eyes wander down to the song book in my lap. Every time my family gets together we have to sing. It’s tradition. Uncle Matt has taken control of this session. He’s very particular with the timing and rhythm of each song, and sometimes I find it hard to follow him, but he’s good at leading. He asks me to call out a song number. We each get to choose one song, we go around the circle, and it’s finally my turn. “129,” I call out, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

“Nice choice, Joanna,” Nana whispers to me with a bright and genuine smile. I can’t help the proud smile that crosses my face. This song is my favorite. My smile grows when I realize that Nana doesn’t open her book to see what song is it, nor does she open it to look at the words. She knows her song books well, and she knows each word by heart. I look up at her with admiration; my Nana is awesome. I close my song book. I want to see if I know every word.

Uncle Matt gives people time to find the page before he starts off the first verse of Amazing Grace. Nana is such a strong singer. I feel her voice empowering me as I make the decision to sing the soprano part with her. I’m obviously still learning to sing this high, and my voice cracks a couple times before I start getting the hang of it.

I play the final chord of the song. Dad comes downstairs with Uncle Andy and Aunt Rhoda. We had made a special trip down from Indianapolis to check on the farm. All was well and the carbon monoxide detector now read zero. My dad looks tired as I walk towards him to give him a hug. I don’t know if I am giving him a hug to comfort him, or if I was seeking his comfort, but I begin to feel much better when he rubs my back. Eventually, I pull away and we all  walk towards the front door. My dad makes sure all the lights are off before we get in the car to make the two hour drive back to Indy.

Creative Writing: Snapshot Moment (edited)

All I can think about is how cold my nose is. I can’t even feel my toes anymore. I can feel my cousin shivering on top of me. The landscape blurs as it zooms by, making it extremely difficult to appreciate the small shrubs that dot the tundra. The snow glistens brightly. It feels like every particle of refracted light shines right into my eyes. I should have brought my sunglasses. Now every sensory function in my face has been whisked away in the chilling December wind; the only thing that reassures me that it hasn’t gone completely numb yet is the fact that I can still feel the wisps of fur from my parka brushing against my face every time we get an extremely aggressive billow of wind. The harsh wind carries the unsettled snow into little whirlwinds that surround our wooden sled . Most sounds are drowned out by the thunderous snow machine that is pulling us over the sharp snow banks.

My squinted eyes are peeled away from the landscape when Adria holds her snow goggles up over her head. I reach out and seize them, anxious to relieve my eyes. Normally I would feel guilty taking these from my younger cousin, but her head is buried under mountains of blankets anyway, so I don’t think she needs them. I slide the goggles on and greedily soak up my surroundings. As soon as the goggles are secured on my eyes, I can see every detail of the tundra. My eyes function much like the auto focus on any digital camera, focusing first on the things far away, then at the things closer to our path. At first glance, the snow is untouched, but if you take a closer look you can see little footprints across it. The footprints come from every direction. There are no large footprints; all the large animals are taking long winter naps

My eyes scan everything, but soon I find them zeroing in on the strings on Jessica’s hat. They whip around her head, as she has no protection from the wind while she sits on the snow machine. My trance is broken when she ducks behind my dad’s back. Her strings quickly still on her shoulders.

My fingers wrap around the warm packet inside my seal fur mittens. I welcome the heat. The warmth seeps into my hands and suddenly I am filled with gratitude towards my mother, who found the hand warmers for me. I imagine my fingers defrosting from a blue frozen state, and slowly returning to their normal flesh color. I have this strangely soothing image in my head as I duck back under the protection of the blanket.

Here, under the covers, I smell my grandma’s house, with a colder edge. My face slowly thaws, and the sensation of breath fanning across my face registers in my brain. My body stiffens for only a moment, before I realize that it must be my cousin’s breath that is slowly warming me. Her even breathing leads me to believe that she has fallen asleep, and I decide to join her, in the land of dreams.

        My fingers curl around the hard wooden handle. I’ve prolonged this enough; there [SA7] are only three people left in the line, so I may as well go now. I approach the tall, proud tree. I place the saw in the crook and slowly begin [SA8] moving it back and forth. The grate of the wood causes the saw to vibrate in my hands as I continue to saw away at the tree. I watch as the shavings join their neighbors in a pile on top of the snow around the trunk. I think about all the times we’ve done this in the past. I think about how many times I’ve used this very saw to claim a Christmas tree. I am lost in my thoughts until I hear my dad approaching. I stop sawing, straighten myself, and with a smile, make an exchange with my dad. I give him the saw as he hands me the camera.

I stand on top of the small bank of snow, hoping to get a good angle on the scene. I want to catch the cold noses, the loving smiles, the thrown snowballs, the tree that we’ve conquered. I want to catch it all. Since my fingers are vulnerable away from the warmth of my mittens, the auto focus function on the camera is the only thing that tells me when I’ve pressed the shutter button. I watch the taller trees bow as they take on the brunt of the wind’s force. My eyes peer through the viewfinder on my camera, and the view I find is absolutely breathtaking. The sun has begun it’s lengthy return to the horizon, and casts out brilliant pinks and oranges. The watercolors across the sky shimmer on the snow’s surface, and causes everyone’s cold cheeks to glow. I take an “eskimo picture,” as my grandpa likes to call it, and I gaze at the amazing scene before me.

        My eyes capture this wonderful atmosphere of love. The ornaments are coming out of their yearly homes, to find a seasonal dwelling on a lovely perch in our Christmas tree. Each ornament holds a memory. I look down at the ornament that my grandma’s weathered hands have just handed me. This particular ornament has the memories flowing in my brain. I remember the green countryside. I remember the amazing accents that seemed so foreign at the time. I remember the castles that were built out of angular stone. The smooth porcelain Scottish Royal Guardsmen is cold in my hands, after spending many months in the basement. The country name “Scotland” is engraved in the little pedestal on which the small man stands. The vibrant red accents make me smile, as I remember meeting men that wore this exact uniform outside the Edinburgh Castle.

        I am in my own little world as I stare down at the fragile statuette. All of a sudden, I am brought out of my bubble when I am bumped from behind. My delicate grip on the little man has been completely lost. Dread and fright flood me, and exit in the form of a helpless scream. The memento hits the ground at full speed. The sound of it hitting the ground shatters all hope I had of him surviving the treacherous drop. I watch as the pieces slide across the floor, as fireworks slide across the dark sky.                                                                                                                             Every person in the room has their eyes glued to the fractured pieces. No one says a word as I my eyes scour over the porcelain that is spewed across the wooden floor. My eyes wander up towards my grandma. Her gaze is directed at the head of the little man, and her face looks thoughtful, as though she is trying to remember where she placed something. She looks up at me, and a brilliant smile crosses her face. She then breaks the long silence by saying, “Oh Joanna. I am so happy.                                                                                                                     

She receives no reply more than confused stares. “I guess I should explain myself. When I bought the Royal Guardsman, the vendor had talked me into buying two of them, and once I was out of the shop, I realized that I had nothing to do with the second ornament. So, now I can put him on my tree,” she explains happily before scurrying back to her bedroom to retrieve the replacement.

       

        I open the little box and I am greeted by steely porcelain eyes that peer back at me. Relief courses through me as I carefully remove him from his cardboard and plastic restraints. The porcelain figure is warmer in my chilled fingers than his predecessor, since he did not serve any time in the basement.                                                                                                                         I grip him tightly as I walk across the span of the room. I peer at the floor cautiously before I place each foot. As I approach the tree, I tilt my head back, so I can see the top. I test the strength of multiple branches. I grab each prickly branch and slowly weed them out until I find the perfect one. This is where the Royal Guardsmen will reside. The sappy residue on the branch sticks to my skin as I place the Guardsmen as gently as possible. Finally, I allow myself to take a step back, and I feel content as I see him staring back at me, safe in his new haven.

Changing for the Better

                  Society changes so quickly, and as a poet I am hoping that I, Phillis Wheatley, can help change society for the better. Yet another opportunity has arisen for us to get a plan composed, our nation is commencing upon the process of writing our Constitution. The problem to be solved in this era is one that many do not want to solve, one that many do not even consider a problem. Our issue is slavery. I myself am a slave, but I have it easy, my brother, my mother, and sister cannot say so much. I was sold to a rich family in the north, they were sold to a plantation owner in the south.              

                  I have seen how people treat slaves, but I don’t think those people realize that they are not abusing animals, they are hurting human beings. People regardless of skin color, are people and they should not be owned or treated like possessions. We should get the privileges that so many white Americans take for granted. As our pronounced founding father wrote in our Declaration of Independence “All men are created equal.” He didn’t say ‘most men’ or even ‘some men’ he said all and I am confident he had a reason. Privileges like making our own decisions, or owning our own property, even just getting to know and care for our own children we would be so appreciative for at this point.

                  Selected people of America are in the process of writing our Constitution. Now is our chance to truly define what America stands for, we stand for freedom, equality, liberty, and every person having a voice, slavery goes against every single one of those. If we make slavery unconstitutional now, we can stop being so contradictory, we can stop taking freedom from a large part of America’s population. Slavery takes the element of equality away from our country. Every man was created equal? Well, why can a white man kill a black man that he “owns”? Why must we continue to beat down a whole race and take away their voice? We need to act and stop these negative actions.

                  I believe that if we end slavery now America would be able to start the process of building a strong economy of our own, without slaves, sooner. We would be able to either talk out our differences or start the war that’s bound to come sooner or later, but we need to start the process of building a new economy. If America stops investing in slavery sooner, than we won’t have lost as much when we do end slavery. If we don’t keep getting farther into slavery, we won’t have as much to dig ourselves out of. I’m not asking slave owners to free all of their slaves at once. I realize slavery has become a huge part of the South’s enterprise, but maybe we could grow out of it. Perhaps every slave owner could only keep so many of the slaves born on the plantation. Another suggestion I have is maybe every slave owner could free 25% of his slaves in the first ten years, and another 25% the next ten years and so on. We need to end slavery now so we can start building our own economy.

                  I want to help make a difference and I can only hope my writing will assist and inspire America in taking a step towards ending slavery. If slavery were to end we would end our self contradiction and stand as whole for what we all believe America stands for. People are people not assets, so we should take a stand and make slavery unconstitutional.

How Free were Free Blacks In the Northern United States?

Privileges come with responsibility, freedoms come with limitations. The free Blacks of the Northern United States lived with the weight of those limitations every day.  The first state in the United States to abolish slavery was Vermont in 1777. When Vermont abolished slavery it lit the fuse starting a chain reaction of other states following in their footsteps. For the most part Northern states were abolishing slavery from 1800-1860. Before the Civil War free Blacks did have political, economic, social, and religious freedoms, but those freedoms were very restricted.

Before the Civil War political freedoms of Black people were limited. Black males could vote in most New England states, Connecticut alone did not allow this. Black males and females could not vote in many Mid-Atlantic and Midwest states. The ones that did allow black men to vote had certain restrictions. The only Northern state that allowed black men to serve as jury members was Massachusetts, which started allowing this in 1860.  Now, as great as that sounds, think about the limitations, black females could not vote at all or serve as jurors. A very large majority of states would not let black males serve on a jury. Also, no black person was allowed to run for any political office. ”He shall be free, to live and to thrive, but he shall not be free to share with us the deliberations of the jury box, to attend to us in our courts, to represent us in the legislature.” (Doc B) Political freedom is important because our country is a democracy, which runs on the voice of the people, but in that time period not every person had a voice.

Every black person had allotted freedoms economically. They had the right to own businesses, get jobs, provide for their family, if they were able. This too was limited. Job options were limited. They did not have the option of being a doctor, a nurse, an actor or actress in a theatre for white people, or teach white children. “He shall not be free to attend us at the bed of sickness, to mingle with us in the concert-room, the lecture room, the theatre or in the church.” (Doc B) The jobs available to black people were low paying jobs that did not add to the pride of their people. Economic freedom is a key to life, people should be free to do what they want to do, to choose their own occupation.

Social liberties definitely had extra weight to them. Blacks had the right to walk down the same street as a white person, but honestly that’s just about it. They could not dine in the same place, they could not go to church in the same building, and they could not be educated together. Most white people would not hire or work with black people. White people did not want to socialize with them at all and in some cases were offended by their presence. “To what shall I turn my hand? Shall I be a mechanic? No one will employ me; white boys wont work with me. No one will have me in his office; white clerks won’t associate with me.” (Doc C)  The only people you could be in the presence of were the people of your own race and color because practically everything was segregated.

One of the reasons our country was founded was for the freedom of religion, but in the Northern United States not even that was fully given to the free blacks. They did not get the choice of who they could go to church with, it had to be people of their own race. They had to make their churches a sort of safe haven for fugitive slaves. They had to host all sorts of clubs and classes going on in the church. “The African Congregational Church in New Haven offered a literary club, ran a Sunday school, published a newspaper, hosted abolitionist meetings and provided a refuge for fugitive slaves.” (Doc D) This quote shows you just how much had to go on in a building that was meant to be sacred. A single building built just for worship was too expensive and because wealthy Blacks were a rare occurrence they could not afford that. Religion was an important part of our country’s foundation the free blacks deserved the complete freedom of religion.

Yes, the free Blacks of the Northern United States did have freedoms but the liberties were controlled and restricted. Almost every area of comfortable and meaningful living had restrictions. Political, economic, social, and religious angles of life were limited. These limitations stopped Blacks from gaining a voice in politics, caused them to have lower wages and make it difficult to get jobs, made social life with anyone of any other race practically impossible, and made religious life difficult. Important, basic freedoms were established for Blacks when slavery was abolished but abolishing slavery was a very small step on a long, painful, and difficult trail that lead to today’s equality in the United States.

Book Review: Notes from a Spinning Planet, Ireland

I read the book Notes from a Spinning Planet, Ireland by Melody Carlson. In this book 19 year old Maddie goes on her first trip out of the country with Aunt Sid and Ryan. They are going to Ireland so Sid can work on her latest article for the magazine she writes for. Maddie, Sid, and Ryan make it to Ireland and right away Sid starts telling stories from when she worked in Ireland for a semester in college and stayed through the summer to help at a summer camp. As time passes Maddie finds that although Ireland is so beautiful, it has many dark secrets and a scary past. Many years ago two distinct sides of the country had a huge disagreement as to whether they should break away from Great Britain or not. It was a very violent time for Ireland, bombings, shootings, and hostage situations happened weekly. While on the journey Ryan finds more out about his Irish father's past. His father was in a dangerous group called the IRA, and was killed in a car bombing. Ryan and Maddie get closer as the trip gets closer to a close. In the last week and half Sid finds her long lost love who was supposedly killed in a car crash over 10 years before. The story ends with Aunt Sid, Maddie, and Ryan agreeing to go on another trip in the near future.

In this book I saw many examples that support my theme. I saw the theme of teamwork. Not just cheesy teamwork, truly trusting one another, having each others backs, and supporting every member of your tightly knitted team. One of the examples that I saw in the book was when Sid tells both Maddie and Ryan about a conversation that she heard while eavesdropping, even though it didn't really affect them, she knew she needed to be completely honest. Another example of teamwork is not in their success of teamwork, but actually a fall through. Ryan and Maddie kept information to themselves, without telling Sid, they learned their lesson and worked together from then on.

Throughout the book Maddie definitely matured. Toward the beginning of the book Maddie had a problem with judging Sid and Ryan for drinking small alcoholic beverages while at the Irish family friendly pub. In the book Maddie says "I know I'm judging them, like somehow I think I'm better than them because I'm not drinking." At the end of the story she accepts that its okay to drink a little bit of alcohol as long as you don't go over board and she doesn't have a problem with judging them.

I would recommend this book to any christian teenage girl. I think this because it brings up a lot of christian values and many issues that are commonly discussed by christians today. One of those issues was; is it acceptable to drink alcoholic beverages? The book encourages praying and patience and always telling the truth. Maddie, Sid, and Ryan are all christians, so their personal beliefs and bible references are stated.

 I got my picture from: http://www.mapsofworld.com/images/world-countries-flags/ireland-flag.gif

Book Review: The Secret Garden

I read the book The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Mary is a rich, bossy, English child who lives with her parents in India. Without any warning a plague sweeps through India, killing both of Mary's parents. Numb to the world Mary is sent to live with her uncle Archibald Craven in his mansion Misselthwaite Manor. During the day, she spends her time exploring the surrounding gardens, one day she happens upon an old key while digging. She finds the garden that the key opens and finds an old, but lovely garden. One night she hears terrible howls echoing down the hallway by her bedroom. When she finds the source of the noise it turns out to be the secret son of Archibald Craven, and being locked up for years in a room has caused him to lose his ability to walk. Every day Mary and Colin take trips out to the garden to water the plants and revive them. Soon Colin is able to walk and they are ready to show Mr. Craven that they found his deceased wife's garden and revived it. By doing this they brought life back to the gardens, the house, Colin, Mary, and Archibald Craven.

While reading this book I saw one shining theme. That theme is revival. The revival happens in not only the characters but in the memory of a loved one. The characters also revive the plants in Mrs. Craven's garden. They revive the happiness of the mansion and they also revive a father and son relationship that was denied before.

I saw so many developments throughout the whole book in each of the characters. At first Mary is a snotty rich girl who demands everything she wants and if she doesn't get it she throws a tantrum. "Everyone said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. It was true, too" At the end of the book she loves and is loved by others. Colin starts out as weak, sickly boy who doesn't get to move very much and has no confidence.  At the end of the story he is running through the gardens enjoying himself as a normal boy should. Towards the end he asks a neighbor of his, "Are you surprised I am so well?" the character replied by saying, "Aye, that I am!" Mr. Craven is a totally different story altogether. At first he is a lonely man who denies having a son and misses his wife so much. He was hurt so badly when she died that he cut her favorite things out of his life, the gardens. At the end he loves his son and celebrates his wife's life, and her gardens.

I recommend this book to anyone who loves a good classic. Anyone who likes a happy ending will definitely like this book. This book is somewhat realistic, but the characters are not real, I recommend this book to anyone who likes to get to know the characters in depth. Anyone who likes happy surprises and twists in the plot will also like this book.

I first heard The Secret Garden when I was ten on one of my family's across the country road trips. I loved it from the beginning. That summer I bought my very own copy of the book in one of the towns we stopped in. I read the book that winter and three times since. I really enjoy seeing the transformation in the main character, Mary. I guess I have always been one that sees the good in all people and that really made this book just that more special.

I got my picture from: http://thesecretdmsfilesoffairdaymorrow.blogspot.com/2012/06/what-is-secret-behind-vines.html

Book Review: The Red Pyramid

I read the book The Red Pyramid by Rick Riordan, a book with strong Egyptian mythological influences. Sadie and Carter are siblings that live far apart and only get to see one another once a year. Their mother and father are both magicians under the House of Life, but their mother died years ago. One night while Carter, their dad, and Sadie are together their dad takes them to a famous museum that has the Rosetta stone inside. Their dad goes in to the museum and attempts to use the old famous artifact to bring his wife back from the dead. He end up unleashing five very powerful gods, one who want to destroy the human world. The god, Set, only has five days until his birthday, the day he is the most powerful on. Sadie and Carter work with multiple allies and prepare themselves to face Set only hours before his birthday. During the final showdown Sadie and Carter work very hard and end up defeating Set and his minions, but their father was sent deep into the depths of the duat where he is assigned to help rule the dead alongside the god of the dead, Osiris.

Throughout the whole story I saw a major theme of teamwork and contributing. The main thing that showed the teamwork theme were the siblings, they didn't know each other very well but no matter what they stuck together and didn't give up on one another. They worked together in many difficult and stressful situations. During the first night that Sadie and Carter were together after finding out about the task at hand Carter told himself "I was not going to go all weak. Sadie needed me. Dad needed us." This to me shows Carter's side of the teamwork. He knew that he had to do his part and stay strong for both his sister and his dad. As far as the contributing theme goes I felt like every character contributed to the success of Sadie and Carter. Even though some of the people they encountered were not necessarily good they did help Carter and Sadie learn something that was useful to them later.

During their adventure Carter and Sadie get to know each other more and get to work together. Carter started the story as a boy that traveled and didn't ever do anything dangerous. As the adventure progresses he does more and more dangerous deeds. He also gets to take up the big brother act, even though his sister is very independent. At the beginning to the story Sadie is somewhat arrogant and doesn't really care what the consequences to her actions are. Through the quest she learns to make sure that her actions don't hurt her or her brother. She also gets better at being there for her brother and making decisions with him instead of doing things at the spur of the moment.

I would recommend this book to people who like adventure. You also have to enjoy cliffhangers and suspense. This book also has a lot of Egyptian mythological references. I enjoyed the books because of the way the character is the one talking, in the first person and also because of the magic events that happen. I like how this book also has teenagers doing things alone in a sense but also referring to adults for advice and help along the way.

I got my picture from: http://www.kingtutone.com/pyramids/information/