President John .F Kennedy

John Fitzgerald Kennedy, our thirty-fifth president, represented hope for our countries future in 1963. However, a man named Lee Harvey Oswald set back these hopes in a major way. In Dallas Texas's Dealey Plaza, Oswald shot Kennedy in the head and neck from a near by building at twelve-thirty PM, November 22. The possibilities of our future, once held tight and promising under the stronghold of JFK, were now lost in the deafening silence of gunshots. These gunshots may have killed John Kennedy but his dreams for a better America, his accomplishments, and his legacy live on.

Our current president, Barack Obama, the first African American president in our history, is a product of President Kennedy's fight for civil rights, in which he appointed African-Americans to higher level jobs of more importance and responsibility, giving them more chances to succeed and achieve the dreams they dreamt of. These Civil Rights are the most important part of his legacy. If it weren't for this legacy of our thirty-fifth president, Obama wouldn't currently hold office. John F. Kennedy also encouraged the race to space. He funded the technology and effort of the Apollo 13, under Kennedy's leadership NASA put the first man on the moon, and furthered scientific exploration. This push for scientific knowledge helped our nation maintain its position of dominance in the world.

Hope. John Fitzgerald Kennedy showed himself, proud and charming, young and ambitious. JFK was the beginning of a new generation, one of equality for all the men and women of different races. Life seemed to be supreme, until the fateful day Oswald shattered those humanitarian dreams once dreamt by so many citizens. Despite this deadly act, JFK's ideals and beliefs for a more fair future continue. Today, we are a better nation for it.  Thank you President John .F Kennedy, how much more would our country have accomplished had you lived a full life?

Hubert: The Wonder Dog

An Introduction

Hubert my grandfather’s Alaskan malamute was a major joy in my family’s life. He was one hundred ten pounds of pure black and white fur, and muscle. He was the biggest most handsome goof in the whole wide world. My parents and I drove to a frozen farm country between Ottawa and Montreal, Canada; we picked up the newly born puppy and took him home. My grand pap came back from his vacation and received a warm welcome, full of licking, and jumping. This new malamute was to replace his old one named Lenny that had recently passed away from old age. My grand pap missed him dearly.

In their companionship Hubert and my grand pap went through many joyful times, they were inseparable. Summers, they hiked in Colorado together. They came to all my baseball games and he became the mascot of my baseball team, he looked like our husky logo. He was known throughout Tribeca, everyone loved him; the neighborhood elementary school had a big picture of him in one of the classrooms, one of the brunch restaurants gave him croissants as he swaggered on their daily walks. The fancy hotel Locanda Verde up the street from where they used to live would always come with a treat. The local pet store would give him free stuffed pumpkin toys. Strangers repeatedly stopped to take pictures, and to ask questions, my grandpa called them the “dogarazzi” (like paparazzi). My personal favorite time with him, when we really bonded, was when he howled his deep rumbling wolf cry whenever I played saxophone. Everyone enjoyed those times.

Life wasn’t always easy with this alpha beast. His size and popularity led to many awkward situations. In Martha’s Vineyard, skunks sprayed him. While playing with another dog they ran into a woman and broke her hip, once he started running he couldn’t stop, Watch Out! Usually a big goof, Hubert could be very intimidating too, if he didn’t want a stranger saying hello, he would talk his gruff malamute talk, it meant,” get away.” On one specific occasion, a Texas tourist didn’t get the message, he got the fangs, a visit to the ER, and a bunch of stitches. This was the last of the hard ships, he was getting old.

A Sad End to a Reign of Companionship

“ Da Da Da Da DaDa,” my dad’s Godzilla sized phone blared out an annoying and repeating ringtone at eight on a quiet and peaceful Saturday morning. “Hubert isn’t doing well,” my grandfather said with a worrisome voice, “He can’t get up and we need to get him to a vet. “Be right over,” my dad replied, he left the house with a dolly and a slab of plywood. My mom and I were left alone. We bought some bagels and went for a nice walk in Fort Greene Park with our dog Luna. We were having a splendid time, the sun was shining, the grass was green, summer was just beginning, and we were excited for our upcoming trip to Africa, but a strong storm in the back of our heads was constantly wondering, what was going on with Hubert. We were itching to know.

Curiosity got the better of us. My mom and I rushed into the veterinary clinic; a young nurse led us into a small, cold, tiled, fluorescent-lighted room. The first sight was Hubert, a huge breathing carpet of fur with an IV tube sticking out of a front paw and a bandage wrapped around one of his back legs. His stomach was swelling. Hubert was clearly in pain. Silence was among us for what seemed like years. “Their gonna have to put him down” my grandpa said breaking the silence that encompassed us a second ago. My Aunty Dain was sobbing, I saw my grandfather cry for the first time, and my dad didn’t say a single word. With those five melancholy words, I began to sob as well, deep sympathy, something I have never felt before, lodged in my throat bringing out nothing but sorrow and longing for this magical creature. We all took turns hugging and kissing him a final good bye. “Good bye Hubert, I love you, I will miss you, you will have your own spot in my heart forever, good bye.” These were the last words this magnificent beast heard from my mouth, my heart.

Motherless Brooklyn, the poem

“ENERGYPOCKETANGLE! RECTANGLESAUCE!!”
Along the dark streets of Brooklyn

criminals thrive.

Backstreets littered,

blood splattered 

and death around the corner.
“WEDON'TSERVESTRING!!”
A group of four 

orphans and gangsters

Lionel, Tony,

Frank, and Coney,

wonder all around.
Smith, Court, Bergen, Lafayette,
my home streets.
“CLARINETMILK! EATME!!”
Frank gets stabbed
chasing K-Cars
no one knows
everyone will worry.
“HANDLEWITHSCARE, SCANDLEWITHHAIR!!”
Life is messed up in many freak'n ways.

“DUCKMAN! DOGBOY! CONFESSDOG!!”
Free Human Freak Show
harassed in every way
Lionel Essrog with tourettes.
“SCAREME, SKULLMAN. SKULLAMUM BAILEY. SKINNYMAN BRAINY!!”
White Castle burgers,
all he can afford
six burgers, six bites, at six-fortyfive at night.

“EAT ME MISTER DICKY-WEED!!”
Who donnit?
Life goes on.
For some.

Fjords of Norway

"A jagged porthole in Engabreen glacier frames a view of a nearby peak."

Along the Norwegian Coast lies 1,190 fjords, all of when combined measures 63,000 miles, that's enough to encompass the earth two and a half times. Verlyn Klinkenborg, the author of Norway's Otherworldly Coast in the November 2013 issue of National Geographic, captures the beauty of snaking ocean water walled in by valleys, villages, and towering mountains. I always thought of Norway as a cold and undesirable place, but as seen in these magnificent photos, Norway proves to be quite the opposite.

Towering high above any man made objects in this landscape, are thousands of mountains carved by nature's endless water ways winding deep into the countryside of Norway. Giant mountains made of elegant yet rough marble, sedimentary rocks fashioned with varying orange and purple hues, and dazzling displays of water reflecting the ever so bright luster of the sunset far off in the distance. During the still, lifeless hours of night, a neon green glare appears in the stars above. The Aurora Borealis, better known as the Northern Lights, shines brighter than daylight during a hot summer in wild Africa at it's peak. This fjords of Norway is not only a habitat of earth and sky, it is home to many kinds of bird and fish of great quality to the Norwegians that live in this astounding vicinity. Birds such as puffins, gannets, gulls, and guillemots roost in the high habitats, and giant sized cod wander in these deep waters.

I have imagined this part of our globe, the north of Europe, as an unbearable, cold, and uninteresting place. I have never had a desire to travel to this glaciered popsicle of a country, however, this amazing article with its stunning photographs has changed my mind. I now have a deep urge that has released itself within me, pushing me to go out and get lost on an adventure and experience this landscape first hand.

Kimbe Reef, Nature at its Most Jaw Dropping

A Damselfish and three Anemone gather around some coral.

There is an abyss in New Britain, Papua New Guinea that goes by the name of Kimbe Reef. "It is a world more alien than the edges of space" says National Geographic photographer David Doubilet in the article, The Idyllic Reefs of Kimbe Bay, in the November 2013 issue. It's beauty is created by " the congruence of nature, ocean currents, temperature, and the vagaries of evolution," along with its amazing diversity of plant life and creatures that live within this extravagant reef. I have learned that magnificence can expand to all corners of the great big globe we know as home. It can be as small as a pygmy seahorse or even as big as this mile and a quarter deep blue abyss. Only we humans can preserve such wonders, if only we stop polluting the earth, our globe will maintain these habitats and we can enjoy nature as we know it for years to come.

This reef is home to 536 different species of coral, more than half the worlds species, everything from the most common plankton to the beautiful Feather Star Crinoids. In addition to coral, the fish life has a population of over 900 varieties, some of these inhabitants include the smallest of creatures, Damselfish, and anemone-fish, to the decent sized Barracuda, Razorfish, and Hawksbill Sea Turtles, all the way up to the larger than a school bus Sperm Whale. Not only has this elegant body of water proven itself as a life source for fish and sea life, but the native peoples of Papua New Guinea also rely on it deeply for food, as fishing is an important aspect of life in this remote island nation.

The images of Kimbe Bay in this article have left an impact on me in two ways. Firstly I now have a greater urge than ever to receive a SCUBA diving certification, this would give me an opportunity to swim my way down to experience this wonder. The second way this has left an impact on me is the fact it is extremely fragile and vulnerable, I feel a need to preserve this artistic underwater landscape. These two aspects combined lead me to my long thought and unforgettable and future goal, being a Marine Biologist.

The Hobbit

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien is a fast-paced and intriguingly written adventure. It is about a Hobbit, (an incredibly small magical, human like species that try to avoid all trouble, and have a passion for partying, eating, and being social) named Bilbo Baggins. The extraordinary adventure begins when a posse of 12 homeless dwarves and the great famous wizard Gandalf join him for a feast. Their goal is to persuade him to join them on their long backbreaking journey to re-establish the Lonely Mountain as their home, for the giant and ferocious dragon Smaug had taken it away from them centuries ago. The lesson told in this imaginative journey, is that even in the most small and measly of characters, there is still unexpected amounts of courage and sacrifice, and a most definite will to survive and help all creatures in need.

Two examples of Bilbo Baggins courage and risk taking for the benefit of others are, first: leaving his hobbit hole in order to help his unexpected guests, and second: fending off massive spiders that wished to devour the juicy bite-sized dwarves. His first act, leaving his plush cozy hobbit hole with " paneled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted and with plush chairs" was an act against the true nature of hobbits, he truly leaves his comfort zone. When he battled and slaughtered  the spiders that had captured the vulnerable dwarves the night before. He lured them out bravely singing a verse of a song, teasing the spiders beyond insanity:

"Lazy lob and crazy Cob, 

Are weaving webs to wind me, 

I am far more sweet than other meat, 

But still they cannot find me!"

These acts of loyalty and selflessness contributed to his band of companions  gaining respect and credibility for Bilbo. 

Mister Baggins and I are both small, and surprising determined. Like Bilbo fending off Trolls Ogres and Spiders, I a am not intimidated by humongous Orc like pimply raging teenagers whom I race in the 200 meter butterfly against. We may be little and seem meek, but don't count us out.

The Book Thief, the power of reading

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak is a haunting and extraordinary book about a young girl with a passion for words in the death busy Holocaust. The main character is a young German girl Liesel Meminger, who is raised by foster parents after her real parents and brother died. She is a very sympathetic and warm hearted figure who is very observant of the mistreatment of Jews. She takes great risks not only by hiding Jews in her basement, but also in order to continue her true passion for reading. She is willing to steal books from the mayors library. This main theme, reading, and the importance of it to Liesel is the fact that it is an escape from the reality of war. It brought  friendship and love. It certainly saved Liesel's life. 

An example of Leisel's love for reading that brought friendship into her life was when she read The Whistler to the Jewish hide-a-way, Max (who lived in her basement for the majority of the book) while he was in a coma. To return the favor, Max wrote Liesel a book about her fascination for words and her stronghold on them. "Max and Liesel were held together by the quite gathering of Words". An example on how reading conjures love is seen when Liesel accidentally drops one of her mystery books in freezing December waters of a river, her best friend Rudy jumps in after the unfortunate novel and gains her love by saving the precious book. "She had to give it to him, he knew how to perform."  The most important book she receives is not full of words, only blank lines. In these blank lines she tells us her sorrows, and happiness, losses, and gains. She wrote of the people she had met and watched die due to the terrifying bombs dropped from the rib-cages of foreign planes. This little black book "gave her reason to write her own words, to see that words had also brought her to life."

Luckily, I cannot imagine living in such circumstances, I greatly respect Liesel's bravery to do what was right in a Hitler dictated society. I don't believe I would have the wits to be as immensely brave as her. I do connect personally to her passion for reading, it was an escape from the real world for her. My passion for swimming, two hours a day, is a temporary escape from the challenges of home work, responsibilities of my daily routines. It is an energy boost and which helps me move forward.     

V for Vendetta

 V for Vendetta by Alan Moore is a murderous and devious novel about a serial killer. This brutally horrific story takes place in the United Kingdom of the 1990's. Hidden behind a mask with a hideous bone chilling, phony smile, we the reader never learn Vendetta's, the main character, true name, or identity. He manipulates and charms his unexpected prey, whom are chosen at random, never expecting his frightening smiling face to be their last sight.

What is behind this costumed grin? A deep and powerful urge to fulfill his vendetta against the cruel government and establishment. "Must create crime!" His demented mind creates evil, his body follows. Explosions of blood, buildings, and firecrackers entrapped and fascinated innocent women into loving him, becoming many lifeless sweethearts. "Must create crime, sounds so ugly even on a green dock." He see's himself so superior, even the English Army should look up to him. It is as if he has no beating heart, not even an ice cube of a heart, however, he has rhyme and reason to complete these incomprehensible acts of insanity. It is all to feed his hunger for change for the people. Let the revolution begin.

Seuss I am

Call me Ishmael, not really. Bond, James Bond. No not that one either, its really Seuss Fu-Rubin, I am. I am named after the great rhythmically rhyming, sliming and timing, children's writer Theodore Seuss Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss. My parents wanted a unique and rare name, and they figured naming me after an artist or writer was the best possible way to fulfill their goal of naming me something unusual, after all, they are funky artists themselves. They settled upon Seuss because he is clever, unpredictable, and creative in a fun and exciting way.

I like my name, I like it a lot, especially in a box, with a fox, wearing socks. Or in a house with a mouse. I like my name, I really do. I get to call myself Doc, it's true. Others seem to like it too. They really do. Though sometimes, people assume my name is pronounced Zeus like the thunder and lightning god of gods, from the high throne of Olympus he sits like King Derwin of Didd, he did.

My last name is equally unique, maybe even more so. It is a mixture of my mom's Chinese last name Fu, hyphenated with my dad's Western name Rubin. Why my parents didn't choose Rubin-Fu is because in Chinese culture, the family name is always said first out of respect for family, and in Western culture, the family name is traditionally said last. So it is as logical as the Lorax and his many great friends, that Fu would come before Rubin.

Finally, my Chinese name is a trans-alliteration of my English name, Fu-Rubin, Seuss. It is 傅魯本澍, pronounced Fu Ru Ben Shu. It translates as: The Rain God that comes and brings rain at the perfect time. My family in Taiwan, and most Mandarin speaking individuals, find this name very original and poetic. I feel very confident saying, I am the only person in the world with the name Seuss Fu-Rubin. Call me Seuss, or call me Doc, or call me 傅魯本澍, I like my name, I like it on a train I like it in the rain. I like my name. Seuss I am.

Heart of a Samurai

I read many books this summer, but none were as fast-paced and as touching a story as Heart of a Samurai, by Margi Preus. This true story is about a Japanese fisher boy in the 1840's that is swept out to sea during a tsunami with his four closest friends. Eventually, American whalers rescue them and take the boys in. Surprisingly, only the main character, Manjiro (later named John Mung) is willing to live ten years from home and experience American life and western culture. On his journey through this new way of life, he finds a new language, friends, foes, love and brotherhood. However, nothing will satisfy him more than going home and becoming his wildest dream... A Samurai, and an important historical figure.

The aspect of the book that is most fascinating is the fact that Manjiro had such a strong will which allowed him to survive and thrive, whether it is being shipwrecked at sea or living in a foreign culture with all it's difficulties.  With this amazing will, hope and knowledge, he believed and eventually achieved all his dreams, no matter how impossible they seemed. The fact that this boy was real and his adventures actually occurred way back in the mid-1800's is really the most astonishing fact.