A Man Named Jack: A Story From WWII

I once met a man named Jack.

Me with Jack (John R. Williams).

I was 15 and Jack was 85. The meeting was simple. I had to interview someone who had lived during WWII for a high school history project. He came to my parents' house, and we sat at the kitchen table and talked while I scribbled illegible notes and he pulled photo after photo out of his binder. 

I had a list of interview questions provided by my history teacher, and he came well prepared with stories, photographs, newspaper clippings, and documents. But it's only now that I'm realizing exactly what story Jack had come prepared to tell.

Born in 1918, Jack grew up on a farm. His mother passed away early in his life, and when his father remarried, they didn't have room for everyone and he went to live with his aunt and uncle. In 1941, he married his beautiful wife Edith, the same year that the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and the US subsequently joined the war.

All around him, men were joining or being drafted into the military. Jack was never drafted, but he felt a sense of guilt, so in 1942, only 10 months after marrying Edith, he enlisted. In 1943 he began his work with the Navy in Camp Endicott, Davisville, RI.

He explained, "I felt it was necessary to join because if we didn't stop the Axis, then they would have overrun everybody. I don't like aggressiveness and terrorist ways because those people want power and as a result, many innocent people die and are affected. If we hadn't stopped the Axis, then their aggression would have been worldwide."

As a civilian, Jack worked as a fire watch on a boat. There, he learned to weld from an alcoholic welder. He became so skilled that when he joined the Navy, he was assigned to make gun mounts and bucket gun mounts for anti-aircraft guns. They placed him with the Seabees, a branch of the Navy that went ahead of the army and prepared a place for them to live and work. He spent 4 years serving his country.

Jack's Seabees unit worked all over the South Pacific, visiting places such as Vella Lavella, Guadalcanal, and Okinawa. They worked fiercely during the day to prepare the area for the arrival of the army, and spent their nights shooting at Japanese planes who were attempting to delay their progress. They ate K-rations, deer, fish, and turtles (depending on what island they were on). He remembered a visit from Bob Hope and that they fought in Vella Lavella, but the details of those days and nights weren't clear any more. "Experiences fade after a while," he explained, "and then they aren't as interesting any more."

His journals from the time tell a slightly different story, however. 

"Saturday, Sept 11 1943.

"Last night was one of the worst nights we've spent since we've landed, as far as our raids are concerned. A raider came in from the NE corner of the strip, directly toward our tent, and dropped two bombs in rapid succession about 250 yards from our fox hole. The heaviest curtain of shell fire that I've ever seen kept the raider rather high thereafter. One of our fighters finally appeared and made it possible for us to get some sleep.

"Sunday, Sept 12, 1943.

"We had a much better night last night. There were several alerts but no raids. Our planes raised hell with Kolom - Ongara. They pattern-bombed it all night. Two Jap destroyers tried to make a landing on Vella Lavella during the night but were driven off by P.T. boats. Worked 1/2 day.

"Sept 14.

"Last night at 11:35 all hell broke loose. Tojo laid an egg/daisy cutter 15 ft from our tent and about 25 ft from our fox hole. Pat Begley never left his tent. A piece of shrapnel caught him in the right temple, splitting his head in half. Shattuck lost his right arm between the elbow and shoulder. Castner got his leg hurt by a shrapnel and his eye hurt making a dive for the fox hole. I got peppered by shrapnel in the leg, back, and shoulder. I was afraid to move either leg or arm for fear they wouldn't work. There is about 18 fellows injured + 8 tents blowed up. I'll never forget the nerve-shattering, ear-piercing blast of that bomb or the heart-breaking moans and cries of fellow mates in agony. Trees fell all the rest of the night due to the concussion."

Jack (far right) and his comrades that survived the daisy cutter.

Despite the hard work, despite the fear, and despite the loneliness, Jack kept going, fighting for a cause that he believed in. "I had an implicit faith in God," Jack told me, "because he was there all the time."

When asked, "What do you feel was the most significant moment during your time serving in WWII." He replied, "When I saw my friends and comrades die right next to me, I wondered why I wasn't next."

In January of 1945, Jack was awarded the Purple Heart for the wounds he received on Valla Lavella. A few months later, in October, Jack was honorably discharged, returned stateside, and began working at Picatinny Arsenal in New Jersey. He stayed there for 32 years. After his retirement he moved to Bath, NY where he wrote poetry, spoke at service organizations, and volunteered at the Bath VA.

He passed away on September 9, 2012.

His story is deep, profound, and moving, but it's not the only one. Hundreds of thousands of service men and women, of all races, faiths, and ideologies have served, fought, been wounded, and died to protect their country. And those that have returned deserve kindness, respect, and love.

On this Memorial Day, salute the flag and find a way to help a veteran, whether you're in New Hampshire, New York, or anywhere else. We need them, and they need us.

I'm going to leave you with a poem, written by the wonderful and humble John (Jack) R. Williams, titled "Voices On A Hilltop."

Voices On A Hilltop

I climbed that Hill to be alone,
to gaze down at the scene below.
With a heavy heart and tear-filled eyes,
I beheld endless White Markers, row after row.

Each marked clearly with a Hero's name,
Name and Rank of AMERICA's best.
At last, with life's battles over,
Our Heroes, in GOD'S care, can Rest.

One's mind can never imagine
All the heartache, suffering, and pain
That's represented by each of the Markers
And the sound of the "TAPS" mournful refrain.

I sought to be alone on that hilltop,
But my efforts were all in vain,
the memories of Fallen Comrades
kept roaring through my brain.

As I glanced once again at those Markers,
a message seemed to tug at my heart.
Voices seemed to rise in unison:
"DO NOT FORGET ME, I'VE DONE MY PART."

Some of the Markers, in the form of a Cross,
Had a special meaning to me,
They brought the image of "Sacrifice,"
as the One on Calvary.

You don't have to be on that Hilltop
you can be anywhere, perhaps in a comfortable chair.
Just picture those rows of Markers,
Remember those Heroes in your prayers.

-John R. Williams, Shipfitter First Class (CW, USNR)

Jack as a young boy.

Jack with a P-38 warplane. When the US introduced these new powerful engines, the Japanese thought the US was so short on pilots that they had one pilot flying 2 planes at once.

Jack with two of his friends in the South Pacific.

Jack receiving his Purple Heart.

A ship in the South Pacific. Mail arrived on ships like this.

Disclaimer: This post was written using material from an interview which took place 12  years ago and an essay written by a 15-year-old. If you see an error, let me know and I'll do my best to fix it!

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Adventures of a Freelancer: The Strategic Approach

There's a lot of work out in the big wide world, and since I started freelancing full time, I've taken a step back and tried to take a more strategic look at what work I apply for and what work I accept. 

When I first started full time, there was a powerful urge to accept every offer that crossed my desk because, you know, ELECTRIC, INTERNET, MORTGAGE, GAS, FOOD, AHHH!!! But the more research I did and the more offers I considered, the more I realized that I didn't have to worry about ELECTRIC, INTERNET, MORTGAGE, GAS, FOOD as much as I had to be careful not to screw myself over. Because then, guess what? LAWYER FEES, FINES, JAIL!!!   

So here are few things I have learned, coming out of the full-time freelancing gate like a cat out of the bathtub.

This is exactly how I entered the freelancing world, growling and clawing and soaking wet.

Time Commitments

One of my favourite things about being a freelance writer is that I get to decide what I work on and when, provided of course that I meet my deadlines. This means that I can go lie in the hammock in the middle of the afternoon, or go visit my grandmother if I get a hankering, and finish my work late at night or early in the morning.

Don't stare at this for too long.

That said, it always confuses me when people are looking for low-cost freelancers who will commit a lot of hours under a rigid schedule for a long time. It makes sense for a three week contract job, or even a three month contract job. But for years of labor? I might as well be a full time employee of the company... minus the benefits.

Let me give you an example. I was offered a job to do academic copy editing. One of the value adds the company offered their clients was 24-hour turnaround, so they wanted editors that could turn things around quickly. So far so good. However, they wanted a time commitment from the freelancer of a minimum of 8 projects a week (these projects could take anywhere from 2 - 5 hours to complete), each of which had a day-of deadline and only paid $15/hour (it was per project, but this was their estimated hourly rate). 

So, if you took 8 five-hour projects, you would already be working 40 hours that week, not counting any other projects you might have going on, and not leaving any flexibility for fitting in things like going to the gym or picking up kids.

I had another company that wanted me to work 35 hours a week for 2 - 3 years (or more). 35 hours a week isn't quite full time, but doesn't leave enough hours to really expand your business and work for a variety of clients. Even if you worked 60 hours every week for 2 - 3 years, you wouldn't be able to have very many clients. I told the company that I would be willing to do 35 hours a week for a few months, but then I would want more flexibility to fulfill the terms of my other contracts, but they said no. No flexibility allowed. 

I call this piece, "Eggs No Mo."

To me, taking this kind of high-hour, long-term (not to mention low-paid) work from an unknown entity is like putting all of your eggs in one basket (where you don't know if the basket is made of steel or twigs), especially if freelancing is your only source of income. If I had taken the 35 hour a week job, and then they fired me or suddenly had a drop in contract work, all I would have had left was the 10-hour per week job that I had taken on to fill in the gap. Whereas, if I took 5 ten-hour a week jobs and lost one, I would still have 4 other jobs left to help pay the bills.

Non-Competes

Non-competes are good when they protect both the freelancer and the company. However, they catch people up all the time, and while I'm no lawyer, I'm extremely picky about what ones I'm willing to sign. I'm happy to agree to not recruit a company's staff to work for me. I'm happy to agree to not work for a direct competitor. But there are plenty of other things a company can stick in a non-compete that are ridiculous/potentially conflicting and can get you screwed without you even realizing what's happening. 

A friend of a friend decided to start up a freelance consulting business, and her first contract was for her state government, as that's where the majority of her experience was. She signed the non-compete without understanding what it said. When she went to go work for other state governments, hers said, "uh... nope! That's against the terms of your non-compete!" The non-compete had forbidden her from working for any other government for a full year after her current employment was terminated. Which is ridiculous, as that's the entirety of her consulting work. She had to go back and renegotiate her contract, and they eventually agreed to let her consult for state governments outside of New England.

When I read an over-the-top non-compete, I feel the same way Fry does when he sees a picture of a soul-stealing alien.

I had non-compete presented to me (which I ended up not signing), that was so full of legalese I had to take it to a lawyer to understand what it meant. Ultimately, the non-compete restricted me from working for all competitors, anyone in the industry, even clients (who weren't defined in the document, but who could be classified as anyone purchasing their services, which in this case could have been your mom or grandpa), and even financial institutions who worked in the industry! That would have restricted my potential employers significantly going forward, not to mention that the non-compete was valid for 2 years, and the penalties for violation started at a quarter of a million dollars. Luckily, I'm a writer and my skills are helpful across industries, but I felt it would be unduly unwise to sign something so restrictive, particularly as it was not very lucrative.

The other thing about non-competes is making sure that the new ones don't conflict with any existing ones. I like to periodically go back to the non-competes I've already signed and make sure I can actually remember what they say. This way, when new ones arise, I can make sure I'm not getting myself into any tight spots.

So yeah, watch out for those non-competes.

Online Platforms that Take a Cut

There are a wide variety of online platforms that offer freelance work of all sorts: eLance, Fiverr, PeoplePerHour, Writers' Access (to name a few), and as you know from my post about check fraud there are some pretty sketchy people and job offers out there. In addition to those people, there are the platforms themselves. Pretty much all of them are basically "what you see is what you get." Take Fiverr--what do you expect on this site? $5 jobs? You can make a lot if you're good at it and don't care about quality, but, it is what it is.

Anyway, when I first began freelancing, I started by poking around on PeoplePerHour, and I applied for some blog post gigs. They were about $40 for five 300-word blog posts. I figured if I could bust each post out in a half hour or less, than it would be worth it. So I did--5 blog posts in 2.5 hours. I did two sets of these for the buyer, and the buyer paid me $40 each through PeoplePerHour. Then I had it transferred over to Paypal. Between the PeoplePerHour fees and the Paypal fees, what should have been a $78 check turned into a $64 check, bringing my hourly rate down by $3. That's somewhere around 18% (this was probably mentioned in the PPH agreement, which clearly I did not read carefully enough)! I have no problem with a platform like that taking a cut, but I learned that I had better take that into serious consideration when accepting jobs. 

No but seriously, this gif is the perfect representation of my feelings.

So my current strategy is to keep my options open and flexible, read and understand every word of non-competes and other legal documentation, and not take low paying jobs on online platforms. 

I'd love to hear how you approach your assignment choosing--what strategies do you use? Any bad experiences?

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I Have A Complicated Relationship With Chickens

My neighbors have chickens. All day, every day, I stare at them and think to myself: man, they have a good life. Especially these chickens. Think about it. A cute little house puts a roof over their heads (I wouldn't be surprised if it was heated). They get fed multiple times a day. They have no stresses, unless you count wild animals, but honestly, they're not wild chickens. They have a fence that protects them, and, in this case, a fence roof too! So they don't even have to worry about dragons or eagles. They spend their days pecking away at the dirt, and digging holes to try to escape from out of their fence. 

In the mornings, I listen to them cackle after they've laid eggs, and sometimes when they escape into my yard, I get some exercise chasing them around, and some amusement at watching them freak out. (Chickens are really dumb).

When I was a kid we had a lot of chickens. Like 30, though a little book I made in elementary school says we had 50. I don't know who to trust, my book or my mom. I was the best chicken catcher in the family. Case in point: 

This is me (in blue) and my brother Gary (in red). At this point in my life, I was only slightly larger than the chickens. They probably thought I was a chicken too.

I used to collect the eggs, after chasing all of the birds out of the coop. One day, there was a big ugly old rooster who refused to leave, so I was just like "whatever" and ducked under the roost to get the eggs. When I turned around, basket full and ready to leave, he was just sitting on the roost, staring at me. 

I glared back for a moment, and then ducked under the roost to leave. This is when I learned my lesson: DO NOT EVER DUCK UNDER AN UGLY OLD YELLOW ROOSTER.

He jumped on my head. Claws in all. I was probably not older than 10, so I screamed and ran (though to be fair, I think even an adult would have screamed if a rooster had dug its claws into their skull). I threw the eggs. My parents were not pleased with the rooster's behavior.

I'm pretty sure we ate that rooster.

This is the coop. My parents use it for ducks now. It used to have a swinging door on it; now the ramp flips up into the door.

A second incident occurred a few years later when I was a teenager. We only had 5 hens and 1 rooster at this point, all black and living in a small pen near the house. My chore was simply to get the eggs. But the rooster had gotten it in his head to guard the hen house, so I was having a heck of a time getting anywhere near it as he chased me every time I tried.

Then, my shoe got stuck in the mud. I started hopping around the little house on one foot with an angry rooster chasing me. Then, as I came around the other side, I grabbed the door of the house swung it back, hitting him squarely in the face. 

He was stunned, and stumbled into the back yard while I rapidly grabbed the eggs and my shoe and exited the fence as quickly as I could. Hilarious, I might add. The whole thing. I love telling that story, even if no one else is particularly interested, mostly because I won and the rooster did not. Triumph over the poultry!

My relationships with other forms of poultry have not been nearly as eventful. Mr. Goose was a dearly beloved animal. My dad had a variety of beautiful pigeons (King Featherfoot, Skye, and Blackie, to name a few). We had peacocks and turkeys, and now my parents have ducks.

Mr. Goose, the best Toulouse goose in the universe.

Two peahens with a peachick.

My mom's very cute and very needy ducks.

Charles the cat and George the peacock discussing the stock market.

And now I sit in my condo, and watch my neighbors chickens, and think to myself: I'd like to get chickens. Or ducks. Or peacocks. 

One day, I will.

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The Eternal Silence of These Infinite Spaces

I couldn't fall asleep last night, an experience which far too many of us have had the privilege to enjoy. As I lay in the dark, eyes open, glaring angrily at the world, I started reciting (silently, for those who worry about me talking to myself--I mean, I do, but I wasn't last night) a piece by Blaise Pascal. It's one of my all time favourite pieces of writing ever, in the history of words. 

I got about this far... 

"Let man then contemplate the whole of nature in her full and grand majesty, and turn his vision from the low objects which surround him. Let him gaze on that brilliant light, set like an eternal lamp to illumine the universe; let the earth appear to him a point in comparison with the vast circle described by the sun, and let him wonder at the fact that this vast circle is itself but a very fine point in comparison with that described by the stars in their revolution round the firmament..." 

...when I sat up in bed (not really, I'm too lazy for that, it was more of a figurative sitting up in bed) and said to myself, "Look at me: a 20-something year old woman in the 21st Century reciting the words of a 17th century mathematician/physicist/writer while trying to fall asleep. I hope someday I write something memorable enough that a 25th century 20-something year old woman bothered to memorize it and is reciting it to help her fall asleep."

And I do. I do hope that. At least, if the world still exists and we haven't destroyed ourselves or been obliterated by technologically-advanced aliens (Borg!) or are all living in solitary caves deep underground. 

At least we know that Pascal doesn't have to worry about the apocalypse. He was born in 1623 and died in 1662 of stomach cancer. A French mathematician, inventor, and physicist, he's probably best known for his theory of probability and the unit of pressure that is named after him. You may also have heard of Pascal's triangle or the Pascaline, one of the first calculators.

So for those of you that would like more insight on what this 17th century "piece" is that so inspired a 20-something year old woman in the 21st century, I have typed it up for you. This is the version found in the book "The Book of the Cosmos: Imagining the Universe from Heraclitus to Hawking" (only $4 used!) and I highly recommend picking up a copy and perusing it, at very least on nights you can't sleep, to get a broad and inspiring view of existence.

"Let man then contemplate the whole of nature in her full and grand majesty, and turn his vision from the low objects which surround him. Let him gaze on that brilliant light, set like an eternal lamp to illumine the universe; let the earth appear to him a point in comparison with the vast circle described by the sun, and let him wonder at the fact that this vast circle is itself but a very fine point in comparison with that described by the stars in their revolution round the firmament. But if our view be arrested there, let our imagination pass beyond; it will sooner exhaust the power of conception than nature that of supplying material for conception. The whole visible world is only an imperceptible atom in the ample bosom of nature. No idea approaches it. We may enlarge our conceptions beyond imaginable space; we only produce atoms in comparison with the reality of things. It is an infinite sphere, the center of which is everywhere, the circumference nowhere. In short, it is the greatest sensible mark of the almighty power of God that imagination loses itself in that thought.

"Returning to himself, let man consider what he is in comparison with all existence; let him regard himself as lost in this remote corner of nature; and from the little cell in which he finds himself lodged, I mean the universe, let him estimate at their true value the earth, kingdoms, cities, and himself. What is man in the Infinite?

"But to show him a prodigy equally astonishing, let  him examine the most delicate things he knows. Let a mite be given him, with its minute body and parts incomparably more minute, limbs with their joints, veins in the limbs, blood in the veins, humors in the blood, drops in the humors, vapors in the drops. Dividing these last things again, let him exhaust his powers of conception, and let the last object at which he can arrive be now that of our discourse. Perhaps he will think that here is the smallest point in nature. I will let him see therein a new abyss. I will paint for him not only the visible universe, but all that he can conceive of nature's immensity in the womb of this abridged atom. Let him see therein an infinity of universes, each of which has its firmament, its planets, its earth, in the same proportion as in the visible world; in each earth animals, and in the last mites, in which he will find again all that the first had, finding still in these others the same thing without end and without cessation. Let him lose himself in wonders as amazing in their littleness as the others in their vastness. For who will not be astounded at the fact that our body, which a little while ago was imperceptible in the bosom of the whole, is now a colossus, a world, or rather a whole, in respect of the nothingness which we cannot reach? He who regards himself in this light will be afraid of himself, and observing himself sustained in the body given him by nature between those two abysses of the Infinite and Nothing, will tremble at the sight of these marvels; and I think that, as his curiosity changes into admiration, he will be more disposed to contemplate them in silence than to examine them with presumption.

"For in fact, what is man in nature? A Nothing in comparison with the Infinite, an All in comparison with the Nothing, a mean between nothing and everything. Since he is infinitely removed from comprehending the extremes, the end of things and their beginning are hopelessly hidden from him in an impenetrable secret; he is equally incapable of seeing the Nothing from which he was made, and the Infinite in which he is swallowed up.

"What will he do then, but perceive the appearance of the middle of things, in an eternal despair of knowing either their beginning or their end. All things proceed from the Nothing, and are borne towards the Infinite. Who will follow these marvelous processes? The Author of these wonders understands them. None other can do so...

"...When I consider the short duration of my life, swallowed up in the eternity before and after, the little space which I fill, and even can see, engulfed in the infinite immensity of spaces of which I am ignorant, and which know me not, I am frightened, and am astonished at being here rather than there; for there is no reason why here rather than there, why now rather than then. Who has put me here? By whose order and direction have this place and time been allotted to me?...

"The eternal silence of these infinite spaces frightens me."

More on space and infinity: Sleeping Beauty Awakes Only 162 Million Miles From Her Prince

Tedx Piscataqua River--Be Unreasonable

Last Friday I had the privilege to attend Tedx Piscataqua River, a fun event with a lot of ideas and many interesting presenters. It was hosted at the new 3S Artspace in downtown Portsmouth, a great space, newly renovated, and perfect for the event. 

The Morning Half of the Day

The day started with the most amazing cinnamon buns. Wherever they came from, I highly recommend you acquire some as quickly as humanly possible. Tiny nuggets of cinnamon-covered joy.

First up on the docket for the day was a performer called Colors in Motion, an interesting collage of moving colors on a projector with music played on a synth. It was quite relaxing. Throughout the day there were two other performances--NEOTERIC Dance Collaborative with 7 Stages Shakespeare Co (Animating Shakespeare), and Ellyn Touchette, a poet performing Phenotypes of a Real Woman. Animating Shakespeare was beautiful, but I have to say, for some reason I really liked the way they combined the music with the voice over reading. Very appealing. And the Phenotypes of a Real Woman was surprising, engaging, and profound.

I do not remember what kind of fish it was, but all fish are pretty weird, right?

Up next, a weird fish. Sam Hayward did a fascinating piece on how the way food tastes is specific to where it grows. One noticeable example was when he noticed the difference in taste of herbs between Maine and California--his reasoning was that the plants grew stronger and more potently in New England because there were so many bugs they had to fight off (no bugs where he visited in CA). He also brought show and tell ocean life: hence my comment about weird fish. (It was a really weird fish, with a huge mouth.)

Now, I'm jumping a little out of order here, but Von Diaz did another presentation on food later on in the day. Hers was vaguely similar to Sam's, but she focused on her experiences growing up half in Puerto Rico and half in Georgia, and how although she felt out of place in both locations, food gave her a sense of grounding in both. She made the claim that what you like to eat is inextricably tied to your own history and how you grew up.

Sara Curry gave a fascinating presentation on yoga and how it can help the healing process. She pointed out that nowadays people are tied to their desks and not move for days at a time, practically; but our bodies were made for movement. As a result, we almost injure ourselves by not moving. Hot yoga, in her experience, has helped dozens of people heal from insane illnesses--a debilitating back injury for herself, fibromyalgia, etc. It made even me consider trying yoga. We shall see, we shall see... (but I probably won't blog about it).

The event boasted 3 videos from other Ted events, one of which I have included here: star shades and telescopes (obvs on my list of favs). The other two were Photos That Give Voice to the Animal Kingdom, and Teach Teachers How To Create Magic (learn to teach by going to black church, also my favourite kind of church!).

The Middle Half of the Day

Be nice to bees!

One of my favourite presentations was by Dr. Sandra Rehan, called The Secret Lives of Native Bees. The reason I found her presentation so fascinating is because the majority of what I know is about honey bees (given that my dad is a beekeeper) and she called out some of the fascinating and wonderful things about other kinds of bees. I could probably write an entire post just on her presentation, but I will suffice it with just a few fun facts: 

• There are 20,000 species of bees in the world.
• There are 4,000 species of bees in the US.
• There are 200 species of bees that live locally.
• There are large and small carpenter bees.
• Small carpenter bees live inside the stems of blackberries and rose bushes. Yup. That's how tiny they are.

Those are just a few fun facts, but her presentation was awesome, and her diagrams, equally awesome.

Next was Martha Stone, the director of a local homeless shelter. This presentation pointed out how most homeless people don't look like the stereotypical homeless person. She gave stories of different people with different needs - one guy just needed a place to stay until he could save up enough money to put down a deposit and pay his first month's rent. A family with three kids came in with medical needs because both parents had lost employment; an older veteran with only a car to his name came needing medical care, but was unable to work (they found him a place at a nearby VA). Real people, real needs.

Meredith Bennett was the producer for the Colbert Report (moving with Colbert to the Late Night Show). She spoke on how the reason she got as far as she did, and the reason the Colbert Report got as far as it did was because they always said yes--to taking this job, to filming in Iran, to presenting at Piscataqua River presumably. 

Latter Half of the Day

19-year-old entrepreneur and inventor TJ Evarts (only a few more years and everyone will stop waxing eloquent about his age!) talked about kidpreneurs and how youths are coming forward with ideas, and how they need more space in the classroom to be able to pursue the education of entrepreneurship. He pointed out (quite rightly, if I might add) the best way to learn is by doing, and explained that the best education he got was teaching himself to do things that were necessary to his entrepreneurial goals, and also that trying to be an entrepreneur is an education in and of itself. 

Matthew Loper spoke about Youth Harnessing Religion for Peace. He worked at a camp for children of all religions to be exposed to other children of other religions--Muslim, Christian, and Jewish. His stories were moving, and the pictures beautiful, and he spoke of how he hopes one day, adults can approach religion with the open-mindedness and curiosity that the children he worked with had.

How We Fall In and Out of Love With Our Buildings by Reagan Ruedig was an interesting presentation on buildings, and what it means to be "historic" or "ugly". She gave examples of styles she finds attractive but that her mother finds ugly, and urged us to let the next generation decide whether or not to keep buildings that are only one generation old.

Probably the most meaningful to me at this point was How to Get a Book Deal by Aimee Molloy, and not because I have any interest in getting a book deal. It was most meaningful because her main theme was to "be unreasonable." If you have a goal, do everything you can to pursue it, even if it's risky. Aimee Molloy is a successful ghost writer for many well-known books and celebrities (think, John Kerry and Rosewater). She gave examples from her own life about how she did seemingly crazy things (like quitting her job with no other recourse) to pursue her dreams, and through hard work and sheer luck she got it done by being unreasonable. It was very inspiring.

Round Up (not the pesticide though--poor bees)

It was overall a fascinating, educational, and riveting day. In addition to listening to these amazing speakers and performers, I also met some great people, had some good ideas (mainly for the next presentation I have to do), and enjoyed being a freelancer to the fullest ;)