The Next Generation

Here's a special poem written by my special niece, G.

Jesus is our light.
He will guide us through the night.
He will come if we call.
He will come no matter what.
Jesus is our light.
He makes everything bright.
He loves us all very much,
even when we don't love Him.
Jesus is our light.
He will help us through the night.  

A personal narrative my son wrote for school and an essay he wrote for a children's writing contest, both at the end of fifth grade.  I think he likes baseball. (Spring, 2011)

            “That’s the ballgame!” called the umpire. Those were some of the best words I had heard all day. This was the day when I got a walk-off double in baseball. It was also one of my favorite days of the summer of 2010.
              It was a hot July morning, and I was tossing a baseball off my front stairs. I had a baseball game later, and I couldn’t wait to get to play. My mom called to me from inside the house, “Time for breakfast!”
            After a delicious meal of pancakes and fruit I got ready for my baseball game. I hopped into our car, and we drove to the baseball field. I ran out to my team and  warmed up for the game.
            I batted second in the first inning. After taking the first two pitches for strikes, the pitcher struck me out. “Strike three!” the umpire called. I trudged back to my team’s dugout and took a seat on the bench.
            After making an error on defense and striking out once again, I was sitting on the bench in the second to last inning. My coach walked up to me. He told me, “I’m going to bench you now, but I need a big hit later, okay?” I nodded my head in reply.
            It was a close game. We were losing by one in the bottom of the last inning. After two singles by two players on my team, I stepped up to the plate. The first three pitches were all balls. The next two pitches were strikes. The count was three balls and two strikes. The pitch came in. Wham! The ball was slammed into the outfield. I sprinted out to first base. By the time I got to second base, both runs had scored. “Game over!” called the umpire.
            When I got home I was jumping for joy. I really felt proud that I won the game for our team. Every time I struggle, I think back to that day. That day in July will always be memorable for me.

What Jackie Robinson Means to Me
When you think of Jackie Robinson, do you think about him being a stellar second baseman, or the first African-American to play in the major leagues? Well, he is actually both. Jackie Robinson’s legacy is continued today as many Latinos and blacks play in the pros.
Baseball is my favorite sport. When I am playing 3rd base or watching the White Sox, I am not thinking about anything but baseball. My favorite players are Pablo Sandoval and Alexei Ramirez.  A lot of baseball players are from countries such as Dominican Republic, Venezuela, and Cuba.  I can’t even imagine what baseball would be like without players like Alex Rodriguez and Ichiro.
Every summer I sign up for baseball in my town of Berwyn, Illinois. Normally, since I live in a Hispanic community, the majority of the players on my team are Latino. Latinos were treated just as poorly as African-Americans with baseball.  If it wasn’t for Jackie Robinson, some of these players wouldn’t get the chance to play. That would be terrible because these players are my friends, and it would hurt to see them get rejected.
Jackie Robinson also teaches me a valuable lesson. He shows me that if you want something so much and you put enough effort into getting it, you will eventually come out on top. He is a figure that lots of children around the world can look up to.
            Jackie Robinson probably was scared and nervous because of all of the hate mail and even death threats he received. Despite all of the hatred, he still was a great player and humanitarian. In a way, he was kind of like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. He had a dream, he faced lots of challenges, and he ended up making a difference that will last forever.
In conclusion, Jackie Robinson shows that all races (black, white, Latino, Asian, or any other) can come together in one everlasting dream: baseball.

Here's an imaginative short story written by my 13-year-old nephew... the intro had me hooked!  (September, 2012)


     The sharpened pencil touched the paper. It drew a circle for a head, and a line for a torso, legs, and arms. This was how Paul was born. Paul is a stick figure, who lives in the 2D world of a child’s notebook, also known as “The World of Doodle-opolis”.   In this “World” pictures are drawn and born by a pencil. These doodles live together in peace, well they did anyways, until the big incident happened…
     COCKADOODLEDOO! Paul woke up to a 2D sun shining through his window. “Morning already?” he asked himself. He got up out of his messy graphite bed and walked over to the window and looked out. Paul lived in a 7 story apartment building next to the city of Inkland, where all the building where made from ink. It was a wonderful and amazing place, filled with joy and happiness. Paul decided to go for a stroll around town. He ran to his closet, and threw on a thin black shirt and thin black pants which is his every day wear since he is a stickman. He then went down the stairs and out the flat door. The city was beautiful, even knowing everything was in black and white except for the “Marker’s Statue” in the center of the city. There were massive skyscrapers, restaurants, and in the distance you could even see the “Navy Blue Lake” Paul began his stroll.
     As he was walking he noticed something. All of the other doodles were nervous looking, which made him confused and a little nervous, too. Suddenly he spotted his best friend Leonard.
     “Paul, did you hear the news too?” Leonard said sounding sad. 
     “What news?” 
     “It’s coming.” 
     “Leonard, what the heck are you talking about” 
     “THE TIME IS COMING!” Leonard suddenly shouted, and sprinted away, screaming it over and over again. Confused, Paul walked over to a newspaper stand that was near him. He grabbed one off the top rack, The Eraser is Coming and the world of Doodle-opolis is coming to an end. Paul suddenly became frightened. He quickly rushed home. He bashed through the flat door, sprinted up the stairs, and quickly turned on the news.
    They were already talking about it, “So far the eraser has wiped out all of the cities except for one… Inkland." Paul was suddenly filled with joy, after realizing Inkland can’t be erased it’s made of Ink. He went to his window and looked out over the buildings. He wanted to run out and tell everyone the news. The news reporter went on, “Hopefully this city can survive this cris—”   The TV went fizzy like a snow storm. “OH NO!” Paul shouted, looking out the window. A giant white coated brush labeled “White Out” descended from the sky. It first collapsed “The Doodle Tower”, and then it crushed the city hall. It began coming closer and closer destroying buildings in its path going towards Paul’s building. He was frozen, in shock staring out his window, witnessing the “end”. The brush came over his apartment, than the entire building began to shake. White paint started pouring through the windows, door, and all openings that were visible until all Paul could see was white. The whiteness was the last thing that he experienced, giving him a feeling of a new beginning, not an end as all the others feared.