Cypress Branches Literary Journal - Lamar State College-Orange
Cypress Branches Literary Journal - Lamar State College-Orange
Cypress Branches Literary Journal - Lamar State College-Orange
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The <strong>Literary</strong> <strong>Journal</strong><br />
of <strong>Lamar</strong> <strong>State</strong> <strong>College</strong>-<strong>Orange</strong><br />
Spring 2009<br />
LSCO is a member of the Texas <strong>State</strong> University System
Student Winners<br />
Prose<br />
First Place<br />
Two Sides of the River ..........................................................................Md Rajibul Hasan<br />
Second Place<br />
The Storm................................................................................................ Rachel Suire<br />
Third Place<br />
A Troubled Mind.................................................................................... Kristen Clark<br />
Honorable Mention<br />
Emergency Situation ............................................................................... Derek Borel<br />
Poetry<br />
First Place<br />
My Trip............................................................................................... Kyle Thompson<br />
Second Place<br />
Woman, Woman ................................................................................. Kyle Thompson<br />
Third Place<br />
Subtle Chaos....................................................................................... Kyle Thompson<br />
Honorable Mention<br />
Keep in Touch .........................................................................................Barbara Ball<br />
Photography<br />
First Place<br />
Game Face ...........................................................................................Alexa Humble<br />
Second Place<br />
Alien Flower........................................................................................ Shanita Maceda<br />
Third Place<br />
Curious Simba......................................................................................Geneva Adams<br />
Honorable Mention<br />
Summer Showers...................................................................................Tyler Derouen<br />
3
Two Dimensional Art<br />
First Place (Grand Prize: Cover Art)<br />
Splash of Color...................................................................................... Ashley Daniel<br />
Second Place<br />
Blooming Beauty.................................................................................... Ashley Daniel<br />
Third Place<br />
Passing By ............................................................................................. Ashley Daniel<br />
Honorable Mention<br />
Forest Watch ....................................................................................... Andrea Haynes<br />
Three-Dimensional Art<br />
First Place<br />
Celestia Millenia..............................................................................Christopher Fields<br />
Second Place<br />
Music as a Thread............................................................................. Jessica Ferguson<br />
Third Place<br />
Great Power............................................................................................Scott Laudano<br />
Honorable Mention<br />
Paper Clip Madness..................................................................................Ashley Bray<br />
Special Category: Analyzing Art<br />
First Place<br />
The Gentleman..................................................................................................Brett Heil<br />
Faculty and Staff Contributions<br />
Dr. Matt McClure..................................................................................... Cartoon strip<br />
Pam Hardin ........................................................................................................ Poetry<br />
Randy Ford ...................................................................................................... Poetry<br />
Carolyn Mello .................................................................................................. Poetry<br />
Bonnie Dorman ....................................................................................... Photography<br />
Joan Stinehart.....................................................................Art, Prose and Photography<br />
Bobbi Miller............................................................................................................ Art<br />
4
Table of Contents<br />
Art<br />
Two-Dimensional<br />
Splash of Color by Ashley Daniel ................................................................................ 10<br />
Blooming Beauty by Ashley Daniel .............................................................................. 11<br />
Passing By by Ashley Daniel ........................................................................................ 12<br />
Forest Watch by Andrea Haynes................................................................................... 13<br />
Three-Dimensional<br />
Celestia Millenia by Christopher Fields ....................................................................... 14<br />
Music as a Thread by Jessica Ferguson ...................................................................... 15<br />
Great Power by Scott Laudano ..................................................................................... 16<br />
Paper Clip Madness by Ashley Bray ........................................................................... 17<br />
Prose<br />
Two Sides of the River by Md Rajibul Hasan................................................................ 20<br />
The Storm by Rachel Suire ........................................................................................... 21<br />
A Troubled Mind by Kristen Clark .............................................................................. 22<br />
Emergency Situation by Derek Borel ........................................................................... 23<br />
Photography<br />
Game Face by Alexa Humble ....................................................................................... 26<br />
Alien Flower by Shanita Maceda.................................................................................. 27<br />
Curious Simba by Geneva Adams................................................................................. 28<br />
Summer Showers by Tyler Derouen ............................................................................ 29<br />
Poetry<br />
My Trip by Kyle Thompson........................................................................................... 32<br />
Woman, Woman by Kyle Thompson ............................................................................. 33<br />
Subtle Chaos by Kyle Thompson................................................................................... 34<br />
Keep in Touch by Barbara Ball .................................................................................... 35<br />
Special Category Analyzing Art<br />
The Gentleman by Brett Heil ....................................................................................... 38<br />
5
Faculty and Staff Contribution<br />
<strong>Cypress</strong> Man IV by Dr. Matt McClure.......................................................................... 42<br />
Trust Again by Pamela K. Hardin ............................................................................... 46<br />
Dark Side of Love by Pamela K. Hardin...................................................................... 47<br />
Kissing in the Rain by Randy Ford............................................................................... 48<br />
Two Lane Terror by Carolyn Mello.............................................................................. 49<br />
Lament by Carolyn Mello ............................................................................................ 50<br />
French Fudge by Carolyn Mello ................................................................................. 52<br />
Milk by Carolyn Mello ................................................................................................. 53<br />
Butterfly: Brittney by Bonnie Dorman ......................................................................... 54<br />
Freestyle: Alex by Bonnie Dorman ............................................................................. 55<br />
Up Close and Eye to Eye by Joan Stinehart .................................................................. 56<br />
Drying Off After a Trip to the River by Joan Stinehart................................................. 57<br />
Moraine Lake in the Canadian Rockies by Joan Stinehart........................................... 58<br />
Grazing in the Lazy Days of Summer by Joan Stinehart............................................... 59<br />
Born to be Wild and Free by Joan Stinehart................................................................. 60<br />
Tracking Across the Tundra by Joan Stinehart ............................................................ 61<br />
Wildlife’s Precious Young Ones by Joan Stinehart...................................................... 62<br />
The Colorful Beauty of Birds by Joan Stinehart........................................................... 63<br />
A Bird and a Bear by Joan Stinehart ........................................................................... 64<br />
The Grizzly Bear by Joan Stinehart .............................................................................. 65<br />
The Great White Heron by Joan Stinehart.................................................................... 67<br />
Dreamcatcher by Bobbi Miller .................................................................................... 70<br />
6
Submitting Student Artists and Author<br />
Alexa Humble<br />
Andrea Haynes<br />
Andrew Tsuchiya<br />
Ashley Bray<br />
Ashley L. Daniel<br />
Aubry Ellis<br />
Barbara Ball<br />
Bradley Manchack<br />
Branden Gauthier<br />
Brett Heil<br />
Brooke Friedeck<br />
Byron Ellis<br />
Carley Gautier<br />
Chelsea Mires<br />
Cheri Abbott<br />
Christopher Fields<br />
Cyrus Victoria<br />
Derek Borel<br />
Devren Cormier<br />
Diana Tutas<br />
Emily Mangham<br />
Eric Swanson<br />
Geneva Adams<br />
Georgina Chandler<br />
Jennifer Viator<br />
Jeremy Crowell<br />
Jessica Ferguson<br />
Jordan Walker<br />
Josh Russell<br />
Justin Granger<br />
Kassey Humberson<br />
Katie M. Dial<br />
Krista Golemon<br />
Kristen Clark<br />
Kyle Thompson<br />
Matthew Cooper<br />
Md Hasan<br />
Melanie Williams<br />
MinhNhat Duong<br />
Mitchell Wyatt<br />
Nettia Beatty<br />
Phillip Key<br />
Priscilla Walker<br />
Rachel Suire<br />
Sandra Gomez<br />
Scott Laudano<br />
Shanita Maceda<br />
Shelbi McQuary<br />
Tonia Gann<br />
Tyler Derouen<br />
Wade Estes<br />
Thank you for your submissions to this project!<br />
7
Art<br />
9
Two-Dimensional Art – First Place<br />
Splash of Color<br />
Ashley<br />
10
Two-Dimensional Art – Second Place<br />
Blooming Beauty<br />
Ashley Daniel<br />
11
Two-Dimensional Art – Third Place<br />
Passing By<br />
Ashley Daniel<br />
12
Two-Dimensional Art – Honorable Mention<br />
Forest Watch<br />
Andrea Haynes<br />
13
Three-Dimensional Art – First Place<br />
Celestia Millenia<br />
Christopher Fields<br />
14
Three-Dimensional Art – Second Place<br />
Music as a Thread<br />
Jessica Ferguson<br />
15
Three-Dimensional Art – Third Place<br />
Great Power<br />
Scott Laudano<br />
16
Three-Dimensional Art – Honorable Mention<br />
Paper Clip Madness<br />
Ashley Bray<br />
17
Prose<br />
19
Prose – First Place<br />
Two Sides of the River<br />
Md Rajibul Hasan<br />
Most people know the phrase “like father, like son,” which means children often follow their<br />
parents and learn from them. As a child, I wanted to become like my father. However, no human can be<br />
totally perfect. Although my father remains a strong influence in my life, in some cases we are completely<br />
different, like the two banks of the river which never can mix. While we both value money, we manage it<br />
in completely opposite ways. Therefore, in considering money, the three major differences between my<br />
father and me include lending practices, bargaining skills, and budgeting awareness.<br />
First, my father is more generous than I, especially in lending money. He lends relatives and<br />
friends money with open hands whenever they ask him, without considering whether they will pay it back<br />
or not. As an example, my father lent half of his yearly income to my uncle without any collateral contract<br />
or repayment schedule. As a cunning person, my uncle took advantage of my father’s trust and has yet to<br />
pay the money back. Still, my father let my uncle borrow money from him this year. On the contrary, I do<br />
not like to lend anyone money without assurance of repayment. Moreover, I keep a proof so they cannot<br />
cheat me. One time, my cousin borrowed money from me to buy a motorbike, but I kept his diamond ring<br />
as collateral.<br />
Similarly, my father cannot bargain for merchandises as well as I can. I came from Bangladesh, a<br />
developing country, where we need good bargaining skills to purchase products. The salesman may ask<br />
double or more for the products, but we must negotiate with him for a reasonable price. Otherwise, we<br />
lose money. My father never wins in this bargaining game; rather, he loses his money by paying extra.<br />
Once, my dad went to market to buy a blanket and paid 1,500 taka, approximately $22, when he could<br />
have bought it for 600 taka. He also buys the goods he sees first without comparing their prices with other<br />
products. On the other hand, I try to bargain with the seller to lower the price as much I can. One day, I<br />
went to buy a pair of shoes, and the merchant demanded $20. With my persuasive skills, I bought the<br />
shoes, paying just $6. Additionally, I compare the prices of the products and purchase the best value.<br />
Finally, my father does not manage a budget as effectively as I do. My father, a police officer,<br />
earns good money, though he rarely spends it properly. Consequently, at the end of the month he falls<br />
short of money. For instance, we went to market with my father for shopping, and he spent his entire pay.<br />
He did not think about how he would manage the rest of the month. Likewise, he has no savings for<br />
unexpected problems. A long time ago, my mother was sick, and he did not have sufficient money to<br />
admit her to a required clinic. In contrast, I always plan my budget. I maintain a list which contains my<br />
monthly spending, such as home rent, electric bill, car insurance, and others. This list insures that I will<br />
have enough money to last all month. Surely, I have savings for my future in case of emergencies.<br />
Without doubt, my father and I differ completely in lending practices, bargaining skills, and<br />
budgeting awareness. Following my father’s guidance throughout my childhood, I learned how to manage<br />
money. In time, I realized that my father handles finances without proper care. Thus, I changed my ways<br />
of managing money. Indeed, children learn from their parents, but they shape those ideas in their own<br />
ways when they mature.<br />
20
Prose – Second Place<br />
The Storm<br />
Rachel Suire<br />
The weather reports warned us. The mayor urged the town to evacuate. We did not listen. This<br />
hurricane was compared to Carla. That did not scare us. The people of Galveston faced certain death if<br />
they stayed. They lived on the coast; we did not. A hurricane had not hit our area headon in years. Why<br />
should we leave? Even though dangerous hurricanes tend to miss our area, because of the wind, water,<br />
and aftermath, a person should still evacuate.<br />
I remember the wind gathered strength first. It was Thursday. The hurricane was not expected<br />
until late Friday night or early Saturday morning. The wind started out nice and breezy, only to become a<br />
steady gust by the night. When I woke up on Friday morning, I heard the wind howling through the trees.<br />
Some of the older branches broke off and flew across my yard. By Friday evening the clouds burst with<br />
rain, and the wind blew even stronger. Larger branches blew across like tumbleweeds, and the tops of<br />
trees swayed like a large crowd in a concert. The wind sounded like it was telling us something, almost<br />
like a warning of the upcoming storm. I fell asleep Friday night to the sound of the rain beat on our roof<br />
and the wind howling all around me.<br />
The next thing I knew, my mom was frantically shaking me awake saying, “Rachel, get up! The<br />
water is coming into the house!” I felt so groggy that I could not fully comprehend what she said. I<br />
rolled out of bed and placed my feet on the floor. My toes felt the water first; it was a little cold from the<br />
rain. My cat meowed a scared little meow that I could barely hear over the thunder and lightning outside.<br />
I picked her up then ran to my parents in the living room. Both of my parents held flashlights in their<br />
hands. I saw scared looks planted on their faces. “The water is going to keep rising. We have to get in<br />
the attic,” my dad ordered. We followed him up to the attic only to watch the water continue to rise and<br />
destroy everything in our house.<br />
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, light peeked through the house. My dad climbed down<br />
to see if the rain had stopped enough for us to come out of the house. Luckily, the rain had become a light<br />
drizzle, so my mom and I followed him down the ladder, sw leaving my sleeping cat snuggled in a corner.<br />
As I climbed down the ladder, I saw how much water our house actually received. When I stepped off the<br />
ladder, the chilly salt water had reached my shoulders. Before following my dad out of the house, I took a<br />
look around. The couch floated into the kitchen, the TV looked like a drowning child facedown in the<br />
water, and fish brushed against my leg as they swam throughout my house. After looking around, I<br />
followed my parents out into the flooded yard. My dad had already jumped in our boat, ready to start it<br />
up. My mom held out her hand to help me into the boat and out of the sea water. Slowly we rode through<br />
our neighborhood, taking in the damage. We stopped to pick up our neighbors who had stayed—only to<br />
end up on the tops of their roofs. We rode around until we reached the bridge leading out of Bridge City.<br />
The survivors sat there for hours waiting for someone to come for us, while my dad and neighbor<br />
continued to rescue other members of our town who made the same mistake of staying. “Mom, maybe we<br />
should have evacuated when the mayor said to,” I whispered.<br />
The weather reports warned us. They said the wind was coming; they were right. The mayor told<br />
us to leave. He said the water was on its way; he was right. The people of Galveston faced certain death if<br />
they stayed; so did we. A hurricane had not directly hit our area in years. Why should we leave? We<br />
should have left because of the wind, water, and the scary aftermath. We should have left because we<br />
were ordered to leave.<br />
21
Prose – Third Place<br />
A Troubled Mind<br />
Kristen Clark<br />
Lost in anguished thoughts, I rest on a shaded bench, naked and cold. The wasted metropolis<br />
around me creaks and groans, also ready to abandon hope. Memories of my children’s smiling faces melt<br />
away as the four horsemen approach. My life has changed but has not ended.<br />
Engulfed within an economic crisis, our noble country, the USA , cut off all trades to other<br />
nations. With our entire lives revolved around natural gas, our new main source of power, we had no need<br />
for foreign goods during our second Great Depression. The Middle Eastern countries, also having<br />
economic issues due to their depletion of crude oil deposits, centered their rage on the USA. On the<br />
morning of June 25, 2020, a number of Iraqi bombs simultaneously devastated our major cities and<br />
industries. The nation panicked. Threats of a nuclear war became more intense as more countries entered<br />
the conflict. Eventually, in September 2027, the first nuclear bomb was dropped, initiating a chain of<br />
retaliation. The USA was left in ruins. Few people remained and began the cleanup. Bodies were so<br />
numerous, new diseases developed and wiped out most of what was left. I, however, survived, trapped<br />
alone on this desolate planet.<br />
It is winter now, and shelter is hard to find. I have taken refuge in what resembles a warehouse of<br />
some sort. During the warmer daylight hours, I search for the necessary resources. Clothing has been my<br />
biggest challenge because most was lost in the flames. Therefore, I sit naked on a small green bench,<br />
hoping for my body to magically adapt to the harsh environment. My skin crawls with goose bumps as a<br />
small gust of Arctic wind brushes past my bare arms. I glance upward, into the darkness and see my wife<br />
cheerfully playing with my children. My heart swells, but tears seep into my eyes as the room creaks,<br />
breaking my concentration. I bow my head and weakly rest my elbows on my scarred knees. My<br />
forehead wrinkles, and my lips purse as another rush of memories sneak into my head. Callused hands<br />
clasp together, creating a dry rubbing sound. I sigh, tasting the cold. A new, stronger burst of wind<br />
breaks my balance, causing a train of cracks emitted from my joints. “I have nothing….,” I accidentally<br />
speak aloud. “What reason do I have to remain on this dead Earth? Suicide enters my thoughts, giving<br />
me a quick hope of relief. The broken glass scattering the floor is appealing. I reach for it but stop midair<br />
as a yellowed beam of light flashes across my face. I jerk upwards. My pupils dilate and eyes squint in<br />
disbelief. A growing sound of enormous flapping wings emerges. I recognize it quickly as a helicopter.<br />
I have been found.<br />
A team of armored men wordlessly begin wrapping me with woolen blankets and various clothes.<br />
The soft materials smell like unusual spices unknown to me. The sound of the helicopter engulfs my<br />
senses as the men lead me outside. I focus on the rapidly spinning blades, dizzying myself, but my heroes<br />
stop my fall. Tears once again flow down my cheeks. My life has changed but has not ended.<br />
22
Prose – Honorable Mention<br />
Emergency Situation<br />
Derek Borel<br />
One of my most memorable emergency situations is the time I accidentally hit my little cousin in<br />
the head with a golf club. This unfortunate event was caused primarily because of my carelessness and<br />
lack of awareness. Being careful around small children is especially important because they do not have<br />
the same level of awareness as others.<br />
On an early fall morning, I woke up in my grandparents’ old rigid house in Echo. I was a thin,<br />
lanky, dirty blond boy of about eight years. My young restless age often left me stir crazy, particularly in<br />
the complete absence of others. I was bored to the extent of tearing something to shreds. I was often<br />
considerably bored more often in the morning than in the afternoons. I looked about my grandfather’s<br />
large and dingy packrat infested building. Everything was piled to the limits of the sky. I gazed at<br />
several objects, plotting potential courses of action, but nothing caught my attention enough to act upon—<br />
yet. I searched the first floor—nothing. I searched the second floor—nothing. Then, on my way out, an<br />
old grotesque bag of tall stature caught my eye. This bag immediately brought stars to my eyes and<br />
exuberant ideas to my head as I stared at its worn brown leather trim. This was a bag full of golf clubs<br />
that my dad had left in here for one uncared for reason or another. I ran out with the clubs and my ideas<br />
to threaten the small world. I looked all around my open atmosphere of blue sky and tree lines to find a<br />
perfect spot to start my chaos. I was going to start around the back of the house but figured I would<br />
potentially lose too many balls on the water. I then ran to the front of the yard closer to the edge of the<br />
road. I found a perfect open range of about a hundred yards from the front of the house to the tree line<br />
beyond the highway. This would be the place, I thought.<br />
I then pulled a club from the bag and assumed my position with the cold dense metal rod beneath<br />
my small slender fingers. Then all of a sudden, thoughts ceased when I realized I didn’t have a golf ball. I<br />
turned around looking towards the house and left my club of choice propped up against the large stump of<br />
rotten wood. I then ran wildly looking for my missing puzzle piece. I looked high and low, far and wide,<br />
until I finally found the ugliest burnt yellow golf balls I have even seen. I then stomped into my position<br />
and tested my strength. I hit one over the orange trees, one behind me, and one over the road. My little<br />
cousin, who was about four, came from the house. Redheaded, with pale complexion and beefy body, he<br />
stared at me. He stood back, as I had urged him to. Then he scooted a little closer. I told him to go closer<br />
to the large stump of rotten wood. He did as I told him and started playing with a bent sick behind me,<br />
imitating my every move. Now he was a little closer to the left behind me. I then set him a distinct area<br />
and marked it off for him to watch, so there would not be any confusion as I continued.<br />
After my anxious little cousin became bored with the stick, he asked me if he could play. I figured<br />
it couldn’t hurt anything, so I set him up. I showed him how to hold the club and how to stand. I also<br />
showed him how to watch the ball, He was doing well for his young age, hitting the ball a few yards and<br />
gaining distance. We switched back and forth, and I generally let him have a couple of extra whacks on<br />
his turn. I noticed with a longer break between swings I could hit the ball considerably further. When we<br />
switched, my cousin went behind me, and I told him, “Go back a little further.” Periodically, I looked<br />
back to see where he was. I decided I would make one more grand slam and penetrate the tree line across<br />
the road. I took a long time to fix my position, and I told him to go way back. Assuming he did, I clutched<br />
the rod of steel firmly, drew back over my right shoulder, and swung with all my might over my left.<br />
When the club went over my left shoulder, it made an abrupt stop, and I heard the voice of my cousin in<br />
23
distress as he shouted, “Ohhhhh!” The club had stuck into the left side of his fragile head and caused lifethreatening<br />
damage. I took the proper course of action in this situation; I ran for help. Luckily for us both,<br />
he came out of brain surgery okay.<br />
No matter what the situation, one can never be too careful around small children. My emergency<br />
situation did not end terribly, but it could have been deadly. All it takes is one small misjudgment with a<br />
child who’s unaware, and he could be gone instantly.<br />
24
Photography<br />
25
Photography – First Place<br />
Game Face<br />
Alexa Humble<br />
26
Photography – Second Place<br />
Alien Flower<br />
Shanita Maceda<br />
27
Photography – Third Place<br />
Curious Simba<br />
Geneva Adams<br />
28
Photography – Honorable Mention<br />
Summer Showers<br />
Tyler Derouen<br />
29
Poetry<br />
31
Poetry – First Place<br />
My Trip<br />
Kyle Thompson<br />
I took a trip to the end of the earth<br />
To find out what my life and love was worth.<br />
I found a man eating a feast and drinking wine.<br />
He motioned for me to come sit with him and dine.<br />
So I followed his hand and pulled up a chair.<br />
His beard was long and white, and he ate without care.<br />
Then suddenly he stopped eating and looked me in the eye.<br />
And the words that he spoke almost made me cry.<br />
He said, “Life is a dream, and when you awake,<br />
You’ll find that all your possessions are just as fake.<br />
So be true to yourself, your family and friends.<br />
You’ll miss them the most when everything ends.”<br />
Then he stood up and headed on his way.<br />
But he turned around when I yelled, “Hey!”<br />
As he stood there with a blank stare on his face,<br />
My throat tightened, and my heart began to race.<br />
I looked down at my feet then back up at him.<br />
His blank stare now turned to a grin.<br />
A million thoughts raced through my head.<br />
I didn’t ask him a question, just remained silent instead.<br />
“Yes, love is real,” is all he said.<br />
As soon as I got home, I grabbed some paper and a pen.<br />
And I made myself a note that I read every now and then.<br />
And this is what it says:<br />
“Life is a dream, and when you awake,<br />
You’ll find that all your possessions are just as fake.<br />
So be true to yourself, your family and friends.<br />
You’ll miss them the most when everything ends.”<br />
32
Poetry – Second Place<br />
You have filled up my ashtrays.<br />
You have broken my heart.<br />
You kiss me on the lips,<br />
And then you depart.<br />
You always call back after you say goodbye.<br />
And the only word I murmur is, “Why?”<br />
You curse when you’re happy<br />
And smile when you’re sad.<br />
You cry on your birthday<br />
And laugh when you’re mad.<br />
You have buckets full of bones<br />
That have filled up over the years.<br />
You have closets full of heroes<br />
So you can find their greatest fear.<br />
Woman, woman, I hate you so much.<br />
But, damn, you drive me crazy<br />
Every time that we touch.<br />
Woman, Woman<br />
Kyle Thompson<br />
33
Poetry – Third Place<br />
Subtle Chaos<br />
Kyle Thompson<br />
Your legs wrapped around me with beauty and grace,<br />
Sweat rolling down my chest and my face.<br />
Claw marks on my back from where you drew your lines<br />
My eyes looking at yours, and yours looking at mine.<br />
Locked hands, locked lips, locked doors, locked hips.<br />
Sweaty palms on the mattress, not losing their grip.<br />
This subtle chaos I’ve been waiting for<br />
With your hair all a mess and our clothes on the floor.<br />
34
Poetry – Honorable Mention<br />
Keep in Touch<br />
Barbara Ball<br />
Roses are red, and violets are blue.<br />
I sent you a letter and heard nothing from you.<br />
My mailbox is empty; my phone does not ring.<br />
Even my email displays a blank screen.<br />
So where are you? How are you? What do you know?<br />
Please get it touch, and I’d appreciate it so.<br />
I know we’re all busy with our daytoday.<br />
But texting takes seconds, so what do you say?<br />
We’re doing fine, as well as can be.<br />
We have our health, our home, and our family.<br />
These are the things I am most thankful for.<br />
To hear you’re okay I’d be thankful even more.<br />
So roses may be red, but I’m the one who’s blue<br />
Simply because I haven’t heard from you.<br />
Take care of yourself. I hope you are fine.<br />
I’ll be waiting to hear from you in sweet time.<br />
35
Special<br />
Category:<br />
Analysis<br />
of Art<br />
In connection with a display of Steve Hodges’ paintings at the<br />
Ron E. Lewis Library, entries in this category focused on any one of<br />
those works. The winning essay analyzed Hodges’ painting Self Portrait.<br />
37
Winner<br />
The Gentleman<br />
Brett Heil<br />
The gentleman is portrayed as an abstract figure. His body and surroundings are sketched with<br />
distortion. The artist, Steve Hodges, develops this amiable gentleman on the canvas, but with distortion<br />
and colors of sadness. He appears to be dressed in casual attire, with a suit. A circular object is apparent<br />
on his left pant leg. From the waistline up, he is smeared diagonally to the right. A draft may be blowing<br />
through an open window, or a powerful force may have struck him. The gentleman and table with<br />
contents are sketched with sloppy marks and random colors. The colors pastel purple, yellow, tan, green,<br />
orange, red, and blue are plotted on the man and table. The man has enough color to be considered a<br />
rainbow. An orange X rests on the man’s head, as if he were a target. An assassination attempt may have<br />
commenced on this important gentleman. The wrinkles on his face may signify wisdom and age. The<br />
wordless word bubble could be a conversation he would have had if he weren’t assassinated. The man<br />
speaks, yet no words are articulated.<br />
It would sound like the whooshing of a mid spring’s breeze. Since the gentleman may have been shot,<br />
the sound of the gun going off could be heard. If the man were still alive, or before his death, a<br />
conversation or speech might have been heard. Being a gentleman, polite and complimentary words could<br />
have been spoken. The sound of surrounding people could be heard. They could be listening and<br />
watching while whispering to each other.<br />
The texture of the portrait is sculpted with smoothness and tiny ridges. I can feel the rush of wind or<br />
whatever force is escaping through the gentleman. The uneven table with note and glass feel like normal<br />
everyday objects. I would feel like a two dimensional figure in a poorly detailed portrait. I would feel<br />
like a misplaced cartoon in an abstract painting. I feel the gentleman’s neatly ironed suit of elegant silk.<br />
Touching the gentleman’s withered face would feel like a dried out rag. I touch his cold, bony hands and<br />
feel death’s presence.<br />
The rush of air smells like roses from a garden, freshly picked. I can smell his expensive cologne he<br />
recently doused himself in. His blue hair smells of Head and Shoulders. The gentleman’s breath smells of<br />
minty freshness as he speaks. The aroma of an office, with fresh paper, ink, and workers’ lounge, can be<br />
smelled. I smell recently brewed tea in the glass on the table. I can smell the death of the gentleman’s<br />
rotting corpse. I can smell blood as it seeps through the gentleman’s head.<br />
The taste of the portrait itself may not be so pleasant. Tasting paint doesn’t seem too healthy. Inside<br />
the picture, I can taste the fresh tea. With the fresh brew, it warmly fills my taste bud sensation. Steve<br />
Hodges’ application of random dark colors, abstract work and vague imagery create a mystery, with him<br />
knowing the only answer.<br />
38
Winners’ Biographies<br />
Alexa Humble is a coenrolled Little <strong>Cypress</strong>Mauriceville High School senior. She is the daughter of<br />
Pam Piper and Jim Humble.<br />
Andrea Haynes is a 2008 graduate of Buna High School majoring in medical transcription. She is the<br />
daughter of John K. Haynes and works at Fausto’s Fried Chicken.<br />
Ashley Bray is a 2008 graduate of Deweyville High School. She is majoring in education and plans to<br />
become a teacher. Her parents are Amy and Derrell Bray. Ashley is employed at <strong>Lamar</strong> <strong>State</strong> <strong>College</strong><br />
<strong>Orange</strong>.<br />
Ashley Daniel was a winner in several <strong>Cypress</strong> <strong>Branches</strong> categories in the past two years, including a<br />
grand prize for cover art. Her previous honors include second place for patriotic art in the <strong>Orange</strong> Ladies<br />
Auxiliary of VFW Post 2775 and first place in the Shorkey Center Art Contest. She also received a<br />
superior rating in the Sonatina Piano Festival. She was home schooled through high school. Ashley is the<br />
daughter of Wade and Ramona Daniel. She is majoring in business management.<br />
Barbara Ball is majoring in nursing. She is married to Tony and has three children: Kelsea, 15; Logan,<br />
13; and Courtney, 6.<br />
Brett Heil is a coenrolled Little <strong>Cypress</strong>Mauriceville High School student who enjoys playing soccer.<br />
Christopher Fields is a graduate of Little <strong>Cypress</strong>Mauriceville High School. He is majoring in<br />
psychology and plans a career in adolescent counseling. His previous awards include UIL solo ensemble.<br />
He was named best English student at LCM in 2004. His hobbies are Quiz Bowl, writing, gaming,<br />
reading and music. Chris is a member of the Human Rights Campaign and of Parents and Friends of<br />
Lesbians and Gays. He has competed in Piano Federation, Piano Guild, and won the Sonatina Festival’s<br />
TenYear Award. The son of Don and Lucy Fields, Chris works at Red Lobster.<br />
Derek Borel lives in <strong>Orange</strong>.<br />
Geneva Adams is a 1991 graduate of Nederland High School majoring in information technology<br />
support specialist. She has been on President’s List and is president of the LSCO chapter of the<br />
Association of Information Technology Professionals. Geneva is the daughter of Paulette Broussard and<br />
Tom and Debi Bagley. She is married to Steve Adams.<br />
Jessica Ferguson was graduated from Bridge City High School in 2008. An English major who plans a<br />
teaching career, Jessica enjoys singing. She is the daughter of Bobby and Regina Ferguson and works at<br />
Chase Bank.<br />
Kristen Clark is a coenrolled Little <strong>Cypress</strong>Mauriceville High School student.<br />
Kyle Thompson is majoring in general studies. He plans to teach history or become a<br />
counselor/psychologist. Kyle enjoys reading, writing, and playing the guitar. He is the son of Don and<br />
Toni Thompson and works at Spanky’s.<br />
39
Md Hasan graduated from high school in 2005. He is majoring in natural science and plans to become a<br />
chemical engineer. His hobbies are reading, playing soccer, and fishing. Md works at <strong>Lamar</strong> <strong>State</strong><br />
<strong>College</strong><strong>Orange</strong>.<br />
Rachel Suire is a communication major who plans a career in public relations.<br />
Scott Laudano lives in Call.<br />
Shanita Maceda, daughter of Moises and Shana Madeda, is a 2008 graduate of Bridge City High School<br />
who is majoring in radiology.<br />
Tyler Derouen is a coenrolled Little <strong>Cypress</strong>Mauriceville High School student. He is the son of Scott<br />
and Kellie Derouen.<br />
40
Faculty<br />
and<br />
Staff<br />
41
42<br />
<strong>Cypress</strong> Man<br />
Dr. Matt McClure – Faculty
Trust Again<br />
Pamela K. Hardin – Staff<br />
Listening to your words of trust lost and past<br />
Betrayals in your face, so much pain<br />
My heartbreaking eyes filling with tears falling like rain<br />
Watching you guard your heart with so much courage and care<br />
It is almost too much to bear<br />
I’m falling in love with you<br />
Look into my eyes and know I’m true<br />
Trust is only a breath away<br />
Breathe in; if you want me, I am here to stay<br />
I pray one day in your eyes I see<br />
The trust you lost found in me<br />
Copyright 2009 Pamela K. Hardin<br />
46
Dark Side of Love<br />
Pamela K. Hardin – Staff<br />
Love is a whirlwind caught up in laughter fantasies of hope<br />
breaking heart dying in the mist of dreams<br />
Love is scattered pictures sweet memories<br />
floating translucent haunting among the moon beams<br />
Love is your soul spiraling down the abyss<br />
desperately grasping for a lifesaving rope<br />
Love is hunger pain and desire intertwined<br />
twisted knotted vines in the throes of growth<br />
Copyright 2009 Pamela K. Hardin<br />
47
Kissing in the Rain<br />
Randy Ford – Faculty<br />
Under my shoulder’s wing she draws near.<br />
She cuddles kittenish cuddle to my side.<br />
Her sweet voice is like the running water at our feet.<br />
My heart sounds a salvo of unyielding love for her.<br />
As her body rises to meet mine and I kiss her lips<br />
The rain lightly flows down our trail of tears.<br />
It saturates her tendrils of honeyred hair.<br />
Slowly she looks up at me, closes her eyes and sighs.<br />
And we are forever kissing in the rain.<br />
48
TwoLane Terror<br />
Carolyn Mello – Faculty<br />
Old friend, I remember you! You used to be in one piece. What happened?<br />
You now have construction everywhere.<br />
The former two lanes in each direction with grass on both sides and through<br />
the middle, at least that’s how I’d like to remember you,<br />
are only a broken memory.<br />
Concrete walls lining both sides narrow as my speed increases.<br />
From Interstate 10 to the Corridor of Death—<br />
You have affected a name change, not official, yet still changed.<br />
Once a cyclone fence separated the east and west bound lanes,<br />
now just concrete.<br />
Whose decision was it to tear up the entire roadway between <strong>Orange</strong><br />
and Beaumont at the same time?<br />
As travelers cross the Sabine driving west, heed the sign,<br />
“Construction next 879 miles to El Paso.”<br />
I used to drive to Beaumont just to amuse myself, not now. I dread each trip<br />
and every mile marker. Warnings line the corridor, scrapes and gouges in<br />
the concrete barriers serve as sentinels, warnings posted by other drivers:<br />
Pay attention!<br />
Slow down!<br />
Stay alert!<br />
Remember the two second rule? Make that ten!<br />
Still, we ignore the messages. I see the electronic sign, posting illegal MPH,<br />
78 in the 50, 85, even worse.<br />
I hope to live to see the day when my Interstate is safe to drive again.<br />
The big brotherinlaw curve in Vidor, the hard left turn where the trucks<br />
roll over. The road would have bypassed the engineer’s brotherinlaw’s<br />
service station had the road been straighter.<br />
Ladies, and gentlemen, start your engines—<br />
The race is just beginning.<br />
No one asked for our opinion. Perspective is what we need.<br />
Ask yourself who will out wit, out play, out last, and out drive—<br />
the Interstate or me?<br />
49
Lament<br />
Carolyn Mello – Faculty<br />
Is this what he thought?<br />
Nothing to live for<br />
angels a callin’<br />
I don’t worry about what I don’t know.<br />
I don’t know ‘bout anybody else, but I want to die.<br />
I love control.<br />
Like jumping in a river…fast forward outta control<br />
no rewind,<br />
no undo,<br />
and no miles to go before I sleep.<br />
Rain on a sunny day, sudden darkness, silence in my mind…breakin’ me.<br />
I’m saying’goodbye.<br />
I have no sure sunrise, no more lonely boy bummin’ around.<br />
Soon it will end.<br />
I’ll just get numb.<br />
Somehow…<br />
Hate the stuff I put off:<br />
It’s got me spinnin’.<br />
Reflections…one day bottom just dropped out.<br />
Guess I lost at the game of life.<br />
Rescue me before I fall.<br />
SOS to the world<br />
Made myself a solemn…promi…<br />
No more tryin’ to prove I won.<br />
No thrill to be gone.<br />
Head cradled in my hand,<br />
I have no choice.<br />
Sayin’ goodbye and nobody’s worryin’ ‘bout me ‘cause<br />
I always disagree…<br />
Ain’t life a mystery?<br />
Makin’ up my mind while I’m in the mood.<br />
Just send a revelation.<br />
I’ve got my wisdom together.<br />
Ready to die.<br />
I shoulda done whole lotta livin’ while doin’ nothin’.<br />
As the world spins,<br />
I fall one step behind.<br />
No suction cups to hold me to the earth this time.<br />
50
It’s too late to learn how to pray.<br />
Nothing will ever move me…<br />
Just livin’ to die.<br />
I got the blues and nothin’ to carry me through.<br />
No more mask to hide the pain, the fear. Anything.<br />
Nothing to do and nothing to occupy me.<br />
Pills and cocaine…<br />
My heart is screwed with emotions.<br />
Now I’m walkin’ with both feet on the ground,<br />
rememberin’…I’m my momma’s only son.<br />
No longer runnin’ from what I used to be,<br />
Now I’m runnin’ out on a second chance.<br />
Needed to find a life to suit ME,<br />
I think I’ve paid my dues.<br />
The still movement in the middle of a storm,<br />
God made his plan; it wasn’t my day says my resonating mind.<br />
Deeper meanings with reasons for living.<br />
Did I win a single battle but not the war?<br />
No longer defeated, no more hand in head.<br />
All those dark thoughts in my head.<br />
I wanted to be someone’s one and only…<br />
Nobody was never gonna find someone like me<br />
or at least I kept tellin’ myself,<br />
Kept remindin’ myself.<br />
At that time I thought, I’m gonna get a good break…<br />
Never did find love.<br />
Good Gawd Almighty!<br />
Here’s what I thought:<br />
Son, you’re drivin’ me crazy.<br />
You’re like gum on the bottom of my shoe on a hot July day…<br />
annoying me in so many ways.<br />
The words aren’t hard to find, and I’m going to tell you anyway.<br />
Outcome:<br />
50 Amatriptaline. He lived.<br />
He didn’t die, except for a small piece inside…<br />
for this I don’t know why.<br />
51
French Fudge<br />
Carolyn Mello – Faculty<br />
1 can sweetened condensed milk,<br />
One bag semisweet chocolate chips, 12 ounces<br />
1 tablespoon vanilla<br />
Pour everything into a glass bowl. Warm in microwave one minute; stir; place in plastic lined bowl.<br />
Chill to room temperature. Cut and eat.<br />
Candy<br />
candy<br />
candy<br />
candy<br />
candy<br />
candy<br />
candy<br />
candy<br />
candy<br />
candy<br />
candy<br />
candy<br />
candy<br />
pepto<br />
52
Love is Like Milk<br />
Carolyn Mello – Faculty<br />
Milk does a body good, so does love.<br />
Milk comes with an expiration date printed right on the carton.<br />
Milk is drinkable on the expiration date,<br />
even a couple of days later all is good.<br />
Ever taste spoiled milk?<br />
Tastes just like spoiled love, makes ya spew, spit, and curse.<br />
53
54<br />
Butterfly: Brittney<br />
Bonnie Dorman – Faculty
Freestyle: Alex<br />
Bonnie Dorman – Faculty<br />
55
56<br />
Up Close and Eye to Eye<br />
Joan Stinehart – Faculty
Drying off After a Trip to the River<br />
Joan Stinehart – Faculty<br />
57
58<br />
Moraine Lake in the Canadian Rockies<br />
Joan Stinehart – Faculty
Grazing in the Lazy Days of Summer<br />
Joan Stinehart – Faculty<br />
59
60<br />
Born to be Wild and Free<br />
Joan Stinehart – Faculty
Tracking Across the Tundra<br />
Joan Stinehart – Faculty<br />
61
62<br />
Wildlife’s Precious Young Ones<br />
Joan Stinehart – Faculty
Yellow Songbird<br />
Hummingbird<br />
The Colorful Beauty of Birds<br />
Joan Stinehart – Faculty<br />
63
A Bird and a Bear<br />
Joan Stinehart – Faculty<br />
This is my story. It is about a great awakening in my inner soul, how I rediscovered myself and<br />
my youthful passion in what I was meant to be before the human world set in and told me what I was<br />
supposed to be. Life is a wonderful journey, full of new forks in the road along the way. The changes in<br />
course can be the best things if you stop, listen, and learn.<br />
I was born a child of the city who longed for the lakes and the woods. I was raised in Los Angeles.<br />
My parents had a summer home at Lake Arrowhead in the Sierra Madre Mountains of Southern<br />
California. It was my personal paradise. I loved adventure and wildlife. I loved to roam in the forest. I<br />
loved to swim in the lake. At the age of ten, I got my own little puttputt boat. I drove it all over the lake. I<br />
knew every inch of the shore. I loved to explore it with my friends. Most of the time, my parents didn’t<br />
know where I was. I would come home at the end of the day.<br />
As a young child, I was always fascinated with animals and the wilderness. I loved the beauty of<br />
the mountains. I loved to climb trees. I was much too active for the classroom. I would get bored, and my<br />
mind would wander in the world of make believe. I drew pictures instead of listening to my teachers. I<br />
had a vivid imagination. I loved sports. I loved the world of Disneyland and all the cartoon characters. My<br />
heroes were Davy Crockett, “King of the Wild Frontier” and “Tarzan of the Jungle.” My favorite toy was<br />
a Davy Crockett outfit complete with a coonskin hat, musket, and gunpowder pouch. My favorite<br />
movies were Old Yeller and High Noon.<br />
My best adventure was a trip to Yellowstone National Park with my family. I was only four years old. We<br />
were driving through the park in a station wagon. It was early in the morning. We were having breakfast<br />
in the car. In the back seat of the station wagon, my brother and I were eating cereal. I was eating out of a<br />
green plastic bowl with a yellow picture of three baby bears. Then a black bear pushed her cubs out onto<br />
the road to stop traffic and beg for food. In those days, you were allowed to feed the bears. We stopped.<br />
My father was in the front passenger’s seat. He rolled down the window to get some pictures.<br />
Something happened to his camera, and he bent forward to fix it. The mother bear came up to the car and<br />
put her paw through the open window, towards the back of my father’s head. My brother and I were<br />
jumping up and down in the back seat yelling at our dad. He was concentrating on his camera and ignored<br />
us. Mom was in the driver’s seat. She looked over and saw the bear. Then she saved the day by throwing<br />
a sweet roll out the other window. The bear removed her paw and went around the front of the car to<br />
retrieve her prize. I will always cherish the thrill and excitement of that special day.<br />
Then I grew up, went to college, and started my business career. I left the mountains and the lakes<br />
behind me. Before I knew it, I had two master’s degrees in business and accounting. I had twentyfive<br />
years of experience, climbing the corporate ladder and breaking the glass ceiling. I had recently gone<br />
back to college to study art and photography, just for fun. Then I had changed careers from a corporate<br />
financial officer in Southern California to a college professor in Southeast Texas so that my summers<br />
would be free.<br />
Then two significant things happened that opened new doors. I would become what I never<br />
imagined that I could be. My inspiration would come not from humans, but from two wild animals. The<br />
first was an encounter with a grizzly bear in Yellowstone National Park in June 1997. The second was an<br />
encounter with a Great White Heron in the Everglades of Southern Florida. It was during the last few days<br />
of the millennium, December 1999.<br />
64
The Grizzly Bear<br />
Joan Stinehart – Faculty<br />
It was my first summer as a professor. I could do anything that I pleased. I opted for a great<br />
adventure. It would be a fulfillment of my childhood dreams. I would go to Alaska, the heart of the<br />
remaining wilderness, the last frontier. I would travel by myself in a minimotor home with my camera<br />
and two cats by my side. I would visit the national parks in North America and Canada as I made my way<br />
northwest and back. The trip took three months and covered over 10,000 miles. I took the inside waterway<br />
up through Alaska on ferry boats. I camped out on the various islands. I took in all the beautiful scenery<br />
and photographed wildlife and wilderness.<br />
On the first leg, I drove north into the Colorado Rockies and then west to the Grand Tetons and<br />
Yellowstone National Park. At first, the trip was a bit intimidating. I was all alone, traveling through<br />
high mountains and wilderness areas. There were closed roads and snow still on the ground. I had no cell<br />
phone or way to communicate on the open highways.<br />
Three weeks into the trip, I reached Yellowstone National Park, the land of my childhood dreams.<br />
I took wonderful pictures of the Grand Tetons, Old Faithful and the wildlife—everything, that is, except<br />
the bears. Park authorities had decided the bears were too dangerous, and feeding them was prohibited..<br />
The park rangers closely monitored any bears that ventured near the roads. They controlled the crowds<br />
who stopped their cars. There were no more begging bears stopping traffic with their cubs. I had returned<br />
to the land of my childhood and found the best part gone. I reflected on life’s realities: You can never go<br />
back again.<br />
Then, on the last day in the park, I got much more than I had bargained for. It was approaching 9<br />
p.m. but still daylight that far north. Most visitors had returned to their campsites or hotels. Few were still<br />
driving on the narrow park roads. Then, all of a sudden, I saw a car stopped in front of me. Looking out of<br />
my window, I saw a grizzly bear in the woods. The bear was traveling quickly and seemed nervous. You<br />
could feel the fear in the air.<br />
I grabbed my camera to get a good shot. The bear was moving too quickly for me to take a picture<br />
from the window. I had a decision to make. Would I stay in my van and be left with only a tale to tell, or<br />
would I risk my life to get that picture? I got out of the van and took some quick shots. Then I looked up<br />
and saw why the grizzly was so nervous. She had two small, precious cubs at her side. The three bears<br />
stopped and stared at me, and I looked back at them. The young cubs had white stars on their chests. The<br />
mother was protecting them from dangers on the road. I instantly fell in love with the cubs. All fear<br />
vanished.. I wanted to protect them too.<br />
I started to take their picture. Then I saw the mother coming right at me. I quickly got my shot and<br />
retreated into the car. The grizzly was only seconds away. She let me live. She only wanted to get her<br />
cubs safely across the road. As I stood in the road, I had showed her a safe way to cross, and she took it.<br />
All I needed to do was get out of the way.<br />
I had faced my fear and trusted my instincts. I had communicated with body language. I meant the<br />
bears no harm. They were just like the pets that I love. I have always had a way with animals. Now, I too<br />
was wild and free, at home in the wilderness. It was the place where I was meant to be.<br />
65
66<br />
The Grizzly Bear
The Great White Heron<br />
On my winter break in 1999, my plan was to visit and photograph the beauty and wildlife in the<br />
Florida Everglades when the mosquitoes are few and the birds are plentiful. I chose an RV resort<br />
overlooking an open bay dotted with small islands, full of mangrove trees and birds.<br />
Most resort guests had either fishing or speed boats. I had an inflatable canoe to paddle around.<br />
During restful evening hours, sitting outside a snack shop, I met a special bird. He was the Great White<br />
Heron, whom I named Charlie. According to bird books, the male heron is very territorial. He establishes<br />
and defends his own turf. Uniquely, the Great White Heron is found only in Southern Florida, unlike the<br />
Blue Heron which is common throughout the land.<br />
Charlie was obviously a male because he patrolled the marina dock will all the due diligence of a<br />
security guard. He walked in longlegged, pigeontoed fashion on top of, around, and underneath the<br />
dock. Like clockwork, Charlie strolled along the shoreline under the dock in front of the snack shop as I<br />
ate. He checked out and took birdnaps on the docked boats, moving reluctantly when humans got in his<br />
way. After the first day, I brought my camera to photograph his daily routine.<br />
Next to the snack shop was a boat ramp area with a counter and sink to clean fish. One afternoon, I<br />
found Charlie standing in the shallow waters. He stood between a halfdozen pelicans and fishermen who<br />
were cleaning their catch for the day. Charlie was determined to keep those pelicans at bay. He wouldn’t<br />
let them near the sink/counter area. Those fish scraps were his! This was his turf. I loved observing<br />
Charlie and his tactics.<br />
Then it dawned on me. My wildlife photography should be more than just taking pictures. Just like<br />
humans, every animal has a story to tell. Charlie changed my perspective on what I could be. I would no<br />
longer be just a photographer and wildlife artist. I could become writer and storybook teller. I would go<br />
back to the North American wilderness. Only this time, I would take more time to observe individual<br />
animals. I would find stories that the animals had to tell.<br />
67
68<br />
Great White Heron
Epilogue<br />
Nine years later, I am about to retire. I have written accounting textbooks and a photosafari book<br />
of my African adventures. Now I want to devote full time to being a wildlife artist, writer and<br />
photographer. I came full circle in my journey through life, back to my childhood dreams.<br />
As a youth, I was taught that life’s journey was a straight line with given goals and common<br />
interests. You grew up, went to college, met a mate who could make a good living, got married, had<br />
children, and grew old together. It was a man’s world. A woman’s place was by his side. However, things<br />
didn’t turn out that way. Deep inside, that was never what I wanted.<br />
As a child, those were not my dreams. I wanted a world full of adventure and independence. I<br />
wanted to be wild and free. I loved the great outdoors and craved a little danger. I loved animals more<br />
than people. I loved to draw. I loved to daydream and play make believe.<br />
In the end, I got all my wishes. I learned that life can be a wonderful journey of new discoveries,<br />
love, learning and growth. The secret to happiness is to become what God meant you to be. It is to search<br />
and find your own uniqueness, your talents and your strengths. To live life to its fullest means to never<br />
grow old, only wiser.<br />
69
70<br />
Dreamcatcher<br />
Bobbi Miller – Faculty
Judges<br />
TwoDimensional Art<br />
Dr. Matt McClure, LSCO professor of biology, whose cartoons have been published in tropical fish<br />
magazines<br />
ThreeDimensional Art<br />
Joan Stinehart, LSCO assistant professor of accounting and an artist/photographer<br />
Photography<br />
Carol Abshire, LSCO laboratory technician III and a photographer<br />
Poetry<br />
Carolyn Mello, LSCO instructor of English<br />
Prose<br />
Kathryn Rector, LSCO instructor of speech<br />
Special category: Analysis of art<br />
Steve Hodges, retired <strong>Lamar</strong> University professor of art<br />
Proofreaders<br />
Christopher Fields, winner of Little <strong>Cypress</strong>Mauriceville High School’s 2004 “Best English Student”<br />
award;<br />
and Ashley Bray and Adam Granger, English 1302 students.<br />
“Although not all entries can be published, LSCO appreciates the many contributions of talented<br />
students, faculty and staff. Without your literary and artistic work, this journal would not be possible.<br />
Thanks also to Bobbie Burgess, vice president for student services and auxiliary enterprises; Dr. Sheila<br />
Joyner, vice president for instruction; Carla Dando, dean of instruction; and Mike McNair, chair of the<br />
arts and sciences division, For supporting <strong>Cypress</strong> <strong>Branches</strong>.<br />
Dr. Arlene Turkel, Faculty Coordinator<br />
<strong>Lamar</strong> <strong>State</strong> <strong>College</strong><strong>Orange</strong>, a member of the<br />
Texas <strong>State</strong> University System and an equal opportunity<br />
affirmative action educational institution and employer.<br />
71