The Joys of Winter

*Author's Note: A got my inspiration for this piece from a journal entry, but my ideas wandered, and I made this.

Winter. A season of cold; bitter winds, short yet eternal days, never ending nights, and ceaseless snowfall. Many find winter a time of misery, but in the cold, in the bitter winds, in the short yet eternal days, in the never-ending nights, and in the ceaseless snowfall, I find joy and pleasure.

Snow is a phenomenon greater than the stars themselves. It glistens in sunlight and moonlight. It falls like rain from the clouds; but floats softly and silently down, as if unaffected by gravity. Lighter than a feather, collecting into a magical cover on top of the ground, the rooftops, and the world.

Ice is a bridge to another perspective. It provides us with the enjoyment of seeing things we would never be able to if it didn't overcome the warm waters of the ponds, lakes, and rivers. It provides a way for everything from winter games of broomball to the Winter Olympics to commence, and skating rinks to open. It keeps our Earth from flooding over in the polar ice caps, and opened a new frontier for eager explorers of old and new.

Wind takes what is old and makes it new. It creates snowdrifts out of the covered earth, and ever so perfectly makes the inanimate look alive. It rearranges the ordinary into something we don't recognize, and gives us something to look at everyday.

Cold nights are ever moving in the stillness of the world. They are times when we lay in bed, watching the silhouettes of snowfall down, down below our vision, and into what we cannot see. They are times when family is home to stay out of the weather, and we all enjoy being together as we avoid the cold.

The New Year is a time of new beginnings. A time to forget our past, and look towards our future. It's a time of patience, yet out bursting excitement and the uncontainable satisfaction of completing another year on this planet; one rotation around the sun of many to come. At the same time, it's a time to reflect on the past year, and remember all of our good days, and learn from the bad.

Christmas is a time when the Earth rejoices. A time to celebrate the birth of Christ, and spend time with family, and to give. It gives us all a chance to be generous, in accordance with receiving the greatest gift of all from God the Father: His own Son, Jesus, and eternal salvation through Jesus' death on the cross and his resurrection.

Should there be a flat tax-rate?

*Author's Note: This is a persuasive essay I wrote regarding the implementation of a flat tax rate. Here, I justify the flat tax rate, while still giving the other side.

There should be a flat tax rate implemented into the US government. This would allow for equal taxation across the board, and would be a more efficient system compared to the current complicated and multi-layered taxation methods in use. It would make calculating the taxes due a simple computation for the IRS, and an easy and straightforward process for the taxpayers. A flat tax-rate would also be beneficial to those who own small businesses, so they can easily file their taxes without it interfering with the other tasks of running a company. In addition, it would be a much more fair way to tax the population, but by still being reasonable. For example, if someone made $10,000 dollars a year and another person made $100,000 dollars a year, with a flat tax rate, they would both be paying the same percentage of their income to the IRS, although the person who made more would still be paying a higher amount. This then would eliminate taxpayer discrimination.

Another might argue that a flat tax rate would be unfair because the poor would have to pay taxes, but in reality, the current taxation system is unfair. It is estimated that half of the population does not pay taxes, so the people who do with the current system half to make up for the gap. If a flat tax rate were then to be implemented, it would make sure that everyone would be paying their taxes, and make the burden easier on everyone. Not to mention that this could also eliminate complicated tax deductions, which would result in the extremely wealthy paying more (with the flat tax rate) in taxes than they do now.Yet still, another might argue that the implementation of a flat tax rate would cause many IRS agents to lose their jobs. I do respect this matter, and take it seriously, but with the tax burdens lifted from the business owners, this would allow for them to employ more workers, and soon, the IRS agents without jobs would soon be back to work.

In conclusion, the flat tax system would appeal to many people across many demographics. The wealthy will no longer feel that they are being targeted unfairly, and the poor will see equal treatment and opportunity to contribute to the federal government. The flat tax may have an unexpected benefit of helping to lessen the massive socio-economic divide which has worsened in the past few years. But it's up to us to decide how we pay our taxes from now own. So the next time you file your taxes, don't do them as you always do. Think about the way you're paying them.

The Green Hell

*Author's Note: This is a revised version of my initial writing piece. This describes the time I visited the Nurburgring in Nurburg, Germany, and all that happened when there. It's written chronologically, and in a first person narrative point of view.

A cool breeze pushes through the Eifel Mountains. The solitary and strong Nurburg Castle sits high above the rest of the landscape on a lofty hill, with little shops, homes, and the rest of town sitting below, looking up at the impenetrable fortress. The scene is beautiful. Everything thing about it. But as you look at the grandeur of the German forest, suddenly you hear a loud rumbling, a roar, and you turn around. An MG races past, and then a VW Polo with sponsors spread across the doors. The ground shakes, and just when you thought you've seen it all, you see a Porsche Cayenne S with a sticker on the side reading: AVIS Prestige, being driven by a man in a Porsche Cap, with his wife, and 3 kids. If you're wondering what this has to do with the Eifel Mountains, a Medieval Castle on a big hill, and a small town in the surrounding valley below, well then, let me say, welcome to the Nurburgring. And if you're also wondering what this has to do with me as the writer, I am the 10 year old sitting in the back left seat of the Cayenne I told you about, smiling while my dad is driving the ring at 200 kph.

I can still vividly remember that day, as the massive pines looked like a painter's strokes moving at a million miles an hour, the black asphalt of the track covered in graffiti flying past before I ever even saw it, and my heart pounding faster than a Hasenpfeffer. The sensation was amazing, the blurred sights rolling by, the smell of burning rubber and petrol in the air, and the feeling of centripetal force whenever we would turn.

The car raced toward the Carousel. We reached the turn, and my dad dove into 'the bowl', the lower half of the banking in the corner. Our car was now at a 45º Angle, and moving at 130 kmh. As I looked out my window, all I could see was concrete, the molded alligator teeth of the curbing looking only like a jagged line. Certainly my many hours of playing racing games had payed off to prepare me for this very moment.

From the Carousel, we came to the main straightway. My dad shifted into 6th, and the car sprinted down the track. We flew down the road, and our surroundings began to blur. But as soon as all the excitement came, it came to an end, as we pulled into the parking lot.

It began to rain. The once blue, cloudless skies we're now cloudy, grey, and dark. We stationed our car, and we checked the tires to see how they looked. Grooves were etched perpendicular to the treads, something not seen on a normal rental car. In the rain, the brakes sizzled, and the engine emitted heat like a furnace. The car had definitely been working throughout the drive.

I now had a slight inkling of why Jackie Stewart called this place 'Der Grunne Holle'. Literally meaning ‘The Green Hell’, it’s nickname was a perfect description of what it is. Every year, 3-12 people die running the course, despite the beauty of the landscape in the background. The whole idea of the course was misleading.

Soon after, we left the Ring, Nurburg, and the Eifel Mountains. I began to think. We were heading back to Stuttgart now, and the rain began to let up. The sun shone, but I didn't see it. For there was only one thing in my head:

I had survived the Green Hell.

Stream of Consciousness

Character: Kyle Hilderbrand

I walk in to see a whole bunch of middle schoolers tapping away at computers. We don’t have computers down in Goshen, I think to myself, and we’re high-schoolers. Hanging from the ceiling I see several paintings, most of which look like they were painted with something other than paint. I also see a net hanging, with several fish and turtles and other thing hanging off the net. Strange.

It took me a while to find the teacher. He was sitting behind a podium typing away as well. He reminds me of Mr. G back at Goshen; just for some reason that I can’t place my finger on. The only difference between him and the rest of his students was the computer he was typing on, and the fact that he was much older than the rest of the people in the room. But it was almost like no one noticed me, like I wasn’t there.

The teacher called time up, and they all finally saw me, and I feel awkward. I think I was better off when no one paid attention to anything around them. I gulp. As the teacher talks, apparently to me, I don’t hear him, and I start to walk away. I walk out the room.

Patriot's Pen Essay

Topic: What does Patriotism mean to you?

Patriotism. It’s why we launch fireworks every 4th of July. It’s why we fly our red, white, and blue flag high above our homes, and our schools, and it’s why we Americans are who we are. It’s why we serve our nation overseas, protecting the ones we love. It’s why we are proud to be Americans. But as much as the superficial, fun things like fireworks on the 4th of July are great, real patriotism is about a deep love for your country. A deep love, and a commitment for serving your home.

John F. Kennedy once said: “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.” This is so important for us as Americans, so that we can support our nation, even in the simplest ways.

We could do this on any scale. You could go on a mission to a place devastated by a natural disaster and help in the clean up, or you could just donate to the Red Cross to send aid to the area. You could volunteer at a 4th of July Parade, or simply attend one to show that you appreciate your country. You could volunteer at a soup kitchen, or donate to help one. But being a patriot could just be as simple as putting up a flag at your house; as long as you show your love for your country. But no matter how grand your deeds are, you can still be a Patriot. This is what Patriotism means to me.

Matthew Trotier

DIE GRÜNE HÖLLE

A cool breeze pushes through the Eiffel Mountains. The solitary, and strong Nurburg Castle sits high above the rest of the landscape on a lofty hill, with little shops and the rest of town sitting below, looking up at the  impenetrable fortress. The scene is beautiful. Everything. But as you look at the grandeur of the German forest, suddenly you hear a loud rumbling, a roar, and you turn around, to see an old MG racing past, then a VW Polo Hot Hatch with numerous sponsors all over the doors, and just when you thought you've seen it all, you spy a Porsche Cayenne S with a sticker on the side reading: AVIS Prestige, being driven by a man in a Porsche Cap (naturally), with his wife, and 3 kids. If you're wondering what this has to do with the Eiffel Mountains, a Medieval Castle on a big hill, and a small town in the surrounding valley below, well then, let me say, welcome to the Nurburgring. And if you're also wondering what this has to do with me as the writer, I am the 10 year old sitting in the back left seat of the Cayenne I told you about, smiling while my dad is driving the ring at 200 kph.

I can still vividly remember that day, as the massive pines looked like a painter's strokes moving at a million miles an hour, the black asphalt of the track covered in graffiti flying past before I ever even saw it, and my heart pounding faster than a Hasenpfeffer. The sensation was amazing, the blurred sights rolling by, the smell of burning rubber and petrol in the air, and the feeling of centripetal force whenever we would turn.

As if there was not enough excitement already, the car raced toward the Carousel. We reached the turn, and my dad dove into 'the bowl', the lower half of the banking in the corner. Our car was now at a 45º Angle, and moving at 130 kmh. As I looked out my window, all I could see was concrete, the molded alligator teeth of the curbing looking only like a jagged line. Certainly my many hours of playing Gran Turismo had payed off to prepare me for this very moment.

Many corners later, we came to the main straightway. My dad shifted into 6th, and and the car sprinted down the track. We were flying. And flying fast. But as soon as all the excitement came, it came to an end, as we pulled into the parking lot.

It began to rain. The once blue, cloudless skies we're now cloudy, grey, and dark. We stationed our car, and we checked the tires to see how they looked. Grooves were etched perpendicular to the treads, something not seen on a normal rental car. In the rain, the brakes sizzled, and the engine emitted heat like a furnace. The car had definitely been working throughout the drive.

But as we left that day, heading back to Stuttgart, there was one thing in my head;
I had survived the Green Hell.

My dog. In space.

I was bored last summer, and was looking for something to do. So I made this.