One Book, One Bettendorf

I believe in family. We were all born into a family-of-origin, and mine is a great asset. A brother drove 8 hours to help me move into an apartment, then drove back home the same day-another 8 hour drive. My sister worked a full overnight shift as a nurse before driving 500 miles to attend my son’s funeral. They have expressed their love in concrete ways.

Many of us married and co-created a family. I’ve been fortunate in that my children have the same, ingrained sense of family and respond quickly and graciously to the needs of their siblings. I love both these families; however these relationships were inherited/provided, not selected.

I have, over the years, grown into other “families”. In this new circle are close friends, working relationships, people who listen to me-hear my triumphs and troubles, and who still manage to love me.

I have marvelous people in my chosen family. There are several who have been in this circle for more than 30 years. The relationships have endured in spite of trauma and drama, of divorce and death, of moves in and out of state, even a second marriage.

These families are often our closest relationships. Families of origin are often scattered over wide geographical areas. Life and experiences have changed me. I may no longer belong to the same religious sect as my siblings or my children. We may have opposing political beliefs. Our biases may not run along the same lines. We are family by blood, not by choice.

When I chose my friends, or they chose me, it was because we shared an interest, held a common belief, enjoyed each other’s company. These loved ones have been first on the scene when our family suffered the losses of two children. They encourage me though the trauma of divorce and prodded me to become a stronger woman. They have been not only my friends, but my mentors, too.

My friend, Phyllis, may call to ask if I’m going to Writer’s Group. AnnaMae invites me to lunch. Dolores is excited about a volunteer experience – doing clean-up work in Mississippi.  Dale’s email sounds lonely and I’m grateful she feels comfortable in asking me for help. Lolita offers to locate an address so I can contact Mike. These are all small items, not huge efforts, but they makeup my normal world. We need each other, trust one another, know that hugs (verbal or physical) are there when we need them. When someone says “It was a zoo when the kids were all home for the holidays”, we understand and accept. We are family.

Some of my family of friends has grown out of professional relationships. A few are extensions of my husband’s working peers. More are part of a natural progression – friends of friends with like-minds and/or interests. The glory of this Family is that I need not choose by age, race, religion or politics. We can agree on some strong beliefs and disagree on others. And it’s still all in the family.

Jo Doofe

I believe in bridges and in the imagination they represent. I’ve been a resident of Davenport, Iowa for a quarter century, a period that has seen changes good and bad in the world and my community. What has not changed is the need for our citizens to have vision and the strength of character to share their vision to improve the quality of community life.

When we moved into Davenport at the economic tipping point of the early 1980s, we bought our house for an asking price it would not again be worth for nearly a decade. The year following our arrival, the local farm implement industries suffered cut backs or closures sending them into a tail spin which drove down the value of real estate as surely as it drove many people’s perceived value of community enthusiasm and pride of place. When we took our kids on a downtown drive through during our first Christmas season here, all we saw were near empty streets with many empty buildings. The atmosphere was grey, unbrightened by lights, signs or banners.

Then a local civic activist came up with the idea of lighting the Centennial Bridge. She asked each of us for a buck to get the job done. At the time a number of people poo-pooed the idea. “What a waste of time and energy,” some claimed. “Who needs lighted bridges when the lights are going out all over town from people losing their jobs,” others declared. I recall that the original funding-raising target was not met, but enough was raised to crown each arch of the bridge with sufficient lights to outline the most graceful bridge in the Quad Cities and visually link Davenport and Rock Island.

The work of a few provided for the visual enjoyment of the many and in my mind started the community movement out of a local mental recession. I’ve never missed the buck we tossed in at an event in LeClaire Park years ago, and the interest it has paid far exceeds that I would have gotten from any local bank.

More recently, another bridge stands out symbolically for me. Davenport downtown revitalization has taken the form of new hotels, museums, galleries, and more. The suggestion to build a River Drive overpass to safely connect the downtown to the riverfront resulted in a structure that has been called “A boondoggle. A waste of money” and/or “The bridge to no where…” Whenever I’m anywhere near the Sky Bridge, day or night, I cannot help but smile. I see a structure that is fun to look at, to be in, to cross over. I see a literal as well as figurative reflection in that bridge of Quad City people with vision and the desire to make a visual statement to all who drive or walk through town that imagination is not in short supply here.

I believe in bridges and the imagination needed to conceive of them and what they can join together.

Michael Hustedde

As I sat on my couch, swollen feet propped up on a pillow and bowl of fruit resting on my oversized stomach, it hit me…I am about to become a mother! What was I thinking? I couldn’t do this! What if they get sick? What if they don’t like me? What if they ask where babies come from? What would I do? This fear stayed with me for the next two weeks as I prepared for the birth of my first child. Then it happened…”The baby’s too large, we’re going to induce you.” No turning back…it was time!

As the Pitocin dripped into my IV and I began the process of childbirth, I thought about my fears. I thought about the way my life was about to change and the responsibility I was about to take on. I agonized about it for the next 7 hours. This child did not choose me, but they are stuck with me. What if I let them down? Two hours passed and we realized my child was stuck. I was going to have to be strong and give it everything I had. My fears about changing diapers and knowing when to start solid foods disappeared. My only thoughts were on bringing this child safely into the world. Was I really strong enough to complete the task ahead?

“AAAAAAH!” My baby’s first cry…it was a terrifying sound that melted my heart. I had done it! As they put my son into my arms, my fears were replaced with an overwhelming love. I was a mother! As soon as my hand touched his face, he stopped crying…we locked eyes and it was love at first sight. It was a moment filled with exhaustion, pride and happiness…all rolled into one 9 pound 4 ounce, adorable little package.

So often we underestimate ourselves and our strength. I believe that we doubt ourselves too quickly, when all we need to do is look into the eyes of children. The truth is there for us to see. The truth that we are everything we never thought we could be. To them we are heroes. We are strong and brave and can fix anything. I believe we become better people when we become parents. I believe that any bad day can be fixed by hearing the belly laugh of a young child. I believe there is no greater gift than a hug and, “I love you,” from a child. I believe that no superhero power can top the ability to bring a child into the world. Most of all, I believe that the beautiful baby boy that I was so scared of is the greatest thing I have ever done. He is the very best part of me…and then some!

Belinda Scrogham

I believe that every person that you come in contact with in your lifetime will change you in some way or another.  My father, Tim, died at the age of forty on an ironically beautiful summer day.  That was the day in my life when I was forced to grow up.  My relationship with my father was not the best while he was still around.  We would get along at times and there were times when I just could not stand him.  What I remember most about his was his drinking.  At times he would just get carried away and would not have a clue what he was doing.  It was almost like he was a completely different person.

Since my father was not always comforting and present the way a father should be, he has impacted me a lot.  He was not there for me the times I needed him themost, and from that I learned to be strong and independent.  I now accept people for who they are and do not judge other because everyone has a story.  I have learned to accept criticism.  He taught me to remain strong and not to give in to obstacles.  His memory brings to life not only the sadness, but the hope of rising above.  I love my dad and even though our relationship was not the typical father-daughter experience, he made me wise and determined to follow through with my aspirations.  Also, he has taught me to work hard to achieve the things I want in life and not to let anyone stand in the way of my dreams.

The things he would say to me while he was under the influence are etched into my mind forever.  Even though they are not the best memories of my lifetime they have changed me and made me the person who I am today.  I believe in the impact of relationships lasting forever even when the physical and emotional ties have been diminished.

Brittany Conklin

I believe in religion.  Religion is a part of the backbone of any society that exists now or has existed.  With religion people are able to worship in whatever they believe and hopefully find a peace of mind when they are worshipping.  Finding that peace of mind can be hard at times but I know anyone can achieve it.

With most religions they talk about peace and salvation.  I know from first-hand experience that religion instills a peaceful atmosphere of tranquility to worship God.  I’m a Catholic, which I know just mentioning to some people can bring up much controversy.  But most of their arguments are from so long ago that I ignore them completely saying, “they didn’t happen in anyone’s life so just drop it”, and so we continue on in our conversation.  In this time the Catholic religion is very peaceful and works hard to maintain that state and tries to better the world through many different programs.

In this serene place a person is able to reflect on their past and pray for the past and the future to come.  Also at a place of worship we are able to meet with others with similar ideals of religion and converse with them about each other’s philosophies.  Oftentimes the pastor of my church is asked questions that people can learn from.  Oftentimes also his homilies contain useful information to better ourselves in our lives.  My mom is really religious so if I don’t understand anything I ask her and she gives me a long lecture about the topic and I learn quite a bit more opening questions to be answered.  This to me helps promote the peace in people’s minds making the people a lot more peaceful and the world better.

Without religion in this world people would be misguided and countless chaos would be started because of it.  People’s egos would tell them that they would want to control the hole in a person’s life if there were no religions.  People would attempt to become religious figures and be worshipped which would anger God.  Unfortunately, it has been done many times throughout history where the government rules takes control of religion such as the Persian Empire where the emperor was worshiped or in the times of Great Britain when the king was head of the church.  I personally would never accept that as my religion and would protest against anything that was like that.

The religions in this world promote peace through many different ways.  With those religions people can find peace in one of them.  There is a religion for everyone so no one can say, “I don’t belong to any religion.”  With all these peaceful religions in the world, it can be made into a better place to live.

Ryan Pegorick

Ever since my conception, Teresa and Denis, my parents, have provided me with many opportunities to grow as an individual.  Throughout my childhood and adolescence, my family and I have moved five times and been split up on several occasions.  Each move has been transatlantic, from Germany to the United States or vice versa.  At some point in these shifts in lifestyles, I came to the realization of how different these two atmospheres truly are.  It would be my personal utopia it if were possible to combine the best of both worlds; nevertheless, we all know it is not.

Having been born in Germany and claiming residence there until the age of eight, I was raised in a European environment.  While in elementary school, we moved to Detroit, Michigan, for two years and then back to Hanau, Germany.  I was in 6th grade, still very young and not as conscious of my surroundings, as I tend to be now.  After a year, my family and I packed up and migrated to a lovely little town called Bettendorf, Iowa.  During my 7th and 8th grade years, I began to notice the differences between cultures and lifestyles, although it didn’t really make me think twice.

An event that did make me think quite a bit was when my parents confronted my sister and I with an opportunity of a lifetime.  During the summer in between my 8th and 9th grade years, my father was presented a very high position in Frankfurt, Germany.  All family members in accord, we set off on a journey that would transform us as a family.  My parents and I have always had a relationship that resembled more of an adult friendship.  They have full faith in my judgments and know that I am capable of making my own decisions.  This is a major factor in my European experience that changed my perception of America and its standards.

As freshman in high school, my parents allowed my sister and I to trek Europe habitually and unaccompanied.  As we learned different cultures and lifestyles, we rapidly fell in love with the general European way of life.  To capture its essence in one word is merely impossible, my attempt would be “free-spirited”.  No one is judged on materialistic goods, such as who owns a Louis Vuitton purse. High school “cliques” are frowned upon and people are categorized by moral character and personality.  Because of this, the people are more accepting and genuinely well mannered.

I believe that America should be a little more open minded and adopt some of the amazing characteristics Europe has to offer.  It would produce widespread happiness and act as a Prozac for our nation.  The lifespan would increase to those of the Europeans, the highest life expectancy of all continents.  A little bit of Europe should be sprinkled throughout the world and it would be a much happier place.

Ben Senftner

A jumble of crumpled fabric lies in a pile in the corner of the room.  A plethora of colors and textures make up the pile attributing to its unattractiveness.  Building and building upon my laziness, the pile evolves into a gigantic mass which threatens to devour the room.  In a desperate attempt to prevent embarassment, I rip apart the pile, sending pieces flying across the room in an inadvertent dissemination.

Socks!

My family, which is no stranger to laziness, has turned this process into a routine.  Our mismatched socks fill three dresser drawers, or more.  Most of these socks have remained single for the majority of my lifetime having lost their partners behind couches, in closets and under beds.  As a child I remember my grandmother sitting on the floor encircled in socks.  Every time she came to visit she would tackle our stuffed drawers and spend an entire day attempting to match them.  Her efforts would barely dent the pile, however, and within a week of the sorting the situation would regress to its previous condition.  Her experiences and struggles with our elusive socks led me to an uncustomary conclusion: I believe in wearing mismatched socks.

The search for matching socks takes up precious time; time better spent kissing your child or perhaps writing an essay.  Take, for example, the amount of time I spend finding matching socks.  I spend at least 5 minutes a day searching for socks.  These 5 minutes may not seem like much but they add up very quickly.  At this rate I currently spend 1,825 minutes a year searching for socks.  What a pitiful waste.

In addition to wasting time, the refusal to wear mismatched socks pours money and resources down the drain.  For every matchless sock, another pair is bought to replace it.  If all the mismatched socks in the world were placed one on top of the other, the chain would span the height of Mount Everest.  The money and resources put into the manufacturing of these socks would be much better spend providing clothing to citizens of third-world countries.

The basic purpose of a sock is, after all, to keep a foot warm.  So the matching of socks plays no actual role in their purpose.  In fact, a blue sock can warm a foot just as well as an orange one.  As long as the sock is on the foot it will serve its purpose, regardless of color and texture.

So, I believe in wearing mismatched socks.  I believe that red and green can be friends on other days that just Christmas.  Frogs can co-exist with cars and stars with princesses.  Wear your sock, whatever their ethnicity, and wear them proudly.

Kimberly Booe

In today’s world, driving has become too competitive.  Through years of driving, I have witnessed some incredibly competitive and reckless driving performed by those who think the road is a go-kart slick track.  Wannabe racers dodge in and out of traffic just to cut a few seconds off their journey, cars accelerate to the red light ahead for no apparent reason, drivers speed up so no one can pass them, and many more accounts of the competitive driving can be seen wherever you drive.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am no 150-year-old, handicapped driver cruising down the road in a Buick.  I myself have committed some of these characteristics of the competitive driver; however, I always attempt to use my best judgment while staying as efficient as possible.  I am one to always look ahead and coast if I see a red light or get a little boost of speed if I know the light is about to go red.  I feel no regret or guilt when I perform these maneuvers, and shouldn’t, considering it keeps traffic moving proficiently and effectively.

Sometimes drivers lose their ability to be efficient due to a natural rage that occurs while they drive.  I know of two fatal accounts of when road rage took over an individual causing him or her to use bad judgment.  One involved a man leaving his car to beat up the driver of another car because he was “being followed too closely.”  The other consisted of a man and a woman driving side by side and purposely ramming each other.  Both resulted in punishment for the drivers and death for the victims.

People really need to relax when driving down the road.  So you get a few red lights or someone cuts in front of you and slows down.  Just turn up the radio and sing loudly to that Fergie song and your stress or rage will wander off, leaving your body soothed and comfortable.  The basic idea is to treat other drivers like they are guests in your home.  Give them the right of way and be a defensive driver.  Never let the competitiveness or rage get the best of you and everything will turn out fine.

 Drew Thomsen

When I think of all the things that I strongly believe in, many ideas come to my head.  For instance, I believe that everyone deserves a fair chance and that sometimes I have to put my trust in someone even though I have doubts.  However, there is one thing that I strongly feel is very important to understand in life.  I have struggled with understanding this throughout my whole life and have yet to master it.  I believe that moving on from my past will make me stronger.  I have had many experiences with moving on from my past, but I have one particular memory that I will never forget.  This memory has made me emotionally stronger.

I think back to when I was seven years old.  I was with my dad, two brothers, and little sister in the hospital, waiting for my mother.  She had been pregnant and was said to have a baby girl.  I was very excited.  One of the reasons why I was so thrilled was because I would actually get to name her.  By the time we had finally received news that my mom had had her, I had decided to name her Sarah (even though it does not correlate with the Christopher-Christine and Victor-Victoria theme).

However, it was soon apparent that she was not going to make it.  I was too young to understand and my mother just recently told me she had a miscarriage.  The baby was about twenty weeks old.  The baby had a hard time breathing and was only about twenty weeks old when she passed away, and my mother said that if she had lived about four weeks later, there might have been a chance for her to survive.  I was supposed to have another sister to play, laugh, sing, and love, but I knew that she would never be able to live and see the outside world.

The memory has dramatically influenced my life.  I think about this memory often and try to remember as many details that I can about her.  Sometimes I feel like crying when I think back to this memory.  It saddens me of her passing away.  She was so cute and adorable and in remembrance of her, we have a white bear that shows her name and the year that she was born.  Although I never actually had a chance to play with her, and, in a way, meet her, I love her very much.  This was a life test, for me, of endurance.  This experience has made me stronger in getting through tough situations.  Sometimes when I am caught in the middle of a rough circumstance or challenging obstacle, I remember this life-changing moment.  I know that I can face that obstacle and be able to get through.  I know that death shouldn’t be something to be happy about, but I am glad that this past experience has helped me to the present, everyday things in life that I come across.  I appreciate her each and every day for influencing my life.  She has transformed me into the person I never thought I could have been, and I thank her for making me who I am today.

Christine Mbakwe, grade 8

When I was eleven years old, I went to a party with several of my friends.  When I was speaking with one of my friends, I had noticed that one of my friends had been trying to ignore me.  I knew something was wrong from that day on.  The next time I met her, she ignored me completely.  I thought she was ignoring me because she thought I was too young for her now.  I was very wrong.

Someone I know always used to tell me, “Weak people change to work with others.”  This saying helped me form what I believe.  I believe people are not born good or bad, or change on purpose.  I feel it has to do with air environment and the people they live with.  Our friends can change us the most.  However, I believe even people who are very mentally strong can sway for other people, too.  It doesn’t need to be the weak people who change for others.  I also feel that people change when they are going through a great change or when they are being pressured by other people.  In fact, my friend was changing schools at the time she started to ignore me.

As the years kept going by, my friend started being nice to me again.  This caught me off guard.  I was thinking, “That was a friend I will never get back.”  But now, she wanted to be friends again.  I thought she changed because she stopped being friends with the group she used to hang out with.  I had met them once before, and they were not the nicest people to be around.  My friend was affected by their bad influence.  Whenever she was around them, she would be mean, but when nobody was around, she was her normal self.

From this experience, I learned that it’s not a good idea to think we have lost a friend when they change to be with other people.  Your friend may want to step back and become friends again.  Friends make mistakes too.

Ramya Prabhu, grade 8