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WRITING EXERCISE: Poetry
While working on the Mustang,
Afternoon turns to evening.
The engine worse than Dad thought,
Dad promised it’d be done,
And though Dad may stretch the truth sometimes,
He doesn’t break his promises.
Dad still can’t use his hand
So he tells me what to do.
And I do the work,
But I’m tired.
My fingers sore from twisting nuts,
My palms blistered from squeezing pliers,
My neck stiff from straining to reach parts.
Covered in grease but too tired to scrub it all away,
I collapse into bed,
Leaving grease marks on my sheets.
The next day as soon as the sun’s up
I hunch over the engine again,
And even though I’m more tired than I’ve ever been,
My heaviness turns into something else.
My anger about the mystery box and
My guilt about the accident
Slowly seep out of me like air
Leaking from a tire
With a very tiny hole in it.
And when the engine finally starts,
It runs like a charm,
And the old, stale air in my leaky tire is all gone.
And I feel myself being pumped back up,
Pumped back up with something,
And it feels like
It might be
The “something”
I’ve been searching for
All along.
WRITING EXERCISE: Write a cinquain.
Writing Format—CINQUAIN: A form of poetry with five lines. Each line contains a certain number of syllables.
"I’m proud”
Is what he says
But the way he hugs me
Says more than his words ever could.
My dad.
WRITING EXERCISE: Respond personally to a famous quote.
Whitney Houston:
“She’s (my mother) my teacher, my advisor, my greatest inspiration.”
Ratchet:
He’s (my father) my teacher, my advisor, my greatest inspiration.
What could a dad who loves me and won’t ever let me go
Teach me to think
Except that
I am worth everything in the world to him.
What could a dad who loves me and won’t ever let me go
Advise me to do
Except to
Dig deeper and try harder when things don’t go my way.
What could a dad who loves me and won’t ever let me go
Inspire me to become
Except a
Girl who’s so full of good things
She knows she can do
WRITING EXERCISE: Poetry
Sitting on the garage floor
Leaning against the workbench
My body so tired it’s humming,
But all I hear is quiet..
Not just regular quiet,
But loud quiet.
Big quiet.
Quiet that fills up your ears
And echoes in your head
Making it ring like a bell.
The chain saws had stopped.
They had just started yesterday,
They couldn’t be finished.
All the trees couldn’t really be gone,
Not yet.
Not all of them.
So why would they stop?
WRITING EXERCISE: Freewriting
When Ms. Wilkerson’s son, Adam, heard the Mustang’s engine run for the first time, I think he was the happiest man in the world. He loved his new car, and he loved that he could drive it now thanks to Dad and me.
But when he drove off down the street to take it for a quick test drive, I could tell by the way Dad plunked himself down on the stool in the garage that he hated to lose that car, and then he told me why. It was supposed to have been my first car—he wanted to give it to me on my sixteenth birthday—those were his “big plans.” And now he would never be able to do that.
But Dad didn’t know that he’d already given me a much better gift than a car. While we worked on the Mustang together, it hadn’t just been me being “Ratchet” making his job easier. It had been Dad relying on me to do the whole job, the job he couldn’t do, and believing I could do it. And it was me seeing how much I already am like Dad and me realizing what a cool thing that really is.
I thought finding out about Mom would help me discover who I was really supposed to be, but now I knew that fixing up the Mustang with Dad had just showed me a whole lot more.
By the time Adam came around the block and stopped at the end of our driveway, I think he was happier than the happiest man in the world. And I think I was even happier than that.
Adam leaned his elbow out the window and said, “Can’t thank you enough, Lamar. This car’s a real gem.”
“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wilkerson,” Dad said, standing up again.
“You two were probably a little busy this morning and didn’t have time to see the newspaper, but check out page two,” Adam said as he tossed a rolled-up newspaper up the driveway to us. Then he honked the horn and drove away.
WRITING EXERCISE: Life Events Journal
I unrolled the newspaper, and Dad looked over my shoulder just as I turned to page two.
I couldn’t believe it! There was my essay! They printed it again? I didn’t want Dad to see this!
But then I saw right next to it that Ms. Wilkerson’s son, Adam, had written an editorial about my essay. It wasn’t just a little letter to the editor. He must’ve paid for a full-page spread because that’s what it was. A collage of quotes about trees and a plea to the people of Blainesfield to save Moss Tree Park.
HELEN KELLER
To me lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug.
CANDY POLGAR
Alone with myself, the trees bend and caress me. The shade hugs my heart.
JOHN MUIR
When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.
ALEXANDER SMITH
A man does not plant a tree for himself; he plants it for posterity.
WARREN BUFFET
Someone’s sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago.
DR. SEUSS
I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees. I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues.
LUCY LARCOM
He who plants a tree, plants hope.
MARTIN LUTHER
God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone, but on trees and flowers and clouds and stars.
RACHEL VANCE
When you lose something you can never get back, you aren’t ever the same person again.
Dear People of Blainesfield,
If you want to be part of saving something important, if you want to be part of doing something really big, if you want to be part of keeping Blainesfield beautiful, call Mayor Prindle’s office and let him know you want Moss Tree Park saved.
Thank you, Rachel Vance, for reminding us what’s really important.
Respectfully yours,
Adam Wilkerson
Before Dad or I could say anything, the phone in the garage rang.
WRITING EXERCISE: Life Events Journal
It was the editor of The Blainesfield Beacon calling for me. To tell me some really great news—MOSS TREE PARK IS SAVED!
After my essay appeared in the paper, the mayor
got several phone calls from people about the park. Adam Wilkerson was one of those calls. He demanded that the destruction of the park be stopped, and even though the mayor told him “no way,” he decided it was best to send away the Chain Saw Cousins Lumber Company until things settled down a little.
Adam knew that the mayor might be able to ignore a few phone calls about the park, but if enough people called he’d have to pay attention. So Adam decided to pay for a full page in today’s Beacon so he could reprint my essay and add a few thoughts of his own. His idea worked because as soon as the paper came out this morning, the mayor’s phone rang off the hook. The city council members had just met in an emergency meeting to reverse their decision about Moss Tree Park.
There would be a ceremony on Saturday at the park where I’d receive an award for my winning essay, and Mayor Prindle would officially announce the restoration of Moss Tree Park.
But the best thing of all, better than even the park being saved, was when Dad heard the good news, he grabbed me and hugged me tighter than a race car hugs the inside lane during the last lap of the Indy 500.
I sure could get used to all this hugging.
WRITING EXERCISE: Life Events List Journal
Some Good News and Bad News
1.Good—Dad is the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. He hasn’t stopped whistling and singing in the garage since we got the good news. He just keeps saying, “Justice is like a train that is nearly always late.”
2. Good—Since the park is saved, the go-cart contest is back on. I’m really happy for the boys, especially Hunter. And Dad too.
3.Good and Bad—The editor of The Blainesfield Beacon told me I have to accept my award at a formal ceremony. I have nothing to wear.
4.Bad—If I have to dress up for the ceremony, then that means Dad does too. He has nothing nice to wear either.
5.Good—I’m getting $50 for my essay, so I have plenty of money to go shopping for a new outfit.
6.Bad—I have no one to take me shopping to buy something to wear. Or more importantly, someone to tell me it looks good.
BUT the best “Good” thing of all is that now I know that fixing cars isn’t the only thing I learned from Dad. With a little help from Hunter and Ms. Wilkerson’s son, my words of persuasion changed people’s minds about something really important. I was even more like Dad than I thought.
WRITING EXERCISE: Poetry
If having a friend means
Having someone butt into your life
And take your stuff
And do something with it
You never wanted them to do
Without even telling you
Because they knew you wouldn’t
And they knew it needed to be done
I guess it’s a good thing
I finally have a friend.
WRITING EXERCISE: Poetry
If having a kind of crazy dad means
Having someone make your life
A little miserable
And make people stop and stare at you
When you don't want to be noticed
for all the wrong reasons
I guess it's a good thing
I have a kind of crazy dad
Because how else would I have learned
That sometimes saving something important
is the only way to save yourself
WRITING EXERCISE: Choose a strategy to organize ideas for writing an article.
Writing Format—5 W’s CHART: An outline of your topic answering the following questions: who, what, when, where, and why.
Who? Ratchet
What? Saved the park
When? In the nick of time
Where? Blainesfield
Why? For Dad
WRITING EXERCISE: Write a psalm about yourself as if you are a hero.
Writing Format—PSALM: Poetry written in verses of two lines of any length. The first line makes a statement, and the second line repeats, opposes, or complements the first one.
Dad and I are the Three Musketeers minus one
Hoping to be victorious.
I am the Robin Hood’s helper of Blainesfield
Trying desperately to save the day.
Moss Tree Park is the spoils
We long to divide and share.
We’re thanking the Good Lord
For choosing to bless us all now.
WRITING EXERCISE: Life Events Journal
It took me three days to get up the guts to ask Hunter’s mom to take me shopping to buy a new outfit for the Moss Tree Park ceremony, but I couldn’t believe how happy she was. She acted like I was doing her a favor. She said she always wanted to have a daughter. I kind of wanted to say, “That’s funny, I always wanted to have a mom,” but I didn’t.
We went to the mall in Redville, the next town over. Hunter’s mom said she knew the perfect place. And she was right. She did. We found lots of cool clothes, and I tried on more outfits in one afternoon than I’ve tried on in my whole life.
At first I felt funny having Hunter’s mom compliment me on how I looked each time I came out of the dressing room. I felt awkward standing in front of the three big mirrors in clothes that made me look like someone else. But after a while I forgot about acting shy. I got more excited with each new thing I tried on. Maybe I’d be able to create my own style after all.
We were having so much fun.
Hunter’s mom brought me different sizes and colors when things didn’t fit or look right. She hung up all the clothes that I’d already tried on. It was like I was a rich famous person with a personal shopper who was also my best friend.
And then something awful happened.
The saleslady came in when I was standing in front of the mirror in a flowered sundress trying to decide which print I looked best in and she said to Hunter’s mom, “Here’s a necklace that goes nicely with that. Have your daughter try it on.”
It’s hard to remember what happened next because my head felt like I’d just gotten off a merry-go-round. My skin got cold and clammy, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor in a heap of tears and cotton floral print. It was as if a super magnet had pulled me to the floor, and I couldn’t get up. I was scrunched up in a ball with my face in my hands sobbing so hard I almost couldn’t breathe.
Hunter’s mom crouched next to me and rubbed my back with one hand, while she dug some tissues out of her purse with the other. I knew this time I was going to have to tell her the truth.
I was crying about Mom.
“Let’s go get something to drink in the food court,” she said.
So we did. That’s when I told her that I had a mom who didn’t care about me. And even though I was crying again when I said those words, once I said them out loud I felt like a transmission that had just been flushed.
The words were true. I couldn’t change them. I couldn’t change that Mom had left. But I had to change the way I thought about the person who had been my mom.
I also had to change the way I thought about Dad. Yeah, he was weird—he didn’t comb his hair or look like other normal dads and saving the planet for the Good Lord sounded kind of crazy to most people—but Dad was mine. He was my most important person. He loved me. He always stuck by me. And he always did what he thought was best for me. Even though most people thought he was crazy. I knew that deep down a lot of people thought he was smart. Most importantly I did.
Hunter’s mom just listened as I talked. First about Mom. And then about Dad. I couldn’t always look at her as I talked through my tears. But every time I looked up, she was looking right at me. And she kept her hands on top of mine as she listened.
When I finished talking and crying I felt like I’d just run a marathon. I was so exhausted. I could’ve put my head on the food court table and fallen asleep right there in the middle of all the burgers, fries, a
nd ice cream.
Then Hunter’s mom said the smartest, nicest thing. “Ratchet, you’re a wonderful girl. And no matter how many wrong things you think your mom did, there’s one thing she did that was an absolute miracle, and that was to have a daughter as beautiful and as smart as you.”
WRITING EXERCISE: Freewriting
I told Dad.
I guess I shouldn’t have.
But I did.
Because I had to.
Talking to other people is fine.
But Dad is my most important person.
I have to be able to tell him.
He has to be able to listen.
He listened all right. But then, he threw a wrench across the garage. Not at me. Not at anything really. But it was still scary.
Dad yells a lot at all kinds of people about all kinds of things. But I’ve never seen him hit anyone or throw ANYTHING. I didn’t think me talking to Hunter’s mom about Mom leaving would make him do that. I guess I was wrong.
WRITING EXERCISE: Life Events Journal
I wish I could be more excited about the ceremony to accept my award, but Dad’s up on the roof, and I don’t know if he’s ever coming down.
After throwing the wrench, he took a box of shingles up there and he’s been pounding ever since. Now my head is pounding too.
I’m going over to Hunter’s in a while. His mom’s going to help me fix my hair. I’m already wearing the outfit we bought. We went back and bought it after we talked at the food court the other day. But wearing the new outfit, having my hair look good for a change, and finally feeling like I look a little normal on the outside won’t mean anything. Not if Dad doesn’t show up. Because without him there, I won’t feel normal on the inside.
The editor told me I should have a short acceptance speech ready, and I wrote one. But it’s not for the audience. It’s for Dad. So if he doesn’t come...
This Journal Belongs to Ratchet Page 12
