Minor editor's note

So because I think this story is absolutely hilarious, I'm posting it in the words of Miriam. I was thinking, as I write this, that this would make a hilarious comic strip. Maybe that's how I'll earn some extra cash...


One day, me and Missy caught a ride home with the whole McDonald family. Camden, age 7, was filling out an application to the LA Film School. He became quite puzzled when it asked him if he had been charged or convicted of violating any federal or state law, and aloud, asked what it meant. Missy's response: "It's asking if you've ever been to jail. Have you? Say no, or else they won't let you in." Heather (Camden's mom) then said: "Missy knows from personal experience." My input: "She believes in trial and error." End of the story is... Camden continued with his application until he reached the final essay portion. "What do I put in this box?" Jarom (Camden's dad) responds: "You write and tell them why they should pick you." Camden, disappointed, shocked, appalled, and completely blown says: "What?! I was just gonna draw a picture!"

From left: Camden, Easton, Heather, Jarom, and Brighton

On Family

While I dearly love my brother, I have to admit he is at a loss being a boy and all. I think I already wrote on him, so I wont go on about him. I actually was going to talk about my sisters.

We came in pairs. First there was me and Camille. The two extremes that you could have using the same pairs of genes. I mean, really, there aren't two people more different than me and Camille. And I love her for it. But the age thing, that is really a big thing because it means we shared a) the same parents b) the same teachers c) the same schools d) the same groups of people (we managed to have different friends for the most part). And in talking to Makayla, I think it all comes down to an observation: comfortability doesn't mean close. Being around Camille isn't comfortable. Comforting sometimes, but hardly comfortable. And yet, Camille and I are close-because we came in a pair.

Then there was Miriam and Clarissa, who are also opposites, but not in extremes. They are a captivating pair actually. And if Camille and I are extremes, these two are the opposite of that. As liberal as I am, Clarissa is less so. As conservative as Camille is, she is matched by Miriam. Ironic, that they are the most mixed pair, the most intertwined.

Then there was Rae. And Rae, though part of a pair, is very very distinct. Her other is Ben, and obviously he doesn't really count as being part of the group of girls. Not only that, their pairing is as distant as the space between Camille and Miriam. So in actuality, they just coexist as separate factions. But Rae is the moderator. She sides with nobody and relates to everyone. She, in her being the youngest, has inherited the insight of both pairs of sisters. While she is attracted to my distinct eccentricity, she also is admires Camille's class. While she laughs with Miriam, she can run with Clarissa (or play ball as is normally the case). She not a fencesitter, but the point. The point that is both included in the group, but is not because she is alone. And it is that strength to be alone that I admire. While it takes strength to recognize your pairing and make it work, it is far harder to be alone. Far far harder.

But Rae will never be alone, because we will never leave her. None of us will, because she completes us. She is our center.

And the even more important thing to note, besides our differences, is the fact that we act as a family. We are a unit that exists to build and sustain the others. Is that not so? It is an empowering notion, when it works. And it is one that depends on our individuality. Because all our smiles are not the same.

To see what Camille said about the sisterhood, check out her blog, at http://cacacamille.blogspot.com/.

Siren with the long dark hair

"This stuff," she said of a small silver case, "once you get it open, it will save your life."

It said 'Go Smile' on the top, and housed five small vials inside. She showed me once she got it open.

"On day, my teeth were green--I don't know how, but they were--and I just popped this out and this what is inside is a teeth cleaning solution. You just pinch the sides here until you hear it crack, and then the stuff will come out through this white end here, and then you use it to clean your teeth. Really. See? I wont crack it open, because one case is $30 each for 7 of these little things, but feel the end of it."

I touched my finger to the end lightly before she quickly moved it away.

"Hey hey hey" she said, scowling at me, "That's going to go in my mouth someday."

I wondered what part of the vial I was supposed to feel then. She sighed inwardly as she put the vial back in the case and proceeded to use the mirror on the inner part of the lid. Her makeup was fine, her long dark hair a little messy, she straightened it with a carefree air that would probably fade around noon. The truth about Miriam is that most days she is absolutely beautiful. Those are the days I am convinced that God put her in a wheelchair so that she would stay out of trouble.

Mully once told me that her heart ached whenever she saw Miriam. When she saw her in the mornings before school, going to her locker, Miriam did not use a wheelchair. Miriam didn't like to stick out. Mully would watch her as she made her way down the short hallway, her hand against the old, narrow lockers. That hallway was for the forgotten. The side that Miriam walked on was the side the photography room was on. It was too small and cluttered to really make the transition from classroom to studio.

Amy McBride did a show before Miriam's time at Magruder called "Censored." It was originally titled something else, but the administration of Dr. Steinberg had stifled the edge of her voice, for the communities sake. She wrote everything in red that year, except of course, for her name.

It was always just after 7 when Mully walked in with her thermos of special brew coffee that she never actually drank. Spaid and I were usually already in the studio across the hall, discussing our work for the day, and Miriam walked alone in the hall to her locker to wait. Her friends would come and get her bag, and then they would walk her to class, the same way they would do for the next couple of years when I left.

There was a kid who smoked a joint in the studio. He passed it around two whole tables before little old pinched-face Portugal asked if anyone smelled anything. Everyone laughed, but it was because they were high.

"It's empowering to see her, struggling like that every morning. Alone." Mully often sat with me to talk about why I hadn't done a drawing that was due two weeks ago. I was perpetually behind. I still am. "As empowering as it is though, you can't help but cry for her inside for having to live in that condition every single day."

"I suppose so" I shrugged. I never really thought about it, because I saw it every day too. Mully sat still, looking at my painting. "You should move that fish; and I don't know what this is, but it probably could be replaced."

"It's a sea worm" I told her. I wondered if Mully did cry for Miriam every morning.

This morning when I sat with her, she was improving an infomercial for Go Smile teeth care from Sephora.com. I got up and left, knowing that she would remain at that table for hours, studying for a math test that she would eventually take on the late day. She would sit alone in her chair, joined only by those studious fellows who needed a place to sit close to an outlet, so that they could log onto their laptops and check their Facebook. They would ask her if it was all right if they say there, and she would simply say yes, or nod, and they would continue on their business all the while wondering why she was in a wheelchair. But they will never ask. They will never ask because once they do, they have to care. Because it is a heartbreaking place to be, and cardiac arrest means death ninety percent of the time.