Jim

Jim is the family's slave. He is scared to go against Aunt Polly's orders, but will sometimes do what Tom tells him to.

Sid

Sid is Tom's little brother. He always tries to get Tom in trouble by telling on him to his Aunt Polly.
He is quite observant and notices when Tom sews his collar on with the wrong thread. However, Sid, like Mary, follows the rules and doesn't get into much trouble himself.

Mary

Mary is very responsible and obedient. She memorized her bible verses and earned two bibles. She does as she is told and tries to help Tom learn his verses too. Mary is proper and acts as is considered appropriate in her town.

Huckleberry Finn

Huck: Huck is the town's drunkard's son. He doesn't go to school or church, can't read or write, or has little to no education at all. He, like Tom, cares about reputation. But Huck can put more to his name (never goes to school, or church). Huck also has a sense of adventure. Sneaking out to the graveyard to try to cure warts with a dead cat is no feat for the faint-hearted. Huck's motivation is to keep the other town boys saying, "Wow, I wish I could be like Huck. He never goes to school or church. Imagine never having to memorize any verses!" Also, like Tom, he likes the little toys he and the other boys trade with: marbles and such.

Tom Sawyer Character Review

Tom: Tom is not afraid to do bad things as long as he does't get caught. Also, he likes to pretend he is super tough and a "Bad Boy". He does weird little boy things like trying to cure warts with a dead cat on a string. He is motivated by pride. For example, in church he doesn't actually want a bible. He only trades for tickets because he wants the pride and attention of winning. He is also motivated by little toys like marbles and old trinkets. When he had others paint his fence for him, he considered himself rich after aquiring many of the little baubles he made the others pay. Tom is smart, although he doesn't act it in school. He can memorize long passages (lines from Robin Hood), he just doesn't want to memorize the bible verses, so he doesn't. Tom acts unruly, but he doesn't want his aunt to be sad when he misbehaves. This shows he does care about others besides his gang of little ruffians.

The Pursuit of Firewood

*The Pursuit of Firewood*

By Alena Vecht

I love camping. Truly the outdoors in the fresh air, away from human noise and development is paradise to me. But don’t get me wrong, I’m not an obsessive ‘environmental steward’ or am appalled by global warming or any thing like that. I just love to hike, camp, and beat it out in the bushes.

So when my best friend, Shawna, asked me to come camping with her out in Millersylvania, I was ecstatic. Shawna and I have had too many adventures to count, we’ve spied, schemed, investigated, and been on many a mission, and now we planned to add more to our long list of crimes and times.

Of, course, back then, I had no idea of what we were in for.

Oh, this camping trip was going to rather domestic, (I mean, its Millersylvania, how wild could it get?) her parents owning an RV and all. Plus we’ll be twenty minuets from home. Not extremely risky or anything. Nonetheless, this was a trip I looked forward to.

We passed the short drive in the back of the RV playing ‘Sweet or Sour?’ with the divers behind us, eating Good and Plenty’s, and belting “Ghost Chickens in the Sky” at the top of our lungs. Where musical talent lacked vocally, we made up in volume and enthusiasm.

We arrived in the dark, parked, and after a traditional dinner of hotdogs, fell asleep after a long chat about whatever popped into mind.

Refreshed, we awoke in the morning to the sizzle of bacon and the delightful aroma of buttermilk pancakes as Shawna’s parents prepared breakfast.

“Should we swim in the lake, or explore the woods today?” asked Shawna, ready to start the day.

After a moment’s hesitation I said, “Both.”

“For shizle,” she replied.

So we did. We swam in the lake (now that’s another funny story), took a small hike, and did whatever teenagers do when let loose.

But tonight was going to be special because we were going to make the traditional s’mores over the campfire. Usually, whenever I go camping with my family we search for firewood in the vacant campsites of the campground. I planned to do this before we made our fire in order to ensure there would be enough wood to last a few hours.

“Come on Shawna, lets go scrounge some firewood from empty campsites,” I said.

“Okay, but we probably won’t find much,” she said after taking another chip from the bowl on the picnic table.

“Oh, you’d be surprised, at how much people leave behind because they don’t want to bring home extra, dirty wood that they won’t use until they go camping again.”

So with light hearts, we set out in our pursuit of firewood.

We went from site to site, peering in the blackened pits and under the picnic tables. There wasn’t one sniff of wood. I thought to my self as we went along, she’s right. There isn’t any wood at all.

“Um, there’s no wood, can we go back? It’s almost dinner and I’m starved,” Shawna complained.

“Oh, just a little further, a few more campsites. If we go back empty handed, we would have wasted all of that time for nothing.” I hated giving up, and resolutely decided we weren’t going back until we had something.

We wandered farther and farther, but we couldn’t get lost here; this was Millersylvania for Pete’s sake. But soon the campsites became more rundown looking as we entered an old campground that obviously wasn’t in use. The benches were rotten and falling apart, and the bushes around were overgrown, minimizing the tent or RV space.

“C’mon, no one’s been here for a while, there’s bound to be some wood for the pickin’s,” I tried to convince Shawna.

“Well, whatever, but lets hurry. I’m getting really hungry.” As she said this, I realized I was also getting hungry. And then I noticed that the dense trees blocked a lot of sun. It was getting dark. Darn, I thought to myself, we’re hungry and it’s getting dark. I hope we aren’t lost. A heavy silence filled the air. The dark and utter stillness seamed suffocating until Shawna spoke. “Tris, you do know the way out, right?”

In reality, I had stopped memorizing our route about four turns ago, in hopes she had been keeping track. “Sure I do, we’ll find our way out easily.” In my attempt to prevent panic, I lied outwardly to my friend.

But it was impossible to ignore several facts now. First, we were hungry, and it was definitely getting darker. Second, I stubbornly refused to return without firewood and admit defeat at Mother Nature’s expense. And third,

we

were

lost.

Lost. It was so obvious. The word echoed ominously in my mind. Lost, lost, lost…

OH NO! We can’t be lost! I’d read about people that were lost. They were found ten days later, dead, dehydrated, mauled by wild beasts! My imagination ran wild. Make shelter, don’t panic, find water, don’t panic, find reliable food source (we didn’t know how long we were going to be out here for), figure out a signal to use, don’t panic-

“Stop!” I screeched in attempt to halt my mind from creating gruesome scenarios. First, I must admit it, I ordered myself. Denial can only worsen the situation. “We’re lost.”

“What? No, we can’t be lost. Let’s just turn around and go back the way we came.” We turned around. The trail had vanished completely.

“Where’s the trail?” asked Shawna, terrified.

“Umm, uhh,” I stammered, completely mystified, “We must have wandered out of the campsite on a deer trail, but it might connect and go through to another campsite.” I was amazed that we could be as foolish as to loose our way in a campground. But in some deep, secret corner of my heart there lingered a tiny flamed, fueled on by the prospect of adventure. I longed to prove myself against the dreaded forces of nature.

As I speculated, the bushes ahead of us rustled and a small bird bust from within, startling us from our skins.

“AHH!” Shawna leapt into the air and clutched my arm so tightly I lost circulation. “Can we go back now?” Shawna, on the verge of tears, sobbed.

I looked around. The darkening woods around us gave no hint to where a trail might lay. In every direction there was tree, tree, bush, stump, tree, rock, tree… “Look, if we want to get out, let’s just turn around and walk in a strait line till we hit the trail. Listen for any noises and watch for movement.” We had to get out, and now.

So, we turned around and headed the way we came, stomping through the bushes and thick vegetation. Any sense I had for adventure before was now extinguished. I was hungry, and sick of listening to Shawna complain. Plus, I was just plain disgusted at myself for loosing our way. What kind of good hiker gets lost in Millersylvania? I am so dumb, I thought, so stupid to loose myself and my friend, whose parents would be getting worried by now.

My stomach rumbled. Why had I wanted to go get firewood? Why hadn’t I paid attention to the trail? Why was Shawna clinging to my arm, begging me to get us out? Didn’t she know I was trying my best? Gawd, what else could I do, in a situation like this? Thought after thought tumbled trough my mind as we trudged though the woods. But one returned constantly. It was my fault we were lost, my fault. If only I had turned around when Stella had asked, had gone back without wood. I certainly didn’t care about wood now.

The forest we were trudging through all looked the same, in every direction. Dark deciduous and pines silhouetted against an indigo blue sky. Stars peeked out from the velvety heavens. Usually, I love stargazing, and being able to see them away from the streetlights and human development would have been enjoyable. But now they looked like small shards of ice, stuck up in an azure backdrop. Staring down coldly at me, with no mercy. Reminding me of how cold it would get if we were stuck out here all night.

I tripped as the ground dipped and face planted on the ground. The wind was knocked from me. Cool soil, gravel, and fern greeted my shivering skin. I curled up in the fetal position and sniffled. Why get up? Why not die here and spare myself the trouble? I would only walk around in circles and be lost, lost, lost…

“Tris! Get up. Please don’t leave me here!” A whining voice sounded in my mind. Leave me here? Who’s talking? Where is here? Whoever was talking started to sob and then said in a very small voice,” I don’t want to be here alone.”

That did it for me. No one should have to suffer just because I got lost. Not on my watch. I got us into this and I was going to get us out, I thought determinedly. “Shawna? Is that you?” I asked sitting up with renewed energy and letting my eyes adjust to the dim light.

She snapped. “Of course it’s me, doorknob!” she snarled. “Who else would be here? Curious George?”

I had the weirdest flashback at that point. I remembered the funny little monkey and the Man in the Yellow Hat. Wow, it’d been a long time since I’d seen that show. And I never would again if I couldn’t find a way out of this mess. All the adventures they had: going to the aquarium, helping a lost kitten, canoeing in a river…

Canoeing in a river! “Shawna! I have the answer! All we have to do is find a river or creek. They all flow the lake, right?!” By now words were tumbling out so fast my mouth could barely keep up with my mind. “Well, people are by the lake. Our campsite is by the lake! We just follow the creek to the lake.” I paused for breath.

She thought for a moment, and said, “Yeah…well, we have to find a creek before we can follow it.”

I looked around. The dip in the ground was actually a wide ditch I had failed to see due to the dim light. “We are standing in one. The creek just dried up. That’s why there are rocks and debris around. This is an old creek bed.” Another thought occurred to me, “Let’s just hope we follow it downstream to the lake, not upstream…”

“How will we decide which way to go?”

I brushed off a fern that was stuck to my shirt, then picked it up again, flung it in the air and watched as it fell. “With this.” I picked it up again and handed it to her. “Throw it up, and which ever way the head points when it lands is the way we go.”

She flung it up and we traced it with our eyes as it fell earthward. Pointing to my left. With nothing more than a sigh and crossed fingers, we headed wordlessly through forest, in the old creek bed, once more.

The going was less strenuous, but the trees started to thicken, darkening the forest even more. I told Shawna this was a good sign since trees like to grow by large bodies of water.

All of a sudden, a shriek ripped through the air from the way we were headed. We quickened our pace and clung to each other. Abruptly, we broke through the trees and a shinning expanse of glittering water greeted our eyes. The lake. A family was taking an evening canoe trip in a red canoe out on the water. A little girl with long braids used her paddle to splash her brother, hollering as she did so. Wow, I thought to myself, I scared myself over a little girl’s scream.

We took the road back to our site, in lieu of the path, just to be on the safe side. As we stumbled in, cold, hungry, but immensely relieved, I peeked up at the stars. Now they gazed back with humor, chuckling quietly among themselves, for we had returned with no wood.

*The End*

Reading Material for Young People

#2 I believe that parents should be able to request that their child not be required to read only little bits of literary works. However, as a forewarning to the parents, forbidding a child to read something is only going to egg them on.

Young Adults should be able pick their own reading literature. Whether they make good choices or bad choices, responsible, or irresponsible, is up to them. Parents can shield their young for only so long to the reality of the world. Which is indeed a harsh and explicit reality, but the reality nonetheless. Banning children from reading certain materials will only make them want to read them more where they are unsupervised or 'old' enough to. Paranoid parents are becoming only too common nowadays, and if you let them mar text, soon they won't want their children to read anything but fake truths about a perfect world. Exposing them to the dangers of drugs in literature will show the risks, sacrifices and danger involved in getting high for a few moments. Now, if for the first time they experience drugs out on the street, they will be the ones paying the price, instead of fictional characters. Also, The Diary of a Young Girl only was attacked because they talk of female menstruating, once again the reality of the world and being human. And they only talk of it for about five short paragraphs and then mention how a character comments that he thinks women are tough to have to deal with it. Now, that's a secret that can only be kept hidden for so long. Why pretend things are the way they aren't?

So in the end, yes, parents could request that their students only read parts of a book, but their child will most likely read it anyway.