3CWP Honorable Mention

“Rebirth”

Pt 1.

Nate had his eyes closed in bed awaiting sleep, but he heard something he resonated with when he was listening to some YouTube video on the brink of sleep, “you need to know when enough is enough. Like, when a guy is punching you in the arm, but is concealing their bullying with, ‘it’s just a joke bro,’ you need to recognize that that shit is not cool.” Nate shot awake in the hotel room, put on the band t-shirt he just got hours prior, and looked at himself in the mirror. He felt more awake than he had ever felt before, despite a few hours earlier being so tired he could not lift his phone without his arm shaking, threatening to drop the thousand-dollar rectangular computer. He had expended all his energy fighting for his life in the pit of a concert. Now, he had just received a second wind, or a second chance at life. He then paced around the room as he put the puzzle pieces together. Wait, that’s right, he thought, that dude was totally bullying me when he was pretending to be my friend and beating the crap out of me with those stupid bracelets with the buckle on them. Now, it may sound obvious to you, but put yourself in the shoes of that lonely child that desperately wanted friends and was deeply insecure. It should be completely clear now how Nate felt, or it’s not because you have grown up without this defect. Either way, on that night, the curse would be lifted, and life would begin again. On that night, or early morning as the clock read 1:23 AM; Nate was pacing throughout the room as a new man. He would start living as his heroes in the songs that he shouted out the window of his car at bewildered people he passed by; he would live as a revolutionary, like his American forefathers did in the city of brotherly love that he now occupied. For now, our revolutionary had to sleep because he had a long day of uncovering legends of renegades at the museums the next morning, and, like I said, it was now 1:23 AM.

The next morning, Nate arose from the tomb that was his hotel room at the crack of dawn. The housekeeping staff would find an empty tomb if they chose to investigate a room that they assumed to be inhabited by someone dead asleep. Nate emerged from the hotel with his grey, wool Levi’s jacket, blue jeans, punk rock t-shirt, off brand knit hat, and vans to secure himself breakfast. The cold assaulted his face as it blasted by him. The weather, as of recent, had been more sporadic than Nate could remember ever experiencing. Yesterday, Nate was sweating under his hat and cotton shirt, but today it was the exact opposite. Nate zipped up the jacket that he was wearing to shield his body from the piercing cold and continued unrelentingly up the sidewalk.

As he continued up the street, Nate noticed a large gathering of people in front of a building with large windows on it. Nate heard a tour guide informing the large group of people as he approached, “The Liberty Bell was a bell used in a church in Philadelphia during the time of the American revolution. Shortly after the colonial victory, the bell developed its signature crack,” The Liberty bell, Nate thought, should he attend or not was the question. He had a panoply of books and electronics stored in the backpack that he brought with him, but Nate was a man reborn. He had been told all his life that one must embrace discomfort sometimes in order to reap the great rewards in this life, and now he had to live those words. So, he joined the queue and awaited to pass throught the security checkpoint.

As Nate entered the building he was met with the chaotic atmosphere of the guards that barked orders at people for minor mishaps and the cursed metal detector. He advanced far enough to grab a plastic bin and placed all my metal and electronic objects inside to pass through the detector. This included his belt, which was doing a great job at suspending Nate’s pants. Now this job would have substituted by Nate holding up his pants and waddling through the metal detector like some weird penguin on stilts. All of this while the guards rush Nate through the checkpoint. But he made it and got a stupid photo with his mouth open in front of the bell for proof that he saw the actual Liberty Bell.

Pt 2.

Later that day, Nate finally arrived at the American Revolutionary Museum. He approached the great building and gazes upon its majestical glory. On the wall, the start of the second paragraph of the Decleration of Independence, “We hold these truths to be self-evident…” hung triumphantly like the art you would give your mother that she would hang with a magnet on the fridge. But what truths did they claim to be so obvious that they had to address the elephant in the room, and declare that they would be free or they would die attempting to free themselves? It was that they, the people, were in charge because people were given this right to self-govern simply because they are people and they exist and matter. No matter what any arrogant bully had to say, they had a right to be in control of their lives and a right to exist. Was Nate being more American by being more assertive and living how he wanted to rather than trying to appeal to the despots of his life? Nate had always struggled with the identifying as an American. Especially with the people online and in person calling his views un-American, and that if he did not like it here, well then maybe he should move somewhere else. So, in response, he tried to distance himself from America, a country he viewed as a net negative in the world. Despite his inner turmoil, he entered the museum and paid the price for admission.

The museum was running a special exhibit only available for the 250^th anniversary of The United States. This intrigued Nate, so he thought that he would check that out first. He pulled on the heavy, slow-moving door and absorbed the quiet, formal atmosphere. Immediately a few paces inside the exhibit there was a sign that regaled the visitors of the museum with the tales of renegades past and how they were similar figures. The figures in particular were Benjamin Franklin and Matin Luther King Jr. This amazed Nate because he had never made that comparison in his head, but it actually made a lot of sense. Both were men that championed human rights and fought for social change. But King’s critics often called him “treasonous” for his criticism of the Vietnam war, so they were saying that he was working against America when he said what he said. But what true Americans, like Benjimin Franklin, understood is that one of the most important civic duties that Americans have to do is to call out our government when it is doing something that we don’t agree with. All you need to do is to look at the first amendment of the constitution; you know, the contract from us, the people, to the federal government on the ground rules of how that government will run the country, to know that this right was planned to allow the people to shine a light on the things about this country that they take issue with. 

So, after Nate had gone through the museum and got one more Philly cheese steak, Nate got back into his Toyota Corolla and sped down 95 into the sunset, he would now keep in mind that he would be a true American by not bowing to bullies ever.

Author information: Ethen Lammey is from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, but he moved from there when he

was young because his mother had found a job in Newark, Delaware as a chemist. So, his

childhood was spent mostly in Cecil County, specifically in Elkton, and every other weekend

back in Pennsylvania, due to the custody agreement between his parents. Ethen likes Punk music

and reading books, his favorite band being Fugazi and his favorite book being The Catcher in the

Rye by J. D. Salinger. Ethen started writing because a professor named Lisa Lutwyche told him

person until then but has since learned that he is in fact creative and decent at English. Now, he has written more than one short story and wishes to be a criminal or immigrant defense attorney.

that she thought that he could write a short story. Ethen had never considered himself a creative person until then but has since learned that he is in fact creative and decent at English. Now, he has written more than one short story and wishes to be a criminal or immigrant defense attorney.