When the Smoke Clears...

To some it is believed that when a person passes, one of the most wonderful legacies anyone can leave behind is their offspring. Now, imagine you as a parent. Of course, you want the best for your child. You want them to surpass you in every way, to grow up with more opportunities and more chances to thrive than you were ever given. A new and improved version of yourself. You want them to have dreams; and with these dreams, the attitude and persistence to make their ambitions a reality. Everyone really wants this...right?

When a person lights up, takes that long, wondrous drag, not only are they ultimately decreasing their own life expectancy, they're gradually dwindling the hope of a long, healthy life for those around them. As this photo plainly states, secondhand smoke kills. THIS IS A FACT. It's not an opinion, speculation, theory or belief. It's a fact. It has been proven that due to the dangerous toxins that make up a cigarette, secondhand smoke exposure can cause premature death in children and adults who do not smoke, not to mention cause countless diseases and heart conditions.

I can't help but ask myself, as I attempt comprehend my very own sentence, what gives a smoker the right to endanger others with their own reckless addiction? Selfish doesn't even begin to cut it.

Not even close.

As their bodies are not yet finished developing, secondhand smoke is especially harmful to young children. Approximately 50-75 percent of children in the United States have detectable levels of cotinine, the breakdown product of nicotine in their blood. Cancer, lung and heart disease, and asthma are also common imprints that are left on children who frequently are exposed to secondhand smoke.

To a smoker, this photo is indeed controversial. It's everything they do not want to own up to or take responsibility for. Hopefully the guilt they feel is sufficient enough to make them question their ways before it's too late. In my opinion, smoking is a completely selfish indulgence. The fact of the matter is that partakers of tobacco are not only compromising their own well being when they light up. Their smoke harms their neighbors, friends, children...everyone. I think it's time smokers open their eyes to the reality of their life threatening habit. I understand nicotine is addicting, I do. But if the health of their children on the line isn't enough of a motivator to quit, if an image of their beloved youngster growing up with the limitation and pain of cancer or a heart condition isn't enough, I truly don't know what is....and my heart aches for their little ones who did nothing to deserve such a fate.

The Setting of the Son and the Rise of a Star

Ever since he was a toddler, my brother Bobby Miller has been a unique individual. He's always had an energy about him, a vibe for success, a strong sense of charisma and enthusiasm in every task he took on. He's always been an outgoing kid, with more than a little flair for the dramatic, a cute, little go-getter evolved into nothing less than a handsome, ambitious thespian. I can still remember him as a child, standing tall and proud on our fireplace, belting out the very popular (at the time,) "Amazed" by Lonestar. And as I reenter the now, I am both astonished and overjoyed to see my little brother take the stage at his high school, as the lead role in the fall play...and to think he's only a freshman.

As I sit out with my brother on the deck, the flowers in full bloom, a calm, serene breeze around us, I ask my brother a few inquisitive questions about his interest in the Drama field. Although I am his sister, and know him better than most others, I am very curious to understand this passion of his more vividly. I begin with the question, "How much acting experience do you have?" He reminds me of his three years of Theatre Arts at Urbana Middle School. He also tells me of the recent private classes he attends each week at an acting center called, "24/7" in Frederick. This is of course coupled with his Drama class and various rehearsals at Urbana High, so his formal training is as impressive as his natural talent.

I then ask if this is the career he wants to pursue. The answer is simple, and the bright smile that appears on his face is enough to let me know he could settle for nothing less. He believe acting, whether it be in the theater, or eventually in films, is his calling, the dream he's carried with him his entire young life.

Personally, I truly believe my brother is a good actor, but what it takes to be one, is something I can't exactly put my finger on. I think only a true actor or actress would really know what it takes. "Being a good actor takes persistence and patience." he replies. "Often times an actor must accept rejection after rejection before he or she can land a role. It doesn't mean they were necessarily a bad actor, it just means that role wasn't meant for them, that someone could do that role more justice. Likability is also an important factor. People have to like you, must enjoy seeing you, on the stage or on the big screen." But most importantly of all he said, "An actor is simply someone who takes action. Any action. A real actor can do anything."

The next question I ask him is, "What about acting do you take the most pleasure out of?" According to Bobby, he personally takes the most enjoyment out of submersing himself in a role, losing himself and being reborn into a new person, the character he is currently portraying. "It's fun to pretend. You really get to know your character, you begin to see the world through their eyes. It opens your mind to new perspectives. It's a very enriching experience."

I then bring up his recent success as lead role in the upcoming fall play, "Happy Daze." Once again a huge smile stretches across his face. I can tell how excited he is. "Were you nervous before your audition? If so, what did you do to cope with the stress of the situation?" He chuckles. "I'm not going to lie, I was pretty nervous. Urbana's drama department is very talented. Many of the other students I was up against were upperclassmen. It was very intimidating, but as for coping, there really wasn't much I could do. I simply took a couple deep breaths before the actual audition, held my head high, and did the best I could with the lines I was given to read. That's all anyone can really do. Try their best and hope for the best."

By the end of our interview, I've learned a lot about my little brother, not only as an actor, but as a person as well. I've been taught of his growth through the years, how his persistence and patience, his good personality and optimistic attitude have been major factors of his success on the stage. I admire his self-esteem which is something I had always wished to emulate as a person. The characteristics and qualities he has represent timeless personifications of the other great men of theater. His favorite actor is Charlie Chaplain, one of the most monumental performers of the last century, and he mirrors his style through his representation. These are the elements that make acting moving and heartfelt. He's on the path to accomplishing what Chaplain did years ago, the greatest achievement of any artist, the ability to turn fiction into reality, by creating something for people to believe in.

It's All About the Things

Last week, a fellow classmate and I were given a task as part of an English assignment, with an objective which involved observing and seeing with all of our senses for ten minutes straight. We were told to choose a scene and examine it from the inside out, to decode a deeper meaning of the simplicity of what our eyes saw.

So we began our trek, our voyage for the perfect picture. After some serious contemplation during the car ride, Katie and I chose to survey the local Wal-Mart. When we finally arrived at our destination, we took a seat in the store's Subway, on two of their red, vinyl chairs. I'm unsure of what I'm looking for as I tap my pencil against the hard wood of the table impatiently. It finally hit me after a few moments that maybe I wasn't really supposed to be looking for anything in particular; I was just supposed to take in all this scene had to offer.

Our table faced the ladies’ clothing section. T-shirts of every color and size speckled this fragment of the large store. As I gazed before me I noticed a girl hold a green shirt up against her chest, observe herself in the full size mirror in the middle of the section, sigh, and place the shirt back on the rack, obviously deciding against purchasing it. I couldn't help but think of myself as she did this, how I was one to frequently try on clothes and not like how the look on me. I felt for her.

Perhaps she didn't like how the deep, green hue looked against her skin because of the seemingly endless rows of fluorescent lights that stretched across the store. They had a way of giving everything a strange tint. Even the large, displays of Gatorade, chips, and candy, of all different flavors and brands looked sallow beneath its illumination.

As I continued to look around, a positively intoxicating aroma met my nose. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the Subway. For a moment I must close my eyes to focus my attention more on the scent. I daydream about my favorite turkey sub...my mouth watered at the thought of the turkey, the cheese, oil and vinegar, and the various veggies that make for one of my favorite foods. My tummy rumbles.

I only return to reality when I hear the large crash of shopping carts being pushed together and pulled apart. Observing the scene once again I notice that it's gotten a bit busier. People walk on by, male and female, of all ethnicities and ages, pushing their carts and wondering where they should start. The carts are squeaky against the smooth off white tiles of the floor. One woman walks by, a baby crying in her cart. "Shhhhh...." she coos to who I'm guessing is her son. It doesn't seem to work as she wanders out of my vision, and eventually the baby's screams fade until finally, the shrieks are gone.

There are also a significantly higher number of "bleeps" that fill the Wal-Mart. A "bleep" for each item being scanned and purchased. I notice one couple in particular in check out line number 7. As the cashier scans their items, they gaze at each other. After a few silent moments, the man grabs the woman’s hand and kisses it, evoking a giggle from either his wife or girlfriend. I can't help but smile.

At the end of my ten minutes of complete observation, I begin to ponder a meaning of all that I see. All that I can really conclude of my scene is that no matter how much each person differs from the next, varying from each individual personality, sense of humor, outlook on life, appearance, body image, family, social standing, or background, at the end (or beginning in my case) of each day, we all need the same things. We all need the basics as simple yet important as food, clothes, jobs, money, and a roof above us. There are also the intangible things that everyone needs. These include self-esteem, freedom, love, and someone to tell us everything is going to be alright. All these elements put together makes for a happy, satisfying life, and should never be taken for granted. The heartrending truth is that not everyone possesses these fundamentals, and I truly hope that those who do appreciate them, and those who don't never lose their drive to acquire them.

An Everlasting Paw Print

As I search amid my thoughts, dig through the endless piles memories, I realize that most of the reminiscences that stick with us during our journey throughout life are those of either extreme pleasure...or extreme pain. Memories filled with either laughter and smiles or tears and heartache.

A memory that I remember more vividly than I'd like took place last summer. I'll never forget the day I lost my dog. Beauty wasn't just a pet. She was truly my best friend. She never let me down, never lied to me, never made me feel somehow inadequate...she'd just look at me with her big brown eyes when others did do these things to me; and somehow I felt better, like on some strange level she understood me.

It's crazy to think it's been over a year that she's been gone. I remember waking up that beautiful summer morning to the sun peaking through my blinds and the sound of birds singing outside my window. I wasn't as groggy as I usually was in the mornings. After brushing my teeth and taking a quick shower I headed downstairs. Upon entering the kitchen I heard sobs. It was my mom. Acting on instinct I embraced her, not knowing what was wrong. After a few moments she told me Beauty wasn't well. Beauty was an old girl at this point, almost 13 years of age. When I went to see her in the living room, she was laying in her favorite spot in the corner of the room. I could tell something was wrong. I pet her. It was when the tail she had shook for 12 years didn't budge that my morbid reality set in.

For the last few months Beauty had been having hip problems, a common issue among Labrador Retrievers. It often took her minutes to stand up, and when she had successfully stood on all four paws, she frequently stumbled and fell. She also often get sick. We did everything imaginable to help her, but nothing seemed to work for long.

As I gazed into her eyes, big and sad looking, I couldn't help but cry. Sobbing uncontrollably, I rested my face on her belly, as if I could use my own brainpower to will her well again. But it was useless, and at that moment, so was I.

A few minutes later my dad was home. My mom had called him and told him about the situation. We knew she needed to see a vet immediately. I recall my father trying to help Beauty up. It truly was a haunting sight to witness. It was as if she just couldn't do it...she was just too frail. When my dad finally got her to stand, he supported her weight, nearly carrying her, all the way out to the car. I sat in the backseat with her, her head propped up on my leg. I remember seeing those eyes once again looking up at me as I caressed her belly. My family is far from religious, and apart from a prayer every couple of nights before I go to sleep, hardly do I ever call upon a higher power for help. But at this moment, the only thing I could think to do was pray. And I did.

When we reached the vet, a short journey which seemed to last an eternity, my parents left the car and ventured into the small building. I just waited, Beauty at my side...the place she had been all my life. I held her close and told her I loved her, and that whatever happened, I always would.

Five or so minutes later, my parents came back to the car and told me we needed to get her inside to be examined. After my father and a few veterinary assistants feverishly carried her inside, we waited in the main office while she got looked at. And I thought the car ride had seemed long.

Twenty minutes later the vet returned. With her, some paperwork and the worst news that could have come to being, my greatest fear. Beauty was in immense pain. She wasn't functioning properly. Age had finally caught up to her...

Beauty needed to be put to sleep.

Words cannot express the thoughts that raced though my mind at that moment. I remember her as a puppy, wild and hyper. I can see the vibrancy of her golden fur, feel the sliminess of her wet tongue on my face. Then I begin to question myself. Did I pet her enough? Is the vet serious? Why didn't I take her on more walks? Did she have a happy life? Did she know we all loved her? The vet can't be serious...

But she was. She asked if I wanted to be with Beauty in her final moments. After a few seconds, I finally comprehended the question. I told her yes. When I entered the tiny room next door, I saw Beauty. I rushed to her side and threw my arms around her. I kissed her forehead. My heart hurt. I tried not to pay attention to what the vet was doing and focus all my being on Beauty. Tears trickled down my cheeks as I told her one last time how much I loved her. I felt her breathing slow, until finally, it stopped. And at that moment, my puppy, my best friend, was gone from me.

I'll never forget her, or that memory either. It taught about the frailty of life, how nothing or no one should be taken for granted. Although Beauty is gone from me, I know she's in a world far more beautiful than my own. I also know that one day in the future I will pet her again. But as for right now, Beauty will always be my best friend, and the paw print she left on my life, my heart, is one that will last forever.

One day your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it's worth watching.

If I had to create a bumper sticker that modeled my philosphy for life, it would be: "One day your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it's worth watching."

Life is busy. That's for sure. If we don’t take the time to enjoy it, to look around at what’s truly important- family and friends, love and affection, it’s possible to miss what really makes a life worth living. I look at each day as a gift, not a right. Life isn’t a promise, it is in no way, shape or form guaranteed and the scary reality is that at any given moment it can be taken from us. While we must make our living through education and hard work, it’s vital to make the best of it, to look for the positive in everything, to make each day count. One day, hopefully far in the future, our lives will flash before our eyes. It’s important we give ourselves something meaningful and enriching to watch.