"In growing up on a dairy farm, it’s obvious I spent a lot of time around animals. And as I reflect on what’s most impacted my life, I’d have to say cows. But not just cows in general… one cow, little Bubschki. She was the runt and was quickly rejected by the other cows and by my father. I watched as, early one morning, he took the unnamed baby cow and walked her around to the back of the barn. She was mooing happily, thinking life was grand, apparently not noticing the shotgun cradled in my father’s arms. I decided to do something and ran out of the farmhouse shouting for my father to stop. He did and agreed to give the cow to me. I named her Bubschki (that’s another story) and brought her to the farmhouse. She lived in my room for a while until she crashed through the wall into my sister’s room. My mom shouted something about a Fido and announced that the cow was to move outside. So I built Bubschki her own little barn adjacent to the big one. As the years passed and I got older. I began spending more and more time with Bubschki in her little house. I’ll be honest, I was falling in love with her. My human relations suffered and I was rejected by society. Then, one night when I was 16, I awoke inside the little barn to find Bubschki gone. I jumped up and went searching for her. To my shock and horror, I discovered that some local boys had gone on a late night crime spree and had passed through our field. They’d gone cow-tipping. My Bubschki was dead… and my soul with her. I shall never forget my little cow, Bubschki. May she rest in peace."

”A moment that stands out in my mind is standing at the Grand Canyon, having just survived a horrifically bumpy plane ride from Las Vegas on a 10 seat puddle jumper. My friend actually got off and puked; my face was merely green; but seeing that vast, open slice of rock made me realize 3 things: life is way to short; notice the beauty in everything around you; and don’t get on a small plane with a hangover from the night before!! -K."

"The one event which has made me who I am is an easy thing to choose. When I was in first grade at Plymouth Elementary, this fight broke out on the playground. I can’t remember the names of the two kids who started it but I doubt they’d make it to print anyway. But these two kids started hitting each other and eventually one of them landed a hit firmly on the other one’s nose. He wailed and covered his face with his hands. When he took his hands away there was just a bloody mess. He stared at his hands for a moment, curled one up, and with the other he slammed the other kid right back in the nose and that kid began bleeding as well. But the kid who bled first didn’t seem interested. He had uncurled his hand and just kept staring at it. Then he held it out and they both just looked at it. Me and a few of my friends thought this was mighty odd so we headed over. In this kids hand was a small rod about the size of a lighter flint. We looked at the second kid and he held out his hands and he also had a metal rod. Or something metallic at least. So of course my friends and I started punching each other in the nose as hard as we could. Soon we were all covered in blood and looking intently at each others rods. But I didn’t have one. People kept hitting me and I kept checking, but nothing. We looked around on the ground, maybe it had slipped? But a teacher took notice finally, screamed, and came over to break us up and drag us all off to the nurse. After that they all acted differently around me. They treated me like a leper or something. People still treat me like that a lot. I think it’s unfair. For all I know, my rods still in there. Maybe I never had one. Maybe they were right to treat me like an outcast. Who knows? -G. O., Phoenixville, PA"

"Cotton, oh cotton. You soften each step from room to room. Your fibers slide between my toes, easing step from gravity-ridden step. You cover my bottom from my coarse jeans and the souls of my feet from shoes who need Dr. Scholls. You cover my body from the shame of nudity, but wear as softly as nothing at all. You are the fabric of all our lives. Cotton, oh cotton… are you edible? -L. 7/7/05 "

"The best + worst thing that ever happened to me was getting kicked out of the religious university I was attending b/c my best friend, who was the same sex as me, fell in-love w/me. When I told her I was straight she went to university officials + told them we were lesbians. They freaked + my straight – A semester went down the drain. My parents reacted by kicking me out of the house and telling me to spend Christmas alone. But that’s when I took a crappy job at CVS + met the man who later became my husband! He chased all the suicidal loneliness away + taught me how to stand on my own 2 feet. I’m still very religious but now I’m not the brain-washed lamb I was."

"July 1st, 2005, One steamy day. I was walking through the streets of Camden. My family and I were on our way to the waterfront to sightsee. Some guy got shot and I realized that life is short. His spewed brains on the side of the road reminded me of slugs I used to step on. That changed my life forever. –D. M.

Conshocken, PA"

"The day I buried my father I relized that no matter how many people you have in your life, you end up with only yourself. And, it is yourself only that you have to answer to. -F. M."