LAL is a national reading promotion program of the Center for the Book  

2010-2011 National Honors 

LAL is pleased to publish this year's national honors letters. As you read, please note the sincerity of the message, the risks these children took to express themselves so openly and eloquently. Note, too, their ages.  This is indeed an impressive collection.  Levels 1 and 2 are in this column. Level 3 letters are in the column at right.

Level 1 National Honor: 

Conrad Oberhaus

Lincolnshire, Illinois

Dear Daniel Defoe,

     Your book, Robinson Crusoe, taught me that desperation and necessity can bring about positive change. Robinson never would have considered befriending Friday, a savage and cannibal, but Robinson was isolated from humanity and desperately needed companionship. He realized that Friday was raised to be a cannibal and savage and knew no other way of life.  Friday was a prisoner and faced certain death by is captors.  By accepting their differences and working together, they not only survived life-threatening encounters, bur prospered.

     While you wrote this book nearly 300 years ago, your message has never been more important.  I am of mixed race, my mom is Indian, and my dad is of European descent.  Sometimes people give us a look that makes me feel uncomfortable when my family is together, because we are not all the same color.  I know there are those who are prejudice against mixed races and consider my parents’ marriage wrong.  My mom is a doctor.  If someone who does not like Indians is desperate and needs her to save his or her life, do you think it matters to that person what race my mom is?

      We all rely on each other in a multitude of ways.  I do not know the ethnicity of the people who grow my food, make my clothes, or provide my drinking water; all I know is that I need them to survive, and I am thankful they exist.  I do not need to know their race or ethnicity; I just need to know that I can depend on them.  The world’s population is growing and our resources are diminishing.  In the future, we must treat each other as Robinson and Friday did to ensure the survival and prosperity of mankind.  We will have to accept each other’s differences, and learn to judge people not by their ethnicity or cultural past, but instead by their actions and how they contribute to the common good of society.

     I hope that one day the people who once gave my family a look will need me and perhaps I can show them that my race does not matter, and what matters is how I can help them.  Everyone in the world will feel more comfortable knowing that they are treated equally with respect no matter which ethnicity they are.

     I anticipate that one day desperation or necessity will not be needed for us to get along; until then I hope that people will keep reading your book!

Conrad Oberhaus

Level 1 National Honor:

Nicholas Behrens

Falcon Heights, Minnesota

Dear Debra Frasier,

     Each and every living thing in the universe is unique and spectacular! Each and every plant, animal, and person is connected to another and has an important place and purpose! Each and every day of my life, I see this in the green Earth around me and feel it deep down in my soul. Please know, Ms. Frasier, that these valuable and treasured messages I first learned and experienced from you! And, from my parents who told me the story in your beautiful book On the Day You Were Born on March 29, 1999, the day I was welcomed to this “spinning world”!

     Your warm words and vivid pictures were my very first gift! All bundled up in a blanket, I soaked them in as my dad read to me and rocked me on the evening after my birth. (Although I don’t remember it, a priceless photograph tells me of this moment.) When I travel all the way back to my beginning memories, I can capture your book. I think of my family and friends circled around me, reading it “with voices familiar and clear” at my birthday gatherings. How thrilled I was to celebrate my third birthday with a brand new big kid bed and my grandparents at my side to tuck me in that night! Their loving voices brought alive all of the colorful creatures, the “burning sun”, the “quiet glowing moon”, and the “glittering silver stars” as they shared your story. When I was still very small, On the Day You Were Born gave me a connection with others who would become the most important people in my life!

     Long before I could read, Ms. Frasier, I knew your verses by heart, hearing them in my mind at the turn of each page. They helped me learn to love words that feel like a song! They provide joy, delight, comfort, and reassurance each time I touch them, because they have become a part of me. Before I could walk, I traveled to far away places and discovered the beauty and science of the Earth in your book. It helped me learn to love nature! Later, when I actually journeyed to a “forest of tall trees” and a “rising tide washing beaches clean for my footprints”, your story came to life for me once again. I saw the wonder of the world at work! When I was still somewhat small, On the Day You Were Born showed me an intricate and grand universe beyond myself and my home.

     Now, I am not so small anymore! I still feel the marvel of your magical book when my mom, dad, and brother Nathan read it to me! Lately, however, I have found even more happiness reading it to others. My most special recent memory of On the Day You Were Born is when I read “Welcome to the spinning world! We are so glad you’ve come!” to my Grandma on her last birthday, a week after mine, before she died. I know within my heart that we are all meant to be on this planet together, to take care of this place and one another. Thank you, Ms. Frasier, for giving your beautiful book to the world and to me!

Nicholas Behrens

Level 1 National Honor:

Tristan Tudor

Seeley Lake, Montana

 Dear Lisa Graff,

          Your book Umbrella Summer had my “umbrella” closing bit by bit and chapter by chapter. If this story has taught me anything, it would be how hard and how much bravery it takes to see the sunlight sometimes. Of course, in the end it’s all worth the pain and tears since you get to be yourself again. Your story has brought me to peace and happiness, to a different place in my life.

          The whole plot in Umbrella Summer was easy for me to relate to, and connect with. I bonded with your main character, Annie Richards. I felt just like I was Annie in the story. I know what it feels like to be in a shadow with a thunderstorm of worry and sadness and my “umbrella” blocking out the sun. In your book Annie was dealing with her brother’s death. I’ve been there. I’m writing this to you, because my dad’s fiancé was killed in a car accident three years ago. I’ve had an “umbrella” of sadness covering me for years, and then I found your book. When I read about Annie taking her mom back into her brother’s room, I got the courage to ask my dad if we could go visit the cemetery where we buried his fiancé, and he said yes. It was really difficult for me to ask him that, because we haven’t really talked about her for some time. After talking to him I felt so much better, like I was a flying bird: Free, calm, and changed.

          I hope you realize how much of an impact you have had on me and the way I now look at my life. This book has been like a friend that went the direction I had to go, and understood me along the way. I really hope other people can close their “umbrellas” as well as I could by reading your story. The journey through your book gave me the ability to see the sunlight again and I appreciate that.

Tristan Tudor

Level 1 National Honor:

Hanna Lee

Plano, Texas

Dear Tony Abbot,

     Were you ever the person standing alone in a corner? The last to get picked for a game?  I was. What I wore, ate, and thought was completely different from my classmates. Eyes that reflected everything in the minds of their owners shot disgusted glares at me. Everyone stayed away from me.  Ignoring me.  I didn’t have any friends. I wanted to have friends like the other people. It always felt like my heart was an orange, filled with juice at first and then getting squeezed and squeezed until there was hardly any juicy happiness left inside.

     This is the honest truth. When I first read your book, Firegirl, I wasn’t that interested. It’s another story about some boy and there’s probably going to be a girl that the boy likes and whatever. That’s what I thought. So when the teacher said that there was going to be a new student, I was certain that it was going to be this Firegirl.  I imagined a beautiful girl with long fiery hair, bright red nails, large glowing eyes, and the other stuff that authors usually use to make fire as human as possible. How wrong I was. I couldn’t believe that Firegirl was the person you made her to be. This was unlike any other story I read.

     From the moment Firegirl appeared I was captured by the flowing words of your story. It felt like I was there with Torn when he watched as his classmates make fun of Firegirl. I was furious at them. I couldn’t believe that they would make fun of someone just because of what they looked like. I wanted to jump into the story and yell at them. I found myself arguing with the characters in the story and crying along with Firegirl.  What other person would know better than me about being left out? I’m a person who gets kicked out of everything and then getting thrown soccer balls at. Yet here was a person who matched my sufferings. Firegirl seemed like my friend. We cried together and got glares together. I was oblivious to soccer-ball-throwing people. For the first time in a long time, I was happy. I had found a friend.

     This book brought happiness to my life. I was found smiling and no longer self-pitying myself in the corner. I learned that although there was no one for me right now, there was always a friend for someone in the world. Firegirl taught me that no matter how mean other people are to you, if there is one person that is truly your friend that is better than a million people that are half-friends.

     So now I say, thank you for writing this book and giving me a friend and more importantly, hope.

Hanna Lee

Level 2 National Honor:  

Heather Wiggins

Kalamazoo, Michigan

Dear Mrs. Holbrook,

     When it comes to an unexpected death, my family members and I are no innocent newborn babes. My brother’s death shattered my family’s world. When I read your poem “Finals” for the first time this year, my response to it filled my mind so thoroughly it led in to a physical response. My knees gave out, and I was forced to sit as my mind was slingshotted back six years ago to the day that I came home to find my little brother was gone, ascending into Heaven, smiling and laughing the whole way. The words in your poem brought to the surface from the depths of my brain the epiphany that I was cold and unresponsive to anything that connected me to my brother.

     I was six years old, and my little brothers, Nathan and Zach, were the center for my limited world. I felt so grown up and alive as I watched Nathan place his chubby little hands around a new red crayon , bending his neck to scrawl a red rainbow just for me. That was my last memory of him. The next day after school I was told his heart had failed him. Sometimes my mom describes me at that moment as having my happiness drain away. Later, I asked so many questions; I wanted to know every detail. Like the students in your poem, each question brought me closer to the harsh truth of my brother’s death.

     In the years that followed I was truly like the students in your poem after the news, “unresponsive, with fixed eyes.” Although I was cheerful enough in the company of others, alone my eyes glazed over and my mind returned to those memories before that horrible day that were filled with the glow of his happiness. Even though I knew there was no going back or redoing that time, I clung to his memory and failed to move on. Your words made me view myself from outside. I realized I had let myself become a hollow puppet. I realized I wasn’t fooling anyone with my façade of happiness. I realized I had let my dreams and life deteriorate. I know Nathan wouldn’t have wanted that for me. I knew I had to move on and come to terms with the fact that although Nathan’s dead he’s still with me. He guided my hand to your book and he’ll understand that I need to move on with my life.

     Since that day I’ve changed on the inside. Because of your words I’ve learned what it feels like to move on but never forget. My parents sometimes comment that I’ve gone from a hollow husk to someone alive with the joy of life. I’d like to thank you for writing “Finals.” When you wrote it, you probably weren’t trying to save a life but you have. Maybe not in the literal sense of the word, you still saved me from a life of loneliness and depression. Your words changed me and I would like to thank you with all my heart.

Heather Wiggins

Level 2 National Honor:

Solomon Polansky

Minnetonka, Minnesota

Dear Mr. Keyes,

     Upon reading your book Flowers for Algernon, I felt a change. Perhaps not a physical change, such as a loss of a limb, but a change in my mind and heart. This story provided me with a new understanding of our society and a completely different point of view I had never thought about previously. A new window was opened in my mind, and now light could flood in.

     This change began with the main character in your story. Charlie, a man with an obvious mental disability, narrates his experience in journal form. Charlie was able to teach me about myself and society as a whole. As I journeyed with Charlie through its pages, I began to realize new truths about knowledge and intelligence.

     We often judge these two powerful characteristics, knowledge and intelligence, by someone’s IQ or test scores. However, this measuring system is flawed. Before Charlie’s operation, he is hardworking, modest, and friendly to all, even to those who ridicule and mock him because of his disability. Soon after the procedure, as his intelligence rapidly increases, he becomes irritable, impatient, and condescending. Is this what we prize as a culture? High test scores at the expense of civility? Now more than ever, high achievement is prized in our society; getting second place is unacceptable and is viewed as failure. Our American culture turns everything into a competition. From athletics (such as professional leagues) to academics (such as college admission), our society has made everything into a contest.

     The scientists who engineered this change in Charlie also share this obsession with first place. Dr. Strauss and Professor Nemur are constantly bickering with their associates about whose opinion is correct, and who contributes more to the project. Then, when presenting the results of the project, they work hard to ensure that their experiment would be first at the national science convention. To believe that these are the brilliant minds which we so highly prize is ridiculous given that their drive was not necessarily to serve the greater good, but to elevate their own image in the scientific world.

     All of this experimentation went on without Charlie being consulted very much at all, and without his understanding of the risks. His sister, Norma, who has very little contact with him, is the one to give consent for the procedure. This leads to the question whether this experiment should have been done at all. Charlie is given a highly dangerous procedure without truly understanding the complications that are so common with experimental treatments. The more I think about this, the starker the injustice appears. If the scientists who conducted this experiment had spent more time testing their treatment on nonhuman subjects such as Algernon, would this have averted the agonizing end for Charlie as he watches his mind slip back into oblivion? Is it even ethical for the scientists to use a human being as a lab rat to test an experimental treatment when every previous treatment has failed? The scientists, no doubt, understood the risks, and yet they proceeded.

     I often consider becoming a scientist when I grow older, yet this book casts a shadow upon a formerly brightly glorified profession. Not all scientists are saints in white coats, pulling miracles out of test tubes. This book shows a potential darker side of scientific motivation that was fascinating to see exposed. I am not opposed to scientific progress, yet I still wonder (especially in extreme cases as this) if human test subjects should be used, and what ethical questions this raises.

Your book was appreciated,

Solomon Polansky

Level 2 National Honor:  

Janet Snow

Elkin, North Carolina

Dear Susan Cooper,

     My parents thought that I was in my room reading. They were wrong. I was inside your book. By reading the words on the page, I lived them.   I never realized how your book, Over Sea, Under Stone, had changed my life until recently.  I read the book a few years ago, and it changed me from someone who didn't care about reading to someone who can't put a book down.

     I had read a bit before I discovered your book, but, as soon as I had read the first few lines, I left my world behind and entered a new one. I could see the sun-baked village of Tressiwick, and the stench of the fish at the harbor made my nose wrinkle. I shared the fear that the characters had when they were in danger. It was thrilling, more exciting than anything that I had ever read before. I loved the excitement and suspense the story created. When Barney reached up and grabbed the grail, my heart leaped, and I felt the triumph even though I had only been reading. Even now, I can still see parts of the book in my head, and I don't think that I will ever forget them.

     When I finished the last word of the last line on the last page, I couldn't believe that the story was already over. The story that I had been living was still playing through my mind like a movie. I was in awe of the book. I'd never read anything like it. I'd never read something that I was pulled into, and I had never read a book that had been written on a subject that I enjoyed so much. I refused to quit talking about the book, I expounded about standing stones, the tides, and holy grails until my friends were quite fed up. But it didn't dampen my sheer pleasure that I got from the book. After that, I began to read anything that looked interesting to me. I learned interesting facts from every book I read, and I got ideas that could be useful in almost any situation. My grades went up, and I was never bored when I could read. I learned that you can find anything in a book. Books made my life a great deal better, and I can trace my love of reading back to your book. When we learned about the tides in science, I immediately thought of the exceptionally low tide that the characters had encountered when they went to find the cave where the grail was.

     After I read your book I began to think about life in a different way. I took more notice of things that were interesting, and I asked questions about anything that I was curious about. I began to think deeply about the way time works in your book, and I finally came to my conclusion a few months ago at a Greek restaurant. I decided that time was the ultimate mystery. But the most life changing aspect of the book was the magic that was in the words, words that pulled me into a different life. Most people say that magic is fictional, but for me it isn't. To me, magic is very real. It is the times in life where you feel like the universe is perfect, no matter what is really happening. I would never have felt magic if it hadn't been for your book.

Janet Snow

Level 2 National Honor:  

Abby Bateman

Snoqualmie, Washington

Dear Katherine Paterson,

     It’s been five years since my great grandpa died.  I remember when my mom got the phone call telling her the horrible news.  I cut out a clumsy heart to place in his coffin, with a few loving words written in chunky, seven year old letters.  I remember staring at all the crying faces at the funeral, feeling tears sting my own eyes as I recalled my family’s visit to him the previous year.  I remember his stories he told about his childhood and the candy he gave us. When I read Bridge to Terabithia, I cried for Leslie, but also for great grandpa.

     Though Bridge to Terabithia triggered sad memories, I loved it.  I believe one of the reasons I loved it was because I could relate to it.  When I read how Jess loved drawing, could disappear into it and relax, I felt like I was reading a description of myself.  The only difference between us was the switch from his love of drawing to my love of reading.  I can venture into a world of magical kingdoms of futuristic civilizations and feel like I’m one of the characters.  It’s my favorite way to relax, like drawing is with Jess.  Another way I felt your book related to me is how Leslie and Jess have a secret place in the woods, the place Leslie named Terabithia.  Terabithia reminds me of the woods by my house that my siblings and I explore every summer.  We have a clearing that we call “Skunk Valley” because a lot of skunk cabbage grows there.  Every summer we find new paths and explore the swamps and marshes.  Terabithia is a lot like that to me.

     Bridge to Terabithia inspired me, both in obvious ways and in totally unexpected ones.  I was touched by the power of friendship in your book, but the friendship was so strong and wonderful that it’s impossible not to be inspired by it.  I was inspired by a less prominent event in your book.  I was inspired by Jess running around in the cow field, striving to be the best runner.  That inspired me to accomplish my goals.  I have had many goals that I didn’t think I’d ever finish.  They ranged from learning Spanish to solving a Rubik’s Cube.  I have checked out Spanish books from the library and I solved my Rubik’s Cube last month.  My goals are suddenly becoming reachable.

     The most important lesson I learned as I read Bridge to Terabithia was the power of friendship.  Friends aren’t people you stand around and gossip with.  Friendship goes farther – friendship goes to the soul.  Jess and Leslie’s friendship began when Jess was simply running races and wondering when that weird girl would leave.  It was Leslie that supplied the happiness and friendliness that stuck the friendship together.

     Though Bridge to Terabithia made me miss my great grandpa, it touched my heart, helped me accomplish what I thought could never be done, and gave me a new view on friendship.  Thank you for that.

Abby Bateman

  Level 3 National Honor: 

Ashlee BeGell

Mesa, Arizona

Dear Mr. Barrie,

           “So come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in Never Never Land.” I recite this to myself on days I feel loneliness and sorrow. As a child with a life-threatening disease, I was forced to grow up with a chaotic medical life. A hospital was certainly no place for silliness. I needed to be serious. I had to be solemn. When I hopped into the imaginative world of your Peter Pan I tasted a sweet glimpse of childhood that I left behind. I read each adventure you composed, feeling that every sentence was from the heart. You didn’t write this to waste useless time or greedily earn money. You wrote this to speak to children like me. Children with no childhood. My perspective changed, even at fourteen, as each word of your spirited book broadened my soul to joy and imagination. I giggled at insignificant things, like how my water bottle played a bubbly melody as it jiggled in my backpack when I walked to school. I would now lend a smile to my elderly neighbor across the road, taking her yappy Chihuahua for an afternoon’s walk.

           Your book also led me to dreams that I never thought would end up in my mind. For so long, I’ve only wished for a cure and health. Now, I expect to see oceans of serenity and laughter when I drift off to sleep. Mr. Barrie, you gave me this opportunity. Soaring over the skylights of London, you brought me to Neverland. From then on, you widened my blind eyes to courage towards every cunning adventure. You taught me to keep my head held high when I fight against my sickness, as if it were a fierce pirate and we were crossing swords. I learned a friendship between Lost Boys and Indians is truly unique but not impossible. Family, you showed, is stronger than anything else ever created. I cried when George stayed in Nana’s kennel over misery that his children left him for Neverland. He made terrible mistakes, but later his actions proved willingness and love towards his family. That love is more than a simple hope; it’s a commitment.

           Your story was an adventure I sought, and I was engaged to the end. I don’t just have a passion for your book. I see it as the key that unlocked the childhood I never got the chance to make the most of. I’m not sad about the events that happened in my life. Everyone has their tough days. I’m just thankful it was your magical book that triggered a new, happier stage of my life. Reading the last page was depressing, but it doesn’t means it’s the last time I’ll pick it up and jump into Neverland. Whenever I’m scared, lonely, or sick, Peter Pan is poised at the top of my bookshelf, eager and waiting to be read. Your writings motivate the starting of my own adventure, and you’re my inspiration. Who knows, Peter Pan might even show up in my room tonight, begging to take me on a journey to Neverland.

 Ashlee BeGell  

Level 3 National Honor:  

Fabiola Urdaneta

Biscayne, Florida

Dear Sylvia Plath,

     I have recently been trying to find someone who can understand and empathize with what I have been feeling.  Up until a couple of months ago I was extremely hard-working and focused.  My dedication to the things which I knew were important was nearly unmatched.  This all changed however, last April when my brother committed suicide.  It surpassed any obstacle I had previously encountered.  It was more difficult to understand than any mathematical equation, more engrossing than any philosophical question, and more heartbreaking than anything I have ever experienced. Words will never be able to convey how terrible this experience truly was, not only because I lost the person I loved and looked up to the most, but because it left me feeling empty and meaningless, “the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.”  I felt too numb to do anything.  I just sat in my room staring at the guitar my brother treasured and listening to the records he loved, waiting for something.  I am still not sure what I was waiting for, and have been waiting for ever since my brother died.

     I slowly started to deviate from the path I had been following my whole life.  I stopped working hard, stopped caring about school, stopped looking after my health, and was ready to throw away everything I had once worked so hard for.  I told myself that I would keep waiting until I found what I was looking for.  Yet, the days passed by too fast for me to keep up with.  What was originally a couple of days rapidly turned into a week.  Time kept on passing and nothing happened, nothing changed.  I still felt empty, alone, and numb.  My parents and friends noticed this and often asked if I wanted to talk to someone.  They encouraged me to revisit the psychiatrist I had seen a couple of weeks after his funeral, but I continually said no, and that I could handle it all on my own.  Maybe it was an answer I thought I was waiting for.  Maybe it was someone to tell me everything was going to be okay.  Or maybe it was none of those things. 

     I started reading your book, The Bell Jar, for a school assignment.  When I initially chose the book, I thought that reading someone who was manically depressed and suicidal would help me understand what my brother had experienced, help understand his thoughts, and help understand why he did it.  All of those questions remain largely unanswered.  Esther’s experiences did not help me understand why my brother chose to use a helium tank, or why he did not just ask for help if he needed it, or why he did it on that Tuesday.  Esther’s experiences did however help me understand myself.  As I saw her letting her own life slip away, infatuated with ways in which to escape the “bad dream”, just hoping that “the bell jar, with its stifling distortions, wouldn’t descend again, “ I realized I was becoming Esther.  I realized the path I had set myself on was headed towards destruction.  I cried as I imagined myself “sitting down in the sopping grass” feeling as desperate and lonely as Esther felt when she grieved over the loss of her father, a loss she had never really come to terms with .  I could not help but think that I would one day feel as depressed as my brother and by unable to ask for help.  That’s when I realized what I was waiting for:  I was just waiting for myself. 

     It had been months since I could figure out why I worked so hard, or why I participated in so many activities, or why I had been so focused.  I cannot say with certainty that I have found the answers to these questions.  However, what I have found is that I do not want:  I do not want to keep going down the path I am currently on.  Your book made me realize this.  It made me change my attitude towards things that should be important to me.  It made me think about my actions and the way they were hurting my parents.  It made me think about my life and what I wanted to do with it.  If it had not been for The Bell Jar, I have no idea when I would have woken up from this endless dream of despair.  I still cope with my brother’s decision every day, but somehow, I manage to get through it.  I know The Bell Jar is the reason I have strength and courage.  It exposed me to my alternative.  It changed my life.  Thank you.

Fabiola Urdaneta

Level 3 National Honor:  

Daeun Kim

Old Tappan, New Jersey

Dear Khaled Hosseini,

           Much as Amir spent the bulk of his childhood with Hassan in your book, The Kite Runner, I spent seven years of mine at Sun Joo's side.  Our story started in the first grade, when she rescued me from a rowdy group of boys who teased me for being, in their eyes, the wrong gender.  "Girls are stupid! they laughed, delighted by their cleverness.  Sun Joo, who also happed to be a girl, overheard and took offense.  She rushed over and screamed at them to go away.  Put off my Sun Joo's daring, the boys lost interest and drifted away to find a more accommodating target.  I approached her, this guardian angel, and we smiled at each other, sparking a friendship in which we would become the anchors in each other's lives. Despite the turbulent waters of middle school and adolescence, our friendship remained fairly stable, and we could always rely on the other for help.  But when I turned fourteen, I had to pick up my anchor and drop it thousands of miles away on the other side of the world.  Even with all the handy methods of quick communication, relationships can still break under the weight of physical separation.  The move to America severely tested my friendship with Sun Joo, but The Kite Runner taught me about the true meaning of friendship.

          Distance is never easy to overcome.  Like California provided plenty of distractions for Amir, my life in America forced me to quickly speed along, keeping me busy with a new life and priorities.  When school started, I crashed into a wall of undecipherable schoolwork, culture shock, and social pressures.  Each time I replied to my friend's email or talked with Sun Joo over the phone, I felt precious time slipping away, time that I could have spent learning more vocabulary or finishing homework.  Conversations and messages became shorter, and eventually, started disappearing entirely.  Only Sun Joo kept regular contact with me, sending letters and emails even though I failed to reply.  I stopped talking or writing to her for weeks at a time;  with all sorts of deadlines coming up, I didn't have the time.  My excuses always sounded the same.  And Sun Joo, ever understanding, always said she didn't mind.  At first, I felt grateful.  Then I began taking her patience for granted.

          Looking back, I cannot exactly pinpoint when it was that my life in America started outweighing the one I had led in Korea.  My homesickness went away since I made many friends in America and immersed myself in this new culture.  When Sun Joo's letters stopped arriving on a regular basis, I thought that it really was time to move on and forget.  Reading your book, however, forced me to stop in my tracks and take a long, unflinching look at my friendship with Sun Joo.  The Kite Runner acted as a mirror, allowing me to realize the ugly truth of how uncaringly I had acted toward a friend who truly loved me.  Sun Joo, like Hassan, refused to forget about her best friend, but I had been so quick to leave her behind as nothing more than a quaint memory.  I realized that, this time, I had to reach out to her and make amends.  And I remembered Rahim Kahn's words to Amir:  "There is a way to be good again."

          After months of ignoring Sun Joo, I didn't quite know how to start paying attention to her again.  I bought new stationery, pretty sheets of paper that remained blank:  how to start?  How to apologize?  The words refused to come.  Then suddenly, an opportunity struck.  A large package, addressed to me, arrived at my house.  "Happy Birthday!"  Sun Joo had orchestrated the entire surprise.  I had truly though that she would forgive me.  But this show of love spurred me into action.  Immediately, I wrote a letter thanking Sun Joo for the package and apologizing for not keeping in touch.  It was a simple message, and writing it was much easier that I thought.  Sun Joo called me after receiving the letter, and we chatted like old friends. I felt giddy with relief;  I felt "healed".

          Your book, The Kite Runner, taught me the real definition of friendship.  Yes, there is loyalty, but when one friend forsakes the other, there can also be redemption.  Through loyalty, Sun Joo defined herself as my friend, and through redemption, I was able to keep being her friend.  It has now been four years since we last saw each other.

           We are still the best of friends.

 Daeun (Donna) Kim 

Level 3 National Honor:  

Neal Digre

Brookings, South Dakota

Dear T. H. White,

     Your stories of King Arthur have impacted my life a great deal. While reading The Once and Future King, I realized that the young boy Wart and glorious King Arthur have always been in my life. I noticed the striking similarities between Wart and me. We both had loving guardians that took care of us. We also shared a brotherly figure that shadowed over us. The Kays of our lives made us feel insignificant and inferior compared to them.  To escape, we became hawks, flying away from the troubles of a young mind. Swords in hand, we battled a plethora of dangerous monsters: griffins, dragons, and our mother’s bushes. Our lives were carefree. We enjoyed the many adventures the world had to offer our young minds. Amidst our freedom and happiness we were forced to grow up too soon.

     Whilst Wart pulled the sword form the stone, a sword was thrust into my quixotic life. I believed that the world was a near perfect place and there was no evil that could not be vanquished. I had loving parents who would always be there to abet me in my assault against the world’s malevolence. I was mistaken.  When Arthur found time to get away from the bickering of his courts and lords, he comforted me as I sat listening to my parents shouting at each other. There were no more fantastic adventures to be had. I grew up. Instead of slaying monsters in the backyard, I withdrew to my room, filling my free time with video games, homework, and reading.

     Around this time, King Arthur left in search of the Holy Grail. He knew Guinevere was having an affair with Lancelot. Arthur left them behind in search of the artifact that represented the pureness still within Arthur’s heart. This quest for clarity could not prevent Lancelot from betraying him.  I sought to leave the quarreling of my parents behind and find my Holy Grail in video games or books. I knew what was going on around me, but I wanted to omit it from my life.

     After a time, King Arthur and I returned to our lives, fully aware of the horrors life holds. Instead of submitting to the tragedy of life, I accept the evil around me. Despite the darkness in the world, I comfort myself in that I believe the human race has good intentions as a whole. I believe that if a single person has untainted intentions, the kindness will spread.

     Even now, when my parents are divorced, King Arthur still sits beside me. King Arthur has been betrayed by his wife and best friend. I have been forced to live half the life I should due to the differences between my parents. We no longer live in the pristine worlds we enjoyed as children, but we still hold true to our chivalrous ideals that human nature is good. We accept the misfortunes of the world and hope to create a better future for those that will come after us.

     A gentle breeze rustles my hair as I walk through the encampment of tents. I look up and see the extensive rolling thunderheads in the distance. A storm approaches. A small unlit candle sits in the palm of my hand. I turn left onto the main grassy thoroughfare. I enter the tent of King Arthur.  He sits on a simple wooden stool in the corner, examining the flickering light of the candle on the table in front of him. He looks up and I look into his eyes. I see the sorrow within them. I see the years we shared in utter bliss . . . lost.  Those same ideal – those same parents – that made us happy rent our lives into a whirlwind of anguish. But I also see the hope within his eyes. We do not speak to one another. He merely nods at me and lifts his candle stub towards me. I hold out the candle in my hand and allow the venerable king to light it.  King Arthur blows out his own candle, and walks form the tent into the blustery storm.

Neal Digre