(tilde) over the second n,
     pronounced NEEN-yo.

ninos - requires a wavy line (tilde) over the second n,
     pronounced NEEN-yos.

Ingles - requires an accent mark over the es,
     pronounced een-GLES.

simpatica - requires an accent mark over the at,
     pronounced seem-PAT-ee-kah.

simpatico - requires an accent mark over the at,
     pronounced seem-PAT-ee-ko.

Punctuation: In Spanish, the exclamation point (and the question mark) appear at the end of the sentence, and "upside down" at the beginning of the same sentence.

Hola!

Me llamo Dean
Soy de Nueva Zelanda
Tengo 29 anos

Hay cuatro en mi familia, Mis padres, mi hermana y yo. Mis padres viven en Auckland, Nueva Zelanda. Mientras que mi hermana vive en Wigan, Inglaterra, con su familia.

Mi padre se llama Merv, tiene cincuenta y cuatro (54) anos.
Trabaja en la policia. Habla Maori e Ingles. Juega rugby y tenis.
Toca la guitarra. Es muy simpatico, generoso, ocupado, sincero
y sentimental. No es cruel, terrible o impulsivo.
Le gusta viajar con mi madre.

Mi madre se llama Jan, tiene cincuenta (50) anos. Habla Ingles,
no habla Maori. No trabaja tambien. Le gusta nadar y beber.
Es muy simpatica, generosa, servicial, impulsivo y guapa.
No es cruel, introvertido o rebelde.

Mi hermana se llama Tracy, tiene viente y seis (26) anos. Tiene un esposo y dos ninos. La nina es mayor, que el nino. Habla Italiano e Ingles. No habla Maori. Es guapa, simpatica, maravillosa, trabajadora y divertida. No es oportunista, terrible, cruel, o aburrida.

Letter translated by Esther Erbele,
Waterloo, Iowa, April 19, 2006.

Hello!

My name is Dean
I'm from New Zealand
I'm 29 years old

There are four (4) in my family, my parents, my sister, and I. My parents live in Aukland, New Zealand. Meanwhile, my sister lives in Wigan (Manchester), England, with her family.

My father named Merv is fifty-four (54) years old. He works in the police department. He speaks Maori and English. He plays rugby and tennis. He plays the guitar. He is agreeable generous, involved, sincere, and sentimental. He is not cruel, terrible, or impulsive. He likes to travel with my mother.

My mother named Jan is fifty (50) years old. She speaks English, does not speak Maori. She does not work also. (She is not employed outside the home.) She likes to swim and drink (refreshments). She is agreeable, generous, a helper, impulsive, and good looking. She is not cruel, introverted, or rebellious.

My sister named Tracy is twenty-six (26) years old. She has a husband and two (2) children. The girl is older than the boy. (Tracy) speaks Italian and English. She doesn't speak Maori. She is good looking, agreeable, marvelous, a good worker, and enjoys herself. She is not opportunistic, terrible, cruel, or boring.

     (Lauren's trip to Mexico is presented on PAGE 160
             Chapter 21 - Twelfth Grade.)

PAGE 1

Chapter 1

Early Years

"Having no definite values, one is nothing, insubstantial and devoid of character."

CHAPTER ONE

Early Years

Long before I entered the world, my family indulged in activities which germinated lasting memories in their minds, and though I do not personally recall such events, their existence often touched my life in some way. Had my ancestors lived differently over the course of time, the most insignificant alteration could have impeded my very life. Such is the delicate thread from which humanity is suspended and on which we depend to obtain, and retain life.

The two individuals to whom I am inextricably bound, are, of course, my parents. Through their childhood reflections, I have been able to meld history into my being, for their past is part of me.

I always loved older people, especially those who had not allowed themselves to become embittered by time and the changes it renders upon all living and inanimate things. Too often, old age is maligned, as if it is a communicable disease that, avoided or ignored, will never touch more than that which it has already claimed. Reacting thus, an individual gains nothing and loses the joy begotten of the remembrances related through wrinkled smiles and twinkling eyes. Older people have much to give; love, which like a fine wine, matures and is sweeter with age; reflections of the past that, unheard, will be buried and appreciated by no one; and the wisdom and tranquillity of character that comes with the acceptance of death and the ability to live.

Many times I hear the complaint that an older person is "set in his ways" and will yield to no fresh mode of thought. To me, this indicates that the older individual has an established ethical and moral code which evolved through a life-long struggle for inner peace. Predictability, under these conditions, is earned; each of life's problematic questions had been meticulously solved, carving daily the beliefs which became the man. Having no definitive values, one is nothing, insubstantial and devoid of character.

I cherish my father's childhood memories, and always listen with fascination when he tells and retells past events. Through his speech, I am able to grasp the bygone years and color the family portrait of which I was never an active part.

My father's father died before I was born and his mother shortly thereafter. John Emil and Hilda Isaacson; ancient names, they seemed to me, yet Dad's memory brought life to their photographs and instilled in me a wish that I could have known them as had my father. John Emil was a character; and insatiable tease who provoked the more serious Hilda: he made dandelion wine and tested it so frequently that it was entirely consumed before attaining an alcohol consistency. He ice-sailed on the Mississippi, showing little concern for the dangers of air holes and thin ice while traveling at a high rate of speed. He had learned to swim by being pushed off a river barge.

Dad never learned to swim, perhaps because he was never given as good an opportunity as his father. This served as no impediment to fun, however. He was always busy; if he did not have toys, he made them, setting to work with a natural expertise for the mechanical realm. From the Buddy L and other junk yards and garbage heaps, he and his brother salvaged rejected parts and recycled them into usable toys. He fashioned bicycles in the same manner; later, parts were gathered….a scrapped frame, a model T motor from a neighbor, a coupe body from another area….Bravo!…the finished product…a car! When the gas in the tank was low, it was necessary to go backwards up the hill, allowing gas to flow into the carburetor.

Dad told of dares waged between himself and a neighbor boy wherein each boy jumped from one large tree to the branches of another tree; he laughed about the crabapples which he blew sky-high using firecrackers and a metal pipe. He recalled holidays, from the Christmas when his father told the children, "There will be no toys this year because you'll have a new baby brother," and his accompanying joylessness toward that news. Joy returned, however, when he received a