Sports

A Perspective on the Relationship between Sports and Business

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by Cy Bernardi

“In baseball and in business, there are three types of people. Those who make it happen, those who watch it happen, and those who wonder what happened.” 

-Tommy Lasorda

 Tim Salado, whom I had the pleasure of interviewing, is without a doubt someone that makes it happen. From spending time as a professional baseball player to entrepreneuring his own start-up, Mr. Salado is an expert on both business and sports. When it comes down to it, many aspects of sports, such as performance under stress, are present in the business world as well. Mr. Salado was kind enough to share some of the connections and tips he discovered during his experience in these two fields. 

 The first question that I asked Mr. Salado was if there were any similarities he had noticed between business and professional sports. “When I was in professional sports, you were brought on to perform a certain skill, and they were banking on your performance in that skill. And just like in business where you would hire someone to come do something for you you’d expect that to be done, so it’s a very similar approach… What’s similar from a player’s perspective is that, uh and a business person is that you’re, let’s say that you’re the person delivering the service or the performance, uh, there’s that aspect of you must perform under potentially difficult conditions.” This is an interesting response because he highlights one of the most challenging aspects of business and sports. Stress, an ever-present element of both athletics and business, can be managed using various strategies. Competing in sports, especially at a high level, can provide practice for individuals that are also involved in business. 

 When Mr. Salado was in graduate school, he wrote his thesis paper on a trance-like state called “The Zone.” He describes The Zone as “an elusive, very temporary, and fleeting state of being that is usually defined by an extraordinary performance.” Mr. Salado further describes this state of mind, “You become very aware of the things that are going on, but only those things that are necessary for you to perform the task. All other extraneous things tend to melt away a bit so you don’t hear crowds, you don’t hear, you know, things going on you become very focused.” In the workplace, The Zone is more likely to be experienced when giving an important presentation or sales pitch but still has the same effect on office workers as it does on professional sports players. 

 Since Mr. Salado has a Master’s degree in sports psychology, my final question to him was, what is the most applicable thing to business you learned while getting this degree? ” Sports psychology taught me to have an awareness, you know, to make a scale, where am I on that scale, where am I normally on that scale one to ten, where would I normally perform the best? How can I get myself from where I’m at to that level?” This is an extremely valuable strategy to use in both business and sports. If mastered, this technique will be effective in daily life to perform at your maximum potential. 

 From stress management to The Zone, sports and business have many similarities. Unfortunately, not everyone that competes in athletics has a positive experience. A CEO co-worker of Mr. Salado jokingly said, “I don’t wish harm on anybody, only our competitors and my Little League baseball coach.” This shows that sadly, playing sports doesn’t translate into business skills for everyone. However, most people who have competed in some athletic endeavor and go into business have at least one advantage over non-sports players. 

 Thank you, Mr. Salado, for sharing your knowledge with us! I hope you all have learned as much as I have about the fascinating correlation between business and sports.

Arts and Culture, Stories

A Letter from Sighet ~ a project based on the novel ‘Night’

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by Harper Smith

A bit of background: For my novel project I chose the ‘Letter from Sighet’ option. I did a lot of beforehand research, trying to pick a subject for my letter that would be interesting and provide me with more information on which groups were also marginalized during the Holocaust. During my research I came across a fact about the queer men that had been interned in concentration camps. During this time there were many places in the world where homosexuality was illegal and considered a jail-worthy crime. The Nazis, who targeted all who were different from their idealized version of a human being, captured several of these individuals–specifically, gay men–and interned them in camps along with the Jewish residents. When the Allies eventually stopped the war and freed the prisons, they and the newly recognized German states, chose not to consider queer prisoners victims of the genocide–which was a crucial status they needed to be able to apply for asylum in other states or get help for their experiences. In fact, in places such as Austria, they elected to send these men, fresh from what is considered one of the worst and most horrific events in human history, right back to prison. My letter is written from the point of view of one of these men named Imre, a queer Jewish person who is writing from Austrian prison to his lover, whom he was separated from at the beginning of the war and is not sure is still alive. I hope you enjoy my project and the story of the character I have created. Though fictional, Imre and Isadore represent the millions of true survivors who were torn from their loved ones in this horrific event of history, and I encourage you to reach out and learn more on your own. History will only change tomorrow if we are educated on the past today. 

Content Warnings: Mentions of violence and death (nothing graphic), an exploration of the trauma that came from this war. Read with caution and take care of yourselves.

March 1st, 1946

I write this letter with little hope it will reach you. I barely trust in the assurance that it will make it out of this prison alive, my words discarded lost or burned at their hands, without a glance at what I have to say, like so many promises broken. But I have to try. There is precious little left in this world that I believe is worth trying for, after all I have seen, but if there is a singular thing—if there is one light left in the darkness—I believe it would be you. 

It has been nearly five years now, since I have last seen your face. Do you still remember that fated day? They have tried to take it away from me, but I will never forget. We were a simple little place, the town of Sighet, Transylvania, nestled in the woods. The smell of salt always thick in the air, not from the ocean from which we were far, but from the mines that harvested the mineral and brought it up from the Earth. My father worked in one such mine. He was a good man, kind and warm. My mother did not work, yet she loved her sewing. Her hands, a needle and thread could make such beautiful creations we teased that she should sell them, if only to make us the richest in all the land. She shrugged these off, but I remember her smile in the candlelight. I had no siblings. They were Jewish as most families in our neighborhood were, devout and pious, brought together in our community by the grace of God. I was Jewish in the way that birds sang each morning, or that vegetables were good for you despite their taste. It simply was. I did not think much of it then–I had my own secrets, secrets that could make me hated and feared even in the eyes of God Himself, and I concerned myself no more with the matters of religious identity than a simple daily prayer that worked that kept my life afloat. 

Apologies. I did not mean to insinuate that I felt my burdens with regret. There was shame, as there was wont to be, but never regret. I could never regret you as long as I live, my friend. 

The day the foreign Jews were expelled was not one I had paid much mind to at the time. I will admit that I was selfish back then. I believed the Earth would simply continue to go round as long as I and those I loved were unharmed. So I did not take much notice when they were hauled away. I had spent the day with you, Isadore, in the fields behind your father’s mill. We were too caught up in the joyous and simple pleasures of youthful physicality to take much mind of anything at all. 

The ghettos have not stuck well in my mind, I am afraid, for it has been so long and I have been through so much as to render them a paradise compared to the places that followed. We lined up on the streets for hours those days, waiting for them to cart us away. I’m sure you remember. How you complained about the heat. They did not tell us where we were being taken, though they looked at you and I with more respect than the others. We were young–early twenties, then, isn’t it so funny to think–and fit, and we had an air of intelligence about us that perhaps inspired them to treat us as though we were human. The same could not be said for my family. They looked at my mother like a piece of meat and my father like a frail burden, though he was only sixty and she was only his. Oh, if only they could have known then, when they looked upon us! You and I were filled with more sin than they could have ever conceived, yet looking back I find only satisfaction in that knowledge. 

They took my family away before I. It was a solemn day, and I cannot deny I still shudder to think I shed no tear. If I could have known it was the last I would ever see my mother, my precious amma, my father, the stone-faced and gold-hearted miner, I would have ran into their arms like a little boy again, but I did not. Alaya and Joseph Malik, those were their names. History will not remember them as I have, for history will not remember them at all. I am told they were killed along with hundreds of others upon arrival, their very existence forgotten to the flames. It haunts my mind like a ghost, the thought of their ashes left to the wind. 

They took you away from me. I barely can picture the moment, for all I knew was that all at once, I was loaded into one car and you another. We had only interlocked hands–no kiss, no embrace, only a faint reminder of your skin on mine before being ripped away. That is all we had. 

I have not seen you since. I do not know if you are even alive. But that moment, I remember, and I shall remember for all my life.  You were warm in my hands as I held you and through all of this I have held onto that last flame of sunlight before the eclipse. 

I will mention, it was not long after I arrived that they discovered my crime. That summer, a trip we took to Austria in which we were caught together behind the bar–do you recall? The cells were cold there, but not nearly as cold as I soon learned these “camps” could be. I had forgotten, I admit, for our arrest was but a night, but they keep these things on record, you know. Any modicum of respect they had for me was gone by this point. I was spit in the face, called all manner of names–I will not transcribe them. I know that you have endured all the same. 

I will not paint a picture of the horrors I suffered to you now. In a selfish way I pray you already know, because that means that you have lived to suffer the same. Five years I spent being shuffled along those places like cattle, only left breathing because I was strong and could work, losing what it meant to be a person in the light of God more and more with every day…those years were the worst of my life. I have lost my soul to them, Isadore, and yet I cannot help but to think upon all those who have lost worse. The infants, the children, the mothers sons and daughters fed to that fire, young men torn from their mothers and their fathers and everyone they knew before they were even old enough to lift a glass…I am lucky to have survived to live in Hell another day. Any pain that I feel now is but a token I carry for all those who cannot. 

The war is over, now, as it has been for nearly a year as I write this. I have not entertained a single notion of freedom since the Allies, in form of huge, imposing Soviets, liberated our “camp”, nor did I really ever expect to. To the rest of the world, I am the lowest of criminals, set apart from the light and grace of God. Schwuchtel, they called me here, which is a word I had not heard spoken in the same fashion but have heard the heart of many times. I know what it means. I know not if they are wrong, only what they see. My crimes–a single kiss, shared with you one warm night all those years ago, witnessed by prying eyes–has granted me three years of prison time, and the revoking of my status as a victim of this war. 

Three years. What is three years, compared to those who lay dead in the snow? Their bodies ravaged by seasons of wildlife, their names never known…

I had a friend, if you could call it that, a young man by the name of Samuel. I believe he may have been nineteen? He did not know who I truly was, nor do I doubt that any connection we shared would have been lost if he had, but nonetheless I was grateful for the small things we did share. His body lies crushed among the trees somewhere, trampled by the feet of his fellows who may have once known him, left behind there to rot when we were gone. No one, not one page of history will remember him–I myself did not even know his surname, but I find comfort in at least the fact that I did know him through his final hours. What am I saying? It becomes difficult to keep my thoughts orderly when my fingers become so cold in these cells. The memories haunt me like a tide, returning forevermore. A point to say: I know I am lucky. The constraints of my predicament wear away at me anyway, and I do believe by this point that no one could expect me to be grateful. 

You must believe that I hate you, dear Isadore. After all, if not for my love of you I would be free of these cells, as free as a man can be when forced to live in his very own lie, but alas. If not for my love of you, I do believe I would have met the same fate that befell my brothers and sisters in that Hell–if not death, than a loss of oneself. Though I do not claim to be the same man I was when I left you, and at times I fear that I have lost my soul, my body, and the sanctity of my mind…but it is only the memory of your hand in mine that reassures me that if anything I have not let go entirely of my heart. There are days I feel as though I have lost the ability to love anyone at all, and I cannot lie and say that does not extend, in its own way, to you. Distant as the years have made your image in my mind, murky as my certainty at your survival had become, until one day it faded until I admit I no longer trust that you live at all. But then I remember that sweet summer night, only mere hours before our world would be changed forever by the placement of a simple, yellow star…and I feel the only spark of warmth left among the cold ashes that have consumed me. 

Are you alive, chayim sheli? Does your heart still beat, or have you become like so many, lost in the embers? Have you suffered the same fate as I, or do you walk free, in this country or another, your life your own? I have no way of knowing. I suppose it is possible I never will. I send this letter now to your aunt, in France, for I have hope to believe that she was spared from the same internment we faced. If she does not tear this letter to shreds upon its arrival, she may succeed in reaching you. If she does not, then, well, I will live as I have been. I have no reason to believe she would write me back either way, so I may continue to believe blindly in your existence no matter the true outcome. 

Write to me, Isadore, should you have survived. Write to me and tell me everything, or nothing at all. All I ask of you is to tell me that you live. And maybe one day, when I am free from these walls, I will find you again. 

Yours,

Imre Malik

Science

A Comprehensive Analysis of the Recent Shift to an Over-Reliance on Pesticides used by Farmers

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by Ava Amara Salado

Farmers create a discourse community by sharing particular values and goals and by having common objectives, like maintaining the competitive market, and constantly-changing farming practices. Through a variety of platforms, such as conferences, farmer-to-farmer learning opportunities, and the vast (and helpful if used responsibly) internet, they discuss farming practices, regulations, and the many difficulties of the field. Not to mention the usually close nature of small farming communities in America. Furthermore, I have identified one key issue placed upon these farmers who are the cornerstone of our nation: the now abundant pressure and inability to avoid the over-reliance on pesticides. 

In fairness and full disclosure, productivity and agricultural output has increased due to the use of chemical innovations like insecticides (Fernandez-Cornejo et al. 1). However, we are now seeing more negative externalities as a result of its use, and, rather, over-use. These externalities include harm to aquatic creatures (via water run-off), native vegetation, animals, non-target insects (like solitary bees) and the long-term health of agricultural land (i.e. soil degradation) (Wilson and Tisdell 449). Additionally, there is evidence of higher human health concerns and even death as a result of pesticide exposure, particularly in developing nations. These issues have significant costs and impacts on farmers’ profits and lives. (Wilson and Tisdell 454-55) Nevertheless, we see farmers still use pesticides, and in most nations, in greater and greater amounts, in spite of these glaringly apparent expenses. (Hu) In this analysis, I would like to investigate this paradox and understand, within recent years especially, why farmers still apply and over-rely on pesticides in spite of their rising costs economically, socioeconomicly, agriculturally, and environmentally. Global pesticide dependence is largely a result of socio-economic structures and ineffective government policies, compounded by ever-growing global climate changes. (Hu) Transitioning to sustainable agriculture necessitates a deep understanding of the cause and effect: the reasons why small-scale, family agriculture relies so dependently on pesticides, forming a toxic-simbiotic relationship, and a realistic solution to implement a more genuine and healthy farm-to-chemical relationship for the future. 

From an outside perspective, it is very easy to make the assumption “well, doesn’t each country’s individual government mitigate, regulate, and ensure the proper and safe usage of pesticide as agriculture is of great importance to foreign and interior affairs?” The idea of this question comes with some validity. It goes without saying that agriculture is, essentially, what makes the world go around. But further, I believe there is much knowledge to be gathered when contemplating the “productivity” of government oversight when it comes to private pesticide and insecticide use. Tambo and Liverpool-Tasie’s (2024) work “Are farm input subsidies a disincentive for integrated pest management adoption? Evidence from Zambia” illustrates how “well-intentioned” government policies can actually inadvertently reinforce this worrying chemical dependence habit. Their study, primarily focusing on Zambia, demonstrates that agricultural input subsidies, (more specifically; flexible e-vouchers) significantly decreased the adoption of sustainable IPM practices while increasing reliance on insecticides and pesticides. It also explains how economic interventions can create disincentives for realistic sustainability, effectively paying these family farmers to remain reliant on pesticide-focused farming practices as opposed to natural ones. Farmers participating in the subsidy program adopted “roughly four less IPM practices” compared to non-participants. Specifically, beneficiaries were “106 percentage points less likely to regularly monitor their farms” for pests and “125 percentage points less likely to adopt preventative cultural measures,” such as intercropping and (most importantly) crop rotation. The authors distinguish between the traditional “subsidy model” (direct and constant supply of seeds/fertilizer) and the “flexible” e-voucher. In that, the e-voucher allows farmers to redeem government funds for a variety of benefits, explicitly including synthetic pesticides. This, rather unhelpful, economic intervention effectively “weeds-out” (pun intended) natural alternatives. The study indicates that farmers view synthetic pesticides as substitutes; therefore, when synthetic options are subsidized and easily accessible via vouchers, farmers are less likely to opt for safer, biological alternatives. Even under the traditional subsidy model, the heavy promotion of subsidized inorganic fertilizers creates a labor trade-off. Because applying fertilizer is labor-intensive, farmers may reduce the time spent on labor-intensive IPM practices, such as pest monitoring to rather focus on fertilizer application. The authors conclude that while these subsidies may boost short-term yields, they “inadvertently discourage the adoption of sustainable intensification practices,” potentially undermining long-term income and yield gains while increasing human health risks. In summary, the authors argue that by allowing vouchers to be redeemed for synthetic pesticides, the government effectively lowers the cost of chemical dependence while increasing the opportunity cost of labor-intensive, sustainable farming practices.

Conversely, Zhanping Hu’s 2020 journal “What Socio-Economic and Political Factors Lead to Global Pesticide Dependence? A Critical Review From a Social Science Perspective.” provides a wide-scale (or big-picture) analysis of the “pesticide trap.” Hu’s critical review effectively challenges the widely held idea that pesticide overuse is simply a technological issue, arguing instead that it is deeply rooted in these complex social and political structures around the world, such as the “productivist treadmill” (a cycle where pests develop resistance, necessitating stronger chemicals) and the commercial influence of the agrochemical industry. In developed countries, this idea emphasizes production quantity above all else, entrenching pesticides as an inseparable part of farming. In developing countries, this “trap” is caused by introducing high-yielding crop varieties that are biologically dependent on fertilizers and pesticides, effectively locking farmers’ livelihoods and labor processes into a chemical-dependent model. An inescapable cycle. To sum up, Hu’s work analyzes the “pesticide trap” as a structural issue where “technical fixes or regulatory changes will only acquire significance within the framework of serious social change”. The dependence is maintained not just by pest resistance, but by an industrial agricultural “regime”, the de-skilling of farmers, the political influence of the agrochemical industry (lobbying), and the systemic failure to promote sustainable alternatives.

Further, we must understand that farmers operate within a market system that creates a “lock-in” effect, where the immediate economic necessity of maintaining high yields forces a continued reliance on chemical inputs, even as these inputs degrade the natural populations required for long-term sustainability. Wilson and Tisdell explain that this hysteresis creates a scenario where reverting to pesticide-free methods becomes economically unviable for individual farmers due to high withdrawal costs and the risk of short-term yield losses (458). 

Farm size is a large contributor too. Based on the study of rice production in China, Yinghui Yuan challenges the simple “linear” assumption that larger farms always use fewer chemicals, instead identifying a “U-shaped relationship” between farm size and pesticide use intensity. Simply, as small-scale farms expand, pesticide costs per unit of land decrease due to “economies of scale,” this grants farmers better access to agricultural technical services and efficient application technologies that reduce waste (Yuan et al.). However, the author finds that beyond an optimal scale, “diseconomies of scale” emerge, causing pesticide use to rise again; this increase is attributed to “managerial challenges,” such as the difficulty of supervising hired labor and the inability to effectively monitor vast plots of land (think enormous farms spanning many, many acres), which leads farmers to substitute chemical intensity for labor and detailed oversight (Yuan et al.).

But what are the long term, tangible problems caused by the issues stated above and, throughout the vast time in which agriculture has dominated our ways of life, how can we understand the discourse community that farmers so heavily rely on? And further, what are the real “pluses” to pesticides? As mentioned in the introduction and in all fairness, they have caused near-before-seen productivity in agriculture in the 20th century. To further explore this, I will be examining the report titled “Pesticide Use in the U.S. Agriculture: 21 Selected Crops, 1960-2008” by Jorge Fernandez-Cornejo, the lead author of the USDA Economic Research Service. The paper, which came out in May 2014, looks at pesticide use (herbicides, insecticides, and fungicides) over the past fifty years, by giving an expansive, “big picture” view of the productivity that these biocide innovations have aided in, while also showing their “big picture” pitfalls. In addition, this paper looks at things like economic causes and new technologies (such as genetically engineered crops). Pesticide use has been a primary driver of agricultural productivity, contributing alongside fertilizers and improved seed varieties to “substantial increases in crop yields over the last 80 years” (Fernandez-Cornejo et al. 1). For instance, average corn yields absolutely skyrocketed from 20 bushels per acre in 1930 to over 150 bushels per acre by 2008, while cotton yields nearly quadrupled and soybean yields more than tripled during the same period (Fernandez-Cornejo et al. 1). Beyond raw yield, pesticides—specifically herbicides—significantly improved operational efficiency by allowing farmers to substitute chemicals for the labor, fuel, and machinery previously required for mechanical weed control (Fernandez-Cornejo et al. 15). This substitution effect is evident in corn production, where the labor required per acre dropped from 13.2 hours in 1952 to 4.8 hours in 1976 as herbicide use expanded from 10% to 90% of planted acres (Fernandez-Cornejo et al. 15). Ultimately, these inputs have reduced overall production costs while enabling the production of higher quality, unblemished (and more aesthetically pleasing) crops (Fernandez-Cornejo et al. 1). But, as with most things in this world, all is not sunshine, rainbows, and beautiful corn yields. Based on the report, the economic benefits of pesticide use are accompanied by significant potential risks to human health and the environment, arising from direct farm worker exposure, consumer contact with residues, and chemical movement into groundwater and the food chain (Fernandez-Cornejo et al. 3). By the 1960s, concerns regarding wildlife and human health prompted calls for stringent regulation, eventually leading the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) to cancel registrations for pesticides determined to pose unreasonable risks, such as DDT, aldrin, and chlordane (Fernandez-Cornejo et al. 3). Regulatory scrutiny intensified in the 1990s and 2000s to address chronic toxicity risks—including tumors, birth defects, and endocrine disruption—resulting from long-term exposure to small amounts of pesticides in food and drinking water (Fernandez-Cornejo et al. 3, 40).

Furthermore, I want to take a moment and examine other discourse communities that are affected by pesticide over-reliance, namely for this argument, birds of prey. Birds may not chat on a Facebook group or meet weekly at a coffee shop for their protest group, “Grounds for Change”, but they create a discourse group nonetheless. So just for a moment, bear with me as I would like to go back to one particular chemical mentioned in the past paragraph; DDT. For some, this may be a recognizable name. But I feel the need to discuss and examine, because I believe the downfall of this “avian” discourse community can sum up the years of frustration and confusion that a thing like chemical over-reliance causes. And that this story can shine light and show the truth of change; the time, resources, and energy it takes to find real solutions. Moreover, the issues with DDT (dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane) stem from its toxicity, environmental persistence, and adverse effects on wildlife and human health. DDT is an organochlorine insecticide that was determined to pose “unreasonable risks” to the environment (Fernandez-Cornejo et al. 3). A primary issue was its devastating impact on bird populations; exposure to chlorinated insecticides like DDT caused reproductive failure in birds, particularly birds of prey, which was frequently attributed to the thinning of eggshells (Wilson and Tisdell 453). Following the ban of DDT, many bird populations that had been affected by poisoning have since recovered (Wilson and Tisdell 453). Concerns regarding human safety were a major factor in the discontinuation of DDT; by the 1960s, growing concerns about human health risks prompted stricter regulation, leading the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) to determine that DDT too detrimental a risk to warrant its continued use (Fernandez-Cornejo et al. 3). In the United States, the EPA canceled the registration of DDT in the 1970s, forcing the agricultural sector to shift toward less persistent and less toxic alternatives, such as pyrethroids (Fernandez-Cornejo et al. 3, 23). Despite these bans in developed nations, DDT continues to be used illegally in some developing countries because it is no longer under patent protection, making it significantly cheaper than newer, safer pesticide inventions (Wilson and Tisdell 450). Yet another example of a roadblock set forth for small farms to sustainably keep up. 

While the entrenched “lock-in” of chemical dependence presents a challenge, a transition to sustainable agriculture is achievable if the discourse community of farmers, policymakers, and researchers collectively reimagines the incentives and knowledge systems governing food production (Wilson and Tisdell 458). Optimism lies in the potential for policy reforms to shift from subsidizing synthetic inputs—which currently crowd out natural alternatives—toward supporting biopesticides and labor-intensive preventative measures, thereby dismantling the economic traps that enforce chemical reliance (Tambo and Liverpool-Tasie 758-60). Specifically, governments can leverage existing infrastructure, such as the aforementioned flexible e-voucher, by mandating that vouchers be redeemed for biopesticides or by offering higher subsidy amounts for low-risk crop protection products, a strategy that would actively encourage the substitution of synthetic chemicals with safer biological ones (Tambo and Liverpool-Tasie 760). This structural realignment, coupled with policies that improve land security can empower farmers to invest in the long-term observational knowledge required for Integrated Pest Management rather than relying on the short-term fix (Tambo and Liverpool-Tasie 740). Change is indeed possible. While it is essential to understand farmers’ discourse community and the reason why making a transition to a natural way of farming is ever-complicated, the facts of the case should not be discouraging. Having reasonable understanding and empathy to a problem that has been created, while still pressuring and proactively fighting for its solution are the pillars of our combined humanity. Finally, I want to look at this from a wide angle; we, as the world, are a discourse community. Often we innovate (as is our human nature) but we push things too far (as greed or misunderstanding can rightfully be blamed). But because of this innovative spirit, we always find a light. Always, even with the pitfalls of our innovation do we eventually find a solution to better a future beyond ourselves. With the knowledge and experiences shared in the farmer’s discourse community, results based, sustainable means of agriculture can continue to be studied and implemented as reasonable solutions to the challenges posed by over utilization of pesticides.

Annotated Bibliography

Fernandez-Cornejo, Jorge, et al. “Pesticide Use in U.S. Agriculture: 21 Selected Crops, 1960-2008.” Economic Information Bulletin, Number 124, United States Department of Agriculture, Apr. 2014, https://ers.usda.gov/sites/default/files/_laserfiche/publications/43854/46734_eib124.pdf?v=19040 

This report by the USDA Economic Research Service analyzes trends in pesticide application across twenty-one major crops in the United States from 1960 to 2008, utilizing a database compiled from USDA surveys and proprietary sources. Fernandez-Cornejo et al. examine the primary drivers behind these trends, categorizing them into economic factors, pest related pressures, technological innovations—such as genetically engineered (GE or GMO) crops—and regulatory changes. The authors document a period of rapid growth in pesticide use during the 1960s and 1970s. Then followed by a stabilization and even a slight decline in aggregate volume in later years, while noting a dramatic shift in composition where herbicides replaced insecticides as the dominant chemical input. The report argues that pesticides have been a primary driver of agricultural productivity over the last five decades, enabling significant yield increases and allowing farmers to substitute chemical inputs for the labor, fuel, and machinery previously required for mechanical weed control.

This source is essential for establishing the historical and economic baseline of the “pesticide trap” within, specifically, the United States. By quantifying the correlation between pesticide use and increased operational efficiency—specifically the dramatic reduction of labor hours per acre—the report provides evidence for the economic incentives that structurally entrench chemical dependence. It effectively illustrates the economic “lock-in” effect, showing how market forces and technological convenience have made chemical adoption make sense economically, even if not necessary, for producers of major crops like corn and soybeans. For this essay, the report serves as a crucial counter-narrative to purely ecological critiques, offering a data-driven explanation of the financial realities that compel family farmers to maintain high levels of chemical input despite known environmental externalities.

Hu, Zhanping. “What Socio-Economic and Political Factors Lead to Global Pesticide Dependence? A Critical Review From a Social Science Perspective.” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, vol. 17, no. 21, Nov. 2020, p. 8119. https://doi.org/10.3390/ijerph17218119. 

In this journal Hu, a researcher from North China Electric Power University, conducts a review to analyze what certain socio-economic and political factors that drive the persistent global over-reliance on chemical pesticides. Moving beyond the technical “pesticide resistance” idea, the review uses a qualitative, tangible, and theme-oriented method to gather concepts from several social science fields.The analysis categorizes the varying complex factors reinforcing pesticide dependence into five primary and interconnected themes: the prevailing agricultural regime (e.g., the historical “productivist treadmill”), the social process of application (including farmer deskilling and poor information provision), economic analysis (including the failure of market-based techniques due to low demand), politics and governance (such as industry influence, lobbying, and weak state regulation), and the failure of alternatives like Integrated Pest Management (IPM). The core argument states that pesticide dependence is not just and simply a technological challenge but is rooted in deep-seated social and political structures.

This source is essential for providing a “macro-level”, comprehensive framework to analyze why seemingly promising solutions like IPM struggle to gain traction against common pesticides. A significant strength in this journal is its explicit and clear categorization and its strong theoretical base, including a detailed and specific discussion of economic concepts like the “lock-in effect” and external costs. The author effectively argues that mitigating dependence requires going beyond “reductionist” explanations and looking closer and deep diving on multiple commonalities on a wide scale, essentially acknowledging that this issue is not going to have a simple fix. A self-acknowledged limitation is the simplified treatment of “global pesticide dependence,” which may not fully reflect geographical limits across the world.

Tambo, Justice A., and Lenis Saweda O. Liverpool‐Tasie. “Are Farm Input Subsidies a Disincentive for Integrated Pest Management Adoption? Evidence From Zambia.” Journal of Agricultural Economics, vol. 75, no. 2, Apr. 2024, pp. 740–63. https://doi.org/10.1111/1477-9552.12582. 

In this particular study, authored by researchers affiliated with CABI and Michigan State University, assess whether agricultural Input Subsidy Programmes (ISPs) inadvertently actually discourage small-scale adoption of realistic sustainable pest management practices in countries across Africa. Utilizing data collected from 1,048 private/family-owned maize plots across Zambia’s major maize-producing areas, the authors employ a “control function regression approach” to address potential endogeneity bias related to farmer participation. The key finding indicates that participation in Zambia’s ISP (Input Subsidy Programmes), is negatively associated with adopting environmentally friendly and long-term sustainable strategies. Specifically, those participating in the program were 125% less likely to adopt practices like crop rotation or intercropping and 67% more likely to use synthetic pesticides. The study further notes that farmers perceive biopesticides and synthetic pesticides as, essentially, substitutes. This leading the authors to recommend leveraging subsidies to promote safer alternatives.

This recent, region-specific research is very useful for understanding how government policy can unintentionally strongly reinforce pesticide dependence. Its strength lies in its rigorous method (control function regression), which provides realistic evidence linking subsidies to reduced IPM adoption and increased reliance on synthetic chemicals. The results pinpoint the “flexible e-voucher system” as the driver of pesticide/insecticide use because it allows farmers to redeem subsidized pesticides directly and easily. This provides a critical political insight to my research: reforming the list of inputs (i.e., funding and incentivising Integrated Pest Management (IPM) practices) could shift behavior towards more sustainable strategies. A limitation to the cited research is that, due to the wide data, the analysis provides associations rather than effects and cannot actually and realistically determine the long-term impact of the program (IPM).

Wilson, Clevo, and Clem Tisdell. “Why Farmers Continue to Use Pesticides despite Environmental, Health and Sustainability Costs.” Ecological Economics, vol. 39, no. 3, Dec. 2001, pp. 449–62, https://doi.org/10.1016/s0921-8009(01)00238-5.

Regarding my topic, and my factual consideration of the issue facing my chosen discourse community, family owned, small farmers struggling in this new and brutal economic climate, this Ecological Economics analysis discusses the widely complex and interconnected nature of continued use of pesticides by farmers in spite of the chemicals recognized negative effects on the environment, human health, and sustainability. In this piece, Wilson and Tisdell, the authors, describe the detrimental effects of ongoing pesticide use, such as real ecosystem harm, the purge of helpful insects, and the human health effects in those who handle the chemicals (the farmers) and those who ingest them (the consumers). These problems are especially apparent in developing nations. By arguing that short-term financial gains, the high cost of switching, and other influential reasons outweigh the long-term negative consequences, the research ultimately aims to explain why small farmers continue to practice in this unsustainable but convenient way. In addition, I would like to add a note about the reliability of the authors and their intentions. At the Queensland University of Technology (QUT) in Australia, Clevo Wilson is a professor of economics with a focus on cost-benefit analysis, environmental economics, and the financial effects of ecotourism and natural catastrophes. He graduated from the University of St Andrews with a Ph.D. in Economics, the University of Cambridge with an MPhil, and the University of Glasgow with an MSc with numerous studies on subjects including the protection and financial advantages of wildlife-based tourism (e.g., sea turtles and whales). He commonly adjoined efforts with renowned Australian economist Clem Tisdell. He was an Emeritus Professor at the University of Queensland. He was a pioneer in a number of areas, such as the study of human values and its connection to development economics, natural resource economics, and environmental and ecological economics.

Further, this resource is a scholarly, peer-reviewed academic journal article with research information, tables, and comprehensive charts. The information gathered and referenced in the sources spans a period of at least 64 years, from 1937 to the year the article was published, 2001. I found no grammatical or spelling errors. The source seems credible, reliable, and objective. The layout of the site is uncluttered. Particularly for the target audience of the academic journal Ecological Economics, the authors’ main argument—that farmers continue to use pesticides despite high environmental, health, and sustainability costs due to systemic factors and economic “lock-in” (hysteresis)—is very persuasive. By, over the many years of the study, thoroughly documenting and recording the known negative impacts and then using certain economic and structural ideas to explain the ongoing behavior, the writers effectively make their major point.  I believe it is of substantial use to my research, but in the future, I would like to find resources that are more recent and from specifically North America. The study takes a broad look at how these issues present themselves across the world, but I would like to further find information for my analysis from studies taking place in America, and from more recent years as the economy, climate concerns, and developing pesticide toxicology shifts.

Yuan, Yinghui, et al. “Impact of Farm Size on Pesticide Use: Evidence From Chinese Rice Production.” Frontiers in Sustainable Food Systems, vol. 9, Sept. 2025, https://doi.org/10.3389/fsufs.2025.1653777. 

In this recent study, Yuan investigated the complex and wide relationship between farm scale and pesticide use intensity within China, a country that is critical to global pesticide consumption. The study utilizes a big dataset spanning 14 years (2004–2017) of rice farm data from the Jiangsu Province. The central finding confirms a relationship between farm size and pesticide cost per unit of area: pesticide intensity initially decreases as farms expand, but eventually begins to increase once a certain optimal scale is surpassed. The analysis suggests that increasing scale initially benefits efficiency due its economic input (for instance,the use of professional application and adoption of new machinery, etc.). However, further expansion of the research leads to “diseconomies,” such as increasing management and loss of oversight, increasing chemical dependency, and essentially a loosening of control that leads to mismanagement. This effect indicates that most sampled farms are currently on the downward slope, where a 1% increase in size is associated with a 0.089% decrease in pesticide cost.

This recently published article is invaluable for refining a structural and honest analysis, providing up-to-date and region-specific evidence on critical policy: land consolidation. The study’s use and knowledge of differing econometric methods to establish “non-linear” relationships between concepts is a significant strength. The primary policy implication is that promoting moderate farm size expansion is a viable and realistic pathway to reducing overall pesticide use in China. However, the authors note the limitations, including that using pesticide cost data cannot precisely separate changes in the actual chemical quantity from price fluctuations in the economy, and that the data combines and does not acknowledge the many different pesticide types (herbicides, fungicides, etc.).

Stories

butterfly wish ~ a poem

thelighthousetve

By Harper Smith

butterfly wish

I gave my wish to a butterfly today

it was small and just for me

I watched it lift on fragile wings

to the world, I set it free.

In turn I carry a wish of my own

from insect soul to mine

To live long and to prosper, to fly and to be

to live well, as long as she’s alive.

The things I believe are tiny and precious,

they are droplets of rain in the storm,

They are no God, they have no message

they are paperthin wings as they soar. 

They are poppies and sunsets and wildcats,

they are laughter and hairclips and friends. 

It’s the stillness I feel when my feet touch the grass

it’s my hands when I pick up a pen. 

The world we rest in, it lives and it breathes, 

and sometimes we breathe in its time.

I gave my wish to a butterfly today,

and when I turned, I saw a hawk in the sky. 

News, Science

AI Data Centers are Damaging the Environment

thelighthousetve

by Camden S.

It’s not a secret that AI, in at least some way, has found its way to affect our lives. However, did you know that the AI data centers, which are used to train and run AI models, are having a negative impact on the environment by damaging ecosystems, destroying habitats, and increasing global warming? That’s not to say that all AI is bad, and that we should stop using it all together, but that we need to stay informed to make sure that companies are taking action to reduce the damage caused by AI. With that said, why is this happening and what can you do to help prevent it.

What exactly are AI data centers?

Think of AI data centers as networks of massive computers that are used to train (create) and run the AI (for example, when you use it for something like a chatbot). Training consists of obtaining large amounts of data (such as images, videos, art, or text) then using many GPUs (Graphics Processing Units) and TPUs (Tensor Processing Units), which process the data, so after some time, you are rewarded with a model that does what you trained it to do. This is usually done in giant complexes with extensive cooling and power infrastructure to ensure that everything runs smoothly like in Microsoft’s Fairwater AI data center in Wisconsin or Amazon’s Project Rainier in Indiana.

photo by iStock.com/Hugo Kurk

How do AI data centers impact the environment?

The land for the buildings to be built on, the water to cool the hot processors, and the electricity that powers the buildings all affect the environment. The ladder two, however, are the most damaging. They can put strain on the local infrastructure, especially with their rapid construction over the past few years. Since these centers are massive, the physical construction of these centers also displaces natural habitats that can be home to all sorts of creatures, which could lose their homes. There is also the problem of noise pollution. AI data centers can greatly increase the amount of background noise for residents nearby.

What other impacts do AI data centers have?

These data centers are not cheap to build, and they need vast amounts of RAM (Random Access Memory), GPUs, and TPUs. Though, they must come from somewhere, and that sometimes means that AI companies buy most of the available supply, since it’s much more lucrative to sell to massive AI companies and strike big contracts than to individuals or even other companies for things such as phones, computers, or other electronics. There was even one time that a branch of the company Samsung did not provide RAM to another branch because they could get more money selling it outside of the company. This highlights how, because of AI, there is a massive RAM, GPU and TPU shortage that’s likely to persist for some time.

Should we get rid of all AI?

AI is here to stay, but that’s not all bad. It has allowed us to make advancements in medicine, science, and even space travel. Yet without AI, many of these recent advancements would not  have been possible. Though, when companies are incorporating AI into everything, even things that don’t require it (like an AI fridge, AI toys for children, and AI coffee makers) as well as people using AI image and video generation to make AI slop, it creates unnecessary negative impacts that could be avoided.

What can you do?

First off, try not to excessively use AI for non-productive purposes (like making dozens of meme videos that you will just delete a few minutes after they’re made). Secondly, hold companies accountable for making AI data centers more efficient so less energy and water is wasted by talking about it online and voicing your opinion. Lastly, spread awareness about the effects of AI on the environment so that everyone is educated on this topic.

Conclusion

Global warming and habitat loss are still pressing issues, but AI data centers are just one piece in a puzzle that is much bigger than just them. Furthermore,  many companies are taking measures to reduce the impact of these on the environment, but we need to make sure that this progress continues. They have the potential to lead to giant advancements in our lives, but we need to be more responsible with how we use these new tools and make sure that we prioritize stainability to preserve our planet.

Stories

The Midgard Serpent – Percy Jackson Fanfiction ~ Chapter 15

thelighthousetve

by Emery Pugh

Chapter 15

Hector

Before leaving for Grand Central Terminal, Chiron called me once again. This time, it was to the armory. He presented me with an assortment of weapons, all of which I had no idea how to use. But one appealed to me – a black Stygian Iron blade.

I frowned. “One problem – I have had practically no training.”

“You have natural talent,” Chiron assured me. “You’ll learn fast.”

I highly doubted it.

On the train, I ran my fingers over the smooth, dark metal. I’ve never felt or seen anything so in tune with me – the sword just felt like a perfect fit.

In front of me, Godric nearly jumped out of his seat. I didn’t know much about quests and monsters, but one thing was blatantly obvious: something was up, and it wasn’t good.

Godric whispered something to Sanderson, and then turned to us. “I just heard something… unusual. Keep your eyes peeled, and stay alert. Don’t worry, though – it shouldn’t be much to worry about.”

The last part didn’t sound sincere.

Then I heard it too – grrrr. A black dog head poked up from the row of seats in front of Andromeda, who instinctively drew her Celestial bronze dagger. Godric unsheathed his Imperial gold blade. Sanderson lunged for his bow and quiver. Coach Hedge hefted his baseball bat and gritted his teeth, muttering “die!” Garret put his reed pipes to his mouth, ready to play a magical melody.

Meanwhile, I sat there, completely frozen.

“Hector!” Garret hissed quietly. “Get out your sword! Quickly!”

I fumbled with the sheath and clumsily retrieved the sword, nearly dropping it.

The dog climbed on top of its seat, revealing its small shape. Its body was fully dark except for a few patches of gray, which lacked fur and looked like burn scars, and its eyes glowed a soft amber. Its claws were as sharp as a cat, and it was about as large as a domestic dog. I haven’t had much monster training, but I could still recognize it – it looked like a baby hellhound.

Everyone else sat down with sighs of relief, stowing their weapons away. The baby hellhound made no attempt to attack. It tentatively reached out a paw to me.

“It’s drawn to you,” Garret explained. “Hellhounds are creatures of the Underworld, and you’re a son of Hades.”

I’ve never seen a dog look so hideous, but I gave it a chance. Sheathing my sword, I reached towards the hellhound and took it in my lap. It squealed with delight and closed its eyes.

I stroked its head and back. The baby hellhound looked content as it drifted into sleep. I did the same, and the land of dreams took me over.

______________________________________________________________________________

Startled, I woke up, panting and sweating. Everyone else was sound asleep, except for Godric and Sanderson. They were playing chess on a miniature board to pass the time. The board was magical though, since a normal one couldn’t hover.

My memories of the dream were fuzzy – it involved that serpent, Jormungandr. He talked about destroying all demigods and something about rising sea levels. Two things that could cause a whole lot of trouble.

Godric turned to me, noticing I was awake. “Bad dreams?”

“Yeah.” I wiped a bead of sweat from my eyebrow. “It was about the serpent.”

He nodded in understanding. “Dreams and visions like those are common for demigods. So, uh, I guess you gotta just get used to it.”

Sanderson was concentrated on the chess board. Suddenly, he exclaimed quietly, “Ha! Get checkmated, Godric.”

“Flip,” Godric muttered. “I should’ve seen that.”

“Wanna play?” Sanderson offered. The pieces reassembled themselves and the board drifted closer to me.

“Sure, but I’ll lose,” I grinned. “That’s one cool chess board, though.”

“Thanks. It’s a gift from Apollo.”

Andromeda and the satyrs stirred, yawning and blinking their eyes.

“Ugh, another vision,” Andromeda complained. “More serpent stuff.”

Garret rifled through his backpack and found a few herbs. “Here, guys, take these next time you sleep. It should help prevent bad dreams, and it’ll increase sleep efficiency.”

Godric looked hurt. “Hey, where were these things when I needed them most?” He waved his hand and cracked a smile. “Nah, I’m just kidding. Thanks.”

“Got a world chess championship here, huh?” Andromeda asked jokingly.

“Not quite,” Sanderson said. “But close enough.”

“Come on, Hector!” Coach Hedge urged me on. “Beat him! I always lose, and it’s time for vengeance.”

Alas, I lost the world chess championship, but at least I made it to the endgame. Finally, I felt like I belonged somewhere with these people. I’ve been looking for a community for ages – I hope this was finally it.

Sanderson reached out his hand. “Good game, Hector. Not many reach the endgame against me.”

I shook his hand. “Good game, Sanderson. You’re pretty dang good at this game.”

“Thanks. Now, does anyone else want to lose?” Sanderson looked around with an innocent face. A ripple of laughter passed through us.

Garret leaned over to me and pointed at the hellhound. “Oh, and you might want to name your little pet there.”

I had totally forgotten about the baby hellhound. I looked at it, and it looked right back at me. Due to my powers from Hades, I knew this was a female hellhound.

I thought for a moment. “Is Charis okay with you?”

The pup barked with delight. I assumed she liked the name.

“Alright, Charis it is.” I had already started to like the baby hellhound.

Suddenly, Charis stood up and bared her fangs at a man walking through the train car. Grrrr. Whoever it was, Charis did not like them.

“Guys,” I interrupted. “Beware that man. Charis doesn’t like him.”

Sanderson frowned. “Charis? Oh. That’s your hellhound’s name, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah. She’s baring her fangs at him, that can’t be a good sign.”

The chess board folded itself up and the pieces vanished. Everyone held their weapons and scrutinized the mysterious person. He was cloaked with several layers of robes – an unbuttoned one, colored light brown, on the outside. Underneath, I could see several black cloaks. The man’s face was hidden by a brown sun hat and sunglasses. The headwear was normal, but the cloaks were unusual considering that it was in the middle of August.

I nearly jumped out of my seat when I examined his face. It wasn’t a man’s face, but instead a snake’s.

“Look at his face!” I whispered. “That’s a snake!”

The cloaks dissipated, revealing several 20-foot long King Cobras.

They hissed, and then lunged.

Stories

Seconds ~ a short story

thelighthousetve

by Aleena Haimor

*Sensitive themes. Cancer, coming to terms with death and being at peace with it.*

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Beep. Beep. Beep.

The steady hum of the heart monitor prevents me from falling asleep, even though the nurse says that my body needs rest. I’m exhausted. I’m sore. I’m weak. I don’t want to move. I just want to sleep, but the pain…and that monitor. 

If only someone would shut that stupid thing up. 

I lay awake in this hospital bed, my breathing shallow, waiting, hoping that someone will walk in to keep me company. Still, I know that no visitors are allowed after 8 PM, and I give up. Maybe, I’ll die before morning. It’s better than being alone all night, lying awake until the sun shines through the windows, pretending it’s going to be a good day. Every night that I’ve been stuck in this horrible hospital (way too many), I haven’t had more than twenty minutes of sleep at a time without being woken up by the noises, doctors, nurses, etc…and the stabbing pains in my chest.

The seconds tick by and no one comes.

Let me start at the beginning of…everything. 

My full name is Alexis Rosalie Fisher, but I go by Alex. I’m 18 years old and I live in California. At this point in my life, I should probably be selecting classes for college, like any normal high school graduate.

Unfortunately, I’m not normal.

I have cancer.

I am currently living with acute myeloid leukemia, a type of blood cancer, specifically in my white blood cells. But my cancer is worse than normal. It’s stage four. It has spread to the rest of my body. It’s deadly. 

My breathing becomes sharper as the thought of death swirls around my mind. Will it hurt when it’s time for me to go? Will I even feel anything at all?

You may notice that I talk like I know for sure that I’m going to die. I obviously can’t tell the future. However, the doctors told my parents not to get their hopes up, because “there is a chance that she can’t be saved.”

It isn’t the fact that I’m scared of dying that makes that statement hard to forget. It’s my family. My death would hurt them more than it could ever hurt me. 

Just as I’m drowning in denial and negativity, the door opens. It’s the nurse. I quickly close my eyes and breathe like I’m sleeping. I catch a whiff of her perfume and almost gag because of how strong it is. When you put too much on, it no longer smells like roses. Instead, it smells like alcohol and desperation. 

The nurse checks my vitals and peers at my “peaceful” form. I consider turning over, but decide against it because of the IV inserted into my forearm. And also the fact that I usually don’t move in my sleep. The nurse runs a couple of tests and I fight the urge to wince.

I hear a gasp and the closing of the door. My arm jumps uncontrollably. Great, a seizure. I mention it like it’s just a tiny irritant. That’s because I’m so used to seizures by now. I’ve been having them for a few months.

…I wonder why the nurse ran out like that.

The door opens once more and I don’t even bother pretending to sleep. The doctor’s worried face concerns me.

“Oh, you’re awake?” he says softly, though I obviously am. 

I nod. The doctor whispers something to the nurse, who nods and slowly turns to leave. He sits down on my bed. 

“Now, Alex, what I’m about to tell you is upsetting, but I think you have to know.” He takes a deep breath. “The cancer has started to affect your heart.”

I stare blankly at the doctor. I knew that something was wrong. But it doesn’t matter; the pain will just end sooner.

“The nurse just called your parents, and they’re on their way. I’m so sorry. There isn’t much we can do.”

I slowly nod. I’m not angry. 

I’m not sad.

I just feel bad for my family.

Just then the nurse comes back in. “They’re in the lobby.”

“Let them come up.”

The nurse leaves again and comes back with my mom, dad and 21-year-old sister, Grace. Their terrified expressions rip my heart to shreds. I must look horrible, with my body being made up of, essentially,  skin and bones. I look at my family and feel guilty, like it’s all my fault. I know that I couldn’t prevent myself from getting cancer, but I still blame myself. 

Ten seconds pass.

Then twenty.

Then thirty.

Thirty-one…thirty-seven…forty-four…fifty-six…

Grace is the first one to break the silence. She walks over to my bed and hugs me. I know why. Grace and I have been so close our entire lives, and I’m about to go. I want to hug her back, to hold my sister, but I can’t force my skinny, feeble arms to lift up off of the bed.

Instead, I whisper, “I love you.”

She looks at me, tears in her eyes. “I love you too, Alex,” she whispers back through trembling lips.

“We can try chemo again, or a transplant, but it’s risky, and I don’t think that either will do much. I’m sorry…”

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I wince as a needle is inserted into the inside of my forearm. We’re trying chemotherapy one more time, one last shot of hope. All the nurses seem to avoid touching me now, and I feel more alone than ever. I know, deep down, that no matter what we try, how hard I fight, I only have a couple days left. If even that.

The nurse leaves the room. I try to read a book, but my mind wanders far, far away. Exhaustion creeps in, and it’s all I can do to stay awake. I’m scared now. Scared that if I fall asleep, I won’t wake up.

People always joke around and say that they’re sick and tired, but they don’t know what that really means. I’m the one that’s sick and tired. 

Try slowly dying, I want to yell, scream at them. Over the past few days, I’ve been in so much pain. Too much pain, and I have no idea if this is normal or not. 

I’ve never died before. 

Why did I wish death upon myself, not so long ago? The reality sinks in slowly as the chemo seeps into my bloodstream. I’m in pain, but I can’t let myself die. 

I don’t want to die. 

I let myself cry while there’s no one in the room.

I wish I could tell the world that it’s working. I wish I could see the look on my family’s faces when I tell them I’ll live. But I know that I can’t.

I count the seconds that go by, knowing that my own are numbered.

Time is unique. It’s something beautiful. Something fleeting. Something terrible. All at the same time.

Incredible things happen in seconds, minutes, hours, days. Sometimes months, years, decades. It all has its place in time. Everything is centered around time. 

And I let myself absorb that information. Everyone has a time that they’ll go. For me, it’s sooner than expected.

But the time is perfect. Fate. Written in the stars.

I let the seconds pass, not wanting to forget a single one. 

Seconds.

I’m letting the seconds pass, cherishing every single one.

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It’s sunny on the day that I die.

My sister and parents are gathered around my bed, their whisper-soft sobs echoing quietly in my ears. I can hardly breathe, see, or even think through this fog that surrounds me. 

But it’s okay. I’m…okay.

I can hear birds chirping outside my window. I’m at home. I didn’t want to spend my last days at the hospital.

I take in shallow, rattling breaths, the air avoiding my lungs like the plague.

The room dims around me. 

My eyes close, slowly, but surely.

The soft and steady heartbeat that was my lifeline ceases to exist.

It’s over.

Absolute silence.

One.  

                  Two.               

                        Three.                          

                                Four.

                         Five.

         Six.

   Seven.

         EightNine

                            TenEleven

                                                   Twelve

I count the seconds passing by, the words jumbling together, each one feeling as quick as light, but as long as an eternity of darkness. I hear nothing. I see nothing. I feel…nothing.

Then a white light suddenly appears above me. I feel myself smile. Not my body, but my soul. My seconds have stopped. Time is now gone. 

Nothing matters but the light.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days.

It’s all gone.

I’m one with the light. 

I’m at peace at last.

Arts and Culture, News, Stories, Student Life

Love – A Creative Writing Collection of the Moments we Love in Life!

thelighthousetve

Sunset by Sienna Griffey

Songbird is visiting me today.

I couldn’t be more excited.

I close up things in the library (putting away any lingering books, cleaning up the front desk, and doing a quick sweep of the floor), then I brush off my hands and head up the secret staircase to my living quarters atop the library. 

There wasn’t much to tidy up here, as I had already cleaned it this morning, so I just opened up my current read—one of the ones Songbird had recommended to me—sat before my window, and waited.

We loved to recommend books to each other, it was one of our oldest traditions. While I was slow to get to their suggestions, they never disappointed. They always found the best stories, and always knew which ones I would love.

After some time had passed, I paused my reading to open the window, something I had forgotten to do. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to get in. A cold autumn breeze swept into the room as I swung the window panes open. A shiver ran over me, but I was smiling, inhaling the crisp scent of evergreens and the tinge of brine from the nearby ocean.

This time of year also made me think of them: all warm reds and browns and golds, early sunsets, and honey-like sunlight—with cool and crisp breezes as invigorating and refreshing as their spirit.

Looking outside, I could see the clouds painted orange and pink, the sun beginning to fade on the horizon, coating the world in fiery orange and gold. 

This was the time of day that reminded me most of them. Not just energetically, but we always called and met up at this time. Our schedules worked out best for this, for me to conjure a communication spell for us to be on calls well into the night, the moon high in the sky by the time we finished. Then, on the rare occasions I was able to visit their river town, my wagon always got me there late afternoon or dusk. In my mind, this was their time of day.

With the natural light fading more and more, I decided to light some candles. Slowly making my way around my room, I set alight each candle I came across around the space.

Fire, which burned bright and lively, like Songbird’s creativity and humor. Fire, the element of the Sun, whose warmth was that of their words of comfort and care when my worries and fears arose. Fire, which lit up my room like Songbird lit up my day whenever we called.

The candles were all burning when the sky developed to deep oranges and purples. The Moon was showing herself more, now, sharing the sky with the Sun for a few moments. I smiled.

Sun and Moon, the ancient opposites. Yet, they danced in tandem, stories of old depicting them as siblings or lovers, but always connected—always tied to each other in some way.

And in that moment, looking up at the two celestial bodies, flashes of our history flitted before my eyes, in my mind, and in my heart.

The very first time we met, we were young and both in a class of storytellers, you always making me laugh during those meetings, you reaching out first, our first message to each other outside of the group, two years of learning and talking excitedly through just our words on paper about our favorite books and shows and movies. 

Our first confrontation, where I was so afraid of losing you but knowing we had to have that conversation or we could not move forward, things being even better than before after that, our first call after years of only messaging, feeling shy and nervous but oh so excited to talk with you—and before I knew it, a whole new door of our friendship was opened. 

To where we went beyond knowing our favorite books and shows, to learning about our siblings and them learning about us. To learn of our other friends, crushes, analyzed our social groups and each other. Listened and comforted and offered words of encouragement through heartaches and heartbreaks. Laughed over butterfly clips breaking and candy being left in the wash, fell in love with each other’s characters, and cried over our fears and insecurities.

An ebb and flow, light and dark and everything in between. Never a friendship that was all-consuming or obsessive, but instead soft and sweet and gentle and loving and beautiful.

I smiled to myself, tears welling in my eyes as the last of the Sun’s rays faded from the sky, feeling so full of Songbird’s warmth and joy, so full of gratitude for them being in my life, so full of hope and excitement for whatever our futures held and knowing that, no matter what, we’d always have each other through it all.

It was then that a songbird flew up and landed on my windowsill. It looked to me, chirped once, then twice, before dissolving into golden sparkles. The sparkles blew into the room on a breeze and Songbird materialized in a sunburst of light in the middle of my room.

“Hi!” Songbird, you, grinned, your aura golden like the sun on grassy plains.

“Hi!” I crushed you in a hug, and it was the reunion of the day and night.

Thank you, Songbird, for being the best friend the Moon could ask for. 

Strangers by Harper Smith

When I was eleven, my neighbor wrote me a poem. 

It was early afternoon, and it also happened to be my birthday. My mother and I were on our way down the driveway to our car, while the neighbor was watering her flowers across the street. I don’t remember where we were going, but it must’ve been somewhere very important, because I was decked out in my finest attire and skipping around like I owned the place, because of, you know, birthday girl privileges. We waved; she and my mom chatted a bit. I remember shouting across the street that it was my birthday, and then we said bye and got in the car and left. It was a small moment, a simple one, and one I most certainly would have forgotten if not for the fact that when I came home, my dad handed me a small piece of paper. 

Something I learned after that day is that my neighbor, the sweet old woman across the street always hunched over her garden, is actually a renowned local poet and creative. I’m serious, you can look her up, her name is Nina Serrano, and she’s one of the only people I know who has her own Wikipedia page. She’s an amazing writer and activist who’s published books, poetry collections, worked on films, and co-run a podcast, but I didn’t know any of that at the time. At the time, I was a child standing in my kitchen, clutching a piece of paper that read Poem for an eleventh birthday, and not realizing that this one small act of kindness would be the thing that carried me through many of my hardest moments. 

‘Strangers’ is the name of my favorite song, and it is also the title I was instantly called to when I found out about this month’s collection. It may seem like an odd title for a story about love, and maybe it is–after all, I’m sure I’ll find the rest of my peers’ pages detailed with heartwarming stories about grandmothers and pets and girlfriends, connections and friendships, rather than random people met on the street. Which, obviously, is fair. Love is generally categorized by closeness and intimacy, something that’s impossible to achieve with someone you barely know–like, say, an across-the-street neighbor that you’ve spoken to once in five years. But what if it wasn’t? What if the closest connections are actually the ones you make in an instant?

Love is in the little things. It’s how they know your coffee order without having to ask, how they’ll wrap their coat around you when they see you shiver out of the corner of their eye. It’s your best friend’s nickname for you, it’s your mom making your bed for you every day of finals week, it’s your little brother letting you spoil the plot of shows that he hasn’t even seen long past his bedtime. It’s platonic and romantic, singular and plural, it’s intimate and expansive. It’s being seen by the people who love you most, and loving the people you know well. So yes, it’s those things, a hand in yours, a secret shared, but it’s also the even littler things. Like the weary nod of solidarity between early-morning commuters on the subway, the face of the store grocer when you make her laugh as she loads your bags, the kind smile of the boy who bent down and handed you the pen you dropped. Let me ask you, have you ever been in a room where somebody is butchering something so badly that you were united in long-suffering eye contact with somebody you’ve never spoken to before in your life? That is it. That is love. Thanks to Jimmy C’s terrible choir performance in the ninth grade, you and a person you know nothing about were, for one moment, connected by something powerful: mutual understanding. 

In the world we live in today, it is so easy to forget that we are all the same, really. Well, okay, not really–I have blue eyes and you have brown, I can play guitar and you know piano, not to mention all the details and imprints of our psyches that will never resemble another’s in a thousand years, but you get what I mean. There’s so many labels and categories and different types of people you can be that it makes it seem like moments like the ones I described are meaningless in the flood of it all. But I don’t think it’s meaningless at all. In fact, I’d argue it means quite a lot. We all cry. We all feel alone. We all lie awake in our beds at night wishing someone would see us for who we really are, truly, and ignoring all the people who are right in front of us waiting to be seen as well. In the same vein, we all also smile. We all love someone deeply, with the depths of our hearts, and I’m willing to bet there’s not a person reading this who hasn’t laughed so hard they’ve cried at a funny cat video even once in their lives. Try me. We are all human, perfectly, imperfectly human. We blink and breathe and stare at the stars, and we are all so alike and so different at the same time, but when it comes down to it, we are one. 

It’s so easy to feel so hopeless. It’s so easy to convince yourself that nothing really matters, that your existence has no mark on anything at all, that maybe it would even be better if you vanished completely. But it does matter. You matter. If you were not here, the girl who you gave your extra piece of gum to on the train when you were twelve wouldn’t have that memory to cling to when things get hard. The people that watched you trip into a geyser at Yellowstone wouldn’t have a story to pull out at every family dinner over the years (even if that was your most embarrassing moment. I get it, trust me.) You have made a million marks on a million people that don’t even know your name, and they’ve done the same to you. Take a second and think about all the people you’ve met in your life. Take a second and remember those people who you will never see again, but who brushed up against you for one second in time and in that way, added the smallest stroke of paint to the canvas of your life. Let yourself find the strangers, and remind yourself that you are not alone. 

And sometimes, maybe your story isn’t over once you’ve exited someone’s life. I haven’t spoken to my neighbor Nina since probably 2021, after exchanging a few poems with her in an effort to repay her for the beautiful one she wrote to me. She told me I was an excellent writer–Nina, look at me now! I don’t remember what I wrote; I don’t even know if she still has them. But I still see her. I saw her yesterday, getting out of her car with her husband, and we waved. She’s about 92 now, and I’m about 16, and it’s been five years but I still have that paper in the same spot on my wall. Art has come and gone around it, even a whole loft bed has framed it at one point, but it is still there. A reminder to me that, no matter what, for one day I was what made someone write something beautiful. Do you understand how special that is? I haven’t ever told her all this, but tomorrow I’m going to print out this story and walk over to her house and give it to her, because she deserves to know. I have an amazing woman living right across my street, and I’ll be damned if I let my life go by without the chance to let her know how much she changed it. 

For Nina xoxo

The Cello – An Explanation By Iliana Kim

Did you know that before the endpin was invented, people had to hold their cello
between their legs? The cello is usually made out of wood and is shaped like a violin.
The thing is you could fit two or three violins in one cello. I was introduced to the cello
when my family started listening to the Bach cello suites. I was amazed by the deep,
mellow sound that it produced. I love the way the cello calms me down and I see that
other people are affected that way too. I like the several ways the cello is played, like in
solos, duets, and orchestras.


I think the sound of the cello can create a nice and calm environment for the
people who are listening. I really like the fullness of the sound and the level of volume
the cello has. The sound of a cello makes me feel like I’m floating and I think it’s very
relaxing. With certain songs people could feel happier, more energetic or stronger like I
sometimes do.


In the one and a half years I have practiced the cello, I have played in solos,
duets, and a few orchestras.The first time I played in an orchestra I felt it was easier
than doing a solo or a duet. Solos feel like one ant trying to make a rather large ant hill
all by itself with no one to help. But if you are doing a duet it’s easier because it’s like
making an ant hill with fifty ants. Then again it’s better to build with a hundred ants than
anything else.


I hope you and everyone who reads this will get to enjoy the magical sound of
the cello, whether in-person or online, as a solo, duet or orchestral performance.

Links to music:

Grieg Holberg suite (Orchestra)
https://youtu.be/kJ6AaBArhRw?si=5ztDP-Ud733CGjmf

Bach Cello suites ( Solo played by Mischa Maisky)
https://youtu.be/mGQLXRTl3Z0?si=6QH-zEV5AGhp8AU5

 Stray Kids by Sloan Correnti

Something I love is the band Stray Kids! Stray Kids is an eight member K-Pop boy group created by renowned music label JYP Entertainment! They were first discovered through a TV show called Stray Kids, on which many K-Pop trainees competed in teams for the chance to debut as JYP’s newest band. In 2017, Stray Kids won and released their debut ep I AM NOT, beginning their rise to stardom. 

The Stray Kids members are split up into three main units aka rachas; 3Racha, Danceracha, and Vocalracha. 3racha consists of Han, Bang Chan, and Changbin, and is responsible for producing and writing most of the band’s music! Dancracha is made up of the three main dancers, Lee Know, Hyunjin, and Felix. They choreographed some of the group’s dances, and Lee Know was even a back up dancer for super famous K-pop group BTS! Vocalracha is I.N and Seungmin, the main vocalists! Stray Kids used to have nine members, but their old lead vocalist Woojin left the band in 2018 for personal reasons. 

Since their debut, Stray Kids have released over 300 songs and have collaborated with many popular music artists like Charlie Puth, DJ Snake, and Troye Sivan! They have also won over 100 awards including the Billboard Music Award for top K-Pop album for their 2023 release 5-Star.  

Their latest project is The dominATE Experience, a movie about their dominATE tour.  It will be kind of like Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour movie, but with more behind-the-scenes footage.  The movie premiers in theaters on February 6th, 2026!  I’m going to watch it in theaters on the 7th, and I’m so excited!  

Stray Kids is an awesome group, not only because of their fun and interesting music, but because of the members’ great personalities and kindness towards fans! I think they’re all amazing people, and I hope you do too. GO CHECK OUT SOME STRAY KIDS MUSIC!!!

From left  to right: Felix, I.N, Hyunjin, 
Han, Lee Know, Changbin,
 Seungmin, Bang Chan.

Thank you for reading this beautiful collection of works by these incredible guest writers and Lighthouse staff alike. We hope that their work has brought you joy in this season of love. We challenge you to openly admire and appreciate the things you love in life. The people, the places, the adventures and moments. The things that make you…you. Because, at the end of the day, love is what makes us, all gathered together in this lovely yet messy world…us. And as for the world, we must remember that we can never have too much love, understanding, and empathy for the people around us; our triumphs, our small moments, our shortcomings, those are what make us so human and those are the things that should be celebrated. So finally, say “hi!” to your neighbor, pet your cat, and treat others with the love that I know our hearts so deeply crave each and everyday. 

Sincerely,

The Lighthouse Staff 

“And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”

The Beatles, 1969

Arts and Culture, Stories

Cloud ~ a poem ~

thelighthousetve

by Meru S.

A breathtaking view lies below me

As I drift effortlessly above blanketed mountains.

I am surrounded by my kind;

We cling together as one.

We meander for hours,

Sometimes days,

Gently propelled by the wind.

Often, we wander apart, each sent our own ways,

Yet, never am I alone.

I scud across the skies,

Caress the crags,

Skim the slopes,

Drift along dales.

I am the daughter of the sea—

I fall to her, and she nourishes me.

I am the child of the sun—

I cool him, and he lifts me.

I am the sister of the breeze and the gale—

Though I tease them, they touch and move me.

I am a wisp,

A streak,

A pillow,

A puff,

One and many.

I am the frigid drear of November;

I am the comfort of the twelfth month.

I am the bringer of life

And a forewarning of death.

I enkindle the warmth of creation

And incite the chill of destruction

I am droplets,

I am drizzle,

I am the six-sided scintilla

Of delight and despair.

Arts and Culture, News, Stories, Student Life

“For the love of…!” A Love Themed Creative Writing Opportunity! 

thelighthousetve

by Ava Amara Salado

‘Tis the season of love and growth. For many, that can be quite an unsettling thought. The continuous and often subconscious pressure that one must receive a box of chocolates, a neatly wrapped bouquet of roses tied together with shiny metallic ribbon, find yourself a dinner and movie date, etc. Although well intentioned the, at times, commercialized Valentines Day can be troubling. It can make the lead up to February 14 feel like a doomsday counter rather than a season that should be filled with appreciation and kindness. 

So, we at The Lighthouse wanted to offer a different perspective on the day. 

Romantic love is important, it’s wonderful, it has withstood the trials of time, giving us beautiful moments in history. Some say it’s what makes the world go round, shaping the most lovely parts of life. But there are other types of love too! And that’s what we want to hear about…

Come one, come all! We welcome you to write a short story, paragraph, or even poetry about something you love in life! It doesn’t necessarily have to be a romantic sorta’ love, it could be the love of one of your passions or hobbies, your pet or family member, your best friend, your rock collection, or even your favorite food! Truly, anything is welcome! 

Submit your work to thelighthousetve@gmail.com by February 4th, 2026.

All submissions will be posted in our February 6th publishing! 

We cannot wait to see all of the lovely things you incredible writers cook up! 

Much love,

The Lighthouse Staff

“What is done with love, is done well”

V. Van Gogh