Hero Story

Katelyn Vashaw-Hollon

Mrs. Marietta

PATH Comp & Lit II

11-16-11

                The day at Jackson Hole Mall seemed to be a normal one. Doing some early Christmas shopping, I was surprised when one of my closest friend’s phone rang. I jumped into the air almost as high as she did, earning a laugh from the rest of our friends.  A second after lifting the phone to her ear, she paled. Noticing this, everyone stopped talking. She looked scared, very scared.

                She ended with, “Okay, we’ll be right over.” With the rest of us begging her for information, she pushed us to practically run back to the car. Only after we were driving away did she finally tell us what the matter was.

                A group of young women from one of the best-known churches in the area had slid off the road, and some of the girls were severely injured. Most of the girls were our friends, and we were all extremely worried for the lot of them.

                Some of us were unsure as to whether or not we should go. (“We’d just be a nuisance.”) But Josie convinced us all, “If there is anything we can do to help, anything at all, then it’s our duty to do the best that we can in the service of others. They would come to our aide if we needed it, but for now, it’s the other way around. We have to go.

So we went. With half of us telling the driver (Lindsey) to hurry up, and the other telling her to slow down (“So we don’t end up like them!”), the car was quite loud.

                “Everyone! Be quiet!” I was a bit surprised to hear the words coming from my mouth; I hadn’t thought my irritation was that great. “Com’on, guys, we need to say a prayer.” Even though we weren’t exactly of the religion of the accident victims, we were all Christian, and we had gone to church with the girls pretty regularly.

                The van became silent except for the purring of the engine. Another of our friends, Veronica, ended up leading the prayer, pouring her heart out to our Father in Heaven, begging Him, if it be His will, to let them be safe and warm, and to grant them strength to help them endure all that may or may not be paining them at the time. She asked Him to grant peace to the girls’ families, to give them faith that their daughters were in His hands.

                We didn’t talk any more on the way there, some of us being too scared, others thinking about what they could do to help the girls out.

                When we finally came upon the slide site, we all rushed towards the edge of the road. There, we could barely see the car at the bottom of the ravine, with several terrified teens inside. It looked like the seats the furthest back had been squished, which meant the girls that had been sitting there were probably gravely injured. Emergency personnel were already at the scene, with a rope pulley-system set up to bring those badly hurt to the road in what looked like long sleds.

                We watched the process as slowly, oh so slowly, the girls were pulled out of the car. All of us put in as much bulk as we could into a sled to be taken down to the freezing girls. We had to stay at the top, shivering, as our jackets, socks, shoes, and everything else we didn’t strictly need were lowered down.

                The girls who weren’t desperately in need walked up themselves, allowing rescue members to envelop them in warm embraces when they finally reached the top. Some were crying uncontrollably, it was a wonder as to how they could see the ground to have been able to make it up the steep slope.

                I began to wonder what, exactly, had been going on. Though some were crying, everyone was also smiling, and most were humming a tantalizingly familiar tune. I remembered that it was “Count Your Blessings”. During one of my visits to their church, they had performed the song in front of the whole congregation. They sang so beautifully, you almost could have believed angels were singing through them.  How could they be thinking of counting their blessings at a time like this?! The idea seemed almost . . . inhuman. While everyone else was worrying if all of the girls would survive the night, they were glad what had happened had, well, happened. Shaking my head in exasperation, I continued on, helping were I could, comforting where I couldn’t.

                It was a long process, one that brought more sadness as more of the accident’s results became known, but it was worth it. Knowing I was there, knowing I helped someone, that I just might be one of their heroes, was enough to give me strength, strength I could then give to those in need.

Hero Story Background

Accident victims count their many blessings

Vehicle plunges into icy water; all survive

By Katie Harris

Church News contributor

Published: Friday, Nov. 11, 2011

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Editor's note: Katie Harris, assignment editor at the Morning News in Blackfoot, Idaho, passed along to Church News this article, which she wrote for her newspaper. She is the sister-in-law of Holly Galbraith, the driver of the vehicle involved in the accident.
JACKSON HOLE, Wyo.
The ride from Jackson Hole, Wyo., to Rigby, Idaho, usually takes under two hours. But, for Holly Galbraith and the seven young women traveling with her Saturday, Nov. 5, the day was not what they expected. Holly, a 35-year old youth leader, gave herself extra time that morning allowing for slick road conditions as the group set out for an Especially for Youth Church activity.

Holly and her group of girls are all members of the Jackson Hole 2nd Ward. The group included Marianne Galbriath, 15; Heather Banack,16; Emily Fairbanks, 13; and four sisters — Sky and Star Roney both 17, Maya Roney, 16 and Sage Roney, 14.
The extra time would not matter that Saturday as the Suburban they were driving hit ice at the notoriously dangerous spot on Pine Creek Pass. The vehicle began to slide, crashing through the guardrail and falling more than 150 feet into the icy creek below.
The group's bishop, Michael Redzich, who was driving just 20 minutes ahead said he "cannot remember worse driving conditions."

The vehicle landed upright in the water and with all eight passengers alert and conscious. The group quickly assessed themselves and each other. It was obvious that some had sustained severe injuries including Emily Fairbanks and Sage Roney, who were sitting in the rear of the vehicle where there was extensive damage.
Together the group offered a prayer for comfort, strength and rescue. Then, because there was no cell phone service, 15-year-old Marianne Galbraith decided to try and go for help. She freed herself from the vehicle and, wearing a skirt and dress shoes, waded through icy water halfway up her calves and attempted to climb up the side of the ravine.


"She said it was just too slick and steep," said Marianne's father, Aaron Galbraith. "But, someone had stopped on the road above. They yelled down to her that they had called 911."
Marianne returned to the group and they waited. With the vehicle's windows broken out and temperatures below freezing, the girls gathered what few jackets they had with them, covered those nearest to the windows and tried to huddle as close together as possible for warmth.
"The nightmare really started when the car came to a stop," said Maya Roney. "It was so cold and people were screaming. Some of the girls were pinned."
Maya was seated in the middle seat and both her feet were pinned. She could feel a purse under the seat and stuck her bare feet into it to try to keep them warm. Kirk Roney said his daughters could hear their younger sister, Sage, behind them but could not see her or get to her.

"There was such terror in not being able to help her," said Maya.
The group tried to pass the time by singing some of their favorite Church hymns.
Holly said she remembers the moment one of the girls started singing "Count Your Many Blessings" and was deeply touched as the others joined in.
"Those girls are just amazing — I couldn't believe where we were and what was happening — and they were singing about their blessings."
When help arrived, the four most seriously injured were loaded onto backboards and moved to an area where an elaborate makeshift pulley system had been constructed. They were pulled up the mountain on a high-line. The others were harnessed and helped up the cliff by foot.




Emily and Sage were airlifted to Eastern Idaho Regional Medical Center (EIRMC) in Idaho Falls where Sage underwent surgery for facial fractures, broken bones in her arms and a severed tendon in her arm.
"We just found out Sage also has two stable fractures in her back," said her father. "Her tendon that holds the eyelid to the nose was severed and there was no nose bone left to attach it to, so they attached it to a screw. They had to basically re-form her nose. She is whispering answers now and we are hopeful that she will be released from the hospital this weekend."

Emily, the most severely injured of the teenagers, was flown to EIRMC and then to Primary Children's Medical Center where she is being treated for a punctured lung and multiple fractures including five vertebral fractures and broken ribs. Doctors removed her breathing tube Monday and she is now awake and alert but remains in ICU.
Holly underwent surgery in Jackson Hole on Tuesday for multiple vertebral fractures.
The others were transported by ambulance to EIRMC where they were all treated and released the same day with minor physical injuries.
When rescuers arrived at the scene, the task of evacuation was monumental. It took over 35 workers and more than five hours to get everyone safely evacuated. First responders didn't have blankets so they immediately started taking off their own shoes, socks and jackets.

"They were willing to give us whatever they had," said Holly.
"So many people have helped," said Kirk Roney. "I heard the first on the scene had cuts and was pretty bruised up. We are just so grateful to so many people. The event was so traumatic, there are a lot of emotions to deal with. But everything is fixable."
What was meant to be an 85-mile day trip has turned into a much longer journey than anyone expected. The road of rehabilitation will be long for Emily, Sage, and Holly, but Galbraith and her group of girls along with family and friends say they will continue to "count their many blessings".

Review On The Odyssey Book 4

I'm slowly understanding more and more of what is actually going on, getting a feel for the setting and plot. The old style of writing is still difficult to read, but it is becoming easier with each paragraph.
I'll post more later on about the other "book"s that we were told to read, I just don't have much time right now.

Review on Books 2 - 3

I am slowly gaining understanding of what this story is about, and am underlining less unfamiliar names. It's curious that the people in this story blame the gods for everything. 'If there's an argument, then Minerva is the cause' type of stuff. Also, I share the opinion that it's peculiar that most of the gods' names aren't in Greek, like the story. What I mean by that is that the story is supposed to be from the Greek's perspective, yet instead of Zeus, Neptune is used. And, from what I know of Greek gods (from the Percy Jackson series), Poseidon, not Zeus, is the 'lord of the Earthquake' (book 3, 1st paragraph, page 13). My confusion seems to have no end, even though some information has been revealed; the more questions that are answered, the more questions arise out of the ashes of the answers.

Some of Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Hiding and Waiting

The next morning, everything was explained, and I do mean everything. Maybe even too much. I was told even more about Allah, and how mentally sick the man was, not the Islamic view of God. I was told never to make fun of another religion’s beliefs, because it could make some people mad. God was not inside of Allah, and Allah (the man) is not holy, not at all.

I was told about how everything had gotten down here, having been pushed down the “slide”, which they called a “decline”. Then, it was all stored down here, in a very organized way. Daddy did most of the talking, including how he and Mama had been worried from the start of the story of a man being hit by a bolt of lightning that something like this might happen.

The tub by the toilet was for washing clothes, which we had a ton of water for. We also had a bunch of food, soap, medicine, and other stuff like that. I was told that we might have to stay in this room for a long time, either as long as it took for the crisis to be over, or, and this was said very sadly, until the bad people working for Allah found us.

“But,” said Daddy, “on a happier note, your Mama and I have a surprise for you. You’re going to have a little brother or sister soon.”

I just sat there in silence. I had figured that if I was going to have a younger sibling, he or she would have come a long time ago. I felt extreme happiness, but there was a shadow against the light. He or she would be born during these hard times, which meant that he/she, too, would go through these troubling conditions with us. The provisions wouldn’t last forever, so neither would we. It was a dreary thing to have to think about, but necessary all the same. I should have known this would end badly.

Most of our days were spend hanging around. There were books for me, probably more books than I would ever be able to read in my lifetime. There were supplies for Mama to paint, and do other artsy stuff. Sometimes I joined her, but mostly I read. I started a journal, documenting every insignificant little detail about our current lives. This I enjoyed greatly, I always had. I had realized long ago that my passion was in writing. Though now-a-days kids have more maturity than people two times my age, most simply didn’t like to write.

I could write about anything and everything, but my favorite was fantasy. I could dream up the most intricate and delicate worlds, with fairies and elves, and all manner of magical folk, anything to get away from the truth of the times – we were doomed. Either we would be captured by Allah’s men, or we would die. Well, I guess we’d die either way, but if we were captured, we would be able to die in old age or something like that. Sometimes in my story-travels, I would be flying with dragons, amazed by their bravery and chivalry. The she-dragons were elegant and purposeful, and all were wise beyond belief. I wish I was wise.

Then I would know what to do, to stay here or to give ourselves up, or something besides sitting around and waiting, since that’s all we were doing – waiting. Waiting to be found; waiting to run out of food or water; waiting for the baby to be born; waiting for our lives to continue, though how that could happen, I couldn’t possibly imagine, and that was saying something.

Well, one day, and I think it was a Wednesday, I was painting with Mama. We were both trying to remember what the sun on our bare skin felt like, so we were painting very bright, vibrant portraits. Mama’s was of the beach at full noon – the people lounging under huge, colorful umbrellas, the waves, and the glorious sun, so big that she could only capture a sliver of it, yet it was enough to light up the whole picture. I tried to make mine similar to hers, but, somehow or another, I ended up drawing a bunch of flowers. There was like ten gigantic sunflowers directly in the center, plus a bunch of smaller ones around them, each brighter and more colorful than the last. I was having a really good time, just relaxing and letting the troubles of today melt away.

I could tell Mama was doing the same thing. She was wearing one of her old smiles, so cheerful; you couldn’t help but smile in return. She looked calm and in control, she was in her special place. She had told me once that when she painted, she imagined she was in a special place, and that she felt like she was just painting what was around her. I didn’t quite get it, but she said it was her way to imagine herself out of our current situation. She looked so… something. I didn’t know how to explain it… just kind-of… at peace. I wished I could feel the same thing every once and a while…

I couldn’t think of any possible way for life to continue as it was before. No one would be the same, happy people we used to know. No one would be innocent from the evil that lurks just barely in the shadows. No one would be free, free to live the way they want, think the way they want, worship the way they want, to simply be they person they want to be. I could never be the old me. I used to be so happy, now I am quiet and down-trodden. I’m not free.

Mama told me that if the baby is a girl, her name will be Vanessa. If he’s a bouncing baby boy, his name will be Luke.

NaNoWriMo

On NaNoWriMo, I'm KatGirl22, by the way. Also, that is what I'm writing the New World for. Wish me luck! :)

Persuasive Essay - Think about the starving orphans in Africa.

Katelyn Vashaw-Hollon

Mrs. Frissora

Composition / Literature II

Oct. 13, 2011

            Now, we’ve all heard about the starving orphans in Africa. I’m not going to tell you that it’s just a dollar a day, because I know that adds up, same as you. I’m just asking you to think. There are little kids, infants even, who get less food in a month than we might get in a day. People out there are eating dirt, for crying out loud. Their position truly is desperate.

Think of the average American. The kids go to school, right? For the most part, people here only skip meals in order to feel good about their weight. A fair amount of us also go to college, an act almost unthinkable to Africans. We get jobs, start families, and generally have a pretty mediocre life.

Now think of African children. They are lucky if they go to school at all. Most are illiterate, have no developed skills, and basically have no future. Half of the children ages five through fourteen are estimated to be working in sweatshops, places that are abusive; have 10-20 hours a day, 7 days a week work periods; have low pay, as in less than $1.25 a day; are dangerous; include no benefits; and include similarly degrading atrocities.

And if that isn’t bad enough, a lot of the children are orphaned. These kids eat even less than the average African child because they don’t have their parents’ income to boost their own. HIV/AIDS has been going around, and it’s estimated that 10,000 children are orphaned because of this crisis. Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents, no one can take them in because they, too, are going through rough times.

As you probably know already, AIDS is a disease that attacks your immune system, making it even easier to catch common illnesses, yet making them 10x more extreme. Low medical help has also been adding to amounts of those infected.

If these poor children were your own, you would certainly see and feel the need they have. Most of them don’t have someone who is compassionate towards them. How many times a day do you hug your child? Tell them they’re doing a great job? Express your love for them? It is a proven fact that children do not develop correctly without simple, familiar touches from loved ones. Some of them don’t even know what “love” is.

I’d bet you know the basic difference between good and bad, right? Being “good” is to be doing the things that are morally right, while being “bad” is just the opposite. So, what do you think helping starving orphans in Africa would be? And if you’d be being “good” while helping them, then why aren’t you doing it, because the opposite of good is bad, so if you’re not being good, then what do you think you’re being? Exactly.

By now, I’m sure you’re thinking: Well, what can I do to help them? The answer is simple. You can donate as much money as you want to or are able to. You’ll get a picture of the child you are sponsoring, and you’ll be able to contact them as much as you want. Bi-weekly or monthly updates can/will be sent to you concerning the child you are sponsoring. Your donations will make sure they have enough food, will allow them to see the very precious doctors, and go to school. You would want that for your children, wouldn’t you?