Title: Captain Jack Mosaic
Completed: 06-07 School Year
Medium: 500-1000 Magazine cuttings

When the thirteen colonies declared their independence from Great Britain, it was a turning point that would alter the course of human history. The Americans’ unlikely victory over their despotic parent country sparked the French revolution only a few years later, and instigated of the spread of the revolutionary idea of democracy. Never before had the idea of a free people electing its government been voiced. The founding fathers birthed the radical idea that the individual had the right to choose his governor. A popular notion is the impression that the colonists began a war over taxes. The Colonies were not justified in waging war against Great Britain because of taxes However, the colonists were absolutely right to fight for their freedom from the cruel tyranny of Great Britain. Unfair taxation was merely the last straw placed upon the colonies’ breaking back that was the catalyst for revolt.
Thomas Whately, architect of the Stamp Act, may have been correct in saying that Great Britain had the right to tax the American colonies because “We [Great Britain] are not yet recovered from a War undertaken solely for their [the Americans’] protection…they should contribute to the Preservation of the Advantages they have received.” However, the tax was not the problem, it was the fact that the colonies were being taxed without their consent that infuriated them so. The thirteen colonies did not go to war over taxes. This is a misconception. Unjust taxation was certainly added to a long list of wrongs, but it was not the only grounds for war.
The reasons for what became known as the Revolutionary War are defined clearly in a document known as the Declaration of Independence, in which the founding fathers stated exactly their motive for going to war. In the middle of the second paragraph can be found this line, which sums up the Declaration as a whole: “But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.” This radical idea was the basis of the Declaration: that the people themselves had the inherent right to decide whether or not their rulers were satisfactory.
For 150 years the American people had suffered, subjected to the whims of a pampered English king thousands of miles away. Thomas Jefferson, the author of the Declaration of Independence, and John Dickinson together wrote a “Declaration of the Causes and Necessity of Taking up Arms” in order to explain to the American people why the colonies were going to war. In it, they say of the British government, “What is to defend us against so enormous, so unlimited a power?…We are reduced to the alternative of choosing an unconditional submission to the tyranny of irritated [British officials], or resistance by force. - The latter is our choice.” The signers of the Declaration of Independence believed in the ideas stated therein so passionately, that they were willing to risk open war with the world’s superpower. They were invoking one of their “unalienable rights” stated in their new Declaration: “…whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government…”
During the century-and-a-half of the forming of the colonial thirteen states, the people who lived in the New World removed themselves more and more from Great Britain as Great Britain pushed and shoved the colonies further and further away into the corner, seeing them as nothing more than a money machine. American colonists should have been awarded the rights of British citizens, but were instead subject to conviction without trial, unlawful imprisonment, and other such oppressions. The Declaration cites, “He [King George III] has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.” Because the British government that should have been protecting them had instead turned its back upon the colonists and was the cause of such injuries, the signers of the Declaration of Independence knew that a proclamation of their freedom from Great Britain was their only choice, even if it meant engaging in war.
A large portion of the Declaration of Independence is occupied by the colonists’ complaints against the Crown. These complaints begin with the assertion, “The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these states.” The Declaration goes on to say that, “He [King George III] is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.”
As the Declaration of Independence makes plain, Great Britain did not just tax the American colonists unfairly and without representation, but it committed a multitude of crimes against them. These colonists should have been treated as British citizens, but were instead abused and were treated, in general, appallingly. Because of Great Britain’s long, long history of mistreatment and exploitation of the American colonies, these colonies had every right to declare their independence and throw off their insufferable chains of bondage.
I stand still as people move around me. They come in waves, rushing around me as though I were not even there. Movement. They are in constant motion, like the rough waves of the ocean, surrounding me. Students brush me as they race past, jostling each other, competing for space; they are all attempting to occupy the same narrow hallway at the same time. They readjust backpacks and stop to tie shoes, laughing and joking with one another. The smell of teenagers is unmistakable: sweaty armpits, smelly feet, and too-strong cologne applied far too freely. I overhear small snippets of conversations. Pieced together, they can be quite comical. The football fans discuss the last game in dejected tones as the jocks pretend not to hear, lips tightly pressed together, eyes looking straight ahead. A boy makes his way through the throng toward me, muttering an apology as he bumps past me, keeping his eyes on the tiled floor. His only companion is a heavy backpack he has trouble lifting. Two sisters walk together, talking discreetly, probably about a boy. The sisters notice that I have heard part of their conversation and continue, but even more quietly now. Down the hall someone opens her locker and balloons and confetti spring out of it. A friend shouts happy birthday to her as she blushes and thanks him. A bell rings and instantly the hallway empties of people. I too walk into a doorway, but glance behind again at the hallway, strewn with confetti now and reeking of teenager, before I turn away.
It is dark. The rain is coming down hard now. The flickering lights finally succumb to the storm and go out. A stab of lighting. Thunder booms behind me. I have my back to a window; I’m crouched low in corner, searching the darkness, hoping to see through the curtain of blackness before me. A low growl. My heart beats a little faster. I can hear it breathing, heavy, hot. It is close. I stare harder into the void. Another bolt of lighting and I see it. The split-second of light reflects off the beast’s eyes. They are red.
I tell myself to not be afraid. It will smell it on me. It will know. But I can’t help it. My breathing quickens a little. My eyes widen. My heart is pounding. It is a dog-like creature with teeth for ripping and tearing flesh. They are bone-crunching teeth, killing teeth. There is nowhere left for me to go. It has me cornered. At any moment it could attack. The beast’s growl comes again. I picture its black fur, its hackles rising. It is ready for the kill. There is no escape, I am helpless. I give way to the fear clawing at me. I surrender to the madness pressing upon me. I scream. Here it comes.
Like the passing of summer and fall into winter is the passing of childhood into adulthood. When the last shuddering leaves fall, a bare, shivering tree is left behind. What a sorrow to see the barren tree and compare it with its once-upon-a-time splendor. Unknowingly, a child slowly shakes off her beautiful leaves: her imagination and wonder, her ignorance and naïveté, her simple laughter and trust. Like a tree and its leaves, when the winter of adulthood arrives, a child loses many of her most precious attributes.
As all children are, I was born as a beam of stardust into an ever-darkening world. My sole existence was to shine light where none could have been found before. My divine calling was to bring beauty and laughter, a breath of unpolluted air, to the gasping, dying peoples of the land. The happiness of my childhood self was a contagious thing, bringing warmth to the coldest heart, allowing a smile to form on the stoniest of faces.
My fantasies encompassed elves and fairies, talking animals, dragons and magic swords, and other such impossibilities. Daydreams once became reality with such ease. With nothing more than a change of garments, I could become Pocahontas, creeping through the forest silently, talking with the animals, or a princess seeking out her own destiny instead of waiting for Prince Charming. Later, a treasure-seeker setting out upon a quest that would lead me to many an adventure, doubtless involving countless unicorns and tigers, or a swashbuckling pirate sailing the seven seas and fighting off creatures of the deep. The dreams of children are such.
My childhood was spent in such pleasurable activities as snowball fights and sledding and skiing in the winter, and hiking and bicycling and stargazing in the summer. Being home schooled allowed me to experience the world at my own pace. I devoured book after book and soaked up facts and vocabulary and fantastical images, and I grew like a tree planted on the bank of a river. The constant stream of sources that challenged my imagination was the source of many a make-believe magical adventure. How I dreamed and thought and philosophized! I made new discoveries about the world around me everyday.
The molting of childhood is not something that occurs all at once. It is a slow process. So slow you do not realize it has begun, you do not realize that you are being stripped of these gifts of imagination and wonder that had brought you such joy. Slowly, my interest in fantastical things began to fade. I no longer meditated on the language of dragons or the dwellings of Hobbits. I began to be interested in other things, politics, ideas, and my future. Childhood is the contentedness that comes with blissful ignorance. Adulthood is neither a certain age, nor a specific period of time. It is the realization of impossibility.
With impossibility comes the death of countless dreams. The fungus of the world, its darkness, its hate, latches hold of you. It is like a parasite, feeding off your lifeblood until there is nothing left but an empty shell. Fashion, public opinion, politics, society’s approval, all of these hold sway. An angel becomes tainted with the evil of the world. Hate, malicious intent, cruelty, these are not the habits of a child, they are the practice of adults. “Innocence” is a forgotten word.
Adulthood need not be such a time of sorrow and regret. Instead, let us remember our childhood. Let us recall our past naïveté and ask how it can aid us today. We must allow ourselves to remember what is most important: love, selflessness, and joy, in comparison with malice, greed, and absolute disregard for our fellow human beings. After all, seasons change, and winter does not have to last forever.
When I was a child I lived each day, yearning for a tomorrow that never came. When adulthood caught hold of me, I let it carry me without realizing the damage it could cause. What I did not realize was that my childhood was a gift that I had been given, a gift that I should cherish and remember and recall once in a while. A balance has been reached. I hold on to my sense of wonder, my curiosity. Although I can no longer create reality with only my imagination, I channel my creativity into worthy artistic pursuits. I chase liberty and independence, but I remember where I began. I set aside my childish ideas and dreams, but I continue to show a childlike love and acceptance to all who may cross my path. I believe in the goodness of human beings and trust in my fellow man. I continue to reach for my dreams, somewhere in the star-filled heavens where my journey once began.