2024 NATIONAL MEDAL
for Museum and Library Service Finalist

Adults

Blood Drive

About 10,500 children in the United States under the age of 15 will be diagnosed with cancer in 2021. Blood donors help these children and their families. 

 

Appointments recommended. For an appointment go to www.nybc.org/njdrive

Sponsor Code 68743

Or Call 800-933-2566

 

Donors 76 and over need a doctor's note unless one is already on file. 16 year olds need signed NYBC parental consent form. Donors who have been vaccinated can donate without any wait period unless they are not feeling well. 

Terror and Reprieve

On the morning after the day everything changed, I woke up before my alarm. I let the steady waves of panic wash over me as I took deep breaths and realized I wouldn't fall back asleep. I told myself that everything would be OK and I wondered how I'd make myself believe it. Then you brushed against me and I looked over at your peaceful, sleeping face. Just like that, I believed it.

What was so wrong with me now?

Once I remember my father saying how he missed me as a little kid. I had felt insulted. Now, I often think back to this comment. I love my much younger sisters, now in their twenties, but I too miss the joy we shared when they were toddlers. All lasting, meaningful relationships evolve into something deeper. But the feeling I didn't understand then is where the magic happened. I miss it too, Dad.

Elevator Memoir-1955

Elevator Memoir-1955 (a Short Story Contest entry by Donna Lee Goldberg)

 

No Lackawanna train Fridays.

Instead, Mommy drives from Orange to Newark to pick up Daddy at his office.

Parked, we run to the elevator bank, press the button to call the elevator car. Then the uniformed attendant opens the folding gate. We enter.

She closes the gate, cranks the control wheel to launch us to the seventh floor. We fly.

Using the wheel, she breaks and pulls the gate, the doors open.

Daaaaaady!!!!!

My Friend

My Friend by Franklin Cota (a Short Story Contest entry)

 

She was beautiful and kind the way you want your friends to be. We were inseparable. I followed her everywhere. I used to think that she was an angel sent to be my friend.

“Then where are my wings?” she would say with a laugh.

My family moved away and I lost contact with her.

Until my twenty-first birthday when I received seven long white feathers in the mail.

Elevator Memoir-1955

Elevator memoir 1955

No Lackawanna train Fridays.
Instead, Mommy drives from Orange to Newark to pick up Daddy at his office.
Parked, we run to the elevator bank, press the button to call the elevator car. Then the uniformed attendant opens the folding gate. We enter.
She closes the gate, cranks the control wheel to launch us to the seventh floor. We fly.
Using the wheel, she breaks and pulls the gate, the doors open.
Daaaaaady!!!!!
 

Gone

Gone by Lee Ann Smith (a Short Story Contest entry)

Candle stubs flicker on the table, wax dripping. A bottle of Cabernet stands open by one of the two place settings. A wine glass lays on the tablecloth, its contents spreading, deep blood red. In the kitchen, an alarm blares as smoke billows from the oven.

We made it look sudden, violent, unexpected. When the fire department shows up, they’ll call the police. We’ll be miles away. We knew this day would come.