Since reading her narrative, I believe that Suzy may be the child of Holocaust survivors. I was unaware of this tragedy until Suzy recounted it to me.
One was about the massacre at Babi Yar during World War II. With her letters, she often includes excerpts of stories she has written. We immediately bonded over our mutual love of writing and classic films. My pen pal is an 80 year-old woman named Suzy. Howard jokingly offered his 1987 Chevy to his teenage pen pal, noting that he no longer drives. He served in World War II and restored cars in his younger years. Howard is the oldest senior participating in the program. “I was so happy to get your letter,” read the opening line of 93 year-old Howard’s letter to one of my peers. The students’ handwritten letters are scanned, emailed, printed, and distributed to each senior’s home along with a meal. I reached out to various organizations and senior facilities and created a letter writing program pairing students at my school with housebound seniors to communicate as pen pals. That one day was the genesis of Letters to our Elders. And when days turn into years, perpetual time becomes more often an enemy than friend. Not everyone has grandchildren, or children, to keep in touch with. My grandmother cherished that hug.īut not everyone has that privilege. I often replay the hug I gave her on her birthday, the first hug I had given her in a year.
I began to call my grandmother every afternoon, and those calls turned into visits upon her vaccination. Who was I to moan and groan about my present circumstances? A FaceTime call to my grandmother was a mere 10 minutes out of my binge-watching, yet to her, it would be the extent of social interaction for the day. I thought of those with deceased spouses, those without family to keep them sane. I thought of those who cannot bear to run the risk of grocery shopping out of concern for their health and safety. On this one day, I looked beyond my own boredom and solitude and peered into the lives of others. One day I managed to escape the routine, and I am grateful I did, for fear it would eventually swallow me whole. My prolonged days always culminate with familial embrace. The pandemic has trapped me in an inescapable, monotonous routine. In partnership with Gotham Writers Workshop and the Broadway Education Alliance, DEAR EVAN HANSEN invited 11th-grade and 12th-grade students across the country to write a college-application style essay that describes how they channeled “You Will Be Found” to ensure those around them were a little less alone over the last year, or, alternatively, a moment where they found comfort in connection. “YOU WILL BE FOUND” NATIONAL COLLEGE ESSAY WRITING CHALLENGE 2021 | DEAR EVAN HANSEN
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