Write a diary entry as the narrator of the story ‘The First Time I Met George.” In your diary, include the following: • what his first impressions of George were • how they became friends • how you (the writer) recall your friendship with George Think carefully about the purpose of your diary, and the audience for whom it is intended. By Jibraeil Aatif Anwar

Dear Carlos,

Carlos. Now, isn’t that a funny name? You see, you are nothing more than a momentary creature, who I have created for one reason, and one reason alone: to vent about my frustrations at the moment; namely, about a young boy the same age as me, whose name is George. George Sampeter. A boy from my past, who now influences my future.

If I am to accurately recall, I first met George at school, obviously, and he had come late, sadly. So, there I was, peeking out of my distorted shell of a body to look at what was going to happen to the poor guy. He was terrified, holding his father’s hand for salvation from the Eye known as the school’s headmaster. God, did I feel envious! HE had a father, while I did not? And… it turned out that the father and the headmaster were close friends, which is why George had come late to school, and that he would be one of those boys who would receive special treatment from the school.

Could my day get any more worse than this? And, then, more of the tiger had awakened in me, for George was put STRAIGHT into the second standard! I do apologize for soiling you with my unnecessary anger, Carlos, but the twists and turns of these events were as if Medusa were strangled to bloody, gory death by one of her own snakes – that absolutely, horrendously, incomprehensibly, shockingly, and very much incredibly, unnerving, and the kind of event that would give you stress for the years.

However, the graceful Ice Queen, majestic she was, sent blizzards over my forehead till I was as clean as a mansion, for George, although he was good at reading and writing (good enough to be put into the second standard), was not good at sums. Because of this, he was put into the first standard with us better folk, and what shame he felt! He was so ashamed, to the point that I actually felt pretty sorry for him, and so I decided to go up to him, and try my absolute best to fix his mood, and lighten him up.

I said something like, “Hey. Don’t be so hurt that you’ve been sent from the second standard to the first. I think you’re a nice guy, so let’s be friends. And, here, have a spare pencil end, if your whole pencil isn’t working quite properly.” From that point onward, we became the best of friends, and, boy, did we make the most of it! Whether it was talking together about what interested us most, eating delightful, diabetic sweets like sugar cakes, or even eating sea-salty fish cakes, the bond between us was glue sticking together every fabric of our clothing. Ah, pure poetry….

Now that I am much older, and time has gone by since I was last in school with George, I would say that it is, relatively speaking, time to look back at this period of time, and consider any new interpretations or reinterpretations. The thought of doing this filled me with so much dread that I would have gladly ripped out my heart attempting to do so, being able to hear its faint, subtle beating. Oh, what joy! But, nevertheless, I would say that this was a truly extraordinary friendship, from start to finish. There is not a day that goes by that I regret having made this pledge of trust, and there is not a week that goes by that I don’t feel sorry for having been mean to him at first.

I do wonder, though: can a heart still feel once it has stopped beating? For I am in my old age, and the bad things that have happened around me (including, as the date I am writing this diary entry on alludes to, 9/11) have driven me more than a little bit cynical, that happy moments like these never happen in real life. And yet, alas, it did, thirty-five years ago, in the form of George Sampeter. I humbly thank him for always providing me with a comfortable memory to look back on, to give me hope and life in times of grief, sorrow, dread and depression, and I wish him all the luck in his current affairs.

And, now, I conclude this diary entry on a high note, which especially contrasts the low note I began it with. Finally, for I have better things to do, it is time for me to leave, and attend to those duties. Goodbye, Carlos, you magnificent, wonderful, admirable creature of all temporary goodness there is, for I need to go back to living like I always have!

Yours sincerely,

Jibraeil

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