Kerianne Gibney, Joel Barlow in Easton/Redding

[Note: This is not the article where you should vote for this contestant. This is essayist No. 2, so in the voting article, which is here, just post a comment that says ‘2' to vote for this student. Voting is limited to one person per finalist per day, and closes at 11:59 p.m. on May 18. The finalist essay follows.] 

I spent one week stapling EasyGard, snipping j-channel, and tacking vinyl siding, but I wish I could’ve stayed the entire summer. If someone had asked me at the beginning of the week what was my biggest takeaway of the trip, I would’ve said, “making friends and learning how to build stuff, but definitely not the makeshift showers.” It was much more than that.

Last summer I traveled with 150 teens and adults to the Appalachian Mountains. After caravanning for two days, we reached Mullens Middle School where we slept and ate breakfast and dinner all week. Each crew was assigned a different home, yet we all had one common mission: make the home warmer, safer, and drier.

The moment I arrived with my crew to the home in Bud, West Virginia, she greeted us saying, with her southern drawl, “I feel like God sent angels to help us fix our house.”

Angels? How could she say that when she hardly knew our names?

Every day, while we ate squished PB&J’s for lunch and chugged Gatorade, Ethel’s husband Kermit sat with us on the front porch, listening to us chat with Ethel and their son Kenny. Kermit hardly expressed much emotion or said anything at all.

The last day, we surprised Kermit with a red velvet cake for his 67th birthday. His eyes sparkled behind his large, round glasses at the presence of our cake.

“You gotta try a piece,” he told Kenny, “If you don’t eat some now, I’ll make sure you eat it later.”

I laughed, assuming he was being humorous. I later realized that he was so delighted and grateful for the cake, he just wanted Kenny to help celebrate the moment.

“I haven’t celebrated my birthday in six years,” Kermit said smiling, wrinkles gathering on his forehead and curving around his lips. My heart melted, suddenly feeling a connection that had been absent all week.

Who hasn’t had cake on his or her birthday? Not everyone. Since my friends and family weren’t with me in West Virginia, it was impossible for them to empathize with me and appreciate the values I learned there. My perspective had changed, but theirs remained the same.

I kept a nightly journal to preserve each detail of the memories that had changed my perspective: every verse of “Country Roads” sung, every square dance partner swung. I’ve served my own community through various philanthropies, but none have resonated like my time spent in Wyoming County. 

So what if the shower curtains at Mullens Middle School were made of trash bags? At least I had running water. At least I was fortunate enough to meet unforgettable people like the old man with the wrinkly smile. At least I snapped a picture that still makes me smile every time I look at it.

On our last night, we shared our biggest takeaways from the week. I thought of the picture of Kermit with his birthday cake, and that’s when I knew. This was mine.

[Note: This is not the article where you should vote for this contestant. This is essayist No. 2, so in the voting article, which is here, just post a comment that says ‘2' to vote for this student. Voting is limited to one person per finalist per day, and closes at 11:59 p.m. on May 18.]