The Anonymous

No one cares about the anonymous. I mean, why should they. We only show up rarely, when we make a statement that deserves our anonymity, then we disappear. Hiding in plane sight, disguised as stay-at-home moms, 9-5 dads, and full time students. Blending in by shopping for groceries, driving kids to sports, recitals, and dance, having barbecues  and pool parties, and drinking $7 lattes. 

We show up all through out history, disguised as different people. Dukes, military leaders, monks, poets, singers, inventors, writers, scientist, teachers, the list goes on and on, yet you never notice us. Sure you register that we existed, and you admit that we did something important, and you put us in your textbooks in the tiny footnotes. But then you store us in the back of your mind until you need us to prove a point for you, or give you some profound quote for your thesis. Once in a while though, one of us will scream loud enough to  escape the jaws of time, and you will give us as much respect as to put us in your timelines or to be mentioned in a discussion. 

But we are out there, then and today and forever after, so go look for us. Open up a book and find our names, read a poem, or listen to a song. Go find us at your work, your schools, your communities. Make sure we are still there for the future, and then take a look at yourself to see if you are one of us. The history changers, the earth shakers, the life savers, the Anonymous.

The Anonymous

By E.L. Emmert, 12-2-13

We are there

All around you

Hiding in plain sight

We are behind your 

stories

music

art

movies

architecture

 and your

history

present 

future 

We are between the lines

Caught in your photographs

Heard in your music

Presented in your classrooms

We are there 

to hold up your world

Umbrella

By Emily Emmert, on Oct. 4, 2012, at the age of 14

It’s raining on me,

And I’m soaked to the bone

And all I’ve got to keep me dry

Is my umbrella

It’s full of tiny holes

And part of it is broken

Its been around forever

That umbrella

It belonged to my grandfather

and my mother, both before me

Now it’s mine to have and use

An Umbrella

It was sitting in a corner

Collecting dust and rust

Until I took to using it 

The raggedy umbrella

It used to be a pretty, dark blue

With a real wooden handle

But both have mostly worn away

From all who’ve used the umbrella

Its been to picnics and pitch-ins

And rainy dinner dates

But now it just takes me to school and back

Just me, and my umbrella

But the reason that I’m soaking

Is because it will not open

It’s finally, fully broken

My wonderful umbrella

But now, I’ve got a new one

With purple polka-dots

And some day I’ll give it to my children

This umbrella

Traveler

By Emily Emmert

I am a traveler. 

I’ve been to China, Australia, even the North Pole. 

I have been to middle-earth, Narnia, and Alegasia. 

I have seen trolls, pixies, and dragons. 

I’ve traveled with Marco Polo, Christopher Columbus, and Daniel Boone. 

I’ve been to the top of Mt. Everest, and 20,000 leagues under the sea. From the center of the earth, to beyond our solar system. 

I was at the Civil War, the World Wars, and all the revolutionary wars between and before. 

I’ve seen royal births, royal weddings and royal deaths. 

I’ve had tea with Queen Elizabeth 1 and Catherine the Great of Russia. 

I’ve been on covert missions as a spy, I’ve saved the world from aliens while helping the Avengers, and I’ve almost died numerous times. I’ve ridden in a train, a wagon, a space ship, a submarine, and a flying car. 

I’ve meet Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Sandman. I saw the transcontinental railroad, the Oregon trail, and the courts of Genghis Kahn. I’ve met Indiana Jones, seen the Ark of the Covenant, and gone inside the Aztec city of gold. I’ve been in the T.A.R.D.I.S., seen the end of the world, and man’s very first days. 

I’ve traveled the Caribbean as a pirate, gone to Neverland, and been to alternate universes. 

I’ve been on paths that go nowhere, that go forever, and ones that never go the same way twice. 

I’ve survived Canadian winter, a summer in the Sahara, and the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius. 

I’ve dined with gods, kings, and generals. I was at the beheading of Marie Antoinette, there when Marie Curie discovered radioactivity, and when Neil Armstrong landed on the moon. 

I was there when the slaves were freed, women got the right to vote, and Abraham Lincoln was shot. And I have never left my living room. I am a book lover, a traveler in my own right, and I wonder where I will go tomorrow.