First place winners, Arts Unlimited District 214/Daily Herald Community Arts and Writing Contest, 2025

Visual Art: “Sirenum Scopuli” by Karen Sako

Poetry: “Alicia’s Star” by Toni Louise Diol

Judge’s comment: This is an incredible snapshot of a brief, but powerful moment in a relationship. The dialogue is simple and beautiful, and realistic. The image of the water tempting the little girl is clever and fresh and is one of many such images. The story is concise with creative images that are very easy to fall into.

Diamonds sparkle and dance

on the incoming tide,

luring my six-year-old granddaughter

closer to the Blue.

Alicia stops, tilts her head,

listens to the ocean swoosh back and forth.

My granddaughter turns, waits for me,

brushing chestnut-colored hair from her eyes.

She points at a starfish washed up on brown sand.

The surf surges, obliterate her words.

I wait for a short respite

as the backwash rushes toward the horizon.

“Gramma, we have to save the starfish.”

Scents of salt and coconut sunblock permeate the air.

I scoop a small amount of wet sand

beneath the remarkable animal.

He lifts one rough looking arm, afraid.

“We’ll put him into the ocean,” I say.

Tiny tubular feet that look like hair

move beneath each arm.

“He looks creepy,” Alicia whispers.

I don’t want to touch him.”

We splash into the ebbing tide.

Alicia hugs herself.

I move deeper, place the seastar into the saltwater.

It disappears.

We wait on the edge of the shoreline,

hoping it will not ride back.

A ship, we can barely see,

hangs on to the edge of the Atlantic.

Three dolphins jump turn by turn

from the aquamarine water.

They swim parallel with beach walkers.

We watch, stand side by side,

until they are too far to see.

A swell rolls closer,

sending a spray of seawater.

Alicia shrieks.

“The water is cold.”

We wipe our faces, watch an osprey circle,

flapping broad wings

before he dives into the frigid Atlantic.

Wind picks up.

I shiver.

The sun moves toward the west.

We hold hands, listen to the ocean breathe,

inhale clean, fresh air,

and hope our star is safe.

Prose: “To the Stars” by Dennis Depcik

Judge’s comment: “Grandpa? Do you wanna play …” In this under-the-dining-room-table story, we are invited to join a grandpa, who soft pretzels his legs, on an adventure with his granddaughter. Everyone, not just grandpas, will delight in this magical ride. Buckle up. You'll be riding, fast, very fast on the wings of spaceship love.

“Grandpa? Do you wanna play Spaceship?”

Oh no, I think to myself, not Spaceship again. It took me a couple days to recover the last time we played.

“Sure sweetie, Grandpa would love to play Spaceship with you.”

It’s Tuesday, 11 a.m., and I’m babysitting my four year old granddaughter.

Nora’s eyes pop wide as she hurries to run upstairs.

“Hold on! Hold on honey! Not right now. Let’s wait until Mommy leaves.” Nora jolts to a stop: her shoulders slump, her head droops, her arms drop to her sides, and a loud sigh rushes past her lips. She doesn’t say a word; she doesn’t have to.

As my daughter-in-law, Rachel, exits the door to leave for work, Nora runs to the window and pushes the curtains open. Magic is quick at her side, tongue hanging, tail wagging, jumping and barking good-bye. Nora and Rachel begin waving to each other and continue doing so as the Honda backs down the driveway, turns the corner, and disappears out of sight.

Nora turns to face me. A smile creases her face and there’s a twinkle in her eyes as she runs toward me. “Now can we play Spaceship Grandpa?”

“Okay, Go get the crew.”

Nora bounds upstairs to her bedroom, her little legs scurrying up the carpeted stairs. I hear items being tossed about before she appears again, her arms full with the crew: two stuffed kittens, a baby doll, Jessie from Toy Story, and two plastic dinosaurs. She tiptoes down the stairs, her arms too full to grasp the railing. I meet her half way, my arms stretched wide, ready to catch her if she slips.

Safely off the bottom step, Nora directs, “Okay Grandpa, you have to follow me into the spaceship.”

I breathe a long, soft sigh as I head to the dining room table.

Now, this is not a big dining room table. It’s a little higher than standard, with six chairs that fit tightly around the sides. If we removed the chairs, the space beneath the table would be reasonably comfortable. I’ve tried before to show Nora how taking only two chairs away would give us much more room. But no, she insists on the six chairs. These are the spaceship doors through which we must enter and exit. And for Nora, the answer is simple, “That's the way the spaceship was made, Grandpa, and we can’t change it.”

So, we slide one of the chairs just far enough away to give Nora and me the space we need to enter. Nora moves through quite easily, carrying the crew with her. Me, I have to bend my neck and back, then drop to my knees as I sidle through, being careful not to bang my head on the underside of the table. Once inside, my back still slightly bent, I soft pretzel my legs as I try to straighten my head.

Nora is already busy tending to the crew: she holds the baby doll and Jessie in her arms while the stuffed kittens and plastic dinosaurs are propped against her outstretched legs. For the next fifteen minutes we just sit there talking about where we’re going to go and what we hope to see — maybe Mars, maybe some other planet. Or maybe we’ll just fly around a bit to see what we can discover. I sit there, head and back bent, legs cramped. Periodically I recross my legs or try to straighten them, at least for a few seconds, just to start the blood flowing again.

Another 10 minutes tick by while Nora and I talk to the crew to be sure they’re comfortable and that they’re ready to begin our flight. I know liftoff is near. I’m never quite sure when it’ll happen — that’s Nora’s decision — but when she believes it’s time, she simply proclaims, “Make the sound Grandpa. BLASTOFF!!!”

I take a deep breath and through pursed lips I exhale the best rocket burst I can, “VROOMMM -WHOOSHHH.” And we’re off into outer space.

Nora looks at me with dancing eyes, her body is swaying side to side as if bandied about by the thrust, and giggles are bouncing from her lips. She hugs some of the crew, comforting them not to be afraid and telling them that everything will be okay.

“How fast are we going Grandpa?”

“Oh, I would imagine we’re going pretty fast.”

“But how fast … faster than a bird can fly?”

“Much faster than that.”

“Really? … Wow!”

Nora is so impressed by our speed that she leans close to one of the stuffed kittens, whispers something in her ear, then has her jump up and down in delight. Then she has the two dinosaurs face each other, giving high fives. The other crew members sit quietly, waiting their turn to express their wonder.

After another twenty minutes in flight — during which time we circle the moon, avoid a meteor and save one of the stuffed kittens from falling off the spaceship — my neck, back and legs begin pleading with me to end this fantasy. I look at Nora and she too seems to be tiring of our celestial journey; the baby doll and the two plastic dinosaurs have been cast aside and Jessie is lying face down near Nora’s feet. I pounce on this opportunity.

“Nora, sweetie, it’s almost lunch time. I think we need to land the spaceship. Maybe we can color some pictures or watch a little TV before we eat lunch.”

Her attention span must certainly be at its end as Nora quickly replies, “That’s a good idea Grandpa. We can play again tomorrow.”

Tomorrow?

“We’ll see, Nora. Sometimes spaceships have to rest a long time before they go on another journey.”