deaths, but the nearest hospital is over 100 miles away.
                    I have learned all this from reading books and watching the History Channel and Discovery because my town is tiny. It isnât even on most maps, and we never had a representative. All our lives we wanted to matter, and weâve applied for the Special Olympics, the Georgia Games, and the Capital Seat, all to no luck. Weâve tried, but our resources are limited untilsomeone invests something in us, like time and a little money and a little outside influence.
                    So I guess what Iâm saying is that Iâm like my hometown, and I need someone to take a chance on me so I can prove my worth. And, I also would really like the chance to experience in person what I so far learned only on TV.
                    In regarding my major. There are over three hundred at Berkeley, and itâs hard to choose one when the most popular extracurricular activities here are 4-H, hunting, and Xbox. I like food and I observe that most people do as well. When the whistle blows at the mill the blacks go back to the Gully, the Mexicans to Ridgetown, and the Whites back here. But they all meet at the markets and after they talk about the weather, they exchange recipes. My parents are now making burritos and the Mexicans are eating headcheese, and for the best barbecue, Old Lou Davis has the biggest smoker and makes good pulled pork, but Iâve heard the Gully is where they have the best beef ribs. I think nutritional science and anthropology are my interests. To meet other people and learn how food can bring us together.
                    Thank you for considering my humble application.
                    I read on the YouTube advice link connected to the application page that weâre not supposed to end with a quote, especially from a book called âThe Road Less Traveled.â Well, I guess I just did that anyway, but only to remind you that to get to some of my relatives we drive partway and walk the rest because they donât have roads leading to where they live. (I hope you liked that.)
                    I gave up hunting and Iâm a vegetarian and I think Iâm ready to be released into society.
                    On another note, YouTube also said to be honest, so I mustadmit that the other reason I like UC Berkeley is because the only way I could get farther from home is to learn how to swim.
Sincerely,
Hopefully,
Daron Little May Davenport
Class of ??!!
Daron stumbled across those letters shortly before Operation Confederation, as the 4 Little Indians had begun to call it. Rereading them he prickled with guilt.
I gave up hunting? Iâm a vegetarian? Iâm ready to be released into society? What was he thinking? Community? Heâd never used that word so much in his life. Dear parole board! It was as though he had begged to be released from a cage of savage animals. What was wrong with hunting or eating meat? Nothing. Had he felt differently back then, or had he written what he thought theyâd want to hear? He feared the worst. Even if it had felt honest at the time, he now recognized a shameful pleading, a palpable desperation, the stench of superiority.
Anxiety redoubled as self-reproach. Spring break was fast approaching, and he had better warn his mother. On the phone he asked her to request that Uncle Roy not use the N-word. His mother paused.
An word? she mused. Oh, in-words? Is that slang?
You know. Nigger.
Oh. Then louder, Oh! So you mean you are bringing
                    I have learned all this from reading books and watching the History Channel and Discovery because my town is tiny. It isnât even on most maps, and we never had a representative. All our lives we wanted to matter, and weâve applied for the Special Olympics, the Georgia Games, and the Capital Seat, all to no luck. Weâve tried, but our resources are limited untilsomeone invests something in us, like time and a little money and a little outside influence.
                    So I guess what Iâm saying is that Iâm like my hometown, and I need someone to take a chance on me so I can prove my worth. And, I also would really like the chance to experience in person what I so far learned only on TV.
                    In regarding my major. There are over three hundred at Berkeley, and itâs hard to choose one when the most popular extracurricular activities here are 4-H, hunting, and Xbox. I like food and I observe that most people do as well. When the whistle blows at the mill the blacks go back to the Gully, the Mexicans to Ridgetown, and the Whites back here. But they all meet at the markets and after they talk about the weather, they exchange recipes. My parents are now making burritos and the Mexicans are eating headcheese, and for the best barbecue, Old Lou Davis has the biggest smoker and makes good pulled pork, but Iâve heard the Gully is where they have the best beef ribs. I think nutritional science and anthropology are my interests. To meet other people and learn how food can bring us together.
                    Thank you for considering my humble application.
                    I read on the YouTube advice link connected to the application page that weâre not supposed to end with a quote, especially from a book called âThe Road Less Traveled.â Well, I guess I just did that anyway, but only to remind you that to get to some of my relatives we drive partway and walk the rest because they donât have roads leading to where they live. (I hope you liked that.)
                    I gave up hunting and Iâm a vegetarian and I think Iâm ready to be released into society.
                    On another note, YouTube also said to be honest, so I mustadmit that the other reason I like UC Berkeley is because the only way I could get farther from home is to learn how to swim.
Sincerely,
Hopefully,
Daron Little May Davenport
Class of ??!!
Daron stumbled across those letters shortly before Operation Confederation, as the 4 Little Indians had begun to call it. Rereading them he prickled with guilt.
I gave up hunting? Iâm a vegetarian? Iâm ready to be released into society? What was he thinking? Community? Heâd never used that word so much in his life. Dear parole board! It was as though he had begged to be released from a cage of savage animals. What was wrong with hunting or eating meat? Nothing. Had he felt differently back then, or had he written what he thought theyâd want to hear? He feared the worst. Even if it had felt honest at the time, he now recognized a shameful pleading, a palpable desperation, the stench of superiority.
Anxiety redoubled as self-reproach. Spring break was fast approaching, and he had better warn his mother. On the phone he asked her to request that Uncle Roy not use the N-word. His mother paused.
An word? she mused. Oh, in-words? Is that slang?
You know. Nigger.
Oh. Then louder, Oh! So you mean you are bringing
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