It looks like the film may have gotten a boost from the people who came to see its premiere last month. Audiences voted it “Best Feature Film” at the Newport Beach Film Festival. Now, it’s on to the Breckenridge Film Festival in Colorado, where it has already gotten at least one favorable review.

Abby Sewell | reporter

Suddenly, I had a vivid picture of my graduation at Woodruff High School. The year was 2000 and the location was in Peoria, Ill. The memories were so crystal clear that it was emotionally overwhelming for me.

This stroll in my mind was set off when I began asking the current graduate questions what there plans were. The sense of optimism I felt from their responses was the catapult to memories of an event that happened nearly a decade ago.

The memories came in a flash. Suddenly, I was in their shoes. I remember the jolt in my heart rate as I walked to receive the diploma.

I remember the sense of relief that high school was over. The sense of urgency about my future plans, and the sense of adventures on journeys and had only began to embark in my mind. Overwhelmed, I took a quick breather and soaked up my surroundings.

Graduates basking in their achievements and their hard work with people they care about probably wondering in their own minds the same thing I was wondering as a graduate from Woodruff High all those years ago. What’s next?

When guest speaker Mark Meadows discussed overcoming adversity in his speech I couldn’t help but think of all the trials and tribulations that I fought in my own life over the past eight years in my journeys to achieve my own personal goals and aspirations. But the thoughts weren’t just self-centered. I thought of the kids I interviewed. Some of the kids at the alternative school that had over came many challenges in their pursuit of happiness and security. I thought of the inspirational story of Matt Burcham. Perhaps it was Burcham’s refusal to quit after a mortifying motorcycle accident to hit the books and get his education.

“Forget being in a wheelchair again, I am walking,” Burcham said.

Or maybe it was the first kid in a line of family to graduate high school. Or Stephanie Knight, who has almost died several times, and spent nearly a whole year in the hospital. I thought of Knight, who wrote the biography of her life as a legacy, because she didn’t think she was going to live. I think at that moment I figured out what annual tradition of graduation is about.

It’s a celebratory moment of achievement on the road to more challenges in life.

Jason Blasco | staff writer

I left high school in Tucson after my sophomore year, took the G.E.D. test and went straight to community college. I was too smart for my own good, bored by high school, and at the age of 16, I was already impatient to start my adult life. Some people tried to talk me out of it, from my friends at school, to the counselor I talked to at the community college, who went on about how I would miss all the precious memories of high school football games and dances. I wasn’t too worried about it.

At community college, I got to learn about subjects that I picked, in classrooms full of people who wanted to be there bad enough to pay for it. I got my first experience in journalism. I still had my friends and I still made it to four-year college and, eventually, to a “career.” I never regretted making the choice I did.

But that was me. I wouldn’t make a blanket statement that all kids should follow the same path. A lot of people have a great high school experience. Some people look back on those four years as the best of their lives. Some people have great teachers (I had a few, too) who inspire them and pique their interest in topics they never would have looked at otherwise. A lot of people make life long friends.

I don’t think there’s any single “right” direction to take in life, as long as you take the one that feel right to you, utilizes your talents, and makes you happy. The kids I talked to at the Silver Valley graduation seemed excited for the next phase in their lives. I was impressed by how many already knew what direction they wanted to head in, whether it’s fighting fires, running a beauty shop or searching for buried oasis sites in Egypt.

Eight years down the line, they might find they have ended up somewhere completely unexpected, but at least they’re starting out with a dream and a plan.

Abby Sewell | reporter

That’s Relay for Life.

Granted, walking around a dirt track in 100 degree heat is not normally on top of my Saturday plans. In the course of the covering the Relay, I probably made 10 laps myself, some of which were backwards holding a video camera and a microphone. (The video will be on the Web soon.) But for a lot of people in Barstow, there was no better place to be than on the track Saturday — except, well, under one of the many canopies surrounding the track.

What amazed me most was how the energy kept going throughout the day and swelled as night drew near. I talked to two women who were scheduled to walk the midnight to 6 a.m. shift, but at 2 p.m. they were already at the track, camped out near the home stretch cheering people on.

And as it grew darker — and cooler — it seemed more people took to the track. Certainly, more people were gathered around Langworthy Field. Everyone from fire chiefs to police chiefs to captains of the football team to waitresses, bank tellers and soldiers was there. As one friend remarked, Relay is one of the few times during the year that the entire community comes together.

But the true power of the event was not clear to me until the end of the Luminary lap at night. I was up in the bleachers, overlooking the start/finish line where a large torch stood. Cancer survivor Sandy Baca, who carried a smaller torch around the track with the stadium lights off to remember those who had fought cancer, reached up and lit the torch.

Suddenly, an orange glow flooded back across the track, illuminating the heads of hundreds of people who had filed in behind. The light did not outlast the crowd, and faces faded into the darkness, leaving one to suspect the wall of people encircled the track and went on forever. Sort of fitting, I guess.

And then, when the torch lighting was over and a few hugs were exchange, they started walking again.

Aaron Aupperlee | city editor

Unfortunately, real cars, the ones that drive Interstate 15 and Interstate 40, do not have these bouncy balls of safety. And even though the drivers are not pushing Speed Racer speeds — one car in the movie claimed to go 800 km per hour, nearly 500 miles per hour — or perfecting Speed Racer maneuvers — like weaving between sharp metal spikes YIKES! — the climb up Mountain Pass or an early morning blitz between Ludlow and Newberry Springs can be treacherous.

And unfortunately this week, we have all read how treacherous. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, four traffic fatalities in four days on three different roads. Each one is different and there is no way to establish a trend or rhyme or reason to the deaths.

Seatbelts might have made a difference in two of the deaths. Like the death of Brenda Wood early on Monday morning. Her niece left this comment on www.desertdispatch.com:

I have waited days to hear the details about my aunt Brenda wood’s death. I wish I couldve known in advance that she was going to be involved in this accident, maybe to try and stop it for ever happening again. It wasnt like her to forget her seatbelt, but she was really excited about her vegas trip for mothers day. She was like a mother to me. And I have not yet excepted that she is never comming back. Im never going anywhere without my seatbelt again. May you RIP Brenda Wood.

Of course, in the two fatal crashes on Tuesday and Wednesday, seatbelts did not seem to cure all. The recent deaths on roads surrounding Barstow, and all the ones still to come, underscore only one point: Those are dangerous roads out there.

So until Ford, Chevy, Toyota, Volvo or Honda comes out with Speed Racer-type safety technology and we can all bounce away from wrecks unscathed, drive safe.

Aaron Aupperlee | city editor

Matthews Hamilton, my new hero, is a 16-year-old recovering from leukemia. Although his cancer is in remission, he still can’t go to Barstow High School with his twin brother and 15-year-old sister. He has to wear a mask over his face to keep from getting an infection that could land him back in the hospital. He can’t do tricks on his skateboard or bike like he used to.

Under the circumstances, a person could easily be pretty depressed, especially when that person is a teenager. When I was 16, I remember carrying on as if the world was coming to an end over much less serious problems. But Matthews struck me as one of the best-adjusted kids I have met. He’s polite, smart, and interested in the world around him. When he couldn’t go to school any more, he made new friends at the hospital. When he couldn’t ride a skateboard, he picked up the guitar. While teenagers can be notoriously hard to get a good quote from, Matthews not only had thoughtful answers to my questions, he also had questions for me. When did I decide I wanted to be a reporter? How many people work for the Desert Dispatch? Do I like my job? He said he wanted to take a photography class, so I let him take some pictures with my camera (it belongs to me, not the paper, so I can take risks like handing it off to a 16-year-old).

It’s nice to be reminded once in a while that the kids are all right and some people can make the best of hard-luck stories.

Abby Sewell | reporter

Despite being years away from their 16th birthdays, these two students, and many other Newberry Springs Elementary School fifth-graders, knew exactly what was up with gas, the price.

While interviewing students at Newberry for a story about a proposed increase in school meal prices, many stressed that the high gas prices were more of a concern to their parents than an extra quarter for lunch. With gas prices in California up nearly 50 cents from last year and a 25 mile drive to school facing some parents, gas is the biggest concern, according to their kids.

Emily, 10, said her parents drive her from Barstow to Newberry for school each day and seem to spend a lot of money on gas. David, 12, said his parents do the same thing. When asked if they, and other fifth-graders, heard their parents talk about prices going up, all they could talk about was gas.

“That’s expensive,” said Emily. Other’s clamored about what they had heard from their parents about the price at the pump. It seems the price of gas was a daily discussion in most households and one the kids were privy too.

One student held up 10 fingers and told me that he heard gas was going to reach $10 a gallon soon. His teacher, Sheril Helms, quickly corrected him, showing only four fingers to indicate the possible gas ceiling.

Aaron Aupperlee | city editor

The father of an 82nd Airborne Division soldier woke up the military to the horrors of some soldiers barracks with a amateur video, a couple of photos thrown together with a plea to anyone who watched to call Senators, Reps, the local newspaper and demand change. People watched, 142,455 on one You Tube iteration, and the Army responded.

The problems at Fort Bragg, N.C., where the photos were taken, were remedied. Every barrack worldwide was inspected, and the Army began discussing fixing the barrack problem.

On Thursday, Secretary of the Army Peter Geren visited Fort Irwin. The visit had been planned months in advance, but the timing meant that barracks would be the issue at hand. I was allowed to ask Geren two questions about barracks and that was it.

Soldiers wanted me to ask more. After talking with 11th ACR soldiers in the box on Thursday, I had an idea of the questions they wanted answers to. They wanted to know how much it would cost to fix their barracks, and if the Army would be willing to spend that on them.

I asked Geren that question and he ducked.

So who really changed things here? The professional journalist with my pen, pad, fancy digital voice recorder and a photographer to tag along or a concerned father with a few snap-shots, a determined voice and YouTube.

Aaron Aupperlee | city editor