Baby Sister

If you looked at my sister's Facebook page, it would be easy to see the type of person she was, the things that were near and dear to her heart, her humor, her sentimental spirit, and most of all, her ever-present glimmer of hope.  I've been perusing her Facebook page on and off ever since she passed on Monday night and I can't help but feel that I wished I'd looked at it more before then.  Though I felt like I already knew her before, and I did, the things she posted there, oftentimes simple little memes or GIF's about animals, the good old days, family, and lots more completed the three-dimensional image that was her essence.

I don't know if anyone can prepare themselves for the loss of a child, or in my particular case, a sibling  No matter how often or how little you interact with one another, there is a bond that exists with an immediate family member because you've been a constant in one another's lives since the beginning.  I am the eldest of six siblings, and Chrissy was the baby.  I remember the night she was born, mom and dad off in the hospital and the rest of us sleepless at home with nana and grandpa babysitting, waiting for the news of whether the new baby would be a boy or a girl. Having only one brother and three sisters, I was praying for the former.  Nonetheless, when nana woke us up in the morning to tell us we had a new sister, how could any of us not still be excited?

Chrissy's first day of school

Back in those days, my family struggled financially, and not long after Christine was born, mom had to go back to work at McCrory's in the mall a few nights a week.  I, as the oldest at 13, was relegated to chief babysitter.  I changed Chrissy's diapers, prepared her bottles and fed her, and I played with her, put her to sleep, and kept her occupied all the while keeping the other foot soldiers in line until daddy came home.  This lasted a couple of years until dear Aunt Vi came to mine, and Chrissy's rescue.

Though Aunt Vi loved us all, everyone always knew that Chrissy was the apple of her eye.  Whereas Aunt Vi saved me from my job as chief, cook, and bottle washer, Chrissy saved her from the despair of being newly widowed.  My sister gave her purpose, and a companion, and the two of them spent the next few years doing homework together, playing cards, and Aunt Vi spending all of her money buying Mister Softee for all of her friends on hot summer nights.  It was one of the happiest times in my aunt's life.  The two of them were the infamous frick and frack for those formative years of my sister's life, and her passing a little over ten years ago left a hole in Chrissy's heart for the rest of her days.  One of the only comforts of this week for us is knowing that the two of them are probably playing gin rummy once again.

Dave, Chrissy and I

Sadly in the years since Christine was little she and I were never really too close again, as I went off into my adulthood and she remained a still home-bound youngster now becoming one of 'the girls.'  Though my sisters were never always bosom buddies, they did share a bond that remained throughout the years, and Chrissy, the baby, was always an integral character in that mix. 

Snapchat silliness with Gina

Throughout her adult life, my sister Christine would become a beautiful young woman, with a smile that could light up a room and small circle of really good friends who to this day would have done anything for her.  Unfortunately, not all of her friends were a positive influence.  My sister was also a very trusting person, and despite all of her attributes, she had a low self-image and a trusting nature that gave in to most anyone who paid her any attention.

For the past twenty-plus years, Chrissy's life somewhat resembled that of a pinball machine.  She moved around from place to place, spending time in both Kentucky and Florida, dodging her troubles whenever she could.  We all had our own periods of frustration with her and would sometimes lose contact, but her devotion to her family would never let that last too long.  Despite all of her troubles, we all still loved her.  Every last one of us!

Whenever Christine would be away, she always harbored a longing to return to New York, her home, and her family.  I remember most recently, when she was in Florida, that she spoke of returning for months before she actually did, and once she came back, my mom had no choice but to give her some tough love, having her try and make it on her own and alleviate her problems once and for all before she could come back into the house.  I think that we would all agree that in the last few months, she did her best.

Despite all of her own misgivings about herself, Christine was always an optimist, as anyone could plainly see from her Facebook postings.  This past holiday season was especially hopeful, as she worked hard at mending both herself and her relationships with others.  She and I had been communicating often lately, and had been making plans to do things together.  The day after Christmas, she sent me these texts:

I had a great time at your house. Thank you for being so welcoming.  I'm trying to be a better person and I appreciate my family's effort.  I feel truly blessed this holiday season.  

I told her to keep doing what she was doing and sent her a virtual hug.

Thanks John.  You always make me feel hopeful.  I love being around you.  I want to make myself proud and secondly my family.  That's why I'm doing therapy.  I'm done doing negative and I want to be surrounded with positive people.  I love you and I'm sorry I neglected you and the rest of the family.  I'm trying to make it up to everyone.  

We had a couple of more conversations like that in the days after, and during the last one we had, a week ago today, we made plans to go to breakfast on Saturday so she could meet Vinny.  She said she was looking forward to that.  So was I.  Four days later, she was gone.

I can't tell you how much it hurt to have lost her.  I don't think that in my 55 years of life on this Earth that I've ever felt this sad.  I am proud of my sister for being the person she was, for her optimism, for her humor, for her loving spirit.  I'm not going to say goodbye to her because she will live on in my heart for the rest of my days.  I will always remember her smile, her voice, and most of all her unconditional love for me and mom, David, Linda, Ann Marie, Rhiana, and Gina.  And who knows, maybe she'll use her newfound powers to help the Yankees win the World Series this year!  Rest in peace baby sister!

         

     

Turning a Corner I Don't Want To Turn

About ta month ago, I went to Hershey Park with some of my friends, and as we waited on line to buy tickets, I noted the price posted on a sign above the ticket counter.  Adult admission: $41.75.  I pulled out two twenties and a five and waited for my turn.  When I got to the window, the girl at the counter said "$32 even."  I was surprised and even stepped back to look again at the sign, thinking perhaps there was a sale I didn't know about.  Befuddled, I handed her the two twenties and she gave me my $8 in change.

"Tara, how much did you pay for your ticket?"

"Oh, like 42 bucks or something."

"Dita, what about you?"

"The same."

"Gary?"

"Yup."

"Oh my God, look at your ticket," Tara interjected.

Panicked, I looked down at the ticket in my hand and right there, in the middle, was the word "senior."  My worst nightmare had come to the surface.  Fuck, I've turned that corner!

A few years back, my friend Rich showed me a recent picture of a co-worker of his whom I've hung out with many times before.  I'd always admired this woman, who had immigrated here from Poland many years ago and made a sweet life for herself here in the States.  Not only was she a genuine and fun person, I'd always admired how she carried herself, always dressed to the nines and looking fabulous. 

Well, the picture Rich showed me of her was not good.  She looked old.  When I made a face, Rich shot me a knowing glance.  She had turned that corner and finally looked her age.  Though it shocked and saddened me a little, I was still a few years younger than her, so I didn't worry about it too much...until now.

I've been feeling it a lot more in recent months.  Of course working with kids, who are brutally honest, if not too naive, gets you a lot of harsh criticism.  Though I know they're joking when they call me viejito or pelon, it only works to make me more self-conscious.  Why do people always need to remind you of your faults?  Especially the physical ones that you have no control over? 

Yup, aging doesn't show mercy on anyone, and it's finally gotten me.  With a receding hairline and wrinkles I never had before, I am starting to look, gulp, like a senior.  The funny thing is, I don't feel it at all.  In my head and in my body (well, most of the time!), I feel like I'm 30.  It's not fair!!!

I should have prefaced this post by saying that today is my 55th birthday, so I am feeling it a bit more today.  I really stopped looking forward to birthdays a long time ago, but this year is really the shit.  The only thing good about today is all of the love I have been receiving pretty much since I woke up this morning.

I'm not going to give up, though.  I'm gonna keep taking my vitamins and using minoxidil and face cream and working out because I've still got it.  Somewhere inside I've still got it! 

We Are, An Introduction and A First Selected Work: This Is Why They Come - A Terrible Loss

This is why they come...

Every year, my class publishes what we call our ENL Magazine, a collection of writings by my students, all recent immigrants to the United States  At first, the goal of our little publication was to teach people in our community something about today's immigrant experience, but with all the fervor out there about immigrants these days, I feel that it's important for people to learn some things they do not know.  

I've been working with immigrant students for 16 years now, and in that time I've learned a lot of things I never knew before, things which inspire me to be their advocate as best I can.  Before I begin to share their words with you, I'd like to share some of the things I've learned over the years...

- Like elsewhere in the U.S., the population of immigrant students, especially from Central America, has grown and continues to grow every year.

- The young people I work with are just that...young people...kids.  If they had had their way, they'd still be home in their countries, with their families and their friends.  The great majority of them did not choose to come here, but most know why they did.

- I have had students from many countries, representing five continents and more than twenty countries.  I have both documented and undocumented students, and every single one of them is a human being who deserves as good a life as anyone.

- My students have experienced things that you and I will never experience.  The only gun I've ever seen has been in the holster of a police officer.  I've never seen or heard a gun used, and I've never seen one used on a relative.  Many of my students have.  I've never been threatened with my life by scary people hanging around outside of my school, or have had my family extorted for money for 'protection,' nor have I experienced threats to my mother or father or younger siblings.  I never walked for days on end in the hot desert sun without food or water, or been made to ride in vehicles with literally dozens and dozens of strangers in a cramped little space, or holed up in a strange house, hiding in darkness, terrified, waiting for a signal that it's time to move on.  I've never seen dismembered body parts or been threatened with a machete or made to swim across alligator-infested waters in the darkness of night.  I've never experienced these things, much less as a child.

- How desperate does a parent have to be to set their children off on a journey such as this?  Pretty damned desperate!  I once was told by a student that his little brother of 12 years had just left El Salvador on his way here.  For six weeks, his mother had no way of knowing where he was or if he was safe all that time.  All she had was God.  

I think you get the idea, but that's just me talking.  Now I'd like you too hear from some of my students.  I've published excerpts from this magazine in the past, and now that we have a new edition, I'd like to share some more.  

This world, this country has a great shortage of empathy, and especially on the part of many who claim to follow Jesus, probably one of the most loving and caring people who ever walked this Earth.  It makes me sad.  Even so, I still feel in my heart that there are people I know who will turn their backs to these stories.  Ignorance truly is bliss!

I can tell you firsthand that it's really hard to get these kids to share their stories.  I tried my best to convince them that they have an opportunity to help somehow, and believe me, there is plenty more to tell far and above what I will share here, but even I may never hear it.  In the meantime, here's the first piece I'd like to share, a piece entitled A Terrible Loss.  It is a story that was borne out of one sentence this anonymous student had written in another piece and I thought it worthy of attention, so we created a separate essay.  This story is true.  I've listened to him speak it and I have seen photographs.  Please read on and stay tuned for more from We Are... (warning, some may find the following content disturbing)

A Terrible Loss

Something sad happened just one week after I came to this country.  My best friend, Cristian, who lived with his mother in the same town as me in Guatemala, was killed by gangsters.  She was murdered, too, by the same killers I escaped from just a couple of months earlier. It hurts that I could not to go to the wake and say goodbye to him.

You see, when the gangsters approached him to ask him for money for protection, he decided to not comply.  He tried to fight back.  He lost.  He tried to use his fists to fight off the gangsters, but they had guns.  My poor friend was shot in the chest, and then they shot his mother, too.  Both of them died.   

The news was a blow to me because we were like brothers.  We were friends ever since we met five years before in school.  It was also especially hard because it decimated practically everybody in his family, and left his sister without parents and without a brother.  My friend’s father had died when Cristian was very young.  To this day I don’t know whatever happened to his sister.    

Anonymous

Hello...It's Me, Distracted

Why hello everyone...long time, no write.  Forgive me Lord, it's been three months since my last post...  

I miss writing!  There have been so many distractions in my life lately that have gotten in the way of writing.  Besides, the inspiration just hasn't been there.  Hopefully, this'll get me going.  At this point in my story, I don't even know what I'm about to write, but here goes...

The Move

The last time I posted anything here, I was preparing to move out of the house after selling it.  Well, that was three months ago and I am all about the new place these days.  I really lucked out in the end...selling so quickly and finding a comparable (and hella cool!) spot to call home.  

I'm now living in the village of Patchogue, about a mile from my old house, which is probably the best place I could have found myself.  I always wanted to live a city life, and this is about as close as I can get to that out here on Long Island.  

For those of you not from these parts, the village of Patchogue is a former major shopping destination turned neglected, depressed area turned revitalized minitropolis about twenty years ago, give or take.  It is today the most popular spot on this sprawling 118 mile island, with trendy bars and restaurants, cool housing, fun events, and shopping, too.  I am just outside of the main district, and also about 1/4 mile from the water...both great for walking.

Alive After Five in Patchogue

I mentioned above the hella cool spot I'm living in.  Well yeah, the square footage is comparable to my old place and it's one of five apartments in a big, old, Victorian house.  Lots and lots of character, plenty of space and tons of windows to make it bright and airy.  Here's a photo of my living room that I just took:

Nice, right?  I could post more, but the only ones I already have are a little light on the furniture, and it's too dark to take any more now.  Maybe when I take some new, homey ones, I'll share.  So this has been one of my distractions, but it's brought me to a happier place.  

Him

Yeah, so there's a him in my life.  For a change.  For the first time in a very very long time, there is a him.  And almost six months now, too!  Who'd have thought?  Not me.  Anyway, out of respect for his privacy, I won't say much about him except that he is a beautiful person both inside and out and for him to even have gotten this far into my life, he's got to be a special one.  Again, distraction, but also, a happier place!    

Professoring

It still feels weird for me to say that I am a professor at a well-known university, but it's already been three years now that I've been doing it.  It's weird where life takes you, almost as if I've just naturally grown into the type of person who can do this, but let me tell you, even though my teaching life made me well-prepared for it, professoring is hard!  I must be decent at it because they keep asking me to do more and more at the university and I am very conflicted about it.  

Currently I am teaching a brand new class, which causes me about ten hours of work per week outside the three-hour class.  And I've been asked to teach three more for the remainder of the school year.  Ugh!  But how do you turn down the money?  Teaching college classes helps afford me the opportunity to enjoy the summer without work and I have to keep telling myself that, but this is probably the biggest distraction of all, and it doesn't make me a happier!  Double ugh!    

The United States of America

The one, overarching distraction lately is the amount of attention I give and its resulting dismay I feel about the state of our country.  Multiple times a day, I follow news feeds on Twitter, watch news bytes on YouTube, and read news articles, all feeding into what I feel is this dark, ominous cloud hanging over all of our heads.  It's quite maddening all of the crap I see out there, and it makes me afraid for our future.  I'm scared to see how this craziness ends, and I could write pages and pages on this, but I'm going to leave this right here...for now.  

Well okay, I think we've got a post.  Hopefully I'll be around again sooner rather than later.  Lots of stuff inside my head!  I just have to learn to work around those distractions...  As always, thanks for checking me out.