Updated Personal Essay

Lisa Rotella
Close-Knit

Kissimmee, Florida, November 30, 1969. It’s a girl!! An exhausted mom and proud dad stare at her all night long. “Gayle, she’s exactly what I always dreamed she would be!” “She’s beautiful and I think she has my eyes!” “I know, John, she’s perfect!” “I cant stop looking at her!”
These were my feelings exactly when I laid eyes on my little guy in ‘98! And now that I am a parent myself I can completely relate to those feelings! It has been 37 years and my parents feel the same way about me now as they did the day I came into this world.
My mother and father, two perfect people in my eyes, in a not-so-perfect world. My dad, struggling to make a living every day while my mom stays home and takes care of “his little girl.” Exactly the way I wanted it for myself when I had a baby!
I grew up in a normal, stable, loving environment with both, my mother and my father. We lived in a trailer park in Florida with my father’s parents right next door. Looking back now, I can see some things that were missing growing up but while my growing up was taking place, I had no clue. All I knew was that I had people that loved me and I was in a wonderful place. A great place to be, I thought. It was a place full of stories and teachings by my grandparents next door, a place of warn nuture by my parents with so much love to give and lessons to be learned. Everyday I awoke in this sunshine state and would brush my teeth, put my bathing suit on and my mom would struggle with my curly hair to get it back into that bun she always loved. My grandpop would come over with a pound of bacon and scrambled eggs everyday. “Lisa, If you want to grow up strong and be a good swimmer, you have to start with a hearty breakfast!” Yes, I knew that as the first five years of life I ate scrambled eggs and bacon EVERYDAY. Honestly, I think my breakfast weighed me down in the deep-end of the pool some, but my grandfather new best as far as I was concerned.
I was a spunky, fabulous five years old when my brother came into my world. What a cute little guy! I wasn’t sure if he was going to cramp my style, ride my coattails or just have a life of his own. I never knew my relationship with my parents and grandparents now had to be shared with this screaming little person who quite frankly, got in my way a bit. Lets face it, I was the “center of the universe” so I was told. I am not used to sharing anything!
As years passed, my brother and I finally became “friendly”. He was finally walking and talking and he seemed somewhat interesting when I had nothing else to do! The trailer park got suddenly small and my grandparents decided they would go back to Jersey and leave the campgrounds to my great uncles to take care of . My grandfather had a business in Jersey as well that needed tending too. They had other grandchildren in Jersey as well and thought we should be all in one state. A very typical scenario of an Italian family, hence, close-knit.
We all moved back to New Jersey with my grandparents. Housing here was not affordable for my immediate family so we did what any other Italian would do, moved into the basement of the closest relative, my grandparents again! At the age of eight, I knew everything of course. I definitely knew, something was really wrong here when we had no windows to speak of, no pool and a very small back yard. “Where is my pool?”
I had a new school, new place to live, new friends and still kinda kickin around with my little brother. I thought I should be so much more than that at this stage. I wasn’t too happy and I had to have one of those “sit on my lap, hunny” kinda talks with my grandmother. She would always twist my curls in between her fingers when she would tell me something that she thought was very important. This explanation was no different. Somehow, someway, my grandmother always made things seem so simple. She would explain to me what she thought was most important and let the rest fall by the waste side. She always spoke highly of how important family is and when I have children and grandchildren someday, I might be explaining things to them just as she is explaining them to me. In the end, I knew I would find other friends, get used to my windowless apartment in the basement and enjoy being together with family as that is the most important thing.
I remember that conversation like it was yesterday and I refer to it daily in my life as a parent now. That wasn’t the only conversation I remember vividly. There were many times throughout years of growing up that I remember saying, “Yes, I understand, I would like it to be this way for me too, someday!” I remember using my parents and my grandparents as examples of what I wanted for myself. My brother and I were taught as children and young adults that you should not be questionable or analytical about other people. Don’t judge anyone until you have walked in their old worn shoes. My grandfather had been around the block as they say and although lacking an academic education he had practically created a school of his own, called the “school of hard knocks.” He graduated suma cum lade in “street smarts.” He always said, “take people at face value”, “You trust someone until they prove you wrong! And if they do, then you move on and take it as a learning experience!”
He had a successful business in demolition and scrap. Here is where he learned about many different types of people and ways of doing business where you always look out for another. I guess perhaps those were the old days as my father is in that business my grandfather left him and its very cut throat. I have had many learning experiences during adolescents and my early twenties. I have made some great choices and some not so great choices but always willing to make sure I was willing to pay any consequence for any action I would take.
Little did I know my learning experience would result in me being a single mom with a new baby trying to put pieces of our lives back together.
It ended up to be those lessons taught to me by these four great people that made me realize I am in a situation that is not what I have always wanted. Actually it’s the exact opposite.
It was a man I met over fifteen years ago. A man that was intelligent and experienced, wordly, well traveled and fun. He seemed a lot like my dad but unfortunately, I think I mistaken control for love. That is a lesson I learned all by myself and perhaps someday I will be able to share that with a child or grandchild.
We dated for four years and decided to get married in 1996. We both wanted children and both agreed that me being a stay at home mom would be the best for our soon to be family. Our endless attempts at pregnancy just consumed me! My husband would be working all the time to make sure we had the resources to move further using scientific methods if need be. Well three difficult pregnancies later, some serious trauma and my marriage slipping away, we finally had our little boy Alexander! I had a feeling in the hospital that things were not good between my husband and I. He was no longer the focal point of my life and referred to himself as “sperm donor.” Alexander had to stay some extra days in the hospital as he was having some problems. My husband wanted me to come home and come back in the morning everyday. I was not leaving my baby there! I would sleep in a chair in the hallway or in an extra bed the hospital may have had, but I am not leaving my baby here. This was the beginning of the end! My husband constantly harping on me, “what happened to us, why is everything all about the baby constantly?” That was a question that I couldn’t even believe that one would ask. This is your son! This is an infant with issues that need to be addressed. I couldn’t understand where he was coming from as in my family there is nothing that comes between mother/father and child, NOTHING!
We finally came home to what is supposed to be the most exciting time in our lives and it ended up to be the most difficult. I was obsessed with my newborn, trying to do everything right and making sure he was well taken care of. He developed some issues with his respiratory track and it was just one hospital visit after another. Every night sitting next to his bassinett when we would come home from hospital trips or sleeping on the side of his crib when he got a little older, making sure I was aware of his every breath. My whole entire world focused on my little boy, very much like my parents had focused on my brother and I as children. God! I wish my grandmother were still here as I would be asking for her to be right by my side as she always was. My mother was at my house or by my side in the hospital all the time. My husband was starting to go out more and more and try and find some other avenues that would entertain him as his home life in his eyes was becoming bleek at best. I could hear my grandmothers voice in my head over and over saying, “Lisa, calm down, tell John how you feel, you’ll be ok.” She spoke to me everyday sharing her wisdom as she always has. I would ask her aloud to help me out in my times of need as she was no longer here physically but was in my heart always. A few weeks later, my husband got a new job in Sales. Well now he can go out all the time and justify it easily by saying he’s working! Well, hes working alright! Out every night “working” while I am home taking care of my little guy. We started fighting about everything, money, the baby, money, the baby, money and the baby. “Ever since HE came into the picture, things have been rough!” “WHAT?”…”HE, I said” Who would refer to their own son by the pronoun HE. This is where I had to say to myself, “self, what is going on?” Every weekend he had something going on for work and every weekend I would spend with my family and the baby as he didn’t have any time for Alexander and I. We seeked help. We needed it. We needed to come to the realization that something is very wrong. Something wrong with me, fine, I will fix it. Something wrong with John, never, its never John. It will always be Lisa. A couple of months have passed and I was cleaning out the basement as the baby was taking a nap. Surprise! I came across marijuana in my basement, sexually explicit video tape and few things I rather not mention. WOW! This is someone I thought I knew for years and somehow now I am living with a stranger.
A stranger is the only way to describe the feeling you have toward this person. This is a person I shared my life with, slept with, talked to, made love to and confided in and he just completely betrayed me. This was not my husband. This is not even a human.
Picture it! My husband cannot even swing a hammer or tighten a screw and he is buying sheetrock? The back half of the basement was always locked. He wouldn’t want anyone to steal his tools. Tools? What tools? Sheetrock? John said a while ago, way before I had Alexander, he was going to separate rooms in the basement. I giggled of course because God knows he couldn’t dedicate himself to a gym membership, let alone, putting work into his home. He HATED that kind of thing. He hated me, he hated it here and he obviously hated the relationship that we shared as he was leading a whole other life other than the one I had known for years.
I was sitting there with my legs spread on the cold basement floor after ripping the padlocked door off the hinges as I just knew there was so much more for me to find. Hey, I might as well get everything out in the open now! Who grows marijuana? Who hides empty bottles of Jack Daniels in old suitcases? Who video tapes themselves while they are doing drugs? It was just one juicy find after another. It was one of those times that you kept on going waiting to find some other things but then you wish you hadn’t. It’s like passing the scene of a serious accident. You want to look at the twisted metal and broken glass yet later you cannot remove that image from your mind and you wish you had just looked forward.
Unfortunately, this is another one of those situations where I needed to sit on my grandmother’s lap again. I needed her to explain to me and guide me and help me through this potential hell I am experiencing.
September 9, 1999, it was a Thursday. My dad picked me up with a cloths basket full of clothes, my baby and my two cats, Felix and Oscar. Things just got so ugly so fast and I knew I would be able to dedicate myself to my son, alone. “Are you ok?” my dad asked. “Im a fucking mess.” I replied. My parent’s house was only eleven miles away. I flooded my father’s large SUV with tears. I could remember my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth as I was so parched. My dad had his left hand at noon on the wheel with his right palm glued to my left knee apologizing over and over again. “What could I possible do for you?” He asked. I sobbed and sobbed and was absolutely speechless. It was a powerful moment I will never forget. “Dad, thank you!” I needed to leave. My dad came to bring me home with or without my consent. He came to bring me to the place where I had been comforted, understood and loved my whole life. The place from where I came was a beautiful one and my baby and I are now going there. That was a comforting feeling!
Here I am, eight years later! Whew, those years flew and I have to say, I do the best I can with what I have. Im a mom, a dad, a teacher, a cook, cleaning lady, I am everything.
My parents are right there where they always have been, just as they were when I was little. I plan on repeating history as I feel this history is definetely worth repeating!
Lisa Rotella
Close-Knit

Kissimmee, Florida, November 30, 1969. It’s a girl!! An exhausted mom and proud dad stare at her all night long. “Gayle, she’s exactly what I always dreamed she would be!” “She’s beautiful and I think she has my eyes!” “I know, John, she’s perfect!” “I cant stop looking at her!”
These were my feelings exactly when I laid eyes on my little guy in ‘98! And now that I am a parent myself I can completely relate to those feelings! It has been 37 years and my parents feel the same way about me now as they did the day I came into this world.
My mother and father, two perfect people in my eyes, in a not-so-perfect world. My dad, struggling to make a living every day while my mom stays home and takes care of “his little girl.” Exactly the way I wanted it for myself when I had a baby!
I grew up in a normal, stable, loving environment with both, my mother and my father. We lived in a trailer park in Florida with my father’s parents right next door. Looking back now, I can see some things that were missing growing up but while my growing up was taking place, I had no clue. All I knew was that I had people that loved me and I was in a wonderful place. A great place to be, I thought. It was a place full of stories and teachings by my grandparents next door, a place of warn nuture by my parents with so much love to give and lessons to be learned. Everyday I awoke in this sunshine state and would brush my teeth, put my bathing suit on and my mom would struggle with my curly hair to get it back into that bun she always loved. My grandpop would come over with a pound of bacon and scrambled eggs everyday. “Lisa, If you want to grow up strong and be a good swimmer, you have to start with a hearty breakfast!” Yes, I knew that as the first five years of life I ate scrambled eggs and bacon EVERYDAY. Honestly, I think my breakfast weighed me down in the deep-end of the pool some, but my grandfather new best as far as I was concerned.
I was a spunky, fabulous five years old when my brother came into my world. What a cute little guy! I wasn’t sure if he was going to cramp my style, ride my coattails or just have a life of his own. I never knew my relationship with my parents and grandparents now had to be shared with this screaming little person who quite frankly, got in my way a bit. Lets face it, I was the “center of the universe” so I was told. I am not used to sharing anything!
As years passed, my brother and I finally became “friendly”. He was finally walking and talking and he seemed somewhat interesting when I had nothing else to do! The trailer park got suddenly small and my grandparents decided they would go back to Jersey and leave the campgrounds to my great uncles to take care of . My grandfather had a business in Jersey as well that needed tending too. They had other grandchildren in Jersey as well and thought we should be all in one state. A very typical scenario of an Italian family, hence, close-knit.
We all moved back to New Jersey with my grandparents. Housing here was not affordable for my immediate family so we did what any other Italian would do, moved into the basement of the closest relative, my grandparents again! At the age of eight, I knew everything of course. I definitely knew, something was really wrong here when we had no windows to speak of, no pool and a very small back yard. “Where is my pool?”
I had a new school, new place to live, new friends and still kinda kickin around with my little brother. I thought I should be so much more than that at this stage. I wasn’t too happy and I had to have one of those “sit on my lap, hunny” kinda talks with my grandmother. She would always twist my curls in between her fingers when she would tell me something that she thought was very important. This explanation was no different. Somehow, someway, my grandmother always made things seem so simple. She would explain to me what she thought was most important and let the rest fall by the waste side. She always spoke highly of how important family is and when I have children and grandchildren someday, I might be explaining things to them just as she is explaining them to me. In the end, I knew I would find other friends, get used to my windowless apartment in the basement and enjoy being together with family as that is the most important thing.
I remember that conversation like it was yesterday and I refer to it daily in my life as a parent now. That wasn’t the only conversation I remember vividly. There were many times throughout years of growing up that I remember saying, “Yes, I understand, I would like it to be this way for me too, someday!” I remember using my parents and my grandparents as examples of what I wanted for myself. My brother and I were taught as children and young adults that you should not be questionable or analytical about other people. Don’t judge anyone until you have walked in their old worn shoes. My grandfather had been around the block as they say and although lacking an academic education he had practically created a school of his own, called the “school of hard knocks.” He graduated suma cum lade in “street smarts.” He always said, “take people at face value”, “You trust someone until they prove you wrong! And if they do, then you move on and take it as a learning experience!”
He had a successful business in demolition and scrap. Here is where he learned about many different types of people and ways of doing business where you always look out for another. I guess perhaps those were the old days as my father is in that business my grandfather left him and its very cut throat. I have had many learning experiences during adolescents and my early twenties. I have made some great choices and some not so great choices but always willing to make sure I was willing to pay any consequence for any action I would take.
Little did I know my learning experience would result in me being a single mom with a new baby trying to put pieces of our lives back together.
It ended up to be those lessons taught to me by these four great people that made me realize I am in a situation that is not what I have always wanted. Actually it’s the exact opposite.
It was a man I met over fifteen years ago. A man that was intelligent and experienced, wordly, well traveled and fun. He seemed a lot like my dad but unfortunately, I think I mistaken control for love. That is a lesson I learned all by myself and perhaps someday I will be able to share that with a child or grandchild.
We dated for four years and decided to get married in 1996. We both wanted children and both agreed that me being a stay at home mom would be the best for our soon to be family. Our endless attempts at pregnancy just consumed me! My husband would be working all the time to make sure we had the resources to move further using scientific methods if need be. Well three difficult pregnancies later, some serious trauma and my marriage slipping away, we finally had our little boy Alexander! I had a feeling in the hospital that things were not good between my husband and I. He was no longer the focal point of my life and referred to himself as “sperm donor.” Alexander had to stay some extra days in the hospital as he was having some problems. My husband wanted me to come home and come back in the morning everyday. I was not leaving my baby there! I would sleep in a chair in the hallway or in an extra bed the hospital may have had, but I am not leaving my baby here. This was the beginning of the end! My husband constantly harping on me, “what happened to us, why is everything all about the baby constantly?” That was a question that I couldn’t even believe that one would ask. This is your son! This is an infant with issues that need to be addressed. I couldn’t understand where he was coming from as in my family there is nothing that comes between mother/father and child, NOTHING!
We finally came home to what is supposed to be the most exciting time in our lives and it ended up to be the most difficult. I was obsessed with my newborn, trying to do everything right and making sure he was well taken care of. He developed some issues with his respiratory track and it was just one hospital visit after another. Every night sitting next to his bassinett when we would come home from hospital trips or sleeping on the side of his crib when he got a little older, making sure I was aware of his every breath. My whole entire world focused on my little boy, very much like my parents had focused on my brother and I as children. God! I wish my grandmother were still here as I would be asking for her to be right by my side as she always was. My mother was at my house or by my side in the hospital all the time. My husband was starting to go out more and more and try and find some other avenues that would entertain him as his home life in his eyes was becoming bleek at best. I could hear my grandmothers voice in my head over and over saying, “Lisa, calm down, tell John how you feel, you’ll be ok.” She spoke to me everyday sharing her wisdom as she always has. I would ask her aloud to help me out in my times of need as she was no longer here physically but was in my heart always. A few weeks later, my husband got a new job in Sales. Well now he can go out all the time and justify it easily by saying he’s working! Well, hes working alright! Out every night “working” while I am home taking care of my little guy. We started fighting about everything, money, the baby, money, the baby, money and the baby. “Ever since HE came into the picture, things have been rough!” “WHAT?”…”HE, I said” Who would refer to their own son by the pronoun HE. This is where I had to say to myself, “self, what is going on?” Every weekend he had something going on for work and every weekend I would spend with my family and the baby as he didn’t have any time for Alexander and I. We seeked help. We needed it. We needed to come to the realization that something is very wrong. Something wrong with me, fine, I will fix it. Something wrong with John, never, its never John. It will always be Lisa. A couple of months have passed and I was cleaning out the basement as the baby was taking a nap. Surprise! I came across marijuana in my basement, sexually explicit video tape and few things I rather not mention. WOW! This is someone I thought I knew for years and somehow now I am living with a stranger.
A stranger is the only way to describe the feeling you have toward this person. This is a person I shared my life with, slept with, talked to, made love to and confided in and he just completely betrayed me. This was not my husband. This is not even a human.
Picture it! My husband cannot even swing a hammer or tighten a screw and he is buying sheetrock? The back half of the basement was always locked. He wouldn’t want anyone to steal his tools. Tools? What tools? Sheetrock? John said a while ago, way before I had Alexander, he was going to separate rooms in the basement. I giggled of course because God knows he couldn’t dedicate himself to a gym membership, let alone, putting work into his home. He HATED that kind of thing. He hated me, he hated it here and he obviously hated the relationship that we shared as he was leading a whole other life other than the one I had known for years.
I was sitting there with my legs spread on the cold basement floor after ripping the padlocked door off the hinges as I just knew there was so much more for me to find. Hey, I might as well get everything out in the open now! Who grows marijuana? Who hides empty bottles of Jack Daniels in old suitcases? Who video tapes themselves while they are doing drugs? It was just one juicy find after another. It was one of those times that you kept on going waiting to find some other things but then you wish you hadn’t. It’s like passing the scene of a serious accident. You want to look at the twisted metal and broken glass yet later you cannot remove that image from your mind and you wish you had just looked forward.
Unfortunately, this is another one of those situations where I needed to sit on my grandmother’s lap again. I needed her to explain to me and guide me and help me through this potential hell I am experiencing.
September 9, 1999, it was a Thursday. My dad picked me up with a cloths basket full of clothes, my baby and my two cats, Felix and Oscar. Things just got so ugly so fast and I knew I would be able to dedicate myself to my son, alone. “Are you ok?” my dad asked. “Im a fucking mess.” I replied. My parent’s house was only eleven miles away. I flooded my father’s large SUV with tears. I could remember my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth as I was so parched. My dad had his left hand at noon on the wheel with his right palm glued to my left knee apologizing over and over again. “What could I possible do for you?” He asked. I sobbed and sobbed and was absolutely speechless. It was a powerful moment I will never forget. “Dad, thank you!” I needed to leave. My dad came to bring me home with or without my consent. He came to bring me to the place where I had been comforted, understood and loved my whole life. The place from where I came was a beautiful one and my baby and I are now going there. That was a comforting feeling!
Here I am, eight years later! Whew, those years flew and I have to say, I do the best I can with what I have. Im a mom, a dad, a teacher, a cook, cleaning lady, I am everything.
My parents are right there where they always have been, just as they were when I was little. I plan on repeating history as I feel this history is definetely worth repeating!