Ok, I have to admit, I NEVER thought I would be able to complete this course without some serious difficulty, writer's block, carple tunnel, etc. I thoroughly enjoyed this class even though it kept me up most nights typing and typing and changing things around. It was endless! I have to say I certainly learned so many things about writing and about myself that I would have never know without crossing Dr. Chandler's path. Thank you Dr. Chandler for being understanding, critical if need be, allowing me to feel involved and being able to not "poo poo" my ideas, but instead helping me through the things I needed to work on.
My plans as a writer? I will write and write and write all the time now, whether it be for work, school or merely for fun or to get my feelings out on paper. Its truly something I never knew I even had until I tried. Im excited about it and learned an awful lot about many different things.
Thank you...
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Blog 9 - Literary Journalism Prewriting
Lisa Rotella
Literary Journalism
Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis
May 7, 2006, just some of my extended family and my Aunt JoAnn not even one year ago my aunt was sitting in her wheelchair strickened with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS). Her body completely controlled by broken down neurons in the nerve cells located in the brain and spinal cord.
Her family surrounds her as we “Walk to D’Feet ALS” last May in her honor. Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins all in this fight together. This situation was one that affected our whole family. Each member whether it be a close sister or distant cousin was affected by this horrific disease. We all walked tall and proud with our heads held high and our signs telling our tale. Uncle Bill pushed Aunt JoAnn as she was in the middle and her supporters surrounded her completely. We were just so thrilled that she was able to make it there as the night before was not a good one. She was slipping away slowly and we were her team trying to route her on. Seemed like an endless marathon that there was just no finish line to. Our team alone collected over $4500 for the association so are heads were high and This May we will be walking in her memory as ALS has since taken her life.
This disease is a life threatening neurodegenerative disease where you progressively lose nervous control of voluntary muscle systems by the destruction of motor neurons in the nerve cells.
At the young age of 65 Aunt JoAnn started some trouble with her hands as she was diagnosed at that point with arthritis. She was a seamstress and extremely talented with knitting and crocheting so arthritis seemed to be an acceptable condition given her circumstances.
There was not much time passed as my aunt was noticing some other strange occurrences. She had some swelling around her legs and ankles, as well as, muscle cramps and slurred speech. We all started to pick up on some things that were going on as she just did not seem her normal self. After all, she was the aunt you wanted to sit next to at all the showers and weddings. She was outgoing and fun and the life of the party. She smiled no matter what came her way and lived her life according to the Lord. She was incredible!
She was back and forth to the doctors for quite a while before she had some tell tale signs of ALS. She could no longer eat solid food as her tongue was enlarged and throat was slowly closing in on her. Her diet consisted of baby food and my uncle would puree her food as she was still able to taste. Her speech was getting progressively worsened by this disease and simple breathing became difficult at best.
According to the ALS Association New York Chapter the symptoms of ALS include muscle weekness, decrease in muscle coordination and mass, loss of tissue due to lack of nervous stimulation, possible paralysis, muscle cramps, voice impairment like hoarseness.
Literary Journalism
Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis
May 7, 2006, just some of my extended family and my Aunt JoAnn not even one year ago my aunt was sitting in her wheelchair strickened with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS). Her body completely controlled by broken down neurons in the nerve cells located in the brain and spinal cord.
Her family surrounds her as we “Walk to D’Feet ALS” last May in her honor. Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins all in this fight together. This situation was one that affected our whole family. Each member whether it be a close sister or distant cousin was affected by this horrific disease. We all walked tall and proud with our heads held high and our signs telling our tale. Uncle Bill pushed Aunt JoAnn as she was in the middle and her supporters surrounded her completely. We were just so thrilled that she was able to make it there as the night before was not a good one. She was slipping away slowly and we were her team trying to route her on. Seemed like an endless marathon that there was just no finish line to. Our team alone collected over $4500 for the association so are heads were high and This May we will be walking in her memory as ALS has since taken her life.
This disease is a life threatening neurodegenerative disease where you progressively lose nervous control of voluntary muscle systems by the destruction of motor neurons in the nerve cells.
At the young age of 65 Aunt JoAnn started some trouble with her hands as she was diagnosed at that point with arthritis. She was a seamstress and extremely talented with knitting and crocheting so arthritis seemed to be an acceptable condition given her circumstances.
There was not much time passed as my aunt was noticing some other strange occurrences. She had some swelling around her legs and ankles, as well as, muscle cramps and slurred speech. We all started to pick up on some things that were going on as she just did not seem her normal self. After all, she was the aunt you wanted to sit next to at all the showers and weddings. She was outgoing and fun and the life of the party. She smiled no matter what came her way and lived her life according to the Lord. She was incredible!
She was back and forth to the doctors for quite a while before she had some tell tale signs of ALS. She could no longer eat solid food as her tongue was enlarged and throat was slowly closing in on her. Her diet consisted of baby food and my uncle would puree her food as she was still able to taste. Her speech was getting progressively worsened by this disease and simple breathing became difficult at best.
According to the ALS Association New York Chapter the symptoms of ALS include muscle weekness, decrease in muscle coordination and mass, loss of tissue due to lack of nervous stimulation, possible paralysis, muscle cramps, voice impairment like hoarseness.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Reflective Essay
Lisa Rotella
Reflection Essay
As I sit, whether here at home, on the train, at my son’s baseball practice with laptop or in class. My reflection will never be the same at any given time. It is so dependent on my subject at hand, my personal involvement with that subject and my own personal space and what I may be feeling at the time. I tend to have an ability to write no matter where I am however, sometimes I am stuck in a position of dead end where I feel I need to step away and come back. This explains why I have so many “versions” of the same piece over and over again. I need to branch all the way out like a large oak tree. I need to put all of my feelings on paper and really tell my story exactly the way it happened. I need to make sure that my feelings are there in my head and then put on paper so I can allow the reader an easy access to what I am feeling. Wait, should I be giving my audience easy access? I then reevaluate the situation and list all of my ideas and thoughts as a list. I take that list and go back to what I originally wrote and make sure that they are all of the things I need to include. The list should match up somewhat with the original writing I created. Printing both documents and looking over both, I try to create a scene for the paragraph in the story I am writing about. My goal now is to be able to tell the story AGAIN without actually telling the story. I want my reader to be able to put the pieces together like a puzzle. Think about which piece goes where and try to match up every angle. I think normally I spend way too much time on pieces, but I could never just write something for face value and not be able to ponder over it for extended periods of time. I would think that I would cheating my reader into giving him or her the value of what I am trying to reveal.
I have chosen to publish my personal essay which talks about my process of leaving my husband and how a close knit family can teach their children lessons and sometimes those lessons are the learning experiences of themselves. I have a close relationship with my feelings regarding this issue as it has taken me years and years before, during and after to learn by the way in which I lived. My concern is that I allow the reader to understand that mistakes are not mistakes if you learn something from them. I do not like to refer to my situation as a single mom a mistake or “life sentence” as my dad sometimes calls it. I like to think of it as a learning experience. I can tie it into what I have learned in this class as well. I believe writing about writing could even give you yet another avenue where you may or may not have gone before. It may give you more opportunities to explore yourself more and more and allow your audience to see much more of you by your expressive ways. I feel this class and my personal essay writing process is one that is hand in hand. I feel this class, my writings and my personal essay all give the feeling of learning experiences and how important it is to make small boo boo’s to improve yourself.
Reflection Essay
As I sit, whether here at home, on the train, at my son’s baseball practice with laptop or in class. My reflection will never be the same at any given time. It is so dependent on my subject at hand, my personal involvement with that subject and my own personal space and what I may be feeling at the time. I tend to have an ability to write no matter where I am however, sometimes I am stuck in a position of dead end where I feel I need to step away and come back. This explains why I have so many “versions” of the same piece over and over again. I need to branch all the way out like a large oak tree. I need to put all of my feelings on paper and really tell my story exactly the way it happened. I need to make sure that my feelings are there in my head and then put on paper so I can allow the reader an easy access to what I am feeling. Wait, should I be giving my audience easy access? I then reevaluate the situation and list all of my ideas and thoughts as a list. I take that list and go back to what I originally wrote and make sure that they are all of the things I need to include. The list should match up somewhat with the original writing I created. Printing both documents and looking over both, I try to create a scene for the paragraph in the story I am writing about. My goal now is to be able to tell the story AGAIN without actually telling the story. I want my reader to be able to put the pieces together like a puzzle. Think about which piece goes where and try to match up every angle. I think normally I spend way too much time on pieces, but I could never just write something for face value and not be able to ponder over it for extended periods of time. I would think that I would cheating my reader into giving him or her the value of what I am trying to reveal.
I have chosen to publish my personal essay which talks about my process of leaving my husband and how a close knit family can teach their children lessons and sometimes those lessons are the learning experiences of themselves. I have a close relationship with my feelings regarding this issue as it has taken me years and years before, during and after to learn by the way in which I lived. My concern is that I allow the reader to understand that mistakes are not mistakes if you learn something from them. I do not like to refer to my situation as a single mom a mistake or “life sentence” as my dad sometimes calls it. I like to think of it as a learning experience. I can tie it into what I have learned in this class as well. I believe writing about writing could even give you yet another avenue where you may or may not have gone before. It may give you more opportunities to explore yourself more and more and allow your audience to see much more of you by your expressive ways. I feel this class and my personal essay writing process is one that is hand in hand. I feel this class, my writings and my personal essay all give the feeling of learning experiences and how important it is to make small boo boo’s to improve yourself.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Blog 16 Reflective Essay
Which essay will I write my reflective essay about?..hhhmm tough one. I will focus on my personal essay but will somehow have to tie into my memoir peice as well. I feel my reflection could only be created to the best of my ability when I have something I have written about and feel strongly about. Organizing principle hhmm..i think i need to work on that.
Blog 15 composign process
My relationship with each peice is very different. My personal essay regarding my marriage and my memior was obviously the most involved as both essays were about me personally. I feel as though I had a strong attachment to my personal essay because that happened over so many years. When you live with something day in and day out, you become a creature of habit and you realize all that you have learned throught this process. I needed to compose my essays very carefully step by step. I needed to look at several paragraphs separately and then see how they worked together one by one. Writing is definately a process. I never knew how complex it can become!
Blog 14 Ordered List composing
I just sat down initially to tell my story. I didnt think much about anything but what the story was and the time frame it occured in, as well as, facts regarding the situation that I felt were way too important to leave out. I then realized that some facts that I thought were so important were not that important at all. That was a surprise for me. I realized after time that I needed to get this essay to a workable peice where I create scenes for my reader and he or she can understand the story and the plot without me telling it to them word for word. I realized it is actually more fun that way than just reading someones peice that is a typical story. My focus unfortunately didnt come to the end after pulling things in and out and working with it countless times!! I actually tried to just make scenes during the next couple of essays but found it was better for me to get the story line out there and then decide what facts are important and how I can tell my story without telling it. What a learning experience!
Blog 13
Lisa Rotella
Literary Journalism
Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis
May 7, 2006, just some of my extended family and my Aunt JoAnn not even one year ago my aunt was sitting in her wheelchair strickened with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS). Her body completely controlled by broken down neurons in the nerve cells located in the brain and spinal cord.
Her family surrounds her as we “Walk to D’Feet ALS” last May in her honor. Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins all in this fight together. This situation was one that affected our whole family. Each member whether it be a close sister or distant cousin was affected by this horrific disease. We all walked tall and proud with our heads held high and our signs telling our tale. Uncle Bill pushed Aunt JoAnn as she was in the middle and her supporters surrounded her completely. We were just so thrilled that she was able to make it there as the night before was not a good one. She was slipping away slowly and we were her team trying to route her on. Seemed like an endless marathon that there was just no finish line to. Our team alone collected over $4500 for the association so are heads were high and This May we will be walking in her memory as ALS has since taken her life.
This disease is a life threatening neurodegenerative disease where you progressively lose nervous control of voluntary muscle systems by the destruction of motor neurons in the nerve cells.
At the young age of 65 Aunt JoAnn started some trouble with her hands as she was diagnosed at that point with arthritis. She was a seamstress and extremely talented with knitting and crocheting so arthritis seemed to be an acceptable condition given her circumstances.
There was not much time passed as my aunt was noticing some other strange occurrences. She had some swelling around her legs and ankles, as well as, muscle cramps and slurred speech. We all started to pick up on some things that were going on as she just did not seem her normal self. After all, she was the aunt you wanted to sit next to at all the showers and weddings. She was outgoing and fun and the life of the party. She smiled no matter what came her way and lived her life according to the Lord. She was incredible!
She was back and forth to the doctors for quite a while before she had some tell tale signs of ALS. She could no longer eat solid food as her tongue was enlarged and throat was slowly closing in on her. Her diet consisted of baby food and my uncle would puree her food as she was still able to taste. Her speech was getting progressively worsened by this disease and simple breathing became difficult at best.
According to the ALS Association New York Chapter the symptoms of ALS include muscle weekness, decrease in muscle coordination and mass, loss of tissue due to lack of nervous stimulation, possible paralysis, muscle cramps, voice impairment like hoarseness.
Literary Journalism
Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis
May 7, 2006, just some of my extended family and my Aunt JoAnn not even one year ago my aunt was sitting in her wheelchair strickened with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS). Her body completely controlled by broken down neurons in the nerve cells located in the brain and spinal cord.
Her family surrounds her as we “Walk to D’Feet ALS” last May in her honor. Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins all in this fight together. This situation was one that affected our whole family. Each member whether it be a close sister or distant cousin was affected by this horrific disease. We all walked tall and proud with our heads held high and our signs telling our tale. Uncle Bill pushed Aunt JoAnn as she was in the middle and her supporters surrounded her completely. We were just so thrilled that she was able to make it there as the night before was not a good one. She was slipping away slowly and we were her team trying to route her on. Seemed like an endless marathon that there was just no finish line to. Our team alone collected over $4500 for the association so are heads were high and This May we will be walking in her memory as ALS has since taken her life.
This disease is a life threatening neurodegenerative disease where you progressively lose nervous control of voluntary muscle systems by the destruction of motor neurons in the nerve cells.
At the young age of 65 Aunt JoAnn started some trouble with her hands as she was diagnosed at that point with arthritis. She was a seamstress and extremely talented with knitting and crocheting so arthritis seemed to be an acceptable condition given her circumstances.
There was not much time passed as my aunt was noticing some other strange occurrences. She had some swelling around her legs and ankles, as well as, muscle cramps and slurred speech. We all started to pick up on some things that were going on as she just did not seem her normal self. After all, she was the aunt you wanted to sit next to at all the showers and weddings. She was outgoing and fun and the life of the party. She smiled no matter what came her way and lived her life according to the Lord. She was incredible!
She was back and forth to the doctors for quite a while before she had some tell tale signs of ALS. She could no longer eat solid food as her tongue was enlarged and throat was slowly closing in on her. Her diet consisted of baby food and my uncle would puree her food as she was still able to taste. Her speech was getting progressively worsened by this disease and simple breathing became difficult at best.
According to the ALS Association New York Chapter the symptoms of ALS include muscle weekness, decrease in muscle coordination and mass, loss of tissue due to lack of nervous stimulation, possible paralysis, muscle cramps, voice impairment like hoarseness.
Blog 12 Rhetorical Analysis
Lisa Rotella
April 4, 2007
Rhetorical Analysis of Publication Venues
Piece chosen: CloseKnit – Family and Divorce Personal Essay
Literary Mama …I think the title says it all. The essays accepted could be anything from sex to sippy cups.
Stories I have read….
Shopping for a bra-no breasts and putting them somewhere where they didn’t belong
My mother married your father-not brady bunch
Put the Blender on Frappe- marrying a man with children
Editorial Description
Literary Mama is an online literary magazine dedicated to mothers by mothers featuring writings such as poetry, fiction and creative non fiction. It explores many emotional issues and is a great source for personal growth.
Subject matter would include everything to do with motherhood and all of its thousands of many different parts.
The depth of discussion should most likely be complex yet delicate. Humorous and thoughtful as well as just plain ‘ol raw.
The form should include a personal voice and compelling narrative.
The artistry includes superior craft (clarity, concrete details, strong narrative level) ambiguity, complexity, depth, thoughtfulness, delicacy, humor, irreverence, lyricism, sincerity, the elegant and the raw) This was taken directly from the website as adjectives to describe this genre are hard to find while a beginner.
The length of pieces submitted should range between 500 and 7000 words.
Audience includes primarily material written for mothers by mothers.
The purpose should include publications/writings about the complexities and the many bits and pieces of motherhood.
Other information regarding Literary Mama includes the following:
Reply time 3-12 weeks
Non paying market
Not accepting reprints at this time
One submission at a time
Must include a cover letter with a short biography
Mention of places you have previously submitted your work
April 4, 2007
Rhetorical Analysis of Publication Venues
Piece chosen: CloseKnit – Family and Divorce Personal Essay
Literary Mama …I think the title says it all. The essays accepted could be anything from sex to sippy cups.
Stories I have read….
Shopping for a bra-no breasts and putting them somewhere where they didn’t belong
My mother married your father-not brady bunch
Put the Blender on Frappe- marrying a man with children
Editorial Description
Literary Mama is an online literary magazine dedicated to mothers by mothers featuring writings such as poetry, fiction and creative non fiction. It explores many emotional issues and is a great source for personal growth.
Subject matter would include everything to do with motherhood and all of its thousands of many different parts.
The depth of discussion should most likely be complex yet delicate. Humorous and thoughtful as well as just plain ‘ol raw.
The form should include a personal voice and compelling narrative.
The artistry includes superior craft (clarity, concrete details, strong narrative level) ambiguity, complexity, depth, thoughtfulness, delicacy, humor, irreverence, lyricism, sincerity, the elegant and the raw) This was taken directly from the website as adjectives to describe this genre are hard to find while a beginner.
The length of pieces submitted should range between 500 and 7000 words.
Audience includes primarily material written for mothers by mothers.
The purpose should include publications/writings about the complexities and the many bits and pieces of motherhood.
Other information regarding Literary Mama includes the following:
Reply time 3-12 weeks
Non paying market
Not accepting reprints at this time
One submission at a time
Must include a cover letter with a short biography
Mention of places you have previously submitted your work
Blog 10 Exploratory Nature
Lisa Rotella
Nature Essay
Despite the many things that are created from cutting down trees, I abhor the fact that trees are being destroyed because trees provide a home for many creatures, they are the lungs of our world, and trees have medicinal benefits that are useful to the human race. Trees are very beneficial to the world and it is immoral to keep destroying the trees that at times feeds us and keeps the air clean.
When we destroy trees we destroy the lives of living organisms. Many animals live in trees and eat off trees. Birds, for example, use trees for nesting, food, and shelter. Even human beings eat off the fruit that grows from trees. Such fruits are apples, oranges, cherries, and peaches. Trees also supply chocolate, coffee, maple syrup, and spice such a cinnamon. The more we destroy these trees the less food there is and fewer homes there are for animals.
Trees have been used as medicine for many years. The Chinese have used the Ginkgo tree for many centuries as tea to cure respiratory illness, such as asthma. Today the Ginkgo leaf has been used to treat varies aliments such as Alzheimer and depression. Native Americans have used aspen bark for reducing fever and fighting influenza. The bark of the cinchona contains quinine, which is another treatment for influenza.
In addition to medicinal benefits, estimates show that industrial production, trucks, and cars produce eighty-eight percent of all the hydrocarbons entering the atmosphere each year. Trees are very important to keep around because according to the US Department of Agricultural "one acre of forest absorbs six tons of carbon dioxide and put out four tons of oxygen". The leaves that grow from trees filter the air we breathe. The leaves remove the dust and as drops of rain pour down from the sky the pollutants are washed away into the ground. The leaves that bloom from the trees absorb air pollution such as ozone, carbon monoxide, and sulfur dioxide, and gives off oxygen.
People are so wind up on having these expensive wooden floors and wooden furniture, but no one really stops to think about the beautiful creatures that once lived on the wood and the babies that have been brought into the world on that piece of wood. Trees are beautiful and it breaks my heart to see them being destroyed to create products that are really not as important as the medicine, the homes, the lives, that trees have. Trees breathe oxygen just as we do and when they exhale, they let out this beautiful fresh aroma of clean oxygen that allows us to breathe in. We need our trees to keep living and stop being destroyed because they are more beneficial to the world alive than they are dead. Lisa Rotella
Nature Essay
Despite the many things that are created from cutting down trees, I abhor the fact that trees are being destroyed because trees provide a home for many creatures, they are the lungs of our world, and trees have medicinal benefits that are useful to the human race. Trees are very beneficial to the world and it is immoral to keep destroying the trees that at times feeds us and keeps the air clean.
When we destroy trees we destroy the lives of living organisms. Many animals live in trees and eat off trees. Birds, for example, use trees for nesting, food, and shelter. Even human beings eat off the fruit that grows from trees. Such fruits are apples, oranges, cherries, and peaches. Trees also supply chocolate, coffee, maple syrup, and spice such a cinnamon. The more we destroy these trees the less food there is and fewer homes there are for animals.
Trees have been used as medicine for many years. The Chinese have used the Ginkgo tree for many centuries as tea to cure respiratory illness, such as asthma. Today the Ginkgo leaf has been used to treat varies aliments such as Alzheimer and depression. Native Americans have used aspen bark for reducing fever and fighting influenza. The bark of the cinchona contains quinine, which is another treatment for influenza.
In addition to medicinal benefits, estimates show that industrial production, trucks, and cars produce eighty-eight percent of all the hydrocarbons entering the atmosphere each year. Trees are very important to keep around because according to the US Department of Agricultural "one acre of forest absorbs six tons of carbon dioxide and put out four tons of oxygen". The leaves that grow from trees filter the air we breathe. The leaves remove the dust and as drops of rain pour down from the sky the pollutants are washed away into the ground. The leaves that bloom from the trees absorb air pollution such as ozone, carbon monoxide, and sulfur dioxide, and gives off oxygen.
People are so wind up on having these expensive wooden floors and wooden furniture, but no one really stops to think about the beautiful creatures that once lived on the wood and the babies that have been brought into the world on that piece of wood. Trees are beautiful and it breaks my heart to see them being destroyed to create products that are really not as important as the medicine, the homes, the lives, that trees have. Trees breathe oxygen just as we do and when they exhale, they let out this beautiful fresh aroma of clean oxygen that allows us to breathe in. We need our trees to keep living and stop being destroyed because they are more beneficial to the world alive than they are dead.
Nature Essay
Despite the many things that are created from cutting down trees, I abhor the fact that trees are being destroyed because trees provide a home for many creatures, they are the lungs of our world, and trees have medicinal benefits that are useful to the human race. Trees are very beneficial to the world and it is immoral to keep destroying the trees that at times feeds us and keeps the air clean.
When we destroy trees we destroy the lives of living organisms. Many animals live in trees and eat off trees. Birds, for example, use trees for nesting, food, and shelter. Even human beings eat off the fruit that grows from trees. Such fruits are apples, oranges, cherries, and peaches. Trees also supply chocolate, coffee, maple syrup, and spice such a cinnamon. The more we destroy these trees the less food there is and fewer homes there are for animals.
Trees have been used as medicine for many years. The Chinese have used the Ginkgo tree for many centuries as tea to cure respiratory illness, such as asthma. Today the Ginkgo leaf has been used to treat varies aliments such as Alzheimer and depression. Native Americans have used aspen bark for reducing fever and fighting influenza. The bark of the cinchona contains quinine, which is another treatment for influenza.
In addition to medicinal benefits, estimates show that industrial production, trucks, and cars produce eighty-eight percent of all the hydrocarbons entering the atmosphere each year. Trees are very important to keep around because according to the US Department of Agricultural "one acre of forest absorbs six tons of carbon dioxide and put out four tons of oxygen". The leaves that grow from trees filter the air we breathe. The leaves remove the dust and as drops of rain pour down from the sky the pollutants are washed away into the ground. The leaves that bloom from the trees absorb air pollution such as ozone, carbon monoxide, and sulfur dioxide, and gives off oxygen.
People are so wind up on having these expensive wooden floors and wooden furniture, but no one really stops to think about the beautiful creatures that once lived on the wood and the babies that have been brought into the world on that piece of wood. Trees are beautiful and it breaks my heart to see them being destroyed to create products that are really not as important as the medicine, the homes, the lives, that trees have. Trees breathe oxygen just as we do and when they exhale, they let out this beautiful fresh aroma of clean oxygen that allows us to breathe in. We need our trees to keep living and stop being destroyed because they are more beneficial to the world alive than they are dead. Lisa Rotella
Nature Essay
Despite the many things that are created from cutting down trees, I abhor the fact that trees are being destroyed because trees provide a home for many creatures, they are the lungs of our world, and trees have medicinal benefits that are useful to the human race. Trees are very beneficial to the world and it is immoral to keep destroying the trees that at times feeds us and keeps the air clean.
When we destroy trees we destroy the lives of living organisms. Many animals live in trees and eat off trees. Birds, for example, use trees for nesting, food, and shelter. Even human beings eat off the fruit that grows from trees. Such fruits are apples, oranges, cherries, and peaches. Trees also supply chocolate, coffee, maple syrup, and spice such a cinnamon. The more we destroy these trees the less food there is and fewer homes there are for animals.
Trees have been used as medicine for many years. The Chinese have used the Ginkgo tree for many centuries as tea to cure respiratory illness, such as asthma. Today the Ginkgo leaf has been used to treat varies aliments such as Alzheimer and depression. Native Americans have used aspen bark for reducing fever and fighting influenza. The bark of the cinchona contains quinine, which is another treatment for influenza.
In addition to medicinal benefits, estimates show that industrial production, trucks, and cars produce eighty-eight percent of all the hydrocarbons entering the atmosphere each year. Trees are very important to keep around because according to the US Department of Agricultural "one acre of forest absorbs six tons of carbon dioxide and put out four tons of oxygen". The leaves that grow from trees filter the air we breathe. The leaves remove the dust and as drops of rain pour down from the sky the pollutants are washed away into the ground. The leaves that bloom from the trees absorb air pollution such as ozone, carbon monoxide, and sulfur dioxide, and gives off oxygen.
People are so wind up on having these expensive wooden floors and wooden furniture, but no one really stops to think about the beautiful creatures that once lived on the wood and the babies that have been brought into the world on that piece of wood. Trees are beautiful and it breaks my heart to see them being destroyed to create products that are really not as important as the medicine, the homes, the lives, that trees have. Trees breathe oxygen just as we do and when they exhale, they let out this beautiful fresh aroma of clean oxygen that allows us to breathe in. We need our trees to keep living and stop being destroyed because they are more beneficial to the world alive than they are dead.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Nature Essay
Lisa Rotella
Nature Essay
Despite the many things that are created from cutting down trees, I abhor the fact that trees are being destroyed because trees provide a home for many creatures, they are the lungs of our world, and trees have medicinal benefits that are useful to the human race. Trees are very beneficial to the world and it is immoral to keep destroying the trees that at times feeds us and keeps the air clean.
When we destroy trees we destroy the lives of living organisms. Many animals live in trees and eat off trees. Birds, for example, use trees for nesting, food, and shelter. Even human beings eat off the fruit that grows from trees. Such fruits are apples, oranges, cherries, and peaches. Trees also supply chocolate, coffee, maple syrup, and spice such a cinnamon. The more we destroy these trees the less food there is and fewer homes there are for animals.
Trees have been used as medicine for many years. The Chinese have used the Ginkgo tree for many centuries as tea to cure respiratory illness, such as asthma. Today the Ginkgo leaf has been used to treat varies aliments such as Alzheimer and depression. Native Americans have used aspen bark for reducing fever and fighting influenza. The bark of the cinchona contains quinine, which is another treatment for influenza.
In addition to medicinal benefits, estimates show that industrial production, trucks, and cars produce eighty-eight percent of all the hydrocarbons entering the atmosphere each year. Trees are very important to keep around because according to the US Department of Agricultural "one acre of forest absorbs six tons of carbon dioxide and put out four tons of oxygen". The leaves that grow from trees filter the air we breathe. The leaves remove the dust and as drops of rain pour down from the sky the pollutants are washed away into the ground. The leaves that bloom from the trees absorb air pollution such as ozone, carbon monoxide, and sulfur dioxide, and gives off oxygen.
People are so wind up on having these expensive wooden floors and wooden furniture, but no one really stops to think about the beautiful creatures that once lived on the wood and the babies that have been brought into the world on that piece of wood. Trees are beautiful and it breaks my heart to see them being destroyed to create products that are really not as important as the medicine, the homes, the lives, that trees have. Trees breathe oxygen just as we do and when they exhale, they let out this beautiful fresh aroma of clean oxygen that allows us to breathe in. We need our trees to keep living and stop being destroyed because they are more beneficial to the world alive than they are dead.
Nature Essay
Despite the many things that are created from cutting down trees, I abhor the fact that trees are being destroyed because trees provide a home for many creatures, they are the lungs of our world, and trees have medicinal benefits that are useful to the human race. Trees are very beneficial to the world and it is immoral to keep destroying the trees that at times feeds us and keeps the air clean.
When we destroy trees we destroy the lives of living organisms. Many animals live in trees and eat off trees. Birds, for example, use trees for nesting, food, and shelter. Even human beings eat off the fruit that grows from trees. Such fruits are apples, oranges, cherries, and peaches. Trees also supply chocolate, coffee, maple syrup, and spice such a cinnamon. The more we destroy these trees the less food there is and fewer homes there are for animals.
Trees have been used as medicine for many years. The Chinese have used the Ginkgo tree for many centuries as tea to cure respiratory illness, such as asthma. Today the Ginkgo leaf has been used to treat varies aliments such as Alzheimer and depression. Native Americans have used aspen bark for reducing fever and fighting influenza. The bark of the cinchona contains quinine, which is another treatment for influenza.
In addition to medicinal benefits, estimates show that industrial production, trucks, and cars produce eighty-eight percent of all the hydrocarbons entering the atmosphere each year. Trees are very important to keep around because according to the US Department of Agricultural "one acre of forest absorbs six tons of carbon dioxide and put out four tons of oxygen". The leaves that grow from trees filter the air we breathe. The leaves remove the dust and as drops of rain pour down from the sky the pollutants are washed away into the ground. The leaves that bloom from the trees absorb air pollution such as ozone, carbon monoxide, and sulfur dioxide, and gives off oxygen.
People are so wind up on having these expensive wooden floors and wooden furniture, but no one really stops to think about the beautiful creatures that once lived on the wood and the babies that have been brought into the world on that piece of wood. Trees are beautiful and it breaks my heart to see them being destroyed to create products that are really not as important as the medicine, the homes, the lives, that trees have. Trees breathe oxygen just as we do and when they exhale, they let out this beautiful fresh aroma of clean oxygen that allows us to breathe in. We need our trees to keep living and stop being destroyed because they are more beneficial to the world alive than they are dead.
Monday, March 26, 2007
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!
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!
Friday, March 23, 2007
Blog 6 - Frey Lied
I absolutely cannot believe what went on here. Ya know, I heard bits and pieces of his story and honestly, could not relate until I had it in my lap face to face. He came into peoples lives and not only destroyed them but destroyed his own in the process. The man is completely ruined. I am floored!!
Blog 8 - Revise my Personal essay
I will be revising my personal essay as that just hits the home of others much more clearly than the other. I will revise it by using the information and the advice given to me by our professor and include some clear scenes and less information that is not quite needed.
Blog 5- What is my personal essay about, audience, etc.
My essay is about my foundational values. My traditional ways, morals and values are those that were set forth very early on in my childhood. My audience is anyone that will listen, but primarily young adults that perhaps are not yet married. I hope you can learn at least one little thing from this, I have learned plenty!
Blog 10 - Literary Journalism Piece
My topic is Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS). It is probably better known as Lou Gehrigs Disease. ALS is a neuromuscular disease which attacks the motor neurons making even the simplest movements of walking, speaking and gesturing impossible. Ultimately, the body becomes paralyzed, yet through it all, the mind remains unaffected. My Aunt JoAnn suffered terribly with this disease and has since passed. I have dedicated a part of my life and the lives of many of my family members and friends to fight this horrific debilitating disease. We have a walk every year and have been members of ALS Association for many years. The association helped my aunt with anything and everything she needed during this torture she was going through. I dont even know how I will even get through this piece with hysterics, but I guess I will have to try...
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Blog 7 - Truth Am I being honest?
Well, the truth be told, I feel as though I was very truthful. As a matter of fact, I was questioning some information as I was writing as to whether or not it seems as though the info may be over the top. My story is that of a lifetime movie and we all know how much truth is in there. I will stick to my story just the way it is. Perhaps I could be mistaken some in timing or sequence of small events but that is something I need to work through.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Blog 4 - Dreamin Again - Memoir
Its about 4 a.m. and I am sitting here waiting for my name to be called. My lifeless body has taken the form of this chair as I feel I have been sitting here for eternity. Every minute feels like an hour and every time the damn door opens I think they are going to call my name. “Tina, the doctor will see you now!” “Tina?” Ok I have been here much longer than Tina has. I was here way before Tina was. Why does she get to go now and Im still sitting here waiting. Why are all these people in white; no one has a face. I know who everyone is by name as I have been coming here for so long but yet they have no features. Their voices are blurred and its sounds like babbling, yet I hear my name every now and again. I know they are talking about me. Why can’t they tell me what’s going on. Why am I the last to know. How can twelve people know what is going on but me. I have spent my whole life waiting for this moment, again.
I guess someone will help me get up there. That table is always so chilly and the radio seems to be playing the same song over and over. It’s the same song that was playing the last three times I was here. I am so focused on what is going on now for the third time, I am not thinking about anything else. Home is just a place where I hang my hat now. It was always a comfy place filled with love and commitment and now it is four walls closing in on me similar to the walls that surround me now. Im starting to get very tense. I can feel the weight of heavy stares in the back of my head. Why are they staring at me. I know what they are thinking and I don’t like it. People should not be judgemental when you have not walked in my old worn shoes. I have walked these shoes for the third time now and each time does not get any easier. “Lisa!” Oh my God!! It’s me they are calling me!! Ok just relax, whatever will be, will be.
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
SNOOZE! YAWN! STRETCH! YAWN AGAIN!
Its Friday morning, time to get up, get in the shower and get there. My appointment is at nine and I should have all my results by ten. How exciting. Im either going to be very disappointed or so exciting I wont be able to stand it! Whatever the news, I need to be prepared. I have been in this situation now many times and need to make sure the news I get this time is no different. It’s all how you handle things. The room is done and done and done again. I have changed it around numerous times and hopefully this will be the last. It seems as though I change the room to change the news I am going to get and that doesn’t help. I try not to think about it, who can’t? This has consumed me, held onto my emotions so tightly. What a grip! I feel like a sausage in a casing trying to squeeze myself out of both ends, HELP!
Oh this shower feels good. Make sure my legs are shaved and I wash and rinse well as they will be examining me from the tips of my toes to the top of my pretty little head. Wow, look at all these bruises. Those small needles sure do a lot of damage to my body. I am still trying to figure out how all this medication is supposed to help me when all it really does it pack on the pounds and make me feel like vomiting.
Whew! I need a new hot water heater. The hot water is not lasting as long as my showers are. My expenses now overwhelm me. I am drowning in debt with cold water. I am spending and waiting and testing and its all for something I have waited my whole life for. It is an experience that I so desperately want to have. I have to pay for it!? That just doesn’t seem fair, does it? I have to bring my checkbook and put myself in the hands of science! Ok, sometimes I need to tell myself to relax. Step out onto the rug, be careful, its slippery, dry off, get dressed and get to my appointment.
This parking lot is packed; where am I going to park. Handicapped spot? Ok I don’t have the sticker but I sure do feel that way.
WOW There is the seat that practically swallowed me in my dream. I go up to the window as I have so many times, “Lisa?” the girl says, before I can get it out myself.
Yes, I am Lisa. Ok I am on the prayer chain at church, I have worn my St. Gerard pin on my bra now for years, I have everyone routing for me here. Ok, Im going to sit down and read a magazine…Parenting, Parents, The Child, Pamphlets on Pregnancy, etc. The list goes on. I cannot get away from it, it’s everywhere. Its going to happen this time, I am sure of it. “Lisa!” They called my name, yes? “Your co-pay please.” Oh..this is torture!
Relax, think positively!
I am FINALLY called in. Undressed from the waist down, yea, yea, yea…I know all about it! The doctor comes in with a not-so-good attitude, “Im sorry”, he said. “There is not much else we can do at this point.” “We can try again!” AGAIN? AGAIN? I am running out of money, my husband won’t even talk to me anymore, my nursery had been decorated three different times with three different themes with three different procedures and you want me to do this again!! I feel like driving off the nearest cliff!!
I am tired, I am sick and tired. I am sick and tired of fighting this losing battle. I have tried three times and three times I have failed. I don’t know how much more one person can take. My family is distraught, my husband is sick and tired of masturbating in small rooms into small cups with shitty magazines. “Well, have you ever considered adoption?” No, I guess I haven’t, but I guess I am going to have to now!
I asked my husband to make sure he was home for dinner that night as we needed to speak NOW, as usual. He would not even hear of adoption. We had no money, we were in debt, I was frazzled, he was pissed and I was at a loss.
That night I went to bed alone. He was next to me physically but not emotionally. I could hear his breathing but he wouldn’t speak any words to me that I wanted to hear, “Lisa, just forget it, ok, just forget it!” I couldn’t! The next day I went to my parents house and cried and cried and cried. My daddy right next to my side as he always was and said, “hunny, your mom and I will do whatever you say and we will help you in any way possible…”
Four months, ten thousand dollars and another new nursery later, I was pregnant with twins! Not only one, BUT TWO!! Two what, boys, girls, one of each. Two heart beats, two cribs, two bouncy seats, two high chairs, two bassinetts, two..two..two..
I don’t think I was ever so happy in all my life. It was Christmas time and what a wonderful gift this was.
I was sick and tired again, but this was a wonderful sick and tired. I could take anything anyone had to give me right now. I could face anything at anytime, I loved life, went shopping, bought book after book on “how to’s” . I did it all! I enjoyed every moment of being pregnant. These little miracles growing inside me is a feeling I cannot even put into words, indescribable!
May 4, my wedding anniversary, all hell broke loose. I called my husband at work, IM IN PAIN! I was brought over to the doctor’s office immediately! My worst nightmare was coming true twenty weeks into it. What is wrong with me, what is happening. I was back in my dream all over again where everyone was talking and I didn’t understand what they were saying, they were all wearing white and no one had a face. No one could tell me what was going on. I waited there until I was seen by another “high-risk” doctor.
Ya know the kind that paces as he speaks and chews the end of his medium point bic pen. The kind that scratches his head as he doesn’t even know what is going on. Well, we agreed to bed rest. Two weeks later, she was gone. Christina her name was and her brother Christian was still going strong. I couldn’t function for a long time. I had medication to help me sleep, then medication to help me get up, then medication to help me shower. They probably should have just put me in a rubber room and shut the door because I was breaking down in a bad way!
I layed on my floor one day as I was dragging myself to the bathroom and just cried and cried and realized how I have to go on for the other life living inside me. I have to keep him well and let him know, we are going to be fine. He was a fighter just like his mommy. On August 26, 1998 he was born by C-section huge head nine pounds and a bundle of joy and love! My little miracle is eight years old now and is everything I thought he would be and more.
I left my husband when my son was thirteen months old as we drifted in two different directions quickly after going through so many things together. I have realized over time that you are never given anything that you cannot handle and that things happen for reasons that are sometimes unexplainable.
I guess someone will help me get up there. That table is always so chilly and the radio seems to be playing the same song over and over. It’s the same song that was playing the last three times I was here. I am so focused on what is going on now for the third time, I am not thinking about anything else. Home is just a place where I hang my hat now. It was always a comfy place filled with love and commitment and now it is four walls closing in on me similar to the walls that surround me now. Im starting to get very tense. I can feel the weight of heavy stares in the back of my head. Why are they staring at me. I know what they are thinking and I don’t like it. People should not be judgemental when you have not walked in my old worn shoes. I have walked these shoes for the third time now and each time does not get any easier. “Lisa!” Oh my God!! It’s me they are calling me!! Ok just relax, whatever will be, will be.
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
SNOOZE! YAWN! STRETCH! YAWN AGAIN!
Its Friday morning, time to get up, get in the shower and get there. My appointment is at nine and I should have all my results by ten. How exciting. Im either going to be very disappointed or so exciting I wont be able to stand it! Whatever the news, I need to be prepared. I have been in this situation now many times and need to make sure the news I get this time is no different. It’s all how you handle things. The room is done and done and done again. I have changed it around numerous times and hopefully this will be the last. It seems as though I change the room to change the news I am going to get and that doesn’t help. I try not to think about it, who can’t? This has consumed me, held onto my emotions so tightly. What a grip! I feel like a sausage in a casing trying to squeeze myself out of both ends, HELP!
Oh this shower feels good. Make sure my legs are shaved and I wash and rinse well as they will be examining me from the tips of my toes to the top of my pretty little head. Wow, look at all these bruises. Those small needles sure do a lot of damage to my body. I am still trying to figure out how all this medication is supposed to help me when all it really does it pack on the pounds and make me feel like vomiting.
Whew! I need a new hot water heater. The hot water is not lasting as long as my showers are. My expenses now overwhelm me. I am drowning in debt with cold water. I am spending and waiting and testing and its all for something I have waited my whole life for. It is an experience that I so desperately want to have. I have to pay for it!? That just doesn’t seem fair, does it? I have to bring my checkbook and put myself in the hands of science! Ok, sometimes I need to tell myself to relax. Step out onto the rug, be careful, its slippery, dry off, get dressed and get to my appointment.
This parking lot is packed; where am I going to park. Handicapped spot? Ok I don’t have the sticker but I sure do feel that way.
WOW There is the seat that practically swallowed me in my dream. I go up to the window as I have so many times, “Lisa?” the girl says, before I can get it out myself.
Yes, I am Lisa. Ok I am on the prayer chain at church, I have worn my St. Gerard pin on my bra now for years, I have everyone routing for me here. Ok, Im going to sit down and read a magazine…Parenting, Parents, The Child, Pamphlets on Pregnancy, etc. The list goes on. I cannot get away from it, it’s everywhere. Its going to happen this time, I am sure of it. “Lisa!” They called my name, yes? “Your co-pay please.” Oh..this is torture!
Relax, think positively!
I am FINALLY called in. Undressed from the waist down, yea, yea, yea…I know all about it! The doctor comes in with a not-so-good attitude, “Im sorry”, he said. “There is not much else we can do at this point.” “We can try again!” AGAIN? AGAIN? I am running out of money, my husband won’t even talk to me anymore, my nursery had been decorated three different times with three different themes with three different procedures and you want me to do this again!! I feel like driving off the nearest cliff!!
I am tired, I am sick and tired. I am sick and tired of fighting this losing battle. I have tried three times and three times I have failed. I don’t know how much more one person can take. My family is distraught, my husband is sick and tired of masturbating in small rooms into small cups with shitty magazines. “Well, have you ever considered adoption?” No, I guess I haven’t, but I guess I am going to have to now!
I asked my husband to make sure he was home for dinner that night as we needed to speak NOW, as usual. He would not even hear of adoption. We had no money, we were in debt, I was frazzled, he was pissed and I was at a loss.
That night I went to bed alone. He was next to me physically but not emotionally. I could hear his breathing but he wouldn’t speak any words to me that I wanted to hear, “Lisa, just forget it, ok, just forget it!” I couldn’t! The next day I went to my parents house and cried and cried and cried. My daddy right next to my side as he always was and said, “hunny, your mom and I will do whatever you say and we will help you in any way possible…”
Four months, ten thousand dollars and another new nursery later, I was pregnant with twins! Not only one, BUT TWO!! Two what, boys, girls, one of each. Two heart beats, two cribs, two bouncy seats, two high chairs, two bassinetts, two..two..two..
I don’t think I was ever so happy in all my life. It was Christmas time and what a wonderful gift this was.
I was sick and tired again, but this was a wonderful sick and tired. I could take anything anyone had to give me right now. I could face anything at anytime, I loved life, went shopping, bought book after book on “how to’s” . I did it all! I enjoyed every moment of being pregnant. These little miracles growing inside me is a feeling I cannot even put into words, indescribable!
May 4, my wedding anniversary, all hell broke loose. I called my husband at work, IM IN PAIN! I was brought over to the doctor’s office immediately! My worst nightmare was coming true twenty weeks into it. What is wrong with me, what is happening. I was back in my dream all over again where everyone was talking and I didn’t understand what they were saying, they were all wearing white and no one had a face. No one could tell me what was going on. I waited there until I was seen by another “high-risk” doctor.
Ya know the kind that paces as he speaks and chews the end of his medium point bic pen. The kind that scratches his head as he doesn’t even know what is going on. Well, we agreed to bed rest. Two weeks later, she was gone. Christina her name was and her brother Christian was still going strong. I couldn’t function for a long time. I had medication to help me sleep, then medication to help me get up, then medication to help me shower. They probably should have just put me in a rubber room and shut the door because I was breaking down in a bad way!
I layed on my floor one day as I was dragging myself to the bathroom and just cried and cried and realized how I have to go on for the other life living inside me. I have to keep him well and let him know, we are going to be fine. He was a fighter just like his mommy. On August 26, 1998 he was born by C-section huge head nine pounds and a bundle of joy and love! My little miracle is eight years old now and is everything I thought he would be and more.
I left my husband when my son was thirteen months old as we drifted in two different directions quickly after going through so many things together. I have realized over time that you are never given anything that you cannot handle and that things happen for reasons that are sometimes unexplainable.
Blog 2 - personal essay vs. memoir
Lisa Rotella
I feel that personal essays and memoirs definitely overlap and they probably have more things in common that they do differently. There are still some distinctions that I believe make a difference.
Personal Essays
One instance – maybe one experience
Story based on an experience and how you reacted to it
The reflection of a situation that occurred
History repeated itself – alcoholism, drugs, etc.
Topic and a personal viewpoint
Not objective – strictly opinion
Memoirs
Events over a long period of time
Personal Essay + Auto Biography like story
Life stories or lessons
Journal – everyday occurrences for extended periods of time
Diary
I feel that personal essays and memoirs definitely overlap and they probably have more things in common that they do differently. There are still some distinctions that I believe make a difference.
Personal Essays
One instance – maybe one experience
Story based on an experience and how you reacted to it
The reflection of a situation that occurred
History repeated itself – alcoholism, drugs, etc.
Topic and a personal viewpoint
Not objective – strictly opinion
Memoirs
Events over a long period of time
Personal Essay + Auto Biography like story
Life stories or lessons
Journal – everyday occurrences for extended periods of time
Diary
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Blog 3 - Personal Essay - Family
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. I 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.
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. Things just got so ugly so fast and I knew I would be able to dedicate myself to my son alone.
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 definatley worth repeating!
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. I 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.
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. Things just got so ugly so fast and I knew I would be able to dedicate myself to my son alone.
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 definatley worth repeating!
Monday, January 29, 2007
Blog 1 - Exporatory Writing Topics
Lisa Rotella
Freewriting/Ideas
January 29, 2007
Ideas
Reasons or misconception of having children
Divorce
Growing up very poor and gradually becoming successful
Being married to someone that suffers from Narcissism
Working mom/Stay at home mom - which one and why or why not?
Single moms and dating
Children being introduced to “someone you may be seeing”
Helping your child with homework or giving them a “homework place”
Education college/family business/street smarts
Expectations of friends/family
Money, does it bring happiness
Taking advantage of good health
Free Writing
“You never know.” Its something we hear everyday. We say it or someone else says it to us. One cannot imagine the impact it has until it plays a personal role. A single mom of a young boy. A positive, giving, outgoing little man that looks to me as his hero. I am his mom, his dad, his friend, his everything! Who would think I would play such an exhausting role in one child’s life. A role that was given to me by God and left for me to figure out in this cruel cold world we live in. His own little world within his happy home is filled with love, understanding and commitment. What bothers me is that little voice that asks aloud, “why, mommy?” As he has gotten older that answer to his question has changed a million times. I am finally comfortable in explaining to him my eight year old version of why I am divorced and his dad lives outside our happy home. As someone once said “you never know”. Ya know what? Now I do.
Freewriting/Ideas
January 29, 2007
Ideas
Reasons or misconception of having children
Divorce
Growing up very poor and gradually becoming successful
Being married to someone that suffers from Narcissism
Working mom/Stay at home mom - which one and why or why not?
Single moms and dating
Children being introduced to “someone you may be seeing”
Helping your child with homework or giving them a “homework place”
Education college/family business/street smarts
Expectations of friends/family
Money, does it bring happiness
Taking advantage of good health
Free Writing
“You never know.” Its something we hear everyday. We say it or someone else says it to us. One cannot imagine the impact it has until it plays a personal role. A single mom of a young boy. A positive, giving, outgoing little man that looks to me as his hero. I am his mom, his dad, his friend, his everything! Who would think I would play such an exhausting role in one child’s life. A role that was given to me by God and left for me to figure out in this cruel cold world we live in. His own little world within his happy home is filled with love, understanding and commitment. What bothers me is that little voice that asks aloud, “why, mommy?” As he has gotten older that answer to his question has changed a million times. I am finally comfortable in explaining to him my eight year old version of why I am divorced and his dad lives outside our happy home. As someone once said “you never know”. Ya know what? Now I do.
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