Mr. Rosen taught 11th grade English, but his class was about so much more than grammar, spelling, and punctuation. We read Alive By Piers Paul Read and learned to look at the world differently rather than being repulsed by people who had to make impossible decisions. He read, then interpreted, Shakespeare – Macbeth to be exact – into his own brand of humorous English. He was a DJ on WPDH during the Christmas holidays. He encouraged us to use our imaginations. Most importantly, he introduced us to Walter Mitty.
Middletown, New York is a city with plenty of parks and designated play areas among the shopping centers, supermarkets, and concrete jungle, but, if you are a kid, there are also plenty of wooded areas to explore and step away from the trappings of city life.
I am working on a piece for the Star-Herald about why I am a journalist. Honestly, I didn’t pay close enough attention, but I think it’s going to be used in ads or internally. I just listened to the topic, said I’d do it and stopped listening. Not a good trait for a journalist.
However, it got me to thinking about something I wrote when I was nine years old.
At the World Trade Center memorial in New York City, roses of different colors are placed in a person’s name each year on their birthday.
In the 1980s and 1990s, whenever you went to the airport, your family and friends went with you to the gate. They would embarrass you with hugs and kisses before you began your journey down the gangway and into the plane.
The cockpit door was sometimes open. People could drop in on long flights and get a quick tour. I once watched the sun rise from the cockpit.
Then, on September 11, 2001, everything changed. We gave into the fear of an attack on our country.
On a bright, sunny morning when President George W. Bush told us “you’re either with us or you’re against us,” I knew our fate was sealed. In that moment, I became “against us.”
Ed explains to Paul that if you sit quietly, you’ll eventually hear the woodland creatures and they may even come up to you. Location: near the top of a trail at Winding Hills State Park in Montgomery, New York.
The only two things I miss about living in New York are the trees and the food.
A pricker bush at Winding Hills Park in Montgomery, New York.
When I left New York at 18 in 1988, I was off to college, but I was also searching for a place to fit in.
As I walk in the lush greenness, the familiarity of Middletown, it is not my home. It’s the place where I grew up, the town that shaped who I am today, but it’s not a place where I fit in.
Something happened to my family in the years that I’ve been gone. They’re more conservative. More entrenched in what they are doing. More easily shaped by the words spewed forth on the television or by their friends and neighbors.
They’ve got the car, the house, the kids, the white picket fence, the stability. But none of that was anything I ever pursued. And yet, there’s that non-spoken condemnation and the looks because I chose a different path.
During my vacation over the past couple of weeks, some random things popped into my head. I’ll have some more in-depth things soon.
My posts take 2-6 hours to write and another 30 minutes to post. I have dozens I want to do, but never seem to be able to find the time to get them done.
Also, my cat, Cinders, has been on my lap since I returned home from vacation. There is little else I can do except pet her. My legs are numb. Her claws are permanently embedded in my leg.
The best grandma in the world.
Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim
I spoke to you on Thursday
by Saturday, you were gone
In my jealousy
I wanted you to stay
to speak to you again
to tell you I loved you once more
The morning light had come
your time was done
1:11, 11:11, it doesn’t matter the hour
there was so much more to say
No more history lessons
no more dirty jokes
no more simple days
to sit with each other
and just
be
I can still feel your soft skin
your gentle voice
in the echoes of my mind
your laugh
your smile
how you said my name
It’s been five long years
without your advice
your wisdom
your wit
I miss my cognate
my mentor
my friend
The loss
cannot be replaced
what was once extant
is now gone
If I could ask
you’d say
Be patient and tough;
someday this pain will be useful to you
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