Thanksgiving. Where to begin? This was the first year for many things; first year that I did not celebrate Thanksgiving in Vermont. First year that I cooked 99% of the meal. First year that I had 5, yes count them FIVE Thanksgiving dinners (leftover meals not included) in a weeks span of time.
I found many similarities, as well as differences at each one of my meals especially in comparison to the traditional meal I have had in Vermont for the past 22 years.
Thanksgiving # 1 – Celebrated at Siena House at lunchtime. It was a privilege for me to be in the company and share a meal of thanks with a large majority of the mothers, children and staff personnel at Siena. Although we all know they were thankful for the delicious meal that the two chefs prepared, the women kept talking about all they are thankful in their lives; something that really struck me. These women who have literally nothing but the clothes on their backs, their screaming babies in carriers next to them (or in their bellies), aggressive or selfish baby daddies, and absolute disregard from their families - despite all of the negatives in their lives, they were each very thankful. They were thankful for, direct quotes – their minds – their hands – their health – the health of their baby – their babies laugh and love – the support of the Siena House workers – God – their courage. I ate my meal silently observing how authentic and genuine each of their statements were.
I have never felt as blessed as I did when one of them at another table made the announcement that they were grateful for me. ME? I know that they appreciate what I do – helping them with resumes, playing with their babies, letting them sneak onto Myspace to catch up with family and friends for a few minutes, but I never realized that my job was making such a difference… She said, “You give us guidance, encourage us to believe in ourselves, you trust us and we can trust you, our babies love you, we love you. You are here to help us, but you are our friend” I was astonished.
Thanksgiving #2 – Celebrated at Siena House Dinnertime with the women who could not attend the Lunchtime meal. It was equally as special being with the Moms and the babies. Watching the children try the food for the first time and having the women explain to me the traditional “black” dishes that were being served or what they had when they were growing up during Thanksgiving. (Macaroni and cheese, deep-fried turkey, okra and cornbread) I told them about the traditions that I grew up with at which most of them gave me a disgusted look – squash, green bean casserole, strawberry-rhubarb pie. <3
Thanksgiving #3 – Delaware at my Aunt Cindy’s with my Uncle Mike, Uncle Jack, and Cousins Lisa and Ben. The weekend before the actual Thanksgiving I took a bus from NYC to Wilmington DE where my Aunt and Cousin picked me up. It was phenomenal spending time at their house, relaxing, laughing, telling family stories and helping bake family recipes. My Uncle Jack and Lisa from Virginia came up to join us which made it really feel like a Thanksgiving at home with the fam. Ben and I laughed as we screwed up making crust for the pie, Cindy showed me around her work, Lisa and I cuddled and giggled about boys. I got to sleep in, spend some quality time remembering my Grandfather who passed away a little under a year ago and just escape from the New York City commotion for a few days.
Thanksgiving #4 – We shared in a Pre-Thanksgiving meal with the priests next door. Eating dinner with them each Monday is a tradition I have come to love. The food is always delicious, our conversation is enjoyable if not hilarious and the peace of mind that comes with knowing we are part of a larger community is incomparable.
Thanksgiving #5—When the actual Thanksgiving arrived we had some of the most elaborate plans I have ever been a part of. Katie and I started the festivities by heading to Central Park West where we joined a huge crowd of spectators being funneled through the streets making our way towards where the Macy's day floats were being blown up. It was an experience like nothing I have ever done before. The floats which average around 70 feet long are stretched down a city block, tied down with nets and sand bags and inflated. The crowd of spectators was IMPRESSIVE to say the least. We were literally being shuffled through streets around corners and towards floats. Although it was a little too many people for my liking, I really did have an amazing time seeing the floats up close and in person.
Our actual Thanksgiving consisted of 16 guests. 4 volunteers from the Lawrence community, Andreas friends Mary, Nelnan, and Evelyn and her brother Eric. Kendra’s friend Cotter, two friends of Agustin (a member of the Lawrence community) and Margaret a neighbor of ours who is in her 80s. We used the rectory next door because the Priests all went to visit family or friends, which made life easy. They have a huge kitchen, two ovens, a large table, beautiful china, linens and candles that we used and most importantly space. There was space for everyone to help prepare their favorite family dishes, space to set up appetizers, space to mingle with friends old and new, and space to get away and reflect a little.
For being my first official Thanksgiving away from home, away from family, prepared ourselves I was overjoyed at how well everything turned out, and how truly special the meal was. Everyone had a hand in baking, making, or preparing the items on the menu. Most of us called either our Moms or Nana’s (cough cough several times cough) to get their expert advice. As we sat down to eat we all shared what we were thankful for. This is a tradition that numerous members around the table had done with their own families, but this year it seemed to hold more weight. People were honest. Deep. And truly grateful.
I was and still am truly grateful for the love and support of my family which has provided me with the opportunity to take this year of service; granting me access to parts of the world and people whom, although are so close in proximity, are worlds away in circumstance. I am thankful for the openness, love and friendships that have evolved between my roommates and I, and I am even thankful for the challenges that I have been and will continue to be confronted with this year. Most importantly, this Thanksgiving I was thankful for Margaret being a part of our meal.
As ideal as the past two weeks have been (both visiting family in Delaware and successfully hosting a huge Thanksgiving feast) – the Sunday following Thanksgiving also marked the one year anniversary of my Grandfather passing away. Through Margaret’s presence at our Thanksgiving table I gained an even deeper appreciation for the meaning behind living in community.
As I explained to my roommates, my biological father has always been just that, biological – but my Grampy has taken on a lot of the tasks of fatherhood all of my life. (as has Tim who will get his shout out on Fathers day!) Through their love and dedication to each other in their 60 years of marriage, my Grandpa and my Nana taught me the meaning of true love, friendship, and most importantly the importance of family. I knew spending Thanksgiving without my Grampy and my family would be difficult, but I could have never imagined the significance of Margaret.
It’s funny how your heart breaks when your hero is gone, which after loosing my Grampy I couldn’t agree with more. However, I would like to add a clause to that statement because although my heart was breaking over the loss of my hero, my Grampy, it was also swelling with the joy of knowing Margaret a woman who lives on her own, is unable to do most things herself due to a bad hip, and who has no family or friends near by enjoyed herself. At the end of the meal Margaret looked at me and said “this is the best tasting meal I have had in 30 years, since my Mom died. You are some of the sweetest, most generous individuals I have ever met.” I literally began to cry! The impact we had on her was visible, but her impact on me, at just the right time is something that I will never forget.
Margaret has since called me – once to let me know she made it home safely, twice to thank me (I also got a thank you card in the mail), we met each other at Saturday 5pm Mass, and I am hopefully going to make my way across the street to visit with her at least once a week or so. She is a wonderful woman who is looking for companionship, and I am someone who has benefited from having such a strong and loving connection with my own Grandparents that I think we can both learn from each other. Not to mention that her initials are M.E.G, how appropriate!
I know that during this weekend in all of its success, I missed my family, I missed my Grampy, but I also know that I learned that heroes come in all shapes and sizes and I do think it’s true
that sometimes people come into your life at just the perfect time
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
The new pad
I was asked to include pictures of the house that got renovated...
Here's their new bedroom
And one of their bathroom...
Quite an exciting, and necessary change huh?
Here's their new bedroom
And one of their bathroom...
Quite an exciting, and necessary change huh?
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Down the shore
This weekend I went down the Jersey shore with my co-workers, my roommates, and Katie and Lauren two volunteers from the Bronx community last year.
Relaxation.
Relaxation.
Rejuvenation.
Rest.
also, the website for the program I am doing is up - check it out. You can click on the faces in the picture both domestic and international to read a bio on the volunteers or read through the tabs to learn more about the program.
http://www.osavol.org/
Thursday, November 6, 2008
bX marks the spot
Halloween costumes have faded into memories; Macy's Thanksgiving parade rapidly approaching; Christmas decorations adorn the store fronts; and already two and a half months of my volunteer year are behind me. The brevity of this year hits me each time I sit down to update this.
I think each of my roommates can attest to the realization that the novelty of being a tourist in New York has begun to wear off. The hustle and bustle of the streets is a nice distraction from the chilly weather. The noise of ambulances and fire trucks have become common place, as has the constant car horns of taxis. The ‘anything goes’ attitude of the men catcalling me has become more of a running joke then an annoyance. Driving to the grocery store once a week has transitioned into an obstacle course. The transit lines that used to overwhelm me have become routine, gracing me with Independence. Even the greeting from the #11 bus driver who picks me up each morning has become a familiar routine. This wild crazy city is our home.
The individuals who reach for a free amtoday newspaper out of the little red box on Fordham Road on are our peers. The line of faces that circles around the church on Wednesday mornings waiting for a warm meal from the food pantry is full are the aged faces of the children who used to run through the streets of our neighborhood; individuals who are just down on a little luck. We each felt the pain our neighbors felt when the news came in yesterday that a street away from our home a 13-hour standoff occurred as a man stood on a ledge outside his apartment - threatening to jump because he had stabbed his girlfriend to death. The children shouting OBAMA in the school yard are our students. That crisp fall wind that chills our bones also chills the homeless men occupying the benches up the street - Angel, Rios and Julian. This wild crazy city is our home.
Despite all that I have become familiar with, gotten accustom to, and experienced I still find myself encountering situations I have never dreamed of. Two weeks ago I had the privilege of joining my boss and a few other individuals from the local community in celebrating a welcome home party for a mother and daughter.
Mother and daughter had lived in the same apartment for the last 40 years, receiving state aid due to mental illness. It was the responsibility of Adult Protective Services to make sure the landlord was maintaining suitable living conditions for the women; something they failed to do.
Before Sister Lauria, a woman I work with came in contact with the women who are incapable of taking care of themselves on their own living in an apartment overcome with neglect. The smell seeping from under their front door was nauseating; the bathroom and kitchen – unusable do to neglect. The conditions inhumane; the women forgotten about by a system set in place to better their lives. The landlord, a scumbag who had fallen prey to the perks he could gain with gentrification purposely let the apartment fall to pieces to try and persuade the women to move out so he could fix the place up and rent it to individuals for more money. The conditions he enabled them to live in were criminal.
The day I went to the newly renovated and beautifully furnished apartment marked the 100th day the pair had been out of their home. After Sister Lauria and a few other individuals fought long and hard for the rights of the women insisting that their apartment was in need of essential renovations, APS had no other option then agreeing. They placed the Mother and daughter in a local hospital as temporary housing, conveniently using taxpayer’s funds to cover the cost of the 100 day stay.
The homecoming party was one of the most moving experiences I have ever taken part in. The two women were greeted with a new, safe, clean and beautiful home as well as furnishings, a delicious meal and were surrounded by individuals who cared for them. Some of their neighbors were present, as were their new case manager and home aide. The senator and representatives from local government offices, as well as the local news station were among the well wishers. ( I had a lil debut on the channel 12 news, waiting for some agents to call me…)
Pictured Sister Lauria, One of the neighbors who helped the women, the mother, the senator and the daughter.
When the women walked into their new home their eyes, and everyone else’s in the room welled up with tears. The whole afternoon that we were there they couldn’t stop thanking and praising the efforts of Sister Lauria. Every time I looked at them their eyes were glazed over and they were staring from room to room, hardwood floor to ceiling in awe of the generosity and love that they had been shown. It made me realize how acutely aware we as a culture are to the needs of those in our own neighborhoods. If you saw the apartment before it was renovated you probably would have thought that the women were slobs, judging unjustly their inabilities and true need for assistance.
I had goose bumps the whole afternoon, and left feeling like I had witnessed one of those purist acts of generosity that are rarely seen these days.
Halloween was the next big eye opening experience here. Memories of Halloween as a child include my Mother making my costume (always amazingly creative), rushing through dinner so we could get an early start on the night and then running throughout our neighborhood visiting each house to receive a piece of candy, only after taking a picture with the family, all of whom were family friends. Here all schools are let out early 1:00 or 1:30 so kids could go trick-or-treating before the sun set, before it got too dangerous.
Apparently October 31st is the day the gang the Blood’s have initiation. Apparently 31 white women are their intended targets – slashing their faces with knifes. Now now now, I’m sure if you are reading this you are scared for my life, and my face (nana!) but don’t you worry, my roommates and I opted for a safe little Halloween. Instead of attending the local Halloween parade in the Village we went to Kim’s house to watch friends, eat Chinese food and play board games.
Before we went over to Kims – Katie and I sat on our stoop and handed out candy to the little kids. Ironically enough, although there are millions of little kids running throughout the streets looking for candy – apartment buildings such as our own are not places they trick-or-treat. The stores lining Fordham Road are mobbed because they are the only places that hand out candy. Katie and I, dressed in black dress pants and a black pea coat and a black dress with a beaded orange belt and an orange bow as a hair tie respectively looked like the whitest, creepiest, out of place girls ever. We literally had to lure the children over, waving candy and saying uhh are you trick-or-treating. Once they (mostly their parents) realized our intentions were good they were appreciative, but it took a few moments and a couple of dirty questioning looks.
When we ran out of candy we walked up to the local Rite Aid to buy more and could not get through the doors it was so packed with children
The Thursday before Halloween I hosted a Halloween party at Siena House, where I work. My four roommates offered to come help run games, set up food and take pictures. The party was a HUGE SUCCESS. Every women that was signed into the house was downstairs at the party instead of sitting in their bedrooms. The next day my boss, staff members and the women could not stop talking about how much they and the babies loved it – how there was no drama – no fights – how everything was perfect and how it was the most successful party they have ever had. Some days at work I feel like I could be doing more – persuading the women to fix their resumes, or get a job or look into housing. Helping to council them on their problems within and outside the confines of Siena walls, but on that Friday morning I felt wonderful knowing that I had provided a safe, exciting and fun environment for the women to interact with each other and their babies. A Christmas party is already in the works :)
The women and babies playing Halloween bingo that I created, probably the most successful part of the party!
my lil cuties all dressed up!
This past week has been just as extreme – a trip with my roommates and 15 women from Siena House to Madison Square Garden to see Cirque De Soelil’s “Wintuk” performance (also a huge hit), a visit to Fordham Law School to listen to a lecture given by a Boston College professor on "The just and the good". One of the priests from next door invited all of us, but Katie and I were the only ones able to go. The talk was really interesting, it discussed the relation of constitutional law with topics such as abortion, marriage, casual sex, physician assisted suicide, and advertising. After the talk Fr.Bill took us out to dinner and to walk around Lincoln center. We ended up walking all over the city seeing many tourist hot spots, finally ending at Rockefeller Center location of the Christmas tree and the skating rink.
The conclusion of this week has been historical with Obama’s win. I can honestly say that there is no other place I would have wanted to be when the numbers came in. Our street erupted with applause, cheers, crying, whooping, fireworks, and dancing. And in true Bronx fashion, blasting the song “Our president is a black man” will the bass turned up as loud as possible. The next day on my way to work people were making eye contact with one another and nodding their heads. A common gesture in some areas of our country is something that is a rarity around these parts. I could feel the excitement, passion, and satisfaction emanating from those I passed. It was a very humbling 24 hour period.
All in all everything is going marvelously - I still love my roomies and our silly evenings together after a long day at work (note: bowling down our hallway turned into handstand land I had nooooothing to do with initiating that one hehe) I have gotten to see Kim a daybreak friend almost every weekend, and also Brian my best guy friend from High school lives in Manhattan so I see him as often as possible. This weekend we are heading to Atlantic City with the roomies and two of the Bronx girls from last year’s community. Here’s to enjoying each day I have left here and booking my flight home for Christmas (dec 20th!!)
I think each of my roommates can attest to the realization that the novelty of being a tourist in New York has begun to wear off. The hustle and bustle of the streets is a nice distraction from the chilly weather. The noise of ambulances and fire trucks have become common place, as has the constant car horns of taxis. The ‘anything goes’ attitude of the men catcalling me has become more of a running joke then an annoyance. Driving to the grocery store once a week has transitioned into an obstacle course. The transit lines that used to overwhelm me have become routine, gracing me with Independence. Even the greeting from the #11 bus driver who picks me up each morning has become a familiar routine. This wild crazy city is our home.
The individuals who reach for a free amtoday newspaper out of the little red box on Fordham Road on are our peers. The line of faces that circles around the church on Wednesday mornings waiting for a warm meal from the food pantry is full are the aged faces of the children who used to run through the streets of our neighborhood; individuals who are just down on a little luck. We each felt the pain our neighbors felt when the news came in yesterday that a street away from our home a 13-hour standoff occurred as a man stood on a ledge outside his apartment - threatening to jump because he had stabbed his girlfriend to death. The children shouting OBAMA in the school yard are our students. That crisp fall wind that chills our bones also chills the homeless men occupying the benches up the street - Angel, Rios and Julian. This wild crazy city is our home.
Despite all that I have become familiar with, gotten accustom to, and experienced I still find myself encountering situations I have never dreamed of. Two weeks ago I had the privilege of joining my boss and a few other individuals from the local community in celebrating a welcome home party for a mother and daughter.
Mother and daughter had lived in the same apartment for the last 40 years, receiving state aid due to mental illness. It was the responsibility of Adult Protective Services to make sure the landlord was maintaining suitable living conditions for the women; something they failed to do.
Before Sister Lauria, a woman I work with came in contact with the women who are incapable of taking care of themselves on their own living in an apartment overcome with neglect. The smell seeping from under their front door was nauseating; the bathroom and kitchen – unusable do to neglect. The conditions inhumane; the women forgotten about by a system set in place to better their lives. The landlord, a scumbag who had fallen prey to the perks he could gain with gentrification purposely let the apartment fall to pieces to try and persuade the women to move out so he could fix the place up and rent it to individuals for more money. The conditions he enabled them to live in were criminal.
The day I went to the newly renovated and beautifully furnished apartment marked the 100th day the pair had been out of their home. After Sister Lauria and a few other individuals fought long and hard for the rights of the women insisting that their apartment was in need of essential renovations, APS had no other option then agreeing. They placed the Mother and daughter in a local hospital as temporary housing, conveniently using taxpayer’s funds to cover the cost of the 100 day stay.
The homecoming party was one of the most moving experiences I have ever taken part in. The two women were greeted with a new, safe, clean and beautiful home as well as furnishings, a delicious meal and were surrounded by individuals who cared for them. Some of their neighbors were present, as were their new case manager and home aide. The senator and representatives from local government offices, as well as the local news station were among the well wishers. ( I had a lil debut on the channel 12 news, waiting for some agents to call me…)
Pictured Sister Lauria, One of the neighbors who helped the women, the mother, the senator and the daughter.
When the women walked into their new home their eyes, and everyone else’s in the room welled up with tears. The whole afternoon that we were there they couldn’t stop thanking and praising the efforts of Sister Lauria. Every time I looked at them their eyes were glazed over and they were staring from room to room, hardwood floor to ceiling in awe of the generosity and love that they had been shown. It made me realize how acutely aware we as a culture are to the needs of those in our own neighborhoods. If you saw the apartment before it was renovated you probably would have thought that the women were slobs, judging unjustly their inabilities and true need for assistance.
I had goose bumps the whole afternoon, and left feeling like I had witnessed one of those purist acts of generosity that are rarely seen these days.
Halloween was the next big eye opening experience here. Memories of Halloween as a child include my Mother making my costume (always amazingly creative), rushing through dinner so we could get an early start on the night and then running throughout our neighborhood visiting each house to receive a piece of candy, only after taking a picture with the family, all of whom were family friends. Here all schools are let out early 1:00 or 1:30 so kids could go trick-or-treating before the sun set, before it got too dangerous.
Apparently October 31st is the day the gang the Blood’s have initiation. Apparently 31 white women are their intended targets – slashing their faces with knifes. Now now now, I’m sure if you are reading this you are scared for my life, and my face (nana!) but don’t you worry, my roommates and I opted for a safe little Halloween. Instead of attending the local Halloween parade in the Village we went to Kim’s house to watch friends, eat Chinese food and play board games.
Before we went over to Kims – Katie and I sat on our stoop and handed out candy to the little kids. Ironically enough, although there are millions of little kids running throughout the streets looking for candy – apartment buildings such as our own are not places they trick-or-treat. The stores lining Fordham Road are mobbed because they are the only places that hand out candy. Katie and I, dressed in black dress pants and a black pea coat and a black dress with a beaded orange belt and an orange bow as a hair tie respectively looked like the whitest, creepiest, out of place girls ever. We literally had to lure the children over, waving candy and saying uhh are you trick-or-treating. Once they (mostly their parents) realized our intentions were good they were appreciative, but it took a few moments and a couple of dirty questioning looks.
When we ran out of candy we walked up to the local Rite Aid to buy more and could not get through the doors it was so packed with children
The Thursday before Halloween I hosted a Halloween party at Siena House, where I work. My four roommates offered to come help run games, set up food and take pictures. The party was a HUGE SUCCESS. Every women that was signed into the house was downstairs at the party instead of sitting in their bedrooms. The next day my boss, staff members and the women could not stop talking about how much they and the babies loved it – how there was no drama – no fights – how everything was perfect and how it was the most successful party they have ever had. Some days at work I feel like I could be doing more – persuading the women to fix their resumes, or get a job or look into housing. Helping to council them on their problems within and outside the confines of Siena walls, but on that Friday morning I felt wonderful knowing that I had provided a safe, exciting and fun environment for the women to interact with each other and their babies. A Christmas party is already in the works :)
The women and babies playing Halloween bingo that I created, probably the most successful part of the party!
my lil cuties all dressed up!
This past week has been just as extreme – a trip with my roommates and 15 women from Siena House to Madison Square Garden to see Cirque De Soelil’s “Wintuk” performance (also a huge hit), a visit to Fordham Law School to listen to a lecture given by a Boston College professor on "The just and the good". One of the priests from next door invited all of us, but Katie and I were the only ones able to go. The talk was really interesting, it discussed the relation of constitutional law with topics such as abortion, marriage, casual sex, physician assisted suicide, and advertising. After the talk Fr.Bill took us out to dinner and to walk around Lincoln center. We ended up walking all over the city seeing many tourist hot spots, finally ending at Rockefeller Center location of the Christmas tree and the skating rink.
The conclusion of this week has been historical with Obama’s win. I can honestly say that there is no other place I would have wanted to be when the numbers came in. Our street erupted with applause, cheers, crying, whooping, fireworks, and dancing. And in true Bronx fashion, blasting the song “Our president is a black man” will the bass turned up as loud as possible. The next day on my way to work people were making eye contact with one another and nodding their heads. A common gesture in some areas of our country is something that is a rarity around these parts. I could feel the excitement, passion, and satisfaction emanating from those I passed. It was a very humbling 24 hour period.
All in all everything is going marvelously - I still love my roomies and our silly evenings together after a long day at work (note: bowling down our hallway turned into handstand land I had nooooothing to do with initiating that one hehe) I have gotten to see Kim a daybreak friend almost every weekend, and also Brian my best guy friend from High school lives in Manhattan so I see him as often as possible. This weekend we are heading to Atlantic City with the roomies and two of the Bronx girls from last year’s community. Here’s to enjoying each day I have left here and booking my flight home for Christmas (dec 20th!!)
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