English Essay 1983

This essay is dated April 5, 1983 for English class when I was a HS Sophomore.  I re-typed this exactly as I wrote it but took out names and addresses.

It is written that a child born on the Sabbath Day is bonny, blithe, good and gay.

On Sunday, February 27, 1966, I, Kelly G****, was brought into this world by Dr. A.T. K****  The temperature was in the mid-twenties and snow was in the forecast.  Everyone was eagerly awaiting my arrival, as I was one month late.  Brought to my home, at 488 B*** *** St in E*****, I roomed with my mother and father.  I learned the basics very quickly.  Eating continuously was my idea of the perfect life.  Little did I know that there was a lot to be learned and I would never learn everything.

As I grew, my mind did also.  At age three I went to pre-school as my mother went bowling.  My teacher, Mrs. G****, yelled at me one day for stepping on the wooden blocks!  To this very day, I can honestly say that I didn't!  Kindergarten was an experience that I hope never to forget.  Along with fingerpainting, playing with blocks, and listening to our teacher, Mrs. D***** play songs like "Billy Boy" and "Blue Jay" on the piano, we played house with the boys.  It was an honor to be "Mommy" and wear half-inch heeled shoes.  But it was an even greater honor to pass out the cookies or pour juice at snack time.  It gave us a feeling of reposnsibility.  At playtime on the nice days, we'd race to the swings to get the ponies, because no one wanted to swing on the donkeys, for obvious reasons.

My best friend, Karen H****  lived across the street from me in an olive colored house on H**** Ave in O*****.  We'd sit in her back porch and sip sugar water as though it was tea.  Our parents confused us often because we looked very much alike with our blond curls.  We went to kindergarten together and often played.  At school one day, Mrs. D**** played the piano and as we all crept upon the floor, Karen put her hand on the ribbon of my favorite Raggedy Ann dress and tore it off.  Unfortunately, my "twin friend" moved to Florida about two years later, teaching me about losing a friend at a very early age.

I went to St. J***'s up until the middle of fifth grade.  My favorite activity was doing a play every year.  I was a narrator with John O'S**** in first grade and a seed in second grade.  I was supposed to have my big debut in fourth grade when I had the girls leading part as Amanda in a play called The Book of Knowledge.  Vicki B**** took my place because I was sick with the flu, which landed me in the hospital over winter recess.  In fifth grade I had another cnahce to be the leading lady, Nancy, in Oliver Twist.  But I never made it since I transferrred to School #9 in O*****.

I made friends quickly as School #9 but had to part in seventh grade to go to St. C*****'s in B****.  There I experienced a lot of excellent times and a few bad ones.  One of the few bad ones was fighting with my presently best friend.

Entering M*** R**** was a big step.  Being called "Patti G****'s little sister" was something that I heard often from my sister's friends for the first year.  At M*** R*** I joined the number one gymnastics team on L*** I***.  Starting out on three Junior Varsity events was great since I built up a lot of confidence and courage.  This helped me to go on the beam Sophomore year and take first place on J.V. in Junior year on December 6, 1982.  That very day, I also took first on J.V. bars and fifth on Varsity floor exercise.  Even though floor exercise is my favorite to watch, vauting is my favorite to do.  

Though the years I've learned to take on more and more responsibilities.  These responsibilities are helping me to become more reliable and independent.  Helping my mother with my ten year old brother, Allan, and my seven year old sister, Kerry, is part of it.  I babysat for the T*** where I learned not to panic when two year old, Robbby, fell  and cut his knee open in the sprinkler.  The T*** introduced me to their friends, where I learned to have patience with five year old, Tara, who had Cercbral Palsey, and her three year old sister, Melissa.  I was the favorite babysitter, according to the eight year old kids on the block.

After being with children a lot, I have taken a great intereset in how their minds develop.  I would love to help children in the future by being a child psychologist.   I am very optimistic and I look forward to helping children.  Not oly is psychology interesting to me, it will also give me a chance to understand children better and help them to understand adults.  So with these goals and experiences, I hope to be able to help children believe in themselves.

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Sunday, August 18, 2019

If I wrote this essay today it would probably sound much different because of today's inclusive and gender-neutral culture that is being shoved down our throats by the Left.  Personally, I don't care what you call yourself, who you marry or what surgery you want as long as it doesn't infringe upon my right to live my life as I please and it doesn't cost taxpayers anything.  I don't believe there are such things as white privilege and cultural appropriation.  I don't believe in living off the government, illegally immigrants demanding rights or paying reparations to people because of something that happened to their ancestors hundreds of years ago.  I'm tired of shifting the blame to others, being labeled a racist, xenaphobe or anti-gay rights.  I believe that a business has the right to decide if they want to prepare something custom for a person whose lifestyle they disagree with.  Right or wrong, it's their business.  The government can't force a Kosher restaurant to serve cheese with a burger, so how can a baker be forced to create a custom cake for a couple whose lifestyle goes against their religious or moral beliefs.  The couple has just as much right to tell others that they don't like that bakery because they won't make their cake.  And these disagreements don't always have to go to the media.  The media is actually destroying businesses and lives and putting people in danger. 

I'm a equal opportunity dater.  My previous posts prove that I am not a racist, anti-gay or a xenaphobe, so don't get all up in arms over my opinion, which we are all entitled to.

Here's something else:  I've been studying my geneology and I discovered that my ancestors pulled themselves up and out of extreme poverty.  So I think it's nonsense when people make excuses because of their lack of a good education or where they live.  All of my relatives came to the US legally because they wanted better lives for themselves and their families.  They may have started out in the slums of lower Manhatten, Brooklyn or Queens but every generation improved itself due to hard work and pride.  This is a whole other blog.

Brains and Eggs

This was an essay I wrote when I was enrolled at Nassau Community College in the mid-1980s.  The assignment was to take a recipe and write about the experience. I didn't exactly follow the rules but I did write a convincing tale.


Brains and Eggs:

People often search for new adventures to carry them through life.  I yearned for an adventure in dining.  Yet, deep within, I wondered if I could stomach it.  I decided it was time to be daring, so I went to my small bookcase.

Cautiously, I peered through gourment cookbooks.  Each had something very different to offer. My search ended between the bindings of an ancient orange Betty Crocker Cookbook.  I stared hesitantly at a recipe for brains.  This would be my first experiment with new foods.

Unfortunately, I did not have any on hand, so I ventureed to the meat market.  I was going to get a pound, thinking that no one can have too many brains, but I settled for a half since it was only for me.  They were quickly wrapped and paid for.  I conquered my first battle.

My kitchen was my laboratory.  Measuring cups posed as beakers just as the pots and pans were my test tubes.  I put on my lab coat and began experimenting.

I flushed all of the useless fragments from the main parts of the brains.  I then submerged them into my potion of water, salt and lemon juice, which boiled feverishly.

After waiting the longest twenty minutes of my life, I plunged the steaming brains into cold water.  With the skill of a surgeon, I removed the membrane with my razor sharp knife and proceeded to dice the brains into bite-size morsals.

To add flavor to this dish, I scrambled them with two eggs.  The mixture was not very appetizing since, as usual, the eggs burnt.  I put a couple of tablespoons of it on my plate and added some salt and pepper for flavor.

Hesitantly, I fished for the smallest piece of brain and the largest piece of egg.  With my hand shaking, I closed my eyes tightly and sampled it.  I swallowed quickly.  There was a soft, tender and delicate flavor hidden under the charcoal eggs.

Just as I opened my eyes, I realized that I was eating brains.  Suddenly, I jumped up and ran to the bathroom.

My adventures in dining ended there and my dog ate terrifically for a day.

My Babba-luka!

Babba was my maternal great-grandmother who migrated to the US from Austria in the very early 1900s. Born Katerina Schaffer (the spelling varies throughout history), she grew up in Galacia, close to the Russian border.  Her journey across the Atlantic was apparently so strenuous that it caused her hair to fall out and, although she was young, it grew back white. Babba and my great-grandfather, Felix Burtick, had 13 children who were raised in a coal miner's house on a hill in Coal Run, Pa. My nan, Anna, was the oldest girl.  

When my Aunt Helen, wife of my Uncle Pete Burtick, passed away, one of our cousins, Brenda, took us back to Coal Run and showed us around. For some reason, I had memories of Babba living in a grand Victorian house but the fact is that it was a small two-family house. Her side of the house had 3 rooms downstairs, two upstairs and an actual bathroom with plumbing.  Her daughter, Mary, wasn't as fortunate because she lived lower on the hill and had an outhouse.  

My mom, Stephanie, said that when she and my nan would visit, all her first cousins would come over and spend the night. There were a lot of them,  so I can't imagine where she put them all? I remember staying in Babba's house in the 1970s and sleeping in the most comfortable feather bed ever with my sisters. We must've been allergic to the bed because we usually woke up thinking we were blind because our eyelashes would be stuck together.  My mom would hear us crying out and put wet washcloths over our eyes until they became unglued.  

Babba didn't speak much English. She and all her children spoke Ukranian, especially when we were around.  I remember going into the kitchen that was filled with my great-aunts and the smell of some of something delicious cooking on the stove, and asking Babba to make me a bologna and ketchup sandwich.  I was met with a look of horror as Babba stood like a stork next to the sink.  After making something else for me, I was swatted from the kitchen so all the ladies could continue chatting and gossipping. 

One of the biggest adventures during our vacation was going to the spring for the freshest water known to man.  On one particularly hot summer day, with jugs in hand, we joyfully made our way to the source of this cool, delicious beverage when I had the misfortune of walking into the path of a large busy bumblebee as it buzzed from one wildflower to another.  This plump fellow must've noticed how chatty I was and saw it as an opportunity to examine a human child's tonsils, so flew into my mouth.  Once inside, the insect no doubt felt threatened by my uvula and decided to pierce it with its javelin-like rear end.  As I screamed, the black and yellow knight flew out of my mouth and left me in tears on the side of the road.  We eventually made our way back at Babba's where I was consoled and given permission to have all the cherry ice pops I desired - for the day.  

Babba and her family went to this beautiful Orthodox Church which was close to their home in Coal Run, PA.  

(http://www.pbase.com/tconelly/image/49380288)

What I've Learned

1. Anger ages people
2. Hate is a terrible word.
3. Getting older doesn't mean getting old.
4. It's a waste of money to color my hair, especially when I have less than 10 white hairs.
5. Curly hair is gorgeous. Why was I fighting it?
6. Attitude is everything.
7. You don't have to be young and skinny to be sexy as hell.
8. I'm fortunate that my parents taught me about perseverance.
9. Working for what you have isn't always easy but worth the effort.
10. You can't always get what you want.
11.  Dorothy was right, "There's no place like Home."
12. Bad relationships have always given me something good to take away.
13. The world won't end if you have dishes in the sink.
14. Value health because one day it may change.
15. Naps are awesome.
16. Crying is helpful.
17. Laughter is important.
18. A sense of humor will keep you from losing your mind.
19. No one understands chronic pain because they can't see it.
20. Fatigue isn't just being tired.
21. Music calms the savage beast - (from Bugs Bunny).
22. Never refuse a treat or gift from a child.
23. It's ok to be "The Crazy Aunt".  Everyone has one.