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Finding Hope By Anna Luciano It's funny how things change. From clothing styles to people themselves, as time passes, everything changes. And if you sit back and think about it, it's even funnier to think that one serendipitous meeting can completely change your beliefs. When I moved to Boston after college, I didn't think my life would alter that much. After attending college in Providence, RI, I figured Boston wouldn't be that much of a change. I was moving with my best friend from college, Emily - how different could Boston be? I would still party, hang out with college friends, and promise my family I would move back to California soon. Now, two years later, I have to laugh at how wrong I was. When looking for an apartment in Boston, we were shocked (to say the least) at how expensive apartments were - it was almost twice as expensive as Providence! With Emily entering grad school, and me still looking for a job, we had no idea how we could afford a place to live. Then, out of nowhere, we received an offer that was too good to pass up. Emily's older brother had three friends that lived in Boston who were looking for two more roommates to live in their house - he had gone to college with two of the guys, and knew the third through a friend. Emily already knew the guys, so we went to Boston to meet the one that already lived there to look at the house. The other two wouldn't be there until move-in day, but I was happy with the apartment, and since Emily knew & liked them, I figured it would be fine. We signed on immediately, and got ready to move to Boston. Move-in day came. I didn't move in right away, but started going back and forth between Providence & Boston, painting my room, moving things a little at a time, and looking for a job. As a result, I didn't meet the other two guys right away, but eventually I did - and everything changed. All the guys were really funny and smart, but one in particular stood out for me. I don't remember the exact moment that we first said hello - I think I was painting my room, so I may have been a bit distracted - but I do remember the first time we actually talked. He was working on a puzzle, and I sat down to help him. We chatted for a while, and I distinctly remember thinking, "John is so freakin' cool." When I moved in for good, we started hanging out as a house a lot. We had a ton of fun together, and things were pretty much as I had expected them to be. But as I spent more time with John, and got to know him better, I just kept liking him more and more. His sense of humor, intelligence, and love of life drew me to him, and I just couldn't get enough of our conversations. Books, movies, music, politics - we could have fun talking about anything. We even liked the same basketball team, the Lakers, which is really rare on the east coast! There was a connection there; it was like we understood each other without having to explain everything. I had never felt anything like that, and in all honesty, had never really expected that I would. I had always found it hard to believe in "true love." How could a feeling be so strong that it could actually withstand the changes and trials that come with time? I guess that with divorce, infidelity and betrayal being so prevalent, I have always found it hard to believe that love can conquer all. Don't get me wrong, I definitely believed in love, but I only thought of it as some combination of friendship, affection or desire. And I had always believed that it could go as easily as it came. I wasn't sure how to define how he made me feel, but John made me want more than I ever had. As we spent more time together, and our connection continued to grow, I realized that the reason that I couldn't put my finger on what I wanted from him, or even say how I felt about him, was because it was something that I never really believed existed. With him, the friendship wasn't enough. I wanted to be more than friends with him. The affection wasn't enough either. I wanted more than occasional hugs and friendly touching. And even the growing desire wasn't enough. I wanted more than just a physical connection with him. So, as we grew closer and realized how much we wanted to be together, I had to rethink all of my old beliefs. If my idea of love wasn't enough to explain what I wanted from John, then there had to be more. I had to ask myself, "Could there be such a thing as true love?" I have always believed that in order for people to move forward, they have to look back to learn from their past. In my case, I had to re-examine my beliefs about love, and figure out what was now different. Without that understanding, there would be no way to really complete the change I was undergoing; I would be in a state of limbo, straddling my past and my future without being able to connect to either. Because my feelings for John were, and are, greater than anything I thought existed, I was willing to look past my previous beliefs in order to grow. Do we have the friendship? Of course - what couple can last without that bond, that unconditional acceptance that comes with friendship? Are we affectionate? Yes - people need tenderness and sincerity from those that are important to them. Do we desire each other? Absolutely - without this physical part, the relationship would simply be a friendship. But just as important as these three parts that I already believed in, I think, is this fourth part that I found with John: Hope. John made me realize that my old beliefs about love had been based on fear. You can blame it on any number of things - witnessing multiple divorces within my family, the skyrocketing divorce rate in general, having to handle the betrayals of loved ones - but I had always been waiting for the other shoe to drop, believing that eventually anything good would have to come to an end. But real love, the kind that lasts, has to be based on hope, a belief that things can actually get better with time. John made me believe that we could have more than just a day, a month, or a year of happiness together. He made me realize that, in the long run, joy can be found just by believing that it can be. By making me believe in love with a future, John completely changed my life. And he made it better. ~ ~ ~ Anna Luciano grew up in Southern California, before traveling across country to attend Providence College. After graduating, she moved to Boston, where she has been living for the past few years. While she loves Boston, she will always be a California girl at heart. |
hanging on a thread of sadness By Dave Brown One cliché that I hear often is that all things come in threes. Over the past year, I have experienced a number of ups and downs, and regarding the down times, I can only hope that those who utter clichés are incorrect with their predictions. In 2003, I left a masters program at DePaul University in Chicago, which was part of a re-tooling process of my life. During this time, I was forced to say goodbye to my mentor and good friend Dr. John Gabriel, professor of education, and undeclared Zen master. He was a tall thin man who encapsulated all the attributes of a Bodisatva with no assumed airs and a gentleness that would render you feeling rather anxious in his presence, even if you were currently feeling some sense of inner peace with the surrounding world. Dr. Gabriel possesses an aura that when within his presence would make the landing of a feather on the back of your palm seem rough by comparison. During the spring of the above-mentioned year, his family had decided to uproot and move to California allowing their son to live closer to and among the extended family. I selfishly desired this not to occur, but knew in my heart that it was unfair of me as my own time in Chicago was limited. We said our good-byes as we scraped and painted his old house in preparation for sale, drank wine in the warm afternoon sun as we tossed a tennis ball to his dog that was more than happy to oblige us in our reverie. It was whatever goodbye should consist of -merriment and celebration of a time spent together. During this time, I rekindled an old flame and began to relish in a re-found love. We had been together in previous years, and I always envisioned taking her as my wife, though I am not sure I ever really said as much to her directly. I still fondly remember the day we met, she entered the office I was employed in to visit her friend, and was instantly taken with her genuine smile, carefree laugh, and her eyes. Her eyes pierced my soul and exposed every inch of my being. I still shudder thinking about them and the immense depths they held. We dated for a couple of years and then split for unknown reasons, which left me confused and torn, fighting a heart that I feared would ice over. I lived in a sort of darkness that influenced my mood in strange ways. I no longer cared to interact with friends or family, I simply wanted to be alone with my pain until the feeling passed. For the first time, I prayed, and not just because it seemed like a novel idea, but because I truly felt I had nowhere to turn. I prayed, to whoever was listening. My prayers were answered and I became a ghost. I struggled through life, through friends, and along the way lost many that were once close to me, such is the balance I suppose. To have had a love so great must be accompanied by a pitfall of lows and heartaches equally as great. It was not long after the coldness had receded and I again began to place my trust in the world that I felt my blood warming in my veins. A couple of years had passed and I had moved from city to city trying to find my center and balance. It was then that I received notification of my acceptance into DePaul University and moved back to Chicago after nearly a two-year absence. Prior to the program ending, and just after my mentor departed, is when I rekindled my relationship with my old girlfriend. I soon began teaching at a Chicago public high school and felt awakened by my new-found sense of purpose-a purpose that left me feeling tangible to, and connected to the surrounding world. So engrossed was I in making my first year as a teacher a success, that I failed to notice an ever slowly deteriorating relationship. At the time, I was and had to be oblivious, I had the career, the girl, and supposed happiness, why I failed to see or heed the warning signs is no mystery to me. As time moved onward I began to take heed and became (in my efforts to remain in love) unreliable to not only her, but to myself. I no longer wrote poetry (which is my true calling), and when I did, it felt vapid and trivial. I would venture out each Friday in search of the elusive cocktail that would erase whatever it was that I was feeling with her. I needed to make a decision but found it difficult to do so. Do I leave the relationship, or do I let my job become secondary and risk, in my mind, everything that I had created in my classroom. Unfortunately, having forgotten that I was in love, that decision was made for me. In the last couple months of my first year on the job, I had learned the essential skill of detachment and took home only the work that was necessary and worried about the rest while I was on the clock. What I had learned was to leave the troubles of the job at my desk and concentrate on my life and love. However, as I have said before, it was too little too late. We parted somewhat amicably, but I felt as though I was left holding the bag and my ego. We had said goodbye for a second time, after I had made the promise to myself that I should not lose her again, in fact, the vows that I had been writing in my head for over a year, spoke as much. Words it appears I may never utter aloud. Conservation I found is the key to survival in these situations, and I found that the troubles I was experiencing were not easily translated. I had decided some time ago, that I needed to tie the loose ends of my life together before I proposed so those issues would not arise during our marriage. I never figured that she would simply tire of waiting. So I was left with a simultaneous intense feeling of rejection and triumph. In the time hence, I have poured my life over the coals, striped off my clothes and skin, and looked at myself bared before the world looking for the kernel of myself that was the essence of our relationship. I have since found it, but time it seems is a fickle mistress. In my efforts to regain a sense of contentment and happiness, I decided upon a trip to my hometown to spend some time with my family. I celebrated my sisters' birthday and played a few rounds of golf with my father. It was during these past few months of relative bliss, that I received a phone call from a friend in Chicago telling me that a friend had died in a late night bicycle accident. More a friend of a friend, but I did know him enough to know that he was made of the sort of mettle that will allow him to live in the memories and hearts of all his family and friends, and that while he no longer walks beside them, he is carried in the one place that can never pass away. I feel a great loss of anything to say, I have never experienced a loss such as this and do not know what to do or say except to extend condolences and offer a shoulder should it be needed- but in the end I feel more helpless than before. Just a few days after I learned of the death of my friend, I received a call while I was in Boston from my mother explaining to me that the love of my sister's life was killed in a freakish accident. I have always known and accepted that love is supposed to hurt. You are supposed to feel extreme pain and discomfort. You are supposed to feel ups and downs, much like I had experienced in my own relationships, but never, I think, are you supposed to feel a pain like this. I have never so keenly felt a loss of words to express to my sister. I cannot imagine what she feels, nor, do I ever hope to, but I am truly sorry and wish that I could absorb what she feels so she may not have to. My love and empathy for her has erased all seemingly petty emotions I might hold close. As it turns out the cliché is not correct; things do not come in three's they come in bunches. But despite all the loss and pain felt, I have found a new perspective on life and have devoted myself to being always appreciative of the time I spend with friends and family and have rediscovered a love for them that comes with a tight bond. That bond grows stronger each day. So to my friend and mentor: until our next letter and perhaps a saucy bottle of red opened and enjoyed under the warm pacific sun; to Rich and Paul: may you rest in the hearts and minds of all those who cherished you in life and never let them forget your enduring spirits. And finally, to my love, who I fear I shall never see again.goodbye. ~ ~ ~ Currently an English teacher in Chicago, Dave enjoys sitting back with a nice bottle shared between friends while reading snipets of poetry and pondering the nuances of life and the small joys that accompany it.
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