⒈ Reflective Essay: Moving Away From The Hudson Valley
Even Reflective Essay: Moving Away From The Hudson Valley losing a job, many are provided for with unemployment compensation. They know that in order for me Personal Essay On Softball go to college and be successful, I not only have to get good grades but work hard to get there. The narrator is going through the natural grieving process. Opening up our email account, I found the following amusing email: Hello, I feel an eye for an eye meaning need to let you in on a little secret of York State musical lore. I have a lot of challenges that I am still going through, but I would try to reach my dream, no Reflective Essay: Moving Away From The Hudson Valley what it would.
Reflective Essay Notes
It was surreal. The complacent and generally anonynmous bourgeois yellow brick of Ocean Parkway with the iron gate in front appeared suddenly and frighteningly on the news last night. This, apparently, according to the news, was where the parents of the Port Authority bomber resided and where I suspect, long before the news announced it the bomb was but together. It is really two buildings in one. My parents lived in on the sixth floor until when my father went into the nursing home, forty some-odd years. This is what I then and still call home though I much later moved into a studio in the adjacent after I returned from the Merchant Marine where I lived in a studio apartment on the second floor up until I got married.
The major difference between the two buildings that I recall, besides their propensity to harbor terrorists , was that always seemed bathed in the odor of somehow European friend onions and some meat, probably beef, coming from some apartment on every floor except the 4th floor for some reason. What I most remember most about that latter was the constant warfare between my blond, heavy-set office-manager neighbor, Renee, and her red-haired as I recall upstairs neighbor that lasted several years until Renee contracted Bell's Palsey. A truce ensued. The banging on the ceiling and pounding on the floor, depending on your perspective , finally ceased,-- or at least abated.
The windows of my bachelor studio overlooked the side of a the red private house on Webster Avenue where one, Arthur Smith lived. Arthur was somewhat an oddball and lived there with his mother well into his fifties until she died around I sometimes had glimpsed her thru my window, a corpse of Whistler's mother, sitting in a rocker. I had known Arthur from around the neighborhood growing up but had never been really friendly with him.
He seemed somehow indefinably aloof probably because he had gone to St. Rose of Lima and I had gone to public school. He was not athletic, never participated in any of the street games we as kids played almost unceasingly growing up. He had no other perceptible interests except model trains. He was not the kind of person anyone seemed to seek out for company and he seemed to like it that way. Pale and heavyset, with black curly hair as well as perpetually untied shoes and a half tucked shirt which would have driven my father crazy. My father had a thing about half-tucked shirts. In his Yoda-like way he would tell me 'tucked or untucked--there is no half-tucked.
This accented all the least attractive elements of his face and implied, 'yeah, well, I may be a freak but I'm still better than you. He must have died awhile back. To add to his unappealing demeanor he a very high voice and this stutter that completed the implicate portrait of a cornered rat. We knew each other only by sight and neither of us had ever made any effort to engage the other as children. After I got married, my wife and I moved into a one bedroom apartment on Kings Hiway across from the cemetery near Flatbush Avenue, around the corner from an Israeli nightclub.
After she had the children we moved into the first floor of Webster Arthur's house. It was far more spacious and I put in an extra bedroom in the basement for my wife's children from her former marriage who at the time were five and eight and who had been living in Poland with their grandmother in Lodz in Poland until they all three joined us in Brooklyn. I think I was in shock at the time. In the space of two years I had gone from being a bachelor in a studio to the father of five but there were other reasons for me to go into a perpetual state of shock which I won't go into.
In any case our neighbor at Webster were Sal and Irene, Sal was a short, balding Italian who kept a fig tree and a grape arbor in his back yard. He was married to the solidly heavyset, red-headed Irish woman named Eileen who like Bermuda shorts and who, like Arthur, had some kind of speech impediment that rendered social interaction difficult but her was much more severe. Eileen who always had her hair pulled back in a bun loved the triplets and she cooed over them constantly. My theory was that the speech impediment was partly a result of her pulling her hair back so severely that it deformed her lip muscles but I could not prove that nor could I ever understand what she was saying to me or to them for that matter but I loved to watch her fuss over them and the fact that it was unintelligible made it more endearing much more-so than people who would intentionally engage in baby talk which always seems to me to be pretentious and a harbinger or worse things to come once actual meaning was introduced into the infant's life.
So, we lived there on Webster until the fall of until we moved to Monroe in Orange County. By then Arthur had fallen in with a bad crowd and also there were also drug dealers cruising the back alley between and the yellow apartment house on Ocean Parkway. I don't blame Arthur for that particularly but you know as the saying goes--familiarity often breeds contempt and the tide of fear that had seemed to keep these elements at bay seemed to be receding.
Since the back stairway to the second floor communicated with Arthur's apartment and the rear door from the kitchen was without the benefit of a lockable door, I didn't feel it was safe there anymore for us so I packed us up, lock stock and crack barrel and moved upstate. Four or five months after we moved upstate I got a call from the cops saying that they wanted me to come down so they could ask me some questions. Whoever was on the phone asked me if I had lived in Webster and I asked why but he wouldn't tell me--just that I had to come down. Though they hadn't said anything specific, I was sure it was about Arthur. By the time we had left, he had a girlfriend.
He was like me by then close to forty and I was sure that this was the first girlfriend he had ever had and I had a bad feeling about it. I drove down to Brooklyn and met the cops who escorted me upstairs. As soon as I opened the front door I knew what had happened. Even from the street the smell had been horrific. When I got to the top of the stair I gagged and almost puked. I saw that what had apparently been Arthur was now a puddle of blackish, greyish, lumpy goop spread over the dining room floor.
I had never seen or smelled anything so penetratingly vile in my life and I cannot convey the repulsiveness of that enveloping odor. Leadership varies and based upon our interview there is no solid evidence of book vs experience. In fact, individuals are able to now be developed uniquely in all facets of. The United States Army and West Point are dedicated to the respect of others and to respecting diversity. Each member of the Armed Forces is unique and his or her identity should be respected. Growing up as a military child, I have been exposed to all sorts of people and cultures that are different from my own. Furthermore, many of my classmates, teammates, and friends have come from different backgrounds and I have learned to work successfully with all people.
From my experiences growing up around many different cultures of people and from working with them, I believe that I will be successful in working with any person at West Point and in the U. Growing up as the son of a career United States service member has provided me with numerous unique and irreplaceable experiences. One such experience is the two years that I spent residing in Naples, Italy. During those two years I traveled throughout Europe and through my travels I became aware that there are many cultures that are …show more content… Army, I will use my past experiences and skills to successfully work with any leader, peer, or subordinate regardless of gender, color, ethnicity, or religion.
I will be success at working with anyone at West Point because I have been doing it my entire life. No matter how different a person is from myself, I envision myself simply operating with them for who they are as a person rather that what they look like or what beliefs they hold. Every person I have encountered has been different in his or her race, beliefs, ethnicity, gender, or religion.
This has never stopped me, however, from working successfully with them. I intend to continue this attitude wherever I go to college and beyond. As a military dependent, my peers, friends, and teammates have come from different backgrounds and cultures, but I have learned to look past their gender, color, or ethnicity and work with them for who they are as a. Show More. Read More. Reflective Essay: Moving Away From The Hudson Valley Words 3 Pages Growing up here, I was exposed to a plethora of cultures, ethnicities, religions and lifestyles, and I was always encouraged to follow my interests and do what makes me happy. Personal Narrative: My Personal Code Of Ethics Words 3 Pages Growing up into my own person I took these values with me, but I adapted more values into my personal and profession code of ethics along the way.
National Honor Society Analysis Words 3 Pages It is a huge responsibility to make sure a child, or sometimes an infant is safe at all times. For those who are not from the area, Stamford is a small village in Delaware County east of Oneonta and northwest of the Catskill Park map. Matt writes: Prior to the Borscht Belt hotel craze of later years, a "Hotel Era" took place in Stamford between and It was where "white" city folks spent their summers My father grew up there. My aunt is the village historian. Matt is the webmaster for the Forgotten Faces and Places blog, a neat blog that tries to identify historical postcards and photos. He came to hear about us while researching a photo from the s , apparently the clue that helped him identify the building as the Broome County Courthouse was our post from I really liked his post of the " Happiest Wedding Party Ever!!
Posted by York Staters at AM 1 comment:. Richardson's book, Possessions: the History and Uses of Haunting in the Hudson Valley , from Harvard University Press was suggested to me by a professor who is aware of my interest in the Upstate region and in the uses and interpretation of our history. Rarely do I read a book that is both profound and easy to read, despite weighing in at a hefty pages, Richardson's continual weaving of haunted stories throughout the narrative helped to keep my focus. The book is more than a collection of ghost tales, it is a reflection on the state of hauntedness itself.
Richardson asks, why is the Hudson Valley considered to be haunted? To what purpose are the discussions of ghosts in the social lives of the people of the Hudson Valley, insiders and outsiders? She does this through a series of chapters. Utilizing an impressive command of local historical archives, Richardson puts together how Swarts' story has been reconstructed over the past three centuries and how she continues to bring forth repressed memories. Her's is the hidden history of slavery and repression in a land of mansions and patroons Swart's ghost signifies things hidden in a collective unconscious; she is the martyr and memory of a secret history, recalling, for instance, exploitative and violent systems f servitude that existed in the North, in New York, as well as elsewhere.
She represents whole categories of people who have been tucked away from view She shows how a s play of the same name , a Pulitzer prize-winning script by Maxwell Anderson , was used to spark interest in the history and conservation of the peak. Anderson utilizes numerous ghosts, especially native peoples and the Dutch, torture the agents of a mining company seeking to buy up the rock from its last owner. To her great credit, Richardson recognizes this problem and discusses the flooding of Catskill villages to create reservoirs and the annhilation of towns to build state parks.
She cautions that The book is an excellent addition to any Yorkstaters' reading list. Near the end, she sums up the continued haunting as an expression of our dislocation from history and landscape. The Hudson Valley has It echoes the enduring problems of rights and possession. The question 'who gives you the right? Opening up our email account, I found the following amusing email: Hello, I feel the need to let you in on a little secret of York State musical lore. There is a rap group, Otzi's Axe, that perform music inspired soley by their rustic upstate surroundings in the area code. All three bearded madmen of the group are proud lifelong residents of the coastal plain between Lake Ontario and the Tug Hill Plateau.
Their subject manner includes: drinking homebrew, chopping wood, and pure upstate living. Check out their bio on the site below. Also, they are part of the Scissor Proof collective which is a loose group of other musicians who representing upstate although Otzi is the only rap group Otzi's Axe: www. I just found it tonight. Keep up the great work. Their website claims that Scissor Proof records is the only "solar powered record label" in New York, a claim which might be true. They've got a few mp3s on their site, you can check them out for yourself to hear what three bearded, woodchopping Tug Hillians might sound like if they made rap music.
If you have some element of Upstate living you'd like to share or a post you'd like us to put up, we welcome all submissions to our email address: york. You might want to check out our simple submissions guidelines and our mission statement. Basically, we put most everything having to do with Upstate New York so, please no more emails on the Manhatten clubbing scene or art openings in the Bronx. Also, don't be afraid to comment, send us quotes for our quote board or your favorite books for our book list. We look forward to hearing from you. Posted by York Staters at PM 2 comments:.
At the same time as I left the highway, I also left the sovereign state of New York and entered the sovereign territory of the Onondaga people. With me were four of my friends all of whom were from overseas Colombia, India and Vietnam and had an interest in getting outside of Syracuse for a bit.
Vietnam Time Period In Military Words 4 Pages Reflective Essay: Moving Away From The Hudson Valley like myself, young and with determination, are enrolling more and more every year in universities. Eventually, we found our way to Wildersteina mansion in Rhinebeck that up to recently was the home of the Suckley family. There was this bizarre phenomenon last year when clowns started spontaneously appearing. Follow Facebook Twitter.