MEMORY LANE 3.

MEMORY  LANE 3.

MEMORY LANE. (PART 3) Life repeats itself in the course of history in the form of similar patterns with a chain of actions sustained by cause and effect results. As a freelance writer, poet, blogger, lyricist, artist, I would like to write and publish my life stories in brief -in order to explain and clarify some events that happened in my family history. In my previous post I wrote...
The future would be ahead of me, and I would be the one to orquestrate and build a stairway to Heaven, not only for me, but also for my generations to come ahead. As soon as I stepped on American soil, my life would never be the same again. I fell in love with the American people and way of life! Well, I planted my seeds, my flowers, my poems and songs, my thoughts, my true love into the land of freedom, the home of the braves.
I really wanted to be a part of the American hearts.
The rest is history in my life as an American Senior Citizen lady.
My advice is to take good care of your children, because they will become adults in no time. Teach them good things, good manners, to love and respect others, also respect conservation, mother nature, animals and wildlife. We are all mortal beings, feeble passengers of time. So, I wish to make a real difference between life and death, and serve the Lord for a good purpose in my passing life in the world before I DIE...

My Life Stories -as I was told, and as far as I remember. My maternal grandparents, the parents of my mother, were European Immigrants. They got married and had 4 children, my mom was their youngest baby. My grandmother was born in 1885 in Genova, Northern Italy, and her parents were cousins. They had 14 children, and my grandmom was their eldest child. My maternal grandfather, the father of my mother, was born in Switzerland in 1878 in the City of Vevey, Canton of Vaud. He spoke French and Italian as well. His father was Italian from Genova. His mother was German- Swiss. He grew up in Switzerland as a kid. My maternal grandfather was an artist painter, and studied Art in the School of Brera in Milan, Italy. He died in 1927 due to hepatocirrhosis in his liver. He used oil painting to paint his artwork. After many years working without a mask, he must have inhaled the deadly odor which damaged his liver to a deadly point. My mom was only a 2-year-old baby. Her mom, my maternal grandmother, felt emotionally devastated, and had to work hard back in those days, in the early years of the 20's century, in which women were not seeing with good eyes by people in general if ladies were not at home.
Sadly, my grandmother gave her 2-year-old baby -my mom, to her parents, my mother's grandparents. They provided all they had for my mother's upbringing. Perhaps, it wasn't enough, it wasn't the ideal situation, because my mom wanted and needed her own mom. 
My mother's maternal grandparents had 14 children, so my mom -as a child- had many aunts and uncles who played and took good care of her. At the age of 18, my mother got a job in a big store downtown, and went to visit her mom, and asked her if she could live with her. My grandmother welcomed her young daughter, who felt so happy going back to her mother's loving arms again. Unfortunately, the fact that my mom was raised by her grandparents -as a little child- not by her mom, left chronic emotional disorders, depression, severe traces in my mom's mind and heart. Now, I recall something important -when I was a child- to have seen my mom crying very often, especially after her dearest mom died, and my dad left our home for another woman. My mom felt so very depressed. I was about 9 or 10 years old back then. I remember I had asked her why she had been crying, then my mom decided to share her big secret with me. My mom had felt like an abandoned orphan most of her life, especially while living with her maternal grandparents. They only sent her to study up to Elementary School, and then learn how to become a dress-maker, and also learn embroidery techniques. After graduation in that sort of trade, she had to work for her grandparents sewing dresses and embroidery fabrics as a young teen. They did not allow her to see males, and never get married.

My dear mom kept on crying -as she was telling me her story, and I gave her a big hug to soothe her emotional breakdowns. I would comfort my mom as long as I lived with her. Then, I understood my mom's emotions and behaviour more clearly, for she had been missing her own mom. 
My mom was definetely my best friend forever! When my parents got married, they bought an apartment, and my mom took her mom with them. So, the three of them lived together, my mom, my dad and my maternal grandmom. Then, when I was born, there were four of us, my parents, my granny and me -as a baby. My granny helped my mom with my upbringing, for she had to work in the store to help pay for the mortgage and the incoming bills. Life was so hard back then. I adored my grandmom, she was the sweetest lady I had ever met in my life. She adored me too. Well, I share a pic of my grandmother and me -as a little kid for you all. Have a blessed weekend, dear family and friends!! God may bless you all.

AUTHOR: POET STARRY.

MEMORY LANE 2.

MEMORY  LANE 2.

 MEMORY LANE. (PART 2) In the old photo below, I was a tiny 5-year-old little girl with a school uniform in 1st grade at the Elementary Nun Catholic School. In fact, my 1st grade teacher was a Nun. I am sitting next to my first classmate, whom today is a Medical Doctor and Specialist in Kidneys.

"A Castle in the Hills." (Part 2) My little story written by me, Poet Starry.
I attended the same Catholic School for 12 years until graduation. Back then, I was a 17-year-old, young bilingual High School Graduate with a bright future ahead..Today and looking back, I am an American Senior Citizen. Time really flies!
Well, after my School Graduation, I registered in a Private School of Law Overseas to attend classes in the evenings, where I would study Law for the following 5 years. At that time in my young age, I wanted to become an Attorney serving for a Criminal Court as a Prosecutor, but I never did, because I was not able to graduate. You see the Prosecutor is the Court District Attorney who defends the Victims. I also took some College Courses in Natural Science for about 18 months. I learned a lot. I loved it!
Unfortunately, I did not graduate from any career of my studies. Yet, I acquired knowledge. I had to work full time in a local Bank in order to pay for my College studies, plus be able to acquire books, college material needed, and help to pay for my mother's bills. You see it was a huge responsibility on my young shoulders to bear alone. Sadly, my father did not want to pay for my College Career. I was not sure whether he could not afford to pay for me, his only daughter, or he just did not care to invest in my future any longer.
Telling you the truth, it hurt me so very badly. My young life had changed completely, especially when I would surely decide to bring my knowledge elsewhere more profitable for a brighter future, pack all my suitcases and leave my dear mother's home. 
Sadly, a cruel Revolution arose in South America in those days, and over a hundred thousands young people began to disappear, vanish into thin air. They were later called, "The Missing People."
Then, I arrived in New York at the young age of 23 -saving my own life, but leaving my dear family behind. My parents would always be waiting for my return. I broke their hearts, and I regret to have done that...
So, the future would be ahead of me, and I would be the one to orquestrate and build a stairway to Heaven, not only for me, but also for my generations to come ahead. As soon as I stepped on American soil, my life would never be the same again. I fell in love with the American people and way of life! I planted my seeds, my flowers, my poems and songs, my thoughts, my true love into the land of freedom, the home of the braves.
I really wanted to be a part of the American hearts.
The rest is history in my life as an American Senior Citizen lady.
My advice is take good care of your children, because they will become adults in no time. Teach them good things, good manners, to love and respect others, also respect conservation, mother nature, animals and wildlife. We are all mortal beings, feeble passengers of time. So, I wish to make a real difference between life and death, and serve the Lord for a good purpose in my passing life in the world before I DIE...

Author: Poet Starry.

MEMORY LANE 1.

MEMORY  LANE 1.

MEMORY LANE (PART 1) In the old photo below, I was a tiny 5-year-old little girl with a school uniform in 1st grade at the Elementary Nun Catholic School. In fact, my 1st grade teacher was a Nun, and I was holding her hand in this picture...

"A Castle in the Hills." (Part 1) 
My little story written by me, Poet Starry.
Since each of us carry a baggage, the load of a personal history, and our burdens, we may develop certain connections according to our personal views or moral values. I have been trying to share a self-portrait with my online readers and friends, in order to get to know me a little bit...
In the old days -as far as I can remember- when I was a little girl, even before School days, I lived in a big city with my dear mom and my Italian grandmom, the mom of my mom, mainly just the three of us, because my dad was usually working long hours away from home. But, Sundays were daddy's days, so I luckily spent Sundays with my dad...
One of my favourite outing with my dad was going to the Zoo to see the animals. I loved all, but the majestic ones were special, such as elephants, lions, tigers and wolves.
As a kid, I used to gape often through the glass wall in our apartment on the second floor. I was completely puzzled back then, just to see so many horses in the city streets pulling wagons to bring veggies, fruits, small livestock, and other goods for the peddlers to the farmer's market placed on the sides of the park across the street from our apartment.
People gathered there in a rush to buy cheap items and food. I was astonished and sad -at the same time- to see tired working horses and other animals which were brought to the fair.
My young heart would begin to experience new feelings, and would be left astray watching people's greedy hearts.
The fair was taken place on weekends. So, I would hear the hooves on the trotting tired stallions pulling the wagons as they approached the streets in our neighborhood. Then, I would rush to the glass wall to gape at the feast. Well, I still watch out the window when I hear animals coming.
As a little girl, I could not help but feeling hurt inside for whatever my young eyes would have to watch every weekend. The good and the bad things were passing right in front of my child's eyes, and those visions would leave emotional and everlasting traces in my heart.
You see, I was alone playing with my few toys, bears and dolls. I come from a European ancestry with artists and musicians on both sides of my family. I was born a dreamer, an artist, a pro-life living being with all sort of good deeds inside my young heart. So, it was dreadful for me to catch a glimpse of those shattered, horrible, corrupted, bloody memories of my childhood with so many things going in the wrong way. It is hard to explain in details what I have seen as a child, for it hurts so badly! My world was rather small back then, no siblings, yet I began to dream in expanding my world as an adult to other greater ventures with high goals and lasting moral values some place else...
As a little child, I began to think that those kind of grown-up adults would never become my role models, for they were corrupted and dreadful to my eyes. In fact, in my childhood, I began to develop the first outlines of my present philosophy of life. Since my early childhood, I dreamed of living on top of the mountains surrounded by nature, birds and other precious animals. Perhaps, I was dreaming of living in a castle on the hills, a bluish yonder hill intimately entwined with the valley below. So, I would feel like "The Queen of the Earth."
I could hear the gallop of those stallions flying freely in the blue horizon, and I could still hear my throbbing heart gazing out the window, or even imagine myself on top of the mountain.

Author: Poet Starry.