And I'm Proud to be an American

Like many Americans, I can remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I first got word of the planes hitting the World Trade Center towers on September 11, 2001. I was sitting in my Honors English class my first week of freshman year of high school. My teacher had just finished prayers when our loudspeaker crackled alive with an announcement.  "Attention, faculty and students. A plane has struck one of the World Trade Center towers in New York City. We don't have many details at this time, but please take a moment to say a prayer with your students for those who have been affected by this tragedy."

Confused, I looked at the girl next to me and asked, "What's the World Trade Center?" She looked at me blankly and shrugged her shoulders. Another girl overheard our conversation and explained to us how tall the buildings were. Naively, I said something like, "How did the pilot not see the building?"

At that moment, our loudspeaker sprung into action once more. "Attention, faculty and students. A second plane has hit the second World Trade Center tower and another plane has hit the Pentagon. A third plane has crashed in Pennsylvania." My mind went numb after these announcements and I tried to understand what this meant. After the principal finished the announcement, my teacher looked at us and said something about terrorist attacks. 

We didn't have cable in our classroom, so my teacher flicked on the radio and we all listened in silence to the panicked announcers describing the scenes in New York City and DC. We were all horrified as more details came to light and slowly realized that this day would change our lives forever.

I'll never forget the relief I felt when I got a hold of my mom during my lunch break. I had been stressing out all morning because my dad was in London at the time on business. She had been in contact with him and told me he was safe.  I couldn't talk to her long because I was borrowing my friend's cell phone, so I wrapped up the conversation and said, "Mom? I want you to know that I love you so much." Her voice cracked and she replied, "I love you too, Laura."

The rest of that day was torture. I was dying to know what was going on and had a hard time focusing in class. I ran off the school bus and immediately turned on CNN. I sat there in a stupor as gory images ran across our television screen and countless emotions flooded my body.  Fear, shock, devastation, helplessness, and anger. How could someone have done this to us? How could someone hate America that much?

When my mom finally got home from work, my brother, sister, and I ran out to the garage to meet her. All four of us embraced in a giant group hug and stood there quietly. It struck me at that moment that some families wouldn't be lucky enough that night to hug their loved ones.

After that day, I was desperate to show my support to the country and freedom I had always taken for granted. I cut up one of my softball medals, so that I could tie the red, white, and blue ribbon in my hair. At the time, my family lived in the middle of nowhere, yet I lit candles every night and put them on our front doorstep to remember those who were lost. The first night I did this, my parents asked me why I felt the need to do so.  I explained how I felt like this was one of the few things I could do to help and support America. They never questioned me again. In fact, I always found candles and matches waiting for me on our kitchen counter every night I performed this memorial.

10 Years Later...

When I woke up this morning, I decided to avoid all media coverage of the ten-year anniversary of the attacks, as I know all too well how the media can make a tough event even harder. I was excited to find the Eagles game on TV and settled in to watch. State Farm's 9/11 tribute commercial came on and I found myself covered in goose bumps with tears streaming down my face.

At that moment, I knew I needed to get out of my apartment. I decided to walk up to Central Park to my favorite spot in New York City, the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir. I often walk around the JKO Reservoir when something is troubling me. As I felt my sadness melting away, I found it ironic that the city that had been targeted and hurt deeply 10 years ago, was offering me comfort.

A view of Midtown from the JKO Reservoir on 9/11/11.

I heard a bagpipe in the distance, as I rounded the reservoir and faced the beautiful view of Midtown. September 11th will always be a devastating day in New York and America's history, yet it is also a day to celebrate the courage and strength of so many.

Say what you want about New Yorkers, but it takes a special kind of community to rebound from such a senseless tragedy. Even in the chaotic days after 9/11, New Yorkers displayed grit, determination, and strength and served as beacons of hope for the rest of the country. Yes, the terrorists were successful in taking the World Trade Center towers down, but they failed in their ultimate goal: crushing America's spirit. 

God Bless America today and always.

He Did It His Way

This picture sums up my Pop-Pop so well.

In college I became involved with Relay for Life and when I was asked why I relayed, I would always respond, “My Pop-Pop.” Sure, I had other family members affected by cancer, but I was too young to understand cancer until the ugly disease struck my grandfather my senior year of high school.

My Pop-Pop was the patriarch of my dad’s family in every sense. We all adored him and looked to him for guidance and leadership. To be blunt, it was hard not to love the man. He was the “class clown” of the family and always played practical jokes on everyone around him. For instance, he had a cleft chin and when my cousins and I asked him what happened he made up an elaborate story of how he ran into a doorknob when he was younger. He was our hero and we ate up any and everything he said.

Pop-Pop also had a serious side, especially when it came to his family. In high school I experienced my first heartbreak. Shortly after my break-up, I was at a family party when my grandmother asked me how my boyfriend was doing. I guess she hadn’t heard the news of our split. My eyes welled with tears and my Pop-Pop immediately intervened and asked me to step outside with him. Once we excused ourselves, he pulled me into a hug without any questions and stood with me while I cried. 

My senior year of high school rolled around and with that came graduation. A few weeks before graduation my classmates and I had to turn in the names of family members and friends who would be attending our ceremony. My parents broke the news to me that my grandparents would be unable to attend. Their excuse didn’t exactly add up and I remember seething with anger that my grandparents would miss their oldest grandchild’s graduation. My dad looked hurt when I expressed my disappointment and I couldn’t comprehend why he didn’t understand my irritation. 

My graduation party took place a few weeks after my graduation ceremony. My Pop-Pop was in attendance and had to leave early because he wasn’t feeling well. He came up to me with tears in his eyes and apologized profusely. That's the first time a warning bell went off in my head that something could be wrong.

Later that night my mom and I were rehashing the party when my Pop-Pop’s early exit came up. My mom looked at me and uttered the dreaded words, “Laura, your grandfather has lung cancer.” I found myself gasping for air. It felt as though I had been socked in the stomach. I starred at her in disbelief as she explained how my parents had hid his illness from me since April (it was June at the time), as they didn’t want to ruin what should have been a happy time for me. As I tried to absorb what my mom was telling me, I remembered the resentment and selfishness I had portrayed when my parents told me my grandparents would be unable to attend my graduation. I have never felt more ashamed in my life. 

I went off to college as my grandfather entered the intense phases of chemo to fight his illness. At Christmas he looked gaunt, but he put on a brave face for all of us. My Pop-Pop was a huge Penn State fan, so he always gave me a hard time (all in good fun) for going to Virginia Tech. I gave him a Virginia Tech Grandpop sweatshirt for Christmas and as he opened it he looked up with a twinkle in his eye and said, “This is really great! I’ll have to find some duct tape to put over Virginia Tech and write Penn State!”

I never had the opportunity to see him wear that sweatshirt, but my dad told me he always wore it to chemo and would brag about me to any and everyone who would listen. Once he passed, my uncle and aunt gave it to me to hold on to. I don't think I will ever receive a more meaningful gift.

When I came home from my freshman year for the summer, my dad told me my grandfather was not doing well. He took me to visit him and I was blindsided as I walked in to my grandparents’ home and saw my bald grandmother. During my Pop-Pop’s fight with cancer, my Mom-Mom found out she had breast cancer. As if seeing my grandmother without hair wasn’t hard enough, the sight of my frail grandfather sent me over the edge. He once joked he shopped in the “Chubby” section, and yet he was thinner than I was when I saw him. I had to excuse myself to pull myself together.

Once I returned to the room to visit with my Pop-Pop, he immediately started singing “New York, New York” to lighten up the mood of the room. Even in one of his weakest moments, he tried to put a smile on my face. This was a true testament to my grandfather’s character. 

A few days later, on May 18, 2006, my grandfather lost his battle with lung cancer surrounded by those he loved.

His viewing and funeral were extremely difficult for all of us, however my grandfather still managed to get my family to laugh a few times, even from heaven. The power went out at his viewing, and we all had to chuckle amidst our tears. Pop-Pop had gotten his last practical joke in. In addition, my dad gave the eulogy and had the church laughing over some of my grandfather’s infamous lines.

I’ll never forget how packed the church was and how long the procession of cars stretched on the way to the gravesite. My dad said my grandfather never would had believed all of those people came to say goodbye to him. Instead, he would say they were there to support his wife, kids, and grandkids. I don’t think he understood the lasting impression he made on people. 

My family lost an integral part of our family five years ago today. I miss him with every fiber of my being.  This past weekend my dad’s family got together to celebrate both my cousin’s graduation from high school and my brother’s graduation from college. Surrounded by the love, laughter, and pure joy, it was quite clear that my Pop-Pop was present, especially when the sun came out for our family wiffle ball game. He always loved watching his 13 grandkids and 6 kids goofing off and enjoying one another’s company. I have no doubt in my mind that he was smiling down on us from heaven, as we carried on his legacy. 

Happy Anniversary, New York!

Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge with Manhattan in the background.

I realize I have been a terrible (I probably should use a stronger word than terrible) blogger. One of my many New Year's resolutions is to get back into blogging. I figured what better time to do so than now, as my one-year anniversary of moving to New York City is approaching on Sunday.

This post will probably be pretty lengthy, as a lot has happened since my last post in April. I apologize in advance. Bear with me!

When people find out that I live in New York, I'm usually greeted with jaws on the ground, followed by a comment similar to: "Oh my gosh, New York?! You are so lucky!" While I am extremely lucky to live in this incredible city and usually have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming, New York isn't all fun and games. In fact, New York can be pretty harsh and intense at times. My roommate and I like to say that we have a love-hate relationship with the Big Apple. There are times when my head is in the clouds and I want to scream out, "I love you, New York!!" And then there are other times when I just want to walk around with a particular finger high in the air. (Sorry, Mom.)

For a while I had a really hard time connecting with the city and felt like I was on an extended vacation. My “vacation” was filled with unbelievable experiences, such as seeing Lady Gaga perform in her hometown, seeing various Broadway shows (Wicked is incredible), and interacting with some of the most brilliant minds I’ve ever come in contact with.

It truly wasn't until the past couple of months that I really felt at home in the city. In the year I've called New York my home, I’ve had highs and lows, which have helped me learn some valuable lessons along the way.

I feel that there are three main lessons that the Big Apple has schooled me in:

Lesson #1: Quality vs. Quantity

Making friends has never been a challenge for me. I have always been the type of person to have hundreds (okay, maybe not hundreds) of friends in various social circles. In college, I was a member of a sorority comprised of 120+ girls, in addition to having friends all over campus. Let's just say my parents weren't shocked when I told them I wanted to go into the Public Relations field.

New York presented a challenge that I had never experienced before when it came to making friends. I immediately made friends with a group of girls, but I wasn’t satisfied. I wanted more. I found that a lot of women here had their cliques and didn't usually go outside of them. This was extremely hard for me to digest. I joked to my roommate, "So let me get this straight. Not only do I have to struggle to find a boyfriend, but I also have to struggle to find girlfriends?!"

For a while, I looked at what I didn’t have vs. what I DID have. I think this contributed a lot to not feeling a connection to the city in the first couple of months. Once I finally woke up and looked at the quality of friends around me, I realized I didn’t need to have a million and one friends. The girls I had surrounded myself were REAL, quality people and would drop anything for me at a moment’s notice.

New York has helped me understand the whole quality vs. quantity concept. I have found the need to surround myself with a group of people who will pick me up when I fall, who won’t let me be my own worst enemy, who will tell me things that I don’t necessarily want to hear, and then some. What more could I ask for?

Lesson #2: Love Yourself

I experienced love in the Big Apple this past year. The relationship was unconventional and something totally different for me. I became swept away in the excitement of it all, but I lost myself along the way.

I found myself compromising on qualities and issues that I never really had to think about before. At the beginning, I thought I could get over what I had compromised on. Turns out I couldn’t.

I faced a difficult situation: Love for another vs. Love for myself. I wasn’t the same girl who started out in the relationship, which was a difficult realization for me to grasp. I always thought I was strong and that I would never be “that girl.” Yet, I put this person before those that I cared for most, including myself.

Samantha from Sex and the City said, “I'm just going to say the thing you're not supposed to say. I love you, but I love me more.” To tell someone that is heartbreaking, yet empowering. I have struggled for years with the whole “love yourself” concept and I finally had gotten to the point where I realized I loved myself too much to be feeling the way I did. It took me twenty-four years to come to this realization, but better late than never, right?

Lesson #3: Power of Positive Thinking

Although coming to the realization that I loved myself was a huge victory, I was devastated by the demise of my “Big City Love.” I cried harder than I had in a long time and felt a huge hole in my life. I had lost my boyfriend and best friend.

To quote Sex and the City again, “Despite the fact that there are over 8 million people on the island of Manhattan, there are times you still feel shipwrecked and alone. Times even the most resourceful survivor would feel the need to put a message in a bottle or on an answering machine.” I broke down in public and people didn’t even bat an eyelash (not that I wanted them to.) I remember feeling invisible and completely alone, even though I had people all around me. That’s a pretty sobering feeling.

I hate to admit this, but I am a wallower. I love throwing pity parties for myself and I could make a living off of obsessing over petty crap. After a couple of days (and boxes of tissues), I decided I couldn’t keep walking along the path I was going down. I needed to be positive and to throw myself into getting the old Laura back. So, I did just that.

I started doing things that made me happy and feel good about myself, such as going to the gym, having girls’ nights, and writing. Whenever I would get upset over the past, I would call or talk to someone I knew would give me tough love and snap me out of my funk. I wouldn’t allow myself to be my own worst enemy and removed things from my life that would allow me to do so.

I have found that I have applied the positivity principle to my life, besides the above example. To say it is easy to be negative in New York would be an understatement. There are people surrounding you that have everything you don’t have and in some cases, everything you’ll never have. Oh, and don’t forget the beautiful people that seem to pop out at you at every corner.

But here’s what it comes down to: There’s a reason why some of the most powerful and influential companies and CEOs in the world reside in NYC. Minus your friends and family, no one gives a crap if you’re upset. Life will and does go on with or without you. Basically, if you aren’t positive and at peace with yourself, New York will eat you alive.

Summing it up:

I could go on and on about everything I’ve learned in the year I’ve lived in New York City, but I think these three lessons have had the most impact on my life.

I have found a kinship with another Sex and the City quote (last one, I promise.) Carrie Bradshaw said, “If you can only have one great love, then the city just may be mine.” In my mind, love is supposed to teach you new lessons about yourself and how you interact with the world. New York has truly changed me in various ways and has opened my eyes to the world around me. I am challenged every day, which to me makes every day fulfilling. At 24 years-old, that is a pretty fantastic thing to be able to say.

New York, thank you for the most amazing year of my life. I can’t wait to see what the future has in store!