My whole life I have been searching…
I thought I found it once, but it was only naivety.
I thought I found it again, but it was a fallacy.
I thought I found it a third time, but I realized I had been searching for the wrong thing.
All I had been looking for was right there the whole time…
It has always been there, it has been right in front of me.
Now that this fact has come to light, I am ecstatic to begin again.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
The Storm
27 March 2007
The wind is blowing; the dead leaves and old paper cups of last fall are flying through the streets. The earth is renewing with an angry revenge. As she gives birth to the new blossoms, she in turn rejects all the old and dirty with a fierce disdain. Painful and necessary is the storm. She knows that there is no other way to cleanse her once fresh and beautiful surface, showing the exquisiteness within. The sky is getting darker and the raindrops are more often, chasing away the disgust... soon, soon enough there will be clear skies once again; there will be newness and delight, but for now, for today there must be anger, for there is no beauty without the knowledge of the beast. We must know hate to understand love. So parallel is my life to this very day. If only I could control the storm.
The wind is blowing; the dead leaves and old paper cups of last fall are flying through the streets. The earth is renewing with an angry revenge. As she gives birth to the new blossoms, she in turn rejects all the old and dirty with a fierce disdain. Painful and necessary is the storm. She knows that there is no other way to cleanse her once fresh and beautiful surface, showing the exquisiteness within. The sky is getting darker and the raindrops are more often, chasing away the disgust... soon, soon enough there will be clear skies once again; there will be newness and delight, but for now, for today there must be anger, for there is no beauty without the knowledge of the beast. We must know hate to understand love. So parallel is my life to this very day. If only I could control the storm.
Goodbye Grandma
22 November 2006
Today my Grandmother died.
Two days ago I got a call that she had only a day or two left to live. I was stunned.
She has been around all my 30 years of life. I suppose I thought she would live forever.
I immediately started suffocating from the long deep sobs coming from within me, my vision blurred and I shook fiercely.
I couldn’t speak, even as my children came to my side to see why I was crying, I could not answer their concerned pleas.
My eyes felt as if they would burst from the pressure and my heart was pounding so very heavily.
Five days before I had said to my husband, “I need to go to Seattle. I need to see my grandparents.” I had no reason for this thought, it was just there.
Now, it is too late. I did not get to see her to say goodbye. I will never see her again.
The last time I saw her it was November (Thanksgiving actually) of 1998. That was 8 years ago. The last thing she said to me is “You are beautiful, Bella Metta. All of you are beautiful. I am so lucky to have such a beautiful family.” She was holding my face in her tiny yet strong hand.
Her name was Angelina Mongelli – Ray. She was a beautiful Italian woman with a sweet spirit and always a positive outlook. She used to say “Don’t worry for nothing” In her classic Italian accent. She made the best ravioli you could ever taste. Her and my Grandfather used to go dancing every Saturday night, even after two hip replacements. She loved life so much. I will miss her terribly.
Now this is all I have, this blog which she will never see. I can not hug her one more time; I can not tell her how much she meant to me. All I have is this keyboard and a broken heart.
Good Bye Grandma.
I love you forever.
Today my Grandmother died.
Two days ago I got a call that she had only a day or two left to live. I was stunned.
She has been around all my 30 years of life. I suppose I thought she would live forever.
I immediately started suffocating from the long deep sobs coming from within me, my vision blurred and I shook fiercely.
I couldn’t speak, even as my children came to my side to see why I was crying, I could not answer their concerned pleas.
My eyes felt as if they would burst from the pressure and my heart was pounding so very heavily.
Five days before I had said to my husband, “I need to go to Seattle. I need to see my grandparents.” I had no reason for this thought, it was just there.
Now, it is too late. I did not get to see her to say goodbye. I will never see her again.
The last time I saw her it was November (Thanksgiving actually) of 1998. That was 8 years ago. The last thing she said to me is “You are beautiful, Bella Metta. All of you are beautiful. I am so lucky to have such a beautiful family.” She was holding my face in her tiny yet strong hand.
Her name was Angelina Mongelli – Ray. She was a beautiful Italian woman with a sweet spirit and always a positive outlook. She used to say “Don’t worry for nothing” In her classic Italian accent. She made the best ravioli you could ever taste. Her and my Grandfather used to go dancing every Saturday night, even after two hip replacements. She loved life so much. I will miss her terribly.
Now this is all I have, this blog which she will never see. I can not hug her one more time; I can not tell her how much she meant to me. All I have is this keyboard and a broken heart.
Good Bye Grandma.
I love you forever.
impression
Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t. Don’t judge people by their color. God, country, self: in that order. The Commander in Chief is always right. Never question the President of the United States of America. Don’t let anyone see your messy house; they will think you don’t respect yourself. Don’t ever be late. Don’t go out in public without makeup on and your hair done. Don’t lie. Always pray to thank God for your blessings. Don’t play with the neighbor kid. Obey your father, no matter what he says. Change your bed sheets every Saturday. Take a bath every day, even if it’s just a sponge bath. Always remove your shoes at a stranger’s house, and remember to wear clean and hemmed socks, incase of just that event. Always be home in the evening and on weekends as they are reserved for family time. No, you may not have friends over during that time, they are not family and are not welcome. Art is the core to your talent; you should paint, because I am good at it so therefore you must be good at it. This is how you act like you care about people. This is how you answer the phone even when you have just been screaming at your children. You are always obligated to your family, even if you don’t want to be. Never let anyone see your flaws. This is how you get people to do what you want them to do. Always eat all the food on your plate, but don’t get fat, like I know you will one day. Failure in anything is not an option. This is how you make marinara sauce, just like your grandmother. A pinch of salt, a little oregano, no... Not like that, oh just move, I’ll do it! Go to church every Sunday. Aren’t you coming? Not today, I have a headache. Don’t trust anyone to do things for you, always do it yourself. This is how babies are made. Sex is nothing to be ashamed of, but you are not to do it. No, you may not get on birth control, why? Are you sleeping with the whole neighborhood? Respect your husband, but only if he does what you tell him to do. A good man will send you on trips to Europe while he works to support you. Stand up straight. Are you putting on weight? Don’t cry it’s not that bad. You’re not going out in public like that? Wait, come back! I can’t believe you would disrespect me this way! Why don’t you want to be with your family?
Somebody
Metta Ray
21November2006
Somebody
21November2006
Somebody
An Analysis of the Lyrics of the song “Somebody” By Depeche Mode
Depeche Mode was formed in Basildon, England in 1980. They were considered to be an underground phenomenon due to their use of synthesizing rather than using typical instruments. Their fourth studio album Some Great Reward was released in 1984 and was considered to be a pivotal achievement for the band. The song Somebody was on that album of which Martin Gore is the songwriter and he sings lead vocals for the first time in the bands then four year career.
This song is about the emotional struggle of a forlorn man desperately seeking the love of his special someone. It deals with personal emotion at the deepest level and invokes feelings of despondency, veracity and passion.
The song begins with the sound of a thumping heart beat while you also hear car traffic and a train pass by in the background. “I want somebody to share, share the rest of my life” is the first line. From the atmosphere set by the opening tone you can feel the solitude that will be the scene for this gloomy song. By the sound you imagine it must be placed somewhere in an urban jungle. With the cold of concrete all around he yearns for anything alive, real, for the compassion of another human being. You can really feel the desperation of his lost and lonely soul.
Martin Gore has the voice of a pristine English angel. “Share my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details” His soft tenor voice is captivating as he says these words of inner desire. It is as if to say the body of another human being is not enough, he wants somebody to know everything about him. To understand what thoughts go through his head at the sight of a sunset, someone who knows every detail about him even his personal hygiene habits, or his housekeeping skills.
Slowly you begin to hear raindrops fall in the background while distant imagery of voices and the clanking of dishes mix into the hypnotic melody. It suggests that he is in a public place while having these desperate emotions. “Someone who’ll stand by my side and give me support, and in return she’ll get my support, she will listen to me when I want to speak about the world we live in and life in general” The lyrics push on in a steady stream of thoughts spilling as if they cannot, will not be stopped. “Though my views may be wrong, they may even be perverted, she’ll hear me out and won’t easily be converted to my way of thinking, in fact she’ll often disagree, but at the end of it all she will understand me” This line acknowledges the healthy imperfections that exist in any loving relationship. Knowing that your significant other is not perfect and that you disagree sometimes, but you love them enough to overlook and even embrace those differences.
The song breaks in to a powerfully moving piano interlude while the sound of the beating heart is strong and steady; the rain still falling with the occasional sound of thunder, the voices of passers by and children at play continue in the background. During the piano interlude there are deep breaths synthesized into the beat of the song, with the heartbeat as the center of it all. The way this piece can move you is an incredible sensation. I believe that the focus on the heartbeat implies singularity and the vivid life that searches for that connection of love. Even though he is alone he is still very much alive.
“I want somebody who cares for me passionately, with every thought and with every breath. Someone who’ll help me see things in a different light, all the things I detest I will almost like” I think this is something we all innately want. By using the natural needs of the human soul to define the desire being felt by the artist, I believe he is showing that he too is human and not immune to such emotions.
The next line is one that I find to be significant. “I don’t want to be tied to anyone’s strings; I’m carefully trying to steer clear of those things.” I find it to be significant for this reason: during the entire song he is focusing on the positive, and then suddenly, there is this line. Why is he mentioning this, why is he thinking this? I believe that it has to do with a sudden, though possibly subconscious, window into reality. He acknowledges that there are people who would control him; maybe he has even been controlled. He does not want to be someone’s puppet.
Gore returns to his romantic thinking, “And when I’m asleep, I want somebody who will put their arms around and kiss me tenderly” He wants to be thought of often, even while he sleeping; he needs someone that will hold and caress him. He desires affection.
The final lyrics are somewhat surprising, “And things like this make me sick, in a case like this I’ll get away with it” I think that what Gore is trying to say here is ‘I don’t go for all of this cheesy love song stuff, but in the medium of a song, I can get away with showing more private emotions’.
The song ends with his voice resonating ooohhhh, aaahhhh. There are still sounds of the infinite heartbeat and trains, cars, people fading and then there is the sound of a woman’s awwww. I think this is a lovely ending, it suggests that he found somebody.
A single rose, a perfect match,
My only someone,
My soul longs for you.
--Metta Ray
Somebody Lyrics:
I want somebody to shareShare the rest of my lifeShare my innermost thoughtsKnow my intimate detailsSomeone who'll stand by my sideAnd give me supportAnd in returnShe'll get my supportShe will listen to meWhen I want to speakAbout the world we live inAnd life in generalThough my views may be wrongThey may even be pervertedShe will hear me outAnd won't easily be convertedTo my way of thinkingIn fact she'll often disagreeBut at the end of it allShe will understand me I want somebody who caresFor me passionatelyWith every thought and with every breathSomeone who'll help me see thingsIn a different lightAll the things I detestI will almost likeI don't want to be tiedTo anyone's stingsI'm carefully trying to steer clearOf those thingsBut when I'm asleepI want somebodyWho will put their arms aroundAnd kiss me tenderlyAnd things like thisMake me sickIn a case like thisI'll get away with it.
Works Cited
Depeche Mode. Somebody. October 29,1984. Mute Records.
Depeche Mode. Somebody. October 29, 1984. Vinyl, 1984. CD, 1991.
Lamb, Bill. “Depeche Mode.” The New York Times Company.
Gore, Martin. 6 Nov, 2006. Wikipedia. 8 Nov, 2006.
Depeche Mode was formed in Basildon, England in 1980. They were considered to be an underground phenomenon due to their use of synthesizing rather than using typical instruments. Their fourth studio album Some Great Reward was released in 1984 and was considered to be a pivotal achievement for the band. The song Somebody was on that album of which Martin Gore is the songwriter and he sings lead vocals for the first time in the bands then four year career.
This song is about the emotional struggle of a forlorn man desperately seeking the love of his special someone. It deals with personal emotion at the deepest level and invokes feelings of despondency, veracity and passion.
The song begins with the sound of a thumping heart beat while you also hear car traffic and a train pass by in the background. “I want somebody to share, share the rest of my life” is the first line. From the atmosphere set by the opening tone you can feel the solitude that will be the scene for this gloomy song. By the sound you imagine it must be placed somewhere in an urban jungle. With the cold of concrete all around he yearns for anything alive, real, for the compassion of another human being. You can really feel the desperation of his lost and lonely soul.
Martin Gore has the voice of a pristine English angel. “Share my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details” His soft tenor voice is captivating as he says these words of inner desire. It is as if to say the body of another human being is not enough, he wants somebody to know everything about him. To understand what thoughts go through his head at the sight of a sunset, someone who knows every detail about him even his personal hygiene habits, or his housekeeping skills.
Slowly you begin to hear raindrops fall in the background while distant imagery of voices and the clanking of dishes mix into the hypnotic melody. It suggests that he is in a public place while having these desperate emotions. “Someone who’ll stand by my side and give me support, and in return she’ll get my support, she will listen to me when I want to speak about the world we live in and life in general” The lyrics push on in a steady stream of thoughts spilling as if they cannot, will not be stopped. “Though my views may be wrong, they may even be perverted, she’ll hear me out and won’t easily be converted to my way of thinking, in fact she’ll often disagree, but at the end of it all she will understand me” This line acknowledges the healthy imperfections that exist in any loving relationship. Knowing that your significant other is not perfect and that you disagree sometimes, but you love them enough to overlook and even embrace those differences.
The song breaks in to a powerfully moving piano interlude while the sound of the beating heart is strong and steady; the rain still falling with the occasional sound of thunder, the voices of passers by and children at play continue in the background. During the piano interlude there are deep breaths synthesized into the beat of the song, with the heartbeat as the center of it all. The way this piece can move you is an incredible sensation. I believe that the focus on the heartbeat implies singularity and the vivid life that searches for that connection of love. Even though he is alone he is still very much alive.
“I want somebody who cares for me passionately, with every thought and with every breath. Someone who’ll help me see things in a different light, all the things I detest I will almost like” I think this is something we all innately want. By using the natural needs of the human soul to define the desire being felt by the artist, I believe he is showing that he too is human and not immune to such emotions.
The next line is one that I find to be significant. “I don’t want to be tied to anyone’s strings; I’m carefully trying to steer clear of those things.” I find it to be significant for this reason: during the entire song he is focusing on the positive, and then suddenly, there is this line. Why is he mentioning this, why is he thinking this? I believe that it has to do with a sudden, though possibly subconscious, window into reality. He acknowledges that there are people who would control him; maybe he has even been controlled. He does not want to be someone’s puppet.
Gore returns to his romantic thinking, “And when I’m asleep, I want somebody who will put their arms around and kiss me tenderly” He wants to be thought of often, even while he sleeping; he needs someone that will hold and caress him. He desires affection.
The final lyrics are somewhat surprising, “And things like this make me sick, in a case like this I’ll get away with it” I think that what Gore is trying to say here is ‘I don’t go for all of this cheesy love song stuff, but in the medium of a song, I can get away with showing more private emotions’.
The song ends with his voice resonating ooohhhh, aaahhhh. There are still sounds of the infinite heartbeat and trains, cars, people fading and then there is the sound of a woman’s awwww. I think this is a lovely ending, it suggests that he found somebody.
A single rose, a perfect match,
My only someone,
My soul longs for you.
--Metta Ray
Somebody Lyrics:
I want somebody to shareShare the rest of my lifeShare my innermost thoughtsKnow my intimate detailsSomeone who'll stand by my sideAnd give me supportAnd in returnShe'll get my supportShe will listen to meWhen I want to speakAbout the world we live inAnd life in generalThough my views may be wrongThey may even be pervertedShe will hear me outAnd won't easily be convertedTo my way of thinkingIn fact she'll often disagreeBut at the end of it allShe will understand me I want somebody who caresFor me passionatelyWith every thought and with every breathSomeone who'll help me see thingsIn a different lightAll the things I detestI will almost likeI don't want to be tiedTo anyone's stingsI'm carefully trying to steer clearOf those thingsBut when I'm asleepI want somebodyWho will put their arms aroundAnd kiss me tenderlyAnd things like thisMake me sickIn a case like thisI'll get away with it.
Works Cited
Depeche Mode. Somebody. October 29,1984. Mute Records.
Depeche Mode. Somebody. October 29, 1984. Vinyl, 1984. CD, 1991.
Lamb, Bill. “Depeche Mode.” The New York Times Company.
Gore, Martin. 6 Nov, 2006. Wikipedia. 8 Nov, 2006.
The Other Side
Metta Ray
October 3, 2006
The Other Side
The sky was grey and dreary. A cold drizzle fell outside. The pitter-patter on the car roof was hypnotizing. The sound had taken me off to some happy fantasy land of candy canes and Christmas presents. What will I get? I hope it’s the Cabbage Patch Kid® I’ve been begging for. Mom says they’re really hard to get here. I’ll be the only girl at my school with one!
BAM BAM BAM! I was awaken from my daydream by a jolting knock on the car window next to my right ear.
“Hold up your passport!” Mom snapped.
“PASS-a-PORT!” The guard hollered through the glass and rain in a broken German accent as he motioned his fist in a twirling manner.
My heart pounding and my hands trembling, I cautiously rolled the window down about five inches and held my passport up into the rain. I could feel the chilling air and icy raindrops on my hand and face. Mixed with the tension of the moment, my whole body shivered.
His frosted blue eyes carefully scanned my passport as I wondered why he didn’t just take it. Why do I have to hold it? My arm is tired. He is really scary. The rain is too cold. Is he going to hurt us?
The guard quickly took a step back and it startled me. He abruptly pointed towards the gate and said “For-ward!” in his once again broken accent, as if the only two English words he knew were passport and forward.
As we moved through the 20’ tall steel gate adorned with razor wire and guarded by soldiers my heart was still pounding.
“Mom,” I choked, “What just happened?”
“We went through the checkpoint honey.” She replied.
“Why didn’t the guy just take my passport? Why did I have to hold it the whole time? My arm is wet and my fingers are frozen!” I complained.
“They are not allowed to touch your passport.”
“Why?” I whined.
“In East Berlin freedom is something everyone wants and no one has, even some of the guards. Your passport allows you that freedom, the freedom to come and go.” She told me, ignoring my whining. “You are the daughter of a United States Air Force Master Sergeant. You have the freedom of any American.”
“Oh.” was all I could say as I still processed my mother’s explanation.
As we drove into the city to do some shopping, we observed old style European cobblestone streets and a public square. It was a circular area with streets stemming out from it in all different directions. There were ordinary people talking in front of the café, children playing in the square, patrons visiting shops; as if there were no gate at all.
“Only certain people in East Berlin are allowed to come to the shopping plaza.” Mom explained. “The ones you see here have been approved by their government as ‘citizens who will behave’. The government here doesn’t want us to know that their general population is unhappy. They are not allowed outside of that wall and that makes them unhappy.” Mom said, pointing back at the wall we had traveled through.
“But they look happy.” I said, not having looked too closely.
After a long pause of deep thought and observation (the way only a 9 year old can think and observe.) I asked, “So…They’re faking?”
“Yes. They ‘fake’ to have the privilege to go shopping. ” My mother said in a sarcastic yet serious tone.
Suddenly all of the color was sucked from my surroundings. The paint on the shops faded to various shades of grey, the clothing on the people turned to browns and grays and blacks. Even the skin of the people seemed to turn dull and colorless.
For the first time since our arrival, I looked closely at their faces. Their eyes were tired and hopeless, even the children and teenagers had the look of despair in their eyes. The children playing in the streets seemed to only be going through the motions. There was not laughter, no music, no cheering, and no color. There was nothing.
As I walked across the rain soaked cobblestone with my mother and the new baby doll stroller she had purchased for me, I noticed a girl the same age as me watching wantonly after my new toy.
She had shoulder length blonde hair and a knee length coat with four large buttons on the front. She was standing next to her mother who was sitting on a bench reading; the woman looked old enough to be her grandmother. The girls’ eyes looked me up and down as I walked by, taking in every inch of me. As if she had never seen another child before. She began tugging on her mothers’ sleeve as we passed.
“Bitte, Mama?” She pleaded as her mother hushed her punishingly.
Her eyes immediately hit the pavement in shame, but she raised them once more to get one more look at me, the ‘privileged child’.
Back in the car I sat quietly with my head hanging. I could feel the lump rising in my throat, choking me, and the tears swelling in my eyes. What a selfish child I am, I don’t even want this stupid stroller anymore. What if I was that girl? What if I was stuck on the other side?
My mother’s soft hand touched my leg lovingly.
“Metta,” She said in a whisper “you don’t have to feel bad about who you are. It’s not your fault that that little girl doesn’t have what you have, that she has to stay in East Berlin.”
With the lump finally breaking free from my throat in one loud outburst of sobs I cried “But she has nothing and I have everything!”
My mother smiled knowingly “That’s why we sing ‘God Bless America’. Be thankful for your freedom and always be mindful of the sacrifice it takes to maintain that freedom.”
Christmas day came and I got my Cabbage Patch Kid®. It was homemade, but I didn’t care. I didn’t put that doll down all day, except when I put her in my stroller that was made by a doll maker in East Berlin.
It was 1989 when the Berlin Wall was finally destroyed by the very people it had contained. East Berlin was free from communism.
When I heard the news my first and only thought was of the little girl in the streets of East Berlin on that cold and rainy day who now had her own chance at freedom. She got to go to the other side.
October 3, 2006
The Other Side
The sky was grey and dreary. A cold drizzle fell outside. The pitter-patter on the car roof was hypnotizing. The sound had taken me off to some happy fantasy land of candy canes and Christmas presents. What will I get? I hope it’s the Cabbage Patch Kid® I’ve been begging for. Mom says they’re really hard to get here. I’ll be the only girl at my school with one!
BAM BAM BAM! I was awaken from my daydream by a jolting knock on the car window next to my right ear.
“Hold up your passport!” Mom snapped.
“PASS-a-PORT!” The guard hollered through the glass and rain in a broken German accent as he motioned his fist in a twirling manner.
My heart pounding and my hands trembling, I cautiously rolled the window down about five inches and held my passport up into the rain. I could feel the chilling air and icy raindrops on my hand and face. Mixed with the tension of the moment, my whole body shivered.
His frosted blue eyes carefully scanned my passport as I wondered why he didn’t just take it. Why do I have to hold it? My arm is tired. He is really scary. The rain is too cold. Is he going to hurt us?
The guard quickly took a step back and it startled me. He abruptly pointed towards the gate and said “For-ward!” in his once again broken accent, as if the only two English words he knew were passport and forward.
As we moved through the 20’ tall steel gate adorned with razor wire and guarded by soldiers my heart was still pounding.
“Mom,” I choked, “What just happened?”
“We went through the checkpoint honey.” She replied.
“Why didn’t the guy just take my passport? Why did I have to hold it the whole time? My arm is wet and my fingers are frozen!” I complained.
“They are not allowed to touch your passport.”
“Why?” I whined.
“In East Berlin freedom is something everyone wants and no one has, even some of the guards. Your passport allows you that freedom, the freedom to come and go.” She told me, ignoring my whining. “You are the daughter of a United States Air Force Master Sergeant. You have the freedom of any American.”
“Oh.” was all I could say as I still processed my mother’s explanation.
As we drove into the city to do some shopping, we observed old style European cobblestone streets and a public square. It was a circular area with streets stemming out from it in all different directions. There were ordinary people talking in front of the café, children playing in the square, patrons visiting shops; as if there were no gate at all.
“Only certain people in East Berlin are allowed to come to the shopping plaza.” Mom explained. “The ones you see here have been approved by their government as ‘citizens who will behave’. The government here doesn’t want us to know that their general population is unhappy. They are not allowed outside of that wall and that makes them unhappy.” Mom said, pointing back at the wall we had traveled through.
“But they look happy.” I said, not having looked too closely.
After a long pause of deep thought and observation (the way only a 9 year old can think and observe.) I asked, “So…They’re faking?”
“Yes. They ‘fake’ to have the privilege to go shopping. ” My mother said in a sarcastic yet serious tone.
Suddenly all of the color was sucked from my surroundings. The paint on the shops faded to various shades of grey, the clothing on the people turned to browns and grays and blacks. Even the skin of the people seemed to turn dull and colorless.
For the first time since our arrival, I looked closely at their faces. Their eyes were tired and hopeless, even the children and teenagers had the look of despair in their eyes. The children playing in the streets seemed to only be going through the motions. There was not laughter, no music, no cheering, and no color. There was nothing.
As I walked across the rain soaked cobblestone with my mother and the new baby doll stroller she had purchased for me, I noticed a girl the same age as me watching wantonly after my new toy.
She had shoulder length blonde hair and a knee length coat with four large buttons on the front. She was standing next to her mother who was sitting on a bench reading; the woman looked old enough to be her grandmother. The girls’ eyes looked me up and down as I walked by, taking in every inch of me. As if she had never seen another child before. She began tugging on her mothers’ sleeve as we passed.
“Bitte, Mama?” She pleaded as her mother hushed her punishingly.
Her eyes immediately hit the pavement in shame, but she raised them once more to get one more look at me, the ‘privileged child’.
Back in the car I sat quietly with my head hanging. I could feel the lump rising in my throat, choking me, and the tears swelling in my eyes. What a selfish child I am, I don’t even want this stupid stroller anymore. What if I was that girl? What if I was stuck on the other side?
My mother’s soft hand touched my leg lovingly.
“Metta,” She said in a whisper “you don’t have to feel bad about who you are. It’s not your fault that that little girl doesn’t have what you have, that she has to stay in East Berlin.”
With the lump finally breaking free from my throat in one loud outburst of sobs I cried “But she has nothing and I have everything!”
My mother smiled knowingly “That’s why we sing ‘God Bless America’. Be thankful for your freedom and always be mindful of the sacrifice it takes to maintain that freedom.”
Christmas day came and I got my Cabbage Patch Kid®. It was homemade, but I didn’t care. I didn’t put that doll down all day, except when I put her in my stroller that was made by a doll maker in East Berlin.
It was 1989 when the Berlin Wall was finally destroyed by the very people it had contained. East Berlin was free from communism.
When I heard the news my first and only thought was of the little girl in the streets of East Berlin on that cold and rainy day who now had her own chance at freedom. She got to go to the other side.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Mettaphysica
Metaphysica :The philosophical study of the ulitmate causes and underlying nature of things --from Aristotle's treatise on the subject --here with a double T twist:)
My name is Metta Ray.
I am an amateur writer, with lots to say (sometimes about nothing at all)
I have named my blog after a great philosopher's works, Aritstotle. (Not that I am comparing my random thoughts to his great discoveries, but that I strive to be a great thinker myself.)
Thank you for joining me on this blogger journey... your comments are welcome and appreciated.
My name is Metta Ray.
I am an amateur writer, with lots to say (sometimes about nothing at all)
I have named my blog after a great philosopher's works, Aritstotle. (Not that I am comparing my random thoughts to his great discoveries, but that I strive to be a great thinker myself.)
Thank you for joining me on this blogger journey... your comments are welcome and appreciated.
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