Even though the Steelers lost Sunday, almost devastatingly to the Bengals (who now have sole possession – and my soul possession- of the AFC North division) I found myself comforted, if only slightly. I love Steelers games because I get texts and phone calls from all over the country. You see, in high school me and my friends would gather in JN’s basement and watch the games. Now she is in college in Maryland…texts me during the games. Another friend from the basement is in Seattle…texts me during the games. My brother is in school in Austin, TX and texts me about Mike Tomlin’s outfits on Sundays.
It’s as though I have all these people, my closest friends and family right next to me, gathered around in the basement all over again. It’s probably a reason I love the Steelers…if only a small reason. And I wouldn’t doubt other Pittsburghers share this feeling. It’s like no matter how far away the people you love are, it endures.
I can’t wait for Thanksgiving. I haven’t seen my brothers and parents all in one place since January. And I’m finally at the point where I want to.
1 week.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Peru or bust
I was just at the Slovak Festival with my dad and found that I really enjoy spending time with him when neither of us have an objective. Honestly he’s the best dad I could ever have. He's thoughtful and loving and read me a bedtime story everyday of my childhood no matter how tired he was from work. He helps me grow a garden. He encouraged my education. He gets excited about every little acheivement I make, and even though he doesn't like sports, watches baseball games so that we will have something to talk about. I’m very thankful.
Clearly it was a bye week for the Steelers or else this would not have happened on a Sunday afternoon. I sat in the Cathedral of Learning listening to a lecture on Slovak genealogy and staring out the window at the fall leaves and I found myself finally seeing something. My grandparents and great-grandparents stepped on a ship, left everything they’ve ever known and sailed to a place they’ve never seen. And they had planned on staying there FOREVER. Never coming home. This was not unlike my own experience stepping on to a ship in Halifax, Nova Scotia to go to unknown lands. I now realized how much they sacrificed for me, because I know how scared and excited I was to step on the MV Explorer and I was returning to my home in three months. Wow. They must have been absolutely terrified.
Also, upon seeing so many Slovak Americans at the festival, I wondered about my own identity. People clearly see my last name and know it means I have Slovak blood in me. But what about my brother? He must be more confused than anyone. My older brother (by 10 months) is adopted from Peru. Clearly full Peruvian yet has an entirely Slovak last name. What must he think about this? And now that more and more families are adopting from foreign countries there is an entire generation of people growing into adulthood that have last names unlike their heritage. It is exactly like what happened with the slaves in southern states…and why we get black football players named Larry Fitzgerald.
If I am having problems with my identity what must he be thinking? Not even ever having met his biological mother? Or father? We know he had an older brother but that the family couldn’t afford to care for another. His bio-mother must think of him. I wonder if she thinks we did a good job. I think I am more curious than him at this point.
Since we are so close in age, my mother said that I spoke before him and asked her one day when I was 2ish why he was a different color from me. My brother had never asked.
Now we are 22 and 21 and come March we are both going down to Peru. I will speak Spanish for him (because he doesn’t know any) and we will try to find Los Ninos- the adoption agency. I think this is something we both need to do. Neither of us has ever been to Peru. It’s the Next Big Thing for me.
In March, we’ll both be 22 years old.
I wonder if anyone will mistake us for twins.
Clearly it was a bye week for the Steelers or else this would not have happened on a Sunday afternoon. I sat in the Cathedral of Learning listening to a lecture on Slovak genealogy and staring out the window at the fall leaves and I found myself finally seeing something. My grandparents and great-grandparents stepped on a ship, left everything they’ve ever known and sailed to a place they’ve never seen. And they had planned on staying there FOREVER. Never coming home. This was not unlike my own experience stepping on to a ship in Halifax, Nova Scotia to go to unknown lands. I now realized how much they sacrificed for me, because I know how scared and excited I was to step on the MV Explorer and I was returning to my home in three months. Wow. They must have been absolutely terrified.
Also, upon seeing so many Slovak Americans at the festival, I wondered about my own identity. People clearly see my last name and know it means I have Slovak blood in me. But what about my brother? He must be more confused than anyone. My older brother (by 10 months) is adopted from Peru. Clearly full Peruvian yet has an entirely Slovak last name. What must he think about this? And now that more and more families are adopting from foreign countries there is an entire generation of people growing into adulthood that have last names unlike their heritage. It is exactly like what happened with the slaves in southern states…and why we get black football players named Larry Fitzgerald.
If I am having problems with my identity what must he be thinking? Not even ever having met his biological mother? Or father? We know he had an older brother but that the family couldn’t afford to care for another. His bio-mother must think of him. I wonder if she thinks we did a good job. I think I am more curious than him at this point.
Since we are so close in age, my mother said that I spoke before him and asked her one day when I was 2ish why he was a different color from me. My brother had never asked.
Now we are 22 and 21 and come March we are both going down to Peru. I will speak Spanish for him (because he doesn’t know any) and we will try to find Los Ninos- the adoption agency. I think this is something we both need to do. Neither of us has ever been to Peru. It’s the Next Big Thing for me.
In March, we’ll both be 22 years old.
I wonder if anyone will mistake us for twins.
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