Blog 9

Three descriptions:

The sprinklers go on and starts to tick left to right, pushing the flowers back every time the water hits their limp bodies. Some tiny beads of water remain on their face and others slowly drip off. Waiting for another attack, the flowers are still for just those few seconds until they are shaken again.

The long stem Roses that stand in the garden have a certain arrogance about them. Their beauty is stronger than any flower and their smell overpowers any other as well. Deep down they know they are the showcase of the backyard.

The pigeons coo now and then, bobbing their heads as they walk back and forth waiting for their chance to explore. When they are let out, their ivory bodies fly into the sky, blending into the clearness of the day and into the white almost transparent clouds .

Blog #8

Nothing is better than sitting on a cushioned backyard swing, feeling the breeze on your face, slightly pumping your legs and feeling like a kid again on a swing and being able to truly enjoy nature. In this yard, to the left of this swing, is a tiny yellow shed that is connected to metal rods that have beautiful flowing grape vines wrapped around its arms. In front of the shed are tall stem roses of every color, that each encompasses its own beauty but together blend almost as individual paint colors do to create an exquisite portrait. Next to the shed is a quaint pigeon coop with small feathered creatures with pushed out fluffy chests and such small eyes that it sometimes leads me to wonder if through those minute eyes they can see the full beauty of where they live. Around the side of this shed is a cluster of such diverse flower families. I remember as a child going to every flower and having my grandmother tell me what each flower was. She told me how each flower has a meaning and each flower stands for a human emotion. The white lily means “it’s heavenly to be with you” and the yellow tulip means “there’s sunshine in your smile”. Through flowers my grandparents created a bond together and their own language. Whenever my grandfather wanted to truly show my grandmother how he felt he would bring home seeds to plant. Her favorite that she can remember is the stock flower which means “you'll always be beautiful to me”. I loved hearing these stories because it made nature seemed so very romantic.
Nature to me is swinging on the seat in the backyard of this quaint little home, smelling the flowers and watching the pigeons, that my grandpa sets loose, return back to their small home knowing that although they can fly anywhere they want, they have realized how beautiful their home, in this charming spot, really is.

Blog 7

My memoir is about how I felt when my grandmother died and how I take adantage of telling the grandparents that I still have how much they mean to me. My foocus is how important it is to tell the ones you love how much they mean to you on a daily basis and to treat everyday like Valentines day. While writing this story I certain of everything I wrote because it is the most vivid memory I have as a child. There is no alteration in anything from the smell of the house to making cookies, everything is exactly how I recalled and to make sure I called my mother who reconfirmed that day for me. The dialouge that I have in the beginning with my grandmother is the same conversation I have with her almost every week. There are no relevant details that I left out and the details that I added in the beginning of the story were meant to make the day seem beautiful so the readers can envision a Valentines Day morning. The tone I choose in the beginning is happy and peaceful and as I was writing the 2nd part I felt sad and also felt that it was insightful towards the end because I did learn something from that experience. My grandmother is my main focus and she was such an incredible woman, I probably didnt even idealize her enough. My motive was to get across how great she was and how special she was in my life.

Blog 6.5

Schwartz’s essay is about how to write a memoir that is based on truth events and drawing the line between a memoir and a fictional story. A good example of this is James Frey’s book. Even though Frey touches up events that he did experience, he exaggerates them which make them false. His story could have been a non fiction memoir but it is sadly a fictional story, one that I personally feel no one should spend time reading. I could understand if an author can not remember specific colors to things or outfits and if these changed aspects are not important to the story then I feel it is ok to stretch a little. Also, what I believe is ok to modify is the characters name so their identity is protected but anything else is unacceptable. It is not ok, however, to add characters and people that never existed, as Frey did in his book. All in all, I feel like what Frey did was wrong and I think he added all of those false experiences because he felt his life was too boring to be a good read.

Blog #6

Y Memoir Y

"Hello?"
"Hi Grandma, Its Erica"
"Oh hello Erica, how nice of you to call, how are you?"
"Im good grandma, I was just calling to let you know that I will stop over this weekend for lunch"
"Aw, that sounds great Erica, "

"Ok then I will see you friday. I love you grandma, and tell grandpa that I love him too"

"I will Erica, we love you too"

I know that I am privledged to have atleast 2 grandparents that are still apart of my life and after loosing my other 2 Ive learned to appreciate them more than ever. If Ive learned anything so far in life its that you should always remember to let the people that you love the most know every once in a while how important they are to you. I guess what I am trying to say is just treat every day as if it were Valentine's Day.

Its funny how there are those random things you remember from your childhood. Sometimes I cant even remember what I did last weekend but for some odd reason I can remember the burnt orange rug I sprawled out on at my great-grandmothers house when I would watch Barney and I remember going to the movie theatre for the very first time to see Beauty and the Beast, and how scared I was of that Beast. There is one memory in particular that will always be in my memory bank, vivid as ever.

It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm outside but especially beautiful because it was Valentines Day. I have loved Valentines Day since I was a little girl. . I loved the idea that it was a day to just say how much you loved everything. I would walk around to my dog Buffy and say, “Buffy, I love you” and then Id move on to my bear and say “Bella, I love you.” My mother and I made heart shaped cookies and the house smelt of fresh roses that my father gave my mother earlier that morning. We received small baskets with chocolates and a Valentines Day card and my sister and I presented our computer paper cards with crayon scribbles to our parents as well.

Around evening time, the phone rang and my mother answered it as she always did with this happy-go-lucky tone but then instead of hearing a loud and energetic tone I heard soft mumbles for awhile. My mother called me upstairs and sat me down on her bed, high enough that I had to really jump up to get on, and kneeled in front of me. She placed her hands on my legs and said “Erica, I am so sorry to tell you this but Grandma Irene passed away today. She’s gone”. I felt like I couldn’t swallow, the room seemed so small and I remember getting mad. I was so mad I pushed my mom away from me and ran to my room hysterical. When I got to my room I went right to my window and looked outside as I cried. Till this day whenever I get really upset and have to cry I go to my window and look outside. I don’t know why but for some reason it always comforts me.

My grandmother Irene was like a second mother to me. When my mother was pregnant with my little sister I stayed with my grandmother every day and after my mother gave birth she was horribly sick for 3 months after so those months I stayed with her as well. There was no place I would have rather been than at her house helping her clean and singing songs with her. She is the reason I am such a neat freak because she always took pride in what she had and took great care of it. She always knew how to make me smile and she would take me to the park whenever I went over and we would hold hands talking about everything and anything. The few months before she passed she was diagnosed with lung cancer and had to have a tube up her nose and had to carry around an oxygen tank. I hated that. It made me cry every time I saw it. When she went into the hospital I would make my mom take me everyday and I remember the time when I brought in nail polish and I painted her nails for her and I also painted the nails of the lady next to her, whose name was Mary.

At the wake I was horrible. I remember that room so vivid and as I saw her body I ran as fast as I could towards her and threw my body onto her. My mother and father had to pry me off and they decided that I had to be taken home and not be there anymore. I was screaming and crying and I remember not being able to go to the cemetery.

Looking back, I can still hear her Hungarian accent, accenting the C in Erica every time she called my name. I can still smell the peanut butter cookies we made and the smell of the pledge we used to clean all of her furniture. I remember her smell and how comforting her hugs were. I am 21 years old now and I have never touched a cigarette. I told myself I would never smoke because it was what killed my grandmother and it’s a promise to me that I will always keep for her. I look back on this and I could cry write now but I am also so happy that I was so upset for someone in my life because it meant that I was blessed with someone so special in my life. On Valentines Day I try to be happy but deep down it always brings me back to that day 14 years ago. I now see Valentines Day as not just a day to tell who and what you love the most that you love them but a day to embrace the things and people you once loved as well.

Blog #5

Overall, my essay is about how my mother has helped me through the worst time in my life so far and how I am able to help her as well. I dont think there is any better feeling that having my mother rely on me for support when all of these years I have been needing her. I love how our relationship has grown outside of the boundaries of just mother and daughter but more of a woman to woman friendship.

My audience would be around my age group, which is teenagers who are coming into adulthood. I think this story works for teens because most teens hope to oneday have a closer relationship with their parents when they get older. Hearing my story also sends the message that even though our parents are the older, wiser and stronger figures in our lives, they can also become just as weak as us.

My purpose is to show that I have suffered and gone through the worst time in my life and not only did I bounce back enough to be able to help someone else out but I did it with help. Many times teens shut their parents out of their lives but there is noone who loves you more in this life than your parents and that is something I have learned more than ever in the past year.

My format is segmented almost like a set of hills. I fall down then with help I rise up and then my mother falls down and I am trying to get her to the top with me. Overall, it is broken into four parts.

Blog #3

Brainstorming

Time I was most scared
The time I was the most scared in my entire life was when I was on my dock at my shore house leaning over the lagoon with a little net in my hand and I was trying to reach the small fish in the water. As I went to swoop up the fish I fell into the water. If you’re not familiar with lagoons, in the water lurks crabs and eels and turtles and everything that I thought was going to attack my little feet. I clung to the dock and when I tried to scream NOTHING came out! Finally the neighbor across the lagoon saw my head in the water and my little fingers clasping onto the wood and screamed to my mother who was NOT paying attention to me that I was in the water. I couldn’t speak for about an hour and I told my mom I hated her for not watching me.

Most important people in my life
My mother is the most important person in my life. She has gotten me through everything whether it was sicknesses, heartaches, disappointments, or failures she has always picked me up.

My grandfather is also a huge part of my life. He is the one person that I want to please all of the time. He always goes out of his way to make me smile and even though he doesn’t talk much he has his way of showing his love. I pride myself on being his favorite and even though he can’t admit it I know I am

My boyfriend is also so important to me. He is who unwinds me after a long stressful day and when I am with him nothing else really matters.

My best friend Christa is also important in my life. She is the one friend I know that would be there if I ever needed anything. I have known her since 3rd grade and I hope our friendship never ends.



A Place that is most important to me
My shore house is really important to me. I have grown up there every summer and it is the one place that brings all of our family together. When we are there, my cousins are jumping in the pool, I tan with my sister, my brother and his son are playing video games, my uncle is fishing off the dock, my mom is relaxing on the boat, my dad is playing cards in the den with my boyfriend, my grandfather is fixing something around the house and my grandmother is cooking. There’s nothing better than a beautiful summer’s day at a beautiful place, in a quiet peaceful neighborhood and in company of your family.

A Family Story
The one story my grandmother always tells about me is the time I split milk on her rug when I was 7 years old. My grandmother was furious and said “Erica, next time you do that I’m going to pull every hair out of your head”. It was a little extreme but her rule was no food in the living room, a rule I had broken many times before this event. That entire evening I didn’t say anything to my grandma because she scared me to the death but when my mother picked me up that evening, I walked to the front door to leave and I turned around and said to my grandma “ Grandma, did you really mean EVERY hair on my head?”. She loves loves LOVES this story. I cant tell you how many times she tells everyone.

My hopes
The best thing that could happen to me is that I can look back one day on my life and say that I was happy with the career I have chosen, and happy with the man that I choose to be my husband, and that I did everything I want to do and saw every place that I wanted to see. I don’t want to regret anything in life and I think accomplishing that would be a great feeling.