Cover TOSSOL Fall 2013

! ! ! ! Telling Our Stories, Sharing Our! Lives. ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! A COLLECTION OF STUDENT WRITING BROOKLYN COLLEGE ▸ FALL 2013 ! "2 Acknowledgments. ! ! We are grateful for the support of: Karen L. Gould PRESIDENT William Tramontano PROVOST Terrence Cheng ASSOCIATE PROVOST FOR ACADEMIC PROGRAMS Ellen Tremper CHAIR, ENGLISH DEPARTMENT Janet Moser DIRECTOR OF FRESHMAN COMPOSITION Heidi Diehl PROGRAM ADMINISTRATOR, FRESHMAN COMPOSITION ! ▸ ! ANTHOLOGY COMMITTEE Norman Brannon, Heidi Diehl, Carl Schlachte ! FALL 2013 ENGLISH 1010 INSTRUCTORS Shaun Adams, Stephanie Adams, Moustafa Bayoumi, Lynn Beckenstein, Lauren Belski, Eliza Bent, Elisa Boyton, Christine Costello, Erin Courtney, Heidi Diehl, Spencer Everett, Tim Griffiths, Chris Kiehne, Judson Merrill, Melina Moore, Kate Naito, Farid Nassif, Bradley Nelson, Ryan Schaefer, Carl Schlachte, Kate Simonian, Helen Terndrup, !Albena Lutzkanova-Vassileva The Staff at Printworks And, most especially, Junot Díaz ORIGINAL COVER IMAGE “Alien Planet” by Ed Emshwiller "3 Contents. ! ! ! ! ! Preface 6 ! ! 01 TRANSFORM Michelle Cherian, “Family Reunion in the Hospital” 8 Meroua Zouai, “Colonial Blaze” 11 Justine Del Grosso, “There’s No Place Like 127.0.01” 15 Alena Kats, “My Mother’s Cancer” 19 Rochel Karp, “My Shared Day” 23 Nicole Turturro, “Preparation” 26 Daniel Drabkin, “My Brother’s Face” 29 Cody Hom, “Diagnosed With Puberty” 33 ! ! 02 TRANSFER Farjana Rashid, “Deception” 38 Keeonah Alexander, “On Sight” 41 Carolina Guarrella, “My Slice of Heaven” 44 Shannon Mondesir, “Growing Up Haitian” 48 Haleem Alkasimi, “Inner Hope” 51 Lauren Tennant, “Identity Mad” 55 Momna Ahmed, “I’m Human” 58 Samantha Selina Deo, “Anupia’s Call” 62 Deborah Dweck, “Never As It Seems” 67 "4 ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! 03 TRANSLATE Rosie Goldberger, “La Oración” 72 Nora D. Schreiber, “La Isla de Las Brujas” 75 Jensine C. Wharton, “Paradigm Citizens: Your Standards or Mine?” 78 Natalie Mendo, “The Familial Trait” 81 Cheryl Lim, “Yao Gui Yi Dien” 84 Komal Shaheen, “Identity and Nationality” 87 ! ! 04 TRANSPORT Katherine Kelly, “Purple” 92 Christopher McIllhatton, “A Rover’s Place to Call Home” 96 Alina Intisar, “The Savior” 99 Akilah Etienne, “At Home in Two Places” 102 Carolina Telleria, “Generational Lessons” 105 Madina Khidoyatova, “The Forbidden Fruit” 108 Somer Saleh, “My Uncle’s Five Minutes of Fame” 112 Cassidy Peek, Poetry 116 "5 Preface. ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! BROOKLYN COLLEGE STUDENTS OF THE CLASS of 2017 began their college experience through the freshman common reading of Junot Díaz’s The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. Once classes began, students discussed Díaz’s novel, wrote their own stories, and attended a lecture and reading by Díaz when he visited Brooklyn College in October 2013. We call this collection of student memoirs Telling Our Stories, Sharing Our Lives. "6 ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! 01 Transform. ! It’s never the changes we want that change everything.” (Díaz 51) "7 Family Reunion in the Hospital by MICHELLE CHERIAN ! ! ! ! THERE IS NOTHING LIKE A TRAGEDY to walls of my throat to detach from each glue the broken pieces of a family back other, so I could actually speak. together. “Why is he in the hospital?” “Appacha is in the hospital.” “No one said anything.” Mom “What?” frantically starts getting her bag to leave. “Raju Uncle just called Joy Uncle Tina Chechi shouts that she’s and told him.” coming. Oh, no. But Raju Uncle and Joy Uncle Tears fill my eyes. I look up to the haven’t spoken in seven years. light, in hopes of not making them spill. My grandfather is in the hospital. I start to think of Michael instead. He took care of me. I remember the times My sixteen-year-old autistic brother is not when he used to sit on the porch with a going to sit in the hospital. I don’t really cigarette edged between his fingers. He care. I don’t care if we have to bring him blew the smoke into the sunset. I would and he’ll disturb everyone with his verbal be sitting inside watching him, but he stimming. I need to make sure that would often catch me in the corner of his Appacha is okay. eye and motion me to come. I would crawl The memory of the sunsets we onto his lap, rest my head on his chest and used to watch together fades. The soft watch the changing hues of the sky pink hues melt away into oblivion. What through the hazy smoke. am I going to do? What am I going to do? It is then I feel it: the deep gnawing “I’ll watch Michael.” in my throat when I try really hard not to “Are you sure, Michelle?” Tina cry. I am paralyzed. I fight it, forcing the Chechi says. "8 “Michael isn’t going to sit in a us dance around her room. She was the hospital, Tina Chechi! You know that. I only older kid we felt we could giggle have school tomorrow, too. Just call me about boys with. She taught us how to when you get there and tell me what comb our hair so it wouldn’t poof up into happened.” an afro. You know, all of the important I run to the bathroom and forget to things our parents couldn’t teach us. close the door. I stuff my face into the We haven’t seen each other in so towel and sob uncontrollably. I keep on long that we cannot remember the minute hearing this ugly sound, as if a soul is details that caused the cracks in our family being ripped out of the comforts of its that ultimately split us apart. The cousins host. I realize the noise is me. Big fat tears have been divided for seven years because run down my face and remind me of the of the stupid bickering of our parents over times when everyone used to laugh at me how to distribute the family land in India for being a crybaby. I do not care. It hurts and simple miscommunications fabricated too much to pretend to be okay. into insults against one another. I actually go to visit Appacha a “Hi, guys! It’s been so long! How week later. He is fine, for the most part. are you?” Beryl Chechi says like this is They just started him on dialysis. Tara, normal, like our parents haven’t been in a Mom, and I walk into the hospital room battle that might go down in history as with mouths gapping open. World War III. Appacha lies in his hospital bed, “Hi, Beryl Chechi! We’re good! slowly reviving. He lost a lot of weight. How are you?” I mumble cheerfully. His powerful voice lowered to a barely I see myself hugging her from audible whisper. Yet, seeing the rise and above. It’s too foreign to ever experience it fall of his chest was enough to allow me to in the flesh. let out the breath that I’ve been holding in We hold flimsy conversations about since I heard the news. how old we are now and how different we Our relief is not the reason why we all look. Beryl Chechi keeps on awkwardly stand with our eyes wide. It is the fact that checking her phone. Tara and I keep on the person fluffing Appacha’s pillow isn’t a giving each other glances, communicating nurse, but Beryl Chechi. To say that she is our discomfort. our cousin would be an understatement. Yet, in the discomfort, seeds of joy She was the one who put on music and let germinate. How long has it been since "9 we’ve seen the faces of the “other side?” became so handsome. Beryl Chechi will Tara and I never admitted it to anyone always stay the same loud, confident girl, else, but we often relished in the memories no matter what. of our childhood when we were all In the midst of all of our talking together, acting more like siblings than and our hugs, I swear I could see the cousins. We discuss the way we used to biggest smile on Appacha’s face. The play dress up with Christie, video games unimaginable happened: we were finally with the boys, or Kathy’s toy karaoke set. together again. Maybe misery enjoys We think of swimming in Tina Chechi’s company, or maybe sometimes, we need a pool and having massive diving contests, little nudge to show us that foolish always boys against girls. No one really arguments shouldn’t be able to break won, so much as talked smack about the apart a family. Either way, in my seventeen other team. Yet, in the countless insults we years of life, I had never seen him so spewed at each other, there was always happy. love. Our parents reckless fighting tore us apart from each other. We thought we would never be able have family parties again where we would play Uno and constantly poke fun at each other. “Hello, everyone!” We turned around for the next surprise. Everyone piled into the hospital room, packed like sardines. Christie, Mercy Aunty, Raju Uncle, Kathy, Brian, Kevin, Cyril, Amma, Anthony, Jude, Benny Achachin, and Tina Chechi all crammed inside. All of our family wasn’t even present, but we still felt like all of India stuffed into a small hospital room. Appacha was wrapped up in tubes, but he watched on as we all hugged each other, laughing at how much we changed. Kathy got so tall. Tara got so girly. Cyril "10 Colonial Blaze ! by MEROUA ZOUAI ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! THE SKY IS A RADIANT BLUE deep as the destroying this place. But the tables are rich Mediterranean waves. The sun rays turning against the Algerian civilians. emerge from the endless sky, shining over “Allons-y! Allons-y! Les Francais sont the rigid rocky mountain tops.

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