What you stole

Sometime yesterday afternoon, you and at least one other friend broke into my house and stole my stuff. You pawed through my clothing, you smoked in my house. You violated my security and you left your tire iron on my bed.

You stole my pearl earrings and necklace that my grandparents had given me. But you cannot steal the memories of being at Epcot Center with them and the joy of watching the guy open up the oyster I had picked and finding not one, but two pearls in it.  Even my grandfather was overjoyed with my luck that day and we had them made into earrings with gold backings.  I wore them and the necklace they gave me at my graduations, at weddings, and at my grandfather’s funeral as a tribute to him.

You stole the necklace my father brought back from Saudi Arabia.  But you cannot steal the feelings of happiness when he would finally come back from setting up the computer system for his client or the anger and annoyance that went with it.  Not entirely happy memories, but they made us a stronger family.

You stole my celtic knot…perhaps my most favorite necklace. It isn’t worth anything on the street, especially in a neighborhood with no Irish. However, you cannot steal the fun that I had out at Hammond Castle, Connecticut, Carver, or Salem dressed up as a “Renaissance” woman being teased by actors and men who believe in chivalry or the memories of delivering cookies or taking pictures from the front lines.

You took my baby locket, my confirmation cross, my grandmother’s jewelry.

You took my feeling of security in my own home.

You ruined my door and the wall I had just painted.

You took my stash of Canadian money.

You, however, did not hurt anyone who lives in the house.

You did not burn down my house with your disgusting cigarette left burning in the rug.

You did not take my great grandmother’s charm bracelet, the only thing I have of hers.

You did not take one of my best gifts ever…the one that my niece picked out for me on her own, and with her own money. The one that I will be wearing this Christmas as it is the about the only jewelry that I have left.
I doubt you are long for this life…but I hope before you die, we get to have some news that you have been arrested or are already in prison and off the streets. I can honestly say that you are one of the few people that I hate.

10 years

Seems like 10 years shouldn’t fly by the way this last decade has, but if you blinked you probably missed a lot.

10 years ago I was in college getting ready to go to my winter formal. My parents had come down to help with my hair and take pictures and sent me and my boyfriend on our merry way. The dance was awesome, I was involved with Campus Activities and had a lot of friends at the dance with me.

The only annoying part of the dance was the ride home…it took us almost an hour to drive what should have been a 20 minute ride. By the time we woke up the next day, we learned about the tragedy that started on December 3rd of 1999 at 6:13 PM. We all agreed it was stupid to keep sending in teams to find the previous two that had dissapeared, but what else where they supposed to do? Those were their buddies in there and they wanted them out. By the time the fire was out, 6 men had vanished into the warehouse and it would take days to find them all.

Our city was shut down for the funeral…it was spooky to see 290 with no cars on it whatsoever. Reporters quickly learned how to pronounce Worcester and firemen from all over the world came to pay their respects.  The flag on our campus was at half staff 2 weeks for each man. 12 weeks is too long a time to have the flags at mourning level.

Good things came out of the fire, however. A sense of community and support for the firefighters; a call for greater attention paid to homeless people in the winter; and a new firehouse on the site of the tragedy.