It’s never just a story. It’s the way the words are laid across the page. The volume and pace at which the words leave a senior’s lips. The moments when the lips purse in thought, or in mischief. All the details that flood back too fast to get back onto paper. The people who are at the table around you when you share your story. Or the person sitting right next to you. When Aileen, whom my senior buds and I all call “Mommy” in class, read this story out loud, Gloria whom we all call “Daughter”, was sitting next to her, beaming. Daughter has always accompanied Mommy to class ever since they first joined. Daughter loves Mommy, and Mommy loves Daughter. So much. A story is everything that is on paper, and everything that is not. This may not read like a story about love. But it most definitely is.
Aileen Jefferson 8.9.2012 10 Year Old Breaks Record
And that’s exactly true. Are you interested? “Mother I want to learn how to swim.” “You have the rest of your life dear” “Mother, I want to learn how to swim, now!” And before I knew it, not the swimming teacher, but her father had accomplished the job. The next day at the swimming pool as I yelled, “Stay out of the deep end!” my daughter continued swimming across the entire pool. I was startled. I held my breath. She did the impossible, not only across the pool, but the deep end of the pool. What happened next, I don’t know. I fainted.
Rose has the kind of voice that calms a room - when she speaks or reads, her voice is both carefree and sensitive. Whenever there is a new senior joining our class, my senior buds and I would tell him or her to just sit back and relax – no need to write if he or she isn’t in the mood yet. Rose nodded when we told her, smiled, and immediately began writing. Tiny pieces of her life glided like tiny dancers right across the page, as though the page is where she has always belonged.
Rosires Raff
8.9.2012
Twice American
I used to say that I’m “Twice American”—South (Brazil) and North America.
1971—arrived in New York (Newark, South Orange, North Orange). Loved every minute and everybody.
Moved to Philadelphia in 1995.
Presently I’m a widow.
I like poems, and also write some.
I have written an interesting story about myself, and many interesting events. I’d like to find an expert person to help me with it, perhaps it will become a book or a movie.
Hey! Are you a high school student, parent or teacher? Or know someone who is?
Good news - we've made it easier than ever for teens to comment on our seniors' stories. 5 easy steps. That's it! Selected teens and high schools will be featured in upcoming blog posts.
So teens - pop open the Comment tab and try it out. Get out in writing anything that pops into your mind.
And get creative on how you'd like to share our flier: Facebook,
Twitter, Pinterest, texts, ... maybe even print out some hard
copies and pin them up at a local hangout or on your school's bulletin board.
Thank you for submitting a comment and telling your friends! Here is a look at what some other teens have said, and what your words mean to our seniors and all of us:
At an all-ages public event co-hosted by AARP, Free Library of Philadelphia, and Best Day, 17-year-old Olivia shared that Joe's story gave her a new appreciation for the visually impaired: "I discovered that I was the one who couldn’t see after I was enlightened by their insight." Click to hear the voices of this dynamic duo.
In a story entitled "Pre-Judgment" Norman confesses that before participating in our storytelling class, he was "leery of young people." Hearing the stories of his peers in person and seeing younger readers' responses to these stories online caused his change of heart. Click to hear Norman's candid confession.
Click to hear 16-year-old Madi talk about her participation in our program, and how Loretta's stories about homelessness has impacted her schoolwork and life. Madi first joined our class as a visitor, then became a regular attendee, and soon became a core intern and volunteer leading various aspects of the program both in person and behind the scenes.
In response to one of our seniors' reflections on “People and Color”, 18-year-old Diamond writes, simply and boldly, “It doesn’t matter.” What power in 3 small words.
By Diamond Smith, 18 April 18, 2012 It Doesn’t Matter In response to “People and Color” by Robert Mitchell, Senior
I don’t think that it should matter what color you are. I think that, at the end of the day, we are all human. My body is no different than the next person’s.
Diamond is in 11th grade at St. Mary’s Villa, and an Achieving Independence Center youth member. Her coach is Nicole Sonsini. Click Here to re-read the story that inspired Diamond to write her response.
Ever since our first summer in existence, our youth have consistently inspired us with the depth of their thinking. We are moved by the physical voices of those who visit our seniors in class, and the virtual voices of those who send us their responses to our seniors’ stories via email and Facebook.
Our new Teen Outreach Manager Jul and I agree that these responses are too powerful to not to share, so I would like to dedicate a series of blog posts to our youth. I would love to hear what you think and if you would like to see more blog posts like this. OR, IF YOU ARE A TEEN (yay!!), pick a story from our blog and send us your response to be considered for an upcoming blog post – I would be thrilled to hear from you. Chat with me via Facebook or email me at benita@bestdayofmylifesofar.org.
Here to kick off our youth series is India. Thank you, India, for your submission - keep writing!
By India Shivers, 20 April 17, 2012 Changed Times
In response to “Changed Minds” by Missouri Grier, 92
The changed minds for the changed times Living life of riches, as if everything is fine.
Loving thy neighbor, I am my brother’s keeper, Enjoying my life, and avoiding the reaper.
With no hate in my heart and love in the air, Showing the ones I love that I truly care.
India is a high school graduate and and Achieving Independence Center youth member. Her coach is Nicole Sonsini. Click Here to re-read the story that inspired India to write her response.
Our writing teacher’s birthday was last week. She went away so we had to have something for her this week. She is a good person. We love having her for our teacher. We have learned so much from her and she is learning a lot from us. Everyone in this class enjoys her. We all hope she has lots more birthdays to come. We want her to know we really love her. We all look forward to seeing her every Thursday from one o’clock until two. Madi (our teacher’s teen intern) has been helping out a lot. We love her too. We all love to work together.
The seniors couldn’t contain their own excitement. When I walked into the classroom last week (dashed in, really – that’s just my usual speed of walking – with my purse, laptop bag, and a big tote with all the notebooks and pens), they already began singing “Happy Birthday.” I looked that our writing table, and it was filled to the edges with cakes, sweets, drinks, and Loretta’s fried chicken.
The cake was huge, and the drinks were heavy. I couldn’t believe the seniors had brought all that in from their houses or from the store, not to mention hauling all the weight up two floors, in order to get everything to the classroom.
Even for those of them who took the elevator, maneuvering big wide boxes must not have been an easy balancing act. Many of them walk with canes.
A whole sea of happy emotions washed over me as they sang. And most of all, I felt grateful, surprised and proud. And I realized those feelings weren’t just my feelings at that particular moment, but something I feel when I am with my senior buds every week.
Grateful. Because I am surrounded by such beautiful people in my life. This project, “The Best Day of My Life So Far” has become much, much more than just this class. But at the same time, this class, and my time every week with my best buds, is so much more to me than this project.
Surprised. Because not only did the seniors self-organize this extravaganza, they have stepped up and up and up through the time I have known them. As individuals, yes, I have seen than in their stories and their smiles, I know that in my heart. But as a team, even more so, they to me signify unbelievable heights, unbelievable strength.
Proud. Because I started this project with a dream, that one by one seniors around me would open up and feel free to be themselves and through their individuality inspire younger people. But reality has surpassed my dreams. And it’s in the little things I notice it –
Every week, Beatrice coordinates the reading order in class; “Mommy” makes sure the table is quiet during writing time so everyone can focus; Norman stays after class to scan the handwritings; Mo stays after to straighten out the room; Henrietta brings a rolling luggage full of snacks; Mr. Robert asks if anyone has a birthday that week; and all of them take turns walking Joe, who is blind, downstairs to help him catch the van after class.
I still remember one of the first field trips I ever took them on, to the public TV and radio station WHYY. I was so worried about all the logistics, like how they were going on and off our van. And they turned out totally fine, beyond fine. We had a blast presenting to reporters and journalist at a state-of-the-art conference room with a huge screen, and just as much of a blast singing goofy songs on the way there and back. I remember wondering why I had worried so much. Realizing that they were capable of great things and all I needed to do was to let them be, and motivate them.
The seniors burst into Happy Birthday song mode 4 more times during the hour of my surprise party. One time Robert started it, giggling; one time Joe started it, with a jazzy vibe; one time Greta started it, laughing out loud. And one time, just everyone, somehow, altogether, spontaneously, at the same time.
I am writing this story so that I can read it to my senior buds in class tomorrow, right off the blog. I hope they like it.
