Continuum 21: Press Conference with Rick Torres

Rick Torres is a Bridgeport native running for the Republican nomination for House Representative in the third district against Democratic incumbent Jim Himes. On March 22, Torres held a press conference in the Horizons newsroom with the paper’s reporters. Here are some highlights from that conference.

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Chronic Surgery

By Jacob Kirton
Staff Writer

Guard your heart for you may never know what’s after it

Society today is a perverse one. So much rebellion is a bound in a once controlled and structured world. Many people would even attest to today as being the fabled, and familiar end of times. Today, we as people strive to succeed our latter day ancestors and become greater than what we were destined to be, our minds are often the strongest weapons we have.

In the year 2010, the world is on the brink of bringing sorcery back into the daily routine of life. As we turn on the radio, watch movies or even go to a neighboring country, we hear the glorification of drugs. These mind altering substances place the body on a plane that allows for outer body experiences and death alike.

Music is a big part of our culture, and has always played a role in shaping human beings. You can turn on the radio, and listen to Lil Wayne rap about sipping syrup, and popping pills without restraint. This behavior once looked upon as strange has become a norm among the youth . People don’t understand that music is a gateway to the soul. What we choose to fill our minds with will dictate our actions. I challenge anyone to prove me wrong.Imagine what the world would be like if every morning before people left their driveways they lit up a joint.

One of the most widely used drugs is alcohol, hell it’s even legal. Drinking has become one of Americas past times. President Obama had a couple beers at the white house to settle a racial profiling dispute between a cop and Harvard professor. The image of alcohol in particular is shown as a moment cheers and great times. This may sound great with people being real with one another but the drawback is acting out on guilty pleasures.

Always drunk and never sober I hungered to get a bit of action when the mood was dull. The people I choose to hangout with always seemed to be into something with someone. One night I was out drinking with a friend in New York. We were at this small get together and ended up beating this instigator up. It was night time and we didn’t have anywhere to go so we were sat on the sidewalk. My friend was drunk and falling asleep as I paced back and forth. Out of nowhere these 5 cars roll up packed out with a bunch of guys with bats and pieces of wood. They hop out, push me aside, and grab my friend. I lost my temper and started swinging at any and everything. The leaders told everyone to stop so he could speak to me. We negotiated a little while longer, and they left but that night just led to a string of other dangerous events because of my drunken stupor.

As for pot, people feel that smoking a little is not as dangerous as sniffing a line of cocaine or taking a pull of crack. What people fail to realize is that whether its plants or powder the effect is the same: total loss of self and dignity.. Early sophomore year in high school was when my years of experimentation started. I became rebellious and lawless never caring what my actions may produce as long as I was able to laugh in the end. My kindhearted nature would increase being friendly although deep down I was a walking time bomb. If the wrong person rubbed me wrong I was ready to snap regardless who they might be because of these influences.

These feelings of euphoria that many associate with being “High” are defining what really makes you person. I can think back to a song that had that line “I want to be sedated” For a country bent on creating a sense of freedom for all, drugs have definitely enslaved us.

When I smoked Pot I liked being an intellect. There was once a time when I was smoking with a friend and we were discussing the cure to aids. He said I couldn’t figure it out and I told him give me a day. As I started walking down the block to my house my mind was spinning in all these directions for possible solutions with the cure. I came up with quite a few ranging from UV light exposure to bio-engineering new eosinophils. I never tested any of these theories but many of them felt like they could actually work. Although my mind traveled to these various distances to enlighten and inspire, it was the paranoia of reality that never sat well with me.

When one partakes of the ritual of “Smoking Weed”, they are handing the keys of their life over to an unknown entity. People take on otherworldly characteristics when under the influence. Some people become pranksters like Loki the Norse God from certain mythologies. Others tend to have a nasty approach in life and become lovers of self. It always seemed no matter how bad or good the situation may be life was a joke smoking weed. I could not have a serious conversation with my girlfriend or look my parents in the eye because I was too highto think at the time. It always felt that when I was high I had all these ideas but no motivation to enact them but yet when I wasn’t high I was motivated but had no ideas to enact. Smoking weed life is always question of what’s next rather than here we go. Maybe that’s why people move on to harder things after experimenting and losing luster.

As thoughts become loose and reality a fleeting mist of jumbled thoughts and false emotions, the brain becomes unaware of what is happening around it. If only I could go back in time, and warn everyone to eradicate those thoughts that are so hard to control. Do Not Do Drugs!

Break Free and Save

By Desirae Williams

Staff Writer

My heart starts to beat a little faster, my hands clam up, the line gets longer, and cashier is looking at me with those, "you know your card wont work if I swipe it through a third- time" eyes. Finally the cashier asked if I would like to use another form of payment. Yea right, like I had that option.

Visa used to my friend, my confidant, that someone I could depend on. Obviously, not after that last pesky situation.

I was knee-deep in debt and needed some a way out or I would be buried beneath it pretty soon.

As a debtor, I embodied Kanye West's rap lyrics, "I'm addicted to spending before I get it". It is as if he created that song for me. He perfectly captured the essence of the blessing, and curse of purchasing unnecessary items without having the means to do so, plus, getting away with it, all in the name of interest!

It was at 18 when the credit card company sought to destroy me, by gearing up their best army. They recruited me and others who were unaware of the disadvantages of advanced monies. Amex, Visa, MasterCard, and Discover all suited up their elite soldiers and veterans to the “plastic game.”

They boldly hunted me down to “sign on the dotted line”. As innocent as I was, so was I ignorant, and allowed Visa to conquer over the other choices, and accepted a loan of fifty dollars in exchange for a one-hundred and fifty dollars.

What was I thinking? Other than noticing how small the text size was becoming as I attempted to review my terms and conditions, not much.

As I replaced my cash with plastic, I managed to pile up bills (tabs) at a variety of vendors. So to sustain my “lifestyle” I had to use a card (or two) to cover whatever my money did not. I completely exhausted all of my other funds just to stay afloat.

Realizing that my tumultuous relationship with my old time companion would eventually become abusive, I searched for a way to restructure my spending. Who helped me the most? Suze Orman.

Orman is a motivational speaker, and hosts of CNBC’s , The Suze Orman Show. She provides on-air financial information that ranges from wise investments to how much to save, along with various other programs on the cable network. I even checked out her site www.suzeorman.com and found helpful tips that I eventually adapted into my routine. Most of the available resources were truly inspiring and perfect to adapt to my advantage.

Thanks to the advice I decided to just be straight forward with myself and face all of the “pink” and “green” bills that were in my name, along with filing a credit report from an accredited financial institution, and laying it in front of me so that I was aware of the damage that was caused.

This was like a cleansing process for me because I took the first step to controlling my life and reshaping my future in a positive manner. I was no longer going to pretend as if a bill or a payment was not due for services that I received.

Also, I decided to use my money in the most beneficial way, to break my financial chains loose from around my ankles, and rise to the occasion of better money management.

Actually seeing what I accumulated over time made me a little hesitant to proceed, but the process was necessary. I then created a permanent list of the creditors, services, and products that were due payment, and decided to contact them directly to clarify every condition.

After my grand tally, I decided to pay ten dollars a month on every bill and I had a total of six. I figured out how much time it would take to pay off each bill and then paid extra if necessary to try to close it faster. In addition to paying off older bills, I managed to put money aside in a savings account for emergency purposes.

Now it was hard to deal with the errors of my ways and try to tackle the issues that I created. But instead of continuing down the same path, I embraced a new philosophy in life, now, I make sure to remember that no matter how bleak the situation looks I know that I could resurface from any dilemma if I don’t ignore it. So embrace the challenges, and you’ll come out on top.

The lessons learned from this situation far exceeded the problems faced.

“Making Up Your Mind”

By Vincent Altamirano

Staff Writer

Some families already have their share of expectations for you, others are willing to listen to what you have to say. Make a career choice; the one you want.

Not everyone gets the opportunity to decide their own career path. Family opinions can influence your decision to either follow the career they wish you to follow, or, to do what you enjoy.

Students are caught in the middle, and are faced with these tough choices; either cut your losses and follow your family’s wishes. Or, pursue the career you truly enjoy, and disappoint them for not going through with their expectations.

A few years ago, I was put into this situation. My parents set expectations for the career they wanted me to follow. At that moment, I felt that it was a matter of time before my parents would understand that my career path was to be solely based on what I wanted pursue.

Not long after turning 17, my parents asked, “So, do you know what kind of career you would like to have?” I did not have a firm answer because I hadn’t made up my mind just yet. I told them it was either building computers or being a marine biologist. My dad’s facial expression changed from the curious look to the kind of look that wanted me to consider other options. “You know, you can always go into the medical field, you can be a doctor or pharmacist. These are well paying jobs,” dad said. Not much else was said after I told them again what I wanted to be.

After our little chat, I knew it was a matter of time before my mom or dad found the opportunity to bring it up again. I thought to myself, “If they do ask me again, maybe they expect my answer to be different, it won’t be.” A year went by and the question was asked again by my father.

“Vinny, have you given any thought to maybe following a medical career?” My response was quick and concise, yes and that maybe marine biology or computer science wasn’t for me, I had considered writing as a possible career choice. That answer aggravated him because he brought up my grandparents also wanting me to go into the medical field. The career I was leaning towards is the kind of career that does not pay well when compared to a medical doctor.

It was stressful for me to know that I was expected to pursue the career of my parent’s choice. Sure, I could go into the medical field and get a well paying job and make my family proud. The problem with that was my lack of skill in the chemistry department. The important question at hand was, “Will I enjoy following this career?” The answer was most definitely no; I just couldn’t see myself working as a doctor until retirement. I did however see myself working for a publishing company.

When it was time to enroll at a college, my aunt asked me, “Do you know what major you’d like to follow?” I told her anything that involves writing. She smiled and said, “It doesn’t matter what major you choose, as long as you enjoy doing it.” After hearing this I told her about my parents wanting to push me into the medical field and how I couldn’t see myself working in that field for years. She said not to worry about it, let her do the talking to my parents and hopefully they would understand.

My parents understood alright. When I found out I was accepted at Uconn, they told me, “Congratulations, you’ve made us proud! Follow what ever path you want to follow. You can be anything you want to me, the choice is yours.”

Not everyone gets the opportunity to decide their own career path. While some students struggle to convince their parents to let them follow the career path of their choice, others give in and “go with the flow.”

My thoughts needed to be voiced to my parents, I was determined to follow the path I wanted, they understood. Now, I am working towards the career path of my choice!

Rastafarian Invasion!

Larry DiNota
Staff Writer

Local reggae phenomenon I Anbassa will conduct a free concert at the Performing Arts Center in Lafayette Hall at 7pm on Thursday, March 11th. If you haven’t added this to your schedule yet, you should, cause’ you’re in for a course in modern reggae.

I Anbassa will also hold a reggae culture workshop at 2pm earlier that day.

"I'm going to speak about Rastafarian culture and where the roots reggae is from," says Front Man Ras N'gosi. "I want us to have a small discussion on topics in our world..., environment..., [and] society that mean a lot."

The band will collaborate with the audience to create a song relevant to the attendants. The exercise is designed to invoke the Rastafarian spirit of unity- as N'Gosi says, "Unity is strength."

I Anbassa, an all original roots reggae group, features extremely talented musicians from diverse musical backgrounds: progressive rock, jazz, folk, blues, metal, soul, and bluegrass- to name a few. “It's plain to see we're all from different backgrounds...different genres of music, yet we come together for a purpose. We have like minds. We have like ambitions." says N'Gosi.

* * *

The group came together in July 2009 after a chance encounter between N'Gosi and a local Bob Marley cover band, Green Stripe. Green Stripe had been backing local reggae performer Irei Feelinz, for a two month contract at the Chef's table in Fairfield.

"Irie would feature different reggae artists, and one of the artists that he featured was N'Gosi. He was by far the best. We all really wanted to play with him. A couple of months after the Irie Feelinz gig, he contacted me," said Lead Guitarist Mark Lyons.

"It was instant chemistry. A week later we had a 9-piece band." N'Gosi recollected.

Since then I Anbassa has wasted no time accumulating both a respectable fan base and reputation.

At their most recent performance on February 20th, the crowd was amazed by their incredibly entertaining performance.

Julia Hymans, director of premiums and promotions for WPKN said "They're a great local band...one of the better ones around here, and they're great people. I've been supporting them for a while."

And Julia wasn't the only member of the crowd who was impressed.

Throughout their impressive long sets, the audience is constantly engaged.

The performance began with a thought provoking narrative courtesy of dub poet and Tonic Brewer IsIdu. After priming the room, IsIdu bowed out, and handed the reins to N'Gosi. As soon as the music began, the crowd erupted into celebration. Few who stood remained sedentary. The venue was intoxicated with laughter, dance, and positivity. Two hours later, nothing had changed.

The show ended at 1:30am, but the crowd wanted more.

"The music was great, their presence was phenomenal, the energy was beautiful- the whole thing was beautiful," said spectator Mike as he stood curb side smoking a cigarette.

Mike's friend Jose added "They had the energy level. They killed it." Rahz, a spectator, jokingly added “I have cancer. After viewing that show, it’s cured.”

I Anbassa's performance was not a onetime success. "They've played for us five or six times," co-owner of the Acoustic Cafe, Jessica Apple said, "They usually turn out around one hundred people, which is about capacity for us."

Continuum 20: Veterans at HCC

Host Brandon T. Bisceglia stops by HCC’s Veteran’s Center to speak with Veteran’s Representative Ernest Johnson, Veteran’s Club President Jason Terlecky, and Vice President Uri Kaffe about the challenges that veterans face in adjusting to civilian and student life, as well as the pros and cons of entering the service.

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Living in a Lost Generation

By Susan Smith
News You Can Use Editor

Is the growing comfort of the online world aiding the enhancement of communication for our generation, or is it slowly sacrificing our future?

There is a harsh kind of bitterness that ignites when someone older than us talks down on our generation. We’ve all heard it. This sort of wasted youth talk, where the elder speaker revels at “how different it is today,” and openly (sometimes literally) frowns upon the distasteful attitude and lack of morals our generation represents to them.

Maybe it’s because I too am growing older, but I can’t help but agree with them, with an underlining sadness that is almost shameful.

Don’t get me wrong: I can’t begin to portray myself as the ideal model for today's youth. But I have recently began to feel our generation is becoming very distant from the rest of the world. It seems there is a lack of physical communication between my peers, as if the older we get, the more recluse and antisocial we become with each other and society.

I began to notice this lack of communication last year. I was sitting in class, waiting for my professor to arrive. I was not alone in the room, as 15 or so other students were also sitting idly by, preparing for the next hour of tedious comprehending. The strange thing was, with as much in common as we all had (whether it be age, clothing style, or the class itself), the room remained completely silent for the entire 15 minutes before the professor arrived. Not only were no conversations started, but any intent of communication was avoided at all costs. It almost seemed we were all following some combination of prison rules in that classroom, where eye contact was avoided and staying as far away from the person sitting next to you was necessary to retain that comfort level we worked so hard to achieve.

But what was really noticeable was the constant clacking of every single cell phone in the room. Not only were we uninterested in any interaction with the people around us; we couldn't stand to be bored for even a few minutes. It was like we had some subconscious need to always be communicating with something, as long as that something didn't breathe or speak.

This, of course, is assuming our peers continue in the physical world at all, or if the remainder of our generation will be survived solely through the digital world of social networking sites.

Yes, Facebook.

Again, as a disclaimer, I want to mention that I am no stranger to the beautiful world of statuses and photo comments. Nor do I intend to ever walk away from a world where I can express my favor, concern, or acknowledgment of something with the simplicity of a "like" button.

But if the majority of your ideas and conversations have solely been through type for so long, I would think the margin for error would be slim. But again, I am surprised.

I often click through pages of profiles and come upon one post after the next where the message can hardly be deciphered due to unending grammatical errors and sometimes even a lack of any real words at all. I don't believe perfect spelling or punctuation is always necessary, and yes, in the fast world of the web, we're expected to shorthand here and there. But come on: we were taught in middle school how to conjugate simple verbs. I just can't understand how suddenly "Your going?" or "Their they are" are littering the pages of senior college student profiles.

This frequency of grammatical errors may not seem to be a pressing problem since, after all, it is only Facebook. However, the toll of living in this online world unhindered by basic education is beginning to become drastically noticeable. In fact, in a recent article from the Canadian Press, it was remarked that the frequent use of "social networking sites such as Facebook and Twitter, are all being blamed for an increasingly unacceptable number of post-secondary students who can't write." The article included the results of a study from the University Of Waterloo, Ontario, where 30% of their freshmen are failing to meet the minimum standard of an exam testing their skills in basic English grammar.

The fact that these results are already becoming present when the popularity of digital communication is still fairly new is troubling to me. If this phenomenon of the encompassing digital world continues, what will the future hold for the education of generations to come? Will simple communication and grammar be unobtainable to them? And possibly more troubling, will the English language be ruined in an attempt to relieve the stress of a society who refuses to learn anything above the bare minimum?

There's no telling whether this estranged quality of communication and ignorance will improve or decay the future of society, or if those in the future will come to terms with living, as I do, in a lost generation.

Star-Crossed Lovers?

By Peter Glagowski
Arts and Entertainment Editor

Friendships are hard to come by. I have met tremendous people, but contact with girls has been minimal.

There have only been two real good female friends, but I was never able to receive a female perspective on my problems from them, not to mention fall into a true love.

But, lately, I have been enjoying hanging out with a great woman that my friend Joe presented.

She is the complete opposite as far as self-image and confidence goes, but shares vital common interests, like video games, music, and films. She is an extremely spontaneous, heart warming, and welcoming person. Plus, she has more life experience than I will probably have.

At one point that bastard Cupid struck me with an arrow because this girl was riving my brain constantly. When I looked at her face, my legs became numb as the mind drifted into bad territory.

The last time this happened to me, I made a complete and utter ass of myself. She more than likely cared about me as a friend, but I just couldn’t deal with just that.

In retrospect, the things I said and did were moronic, and wish I could take everything back. I wish to be able to one day look into her eyes, and not have a sexual attraction. Instead, I want to like a girl for her intellect. I wish to one day lend an ear to her problems, and relieve her of her burdens.

The same goes for my current friend. When I talk to her, I feel as if maybe I’m putting on a facade to gain interest. While I genuinely care for her, is it only because I have an eye for her beauty? Do I not have the ability to call women merely “friends?”

Something is really rotten in the state of Denmark. I sometimes lay restless at night wondering why I cannot just be happy with just a friendship. Why do I lust for more?

My friend Rob put it this way, “Just ask her to a simple date. If she says no, you can shrug it off and still keep that wonderful friendship.”

It is true that putting too much thought into sex will sour up the whole ordeal, so I need to take deep breaths and try to simply listen to her. I may have my thoughts of us being together, but that probably isn’t what is going on in her mind.

Perhaps my hormones are acting up?

But my heart knows that pursuing this relationship is the best course of action. I have never met a girl like her before, and, fortunately, I’m confident that she will still be my friend if she unfortunately cannot be my lover. So, I’ll ask her out.

Spring 2010 Club Day

On February 17, HCC's clubs and student groups had the chance to showcase themselves and attract new members. Here are some pictures from that day.

Student Senate

Black Student Union

Veteran's Club


Performing Arts Club

Multicultural Club / International Student Alliance

Early Childhood Education Club

History Club

Gay-Straight Alliance

Women's Center

All photographs by Brandon T. Bisceglia

Continuum 19: The Status of the Student Senate

The Student Senate is going through many changes this semester. Acting President Michael Belletzkie and Treasurer Konrad Mazurek talk with host Brandon T. Bisceglia about the Senate’s attempts to increase its membership, to reinforce accountability, and to offer opportunities for all HCC students to participate in the governance of the college.

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2008 Wages of HCC Deans & President

The following data was provided to the Connecticut Yankee Institute for Public Policy by the State of Connecticut Comptroller’s Office in response to a Freedom of Information Act request by the organization. It is part of their CT Sunlight Project, which seeks to increase transparency in order to empower citizens “to hold State Government accountable for their spending.”

Among other things, the database lists all 2007-2008 wages for employees of HCC, which is a State-owned institution. It should be noted that although college salaries are funded in part by taxpayer dollars, private sources, such as tuitions, also make up a portion of the total.

The Connecticut Yankee Institute for Public Policy is a libertarian-leaning nonprofit 501 (c) (3) think tank.

Elizabeth Roop - Academic Dean:
$98,397

Hendrickson, Ed.D., Avis D. - Dean of Students:
$99,228

Thornton, Robert H. – Dean of Outreach Services:
$129,361

McNamara, Paul S. – Dean of Administration:
$169,967

Gliniecki, Anita T. – President:
$166,576

Welcome Back

The staff at Horizons would like to welcome the students, faculty and staff of HCC back for a great Spring 2010 semester! We have many exciting new projects planned for the semester, so come back often to find out more.

Snapshot Profile: Arturowe Robinson

By John Santora
Staff Writer

Photograph courtesy of Arturowe Robinson

Arturowe Robinson, a 41-year-old student currently taking five classes and working 15 hours a week as a student worker in the Behavioral and Social Science Department, has a distinction that most of us do not and would not want to have. Arturowe Robinson was convicted of a felony and served 21 months in prison.

What inspires Robinson to work so hard? “Once I have a degree I will be more marketable. After some time has passed, since I was incarcerated and it is obvious from my accomplishments that I have turned my life around, I’ll be able to put my skills to work.”

Robinson hopes to someday start a youth career center or halfway house to help people who have been incarcerated. “I want to be a role model for other people who feel that they can’t achieve success in school or with their work. There are Pell grants and programs available, all the way to a four year degree.”

Robinson met a friend who was attending college and it served as an inspiration to him. Starting immediately from the time of his release in early 2008, he has been attending HCC full time and majoring in General Studies. His immediate goal is to graduate in May with an Associates degree in Science as well as a certificate in Behavioral Healthcare. From there he would like to continue on to a four-year college.

One of the pressures on Robinson is to be able to provide child support for his two children after all of his bills are paid on a 15-hour-a-week salary. “When it comes to child support, the system doesn’t care about attending college to better yourself. It seems like they would prefer I work a low paying job without a future just to make sure I pay the bill.”

When asked he had any praise or complaints about Housatonic Community College, without hesitation Robinson said: “I love Housatonic. It has been a life saver for me.”

Continuum 18: Sociology as Science

Professor Henry Schissler talks with host Brandon T. Bisceglia about the role of the scientific method in the field of sociology, where research meets with ideology, and what challenges this interaction poses for both.

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About Horizons

Student Senate Updates: November 5-12, 2009

Note: Due to an error in the final issue of Horizons for the Fall of 2009, the original version of this article was not printed in full. The complete version is posted here.

By Brandon T. Bisceglia
Co-Editor in Chief

New Standards Committee Forms, Finds Footing

November 5, 2009 - HCC’s newly created Standards Committee convened for the first time on Thursday to review its mission, assign positions, and consider specific tasks for the future.

Though long enshrined in and mandated by the Senate’s Constitution and Bylaws, the committee has not existed at the college in recent memory. It is the third of five committees meant to handle facets of the Senate’s duties that too complex for the general meetings to spend significant amounts of time tackling.

The other two up and running are the executive committee, which has never been inactive for long, and the activities committee, which started having regular meetings last semester.

The four Senators chosen for the Standards Committee are Treasurer Konrad Mazurek, Secretary Michael Belletzkie, Meoba Nsenga, and Alain Cesar.

Before it could make headway through the many issues pressing upon it, the committee first had to choose a chair to oversee proceedings. Belletzkie offered himself for the task, and was quickly accepted by the others.

Next, to make sure that everyone was on the same page, the committee reviewed its guiding principles according to the Bylaws. As listed in Article III, Section A, their purpose is threefold:

1. To review and recommend changes to constitutions, bylaws, rules governing the Student Senate and or affiliated organizations.

2. To provide the Student Senate with a quasi-legal committee that will investigate and recommend to the Student Senate disposition of cases involving infraction of its rules by members of the Senate.

3. To assist individuals and groups affiliated with the Senate in complying with the rules of the organization.

“Not only do we have to try and correct any wrongs that are done,” said Belletzkie after reading the third mandate to the group. “We should prevent them, if possible.”

The committee resolved to correct the small typographical errors in the Constitution and Bylaws as its first task. The original documents are currently riddled with misspellings and grammatical inconsistencies. This action does not require any changes to the meaning of any clauses, and therefore could go forward without a vote from the student body. It also gave the committee members a chance to better familiarize themselves with their own guidelines, presumably leaving them better prepared for future meetings.

Acting Director of Student Activities suggested the committee begin enforcing several other policies. These included a swifter, broader dissemination of information to parties within and outside of the Student Senate; updating the Senate’s bulletin board; and making sure that clubs fill out event evaluation forms after trips and events occur.

Mazurek touched on the pending club audits that needed to be performed to ensure that Student Activity Funds were not abused. Belletzkie noted that this would be a joint effort with the Finance Committee (the only Standing Committee yet to be enacted) once it had been formed.

The initial meeting’s other primary focus was to develop a regular schedule. It was agreed that Acting Parliamentarian Jacqueline Leo should be present as often as she could, which limited their options. Nsenga also mentioned that she was only available on Thursdays. The group came to the conclusion that they would meet bi-weekly on the Thursdays that larger Senate did not meet, with the option to hold emergency meetings as needed.

Robert’s Rules of Order, written in 1876, is the Student Senate’s guide to parliamentary procedure.
Image courtesy of www.bioteams.com.

As Wesley Resigns, Senate Moves Forward

November 12, 2009 – The Student Senate lost one of its key members on Thursday with the resignation of President Kirk Wesley.

Wesley claimed that the primary reason was because of the work he was doing for the college’s You Can Do It program, which is geared towards assisting minority males from local schools (and some who were recently incarcerated) make a successful transition into college.

“I’m sad to be resigning,” he said, “but I feel like my time and attention is needed elsewhere.”

Wesley said that he was having difficulty juggling both the Student Senate and his other obligations, and that his decision was due in part to the fact that the Senate had gotten to a point where it would “be okay without me.”

Other Senators praised Wesley’s performance during his time of service. Acting Vice President Chad Hunter said to him, “Some people spend their entire lifetime wondering if they’ve made a difference. You shouldn’t have that problem.”

Treasurer Konrad Mazurek, who, aside from Senator Meoba Nsenga, has been a part of the group longer than anyone else currently serving, looked back to his early days working with Wesley as the Senate attempted to reestablish itself.

“Through your work we were given the vehicle to represent ourselves as students again,” he said. “Until those three individuals [Wesley and former presidents Kaitlyn Shake and Lillie Nguyen] went to the school President and said that this student body really needs to be allowed to use its own constitution to represent itself; up until they decided to get somebody involved to teach us Parliamentary procedure, it was a relatively authoritarian environment in this office…what they achieved in that year going into this semester is fabulous, considering they had to rebuild it from scratch.”

“I want to thank you for your time,” concluded Mazurek, “and I’m looking forward to being friends with you for a long, long time to come.”

In his absence, a new president will have to be appointed until a school-wide vote can be held in the spring. Hunter would normally be next in line. However, he has not yet spent a whole semester on the Senate, and was himself reluctant to accept the position, given his lack of experience. Acting Parliamentarian Jacqueline Leo told the senators that he could technically take the position on the same grounds that he now acts as Vice President. However, the issue was left unclear, as Hunter felt he needed a few days to consider whether he was ready for the new role.

Senator Joy James also resigned on the grounds that she was no longer attending HCC.

As if to confirm Wesley’s hope that the governing body could get along on its own, the Student Senate ran through the rest of its agenda with the ease that has become typical of most meetings, even though Acting Director of Student Activities Linda Bayusik was absent. Most notably, they approved the newly assembled Healthstyle club, which had had its consideration tabled previously because of a missing clause – specifically, the clause that obliges members to follow the policies of the Office of Student Life.

The Senate also discussed creating a policy to review IDs at student events. The initiative was brought in reaction to a recent stabbing at UCONN. Some of the details, such as whether to collect IDs and return them on the way out and how to handle guests, required more investigation, so the issue was tabled until the following meeting.

Another proposed trip to see the lighting of the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center in New York City was rejected, because the matter had not been discussed with Bayusik, and she would not return in time to make the trip feasible.

In the very last moments of the meeting, Wesley faced one last moment of contention. Senator Vincent Schiavone began complaining about a personal issue he had had at the Senate-sponsored Halloween party. When Wesley and several other senators attempted to end the discussion, Schiavone kept talking. Wesley pounded his gavel for silence, and reprimanded his fellow senator.

“Please excuse yourself,” he said. “This is not the appropriate time to bring it up. If you want to talk about it, talk about what happened to your stuff at the executive meeting. This is the general assembly; you’re complaining in front of everybody about something that nobody knows what you’re talking about.”

With the mood thus soured, the meeting was adjourned.

Too Much Or Too Little This Holiday Season?

By Marissa Ortiz

Staff Writer

Note: Due to a production error, this article did not appear, as it should have, in Issue 3 of Horizons.

The question is too much or too little, during the Holiday season? When it comes to gift shopping. it’s all about finding the right balance. Christmas is around the corner and most men and women are caught between what gifts to get their girlfriend or boyfriend, and what is a good spending amount.

Many girlfriends and boyfriends find it hard to buy the right Christmas gift during this time. They scramble about asking friends and family if they have found the right gift. Many worry about the spending amounts. Asking the question about how much they should spend on each other? Couples want to make sure that they get the right gift without splurging on a mass amount of things. It's a special time during the holiday season where they want to show that they care and that the gift comes from the heart, whether it’s simple or just fabulous.

In my own experience I’ve had difficulty finding gifts for my boyfriend because I didn’t know whether to purchase a big gift, or a little gift that had a big meaning. Many frustrations arise at Christmas time with boyfriend/girlfriend gift problems. If a person really wants to make their loved one happy they should get whatever that person wants. But if people are not planning to spend a whole lot there are many ideas and stores that sell things for cheap. Surely your significant other will be just as happy.

Marshall’s and TJ Maxx are always great places to shop when looking for Christmas gifts especially when you or your other half aren’t trying to spend more than $200 per say. Marshall’s and TJ Maxx offer department store brands such as Juicy Couture and Ed Hardy. The clothing and other products at these stores are much cheaper than if you were to go into a department store. HCC student Jessica Forlenzo is an avid TJ Maxx shopper. “I love TJ Maxx. Last year I got a Juicy Couture zip-up that was regular ninety dollars for only forty. I was so excited, I would definitely consider myself a bargain hunter,” says the 21-year-old shopper.

Shopping during sales are always good too because he or she probably wanted something so expensive and usually it goes on sale after a while during the holiday season. When it comes down to it, it’s okay to shop during sales. Many tend to feel like they are being cheap. It’s not about being cheap, but allowing yourself to be on a budget when everything is so expensive now a days. Plus you never know if the one you are shopping for could be the one!

I went to Marshall’s the other day and they were so many great sales. They had name brand clothes but for cheap: for example, Ralph Lauren Polo’s for men and women, American Eagle jeans, colognes and perfumes. All great stuff! If I were at the mall it would be so much more expensive. I know Target has great prices as well. They have those $1 baskets that would make cute, fun gifts. Kohl’s also has great sales. Between markdowns and coupons I was able to get a $200 Vera Wang ring for $22.50!

Lindsay Roman says, “I’m a discount shopper. I love to find things that my boyfriend will love, but if it’s too high for my budget, I’ll keep going back until it goes on sale. It usually always does, especially at the mall.” Macy’s always ends up having good sales too. I know a lot of times things can get pricy. But if you have coupons that always works wonders.

There are so many options when shopping for your significant other during the Christmas season. No need to stress about how much you may possibly be spending. There are so many stores that have great sales plus with coupons and markdowns it will make your Christmas shopping more enjoyable. Like they say, “Tis the season to be jolly!” So, no matter big or small just make sure the gift you give has a big meaning.

Refresher Math Courses

Do you need to brush up on your math skills?

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Have you been out of school for 5, 10 or 20 years?

Take a refresher math class.

· Less than 1/3rd the cost of a credit course.
· Allow you to build or rebuild your math skills in just 4 weeks.
· Creates a strong foundation off which you can grow.
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Register Today at Housatonic Community College

Refresher Math and Refresher Algebra:

REFRESHER MATH
Date Range - Mar 06, 2010 to Mar 27, 2010
Day –Saturday
Time – 12:00 to 3:00 p.m.
Course Type – Non-Credit
Where – HCC Campus B107
Description – Course material including but is not limited to: Arithmetic skills with fractions, decimals, percents, and word problems.

REFRESHER BASIC ALGEBRA
Date Range - Apr 10, 2010 - May 01, 2010
Day – Saturday
Time – 12:00 to 3:00 p.m.
Course Type – Non-Credit
Where – HCC Campus B107
Description – Course material including but is not limited to: beggining algebra with exponents, linear equations, inequalities, polynomials, formulas, factors, and graphing.

Image courtesy of www.babble.com

Continuum 17: Koch on Textbooks

(Click on the image for larger view)

Graphic courtesy of booklist.byu.edu

David Koch, Professor of History at HCC, speaks with host Brandon T. Bisceglia on the systemic problems of the textbook industry, and how they impact both students and teachers.

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Travel: Student Interest Survey

This survey is intended to gauge the level of interest students of Housatonic Community College have in traveling to other countries.

Take the Survey Here!

Image courtesy of www.elcamino.edu/studyabroad

Continuum 16: The Perils of Love, Pt. 2

In the second installment of this two-part series, host Brandon T. Bisceglia chats with Horizons Outreach Editor Deb Toresso, News You Can Use Editor Stephanie Mallozzi, and Distribution Manager Shadaya Montgomery about their experiences in relationships, as well as pop-culture myths, marriage, and divorce.

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Helping Our Furry Friends

By John Santora
Staff Writer

Photograph by John Santora

You may have noticed the “Animal Food and Supply Donation Drive” boxes in the library, the cafeteria in Beacon Hall and various other locations around campus. Housatonic Psychology Club member Susan Langer is heading this drive to bring food and supplies to the Stratford and Bridgeport Animal Shelters as well as Pet Protectors Pet Rescue Group in Fairfield.

“I am extremely passionate about the well being of our furry friends, which is why I am accepting donations after the official HCC Donation Drive is over. I will be accepting any and all donations until the last day of classes on Wednesday, December 9,” Langer says.

Donations can also be dropped at the Student Life Center, outside of the Nurse's Office, the Women's Center, and by Prof. Amico's office in BH-253. When all donations have been collected, Langer, along with other Psychology Club members, will be delivering the items personally to the shelters and rescue groups.

Shelters and rescue organizations, which give a second chance to animals, rely heavily, if not completely, on donations from the public. Any donations you make, including dog and cat food, cages and carriers, leashes, collars, blankets, comforters, and towels will be helpful and greatly appreciated. If you have any questions, comments or can be of assistance, please contact Susan Langer at susanrdh@peoplepc.com.

Fear of the Flu Video

By Peter Glagowski
Arts & Entertainment Editor

Special Delivery

Last Friday, the Women’s Center’s emergency food drive for the Bridgeport Rescue Mission ended. HCC students brought the collections to the mission; the recipients were all extremely grateful.











Photographs by Brandon T. Bisceglia

Did you Ever Love Me?

By Shadaya Montgomery
Horizons staff writer

We were together for four years. You lived across the street from me, and I never thought you would be the guy I ever fall in love with. I never thought I would fall in love period. How we met was really awkward, and I never thought we would last because of your reputation around the neighborhood. Something about you captured my heart and you had me for the long run.

Me and you were new to this and neither of us knew what to expect out of this love thing. We so didn’t know what we getting into, but as we got further into it, it wasn’t an easy thing to go through.

Trust and honesty are some very important factors of the relationship, and they hold together and make the relationship strong. The trust in our relationship just wasn’t there, I didn’t trust you and you didn’t trust me. Our non trusting relationship led to a downfall. A downfall that gave us more problems that was ongoing and kept resurfacing. And its not like we solve the problems either, all we did was sweep them under a rug and pretended like they were dealt with.

Then you went to college, and I became really insecure in our relationship. Stereotypically relationships do not last when you try to pursue a long distance one. I had trust in you, but I can’t say I didn’t have that thought in the back of my mind that you were cheating. But I knew you loved me way too much to do that to me so I just brushed the thought away. You told me over and over how you weren’t feeding into the temptation of the wild college life, and I believed you because I loved you and your words seem so sincere and heartfelt.

After your first year a college, I guess you felt that you had to come clean about your experience. It hurt so bad hearing the words flow out your mouth saying how you gave in to temptation so many times as if you couldn’t control your actions. And your reasons of doing those actions were so stupid. I asked “why didn’t you just break up with me?”

It was so hard swallow; I couldn’t believe what you told me. You say you held these secrets from me because you were protecting my feelings and didn’t want to hurt me. But if you love me like you said you did why you would bother to put yourself in those predicaments and follow through with the actions that would eventually lead to my heartache.

But I can’t say that I don’t love you still , but I’m not really sure if you really loved me it’s like way before you went to college I believed your love for me was true. So did it fade? Or did you realize that you wanted to be free? So many questions runs through my mind, and yet you cannot answer the majority of them.

Love sometimes can have a bittersweet feel to it. By falling in love with you I put my heart at risk of heartache. And heartache isn’t a feeling that anyone wants to feel, and it happens way too often in relationships no matter how much love there is in the relationship.

Father-to-be or Not-to-be

By Adrian Agosto
Staff Writer

Many people like to enjoy life; it is not a statistic but a fact. People enjoy life in many different ways; different hobbies like swimming, biking or hanging out with friends—who put smiles on their faces—and others even enjoy (oddly enough) working. Young people enjoy life by going out to parties, drinking and having sex. But what happens when fun goes too far for young people and they make a mistake that they will have to live with for the rest of their life. Example having a child from a female whom you had a one night stand with!

When I was 17 years old partying seemed to be the only way to enjoy life. Once I was done with work and received my check, I went out the door, into a car, and on my way to a party to get hammered. My friends and I always competed to get the most numbers from the many fine females that would be around. One night, I met this one female, we started to talk; talking led to dancing, dancing led to kissing, and kissing led me to a hotel room.

The next morning my new friend and I woke up, got ready to leave the room and went for breakfast at the hotel. We chit chatted for a while and laughed at stupid jokes. Once breakfast was over we went our separate ways. I knew her name and her phone number but that was all. I didn’t want a relationship with her since I did not respect her as much as a female with whom I would take my time getting to know.

A month had gone by and I was still being a guy/dog. After my night at another party I went home to sleep off everything I had just drank. When I awoke my head felt as if someone hit it with a sledge hammer. As I was trying to get rid of my hangover the phone rang, it was a call from a friend; he told me that one of the girls I hooked up with was pregnant. The phone immediately dropped from my hand and I sat on my bed wondering “what the hell do I do now?” Meanwhile, my friend was trying to get my attention since he was still on the cell phone—really, I didn’t have a care in the world for him at that time; it felt as if someone threw a grenade my way that was seconds from exploding. The main concern of mine was the child on the way in 9 months.

A couple hours had passed, and the friend who told me of the pregnancy was incessantly trying to get into contact with me. I just kept ignoring the calls. I wondered what would be said to her when I made the call to see if what was told to me was true. Finally I got enough confidence to make that phone call that would change my life forever. Fatherhood here I come.

While the phone rang I kept telling myself “I can do this, it’s my mistake and I have to live with it.” The phone stopped ringing and I heard a hello on the other side of the line. It was not a depressed hello; instead, it was a I-am-happy-that-you-called hello. I asked how she was and then dove right into the question in mind, “are you pregnant with my child?” She started to laugh. “Why are you laughing?” I asked, I thought it was cruel to laugh when someone asks such a serious question.

When I heard her response, I took a DEEP breath and screamed “THANK YOU GOD!” It was “no,” she was not pregnant. I told her that a friend had said he had found out she was pregnant and she said no. She never was and was not planning on having a child until she was around 25ish. My heart was beating heavily with joy. That one day scared me half to death so for all those who read this article a few words of advice. Enjoy life to the fullest, never live a moment in regret, but always keep in mind that you have to be prepared to face your consequences for your action.

The Perils of Love, Pt. 1

In the first episode of this two-part series, host Brandon T. Bisceglia chats with Horizons Outreach Editor Deb Toresso, News You Can Use Editor Stephanie Mallozzi, and Distribution Manager Shadaya Montgomery about their experiences in relationships, as well as their views on communication, independence, and compromise.

Stay tuned for “The Perils of Love, Pt. 2,” to be released next week!

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Your Mother Doesn't Work Here.

Photographs by Brandon T. Bisceglia

The above photographs were taken in the bathrooms of Lafayette and Beacon Halls over the past week.

Do you think that most students at HCC have enough respect for their campus? What do you think motivates the kinds of behaviors depicted here?

Italianish

By Susan Smith
Staff Writer

Are we who our culture makes us?

It was only about a month ago that I sat across from my mother, over the linoleum countertops of a sticky downtown diner, who -only upon finishing her third glass of red wine- leaned over the table to reveal to me a family secret that had laid dormant for over 85 years. It soon became clear, (between regular intervals of "I shouldn't be telling you this") that the birthright of my grandmother held less water than the Titanic in its final hour. Over several minutes my previous pride toward my strict Irish/Lithuanian culture faded as I was told that my Grandmother's Irish background may have been a little falsified. It turns out that her father was not 100% Irish but Italian, a fact that was so frowned upon by family during that time that she was only able to be raised by a distant aunt, a woman who had claimed to be her mother until her passing. She, therefore, never knowing her parents and accepting what she was told to be the truth, raised her children under the false beliefs of an Irish upbringing. Generations passed, and eventually the secret was lost in the seams of time. Until a bottle of wine decided to speak up.

After looking around for reality show cameras and concluding that the only audience chuckling at my disbelief was the neighboring table, who shot a smirk of distaste, I sighed and began to regroup my thoughts before releasing on my mother a surplus of questions, “Who are my great grandparents?! When did you find this out?! Do we have ties in the mafia? What copious amount of alcohol did Grandma have to drink to tell you this in the first place?! Why aren’t I tanner?!” It was only after her silence and attention turned its back to my wonder and changed to the empty glass before her, that I asked myself the real question I needed to know: “Who am I?”

We see it everywhere: distinct demonstrations of cultural pride. The shamrock tattoo, the Puerto Rican flag adorning the rearview mirror, family dinner on Sundays, down to the refusal to alter a family bloodline (a problem dating back to Montagues and Capulets). Nationalities have defined people since the start of humankind. But should they? Should I be categorized by the nationality that lies in my chemical makeup, or is there something else defining my existence?

It’s the question of nature vs. nurture. If humans walked around with shirt tags, what would they say? “Made in Sicily” or “25% sarcastic, 75% well-natured”? What does my DNA have to say about my personality? Can a doctor know who a person really is by studying blood work?

I thought so at first. That was why I was so mad at this kept secret. I assumed that I was born who I was, and that while personality and character may change and shape a person, it was your background that really defines who you are. I even found myself sympathizing with Jason Bourne, bitter that my identity had been kept from me (and a little eager to idolize myself with a fictional character).

However, weeks went by, and I realized I was no different a person than I was a month before. I wasn’t just a 5’6” Italian/Irish/Lithuanian 20-something. I was a friend, a sister, a daughter (finally clean of resentment), and a million other little things I had grown to be throughout my lifetime. I was bits and pieces of experience, of life, of people. Sure, I may be made up of genetically specific blueprints, but I’m also made up of childhood memories, of a love for books, of good advice, of friendship, of sardonic humor, of a susceptibility to chocolate, of extreme skills at Mario Kart, of a warmness towards strangers, of years and years of stories, of scars from love lost and found and memories made and forgotten. But most importantly, I’m 100% unique from everyone else. And so are you.

Don’t Let Your Secrets Control You

Nick Geiste
Staff Writer

Everyone has secrets. Whether the secrets are trivial and the individual does not feel it necessary to share, or substantial secrets that they are ashamed of because of fear of rejection. Either way, everyone is hurting inside by some sort of feeling; their secret is the front they put on.

It seems that the media and what the general public expects from us causes people to lie and carry out activities that they wouldn’t normally do without any influences. This makes it hard for us to open up to others knowing that society is so engrossed with being perfect. After all, why should we feel the need to spill our secrets when we are run by a bunch of people that keep the biggest secrets from us?

What is striving people to not share these happenings or feelings, is what makes keeping secrets interesting. Maybe it's a secret that provokes the past so it is easier to not talk about it. It could be a secret that you keep because you don't want to hurt others feelings. It could be curiosity towards something that causes you to secretly do a task and not tell. However, rejection I feel is one of the main reasons why a person should feel the need to keep secrets. Whether the person has done something discouraging and they are ashamed to tell someone or they feel they are different and afraid of what people might think of them.

You don't have to be afraid of rejection if you tell someone close to you what has been causing all these problems. The longer you hold in a secret, the harder it is to find the truth within you.

I’m not saying that this an easy task to accomplish, I have kept harmful secrets from my friends and family and have told them harmful secrets. Telling your friends and family something that you know they will be ashamed of, hurts. The last thing you would want to do is hurt someone close to you because of something that you have done. For instance, I have had three surgeries on my knee in two years, the third one coming around my senior year. I was hopeful going into my senior year that I would be able to play soccer again for the first time since freshman year. Also, if that went well I was hoping to play basketball on our woeful basketball team. So bad, I could possibly start. Disappointingly, none of this happened. During the second soccer game of the season, my knee dislocated and I tore my MCL and meniscus yet again. I had to get another surgery. This time the doctors decided to put stabilizers in my knee causing me to rest it more. After the cast was off and all the pain medication was gone, I felt depressed. I wasn’t sure why. The summer was coming, my cast was off, I was more mobile, but yet I was walking around like a zombie. It felt as if I needed the medication just to be myself again even though my knee did not hurt that much. With no thanks to the valley, I started getting pain medication to get through my days. It wasn't long until people close to me started noticing that I have changed. I became much more irritable when I either had the pills or didn't have them, it didn't matter. When my friends and family asked me why I have been acting strange, I acted like I didn't change at all. After a while, I learned that this is not the lifestyle for me. I did not want to spend my day waiting on someone else, or being rude to people that I'm always nice to. As difficult as it was, I had to spill my secrets. I had to tell everyone close to me what was wrong with me and that I was sorry. I told my girlfriend, my best friends, my brother, and my mother. If I had told my father, I probably wouldn’t have lived to talk about it. My mother was the hardest to talk to. She didn't understand why I would take pain medication without having any pain. I didn't want to get too far into the reasoning with her, so I said, “I’m sorry I was dumb. It didn’t take me long to realize that I’m better than that.”

They were all upset that things turned out this way, but all of them also wanted to help. At a time where I felt so low in life, they didn't criticize me or turn away from me. They stood their ground. The same ground I would stand on for them. This showed me that I could tell them pretty much anything and it would be okay.

No matter how big of a secret you are hiding, someone that loves you wants to know, needs to know, and most importantly wants to help. So why not relieve your stress and let it all out.

A Call Lightens the Past

By Victor Rios
Co-Editor in Chief

It has always been a fleeting but inescapable thought, one that would present itself when his identity and whereabouts would be put to question either by strangers—who would later become my friends—or the parents of friends whose unselfishness so often guided them to teach me about the respect I never learned at home, once they found out.

Who was my father? Up until a few days ago I knew verbatim his name, the very stoic left side of his face, that he was a drunk and other insignificant “facts.”

More often than not, throughout the very turbulent years during which I developed—except when I was pissed off at them—I would ascribe the role of father to whomever lent their core selves to be considered my mothers husband (though as they would say in Mexico illegitimamente). I always enjoyed that pretending game. That is, up until I gained my first brother, whose existence justified—unjustly—a furious and heavily repressed (thanks in part to many ass-whoopings) jealousy that would take years to boil over and, not unlike a psychological improvised explosive device, explode with hatred directed at the one whom the rest of the human family generally loves: my mother.

Once in the US, I gained a new father, and a new set of step brothers and sisters. Once again, this helped to cement jealousy as part of my very being. Looking at my stepfather play with his children; carry the smallest on his shoulder while holding the other two’s hands on the way to mass, and me walking next to them intently paying attention to the other fathers and children—I tried to pass it off as a mark of coolness for a long time.

It never occurred to ask about him (my father) for fear that…well, for pure fear. I also knew that she (my mother) would tell me he was a drunk, a violent person and worst of all, gay—the root of a prejudice I held tightly until Professor Chance pried it away from my cold, still-living hands.
While I generally dismissed any profound wondrous sentiments, I did build (on top of many other unrelated negative aspects) a resentment towards him, for, despite the ten years I lived in Mexico, in the same residence only three blocks away form his mother’s house, he remained incognito and incommunicado.

More recently, (about two months ago) the curiosity that had yet to kill the cat returned, and resumed the nearly overbearing quest to find out more about the man I almost hated but had yet to meet. So I squeezed my balls really tight so as to not let any testosterone out of them, and asked—in a nice and kid-like squeaky voice—my mother to please find out his whereabouts. Surprisingly, she agreed—but unfortunately she never did get back to me. To her, I am just like my father: un alacran (a scorpion) who has lost his way much like his father did. Many times she related this to me (through loud explosive yells) and my ex-girlfriend (in a nicer way). In fact, she trusted my girlfriend so much more than she did me that she related to her the nature of my father’s untimely end.

“He died of a rare disease,” said Maribel, my ex-girlfriend.

“What? First of all, why would she not tell me to my face?” I responded fiercely. “Second of all, what does she mean, ‘a rare disease?’”

Without a second’s thought, Maribel’s saddened face (which as she later mentioned was expressed it for me) responded, “In Mexico, they usually refer to a ‘rare disease’ when people die of sexually transmitted diseases.” My mother was once again invoking my father’s supposed sexual preferences as the reason for his death.

A can of curious worms had definitely been opened, but extracting information from my mother’s “Pandora’s box” would be the most difficult aspect of the ongoing venture toward finding out more of my father. During the scant future meetings before the start of the semester, I would make simple attempts, not to pester her about my father—but I knew I had to somehow ease her into a comfortable state in order for her to talk to me about that. Instead, I asked about her family tree, of which she had such an ornate intimate knowledge. But when she got to the end of all she had to mention it—a venting that she had not gone through in a while. Like a squirrel that ungratefully runs from a human after having taken an M&M, she quickly recoiled and said her goodbyes. “We’ll talk some other day,” my mother said. “Thanks for calling.” (Of course, calling her, too, is something I barely ever do).

Coincidentally, after combing frantically (as I had done many times after finding out about my father’s death) through many directories in Guadalajara, looking for someone who may be even remotely related to my father, I gave up, as I had done before. It was 3 a.m. in the morning (and yes I was going crazy), but out of my—as the hot-head Glen Beck would say—gut, I said “let me check facebook. Hell, it’s the world biggest social networking site, my odds may be better there, and plus I can leave one of my meaningless messages.” I punched in the words “Rios Zubieta,” my father’s two last names; sure enough, the results brought with them one person—Luis Enrique Rios Zubieta. Before any attempt at asking whether he held any relevant information, I spied on his friends; it turned out that he had only 25, of which all but one were beautiful females of all sizes and shapes and backgrounds. But no one other person held his last name. I heeded no mind to this, the most looked at this man’s face—his flat forehead, his slanted eyes, and his serious face all added to the aura that he may be in some way related to my father.
The only way to know was to again to squeeze my balls and send him a message in Spanish, which read:

Hello, my name is Victor Javier Rios Lopez, I am from Guadalajara Mexico and I am looking for someone who has, or has had a very similar name to the one I have. If you know of anyone, I would appreciate it if you contacted me. If not, then, I am sorry for taking your time and, without a second’s thought, please discard this message. Thank you.

At that moment only one hope persisted, “this guy better get my message!" The chances that he would read it were very much diminished, since his last update to his facebook page had been on June twenty-third. Much to my surprise he did answer, though brief in content—“apparently you are my brother’s son, contact me at…”—it was enough to get those butterflies in my stomach rolling. For three days the thought of calling gnawed at my brain’s innards, “should I call? What if it turns out to be he is not?” At school, a surprise quiz which involved writing for the entirety of the class put whatever resolve to do well to the test, my fingers were jittery and I could not stop thinking about a person that may turn out to be someone else—in the end I got a meager B.

Around 7 p.m. while staring at the phone and unconsciously tossing and bending the phone card I obtained earlier that day, curiosity got the better of me; I picked up the phone to make the call of a lifetime. Dialed the card’s access number, the pin code, and the phone number to my uncle, and expecting the tides of enlightenment to pick up, I heard a disastrous and impersonal computer generated “you have dialed an invalid phone number.” “No!” From the other room I heard, “What happened?” It was Maribel, after explaining that I meticulously dialed every character, she said “let me try, I do this all the time.”—quite the comforting exaggeration for about two minutes when she too received the incessant response.

Ten minutes passed trying to figure out what we were doing wrong; finally we decided to call customer service—this turned into waiting far longer than expected, but finally the unusually nice lady on the other end related what we were doing wrong and connected the call. Within seconds someone did answer, “Bueno?”

Every nerve within me flinched into a brief pause, and then finally my lips broke through that mold and after what felt like a quaint introduction, I reminded him that I was calling as a result of his response on facebook. With hesitant sternness Enrique said, “Well, I am your father’s brother, ah…” as if searching for words he went on “well Victor, I would like to see you face to face.” My newfound uncle initially perceived my broken Spanish as a sign of inherent Americanism which included the availability of enough funds and time to travel to Mexico—of course, his idea could not be any farther from the truth. A brief intro into the current endeavors I am currently embarked in and hinting at the ‘funding’ issues Enrique related his own situation “I understand, I work as a paramedic and I am hurting too, like the President [Calderon] said, ‘When the US catches a cold, we get pneumonia.’”

“As for your father, well…how should I tell you…Your father, Victor, died three years ago,” Enrique said; though expecting some kind of grief to pour out he continued, “sorry, to have to tell you this over the phone, this was not my intention.” Despite the intense seriousness of the topic I shrugged it off and said to him in a composed and nearly happy manner, “I already knew that tio; mainly, I would like to know more about him, his family, and anything else that you deem important for me to know, seeing as I never met him in the 19 years that he was alive.”
The most revealing of conversations ensued; I held the phone closer to my ear than ever, pressing it hard and hoping that my eardrum would take account of every vowel, vocal expression and perhaps even give me a picture of what my uncle looked like and what he was doing. My father apparently had died of stomach cancer and complications from drinking too much alcohol in a Tijuana hospital—far from the rare disease account previously related to me. Victor remarried and had two more children; my uncle giggly said “you are the legitimate one.” Expecting never to see me again, he named the older of his kids Victor Javier Rios (8) and my young sister Irene Rios (5)—“I hope you are not offended because my brother named his kid the same as you,” my tio said. There is nothing that I could do or say to change that fact, what certainly does hurt is that they lost their father far too early in their lives, even if they did enjoy his presence more than I ever could.

Victor Javier Rios Zubieta was the youngest of 7 kids in a family that prided itself in the intellectual; two engineers, two doctors, two lawyers, and my tio, as he said, “well I am the least well-to-do of the family, I am a paramedic, but I love what I do.” My tio, coincidently spent my father’s last hours, by his bedside. While working in San Francisco, tending to artists needs while on tour in San Francisco area, he received a call from one his sisters; one of his brothers was in Mexicali, and needed someone to treat stabilize him, “I went with the though of stabilizing my brother and sending him to Guadalajara, where my sister would treat his hemorrhaging brain—which I did, but two days later, your brother’s wife called me, after years of not hearing from him, I immediately went to Tijuana, that’s where he went to look for you, obviously, he never did find you, but he stayed there, long story short, I got there three days before he died. Again, the plan was to stabilize him, and take him to Guadalajara, where again my sister would treat him—but it was too late,” said tio Enrique.

Father was an imperfect person—drunken spates of violence define the memories mom remembers him for—but my uncle knew that he loved me, in spite of all that he did (which he did not deny, and in fact, he added womanizer to the list of adjectives that describe my dad) tio says that he tried to get in contact with me, but every time he tried, my uncles (my mother’s brothers have more than just a screw loose) kicked his ass. “I remember your dad would go to your mom’s house and ask to see you, and between two of your uncles would fight him, he would then go back to the house, clean the blood off his face and go drinking again, after that, he would again go back for more, and again return empty handed, until he finally gave up. Years later, he would ask me whether I knew of you. Other times he would ask me to go ask for you. And then he completely fell off the earth, no one heard of him until his last days,” added tio Enrique.
Twice I returned to the store to buy new phone cards after being unexpectedly cut off—apparently, giving the caller a warning that the minutes are about to expire is too much to expect from any of the countless phone cards at the store (not even a beep). The talk of my father dominated merely a quarter of the conversation, the rest was a galore of discursion of each other’s lives which at time’s seemed like parallels. He turned out to be a gallant who loves talk of metaphysics, lover of books as well as of news of all kinds (with the exception of gossip), and of films from all over the world. “Do you like the movie ‘Déjà vu?” tio Enrique asked with a now usual and comforting mijo (my son). I never did watch the movie, but suddenly that place in time and the exact feelings running through my innards felt impressed the thought I had been there before; at the mention of this tio Enrique replied I felt the same exact way mijo.

The last time that he felt that way was a few years back, before he had to tend to both of his brothers illnesses while at San Francisco International Airport. There tio Enrique was stopped by immigration for carrying a friend’s baggage; in it were panty’s bra’s and other womanly garments. “Why are you carrying these clothes?” said the immigration officer. After explaining to him that his friend had forgotten the clothes one year earlier in Guadalajara for nearly two hours tio Enrique finally gave up, and told the immigration officer that he would no longer speak in English and that he would require a translator if immigration wanted to continue the very same line of questioning. Obviously exasperated by the constant interrogation tio Enrique gave up. “You know what officer, I am going to be attending the Gay Pride parade”—which coincidently happened to be the day after—the officer angrily responded with another question, “are you questioning my intelligence?” Soon after, a translator arrived and the officer retrieved to his office. After explaining to the translator the situation and relating to him the gay pride story, after a hysterical laughing session, the translator talked to the immigration officer, and had to resign to stamping my tio’s passport.

“Welcome to America…I hope you leave soon,” said the immigration officer; he then took tio Enrique’s baggage and dropped it on the floor. “You know what I did, I took all the clothes that fell out, stuffed them back into the baggage. I took my card out of my wallet, I gave it to the officer, I looked him right in the face and told him “Next time you go to Guadalajara make sure you call me, I will go to the airport, pick you up and show you what the meaning of hospitality really is,’” said tio Enrique. “In spite of all the bad things your dad and mom did…there is no more time available for this call,” said an automatic message.

I hung up the phone, sighed and went on to work on chemistry homework. Two weeks later I finally asked my mother again for some answers.