Veterans Upward Bound Newsletter - LaGuardia Community ...

Veterans Upward Bound 

INSIDE THIS 

ISSUE: 

Newsletter 

Veterans Upward Bound Newsletter 

W I N T E R 2 0 1 0 

Never Give Up 

D. Cholmondeley 

Pup Named Mars 

Juan Tejeda 

1 

1 

Never Give Up 

By DonYuan Cholmondeley 

Director’s Corner 

Samuel E. Farrell II 

My First Basketball 

Game 

Alberto Castillo 

Life 

Devnol Tobias 

Have You Lost Your 

Waistline? 

Keisha Jones 

Crossing the Border 

Luis Dominguez 

Memories 

Kevin Parsons 

Angels and Football 

Kevin Parsons 

Seeing the World 

Nicola Teixeira 

2 

4 

5 

5 

6 

7 

7 

9 

Did you ever listen to your parents? 

My parents, Mr. and Ms. Cholmondeley, 

always felt the need to share 

with our family many life values and 

slogans that I still remember to this 

day. I’m quite sure they have been 

heard before. You know, “Always 

wear clean underwear,” “Always say 

mister and misses when addressing 

adults,” and “You can do anything that 

you put your mind to,” just to name a 

few. Of course, the list goes on. I can 

say that I may not be perfect, but I 

have listened. I will continue to listen 

and listening to my parents will never 

stop if I can help it. 

During the mid to late eighties, I 

was a high school student. I was also a 

very motivated and happy kid. I even 

landed a job on the weekends working 

at a fast food restaurant at fourteen 

years old. Everything looked pictureperfect. 

I ran track, worked, and kept 

my grades up. I also learned that 

things never stay the same. My parents 

separated. This was something that I 

thought would never happen. 

I was used to the whole family 

being together. Who wouldn’t be? I 

still ran track and worked, but as 

time went on, my grades slowly 

started to slip. School became an 

even more important issue to me at 

the time because between both of my 

parents, my school tuition was being 

neglected. I hid my family matters 

from my peers and teachers. I even 

hid how I really felt from the rest of 

the family. I became determined to 

go against all odds to try and do my 

best. This was not such an easy task 

at all when as a young teenager. I 

managed to keep up with the track 

team and the practices. I was happiest 

at my job. It became my escape 

on the weekends. Being the youngest 

on the job, all kinds of avenues 

opened up to me. The older teenagers, 

eighteen and up, accepted me. It 

put me on a higher plain than the rest 

of my age group in my neighborhood. 

I was soon hanging out in 

clubs that I had no business being 

in. All of my older co-workers 

smoked and drank, and so did 

I. When it came to women, that was 

too easy. These coworkers of mine 

were practically throwing their 

younger sisters and cousins at 

me. My whole dress attire 

changed. I shopped for clothes, or 

“gear” as we called it, that no one in 

my age group wore. I was in another 

world. It was a world where my 

family issues were hidden well 

enough that no one would ever question. 

It was also a world where I 

believe I was doing my best. 

Continued on p3 

The Birth of My 

Youngest Daughter 

John Cephas 

10 

A Pup Named Mars 

By Juan Tejeda 

Jumped 

Keisha Jones 

Veteranss 

Resource 

Centers 

Video Games and 

Kids 

Tom Gradzki 

11 

13 

15 

The date was Saturday, October 

3 rd 2009. Vanessa and I were discussing 

adopting or buying a Holland 

Lop, (a long-eared rabbit). We had 

the funniest name ready to go: Phaddious 

McHaire. We walked into a pet 

shop to look around and see if they 

carried rabbits and to see the going 

rate for them. Too our dismay the 

store carried cats, dogs, birds and fish 

only. Yet Vanessa was captivated by 

the cuteness lurking behind the glass 

- all kinds of puppies, eager to be 

taken home. Jesus, help me! 

So I ask the salesman to let us 

see the little puppy of Vanessa’s 

choice. She choose a Jack Russell 

Terrier, he’s all white with a small 

patch on his right eye and on his left, 

something like the phantom of the 

opera mask. We get set up in a petting 

booth to get to know the little 

guy. He is a feisty thing. He instantly 

made an impression on me. As 

the salesman sinks his teeth in with 

the sales pitch, I am already falling in 

love. 

We get him home and he’s so 

overjoyed to not be behind a glass 

wall in a 2x2x3 foot box. He is all 

over the place bouncing off the walls 

and often hitting his head on the walls 

accidentally. He is only 3 pounds, 

and so soft. Vanessa can’t get enough 

of him, and neither can I. The worst 

thing is the smell of poop - and house 

breaking is not going well. He is too 

young to understand and he still has 

no name. 

Continued on p3


Director’s Corner 

PAGE 2 

By Sam E. Farrell, II 

LaGuardia Community College 

Veterans Upward Bound Program 

29-10 Thomson Avenue 

Room C-371 

Long Island City, NY 11101 

Executive Director 

Samuel E. Farrell, II 

Coordinator/Case Manager 

Edith Segovia 

Academic Coordinator 

Katy Lyle 

Fiscal Monitor/Data Specialist 

Dino Garcia 

Congratulations to the 

students who are now completing 

this winter 2010 cycle and 

to our instructional and office 

staff who helped make this a 

successful endeavor. Members 

of our Veterans Upward Bound 

(VUB) staff are reviewing criteria 

for determining successful 

completion in the program. This 

will define who achieves 

“graduation” status. So far, we 

see attendance, completion of 

post-tests and application to 

college as pre-requisites. We 

will get input from the instructional 

and mentoring staff before 

we implement this policy 

with our incoming students for 

the spring cycle on March 15. 

We have been challenged 

by LaGuardia’s changing admissions 

deadlines and we have 

persevered. In the future, we 

intend to address the issue of 

application documents up front 

during the intake process. For 

those of you who will be entering 

college this spring, we urge 

you to maintain contact with 

our Office. We will continue 

to reach out to you because 

the first year will be critical 

for your success – especially 

the first four weeks. You 

need to connect with your 

classmates and we plan to 

invite you back as a group to 

share your experiences and to 

help us make any necessary 

adjustments in our program 

services to help you and future 

VUB students. One step 

we have already taken is to 

add our graduates attending 

LaGuardia to an “Early 

Alert” system that will flag 

any with an “F” or a “WU” 

grade for us to help – we 

need to prevent your reaching 

this stage. One way is connecting 

with our Veterans 

Club where you will meet 

other veterans who have 

overcome or are struggling 

with similar issues. I might 

have said and I will say this 

again: Getting into college is 

easy – graduating is the challenge. 

Our Office and La- 

Guardia’s Veterans Advisory 

Board have been busy the last 

few weeks preparing for honoring 

veterans the week of 

May 3. So far, we have concentrated 

on Tuesday, May 4, 

to focus on women veterans. 

We have identified a few 

experts to match issues that 

will form an evening program 

with panel discussions and 

break-out workshops geared 

to help invigorate and empower 

participants. We also 

have a place for a veterans’ 

art display throughout the 

week -but we still have a lot 

of work to do on the other 

days – especially on the celebration 

on Thursday, May 6. 

We plan to keep you informed 

as well as the La- 

Guardia and veteran’s communities. 

Program Consultant 

Joe Bello 

Program Assistant 

Leopoldina Cueva 

Instructors 

Older Vera 

Crystal Artis 

Tutors 

Garry Israel 

Frank Monzon 

Mentors 

Shreejana Panta 

Jennifer Santiago 

Newsletter Committee 

Juan Tejeda 

Kevin Parsons 

Arinze Anene 

Katy Lyle 

Crystal Artis 

Photos: Timothy Clayton Carr 

Dollar Days 

By Worrell Rommel 

Do you remember when you could get just about anything for a dollar? A dollar could 

get you a cab, a soda, and even gas at one point in time. Today it is like an auction keeps the 

value of the dollar as it is, due to the fact that the economy has been going through a recession. 

The ever failing American dollar has effects not only regional but also national, and is noted to 

flood the markets once again. 

What are we as Americans doing meanwhile? We are spending less, consuming less, even 

avoiding spending unless it’s a need and not a want. Give the poor no money and a credit card 

and see the way it’s being used. That’s the typical American way of life. As major consumers of 

imported goods including food, fuel, and metals, inflation can have a good and bad effect on the 

economy. The effects are not just on goods, but stocks, bonds, real estate and even healthcare. 

Research has shown that the Federal Reserve Board has the potential to strengthen America’s 

standing in the world economy, yet a dollar buys less and less over time. It is not like we 

as a people are new to hearing the word inflation. It’s a fact that today we are seeing how harsh 

it is not only on the pockets of American people, but those of the rest of the World. 

Continued on p9


Never Give Up 

Continued from page 1 

PAGE 3 

By the end of my sophomore year in high 

school I still lived with my mom and would 

visit my dad as often as possible. Tuition wasn’t 

an issue anymore because I also found myself 

entering the public school system. Until I 

adjusted to that situation, no one knew how I 

felt about that either. It turned out that I loved 

it, a bit too much, of course. Since many of my 

new classmates were people from my neighborhood, 

just like how it was with the coworkers at 

my previous job, I was now in their world. The 

importance of going to school really diminished. 

Being jobless and always used to having 

a little money in my pocket (that did not come 

from my parents) did not help either. I learned 

to skip classes and play “hooky” to the point 

where I only went to school to take tests and 

hand in homework. Would you believe I was 

still getting passing grades? 

The one thing I did not have was that 

“escape” from my life at home. I still believed 

I was doing my best, but looking back now, I 

realize that I had lost all sense of self- control 

during this time in my life. My parents would 

drill to me,” Stand up for what you believe in!” 

and that’s what I believed. I believed that everything 

I was doing was either right or my 

best. In a way, it might have been my best, but 

how I carried things out was my worst. I lashed 

out verbally many times in the household which 

led to disrespectfulness. I also hung out more 

in the streets in my new world without checking 

in with anyone in my family, and that came 

with the alcohol drinking. Many forty ounces 

was consumed on a daily bases at this time. I 

was totally lost, but still trying my best to hold 

on to the family values and slogans that I was 

raised on. 

Out of all the years I spent on the honor roll, 

I had to repeat my senior year. That was unbelievable. 

I was the first in my immediate family to 

repeat a year in school. At first I wanted to give up 

and just quit school, get my GED. I just couldn’t 

though. Everyone in my new world had already 

flunked out of school and was on the street. I 

found strength in believing that I could do better 

for myself. I found strength in believing that I 

could do anything I put my mind to. So there it 

began the first real changes in my life and the first 

real efforts of understanding how to go about doing 

my best. I should have repeated a full senior 

year. Instead, I completed that repeated year in 

half the time. My school hours were from 7 a.m. to 

5 p.m. I had my guidance counselors fill up my 

whole schedule so that I could catch up. In the 

end, I received a high school diploma in the month 

of January. 

So many years have gone by since then. I have 

carried my family values and slogans with me 

every step of the way. They proved to be very 

helpful too. My entire family is proud of my 

many triumphs, as well as the many faults I’ve 

overcome. I’m a father of four now, going into my 

forties, and I’m currently back in school after all of 

these years. Until now, I always thought my slogans 

and life values were nothing compared to what 

my parents inspired within me. I was wrong on 

that account. For many years I have told my kids 

often to never give up. Lately, while now attending 

school, that slogan seems to have more meaning 

than I believed it would. Looking in their eyes now 

I realize that I am that living example of what I 

want them to believe in. My children believe in me 

and are proud of me. As my life continues on, I will 

carry these memories with me along with my family 

values and slogans. I am finally proud to say 

that I have listened to my parents and will continue 

to never give up at doing my best, neither should 

you. 

A Pup Named Mars Continued from page 1 

That first night we had him, he was so 

quiet. Not a peep. It seems we were wrong to 

expect him to remain so calm. The second night 

we had him we went out to my first concert 

ever. it was at the grandest stage of them all, 

Madison Square Garden! We joined a sold out 

arena for the final show of the blink 182 reunion 

tour. Needless to say, it was an amazing 

show. We got home and my mother in-law who 

puppy-sat for us said he was so quiet and that at 

first he cried for two minutes but then he just 

slept. That night I swore I’d come up with a 

name. 

I couldn’t think of a name. Vanessa tried 

name after name. It annoyed me that I couldn’t 

come up with anything. For three days I can’t 

think of a good name. Then it hit me. Why not 

go old school? What’s more old school than 

roman gods? So I asked to myself, what is the 

name of the god of war? Is it Aries? No that’s 

Greek. So I look it up, and it’s Mars. Then I run 

it by Vanessa. She kind of likes it, so I say why 

not? 

We go with it. With his fighting spirit and 

never back down attitude, it seemed almost perfect. 

It’s cool that everyone asks me, “ Why 

Mars?” He is a fighter at heart. That is true among 

the small breeds. Chihuahuas, for example, will 

bark and snap. As the movie said, “tiny but 

mighty”. 

As time goes on, I notice that Vanessa gets 

very itchy with small bumpy hives and the rims of 

her eyes get red from an allergic reaction. I feel 

like the smell is making me itch too, but my symptoms 

are not as bad as Vanessa’s. So we began to 

evaluate our options. If we keep mars, we will be 

uncomfortable and our work schedules also become 

a factor we never considered. If we let him 

go, we’ll be free and without obligations – what 

most people call “tied down.” But he’s still my dog 

and I don’t like the idea of giving up. So we gave 

up the idea and he’s still here. I’ve become more 

in tune to his character and personality. He loves 

Maury and Jerry Springer. He loves to sit in fishing 

chairs and on window sills. He has become a picky 

eater. I know when he’s misbehaved or is about to 

misbehave. It’s like I’ve slipped into a father-like 

state. Now I can’t imagine life without him. I even 

worry about, or miss him when I leave the house. 

Mars is in love with my father. When I introduced 

him to my home my father established dominance 

faster than I could. But they have a love/hate 

relationship. My father likes him but hates the 

smell. Mars loves him because my father scares 

him but he likes it. And he loves his car. When I 

take him in the car, my father will take him out to 

see kids at his girlfriend’s house, where he has an 

outlet for all that energy. 

Flash forward three months. It is now January. 

Mars is now a well-fed (still) crazy monster. I 

love the fact that he is so playful, but the bastard is 

nutty as squirrel shit. Nonetheless, we still love 

him. Vanessa and I are both allergic to him but 

she’s getting shots for that now. And it’s still not 

so bad for me. I look forward to seeing Mars grow 

and grow, and expect my kids to grow up and live 

with him until his old age, but I know I’ll miss my 

nutcase one day.


PAGE 4 

My First Basketball Game 

By Alberto Castillo 

Since the age of 14, I have wanted to be a basketball player. I have always been a big fan of sports, but I 

only had passion for the game of basketball. Most of my free time was spent at the park with friends from 

school playing basketball. Indoors or outdoors, I would always be on the court with schoolmates or family 

members - playing ball. 

My first basketball game in junior high school was something I’ll remember for the rest of my life. After 

working very hard to improve my skill and spending lots of time during practice with my coach in the gym, my 

game was great. When I first decided to be part of a basketball team at P.S. 202 in Brooklyn, East New York, I 

didn’t know what to expect. Even though I was already well-known at my school, I was new to the team. After 

my coach introduced me to my teammates, I started to feel more welcome. Each day after practice during 

the summer, I would go to the park across the street from my school for at least an hour or two to keep playing. 

Sometimes we would play different games back to back. Most of my friends from the neighborhood would 

want to pick me for their team just because they liked the way I played the game. The majority of the time I 

would stay out late playing basketball for hours. I would sometimes go home at ten o’clock at night and my 

father would scream at me because I never used to ask permission. I was only 14 years old. I weighed about 

135lbs, was 5’10’’ tall; not so fast, but not too slow. I was a very talented young man who used to drive 

through the court and score points for my team or draw a foul. The competition level was high at that time, as 

it is now, however, my abilities were just above local standards. 

I gained better skills from all of my coaches at school, but especially Mr. Martin - who was the head coach 

of the school. He was not only my basketball coach, but also a friend to me. Everyday he would make sure I 

was doing well in class. He also had lots of trust in me, on and off the court. Mr. Martin knew how important 

it was for me to play basketball and I was that person who could control the situation on court. 

The day of that first game, I couldn’t believe it when my coach said to me, “Alberto everybody is excited 

to see you play.” I didn’t know what to tell him and all I did was smile back at him. As I was looking around, 

everybody was screaming and calling out my number. I heard a girl scream, “Number eleven, we’re here to 

watch you play! Good luck!” I looked and realized that she was in my math class, and from that point on I 

started feeling happy and emotional just because it made me feel special to them.

Inside Story Headline 


Life 

I was born on the beautiful 

island of Trinidad and Tobago. 

I left at the age of five and 

moved to the island of Grenada. 

My family spent about five 

years in Grenada. When I was 

ten, my family moved to the 

United States of America in 

search of a better life. That is 

when my life changed. I went 

from being an innocent boy to 

learning how the world works. 

My family arrived in America 

when the crack epidemic took 

off. I went from running and 

playing on a clean, warm island 

with my friends and family and 

enjoying life, to not being able 

to go outside at all because 

crack was running rampant. It 

was then I knew my life would 

change forever. 

My family lived in 

Brownsville, NY and that’s 

where I saw things no little ten 

year old boy should see. Crackheads 

were robbing people to 

get money to pay for their crack 

addiction. Women were performing 

sexual acts to pay for 

their addiction. My life became 

a repetitive cycle. I went from 

home straight to school and 

after school I went straight 

home. My life went from being 

as free as a bird to basically 

being a prisoner in my own 

home. 

My school had all of the 

literature on why drugs were 

bad for you. In spite of antidrug 

campaigns, crack still 

found its way into the hands of 

the youth. In the few moments 

I breeched my mother’s policies 

to be with my friends, I saw 

how the drug game affected the 

environment around me and 

why I was sheltered from it all. 

On many occasions crack dealers 

tried to get us to sell and 

hold their drugs for them when 

the authorities showed up. 

Most of us were good kids and 

tried to stay on the straight and 

narrow, but after seeing all the 

money, the merchandise and 

power that came with it, we 

were curious. Drug dealers 

would give drugs to young kids 

knowing they didn’t know the 

game and thus making the kids 

victims. This also lead to some 

kids being arrested for a cause 

they knew nothing of substance 

about. 

I have lost many friends to 

the drug game. One of my best 

PAGE 5 

By Devnol Tobias 

friends was named Michael, 

(names have been changed here 

to protect the guilty). He was 

murdered by another drug dealer 

at the age of 15 because the drug 

leader in our building, Mikey, 

sent him on a run to collect some 

money from one of his drug 

dealers. Michael was later 

robbed and shot. That’s when I 

knew and understood the consequences 

and burdens of this business. 

Michael was an innocent 

teen trying to help and he lost his 

life in the mix. That’s one thing 

my mother would say when she 

thought my siblings and I were 

heading in the wrong direction, 

“Remember what happened to 

Michael.” 

My life changed from one 

in which I was a carefree little 

boy on a beautiful island to a 

traumatized prisoner in a concrete 

jungle where I was scared 

for the welfare of myself and my 

loved ones. Kids today don’t 

have to worry about crack as 

much as I did because now we 

have a bigger grasp of the situation 

than we did back in the 

1990s. 

Have You Lost Your Waistline? 

Men please stop the trend! I’ll say it again, “Men please stop the trend!” We don’t want to see any 

more dingy, worn-out, discolored underwear. Please! You’re hurting our eyes. Matter of fact, personally, 

I have no desire to view your “undies” pre-bedroom at all. How unattractive! Have you even 

turned around to look at yourself in the mirror? You know, the booty check that us women do before 

leaving the house? Start doing it, it may help. Why wear jeans at all? Do we really have to try to find 

comfort in living in the world of jailhouse rock? Everywhere you turn there is a male with his ass hanging 

out. Why?! How is that appealing? Be masculine with your “ass-ets.” A man’s ass is very eyecatching 

as it is. Pull your pants up! Your waistline is cold and lonely. 

- Keisha Jones


Crossing the Border 

Nineteen eighty-eight was 

the worst year ever. My 

mother and aunts left for the 

United States, and they left us 

with our grandmother in Mexico. 

I was only seven years 

old and I still remember it like it 

was yesterday. My grandmother 

used to tell us that they 

all left because they wanted to 

give us a better life. We were 

nine, six cousins, my sister, my 

brother, and me. Some of us 

were too little to remember - 

but others remember everything. 

I am one of those who 

remember everything. 

First, my aunts left, returning 

two years later for all my 

cousins. My mother took four 

years to come back and when 

the time came, we didn’t want 

to go with her. We felt like she 

was a stranger, and hated her 

for leaving us for such a long 

time. I told her that we were 

not going to leave my grandmother 

alone like my cousins 

did. The same thing happened 

a year later. Eventually, she 

decided to stay in Mexico, but 

she couldn’t get used to living 

in there and went back to the 

U.S. by herself again. Basically, 

she gave up on getting 

us to come to the United 

States until suddenly my 

grandmother started to get sick 

constantly. I didn’t want to eat, 

talk, or even hear mention of 

the words, “Let’s go to New 

York.” I still blamed my mom 

and my aunts and for leaving 

my grandmother alone with all 

of us. 

It took me a while to try to 

forget all this, but I did… until 

one day I made up my mind 

that now it was time to come to 

New York, where I planned to 

work even though I was only 

fourteen years old. My mom 

was against it, and told me that 

in order to find a nice job in 

New York, you have to prepare 

yourself and be the best. 

Those words were the ones 

that made me come to the U.S. 

We left Mexico on March 

20, 1998, twenty eight days 

after my grandmother’s death. 

We took a bus from Mexico 

City to the border of the state 

of Arizona. There were eleven 

of us, seven aunts, my mother, 

sister, little brother and me. 

We all jumped the border 

around midnight. It was funny 

because we didn’t need a 

“coyote,” meaning a person 

who traffics in people who wish 

to enter the U.S.A. All my 

aunts knew the way; I didn’t. 

Because it was pitch black, I 

couldn’t see anything. 

After we walked about 

eight hours, a mini-van 

stopped and asked us if we all 

had legal documents. Everybody 

said, “Yes” - of course. 

Then the driver took us to a big 

mall where we bought clothes 

and shoes. One of my aunts 

called a friend, the first person 

to show us hospitality in the 

state of Arizona. We were in 

Arizona for about a week, then 

By Luis Dominguez 

PAGE 6 

one of my many New York uncles 

came to pick us up in a 

rental van. He drove from Arizona 

to New York by himself 

because nobody else knew 

how to drive. 

We crossed almost the 

whole country, driving for a 

week without stopping. We 

only stopped for gas and that 

was it. At one gas station, I 

saw a guy with a uniform on 

and I asked him if he spoke 

Spanish! He said, “Yes, why?” 

So I asked him what uniform he 

was wearing, and he said he 

was in the United States Navy. 

After he told me that, I went 

back to the van and told my 

whole family I wanted to join 

the navy when I turned eighteen 

years old. They all 

laughed at me, even my mom. 

We finally got to New York 

in the morning and the first 

thing my eyes saw was snow… 

and the Statue of Liberty, so I 

knew we were in New York. I 

started school right away, but I 

hated it because I didn’t speak 

English. High school came 

next, and it was even harder. 

It took me five years to graduate, 

but I did it. I felt so proud 

of myself and I knew what was 

next: the United States Navy. 

And now here I am as a veteran, 

receiving the benefits I 

was granted for serving in the 

United States Navy.


PAGE 7 

Memories 

Memories… What are 

memories? Memory is an invention 

given us by God before 

our birth to send us back in 

time. Would you like to go for a 

ride in my mind? Well alright... 

Please put your seat upright, and 

have your seatbelts tight. 

The year is about 1990. My 

age? 5 years old. The location? 

My Grandmother’s house. 

Why? Because my mother had 

to work. My cousin Jahmel was 

hanging out with me because of 

the same circumstance. You 

see, my grandmother stayed in a 

HOUSE. Jahmel and I stayed in 

apartments. So to us, it was 

definitely a privilege to get 

dropped off at grandmas. Because 

now, not only did we 

have each other, we got to play 

our most famous game in the 

world, “Lava on the stairs!!!” 

I was Indiana Jones and 

Jahmel was Spider-Man. The 

By Kevin Parsons 

goal? Start from the bottom of 

the stairs, which in our eyes was 

a huge volcano erupting. First 

one to the top of the volcano got 

that beautiful woman from the 

movie, “The Last Dragon”. My 

tool of choice was my famous 

whip. And of course, Jahmel 

had his spidey web. As I 

climbed to the top to rescue my 

Queen, Jahmel would shoot his 

web in my path, which would 

only work temporarily. Once I 

broke free, I would whip him in 

the head with my whip. 

“WASPPPEESSSHHH!!!” 

“WHESPEECCCHHH!” is the 

sound effect I would make with 

my mouth! Now he’s dazed… 

I’m almost there… And… Then 

I hear a voice…”Stop all that 

got-damn noise, and come 

eat!!!” 


By Kevin Parsons 

My family and I had just returned from 

Fort Jackson, South Carolina after attending 

my daughter’s graduation from basic training. 

On the way back to Kentucky, my 

mother got a call about my brother. She was 

told her youngest child was in an emergency 

room with severe stomach pains. Worried, 

my mother decided to fly to New York the 

next day to be with my brother. 

We soon found out that my younger 

brother had just been diagnosed with stage 

four colon cancer. I remember immediately 

letting out a grunt, holding the phone up to 

my ear with my right hand, while my left 

hand clenched in a fist up to the left ear as if 

it would stop me from hearing what I was 

hearing and banging my forehead against the 

door of the master bath. My anxiety was at an 

all time high. This was not good at all. I had 

feelings of panic and fear. I felt an unusual 

uneasiness. My hands were cold and sweaty. 

I felt my muscles tensing up and I became 

nauseated and dizzy. I thought about losing 

my little brother and all the pain and suffering 

he would endure. My second reaction 

was to start packing a bag because I needed 

to get to him. I was still on leave at the time 

so my wife Marianne drove me straight to 

Nashville Airport to catch the next flight out 

to New York, but there weren’t any more 

flights departing for New York that night - so 

I would have to wait until the next morning. 

When I finally arrived at the hospital the 

next morning I found my brother in a significant 

amount of pain. At this time he 

was still unaware of his diagnosis. My 

family and friends were there and the 

mood was somber. There were people 

crying and my mother insisted that we 

keep the truth of the diagnosis from Martin 

so as not to alarm him. As a concerned 

mother, I can see why she may 

have felt that that was the best action to 

take at the time, but as the imperfect 

somewhat spiritual brother I could not 

disagree more. 

Continued on p8


PAGE 8 


Continued from p7 

As a bonus I was sent an angel to counsel me. Her voice was calm and soothing. She was concerned but brutally honest. She took away any 

doubt that keeping it “a hunit” (as Martin and I would say) is the only way to be. She said it was the only way I knew how to be, so be me. 

Who was I to rob Martin of the opportunity to know the truth and make peace with God, family, neighbors, or anyone he may feel the need to 

ask for forgiveness. He may have needed to forgive himself and finally be at peace with himself. Beside God, he is the best knower of himself. 

I eventually broke the news to my brother, much against my mother’s wishes. In breaking this news to Martin I was also breaking my 

own heart. He had a glossy-eyed blank stare on his face when I broke the news to him. My mouth was saying have faith and hope but my facial 

expression was saying, “Brother this is it, dig deep and get right.” It took everything I had to control myself and not cry in front of him, 

but I could not let my little brother see me in pain. I had to be strong for my family. Reality is nourishment. The only time I cried was alone in 

a corner, in a bathroom, or in the stairwell of the hospital. When I cried my angel would call. It was as if she knew I was hurting and alone. 

She was always on time to let me know that I wasn’t. 

Martin had expressed to me that he did not want to die and had said he wanted to be here to watch the next Super Bowl especially since 

the Giants had just won the Super Bowl. Martin was happy about New York’s Super Bowl win but we have our little cousin Willie Colon, #74, 

who is a starter with the Pittsburgh Steelers and we needed him to get a ring for the family. It was soon time to head back to Fort Campbell, 

Kentucky, back to my family and work. My life would never be the same. Leaving Martin was one of the hardest things for me to do at this 

point. I had no choice. I had to get back to my duties. 

Seven months passed. Martin had been receiving treatments, and we spoke as often as his medication would allow us to. On many occasions, 

I wished I could be there with him. Be careful what you ask for. One day my mom called me and said to me in a very low, quivering 

voice that I needed to get to New York as soon as possible. Martin had taken a turn for the worse. I immediately went on emergency leave and 

when I arrived in New York, I went straight to the hospital. Martin did not look well at all. He had lost a tremendous amount of weight, his 

speech was slurred due to the medication, and he looked frail and weak. 

Continued on p16



I am sitting in first class, 

waiting for the plane to take 

off. The stewardess is going 

around the cabin and making 

sure everything is alright. I 

check to make sure my seat 

belt is fastened tightly and 

wait for the safety instructions. 

The captain tells the 

stewardesses to takes their 

seats as we cruise the runway. 

The wheels are off the 

ground; finally we are up in 

the air. I close my eyes and 

chew my gum as the plane 

adjusts to its flying altitude. I 

look through the window and 

I am amazed by the night 

lights below. They are lit up 

like a Christmas tree. Here I 

go again, off to see the 

world. 

As I look through my 

window, I am amazed by the 

view. I say to myself, “Wow, 

I am on my way to see 

China.” It is a country I have 

always wanted to see and 

finally it is no longer a 

dream, but a reality. I am on 

my way to a new adventure 

in my life. I do not know 

what to expect but I hope it 

is going to be an enjoyable 

experience. I sip on my 

drink as I look over my travel 

documents and make sure 

the immigration forms are 

filled out correctly. The 

stewardesses do their final 

safety checks as the plane 

prepares for landing. “What 

a view,” I say to myself as I 

look at the land below. 

By Nicola Teixeira 

PAGE 9 

There are huge buildings, but it 

is not like New York City. The 

plane’s wheels hit the ground; 

we have arrived safely in Beijing. 

I am waiting in line to go 

through immigration, listening 

to the voices which I cannot 

understand. I’m thinking I 

should have read Chinese for 

Dummies before I came to 

China. Well, luckily I will have 

a Chinese tour guide who 

speaks English. Finally, I clear 

customs and go off to find my 

tour group. I see our guide 

holding a sign and speaking 

through her microphone, telling 

us to gather around the bus. 

Continued on p16 

Dollar Days 

I wasn’t born in the US, but I have 

seen the trend of the American dollar just 

vanishing along with its products in my 

home island of Barbados. The exchange 

rate is 1.00 USD = 1.99 BBD. More and 

more consumers outside the U.S. are 

forced to buy products such as clothing, 

food, and electronics which aren’t made in 

the U.S. at the American price since the 

American dollar is still mainly used in 

trade worldwide. 

We’ve also seen where the dollar 

goes besides trade, in aid to countries in 

need and sometimes into nations after 

we’ve toppled them, after destruction and 


war. (Don’t get me wrong, that all looks 

good on America.) But as we help are 

we also planning our own destruction 

with our own problems with the dollar? 

Time and time again countries have 

asked to ease the stress of world 

trade. Could it get worse before it gets 

better? Elsewhere in the world the 

same choke hold that’s placed on us is 

forced upon citizens not only in trade 

but also in tourism. As Americans fight 

to stay afloat, gas, energy and food 

prices get worse. Along with this, saving 

the ever so weak dollar has became 

harder. 

Continued on p12


The Birth of My Youngest Daughter 

PAGE 10 

By John Cephas 

It was the morning of Tuesday, 

December 25, 1990. At approximately 

8:26am, I was wearing my dress down 

blue uniform in the conference room of 

the U. S. Coast Guard Base in East 

New Haven, Connecticut. My company 

and crew were gathered there for 

the changing of the guard, so to speak. 

It was a beautiful winter day, as I recall. 

There hadn’t been any snow for a 

while, so there was no snow for Christmas 

Day. As we began the ceremony 

of relinquishing the tour of duty to the 

relieving crew, the phone rang in the 

company commander’s office. He answered, 

spoke for a moment and hung 

up. He then addressed me in the presence 

of the entire company and, informing 

me that my wife Camille was 

en route to the hospital in New Haven. 

She was being driven there by one of 

our neighbors, one of a couple, who 

had been put on call in the last month 

of Camille’s pregnancy. I said my 

goodbyes and, with everyone’s blessings, 

I departed for St. Raphael’s Hospital 

in New Haven. As I was only a 

five minutes drive away from the Hospital, 

I arrived before my wife did. 

I paced as I waited at the Emergency 

entrance for Camille and her 

escort, who were driving down from 

Hamden where we lived. I was as 

nervous as a long tailed bobcat in a 

room full of rocking chairs. It was the 

longest 15 minute wait of my life. 

They finally arrived; I helped Camille 

out of the car and into a wheelchair 

with the aid of a hospital attendant. 

Our neighbor Mike, was giving a recap 

of the events of their adventurous 

ride which we would all sit around and 

share and laugh about the details of 

later. We were taken by elevator to 

one of the fifth floor delivery rooms. 

Camille’s contractions were coming at 

about five minutes apart. I held her 

hand which she squeezed as I spoke 

soothingly to her and, helped her 

maintain a steady rate of breathing. 

The room was abuzz with the delivery 

room staff preparing for the arrival of 

a new life into the world. At some 

point the Doctor arrived. I had lost all 

sense of time, you see. This was going 

to be my first experience being present 

during the delivery of one of my children. 

It was over before I knew it, although 

my wife wouldn't agree I'm 

sure. 

The Doctor announced, as he 

raised our daughter ,“It's a Girl.” I 

told Camille she'd done a great job, as 

I leaned over and kissed her, then 

asked her, “Can I have my crushed 

hand back now?” 

Continued on p12


PAGE 11 

Jumped 

I wanna go up in a hot air balloon 

with two bottles of the tastiest red wine, 

stare into steamy but warm eyes, 

fill the air with laughter and giggles. 

With our smiles intertwining through 

the clear blue sky, 

ears wide open, to what has been. What could be? What will be? 

Reminiscing on major arguments, 

breathless about how those misunderstandings were brought to an end… yumm. 

You are so beautiful… 

Let’s take this a little further. 

Gear is on. 

Our bodies, tightly fixed and blended like a puzzle. 

Pour, each, one more glass of wine. 

Here, baby… a toast to our future. 

Secure….yes, safe….yes, ready……yes. 

I never thought I could feel this free. 

Making love in the wind - 

brisk, like little icicles dancing away through pores that never existed. 

How could I ever have let you talk me into this? 

You get me. You see me. You love me. You adore me. 

The wind has us flying high. 

The wind has us flying low. 

You sexily pull in close to my ear 

and whisper, 

“Will you marry me?” 

I take in an easy breath, 

and smoothly blow out a, “Yes.” 

You pull the cord; 

Now we’re dancing our way down 

for a grand landing. 

You twirl me around, get on one knee. 

Devilishly smiling, I ask, “What if I said no?” 

Body is shivering sweet as the ring is 

alluringly placed on my finger. 

Life with you is easy 

and if it weren’t for you, I never 

would have jumped! 

- Keisha Jones


The Birth of My Youngest Daughter 


PAGE 12 

They whisked our Daughter away 

to make her more presentable to 

greet us and, they shortly returned 

with our bundle of joy all 

wrapped up in a blanket. As She 

lay in her Mother’s arms I observed 

Her in amazement. She 

had all ten fingers and toes and, 

was healthy. They let us enjoy 

Her for a moment and then, 

whisked Her away again to the 

nursery. Camille and I were taken 

to the room She, would occupy 

for the next few days. As we 

waited, for the arrival of our little 

bundle we again, discussed possible 

names. We agreed on Candace Martina 

and there it was She, was now 

Candace. I visited everyday until it 

was time to take them home. I discovered, 

during one of the diaper 

changing ceremonies that She had a 

dark bluish colored butt created by 

Her positioning in Her Mother’s 

womb. Camille and I laughed about 

it more than a few times. I later 

found Her to be what a lot of people 

call a quiet baby, content it seemed 

as if, She had it all worked out and 

just had to be patient and let time 

pass. I watched Candace grow getting 

up in the middle of the night 

to feed Her. While I held Her in 

my arms and talked to Her until 

She finished Her bottle and went 

back to sleep. Then suddenly as 

time marched on She was doing 

upper body push-ups, looking 

around, and crawling, pulling herself 

up to stand, and finally taking 

her first steps. And, that is the happiest 

memory that I would not 

want to miss even if, after the year 

was over I had no more memory of 

it. 

Dollar Days 


Your vacation is spent doing a odd to get a little bit more money in your pocket instead of being able to stretch 

that dollar. Inflation is talked about all over the world but the American people hear and say, “Oh another country 

has problems; that’s the reason why we’re paying out our ass.” Instead of doing the research and seeing that 

it’s a love/hate relationship with inflation worldwide, they say inflation isn’t dished out evenly and some even say 

it doesn’t have a effect on goods because its built in. So let me ask you this, “Which comes first, food or oil?” 

The effect of oil running the world is there, alongside the decline of the dollar. Oil rich countries sell higher 

because of neighboring countries trading their goods such as food, at a rate corresponding with the price of oil - 

harsh but very true. Imagine a couple years from now, if the world continues to use this declining dollar, what will 

the outcome be? We won't be digging a hole for ourselves alone, but for all those who trade with the currency 

that once stood tall. We as Americans are too ashamed to say that if the dollar keeps failing, we aren't sure if 

we could recover as a nation. We continue to feed the consumers the idea that the nation is looking for ways to 

make the nations products wanted or needed as they were before.


PAGE 13 

Veterans’ Resource Centers in New York City 

Queens: 

Veteran Services Office at 

LaGuardia Community College 

* 29-10 Thomson Avenue 

* Room C-371 

* Long Island City, NY 11101 

* Phone: (718) 482-5386 

* Fax: (718) 609-2025 

* Web: www.lagcc.cuny.edu/veterans 

* Email: vets@lagcc.cuny.edu 

Vietnam Veterans of America 

* Chapter 32 

* 74-06 Metropolitan Avenue 

* Middle Village, NY 11379 

* Phone: (718) 326-2964 

* Fax: (718) 326-2918 

* Web: www.vva.org 

* Email: vvachapter32@aol.com 

Manhattan: 

Incarcerated Veterans Consortium 

* Harlem Vet Center 

* 2279 3rd Ave. 

* 2th Floor 

* New York, NY 10035 

* Phone: (212) 426-2200 

* Fax: (212) 426-8273 

* Web: www.incarceratedveteransconsortium.org 

Bronx: 

New Era Veterans 

* 1150 Commonwealth Avenue 

* Bronx, NY 10472 

* Phone: (718) 904-7036 

* Fax: (718) 904-7006 

* Web: www.neweraveterans.com 

Brooklyn: 

Black Veterans for Social Justice 

* 665 Willoughby Avenue 

* Brooklyn, NY 11206 

* Phone: (718) 852-6004 

* Fax: (718) 852-4805 

* Web: www.bvsj.org 

Staten Island: 

S.I. Supports Our Soldiers 

* 460 Brielle Avenue 

* Staten Island, NY 10314 

* Phone: (718) 273-5707 

* Fax: (718) 273-5707 

* Web: www.sisos.org


PAGE 14


PAGE 15


PAGE 16 



A mere shadow of the healthy athletic young man I once knew. After spending some time with Martin and a few family members, 

I needed a break, so I left the room and eventually the hospital. I jumped into my car and headed downtown to shower and 

change clothes. As I was driving I decided to pull over. I sat there in deep thought and began to cry. A few minutes later I get a 

call from another angel, more like a brother, with a message about a certain Christian prayer. A prayer my angel had mentioned 

to me a few days before. The angel brought this prayer to me. It was “The Prayer of Salvation”. My angels were concerned with 

Martin’s soul. The Prayer of Salvation reads: 

"Father, I know that I have broken your laws and my sins have separated me from you. 

I am truly sorry, and now I want to turn away from my past sinful life toward you. Please 

forgive me, and help me avoid sinning again. I believe that your son, Jesus Christ died 

for my sins, was resurrected from the dead, is alive, and hears my prayer. I invite Jesus 

to become the Lord of my life, to rule and reign in my heart from this day forward. Please 

send your Holy Spirit to help me obey You, and to do Your will for the rest of my life. In 

Jesus' name I pray, Amen." 

When we were given the news that Martin’s liver was failing and it would only be a matter of days before he passed, one of 

my angels came to me. She took the prayer of salvation from me, walked into my brother’s room, turned on the bathroom light 

and startled Martin. His eyes where yellow with jaundice and wide like a deer in the headlights. He saw her angelic face and the 

first words that he spoke, in a low fading voice were, “My soul.” My angel began to cry. After all she was only human. It was as if 

he knew why she was there. She read the prayer and asked him if he accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and savior. With that, 

Martin replied with an unequivocal, “Of course,” and a relieved smile. 

Seven months prior, I assured Martin that he would be here for this year’s Super bowl and we talked about how cool it would 

be if our little cousin won a Super Bowl ring. Martin didn’t make it. Martin “Face” Wilson returned home on September 11, 2008. 

He was thirty-three years young. Oddly enough, my little cousin Willie Colon won the super bowl with the Pittsburgh Steelers in 

2009. I thank God for my angels, my beautiful wife Marianne Ware and my brother Matt Velez. Because of their work, I feel my 

brother’s soul is at rest. 



We load up our luggage and get on 

the bus to settle down in our seats. 

I sit beside a lady and we introduce 

ourselves to each other. She is in 

the Air Force and we agree to be 

buddies during the tour. 

The bus hits the highway and 

we are on the way to our hotel. As I 

am looking through the window a lot 

of thoughts are running through my 

mind. I had just missed the Olympic 

Games and I hoped we were going 

to pass by the Bird’s Nest Stadium. 

I am also wondering what the sights 

are going to be like that we are going 

to visit. As the tour guide 

speaks to us in English, she explains 

the events and the various 

places that we will be visiting. I am 

excited at getting to see the Summer 

Palace, the Buddhist Temple, 

The Great Wall, a jade factory and 

Tiananmen square. We arrive at 

the hotel and check into our 

rooms. As I settle in for the 

night, I cannot wait for the next 

day to arrive. I am already thinking 

about my next journey. 

Where will it take me? I see a 

picture flash of the Taj Mahal 

and colorful saris. As I drift into 

dreamland, I say to myself, 

“Bollywood, here I come.”


PAGE 17 

Video Games & Kids 

By Tom Gradzki 

Video games have 

been blamed for negative 

behavior in minors since 

they become an average 

household item. It’s not 

video games that cause 

kids to commit crimes, it’s 

the fact that most parents 

don’t discipline their kids. 

A lot of people look for 

other things to blame 

rather than themselves. 

Many people believe 

that violence in video 

games influences bad behavior 

in minors. All video 

games have ratings on 

them to stop minors from 

buying games that they are 

not old enough to play. 

According to the U.S Department 

of Justice Bureau 

of Statistics, violent crimes 

went down and continued 

to diminish at the times 

that PlayStation 1 and 2 

came out. 

The game that has 

caused the most controversy 

is Grand Theft Auto. 

“G.T.A” caused a lot of 

lawsuits against the video 

game industry because a 

lot of people didn’t want 

their kids to witness certain 

things in the game. 

Most ten year olds know 

not to do things like steal 

cars and shoot people for 

fun. In my opinion, if a ten 

year old thinks this is a 

good idea, then the parents, 

not the video game 

industry, should be blamed 

for not raising their kid 

correctly. There have been 

a few incidences where 

video games have been 

blamed for crimes and accidents 

caused by minors. 

One incident was a five 

year old that thought he 

was Sponge Bob and decided 

to walk into a lake 

so he could be like his favorite 

video game and cartoon 

character. It’s not the 

video games that should be 

blamed for this, it’s the 

parents that didn’t watch 

their child and let them do 

something so dumb. 

If parents watched and 

disciplined their kids better, 

then we wouldn’t have 

to look for others to blame. 

Video games have a rating 

system that should be followed. 

I was around 12 

when G.T.A came out and 

I was allowed to play it but 

I knew what the consequences 

would be if I tried 

to recreate anything in the 

game. My parents raised 

me strictly and were not 

scared to kick my butt if I 

did anything wrong. Now 

parents don’t do this and 

all it does is hurts the kids 

down the line. 

“A lot of people 

look for other 

things to blame 

rather than 

themselves.”

Veterans Upward Bound Newsletter PAGE 18 

VUB LAGCC 

Free College Classes and Services for Veterans 

2010 

Spring Session I: 

March 15-April 22 

Spring Session II: 

May 10-June 17 

Summer Session: 

July 7-August 17 

Office Hours: 

Monday to Thursday 

1pm - 9pm 

• Apply for GI benefits 

• College enrollment & other financial aid 

• Prepare for college placement tests in 

reading, writing and math 

• Develop an electronic portfolio 

• Use your military experience to select a 

career or college major 

Veterans Upward Bound 

31-10 Thomson Avenue, Room C-371 

Long Island City, NY 11101 

(718)482-5386 / 5231 

www.lagcc.cuny.edu/ veterans 

vets@lagcc.cuny.edu

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