Northern New Yorker 2022 - 2023

Northern New Yorker title page and art

The

Northern New Yorker

Arts and Literature of North Country Community College

2022 - 2023

Northern New Yorker

We are beyond elated to present this issue of The Northern New Yorker to you. The past academic year carried with it profound loss and emotional challenges for students and our community. The art and writing in this issue are evidence of those challenges and a testament to processing our human experience while knowing, at North Country Community College, we are not alone.

Our editors invite you to celebrate the vulnerability and candid expression in each artist’s unique vision and voice.

The work in this digital collection was caringly curated into its final form

by Professor Elaine Taylor-Wilde and hand-selected by our dedicated faculty members. We are infinitely proud of our students and grateful to celebrate their art together at the year’s end.

Submissions are open for next year’s issue—we cannot wait to see what students create!

Literary Editor, Brandi Taylor

As the Department Chair of Art at North Country Community College, I am proud to reflect on the past few years that were marked by resilience and creativity. Our students and faculty continue to successfully navigate the challenges posed by the pandemic by embracing innovative approaches to art making.

I am also pleased to highlight how our curriculum goes beyond creative expression - it continues to expand as a gateway to the broader job market and recognizes the intersection of art and technology. This comprehensive approach equips our students to navigate diverse career paths, reinforcing the notion that artistic proficiency is an asset in an increasingly interconnected and visually driven professional landscape.

Looking toward the future our department is excited about leveraging technology even further to foster collaboration and create a dynamic fusion incorporating art while exploring generative art skills.

Art Editor, Tina LaMour

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Table of Contents

Jamie Bradley 42 Hayden Brimelow 46 Johanne Brockway 11, 27, 32, 51 Santiago Cadena 7, 8, 23, 32, 37 Arlean Carpio 17 Jayden Cartier

38 Eryn Coolbaugh 24 Harley Cox 41 Jaila Davis 12 Thomas Dishman 10 William Douglas 9 Ateema Dumas 27, 35, 44 Bennett Dupuy 6, 13, 37, 40, 44 Kristian Eddy 48 Sofie Fachin 7 Chloe Flannaghan 20, 45 Terrance Sullivan Fogarty 8, 20, 21, 44 Kellyn Garrand 6 Shawlame Gorman 30 Kathleen Herne 18 DeVyne Johnson 32, 33 Nate Keaney 16 Emma Loeb 10, 29

Braiden Magurno 11, 45 Roger Marsh 8, 25 Jack Michalak 4 Sibusiso Mokoena 50 Jordan Moodley 20 Zena O’Leary-Cumber 5, 14, 39, 43, 45 Ryan Previna 44 Cordell Reynolds 18, 21, 26 Urzula Maria Rodriguez 15 Cassidy Rushby 27 Karly Snyder 10, 15, 23, 26, 28, 33, 36,

40, 43, 44, 47, 51 Serena Stevens 19 Anna Taylor Cover, 13, 31, 36, 47, 49 Rebecca Tendler 34 Hannah Thatcher 28, 33 Dylan Urquhart 33 Mikenna Valentine 18, 29, 45 Carlihn van der Smeede 13 Alison Van Schaik 22 Keith Vivlamore 14, 26, 31, 49 Samantha Weeks 11 Charlotte Young 29

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Adulting Jack Michalak Yesterday I was a child; today I am an adult.

In my opinion the word child can have several different definitions. A child is someone that still believes in the possibility of magic being real. A child is someone that believes that they can win the lottery and be a millionaire like Richie Rich or London Tipton. A person that can smile during any crazy situation, and lastly a being that believes anything can happen.

Now looking back at my childhood all I can see is my resilient, ecstatic, and crazy blonde neighbor. Kennice has been my best friend since the first day of kindergarten. I can remember wanting to be friends with her because her grandma would bring us to McDonald’s once a week.

God I really enjoyed McDonald’s back then. From then on, our friendship continued to grow.

She got me addicted to playing Minecraft at the age of five. We would build houses, mine for diamonds (which she always found), slay numerous mobs, tame animals, and continue to build more intricately designed houses. We also would play Mario Kart, always fighting over who was going to win first while also arguing about who got to play as a certain character in the game. We also played soccer together as young kids. To this day I miss her so much.

Over the recent summer, we took a trip with two others of my greatest friends (Kristalyn and Kassidy) to Maine. We rented a little hotel room for the four of us for three days. Those days were by far some of the best times. Shopping at Lululemon, Aeropostale and tourist traps, we spent way too much money on unnecessary purchases. Pretending as if we had money, even though we were broker than ever. We lay in the burning hot sand, while trying our best to get tan in three days. Kristalyn decided to feed our popcorn and chips to numerous devilish looking pigeons, and the pigeons looking as if they could kill if we kept our snacks for ourselves. God, I wish that I could hold onto this memory forever.

A person can close their eyes one day a child and wake up the very next morning and they have entered adulthood. Here I am, writing this paper, eating goldfish, wearing my pajamas, listening to Miley Cyrus, and I am considered an “adult”. Legally I am allowed to vote for the president of our country. I am legally allowed to gamble and able to take care of a child. I am also financially responsible for myself.

When I was younger, I always thought that adults had all the answers, while also knowing all the ins and outs of things. I thought that they all had gotten together and agreed on everything, but we can see how that turned out. Slowly I am learning that adults do not hold all the answers to all the questions that I have. Slowly I am learning that they (we) are just trying their best to get through the day. Trying to better ourselves.

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Northern New Yorker Adulting… the way that I can describe adulting is the willingness to continue. During the summer I had two jobs. One of them was working with elders from 6a-10p. Next, I would wait tables from 4p-10p. Working all this time you begin to realize what your life will eventually be. Work, work, work. An adult’s life consists of work. You spend hours working and then head home to work with the kids. Getting very little time to yourself, but as adults we know that we must continue on with our days.

Previously when I thought of an adult, I pictured a profound and respectful individual. I pictured a person that was noble, smart, and well put together. Now I see that an “adult” is someone at and over the age of 18. While they are an adult, they are still a child on the inside. Wanting to hang out with friends, play videogames together, and plan an outrageous trip for a weekend together. An adult is a child at heart.

Zena O’Leary-Cumber

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Bennett Dupuy

Spring Kellyn Garrand

Frigid spring morning, flowers all covered in dew— Big sky above you.

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Santiago Cadena

Sofie Fachin 7

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Terrance Sullivan Fogarty

Santiago Cadena 8

Roger Marsh

Ignorance is Not Bliss William Douglas I’ve gone through a journey of personal growth and transformation, where I once didn’t really know much although I thought I knew a lot to now feeling like I have learnt all these new things in my life and I’m much wiser than before.

I grew up in a small town and was raised in a sheltered environment. My parents did their best to protect me from the world’s problems and provide me with a comfortable life.

However, this ended up in me being naive about a lot of stuff happening in the world and the issues that people face daily. I was unaware of all the privileges I had and did not understand the struggles that others went through.

However, as I grew older and left my hometown, I started to see the world in a different light. I was exposed to different cultures, ideas, and perspectives. I began to learn about the inequality and injustice that is in our country and the impact they had on people’s lives. This knowledge was like a wakeup call for me, and I felt like I had a deep sense of responsibility to at least try do something about it. I started to read and become more informed about the issues we as a country face, like inequality and injustice. I read articles, watched documentaries and podcasts, and talked to my friends and people with different experiences.

The process of trying to learn about these issues and getting wisdom was not always easy. Most times it meant confronting my own biases and beliefs and rethinking my values and principles that I grew up with. I had to be open-minded and humble, willing to listen and learn from others. I had to be willing to admit

Northern New Yorker and accept when I was wrong and to change my beliefs when new information challenged them. It was a challenging process, but it was also a rewarding one.

As I started learning more, I also gained more empathy and compassion for others. I saw the world through their eyes and felt their struggles as if they were my own. I realized that my ignorance had caused me to be insensitive to the experiences of others and that my lack of understanding had caused me to have harmful attitudes and beliefs. With this newfound wisdom, I was able to see the world with a new perspective. I learnt how to make meaningful connections with people from different backgrounds.

My journey of growth and transformation has also had a big impact on my personal life. I am more confident in my beliefs and values and have a better understanding of what is important to me. I am more self-aware and understand my strengths and weaknesses way more. I have a deeper sense of purpose and direction in life.

In conclusion, my journey from ignorance to wisdom has been challenging but very helpful in shaping me into who I am today.

It has taught me the importance of learning, empathy, and personal growth. I am grateful for the opportunities I have had to gain knowledge and wisdom and for the impact it has had on my life. I believe that ignorance is not a permanent state, and that with effort and determination, anyone can overcome it and become wise. The journey may be challenging, but it is also incredibly rewarding. I hope that my story will inspire others to embark on their own journey of personal growth and transformation and to see the world in a new and enlightened way. “Once I was ignorant, now I’m wise”.

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Casa Del Agua

Thomas Dishman

Karly Snyder

Mysteries Of The

Ocean

Emma Loeb 10

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Braiden Magurno No. 41

JUMANJI

ThE Garden OF EDEN

Johanne Brockway Sam Weeks Presents..

Special Edition

RISE UP! Women’s Marches Around The World

patriarchy

/pātrēärkē/ a system of society or government in which men hold the power and

women are largely excluded from it.

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Samantha Weeks 11

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Not Every Moment is Forever Jaila Davis Once it was forever. You play outside in the warm summer breeze as it washes over your pale skin. After a nice swim in the pool with your family members on the poolside grilling burgers and hotdogs. You all collectively agree to play a game of soccer. The teams are split evenly between each father and their kids. The mothers and grandparents sit on the sidelines claiming to be the referees or score keepers.

They are most likely there just to suntan and watch their families be the competitive people they are. When the game of soccer ends with whichever team gets the last shot, After the celebrations or sulking is endured, you switch to a game of volleyball with the same teams.

You can never play just one game; the eventful day turns into a warm night. In the dark, one of the fathers drive their car through the soccer field to illuminate the volleyball court with its headlights. Now that the court is bright and the music from the car travels through your ears, it is time for another game. After hours and hours of being outdoors with the fresh summer air, you now have tanned skin and low energy. You all collectively go into the house and say goodbye to your parents because there is a sleepover with air mattresses at your grandparents’ house. Feeling tired and spent, you all drift off into much needed sleep and dream about the day you had, hoping the same results will happen tomorrow.

Now it is forgotten. Now you stay home each night lying awake thinking about the past, how you had such a perfect easy life with no problems to be faced. Each day is now filled with an endless amount of stress with work piling on your shoulders, acting as an anchor that will never be retrieved. The memories of your past replay in your mind because it is the 12

only way you will be able to keep a connection with those same loved ones. Everyone has gone their separate ways with minimal to no contact with each other. You and your siblings have moved out of your parents’ house while the cousins have gone away to college. Your grandparents have gotten too old and would much prefer staying indoors and watching old tapes of the events. Instead of going outside to play sports, you now sit inside watching them on a screen. As the days go on, you think about how many years it has been since those loving moments. You start wondering if you had ever thought if it would be the last game you played in the moment. If it would be the last sleepover at your grandparents’ house. Now the sun annoys you and the night is boring; the pool grosses you out and hamburgers and hotdogs are not even a consideration. The low energy still resides but the reasons why it is there could not be more opposite. The days now drag on with no events or special occasions to look forward to. The dreams that you had of more summer days with the people you loved never came true.

Once it was forever; now it is forgotten. Once you knew where you were in life and now you have not a single clue. From having those memorable experiences at your fingertips to wondering if your feelings will ever amount to that joy. You realize that summer is still your favorite season, but it is only because of the memories that have taken place during that time of year. These forever’s are transitioning into ones that you will forget slowly over time, even if you wish to keep them with you. The light airy feeling that you felt in the past has now become a feeling of dread for what will happen in the future. This just proves to you that not every moment is forever and that someday it will all be forgotten.

Northern New Yorker

Anna Taylor Carlihn van der Smeede

Bennett Dupuy 13

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Keith Vivlamore

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Zena O’Leary-Cumber

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Black Betrayal * Urzula Maria Rodriguez *Trigger warning: readers may find material disturbing.

I remembered when I loved him, we sat on the couch, and I raised his arm, scooted into his side, and played with his hands. And then my breasts grew in, and I had so much pubic hair. He crept in one night and unscrewed the lightbulbs. He told me they were gone. They were yellow like the sun and as bright as sunflowers in a field. In September of senior year, I asked what happened to the lightbulbs. I was ticked off.

I yelled while frantically driving, “Where, where are the lightbulbs?”

He remained silent for most of the drive. He cowardly sat there knowing very well that I knew he had unscrewed them. But I remembered the rules for this game, and I was horrible at games. So, I forfeited and bought a new lamp. We never touched the lamp. One night, while away, I found my light bulbs. I felt warm paint, brush against my flower’s bud and suddenly I coughed up shards of glass and I knew now where the bulbs were. I finally found them. I knew what he did. His burning betrayal of God. He so confidently tried painting on the petals of the flower he gave me when I was born. But when the paint brush landed on my flower’s petals, I screamed loudly.

And he said, “I’m just trying to show you how to paint,” and I almost trusted him, but I knew he wasn’t supposed to hold the paint brush or paint any of my treasures.

I told him, “NO. Stop!” I remember his anger. He told me to take my flowers and get out. The room remained red with no flowers. A single gallon and a half of paint labeled “black betrayal” was on their bed.

Karly Snyder 15

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Beyond The Place I Dwell Nate Keaney

Once I was a dweller; now I am a nomad.

Once I felt an unbearable cold. A cold never experienced before, as if it were my first time being exposed to air. That’s because it was. On January 14, 2004, I became a dweller. I dwelled in my own distractions and satisfaction in my early years. Taking everything and giving nothing, and eventually demanding more; isn’t that every child’s mindset at an early age? Children have wants and needs without any comprehension of giving back. No, I was too smart for that. A part of me outside of my need for satisfaction was a feeling of guilt. But I chose to ignore it, as I was too busy dwelling in my own fake ignorance.

As I grew, I found more places to dwell outside of my own mind. I found small beaches kissing the rivers, hidden away in the trees. I found streets bustling with beams of light and vibrations. My own reality constructed by my imagination. A reality under my control, where I am the hero, and everyone else is a potential villain. Perhaps dwelling in this reality for so long is what broke me free, or started the process of breaking free, at the very least. I dwelled in my own arrogance and mistook my ignorance as intuition. I was young. I thought I was invincible. But like most, I grew up. I discovered fewer places to dwell, and more places to roam.

Eventually, as I sat on my little beach that kisses the river, I decided to look behind me. I looked out beyond the place I dwelled, in response to a coming sensation of curiosity I had not felt before. What I saw humbled me. I saw beautiful scenes of humanity and trust, luscious landscapes each different from the next. I saw the world. For the first time in my life, I confronted the part of me living outside the place I dwelled. My guilt. I was guilty of own satisfaction. Guilty of the distractions locking me behind the doors of my mind. Guilty of the experiences I pushed away me. For the longest time, I thought the doors were locked. But they have been unlocked this whole time. I simply never tried to open them. I set myself free from my arrogance. I held hands with my ignorance, and I left my need for satisfaction in the place I dwelled. I wanted to see, feel, hear, say, and do all the things that I saw. I wanted to leave my bubble behind. That’s when it happened. I changed.

Now I am a nomad. I explore everything and anything that interests me. I have left the place in my mind where I dwelled, and now I explore the wonderful possibilities of my own mind. I have taken my ignorance in hand and have begun to learn. I’ve freed myself from my distractions and arrogance. Most importantly, I have freed myself from my imaginative reality. I no longer see everyone as a villain, and I’ve begun to embrace all people and their stories. I began traveling through other people’s minds, exploring their thoughts and feelings, listening to them talk about their own problems, their own doors. I found larger, grander places to dwell, 16

Northern New Yorker though I never dwelled long. I went out and began traveling to world, to experience everything I had never seen or heard of. I explored more feelings I hadn’t felt before. I navigated my way through the thick, thorned vines of hate. I flew to the grand isolated isles of love. And I eventually found myself back to where I started. I had travelled back home to satisfaction. I had taken my own satisfaction back with open arms, as I no longer felt guilty being satisfied.

Once I had locked myself away in an arrogant part of my mind. A part of my mind where only my own satisfaction was important. I was cynical towards those who were strangers, and I hid away from the world. Now I am opening parts of my mind, and putting others needs before my own. I have become more accepting and trusting of the people around me and I travel anywhere in the world that I can.

Once I was a dweller; now I am a nomad.

Arlean Carpio 17

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Cordell Reynolds

Mikenna Valentine

Kathleen Herne 18

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Silence Serena Stevens

The silence drips tears as we fill our years… with noise distracted to keep pain from our hearts, living our life in parts afraid to live whole in fear of fulfillment afraid to live in defeat eyes down, souls closed, shuffling feet The noise, drowning out each, and every heartbeat, the cries from my soul are deafening the longing aches for satisfaction in the present, but the music of life drowns out the melody.

A hardened heart writes harsh words in replacement of beautiful ones, and the voices of everything else overshadows my own I’m tired of being strong I am weak.

Is that so wrong to think? to know?

I switch in between truths anyway all I know, for sure is everything changes…. silence drips tears as we fill our years with nothing to make up for everything

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Jordan Moodley

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Chloe Flannaghan

Terrance Sullivan Fogarty

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Terrance Sullivan Fogarty

Cordell Reynolds 21

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Fly High Alison Van Schaik

Then I jumped and realized I was a flying squirrel. I finally understood that there is nothing wrong with me, I just have to go about Once I was falling; now I can fly. That’s rather things a little different than my bird-like peers. vague, isn’t it? For as long as I can remember, Mind you, this realization was not easy. It took I felt like I was in a free fall. Not knowing what my older sister coming to me and saying “I I wanted to happen in the next hour, let alone think you have ADHD” for me to trust that that year. I had no footing, no place to stand and be could be true. I had convinced myself so fully myself. In the past year and a half, I’ve started that I was the problem, that it took someone to learn how to fly, how to lift myself out of the else voicing their concerns for me to listen to darkness. In order to tell the story of how I’ve my own brain. My sister talking to me was the reached for the sky, I must first tell the story of moment I finally hit the bottom of the hole and falling into the dark. could then finally begin my journey out of it. The first step was talking to my mom, as I was still a Falling is scary; it is uncertain. I spent years in a state of fear simply because I did not know how minor and she needed to book my appointment for me. That step was one of the hardest as it to escape my own brain. I have struggled with meant making my mom face where she had many things over the years, the biggest one made mistakes in her actions while raising being my ADHD. I have a memory from when I me. She was so focused on my younger sister was ten: we had this project I had been looking forward to all year, and when it finally came time that she had never noticed how much I had to it, I went into a free fall and stressed so much been struggling. While waiting for the official that I did not do it until the night before we had diagnosis I had a lot of time for self reflection. to be done. I was devastated by my own actions. I had the time to accept and understand why I It is hard to put into words how frustrating it is am the person I am. Once I had done that, it was when your brain doesn’t do what you want it time to truly begin my ascent to the sky. to do. Up until May of last year I thought that I was just lazy, that I was choosing to not do work Now, I’m medicated. I can function better, even when I was excited to do it. I thought it was and I don’t feel like I’m fighting my brain every a personality flaw that I had, not the chemical step of the way. I feel like I’m soaring with how imbalance it actually is. Think of it like this; you much easier basic tasks are, while also being open Netflix to watch your favourite movie able to embrace the ways my ADHD make me that just got uploaded to the site, but when you different. Though, to not sugar coat things, the go to login to Netflix your computer suddenly redirects you to Hulu instead. Then, once you go flight is not always easy. I frequently hit rough patches or need to land for a bit to rest. I’m still back to the right page and finally get logged in, working on respecting all aspects of myself, every time you click on the movie it just keeps even the not-so-happy times that will still come. buffering and buffering and buffering. That’s The important thing is, I have learned how to how I felt almost every day for 17 years. I felt stop free falling so I can always take to the sky like a baby squirrel in a bird’s nest, looking at everyone flying, wondering why I wasn’t able to and fly. do the same thing.

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Karly Snyder

Karly Snyder

Santiago Cadena 23

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Read In, Breathe Out Eryn Coolbaugh Once, I escaped into a virtual reality; now, I am present in fiction.

I love to read. I find what authors create to be enticing, entertaining, and even, to my own detriment, addicting. I have a long list of books I have read throughout my life, and a much longer list of books I cannot wait to devour. Reading makes me feel alive, connected to the world, and present in my own life.

I haven’t always been an avid reader. During the height of my struggle with mental health issues, I coped by using distraction. This distraction was so significant that, at times, I was living in a different world. I was on my own great and epic adventure. It was a journey, and it swallowed me whole.

My journey began when I woke from a slumber of over one-hundred years. I opened my eyes to the sound of a soft voice; the voice guided me out of an underground cave from where I was dead to the world. I stepped out into the realm, and my eyes focused on the beautiful view ahead; lush green valleys surrounded me; mountains towered above. Lakes sparkled below in the late-setting sun, and whimsical music seemed to come from the air itself.

As I took in my surroundings, I soon realized that my memory was gone. I didn’t know who I was or where I was. I took my first steps away from the entrance of the cave, away from the sleep that kept me entranced for so many years, and away from the security of my hibernation. I was alone with the soft voice who seemed to speak up only when I desperately needed her.

Equipped with nothing more than a tree branch, I fought and killed a horrifying monster. Quickly, I realized that the monster was only the first of many to be slain. My gruesome battle with immortal enemies had begun.

As I traveled the lands, I came upon several different villages. Each welcomed me in my journey.

Their homelands were equipped with general stores to buy various garments, rare ingredients, and more valuable weaponry than my measly tree branch. I learned to brew potions that made me sprint faster. I learned to concoct elixirs that gave me strength beyond my natural ability. One recipe I learned kept me warm in the frigid weather. Another cooled me off in brutal waves of the desert heat.

My journey was not an easy one. I climbed treacherous, snow-covered mountains with bare hands. As hard rain fell, I slipped down cliffs that I couldn’t manage to ascend no matter how much stamina I had stored. I swam in monster-infested waters and feared for my life, wondering if the terrifying creatures could easily outswim me. I dodged downpours of flaming falling rocks, 24

Northern New Yorker one almost always a near miss. I tamed spotted wild horses so I could ride all over the lands, shooting any monstrous enemy in sight from my saddle.

It took time, logic, and assistance from many friends along the way, but I collected my lost memories. Each memory was a piece of a puzzle, and the completed puzzle led me to where I needed to be. My adventure ended in a castle, and I was able to save the princess, the spirit of the soft voice, who was trapped inside.

Once, I played as Link in Nintendo’s Zelda: Breath of the Wild. Whilst drowning in mental illness during some of my darkest days, Zelda provided me with solace and serenity. I will remain forever grateful for the engagement and pleasure this game offered, and I would highly recommend the experience to anyone who needs a virtual voyage in their own life.

These days, my mind is occupied not by the desperate desire to evade crippling anxiety and depression, but by reading. From futuristic dystopian science-fiction to steamy, suggestive realistic romance, I appreciate it all. Whenever I finish a masterpiece of a novel, I try to take some time to reflect before the inevitable consideration comes: “What will be my next great adventure in literary fiction?”

Work Cited Zelda, Breath of the Wild. Nintendo, 2017.

Roger Marsh 25

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Karly Snyder

Keith Vivlamore 26

Cordell Reynolds

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Johanne Brockway

Cassidy Rushby

Ateema Dumas 27

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Karly Snyder

Hannah Thatcher 28

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Charlotte Young Emma Loeb

Mikenna Valentine 29

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Perspectives Shawlame Gorman Once I was a flower; now I am a forest.

Growing up, I always felt out of place around most of the kids my age. I was not outgoing, athletic, or funny. Rather, I was shy and introverted, with an almost paralyzing fear of people and their opinions of me. Hiding inside myself, I lived in a shell of feigned indifference and pretended that I didn’t care. In reality, however, I was desperate for attention, for someone to notice me and show me I was worth their time. Like a little yellow crocus with roots that barely reached into the soil, my self-esteem was constantly bent and swayed by others. In the end, it just seemed easier to push things away and tell myself I was happy instead.

During this time, I saw everything through the single lens of my own perspective. My world consisted of a family of nine in a threebedroom house on a dead-end street, five miles from the dying town of Oneida. My siblings and I would ride our bikes up and down that dead-end of Oneida Street for hours, refusing to wear helmets because we were rebels. The friends I had didn’t live close to me, so I spent a lot of my free time reading. I lived in the worlds of Charles Dickens, J. R. R. Tolkien, Victor Hugo, and hundreds like them.

I escaped into the stories that were far more exciting than my own. Outside of that, I didn’t care much about other people, except for what they thought about me. All I saw were blank faces and polite smiles, nothing more. They were meaningless stories with no importance in my day-to-day life.

Now I am a forest, made up of more experiences and perspectives than can be 30

counted. The year I turned eighteen, I did a gap year program based in Washington D.C. that completely changed my view of the world. D.C. is one of the most diverse cities in the country, with thousands of nationalities and ethnicities living in close proximity to each other. At the apartment complex I lived at, for example, a family from India had just moved into the apartment a few doors down.

Of all my neighbors, they were the most welcoming and hospitable. Another person I met was a pastor from Ethiopia with the biggest smile I had ever seen. Describing his past, he told me about some of the tragedies he had experienced and the joy that he was able to find in the midst of them. Ultimately, from these encounters and countless others, I learned that everyone has a story. I realized that the world was not just made up of me, but of a billion different faces with their own unique backgrounds and experiences.

Walking down the street in Georgetown, the main shopping district of D.C., I began to see more than just people. Stores had every name brand you could think of plastered on the windows – Gucci, Patagonia, Converse, and a hundred more. Everyone was waiting at the crosswalks or crowding the sidewalks to buy something at the next store, and the next store, and the next. At a streetcorner, a homeless man in a dirty Adidas beanie watched them all go by and waited patiently for someone to throw him some change. I saw two different kinds of people, some with nothing and some with what seemed like everything, and neither of them were content.

Life is about perspectives. Now, my perspective is wider and deeper, and I understand that there is more to this world than I ever could have imagined before. I have

Northern New Yorker realized that my confidence does not need to come from others because we all have flaws, and we are all struggling on this messy path of life together. Even though it is difficult at times, now I can see that my worth does not need to be defined by others. Because of my perspective, I can look back at the flower I was and see that it truly was beautiful.

Anna Taylor

Keith Vivlamore 31

Northern New Yorker

Contact Us! 45 Museum Drive Tupper Lake, NY 12986 518 359-7800 info@wildcenter.org Follow/subscribe to us on; Twitter: @WildCenter Instagram: @wildcenter YouTube: @wildcenter Facebook: @The Wild Center

Explore your Wild Side Here at the Wild Center, we commit ourselves to creating a future where humanity and nature thrive together, to create a sense of unrelenting passion for the Adirondacks and create a positive example for our ever-growing world. Come and join us today to experience the true story of the Adirondacks and learn how we as humans can coexist with the natural world by just exploring our backyard!

Johanne Brockway

Mickey Mouse Club House

Santiago Cadena

DeVyne Johnson 32

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Dylan Urquhart

Karly Snyder

DeVyne Johnson

Hannah Thatcher 33

Northern New Yorker

Analysis of Setting in “A Clean, Well-Lighted Place” Rebecca Tendler Setting is an important element for any given story, in that it gives context to the story, helps to develop the story’s theme, and also assists the reader in relating to the characters’ perceptions about how they are experiencing the world around them. Short stories, in particular, rely on the setting to shape the story: without the particular setting, there may not even be a story. This is evident in Ernest Hemingway’s “A Clean, Well-Lighted Place”, as the setting is literally described in the title and this short story would not be relevant without it. Here, the setting is an extremely meaningful element of the story in that it provides symbolism for each character’s experience of life and the light and cleansing that they would seek.

For instance, the story is set late at night, past midnight, in a clean, well-lit café. The first character we are introduced to is an old man that is in “despair” (Hemingway 1). It is exposed early on in the story that he has recently attempted suicide, and he is drinking brandy and getting “drunk” (1). He appears to be seeking a clean and well-lit place to drive away the darkness and cleanse the feelings he is experiencing; the regret, shame, or disappointment that many geriatric people face. The setting is important in that the old man “can buy a bottle and drink at home” (4), but he prefers the well-lit café as it grants refuge to the darkness from which he is suffering.

An element of this story’s setting that is important is that the café is a public place, and though the man is drinking alone, there is something about being alone with others that is comforting. In the same way, the older waiter prefers a “clean and pleasant café” (5) in public to the loneliness of home. He has compassion for the old man, and understands “those who do not want to go to bed”, and “those who need a light for the night” (4). These characters reflect despair and loneliness, and the café keeps these away, by providing “light” and a “certain cleanness and order” (5). The lit, clean, and quiet café is simply the backbone of this story as it delivers these elements of theme throughout.

Similarly, the café as a setting for “A Clean, Well-Lighted Place” is important in that it provides hope and meaning to those who have none, in a simple and dignified manner. The older waiter thinks about how undignified it is to be in a bar late at night (5). One can be in a café late at night, however, and maintain their dignity. He has a fear, a fear of “nothing”, or of being nothing (5).

For him, the only thing that staves off this fear is “light” and “a certain cleanness and order” (5). This story would not be the same if it were set in a bar or bodega, as those establishments are often dim, dingy, and loud. In fact, as the older waiter thinks about a different setting, he ponders, “certainly you do not want music” (5). Likewise, when he enters a bar at the end of the story, he notices that the bar is “unpolished” (5). A converse setting would not provide the light, cleanliness, and serenity that these characters are seeking.

“A Clean, Well-Lighted Place” by Ernest Hemingway is clearly defined by the setting of the story.

Here, the clean and pleasant atmosphere of the café provides shelter from the despair and 34

Northern New Yorker meaninglessness that the characters are experiencing. Similarly, it supplies a beacon of light for those who are suffering from dark feelings, and a form of dignified socialization that still allows for solitude. It allows a place for these characters to find their place and be comfortable with their loneliness and loss of purpose. Simply put, the café provides a foundation for this story to be built upon.

Works Cited: Hemingway, Ernest. “A Clean, Well-Lighted Place.” 1933, pp.1-6.

Ateema Dumas

35

Northern New Yorker

Anna Taylor

Karly Snyder 36

Northern New Yorker

Bennett Dupuy

Santiago Cadena 37

Northern New Yorker

The Benefits of a Makeup Routine Jayden Cartier I turn my alarm off, a little less grumpy than last time. It’s my fourth. I’ve got six more; no rush.

After that tenth (or fifteenth) alarm goes off, I stumble into the bathroom. The first task of the day is a shower. Am I running late, or did I get up just in the nick of time? That running late shower takes approximately five minutes, but on the other hand, I have a shower that entails exfoliating, double shampooing, deep conditioning, shaving, and lotioning afterwards. I feel better when I do my long routine. Routine provides me with a sense of comfort. When I take that nice long shower, I listen to my 2000’s pop music at full blast and sing along. I call this music my “makeup music” because it keeps me upbeat long enough to finish my makeup routine. My daily makeup routine acts as a coping skill for me, it has therapeutic effects.

I always start my makeup routine with ponds dry skin facial moisturizer. After, I proceed to cover my face in tinted moisturizer. I know that this step is complete when there is no redness left to my cheeks. I have felt the need to cover my rosacea since I was a pre-teen. The constant remarks like “wow, you put on a lot of blush” before I even used makeup must’ve affected my self-image.

Once my face is free of redness, I continue to my next insecurity, my eyebrows.

I was always told by other kids that they were too big, too wild, and too dark to match my dirty blonde hair. I perfect my wild eyebrows by making sure that no hairs are out of place.

Then, I move on to my eyes. I add concealer to my under eyes and eyelids to try to cover up the sleepless nights. Baby kicks in the ribs hurt and it is not easy to sleep with them. I put on neutral eyeshadow to bring out my brown eyes. After, I put bronzer on my cheeks and forehead until it looks like I was sun-kissed. Finally, my favorite part, mascara. I use two different kinds, one for volume and one for length. I find that I enjoy the process of makeup.

Doing makeup takes my mind off the anxious thoughts that I often have. I started showing symptoms of an anxiety disorder around age ten. Art has always provided me with a sense of calmness and makeup is my favorite form of art. This art, however, is so much more satisfying to me than any other. By the time my routine is complete, I feel a sense of satisfaction that I might even call happiness. A mental health therapist named Jane Polinski states that “Doing something like applying makeup can help the body and mind to slow down and focus intently on something” (Stewart). The feelings of happiness may be a result of hormones being released.

The happiness that I feel while doing my makeup may be caused by the release of oxytocin and dopamine. An online blog called “Is Makeup Therapeutic?” states that hormones are released while doing makeup (Stewart). It notes that when you touch your face, you are causing a hormone called oxytocin to release, and when you complete your makeup, you are causing dopamine to release (Stewart). Dopamine is known as the “feel-good hormone”, it’s known to give rewards like pleasurable sensations (Raypole). Oxytocin is called the “love hormone”, 38

Northern New Yorker physical affection causes levels to increase (Raypole). I can relate to both sources; I feel these benefits when I do my makeup and when I take it off at night. I enjoy the experience of putting on and taking off makeup.

In reflecting on my morning routine, I realized it makes a big impact on my life. The routine helps me think more clearly and allows me to express my creativity along the way. The hormones that are realized during my morning routine are beneficial to my mental health and well-being.

Although I dislike waking up early in the morning, I enjoy the benefits that the routine provides.

Work Cited Raypole, Crystal. “Happy Hormones: What They Are and How to Boost Them.” Healthline, Healthline Media, 26 July 2022, https://www.healthline.com/health/happy-hormone.

Stewart, Kelsey. “Yes, Makeup Can Benefit Your Mental Health – Here’s Why.” The Zoe Report, The Zoe Report, 6 Dec. 2020, https://www.thezoereport.com/p/is-makeup-therapeutic-thisishow-my-beauty-routine-benefits-my-mental-health-47013453.

Zena O’Leary-Cumber

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Northern New Yorker

Karly Snyder

40

Bennett Dupuy

Northern New Yorker

Motherhood Guilt Harley Cox DON’T!

TOUCH. ME, Please.

I’m sorry, I just can’t be touched anymore.

Mommy needs some space.

Why do I feel this way.

What kind of mom says that.

I can’t wait to go back to work, Time to myself.

Not hearing, Mommy Mommy MOM MOM MOM! Constantly and in repeat.

Why do I feel this way.

What kind of mom doesn’t want to always be with her children.

Do this.

Do that.

NO! Children must be breast fed, Do baby led weaning.

They should never have food until six months of age.

Why do I feel this way.

But the doctor said it’s okay.

I don’t understand.

Why can’t I just do what is right for my family.

I had such a good time today.

It was relaxing and I had a great time with my friends.

Why do I feel this way.

Shouldn’t I be sad that I didn’t spend the day with my kids?

Does that make me a horrible mom that I want alone time?

Breath.

Slow.

Deep.

Remember.

You can’t pour from an empty cup.

Take care of yourself.

But, You can’t take care…of yourself.

Breath.

Slow.

Deep.

Why do I feel this way.

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Northern New Yorker

Wisdom of Mortality Jamie Bradley Once I was young; now I am wise.

There is nothing more beautiful than the blissful ignorance of childhood. If we are lucky, we can continue to carry that innocence into adolescence. At this time in life, we worry not about the men and women watching their comrades perish at war overseas as we play soldiers with our cousins in the backyard. Nor do we think about the millions of people suffering from alcoholism while we pretend to crack open a “beer” (root beer to be exact) after returning to our imaginary homes from our imaginary jobs, both strategically placed within the living room at grandma’s house. The biggest worry in our mind is to have opportunities to let our imaginations carry us into a bright world of wonder and creativity. We are born to see the light in the world, unaware of the darkness waiting for a chance to consume us. It is when we start exploring the real world outside of our safe places that we discover this harshness. But can you empathize if you have not experienced it? Once I was young and shared the naivete of so many creative children, even if it was not felt at that moment.

Now, I am strong. I am much wiser. But how did I get here? Wisdom is not gained by studying a textbook or getting good grades in school. Wisdom is gained through our experiences of life. The true torment from outside forces like the 7th-grade bullies on the bus or the exboyfriend that is deserving of nothing less than castration teaches us that we are in fact vulnerable; it is not “pretend” anymore. Getting your first shutout of the hockey season, amplified from the look of pride on your father’s face as he watches you, seeing himself in your skills on the ice, emphasizes your self-worth. Consciously or subconsciously, these are events that impact our lives the most. Wisdom is not something that is given to us, we have to earn it. We must remember our experiences and learn how to incorporate lessons learned for the greater good.

Most notably, my wisdom has been gained by the internal struggles of overcoming addictions and experiencing the physical pain of withdrawal.

Experience gives us perspective. Allowing yourself to see the view of others is how we can be empathetic towards a person’s situation. I remember the pain and torment that seemed like it would never end when I detoxed myself from opiates almost five years ago. I was alone.

Not because I had no one but instead because I didn’t want to burden anyone. The intensity of this sickness was so overwhelming that I made a bed on the bathroom floor. I still remember the fleeting thoughts of death that crossed my mind as I lay there with my face on the cold linoleum tile, dry heaving at the simple idea of food while my stomach screamed for sustenance. It was scary to face alone, however, that was my experience.

Working in the Medically Supervised Withdrawal unit of an Addiction Treatment Center, I have used my experiences to help others. I have learned how to listen to my patients. Not just their 42

Northern New Yorker words but their nonverbal language. I have sat and cried with grown men as they released their fears and anxiety of the war they never wanted to fight in; hearing about the lifeless friend they held after their convoy was ambushed, killing everyone but this one individual. Hearing the confession “I use cocaine to stay awake because as soon as I close my eyes, all I see is all those bodies. Innocent women and children in the convoy. My friends. All dead. I can’t sleep because I’m afraid to.” I have never been in a combat situation like this, but the familiar feeling of not being able to close your eyes for fear of reliving a situation is relatable. A young woman shared her story for the first time about the abuse entailed by her boyfriend drugging her so he could charge his friends to “have a taste.” He induced her addiction to fuel his. This one hit close to home. Putting trust in someone you think you love, but you shouldn’t. Though my personal experiences are different by specific situations, physically or emotionally, I share the pain of my patients.

I go for walks, sit in the lounge, and meditate with patients. I jog, and I watch movies with them.

I walk beside them through their personal hell, guiding them out using paths so familiar to me.

If not for my own experiences, my guidance would be blind; my emotional effect of empathy would be false and misleading. I share my experiences with my patients, not for their sympathy, but to build an understanding that they are not alone in the darkness. I share my experiences accompanied by compassion to show them that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, you just have to open yourself up to the possibility.

Now, I am nearly five years sober from opiates, and yesterday (February 25th, 2023) an astounding 90 days free of alcohol. I had to experience the despair of addiction to find the wisdom to enact true humaneness. Now, I know better than to trust the false “I love you” as the man you consider your safe place gives you another dose of that “brown powder”. Now I know that my life is worth living, and I am proud my job entails helping others do the same. I have gained wisdom through my experiences, and with that I hope to help as many individuals struggling with addiction that I can.

Zena O’Leary-Cumber

Karly Snyder 43

Northern New Yorker

Bennett Dupuy Terrance Sullivan Fogarty

Karly Snyder Ryan Previna

Bennett Dupuy Ateema Dumas 44

Northern New Yorker

Braiden Mugurno

Mikenna Valentine

Zena O’Leary-Cumber

Chloe Flannaghan 45

Northern New Yorker

Chasing the Dream Hayden Brimelow Once I was lazy, but now I chase my goals and strive for success. I always used to lack motivation, and I struggled to see the bigger picture in many aspects of my life. I would sit and struggle in every class every day because I would joke around trying to get someone to laugh or giggle. The teachers would shout at me, but if I’m being honest it would go in one ear and straight out the other. This would lead to more problems down the line as I was continuously doing badly on tests, and my grades were falling behind . To me during these times, none of that mattered at all. “Who cares if I’m failing?” “I’m good at sports. Does it really matter?” These are two lines I would say to myself in my head.

At times I look back and think that although I was lazy, some of the issues I was dealing with were because of arrogance. In my mind I was good at sports, so I was going to make it in life. I didn’t need an education. I saw school as just a place to hang out with friends and play sport, and I wasn’t there to focus on grades or work or anything like that. I was not necessarily lazy in the sense of being inactive but in terms of effort towards my schoolwork. I still remember sitting in classes. The teacher would explain to the class what the work was for the day, however I would barely do any of it. Most of my time was just spent staring blankly at a wall daydreaming of the day that my main goal in life would become a reality. The day I would step onto the soccer field inside a stadium filled with 40 000 fans all chanting my name.

I would sit down at night to actually try and do homework but found myself getting distracted by the smallest things, and my ADHD did not help with that at all. I look back now and realize that I was just floating around life, doing as I pleased, always looking at how what I was doing affected me but never really how it would affect others.

Then one of my friends was injured. Brett Taylor and I used to make soccer look easy in school.

We were always training together, and talking about how we were going to make it to the big leagues together. We never got to and will never get the chance to make this a reality together.

Brett found out at the end of 10th grade he was going to need surgery on his ankles. It was after this surgery that the doctor told him he was no longer going to be able to play competitive sports.

This was the real moment I realized I had to wake up and start working hard because my health is not guaranteed, and I could not continue to only focus on soccer because if the same thing happened to me… I would have nothing to fall back on.

It was around 11th grade when I started to turn things around. I realized that I had been floating for too long and that my parents’ money was being wasted on school fees if I wasn’t going to try and learn. I started setting goals for myself. I would work out constantly and eat healthy food, because I wanted to become a better soccer player.

In 11th grade I made the decision to start applying for colleges in the U.S.A to further my soccer 46

Northern New Yorker career as well as get a college education. This goal lit a fire under me. I worked harder than I ever had. I was making huge changes in my life. I began doing my homework and doing well in tests.

The whole time the only thing I said to myself was “Keep going -- this is your dream.” That was how I saw it. Every little step, meal or workout was a step closer to my dream. I knew this change was drastic because my friends and teachers began to comment on it. Each little thing I was doing, at least in my head, was getting one little step closer to that dream. I was working harder and harder every day, watching my grades, health, skills and happiness all improve. My parents were proud of me because they could see that their little boy was finally growing up and turning into a man.

I still vividly remember on the day of my graduation one of my teachers came up to me and said “I don’t know how, but you did it, kid.”

Today that dream has somewhat come true. After finally being accepted into a college in America, my dream grew. I realized that I am capable of so much more. I realized that if I put the effort in, I have what it takes to become a professional. Since I have arrived in America, I continue to push myself daily. I was once lazy, but not anymore. The day I started setting goals for myself in life my overall life began to improve massively. I was/am working the hardest I ever have, and it has made me the happiest I have ever been.

Anna Taylor

Karly Snyder 47

Northern New Yorker

Smarter not Harder Kristian Eddy Once I was fast; now I am slow. This pertains to the athlete I used to be versus the athlete I am now. This also pertains to how I interact socially. As a child I remember not being able to sit still or stop talking. I was always very social and physically active. All the way from elementary school to high school, I was a runner, soccer player, skateboarder, and class clown. I was interested in making people laugh, being the center of attention, and going fast in any way possible. I would often build jumps on the hill in front of my house to jump from on my skateboard or bike; I remember trying to go faster and catch a little bit more air each time. I also played on the wing throughout most of my school soccer days. This is a position that requires the player to be moving almost the whole game and be able to outrun defenders and create goals in the attacking third. The feeling of running past the opposing team was always satisfying to me.

In class I was a nuisance, not because I wanted to be, but because I just loved to talk and make people laugh. I would take any chance I could get to talk in class, even if it was out of turn. Luckily most of my classmates thought I was funny because of my high energy and sense of humor, although my teachers felt differently. Some of my teachers would joke that you would always hear me down the hallway before you saw me. Living life fast the way I did led me to live a lot of experiences over my four years in high school. Some of these experiences could have been considered premature for my age. This is when things started to change.

As I got older, I changed as an athlete, a student, and as a person. As I got to the end of my high school soccer experience and was starting to play at TC3, I ended up switching positions to central midfield. This position still requires running but not as much sprinting, and certainly not as much as a winger. I learned to move the ball by passing instead of running past the opposition. To me this was a metaphor for my life, to work smarter rather than harder. This is around the time my skateboarding style changed too, transitioning from big jumps and stair sets to ledges and rails which are less risky obstacles but also much more technical. As I started to attend classes, I was a much different student. I rarely spoke in class, even to share. I found myself having much less lively conversations with friends. It seemed as if my friends and I would communicate much less and attend far fewer outings. I felt burnt out on going out and socializing in large groups. My new reserved approach kept me from experiencing as much as I used to, but I also seemed to appreciate my time more as the days felt longer.

So, with this change raises the question of whether it was for the better. I believe the answer is yes. I feel as though when I was living life fast that I was missing out because I wasn’t cherishing the important moments that don’t last forever. Now I feel that I take the time to appreciate the beautiful parts of life. I also feel my reserved approach creates a more mature image of myself where I can be seen as someone that is responsible and reliable. Being more relaxed has also taught me to look before I leap and make more calculated decisions. Slowing down has allowed me to work 48

Northern New Yorker smarter instead of harder and be more productive. Someone can tell you something time and time again, but we’ll never truly understand it until we experience it ourselves. My whole life I’ve been told “slow and steady wins the race,” but now I truly comprehend it.

Keith Vivlamore

Anna Taylor 49

Northern New Yorker

I’d rather be a lion for a day than a puppy for 100 days Sibusiso Mokoena I am sitting in my room in sunny South Africa with a million and one unanswered questions in my head. “Who am I?”; “What is life about?”; “What do I want to do when I’m older?”; oh, and the most important question of the day; “Am I going to that party tonight?” The answer to that last question was obviously yes.

Growing up, I was a shy boy. I always felt like if I talked a lot or even asked a lot of questions, I would be judged by my peers and those around me. I would go out with my friends and be the quietest one in the circle and not really engage in a lot of conversations, and when I’d get back home, I’d be free again and do what I wanted without feeling like I would be judged. Being around people made me nervous; I’d feel like I had bugs in my stomach, and I believe that it was caused by caring too much about what others may think of me which led to me trying to be someone I was not. I look back now and realize that going out to parties almost every weekend and having to use alcohol to kind of let loose wasn’t who I wanted to be; that’s just not how I wanted to live my life. I was living life on the edge, doing things like drinking and being a menace to society just because my friends were doing the same things and I wanted to hide my shy persona in some way, so I’d participate. For example, one night out, we were jaywalking with a group of my friends and a car with a group of guys honked at us and a few of my friends shouted out vulgar things to the guys and one of my friends pointed the middle finger at them, and I also did the same after.

The guys got out of the car and chased us down the street because they felt disrespected, and we ended up in a fight just because of that one little moment that could’ve been avoided if we just apologized to them for jaywalking. I couldn’t imagine telling my parents that I did all those things at that age.

I would describe myself as someone who lives in their head, so when I was younger there were many times when I would just be deep in my thoughts about something, and my friends or teachers would think I was daydreaming or dozing off; my geography teacher even once threatened to call my parents because she felt like I didn’t concentrate in her class. I had a lot of fear of the unknown growing up, and I would always just be in my head worrying about the future, like what was going to happen when I grew up or the type of person I would become. I just felt like there was pressure not to disappoint the people I was around.

As I grew older, I started realizing that caring about what other people think of you will not only stop you from living your life to the fullest, but it will also just slow you down from reaching your full potential. Ironically, the day the light sparked inside of me, and everything started to take a turn for the better was during my 10th grade English class. We watched the movie, Dead Poets Society, and I learnt about a saying that has stuck with me my whole life --“carpe diem”, which means seize the day. I started realizing that life will treat you the way you treat it, so if you have an optimistic outlook on life then you’ll be able to go through and overcome obstacles easier 50

Northern New Yorker than someone who has a pessimistic outlook on life. With help from my family and closest friend I started realizing that I shouldn’t worry about the future and just take each day as it comes. This really helped me a lot; although I still live in my head, I didn’t worry half as much as I did.

I’ve become very confident in myself; I feel like I can do anything and go through any challenges I face with faith and a positive outlook on life. For example, I wasn’t supposed to come back to NCCC this semester because of how much of a disaster last semester was in terms of our living conditions and we were made a lot of promises by the coach when he was recruiting us, but none of them were fulfilled. I couldn’t transfer schools, so I was left with two options; either stay in South Africa or just finish my year at NCCC, so I decided to come back and face the challenges head on so I can move on next year. I realized that a lot of things I thought mattered back then like going to parties all the time and just trying to impress others all the time didn’t even matter and although I don’t like how I was back then, I don’t regret it because it taught me lessons and built my character into what it is today.

I’m proud of the person I’m becoming, and instead of worrying, now I have faith, and I believe that I should take control of what I can and not worry about things I can’t really control because God will be there for me and take the lead. Once I was a puppy, now, I am a lion.

Johanne Brockway

Karly Snyder 51

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