I am not one to share much in the way of personal stories, typically it is laced throughout my art and poetry on this blog. However, approaching the New Year self-reflection is a given and during these difficult times in history, I find myself compelled to share my story a bit more.
I’ve gathered a few facts below about who I am and where I came from. In that, I count my blessings everyday and lick my personal and collective wounds as well, recognizing the strength in embracing all of it. Cheers!
“ When I was young
I never needed anyone
And making love was just for fun
Those days are gone “
Eric Carmen 1975
- I am the first born child out of 3, and I have 1 stepsister and a half sister who is 13 years younger than me.
- I am the 5th born cousin out of 46, or more, on my father’s side … What can I say, Palestinians are prolific.
- My father is one of nine siblings, 1 brother and 7 sisters.
- My mother is 1 of 6 siblings and her oldest brother died after childbirth.
- My childhood was spent meeting, greeting and watching my large extended family immigrate throughout the decades from Palestine to America, as the brutal occupation began to extend further into the West Bank, where my father’s family came from.
- I only had one set of grandparents, my Tetah and Cede. We spent almost every weekend at their house, it was our second home. I never knew my mother’s parents. I wish I did.
- My mother’s roots can be traced back to County Cork Ireland, and she’s damn proud of that fact, as she was pretty much parentless and grew up in an orphanage.
- My mother and father divorced when I was 11 and both remarried shortly after.
- My Tetah called me every year on my birthday until she passed away from congestive heart failure. I believe she had a bad heart because it ached so much for her homeland. I truly am a believer in the connection of our emotions to our body.
- My mother is 78 and has recently survived chemotherapy treatments for breast cancer and back surgery for spinal stenosis.
- I am the first one in my family to attend University and graduate with a degree, and I did it completely alone. My parents both dropped out of high school early and were consumed with survival and raising families.
- One of the worst and most defining things that ever happened in my life was losing my cousin Billy to suicide. I was 19 and he was 20, we grew up together playing baseball, riding the go karts we made from lawn mower parts, climbing old tree houses that we found in the woods…the usual kid things…and he was one of the funniest kids I knew.
- I have a 27 year old who is a successful and thriving individual. He is working as a full stack engineer in the tech industry and travels way more than I ever do. He currently lives in Brooklyn with his girlfriend and their little dachshund, Wally.
- I am married to the most beautiful and loving wife I ever could have imagined being with. Her name is Melody and she came into my life when my kid was twelve years old. We met in 2008 while working in television together, she now works as the Director of Development at the largest and oldest subscription based theatre in the state of Florida.
I leave you here with a poem I wrote about another defining moment in my life that I experienced as a very young child. May your 2024 be better, blessed and bountiful, and most of all peace in Gaza! —
ATLANTIC CITY
The beer cans flung
from the boardwalk
onto the beach/ whistling
as the jeers and taunts
land like a thud
onto my little head/ of four
not more/ I think/ I recall.
Thoughts of her and us
and the clan
the damaged goods walking
along the hot sand
of Atlantic City’s filth.
The foul mouthed and long-toothed
the ringers and boomerangers
the insults hanging
like that strange fruit—
from lips drunk with hate
and love commingling with fear
as Tetah winks at me
and wonders to herself I can tell
wanting to believe that
none of this is happening.
We’ll find a quiet place somewhere
to set down she hopes
and enjoy this American past-time
of beach combing and sun tanning
amongst the hate—
the garbage lobbed like missiles
onto us/ around us/ missing us
but on target anyhow somehow.
The Atlantic City beach-line pounding
inaudible sounds/ a ringing city
by the Jersey shoreline—
hotels tower/ gotham-like
loom large as bats/ against the skyline
as the pilgrims descendants
shout and wave and chant
in terroristic mantras
filtering out
the family fun of that day.
But/ I felt the shifting earth imbalance
slipping in quicksand
a throttling motion toward the waves
undone/ undone/ it’s come undone.
How? Why?
Do they not see
the love/ the beauty
in my Tetah/ in my Cede
my father/ my mother/ me
my family/ all of them
Do they not see/ like me?
I don’t know/ there were like 20 of us
we were a big clan then
and even more so now
anyhow—
the display of hatred landed hard that day/ 1969…70?
you know how it is/ I was four or so
I don’t know
but the pulse of that moment beating/ hard/ fast
it left a permanent mark on my soul.
The dark mark of that
dark family from Ramallah
has crawled from their hole
and dare share the beach
with the pilgrims descendants.
I mean c’mon please!
Perhaps they can’t see
the love of my Tetah
as she speaks Arabic
frantically glancing away
from the anger that flashes
momentarily
a repeat/ on repeat—
they suffer to integrate
in a land/ not there
not yet their home
trying to find peace
Integrate at once!
And pretend it’s home—
it’s not/ it’s not
it’s just not.
The bruising and battle-burns
mark their soul.
Integrate/ integrate/ and pretend
that it's home!
It’s not/ it’s not
it’s just not.
© Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Jeremy Pagden on Unsplash
