Sonia Marsh - Gutsy Living

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An honest quick “chat” with Sonia

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Sonia Marsh having fun at her book launch

An “old” blogger friend wrote to me the other day and said something that made me think:

“I would very much like to hear more from YOU. Yes, you’ve shared bits about the book launch, but what is happening to Sonia? What is Sonia thinking and feeling? “

So in honor of  Rob-bear, I am going to answer his questions:

  • I am living on an adrenaline rush these days.
  • I love what I’m doing but it’s exhausting.
  • Cookie, my rat terrier isn’t getting as many walks as she used to.
  • Unfortunately I don’t have as much time to respond to my friends’ e-mails as I used to.
  • Like many of my writer friends, I’m online as soon as I wake up.
  • I would like to set up an office in my son’s bedroom now that he’s left home. I think a splash of yellow paint on the walls, colorful drapes and flowers on my desk, would make my office a relaxing space for me.
  • This evening I have an event in Dana Point at 5 pm  with Tom Blake.
  • Saturday at Peet’s Coffee with some nice raffle prizes.
  • I have a book signing event at Laguna Playhouse next week, which I’m looking forward to, thanks to Michelle Bendetti for setting up.
  • I’m on a virtual blog tour with some wonderful people who are hosting me. I know they are patiently waiting for me to answer their questions.

I’ve done two so far:

Sonia’s 1st interview with author Susan Pohlman on Expat Chat 8-31-12

Sonia’s 2nd interview with Shirley Showalter on 100 memoirs 9-3-12

I shall be on FrenchYummyMummy.com with Muriel Demarcus, a French expat in London, tomorrow. Come watch our Hangout video.

Thank you Rob-bear for letting me share what’s going on in my life. It’s all good.

I have included some of my local events, and hope to meet you in person at one of them.

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Don’t forget to vote for your favorite August, “My Gutsy Story.” You have until September 12th to vote and the winner will be announced on September 13th. Please go to the sidebar to VOTE and click on your favorite story of the month. Thanks, and please share with your favorite social media buttons below.
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Do you have a “My Gutsy Story” you’d like to share?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

“My Gutsy Story” by Tom Cirignano

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(A Note from Sonia Marsh) I started my virtual blog tour on August 31st. I shall be interviewed by bloggers around the world during September and October. I hope you visit these creative bloggers as many are authors and experts in their fields.
Please hop over to:

Sonia’s 1st interview with author Susan Pohlman on Expat Chat 8-31-12

Sonia’s 2nd Interview with Shirley Showalter on 100 memoirs 9-3-12

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A Boston TV show, “New England Magazine,” featured a story about an ultralight aircraft that was easy to fly, and no pilot’s license was needed to fly it. Instantly, I knew I had to have one.

With instruction, I learned to fly the twin-engine, single-seat aircraft at the field where I purchased it.

The flight manual specified a minimum runway length of three hundred “unobstructed” feet; in other words, a football field. But, I was determined to find a way to fly it from somewhere close to home, where I wouldn’t have to dismantle and transport it.

Tom Cirignano with his ultralight

A Little League baseball diamond that was a few hundred feet from our home was nowhere near three hundred feet long in itself, but it bordered the waterfront where there was a drop-off to the ocean. I figured, “If I get the wheels off the ground before I reach the seawall, I will be just fine heading out over the open water.”

Coming in for a landing on that small field would be tricky, but I decided to worry about that later. I always felt that if I overanalyzed everything I wanted to do, I would eventually talk myself out of taking any chances in life. Besides, I was confident that I could pull this off.

That morning, my young bride slept in, deciding she wouldn’t watch what she considered an ill-advised take-off attempt. She actually used stronger words than that when I told her what I was planning to do. But nonetheless, she raised her head off the pillow and whispered, “Have a good flight.”

Quite a group of friends and neighbors gathered at the field to watch me launch the plane and render moral support. I started the two engines and strapped myself in with the seatbelt, shoulder harness, and put on my helmet. It was time to go for it. I gave both engines full throttle. My friends guided the wing until I got moving.

It was as if everything happened in slow motion. The engines roared loudly, and I was going faster and faster. The end of the field, and the ocean, were approaching, but I still was not in the air. But, I was mentally committed. I knew I could make it!

My friends were all yelling, “Shut it down! Shut it down!” They thought I wasn’t going to make it off the ground. I had dreamt about trying this for way too long. I wasn’t about to shut anything down.

Just feet from the edge of the seawall, the front wheel lifted off! I was airborne, and smiling! Gaining altitude, I glanced below me at the jagged rocks passing harmlessly under my butt. I felt I had safely achieved my goal as I reached twenty and then thirty feet of altitude.

Suddenly, a sick feeling set in. You know—the feeling that takes over your gut the moment you realize things are about to go downhill fast. As I got out over the cold seawater, I felt a sinking sensation, in more ways than one. I failed to consider a basic fundamental of flight. Air over warm fields rises, but air over cold ocean water falls, causing down-drafts.

Losing altitude, my heart sank with disappointment. There was nothing I could do. I realized it was hopeless. I was going to crash.

If I hit the water with those propellers spinning at thousands of RPM’s, they would shatter into pieces, possibly hurting or killing me. I shut down both engines just prior to hitting the water and took a really deep breath.

Because the heavy engines were mounted up high, behind my head, the aircraft instantly flipped upside down and sank like a rock to the bottom, coming to rest on the ocean floor. Hanging upside down, I was strapped into my shoulder harness and seatbelt, wearing my helmet. Under ten to twelve feet of ice cold water, I knew if I panicked while fumbling to undo all the clasps of my safety gear, I was a goner. Still holding my breath, I thought to myself, “Everything better go smoothly.”

While underwater and restrained, time stood still. I experienced an eerie feeling of total aloneness, much different from the euphoric, all alone feeling I had expected to enjoy while flying. In the darkness, I blindly searched for the release clasps and easily found them. It was something I had practiced, just in case the need ever arose. I undid my shoulder restraints first and then my seatbelt. All buckles and straps released without a problem and I swam away from my seat.

Attempting to surface, I found myself trapped under the fabric wing, so I dove back down and swam to the side until I could safely surface. That was a move I remembered from reading a section in my flight manual, titled, “In the event of a water landing.”

My friends began clapping when my helmet popped through the surface of the water. I was surprised to see everyone nice and dry on shore, just watching. Nobody was rushing to assist me.

Wearing a long face, I walked home by myself to get rope. At the house, I checked on my wife.  She raised her head off her pillow, saw me soaked from head to toe, and smiled. She simple stated, “How was your flight?” It was her way of saying, “I told you that was a stupid idea,” I returned her smile, saying, “I’ll fill you in after I get the plane out of the ocean.”

Feeling quite downhearted back at the field, I dove in and tied the rope to the plane. My friends dragged it out of the bay. Once home, I flushed and washed everything out with fresh water. Then, just to be safe, I decided to ship both engines back to the factory and have them rebuilt with the “high performance upgrade” that I originally opted not to pay for. Those few extra horsepower would have kept me in the air.

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Tom Cirignano Bio:
Thomas M. Cirignano was born in Dorchester, Ma., in 1952. As a young man, he moved to South Boston to take over the family’s auto repair business. While living and working in Southie, Tom experienced, first-hand, the unbridled crime and violence related to Mobster Whitey Bulger’s reign of terror. During the years of “Forced Busing,” Tom lived directly across the street from South Boston High School and saw the resulting violence unfold right on his doorstep. He survived the stress and violence related to running a filling station in the heart of Southie during the oil embargo and gas shortages of the 1970s.
Thomas Cirignano studied journalism. He has been a contributing writer and served as an advisory member on the New Bedford Standard-Times Editorial Board. He is a certified scuba diver, ultralight aircraft pilot, has owned several motorcycles, and loves boating. 
Tom is the author of two books.
The Constant Outsider: Memoirs of a South Boston Mechanic, and
       67 Cents: Creation of a Killer.   Both titles are available in print, and on Amazon Kindle.

You can find his books on his website. Please join his Facebook page

Sonia Marsh Says: Tom, this truly shows the “Gutsy” side of a young man who just goes for it. Thankfully your mishap ended well, and your new bride had you back home, although it sounds like you tried again with more powerful engines.

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Don’t forget to vote for your favorite August, “My Gutsy Story.” You have until September 12th to vote and the winner will be announced on September 13th. Please go to the sidebar to VOTE and click on your favorite story of the month. Thanks, and please share with your favorite social media buttons below.
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Do you have a “My Gutsy Story” you’d like to share?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

Vote for your favorite August “My Gutsy Story”

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This month we have 4 wonderful stories to vote for.

Apologies for being one day late this month, but I had my book launch yesterday and you can view all photos here.

Heidi Morell: is a true inspiration to all of us, especially when we take our health for granted. Heidi has MSA and reminds us to “appreciate what we have right now,” and that, “it can always be worse.”

Heidi Morell

 

Sharon Melton Lippincott: paints a picture of her strong-willed Grandma Rene, and how she stood up for what you wanted, defying convention. During the process, she enabled Grandma Rene to show her softer side.

Sharon Melton Lippincott

 

Barbara Ehrentreu:  Shares a story of the power of love, and how her “gutsy” decision at twenty, was the right one.

Barbara Ehrentreu

 

Laura Dennis: Brings up some interesting questions about being both the adoptive mother, the adopted child and the birth mother. She asks the question, “When did your adoptive mom become a mother?”

Laura Dennis

Please check out their websites by clicking on their names above.

You each get ONE VOTE, and please share with your friends and bloggers so the winner can pick his/her prize from our list of sponsors.

The voting starts August 31st until September 12th and the winner will be announced on September 13th. Please go to the sidebar to VOTE and click on your favorite story of the month. Thanks, and please share with your favorite social media buttons below.
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Do you have a “My Gutsy Story” you’d like to share?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

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Book Launch Party! My BIG Day is here

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Tonight is my book launch. This is a day I’ve been working towards for the last seven years since I started my journal in Belize.

In celebration of all authors I’ve met and connected with over the past seven years, I can say that you all deserve to be congratulated for your hard work. I never realized what it takes to write a book until I went through all the headaches, anxiety, frustrations, rewrites, edits, re-edits, and finally a book in my hands.

This celebration is for all of you.

On my BIG day, I am going to make a speech, and with so many people to thank, I’m afraid the speech will come across as the ones we hear at the Academy Awards.

As you can see on the poster above, I wish to thank Laguna Beach Books for hosting my event, and six sponsors.

I would like to thank the following businesses for their kind sponsorship:

My apologies for starting the voting for your favorite August “My Gutsy Story” contest tomorrow instead of today, but you will have until September 12th to vote. Come back tomorrow to VOTE.

“My Gutsy Story” by Laura Dennis

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Becoming a Mother

Even before I was completely sewn back together, I held my newborn. In those first moments of hormones, love, and crying baby, I knew with my entire being that I could not, would not, ever let her go. How could anyone give up such a precious little girl? How very devastated would I be if I had to relinquish this person who I’d just made, who was mine, all mine?

And yet, that was exactly what my birth mom did to me.

Of course, I knew she’d loved me. That’s what my adoptive mom always said, “Your birth mom loved you enough to give you up. And now I love you.”

The adoption agency told us that my birth mom even wanted to hold me before I was taken away. Meaning that, on some level, I had in fact been wanted. Even for my child’s mind, this was a very important distinction indeed.

Agencies peddling closed adoptions encouraged the birth mom to forget about the baby, to move on with her life. They reassured the adoptive parents that the bond of love offered by the well-educated, stable adoptive mother replaced that of the birth mother. The infant lacked cognitive ability to know there’d been a switch. If introduced to her new mom early enough, she would bond with no problems.

What psychologists are coming to understand is that newborns are capable of learning, and therefore capable of memory. If a newborn can remember, then the mother-child bond is there. It’s preverbal; she won’t even be able to articulate it once she can talk. Nevertheless, that primal connection exists.

It turns out that the child’s bond with the adoptive family is in addition to her original bond with her birth mother. And there’s enough love to go around.

When I reunited with my birth mom as a young adult, I was inexorably drawn to her, connected on a profound level. In her presence, I knew I was whole, and I knew she had loved me all those years. I understood that even though she didn’t have her baby with her, even though she didn’t know her child, she was still a mother.

At the time, I didn’t have children. In fact, directly after meeting my birth mother, I broke off an engagement to a man who was ready start a family. I for one was adamantly not ready to be pregnant; as evidenced by the stupid act of starving myself so thin that I didn’t menstruate, thereby becoming (temporarily) infertile. Besides, I planned to adopt a perfectly healthy baby. As a dancer, I wanted to remain thin and agile, and certainly couldn’t do that with a huge pregnant belly. No need to “ruin” my body, I argued.

This semi-delusional thinking took years to unravel. Finally, I came to accept the stark, but simple, reality that closed adoption is deeply flawed. Children are meant to be with their biological mothers, to look into the faces of people who look just like them, and to know that they belong.

Yes, adoption as an institution is necessary. Yes, it will always exist. Yes, it gives “unwanted” babies to loving parents who otherwise couldn’t start a family. Fine. I get it. But I won’t adopt a child. Being adopted and having had experienced the same loss of identity would not help me raise an adopted child.

With this in mind, I married a wonderful man, and we agreed to start a family. I can’t say I enjoyed being pregnant, but I did it. I grew a nine pound baby inside of me. She was likely too big, in fact, for a natural birth, my OB advised. On the appointed day, I was terrified. I hate hospitals, I hate blood and guts and gross bodily functions. But the baby had to come out, I reminded myself over and over.

I hadn’t felt like a mom when I decided to start a family. I hadn’t felt like a mom when I was pregnant. Then, while the doctor was finishing up my scheduled caesarean, I held my daughter and I knew it could be hell-and-high-water and I’d never let go. Those immature, selfish predilections I’d held onto well into adulthood melted away as I realized my life was no longer just my own anymore. In other words, I knew I was a mom.

The sun set on a gloomy February day, and I sent my husband home. I wasn’t scared to sleep in the hospital without him after all. I invited no one to visit me. I had my baby: the only person I wanted to see. The night nurse offered to take her to the nursery so I could rest. I politely declined. The thought of being away from my baby was unbearable, as if I would die.

I slept little that first night. I kept imagining the hospital room on the day my birth mom became a mother. Even at the age of seventeen, she felt distinctly that giving birth was the proudest moment of her life. She didn’t have any visitors, either. My birth was a secret. On the day I was born, she’d held me, even took a few photos before the nurses realized all of that might not be okay.

Then she let me go. But she never forgot me, and she would always be a mother.

When did my adoptive mom become a mother? The morning I was born? The day she received the call that her baby could be picked up the very next day, she’d better go buy an infant car seat? The moment the social worker put me in her arms?

For my two moms and me, that moment was the same: holding our daughter for the very first time. With the birth my baby girl, I had joined their ranks of irrevocably binding, fierce-as-a-lioness motherhood.

Laura Dennis and her family

Laura Dennis Bio:

Laura Dennis was born in New Jersey and raised in Maryland, but she learned how to be a (sane) person in California, where she lost her mind and found it again in 2001. A professionally trained dancer, Laura gave up aches and pains and bloody feet in 2004 to become a stylish, sales director for a biotech startup. Then with two children under the age of three, in 2010 she and her husband sought to simplify their lifestyle and escaped to his hometown, Belgrade. While the children learned Serbian in their cozy preschool, Laura recovered from sleep deprivation and wrote Adopted Reality.

You can join Laura on her sites by clicking the appropriate one:

Facebook, Twitter, Laura’s blog, LinkedIn, and to order her book, please visit Laura’s website.

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Sonia Marsh Says:

Laura, you bring up some interesting questions about being both the adoptive mother, the adopted child and the birth mother. I like the way you question when did your adoptive mom become a mother?

“The morning I was born? The day she received the call that her baby could be picked up the very next day, she’d better go buy an infant car seat? The moment the social worker put me in her arms?”

A great conclusion that makes us all mothers.

“For my two moms and me, that moment was the same: holding our daughter for the very first time.”

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Laura Dennis’ story is the last one this month. We also have Barbara Ehrentreu’s story, Heidi Morrell’s, and Sharon Melton Lippincott’s.

Due to my book launch on Thursday, August 30th, the vote for your favorite August “My Gutsy Story” will start on August 31st, until September 12th. The winner will be announced on September 13th.

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Do you have a “My Gutsy Story” you’d like to share?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

 

 

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