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“My Gutsy Story” by Tom Cirignano

September 3, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

(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

***
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.

***
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.

***

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.
***

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” Belinda Nicoll

July 16, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

Something that made my life take a different direction

I’ve learned that personal transformation can be inspiring, unless the forces of change set you adrift and you lose sight of yourself. Early in the year 2000, enjoying new-found independence thanks to my belated career as a copywriter, I decided to end my twenty-year marriage. I’d been married since the tender age of nineteen, and my husband and I had drifted apart. I trusted that our two children aged nineteen and seventeen were capable of dealing with the family break-up. What I did not anticipate, though, was that my decision would mark the start of the most distressing period of my life.

When I shared the news of my marital troubles with a colleague, she suggested that the two of us and another male colleague sign up for a self-empowerment workshop offered by a rather eccentric guru. By the end of the course, the three of us had formed a close bond. Shortly after, our male colleague accepted a job in Saudi Arabia. I kept in touch with him via e-mail, and by the time I’d finalized my divorce our friendship had turned into a long-distance romance. At the end of that year, he returned to South Africa to marry me.

His return coincided with my daughter finishing school and getting ready for a year abroad as an au pair. She’d applied to go to America, but fate intervened and she ended up with an offer from a family in Cologne, Germany. Ten years later, I’m still shaking my head at the irony of that development, because no sooner had she signed the contract than my fiancé got a job offer from an international healthcare advertising agency in San Francisco. While his employers sponsored his H-1B visa, which would permit him to work in the U.S. as a professional in a specialty occupation, I would get an H-4 visa, which permitted me to be a spouse. He said not to worry about the ‘spouse’ thing,’ that we’d sort it out as soon as we were settled in the U.S.

I’ll never forget the thrill of our prospective adventure. But I had my trepidations, too, about separating from my daughter, leaving family (not least of all my son) and friends behind, saying goodbye to my country, and putting my career on hold. The next few weeks turned into a huge rush: we got married, packed up our personal belongings, advertised my husband’s apartment as a furnished rental, said our goodbyes, and left—we’d booked our departure to coincide with my daughter’s flight to Germany.

My husband’s promise to me was that our expatriation would be a short-term stint, a year or two, three at the most. But how could we have known that our arrival as expats would coincide with one of America’s biggest disasters—two hi-jacked planes crashing into the World Trade Center? The event and its aftermath numbed us as much as it impacted the nation’s future, leading directly and indirectly to a string of personal setbacks that kept us from returning to our home country. It took more than three years to get our green cards. Caught up in changes in our host and home countries, as well as the global economic decline, over the next ten years we’d relocate from California to the North, South, and Midwest, my husband pursuing his career in advertising and I making more than a few career changes as a trailing spouse.

Belinda and her husband, Bruce

We’re U.S. citizens now. My son still lives in South Africa. My daughter returned home after her year as an au pair in Germany, but only to finish her studies as an occupational therapist, before moving to Ireland to marry the love of her life whom she’d met in Cologne.

Even now, as I take stock of all the personal and global changes, I can’t help wondering about the significance of the upheaval in my life and the uncertainties in the rest of the world, and what it all means for the future. But it doesn’t help to mope about it; change also presents opportunities—in the last ten years, I’ve traveled to many exciting destination, locally and abroad, excelled as a life coach and writer, finished my Masters in Fine Arts in Creative Writing, and published my first book. Life, good or bad, always presents us with many learning curves.

Belinda Nicoll’s Bio:

Belinda is originally from South Africa and has been a citizen of the United States since 2010. She and her husband love traveling and share a keen interest in cultural diversity. Their journeys and careers have taken them to various parts of the world. Belinda holds a BA degree in the social sciences and an MFA in Creative Writing, works as a creativity coach, is writing her first novel, and recently published her memoir—Out of Sync—a story about personal transformation and global change. Check out her Website and Blog (she writes about creative writing, personal coaching, and expatriation. You can connect with her via Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn, too.

Out of Sync

Belinda shares an excerpt from her book here. I read it, and felt transported into her life in South Africa. In those few pages, I became part of Belinda’s life. I sensed what she was going through as a mother, and a woman ready to embark on a new life in the U.S. She described her life in South Africa as a child, and the politics and people of South Africa in a manner that finally made me “understand” what was actually going on in the 60’s, and the changes that occurred.  I also feel a connection with Belinda when she says:

“These days, being rootless is an integral part of how I choose to be.”

Sonia Marsh Says: Belinda, I feel a strong connection with you in that we are both expats, and have moved around the world. I also believe that when our kids have been exposed to life in different parts of the world, they are likely to do the same as we did: they move to another continent. You mentioned change also presents opportunities, which I know to be true, and that’s what makes our lives exciting. I’d love to meet you and share our adventures. Thank you for your story and all the best with your memoir, Out of Sync, which is my kind of book, and the novel you’re writing.

***
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.

***

Please leave your comments for Belinda and she will be over to respond. Also remember to share the “My Gutsy Story” series with your friends by clicking on the buttons to your favorite sites below.

 Thanks, Sonia Marsh.

“My Gutsy Story” by Jeffrey Crimmel

June 18, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

 

Mazari Sharif is a much smaller town than the capital of Kabul. Farming and the production of hash and opium remained the source of income in the region. Fields surrounded the town but the cool spring weather kept any planting in limbo.

All that remained of the city were the tall mud walls slowly eroding away. While walking around this ancient ruin I looked from a section of the clay barrier down into the non-existent remains of the city. A camel caravan, with ten or fifteen beasts of burden, used the city barriers as a windbreak while camping overnight. Nothing remained indicating any life ever existed at one time in the enclosed compound.

On one of my photo outings I discovered how dangerous being a foreigner could be in Afghanistan. The event unfolded while returning to the hotel after a walk outside the village. When a traveler finds him or herself in a situation, with the potential to become ugly, remember to maintain a cool head and take the path of least resistance.

I happened to be turning a corner on a rutted road on the outskirt of a residential part of the city. Approaching me were two women, surrounded by their children, after a day of shopping. The Burqa or outer garment worn by the Afghan women hung, pulled back over their heads, revealing their faces. The tent like garb covers the entire body of a woman in Afghanistan and is never removed until she returns to her home.

The women must have been near their houses and were not expecting a foreigner to be coming around the corner. They quickly pulled the Burqas back over their faces and were again hidden from the outsider approaching them. Only a small net in the Burqa, around the eye sockets, remained as an opening. The small breach enabled the women to see and breath while walking.

The mothers seemed angry with me for having observed their exposed head and face. I could tell by the tone in their voice, when they passed, the event was a major taboo. I kept walking.

Twenty feet separated me from the group of shoppers when rocks began hitting the ground near my body. The young boys, accompanying their mothers, prepared to defend the family honor by stoning the infidel. These boys were not much older than eight or nine. Lucky for me their aim sucked. I turned around to face them and thought about making a charge.

It is times like this one must realize,

“I am in a foreign country and I better be sure I make good decisions.”

Instead of rushing at the children like a crazed Oakland Raider fan hoping to scare the crap out of them, I kept walking away, doing so while increasing my pace. I needed to lengthen my distance from the young boys. Eight year olds attempting to make their first honor killing could become quite nasty.

The children did not follow nor did an incensed adult male come running around the corner trying to complete the stoning attempt made by the young rock throwers. I still needed fifteen minutes before reaching the safety of the hotel. Once inside the hotel wall I relaxed. I left the next day on the bus back to Kabul, feeling lucky to tell the tale.

The lesson here is for all of us who travel to foreign countries.  Just because a culture has customs different than ours, we are only in their country as visitors.  If a country needs to change then it will have to come from their people to be real change, not some judgmental visitor wondering why the rest of the world cannot be just like their country.  I have visited over 30 countries in my travels and this lesson alone has allowed me to enjoy different cultures to their fullest and still come out unscathed.

Jeffrey Crimmel

Jeff Crimmel Bio:  Jeff Crimmel is a retired teacher who has been teaching Special Needs students in California and Arizona for 23 years. He moved to Arizona with his wife Suzanne from Sebastopol, CA in 2000 after they visited the Southwest in 1998. The National Parks of Zion and Bryce Canyon inspired Jeff to take his photography hobby into a professional level for 6 years while living in Flagstaff, AZ.

In the summer of 2009, after retiring from teaching, Jeff decided to write down his nine years around the world journey from 1970-1979 after his two daughters kept asking about how he met their mother in India and what happened during that time.

After Living Beneath the Radar was published, Jeff and his wife moved to Phoenix in 2010 for a year and finally in the summer of 2011 made their way to the small community of San Felipe in Baja where the author wrote two books, Learning to Love the Peso, and Centavo, a Dog From Mexico.  The fourth book, The 60’s; If You Remember It You Didn’t Live It is in the process of being written. (If I can remember anything.)

 

Learning to Love the Peso is the documented account of moving to Mexico and all the steps needed to make the move and how to best make the adjustments in such a move.  It is well documented with an “How to” index at the back of the book. Also the author dispells the news America has been sending to the public in the states about Mexico being a war zone.  The truth is only possible with a visit to this culture and experience it for yourself.

Centavo, a Dog from Mexico is based on the true story of a street dog in Mexico who was picked up and brought back to the states.  It is the account of the life changing move by Centavo, making all the changes going to the States from Mexico. The author and his wife were making similiar adjustments moving the other way and living in Mexico.

The author seems to have found a new way to express himself in the world and through his humor and insight there should be more to come.

You can find Jeffrey on Twitter @Livingbeneath, on his website and connect with him on Facebook.

***

Sonia Marsh Says: Jeffrey, you send us a very important lesson: we are only visitors in another country and have to respect their traditions and not attempt to impose our own. Accepting the way others live is sometimes very difficult for us, however, as you mentioned, It has served you well in all thirty countries you have visited.

 ***

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.

Please share the “My Gutsy Story” series with others on Twitter. Thank you.

 

Blogging is like online dating: you connect and meet in person.

May 24, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

 Muriel and Sonia

Have you ever felt like you know more about your online friends  than your neighbors?

Muriel and I arranged to meet at the Paddington station in London, 6000 miles from Orange County,California, where I live.

“I’ll be wearing a red coat,” she said.

“I’ll be wearing a fuschia jacket,” I replied, knowing full well that we’d find one another as we’ve seen photos on our respective  blogs. In fact, Muriel, submitted a “My Gutsy Story” and I’ve enjoyed her sense of humor. She loves to analyze the Brits from her own French background and makes fun of herself, her accent, and often mentions what her British-raised daughters say about their French mum.

Even without our colored coats and jackets, we would have found one another when I got off the train. Muriel looked exactly as she did on her blog and off we headed to “Little Venice” for lunch.

Muriel in Little Venice, London

Muriel picked an Italian restaurant overlooking the canals. It was 11:40 a.m., and the restaurant was empty. How nice, I thought, we could get any table we wanted until the waiter said, “Sorry, we don’t open for another twenty minutes.”

Sonia in front of a small houseboat in Little venice, London

I’d forgotten the less flexible hours for lunch and dinner in Paris and London restaurants.

“Let’s have a coffee at Starbucks,” Muriel suggested as it was right next door. Apparently coffees are automatically served in ceramic cups, not paper ones, when you say, it’s for here. The Brits and French prefer the real cup experience, and so do I. Getting cream in your coffee does not appear to be common though. Whenever I asked for it at Starbucks in Paris or London, they offered whipped cream, not half and half. It seems to be hidden in the back kitchen somewhere.

We were both eager to talk about blogging and writing, and Muriel shared her ideas about a book she’d like to write. I thought she should write a memoir about life in the U.K. as seen through the  eyes of a French woman. I know she has numerous stories and themes on her blog: FrenchYummyMummy, and these funny stories would make a great memoir.

 

Muriel Demarcus

How far have you traveled to meet a blogger friend?

 

Meeting Blogger friends

 

“My Gutsy Story” by Rebecca Hall

April 30, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

Giving and Receiving sets the scene.

            As I board the plane, my sister’s words echo in my ears: “Always running away, that’s your problem.  Why can’t you settle down?”  This had always been my problem, never conventional and at 30, still with no intention to settle down and have kids—instead I was off to the ‘teardrop’ island of Sri Lanka to teach them.

Eager eyes stared and small mouths smiled at me, white teeth gleaming from grubby faces.  The weariness of ten travel hours faded as my “Hello!” was answered by a chorus of giggles that erupted from behind cupped hands. Tropical heat simmered in the windowless classroom, yet the children focused with rapt attention on my English lesson.  Street sounds assailed, but tiny ears ignored the symphony of horns, vendors’ shouts and temple chanting.

That night, supine in bed I thought once again about my sister’s comments.  As the days progressed, I realised I loved being ‘unconventional’, there was nothing ‘wrong’ with me!  I loved these kids and everything they taught me about humanity, humility and pureness.

Delphi

This process of going abroad to a culture severely different to my own helped set precedence.  My time in Sri Lanka dulled that nagging voice in the back of my head—that it was wrong for a woman in her 30’s to not be ‘settled’ in a conventional, socially acceptable way.  This paved the way for me to then undertake my first degree in my mid-30’s, and receive a very good grade for my International Relations study.  What followed was yet more travelling, yet this time settling (of sorts) in the beautiful country of Greece.

Rebecca Hall-Skopelos

Being from Europe, ‘travel’ for me was not ‘travel’ unless it entailed a plane journey of over 4 hours, and CERTAINLY it wasn’t really ‘travel’ if it was in Europe.  But who would’ve thought this country on the cusp of Europe could offer such diversity in culture, food and mentality?  I LOVE it here and have found myself ‘settling’ for the time being (at least the last 3.5 years), albeit still not with the pre-requisite husband and kids, but I am HAPPY.  For the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I LOVE my life…that nagging voice that questions if I am always running away knows the answer: only I know myself, no-one has the right to squash other people’s dreams because they’re perceived out of the ‘norm’ or that person is unconventional.

Greece

I hope others have the strength to follow their gut instincts and do what they know is best for them because ultimately, you will be doing everyone else a favour too: a happier and more content ‘you’ benefits everyone else around you.  Remember: it’s the unconventional amongst us that help make the biggest changes.

 

Epidaurus Ancient Theatre on performance day

Good luck!

 

Rebecca Hall’s Bio

 

At 30 years old, Rebecca decided she’d had enough of trying to fit into everybody else’s view of how to live life: a long term job (never mind that it bored her, literally, to tears) and now time to find a man to settle down with.

So, she sold her apartment, used the money to help fund a 4 month volunteer programme teaching English in a rural, provincial school in Sri Lanka before continuing on her worldwide travels to New Zealand, the South Pacific and coast to coast across the USA.

Rebecca Hall

Upon her return, she undertook her first degree and gained a high score for her studies in International Relations & Sociology, proceeded to further study of how to teach English as a Foreign Language (TEFL) and is settled for the time being in Athens, Greece teaching English, voiceover work and maintaining a blog about her adventures in this beautiful, historical, misrepresented European country.  She has also taught in Cambodia, Cairo Egypt and found herself teaching dour, Russian and Eastern European sailors on board a container ship across the Atlantic Ocean!

 

 

 

Join Rebecca on her social media sites:

Blog: www.lifebeyondbordersblog.com

FB: www.facebook.com/LifeBeyongBordersBlog

Twitter: www.twitter.com/BeyondBex
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/BeyondBex

 

Sonia Marsh Says: I love your Gutsy, unconventional approach to life; enjoying things while you can, and not being “stuck” in a place or a job you don’t like. Good for you for finding happiness somewhere other than where you were born and raised. I can still relate to the “always running away,” that’s something that has stayed with me, even though I’m much older than you.

Do you have a “My Gutsy Story”?

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. We now have 14 Sponsors, including the two latest sponsors, Dave, The Podcast Guy, if you wish to learn how to make your own podcasts, and Jason Matthews, an expert on e-books. Check them out on the contest page.

Please share the “My Gutsy Story” series with others on Twitter using the #MyGutsyStory. Thank you.

COME BACK TO VOTE  for your favorite April 2012, “My Gutsy Story” starts May 3rd-May 16th. The winner will be announced on Thursday, May 17th, from Paris, where I shall be staying to celebrate my dad’s 87th birthday.

 

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