A Brief Introduction into the Unique World of Suzanne Block

I believe that if I introduce who I am and where my ideas come from in this editorial that readers of Loudbus.com will come to understand my writing better.  Although I don’t consider myself to be a superb writer, I love to write and have come to express most of my ideas through words.  So here it goes…

            I grew up in the suburban south Brookline, MA.  Although I didn’t have the perfect childhood, I now consider my family was once perfect: a big house, two parents, and an asshole older sister who couldn’t stand me.  My biggest fear each day was my sister finding out I was snooping through her room again, my mom telling me to get my ass up off the couch, or yet another rejection from a middle school crush.  Things were swell.

            Life went pretty well up until seventh grade when my mother was diagnosed with colon cancer.  This was the true breaking point of my family.  My sister went haywire between the drug use, and ditching school.  My dad went AWOL as well.  He stayed out till wee hours of the night, avoiding my mother’s pain.  Although I can’t say I was a perfect cherub, I was definitely there for my mother’s last few months.  My dad quit his commuter job in New York.  He now had time to invest in his extra-curricular, leaving my sister running even freer.  I stayed with my mom at nights, trying to get to her know her in the little time we had left.  My time with my mother was cut short when she died.  I was thirteen and clueless. 

            My dad sold our big house and we moved into a small apartment building.  He quickly blew through the money we got for selling the house, not retaining employment for four years.  Half that time he was high on something-the other half he was sleeping.  From the age of thirteen, I started to raise myself: Our fridge was rarely full.  I paid for my own clothes through my minimum wage jobs. My sister went off to school.  She was so angry from my mother’s death that she didn’t look back- not even to keep an eye on me.

            For my entire high school career, I took care of myself.  People ask me how I did it now- most of my friends didn’t even know.  Sure, my dad slept a lot.  Sure, he was a little “hyper” at odd times and “sleepy” at others.  They didn’t know I couldn’t afford to go to the dentist, to go shopping for the new “it” high school attraction, or to even buy myself a magazine.  I had to save my money for bigger and better things.  I kept thinking of the woman my mother wanted me to be.  I kept thinking that I needed to get out of Brookline and be on my own.

            Applying to college was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do.  My SAT scores were in the dumps.  The only preparation course I could afford was through Brookline’s adult-education program.  A fat, smelly woman named Betty, who choked on her own spit and couldn’t complete basic algebra taught the class.  My perseverance with my grades saved me. I knew they would get me out.  I knew I had to learn how to get myself into college.            I applied to Hobart and William Smith College early decision.  I befriended my admissions officer and told her my story personally in addition to documenting my situation in my application.  Fortunately, I got into Hobart with an amazing scholarship. 

            The day I left Brookline to go to school was one of the best days of my life.  I declared financial independence as Hobart.  Through rigorous paperwork, recommendations, and essays, I got the school to see that I needed to be independent of my father.  I was warned that through an odd loophole, declaring independence might decrease my financial aid package.  I took the chance, realizing that paying off loans for the next thirty years was better than counting on my father’s John Hancock.  I was accepted and my package was increased: a rare feat.  Going through such an intense amount of pain, emotion and growth, I started writing out my thoughts in journals.  Realizing that I had a gift for words and expressing my ideas, I declared an English concentration at Hobart.

 I learned quickly that Hobart was not the right place for me.  Although I loved my friends, I knew that I had to pursue a college that had the right kind of writing program.  I researched schools in Chicago, considering my boyfriend went to school there, and my mother’s brother lived in the surrounding suburbs.  Getting out of the northeast could possible be a healthy step.  I found one school in particular that had a fantastic writing program as well as a distinguished financial aid reputation.  On my application I stated the facts:  If Lake Forest didn’t give me as good of a scholarship as Hobart did or better, I would not be able to go.  It turned out that I must have hit the right key- I was accepted to Lake Forest with a full writing scholarship.  Another rare feat that would become my reality.

              I just finished my first year at the fabulous Lake Forest.  I am in love with it.  My writing is improving, I love being closer to my boyfriend, and getting to know my mother’s brother is a fabulous gift.  I have created a sense of community for myself that, to this day, still rises above my expectations. 

            My dad has since moved to DC for a job opportunity.  We are beginning a relationship again, although there is so much that went wrong, I’m not sure if he will ever fill the void he once made.  My sister graduated from the University of Vermont and is currently living in Connecticut.  She is a financial analyst, working 60 hour weeks.  We are closer, much closer. 

My life has started to unfold in front of me, although I am not stress free.  It is stressful to provide for yourself at the age of 20.  I am constantly looking around me to see parents helping their kids at every age.  I don’t have that.  I must pay for every doctor visit, every teeth cleaning, every new “it” shirt, and every bottle of beer.  I still look back to my childhood as the best time I’ve ever had.  I had my entire family.  Although I still have my health and happiness, I want back what I will never have.  The answer for me is to keep writing.  I write down my sadness.  I write down my grief.  But most importantly at this point in my life, I write down what my mother has done for me.  She is the motivation in my life.  She is the reason I keep writing, keep paying off my credit card, and keep a smile on my face.

Suzanne Block

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