The One With Suitcases, Safehouses, and Sentimental Stuff

Even though hypothetical situations make me nervous, I’ll humor you on this one. Hypothetically, I’m being taken away from everything I’ve ever known to a place with no power. I don’t need anything to survive; that’s being taken care of. However, I do need things to remind me of home. These are the things I would bring:

1.) The first item I would bring in my suitcase would be my stuffed bear, Cinnamon. I got him when I was born and he would remind me of my past and who I once was. In all the movies you see about the protagonist losing themself because they have to assume a false identity, they lose their sense of who they were, and I don’t want that to happen to me.

2.) I would bring the collection of pictures and cards that I have collected over the years from friends and family. They all mean a lot to me and the memories behind them mean even more.

3.) I would also bring the quilt my great-great-grandmother made. It’s super warm and comfy and smells like my house.

4.) My scarf from my grandmother would definitely be added in to the mix. My grandma is wonderful and crocheting and it’s super-duper warm and reminds me of her.

5.) My journal. I need to write and communicate with people somehow, so I would bring my journal and something to write with.

6.) Bossypants by Tina Fey. The book cracks me up and I need something to remind me of my sitcoms.

7.) My Arrested Development shirt that my brother got for me for Christmas this year. I only have one brother and I guess I need something to remind me of him.

8.) My autographed picture of Amy Poehler because a.) my parents got it for me and b.) I love Amy Poehler. It sounds pretty weird, but it’s special to me.

9.) The fuzzy socks my mom got for me would definitely be included in the suitcase. I need something to remember my mom and I like fuzzy socks.

10.) The funeral program and rose from my grandpa’s funeral. My grandpa was really important to me and I don’t ever want to forget him.

Chocolate-Covered Something-or-Others

One of my family’s favorite stories to bring up also happens to be one of my fondest memories. It was my family’s Christmas get together when I was around five or six, and my aunt brought these delicious-looking, chocolate-covered somethings. She is a really good cook, so we all wanted to try one. I lifted the chocolaty orb to my mouth and sunk my teeth into the gooey ball. As soon as my teeth passed the outer chocolate layer onto the next, I found myself making a sound that resembled something like “blech” and removing the “candy” from my mouth. When I peered inside the broken layer, I saw white fibers coming out of the opening. My reaction was imitated by everyone else as they all realized what was inside. My aunt had covered cotton balls with almond bark chocolate.

The next year, we were all a little more hesitant to consume the chocolate covered spheres she brought, but after much assurance from both and her and my uncle that there were definitely no cotton balls used in the making of this year’s creation, we went ahead and tried one. This time though, I waited to see the general reaction before trying the candy. The looks on everyone’s faces were those of confusion, not disgust, so I popped the candy in my mouth to see what the fuss was about. As the chocolate melted though, I regretted my decision. I did not know what I had just put in my mouth, but I knew I did not like it. It turned out this year the chocolate covered substance was a pearl onion. My grandpa didn’t seem to mind the oniony flavor and had about four in his hand, eating them like any other candy. It was only after he finished his handful that he noted they had a bit of an odd flavor, but weren’t bad.

These two instances make for great holiday chatter now and while rather disgusting, the memory is one of my favorites.

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Biscuit Models.. Oops, I Mean Role Models

TV has always been an important part of my life, specifically comedies. Saturday Night Live, one of America’s most popular comedy shows, has been on since 1975 and has included many historical moments in television history. For years, comedy was considered a boys’ club. Of course the women of SNL in its earliest days, Gilda Radner, Jane Curtin, and Laraine Newman, did quite a bit to change that. However, the biggest influence of our generation for women in comedy is undoubtedly Tina Fey.


Fey started writing for Saturday Night Live in 1997, and in a matter of three years, became head writer. She was the first woman to do so. Along with her writing job, she also joined the cast in 2000 as a Weekend Update anchor alongside Jimmy Fallon while also appearing in occasional sketches. In 2006, Fey said goodbye to working for SNL and tried her hand in situational comedy, creating, writing, and starring in 30 Rock. The show made sitcom history with its quirky characters and clever quips.


Since I started watching 30 Rock, Tina has been a huge inspiration in my life. She has influenced me to aspire to study improv and eventually write comedy. Tina has worked to break down barriers previously set in the world of entertainment that has made a path for others to follow, not to mention she is hard working, intelligent, a feminist, and very, very funny. I could go on and on about Fey’s achievements and successes, but this is what it all boils down to: Tina has worked for where she is and remains humble and those are both very admirable achievements.


When I think of Tina Fey, my brain almost instantaneously jumps to Amy Poehler. The two met in 1993 at the Second City improv theatre in Chicago, where they both took classes, and have been close friends ever since. In her book Bossypants, Tina writes this upon Amy’s arrival to Saturday Night Live: “I was so happy. Weirdly, I remember thinking, ‘My friend is here! My friend is here!’ Even though things had been going great for me at the show, with Amy there, I felt less alone.” (Fey) Even just the friendship between these two hilarious ladies is something I admire; they aren’t catty with each other like society has tried to persuade female relationships to be. They know that they aren’t in competition with each other as women in the entertainment industry; they are in competition with everyone. They completely support each other’s careers and constantly promote each other.


Her friendship with Fey aside, I just really look up to Amy Poehler. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s crass, and she refuses to fit into a typecast. In another quote from Fey’s book, she states “…With that exchange, a cosmic shift took place. Amy made it clear that she wasn’t there to be cute. She wasn’t there to play wives and girlfriends in the boys’ scenes. She was there to do what she wanted to do and she did not f***ing care if you like it.” (Fey) I admire Amy because she hasn’t allowed her career to be defined as a funny lady. She’s just funny.


Sticking with the funny people theme that I’ve created for this post, I decided my last person should be Ellen DeGeneres. Not only is Ellen a successful comedienne, she also has her own daytime talk show with fun games, interesting guests, and at least one altruistic act per episode. Along with this, Ellen is a strong advocate against bullying. Coming out as a lesbian in 1997, DeGeneres has been a huge supporter in the Trevor Project and other LGBTQ projects (IMDB). It is because of her huge anti-bullying voice, especially in the LGBTQ community, that I really admire Ellen. In our society today, so often we forget about the feelings of others, but Ellen does not. She ends every show with the words “Be kind to one another” as a reminder to all her viewers. I just think it is really cool that someone with her following makes sure to so vocally stand up against bullying. I hope that if by some anomaly in the universe occurs and I achieve what Ellen has achieved, I will be able to have the positive influence she does.






Fey, Tina. Bossypants. New York, NY: Little, Brown & Company, 2011. Print.


"Ellen DeGeneres." The Internet Movie Database. IMDb.com, Inc, n.d. Web.
29 Oct. 2009. <http://www.imdb.com/>.

Behind the Picture: Not a Story About a Mariachi Band

           Since before I can remember my family has been known collectively as “The Raleys”.  Long before I was born and for a while after they were a travelling bluegrass band, known throughout the Midwest. Some of my earliest memories involve trips to Minnesota on a big maroon bus listening to my mom sing “Ruby” and my uncles complain the whole way. This is undoubtedly the reason that music was my first love. 

Listening to my family play in bluegrass festivals was fun, but the true heart of this life was watching their practices in my grandparent’s kitchen. I would sit on the floor at my mom’s feet and tap my own feet with the music, singing with my mom. There always seemed to be more jokes cracked than songs sung, but that was just fine with me.

                As they grew up and started families of their own though, music was moved to the back burner and practices in my grandmother’s kitchen were few and far between. Now, I’m lucky if they all meet in the kitchen to play once a year. Every time they do though, I am there. I’ve been upgraded to having my own chair, but I usually prefer the floor, right next to my mom.

Groundhog Day.

Voices and bodies filled the hallway the minute the bell sounded instructing students to go from first to second hour. I remember laughing with one of my friends near my locker and retrieving my Personal Finance notebook from the bottom shelf. My name flooded the hallways with instructions to go to the office. Generally, this is a good thing. I am not subjected to discipline at school often, mostly because there is never a reason for me to be punished. This time however, I knew it was not a good office visit. There was a sickening feeling in my stomach as my feet reluctantly carried me around the corner and into the office.

“Your dad called and you need to go home.” The secretary informed me, worry filling her face. I backed out of the office slowly and could already feel tears threatening to spill out. The back of my throat ached as I held them back and ran down the hall and rounded the corner to exit the building.

By what was certainly a miracle from above, I made it home. I was hysterical and I could barely see, but I made it. I knew that my grandfather had been in the hospital the following few days, but my dad had said it was minor and that he would be home shortly. I knew when I got home though, that things had not gone as planned.

My brother drove us to Springfield, where my dad met us at the doors of Mercy hospital. His eyes were red from crying and I braced myself for the worst. My dad told my brother and I that my grandfather took a turn for the worst early that morning and he didn’t know how long he would make it. We followed my dad to the elevators and endured a painfully long ride until the doors opened to the letters ICU.

Long story short, my brother and I spent a few short minutes with my grandpa that day. Once when we first arrived and again right before we left to go home. The rest of the day we spent in the waiting room with the rest of my family.

The last words I said to my grandpa were, “See ya, grandpa.” Those words turned out to be false. That was the last time I spoke to him and the last time I saw his ornery grin. He died on Christmas Day, 2012.

If I could go back and change this day, I would have said more. I would have told my grandpa how much I appreciated his support in my life and how much I loved him. My family doesn’t really talk about how we feel, so I never got to tell him how proud I was to call him my grandpa. I never got to tell him what a wonderful grandpa he was and if I could go back, I would. I don’t know that doing so would affect my life today, but I would like just a few more minutes to see him again. To see the laughter that was always behind his blue eyes one more time.

We always hope that our last words to someone will be somehow comforting to both parties and will allow peace to ourselves. So often though, last words are not planned to be last words. So often it’s a “See ya later.”