Personal Writing Over the Years by me

Speeches

I’ve told this story countless times, but I would be remiss if I didn’t make M and J’s wedding day EVER so slightly about me – after all, I managed to hold myself back from joining the two of them at the chuppah, which they both know was very difficult for me. Me and M met in preschool where, shockingly, I was a selective mute and M was, well, the opposite. She was the first person to give it to me straight – “why don’t you speak!” she would relent to me all the time. “I don’t know!” I thought to myself, still not speaking out loud. M and I went on to live parallel lives, friends but at a distance, attending middle school, high school, and eventually finding ourselves in Madison, Wisconsin moving into the same 2 x 2 utility closet as college roommates with beds so close together our toes could touch. It was there that the roles had somehow reversed. I was completely out of my shell, and M was quiet. Somewhere in me, I knew it was time for me return the favor. I dragged her to everything I was doing, constantly pushed her to leave her bed and badgered her to come out with me and eventually, she gave in – making everyone she met feel lucky to have her around them just like I did. So somewhere between 5-year-old me not speaking and 28-year-old M asking me to sign her Ketubah, we both leaned in to a friendship that was so clearly written in the stars, always meant to be. I believe in the notion that nothing is random – the universe brought us together time and time again and presented us to each other during life’s key moments, and I feel so lucky that we finally dove head first into a friendship that was always made to last forever. 

And that brings me to J – another figure in M’s life that was so clearly written in the stars. When I first met J, I won’t lie that my very first thought was “omg, did M hand-create him in a machine?!” I can’t describe it, but he just looked like who I would picture in my brain to be M’s dream future husband. And that’s not to say this is ALL about looks, it’s only a LITTLE about looks. Just kidding. The very next thought I had was more-so a feeling. It was in response to how they were acting together – they fit. Their hands didn’t leave each other’s the entire night, and the look on their faces when they looked into each other’s eyes is still something I see to this day. If you know them well, which all of us in the room do, you know the look. And that is all I could ever ask for for my girl. J – you are incredible to M – you lift her up, you admire and encourage her humor, you stand by her decisions, you are the person for her and she is the person for you. I couldn’t ask for a better counterpart to take the reigns and force M to always see her power and to never doubt it. You are her mirror, and she is yours – two reflections forever bound. Congratulations to the B’s – I love you.  

Dear Grandma,

Wow, I already miss you. My thoughts about you are incredibly challenging to put into words, but without you I wouldn’t be able to do that so well – put things into words. Although you never came over empty-handed, with gifts from seemingly every museum gift shop in the world, the greatest gift you could’ve ever given me was my passion and my natural ability to express myself through writing, and for that I am forever indebted and eternally inspired by you.

I will never forget when you pulled out your stash of yellowed newspaper clippings of articles written by you, Shirley Brody Singer. Seeing your name in print was eye-opening to me. I was so enamored, and I still am. I thought it was the coolest thing in the world, and it pushed me to pursue writing over the years.

Grandma, the pride you felt for me and Ryan was unmatched. It seeped through you to the point where you would shake and make up words because real words just didn’t do your feelings enough justice. A lot of ‘pishky poshky’, followed by kissing and squeezing our cheeks, and ‘mameh-shaynheit!’ Not only would you go on and on about me and Ryan to us, but you would also sit there and tell us stories about how you told some strangers about your grandchildren and how proud you were of them. Your love for us was unmatched, and I will carry it with me all my life.

You were ‘Grandma’ in the truest sense. Being with you meant story time. And the passion you had behind those stories kept everyone on the edge of their seats. Sometimes your stories would turn into another story and somehow we’d wind up talking about life experiences of yours from years ago, a one-off conversation you had in March of 1952, and you’d site names and dates as if you were recalling a memory from a couple weeks back. Your memory and your ability to capture an audience with your stories is something I’ll miss most. I’ll miss the light in your eyes when you’d remember something new, and the enthusiasm in your voice when you got to the best part of the story.

Grandma, I remember when you were in your 80s telling me and Ryan that you want to run for office – even more recently that you wanted to campaign for Hilary. You never stopped. You worked until you were well into your 80s. You were funny, especially when you didn’t mean to be. Last year, I wrote down something you said when you were laying in the hospital bed, sick to the point where they told us you wouldn’t make it. You said ‘I’m hoping I lose some weight here so when I get home, I’m skinny. I want a nice figure!’ I could’ve sworn your positive attitude and your bright light would have gotten you to 100, but you made it pretty damn close.

You were stubborn, kind, extroverted, passionate, beautiful and brave. You loved me and Ryan so much, and we love you so much back. We promise that you will live on within each of us. We promise we’ll miss you every day and talk to you when we can. We were so lucky to be loved by you. As you would say, you were truly something special.

Love always and forever, Dana (Shaynheit)

Journalism School at University of Wisconsin- Madison - 2011-2015

April brings hope, then later, disappointment

April is the cruelest month. As the grass soaks in the rain, we all sit waiting, watching. As children, we wait for the moment we can finally return to the playground, as teens we watch as the rain pours down so we can blame our hormonal outbursts on the dreary weather, and as adults we sit there waiting, watching. We wait for something new to emerge as a result of the newly emerging life around us, and we watch as the green tint slowly returns to the Earth.

“We hope you didn’t get used to yesterday: it’s going to rain today, with a high of 61, and tonight. Oh, and then it will rain tomorrow, and Thursday, and maybe even Friday. Saturday too, possibly. And it will get colder. Have you heard what they say about April showers, though?” Tatiana Schlossberg of The New York Times said. 

As children, we begin to notice that the sky is light long past dinnertime. The days have magically lengthened, and we watch as the sun maintains its place in the sky for longer than usual. So, if it is still light out, why can’t we play outside after dinner? April is a test of a child’s patience as parents try to explain that the ground is too muddy to play outside. April is a waiting game for children who simply want to enjoy the great outdoors at recess. The rain and the shaky weather contribute to a constant feeling of hope and, later, disappointment. April is cruel. 

For teens, April is the equivalent to a confusing break-up. It is a transition phase for a teenager who just spent a significant amount of time and effort adhering to one set of rules, suddenly forced to face unanticipated change. We spent all of our energy, and most likely all of our holiday money, on a winter wardrobe, and now we have to prepare for an entirely different temperature? What do you even wear in April? With each day, we don’t know what to expect, and as teenagers that is devastating for us. We like stability, and we like knowing what’s coming next. April is cruel. 

“Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow,” T.S. Eliot writes in his poem, “The Waste Land.” As adults, we use winter as a time to push our thoughts and concerns aside. Our worries are kept on the back burner, covered in “forgetful snow.” We forget to worry, and we forget to think, because all we can talk about is the terrible weather. As spring begins to warm the Earth, those worries and thoughts reenter our minds. The world is brighter, illuminating our minds and forcing our worries to surface. We are no longer concerned about the cold, and we are suddenly worried about everything else. As these worries surface, we try to just hope for better things to come. And as we already know from our childhood, with hope comes disappointment. 

There is nothing crueler to a child than a long car ride with no exciting destination, there is nothing crueler to a teen than an unanticipated break-up with a significant other, and there is nothing crueler to an adult than a waiting room that automatically consumes us with worry and hope. April is all of these things at all points in our lives, but April is inevitable. We simply have to wait and watch as April passes by each year. Because it is cruel, and all we can do is hope – hope that next year we won’t be disappointed. 

Mets or Yankees, Yankees or Mets?

I remember the first time I saw Derek Jeter play. My dad held me high up on his shoulders, and I watched as the legend stepped up to bat. Twenty-seven World Series championships, 18 division titles, 44 hall-of-famers, Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Derek Jeter, and you’re telling me there are actual New York baseball fans who still root for the Mets? 

This outrageous fact first came to my attention many years ago when my older brother and his friend had a riveting Mets/Yankees debate where they compared Derek Jeter to previous Mets player, Mike Piazza. I remember thinking his name sounded like pizza, and I immediately tuned out the conversation and went on a quest for food.  When I look back to that moment, I wish I listened. I want to know: Why do some New Yorkers root for the Mets and some for the Yankees? What separates Mets fans from Yankees fans? 

Part of my theory is that our fandom stems from generations of either proud Yankees fans or stubborn Mets fans. When two different teams represent the same city, the only plausible way to choose which team we root for is to ask our parents and/or grandparents which team they prefer. From there, we seek to make our ancestors proud, buy the hats and the jerseys and root for their preferred team. This is later passed on to our children, our children’s children, etc. until one of us produces a rebellious child that seeks to end the generational tradition by going against the grain. And to that child I would say, “Do you, kid!” They’d see my support as a reason to revert back to their roots and choose the Yankees, and then my plan to continue our legacy will have worked. 

However, something tells me that there is more to it than this. Generational preference may be a plausible theory, but there have to be more theories out there. In 2010, The Wall Street Journal tapped the polling firm ‘Public Opinion Strategies’ to conduct a survey that collected data from 650 male and female baseball fans across all five boroughs. Results of the survey show that there are a higher percentage of New York baseball fans that prefer the Yankees to the Mets, but this was said to differ with neighborhood, income and education. The Mets have more fans in Queens, the Yankees more on the edge of the Bronx, and Manhattan is split. 

However, the biggest distinction between fans had nothing to do with the above data but everything to do with each person’s relationship to alcohol. “Male Mets fans were 43% more likely than Yankees fans to drink beer. They also drink more in general: the percentage of male Yankees fans who said they don’t drink was almost double that of their Mets counterparts,” Sophia Hollander of the Wall Street Journal reported. 

This was peculiar to me because I am both a male Yankees fan and a heavy drinker. Just kidding, I’m a female Yankees fan and a heavy drinker. Jokes aside, in my opinion drinking must have nothing to do with this division between Mets and Yankees fans, but more to do with the people we choose to surround ourselves with. For example, if I spend time with my mother, I will drink half a glass of wine and fall off my seat. On the other hand, if I surround myself by my crazy, drunk Uncle, I will likely go to the hospital for drinking an entire gallon of scotch. So, my personal research concludes that this is subjective. 

The biggest difference, in my opinion, lies in the underdog mentality of Mets fans, and the superiority complex of Yankees fans. Mets fans are simply more dedicated because they are the underdogs seeking revenge, and they feel the need to overcompensate for their losses by buying Mets gear and screaming loudly throughout the games. 

I can attest to this through personal experience. Growing up, my brother owned one or two baseball jerseys and a few Yankees bobble heads in his room. His Mets-obsessed friend on the other hand owned several signed jerseys, three real Shea Stadium chairs, over 100 signed baseballs and a record-breaking baseball card collection. My now 25-year-old brother, although a Yankee fan at heart, has let the obsession go, and his friend, although an extreme example, still attends spring training and lines up to get his baseballs signed each year. 

The Mets/Yankees divide will likely exist as long as the teams exist. Some fans may choose according to their neighborhood, their income or even their alcohol preferences. As for me, I just root for whichever team my dad, brother or future husband tells me to root for, so I’m sticking with my theory. And for everyone else’s sake, I will be sure to keep my crazy, drunk Uncle away from a baseball stadium or any other public facility for that matter as long as I can help it.

A mix of some of the creative/personal pieces I’ve written over the years. A mix of speeches, letters, stories, and even some of my favorite pieces from my college journalism courses and Gotham NYC writing course from 2024. - DG