FITCHBURG SPEAKS: Stories About What Made Us Who We Are (Community Read, Part 1 of 2)

Recorded in front of a live audience at Fitchburg State University on April 6th, 2023, Fitchburg Speaks: Stories about What Made Us Who We Are showcases true stories from the complex and rich lives led by members of the greater Fitchburg community. 

Sixteen storytellers took to the mic to generously share their stories about what made them who they are.  

Today, we feature five of those stories about formative experiences living alone in the wilderness, the search for balance, overcoming adversity, finding comfort in being one's true self, and a love story spanning 57 years, a peace corps deployment, and three strikes. 

• Dr. Steven Edwards, Fitchburg State Professor (2:54)
• Yer Yang, Communications Media / Graphic Design (8:08)
• Nadia Turovskiy, Rhythmic Gymnast, Dual Enrollment, Bolton MA (13:06)
• Elliot Zopatti, Communications Media / Technical Theater (17:18)
• Arthur E. Young, Peace Corps 1961 (21:34) 

Fitchburg Speaks was the culminating event from a year of programming inspired by the 2022-23 Fitchburg Community Read book, Trevor Noah's memoir Born a Crime.  This event was organized and sponsored by the Fitchburg Community Read Committee and its members.   

Host: Elliot Zopatti
Recording engineers: Matt Baier and Adam Fournier

Episode transcript available here.

***

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Transcript

FITCHBURG SPEAKS: Stories About What Made Us Who We Are (Community Read, Part 1 of 2)

[Reggae music starts]

HOST:  The following recording is a presentation of Fitchburg Speaks: Stories about What Made Us Who We Are.  

Fitchburg Speaks showcases stories from the complex and rich lives led by members of the greater Fitchburg community. This event was held at Fitchburg State University on April 6th, 2023, before a live audience in the Falcon Hub in the Hammond Campus Center.  Sixteen storytellers took to the mic to generously share their stories.  

Today, we'll hear five stories about formative experiences living alone in the wilderness, overcoming adversity, finding comfort in being one's true self, and a love story spanning 57 years.  Fitchburg Speaks was the culminating event from a year of programming inspired by the 2022 Community Read book, Trevor Noah's memoir Born a Crime. 

[ Sounds of live Falcon Hub audience starts ] 

Elliot Zopatti, a rising senior Communications Media major, hosted the event.

Thank you for listening – and enjoy the stories.

[Reggae music ends]

[ 1min 6sec ]

ELLIOT:  Good afternoon and welcome to our Fitchburg Speaks: Stories About What Made Us Who We Are  storytelling event. 

My name is Elliot  – [Cheers for Elliot]  Yeah!  [Applause]

My name is Elliot Zopatti, and I am honored to be your emcee for this evening. For those of you who are new to this format, let me explain how this works. We have a lineup of incredible storytellers who will take the stage tonight to share their personal stories.

Each of these stories is true and based on the storyteller's own experience. The themes for tonight's show are taken from our Community Read Born a Crime by Trevor Noah. 

We will hear stories about a little bit of everything, including searching for a sense of belonging and identity, overcoming challenges, confronting difficult moments of discrimination and experiences of growth. We are confident that you'll find each of these stories engaging and thought provoking.

Our storytellers are from all walks of life, and they each bring a unique perspective to the stage. Some are professional writers, while others are sharing their stories for the very first time. But no matter who they are, they have one thing in common: the courage to share their stories with all of us. We want to create a safe and supportive space for our storytellers.

So please give them your undivided attention as they take the stage. 

Without further ado, let's get started with our first storyteller. Fitchburg State's very own Dr. Steve Edwards has graciously agreed to set the tone for our event today. Dr. Edwards is the author of the memoir Breaking into the Backcountry, the story of his seven months as a caretaker of a remote homestead in Oregon.

His nonfiction has appeared in the Sun magazine, Orion magazine, Literary Hub, Longreads, and his forthcoming for The Yale Review.  A 2014 Massachusetts Cultural Council artist fellow in fiction and nonfictio, he is an Associate Professor of English Studies at Fitchburg State University.  Please give Dr. Edwards a warm welcome.

[applause]

[ 2min 54sec ]

DR. EDWARDS:  Thank you. Good afternoon. 

2001 – won a writing contest. And the prize was that I got to go be the caretaker of a 95 acre backcountry homestead.  Backcountry means 45 miles from town on a long, bumpy logging road. Backcountry means no electricity and no neighbors. 

I was 26 and I did this alone for seven months. [laughs]

The homestead is in the rugged Klamath Mountains, southwestern Oregon, on the Rogue River.

It is a place of black bears, mountain lions, rattlesnakes, black widow spiders, scorpions –  loneliness, despair.  Silence. It is also a place of deep beauty. 

It's so quiet there, in fact, that one day I was woken from a sleep by the horrible racket of a deer chewing grass. That was a loud sound. The scary things were something to get used to.

So were the beautiful things. 

The mountains, the madrone trees with their peeling bark. The little lizards that skittered on the rocks. The osprey that flew up and down the river canyon with steelhead in their talons. The river itself – whose origins were the bottom of Crater Lake – how it seeps out. And how it's freezing cold to swim in even in the middle of summer.

And I did swim in it – quite often.  And that was one of the beautiful parts of being there. Every day I would do an hour worth of caretaking work, mowing grass, keeping up the property, etc. 

And I would write and I would feel lonely.  Because when you are that far from town with no one to talk to, the deer are your friends.

They were my friends. I had three deer. Who were my friends, two big bucks and a little runt who I named Cougar Bait [audience laughs] – for obvious reasons. 

Sometimes other friends arrive like the day after a big rain. When I went outside and saw just below my bedroom window a pair of muddy bear paw prints on the cabin wall. Those visitations were lovely – in time. 

But I want to tell you that that kind of beauty, I wanted to share it with somebody.

Every time I saw something wonderful, the feeling was, I wish there was somebody here who I could say “Look at that. Would you just look at that? Isn't that amazing?” 

Where somebody I could do a kindness for.  Didn't happen. 

One day, late in the summer, I was coming home from a long hike and this big cloud had settled onto the far ridge and the slanting sun of dusk coming on shot its beams into this cloud and turned it pink.

And the cloud was so big and so everywhere that it turned the mountain pink and it turned the grass is pink and it turned the road pink and it turned me the same burning color of pink. 

And I thought:  how many visions just as beautiful have I already seen and forgotten? Wish I could share it with someone. Then out of the grasses, there was a voice. A voice. Mine.  The mountains, the grass. I don't know. There was a voice. 

And it said, “You know, the point is not to remember any of this. The point is to become this. If you can live a life as beautiful as this thing that you are seeing then you can share it with everybody you meet. Thank you.”

[applause]

[ 7min53sec ] 

ELLIOT: Our next storyteller is Yer Yang. Yer Yang is a communications major with a focus in graphic design and is from Fitchburg.  Please welcome Yer to the stage.

[ 8min 8sec ] 

YER YANG: Hello everyone. My name is Yer and I'll be talking about the time I broke my ankle. I was always that one friend who says I've never broken a bone or had surgery before until I had my accident back in December 2021. 

I think back on it and it's such an embarrassing story. I broke my first bone by slipping on black ice on my stairs.

Honestly, why couldn't it have been something cool. Like in the movies. It was about 6:10 a.m. on Wednesday, December 22nd 2021. I was leaving my house to grab a coffee before going to work at 7 a.m. before I left.  My parents were still in bed but told me to be careful because there's ice out there. I peeked out the door, the coast was clear, and I went for it.

I slipped as soon as my foot met the second stone.  I immediately took out my phone and called my dad. I said, “Hey, Dad, I think I broke my ankle.” My family called an ambulance, and I arrived at the E.R., got fixed up and was told I needed surgery because I broke my small bone in my calf.  I needed to get it bridged back together so it would heal correctly.

I had my first surgery. It went well, and I was now homebound, and dependent on my family for about three and a half months. I was hurt, not as much physically, but mentally. I used to be so independent before this incident. I felt like I had the world on my shoulders. I was ready to take on challenges and work hard for my dreams.

I felt so much like a burden to my parents – because in my culture, children are supposed to care and cook for their family once they're grown up. And that's a story for another time. 

And I couldn't even do the simplest thing, like taking care of myself. It began to take a toll on me. I became frustrated with myself.  I did poorly in some of my remote classes. 

I wish I could have done it differently. I wish I could have not slipped. I wish I could have stayed on the path I planned out. I wish I could have not beaten myself up so much. I wish I could just take care of myself. And I wish I could just drive my car.  

I wish.

I kept wishing. Then one day I snapped out of it. It was not my fault I couldn't do x, y or z right now. 

I'm taking care of myself by letting myself heal. I'm still the same Me and I will be physically capable enough soon. My parents and family do not and did not see me as a burden.

After four months of appointments and physical therapy, I was ready to bounce back. During my time at home, resting, I constantly felt like I didn't do enough. I couldn't even do well in my classes. I needed to do better, I told myself. I began by going from full time school down to two online classes. I began working 40 hours at one of my jobs.

I picked up a second job on the weekends. During summer, I picked up a full time internship 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., working 6 to 10 p.m. and my other job and working on the weekends. 

I had to keep myself busy or else I would just spiral again. Right? 

No, I was wrong. I lost sight of what really mattered.

My family and friends missed me and I missed them. They always say that I’m never home anymore. The truth was, I was scared of not being able to do enough for myself, for my loved ones. 

I felt like I had to prove something to myself.  But the truth is, I now see that I deserve to be get rest because all the hard work I've done and continue to do. I’m doing much better now.  Still a workaholic.  But I give myself a break whenever I need it. 

I want you all to know if you're going through something similar to myself back then, you are enough.  So please live in the moment because time goes by fast. We're still young and so is the night. Thank you.

[applause] 

[ 12min 50sec]

ELLIOT:  Next up is Nadia Turovskiy. Nadia is a second year dual enrollment student from Bolton, Mass. And a Level Nine rhythmic gymnast and junior coach. Please welcome Nadia to the stage. 

[ applause ] 

[ 13min 6sec]

NADIA TUROVSKIY:  I couldn't breathe without you, but I'm inhaling. 

Five seconds into my gymnastics routine.  Preparing for the first toss of my exercise, I position the hoop on my ankles and, as I turn, I catch a glimpse of my mom in the coach's corner at the edge of the carpet. 

Checking that she's there is a reflex. I'm immediately thrown back to the summer of 2019 when, at age 12 I was the only gymnast from my club to qualify for the U.S. championship in Des Moines, Iowa.

It was a nationally televised event in which the top 20 level seven athletes from across the United States competed for ten spots on the National team. My coach, six months pregnant at the time, refused to travel with me, passing me off to her colleague, whom I hadn't met before, and who, focused on her own athletes, paid me little attention.

A few second, a few seconds into my routine at the Wells Fargo Arena, I noticed that the coach's corner was empty. Feeling completely alone, I choked up and it took all my strength to inhale, compose myself and finish the exercise without a single drop. 

Thought I wouldn't last without you, but I'm lasting. 35 seconds in. 

Passing through the hoop, I catch my most uncertain apparatus difficulty.  I think back to the previous year. The hours I spent at the gym perfecting this move. The interruption in training, caused by COVID-19, allowed me time to reflect. And I realized that with my coach focused on her own newborn daughter, I had been training myself for months. Scared but determined. I convinced my mom to take me out of the club, at which I had trained since I was three years old, and open our own: Golden Team Rhythmics.  Our team was truly golden. 

With code restrictions still in place, we trained like nomads. At four in the morning at a friend's gym, 2 hours away from our house with no lights or heat – or on the grass in our backyard with carpets and extra layers of clothing to soften the impact. 

Thought that I would fail without you. But I'm on top. 60 seconds in.

I start my second pass of dance steps when choreographing my routines in October, I especially enjoyed creating the dance steps.

Rhythmic routines are judged on three critical components: difficulty, execution and artistry. Each routine is a story told through movement, and everything must work together. The leotards, the makeup, the apparatuses, color and the music. Creating a gymnast routine requires years of experience and fluency in the USAG rules. Up for the challenge, I memorized the 89 page rulebook, picked up music and got to work.  

Without an experienced coach to give feedback, I recorded videos of my training on my phone, then slow motion the videos to catch mistakes. After practicing the skill with my own corrections, I recorded again and looked for improvement until I got it down. Months later, the National Artistry Judge applauded my performance at Qualifiers and I felt proud of my work. 

Thought that I would self-destruct, but I am still here. And even in my years to come, I'm still going to be here.  89 seconds in. I catch the 30 foot toss.  

The music ends. I performed a clean routine. I quickly glanced at the judges who judged Tokyo Olympic hopefuls earlier that day. They are still taking notes, but I can tell that they're pleased with my performance. As I salute and walk off the carpet towards my mom, I'm overcome with gratitude.

The moments when I felt that I was standing on the carpet alone were the moments that presented me with new opportunities. The empty corner at Nationals in Des Moines was an invitation to own my path and take control, to become independent and self-reliant. The lessons I have learned are gifts that will sustain me in the future. Thank you.

[applause]

[ 17min 18sec ]

ELLIOT:  Your next speaker is me. [laughs, audience reaction]

Hello. My name is Elliot. I'll do my own introduction, I guess. I am a junior, I am an RA. I am in the Communications Media major with a concentration in Technical Theater and I am your emcee. 

August 7th, 2019. I am standing inside the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport alone, never having been on a plane before.

I check in for the conference I am attending with the person in the red shirt and khaki shorts in Terminal 3 they told me to look for, and he struggles to find my name on the attendance sheet. After flipping through his pages for a few seconds, he finally finds my name at the very end of the alphabet. Of course, he stares in confusion as the name and the gender do not match.

“Would you be more comfortable in the boys hallway? Or the girls?” 

I knew this was going to happen. I knew I wouldn't be able to stay in Seattle.  3026 miles away from all I had ever known without the simple truth that I am a transgender male haunting me.  The sweat of my palms made it almost uncomfortable to hold my suitcase handle.

“Boys.”

I can hear my voice cracking even on just one word. I swung back into the uncomfortable airport waiting room chair and wait for the shuttle to the campus of the University of Washington, where I would be trapped for the next two weeks. At orientation, I'm given a lanyard with my name tag and the key to my home for the next nine days.

“National Student Leadership Conference Game Design. Elliot Zopatti.” 

This is the first time I have ever been given a nametag with the right name on it. I am perplexed. I take the key from the lanyard and go to unlock the door to my single dorm in the boys hallway. I've never been accepted for my trans identity so quickly to complete strangers before, not even just the NSC coordinators, but the other students too.

They've accepted me so hard they put me in a hallway all by myself because they got confused as to what to do with me. 

But I don't have a roommate, so I guess that's a good thing.  In everyone else's eyes, I'm just another guy exploring his passion for video games while meeting an abundance of young students who share the same passion and drive as I do.

I found my little pod of the only other four queer students in attendance at the conference who were also young gay kids from all over the country, escaping from their unsupportive parents and communities to have the time of their lives halfway across the country for two weeks. 

Every student I met immediately referred to me with him pronouns, no questions asked, which is helpful when nobody knows who you are.  What followed was the utmost, best nine days of my life. 

Despite running on almost 0 hours of sleep from multiple nights of game jamming, a handful of stress induced asthma attacks, one of which almost had one of my TAs calling an ambulance for me in the middle of the Museum of Pop Culture, talking my brand new friends down through panic attacks and eating so many Pringles and French fries, mini corn dogs and chicken nuggets because it was the only food in the dining hall my autistic brain would allow me to eat for the entire nine days – I never felt more alive and full of energy. 

Even at times where I could have chosen to retreat to my dorm room for the first time in my life, I felt the urge to go explore.  I actually conversed face to face with other human beings. I finally realized that I'm not actually introverted, but I just never found the right crowd of people.  Returning home to what felt like the complete opposite side of the world.  

In my jetlag induced delirium, I break. I cry into my dad's arms in the middle of the Logan Airport and tell him for the third time – hoping that he will actually hear me this time – that I am a boy, that I am his son, and that I was going by Elliot at the conference. 

I felt like I had done something wrong by not telling my parents that I was going by Elliot there, and he actually held me back.

Over this trip, I learned not to be afraid anymore.  I learned to appreciate the small details in life and that the world is much bigger than your brain allows you to think. Today, as I stand here, I'm awaiting a decision to find out if I will be chosen to work as a TA at the NSLC for Digital Arts and Design, which is hosted at the American University in Washington, DC.

I am almost, I am also almost three years on testosterone, two days away from being nine months post-top surgery and having a great time.  Thank you.

[applause]

[ 21min 9sec ]

ELLIOT:  Next up is Arthur E Young. Arthur Young was among the first group of volunteers selected to join the Peace Corps in June 1961 and completed his civil engineering career as a city engineer in Gardner, Mass from 1972 through 2001. Please welcome Arthur to the stage.

[applause]

[ 21min 34sec ]

ARTHUR E. YOUNG:  In September 1962, our original Peace Corps group – of 36 young men, engineers, surveyors, geologists – had been working at various locations in Tanganyika for about a year. Word quickly spread via the jungle grapevine that a new Peace Corps project with about 30 female nurses would soon be arriving for training in Dar es Salaam. 

At that time, I was working as a road construction engineer about 4 hours from the capital. And I only went in there maybe once every two or three months.

It goes without saying that as soon as I knew the nurses had arrived, I made a trip to Dar. 

[ audience laughs ] 

We went out to the Salvation Army camp where the nurses are training with a friend of mine and soon found ourselves in a hut with about eight or ten of these lovely American nurses as veterans. As veterans of a year of service in this country, we were sources of all sorts of information about life as a Peace Corps volunteer in this brand new African nation.

Several hours pass quickly, but before we left, I ask a cute girl named Ann if she would like to go for a drink with me that evening. Of course, being curious and wanting to see more of the city, she agreed. Two hours later, I was back at the camp on a Vespa motorscooter that I borrowed from our Peace Corps doctor.

Neither of us have very clear memories of that first date, but we probably ended up at the rooftop bar at the Metropol Hotel, and I think we both felt strong attachment for one another right from the start. Shortly thereafter, the nurses moved to a dormitory at Bailey Hospital and that became a gathering place for Peace Corps volunteers whenever we were in the capital city. 

Over the next six months, Ann and I probably had half a dozen or so dates. These usually consisted of riding bikes to Banda Beach Club at the entrance to Dar es Salaam Harbor, or having samosas and beer at the Cozy Cafe.

I was then re-assigned to a surveying project in a remote area. Getting there required a full day's travel and crossing a flooded river in a dugout canoe. By the time of my departure home in July, Ann and I, though still friendly, were no longer an item. 

After returning to the United States, I enrolled for a masters degree at New Mexico State University. Ann and I had maintained a correspondence and she returned home in November ‘64.

So I decided to pay her a visit at her parents’ home in Ware on my Christmas vacation. When she told her mother about my upcoming visit, her mother inquired about the seriousness of our relationship. I'm not sure exactly what Ann told her mother, but the questions can be summarized as follows: Is he Polish? No. Is she Catholic?  No. 

So I had two strikes against me when I arrived in Ware. Nevertheless, Stephanie was a gracious hostess and shortly after my arrival, sensing my nervousness, she offered me a highball. 

My response was, “I usually don't drink before noon.” Strike three!

[ audience laughter ]

And the rest of the visit didn't go much better. Having been rejected by a girl that I was madly in love with shortly before joining the Peace Corps, I knew my feelings for Ann were different.  But I didn't know how to tell her how much I cared for her.

After stumbling around about my respect and admiration for her, I said something to the effect “I'm not sure if what I'm feeling for you is love, but I know that you would make a great mother for our children.” =

This is a phrase that I will regret the rest of my life – 

[ audience laughter ]

– and she will never let me forget it. 

[ audience laughs ] 

Then I suggested that she look for a job in El Paso, which was near New Mexico State, so we would have a chance to get to know one another better.

When she told me, a few weeks later, that she had taken a job with a Springfield Nurses Association, I figured that the relationship was at an end. 

Near the end of the spring semester, 1965, I was offered a job as a road construction engineer in Tanzania by a prominent international engineering firm. And I jumped at the chance.  Aand I returned to New Jersey that summer, expecting to leave for Tanzania within a few weeks.

Meanwhile, the start of my Tanzanian assignment was delayed for six months, so Louis Birger handed me an open-ended round the world airline ticket. I was to stop briefly at Las Cruces to finish writing my master's thesis. Then I was going on to Bangkok, where I would work for several months until the snags delaying the Tanzanian project were resolved.

While in Las Cruces, I received a telegram ordering me to return to New Jersey for a temporary assignment. India and Pakistan had renewed their war and Berger had suspended their operations in Dakar, which was then Pakistan, and temporarily relocated those employees to Bangkok. My temporary assignment in Atlantic City permitted me to resume some friendships with several returned volunteers living along the East Coast.

So one weekend I drove up to Springfield to visit Ann without any great expectations. After a few more visits, she accepted my renewed proposal for marriage.  Became engaged at Christmas of ‘65, and I departed for Tanzania just after New Year's. 

A few months later, we were married in Windsor, Tanzania, on the shores of Lake Victoria, and in just over two weeks we will be celebrating our 57th anniversary.

[ audience applause ]

[Reggae music fades in]

[ audience applause replaced by audience ambience ]

[ 28min 42 sec ] 

HOST: You've been listening to Fitchburg Speaks, a special two part series. Please join us next week for four more stories about what made us who we are. 

For more information about the Fitchburg Community Read and the programming around the 2023 selection, Keith Gentili’s White Mountains State, visit www.fitchburgcommunityread.com. 

This production is a collaboration between the Fitchburg Community Read, Fitchburg State University, and Perseverantia: the Fitchburg State Podcast Network. 

Matt Baier and Adam Fournier, students in the Communications Media Department, recorded this event. Thanks again for listening.

[ Reggae music swells then reverberates out ]

[Sounds of live Falcon Hub audience linger]

[ 29min 30sec ]

DIANE LUCAS:  This is Diane Lucas, administrative assistant [Perseverantia theme swells] in the Department of English Studies.

And you are listening to Perseverantia, the Fitchburg State Podcast Network.

[Perseverantia theme fades out]

[  END: 29min 43sec]