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There Has to Be More
There Has to Be More
There Has to Be More
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There Has to Be More

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THERE HAS TO BE MORE is a walk down memory lane of working with, and living with runaway and homeless youth. It was their courage and spirit that prompted the writing of this book, so that young people today can know there is ALWAYS an alternative to a difficult home situation and that alternative is not drugs and alcohol.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherAuthorHouse
Release dateApr 7, 2009
ISBN9781467055352
There Has to Be More
Author

S. Dolores Gartanutti

Sister Dolores Gartanutti,O.P. affectionately known as DEE to the youth she lived with for 22 years, is an Amityville Dominican from the New York area. Before founding Noah's Ark Dee taught 25 years in NY and in Puerto Rico-Dee has her Master's in Education. In 1977 she founded Noah's Ark to respond to the needs of runaway and homeless youngsters in the New York area. During the ensuing years she lived with over 1400 youngsters, and it is some of their stories that she shares in her book.

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    There Has to Be More - S. Dolores Gartanutti

    Contents

    Preface

    INTRODUCTION

    Following My Passion

    CHAPTER 1

    A Simple Beginning

    CHAPTER 2

    A Nice Place To Visit

    CHAPTER 3

    A Redhead I Dearly Loved

    CHAPTER 4

    I Wish I Were A Dog

    CHAPTER 5

    Help Me Light the Stove

    CHAPTER 6

    My Jewish Star

    CHAPTER 7

    Mary Brought Her Home

    CHAPTER 8

    Turnabout In A Snow Storm

    CHAPTER 9

    One Drink and All Hell Breaks Loose

    CHAPTER 10

    The Men In My Life

    CHAPTER 11

    Na Mas Te

    CHAPTER 12

    Beauty Within

    CHAPTER 13

    From The Land Downunder

    CHAPTER 14

    Vacations

    CHAPTER 15

    Hit Him in The Head With A Wooden Spoon

    CHAPTER 16

    From The Andes To New York City

    CHAPTER 17

    A Tribe Arrives

    CHAPTER 18

    Castaways On The Van Wyck Expressway

    CHAPTER 19

    Little Evan Arrives

    CHAPTER 20

    My Karate Expert

    CHAPTER 22

    Eastern Stars

    CHAPTER 22

    Younger Runaways

    CHAPTER 23

    The Holidays

    CHAPTER 24

    Angels To The Ark

    We are guilty of many errors and many faults,

    but our worst crime is abandoning the children,

    neglecting the fountain of life.

    Many of the things we need can wait.

    The child cannot.

    Right now is the time

    bones are being formed, blood is being made,

    senses are being developed.

    To the child we cannot answer Tomorrow.

    The child’s name is Today.

    -Gabriela Mistral

    Nobel Prize-winning poet from Chile

    Preface

    I STRUGGLED FOR QUITE A while with titling this book. At first, I thought of The Many Faces Of God because my youngsters have been that for me. But, eventually, I knew that the title could only be: There has to be more… It was that seeking for the more that allowed these youngsters to leave all behind and have the courage to seek the more.

    Many years ago our ancestors left their homelands to make their way to America. They left everything familiar behind, crossed an ocean, and came to a strange land. I liken my youngsters to these brave travelers.

    It is to honor my youngsters that I write this book, for it is basically their stories. I have changed names but everything to follow is true. May their stories inspire others who may be living in difficult circumstances to know there is more out there; to never give up, to never give in to drugs and alcohol, to never settle for anything less than it is their heritage to have.

    As stated in our Declaration of Independence, We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. I also hope it may inspire others who have been more fortunate to dedicate their lives to helping these young people in need to find the more.

    I wish to thank, especially, Alice Armao who really helped kick start this undertaking, Linda Gilberg who typed the manuscript, and Maureen and John Raber for their proof-reading and editing expertise.

    Sister Dolores Gartanutti, O.P.

    INTRODUCTION

    Following My Passion

    ONE THING I KNEW, EVEN at a very early age, was that I am a person of passion. Whatever I love, I love totally. I have never been good at the moderation thing. At four years old, my Uncle Danny introduced me to baseball. How exciting it was to root for Dem Bums as the Dodgers of Brooklyn were so affectionately called. Exciting, but, oh, so frustrating at times. Every year the wins would be anticipated, the dreams shattered, and always springing anew was the cry, Wait till next year.

    I attended Our Lady of Guadalupe Elementary School in the Dyker Heights section of Brooklyn, New York. I started school in January 1942, about six weeks after the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the beginning of World War II. In fact, the bombing was one of my earliest memories. My family was celebrating my Uncle Danny’s birthday. It was a Sunday afternoon. We had just finished dinner and the table was being cleared so that coffee and the birthday cake could be served. I remember the radio was in the far corner of the room. Someone said, Hey, everyone pipe down, they are playing ‘Amapola,’ Uncle Danny’s favorite song.

    All of a sudden, the radio blared across the room: We interrupt this broadcast to announce that the Japanese have bombed Pearl Harbor. The whole family went out of the house and neighbors, too, were filing into the street. The boy who lived across the street was a sailor stationed on a ship in Pearl Harbor. His mother was sobbing and I remember my mother putting her arms around the woman. I soon learned, sadly, what it meant when a little flag with a gold star appeared in a window of a house.

    Love of country and a passion to know more about history became earmarks of my childhood. I had a map of the world on my bedroom wall and I would mark places like Pearl Harbor, Bataan, Corregidor and then move over to Europe to find Poland, Russia, and France. I grew up appreciating the sacrifices others were making so that I could be free. There was also that sense of what others have done for me and what I owe to those who will come after me.

    My father spent part of his early years in an orphanage. His mother and father had emigrated from Italy to the United States. My father’s family was wealthy and from Venice. My paternal grandfather was a college student studying engineering on maneuvers with the equivalent to our National Guard. These maneuvers took place in the hills to the South of Venice. That was where he met my grandmother, the peasant daughter of the innkeeper where the young soldiers were quartered. They fell in love and much to the dismay of his family, they married.

    Not long after, my father was born. Two years later he had a little sister. My grandmother was never accepted by my grandfather’s family because she was considered so far below their social standing. My grandfather graduated and was an engineer with a specialty in railroad construction. He was

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