Do You Know My Name?
My name is Mo
You pass me every day when you get off the train at Randolph and Wabash. I’m the homeless guy who sells StreetWise newspapers on the corner. Rain, shine, snow, blistering heat I’m always here and I can tell by the disgusted look on your face that you wonder why I don’t get a “real” job. I’ve heard you tell other people not to give me money because all I’ll do is use it to get drunk or high. The other day when that man threw that cup of hot coffee on me you snickered and whispered that I deserved it for bothering taxpayers, you whispered it loud enough for me to hear. What you don’t know is that I’ve been clean, sober and living in the same small apartment for the last 28 years. I’ve volunteered at the shelter that saved my life for about the same length of time. I am a mentor, a teacher, a janitor, a cook, an organizer…hell I have so many jobs there that I can’t remember them all. We never have enough volunteers but we always have plenty of homeless. I also work nights at a local convenience store, that’s how I pay my rent. Selling StreetWise is something that I do to raise awareness for other people like me and the money I earn is all given back to the shelter. I was even featured on the front page a few times; they tell me I’m a source of inspiration. I don’t know about all that. How could I call myself an inspiration when someone like you looks at me like that…
My name is Felicia
You don’t know me, but that hasn’t stopped you from bullying me every day for the last three years. It started when you and your buddies made fun of me for the way I dressed and did my hair. I tried to hide my tears but you saw me cry and you knew you had me. You started making fun of my body and my face, calling me names like “pizza face” and “lard ass”. Those became my nicknames in class, and my bad dreams at home. Yeah, you even haunted me in my sleep. I was just starting to get used to the names when you came up with your best idea yet, you spread a rumor about me that I slept with one of our school’s football players. Now your friends call me a whore, a slut and you write about me in the notes you pass back and forth right under my nose. You even shout in the hallways when I pass by so everybody can hear it! You snicker as you pass me, “accidentally” knock my books out of my hands, write messages about me on Facebook and in emails that some “anonymous” person makes sure I see. You give anybody that hangs out with me a hard time until now I don’t have any friends; nobody wants to be around me anymore because they’re afraid of what you and your friends will do to them, say about them. What you don’t know is that both my parents died when I was a little girl. I moved in with my aunt after they died but we didn’t like each other very much. She felt like I was a burden and she didn’t bother to hide it. I tried running away with an older guy once, he told me he loved me and I believed him. But they brought me back. I’ve never had anybody to teach me how to dress or take care of myself. I’m so lonely here, no sisters, no brothers…and now no friends. I’d give anything to have somebody care. I try not to cry…I try so hard not to let you hurt me. Twenty years from now you’ll tell me you’re sorry, you had self esteem issues and I was an easy target because I was so “weird”. You’ll ask me to forgive you and wish you could take back everything you said…or you would have. Today I committed suicide. I was 15 years old. I jumped in front a train and there was noone there to save me. No mom and dad, no brothers, no sisters…no friends…
My name is Bella
You see me at work every day but you never remember my name. It’s o.k. I’m not part of the popular crowd and I’ve learned that being alone is not such a bad thing. Really. I know I’m not beautiful; I even make jokes about it to ease your discomfort. I weigh over 300 pounds, part of my face is disfigured and there are dark patches all over my body that stand out even on my naturally tan skin. Sometimes I smell funny, I cut my hair really short and more often than not my clothes are wrinkled or mismatched. Why would you want to spend any time with someone that looks like that? What you don’t know is that I was an incredibly beautiful little girl once, with long dark hair, big chocolate eyes and honey colored skin. When I was 13 years old I was diagnosed with leukemia. The chemo caused my hair to fall out; it never grew back in right, I keep it short so nobody notices the thin spots. Bell’s palsy from the chemo caused the damage to my face, it was a lot worse before but you can still see some damage, especially when I’m stressed. Nobody really talks about the after effects of chemo; I’m just now finding out that, even though I’ve been in remission for years, the trauma caused to my body just goes on and on. It even caused my metabolism to change and I sweat almost constantly. There’s a chance that I’ll never have children….that hurts more than I can say. My whole life all I’ve ever dreamed about was having a family.. I can’t blame the weight gain on the cancer, that was all me. It doesn’t seem to matter how much I eat, nobody else cares so why should I? I want love and friendship so much but nobody will look past my surface, look through to my sense of humor and good heart. I often wonder why I’m here. Why did I fight so hard to survive when surviving is so much more painful? But it’s o.k. I’m o.k. with being alone. Really…
My name is Larry
You met me when I first came to your school in the 7th grade. At first it seemed like you and I were going to be friends, I was so excited about that. I’ve always had trouble making friends. But after awhile you stopped talking to me, was it because of what the other kids were saying? I know I’m different, I’m weird, but I’ve always felt like I was really a girl. I know it was pretty strange when I started wearing makeup and nail polish to school but it must have REALLY freaked you out when I wore girl’s clothes. The other kids, and even some of the teachers, picked on me a lot but I just felt like I had to be myself. After awhile I got tired of the bullying and started fighting back, telling the other boys that I knew WHY they made fun of me. It was because they wanted me; I even asked one of them to be my Valentine right there at the basketball court in front of his buddies! I could hear them laughing at him all the way back to class. I had to stand up for myself! What you don’t know is that I’ve been living in a group home for abused kids. My real mom was a drug addict and my dad left us when I was a baby. The people who adopted me were cruel to me and the state took me away from them too. I don’t think they could handle me coming out when I was 10 years old. But it was the truth! I knew it and I felt great about it, why couldn’t they accept me for who I was? I think someday you would have accepted me too; maybe you would have been my friend. Maybe… That kid that I asked to be my Valentine? He killed me today. He shot me twice in the back of the head while we were in the computer lab, right in front of the whole class. Can you believe it?!? He didn’t even give me a chance. Turns out he was abused at home too. Maybe we would have been friends if we had talked; we had so much more in common than either of us realized. Maybe I shouldn’t have teased him back like that, maybe he wasn’t as strong as me, but was that worth my life…
My name is Shelby
You came to see me at the shelter today; you thought I was a really pretty girl. But when you tried to pet me I kept backing up until I was in the corner. I laid my ears back and lowered my head. When you kept coming towards me…I had an accident on the floor and started whimpering. You decided I wasn’t the one for you. You took the hand of your little one and walked away. What you didn’t know is that, as scared as I was I would have let you pet me if you had tried. And I would have loved your little one; I’m crazy about little ones. I had my own once you know. I had a different name then, I don’t remember what it was anymore. I had a whole family, I remember. I had a backyard and toys and treats, I loved those treats. I did silly stuff for my little one so she would love me and give me treats. Those were good days…and then the BAD THING happened. There was wind and fire and water everywhere. My family, they were screaming and running around, I didn’t know what to do. Pieces of the house started falling down and we couldn’t get away. Something hard hit me and then everything was dark. When I woke up it was quiet…and there was a funny smell. My family! I ran around like crazy trying to find them…and I did. But they were in the AFTER. All of them…my little one. I lay down next to her, I wanted to be in the AFTER too. It was a long time before the strange men found me, sun up, sun down many times, I remember. They said “Poor girl.” and “Nice girl.” and “Been here for days with them.” I didn’t want to leave my family but they made me go away. They brought me to this shelter. The people here couldn’t make me eat, couldn’t make me play anymore. They say I only seem happy around “children”. When they brought you to me you smelled good…but I’m still so afraid. But your little one; oh man did she smell GREAT! I wanted to play with her and kiss her and do silly things so she would give me treats. The people at the shelter say I’m a “Good dog.” and it’s “Sad that nobody wants” me, I’m too afraid. But if you come back I’ll try! If you bring back your little one and let me smell her, oh I’ll be such a “Good dog”! But you’re walking away, please come back! Why won’t you come back…
My name is Andrew
You think I’m a jerk. We’re in the 8th grade and, even though we have a lot of the same classes together, you avoid me as much as you can. Of course you would, I’m the kind of kid that doesn’t do anything but get in trouble. I act up in class, mouth off to the teachers, never turn in my homework and am constantly getting sent to the principal’s office. You’ve known me since we were in 1st grade and you think I’ve always been a brat. You and the other kids make sure you watch me because you get special awards when you report kids doing bad things and you know I’m always up to something. You’ve gotten lots of awards for turning me in. You tell the other kids not to be friends with me, I’m just a troublemaker. What you don’t know is that I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. My parents just recently found out because it’s almost impossible to see it in a younger kid. I’m incredibly intelligent, artistic and have a big heart for little kids. I just get angry a lot and I don’t know how to control it. I want to be an adult; I want to work and have a job and take care of my family. I’m a really hard worker; I’ll do the dirtiest, hardest, smelliest jobs just so I can buy my mom and dad something special for no reason. I love music. I play two kinds of saxophones and I volunteer to come to school early every day to learn how to play the drums. Music is one of the only things that calms me down. I worry all the time about people leaving me, not liking me, or worse, not loving me. So I keep them all at a distance. I figure if I’m mean to them first then I won’t get hurt. I want so much for somebody to get in, for somebody to keep trying. I’m lonely, really, really lonely. I have a hard time understanding why nobody likes me, I always say that it’s them but inside I know it’s all my fault. I’m really close to my mom and she always tells me that she’s trying to save me from myself. I think I’m beginning to understand what she means. Part of it is because I get sad. Sometimes I’m so sad that I just sit and stare into space. I don’t tell anybody what I’m thinking but I think my mom knows. I see her watching me. Sometimes I hear her cry and I know she’s crying for me. I hope she can save me, I don’t think anybody else cares….
My name is Audrey
You want to know me but I won’t let you. You invite me to go out with you and your friends a couple of times but I say no, thank you. I’m always friendly to you, maybe a little aloof but friendly. I won’t let you get close or tell you anything about me so you decide that I’m a snob, stuck up you say. After awhile you start talking about me behind my back, telling anybody who would listen that I think I’m too good for them. A lot of people listen. It makes them feel good to have somebody to gossip about, makes them feel more secure about themselves. You make fun of the cross necklace I wear every day, I’m a “Bible Thumper” and it makes me “judgmental”. I don’t say anything to you or anybody else about your whispers or teasing so you decide to start playing nasty practical jokes on me. You hide my things, rub marker on my coffee mug, write jokes about me on my dry erase board. You know I’ll never say anything. What you don’t know is that I came from an abusive home. My mom had me when she was 15 and bounced around from man to man, taking me along with her. She was a very messed up person, violent and neglectful at the same time. The men she got involved with, sometimes they were more interested in me… As I got older I tried to be outgoing, to make friends, but abuse is a circle, I got involved with a lot of people who saw me as a target…I did it on purpose I found out later. Some part of me knew they weren’t good for me, but all I’d ever known was hurt, I thought that was what I deserved. I married a man who eventually beat me so much that he caused severe trauma to my brain. For a long time I stuttered, I had trouble seeing and hearing, I lost a big part of my memory. I still struggle with some of those things; I try to hide them from people who don’t know me. I’m so afraid of people; I don’t want to be hurt anymore. When I was still little I found God, or He found me, it’s a funny story…I like to tell it to the people who get to know me. The cross I wear reminds me that I’m loved and protected. I love everybody, even you, even when you hurt me. I think it’s my fault. I wanted to be your friend but you didn’t give me enough time, it takes a long time for me to open up. I don’t say anything about you hurting my feelings…because that’s what I was taught, never to say anything. I cry a lot over the things you say and do. I don’t want to be excluded and I thought things would be different with you. This happens to me so much, people are so impatient. I just need a little time. I don’t want to be excluded, I imagine myself laughing and talking with you and your friends and I imagine it feels wonderful. I’m just not ready. I think you would like me if you got to know me, if you gave me a little while. It’s just so hard for me to open up. Why do you make up those things about me, say those hurtful things? How can you gossip about somebody who never says anything? You don’t even know me….
My name is Mo, you’re disgusted by me.
My name is Felicia, you bully me.
My name is Bella, you ignore me.
My name is Larry, you’re afraid of me.
My name is Shelby; you have no patience for me.
My name is Andrew, you hate me.
My name is Audrey, you judge me.
“The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference. ~ Elie Wiesel
Do you care?
This is a non fiction entry, every one, the people, the stories, they are all real. Some of their names have been changed to protect them, most haven’t. You probably know that Audrey is me, not my real name. Andrew is my son. I started writing this entry for the two of us, he really was just recently diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and it’s been a very difficult time for our family. But it occurred to me how many other stories there are out there that never really get told. Andrew and I, we’re actually two of the luckier ones. The topic is Ultra Deep Field and that is exactly what this is for me.
You pass me every day when you get off the train at Randolph and Wabash. I’m the homeless guy who sells StreetWise newspapers on the corner. Rain, shine, snow, blistering heat I’m always here and I can tell by the disgusted look on your face that you wonder why I don’t get a “real” job. I’ve heard you tell other people not to give me money because all I’ll do is use it to get drunk or high. The other day when that man threw that cup of hot coffee on me you snickered and whispered that I deserved it for bothering taxpayers, you whispered it loud enough for me to hear. What you don’t know is that I’ve been clean, sober and living in the same small apartment for the last 28 years. I’ve volunteered at the shelter that saved my life for about the same length of time. I am a mentor, a teacher, a janitor, a cook, an organizer…hell I have so many jobs there that I can’t remember them all. We never have enough volunteers but we always have plenty of homeless. I also work nights at a local convenience store, that’s how I pay my rent. Selling StreetWise is something that I do to raise awareness for other people like me and the money I earn is all given back to the shelter. I was even featured on the front page a few times; they tell me I’m a source of inspiration. I don’t know about all that. How could I call myself an inspiration when someone like you looks at me like that…
My name is Felicia
You don’t know me, but that hasn’t stopped you from bullying me every day for the last three years. It started when you and your buddies made fun of me for the way I dressed and did my hair. I tried to hide my tears but you saw me cry and you knew you had me. You started making fun of my body and my face, calling me names like “pizza face” and “lard ass”. Those became my nicknames in class, and my bad dreams at home. Yeah, you even haunted me in my sleep. I was just starting to get used to the names when you came up with your best idea yet, you spread a rumor about me that I slept with one of our school’s football players. Now your friends call me a whore, a slut and you write about me in the notes you pass back and forth right under my nose. You even shout in the hallways when I pass by so everybody can hear it! You snicker as you pass me, “accidentally” knock my books out of my hands, write messages about me on Facebook and in emails that some “anonymous” person makes sure I see. You give anybody that hangs out with me a hard time until now I don’t have any friends; nobody wants to be around me anymore because they’re afraid of what you and your friends will do to them, say about them. What you don’t know is that both my parents died when I was a little girl. I moved in with my aunt after they died but we didn’t like each other very much. She felt like I was a burden and she didn’t bother to hide it. I tried running away with an older guy once, he told me he loved me and I believed him. But they brought me back. I’ve never had anybody to teach me how to dress or take care of myself. I’m so lonely here, no sisters, no brothers…and now no friends. I’d give anything to have somebody care. I try not to cry…I try so hard not to let you hurt me. Twenty years from now you’ll tell me you’re sorry, you had self esteem issues and I was an easy target because I was so “weird”. You’ll ask me to forgive you and wish you could take back everything you said…or you would have. Today I committed suicide. I was 15 years old. I jumped in front a train and there was noone there to save me. No mom and dad, no brothers, no sisters…no friends…
My name is Bella
You see me at work every day but you never remember my name. It’s o.k. I’m not part of the popular crowd and I’ve learned that being alone is not such a bad thing. Really. I know I’m not beautiful; I even make jokes about it to ease your discomfort. I weigh over 300 pounds, part of my face is disfigured and there are dark patches all over my body that stand out even on my naturally tan skin. Sometimes I smell funny, I cut my hair really short and more often than not my clothes are wrinkled or mismatched. Why would you want to spend any time with someone that looks like that? What you don’t know is that I was an incredibly beautiful little girl once, with long dark hair, big chocolate eyes and honey colored skin. When I was 13 years old I was diagnosed with leukemia. The chemo caused my hair to fall out; it never grew back in right, I keep it short so nobody notices the thin spots. Bell’s palsy from the chemo caused the damage to my face, it was a lot worse before but you can still see some damage, especially when I’m stressed. Nobody really talks about the after effects of chemo; I’m just now finding out that, even though I’ve been in remission for years, the trauma caused to my body just goes on and on. It even caused my metabolism to change and I sweat almost constantly. There’s a chance that I’ll never have children….that hurts more than I can say. My whole life all I’ve ever dreamed about was having a family.. I can’t blame the weight gain on the cancer, that was all me. It doesn’t seem to matter how much I eat, nobody else cares so why should I? I want love and friendship so much but nobody will look past my surface, look through to my sense of humor and good heart. I often wonder why I’m here. Why did I fight so hard to survive when surviving is so much more painful? But it’s o.k. I’m o.k. with being alone. Really…
My name is Larry
You met me when I first came to your school in the 7th grade. At first it seemed like you and I were going to be friends, I was so excited about that. I’ve always had trouble making friends. But after awhile you stopped talking to me, was it because of what the other kids were saying? I know I’m different, I’m weird, but I’ve always felt like I was really a girl. I know it was pretty strange when I started wearing makeup and nail polish to school but it must have REALLY freaked you out when I wore girl’s clothes. The other kids, and even some of the teachers, picked on me a lot but I just felt like I had to be myself. After awhile I got tired of the bullying and started fighting back, telling the other boys that I knew WHY they made fun of me. It was because they wanted me; I even asked one of them to be my Valentine right there at the basketball court in front of his buddies! I could hear them laughing at him all the way back to class. I had to stand up for myself! What you don’t know is that I’ve been living in a group home for abused kids. My real mom was a drug addict and my dad left us when I was a baby. The people who adopted me were cruel to me and the state took me away from them too. I don’t think they could handle me coming out when I was 10 years old. But it was the truth! I knew it and I felt great about it, why couldn’t they accept me for who I was? I think someday you would have accepted me too; maybe you would have been my friend. Maybe… That kid that I asked to be my Valentine? He killed me today. He shot me twice in the back of the head while we were in the computer lab, right in front of the whole class. Can you believe it?!? He didn’t even give me a chance. Turns out he was abused at home too. Maybe we would have been friends if we had talked; we had so much more in common than either of us realized. Maybe I shouldn’t have teased him back like that, maybe he wasn’t as strong as me, but was that worth my life…
My name is Shelby
You came to see me at the shelter today; you thought I was a really pretty girl. But when you tried to pet me I kept backing up until I was in the corner. I laid my ears back and lowered my head. When you kept coming towards me…I had an accident on the floor and started whimpering. You decided I wasn’t the one for you. You took the hand of your little one and walked away. What you didn’t know is that, as scared as I was I would have let you pet me if you had tried. And I would have loved your little one; I’m crazy about little ones. I had my own once you know. I had a different name then, I don’t remember what it was anymore. I had a whole family, I remember. I had a backyard and toys and treats, I loved those treats. I did silly stuff for my little one so she would love me and give me treats. Those were good days…and then the BAD THING happened. There was wind and fire and water everywhere. My family, they were screaming and running around, I didn’t know what to do. Pieces of the house started falling down and we couldn’t get away. Something hard hit me and then everything was dark. When I woke up it was quiet…and there was a funny smell. My family! I ran around like crazy trying to find them…and I did. But they were in the AFTER. All of them…my little one. I lay down next to her, I wanted to be in the AFTER too. It was a long time before the strange men found me, sun up, sun down many times, I remember. They said “Poor girl.” and “Nice girl.” and “Been here for days with them.” I didn’t want to leave my family but they made me go away. They brought me to this shelter. The people here couldn’t make me eat, couldn’t make me play anymore. They say I only seem happy around “children”. When they brought you to me you smelled good…but I’m still so afraid. But your little one; oh man did she smell GREAT! I wanted to play with her and kiss her and do silly things so she would give me treats. The people at the shelter say I’m a “Good dog.” and it’s “Sad that nobody wants” me, I’m too afraid. But if you come back I’ll try! If you bring back your little one and let me smell her, oh I’ll be such a “Good dog”! But you’re walking away, please come back! Why won’t you come back…
My name is Andrew
You think I’m a jerk. We’re in the 8th grade and, even though we have a lot of the same classes together, you avoid me as much as you can. Of course you would, I’m the kind of kid that doesn’t do anything but get in trouble. I act up in class, mouth off to the teachers, never turn in my homework and am constantly getting sent to the principal’s office. You’ve known me since we were in 1st grade and you think I’ve always been a brat. You and the other kids make sure you watch me because you get special awards when you report kids doing bad things and you know I’m always up to something. You’ve gotten lots of awards for turning me in. You tell the other kids not to be friends with me, I’m just a troublemaker. What you don’t know is that I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. My parents just recently found out because it’s almost impossible to see it in a younger kid. I’m incredibly intelligent, artistic and have a big heart for little kids. I just get angry a lot and I don’t know how to control it. I want to be an adult; I want to work and have a job and take care of my family. I’m a really hard worker; I’ll do the dirtiest, hardest, smelliest jobs just so I can buy my mom and dad something special for no reason. I love music. I play two kinds of saxophones and I volunteer to come to school early every day to learn how to play the drums. Music is one of the only things that calms me down. I worry all the time about people leaving me, not liking me, or worse, not loving me. So I keep them all at a distance. I figure if I’m mean to them first then I won’t get hurt. I want so much for somebody to get in, for somebody to keep trying. I’m lonely, really, really lonely. I have a hard time understanding why nobody likes me, I always say that it’s them but inside I know it’s all my fault. I’m really close to my mom and she always tells me that she’s trying to save me from myself. I think I’m beginning to understand what she means. Part of it is because I get sad. Sometimes I’m so sad that I just sit and stare into space. I don’t tell anybody what I’m thinking but I think my mom knows. I see her watching me. Sometimes I hear her cry and I know she’s crying for me. I hope she can save me, I don’t think anybody else cares….
My name is Audrey
You want to know me but I won’t let you. You invite me to go out with you and your friends a couple of times but I say no, thank you. I’m always friendly to you, maybe a little aloof but friendly. I won’t let you get close or tell you anything about me so you decide that I’m a snob, stuck up you say. After awhile you start talking about me behind my back, telling anybody who would listen that I think I’m too good for them. A lot of people listen. It makes them feel good to have somebody to gossip about, makes them feel more secure about themselves. You make fun of the cross necklace I wear every day, I’m a “Bible Thumper” and it makes me “judgmental”. I don’t say anything to you or anybody else about your whispers or teasing so you decide to start playing nasty practical jokes on me. You hide my things, rub marker on my coffee mug, write jokes about me on my dry erase board. You know I’ll never say anything. What you don’t know is that I came from an abusive home. My mom had me when she was 15 and bounced around from man to man, taking me along with her. She was a very messed up person, violent and neglectful at the same time. The men she got involved with, sometimes they were more interested in me… As I got older I tried to be outgoing, to make friends, but abuse is a circle, I got involved with a lot of people who saw me as a target…I did it on purpose I found out later. Some part of me knew they weren’t good for me, but all I’d ever known was hurt, I thought that was what I deserved. I married a man who eventually beat me so much that he caused severe trauma to my brain. For a long time I stuttered, I had trouble seeing and hearing, I lost a big part of my memory. I still struggle with some of those things; I try to hide them from people who don’t know me. I’m so afraid of people; I don’t want to be hurt anymore. When I was still little I found God, or He found me, it’s a funny story…I like to tell it to the people who get to know me. The cross I wear reminds me that I’m loved and protected. I love everybody, even you, even when you hurt me. I think it’s my fault. I wanted to be your friend but you didn’t give me enough time, it takes a long time for me to open up. I don’t say anything about you hurting my feelings…because that’s what I was taught, never to say anything. I cry a lot over the things you say and do. I don’t want to be excluded and I thought things would be different with you. This happens to me so much, people are so impatient. I just need a little time. I don’t want to be excluded, I imagine myself laughing and talking with you and your friends and I imagine it feels wonderful. I’m just not ready. I think you would like me if you got to know me, if you gave me a little while. It’s just so hard for me to open up. Why do you make up those things about me, say those hurtful things? How can you gossip about somebody who never says anything? You don’t even know me….
My name is Mo, you’re disgusted by me.
My name is Felicia, you bully me.
My name is Bella, you ignore me.
My name is Larry, you’re afraid of me.
My name is Shelby; you have no patience for me.
My name is Andrew, you hate me.
My name is Audrey, you judge me.
“The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference. ~ Elie Wiesel
Do you care?
This is a non fiction entry, every one, the people, the stories, they are all real. Some of their names have been changed to protect them, most haven’t. You probably know that Audrey is me, not my real name. Andrew is my son. I started writing this entry for the two of us, he really was just recently diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and it’s been a very difficult time for our family. But it occurred to me how many other stories there are out there that never really get told. Andrew and I, we’re actually two of the luckier ones. The topic is Ultra Deep Field and that is exactly what this is for me.