As far as a childhood dream, there was always baseball player or basketball player. Things like that. But at about the same time I realized those were far fetched, I realized that all I really wanted was to emulate my parents and make them as proud of me as possible. I realized that nothing would be more important. Seeing how they took care of me and my brother and sister made me know that this was all I wanted. And everything would fall in place after that. Modest? Maybe. But it was plenty enough for me
I guess the challenges of realizing the dream came in the form of every day life. The struggles. The potential wrong paths to hopefully not go down. Situations that would arise that would test my resolve to do what my parents would do. Then as I grew older and didn’t have kids, I was never able to think like a parent and put myself exactly in their shoes. Being on my own at college was when I first had to think “what would mom and dad want me to do”? Because they weren’t there with me.It took some getting used to.
My why is pretty simple : just to be the best Jim Corrao that I can. Like my parents, I live a pretty modest life. They had their fun w gambling trips, golf trips for dad, things like that. But they always put us first and never let anything distract them from taking care of us. I try to do the same with people around me- take care of them, support them. Just be a good person. Live a good life, be a good brother and friend , and make my parents proud. That’s what drives me
I’m glad I have my why because it made me what I am today. Perfect? Not even close. Were my parents perfect? Nope. But as they got older and nearing their passing, I knew that the only thing to do was be with them and do whatever possible for them. I did that. And I will never have regrets in that regard. They are gone now, but their voices are as vocal as ever in my mind. Still helping me. To help them and still hear them is why I’m glad I never gave up on my why. Thanks for laying the blueprint mom and dad. Love you and miss you. But I still hear you 🙂
James Corrao

Dearest she,

I never took the time to thank you; You have carried me through these trials with patience.
I have bled, scarred, and rejuvenated under your tutelage.
I am grateful for your reminder to be better than the shadows that have always followed me so diligently; while darkness spread, you molded caves of truth. As you roamed in the deep crevices of my sentiments, you fabricated dimensions of safety. Cautiously translating those corrupted images into languages only you and I could ever comprehend.
Frankly, I am pained by the routes you have taken. These heels, carved with your roots, still seem to find their way through the trees. I turned a blind eye to the breadcrumbs of my ancestors while passing the familiar yet empty roadstead, only for the outcome to be the same. I am grateful for your beautiful insanity, courage, and your uniqueness.
Carefully cultivated on your terms, I carry your teachings with me as I do my mothers.
I stand forever indebted to you for never shielding me from opportunity.
Your passion has kept me in constant fruition. There is no one I would rather travel through this metamorphosis we call life. I may not have treated you with the fairness you deserved throughout these years.
You have never disregarded my tears.
You have used them to water my fears so I may face them with you by my side. You have demolished my dragons. Your sword has yielded my path towards greatness.
Someone once said that in unity, there is strength, and together we are one.
This matrix may be deadly, but all my strength has come from the cries of our wars.
I am she, you are me, and we are together. There is no “one” dream. I have many. I will keep pushing and shoving through the heavy waterfalls I blindly throw myself in.
I know now that the love I found within you, self, I am strong and can do it all.
Thank you.

When I was a child, I was chubby, had a perpetually flushed face, and was the least athletically coordinated human on the planet, or at least the worst at Saint Joseph School. In the nine years I attended Catholic school, wearing plaid skirts, knee socks, and black Oxford shoes, I can fondly remember playing with my friends and excelling in academics. But I also remember my struggles. I think about the advice I wish I had, and the advice I hope to pass on to my daughter. I wish I knew that what is written on your report card doesn’t matter in adulthood. I wish I knew that most of my classmates were feeling just as awkward as I was. I wish I knew that they made lasers for red cheeks that burned brighter than the fire of a thousand suns. I wish I had these gems of knowledge tucked in my back pocket, or more accurately, tucked in the elastic band of my knee socks. So here it is: the advice I would tell my younger self. Listen up, Little Jessica.

1. Get comfortable saying “No.”
“No” is the most powerful word in the English language. When you say “No,” it doesn’t mean you don’t want to help, that you don’t care about the needs of others, or that you dislike someone. “No” is putting your needs first, and not over-committing to everyone else’s requests. “No” is setting boundaries that you are comfortable with, and acknowledging that it is not your responsibility to make everyone else happy. “No” is asserting yourself to not be coerced into actions, thoughts, or beliefs that don’t suit you. “No” is a part of life, and a freeing part, at that. So say it to the playdates you don’t want. Say it to the group member who won’t do their share of the work. Say it to the lunch lady who gave you mashed potatoes when you asked for fries. Say it kindly. Say it confidently. Say it with respect. But you must learn to say it.

2. If you believe you can’t, then you’re right, you can’t.
One of the greatest tools I have discovered is the ability to manifest, which is the ability to create ideas into reality. You can literally speak your every desire into existence. New cars, healthy relationships, even a cup of coffee. I do it every day. Manifesting is the greatest key to unlocking every hope and dream you have for your life: but you must believe. So make sure your attitude is one of gratitude. Count your blessings. Literally count them. I list 10 things I am thankful for every night before bed. The more you’re thankful for, the more you find you have to be thankful for. The big things, the little things, the seemingly insignificant things. Be thankful for passing your spelling test, the butterfly you saw during recess, or for arriving safely home from school. Being thankful and appreciative is a critical component in the positive attitude that creates continued blessings. So count up those blessings, and manifest a few more while you’re at it.

3. Know your worth.
This is the hardest for me, as it seems to be for many of us. If you asked people what it means to know their worth, they may all have very different answers. For me, it means realizing that you are deserving of respect. It’s having the self-confidence to be able to walk away from a toxic person or situation because you know that you deserve better. You have the ability to determine your worth in every situation: with your friends, your family, and one day at your job or in a relationship. Acknowledging that you are worthy of respect is the greatest gift you can give yourself, and it is truly the gift that keeps on giving. You will walk a little taller and speak a little louder because you have the confidence of self-worth. Remember, you are deserving of all the blessings life has to offer, because you are worthy of receiving them.

It’s hard to be a kid. You’re always told what to do and how to do it. Sit down. Stop talking. Stand in line. Don’t touch that. Play with these people. Kick a dodgeball like you have any athletic ability whatsoever. I’m sure today’s kids have it harder in a world of iPhones, TikTok, and 9-year-olds with contoured makeup. I thought we had it rough in the late ‘90s, when my greatest envy was my friend with her own phone line. Truthfully, I’m grateful that chapter of my life is over. No more gym class, no more math homework, no more plaid uniforms. To this day, I can’t stomach an Oxford shoe. So when I think of Little Jessica, wading through childhood angst in nine long years of “Catholic plaid,” I want to assure her that there are answers to her problems. All that she worries about, has a solution. I want teach her to be humble, to learn to meditate, to appreciate the power of prayer, to learn to laugh at herself, to wear the sunscreen, and to remember that pooping in a public bathroom is not nearly as mortifying as she thinks it is. But mostly, I want to kiss Little Jessica on her bright red cheeks that she hates so much, and say to her, “Sweetheart, they have lasers for that.”

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