THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, August 2, 1996 TAG: 9608020456
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY ELIZABETH SIMPSON, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: 93 lines
Ari Anne Caramanica was only 2 years old when her mother died.
But she hasn't forgotten her.
The 7-year-old girl has planted a garden in her memory, with yellow roses and lilies, her mother's favorite flowers. She's looked through hundreds of her mother's photographs, seen the same dark brown eyes, the same rippling brown hair, the same olive skin she sees in the mirror every morning. And she's written a story she hopes will help other children whose mothers die young.
``I know my mother is in me and your mom is in you,'' she wrote in the story. ``Don't be afraid to live with your grammy, it is great! I know because I live with my grandmother. We dance, sing and sled in the snow. We are a family. Families can be different even without a mom or dad. All you need is love so be happy with what you've got!''
Ari's story recently won an honorable mention in the Reading Rainbow Second Annual Young Writers & Illustrators Awards, a national contest that drew 60,000 entries. The contest, designed to encourage creativity, was open to children in kindergarten through third grade. One first-place award and one honorable mention were named for each grade level in the national contest.
Her story, ``You Can Make the Sun Shine,'' won first place in the local division of the contest, which is sponsored by WHRO, the Norfolk-based public TV and radio broadcaster.
Ari's story was judged the best of 1,000 second-grade entries in Hampton Roads.
Ari, who lives with her grandmother and her 5-year-old brother, Luke, in Williamsburg, first entered the contest in 1994 and wrote about a red boat. For her second attempt, she decided to write about a topic closer to home: her mother and her grandmother.
``I wanted to show everybody that it's OK to live with your grandmother and they don't have to be scared,'' said Ari, a poised girl who politely answers questions with ``yes, ma'ams,'' ``no, ma'ams'' and a confident smile. ``There's lots of kids who don't have mothers, and sometimes they're scared when their mothers die. If they hear this story, maybe they'll feel better.''
Her words offer advice that a lot of children can use. The number of youngsters living in homes headed by their grandparents rose 38 percent from 1990 to 1994, the last year for which U.S. Census Bureau figures are available. About 1.4 million children are being reared by grandparents nationwide.
The reasons vary. In some cases, children's parents shirk responsibility, or they abuse their children or get so involved in drugs and alcohol they can no longer care for them. In other instances, parents die before their children grow up, as is the case with Ari's mother.
Ari's grandmother, Maryanne Caramanica, talks often to her grandchildren about their mother, Leona Caramanica. About how she was a 31-year-old attorney working with disadvantaged youth in Philadelphia when she died in July 1991. How she had always wanted to raise her children in a smaller, quieter community. (That is why Maryanne Caramanica moved Ari and Luke to Williamsburg two years ago.) How the spirit of the mother is present in the nature of the children.
When Ari dances, Maryanne Carmanica can see her daughter as clearly as if she were twirling herself. When Luke looks pensively out the window, she sees her daughter's thoughtful eyes.
``It's amazing to see her in them,'' said Maryanne Caramanica, a vivacious woman whose eyes light up at the memory of her daughter. ``But she is there. And we talk a lot about that.''
Maryanne Caramanica often shows her grandchildren slides and photographs of their mother, tells them family stories, reminds them of the ways they carry on her qualities. Ari's aunts and uncles also help in weaving the family tapestry.
``My daughter was like those shining stars that aren't around long. God wants them back. But I have another one here,'' Maryanne Caramanica said, reaching over to squeeze her granddaughter's shoulders.
Ari's intimate memory of her mother is a testament to her relatives' careful retelling of Leona Caramanica's life.
``My mom named me Ari,'' reads Ari's story. ``That means Lioness in Hebrew. My mom's name was Leona. That means Lioness in Italian. I was born on my mother's birthday. Isn't that special? When I was almost three, my mom died. We were very sad. My baby brother and I both went with grammy. I felt scared.
``When I look at my mother's picture I think my mother was beautiful. Sometimes as we go walking, I think of my mom. I go to my mother's graveyard, and bring flowers. We say prayers.''
Ari had almost forgotten about the contest she entered last year when her grandmother got a phone call in June telling her Ari had won a national award, which came with a VCR and a set of learning tapes.
Since then, she's enjoyed the glow of recognition.
``You said everyone gets 15 minutes of fame,'' Ari told her grandmother. ``But I got 20, and I think I'm pretty lucky.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photo by LAWRENCE JACKSON\The Virginian-Pilot
Ari Anne Caramanica sits among some flowers she planted in honor of
her mother, Leona. Ari and her brother, Luke, are being reared by
their grandmother. by CNB