Community Bulletin Board
- Pepe's Pizzeria Comes to the Brass City
- 'Inspiration' Fundraiser Top Sponsors
- Spring Break Family Programs @ The MATT
- Railroad Museum Appoints New Trustee
- 'Ode to Joy' Concert by Waterbury Symphony
- Blues Hall of Famer~Chris Vitarello~at Fundraiser
- Cheryl Bentyne of Manhattan Transfer at Poli Club
- Free 'Live Well' Diabetes Workshops
- Phantom of The Opera 2017 Premier
- Cactus Show at NVCC ~ April 1 & 2
- New Home for 'Quilts that Care'
- Poetry Slam Competition
American Living In El Salvador
Column by Chris Romero
Blood-stained scars above and below the eyes. Deep scratches stretch the length of the face. A jagged cut marks the center of the forehead. This can’t be me, I thought. A shot of anger springs from confusion: God, give me myself back. This isn’t me. My blood ceases to boil, senses ease. Although I’m hesitant, I begin to touch my face. Some of the scars begin to shed their shells of dried blood. I don’t recognize myself.