RonVitale

About Me

Born and raised in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Ron Vitale was influenced by the likes of Tolkien, Stephenie Meyer and French culture, but has never forgotten his roots, proud to be able to correctly order a cheese steak at Pat’s steaks.

During his early 20s, he obtained a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature and French and then went on to obtain his Master of Arts in English, at Villanova University. After graduation, Ron entered the world of medical publishing, utilizing his editing and technological skills. In October 2007, Ron published his science fiction short story collection The Jovian Gate Chronicles that answers the question: What happens when humans cross paths with intelligent aliens who claim to be prophets from God? In the fall of 2008, he released his fantasy novel Dorothea's Song, a tale of a young high school student who copes with his parents’ divorcing by dreaming up the story of Dorothea, an elf who lives in the magical forest.

More recently, Ron published his book Cinderella's Secret Diary (Book 1: Lost) and had his article "If You Don't Have a Social Media Crisis Communications Plan--Get One" published in PRNews' PR Digital Guidebook, Vol. 3. Currently, he is keeping himself busy, penning articles on social media and writing, and on learning how to be a good father to his kids all while working on his next novel.

Read an interview with Ron Vitale in the News of Delaware County.

20 Years Ago: Studying in Paris, France

Twenty years have passed since I first went to France to study under the International Studies Association and I wanted to take some time to reflect on what those three weeks in Paris during the summer of 1990 mean to me.

Since then, I’ve done a good amount of research on Jungian psychology and the self-discovery process in the hopes of better understanding myself and the world around me. My Master's thesis "Memory and the Quest for Self: A Jungian Reading of Alice Walker and Margaret Atwood" helped me to crystallize the path that I’ve chosen to walk in life and that journey started with the decision to study in Paris. But before I get to the end of the story, let me start at the beginning. I won’t recap my thoughts of going on the trip. If interested, you can read my blog post on the 15th anniversary.

Yet I did want to focus on a pivotal moment in time in which I sat in my college French class realizing that I had received a $500 scholarship toward the program, but still could not afford the trip. At 19, I was putting myself through school and worked 25 hours a week at a retail job. I realized that I would need near $5000 to cover the cost of the trip and expenses. I wanted to go to Paris as it would be an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I would take classes at one of the satellite Sorbonne buildings and live in the dorm, learning about French civilization, the language and culture. I so wanted to go, but I did not have the money.

Two paths were before me: I could not go or go.

Now that I have 20 years of experience beyond that important decision, I can be a bit more objective and honest with myself. I can also freeze time in the story as I sit in college, trying to decide on whether I would go or not and back the story up to when I was in high school. Back then I took French classes on a whim. I enjoyed it a lot and did well. In my Junior year, I had a wonderful French teacher. The friendship that grew from my time as her student taught me not only the love of French culture but she was the first person that I “sparked” with creatively.

“Sparking” is an interesting experience for me as there are only a few people in my life whom I have met to become my muse. My high school French teacher was one of those people. Back when I was 16, I wrote a novel for her as part of my French assignment. A daily journal blossomed into a several hundred page novel. The seed of that novel became “Dorothea’s Song.” Having lost contact with her about a decade ago, I had thought to look her up online and send her a copy of my book. What I learned saddened me beyond words: A few years ago she passed away from cancer.

I look back on all of this and come back to that moment in college, deciding on whether to go on the France trip. At that point, I had graduated high school, chose to continue studying French and opted to become a dual major (English and French). All that I had learned from my high school French teacher remained alive within me as a college student. I could not go on the trip or go. I remember the stories that my high school French teacher had told me about her time studying in France. The great joy she had in seeing the art, eating the food and learning the language. As a young man of 19, I wanted to experience the Parisian life and wanted to grow beyond the small world of Philadelphia that I grew up in. (The video below is a few minutes of my visit to Notre Dame de Paris with the first minute or so being of my friends and I in the Roman sewers near Notre Dame--July 1990.)

Decision time: I stared at the blackboard that day in French class back in college and chose to go on the trip. I had been denied borrowing money from my grandfather so I would need a loan from the bank. And that’s what I did because the experience was necessary for me. I believe in one’s personal myth and the life that we live leads us on the hero’s quest toward individuation. The challenge, in today’s world is finding a balance between hokey self-growth mantras and earning a living to pay the bills. Back when I was 19, I was young, naïve and just plain clueless about the ways of the world.

Yet I had some of my wits about me because I was able to trust the instinct that called me to go to France. I recently read in Joseph Campbell’s "Pathways to Bliss" about a meditation that he was given once that explains much about the self-discovery process: "Where are you between two thoughts? You're thinking of yourself all the time in everything you do. You know, there's the image of yourself--the ego. So, where are you between two thoughts?" Campbell goes on to explain that the undiscovered you is apart from your ego that you normally walk around with yet the “you” between your thoughts is your untapped potential, saying: "That's what our intuitive flash is giving you a taste of. This thought, that thought, the ripple of the mind--do you ever have a glimpse that transcends anything you could think of about yourself? That's the source field out of which all of your energies are coming. And so the hero journey through the threshold is simply a journey beyond the pairs of opposites, where you go beyond good and evil." For me, I tie the undiscovered self to my "spark" theory. Over the years, I have met several people who have acted as a foil to me and the undiscovered part of me rises to the surface. The creativity and inspiration that I feel at those times is rather remarkable. Yet I have also had experiences (travels, death, birth, etc.) that have also acted as these “spark” moments in time for me. At first, I thought that the creative energy blossoming in me was due to my interaction with that other person or that experience. But that's not the case. Those creative flashes or sparks are from within me. Those moments of intense energy are a perfect example of the "me" between two thoughts.

The importance of understanding my limits and inner self is to find the balance to incorporate the various parts of me into a whole. Again, I turn to a Jungian approach as I believe that each of us has a public persona, a shadow, anima/animus and self. I don’t go around on a conscious level thinking about my shadow, but let me explain: We each have a public persona and a private “me.” At work you will probably act somewhat different around your boss then how you act when you’re with your spouse. Incorporation the four archetypal aspects (a persona, shadow, animus, and self) of yourself is the process of individuation. 

Now I am the future of the 19 year old me. I’m at a position in which I see what I have learned, understand the troubles that I have had and experienced some of life to get to where I am now. The future, future me (20 years from now) is beyond my understanding yet I can surmise that many of the themes that I have written about today will be relevant for me then. And that’s the journey that I am on: Twenty years ago I had a major split in the road of life and I chose one path over another. Staying home wouldn’t have been “wrong” but I would not be the “me” I am today and I wanted to become that person. I knew enough that I believed that the experiences I would have in France would strengthen and change me—and living in Paris did do that for me. What I find rather funny is that there is no way that me, at 19, could imagine who I would be today or what I would be experiencing. My knowledge of my self was so limited at that time that it is amusing, but I knew enough to pick the trip and to turn a hope into reality.

There are moments in my life when a “spark” comes (a person or event) and that moment in time acts as a fork in the road. I have a choice to make: Stay the course or change. I don’t go seeking “sparks” as life doesn’t work that way. A "spark" isn't a thrill ride. Nor do I look at people I meet as inanimate objects that I can get my creative kicks off of. Rather it's that space between two thoughts and I see a flash of insight into my life. When I encounter a moment like that, I need to think fast on my feet and either embrace the moment or back off. I don’t want to label “right” or “wrong” to these choices because each case is not that simple as life often isn’t black and white. Though I’m happy to find that listening and trusting my instinct usually doesn’t lead me wrong.

I’ve thought a lot about my decision from 20 years ago and realized that it’s not about France or the language or necessarily the experiences I had. No, it’s not that at all. Instead, being open and receptive to change and growth is important. The challenge is learning which path to take when these life altering opportunities come up. There are times when I'm on one page and another is on a totally different page. I've learned that listening to myself and what will be healthy for me is critical to my well-being.

Where will the future bring me? I don't think that's an important question. Rather I'd rather ponder: Who am I between two thoughts and where do I want to go from here? As Emerson has stated: "Life is a journey, not a destination." For me, that's what is important. Because, in the end, what will I really care about? The relationships I've forged with family, friends, the self-knowledge that I've uncovered about myself and my connection to the world around me. Living in Paris or not wasn't the critical decision that helped me to grow, but being aware enough to know the importance of the choice and why I made the decision I did helped me along my journey. And 20 years later, I'm still on that long and winding road.

Reflecting Back: Twenty Years of Me

A big personal anniversary is coming up for me next month and I'm doing the research to see if I can find some old pictures from 20 years ago. Digging through tons of boxes looking for old pictures scattered throughout my house has got me thinking:

1. The pictures I took back then were taken with a Kodak disc camera. Seriously. Boy, that's scary.
2. Digital cameras are wonderful as storing the images and archiving them is a snap!
3. Finding things from 20 years ago can be a lot of fun.

While looking for photos, I found the following:

The above picture is a piece that I made for myself back in the early '90s. On the left is a picture of me before I was two and on the right I'm 19 years of age and am in Paris. What's up with the crappy artwork under "Who" and "Do"? I was told a long time ago that "who" we are remains constant in that there is a core aspect to who we are as individuals but what we "Do" (the right column) is like a slinky that can collapse and change shape over time. In the center, is Whitman's "Song of Myself" poem.

Back when I was in my early '20s I wanted a reminder that who I am is good and solid and yet what I do will change over time. Now that I'm fast forwarded into the future I'm reflecting back to my early years, remembering who I was back then.

The question is: Am I the same person?

Yes and no. That's the funny thing about life. There are some core parts of me that have remained the same. Much of my value system has remained the same, my beliefs in family, God, people and the goodness of life have all remained firm. Yet my understanding and outlook on life and as to what is important has changed as I've gained a bit more perspective on life and living. I know a lot more than I did then: I specifically know that I don't know much!

When I look back at what I did back then, comparing it to what I do now the themes remain pretty much the same. I wrote fiction and tried to get my stories/novel published. In 2010, I've published my first novel "Dorothea's Song" and am working on another novel. I enjoyed computers and still enjoy them. Yet there was no internet back then and today I'm podcasting, blogging, creating videos for YouTube and using social media. The core values of what I believe have remained the same yet the tools that I use to accomplish my goals have changed.

Back in 1990 I had a goal to communicate my stories to people throughout the world in the hope that I could help share my life experiences with others. What people chose to do with what they learned from my stories would be up to them, but I had always wanted to carve out a small, intimate niche of work that when someone reads one of my pieces that person could easily imagine that a conversation between us is taking place.

I'm continuing to do my research and to work on a special blog post for sometime in July 2010, but I had to stop to just share this story as I hadn't see the pictures above in many years. I've not forgotten to sing of one's self. And hopefully you won't forget either. Thanks for stopping by.

On Love and Marriage

I've been meaning to take some time to sit down and write this, but I haven't had the time or maybe it's because I am a bit shy about being so open. In part, I think reading a short article about Michael Chabon has helped me though. In the NPR article about Chabon, I stumbled across how his wife, writer Ayelet Waldman, had written a rather personal essay for the the New York Times a few years ago. The essay created a stir as she said that she loved her husband more than her children and she went into some details about their sex life.If Waldman can be so open about her life, then why not me?

With that all said, I wanted to write about marriage as it's been on my mind. This past week my wife and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary. We've been together for 15 years, married for 10. I wanted to reflect on this celebration and be open and honest. Now that I have some experience under my belt, I must admit that being married and now being a parent are the two most difficult life choices I have made so far in my life.

There are many choices in life that I could have taken. When I was young, I thought about becoming a priest, but, honestly, choosing celibacy just wasn't for me. Once I knew that I wouldn't devote my life to God by becoming a priest (around the time I was 17), I made a decision that I would look for a partner and have a family and be happy. See, it's that simple! Unfortunately, the marriages I had around me were damaged and unhealthy. My mother divorced my father before I was six. My grandparents, though married for more than 60 years, bickered and fought like crazy on nearly a daily basis. In growing up in their household, I would come home from school and see them sitting on the sofa--one on one side and the other on the far side. Muzak like music would be on the radio and they would just sit there all day until it was time to eat or do work or move about. They weren't friends and didn't get along in working together. As for my mother's second marriage, that also ended in divorce.

Yet I remained hopeful that I would fall in love, marry a beautiful woman and find happiness, joy, peace and all the saints and angels would be swirling around me. How naive I was back in my early '20s. What I thought then was that love--just pure love--would solve any problem and fix anything. If you just loved someone with your whole being, then mountains could be levitated. What I didn't understand at the time was that first it was important to love yourself. How foolish I was to think that I could be damaged and broken from my upbringing and just magically know how to be healthy in a relationship. Yep, I was a fool. And I was also such a romantic by loving being in love.

My teens passed on by and in my early '20s, while in college, I fell in love and became engaged. It is here that I learned a painful yet valuable lesson: Two people who have issues to resolve cannot come together to make one healthy person. It just doesn't work. But I tried it anyway. Some time later, the engagement was broken, my heart crushed and years passed. I decided to do something during those years--something smart. I learned about myself, who I was, what I wanted, where I wanted to be and I realized a very important thing. Something critical: I'm not normal. My sensibilities, likes and streak of rebellion make me a bit of an oddball. I buck against tradition and I often ask hard questions of myself and those of my closest friends. Those who know me best love my honesty and understand why I am so genuine, but it's often misunderstood by many. In going through my '20s, I picked the pieces up, healed myself and learned, through counseling, how to deal with the problems I have and to become a better person.

What I learned along the way is that a partner doesn't just fall out of the sky and fairy dust is sprinkled on the two of you and suddenly everything is okay. No, that's not how it works at all. It's damn hard work being married. I've worked hard on learning what my quirks are, what are my personality faults and struggled to be a better person.

So imagine when I've been working on all of this, trying to become a better me when I went on a blind date with a beautiful woman. She talked about the gym, the gym, the gym and the gym. It was during that date that what I wanted from a partner crystalized within and I understood that I needed to look for someone who would be on the same wavelength as me. I needed a best friend.

A month or two later, by pure chance, my wife and I met. Dating went wonderful, then living together and presto--10 years of marriage with two kids. Has it all been glorious and wonderful? No, it hasn't. Want to know what have I learned in all of that time? I've discovered that I don't know jack shit. I've learned that I make more mistakes than I can count on a daily basis and that my wife and I have had wonderful times and the worst of times. Marriage to me is a journey in life. It's filled with the best and worst of time. As I'm human, I'm flawed, imperfect.

When my wife and I met, could we ever in a million years see where we are now? See our children, have gone through our dark times and understand the love and light that we've built together? Could we have? No, we couldn't. We took a risk. A very, very chancy risk. A good many marriages end in divorce. It's scary to think of that, but it's true. The second most important thing that I've learned about marriage (the first being that I'm no expert in it!) is to listen. No, I mean really listen. I often wish I were better in this department because I am a strong individual who is extremely stubborn. But when I listen to my wife and hear her, problems can be worked through. I've also learned that "listening" with my eyes ties so closely into hearing her words. I try to pay attention to her body language, facial expressions and how she carries herself. In the darkest of times, a little laughter, listening and reaching for a hand can set the groundwork for solving any problem.

Good communication between she and I can slay any demon or dragon, but we both need to be willing to listen, be open and compromise. Which is the third tool in my marriage toolkit: Learn to compromise. That doesn't mean that one person dominates all the time and the other always compromises. No, compromise goes both ways. Sometimes both people need to compromise at the same time as neither person can have exactly what he/she wants.

When I look back at all the years, the wonderful experiences my wife and I have had, the places we've been, the triumphs, sad points, joys and lows--there's a thread of experience that has multiplied itself thousands of times that's become our life. The tapestry that we've built is ours and it's filled with such wonder and excitement that I often have lost perspective, assuming I know my wife and she knows me. Time passes, we grow older, but we also have changed. I'm not the same man I was back when I was 24 and my wife isn't the same woman. Learning to grow with my wife has been a challenge as sometimes you grow apart and need to find ways to come back together again. Nothing holds a couple together (yes, yes, yes--you can argue children, bills, etc.), but their choosing to remain together. Love as it starts off as passion and fire burns bright but it won't keep you together. Tempering that fire, holding it in your heart and remembering it over the years is a must. I have caught myself looking at my wife and I see her as only I can. I remember her when I first met her and see her now. How sunlight changes the color of her eyes to a brilliant hazel and how I see her face, so pure and open, when she's asleep. Love in all its beauty grows in time, strengthens and changes--if my wife and I continue to allow it to. How you're in love for the first three months of being together is different than when you've been together many years. There's still plenty of passion and fire in my heart for my wife, but now when I'm with her there are memories of our lives woven into our love. Seeing my children born, holding them and growing into the role of parenthood has changed me beyond what I thought possible. Marriage and love. Love and marriage.

My wife and I have only traveled a short distance down the road of life together, but this is where I take a moment, sit by the side of the road and take a drink of water. I'm reflecting on my life and, in my heart and soul, I know what marriage means to me. Do I ever regret being married or wish I had never done so as some men I know? No, I don't regret that at all. I've had my doubts and fears, but I'm glad I've made this decision. Marriage is living to me. Every day is filled with wonder, excitement and possibilities. The challenge, for me, is to continue to be open to those wonderful possibilities. And as for love, it can move mountains--if you're patient and kind. I might have been naive to think that love could solve all problems--it can if you are at peace with yourself and both of you are open to love's wonder. It's the ultimate letting go: Marriage and love. A wild ride of life that will take you down a rabbit hole and up to the highest mountains. Here's to what we've achieved. Here's to us. Here's to our family, friends, God and every bit of luck we can get to help watch over us for the years to come.