About Me

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Born into the Michael and Rosann Rosso family, I was blessed to be the last of four children. My oldest brother, Big Mike Rosso, was a professional Fender Bass player. My sister, Sharifah Rosso has a tremendous background in music and plays classical music so beautifully. My brother Danial King Rosso, played violin and was an amazing tenor. So, I grew up in a home that promoted the idea of the arts while paintings hug on walls, sketching, painting and writing were promoted and the thought of being creative was practically the golden rule. After highschool, I spent a little time in Junior College but was terrible at math so I walk away. Thanks to my sister, Sharifah Rosso, I spent some time at CalArts in Valencia California. At CalArts I was a student in the School of Music. One of the conditions of being a new student at CalArts back in the 1970's was that all new students were expected to take an introduction course about art. Well, it was in the film room where they played movies about the life of an artist that I fell in love with art. William de Kooning, Vincent Van goph, and Picasso are my top three favorite artists that inspire me to paint my own voice.




























Email Susie Rosso Wolf

If you have any questions about "New Prairie Woman", "Saving Susie", my "Phoetry", Montana, or writing in general, please email me directly at: GrumpySusie@msn.com — Looking forward to hearing from you. I hope you enjoy "New Prairie Woman". ~ Susie

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

03.S10 Chapter Three, Snippet Ten

New Prairie Woman
Susie Rosso Wolf
Chapter Three, con't


It was December 18th, 2002 when I sat up in my overstuffed rocking chair with a blanket wrapped around my head and body. I was resting my eyes when I felt a presence in the room. I opened them to see Curtis, our roommate and partner in ownership of our home for many years, standing over me. “What are you doing?” I asked him.
“I’m watching you.”
“Why?” 
“Because I’m worried about you, you don’t seem to be breathing very well and it’s late, you should be in bed.”
“I can’t go to bed, I can’t breathe lying down.”
“You need to go to the doctor tomorrow.”
“I know, Curtis, I will.”
“Good. Can I bum a smoke?”
 I looked down at the coffee table where my pack of Marlboro Lights was sitting with a lighter on top of them. I barely lifted my hand to point at them and said, “Take them. Get them away from me. Go ahead and smoke the entire pack, I don’t care. Just take them away because I’m never going to smoke again.”
“Yeah, right,” he said with a sarcastic chuckle.”
“I mean it Curtis, I’ll never put one of those dirty rotten things to my lips ever again. Take them away from my sight and from this moment on, there will be no more smoking allowed in this house or anywhere near me.”
“You really mean it?”
“Yes, I really mean it.” I didn’t have the energy for this conversation so I shut my eyes and tuned myself out now. I listened as he walked in front of my chair and picked up the pack of cigarettes. I heard the door to the den open and could hear his footsteps land on the brick front porch landing, and then the door clicked as he shut it behind him. The sound of the lighter triggering underneath his thumb traveled into the den through the open windows. Within an instant I could smell the smoke and was shocked and disappointed that he hadn’t taken me seriously. After his cigarette, Curtis came back into the house, said goodnight in a whisper, and then walked down the hall to his bedroom. It amazed me, how he too, was addicted beyond reason. Here was a person not twenty feet from him only separated by a wall and door, who is very obviously sick and suffering with shortness of breath, and yet, at three in the morning, he needed to smoke. We were all like that. Every one of us was so addicted that in the middle of the night our bodies woke us up with the desire for nicotine. And that’s exactly what Brenda was doing; she was answering the call of that desire. I understood, but it pained me now, as three Hail Mary’s were said on my envisioned rosary as I attempted, once again, to fall asleep. 



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