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 855 Lake Street, Oak Park, Illinois © Suburban Journals of Chicago Inc. photo Kimberly Jean Ciotola was 17 years young and had traveled to Oak Park by bus from Sheboygan, Wisconsin. Kimberly Jean Ciotola was born inLuino, Italy on Jan 14, 1994 and died at the old Oak Hotel in Oak Park on November 08, 2011. She spoke Italian and loved her life, she cherished poetry, she had a wonderlust and enjoyed the adventure of travel and seeing new things, both in printed form and with her eyes as she journeyed through life. She had traversed many of the States in America by travel bus and was not limited to the pedestrian exploits of your average child. I am convinced that she would have made a great writer and could have been whatever she set her mind to. I researched her writings and blogs on the internet and found some thoughtful and expressive creations. I recall someone commenting recently that if Emily Dickinson were alive today that she too would have been a blogger, just like the young Kimberly Ciotola. She had met a 22 year old man on the internet, a young white male who was evicted from his apartment at 855 Lake Street in Oak Park, in September of this year. Residents have informed us that he was jolly guy, who was liked by many of the buildings inhabitants, and that he expressed concern about his being thrown out after a series of notices had been given to him. This dark haired, likable lad had a gift of gab and also perhaps a way of weaving a story of interest to a young naive girl from Sheboygan. Kimberly Jean Ciotola had no known history of hard drug use, no criminal record with police in Sheboygan Wisconsin. She was high spirited nice young lady with an exciting future, and all that ended an encounter with this 22 year old, white, dark haired, 5 foot 10 inch, evicted, tresspassing, looser from Oak Park (whose name we are holding back from at the request of police.) Kimberly Jean Ciotola was left in the hallway, dead, and discarded like a rag doll on the third floor, possibly after having been taken from the room that the 22 year old man had once occupied. The 911 call placed by her last date was made at 5:17 a.m. on the man's cell phone. She was pronounced dead at Oak Park Hospital (Rush-Oak Park). Death Notice from Wisconsin Kimberly Jean Ciotola Today we say goodbye to our daughter, sister and friend, Kimberly Jean Ciotola. She is survived by her immediate family, Mario, Lori, Eric and Jenny, Davis and Amy, and Bryan, as well as her maternal grandfather, Samuel Felten. Kimberly will always have a place in our hearts. We remember her passion for art, for literature and for music. We remember her deep concern for injustice and her personal struggle to find meaning in life. We remember her strength and courage in speaking against everything she found wrong in this world. Kimberly lived with conviction and independence. Although we cannot have her back, we will forever treasure her legacy. Kimberly, you inspired us and, in this life, we will miss your smile and laughter. Farewell. We love you. A memorial service for Kimberly was held at 4 p.m., Friday, November 11 at the Oakbrook Community Church, 1624 Broadway Ave. In preference to flowers a memorial fund has been established in Kimberly’s name The Novak-Ramm-Ziegler Funeral Home is assisting the family. Online
condolences may be expressed at www.novakrammziegler.com
 855 Lake Street, Oak Park, Illinois
© Suburban Journals of Chicago Inc. photo  3rd Floor hallway, with rear door open to the fire escape at 855 Lake Street, Oak Park, Illinois. This is where the body of Kimberly Jean Ciotola was discarded. © Suburban Journals of Chicago Inc. photo  Front of Building with damaged window at 855 Lake Street, Oak Park, Illinois. © Suburban Journals of Chicago Inc. photo Kimberly Jean Ciotola had some internet writing we found online. Some of what she wrote was very insightful and some was unfortunately quite ironic. http://sexualfrustrationexistentialangst.blogspot.com/2010/06/sleep- deprivation-as-my-drug-of-choice.html ABOUT ME GRACE AND KIMBERLY Kimberly Jean
Ciotola is 16. She likes making monster faces in the mirror,
but dislikes it when people photobooth them and profile pic them on facebook. She likes big noses, big eyes, and big feet. She dislikes lesbian haircuts and girl-suits. She likes tea sincerely, but hates Patti Smith's voice. She likes this boy, and he likes her too, hopefully maybe. She likes gesture drawing, but dislikes cartoons. ************************************** Grace is 16. She likes really long verbose descriptions of pieces of art in museums, but dislikes people reading them out loud. she likes folding pieces of paper into fortune tellers so that the text is on the outside. she dislikes eating meals in restaurants when they're empty, in those awkward times between lunch and dinner (2-5 pm). she likes books you haven't read and bands you haven't heard of. she likes smart boys who like girls who aren't skinny. she likes TV a lot. Blog Page http://kciotola.blogspot.com/ SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2011 A Vivid Memory from when I ran away. Leaning on the window of a moving bus, so many times I remember waiting for night, and waiting to leave the city and the station. I travelled east and west for days without a plan and without a single opinion, letting strangers carve out the hollowness I would later feel in the evening silhouette of mountains and evergreens, letting that hollowness become me, and it is still with me. Those peoples' eccentricities forced on me like I had just joined a club the rest of humanity had for so long bitterly been a part of. Their conversations and inquiries, scents, and destinations taught me that everyone is alone when they're not children anymore. We are only each others' broken mirrors. I remember that vibrating cool glass against my cheek and cross-country landscapes lulling me to sleep. I dreamt of nothing and always woke up to a dream state. What was I doing? Where was I going? Who were these impersonal faces? Posted by Kimberly Ciotola at 11:20 PM 1 ... Kimberly
Jean Ciotola wrote the following just a few months ago, about another
girl who was her same age.
The Seventeen Year Old Poet Who Died About a
year ago, I found a little book of poetry in the bookstore at
the Mead Public Library. It
was the kind you know is a copy of about a hundred or
two-hundred. Castle Mount, by
Matt Deeley. I opened to a random page to see if it sounded
like a middle-aged woman
ranting, but instead I found words I could relate to, but never
yet had. True poetry.
I flipped back to the introduction, written by Matt's freshman English teacher. The first line read, "What can you say about a 17-year-old poet who dies?" A summary of his life followed, describing Matt as quiet, dark, frantic, etc. What a task it must have been to describe a person who so dazzlingly presented himself through his own poetry. Apparently he died back in the seventies, and after searching through many newspaper archives and trying to look up his old English teacher, I learned that Matt had died from an overdose of anti-depressants. It's amazing how easily one life can disappear, despite how devoted it was to creating lasting art. There is still no trace of Castle Mount on the web, nor of anything regarding Matt Deeley's life in Sheboygan Falls, Wisconsin. I'd like to post some of his poetry here. I hope that one day it will spread and get the recognition it deserves. Here are three favorites: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Self-Portrait Evergreen icicles melt on my tongue i caress the chairs i sit in i burn like silence in the night and silent nights destroy me just as they destroy the day i disappear into the dog-eared pages of my mind buried in memory i die each dawn to be reborn each sunset sitting by dream seas i sing to emptiness and emptiness sings back to me i talk to vagabonds and kings no one else can see buried in memory i die to be reborn god bless my portrait and my poems. Hymn to Sacrilegious Beauty loveliness drips from your face as you sit bent up in your most poetic pose on cloud nine in the seventh heaven (god visits the land of love) my dear steaming beauty flute-faced has suddenly emptied out and sprawled upon the floor patiently the jewels of her eyes are roaming and suddenly i fear her not being here she sits in her most poetic pose consuming the room laying waste to the wasteland of depression and i say i see you in the night a breeze-a gasping light whispering singing she sits in her most poetic pose on cloud nine beside me because of her i miss the symphony (my room shines with your light even in the dark with a ribbon round my head i will turn off the lamp and read a book) IN ANSWER TO YOUR POEM how wonderful! you fear for my life but you should know life is death and death is life and the mysteries of the unknown empires of quietus offer more than life can hold in its hand I'll be posting a pdf of the entire book soon. Posted by Kimberly Ciotola at 10:13 PM 0 ... The above was her last post and will not come true without her being here. Below are some videos about HEROIN and why to avoid even the thought of it. If you meet someone online, perhaps meet them at your local police station first or the library, and bring a friend. |
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