Michigan Victory Sweeter in South Bend

Wow. I'm back.
Something interesting happened today. I was on my way to South Bend (home of Notre Dame) and Hoosiers and Michiganders were headed to The Big House to watch Michigan play Notre Dame.

So, I drove through Ann Arbor thinking, I really hope we win.

Then, I arrived in South Bend, and there are all of these crazy marqees outside restaurants: Go Irish, Beat Michigan.

Ugh.

It's enough to turn your stomach.

Now, ANYONE who knows me, I mean REALLY knows me, knows that if my blood could be blue, it would be.

I am a die-hard Wolverine.

So, even now, laying on my hotel bed in South Bend, I have two Michigan shirts for the drive home.

When I heard the half-time score 20-17 Irish, I got nervous. Then I heard 31-20, but that wasn't correct. It was actually 20-31--someone forgot to put the numbers in the proper order, home team last.

I was releaved and vindicated when my guys stuck out a 34-38 victory.

How sweet victory is. Even better when you can drive through the losers' city sporting your victorious colors.

After all, we ARE the victors!

Why 'post-racialism' is a myth

Spike Lee has been very adamant that just because we are living in a era where there is the first Black president does not mean that we are in a post-racial society.

Meaning that just because a Black man sits in the highest seat in the land doesn't mean that people of color have arrived.

He is right. I am anticipating Soledad O'Brien's documentary follow-up tonight, but in the wake of that, Henry Louis Gates gets arrested in his own home.

That shows how far we are from post-racial. There is nothing post-racial about debating whether Obama is a black president or a president who happens to be black. Nothing post-racial about the subtle increase of white supremacy. Nothing post-racial about increased unemployment among blacks and a pay ceiling that just won't move.

There is nothing post-racial about having to search out a public school academy or a private school in order to assure that your child has every opportunity they need to succeed.

Have race relations come a long way? Yes, definitely. Have we achieved post-racialism. Definitely not.

Michael Jackson

I didn't realize until Michael Jackson died that I had chosen to name my second son such a popular name....

When I was growing up, there was nothing better than "A-B-C", or "Got to be there" or "Rockin' Robin". I know I wasn't alone, but I was determined to marry Michael. No one else deserved him. (later, I determined Randy was acceptable also, just in case I couldn't get to Michael)

A dancer at heart, and one driven by music, harmony, and lyrics, I was completely taken by Michael from his Motown beginnings all the way to Epic and "Off the Wall". I tried his moves, I knew his lyrics. When I didn't comprehend the "Billie Jean" video (and still don't understand it, although completely understand its popularity), I recreated a more lyric-based one in my bedroom while hearing my grandmother's pleas to turn the music down.

I was in college when the Jacksons resurfaced, and, as I recall, there were only two or three good songs on that album--yes, ALBUM. But I bought it anyway. I think there was some controversy about the cover (but in those days, there was always a cover controversy) and I don't know if I got the original or the revised one.

I knew about his groundbreaking advent into MTV and I saw the primetime debut of his videos. But I didn't know until yesterday that he had patents for certain moves and technologies used in his videos. There was a lot I didn't know about the man whose birthday was just 2 days after mine.

It is sad that he is now gone, but, as someone interviewed on a station during the past two days reasoned--it was hard to imagine an 'old' Michael Jackson.

Now we won't have to.

The hole in the wall

OK. So, somewhere I hit a brick wall. It loomed before me in late March and just recently I broke a hole through the wall.

So many things have happened in the world and I wanted to write about all of them. I wanted to tell Obama not to bow. To tell people who live to criticize people to go somewhere and do something productive with their lives. To mention how courageous I thought Farrah Fawcett was to have her private struggle made so public. To moan about having to raise children in a society where nothing is sacred. The perils of raising boys to be men. Asking questions about how stupid people seem to succeed in this world.

I have been able to do none of that.

I think I am back, though.

Trying to get it together

If anyone out there is reading this, no, I haven't left. My computer, under the devious possessions of some mysterious virus, was completely uncooperative. Perhaps it was boycotting my exit from Facebook. Who knows or cares. All I know is that is has put me seriously behind.

I am trying to gather my thoughts to blog again. I will be back, soon.

What would you do?

Please respond if you read this.

• You are in desparate financial straits. In your P.O. Box you find a $2,800 check. It isn't addressed to you and you have no idea how it got there. Do you toss it? Return it? Risk going to jail but cash it?
• You see keys left in the door of a retail business afterhours. Do you ignore it because it isn't your business? Take the keys to return them tomorrow--hopefully? Call the police or leave the keys with a neighboring business?
• On the floor of a store you find a $50 bill. Turn it in or keep it?

Coming Out

What?

Whenever we hear that term, we usually think of someone breaking the news that they have an interest in members of the same sex. It is a dreaded concept.

That isn't what it means to me right now.

I feel like I am coming out...of a cave. Don't misunderstand what I am saying. Not darkness like in a depression or fog like confusion. A cave, like where you hear echoes and you aren't quite sure where the origin is, but once you hit the main vein, you can find your way out.

I love the life I live, but I don't always love the way I live it. I realize that I am my harshest critic and that to my detriment more times than not. So, being that critical has driven me away from some of my faith's most basic tenets: loving your neighbor as yourself, doing unto others as you would they do unto you, having no god before God.

As I have worked on my LinkedIn, University of Michigan Alumni and Facebook networks and have started my blog, I am rediscovering life. Finding people who have been part of my life means a lot, and, as I look at their pages, I realize that the 'worlds' of my life, school, church, former church, family, profession are not so disparate. I am not separate people. I am not living separate lives.

I am coming out of a personal privacy and into the greater society once again.

Some of my contacts I will maintain and others will have to cease.

What a stretch!

Way to wind down

I love the television series ER. I may have missed an episode here or there, but for the most part I watch it every week.

After 15 years, the series is winding down, and, I don't know about other people, I have a major pet peeve with television shows just dropping off at the end. They create a following, get the viewers interested in the characters then just leave us hanging. Not fair at all.

There were several storylines that I felt needed to be concluded. One was with Dr. Benton (Eric La Salle), the other was with Nurse Hathaway (Julianna Margulies) and Dr. Ross (George Clooney). When they appeared on the screen, my hand went to my heart automatically. I got the warm, fuzzy feeling one gets when you need comfort food (mashed potatoes and gravy, pot roast, turkey and dressing, hot chocolate with marshmallows...). It was great to see them there, and the writing was good. Some lines I could anticipate, such as when Benton asked Carter about his wife, and Carter pulls out a picture ("You married a sistah?"), but the overall story line was well done and brought the viewer up to date in the lives of the previously departed doctors without creating a storybook moment.

I will be sad to see ER leave the scene, it has been a big part of my life. But, fans are fickle, and I already have a new love...Grey's Anatomy.

Discovering Networking. Rediscovering Writing.

How I ever got the designation of a technophile, I will never know.

Alright, so I am severely behind the times in discovering and utilizing networking sites such as Facebook. Truth be told, the Internet intimidates me because there are insidious people out there stalking and acting crazy.

But there are also people out there that I haven't seen in 5, 10, 25 years. Or some I haven't seen since yesterday that I want to keep up to date.

I am entering a new territory because for years I have been working on projects--in a corner. Everyone who really knows me, knows me as a writer. And, if I may be so bold, a pretty good one. But one that needs to own her art. Not craft--I am not a witch. What I do is art. Art from the heart.

That is one reason I began this blog.

So, all of those who remember me as an aspiring writer, keep looking because here I come.

My 'bestest' friend is back!

You will NOT believe this, because if I wasn't sitting at the computer right now, I wouldn't believe it myself.

I decided to get back on facebook to start expanding my network and re-introducing my name to society. So, I am searching for friends, and my bestest, bestest pal (I mentioned her in an earlier blog about friends) Angelia pops up! A new picture, but the same face! I guess in today's parlance, she would really be my BFF!

Oh, Lord, help me!

I wish I could really, really cry right now. Suffice to say, we went to school together everyday, then talked on the phone every night. We fought every other day, erased names and numbers out of the book...then called each other and continued talking.

We went to college together and haven't seen each other in more than 13 years. But, now, another puzzle piece is back in my life.

I have two more people to find: Eugene and Stephanie.

Give Dora a break

One thing that has always bugged me is how cartoon 'children' never seem to grow up. The Peanuts gang is older than I am and are still as young as my children. Cailloo--oh, how annoying he is--maintains his preschool personna. Baby Smurf is still a baby and there was even a move to create baby Looney Tunes characters (why?). Huey, Dewey and Louie are still the precocious nephews of Donald Duck.

The only ones who seemed to have escaped until now were Pebbles and Bam Bam--although, on a more serious tip, their parents have been wearing the same clothes ad nauseum.

So, what is the deal with Dora?

There is just a silhouette...no real sketches...and people are decrying her. Please, give it a rest. Dora will be ten this fall, almost eleven. Is she destined to swing from the trees in her shorts forever? Her mother even had twins (to my dismay? surprise?) so why can't she grow up?

This is part and parcel the problem that plagues child stars. They can't seem to shake the thing that made them a household name. Every now and then, if their parents are cooperative and the child is centered, one will escape and grow up. Like Rudy, Tootie, or Fresh Prince, or Raven. Still many more 'die' into that childlike personna.

But don't let your fifteen year old sit around in a diaper and bang a bat on the ground screaming, "bam! bam! bam! bam!"

Now, if Dora comes out with cleavage, splits, and meets boys behind buildings, then, then, we can stone her character. Until then, go march for something else, something more useful.

March is literacy month...go read a book.

Leave Rush Limbaugh alone

OK, so the title of this entry may be controversial.

I think President Obama and the Democrats should just leave Rush Limbaugh alone. Period. Ignore him and his statements.

Do you remember the child at school who was at first mildly disruptive? Then perhaps they hit someone or called them a name. Pretty soon everyone in the class would begin talking about them or running away in fear. They became a household name.

Look at reality shows. Take Omorosa, for example. At first, she was just another annoyance, then as her name began to resonate, she became a force, now well known in most circles and forever etched as the model evil reality show contestant.

There have been many over the years who brought nothing redeemable to the table, but suddenly became famous for their ability to take others off task and off message.

This is how I view the Limbaugh effect. Don't acknowledge him. Leave him out of press briefings, speeches, morning reports, jab fests. Ignore him.

By raising his name, it is raising his star. People may actually think he has something redeeming.

Twenty-Eight Days

Isn't that the same amount of time people go to rehab?

There is an argument out there that African American history is irrelevant. I say that the only way it is irrelevant is if the accomplishments of African Americans are seamlessly interwoven into the fiber of American history in general. The history of these disparate groups are the history of this country in which we live.

Nevertheless, how can we posit that African American history isn't needed as a stand alone history if we do not rehearse it with our children and teach them the things they need to know. It has to be more than 28 days, more than a month, a week, MLK day. It has to be lived.

It is like the controversy early during last year's presidential race. Would black women vote for Hillary Clinton because she is a woman or Barack Obama because he is black? For those who revel in statistics that may be a question, but for me it wasn't. The decision wasn't between one side of me or another--it was about competence and the ability to succeed.

It is the same with American History. Consider it without the stoplight, the cotton gin, peanut butter, heart surgery, the roller coaster (as I found through my son's project last week). There is no full American History without these things and all were contributions by blacks.

Now that the official month has ended, let us live in history. A united history. An American history.

When pulpits become stages

I saw something interesting today. Men who were gruff and dominant moments before turned to high-pitched voices when a local recording artist walked into a funeral. They melted just like women swooned over the Beatles and Michael Jackson.

Well, not quite that badly, but comparable based on the circumstances.

But that wasn't what I learned from today's funeral. I learned that just because someone doesn't come across as 'having it all' doesn't mean they don't have anything. The gentleman that was buried today had always seemed very unassuming to me, but he was widely known in other circles.

But the highlight of the service wasn't the recording star, it was a young woman, self-professed not to be a songstress, whose sincerity and grace filled the sanctuary and everyone who was there. The artist received a standing ovation because of who he was, but this young woman received an ovation because of whose she is.

I am not used to the concept of pulpits as stages yet. The notion that anyone with notoriety can stand in God's holy place in the place of his preachers and proclaim something, then return to their own proclamations outside the pulpit.

But I am comfortable with the King of the universe receiving His proper accolades when one of his own lifts up their voice to Him, for Him and His glory alone.

Here we go again

A few weeks ago I wrote about the end of a press briefing and the unfortunate statement that was made at the end.

Last week, it was a chimp.

In fairness, this came on the heels of a chimp attack, but really, now. Are we to be so naive and so blind that we can't see a cartoon gone bad?

Could it have been worse? Yes. But more importantly, I think it could have been handled differently.

Then there is an offense when the Attorney General calls the US a country of cowards.

I feel about those types of images and words the way I feel about cursing.

There have got to be more creative ways of expressing one self. Eddie Murphy was infinitely more funny in Dr. Doolittle and Daddy Day Care than Coming to America or Beverly Hills Cop. He said no more than 3 curse words.

Learn what hurts your neighbor and avoid that. This principle is the easiest.

Single Ladies

This is especially for N'Jeri:

Just what does my six year old son know about single ladies?

(Wink)

Five Minutes to More of the Same

I had a notion of which two candidates would emerge from Detroit's special election last night.

I am not a partisan, I tend to vote on issues and not along party lines. I may not vote the popular way, but I vote my conscience.

And, after a bit of a hiatus, I do vote. I think of it as rendering to Caesar....

Also, I am fiercely combative against people who have so much to say but make no efforts to change the way things are.

That is kind of the way I feel about my fellow Detroiters right now. Not just that once again the vote has been based on name recognition (and I like the qualities the person stands for, don't fault me) and a detrimental loyalty. Last November 4th, I walked into St. Scholastica's gym and into lines and lines of people waiting to cast their votes. They had children, grandchildren, tried to sneak in cameras...but they were there. There to cast a vote that mattered. There to speak up for change and hope. I think I was number 430-something when I cast my ballot at about 5p.

Today, I was in the gym no longer than five minutes at almost 2p. I walked in, was validated, filled out my ballot, entered it, and left.

I was number 81.

So, while people ran home to find out what the President would say in his speech, Detroit marched on without its people.

If we don't elect the right people on a local level, what makes us think we will benefit from things that happen on a higher level?

Don't wear Obama out

He is handsome--no doubt. Charismatic--yes! Multi-cultural--definitely.

Don't get me wrong. I have several Obama shirts: one from the students for Obama with the 'M' in the U of M font, another sleek black one with gold letters, one from the debate with neither candidate's name on it, a pink one with headlines on it, and one directly from the inaguration store.

But we are going to wear President Obama out before he can warm the Oval Office.

His name is everywhere: hats, pencils, new Successories posters, the dollar store, the more-than-a-dollar store, college campuses, school offices, license plates, window decals.

My mom says she hasn't seen anything like this since Kennedy. I have been trying to remember where I have been for the last so many decades. What was I doing when Gore lost to Bush? Who did Clinton run against for his second term? Other than broccoli, "a thousand points of light", and a "kinder, gentler nation" (that went to war, incidently), what did I take away from Bush I?

I remember more about Reagan: his jelly beans, the 'well' filler, the fact that some of my friends had to enlist in the miliary and others had to enter college early to keep their financial aid, and his reluctance to sign the MLK day into law.

I remember watching Nixon resign through mosquito bite swollen eyes and being very happy.

But I don't remember shirts, decals, etc. for any of them. Maybe the Mondale/Ferraro bumperstickers....

We are going to make President Obama an icon whether or not he is willing. And, like Michael Jordan, he is going to be everywhere, years after his term(s) end.

But, in this continual praise now, don't forget the things he has promised to do, don't forget that you may not have agreed with him on everything. Don't let his enigmatic rise and buoyant personality mask the fact that we have employed him to do a job and his first review is coming up in less than 70 days.

Love him, hate him, disagree with him, fear what his presence in that position will do to the presidency (as Cleaver would have said, "what will become of the Presidency now?"), admire him, but, above all, if you pray at all, pray for him. Be encouraging. Expect more.

And don't just wear the gear because it is fashionable right now.

Back in college, there was a Free South Africa Coordinating Committee that sold bracelets with the names of political prisoners like Walter Sisulu, Steven Biko, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, and, of course, ANC leader Nelson Mandela. The point of purchasing the bracelets was to wear them in solidarity, and, if you had the name of a current prisoner, to wear them until they were released. I wasn't completely aware of the whole apartheid issue, but I knew of Mandela, so I purchased a bracelet with his name on it. I was faithful--I wore it daily--for a while. Eventually, especially after I left campus, I put it in a drawer. No more than three years later, Mandela was freed. I hadn't held on to the belief that what I was standing for was right. In fact, I didn't take the time to research further what the real situation was.

So, standing in Tiger Stadium, seeing Mandela in person, I was a bit ashamed because I tried to stand for something right but faltered in my ignorance.

Let's not make the same mistake when dealing with our new President and his image.

Mommy Multiplication

I am a mother of multiples. I prayed immediately when faced with the possibility of having twins, that they would not look alike. My prayers were mercifully answered.

I am married and had the most supportive group of family and friends one could hope for as a help to me. When my twins were born, my oldest son was five years and one day old and my stepdaughter had just turned 18. My mom was there to run errands, my grandmother could entertain fussy babies, and we had a caregiver that helped out whenever we needed her.

I can not imagine 14 children. I still look at the Duggar family with wonder.

My husband tells of families who had 25 and 22 children. I know a family that had eight (single births) and too many grandchildren to count.

I am an only child of an only child....

Now, I don't believe in selective reduction, and I'm not sure how I feel about IVF because, even with my two miscarriages, I still was able to conceive and deliver without major issues. It would be heartbreaking to have to choose which child or children would be terminated.

I make no judgments on the young woman who just delivered the babies, but I know this, mommy multiplication is much different than standard multiplication. One sick baby can equal seven or eight sleepless days and nights, so even two sick ones can mean you get sick, too. Imagine the implications of four or six or eight ill at one time. One case of a contagious disease could mean 15, 16 or 17 if she and her parents aren't immune. She is going to need a lot of help and much prayer. Knowing that half of her other six children already have developmental issues causes me sadness because I hope that they will get the assistance they need.

Constant Inconstancy

Answers.com defines inconstancy as

1. The state or quality of being eccentrically variable or fickle.
2. An instance of being eccentrically variable or fickle.

Why begin this way? I am sick of the Roland Burris deal. The Democrats and the senate in general said from the beginning that anyone the former governor from Illinois appointed to succeed President Obama would not be acceptable and would not be seated.

Ok, so he pulled a fast one on them and nominated an African American male. I am not playing the race card, but we now see that the governor did. Selecting Burris disarmed the liberal senate. Ugh. So, now he changes his story/gets it straight/tells the truth. And now there are calls for him to resign.

Why did the color of his skin or his gender have a factor in his acceptability? If Oprah had been selected, would she have passed the test? Why not go ahead and select Congressman Jackson?

Why not just say NO?

If no body would be acceptable if recommended by the outgoing governor, Burris must be somebody.

I think our elected officials need a little vocabulary lesson and then a lesson in protocol and consistency.

Friends are Like Safety Nets

People think of friends as folks they grew up with and experienced some of their most cherished moments. Friendship implies a longevity and stability of relationship. I agree with all of that.

I was telling my eldest son a few weeks back that friends are rare. He is in the fifth grade, and social life is everything to him (ha!), so I let him know that of the people I determined were my friends in elementary school, I could maybe find one of them now (I have known Tracey Grasty since kindergarten. We played together, her name appears in one of my personalized books, we were in orchestra together. Then we parted from seventh through twelfth grades and reunited in college. I could email her today). Earlier this month, however, I found a second friend I have known as long, Kenneth, whose house we used to pass every school day with its fabulously big sunflowers saluting the morning. That makes two people I have known since kindergarten.

Then, there are those I lived on the same street with. Two of us are still in contact because my mother lives where we moved when I was months shy of my second birthday--days after Dr. King was killed. Kim grew up about 2 houses away from me, after the Robinsons moved, and I have known her family since before we graduated from high school. Her mom and my grandmother were good friends. Now, her husband makes sure my mom's drive and walk are shoveled.

There are people I went to junior high school with. My friend, Angelina, who fought with me at least twice a month. We went to school with each other every day and stayed on the phone with each other every night. She went to a rival high school (the NERVE of her!) but we reunited in college, also. And she, Tracey and I all joined a club named The Angel Club in Ann Arbor back in 1984. I haven't heard from her in a few years and miss her, terribly.

But there are friends lost and found. My best friend, Christine, who, like Angelina, attended junior high with me, also went to high school with me. We were inseparable, down to performing in the same Reader's Theatre troup and choir. Riding from school together when either of my parents would take them to the bus, or even home. We lost contact when she went to M......... S..... U...... (ugh), but she has seen the light and lives in Ann Arbor now. I have to contact her again because we were both too busy last year.

Then there are those I met in college. Like Carla, who left this earth at 31 without marrying or having children, just like she said she would. Or Yvette, who shared Carla's birthday but is now married and going on with her life. There are the others who were members of The Angel Club (my sisterhood with these ladies is too detailed to try to list here for fear someone will be offended). Or my brothers who were Alphas like Eugene, Byron, Jeff, John Hale, and O. those who pledged the first and best sorority (Alpha Kappa Alpha). Some of them I still contact, others I haven't heard from in years. I have seen Denise, Pat, Aida, Andrea, Lois, Crystal and some of their beaus and husbands, but am missing Daphne, Tina, Sharon, and Yolie (even though we did spin class together before my illness). And Stephanie. She saved my life one evening when I thought it wasn't worth it. I am still looking for Stephanie Moore. I owe her a deal of thanks and want her to meet the sons I wouldn't have had if she had listened to me that evening and didn't read the letter I gave her....

There are sisters that God gave me like Etta, Myra, Veronica and Laura, and we see each other each week.

But, there are people with whom you would be ships in the night until they are transformed into something else.

Katrina is like that. We went to class together back in 2006. She was nice, intelligent and funny. And I didn't see her again until January 2008 when we were in class together, again. She became more of a cohort at that time and we began to share intellectually. I helped her out with something and we helped each other get through that class.

But, now, today, I found out that Katrina is a friend. I knew it on a basic, casual level, but now, now it is organic. She talked to me--ministered to me--over the phone today and helped allay some of my fears. And it isn't just for that reason that she is a friend. She was a friend all the time, but needed to be discovered.

That is how friends resemble safety nets--sometimes you don't see them until you fall.

Living with Elections

Last fall, I enrolled my sons in a new school for a myriad of reasons. Newly unemployed, I longed to attach myself to the parent teacher association so I could stay connected to my children. This was a regret I had due to many years of working (slaving) in corporate America with minimal results--that I wasn't able to be more active with my sons' schools. I met the outgoing president of the PTA and became inspired to get involved...even to run for office. Because of my suggestions, he said I should think about the presidency, but I declined because I didn't know the administration, was unfamiliar with the parent base, policies, procedures....

I placed my name in nomination for VP and, due to some interesting circumstances, was 'asked' to submit my name for president. Because of my previous observations, I was reluctant, but did, anyway.

When I entered the room the evening of the elections, I was told that my name had been shifted back to the VP slot. I was mildly disappointed, but more so relieved. I began to prepare my personal statement. The lady sitting across the table from me rose and walked over to the executive table. "I have reconsidered, I will submit my name for VP."

What? I said to myself. My speech has to be good because she is known in this school.

I made my speech with all the things I was committed to doing and seeing accomplished. Just prior to the vote, my opponent's daughter came over to the table, looked at me, and said, "I'm sorry, but my mother is going to win this election."

"Well, in that case, it will be just one thing that God says I don't need right now." My response stunned both the young lady and her mother. I meant it. I lost the election.

It didn't matter to me. After the meeting, I went to talk to the newly elected president, pledging my support in whatever way I could.

Within 2 weeks, I had a call from the elected VP stating that according to the bylaws, there needed to be 3 VPs and the two previously defeated contenders were being offered the positions. I accepted.

By the next PTA meeting, when we had our executive meeting before the general meeting, I had so much to report until the elected VP was stunned. And, probably, intimidated.

Before the week ended, she had resigned.

OK, why the long discourse on local school politics?

Elections can cause bitter feelings. The contenders may not like each other at the beginning, but usually hate each other by the end. Those feelings can persist and cause the former rivals to forever remain divided.

The question is, what were you contending for? In my case, I was vying for an opportunity to work with a growing school--adding the 11th and 12th grades over the next two years--and to use my educational and academic allegiances to help nudge it into world-class status by the time the first class graduates. Does defeat negate that goal? No. Is realizing the goal worth working with potential enemies? Yes.

I bring this up because over the last nine years we have witnessed very, very contentious elections. The issues between George W. and Al Gore ripped the country more than we may want to acknowledge and the events of 9/11 actually prevented a potentially fatal hemorrhage.

Now, John McCain has lost to Barack Obama. Whatever one feels about either of the candidates, I ask this question: what were you vying for? Prestige? Power? The Golden Ring? The Holy Grail?

Are the American people pawns in this election process? Sometimes compromises have to be made in order to do the best for the people involved. I urge all of us to consider this as we encounter situations in life. Whether we are running for political or public office, to head school boards, work on city council, lead cities, or simply run school groups, fraternities, sororities or student governments.

If your personal agenda is greater than the people you plan to serve or represent, perhaps you should reconsider, if you have any personal pride or responsibility at all.

BTW: most of the items that I thought were important to running the PTA well have been incorporated and we have seen very positive results. I can say that I have had a hand in changing my environment for the better. So, in the end, I still won. And the children are winning, too. Let's hope our elected officials operate in the same manner.

One Step Away from History (Owning by Proxy)

We were all sitting around the television on Tuesday, January 20th watching President Obama take the oath of office. I didn't have a lot of tears that day--I cried from January to November, so I was pretty dry. The anticipation was very high and it was great to be able to point out important facts to my children and then have the CNN announcer reiterate it. We really wanted to see how Aretha Franklin would represent Detroit. Although we thought it would be too cold for her normal trend of baring most, it was still a topic of discussion.

When she stepped up to the microphone, I knew it in my gut.

She had on a hat from Mr. Song's.

I knew it instinctively because I know I must have at least eight hats from his shop in my closet myself. Most of the church-going women in Detroit have at least one--whether it was a $35 steal from his 50% sale or a $250 steal from that same sale--someone in the congregation has it.

I was very tickled when I read that over 500 orders had come in for the hat and, although Ms. Franklin was very gracious on Larry King and didn't mention the milliner by name, it was breaking news on local television I was told (I have this addiction for CNN and have to remember to watch local news sometimes, although I do read the papers).

The degrees of separation are very tiny between me and a hat that will be in the Smithsonian when I visit it later this year with my children. I'm glad I have decent taste.

My mother in a Mr. Song's hat at my wedding in 1996.

Swimming With Sharks

Intimidation is something that emanates from within. Regardless of the external pressures one faces, the only way they can affect you is to allow them inside.

I worked with a gentleman who was awesome. It was a fabulous learning experience and he was one to push you out of your comfort zone and into another stratosphere. If, however, you faltered or made a small mistake, it could prove fatal. It was like swimming with sharks--bump up against the coral and you are done for.

I moved out of that job and my friend took over. She thought she could handle it, and I knew she could, but I also knew that the position was no place for overconfidence. Now, she is nervous. He is in her head and controlling it. She bumped up against the coral and drew blood.

I am hoping that there is some agent in the water that will coagulate her blood so she can get out of the water before he realizes she is injured.

Moral of the story: do your best and take risks, but keep people out of your head, and be careful while swimming with sharks.

Coon Update? Are you serious?

I wasn't going to add anything else today, but I heard something during today's press conference from the White House that just rubbed me the wrong way.

Robert Gibbs is wrapping up for this week, and a reporter asked about the raccoons. Ok, I am not a fan of the creatures, and it was a strange enough question (but I don't follow day-to-day briefings, and I don't live in D.C., so, outsider am I) but what was stranger was what happened when CNN took the air again.

The reporter says, "And that's the coon update..."

"Coon update?" Really? Are the pun and the irony lost on them?

Ugh. Ugly words from the past. I am sure they didn't mean anything about it, but, oh, it hit me in the gut.

Ugh.

Heroes are Vapors

I was thinking this before the Michael Phelps incident. It was more with respect to President Obama and how over the last few years, being black has become more acceptable. Halle Berry, Denzel Washington, even the reinvention of Will Smith, the expansion of Jada Pinkett Smith, Whoopi Goldberg on The View, and the myriad of African-Americans who are coming to the forefront in media.

They are our new heroes.

But I didn't want to start out that way and make it a race-thing, because it so isn't a race-thing.

It is human nature.

Ok, a little theology here. They lauded Jesus, hinged on his every word. Came to hear him even without the promise of food. They laid palm branches at his feet one week. And they crucified him the next.

So, Michael Phelps is caught photographed with a bong. And he has the integrity (yes, I said integrity) to admit it was him with a real bong (and, I guess, real marijuana...). Suddenly, this young man, who we already know has some developmental/health issues (whatever) and has faced challenges in his life, but has, with the support of his mother, risen to iconic status by winning eight gold medals, is a cheat. He is a bad influence. So, he can't hang out with Tony the Tiger anymore. He is too human to represent America's youth as a flawed hero, but very human enough to represent us with eight gold medals.

Making it more plain: while less than 10% of people will ever participate in the Olympics or win a gold medal, millions smoke or have smoked pot.

I do not justify Phelps' actions. I don't agree with smoking pot recreationally. My problem is that there are many more people out there who have done worse. And have been punished less.

What will this mean for President Obama? While he is hoisted on the shoulders of the world right now, will his star fall from the sky if he makes an unpopular decision? If he sends a Blackberry message that leaks out? Or, God forbid, if he steps out on his wife?

Our heroes pay a huge price for our loyalty. And we pay the price for it as well.

I suggest we reach a little closer to home for our prized possessions. Like the mom who attended Bethune Cookman College while Mrs. Bethune was alive. Or the father who bowled with the Gordy family or assisted the preacher who spread Pentecostalism through Canada. Or the aunt who researched and wrote about the Afro-Canadian church. The cousin who meticulously researches the family past back three and four generations.

Or, for the next generation, the mom who goes back to school and works hard to get her graduate degree so her sons will understand perserverance.

These are our heroes. They make mistakes, but they enrich our lives.

Learning from the "Other" Relatives

What I am about to say is common sense: when you get married, two families come together.

I have been married for more than a decade and, although marriage is old hat to me, lessons learned from raising children and rediscovering each other are always new.

Many of these lessons are learned at weddings and showers, and some are learned at funerals.

Today we attended the funeral of my husband's aunt. He and I were raised very differently, and, I enjoy those differences most of the time. Our family was comprised of many mid-sized and small families--often one to three children, sometimes there was the family with four or five.

On his side of the family, there are many families as well, but most have five, six or seven children. Whew, I say to myself...

And most of his cousins are ministers. Or singers. Or both. That makes for an interesting service.

But one thing I learned from the other side of the family was that I am not alone with my parenting challenges and that there is hope for me to come out of them successfully. I found out that you can get order outs of chaos, that there are other people out there who have been through college and have advanced degrees, and others out there that profess a love for God.

These are not brand new revelations that I got today at the funeral, but I was just able to see it in these people who have come, most from Ohio, to say good-bye to a family matriarch. I learned that one is never too old to learn and that this aunt received her bachelor's degree at the age of 70!

I should have taken my children to the funeral, but they would have had too many questions during the service. Afterwards, they would have been snapped up by well-meaning relatives who want to know the generation that will carry family names and legacies.

It is time to introduce my children to both sides of their family and the great heritage both sides contain.

Merchandising off of Emotion

Why, why, why does it always come to this? Why is money more important than anything to some people?

With the intensity and options cable/satellite/escape TV brings, I find myself watching less and less local news. So, unfortunately, I have begun listening to the radio in order to stay connected to my local roots. Why did they have a story on this morning about a so-called minister who duped a group of children from a local Detroit school into believing he could get them front row tickets to the inauguration and several music gigs (this is a school music group, I believe) as well?

I didn't see it on the local news and I only heard the portion of the report that played, but the major thing today was, "things have to change."

Duh. I mean, we knew that, right? Things have to change. Change we can believe in. Etc.

At issue, the hostess reminded the callers, was who bears the responsibility for checking out this fiasco. Basically, how did it get this far? Callers blamed the school, the duplicitous preacher, the children, but only a few redirected the blame or accountability, if you will, back to the parents.

I am not a poster child for parent of the year. And this situation made me think: would I be gullible enough to listen and kow tow to the pressure of my ten year old or five year olds to do something that seemed ill-advised all in the name of keeping up with the Joneses? Staying current? Being relevant?

I would like to think that I wouldn't. How many times, though, does the child bring a slip of paper (goldenrod is the main color for K-2, it seems) and there isn't enough time taken to read it thoroughly? Or the response is due on Monday and your child throws it at you in the parking lot of the school while there are six cars waiting behind you and whines, "hurry, mom! I need it NOW!"

I would like to think that following up on my child's school activities is more important to me than a business meeting, a conference call, a rendez-vous at Starbucks, or even an additional 15 minutes of sleep in the morning.

I hope I pass the test when it is my turn to take it.

What is great about living in this time

As I was sitting with my boys and family during this week's inaguration activities, I realized what is great about being alive right now.

So many things have changed, even in the last ten years, that make life better, easier and happier. Children don't have to be remote controls, television is on 24 hours a day with more channels, the radio isn't the only thing you can listen to in the car, portable music is more discrete, pay phones are becoming obsolete (germ farms!), and color is fading.

Although I tend to be more conservative than liberal in my thinking and practice, I am happy for President Barack Obama and his team. I didn't have to vote for a black man in this election, I could vote for the person I thought was better for the job.

Now I don't agree 100% with him on everything--I don't agree with anyone that much--but I respect the way he conducted the transition and is beginning this term. I, too, like vigorous debate and refuse to inhabit the place of the 'yes' person, so, for me, engaging rivals is like daily living.

I am praying for his success and the restoration of some basic decency and transparency to American government.

What a great time to be alive!

Hmmm, what am I thinking about right now...?

Ok, so I have been following my college acquaintance, Angela, and her family blog on http://www.graymattersonline.net/ for more than 2 years now. My professor has assigned a blog for my graduate class in film and new media. Additionally, I am renewing my writing projects and resurrecting pages and pages of what seems like ancient writings.

So, I guess I will add a personal blog to my list of things to do.

Traditionally, I resist public displays--not only of affection, but of almost anything. I am especially particular about personal representation and how it is more of an oxymoron because one can't represent oneself alone--you are always an agent for someone or something else. So, I resisted blogging (and even publishing some of my writings) because I don't want it to be tied in to my family, or my church, or, especially at the time, my job. This will be an interesting challenge for me, but I believe it will enhance my writing and keep my thoughts more focused and productive.

This blog is about my thoughts. My ramblings and ruminations, revelations and repetitions will likely appear here--when I remember to share.