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.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
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.
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)
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?
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?
Saturday, February 21, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
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.
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
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.
- The state or quality of being eccentrically variable or fickle.
- An instance of being eccentrically variable or fickle.
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.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, February 6, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)