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.