AFTER THANKSGIVING

So, you decide to cook Thanksgiving dinner, after all. You're going to be out of town, but why not leave food for others to enjoy?
You decide to bake the customary turkey, a sweet potato pie, and cornbread dressing. You prepare gravy, cabbage, and rice. You think macaroni and cheese would be nice, too, but you only have a half a box of elbow macaroni, and a half a bag of Parmesan cheese. This is where lazy you, who doesn't want to go to any grocery store, comes in. You don't argue when the suggestion is made that you go to the nearest KFC drive-through. You purchase 2 large mac and cheese sides, and hustle yourself back home.

You come back from your fantastic working vacation and find that the mac and cheese wasn't a hit. It needs help. No one wanted runny, soupy mac and cheese, so the containers are in the refrigerator---waiting for you...You don't want to throw away food, so you decide to help the mac and cheese become more palatable, and firm--the way you would have done if you hadn't forgotten to buy more macaroni. You boil the half box of elbow macaroni you have (which was part of the reason you went to KFC in the first place) with a quarter of a stick of butter and whatever is left in the bags of frozen mixed peppers, and green peppers and onions you used for the other stuff. You realize that you used all of the celery in the turkey, cabbage and dressing. Wait! There's some Old Bay! The first ingredients in it are celery salt/celery seed! Open the containers of KFC mac and cheese and sprinkle some right on top-- along with onion and garlic powder, and pepper. In a separate bowl you mix one egg, a cup of milk, then, when almost all of the water has boiled out of the elbow macaroni, pour in the KFC Mac and cheese and the shredded Parmesan. Toss in that lone piece of American cheese you found in the fridge, then add the milk/egg mixture and stir it all up right in the pot. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Grease your baking pan with vegetable oil, then pour in the contents of the pot. Spread it all out, and top it with paprika. Then bake until the oil is bubbling and the sides are golden.
I tell ya, doctored KFC mac and cheese is not bad... not bad at all.

It's Monday. The wings and drumsticks are gone. It's probably time to make turkey salad.

TURKEY

It occurred to me that I would be preparing a turkey in my late mother's oven for the first time.
I turned on the upper oven. She would have used the lower one, but it's on the blink.
I took the turkey out of the wrapper. It's huge. I looked for the biggest pot and pan. Fortunately the baking pan that lives in the upper oven was perfect. I looked in the cabinet at all of the spices. Sea salt, pepper, Tony Chachere's creole seasoning, paprika...I started isolating what I would use. I even thought about frying it. I thought I could go out on the patio, and fire up the grill. How ambitious. I knew those options were just thoughts. What if I cut it into parts? Naaah. Leave it whole. Bake it--and plan not to go anywhere.
I washed it, took out the innards and the neck. (I laughed to myself when I recalled the year we went to a family friend's house. My dad was given the honor of carving the turkey when we all heard something like the rattling of paper as the knife went deeper. The host had neglected to take out the innards. She said she didn't know they were in there. No one was anxious to eat turkey after that. Innards still intact in the wax paper bag inside a cooked turkey only meant one thing--the turkey hadn't been washed. )
I combined all of the seasonings and rubbed them into the skin. I washed the neck, gizzards, heart, and liver and put them into a pot. (Gotta make gravy) I took out the frozen peppers and onions--and the onion and garlic powder. Then I saw the rubbed sage. What the heck.
I lined the pan, stuffed the bird with the frozen veggies and celery stalks, cradled it in a gob of aluminum foil, and placed it into the oven...and was sure I'd forgotten something.
Oh yeah. Dilute some clorox in a spray bottle and clean the faucet, counter top, sink, refrigerator door handles and cabinet knobs...anywhere some uncooked turkey juice may have landed. Mommy would have done that.
I miss my mom.

ART SAVES

A former student phoned. That always makes me smile. She'd arranged a school visit for me to teach an Art class, but it was cancelled due to a mix up in scheduling. I was really looking forward to it. 
Does that mean I can't make art today? Heck no. You got time to breathe, you got time to make art...: )

IN THE MORNING...

 

PLATFORMS

"The executioner stands on a stepped platform..." That was all I needed to read. A gallows involves a platform, too.
Not every opportunity to be elevated and seen by the masses will portray an individual in a favorable light. Some platforms are designed and built with destruction in mind. These days, we're trusting comedians to give us serious news, and ministers to give us laughs and ratchetness (under the guise of "keeping it real") No one voluntarily goes to the gallows. No one going to the gallows thinks for one minute that they are in control of anything. To get someone to go voluntarily, the gallows has to be--must be-- camouflaged as something wonderful. What could someone promise you that would make you volunteer to episodically snuff the life out of everything that is dear to you?
Someone realized it is very profitable to seek out gullible, ambitious people and give them platforms, rigged with hidden ropes. They fall for the scheme, and use the ropes to strangle their own reputations, hang their dirty laundry, trip up their families and friends, and tie in knots the good work they've previously done. The new executioner, for some, is reality TV. It demands situations; the more drama and shock, the better. For Christians, reality TV seems to be an even bigger, elevated trap that threatens to take God along for the drop and make Him an irrelevant laughingstock. It's a good thing His reputation is pristine.
Unfortunately, it's not only the cable media that's giving people of faith a place to make fools of themselves, and keeping ever before us the blunders of Christian performers. Where is the first place to get the juicy details of the troubled lives of preaching, teaching, playing and singing ministers of the gospel? TMZ? Nope. One need only look on the pages of Christian radio station websites. I guess they're using any rope that's left over to hang the laundry of the very performers whose music they play.

SATURDAY THOUGHTS: PERSPECTIVES: TRAFFIC STOP

I was heading home Thursday night. I wasn't in a hurry. 

As I approached the intersection, I looked to my left to see if my way was clear. 

The sirens and lights seemed to come out of nowhere— like someone jumping from behind bushes and shouting, "Boo!". 

I was being pulled over. 

For what?

 

The Law Abiding Citizen in me was wondering if I should stop, or continue driving to the police station in Eastover. 

I was so startled that my foot hit the brakes three times before I pulled over to the left, and put the car in park.

My hands were trembling as I searched for my driver's license. 

It never occurred to me to turn on the overhead light. 

I knew the drill. 

Take out your driver's license. 

It was dark. (Darn that Daylight Saving Time). 

“Lord, please let this go well" I thought. "Black or white, please don't let him be a jerk, high on the grand jury's verdict, and looking for someone to harass.“

“What did I do?", I thought, as the officer approached with his flashlight.

I'd made that turn hundreds of times. Apparently, on Thursday night, I didn't stop long enough before I turned on red at the intersection of Indian Head Highway and Livingston Road. 

Cars were passing by, and I was made conspicuous by the flashing lights. Some drivers slowed down. People waved and nodded as if to say, "I'm watching. Don't worry." 

People were walking by. Some of them slowed down. (It’s not uncommon for folks to just hang around, phones in hand, waiting to switch it into camera mode, just in case.)

I looked up into the face of a young, Black officer. He saw my hands. 

I could feel my eyes widening and filling with tears, but couldn't figure out why I was about to cry, and couldn't stop my hands from shaking. 

I asked him if he could direct his flashlight toward my wallet. My driver's license was where it always is, but it was as if I was rifling through a wallet that wasn't mine. 

The look on his face was telling; apologetic even. 

I could almost hear him thinking. 

"I've frightened this woman, and I don't want to be frightening. That's not why I became a police officer." 

He took my license, when I finally found it, came back to the car and said, "It's okay Ma'am. Calm down. It's just a routine stop. Happens all the time".

 

I wanted to tell him, "Not to me", but I kept my mouth shut. 

"Just be careful back there next time, okay?" 

I took his warning, and he went back to his cruiser. 

I was glad the light was red, because I needed to gather myself. I headed home so slowly everyone was whizzing by me.

When I got inside I was still rattled. 

I sat down— then realized that potato chips are my drug of choice. I immediately reached for the bag. 

I killed that bag of Utz. You know, the one you're supposed to share with at least 14 other people. 

I turned it up in the most unladylike way, and downed every crumb. I hate to admit how much better I felt. 

Then, I thought about why I had reacted so emotionally. 

Injustice, arrogance, and bullying is everywhere. 

I'd inhaled the news stories. 

I'd seen the images. 

I'd shaken my head. 

I'd been baffled. 

I'd seen Twitter and Facebook posts. 

I was absorbing the frustration and unfairness, but hadn't let it out. 

Being pulled over was just an added insult to all of the indirect injury.
I realized that the unrest in the country has affected me. 

The sadness and mourning of families, and the public trashing of reputations was bothering me. 

The bullies, manipulators, instigators, and liars seemed to be winning.

I want to care, but I don't want to be afraid, rattled, or angered over headlines every day. 

I don't want to be afraid when it comes to law enforcement officers. 

My father had been a Federal Protective Officer. 

I am of the "Officer Friendly" generation. 

I have nephews. Handsome, young African American males who are outstanding students, athletes, and responsible, respectful sons. 

Law enforcement officers are not obligated to love them, like I do, though. I am concerned about how they are viewed by those who legally bear arms, and are tasked to protect and serve. 

I have reason to be very vested in how case after case of brutality and excessive use of force are resolved. My nephews have to know the drill. They have to get the old-school speeches and advice:

1. There is a way to go out in to the world, maintain integrity and respect, and self-worth--and remain alive."

2. "Do the right thing."

3. "Don't be a dummy."

4. "Know when to shut up."

5. "Let your parents defend you."

6. "Watch your attitude."

7. "Avoid confrontation."

8. "Walk away."

9. "Don't take the law into your own hands."

10. "Know where you are. Check your surroundings."

11. "Don't be found where you don't belong."

12. "If you're going to do something, let it be your idea. Don't be a follower."

13. "If you see trouble that way, go the other way."

14. "Get your education. You need that piece of paper. It's your ticket out."

15. "You have to be twice as good; twice as smart."

16. "Have a purpose. Don't just hang around like you're up to no good."

17. "Know where you're going."

18. "Know when to turn it on, and when to turn it off..."

19. "If you're right, I've got your back. If you're wrong, you're on your own".

People get tired of being on their best behavior and still being hated, targeted, misjudged, and demonized. It's infuriating and offensive.

It was just a "routine" traffic stop, but it occurred to me that my response, too, was riddled with offense. 

When you're doing the right thing, why are you still bothered by, or suspicious to anyone? 

Weren't there real criminals out and about, whose disdain for the law could have used those sirens and lights more than me? 

Wasn't there a crime taking place somewhere that warranted the young officer's time and attention? 

Why pick on law-abiding me? 

There I was. Mighty glad that police officers exist, but not at all happy that one had stopped me. 

Had I kept my foot on the brake a millisecond longer, maybe I'd be blogging about something else--something frivolous like the terrific savings I got by using my CVS Extra Care card...or the Atomic Fireballs that were in stock. 

I was in a good mood, too, when I left the Rivertowne CVS, and headed home. 

Those lights and sirens successfully disturbed my peace, and gave me a police story. 

Fortunately, mine ended well.

When I was younger, I remember my Dad saying, "A Black man's life ain't worth nothin' in this country." 

He has many justifiable reasons to feel that way as an octogenarian born in the deep South. 

He was elated when Senator Obama became President Obama, and joined the chorus of voices that declared, "I never thought I'd see this in my lifetime". 

Even as President Obama continues to lead, however, my Dad's words about the worth of Black life seem to have a regularly occurring ring of truth.

 

My own reaction last night, to a situation that IS routine, didn't diminish my hope that everything-- every offensive occurrence-- stops boiling down to race. 

It did let me know that I am still referring and deferring to the speeches and adages of my parents and grandparents, concerning my behavior as a Black person in America: 

"Be polite."

"Be calm."; 

"Put your best foot forward"; 

"Don't make any waves.";

" Always be on your best behavior."; 

"Don't worry about what people say. You know who you are".

Perhaps, on Thursday night I was an example of the "acceptable", "non-threatening" Black person I'd been coached to be. 

Back in the day, it was all about staying alive, keeping the peace, and making it home. 

We learned that you could be demanding the respect you deserved as a human being, and exercising your rights as an American citizen, but be just as dead. 

Our elders knew the drill. 

Play the docile role, then go home--alive--and laugh about it. 

Racism didn't diminish them. It was motivation to pray for people who hated, and sought to manipulate them. 

Their oppressors' fate (if the God they served was really just) was more frightening then any ignorant, hurtful thing they could do or say.

I learned the drill. It's still there. 

Broadcast news and social media is proving that we can't put the lessons away just yet. 

We have to dust them off, and reintroduce them. 

It’s a nice song, but we haven't overcome. 

There is no post-racial America. Not yet. 

The Race race is still in full swing. 

Those angry mobs. of the 60's, had children...and their children had children...and not everyone abandoned the mores of their parents and grandparents. 

People still need someone to blame for the systems they put in place that have backfired. 

Race is still an issue, and perhaps, it will always be. 

I wonder if our methods of fighting back are effective, though. 

We've abandoned the Apostle Paul's declaration in his letter to the Corinthians: 

"For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh, for the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but divinely powerful for the destruction of fortresses. We are destroying speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of God, and we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ..."

It was good to see a Black officer. I think. 

Should it matter? 

I know they exist, but we weren't buddies. 

There was no slapping five, secret handshake, or hip verbal exchange when we saw each other. 

One wrong move during my "routine" experience; one defiant word; one appearance of indignant, loud, neck-snapping, lip-smacking, Ebonics-fluent, finger-waving, uncooperative angry Black woman, and things would have ended very differently.

I imagine that there are some caring, well-meaning police officers who are just as cautious, nervous, and bewildered as the citizens they're bound to protect and serve. 

They just want to do their jobs, do them well, and go home alive, too. 

They believe the law is truly for the lawless. 

They do respect the citizens of the cities and towns where they work. 

They don't lead with their weapons. 

They do know how to communicate respectfully. 

They aren't bullies with badges.

I think I encountered one, but one is not enough.

FRIENDSHIP AND OPPORTUNITIES

There was a time in my life when I was athletic, but I have never been aggressive, ambitious, or competitive. What I have been is very blessed. 

I guess God knew what was on my horizon. 

I know there’s a bit of shyness and some rejection issues, too, so He's had a tendency to just drop stuff in my lap to get me going...and that stuff opened doors to other stuff that kept, and keeps me going. 

God is a real confidence builder...(and of course, my mother insisted on niceness--although I find the older I get, "nice" is sometimes perceived as gullible, blindly trusting, and air headed. People think you're just going to roll over, not call them on their inappropriate behavior, or not speak up for yourself...but I digress).

I trust God to take care of me. I just do. There is never a time that I doubt that He will. He has such a good track record. I don't scrape, scratch, fight for, or bulldoze others for opportunities. I'm never looking for a hook up. That's way too much work. I'm not waiting and hoping for someone to die, or have an emergency tracheotomy. That's just evil. 

The key is to do your best. Frankly, that's all you CAN do, and if that's not good enough over here, God's got other stuff over there.

I'm a witness (and every opportunity will not come from those who LOOK like you do.)

I've always liked playing games--board games; card games, that is--but not PEOPLE games. Sometimes, having discernment can yield disappointing information, but it is necessary. You need to see some things, whether you want to or not. Sometimes, what you see is that everyone is not a friend. Manipulative opportunists are loyal to no one. They'll either befriend you in order to access someone with whom you are acquainted, to get information, or to assume your position. 

Everyone is not a friend. Don't let anyone even think they have the power to gauge/control the strength of your relationships--definitely not by using your gifts, talents, or livelihood. Protect those.

If they're your good friend, they'll:
1. know your name
2. be honest
3. never sit silently as someone demeans you or lies about you
4. never try to drive wedges between you and your other friends or loved ones
5. never cheat you
6. celebrate you, and not constantly compete with you
7. never expect you to accept and be appreciative of what they would never allow or tolerate
8. never withhold pertinent information
9. never allow you to be blindsided
10. never try to beat you out of opportunities by promoting themselves
11. care less about your list of contacts
12. never treat your livelihood as if it is their hobby.

13. know your worth, and check you if it looks like you’ve forgotten.

There are lots of tables and rooms. Make sure the places you choose to sit, and enter are in your best interest. Never be so pressed to be in the number that you’re not honest with yourself, paying attention to red flags, or being authentic. 

It’s horribly cliché, but what’s for you, is for YOU.

SAY SOMETHING

I was so happy to read about the mother who tracked down the theater patron whose experience had been ruined by her daughters. The theater patron wasn't afraid to confront the girls about their abysmal behavior. It made me think that there are still villagers who haven't abandoned the authority that villagers used to relish. These days, one takes one's feelings, and maybe, one's life in one's hands if one dares to say something when one sees something amiss.
I recalled a time when I did see something, but kept quiet. Although I stood long enough, thinking my presence would send the young lady in the direction of the bus stop, it didn't. I noticed the tell tale uniform, She should have been on her way to school, instead she was consenting to being groped in public. Was it young love? I guess. She didn't seem to be in any danger---except maybe of missing pertinent information in an English or Science class. There she was up against the iron fence just laughing away. Passersby and me were seeing, but not saying. I went to the mailbox, thinking, once again, my presence would be a deterrent. Nope.
It had been chillier than I thought when I headed out for my walk that morning. I decided I would go inside, grab a heavier coat and go back out and confront the young lady. As I walked, I thought of what to say. Would I pretend to know her, or her mom? How would I get her attention? Ask for directions? What would I do--what could I do to avoid getting cursed out? What route would I take? I could say: "Hey! Aren't you supposed to be on your way to school?" "Don't you think you're going to be late?" "Young lady, if he really cared about you, he wouldn't be groping you in broad daylight like that." "What if your parents just happened to drive by?" "Have more respect for yourself, surely he has none." "Have a mind of your own. You know this is not where you're supposed to be."
By the time I got inside, grabbed my coat, and looked out the window to see if they were still there, they were gone. My heart sank. I looked toward the bus stop. They weren't there. Had they walked up the hill? Had they decided to go to school? Had they gotten into a car? I worried about her. Maybe a passerby said something. Maybe she was on her way to the guy's house and not even thinking about school. Would I even recognize them if I saw them again? Should I have phoned the school and suggested they detain all late students, and contact the parents of the absent ones? Why had I hesitated?  Maybe the angst I felt was more about me than the young lady. I suppose we all have times, upon which we can reflect; decisions we've made and wished someone--anyone--would have said something.

DREAMS

Before sunrise, I woke from my dream.
In it, a very tall man came to visit someone in my house, and he was accompanied by a little boy. I noticed that the man was dark, but the little boy was fair. He lay the little boy down on a bed while he went into another part of the house. I could hear that the little boy was fretful and restless, so I got up, walked into the living room, picked him up, and walked to the window. He seemed to calm down as I pointed out the trees, cars, and anything else outside the window that I thought would take his mind off of whatever was bothering him. The tall man came into the living room, thanked me for calming him, and took him from my arms. As they left, the little boy turned and waved. Only then did I notice how blue his eyes were. I waved back, closed the door, and decided to move the bed later. As I passed my laptop, I noticed several keys missing, but didn't seem to mind.

DREAMS

I was invited to give remarks at some pastor's celebration. 

Before I spoke, there was a solo on the program. The lady sang from her seat in the back of the room. She had on a veil and wedding dress. When she finished singing, different people in the room started saying, "It's your turn", and "Vanessa! Go on up". I didn't realize, as I was walking to the dais, that all of the adults in the room had left. When I looked up, there was a room full of children and teens. They were kind of heckling me--not maliciously, but I didn't feel like dealing with it. I didn't even try to make them stop. I just skipped the speech, left the dais and walked out of the door. I was walking through the building and it looked a lot like my old school in some ways, except the ceilings were extremely high. When I finally found an exit door it seemed like a loading dock. I remember how well I was walking in my heels on the gravel road. Behind me, Ving Rhames was on a cell phone talking really loud about some Chinese person who he thought was about to take over business in P.G. County. I kept walking, rounded a corner near a fence where I thought the car was, and realized I hadn't come out the same way I went in, so the car wasn't there. A group of people near a gas station offered to help me, and so I walked with them...Then I woke up.

THOUGHTS

It's nice to be considered, referred, or recommended, especially when you consider the people that others know. Your name need never come up in conversation, but when and if it does, there's something humbling about it. The down side is when your name comes up only in those times when: 1. People are seeking something for nothing.
2. The budget miraculously doesn't include your part of the work.
3. Everyone else has been exhausted.
4. Someone is seeking to earn points at your expense.
Never strain your friendships by disrespecting, devaluing, or prematurely promising the labor of your friends. What your friends do to maintain a living is not your hobby to be used or farmed out whenever you please. They may very well do "it" for you, whatever "it" is, but don't make a habit out of using people to remain in the good graces of, or to impress others. Who you know is not nearly as important as how you treat them and regard their time, energy, resources, and talent. What will be memorable is the completed work, not your maneuvering and scheming to get it done for little or nothing...and there's a real possibility that, at the conclusion of the work, new friendships will be formed based on mutual respect--personally and professionally--which will leave no room for repeat opportunists or serial users.

THOUGHTS

Be selective about those who represent you. Everyone is neither authorized to speak for nor negotiate for you, nor should they--especially if they've demonstrated, in subtle ways, that don't respect you or your wishes.

Want to know if someone is available or capable? Ask them, not someone you think may know. Going directly to the source, or the source's designated representative, is always best. Waiting on someone to share information, when they don't really want you to have it, can be frustrating. Knowing how to find information for oneself is liberating. One should know the status of everything concerning oneself. It is not a sign of mistrust or paranoia to ask questions. It's when people are less than forthcoming with answers and details that one's own fact finding skills spring into action.

Let truth empower you, no matter how disappointing or challenging it may be. Knowledge is always better than ignorance.
Figuring out what it benefits a person to create strife or distance between you and others is actually quite motivating. An offense or affront is not always necessary for someone to behave maliciously toward you. There are those you don't even see or hear from, on a regular basis, whose aim is that you rise no higher than your current status, and if you do, they will assume the credit.

Having nice, long, revealing conversations with people who have been walking around with a skewed perception of you, thanks to the words of someone who hates, resents, seeks to control, or has placed themselves in some weird competition with you, is eye opening. Truth is a great beginning of new, beneficial personal and working relationships and opportunities---relationships and opportunities that someone has worked awfully hard to block.
Deceived is the individual who believes that their resources or circle of influence crowns them lord over the lives of others--especially those who actually know and love THE Lord. It is God's word that opens doors and keeps them open--in spite of the attempts of others to weld them shut.

CAREGIVER DIARIES: BUSYBODIES, SCAMMERS, AND SCHEMES

 

A few days ago, I was in the middle of scrambling eggs when a vehicle pulled into the driveway. 

(I detest the drop-in) 

"Are you expecting someone?", Dad asked. 

I immediately turned off the burners on the stove. 

I was not exactly camera ready. I wasn't even "run outside and get the paper" ready. I was perfectly dressed for sweeping the porch. 

I'd just stepped into the living room when I heard the woman's voice. "Hey! Did you make a copy of your ID for me?" 

Dad said no. 

"Well that's okay, I can do it at the church. Just give it to me". 

Dad was rummaging through his wallet to find his driver's license when I abandoned the reality that I looked like a complete troll, and went back into the kitchen. 

I said "Good morning", and then asked what she needed his ID for. 

She smirked, didn't answer, and looked at him. 

I guess she was waiting for him to silence me, or tell me to mind my business. 

(These days, he IS my business.) 

She seemed awfully offended that I asked what her intent was. He interjected that she was going to bring him a Thanksgiving basket. 

"From the church?" I asked. 

I then asked her why she needed a copy of the driver's license of a person who had been a member of the church since the early 90's. She knew his name, his age, and where he lived. Practically everyone at his church knows him. He'd been a deacon and Sunday school teacher for years! What changed? 

He informed me that she was with the SHARE program. 

I'm familiar with SHARE. Anyone can participate. I've purchased SHARE boxes in the past. It made me wonder, even more, why she needed his ID.

I reminded her that she had brought items to him before. I thought she'd purchased them, and was just being nice. The first time she dropped in, she brought a bag of apples. The last time she dropped in, she brought several small bottles of Ocean Spray blueberry juice, and a package of whiting fillets. 

I asked again. "Why do you need his ID?" 

She asked me if I wanted her to answer, or if I was waiting for him to tell me what he wanted to do. 

I told her I'd like an answer from her, since she was a representative of the church. I wasn't exactly understanding her snarkiness, and she didn't seem to be able, or willing to manufacture a reasonable answer. Had she not acted with integrity when she'd brought food items in the past? Had it been her food to give? What part of showing up unannounced at a person's home to take their ID away (for ANY reason) made sense to her? She wasn't a law enforcement officer, she was a SHARE volunteer!

What made it all worse, my Dad didn't even know the lady's name! 

"She's from the church"would have been sufficient in so many scenarios--on the church parking lot maybe; in line at the grocery store, but not this one. 

When I asked again what she needed the ID for, she said flippantly, "That's just how we do things". 

I didn't know who "we" were, but told her that "we" wouldn't be "doing things" like that today, or any other day. My Dad was not going to relinquish his ID. 

There was something quite inappropriate about the whole thing. I could understand if he was incapacitated and alone, but he was not. 

Under whose authority was she acting? 

I told him that if he wanted to get a Thanksgiving basket, he could make those arrangements on the premises of his church. He could have done it Sunday! Churches are notorious for sign-up sheets! Why did she need to come to his home? Was there something she needed to assess? Where was HER ID? What made her think she was going to leave with his? 

She seemed flustered and frustrated, and not at all happy with me. I didn't care. She looked at my Dad as if I was standing in the way of some huge windfall. 

Oh well", she said manipulatively. "If she doesn't want me to take it, then I won't." 

(I just LOVE it when busybodies refer to me as "she" with that snarky tone that FURTHER lets me know they are up to no good.) 

That ID was leaving here over my dead, troll-looking body. 

With her hand still extended, she waited to see if he would overrule me. 

"Dad, you just don't give your ID to anyone, and certainly not for them to leave your home and make copies of it. For a background check maybe, but for a Thanksgiving basket? No way. I'll call the church."

He put his ID back into his wallet. With that, she mumbled a goodbye and left.

I could tell that he thought she was trying to help him, and do a good thing. He is neither destitute, poor, needy, nor hungry. If the church routinely gives Thanksgiving baskets to it's senior members, that's absolutely wonderful, but don't they know who they are? Why does the church need a person's government issued ID unless the program from which the baskets come is a government program? Why? Unless the baskets must be paid for, or people have to prove their age or need, and the church (which has a rich history of being fiscally responsible) has to account for every item distributed, why is the ID necessary? 

I have NO problem with anyone who wants to be nice or generous to any member of my family. 

What one will NOT do, is tangle any member of my family up in what is tantamount to fraud.

I reminded Dad of times he trusted someone he didn't know, and relinquished information he shouldn't have. I felt as if I was chastising him, and it was uncomfortable. It's amazing how roles slowly change when you're a caregiver. Dad has always been sharp and quick witted. He has never been one to be manipulated, and doesn't trust easily. Why was he so ready to relinquish his ID? What bill of goods had the lady sold him at church? Why had she felt so comfortable about coming to his home, and confident that she would leave with his ID? 

Then I remembered her very first visit. The doorbell rang late one evening. My Dad asked me if I was expecting anyone when I headed to the door. I told him I wasn't. Even he seemed a bit annoyed.

A woman with a boot on her foot had just hobbled off of the porch, and was headed to her car when I opened the door. "Can I help you?" I asked. 

She rattled off her name, said she was there to see Dad, and came in. She took off her shoe at the door, but of course, due to her injury, told me she had to keep the boot on. Dad appeared in the doorway of the sunroom where he had been resting. She began calling him "Pop" and "Poppy" in the most unnatural way. It was a bit embarrassing when he asked, "Now, who are you?" 

She said she came by to borrow his phone book...and that's what earned her a spot on The Busybody List...that and the fact that when she left, he asked me if I remembered what her name was.

Busybodies are interesting, amusing creatures. Their darting eyes, nervous laughter, and sudden stuttering, identifies them. There's nothing fluid about their movements. They're loud, too. They think their intrusiveness is acceptable. Too bad they can't manage to make up a good excuse for their presence. They do first, and ask later, rendering a lot of their effort a waste of time. They don't generally think past getting their foot in the door. Once inside, its clear they don't know what to say.

Phone book.

Wow.

I wonder who The Busybody Committee will send next.

I am sooooooooooooooooo tired of people scamming, using, hoodwinking, and taking advantage of seniors! They tend to be responsible; pay their bills on time; demonstrate a willingness to help; and eager to save a dollar. Crooks know this. Dad has lost money, and has had to switch back to his former home security, telephone, and electricity utilities because he trusted unscrupulous people. Church people should operate according to a higher standard, but then, they're people, too.

I will NEVER apologize for advocating for a vulnerable person whether we are related or not. If that means I am unfriendly in the eyes of some people...well... good.

PAY ATTENTION TO THE SENIORS IN YOUR LIFE!!!!!!!!! 

Pay attention, particularly if they have a history of being generous, trusting, and embracing an open door policy. For some reason, people feel they don't have to respect the home of a senior citizen. They feel they can just pop in any time, and it's probably because it's a bad habit that been allowed, and never challenged.

I'm so glad I was at home. Who knows where Dad's ID would have ended up, and what fire my siblings and I would have to put out tomorrow.

We are STILL trying to get his money back from Northstar Security (and I'm beginning to think we should forget about it ever seeing it again). Two guys came in and said they were with ADT. Before Dad knew it, he was no longer an ADT customer, and was stuck with a worthless alarm system, and a monthly bill. 

Seniors tend to be trusting and gracious. Advocates for them don't have to be the least bit polite to the hell-bound individuals who attempt to take advantage of them.

Are you acting in the name of your place of worship? Remember, the person who will be held responsible for what you do is YOUR PASTOR. He or she may not even KNOW what you are doing--but the people who will question your actions (and the results of them) may not bother with that little detail. They'll just point fingers at the pulpit, and wonder what he or she was ingesting or inhaling when you were appointed. Jesus chose Judas KNOWING what HE was going to do. Pastors choose people to serve without the benefit of supernatural knowledge, or a divine plan, and often get questioned and blamed. It's unfair. Don't misuse your authority. Don't give your church, or the ministry over which you have been GIVEN authority a bad name. Don't call into question the integrity of your church's outreach programs. Follow proper procedures. If partnerships, money, or other resources are involved, stick to the script...and for the umpteenth time: If you don't want your feelings hurt,

 DO NOT ATTEMPT TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF SENIOR CITIZENS!!!!

UGH.

CONFRONTATION

It occurred to me that I will go to bat for others, but haven't always done so for myself. Somewhere, someone is trying to get over on, use, or take advantage of someone else. Ugh. I really hate it when people try to make others look bad. Some people get started early in the morning.

I hate arguments, fights, and all manner of disagreement. I don't even have to be in the throes of it; people don't even have to be talking to me, but if contention is in the vicinity I can feel it. It takes too much out of me. I know it doesn't have to be. 
I will walk away first, and have walked away from many things and people, frankly because it was easier than trying to either get someone to hear me, wait for someone in authority to right an obvious wrong, or deal with difficult people. Walking away was always easier than dealing with a bully, or remaining in a situation that was unfair or untenable. It's funny how people are appalled that you don't want to deal with, or accept what they would NEVER allow. You can be punished for speaking up, but if eradicating unnecessary grief and conflict is the result, speak on.

I am a huge fan of peace, harmony, and people who get along and see the tremendous benefit of unity. So many situations could be so much better if not for the penchant of some to keep confusion going. Unfortunately, it continues to go and grow because no one dares to confront and stop it. Everyone is waiting for someone in charge, or a responsible party to say, or do something. No one thinks it's their place to speak up. No one wants to make things worse, get involved, risk their spot, or hurt anyone's feelings. It's ridiculous, so stuff goes on for years, until someone, who previously saw themselves as powerless, has had enough, and finally does something about it. (Read "Yertle the Turtle: by Dr. Seuss. I swear, that Theodor Geisel was a prophet.) 

Confrontation can be costly, strenuous, and time consuming. It kinda reminds me of the bamboo that was overrunning my dad's back yard. It looked harmless at first--pretty even--but over time, it spread out of the yard, pushed past the fence, and grew so densely across the width and length of the sidewalk, that pedestrians and bicyclists couldn't access about 25 feet of it, nor could you even see down the street unless you were standing in the street. Sure. Someone came with tools and spend a whole day cutting the bamboo and weeds down and hauling it all away, but there are still sharp remnants of the stalks at ground level. It's possible to walk in the area, but one's choice of footwear had better come with some nice thick soles. That bamboo has to be dug up--the roots have to be confronted--or it's just going to return as thick and wild as ever.

I have never been a fan of confrontation. As I age, I'm learning that one cannot afford NOT to be. You don't have to yell or scream, or lose your Jesus card, but a lot of things can be quashed in an instant. 
Why is it that when others speak up and confront incompetence, unfairness, dishonesty, laziness, etc., it's considered assertiveness but when you speak up--using exponentially less volume and attitude than they ever do-- it throws people into a tizzy? "OMG! What's wrong with her/him?" The same thing that would be wrong with you if you were in their shoes. 
Someone told me they noticed my fuse was a little short. Maybe it's because they've never known me to have a fuse at all. What they witnessed was me doing was what I know they would never do. They would NEVER sheepishly accept substandard, poor service that came with a side of attitude. They would never accept "there's nothing I can do about it" when they know that something can and must be done. Unfortunately, speaking up for oneself when it hasn't been one's habit, may make others uncomfortable and even angry. The signal that you will no longer be accepting crap puts people on notice. Those who have historically dished crap on your plate, expected you to like it, and thought you didn't see or smell it, don't exactly like that you are now sending that plate back. Speaking up for oneself is neither a tantrum nor an outburst. Don't let anyone con you into thinking it is just to shut you up. Speaking up makes you neither a diva nor an angry black woman, (or an angry whatever your melanin condition may be) but it seems so to someone who expects you to take whatever they think you deserve. When you speak up, it exposes schemes. Sometimes, when deciding who won't say anything, who will go along to get along, who won't make any waves, who will settle for less, you're the person who pops up first the minds of others. It could be your fault. It's true. You teach people how to treat you. If one has always been agreeable no matter what, something as simple as asking a legitimate question, or requiring that someone do even the basics of their job, can be a problem. Everyone else can advocate for themselves, but the second that the person who's always been motivated by mercy, dares to speak up, people get defensive, offended, and even condescending. When the quiet person speaks up, you better know that something is wrong--and it has been wrong, perhaps, for a very long time.

There have been times when it just didn't seem as if I should have had to explain myself--times when my intentions, track record, or skill should have never been questioned, because I thought someone knew me better. There have been times when people sat idly by and listened to a lie, knew the truth, but chose to remain silent because there was a position, opportunity, or relationship at stake. I used to think that confrontation was pointless and a waste of time. It was easier to just let people think they were right, have their opinion, cut ties and walk away. Then, finding out what they had to SAY, or continued to say while I chose to remain silent, was not only eyeopening, but hurtful and disappointing. What's worse is that lies and misinformation are believed. To cover their indiscretions or elevate themselves, people will have other people thinking you're disabled, unavailable, incompetent, and out of commission. They'll paint you crazy, lazy, a bitch AND a witch. They'll spin a thing so that they end up smelling like a rose, and you smell like the runoff from Blue Plains Treatment Plant. If they know you'll never say anything, or don't think you're aware of what has been said, (because you don't generally travel in the same circles), their narrative will live on as fact. Do you defend yourself, or do you just chill and wait for God to handle it as only he can? I've seen his work, so I've learned to wait.

My grandmother used to say, "A dog that will bring a bone, will carry one." In other words, you kinda have to wonder why people tell you certain things, and what information they're hoping to get from you that they're itching to share with someone else. This world is small. You never know who is acquainted with whom. it would be prudent, but you don't have to watch what you say and to whom. This is America. Embellish, fail to think about the consequences of your words, but it's probably very difficult to eat crow with a cracked face.
I appreciate, to the Moon and back, a person who will boldly stand up for someone else in the face of gossip, misinformation, or unfair criticism. Someone did that for me recently, and I haven't even known them very long. They risked their role in a lucrative opportunity by refuting the disparaging words of an influential someone who isn't accustomed to being corrected or challenged by the "yes men" and mindless brown nosers that occupy their circle. Fortunately, there are those who will be on the side of right and truth no matter what. They aren't so enamored with personalities, desperate to participate, or so thirsty for relationships/hook-ups that they'll condone the assassination of another person's character, reputation, or work. They'll speak up. They won't just sit silently and listen to someone lie about what was done or said--especially if they were there and know what really happened.

Some things you can ignore. Some things really are no big deal. Some things, however, need to be addressed as immediately as possible, or they'll grow into some uncontrollable monster, the destruction of whom, will require more muscle than you have at your disposal. Confrontation is a spotlight that will bring clarity. It will expose liars, manipulators, busybodies, the insecure, and the arrogant. It will force people to either be honest, look at themselves, reconsider their words and behavior towards others, or shut all the way up, crawl away, and curl up in a fetal ball of guilt and shame. Confrontation will correct, and properly edit the narrative so that TRUTH is disseminated. It will, in the words of the great philosopher, Barney Fife, "Nip it in the bud"---whatever "IT" is. 

I know that Relacore commercial by heart. I almost ordered some, but something told me, "You don't need Relacore. You need to speak up. What people think about you when, and after you do, is their business". 
When your cause is just, the more you speak up, the easier it will be, and the less stress you will experience. There's no need to walk around wondering "why?" or "what for?". Want certain situations to stop once and for all? 
Follow the advice I got from an old friend: "Stop running and confront". I promise you'll feel better.