vanessa: ideas and images

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

2012-03-05T15:47:00.000-05:00

This day, 53 years ago, my parents married. I can imagine the plans that would have been made for this evening, flowers ordered, the cards, the special meal.
It's hard to believe it's been 9 years since my Mom died.
I stared at this photo for a long time today, and miss that pretty lady. Seeing the smile on her face lets me know I still have much to celebrate. Life tops the list.

IF YOU SEE SOMETHING...

2012-03-05T15:42:00.000-05:00

Almost every day, no matter what the weather, a little before 8 A.M., a white van pulls up and parks on a side street. Casually dressed, and disheveled men and women walk down the hill, cross the street or seemingly wander out of the park and congregate around it for varying periods of time. No one takes anything away in boxes or bags as they leave.

*******

It's after one o'clock in the morning. The sound of a dial box is heard. Then from outside, a woman's slurred yelling is heard. "Can you open the door?!" The main door slams. She passes where she used to live, and ascends the stairs to a level where only one person resides. She commences banging on doors on every floor. One person inquires from the inside without opening their door. "Were you asleep? Did I disturb you? You got a few dollars?" A muffled angry reply is heard, then a door slams. More door banging. No one answers. She leaves the building and goes to the bus stop. After a while, a car pulls up. She crosses the street and gets into it. The car's lights go out. She remains inside for about 10 minutes. She exits. The car goes in one direction, she goes back to the bus stop.

*******

Two guys wearing all black, with hoods covering their heads, walk around a parked car. They look from side to side. One crosses the street. One stays near the car. Every time someone walks by, they seem stop. They walk to an adjacent street where another car is parked. From it, they retrieve a jack. They come back to the original car and, unsuccessfully attempt to jack it up. A woman and her child are exiting their car. They walk up to the woman who seems frightened. They talk, then leave. She hurries to get her things from her car, takes her child by the hand and goes into her building. They guys go back to the car. One opens the door and retrieves a long, metal tool. They go back to the curbside and try once again to jack up the car. They've been going through the motions for a while, yet the car never elevates.

******

A car pulls up and parks. A guy walks down the hill and enters the back seat of the car. He remains inside for a few minutes. He exits. The car leaves. He walks quickly in the same direction the car has traveled.

*****

It's a school day. It's after 9 A.M. A group of uniformed kids is heading in a direction where there is no school. As they walk, they occasionally look back. They adjust their hoodies to obscure their faces. Some have backpacks. Some don't.

Harmless, explainable circumstances? Serious issues that deserve a 911 call? Or could it be proof that you are turning into your neighborhood's modern day version of Mrs. Kravitz?

WATCH YOUR STEP

2012-02-27T13:56:00.002-05:00

The weather is so pleasant today! It's positively BEAUTIFUL outside. I decided to stop looking out of the window and admiring it all from the inside out.
The flatbed truck had caught my attention earlier in the day. I wondered if a car was about to be towed. Then another truck arrived with dirt in its bed and parked on our side of the street. A third truck with a long slide/funnel attached showed up. Could they be landscapers? ( I have to say, of everything to be done in a neighborhood, the lawn care around here has not been lacking.) Would they be pouring cement? Dirt? I'd noticed the temporary "No Parking" signs posted across the street, too.
A little after noon, I decided to take a walk. My walk had a dual purpose. Exercise was one. Operation "Are they going to repair the grassway, easement, arborway, berm, verge, nature strip, parkway, boulevard" or whatever we Washingtonians call the grassy area between the sidewalk and the curb?", was the other. I was excited by the prospect of beautification. No sense in allowing Lady Bird Johnson's dream for the area to die, right? If not for the eroded eyesore, the street, which was newly excavated and paved recently, would be lovely.
We've been witnessing the steady erosion on our street for years. I still don't understand why, when the new sidewalk was constructed, the area next to it was not touched. Why on earth would we want to see the SIDE of the sidewalk? Is there not some kind of living, grassy carpet that could be rolled onto the area? What is the point of having a sidewalk if, after you cross it, you have to take a short, potentially ankle-breaking, knee-twisting trek through varying depths of depressions and exposed tree roots just to get to your car, or cross the street? One shouldn't need a boost or helping hand from the grass to the sidewalk. They're adjacent to each other and, in a perfect world, are flush, level, and in no way treacherous.

I've always wondered who or what agency is responsible for the grassway, easement, arborway, berm, verge, nature strip, parkway, boulevard. Would I be in big trouble if I went to Home Depot and bought sod and seed, or contracted that nice landscaping company on Oxon Hill Road?
Every time there is substantial rainfall, because of the steepness of many hilly streets east of the river, as the water rushes downhill, the trenches get deeper and deeper. Now, in some spots along the over 150 feet from the middle of the street to the intersection, you can actually see the UNDERSIDE of the sidewalk.
I'm hoping that the workers will return soon. Maybe the guys who worked today weren't contracted to handle our dilemma, but they definitely saw it. I'm hoping to see "no parking" signs on our side of the street, soon, and lush, green grass where grass is supposed to be. Some flowers would be nice, too. Tulips.
We've been fortunate not to have much snowfall this winter. In the past, in those deeper areas of the grassway, easement, arborway, berm, verge, nature strip, parkway, boulevard, it was hard to know just how deep one's foot would go on that first step.
All of that aside, I enjoyed my short walk and the warm weather. However, I'll leave maneuvering the terrain of the grassway, easement, arborway, berm, verge, nature strip, parkway, boulevard to the squirrels, for now.
By the way, what DO we call it in DC?

BLACK GIRLS

2012-02-27T02:46:00.005-05:00

Yes. I was rooting for them, too. The little Black girl in me is always happy to see intelligent, poised, positive role models who look like her. She used to be excited to see Black people on TV. She remembers when a street kickball game could end instantly if someone yelled that there were Black people on TV. She watched "Julia" and "Christy Love" and Eartha Kitt as Catwoman on "Batman". She watched "Soul Train", "The Bill Cosby Show", "Room 222". She still has her Black History scrapbook from 4th grade.
She doesn't know Viola or Octavia, but she was hoping to hear BOTH of their names tonight, just because. She isn't mad that only one of them won. Every time a camera panned to either one of them as she watched the Oscars, she felt awfully proud. Viola and Octavia are just the kind of ladies that Miss Lenora Hall would have instructed her 4th graders to research. Miss Hall would have suggested that the class clip EVERY newspaper article about them and paste them in their "Noted Blacks in American History" scrapbook. "There are so many things that are not in our books, Class", she would say. "Every now and then, we are going to put them down. When Black people do anything of any significance, preserve that information. Remember them."

It's over. Octavia won. To the little Black girl in me, Viola did, too.

The Oscars are over. We all go back to whatever it was we were doing, or simply go to bed. They party, go to scheduled interviews, or maybe they go to bed, too.
It was a big deal. I imagine that the intense pressure is still on--that pressure many have felt since the first time someone who TRULY experienced terror, rejection, and racial discrimination preached, "You have to be twice as good and work twice as hard. You represent your race. Don't embarrass us".

Sometimes, it really is enough to just be a part of a thing. Maybe winning isn't everything all of the time. Maybe there's no reason to be disappointed, suspicious, despondent, bitter, angry or sad. The Black girls who made us so proud did their jobs honorably, skillfully, got paid, and were on to the next project. Did they even have the grand competition that is The Academy Awards in mind as they worked?
Still, we held our breaths and hoped the Black girls would win, like we've always done since the Black girls have been invited to play. Black girls have always been in the game. Are we guilty of only focusing on the negative?
Had they BOTH walked away with statuettes, it would have been really nice. Our collective pride over something of which we had no part, except to cheer, would have been immense.

"They were in amazing acting company, though."
"The competition was stiff."
"They looked so beautiful and carried themselves so well."
"There were a lot of great performances that were ignored this year. At least "our" girls were nominated."
"This will really open new doors for them."
"They made us so proud."
"When they cried, we cried."

Yeah. We said or thought all of that.

What IS that thing that is in so many of us that is triggered when we see ourselves in arenas that haven't always been inclusive? Whether it's a game show, talk show, awards show, sporting event, or election, we hope fairness will smile on us. Are we still struggling to fit in, desiring to be accepted, praying "they" will see us, count us worthy, and let us in? (Oh. Weren't we proud as punch of little Cynné Simpson, too? When Esperanza Spalding emerged with her stunning afro resembling a cottony cloud-like crown, and stood so poised and sang so sweetly, weren't we beaming? Didn't we zero in on the Black "Cirque du Soleil" performers?)
Wait. WE weren't in it. We're sitting at home watching, commenting, criticizing, and joking, but the Black people we admire and claim, THEY were in it. They had to field all of the questions and comments that have been asked and made since Hattie McDaniel accepted her award.
Those who have dared to step out and display their talents did the work, yet, WE have an expectation that seems as natural as our breathing. The Black girls we talked about as if they were our sisters or first cousins, represent well and we wanted them to bring home the prize for all of us to collectively share. We figured they could keep the Oscar on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and we'd keep it all the other days and alternate holidays. Their win, we feel, is OUR long-awaited win, but we're always prepared if they don't. We're sort of used to that. That's how we snap back so easily. We refer to statistics, lists, and cross our fingers. We know who won first, who the last winner was, and how many years have passed in between wins. We investigate the age and race of the people who make the final choices. We always hope, "This year. Maybe THIS year". We argue about who should have won and for what role. We debate about conspiracies. We shake our collective heads over snubs, and wonder why one thing is elevated while another thing isn't. ( We're STILL trying to process the whole pimp song thing. Sometimes you'd rather that a bone NOT be thrown your way.)
We love the movies no matter who is starring in them. We've always gone to the movies for entertainment value alone, but when we see ourselves, even silent and in the background as extras, its still something. When the great and powerful Academy acknowledges "us", something happens. We become intensely interested in the outcome. We purpose to go to the awards shows courtesy of our television sets and root for our people. It's the only reason we're watching, sometimes. We zero in on certain categories and nothing else. We want them to know we are there in some way. We don't want them to worry, though. If things don't work out there, there's always BET and the NAACP where the competition is more likely to look alike and a win is more feasible--but are there politics lurking in those circles, too? Do those awards mean as much as the Oscar?

While they are celebrating art and honing their skills, and working, we just want to hear the names of the Black girls: Hattie, Ethel, Juanita, Cicely, Diahann, Dorothy, Diana, Beah, Alfre, Halle, Margaret, Oprah, Whoopi, Marianne, Latifah, Sophie, Jennifer, Ruby, Viola, Taraji, Angela, Gabourey, Mo'Nique, Octavia...Somehow it makes us feel better about ourselves in America--an America that hasn't always been kind. Should we just be glad for the nod? Wait. WE didn't get a nod. We were sitting at home on our sofas wishing we could wear dresses like that and noticing whose forehead didn't seem to be moving.
When Chris Rock took center stage, and Whitney's photo flashed across the screen, we perked up.

Did we even pay for a ticket to see the movies in which the Black girls starred? Were we so preoccupied with the whole maids and mammies thing that we forgot history, and the fact that those roles did and still do exist? What do we want to see? Remember now. Some of us said that Clair Huxtable was unrealistic. Can Black actresses just be actresses or are they saddled with representing every time they read a script? Further, what do we serve ourselves when we have the resourses and opportunity to plan the audio-visual meal? Maybe that's the REAL issue we should discuss as we congratulate Olivia and Viola. Is Hollywood the culprit, or are we? While we're waiting for Hollywood to give us more diverse, honorable images, what images are we portraying every day that cause some to assume that Black girls are pitifully one dimensional, loud, ignorant, void of values, self worth and woefully wrong?
Where IS this meeting place where we're all supposed to go to discuss what we all like and dislike? Will there ever be a time when we can watch an awards show--any awards show--and the elephant in the room that we want to ignore, but somehow can't, won't answer to the name RACE?
A body can only hope.

I wrote a poem a few years ago when the little Black girl in me was talking in a way I couldn't ignore. She was so proud. She was born in Louisiana, see. So were her parents and their parents. There's a reason why she's always rooting for Black girls to succeed. She grew up and gave birth to a daughter--another Black girl, who has exceeded her greatest expectations...: )

LITTLE BLACK GIRLS IN THE WHITE HOUSE
Vanessa Renee Williams

I close my eyes
And the pictures that my mind starts to play
Are really great
It's nothing like
The ordinary that I see when I'm awake
But that's okay
I've been accused of wishful thinking
And my multicolored, way out there dreaming
Is just because I've been taught to hope
And I believe in peace and chasing rainbows

I'm in love with love
And think there's good in everybody
If you just take the time to look
And looking for the things that I don't even see
Should tell you just a little bit about me
The childlike wonder in my heart and my mind
It doesn't take much to arouse
I feel so many possibilities
Some things I never thought I would ever see
Yes, there are visions happily dancing about
Like little Black girls in the White House

Never been there before
But I'm going
Don't know the ins and outs
But I'll be expert soon enough
There will be nobody to keep me bound, or keep me out
And I'll be free
Like little Black girls in the White House

An over forty-something dream
I'd really love for my over-eighty Daddy to see
Ooo, I can feel it!
A welcomed change within and without
And I'll be strong
Where I belong
Like little Black girls in the White House

DO YOUR BEST

2012-02-26T13:56:00.002-05:00

Make your point if you have to, but not at the expense of your skills. Make your point, but time it right, and direct it to the people who will be best helped by it. Don't let what didn't happen, what's not in place, who's not there, time, space, finances, broken promises, surprises, changes, or anything cause you to diminish yourself in any way. Lose the "I'm gonna show them" attitude. You never know who's in the room. Do your very best--EVERY time--no matter who is NOT doing their part. Just because someone got the job doesn't mean they're good at it. Don't let your indignation influence how you do yours. When the successful implementation of one task depends greatly on how well another task is done, a touchy situation can ensue.
Resist the inclination to resort to tantrums, fits and otherwise childish behavior no matter how warranted you may feel it is. Playing dumb, backing off, giving less, refusing to help, or shutting down might not send the desired message. Maybe it IS them. Maybe it IS their fault. Maybe things WEREN'T right, but don't make them worse by acting like you don't know what YOU'RE doing. Hastily timed protests reflect poorly on you and your ability, not them and theirs.
When witnessed by people who don't know the back story, a disaster unfolding before their eyes gets blamed on everyone who appears to be contributing to it. Don't find yourself being raked over the coals when you could have gotten a respectful pass or compliment.

START...PROGRAMS...ACCESSORIES...PAINT!

2012-02-25T16:42:00.000-05:00

I found a print of one of the first drawings I ever created using the "paint" accessory on my PC. It occurred to me that I once thought I would never use a computer to create art.
I use my computer almost every day, now. I remember when I had no interest in computers whatsoever--especially where Art was concerned. I admit, I had a bit of a phobia about technology that matched my once intense dislike of Mathematics. Necessity demanded that I get over it all.
In the 80's, when I was a student at Howard University, a classmate, Roslyn Bright, enthusiastically asked me to consider enrolling in computer graphics courses. I declined, and continued to do things the hard way (out of some weird sense of loyalty to things like crayons, paint, pencils and paper). A part of me felt as if it was cheating to manipulate a machine to do what I'd always happily done by hand.

I embraced computer technology reluctantly and recall the day I wished I'd taken Roslyn's advice. In the late 80's, I knew it would only be a matter of time before computers would be landing in my Art classroom. As a result of a school system directive in the early 90's the PC's arrived. All teachers were be required to enroll in a mandatory computer literacy course. I was reminded of the time I was assigned to substitute teach a Computer Science class in 1986. I didn't dare tell the children that I didn't even know how to turn on the machines. By the end of the day, it was clear that the students had been teaching me.
When my older sister purchased a new desktop computer, she sang its praises in her very left-brained way, and allowed me to try my hand at it. Through trial and error, and assured that I wouldn't break anything, I stumbled upon an accessory labeled "Paint". When I discovered that I could manipulate the mouse and draw, I was hooked instantly, and really didn't care what else the computer could do. I was fascinated by the tools that eliminated the messiness of actual art media. I remember my first drawing and wish I could find a print of it. It amazes me how my images have transformed from safe and linear to detailed, colorful and textured. I wish I had a nickel for every time someone has suggested "You need a MAC". Perhaps I might have more options, but PAINT has been faithful. It's helped me create images, and enhance the JPEG files of traditionally rendered drawings and paintings that I've either sold or lost. I no longer feel the sense of betrayal I used to when I opted to choose my computer over paper, canvas, pencils, pens, acrylics and brushes. From my first use of the desktop mouse years ago, to my current use of the touchpad of my laptop, I know it's just another creative option--an option I really do enjoy. It's like finger painting.
Now, if I could only perfect my PAINT penmanship when I'm trying to sign my work. I know. There's probably a tool for that...: )

FEBRUARY FOURTEENTH

2012-02-14T10:35:00.000-05:00

Walked into the house on Valentine's Day
Divorce Court was on the TV
I stopped in my tracks
Laughed out loud, dried my eyes
And thought, "Things aren't as bad as they seem!"
No, things aren't as bad as they seem

The lump in my throat that was there when I rose
Had suddenly faded away
The enemy thought he'd depress me, but no
I had the most fabulous day!
It was really a fabulous day!

I'd dressed up myself, went out into the world
Felt the sun, braved the cold, and I smiled
Had to admit it felt good being me
Hadn't felt quite like that in a while
Hadn't felt quite like that in a while
No, there were no huge flowers, or boxes of treats
Just the truffles I bought for myself
No plan for the evening, no candlelight setting
Just me loving me, nothing else
Just me loving me, nothing else

Been alone all the other days of the year
So what's different about this one day?
Is it just what I say when I'm fighting back tears?
Is it how I chase lonely away?

If it's Saturday, Tuesday or Thursday I know
There is so much that I can celebrate
I am loved, and adored and as long as I've breath
Every day will be a special day

Be it fourteenth of February, or June one
I'm content, and sweet peace can be mine
See, my happiness hinges on what's happening
But joy I can have all the time!
Yes, joy I can have all the time

VRW c2009

STARS

2012-02-12T10:40:00.009-05:00

I woke up this morning wondering how stars die. On a site called 'Skywatch", I found the following:
"Before understanding how stars die, we first have to understand what they are and how do they live...Eventually all the star’s fuel is exhausted and it starts to contract. Remember it was the pressure created by nuclear fusion that prevented gravity from shrinking the star. Once the fusion has stopped, gravity takes over..." ~Ed Ehrlich

A few years ago, I wrote a poem, and it, too, was on my mind this morning.

STARS
....and the stars
Shall withdraw their shining
Not burn out.
Not malfunction.
Not be extinguished.
Not fade.
Just take their radiance away
On purpose.
Did things get too heavy?
Perhaps, they were too hot.
Were they too old?
Did they get weary?
Did they change their minds?
Did they lose their reason to shine?
Deep down, are they no different than me?
What can so impact a star
That it will cease to be?
Can a star stop shining
And still be a star?

I listened to the very respectful Don Lemon, and other contributors to CNN's coverage of the death of Whitney Houston until my eyes were burning and I had no choice but to drag myself to bed. Funny how the death of a stranger can feel as if you've lost a member of your own family. You wonder what you could have said or done, then thank God you have the capacity to feel sympathy for someone you don't know.
I told my sister that I was so glad we were together, because I knew she would understand how the news impacted me. Neither of us knew Whitney Houston, but as a singer and a 60's baby, her music was the stuff of my 20's and 30's AND 40's. I was so hopeful that it would continue in my 50's. I never watched the reality show. I didn't want to get wrapped up her court TV drama. I didn't want to see photos or videos that captured her in an embarrassing light. I just wanted to remember the purity of her voice. The photos on her new project were beautiful. I remember how I rooted for her in my head.
Now she's dead and I suppose I, too want the blame to make its rounds and visit everything and everyone responsible for silencing her. Now a daughter has to continue on without her mother. A mother, family and friends have to go on without their loved one.
I was choked up so long I do believe I cried in my sleep.

I remember when Richard got the call about "The Preacher's Wife". "Vision" attended the premier at a North West DC theater, and we even sang. We sat after the film was over watching the credits, waiting to see "I LOVE THE LORD" composed by Richard Smallwood" roll by. When we did, we clapped and cheered, and thought Whitney had done a wonderful job with the song we'd all loved for years. It felt like we knew her and she'd honored one of our own. What we knew and admired was her body of work. Last night I wondered just how much the work impacted her body.

Every time someone said, "The show must go on", it pissed me off. I'm not sure how "The Show" has so soundly convinced the people ON stage that they need IT more than IT needs them. Is it because there are so many hungry, replacement stars who still have fuel and are willing to chance burning out just to get an opportunity to shine?
Perhaps it's time for a serious, thorough overhaul in certain arenas and industries that will render them more kind, supportive and thoughtful to those whose talents fuel them. Where is all of the pressure and stress coming from when all one wants to do is sing or make music? Is it internal, or is it exacerbated by all of the external forces that seek to profit? How does what you love to do become secondary to the agendas of others who often forget that you are a human being? Perhaps individuals should decide just how badly they want notoriety, whether or not they really need the services/ company of certain people. Maybe it's time to evaluate if all that is hyped as necessary parts of the territory is really just a bunch of crap. In actuality, some things that people insist you must do to "make it" are detrimental to you as a person AND a performer.
After all, when it's time TO perform--when it's time to do that thing that you would do for free--don't you want to be ABLE to? Wouldn't you want to do it WELL--the way you used to when no one knew your name?

Some people love WHAT you do, every time you do it, and no matter what toll it takes on you TO do it, but they don't love YOU. Every now and then, the show must NOT go on, and people will just have to get the heck over it. Let them buy and listen to the record, or watch the DVD, or read the book. But then, that IS what we do, isn't it? We fatten the pockets of those who invest in, steal from, and deceive stars, but watch silently or judgmentally as the stars burns out. We keep silent as people take full credit for what God has given and make talented people feel as if they were nothing, and would never have amounted to anything worthwhile.
When a star dies, it never fails. The value of their life's work goes up, and we express our sadness, get over our grief, confirm our theories and suspicions, and reminisce about the days when they shined the very brightest, but once again, they receive no benefit.

ENJOY THE VIEW

2012-02-11T13:09:00.002-05:00

I just stood at the patio door this morning and looked out. It was beautiful. I'm not sure how long I stared before I opened the door. I soon found it was beautiful AND cold.
Every now and then it's nice to get away, and you don't even have to go far.
My nice, serene morning in Williamsburg has morphed into a nice serene afternoon.

It had been cloudy all day, but one huge, ominous looking cloud stood out. A little after 5 PM, errands all done, and Chick-fil-A in tow, as soon as the lock on the door was turned, the snow began to fall swiftly. It started so suddenly it was a little shocking, and the flakes were huge. It was as if it was waiting for us to get safely inside....: )

FREE SPEECH?

2012-02-11T11:38:00.003-05:00

Sometimes players, in any arena, get too comfortable, brash, profane, careless, thoughtless, even arrogant when they're FINALLY allowed to play in the game. What they DON'T know, since they didn't CREATE the game, don't own the field, or know all the fans, is that there may be a different, or hidden set of rules by which to play. They find out that they CAN'T do or say whatever they want, however and whenever they want-- IF they want to keep playing.
People often get the crazy idea that their notoriety, title, or position has earned them a free pass to Big Mouth Land. It's like a huge, vicious, barking dog that SEEMS free to roam and make noise until the long leash it's attached to runs out and yanks it back into reality. That jerk is violent and humbling. It transforms a bark into a whimper. Restrictions bring a big dog down a notch or two. It's a lesson. If you want to be in THIS yard, and continue to reap the benefits that come with it, you will only be allowed to go so far. There is no entitlement to dismiss discretion and care.

You CAN say whatever you want, but SHOULD you? How long are you going to be allowed to get away with it unchecked? When is "keeping it real" more like keeping it in denial; keeping it stupid? keeping it unnecessary? Some people let the encouragement and applause of people who have NO stake in their game, blind them to the fact that not EVERYONE is clapping nor laughing at what they do or say. Someone knows exactly how long the leash is, has been watching it coming to its end, but they're not issuing any warnings.

Don't be the reason you're a liability. Free speech isn't quite free unless you have authority to speak, are indispensable, AND can afford the consequences. If you aren't the only one who will be held totally responsible/liable for what you said, THINK first. Think long and hard before you speak, type, or click "send".
One must know one's real value to a thing, and not foolishly overestimate it. One must know if the entity one represents is money oriented or relationship oriented. If it's money oriented, one MUST always keep in mind that one can be replaced. Until one is the boss, one has to remember the nature of who or what one represents. Free speech comes with limits.
Yeah, this is America, but even so-called leaders can't cross those limits to defend someone with loose lips, as long as they, TOO, are deeply dependent upon the pockets and purses of network owners for their OWN exposure.
It's fine to be supportive of others--when what they're doing or saying is worth supporting. It's not a race thing. It's a life thing...a human thing...a home training 101 thing. Just because it pops into your head doesn't mean it has to come out of your mouth. Think before you speak--even in America.

OH, HAPPY DAY

2012-02-07T13:11:00.003-05:00

I love singing background vocals. I could literally remain in a studio all day if all I had to do was sing and stack vocals and challenge myself to match the last phrase, word or sound. Pianist, Kim Jordan recently gave me an opportunity to have so much fun. She's working on her new project, and the first release is a nice, new twist on a song I honestly don't think anyone in the world doesn't know.
No matter who you are, it seems that if you travel overseas, "Oh, Happy Day" had better be in your repertoire. I will never forget the group of well-dressed, briefcase-toting Italian businessmen who approached me and other members of "Vision" as we relaxed in the lobby of our hotel. They knew we were in town for the Umbria Gospel festival, and although we may not have understood much of what they said, but we DID understand when they insisted we sing "Oh Happy Day" right there in the lobby. The sight of those men smiling, dancing, clapping and singing in their elegant suits was a delightful sight to behold.

I really appreciate Kim for the chance to sing a song I love, AND harmonize with myself (Steven Ford refers to the vocal parts as "Your sisters" any time I record with him. Vince Evans calls them "those other girls") I prefer singing alto, but my "sisters" and I had the best time harmonizing for Kim's project. I've never had voice lessons, but I'm so grateful for the ability to hear. That's why I tell people, "Don't sleep on your church choir, no matter how humble it may be". I attribute my ability to hear all of the vocal parts to singing in church choirs, and listening intently to records when I was younger. If there was a part missing, or a section was short of members, someone had to fill in. When it came to my favorite songs on 45's, I didn't listen much to the leads, but the background vocals always fascinated me. I always wanted to find MY part and sing along with them. To me, there's nothing like harmony.

Kim's uplifting take on "Oh, Happy Day" is available to download at cdbaby.com. Just click on the title "OH, HAPPY DAY" above.

REMEMBERING MOMMY

2012-02-04T14:25:00.001-05:00

Nine years ago today, my Mom died. I still find it difficult to wrap my mind around the thought. I can't phone her. Weird. I can still hear her voice. Wonderful.
I encounter people being disrespectful to their mothers in public and I transform into Supergirl--confronting ungrateful, out-of-control, smart-mouthed brats (young and old) one store at a time. Somehow it IS my business. I don't know how many people I've scolded in stores over the last 9 years. "Excuse me. You have your mom with you. I would give ANYTHING to be able to shop with my Mom. If I want to visit MY mom, I have to go to Ft. Lincoln Cemetery." I don't know how many stunned, ashamed faces I've walked away from, with the hopes that they'd get it. You only get one mom. There may be many play moms and godmothers and aunts, even teachers, but only one mom. For whatever one's mom may be, or have been, fact is, she chose to go through with the delivery. That alone deserves much respect.

I've gone through what seems to be the yearly ritual. I looked at photographs--no I gaze at them--especially the ones where it seems as if she's looking directly at me. I look at the video clip from the "Persuaded" recording filmed at Jericho City of Praise. In a few brief scenes, there's Mommy clapping away. I try to remember things she said. I reached out to my sisters and Dad. I read messages from her former students. I think about the years she spent teaching for D.C. Public Schools, first at Birney Elementary, then H.D. Woodson, then P. R. Harris Educational Center. I look in the mirror and see more and more of her face. I enjoy some popcorn prepared the old-fashioned way. Mommy LOVED popcorn.
Today, I took a virtual walk down Addis Lane, in Addis Louisiana, courtesy of Google maps.

Although I can't erase from my mind the sight of the emergency room staff working frantically to save her, each year I feel more empowered. I saw what no child--even an adult child--should see, but I thank God for the time Mommy did have. She was extraordinary. In every dream I've had since she died where Mommy is featured, she is beautiful, carefree, happy, fit, and busy doing one thing or another.
Mommy died at Washington Hospital Center. I often wonder what happened between the time we left her room on the night of February 3 around 10PM and the wee hours of the morning of February 4. I guess I'll never really know. One of the last things she said to me was "Be happy".
Every time I hear "colon cancer", "pulmonary embolism" or "coumadin" I cringe. Every time I hear of strides in treatment, I smile.
I miss my Mommy. I can only imagine what a spry, stylish senior citizen she would have been.

AFTER "RED TAILS"

2012-01-30T14:03:00.012-05:00

My family and I decided to go to the movies to see "Red Tails". Sitting in the theater next to my Dad became more and more of an honor as the movie progressed. I was so glad he was enjoying himself. He said he hadn't been to the theater since, "that Jesus movie". I assumed he meant "The Passion of the Christ".
When it was over, other movie goers smiled at him and waited patiently as we got out of our seats and walked down the stairs. Someone held the door open as we headed to the lobby. People were being so polite. I wonder if they saw him, took note of his careful gait and white hair, and wondered if this elderly gentleman had been a Tuskeegee Airman, too.
As we were leaving the building he asked me how much the tickets had cost. I told him that for him, a senior, the cost was $8.50, and $9.50 for the rest of us. He promptly told us how he used to go to the movies every Saturday when he was a kid, and it only cost a quarter. On Sunday, however, he and his friends would always have to stand in front of the congregation and "beg the church's pardon" for going to the movies. Back then, anything that was remotely fun was considered "worldly affairs". I wondered what he was thinking yesterday afternoon sitting in Theater 6 of the AMC Hoffman not too long after he'd heard a benediction...wearing his church suit...on a Sunday. He said that there were a lot of things that seemed hypocritical to him when he was younger. The minister would preach for a whole hour about Joe Louis, his boxing reels, and what a credit he was to his race, but a young men in their own community who tried their hands at boxing (as Daddy did while in the Navy) were chastised and discouraged. Daddy told us of a Mr. Minor Jones who, other than the preacher, was THE biggest critic of movie going. When my Dad got older, he said he asked Mr. Jones, "How come we couldn't GO to the movies, but you could be IN one?" Apparently, Mr. Minor Jones had been asked if he could drive a mule when Hollywood came to Addis, Louisiana to shoot the Clark Gable film, "Band of Angels". Mr. Minor Jones told my Dad the difference was that he wasn't involved in "worldly affairs", he was "working".

When we got into the car after we left the Hoffman Theater, my sister asked Daddy how he liked the film. He said it was good, "a really good flick". Then he started reminiscing about his time in the Navy.
I'd heard about the great icebreaker USS Edisto AGb2 for years. I'd even contributed to the Edisto website on behalf of my Dad, happy to report that he was "still sailing". He'd often spoken about being a part of the military at a time when many people would have preferred that Black men not enlist at all. Yesterday in the car, I found out that the Edisto wasn't the ONLY ship on which he'd served. He rattled off the names of aircraft carriers, The Bennington, The Wasp, and The Hornet. He'd served aboard different aircraft carriers within a 9 and a half year period during his 20 or so year-long Naval career. There are super 8 movies on reels that we probably should have converted to CD's as soon as possible. Funny how it takes only one thing to trigger memories. I remember the screen, the camera, and footage of miles and miles of icy ocean; the stories about trapped scientists, rescues, enormous waves, and the never-ending mission to prove one's Black self worthy and competent.
So, I was still awake during the wee hours of this morning, all because I found out information yesterday that I'd never known. I'd seen the flags, souvenirs, and photos and heard the names of the places to which he'd traveled, but somehow I assumed he had always been aboard The Edisto. I was fascinated as I searched the internet, then I couldn't stop staring at what I'd found. The 1953-54 Mediterranean Cruise Crew Roster of the USS Bennington has been online for I don't know how long. Page 048 begins the lists all of the crew from the state of Louisiana. There on page 050 of the pdf is my Dad's name. (http://www.uss-bennington.org/pics/1953-54_med_cruise-crew_list/Pg-050.pdf) He was only 26 years old. He wasn't married to my Mom yet. My grandmother's name is listed as next of kin. Their address, at the time, in Plaquemine is there, too. He had re-enlisted. It's only words, but I sat transfixed for a while. "That name right there. That's my Dad", I thought. He was aboard the Bennington. He'd survived the explosion that had killed and injured so many including the dear family friend who lived in Indian Head whom we affectionately called "Uncle Highe" when we were children (even though we weren't related).
I'm so curious now, and so grateful for the internet. I want to know all I can about The USS Bennington, The USS Hornet and The USS Wasp. I've always loved History, but I have to attribute my newest bout of curiosity to an excellent film called "Red Tails". It was so well made, and evoked so many emotions. Perhaps it's excellence was enhanced because I was seated in the theater next to an 85 year-old Black man who knew about segregation and discrimination all too well at home and abroad; A Navy veteran, born in the deep South in 1926--who just happened to be my Dad.

STRAIGHTEN UP

2012-01-27T11:22:00.000-05:00

"If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men." ~Romans 12:18

It's true. You can not please everyone. Sometimes, no matter what you do, it's just not enough. There are a myriad of reasons why people simply won't or can't be satisfied. Other people's issues with you, or their issues with themselves that are projected on to you have the potential to cause you great stress, but they don't have to. Straighten up, unless you're a gymnast or something and enjoy contorting yourself. Conclude that some people will never approve, agree, get on board, cooperate, or support your efforts.
I recorded a song a while back titled "Keep Doin". Every time I encounter someone who seems to be bending over backward to please others yet experiencing no relief, it reminds me that we can fail to see what about our efforts is actually WORKING. We can ignore significant strides and improvements if we're constantly pre-occupied with pleasing people who won't allow themselves to be satisfied. We can launch into changes that are totally unnecessary. The old adage applies. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it", but we so often try to make fixes to be accommodating, only to find there was nothing wrong with things the way they were.
Do what you can. Do the best you can, and recognize when you've done enough.

SOMETHING TO SAY

2012-01-26T22:55:00.005-05:00

Talking with one's hands, or being animated and expressive is one thing. Putting one's finger in another person's face as if they are a mischievous child in need of a good scolding, is another. Much ado about nothing? One more unfortunate, but expected instance of blatant disrespect? Yet another meaningless distraction? Publicity stunt to sell books? Who knows.
If one has something they feel is of importance to say, it's not odd that they would want to be heard. I suppose, however, that some people are accustomed to others just standing timidly and silently by as they demand attention. Perhaps they expect compliance from people OUTSIDE of their realms of influence, too. It may very well pay to take crap off of people, and listen whether you want to or not, but folk who are NOT on the payroll don't have to be so accommodating.
All it takes is one poorly timed snap at the wrong person to learn that a habit of being rude, abrasive, forward, and/ or pushy won't always be tolerated.
It's true. People who can dish it out really don't seem to know how to take it as willingly. It's amazing how offended they can become. I'm convinced that they sincerely don't hear themselves. Their mantra in their defense is often, "This is just the way I am". Surely the people they regularly confront are either weak, overly sensitive and cowardly or void of the ability to understand if they dare to push back.
Any information, any viewpoint you offer will be considered patronizing, condescending, or false when people feel, for whatever reason, that they can learn NOTHING from you. When people feel that there is absolutely nothing about which you could possibly enlighten them, in spite of your expertise or education, you could offer them life-saving information and they won't take it. You're not supposed to know anything.

A picture IS worth a thousand words. As a fan of all things visually artistic, I agree. It's unfortunate, however, when more than a thousand words are needed to quash a deliberately deceptive picture. It's even more unfortunate when people attempt explanations and can do no better than pitifully attempt to defend PRECISELY what the picture has communicated all too well.

People need to understand that although they may have a right to say whatever they want, those rights only extend as far as they do not infringe upon the rights of others. You can scream all you want. No one has to truly listen. Personal space is a cherished thing. Some people think they have an entitlement pass to cross the line.
Start tearing in on someone without warning, and you're lucky if all they DO decide to do is walk away.
Even if you HAD a good point, it can get lost in your delivery. You AND your good point can end up in the miscellaneous file.
All of us have those times when we think, "If I ever see so-and-so", or "If I ever get to meet so-and-so, I'll tell him or her this or that..." When, or if we get the opportunity, we have to go in knowing that we may have worked on our speech to OUR satisfaction, but it may not go over the way we'd like--with us walking away feeling triumphant and helpful. If all we really want to do is make a name for ourselves by confronting another individual, we can do that, too, but we must be aware that there may be backlash.
Having access to an important person can be valuable. One shouldn't blow any future access one may need by unnecessarily behaving badly. Just when you think you've come away from a confrontation feeling empowered, you find out that you've been perceived as an individual with a little bit of crazy going on. Instead of delivering your important message, you've embarrassed yourself and others.

Walking away from someone who expects you entertain their rant, is the best move. It gives them a minute to assess their behavior; maybe even realize that everyone is neither intimidated, nor afraid. Using a tactful approach means nothing to someone who sees you as inferior to them. There's no word filter or tone check they feel they should utilize. To them, you're obliged to listen. You HAVE to. You're a peon. They want to be able to boast, "I TOLD them a thing or two!" All they really did was to expose their inner bully--an unwise, childish, attention-seeking one.

Have something to say? It's how you say it that will make a huge difference in getting you the results you're seeking. Hatred, jealousy, or arrogance, unfortunately won't be upstaged. They won't and can't hide. Sometimes, it's best to shut up about what you feel you MUST say until you've examined yourself and your motives. No sense going on like a freight train only to end up on someone's list of people to avoid like some new plague.
Going through life with a "Do you know who I am?" attitude is a good way to find out how many people don't care because they're too busy being who they know THEY are.
My grandmother always said you can catch more flies with a little honey than vinegar. Maybe if we adopted that old adage, our conversations with others would be more productive.

SING-A-LONG

2012-01-26T02:17:00.001-05:00

I was having such a nice time at Washington's historic Blues Alley. Great music, nice atmosphere, pleasant people, and good food are a winning combination. I really do like it there, and don't know of a time that I didn't enjoy myself. My little sister Lori and her band were amazing. I was marveling at the level of musicianship of those teacher/ musicians. Allyn Johnson, Tracy Cutler, Mark Prince and Michael Bowie, served up excellent sounds. The menu matched the sounds, and I was completely enjoying my "McCoy Tyner Reddened Fish" entree (coated in fiery cajun spices, and served with red beans and rice) when I heard my name. Had to put my fork down for a minute...
It's always an honor when someone calls you out of an audience to share their stage. I love to sing, I mean, I really do, but sometimes it's just as lovely to sit and listen and appreciate the gift that God has given to someone else. I think it's important to be able to do that and I don't understand people who can't or won't acknowledge the talents of others.
It's wonderful to see someone so enjoying what they do--especially when they do it so well, and you know how diligently they've invested time and energy. It's nice to see someone realize their dreams and reach their goals. You just want to be a cheerleading sponge, sometimes. Just sit in a corner, out of sight and applaud, and ask God to continue to bless their efforts.
I had a nice spot on one of the soft seats up against the Alley's wall near the staircase, and was savoring those red beans and rice. She didn't have to call me up. I was there to support her, so was my daughter, her former schoolmates, sorority sisters, co-workers, friends and fans.
I have to admit, though, it was a lot of fun to sing along.

NO WORDS WITH FRIENDS

2012-01-23T11:29:00.002-05:00

Affiliations/ associations don't derail friendships. Friends do. Demands, expectations, disagreements, are one thing. Directives/ suggestions from other people in the lives of friends are another.
In order for them to be a part of the new thing, with that group, in this circle, aligned with those folk, YOU have got to go. Many can't let it be known publicly that they're still in contact with you. It would anger someone whose approval is more important to them--or brand them a liar. The apostle Peter wasn't the ONLY one who, when pressed, repeatedly said he didn't know someone with whom he'd spent considerable amounts of time.
Someone has suggested, even demanded that ties with you be limited or cut, and perhaps, your "friend(s)" obliged without question, argument or consideration for their own long-held estimation of you. It might negatively affect their position or relationship to call you "friend" where someone can hear them. They can't speak up for you. They don't dare mention your name. They can't afford to let it be known that they still phone occasionally, or send you messages via social networks. (Mind you, those messages are NEVER where anyone else can see them.) You, however, can't afford their deceptive, fickle, insensitive ways. They do, however, want to keep you abreast of where they are, what they're doing, and what's going on; who said and did what. When they see you in public, though, they behave as if you are invisible, or avoid you like some new plague. They come to your town and try to imply that you're the busy, unavailable, unreachable one. Then, they take to the social networks AGAIN and tell you how sorry they were that they didn't get to speak to, or see you. (Insert "uh huh, ummm hmmm" here.) When your name comes up in conversation, they're silent, or they mindlessly contribute to the dragging of your name through the mud, just to fit in. They are quick to blame you for the position in which they find themselves. If YOU would only suck up as eagerly, and regularly to the people to whom THEY bow, everything would be alright, and YOU could be in the loop, too.
Surprisingly, the minute there is a parting of ways with the people who encouraged them to dismiss you, for some odd reason, they seek YOU to vent their frustration. They seek YOUR shoulder upon which to cry. They want YOU to offer advice; compare notes. They'll even dog the people they used to adore, thinking that, somehow, you will understand and get great pleasure from their sudden awakening. They'll talk and talk, and all the while you're listening, you can just imagine how badly, and often, they talked about you.
When they come to you with their gripes and complaints about the folks who used to be their source (who would banish you to some remote part of the world if they could), don't bite. Just let them talk. Don't offer anything. Don't gloat. Don't say, "I told you so". Yes. You have an opinion and maybe even a few non-Sunday School words to share, but keep it all to yourself. Let that dog go. Accept their apology (if they offer one). Then, remember what everybody's grandmother always said, "A dog that will bring a bone will carry one." Keep your mouth shut. Remember how skewed their sense of loyalty is. Depending on the price, or benefit, they'll diss you in a heartbeat--AGAIN.
But you be nice, ya hear? God is always watching, you.

SECOND SNOW

2012-01-21T12:29:00.002-05:00

The only indication that there was snow falling last night was facilitated by the street lamps. Some time during the night, I woke up and the light that snow is so good for, broke through the darkness and did a nice dawn imitation. Every now and then I'd hear the screeching of brakes, or the sliding of tires, but mostly the whoosh of cars, driven by cautious drivers, zipping up and down the wet, but treated streets.
This time, the snow left icy remains, not the fluffy, marshmallow-y stuff of the year's first snowfall. Looking out of the window, I could tell that someone decides to take crunchy steps on the grass as opposed to a slippery slide on the walkway. I really do appreciate the postman for ringing and making sure my package, (not an orange slip) was delivered to my door, and not shuttled back to the post office.

Icy or fluffy, the scenery is still beautiful, and I really do love how clean the air seems. Everything looks cleaner.

I opted for tea instead of hot chocolate this morning to accompany my gazing out of the windows. It's very quiet outside. I haven't heard the usual air traffic. There's not much movement other than the occasional car or truck, pedestrian or squirrel. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was in the country...: )

PAINT!

2012-01-10T11:13:00.001-05:00

I finished 3 paintings at the end of 2011. I was actually quite proud of myself. It had been a while since I'd worked with actual paint. (My computer's paint accessory is so much more convenient, and a lot less messy.)
2011's proudest moments, however, involved my daughter. I'd entrusted her diplomas (undergrad and law school) and Court of Appeals certificate to an amazing framer, Barry Lester, who owns one of Washington, DC's best kept secrets, The B Spot Gallery, located on Pennsylvania Avenue in SE. When they were done, I wasn't a bit surprised at the quality and artistry, or the care with which they were handled. After the unwrapping oohs and aahs and smiles and tears, I'd stored the corrugated board that he'd used to protect the frames and glass. I remembered thinking about my college professor, the late Jeff Donaldson, and his amazing use of corrugated board in his work.
One day, late in November, I went back to the closet for something else, and decided to take out the board, instead. I WANTED to paint. Question was, Did I HAVE any? I'd taken the acrylics I did have to the wellness center I'd visited to teach an art class in September and October. After a brief search, I realized I DID have paint. Three colors. Black, white, and brown. I decided to use what I had, and follow Professor Donaldson's advice, "Never toss out a good piece of cardboard". This cardboard was a bit special, to me anyway, considering what it used to hold. I looked at the 3 undamaged pieces I salvaged, cleared an area and started to paint. I didn't have a plan, but was feeling awfully grateful. I considered if there was something to the notion that the surface will often tell you what it wants to be. There'd been a lot of prayer, and then a lot of rejoicing in 2011. It really was a good year. I finished two paintings, then put the third piece away. Then, I got an easel for my birthday. I think my daughter was happy to see me painting again--the old fashioned way. I was, too.
I finished the third painting in December.
I haven't made any resolutions, but painting is on my to do list for 2012. Whatever it is that you love to do, (that won't land you in jail or Hell), don't abandon it. Embrace it it again.
Happy New Year...: )

Someone asked me if prints were available, so I turned to cafepress.com. http://www.cafepress.com/vanessawilliams

FIRST SNOW

2012-01-09T21:00:00.003-05:00

The faithful servant Job was right about God. ("He says to the snow, 'Fall on the earth..." Job 37:6) It seemed like God was playing little game of "1-2-3 Red Light!" with the snow this afternoon. From the time I would go from one room to the other, and look out of the window, the snow would have started, then stopped, then started again as if it was unsure if it wanted to stay (or was definitely being told what to do). Just when I thought we'd just been paid a brief wintery visit, and would be back to unseasonal warm weather, I looked up from the computer and saw bigger flakes falling more consistently, and accumulating on the ground and branches of the trees. The view made me remember a dream I had last week. I'd looked out of a window, and saw so much snow. It was beautiful; completely covering the trees like icing- thick, sugary mounds of bright white icing.
I hadn't listened to any weather forecasts, so for me, today's snow was a nice surprise. I kept one window slightly open just to let in the clean air. I smiled as I watched a mother and her child walking up the hill. The little girl's red umbrella was bigger than she was. The mom wanted to make it up the hill, but she was patient. The child was fascinated and stopped at intervals to spin around. Maybe it was her first experience with snow.
I wasn't spinning, but was fascinated, too. Not long ago there were colored leaves falling and piling up everywhere. Today, the branches are bare- perfectly suited to catch the falling snow.
It's been a quiet day. Inclement weather does that. The view is lovely, even after the sun set.

DO YOU?

2011-12-28T10:45:00.000-05:00

As the year comes to a close, I've seen more than a handful of comments about the way people intend to radically change their lives. Most of them involve getting rid of some of the people with whom they associate ( as if people are just disposable like that). People are talking about clearing their cell phone and email contact lists; blocking and deleting on social networking sites. Maybe the real task should be examining their OWN brains to determine how people, who are suddenly so undesirable, disgusting, draining, and dispensable NOW, got into their lives in the first place.

Is it possible that the problem is in the mirror, and it's not a job for Windex? God knows, sometimes it IS, but it can't ALWAYS be the infamous THEM. Sometimes, it's straight up YOU, and the time designated for fixing and arranging, dismissing, reorganizing and correcting should be spent alone with oneself. One must own one's own part in every situation. In every aspect of your life, the common denominator is YOU. You can't fix or change other people, but you darn sure can take a good, honest look at yourself, your choices, your decisions, your behavior, your words---unless that's just too difficult a thing to bear. Is it easier to put the blame on everybody else than to admit your schemes failed, your secrets and lies were exposed, your stories didn't add up, your judgment was flawed, your discernment was weak, you talked more than you listened, you rejected wisdom, and you have some jacked-up stuff going on in yourself, too? Failing to look inward means the finger pointing, blaming, puffed-up attitude, selfishness, and denial will simply continue...Why not give "do you" a new, less arrogant, self-centered connotation, and objectively work on yourself. Acknowledge, and tackle your own fixable issues as diligently as you criticize, ridicule and condemn others. Be true to yourself in those less attractive areas that you think no one sees. Address those areas that people talk about when you're not in the room, but are too intimidated or afraid to bring to your attention. Sincerely ask God to show you yourself. It might cause you to look at others in a different, more understanding, and forgiving light when you seriously consider how God may be--no--how God IS looking at you.

WE ATTEMPTED...

2011-12-22T14:59:00.001-05:00

I didn't feel like answering the phone.
Lately, the still cherished and celebrated caller ID has given way to being able to actually hear who's calling. Somehow the old fashioned land line seems to trump the cordless phone when it comes to clarity. The caller ID-less land line harkens back to the time when you just answered the phone and were surprised.
When the phone stopped ringing, it suddenly occurred to me that I was still waiting for another delivery--the last one. Maybe I SHOULD have answered the phone! (How many times do we complain that we were at home all day and don't know HOW we missed the driver?) It's sad when you have to find time go out of your way to get something that someone was trying to place into your hands at your own doorstep.
I ran to the windows facing the front of my building. I didn't see a UPS, FedEx or mail truck so I assumed the call I missed was a telemarketer. I also assumed that if it was someone I knew, my cell phone would have rung shortly thereafter. I went back to what I was doing, then heard a bit of a commotion in the hall. Then the knock came. It WAS UPS! The last of the gifts had arrived in time for Christmas--just like Amazon.com promised. I would have been so disappointed if I had missed the delivery. Further disappointment to my decision to let the phone ring would have come courtesy of the door tag that had already been prepared. The truth of the door tag would have smacked me in the face because the driver DID make an attempt.
"Good afternoon. Your call box isn't working, Ma'am." I didn't bother to tell him that it was. Perhaps I should have. I signed for the package, said an enthusiastic "Merry Christmas" to the deliveryman and closed the door. I looked out of the window again. Where had he come from lugging all of those packages? He had my large box and 2 more. There were few cars parked on the street, but none making it impossible for the van to have space right in front of the gate. Where was it? I watched as the deliveryman exited the gate and headed down the street. I went to another window to see where he was going. He went to the corner and crossed the street. There was the truck, running, with a driver waiting inside.
Looks like they're traveling in two's during this holiday season. "Smart move, not leaving the truck unattended", I thought. I wonder if that's just an east of the river DC practice, or a general rule anywhere in the city as Christmas day approaches? Either way, I do so appreciate the effort to get the package to me in spite of my failure to answer the phone. Frankly, UPS has been on the ball, lately.

I also appreciate the convenience of shopping via the internet. Malls this time of year don't appeal to me at all, and anything I've forgotten--tape, wrapping paper, batteries, etc. can be scooped up at the neighborhood Rite-Aid...: )
Now I can get to wrapping...: )

JUST DO IT

2011-12-22T11:17:00.000-05:00

Perhaps it WON'T get done unless you do it, but isn't it going undone or getting worse while you're waiting, pouting, nagging, questioning and complaining? Are YOUR two hands broken? Are you sick? Don't know how? Think you're too good? Feeling a sense of entitlement? Just plain lazy? If your answer to any of those questions is a reluctant, "No", then why not do it yourself? Don't exaggerate. If it never gets done unless you do it, it would be in a lot worse condition, wouldn't it? Maybe YOU don't particularly like the job you think others should do, or should assist you in getting done. Maybe you've started something you wish you could finish by passing it off to someone else. Maybe there's no glory in it unless others see the task being carried out.
If you're so pleased with the outcome of your effort, and it's the way you think it should be done, then why not continue and stop lamenting and broadcasting that no one else is doing it? Further, stop making yourself out to be a martyr because it got done. Perhaps you finally noticed it,(or are looking for a pat on the back). Forget about what other people ought to do, or what you think they should be doing. Examine your own motives. Are you looking for brownie points, or are you just passionate about doing things well? Are you seeking approval or are you just grateful to be able to lend a hand? If there is no impediment to you doing it yourself, stop yapping. Skip the fanfare and drama, and get to work.
What's important to you may not be on another person's radar or schedule. Don't assume you know what is in another person's heart, on another person's plate, what's in another person's wallet, or the scope of another person's ability.
If you see something that needs to be done, just do it.

STICK TO THE SCRIPT

2011-12-18T11:49:00.000-05:00

Delivering a message only requires that you give what you were given; repeat what you were told. Embellishments/edits affect integrity and turns their message into yours. Embellishments/edits demonstrate a lack of confidence in the capability of the original speaker to effectively reach readers/hearers. There's a reason why you can't say what you were told to say. You're either afraid, just don't want to, are looking for credit/applause, or you don't believe it.

FREE INDEED

2011-12-17T11:38:00.001-05:00

It is in some people's best interest to convince you that God is a bit of a snob; that He has very little to say to you. Don't buy it. Your lack of knowledge is key to their success.
Some people would have you to believe that THEY are your source--your last resort--spiritually, emotionally, financially, professionally, and/or socially. There are precious individuals, however, who, on the other hand, don't seek, expect, or demand that others to be indebted to them. They aren't seeking to boost their egos. They give God praise for what they're able to facilitate in the lives of others as a result of God's kindness and generosity to, and grace towards them.
Thank God for opening your eyes today. The worst thing the enemy could have done is allowed someone to teach you how to read, and not just call out words, but understand them as well. Then he messed around and let somebody put the Bible on tape. "Free indeed" means just that. Thank God for eloquent preachers, but read for yourself. (Think, now. At practically EVERY funeral you attend, somebody says, "To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord." and everybody shouts, "Amen"-- no matter how scarily hellish a life the deceased lived. It sounds comforting and encouraging to think that your loved one is in Heaven playing football or gardening with Jesus, but the Bible DOESN'T SAY THAT! Read it again.)
Ask for wisdom. Read for yourself. Have a mind of your own. Know that God is available to you, too, and doesn't play favorites. Check your behavior and speech and see if it lines up with the Word of God, or with someone's slick religious agenda to keep you ignorantly singing, dancing, AND picking the cotton on their plantation. Boldly exercise the liberty you have in Christ Jesus. When one knows better, one will do better, right?....Happy Saturday....: )

AS CHRISTMAS DAY APPROACHES

2011-12-15T15:30:00.001-05:00

After so many years of being a gumbo eater, this past Thanksgiving proved I can be a gumbo maker, too. Armed with my Mom's recipe and my big sister a phone call away, my daughter and I got it done.
I'm really looking forward to my sister and her family visiting during the Christmas holiday. I'm looking forward to her gumbo, too. She's already thinking about the Christmas day menu. It's times like these that I really miss my Mom. She had special Christmas dishes and glasses, and table linen. She adored the holidays. Her shopping would have been done and the house decorated. There would be homemade tea cakes and egg nog, too. Her egg nog was the only egg nog I ever wanted to drink.

Sometimes I wonder what else my Mom would have achieved in life; what greater professional heights she would have attained, had she not sacrificed for my sisters and me. Then I remember my late Auntee Lillian's dramatic retelling of Mommy's birth. The persistence of a midwife, who refused to accept that baby Myrtle was dead, is the reason a 1 pound, 1 ounce premature baby survived that October day back in 1936 in Addis, Louisiana. That Mommy lived 1 day, let alone 66 years, was a miracle.
She was meticulous, and detail oriented, well-groomed and so very neat.
"If it's supposed to be white, let it be white. If it's supposed to shine, make it shine". "Take care of your things. If you do, they will last a long time".
"Never leave your house and you're looking better than what you left behind. You never know how you're going to have to come back home".

She was a brilliant woman--quick-witted, well read, articulate, poised and always learning. To her, knowing things was just as important as the ability to find information. She was a master teacher, a disciplinarian, mentor and guide, whose dedication to her students meant sure success for them. Her generous endeavors to see them succeed never translated into lack of attention and failure at home. She cherished being a teacher, but I have a feeling she could have been the CEO of some major corporation. Obtaining a good education was so important to her. Attached to that was the ability to be self-sufficient. I never sensed that she regretted being a wife and mother, but she made sure to communicate how the consequences of the choices one makes most certainly determined the road on which one would remain. "You have to think about the future." "You have be able to take care of yourself; stand on your own two feet", she would say.
As traditional as she was where roles between women and men were concerned, our independence meant a lot to her. "You have to get that piece of paper. You have to be twice as good". A woman who couldn't "do anything" puzzled her, though. A lazy "nasty" woman was someone she couldn't understand. As academically savvy and professional as she was, one could eat off of her floor. She could clean, iron, wash, sew, scrub, garden, and still hold an intellectually stimulating conversation with anyone. She was responsible, dedicated and resourceful. She was a committed wife, mother, grandmother, aunt, and friend--and Lord, could she cook. Daddy said she couldn't always "burn" like she did, and one of the first gifts he bought her was a cookbook. That cookbook is dog-eared, today; its pages out of order; it's cover hanging on for dear life, and spruced up with green contact paper. That cookbook was one gift that didn't go to waste. Mommy was a master in the kitchen and the bearer of an incredible sense of smell. "Somebody check the oven! Is something burning?" If she asked, something was. "You can't walk away when you're cooking."
When she passed away early in the morning on February 4, 2003, I was there. She'd fought so hard to stay. It seemed unfair for cancer to have wracked the body of someone who wasn't abusive to herself. She'd survived rounds of radiation and chemotherapy, only to be stricken by a pulmonary embolism. Even in death, she was teaching. "Don't put off anything. Enjoy your life while you can. Don't let anybody hold you back, or tell you what you can't do. For God's sake, be happy".
I know there were so many things that she wanted to do. Writing a book was one of them. She told me in our last conversation. I'm so glad that my little sister found the recipes my Mom had written. (Her penmanship was beautiful, too). Perhaps Mommy knew we'd need them one cold day when "sandwiches wouldn't be enough." Perhaps she knew that one day we'd embrace all of the delicious fuss that holidays bring.
I used to hate passing by McDonald's, as a child, and wonder why we couldn't always stop. "We have food at home", Mommy would say. I know, now, what a blessing that is.

NO JOKE

2011-12-03T15:33:00.001-05:00

One's tacky attempt at humor, criticism or judgment could just as easily be applied to one's own dear family member's notoriously shady past--or one's own. People really should mind making childish, cowardly swipes at others. I wonder if people forget? You don't have to chime in to every conversation to fit in. It's okay to exercise discretion and even compassion. You don't have to say everything you think. Yeah, this is America; we have free speech, blah, blah, blah...Don't let your thoughtless words, today, cause someone to publicly remind you precisely why YOU are THE last person on Earth who should be uttering them. Even if you think you're saying them in jest, ask yourself what purpose they serve, what damage they could do. A good way to ensure your dirt is exposed is to publicly criticize/ ridicule someone for doing the same thing you did. Some folks aren't going to get it until they are cold cocked by their own boomeranging words. They won't understand until they are slammed by the unwelcome words of someone who is fed up of listening to hypocrisy and insensitive drivel. Chances are they'll have the nerve to be offended.
Sometimes it's best to shut up and thank God--and the people who really know you-- for the ability to show mercy.

WORLD AIDS DAY: Getting to Zero

2011-12-01T17:52:00.010-05:00

I celebrated my 51st birthday on Monday. I was 28 years old when the first World Aids Day was observed. I remember when AIDS was considered a terrifying Old Testament-like, modern plague. Folks had embraced forgiving, loving meek-and-humble-lamb Jesus, and conveniently forgot all about the God of Exodus, whose wrath and judgment hadn't evolved with time and trends the way they'd hoped. AIDS was widely considered an indictment sent from an angry God whose patience with mankind's choices had worn painfully thin. Due to His hatred of, and our tolerance of homosexuality, the world would witness the puzzling effects of a mysterious form of pneumonia. For a long time, it was deemed a gay man's disease, and everyone who wasn't a gay man felt weirdly safe and spared. AIDS was the problem of someone else, in another place, that only visited some households courtesy of nightly newscasts, and talk shows.

Then, people idolized AND familiar started losing much too much weight, and dying much too young.

I remember being fascinated as a 20 year-old college student at Howard University, hearing my sculpture instructor, Ed Love's sister in-law, Dr. Frances Cress Welsing, lecture with conviction on the speculated, vicious, man made origin of the disease (which didn't seem so far fetched in light of the Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment). I saw first-hand how AIDS wasted my talented, ambitious family member, who was active military and stationed at USAMRIID. I remember driving him to the hospital one night and watching how the emergency room staff attended to patient after patient, even those who came in after us. The doctors and nurses seemed to be uncaring and indifferent toward us. A nice nurse brought him a blanket when he complained of being cold, but we still waited for hours until he finally fell asleep in the waiting room chair. As he slept, I was finally told that his condition wasn't considered an emergency, since they already knew he had AIDS. It was the first time I knew. AIDS had visited my family. He never uttered the word concerning himself. Besides, he was Black and he had girlfriends, right? So much for my ignorance. As we waited into the wee hours of the next day, I asked him if he wanted anything from me. He simply asked me to hold his hand and pray. When his illness progressed and he was discharged from the military, and no longer able to care for himself, he went back to the childhood home he'd worked so diligently to escape, and died while in the care of his mother. He was buried in the colors of his fraternity of which he was very proud. His strikingly handsome lover died soon after.

AIDS has outed couples, exposed husbands on the DL, pronounced death sentences on wives, orphaned children, ravaged artistic communities, revolutionized how our nation manages its blood supply, welcomed innocent babies into the world, and rocked numerous religious establishments from pulpits to doors. It has challenged how we think and what we believe; who we trust and how much. It has driven us to our knees, deeper into our wallets, aggressively to the polls, and frequently to funerals.
Embarrassed, shame-filled families have tried to tactfully word their loved ones' obituaries, using terms like "long illness", "sudden affliction", and "brief sickness". Grieving loved ones have been relieved to be able to evoke the name of a disease, ANY disease as a cause of death, or defensively cry "blood transfusion", than to name the actual killer. If we were secretive before, we multiplied our privacy requirement exponentially.
After all these years, people are still living dangerously, living in denial, believing lies, testing the grace of God, ignoring or abridging His Word, and counting on--even demanding-- the help, understanding, compassion and so-called enlightenment, or open mindedness of others. Some people still press their luck and live by the adage, "You have to die from something." They still think "It could never happen to me."
Have we become lax and complacent as we often do after the novelty of tragedy begins to wane? The stigma of HIV/AIDS may seem to be gone due to greater access to information, celebrity input, medical breakthroughs, and patient longevity as a result of more effective medicines, but is it really? Do our private conversations with ourselves and others prove it's still there right alongside fear and several chilling, attention-getting Bible verses? Some people don't care if you call them ignorant, closed-minded, Bible-thumping religious fanatics if they emphatically believe that it is your own fault, and due to your own choices and darkened, godless mind that you are in your present situation. AIDS affecting the elderly, heterosexuals, hemophiliacs, women, children, sexually inactive, and drug free people of all age groups, nationalities, professions and socioeconomic levels, threw a monkey wrench into so many philosophies. Pandemic is not a word to ignore.

Are we doing all we can, with our ribbons and marches and quilts, and concerts, and commemorative days, and speeches, or are we quietly still viewing the AIDS pandemic as a deadly lesson in sowing and reaping? Is it still looked upon as a deserved consequence of sin?
No matter where AIDS originated, be it Heaven, Africa, Los Angeles, Haiti, affected monkeys, the military, vaccines, racist governments, or a strategically planned, controlled top-secret science lab, it is a horrible, devastating, lingering fact of life that has, no doubt, directly or indirectly affected us one and all.
"Zero new HIV infections. Zero discrimination. Zero AIDS-related deaths".
That would be more than wonderful.

TALES AFTER THANKSGIVING

2011-11-26T14:54:00.000-05:00

I don't know what it is about gumbo that causes it to taste progressively better each day. Yesterday, I had the obligatory turkey sandwich, but today, the gumbo made it's first appearance since Thanksgiving. My daughter added the crab meat we'd decided against on Wednesday night. I honestly don't know why I don't prepare gumbo more often. It was nice to have my mother's recipe and my big sister (whose gumbo is fantastic) only a phone call away. Yeah, it's an expensive dish, but it's the kind of thing you don't tire of eating. My big sister was right. Just a few hot sausages in addition to the smoked and andouille sausage were perfect.

On another foodie note, when a friend announced her college bound daughter's fundraiser, I didn't hesitate to order. I figured it would take care of Thanksgiving Day dessert. When the products came, I gladly accepted a Joe Corbi Brownie Bottom French Vanilla Cream Pie as a substitute for the brownies that, for whatever reason, didn't make it. If you order one, don't think you're going to dig into an actual brownie of substance. When they say "bottom", that's just what the heck they mean--a very thin, barely detectable layer of brownie crumbs. The rest is some pudding-y kind of stuff and whipped cream, piled high. It's really pretty, but you may as well buy a couple of cans of Cool Whip. Now, that Joe Corbi New York cheesecake? Yes, Lawd. It's a winner...

WE GOT COMPANY!

2011-11-24T19:45:00.009-05:00

I hate being annoyed, especially by someone who is being deliberately annoying. When people don't respect boundaries, and feel entitled to do whatever they want in spite of the impact, it only compounds your disapproval of them. They don't care how you feel, so you wonder why you should care about what you say to them concerning their inconsideration, and intrusiveness. Sometimes it's hard when you've been taught to be a polite Christian. The lesson works it's way into your DNA and sends a signal that arrests your entire throat, silences you and prevents you from exercising free speech. If people only knew what was forming in your brain that the Lord won't allow you convert into audible sentences, they would think long and hard before they decided to try your patience, or take a chance on finding out whether your niceness has a limit. If they only knew what you knew, their conversation wouldn't be so deliberately informative. They wouldn't keep trying to push your buttons. Just because you've been diligently projecting sweet-meek-and-mild baby Jesus all your life doesn't mean you haven't cultivated whip-wielding-turning-over-tables-in-the-temple Jesus, too.

Some people spend far too much time trying to convince you that they are a welcomed member of your family. You know, however, that your mother did not birth them and their presence is merely tolerated, so I suppose instead of being annoyed, you should be amused by their behavior. They really don't want to know what you know.

When it's not your house, you have no say about who is welcome on ANY day, still you wonder about an individual who would leave their wife and children on Thanksgiving day and show up at someone else's home, and sit around and ask personal questions, and gossip about everybody from the pulpit to the door. You wonder why it's allowed to go on. Did it ever occur to some people that MAYBE, just MAYBE, on Thanksgiving Day, people might want to spend some time with their own family members? Even when you're an adult, you remember the rules established in your parent's house. "Be considerate of others"; "Think before you speak"; "Don't embarrass yourself"; "Always conduct yourself properly"; "Don't ever allow an ignorant person to cause you to stoop to their level"; "Ignore a fool".

If I had said something; if I had unleashed what I wanted to say, I would have been wrong, the conversation and visit would have abruptly ended, and Thanksgiving would have been officially over. It may very well be home, but it's not my house. Still, I was livid that once again, we had a Thanksgiving crasher. I promptly took out my frustration on the pots and pans. That really wasn't fair to them. They did nothing except be conduits for a great meal. Now, they're sparkling clean and my hands are wrinkled and white as a sheet. I tried to make as much noise as I could, run as much water and occasionally turn on the garbage disposal to avoid hearing the gossip-filled conversation. Anything to keep from blurting out what was trying its best to spill out of my mouth. "Excuse me, you messy, inconsiderate jerk, WHERE IS YOUR FAMILY, AND WHY AREN'T YOU WITH THEM? IT'S THANKSGIVING DAY, YOU CREEPY, STRIFE-LOVING, TALE-BEARING MORON! "But that wouldn't have been nice.

I hate the devil.

I really hate to think I lost the battle today, but when that car pulled up, my whole attitude plummeted. Sometimes you don't WANT to mature or nice. Nothing I would have said to the individual would have been good, so I clammed up after "hello" and got to scrubbing. Did he just stop by to talk about people? Why? My grandmother always said, "A dog that will bring a bone will carry one." I have come to believe that conversations with some people should be restricted to subjects like time of day and the weather--period.

When he left, it was as if a contrary spirit left with him. It was like a cloud was lifted and the sunshine returned. Thanksgiving got some of it's happy back, but it was tarnished. Darn. Fact is that friendship with your parent(s) doesn't not necessarily guarantee friendship with you, and some folk try waaaay too hard.

Some people are up to no good and they know that you know it. They know that you have no intention to entertain them, or even pretend that you approve of their words or actions. They try to engage you and make it seem as if you're the one with the problem--and you ARE. You have to figure out how to forget about what you know about them, and endure being in the same room with a lewd, too familiar, inconsiderate gossip, and, for the sake of the occasion, and out of respect for your host(s), keep your mouth shut.

I hope he got a good laugh at my expense, because there simply was no hiding my displeasure. I need to figure this out before Christmas. I don't know how long I'm going to be able to keep quiet.

GUMBO

2011-11-22T19:04:00.000-05:00

I spent part of the day looking at photos from Thanksgivings past. My Mom was the holiday bunny and I really miss her, especially on days like today. It was helpful to look at the photos from Upsal Street, and read the recipes she'd written. Right now she'd be cleaning greens, or making dressing, or macaroni and cheese, or peeling sweet potatoes---or all of the above. Special pots and plates and platters would be out. She was so organized, and clean about it all, too. "If you clean as you go, you'll have less to do when you're done."
Thanksgiving Day was a two-parter. Start with gumbo, then the turkey dinner. It just wouldn't be Thanksgiving without gumbo, and we're going to make some.
I had a great conversation with my big sister this morning. She shared her gumbo tips, and I listened attentively, writing down everything she said. "Don't burn the rue.", "Use the powders--onion, garlic."; "A whole cut up chicken will do."; "Add a hot smoked sausage--not the red hot kind."
This is going to be good.
Thanks Mommy.

UH...OKAY. THANKS?

2011-11-22T18:15:00.001-05:00

You could be a lot more grateful if you didn't know that the supposed gift/act was a part of a grand scheme borne out of guilt and/or a critical, demeaning spirit. Saying, "Thank you" would only make you complicit in the scheme, and confirm that you, too, feel better believing that you are inept, lacking, irresponsible, inattentive or incompetent. How do you respond when what others do isn't truly designed to help, or make things easier for everyone involved, but to add feathers to their own caps?
A self-centered individual's actions reek of control freakiness. Whether close up or from afar, their hands have to be in and over everything. Their intent is easy to discern. Some people don't think to ask, they just DO. They singularly decide what's best for others, thereby demonstrating not only a lack of respect, but a need to manipulate. God forbid that others have minds of their own. God forbid, someone else does something with excellence, let alone satisfactorily. A selfish individual strives to make sure the opportunity to demonstrate it never comes--especially in an arena they sincerely feel is theirs.
Their brand of generosity is flawed. Even when they're nowhere to be found, their giving still demands immediate credit, praise and attention. The kindness of their hearts is blanketed by their need to broadcast what they do, how much trouble it was to carry out in addition to everything else on their plates, and especially, how much it cost. There's always a catch involved in their sudden spirit of giving, as if what they do is supposed to scramble your opinion of their real motive. They need to make sure things are done to THEIR satisfaction, and according to their wishes, as if others simply aren't capable, have no preferences, can't, or won't devise a plan of their own.
Your response? Don't argue, complain, or try to make them see the grandeur of their selfishness. They won't. They can't. They're too busy reveling in the notion that they've done a great thing. Remember now, you TOO are supposed to be grateful for the fantastic, helpful thing they did in an effort to bring attention to themselves. Just nod and smile and proceed with YOUR plan. You need not pat them on the back, besides, there's no room for your hand. They've managed to get their own hand back there to do it themselves. Relax. Let them think they've saved the day--especially if it means less work for you, and proceed to enjoy your day--the way YOU planned.

SEASONED ARTISTS

2011-11-18T00:10:00.004-05:00

Ever since our first meeting in September, I've looked forward to working with the delightful artists at Congress Heights Senior Wellness Center. I admit it. I missed teaching, and was happy for the opportunity even though it was presented as a temporary one.
There's a certain satisfaction in teaching people who actually want to learn, and are respectful and polite. It certainly helps not having to stop every ten minutes to address a behavioral problem, threaten to phone a parent, or take a trip to the principal's office! The seniors so attentive, and eager to try new materials. They're awfully wise, gracious, and witty, too. I learn so much from them. There was something special about being in a place that is just a little more than a city block from the house where I grew up. It's nice to have some way to give back in your own neighborhood. It's also nice to be referred to as "just a kid", or "still a baby". That really cracks me up as I see my shiny new AARP card that arrived the other day, and near my 51st birthday.
It's great that the seniors have a place to go that is uniquely theirs--a place that caters to their physical, spiritual, mental, educational, and social well being. Listening them speak with pride about their youth, former vocations, their children and grandchildren, and their current plans, is like experiencing a live documentary. These are the stories that young people should hear. The stories of people whose beliefs and values are part of the reason they're still here today.
I always lose track of time when I work with them. It's good to watch them as they create. They share, and compliment each other. They laugh, reminisce, and even sing. They have the capacity to see beauty all around them. They're honest and refreshing. They don't think there's an age limit on expressing themselves artistically. I love that. They definitely epitomize the challenge to never put down one's crayons.
None of them had ever used oil pastels before. I couldn't tell.
They've told me how much they appreciate me for coming to work with them. I honestly think I'm the fortunate one...: )

FAMILY TIME

2011-11-17T14:05:00.002-05:00

The scene was beautiful, and diverse. Evergreen tree, dying, reddish-gold leaves, sunshine, and icy dew on the ground. It was so peaceful, too. I'm glad I decided to go on the impromptu weekend road trip to Williamsburg. I still didn't finish reading "The Help", like I'd planned, but I spent some quality time with my little nephew, whom I adore. For some reason he thinks I'm a good playmate. Bless his little heart. He thinks I'm fast and agile. "Nessa! Let's play baseball!" So we played baseball with a neck roll pillow and a some tightly balled up paper towels. He enjoyed running around the room to the imaginary bases and I always called "Safe!" when he slid into the imaginary home plate. He knows his shapes, colors and numbers. He can read and spell a little, too. He pointed out geometric shapes and colors around the room and challenged me to do the same. We watched umteen episodes of "Thomas the Tank Engine" on Youtube, drew pictures, danced, and sang (and he can really sing!). Yeah. I was exhausted, but it was worth every minute of hearing his infectious, hearty laugh. It had been a long time since I heard my name being yelled first thing in the morning by a wee voice. When he was up, it just meant one thing. Get up, too. It's time to play. He has so much energy!

It's nice when a little kid wants to be bothered with you. They grow up so quickly. Let the children in your life know they're loved, keep them safe, and take advantage of teachable moments. Learning doesn't have to wait until they cross the threshold of a classroom..: )

TOO HOT TO HANDLE

2011-11-16T18:21:00.001-05:00

First thing that Monday morning, I told myself, "That's it. No more late night Tostitos...or black beans doused with hot sauce...mixed with dirty rice." I didn't realize how violently I had been awakened from my sleep, until I went back into my room. The covers were practically on the floor. My spicy choices of food apparently didn't like the living arrangements in my stomach as I slept. They assaulted my poor little esophagus, and caused me to bolt out of bed a lot faster than even I thought I could move. I'm grateful that my body is working the way it's supposed to. It showed me just who is in charge, and reminded me that I am no longer in 5th grade. I totally enjoyed the hint of lime Tostitos that I chased down with Rock Creek ginger ale. Problem was, I enjoyed way too many of them at THE wrong time of day. Gonna make changes. Gotta make changes-- including cutting back on the atomic fireballs and red hot jawbreakers that I love so much. Fact is, that you can scare yourself to death while brushing your teeth when you see the bright red spit coming out of your mouth as a result of eating too many fireballs. I know. I'll tell myself. Grow up. I love my Frito-Lay, occasional shakes of hot sauce, and my old school candies, (Lemonheads, Hot Tamales), but do they love ME any longer? Sure they do. Just like anything else--in moderation...: )

THERE'S HOPE

2011-11-16T17:46:00.005-05:00

It was a little after 10:30 PM. High and/or drunk, she knocked on their doors--again...Even in her impaired state she has memory of being handed cash and hearing, "Don't worry about it."
It doesn't matter now if she knocks every other day, or every other week. She knows everyone is hip to her now after years of being suckers. One hates to see someone in need and not do what one can. She, however, is a perfect example of why some people don't give, or lend a hand at all--not to churches, charities, family, friends, panhandlers, or people with neatly printed cardboard signs. Sincere desperation, actual need, or a warped sense of entitlement borne out of an abandonment of ambition or hope, convinces them that some sympathetic person will come to their aid. What they don't tell themselves is that even nice, religious, or generous people have a limit. When there is never appreciation, gratitude or change in behavior, people harden their hearts, close their hands, and their purses.
Her addiction has turned her into a con--and not even a good one--just a bitter, confused, defensive one.
Her own mother apparently didn't answer her screaming or knocking. Regularly, the peace of their homes is disturbed by harsh cries of, "Ma! Ma! Ma!" Her yelling grows in volume and intensity and goes on for several minutes. She yanks on the door, the rattling of metal against metal clashing with her screaming, until something breaks. Everyone says to themselves, "If can hear her, surely her mother can, as well as the rest of the neighborhood." Who doesn't answer their own child? She, however, is no crying baby. She is not the daughter her mother once knew. Her mother cannot handle her anymore, and now she is everyone's problem.
It was chilly outside this night. She was wearing a thin, dingy white tee shirt and sweat pants. The shorter hair that didn't make it into her scrunchied ponytail had formed a spiky black halo around her swollen face. Even through their peepholes, they could see her eyes were glassy and red. She wiped her face from the chin up, and her hand continued up to smooth down her hair, as if somewhere deep inside, she remembered wanting to be neat. She suddenly walked away from their doors and sat on a step, leaning her head against the railings. She pulled herself up again, and began knocking again. Exasperated, they all ignored her. They probably all have stories that they've never shared with each other. Some village, huh? What if something worse was going on? What if this time, it wasn't just a case of a drug addict looking for money? She's cried wolf so many times, she's exhausted her audience--an audience that used to gladly help. Now the audience doesn't even bother saying, "No." Fed up, it just doesn't respond at all.
Her knocking turned to banging as if she was trying to break down the doors. When people want what they want, they don't consider how their behavior impacts others. When they want what they want, in their selfishness, they actually think there's a polite way to bother people. When people stop acknowledging them for whatever reason, they think they can shame them into it generosity by making their own irresponsibility the fault of someone else.
When she approached each door, she placed her ear to them to listen for movement. If anyone had opened their doors suddenly, she would have landed face first at their feet. She stared into the peepholes as if she could see through them. The whole thing was unsettling. She was like a wild animal on the scent of money. She wanted what was on the other side of the doors as if it was hers. They weren't her neighbors, they were potential victims. Their own hardships never factored into her repeated demands of them. She went back and sat on the stairs, and scanned each closed door.
Why did anyone wrestle with the prospect of opening their doors? No one liked the idea of her just being in the stairwell. They used to open their doors freely to her. She was a young, single mother. No one minded a few dollars here or there, but it soon became a habit. Every time, before a "Hi" or "Hello", a well rehearsed, syrupy sweet, "Do you have two dollars?", "Can you lend me 10 dollars?", "I need 5 dollars.", "You have any extra quarters?" was heard. With two other adults in the home, she either didn't, or couldn't ask them for money. The reason is obvious to them, now. Food, clothing and shelter? Yes. Drug habit? No.
The police came to take her away a few years ago. High on something, she sat in the stairwell striking matches, and set a small fire to the carpet. She laughed as the policeman cuffed her. She appeared evil. Her whole countenance changed as if she were possessed. She laughed all the way out the door, muttering how no one had ever given her anything. "Don't try to reason with her, Ma'am. She won't hear you", the policeman said. A neighbor didn't give her the money she asked for, so her aim was to burn down the building. When she came back home so soon, everyone was shocked, and have been leery about her ever since.
When she was taken to church, she loud talked over a group of people as they prayed, cursed them out, told them they couldn't help her, walked out, and left her crying, preteen son sitting on a pew, embarrassed. Years ago, her baby girl, wearing a urine soaked diaper was found sitting alone on the top step of the first floor landing. She heard her name, and came to the door wearing a sheer gown. Her eyelids were heavy as if she'd just gotten out of bed. She stank. She was inside with some man and hadn't noticed that the door was open. Her excuse was that she'd been in the bathroom. Suddenly she was alert, apologetic when asked if her mother was at home. When her mother found out, she was furious, but thankful that no one phoned CPS. She said out loud what everyone thought. "What if the baby had fallen down the stairs?" What if it hadn't been a neighbor who came home for lunch? What if some demented person had taken the baby? No one would have ever known it." Her mother said she would handle it.
Today, many honestly wish the call to CPS had been made years ago. Maybe her life would have been different. Maybe she would have learned a little about accountability, responsibility, motherhood with the help of a purposely intrusive government agency. Maybe it would have taken her circumstance in a different direction. Nothing seems to have been handled except that the baby has grown into a teen and is now, fortunately, living somewhere else.
Her mother is exhausted. Her often drunken uncle hasn't exactly been a role model in the home. Every now and then he breaks out old records and sings and yells out to the top of his lungs. Everyone smokes like chimneys, and it's a wonder there's a healthy lung in the house.
Her mother has carried the weight of her daughter, grandchildren, brother and other family members. What has her mother's own life become? She can't even enjoy her retirement. Embarrassed and disgusted, her mother doesn't defend her anymore, and doesn't expect others to defend or support her either.

She started banging on doors again. Were people fearful and angry with themselves for allowing someone on the other side of a locked door to have that much control? What were their conversations with themselves?
"You're a Christian! Open the door!"
"Don't be stupid. This woman cannot be trusted, and you already know what she wants."
"Stop staring at her and open the door!"
"What if this fool has a gun or knife? Don't you dare open this door. Just watch her."
"Call her mother. Wait. Do you even have her phone number?"
"What if you had to go out right this minute? I know you are not letting a drunk person turn you into a prisoner in your own home."
"Get the phone. Call 911"
Were they fearful for themselves if they opened their doors, and more fearful for her if they didn't? She lives in the building, so she has a right to be in it. She doesn't have the right to be a nuisance. She doesn't have the right to endanger everyone in the building by welcoming people involved in illegal activities. If anyone DID call 911, what would they say? There's a drunk/high woman in the hall banging on doors?
How many times have they dialed 911 to report people breaking into cars, fights, escalating arguments, domestic violence, car accidents, peace disturbances, people passed out on the sidewalk, robberies or loiterers? How many times did they get the feeling that the 911 dispatchers and the police were sick and tired of answering their kind of call? How many have concluded that the police feel less and less compassion for those who spend their days slowly killing themselves and their nights being neighborhood terrorists? How many feel that a plan is in place to just let the criminals kill each other off one gunshot or drug at a time, then all will be well?
She banged on their doors again. She wanted money and they knew it. They don't know how much money they've given her over the years. The thought they used to have, "At least she knows there's someone she can go to", has faded. They were not opening their doors. The kind of help she really needs, whether she believes it or not, is not in their wallets. They decided there's no reasoning with an impaired person. Had rehab failed her again, or did she refuse to comply with the recommendations, and accept the help she was given? They decided to just watch her a while, just in case they DID need to call 911. Part of them argued, "She just wants money. She ALWAYS wants money, and has no problem asking for it. She feels she is entitled to it, and she knows just who to ask, and how. She has reasoned that if she only asks for a small amount, she should get it. It shouldn't be a hardship. She never considers that she has been asking for money for years". Part of them just felt so sorry for her.
She's never too drunk or high to have a lie to explain what she needs the money for. About a month ago, she must have thought that if she told them the truth, that her honesty would be rewarded. "My mother gave me money, but I used it for cigarettes. I just need 5 dollars." She actually thought that was convincing. Her son briefly adopted her MO. He needed a haircut, needed to get to school, needed to get to his group session after school, needed something to eat. That went on for a while until her mother told them that he has adopted his mother's ways of lying and conning people to get money. "Don't let him play on your sympathy. See, you just too nice. Why didn't you tell me? He HAS money. I give him what he needs every day. He just doesn't do what he's supposed to do with it--and that haircut he got with all them lines in his head? I can't stand it." Since his grandmother confronted him, he hasn't knocked on their doors since. When they see him now, he lowers his head.

Her dealer waits in the dark like a predator, or she calls him from a cell phone. HE has access because she consistently breaks the door or the gate so that SHE can have access. Now, no bother will be made to fix EITHER anymore. Waste of money, they say. Now no one is secure in a once advertised "secure" condo community.
She stumbles out in her nightgown to get her drugs with the money she's suckered out of unsuspecting strangers. She wanders from the park across the street in the wee hours of the morning looking haggard and dirty. She gathers with others whose lives have come to be found in a bottle, needle, plant, or pill. She walks aimlessly, preying on the kindness of strangers. She lurks like a wild animal. She is someone's mother; someone's daughter.

She got tired of knocking, finally, and left in a huff. They watch her walk down the sidewalk, open the gate and cross the street. They watched until she was out of sight, then wondered if they should have opened their doors after all.

Is there no hope? Does Christian duty give way to common sense, sometimes? When does helping stop? When do you forget about the prospect of getting someone into more trouble, and just turn them over to authorities? When do you admit there's nothing you can do except pray for someone- and remain sincerely confident that prayer works? When does compassion give way to just being pissed off and fed up? When do you give up hope for a person? Do you ever?

JUSTICE

2011-11-16T17:24:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, I watched the documentary "Elusive Justice" on PBS. It was riveting. People have spent the greater part of their lives searching for perpetrators of the Holocaust. I've seen a few excellent Good vs. Evil/Fight for Justice-type films lately, including "Man In The Dark", "The Train" and "Time Limit". In the latter a line by one of the characters struck me. While arguing with a superior officer, accused officer Major Harry Cargill shouted, "His life? Do you think that's the most a man can lose?"
Our systems and missions to see people experiencing our choice of punishment or suffering, are what often fail, and make it seem as if justice is elusive. We think people deserve a certain penalty for what they have done, and if they don't pay, sometimes our own lives are spent in anger, bitterness and frustration. We desperately crave grace when we are the wrongdoers, but demand the most strict, and highest price from others, with no hope of redemption for them. We can get a certain satisfaction in knowing that our mothers were right when they taught us that our actions have consequences, except when it applies to our own misdeeds. When harsh consequences skip over the lives of certain people, we feel betrayed. Some things don't seem right or fair but we have to know, as believers in a righteous God, that justice NEVER fails. While we assign degrees to sin, He sees it all as unrighteousness. He declares that "the wages of sin is death", but for many people, when it comes to bringing criminals to justice for what they've done, even death isn't good enough.
What kind of life is it when one is constantly looking over one's shoulder; ducking, hiding, lying, relocating, and deceiving everyone with whom they come in contact? That doesn't seem like getting away with murder, to me. A person living every day, hoping they'll die before their secrets are revealed can't be healthy in mind or body. Praying that the people who DO know the truth will give up hunting, threatening, intending to expose, or die first, is an awfully stressful way to live. No one ever truly gets away with anything.

NOTE FROM THE WARDROBE COMMITTEE

2011-11-13T11:57:00.004-05:00

I've been invited to sing lots of places over the years. It's not unusual to get driving directions, contact information, a tentative order of the program, event themes, and selected attire colors. I don't think I've EVER received a protocols note concerning clothing. In an age of "Come as you are", people, who actually HAVE suitable clothes in their closets, have clearly taken the concept overboard and are showing up in churches looking as if they just left Hoochie Beach, or simply rolled out of bed after working in a ditch. Frankly, I admire people who aren't afraid to say "This is what is expected here". I do wonder why certain expectations and rules don't apply to the entire week, though. The same God who is portrayed as a stern clothing inspector on the sabbath day certainly doesn't turn a blind eye and say, "Do you" on Monday morning or Thursday afternoon, does He?

I did laugh a few times as I read the note. It's not that it was funny in and of itself, but I had an inkling as to WHY a note like that was ever written in the first place. I could imagine the stunned faces; the appalled people whispering and shaking their holier-than-thou heads; the pointing; the frantic searching for extra lap scarves; the sheer disgust of some woman showing up at church looking like--well--a woman. Can't you just see her strutting in? She had the nerve to have gone to a beautician to give traffic-stopping power to her hair; her earrings, bracelet and necklace catching the sunlight filtering through the stained glass, blinding the whole left side of the church, and burning a hole in the carpet; her knees peeping out from under her dress and sending some poor, frustrated married soul into a frenzy; her shoes adding a little more swish and sway to her walk. Whole rows of people totally missed the sermon for staring at her, rebuking her girly-ness, and damning her to hell as she sang. SHE did it. SHE prompted the note.

Heavy with do's and don'ts for women, I assumed the note was written BY a woman, but I don't know. I wasn't personally offended by it, just amused and fascinated. Something in the past obviously prompted the writer to send it. If he/she really knew ME, he/she would have known it wasn't necessary, considering that I am the plainest Jane among my friends, family and acquaintances, and I think I was blessed with adequate home training. I've often been told I should consult a stylist, because, for me, "comfortable black attire" and "singing engagement" go hand in hand like peanut butter and jelly. You simply can't go wrong with black. Say "black", and you get a greater degree of compliance and uniformity within a group than you would if you said "red". Say "red", and somebody is going to show up in pink, orange, brown, or burgundy. Say "white" and you're going to get tan, beige, or even yellow.
When they know they are going to be seen, photographed, or potentially land on Youtube, some people DO want to stand out. They DO want to be different and display their own individuality. When you leave people to their own tastes and devices, they are going to do what's appealing to them. In some groups, the clothing coordinator's job is to make sure people with vastly different body types, personalities, hair textures and colors, look like cookie cutters. Sadly, it ain't gonna happen. One person's style is not always going to be suitable for another person. Someone is not going to be happy. The person who is making the decisions, however, will ALWAYS be comfortable and pleased with the choice of attire by virtue of the fact that THEY made it based upon their own likes, tastes, beliefs and preferences. Whatever THEY wear will ALWAYS be the standard. The rightness of what everyone else chooses to wear will always be judged by the person who believes THEY know what is best.
The list's emphasis on the attire of women tells me there may have been, or may STILL be a problem. Somebody apparently forgot they were going to a particular church. It tells me that someone has not been cooperating, and sees nothing wrong with their choice of attire. Someone is butting heads with the wardrobe coordinator. Maybe someone showed up and caused the other women rethink why they've conceded to dress like dry oatmeal with no raisins, while the men among them regularly sparkle and shine. Maybe someone showed up and attracted the attention of the wrong man. Someone showed up and challenged women to recheck their Bibles to see whether or not the rules under which they were oppressed and stripped of their femininity, were actually biblical. Someone, sans Spanks, wiggled and jiggled to the delight of someone with no self control, but not to the glory of God.

If it's come down to instructing adults about what to wear and how to wear it, perhaps it's time for a shopping trip on which you foot the entire bill. Maybe a modesty class is in order, or a fashion show. Perhaps it's time for a call to a good choir robe manufacturer. YEAH! A robe will solve everything. It will take care of cleavage, knees, ankles, bare arms, bare backs, hanging slips, exposed legs, trendy shoes, panty hose runs, less than perfect bodies--EVERYTHING. Until the robes are delivered, maybe the choir should sing from the back of the church...in a loft...under their seats...behind a curtain...in the dark. Maybe the choir should only consist of men. Maybe the repeat offenders who haven't figured out what "too tight" means, need to be addressed INDIVIDUALLY; face to face. Maybe an organization should vet their guests first and not invite anyone who sings or plays well, but doesn't honor God, or who might disrespect or totally disregard its tenets concerning clothing. That would eliminate the need for notes like the following:

Guest Singer and Artist Participation Protocols
Dress Code

•All attire for males and females should be modest and appropriate for entering the Throne Room of God. Clothing should not be a distraction to the congregation.

•No jewelry should be worn while ministering (except wedding bands).

•No pants are to be worn by any female guest while ministering.

•Even in more relaxed venues (like concerts) be mindful that you are entering into the Throne Room of a Holy God. Therefore dress appropriately!

Rules for all female ministers:

1)Skirts should be no shorter than reaching below the kneecap.
2)No T-strap shirts, strapless or thin sleeveless tops (cap sleeves are recommended)
3)Stockings should be worn however; if they are not (due to excessive heat) skirts should be longer than below the knee (calf-length).
4)Do not wear tight clothing while ministering (this also applies to the men).
5)Be mindful that you are above the crowd, clothing that looks appropriate in your mirror at home will look different from a higher angle.
6)Please wear make up modestly.

All male and female ministers

1)Be mindful that you are entering the Presence of a Holy God please act and dress accordingly.
2)Be modest and tasteful with hair dos.
3)Do not wear tight clothing while ministering.
4)Refrain from ultra trendy attire that draws too much personal attention.
5)Dress church or casual church attire is appropriate.

Make sure that clothing or hairdos never makes YOU the focus of worship… GOD must always be the focus of our praise.

A MIND OF YOUR OWN

2011-11-09T08:07:00.003-05:00

Don't fall for that "You're supposed to be my friend" jazz--especially if it actually means "Blindly endorse my wrongdoing and flawed thinking". If you're going to have enemies, let it be because of something that occurred between you and them--NOT them and someone else. Stop being mad just because someone else is mad! What is it with this madness transferring business, as if you don't have a mind of your own? Some people have a habit of tossing your name in a situation as if it makes their opinion, plan, or action more legitimate. You just can't hop on every bandwagon just because you know the driver. Sometimes you have to let people know you DON'T agree and give them the reasons why. If they get mad, well....What IS it that keeps us silent when we should speak up? Sometimes it is necessary to say, even to oneself, "You are wrong, you messed up, your behavior was inappropriate, and your estimation of that individual/situation is way off. You need to examine yourself and apologize". When truth triggers fear of losing a relationship, is the relationship even worth having? People who are rude, abusive, or inconsiderate to others leave me with an eerie feeling that my turn is coming--even if they have been generally nice to me. Who's keeping you bound to them with an expectation that you support their jacked up behavior towards others--others who have done NOTHING wrong to you? What relationships and opportunities are YOU missing out on because you choose to believe a liar, pal around with a bully, or assume the role of Yes Man to some self-absorbed twit who has a habit of speaking for you, or telling you what you're supposed to think? Shame to be in possession of the greatest supercomputer known to man and allow someone else to program it to benefit them, and make you appear inept and weak. Have a mind of your own.

WITHIN EARSHOT

2011-11-07T13:32:00.006-05:00

Sound travels. In many settings no amplification is needed. Restaurants. Buses. trains. Planes. Store aisles. Public restrooms. People have to care about who's being accidentally invited into their conversations. Seems silly to wonder how information was disseminated if you're in the habit of talking loudly and indiscreetly--in public places.
I, indirectly, heard something very personal about two acquaintances. It literally knocked the wind out of me. Sometimes you have to stop people in mid sentence and hip them to the levels to which they take inappropriate speech when they think no one is listening. All of the time, you have to choose your friends and acquaintances wisely. Truth is a great friend, but there are some things that I don't want, or need to know about people, whether a gossip thinks I SHOULD know or not. I've found that minding my own business takes considerable time. In this day and age, that line from the kiddie song is frighteningly true: "For your friends are my friends, and my friends are your friends." Some of your friends, however, can't keep wet in water. They're hanging around you, and have access to your business, but there's not a discreet or loyal bone in their bodies. They actually delight in telling others what they know as a result of spending time with you or handling your affairs. Perhaps it makes them feel important or powerful to be able to take you down a peg in the eyes of people who admire what you do, but don't know you personally.

VOTE FOR ME

2011-11-07T13:29:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time the first Academy, Grammy, and Tony awards were given to honor artistic excellence. Once upon a time somebody was heard to say, "So what. I never heard of them." Anyone who utters those words today would confirm that their residence has been under a rock in some remote corner of the globe.
How does an award become coveted? What is the criteria? How does one identify an awards organization founded to compete with/protest/retaliate against existing ones? What are the tell-tale signs of an awards organization designed to lure the desperate, ambitious, or gullible? Should hopefuls pay to play? In order to be recognized, should YOU be responsible for soliciting your own nominations/votes? Shouldn't that be the job of those who admire/support your effort? If you get too tired of waiting to be recognized by a long-standing, respected organization, do you find a way to recognize yourself or succumb to the empty promises and limited arena of some rinky-dink, fly-by-night con game? What does having a particular award or honor do for you, or say about you? When does it become sadly obvious that ANY award will do?

SINGING IN THE BACKGROUND

2011-11-02T16:53:00.001-04:00

Once again, I had the opportunity to participate in the Capital Jazz Super Cruise. This year, I had the honor of working with George Duke, Patti Austin, and Phil Perry. To say I had a wonderful time would be an understatement.
Captain Orazio D'Aita kept an eye on Hurricane Rina and the bands played on.

October 22, the day we flew from DC to Ft. Lauderdale would have been my Mom's 75th birthday. My sisters, my daughter and I were together. Mommy would have loved it.

SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY

2011-10-13T23:19:00.002-04:00

It just seemed odd. Why was the guy just sitting on the ground in the rain? He seemed fidgety. He'd taken off his hood, then just as quickly, put it back on. Was he waiting for a ride? Had he locked himself out? Did he even live here? Was he a stalker? Was he homeless? Why did his actions seem so suspicious? Every now and then he'd reach into his pocket and take a drink. It could have been liquor the way he was swigging it. It could have just as well been orange juice. Who was he? People passed by on the sidewalk, and he'd turn in the opposite direction. The mailman came, but the guy never moved. No one seemed to acknowledge him. I left the window and went back to my work. Almost an hour later, the guy was still sitting there on the cold, hard ground.
I dialed 911 not knowing whether to ask for police or ambulance. The last time, it was an easy choice. A young woman had passed out on the sidewalk outside the gate. She was so drunk, she was unresponsive. It was raining that time, too--no. It was pouring. I grabbed a blanket and went outside. The ambulance came and they took her away. How many people had simply passed her by? I wish I knew if she was okay.

Last night a noise prompted me to go to the door. A man in tan clothing was staggering up the stairs to the 3rd floor. He stopped, stumbled, and coughed as if his lungs were in serious trouble. I never heard keys, or a door opening or closing. I opened the door and heard a loud moan. I didn't call 911. A brave neighbor came out of her home, and told him he had to leave. He said he was sorry; even in his drunkenness, told her he loved her. The door was open, he said, so he just walked on in. Maybe he thought he was at his own home. He had planned to sleep in the hallway on the landing. He reeked of urine and alcohol, but he made his way down the stairs and out into the drizzle.
I wondered if I had done the right thing last night. Maybe the drunk man needed medical attention even though he said he didn't. Maybe he needed a place to sleep. Maybe wandering aimlessly into places where he didn't live was his MO. Maybe he'd done it before and had just been a little quieter. I don't know.
Early in the morning, weary looking people can be seen emerging from the park across the street, disheveled, disoriented, unbalanced, eyes blazing. Park benches are gathering places--or beds.

So much happens in the lives of men and women that cause them to turn on themselves; to stop caring; to check out temporarily.
I wondered if my hesitation to call 911 last night caused me to overreact this morning? When the ambulance came, the EMS worker got out and asked something of the guy who'd been sitting in the rain. Apparently the answer was satisfactory, because the ambulance left as quickly as it came. False alarm, I suppose.
Your suspicious maybe someone's normal.

RECOMMENDATIONS

2011-10-13T19:35:00.000-04:00

Sometimes it feels really great to recommend someone. You're excited to. You don't even have to think about it. You just know they're going to be perfect for a task--a real asset--and the opportunity may even change the course of their lives--or at least put a few extra needed dollars in their pockets or purse. Unfortunately, you can't recommend everyone--even as much as you'd like to. Some folk are very good at what they do, but their reputations precede them and their attitudes...well...they suck. It's not long before it's revealed that their contribution to a thing isn't worth the headache everyone involved would have to endure. You can't deny that they're talented, but they're also bossy, arrogant, uncooperative, rude, conceited, strife-loving, gossipy, dishonest, unnecessarily competitive, critical, tactless, pushy, self-centered or just plain batty. They're just not going act right. Maybe they can't help it, don't realize it, or think it's acceptable, CHIC even, but they just don't get it. Lousy behavior casts an awful light on amazing talent. It leaves you feeling a certain kind of way when you're asked about people, and have to muster up every ounce of tact you have, and recall the mantra of every mother in the universe: "If you can't find something good to say, don't say anything at all.". It's kinda sad, especially when you're keenly aware, and eternally grateful that someone took a chance on you--based on a recommendation.

JUST ASK

2011-10-13T18:37:00.003-04:00

Everyone will not like you, or want you around. Some folk are on a mission to make sure the picture doesn't include others, and have no qualms demonizing them. You have to take a stand, though. If you're going to be annoyed with or dislike someone, shouldn't it be your choice? Be mad just because someone else is? Huh? What is THAT about? You're supposed to suddenly change your opinion of someone when they have done NOTHING to justify it? One person decides not to communicate with someone; has a hidden, unresolved or unfounded issue; jumps to the wrong conclusion, or just needs Jesus, and now EVERYBODY is supposed to be mad and ostracize, too? Please. That's not solidarity. That's not support. That's just stupid. Do we really want others to uphold us supposed in immaturity, wrongdoing, backward thinking, or denial? People miss out on wonderful friendships when they hop on someone's bandwagon of ill will. If someone has done you absolutely no harm--ever--what on Earth are you mad at them about? It CAN'T be because of what someone ELSE said! What if there is an obvious bias? You've got to acknowledge that the judgment of people you know, trust or love can have its off days, too.
Endeavor to get WHOLE stories, because there's ALWAYS a viewpoint to which you may not be privy if you only listen to one side . Don't let selfish, paranoid, unreasonably ambitious, unnecessarily competitive, jealous, strife-loving people keep you at odds with others, and cause you to miss, or turn down great opportunities, resources, relationships. Have a mind of your own--and if you want to know something, ASK. Make sure, of course, that its your business.

MOMMY

2011-10-12T11:33:00.002-04:00

There are so many days when I wish I could talk to my mother. Sometimes I look at pictures of her and remember her voice; her words. It's a good thing. She was a very wise, witty woman. I don't want her words to be in vain. I can't tell her anymore that I was listening, but I was...: )

KEEP SHINING

2011-10-11T12:56:00.007-04:00

Every time you turn around there's someone shining their light in arenas that others have foolishly claimed as theirs--and it's positively pissing folk off because they are SURE that they're more deserving. If something really belonged to someone else, they wouldn't be asking YOU how to get it, fighting to keep it, killing themselves to maintain its facade, or begging for a hook-up to get in, now, would they? They've been breaking their necks, running from pillar to post, trying to be seen and make a name for themselves--even at the expense and detriment of their faith, health, and even family. Pray for those who compete with you without informing you that you are in their game.

Don't ever, EVER let someone's insecurity, bullying, arrogance, or desperate ambition cause you to purposely shrink, or doubt yourself. Don't be moved by their words. Don't be intimidated by their presence. Theirs is not a place of strength, but of weakness. Pushy, jealous, opportunistic, self-centered folk are like that. Don't sweat what people think they're denying you. They are not your source. Sometimes you have to quietly remind people, by your life, that the Earth is the Lord's, he doesn't play favorites, and is neither broke nor running out of plans, opportunities or resources. Tell them that God uses who he wants, when, and how he wants--and you keep shining. They'll get over themselves, and leave you alone when they realize that hate and envy are killers worse than cancer.
You're going to BE okay, not because of what you can do, or you are, but because of who God is. You only want what's in HIS hands...: )

SPEAK UP

2011-10-11T12:36:00.007-04:00

There are people in your life who will take offense to ANYTHING you say, just because YOU said it. It says a lot about what they really think of you, if they're consistently poised to pounce on EVERYTHING you say, or always conclude that your intent is malicious. If they regularly become defensive no matter WHAT you say, or before you even finish a sentence, you can be sure they're not listening or hearing. They've already anticipated that you're against them. They've already decided for some reason that you're not supportive. You really have to ask yourself why on Earth they keep telling you things, or asking for your take on any given issue. Maybe they don't know that you're not tickled to death to watch them doing or saying really dumb, self-destructive things that cause them the very stress they say they're trying to avoid.
It doesn't matter if your words are cloaked in a spirit of caring or concern. They can be gentle and softly spoken, but some people don't want the truth--or they just can't accept it. Perhaps its light is just too much to handle. You can't ever be so worried about offending someone that you lie to them, or pretend to cosign their poor judgment, instead. It's better not to say anything at all. Your words, whether in the form of advice or warning, may very well ruffle their feathers--even if given in a spirit of good will.
Sometimes you're not the one to get through to a person. Perhaps you're too close. Too often we reject the faithful wounds of a friend, or family member in favor of the coldblooded, sucker punch of an enemy or stranger. Either way, we learn. Unfortunately, we opt to learn lessons the hard way-- from people who don't give a damn; who've been looking for just the right ammunition; who don't ask questions, or wait for explanations, and easily use our own actions against us. We forget we have an enemy while we're wrapped up in the "Do You" campaign. Because we don't think the enemy is paying attention--or we just don't THINK, we mess around and do his job for him. We learn the hard way when we refuse to emerge from denial and heed sound advice.
My parents always said if you KNOW something is wrong and you don't speak up, you're equally as wrong. "But they'll be mad at me", you say. Speak up anyway. It proves how much you value the relationship--even if your speaking means the end of it. "But they won't listen to me". Speak up louder. As they're marinating in their anger, and trying to convince themselves that their words or actions are harmless, or of no consequence, your words of reason will STILL be there challenging, or even eating away at their shaky judgment.
Speak up. It tests the strength of the relationship. If you have to condone foolishness, always agree, applaud things that are inappropriate, or bite your tongue to maintain a relationship, just how genuine or one-sided is it? You're not trying to live anyone's life but your own, but love makes you keep trying to get through to people, even when you're thinking your effort has been in vain. Speak up, but next time, speak to God. It takes the burden off of your shoulders. Who knows, maybe your friend or loved one will listen to HIM.

TODAY

2011-10-09T21:34:00.001-04:00

I woke up very early, and actually got up--which is always a clear sign that I actually like where I've planned to go.
Summer made a return appearance today. It was beautiful.
I had such a lovely time worshiping with the Crossover Church family. Who doesn't need a refresher in breaking strongholds? I can't say it enough how critical it is to hear not just good preaching and teaching, but sound, biblical truth. It was also great to hear a testimony of complete healing from cancer, and hear that former cancer patient pray for others. Wow.
I'd just made it across the sanctuary threshold and into the sunshine before I was tested on just how well I remembered and intended to apply the teaching I'd heard. The devil really wastes no time. Joy stealers, though drama-filled, aren't that crafty, and they only have the power and time you give them. It's good when incoming negative words can be immediately arrested and overtaken by fresh, positive, powerful ones. You've got to know what molehills are trying to make you think they're mountains. You've got to know to what you are going to invest even the tiniest amount of time and attention. Sometimes, you have to turn off your phone and revert back to the days when folk just had to wait until you got home--and even then, it was up to you whether you returned a call or not. Sometimes people only seem intimidating, but they're really operating out of a place of weakness. They want to draw you into to things that mean so little. Nothing you say or do will matter if they're convinced they actually have an argument or valid point. They don't really want to know what you think. They want your consent. They want you to agree. When you can't or won't, they're mad. When you refuse to adopt their logic, something must be wrong with you. So, you just let them keep thinking that they know of which they speak--let them continue to affirm their rightness---and you? Well, you totally ignore the noise and keep your peace! Trying to reason with a fool would have been taking wrongness to an entirely new level, especially on a spectacular day like today.

Dinner at Friday's was so enjoyable. It's nice to dine with friends, enjoy good conversation, laugh a lot--and be surrounded by umpteen football games. I was actually full after the fried green beans appetizer. I must have been really full because even the vanilla bean cheesecake will be spending the night in the freezer.

I'm here, so I clearly fought off the tugging of the Sunday-after-church nap. It really has been a pleasant, overcoming day. I think I'm gonna sleep well tonight...: )

TRAIN UP A CHILD

2011-10-08T22:01:00.001-04:00

Last week, I was privy to a rather loud, profane argument. I admit it frightened me at first and I wondered if I should dial 911. The people screaming obscenities at one another were a married couple. In the middle of the fray were their two young children. I could only imagine how anxious and fearful the children were. When the mother realized I was within earshot, she quickly changed her tone. I wanted her to know I was there. I never said a word, but she knew she was over the top. She had the capability to check herself and correct her behavior. I wonder if it was a wake-up call for her. I also wondered how many curse words and creative phrases her children now had under their tiny little belts. It's dangerous business to intervene with a parent and child these days. Many parents won't correct their children, and don't want anyone else correcting them either. You might come away with one eyebrow not singed. Confronting a parent about their own behavior may leave you in an even worse condition.
More recently, someone proudly and publicly shared a video of their toddler. Considering the content, I didn't see anything for which to be proud. While others commented on its cuteness, it did nothing more than cause me to shake my head and wonder if the person who shared it had taken leave of their senses. Sometimes we give people all the ammunition they need to question our fitness--and sanity. Sometimes we simply don't think. Just because we CAN do, doesn't mean we should. Of course, whether a thing is adorable, funny, harmless, creative or highly inappropriate is up to the viewer or listener. I wanted to respond, but I didn't. In my state of disappointment, my response probably would have been void of all tact. We often forget how things can be misconstrued; how what seems like a minor thing can be blown out of proportion; how our own actions can be used against us. I wondered if my point would have been lost, not received, and--at worst-- more videos would have followed just to show me that, perhaps I need to lighten up. I wonder if I had said something to the angry mother if her ire would have been redirected toward me. I don't know. When it comes to kids, how they're mistreated, manipulated, used, and disregarded, I don't want to lighten up.
Kids are not toys, and parents often fail to realize how precious little time they actually have to properly train a child. Too much of that time is spent exposing children to things their impressionable minds should never hold; teaching them things that they can certainly mimic, but that have no redeemable value. Children really do learn what they live.
You can't blame the media, school, the neighborhood, or other kids when you are the reason your child either has no filter or doesn't know how to use the one they should have. Everything to which children are exposed is not age appropriate or wise. Shame on the parents who fail to recognize their own hand in the mis-education of their children. Sometimes you need look no further than your own mirror when you stupidly ask, "Now, I wonder where my child got THAT from?"
Proverbs 22:6 admonishes, "Train up a child in the way he SHOULD go; even when he is old he will not depart from it." It also explains why there are old idiots.
Sometimes you're not the one to prompt someone see the error of their ways. You may be too close. They'll reject sound advice, swim in denial, take offense, stop speaking, align themselves with fools, prefer to believe the counsel of a liar--even continue to put themselves in harm's way, before they'll say, "Wow. You're right. I see your point".
Pastor Timothy Seay said, "You are, in essence, a product of whose hand you're in. Who's molding you? Who's shaping you? Who's guiding and directing you?...Just because someone confronts you, doesn't mean they're your enemy..."

Good home training goes a long way.

TRANSFORMED

2011-10-08T17:57:00.000-04:00

I had such a nice time at Mt. Ennon Baptist Church today. They call this the "Women's Season". Their theme was "Transformed", and every word spoken this afternoon was aimed at the daily discipline, untapped passions or desires, level of commitment and attitudes of the sisters there Every speaker reminded us of the countless benefits there are as a result of a relationship with God.
It's always nice to see things supposedly done in the name of the Lord, done in a spirit of excellence. It's also nice to see women gathering in a pleasant and unified way.
It was an honor to meet Rev. Debra Lynn Haggins, the first woman Chaplain of Hampton University. Her message was powerful. "Let patience do what folk won't do", she said. "The only way to strengthen your faith is to practice your faith..."

Anacostia

2011-10-01T13:19:00.002-04:00

I'm really proud of Anacostia. It's nice not to have to go to downtown, Maryland or Virginia for a change for atmosphere and good food. The Uniontown Grille has become a favorite. A visit to a friend's new condo revealed the spectacular views no one believes can be seen from anywhere east of the river. Don't sleep on SE/SW DC...: )

TODAY

2011-09-25T20:57:00.002-04:00

Today, I witnessed a nuisance being handled with such wisdom and care...It was marvelous.Brilliant. Neither a hand, nor volume of voice was raised.This voice maintained a calm, patient, understanding tone, but was in no way weak. It may not have been the method of choice for some people, considering the persistence of the nuisance, but it certainly proved to be the best. In the midst of instruction on what to do when one is in a desperate situation, a contrary individual decided to abruptly take center stage. It couldn't have been more ironic. Perhaps alcohol, drugs, or mental challenges were involved that demanded a more sympathetic stance than a combative one. Others wanted to pounce and eject the offender. They quickly positioned themselves. Frankly, whatever physical tactics they would have employed would have been understandable and justified. The interruption was crass and unruly; highly inappropriate and disrespectful. It deserved to be carried out kicking and screaming. As annoying as it was; as much as the nuisance tried to escalate the situation, it was not allowed to prevail. I thought that perhaps, were the atmosphere not so quiet, the nuisance would have simply blended in with any acceptable noise. The occasional crying of a baby wasn't disruptive; it didn't hamper progress, but the nuisance was determined to make itself known. It was intent on drawing as much attention to itself as possible. It lacked the finesse or grace. It was loud, profane and angry. It flew in the face of the dignity and sacredness of the situation. Perhaps it challenged it. A calmer spirit prevailed, however, and I had such respect for the leadership. He'd just stated that sometimes desperate situations come as a way for God to bring us back to our knees. The nuisance qualified as a desperate situation, interrupted the carefully crafted program and inspired unscheduled prayer. It also forced everyone to immediately put the points of the message to work.

1." Think back on our history with God and recall his goodness."

2."Remember how he had blessed us personally."

3."Amass the necessary resources."

4. "Believe in the power of God."

Considering the nuisance, God's power was sorely needed. Considering our lives, any one of us could have been the nuisance.

The situation was an eye opener, and, fortunately, prepared me for an eerily similar nuisance that met me at my door when I arrived back at home. Some people just want to be acknowledged. Their lives are so broken and they don't know how to turn it around. Substance abuse and its deceptive nature keep them in a constant state of confusion. Then, other people simply seek to intimidate, inspire fear, bully and provoke confrontation. I'm wondering if, sometimes, they are not all one in the same. What everyone really needs is a solid relationship with God. More than that, people need to see God in action. They need to see Him in us. It's easy to dismiss people, especially when they make a nuisance of themselves. It's more difficult to engage in love when it's easier and more desirable to call 911, distance oneself, ignore, complain--or just punch someone's lights out.

Never let a nuisance fluster you. It only THINKS it's in charge. Respond incorrectly and the consequences may be explosive. Handled properly, you gain respect points, maintain your composure, keep order--and maybe even win someone over to the bright side.

1 CORINTHIANS 5:8

2011-09-25T18:34:00.004-04:00

Where I'd like to be, prefer to be, or have a good will to be, is not necessarily where I am-- or where I will go. I'd rather be at the Hoffman theater right now, but I'm watching TV. Although it's a really good film, I'd prefer to be in a seat in Alexandria, holding a tub of popcorn, a cherry Coke, and some Milk Duds. Should you phone me, and I'm suddenly not at home, or I don't answer the phone, because I've told you where I'd LIKE to be, you might assume that's where I've gone. You may be wrong.

Death is no stranger. it occurs every day, but when the names of the deceased are familiar to us, we grope for appropriate words to say to the bereaved.
My elementary school Science teacher, Mrs. Swinton, who I was proud to also call co-worker when I became a teacher, died on Friday. One of my favorite singers, Vesta Williams, who had a chance to work with on a few occasions died this past week, as well. Whether it's a close friend, family member or total stranger, we struggle for some helpful words to ease the grief of their loved ones. Sometimes, in the throes of our own discomfort, we say incredibly stupid things. On the other hand, we share beautiful, reassuring words but, without intention, butcher Bible verses in the process.
2 Corinthians 5:8 is so often misquoted. Someone dies and we try to lift the spirits of a grieving person by saying, "To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord." The Bible doesn't say that in any translation. How do we completely skip over the Apostle Paul's words "willing" and "rather"? When we do, we completely alter the statement. We're depositing people in Heaven who are, according to Psalm 115:17, silent in their graves. We've got them dancing, gardening, singing, bowling and playing golf, when Ecclesiastes 9:5 tells us "...the dead know nothing".
To be absent from the body is NOT to be present with the Lord. We want His company. We long for His presence. We can't, however, begin any passage of scripture in the middle and expect to effectively and rightly communicate its intent. To be absent from the body is to be somewhere else, not in the company, in a different geographic location, not confined--ALIVE and conscious in some fashion--but certainly not dead. We all have times when we'd rather be somewhere else, with someone else, or among another group of people. Sometimes we don't want to be bothered with anyone. It would be lovely to be the Lord's audience of one, and shut out certain people and situations. Desiring to be with the Lord is a good thing, and we don't have to wait until we die. He's promised never to leave or forsake us. He's omnipresent. He invites us to look for him and he's not prone to playing hide-and-seek. Given Christ's resurrection, we don't have to continue asserting that our deceased loved ones are not in fact "asleep" awaiting Christ's return.
Reading really is fundamental, so is comprehension. When it comes to the Word of God, even the tiniest omitted word makes a huge difference in the meaning of what is read/heard, and our understanding of it.

AN INNOCENT MAN?

2011-09-21T16:41:00.006-04:00

A stranger is in trouble. The problem with most of us is that we don't know the whole truth about him or the situation that landed him in prison. We can research and read and listen to pundits and news reporters, but we are still a bit powerless. We have no idea about a person's innocence or guilt. We weren't there. All we can respond to is what we have been told. We also prove our ignorance of the law. Our hearts and emotions speak louder than anything else. We want common sense to prevail. What seems like a simple matter is more complicated than we think it should be, and the unwillingness to make things right in our eyes is infuriating. We don't know the particulars. We just don't like the idea of an innocent person being punished for something he or she didn't do (especially if that person is one of us --or one of "US"). It's not fair, or right, but it's real. Racism, injustice, lying, deception, racial profiling, wickedness, and anything else we can associate with the travesty of the day, do exist.

Sometimes we bank on the integrity of people who don't have any. Surely, the person who actually committed the crime won't just sit back and do nothing. They'll feel horrible, speak up and turn themselves in, won't they?
We want "somebody" to do something. We feel helpless. We take jabs at the judicial system. We don't see what's so difficult about a change of decision. We look to leaders--people we think have more clout or importance than we do. Surely, one word from THEM will make a difference, right? IS there a federal issue about which the President could ask for an investigation, and halt the execution of Troy Davis? Does the Commander-in-Chief have no more options in the matter than the rest of us? Is this a job for Superman?
Fact is, we can tweet and post and picket and sign petitions and call our congressmen and women all day if we like. Will what we do change anything at all? Will we wake up in the morning, shake our collective heads, and read that a man was put to death in spite of all we think we knew, yet could do nothing about?
Time to pray.
After He has, once again, proven Himself faithful, we, so often, stop talking to God and resume our regularly scheduled programming. Hope this time, we keep talking--even if it's not an emergency.

"...the "bias against punishment" had its roots in "the most famous of all miscarriages of justice: Christ's crucifixion." ~Alexander Volokh

"...no man, if guilty, is ever acquitted with himself as the judge, though he may have won in the courtroom..." ~Juvenal

"All guilt is punished on earth." ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"SURE it's better to let 10 guilty men go free than to convict an innocent man in the case where the man's REALLY completely innocent" ~R. Park

"If anyone is destined for captivity, to captivity he goes." ~Revelation 13:10

"Keep thee far from a false matter; and the innocent and righteous slay thou not: for I will not justify the wicked." ~Exodus 23:7

"A lamentable condition is that of an innocent man, to whom haste and procedure have found a crime.." ~Jean de La Bruyère

"It would be as pernicious to leave the guilty unpunished as to punish innocent people." ~Renward Garcia Medrano

"Nothing is more easy than thus to philosophize and act the patriot for others." ~Samuel Romilly

"...ideally, the acquittal of 10 guilty persons is exactly 10 times as great a failure of justice as the conviction of one innocent person."

"...my case is exceptional. I'm innocent! We are all exceptional cases. We all want to appeal something!..." ~Albert Camus

"A guilty man punished is an example for the rabble; an innocent man condemned is a matter for all honest people." ~Jean de La Bruyère

"What I want is justice for that one innocent man, but not a free ride for the guilty ones." ~Elsie Tu

"Most Americans would allow a considerable number of guilty persons to go free than to convict any appreciable number of innocent men." ~HJF

"It's better to turn five guilty men loose than it is to convict one innocent man. " ~Thomas Berry Bruce

"It's better for four guilty men to go free, than one innocent man to be imprisoned." ~George Raveling

"American jurisprudence is contradictory and tormented on the subject of guilty men." ~Alexander Volokh

BY ANY OTHER NAME

2011-09-20T21:54:00.001-04:00

A Twitter follower asked, "What title do you prefer? Inspirational or Gospel Music? Why?"
I couldn't help but wonder. What gospel? Whose gospel? THE Gospel? One religious teacher's or lay person's interpretation of the Christian message may be lacking; contrary to God's message concerning Christ, salvation, and His kingdom. Linking anything to THE Gospel implies a standard that frankly, some things don't meet.
Call music "gospel", and there's a listener expectation, (a demand, even, if the listener is a churchgoer or Bible student) that reaches beyond the mere making of good music, and searches the message of the music AND the life of the artist for adherence to Scripture. Artists are often given the moniker "minister", "Levite" (or deemed frauds), when it may not be fitting, merited-- or wanted.
You can't back someone into a corner and insist that they clarify their allegiance to something if they've never taken a stand. Perhaps that's why some people won't.
Call music "inspirational" and it's safer. It may also be a more honest pronouncement than that of someone who markets something as "gospel", has a plan to use it, but no desire to truly embrace The Gospel. Calling music "inspirational" can be vague. It can be appreciated by a wider audience. It doesn't require a strict commitment to any religious sect, text, belief system, or an actual relationship with God. Anyone can say that they received a revelation and share it. Anyone can say that they were divinely influenced, inspired or so moved emotionally or intellectually that they responded by creating a musical composition. None of that necessarily makes the composition "good news" for everyone.
Fortunately "gospel" has a way of side stepping the motives of those who pimp/sponsor/use/misuse it and is still reaching people all over the world.

TODAY?

2011-09-17T20:46:00.002-04:00

September is flying by as if it desperately wants to be over. I forgot something today. I even wrote it down, and STILL it slipped my mind. No. It fell out, rolled down a hill and lodged itself between two boulders behind a large tree in tall weeds.
I declined several invitations in favor, and anticipation of what I was supposed to do today. Today's date never even registered this morning. There was no trigger at all. No phone call, no email, no text message, no reminder. I wasn't supposed to need one. Today's plan has been in the works since May. I feel horrible about it. I'm exploring all kinds of methods to make sure this never happens again, but I was pretty sure I'd done all of the necessary things to remember. Apparently not. Were there unusual factors or sequences of events about THIS time? Does my failure to remember mean that it wasn't important to me? Is my plate too full? Crying didn't help, but I had a good cry for my forgetfulness. Letting down a friend is never the plan. I imagine my name will be "mud" for a while in spite of my past record of remembering. "OMG! Did you hear what she did? She FORGOT! How could she do such a heinous thing?"

I think I'll start reading Joseph T. Hallinan's book, "Why We Make Mistakes". I can understand how this happened. I just don't want to let myself off the hook just yet.
Maybe I should stop saying I'm getting old--even in jest. YESTERDAY, I had that feeling that I should be somewhere. That feeling clearly arrived a day in advance. It should have smacked me upside the head this morning.
It's worse when you don't even have a tragic, understandable excuse. I wasn't sick, no one died, there was no flat tire, traffic, traffic accident, road closing, earthquake, fire or flood. I simply forgot, and forgetting isn't one of those things that usually gets you a sincere, "I understand". Sometimes, you just have to welcome yourself to the human race.
There's some Malcolm Gladwell philosophies at work here somewhere. You really have to consider all of the little things. I could think of all kinds of reasons and scenarios, and what-ifs. It still doesn't change the fact that I can do nothing about it now except feel very badly--and go back to my old habit of writing things down on a very large, strategically placed, and of course, ARTSY wall calendar.
*SIGH*

THE VILLAGE DAUGHTERS

2011-09-17T18:38:00.002-04:00

I am appreciating and thanking God for my mother, grandmothers, aunts, female teachers--every woman who sowed positive seeds into my life--a little bit more today. I am applauding my daughter in such a huge way, too. I am so sincerely grateful for God's grace, mercy and protection. I am grateful for everything my daughter and I share, even if it's just a hearty laugh.
My heart aches for two moms I don't even know. Two moms who, like me, only wanted the best for their daughters. Two moms who worked and sacrificed. Two moms who probably bragged about their girls' academic achievement. Two moms who hoped their daughters lives would excel beyond their dreams for them; Two moms who, perhaps, only wanted their daughters to be able to adequately and effectively take care of themselves, and become upstanding, contributing members of society.
I feel so badly for anyone who has lost a child in ANY manner, at any age--especially to senseless violence.
The Bowie State tragedy is so troubling to me. Not too long ago, I too, drove away and left my child on the campus of a university. She, too, from time to time, had roommates. I don't want to imagine the dangers that were lurking, during her college days, that some responsible, alert, caring adult(s) nipped in the bud on my behalf. (Thank you, Jesus.) When you send your baby to college, you imagine that he or she might not come back home because they landed some cushy, well paying job in their college's town after graduation--not because he or she was murdered.
I looked at the twitter timelines of both young women, and had to stop. I was suddenly reminded, yet again, that I am definitely getting old. I wondered exactly when was any school work being done. I wondered if dorm monitors/counselors are a thing of the past. I wondered if there was any attempt at separating these young women. I wondered if there is a conflict resolution component at the university. I hoped and prayed that the twitter powers-that-be would take down both pages so that their mothers wouldn't ever see them; so that news media outlets, that seem to get a lot of their news from social networking sites, would not see them and begin to quote them. Too late. I hoped that other young women would wake up and realize that their OWN online behavior--what names they choose to call themselves, how they describe themselves, what they say to represent themselves-- was equally degrading, damaging and unwise.
These days warnings and red flags are flying right in our faces and we aren't paying attention. We've dismissed things as harmless; innocent fun; youthful indiscretion; free speech. We're afraid to confront; hesitant to correct. We still haven't succeeded in educating some young people that "I'm not hurting anybody but myself" is one of the stupidest statements known to man. Troubled people are all around us, publicly crying out for help in varying ways, and our response is often, "Do you", murmuring, or silence. The trouble is no longer reserved for, or to be blamed on "da hood".
It's unfortunate when the only, appropriate response SHOULD be sadness and sympathy, but because of your OWN words and behavior, not only is sympathy replaced by suspicion, ridicule, jokes and judgment, but your own words MAY be used to help the case of the person who has done you the greatest, permanent, irrevocable harm.

I have so many random questions.

1. Is ANYONE teaching English grammar and composition,spelling, or principles of speech in schools any more?
2. When did young women become so horribly and happily vulgar and profane?
3. Are we declaring young people mature too soon?
4. Is ANYONE schooling young people of the dangers of irresponsible social networking habits?
5. Are young people aware that their resume is NOT the only thing schools and employers are perusing these days?
6. Are parents checking out, turning a blind eye and deaf ear? Are they computer illiterate?
7. If the whole online world can see your child's social networking site, why can't you and WHY aren't you saying something?
8. If the supposed best and the brightest are wilding out in real time at institutions of higher learning, is it time to storm elementary schools and try to reverse the tide?
9. Are we teaching our children that their actions have consequences?
10. Have ALL of us "villagers" dropped the ball?

There's nothing I can do about what has happened except feel the way I do, and pray, I suppose. There is something I can do today, and God willing, the rest of my days, in my own community, though. I have an adult child, so it may be said that I don't have a dog in the hunt, but I grew up at a time when you technically had one mother, but all of the other mothers--including total strangers-- were like surrogates; not afraid to help you stay on the right path by any means necessary. Our daughters have to know that they have potential; they don't have to seek attention by being loud, trifling, foul-mouthed, indiscreet, abrasive, argumentative, combative, defensive, nasty, drunken, etc.
It's one thing for someone else to deliberately try and tell your story to potentially ruin your reputation or shame your name. It's another to tell it yourself in segments of 140 words or less, and potentially mute the good and positive aspects of your own life.

TRIED AND TRUE

2011-09-17T00:35:00.004-04:00

Shame on businesses, specifically random phone companies, that deliberately target senior citizens and lure them with promises of lower long distance rates, but respond slowly, ignorantly, or not at all when services fail, need Verizon's help to fix EVERY problem, then stick the trusting seniors with a repair bill that eats away all of the money they were SUPPOSED to have saved as a result of switching FROM Verizon in the first place.
Talk to the senior citizen in your life. Look out for shady creditors among their bills if you can. Though they may have caller ID, many seniors don't bother to check it, and then ignore numbers that most likely belong to slick telemarketers. Even the wisest of our elder family members, friends or acquaintances have been convinced to open their wallets and purses to contribute to hoax charities, or pay for poor products and services. Make sure they haven't been scammed.

I'm all for entrepreneurial spirit, and keeping an eye on monopolies, but if it's supposed to be new and better, then...well...it should be new and better. There are companies and brands that consumers have trusted for years, and new companies and brands know that. If they want your business, they have to be awfully special--provide exceptional service that trumps that to which a consumer has grown accustomed. The thought of saving a few dollars is always a good thing to plant in the mind. It would be nice if quality and good customer service don't have to be sacrificed in the quest to save a few dollars.

IN THE MORNING

2011-09-15T12:01:00.005-04:00

Although I have always had an appreciation for various musical genres, (and admit I was happily present and singing along at the old Capitol Center during the festival-style Parliament Funkadelic and Bootsy's Rubber Band concert back in the 70's), it's official--I'm displaying the tell-tale signs of advanced age. My nerves are getting bad, I think. I'm losing hip points and don't care. This morning, if I had been close to the inconsiderate person, I may have forgotten that I am my parent's least confrontational child.
I'm sorry. I have tried, and I know that "hate" is a strong word, but I hate rap. Okay. That's too broad. Let me put it this way. I hate the rap that seems to be reserved for car stereo use. Whether I am on the road next TO the obviously hearing-impaired driver as the noise curses everything within a 20 mile radius, or in my home as it miraculously penetrates brick, mortar and glass, I detest the sound of it. It assaults my being like the sound of a really bad automobile collision involving several vehicles... that back up traffic for miles and hours...and explodes in a ball of fire...and yields multiple fatalities..and makes people run out of gas, so they go insane because they can't hear the person they phoned for help because the driver in the car behind them is blasting rap. UGH.

People who get up in the morning, find THE worse rap music they own, and entertain the neighborhood as they sit in their cars waiting for a green light, should be jailed for 10 days and forced to listen to ambient music CD's. They must know that they are not helping people like me find any redeeming quality in what they feel they must share. It just rips through the serene morning like a pile driver through asphalt, and obliterates the songs of the birds. I hear no poetry, no rhythm, no harmony, no balance, just the too-loud, harsh, ignorant ramblings of of some seemingly drunken, profane individual(s) who clearly missed a substantial number of weeks from school--especially English, Speech, and Music classes.
Just because you can talk (barely), and was half awake when your teacher covered rhyming words, does NOT mean you are a rapper. Give me Gil Scott-Heron, Curtis Blow, James Brown, even, but this disgusting noise that is masquerading for music gets on my nerves, and in my opinion has contributed to the dumbing down of a lot of young people. I'm so afraid that so many people have no idea what constitutes good music or how to make it. I know. It's subjective, but still, I feel so bad for someone who chooses to fill their waking moments with vulgarity and profanity wrapped up in repetitive, poorly produced noise. Music, like books, reflect values. There's got to be a better way for young people to see themselves so that they don't embrace the worse, most pitifully base representations.
It's official. I am getting old.
Oh, thank God. The birds are back.

USERS

2011-09-15T10:30:00.002-04:00

The longer the intervals between its use, the more difficult it is to notice that there is a pattern- a game in play; a con even. When you DO see it, pay attention and, in the words of almost every church clerk, "Govern yourselves accordingly". Folk will use you if you let them. Take note of the things for which your participation is not considered, the things you're asked to do, and the things from which you are excluded. Take note of the times it was clear that you were valued, and the times when it was obvious you had been used.
Big or small, snakes have the same approach. They're hoping you don't see them before they see you. Even if you do decide to befriend one, you have to remember they're still a snake.
It's amazing how people who are very business-like about THEIR business, and demand and require that others follow proper channels when seeking THEIR services, suddenly want to send standards, practices, and costs plummeting to the ground when they seek the services of others. They wouldn't do anything out of the kindness of their hearts if you paid them; wouldn't volunteer or lend a hand if their lives depended on it, but they DO know how to reach out for freebies and favors if the alternative means depleting their OWN resources to the same tune of what they think THEY are worth.
After a while you'll really get sick and tired of the faces and voices of people who always seem to seek you out when they want something for nothing.
Every now and then you just have to appreciate caller ID.

IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD

2011-09-13T20:15:00.007-04:00

I had such a pleasant time at Congress Heights Senior Wellness Center today. I took the bus, and was a little ashamed that I had no idea how much the fare was. The bus driver actually laughed, and looked at me as if I had just been returned to earth by space aliens. I guess it WAS funny and odd. Maybe I AM the only person in all of far SE/SW who didn't know. It has been a few years since I've taken public transportation, and although I am well aware that it is THE most convenient way to travel in DC, I will call Yellow Cab in a heartbeat. Hearing that the fare was only a dollar surprised me. I was all prepared to shell out at least $2.50.
It was a short, but nostalgic ride to the center. I'm glad that there were no taxis available--today anyway. I smiled as I passed the street I lived on when I was a child, and Ft. Carroll Market--the corner store that was our source for Now and Laters and Rainblow Bubble gum. The ride reminded me of how much I used to enjoy taking the A-8 to 10th and Pennsylvania Avenues when I was younger. It also reminded me of the shock I experienced at 18 when my parents decided to become suburban and there was no beloved Metrobus in sight. I HAD to learn how to drive. That's probably when my love affair with bus rides took a nose dive, I guess. I suppose I have CHSWC to thank for reigniting the flame. Clearly, nothing kept the seniors from getting to the center.
The ladies in the art class were so delightful, and they were waiting patiently for me. Once we got started, they dove right in, choosing colors and deciding whether they wanted their still life to be vertically or horizontally placed. Watching them create made me smile. They're doing all the work, really. I feel like I'm just a cheerleader. It's good to see people still embracing skills they learned in elementary school. It's even better to be in an environment where people actually want to learn.
None of them had ever used oil pastels before, but they jumped right in, and created some of the most beautiful images. I think I'll make a Shutterfly photobook for them.
There's so much in the community that bad press threatens to keep people from ever knowing of, embracing, or exploring. The wellness center is a jewel in the neighborhood I've always loved, and such a wonderful resource for the seasoned citizens of Ward 8.

A late lunch at Uniontown Bar really emphasized the need to bring more attention to the positive things around us. The meal was delicious. Everything is not blighted and unwelcoming; negative and repulsive.
One just has to get out and find the good. It's definitely there...: )

"WE" WON?

2011-09-13T12:18:00.005-04:00

I've heard and read examples of exuberance that, once again, reveal that some milestones are perceived as odd or exceptional. Will they ever be the rule? Will they ever just be normal, regular, matter-of-fact occurrences that certainly deserve notice, but happen all of the time? Are we still playing catch-up, not only in society, but in our own minds?
Funny. When you're suddenly celebrated in places where you were once reviled; welcomed in places where you were once banned; elevated to heights at which you were deemed too ignorant, unsuited, or not good enough to reach, for a moment you forget all about the past, hope expands, and the future seems bright. Someone or some organization has suddenly, often reluctantly decided, for whatever reason that you're okay. You can play. You can come on in. You can have a shot at that to which "they" have had easy access all along. The first misstep you make, however, is not only an indictment of you, but a reason for a sarcastic "I told you so"; a reason to revert to the historic practice of excluding you and people like you. What you don't know is that the minute you enter the game, the rules don't change, they just don't apply to you. You have a different set of rules that count on you forgetting all about integrity, positive ethics and values, and honesty. You have to remember that every elevation; every platform is not good. Some are mere experiments and the bets are against you. You have to know that, sometimes, open doors are politically, or economically motivated. It's a shame when you've been excluded so long that you become skeptical about taking a step through, or up.

A victory for one person of color, no matter where they are from, has for a long time been embraced as a victory for ALL people of color. One person does something good or newsworthy, and we all seem to own it as if we had a direct hand in it. We act as if the celebrated person is a long lost cousin. It's like we all yell, "See? We're worthy! We're beautiful! We're human!" as if we didn't know it before. We're shocked, and in complete awe when one of "our" names is called. Perhaps the shock is understandable. This is of course, America.
We don't pay attention to some things--don't even KNOW about them-- until one of us is brave enough to get involved and share information that was never actually hidden. When one of "us" wins; when one of "us" attains a coveted place, all of our eyes focus, not only on their specific ability, but their very lives. Then we watch with anxiety as the chosen one moves through the new/old territory, praying that no scandalous information surfaces. We pray they don't do anything stupid to embarrass or shame the rest of us, and send us 222 steps backward. Why is that? We raise politicians, celebrities, athletes, and people with varying talents to super human status. We then, maybe without intending to, strip them of their humanity. We have so much to prove to "them" that we heap the weight of our systematically attained poor self worth on the shoulders of anyone who seems to have achieved success. Instead of knowing ourselves that we are, and have always been capable, worthy, and valuable, we often wait to be validated by someone else who is neither the source nor the catalyst of our abilities. We have been so conditioned to believe we have not arrived until we infiltrate arenas that were once stringently reserved for others, that we fail to properly celebrate, appreciate and promote the great things that occur every single day in our communities.

A TASTY MESS

2011-09-12T18:01:00.004-04:00

I noticed it yesterday, was a little tired and decided to tackle it today. I adjusted the temperature and lifted the ice maker arm in the meantime. Where did it come from? I started taking out the meat and vegetables. All the way in the back was an empty bottle.
I was suddenly compelled to taste a piece of the mounds of frozen slush that had accumulated all of a sudden. I plucked off one of the three long icicles that hung from the door shelf. It was slightly sweet. Citrus-y even. Yeah. I considered it, but didn't think it would be right or mature to stand at the freezer with a spoon.
Well, the good news is that the frost-free refrigerator that I wasn't at all happy about having to defrost, is in fact frost-free, and NOT in need of costly repair or replacement. The bad news is that plastics are definitely not as sturdy as they used to be. They're brittle, thin, and awfully noisy when you try to collapse them. Though the bottom of the bottle is completely cracked and could be used as a weapon, the cap and seal are still intact.
The bottle apparently burst, sending it sailing off of the shelf and shooting Sprite zero all over the freezer. Then, overnight, it slowly created a winter wonderland all over the freezer walls. I really wanted that Sprite-zero.
I probably needed water anyway.

SO MUCH TALENT

2011-09-12T13:29:00.001-04:00

Contests are designed specifically to accommodate one winner--and even then the winning position may soon prove not be particularly worth coveting. Every presented platform/pedestal elevates, but the position is not always safe, genuine or honorable. Not everyone is admiring, applauding, encouraging or mentoring. Some are ridiculing, using, exploiting, and damaging. Be careful about what you allow yourself to be sucked into. Be careful where you allow others to put you, and whose words you embrace as expert or truth. Many people have given up doing what they love because of the discouraging, unsubstantiated or critical words of a single person who had as about as much right , authority, experience or talent to judge the work of others as a dead squirrel did.
Be more careful about where you put yourself, and what your motives are for being there.
Schemes borne out of desperate ambition or impatient desire for perceived success, have a tendency to backfire. They can also bring one back to reality. Platforms designed to profit everyone except the individual perched upon them are fragile, temporary, and potentially paralyzing and heartbreaking.
Starting over, developing patience, improving one's ability, being true to oneself, and trusting God are all very good things. Whose approval you believe you can't do without will greatly affect how, where, and when you perform. Just because the route is there doesn't mean it's the only one you can take to get where you want to go--no matter how quickly you perceive the clock to be ticking. If you DO take the road, getting misleading directions along the way doesn't mean you have to cancel the whole trip.

SOMEONE'S DAUGHTER

2011-09-07T19:59:00.001-04:00

I had a great time recording with Kim Jordan yesterday. I was feeling grateful that I have the opportunity to do what I love. Kim even had two little girls and a little boy to come in to record vocals. They were so excited. They were very polite, respectful, brimming with promise. It was delightful to watch them utilizing their talents. Someone had encouraged them; given them an opportunity; taken an interest. When they found out they would get paid, they were shocked. They had just been having fun. For them, it wasn't work at all. Who knows how yesterday's experience impacted them and their choices for their future.
It was nice to get a call from my daughter while I was working with Kim, learn that she was nearby, and ride home together. We stopped for a bite, chatted, and through it all I (once again) greatly appreciated the daughter I've been blessed to have. We had options for the evening, but decided against them and headed home.

It's getting cooler these days, and it was nice to be in out of the rain last night. I learned the hard way, years ago, that night air is not a friend to my voice. The plan was to make a nice cup of tea and watch a little TV before turning in. I hadn't finished my meal long before I heard the sound of fire engines. Something was going on outside, but I didn't make any effort to investigate. The knock on the door made it necessary to get dressed again and evacuate the building. Talk of a possible gas leak made me move a little faster than normal.
When we got outside, it occurred to me that it was the first time I'd seen all of my neighbors at the same time. Everybody shared the same sentiment of having been happy, safe, warm and definitely in for the evening. Standing outside in the drizzle in varying stages of in-for-the-evening dress hadn't been the plan. One neighbor said that the knock on her door had cut her prayer time short. No one looked like we were anxious to be in public. As we headed down the hill to join other neighbors around the corner where the fire engines were parked, I saw a young woman leaning against the fence. I wasn't sure if she was talking on a cell phone, or just waiting for someone. She didn't have an umbrella, and wasn't dressed for the weather. My first instinct said that something was wrong. But I ignored my instinct and listened to the voice that said, "If there's a gas leak, maybe you should keep it moving."
The whole ordeal, the evacuation, the waiting for Washington Gas, the inspections, the heavy rain lasted a little over an hour. Heading back inside, I noticed the young woman was still there. Everyone, including me, had ignored her; overlooked her. Maybe we all assumed she was okay. I shuddered when it occurred to me that she had been outside long before the evacuation and fate brought her to our gate. Maybe she was our assignment.
I went inside and called 911. I got a blanket and went back outside. She was no longer standing, but lying in a fetal position on the sidewalk. I watched to see if her back was heaving and prayed she was alive. When the police and fire department crew arrived, it was clear that she was no stranger to some of them. They were assessing whether she was high, injured, or sick. She had no ID. She was unresponsive. She was drunk.
All I kept thinking was that she was someone's daughter. I thought about the two little girls who'd been at Kim's studio. I was so sure that at some point in her life, this young woman had been cared for by someone, too. I was so happy when the ambulance arrived and she was placed on a stretcher. She'd be warm, now, and on her way to getting help.
All day, I've wondered who she is, and if she's okay. All day, I've been grateful for my own daughter; for my mother; for every wise person who cared enough to pay attention to a young me. I don't think I'll ever forget the young woman's face, her disheveled hair, and soaking wet clothes. What happened that made her choose to drink herself in such a stupor that a cold sidewalk would be her bed for the night? I admired the DC Fire, Police and EMT employees for showing compassion toward her. I pray she's okay.

SOUND CHECK BLUES

2011-09-01T20:05:00.006-04:00

Imagine singers walking into an ice cold auditorium. They're not preparing to stay very long. It's not the actual performance. It's a routine sound check. Should be a piece of cake.
"They're not ready."
"They're still setting up."
"They don't have enough microphones."
"The ceiling is too high."
"The ceiling is too low."
"There aren't enough monitors."
"There's a hum somewhere."
"There's too much feedback."
"It's too loud."
"It's too low."
"Turn it up."
"Turn it down."
"It'll sound better when the room fills up."
"Who made this stuff? Fisher Price?"
"That wasn't in the rider."
"I never got the rider."
"Something is going in and out."
"It sounded fine a minute ago."
"Can you hear?"
"What happened?"
"Is this on?"
"Is there a Radio Shack nearby?"
"Keep talking."
"It's not on."
"Do they have to be so loud?"
"Are you singing? I can't hear you."
"It's cold in here."
"Are you all finished? We have to open the doors."

Somebody has to go and get some crucial piece of hardware known only by it's complicated numbered/lettered name. Abbreviations and sound engineer lingo is flying all over the place. Everybody is an expert, and knows all the fancy terms to use, and the latest technology, but the sound is still lousy. Everybody knows what to do, but no one is doing it. It's not even a little bit funny. Lots of talking and tuning and yelling OVER the talking and tuning, while the cold sucks the life out of your throat and you STILL can't hear the person standing right next to you. Beeeeep!!! Boooooop!!! Hummmmmmmmmm.....Silence. Good times. *Sigh*
How necessary is "sound check"--that shouldn't-take-all-day event that so often reveals just how much some event planner/coordinator cares about the quality of the music/speaking an audience will hear? The weird, frustrating instances when the sound you hear (or DON'T hear) during a performance, is NOTHING like it was at sound check, makes you wonder if sound check is a nothing more than a colossal waste of time and energy, or an opportunity for the event photographer to capture facebook pics, or yet another YouTube-bound video of performers in their street clothes.
I'm no expert, but I have ears. I'm beginning to think that people just don't care; that excellent sound is simply not a priority in some places; that a SKILLED sound engineer is perceived as a bit of a threat; that not enough effort is made to enlist the help of someone who KNOWS how to fix what ails a venue's sound issues, and/or effectively train the designated volunteer engineer(s).
Is it so difficult to allow someone who knows what to do to help, so that the WHOLE thing won't suffer? Is it better to make excuses so that a thing won't EVER get better? Sometimes, it's not about what supposedly goes along with the territory, but what has been accepted as the norm because no one will challenge or change it. Sometimes, people who DO challenge a thing in an effort to make it better, right, or more effective, get thrown under the bus. It's infuriating to watch a competent person trying to rectify a situation, and having to deal with an insecure person who won't listen, perpetuates mediocrity, and refuses to either be taught, or get out of the way. God forbid someone find out you're not doing your job as well as it CAN be done. Ears have been testifying for a long time:
"We know ya'll were singing. Too bad we couldn't hear you."
"The music was just too loud."
"We were right up front and couldn't hear a thing."
"We could hear so and so, but that's all."
"We didn't hear anything until the second half of the program."
"It was painful, so I left."

FOR DISCUSSION:

1.Do some sound engineers see people heading for instruments and microphones and decline to use that as a clue to at least turn the power on?
2.Is there some childish, power-tripping spirit that makes some sound engineers unbelievably rude, short tempered, impatient, and sarcastic?
3.Ever get the feeling that more attention is placed on the power and visibility of the position than the proper operation of the equipment?
4.Why do sound checks NEVER begin on time, and involve a lot of sitting around and searching for basic equipment that should be in place?
5.Why, when you leave some sound checks, do you have a funny feeling that some sound engineers have no idea what they're doing?
6.Why do people spare no expense for EVERYTHING else, but skimp on sound equipment for an event?
7.Why should an artist's first song (even second or third song) be treated like the subject of an impromptu science project?
8.Why are people who are not musical, making decisions that involve music?
9.When the regular engineer sees a guest engineer, is that a signal to throw a tantrum and sabotage the sound?
10.Is there not some tape, or a sharpie, or SOMETHING that can be used to mark the board so that time won't be spent during an entire concert playing with knobs, buttons and levers?
11.If all of the microphones are the same, is it possible NOT to hear that one sounds much better than another and fix that?
12.Can NO ONE hear when the band is overpowering the singers so much so that they may as well leave the stage and help the ushers?
13.Some people have mastered balance and excellence in venues large and small, on equipment expensive and not so expensive. Is it a skill that is only for a few?
14.How long are buildings going to be blamed for poor sound?
Just wondering.

Oh. One more thing--
Sometimes, a title or self-perceived importance is not nearly as welcomed as a person's ability and attention to making sure things are as they should be.
Everyone is not familiar with the venue of choice. It's not unusual for someone to use the first door they see, especially if there's no one there to tell them otherwise. Event planners should really make sure the overzealous bullies they assign to the door to keep PAYING patrons out, are familiar with the guest of the evening. "Oh, I didn't know who you were. I'm just doing my job." is a sorry, inexcusable reply often spoken after one has been horribly rude to the performers who merely showed up for sound check.

AMAZING

2011-08-30T17:56:00.000-04:00

An earthquake and a hurricane in the same week. Wow. That might not be a big deal to some people, depending on where they live. What's amazing is how beautiful and calm it is today. No wind gusts, no transformers, no rain stinging the windows, just sunshine and city sounds that let me know clean up was underway. Pieces of branches and limbs were being removed. Grass was being mowed. Kids were on their way to school. Streets were dry and traffic was flowing.
Things are back to normal, but now there's a new normal that includes what could and DID happen...: )

TO HELP OR NOT TO HELP

2011-08-30T15:12:00.000-04:00

When you get to the point where you hate to see some people coming and want to take off running in the opposite direction, it's safe to say there's been a last-straw-type situation. You want to be a good neighbor, a caring, compassionate individual--not a patsy.
It's funny how one necessary, fed up "No" can erase the hundreds of times you gave a reluctant, but hopeful, "Yes". Some people don't want help. They want you to finance their incidentals, do their work, assume their responsibility. They have no idea how thoroughly they have exhausted those who WOULD lend a hand. They really thought they'd found a sucker and hit the jackpot, and the sucker was you. They asked. You gave. Maybe you gave one time too many. It didn't teach them to be grateful and giving, themselves. It taught them to be inconsiderate, selfish, and manipulative.

Desperation often causes people to have no shame in how they obtain what they need. While lying so boldly and creatively, perhaps one forgets just how easily and quickly information can be verified these days.
Some people have an extreme sense of entitlement. Based on what they ASSUME you have, they think it should be freely shared with them--regularly. What they don't want is for you to ask any questions. They don't want anyone in their business, but they're forever looking for a hook up. Out of whatever abundance you have, they think there's a portion for them, and will develop a gigantic attitude if you can't or won't honor their request(s).
A person with a legitimate need MIGHT care what you think about them, if you talk about them, or call them names AFTER you give them what they want. A con artist could care less. They're laughing all the way to where they TRULY intend to spend your money, or use your resources--and they're already thinking up a good sob story for the next time.
Some people have concluded that your Christianity makes you a pushover. They've searched and dogeared the Bible, not for themselves and their own lives, but for specific scriptures that indicate how they think YOU should respond to their schemes. They know what chapter and verse to use when they realize you are not as unhip and clueless as they thought. Their favorite line is, "You're SUPPOSED to be a Christian!" Your response should be, "I am one. Instead of berating me for not falling for your newest sob story/scam/con applaud the wisdom and discernment that allowed me to see through it, and stop trying to get over on people. Stop looking for something for nothing--and don't teach that deceptive behavior to your child(ren)".

EARTHQUAKE!!!

2011-08-24T00:00:00.000-04:00

I was sooooooooooooo not ready for that! I was preparing to go out, so thank goodness I was dressed! When the Yellow Cab driver finally called, I told him I wouldn't be needing a taxi afterall. My friend Dianna called and had experienced the quake while on Alabama Avenue. She decided to just come and get me. In the meantime, my neighbor, who was a bit emotional, needed support. Dianna and I decided that my neighbor would be going with us, too. I'd packed the bag for the art class, but suddenly realized I just might be packing to be gone for a while. I laughed at myself when I got home and saw the bottle of alcohol in my purse. Was it just in my hand when I finally left the bathroom?
The noise of the late night flights headed to DCA are nothing compared to the 45 or so seconds I spent in my bathroom wondering why the floor was not being its usual still self and cooperating. My first thought was that there had been an explosion. Earthquake never crossed my mind until I saw the wooden sculpture that had been on the bookshelf, lying at the foot of my bed. I'm still a little rattled. I'm not excited about the idea of aftershocks. I'm wondering how I did today. Did I panic? Was I ready? Does one even know what to do? How long did I just stand in the middle of the floor wondering, "What WAS that?" Was it a stop, drop and roll situation, or a stand in a doorway deal? Look. The earth has been pretty still for all of my 50 or so years. Clearly, there's something that's in no way new, but it's no longer relegated to the west coast. Today proved that it can and does happen. DC is as good a "divers place" as anywhere else, I suppose.

Spending time with seniors at Congress Heights Wellness Center was such a welcomed thing. Teaching someone who really wanted to learn didn't erase the memory of the quake, but it was a nice diversion. Knowing that neighbors care was a nice thought, too.
I'm tired. I've snacked. I even did a few tee shirt designs to pass the time. That could sooooooooo represent my one and only earthquake experience. I'm good. I don't ever have to go through that again. I need no convincing. It's not fun. Period.

MOVIE TIME

2011-08-20T00:08:00.001-04:00

I've watched the best Sidney Poitier movies that I'd never seen before courtesy of Antenna TV. "Brother John" was one of the features and it was fantastic! I wondered why I'd never heard of it before--or maybe I had and it just slipped my mind. My "Blacks in The Arts" class freshman year at Howard was pretty thorough. I'm sure the movie and the character John Kane was somewhere in the syllabus among all of Poitier's other gems.
I LOVE old movies. Some reveal just how politically incorrect, but brutally honest our society used to be. Others reveal that there was dignity and grace in the roles portrayed by African American actors and actresses. Some of the roles went uncredited, and many were bit parts, but they were still significant. Seeing unknown faces in movies that were made when I was a child always makes me curious. Even if they're just extras I wonder, "Who ARE these people? Where are they now? What were their stories and what can they teach us today?
The Internet Movie database is a great resource, but after watching "Toys in The Attic" last night, the storyline concerning the character Henry Simpson led me to a site I'd never heard of. Blackpast.org included a biography of actor Frank Silvera. I read about him with interest the same way I did about Hadda Brooks after watching the 1950 drama "In A Lonely Place", and Edric Connor after watching "Fire Down Below".
Just because one has never heard of a person or thing, doesn't mean that he, she or it wasn't and is not presently relevant.
I've imagined a reality show called "Extras" where a camera zooms in on a face in a staged crowd, or some uncredited actor or actress, and then sets out to tell their story.

Summer Produce

2011-08-12T13:36:00.000-04:00

I had some tomatoes from Harris Teeter that reminded me of my grandmother's front yard tomato vine in Plaquemine. We'd sit on the grass with the water hose-- and a salt shaker...Before I left last night, Daddy said, "Take some fruit." I thought I'd be polite and take only one peach...kinda sorry today... I know. It's random, but this summer's produce has been excellent...: )

FEELING GOOD

2011-07-27T09:12:00.001-04:00

Whew! What a tremendous difference a few days, some Premium saltines, oatmeal, ginger ale and a can of chicken noodle soup make! There's nothing like recovering from a little sickness to make you really, really grateful and appreciative. You remember how you felt, and how you currently feel. Even if you're not 100%, you know it's so much better than it was. You want to stretch, test your limits, get moving (but not too quickly), get your balance, freshen up--and, if you can help it, resign not to do WHATEVER it was that landed you flat on your back ever again. EVER. You want to make all kinds of health vows. (I'm definitely making one involving leftover shrimp.)
It's a new day. Life's waiting. Get up. Shake off all hindrances--especially the self-imposed ones. Shine your light.

OPEN YOUR EYES

2011-07-27T07:58:00.002-04:00

It's hard to see someone invest so much of themselves in a thing only to be cast aside like insignificant trash. Historical documentaries are always revealing how people sacrificed their time, talent, energy and even their lives for a goal or a cause, and were omitted from the official records and photos, or seldom shared in the benefits. So many times, their stories were buried because they weren't nearly as powerful as the spin that was scripted before they even began. They weren't nearly as valued as the notoriety and profits their work would garner. Some people only want you to help get the work done, but enjoying any fruit that resulted from the labor is exclusively for them. They'll even devour fruit while simultaneously trying to convince those who labor that there IS none.

Some people collect other people to carry out plans like other people collect clothes. To some people, others are seasonal and dispensable. Business matters above all else. It's a Nebuchadnezzar principle. Seek out the best and manipulate them into signing on with the hidden stipulation that destroying them is always a primary option if they don't produce, or dare to have minds of their own.
To secure your involvement, a fine picture is often painted. It is replete with everything that will make you feel comfortable, secure and valued. Words like "friend", "family", and "love" are used loosely and conditionally. Many times, the layers of the picture slowly begin to peel--either on their own, by accident, or with deliberate help from those desperate for you to take off the blinders. It's never a welcomed thing when you realize that things really aren't what they seem. Looking too closely can reveal more that you want to see or can even handle. Getting too close can be devastating and yet, enlightening.
Truth is never a liability. If it is, you don't want to be bothered anyway. You really don't want anything that badly.

Some may say you're in a state of denial when you so vigorously defend a thing that they believe is questionable, replete with obvious imperfection, or simply a vehicle to use and drain you. Perhaps you defend it because you would like to believe there's some redeemable, good in everything. You hope that people are who they say they are. You hope that you aren't entrenched in something fraudulent and suspect. You hope that things, ANYTHING, will work out for the best. You believe in silver linings and big pictures. There are times, however, when you get tired of your own naivete.
It's kind of sad when you find out that "it" IS exactly what "it" was always said that it WASN'T about. That thing you thought it was? That thing you supported; spent so much time doing; sacrificed for; represented? Fake. Scam. Fraud.
When your eyes are opened to a thing, it's not the time to freak out or have regrets. It's not the time to be angry or lash out. It's not the time to retaliate or be vindictive. It's definitely not the time to reproduce something exactly like the thing that so knocked the wind out of your sails. It's time to learn--more about yourself than anything else-- and then apply the learning. It's time to be honest with yourself and question no motives except your own. As for your own standards and integrity as you go forward? Maintain them no matter what. Perhaps your rosy, optimistic outlook on the world and belief in the inherent goodness of people is what keeps getting you in certain situations. Don't lose your positivity, but be wise. Don't become fearful and reclusive, just listen to that inner voice. It's probably resorted to screaming now because you didn't heed it when it used to whisper.
Remember the old adage--"All that glitters is not gold".

Deal honestly and wisely with others. Don't use or mislead people. Some people can bounce back from disappointments and disillusionment caused by people that they admired, trusted or respected. Others either take a really long time to get it together, or they just can't and they quit everything and deprive the world of what God gave THEM to offer.
No amount of ambition is an excuse to:
1. be selfish, abusive, callous toward others.
2. diminish, conveniently forget, or deliberately omit the contributions of others.
3. cheat, lie, and/or steal.
4. attempt ruining another person's reputation.
5. hinder the progress of others.
6. disregard the fact that people DO matter.
7. neglect children, home, and family.
8. resort to criminal behavior.
9. betray your faith.
10. become what you used to hate.

Open your eyes. Care, and always consider how your behavior impacts those who, for whatever reason, look up to you. Care about how your decisions alter the lives of others. Consider how what you require of others will reflect on them. Success can take on negative connotations, too. If the hard work to get to where you are involved trampling on even one person, how celebrated can it really be? There's no way to reason away harming anyone to achieve anything. Respect can only be stretched so far, and that sowing/reaping principle really does work-- with positive AND negative results.

Read Dr. Seuss' "Yertle the Turtle". If you're worried about someone seeing you reading a kiddie book, fine. Picks a kid to read it to, but listen for yourself as you read.

SICK DAYS

2011-07-25T21:11:00.000-04:00

I'm sick. Sheesh. I hate being sick. It's so depressing. It's even worse when you realize it could have been avoided. It began yesterday morning. I woke up feeling lousy. My personal plumbing had been working overtime all night. The only good thing about it all is that the swollen ankles and feet I had during the trip to Chicago last week are gone. Kind of a shame in a weird way. The swelling actually made my legs look bigger. Now I need to rehydrate. My skin looks like the Sahara. Skin isn't supposed to have a sound- definitely not the sound of rustling, dried leaves.
"No sugary drinks", I read. I guess that means I can't have a lemon Italian Ice. Sigh.
The crackers and ginger ale that's supposed to work, went the way of everything else I tried to ingest, so I gave up. Vomiting is an awful, violent thing, especially when you know your stomach is practically empty. It was like my body was trying to expel my entire large intestine. I actually heard moaning, realized it was me, and felt sorry for myself. I'm so glad I finally managed to fall asleep last night. All that moaning could really keep a body awake.

Today, it seems as if there's one less elephant stomping on my stomach, but I'm awfully tired. I've managed to keep down the ginger ale and crackers. I'm either turning into a polar bear or I have a fever. The air conditioning has been on full blast all night and day, and although I'm not freezing, the water I ran in the tub, IS. I've made several attempts to get up and stay up. None have been successful.

I thought over what I'd eaten in the last few days, AND whether I'd had any anxiety. Did I make myself sick? I want to blame the shrimp, but just can't bring myself to accuse a dish I love so much. I bought it on Sunday, didn't eat it all, and refrigerated it. When I got home from my trip, I was rummaging through the refrigerator and found it. I was so happy to see it. Instead of eating it cocktail style, I put a little water in a small pot and re-steamed it. Perhaps that wasn't a good idea. Based on my symptoms, according to the mighty internet, I either have gastroenteritis, or something is wrong with my prostate. I know. One must be really, really careful with internet diagnoses.

I'm missing a concert tonight. I thought I could drag myself up and go, but considering how difficult it has been to drag myself to the bathroom, dragging myself to Alexandria was out of the question. Maybe I'm just supposed to be still. Maybe I need to make some changes. There are times when you realize you're not 20 any more.
I had some soup. It is coursing it's way through my digestive system as I type. Why is soup reserved for sick days? It was actually very good. Thank you, Progresso. Your chicken noodle is the closest thing to J. Alexander's.
I'm going to try to get up again. No sense adding atrophy and BO to my symptoms.

"Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow", especially if you bring wellness.

TODAY

2011-07-23T12:38:00.001-04:00

You don't have to hide no more
Don't have to cry inside no more
Peace of mind, take flight no more
The air seems clean today

Little girl, no fear, no more
Teenager, waste tears no more
Woman, silence is no more
No trouble in your way

You don't have to waste your grace
Or politeness one more day
Being kind to those who've taken
And left you to pay

Though used, broken, tossed aside
Love's all you've ever desired
While wondering if your life
Had robbed you of your once true smile

You've outlasted it all
Everything designed to break you
Make you fall
Here you are
It's wonderful
The air seems clean today

No trouble in your way

vrwc2011

SAY SOMETHING

2011-07-23T12:19:00.000-04:00

Going to the source with a concern is usually a good idea. The source, however, is not always who you think it is. Often, people who have been given authority make it very difficult for those who bear responsibility for a thing, and leave them not only holding the bag, but cleaning up the mess.
Sometimes, our disappointment and disgust is misplaced or misdirected. Often, the fault actually lies with the people from who an individual has sought counsel or assistance in helping them make decisions. When you know who the counselors and helpers are, how they think, their motives and agendas, you can then understand why, how, and when certain decisions were made. Only then can YOU decide whether to play along, protest, or save your breath and energy for something more important.

Everyone cannot speak for you. Everyone cannot represent you. When you make your wishes known, or express your concerns, don't be surprised if the reaction is sarcasm, offense, opposition, anger, retaliation, vindictiveness, punishment, or confusion. No matter how potentially helpful, or sincere, there are times when your input is not welcome. There are times when what you have to say will challenge or question the self-serving, irrational, poorly conceived, hastily made, or unreasonable decisions of others. Making trouble may be the farthest thing from your mind, but your words can very well be perceived that way.
Sometimes, there's NEVER a good time to speak, not because tact or discretion is missing, or timing is poor, but because your opinion really isn't desired or respected. What is expected of you is compliance--period. That can be disappointing to find out, but it's good to know. It helps you know how to proceed. When it comes to things that directly concern you, you'd better believe you have something to say about it. You DO have a choice.
If you're not okay with it--whatever "it" is--don't spend any more time with your stomach in knots. Stop rationalizing and caving in. Lose the attitude you've acquired as a way to cope with things you KNOW you do not support. Use wisdom, but forget about offending those who couldn't care less about your feelings anyway. They'll have a problem with ANYTHING you say.
It's always good to know where you stand. If you're going to go along just to get along, know the reasons why. Let it be your idea. If speaking up shines a light on the stability of your position, that's a good thing. Shaky ground is never a good thing upon which to stand.
There's always someone who will gladly do what you won't. These days that has been heralded as a marker of success. People may want to rethink that.

Say something--consistently. Don't let the setting or audience change your position. Say something. Be prepared for possible fallout, but say something. Someone else who is feeling powerless, intimidated, or suffering in silence might thank you. Say something--even if nothing changes.

OKAY

2011-07-23T10:04:00.001-04:00

God told some folks to do some things that made it seem like they were completely crazy.
Ever wonder if He wants you to be one of them?
So listen now, don't stop, don't wait, don't turn around, don't doubt, don't hesitate.
Just do what He says.
He's been at this thing a long time, Baby.

I've learned to say, "Okay,
Whatever you want me to do, I'll do
Ain't no sense in fighting you
I'll lose."
So I'll stick to the thoughts and the plans you have for me--
and have had since my days began
And in that plan, I win

When everybody else says, "Go", and He says, "Wait",
it makes you seem like you're completely lazy
Stop caring so much about what other people think!
So listen now, He knows about what lies ahead,
The tricks, the traps, the pitfalls
Just follow His lead
He won't steer you wrong now, Baby

Just learn to say "Okay,
Whatever you want me to do, I'll do
Ain't no sense in fighting you
I'll lose."
So I'll be wise and take a lesson from what happened to them,
and not think it can't visit me
Epitome of Stupidity

There's a way that seems right
In the end there's just night
Say "Okay"
Choose right
Choose light

Just learn to say "Okay,
Whatever you want me to do I'll do
Ain't no sense in fighting you
I'll lose."
Make me wise, so I choose right
Make me wise, so I choose light
Okay, Your way
Okay, in spite of what they say
What do THEY know, anyway?

VRWc2011

PLAN B

2011-07-23T09:50:00.001-04:00

Sometimes, an unexpected Plan B turns out so much better than your Plan A ever would have. Maybe I wasn't supposed to sing the songs I'd selected. The tracks sure played on my laptop. I'd used them many times before, but when I got to MetroStage last Monday, Mel Prince's sound equipment didn't even acknowledge that the CD existed--neither did the theater's desktop computer. I didn't have time to panic, or decide to sing a cappella, because a very talented and gracious Daryl Hunt stepped right in like a musical superhero. He, with pencil in hand, sat down at the piano, revised the order of songs I'd suggested, made sure the keys were comfy, and played as if we had rehearsed for weeks.
Performance tracks serve a wonderful, convenient, even economical purpose, but live music is so much better. You can be as free as you like.
I never learned how to play piano, but I'm so happy to know phenomenal talents who do. Technology is great, but I love the sound of a real piano being played exceptionally well. The MetroStage experience reminded me of a poem I'd scribbled in June. Maybe I'll put it to music...: )

REAL PIANO

Got a ticket to the party
Went inside, sat down, and waited for the show
Looked around me
So many young things
Would I be able to bear it?
Should I go?
Thought about that flight attendant
Saying, "Look behind in case you need to flee".
So I checked the nearest exit
It was not even remotely close to me

How I wanted
Longed and hoped for
Real piano
Could somebody
Anybody
Play piano?

Something started
Oh, so noisy!
Nothing musical at all did it employ
Just some ramblings, awful mumblings
So replete with everything that would annoy
How it tore at all of my insides
Drove it home that I'm no youngster--
That's for sure
I'm not 20, 30, even 40
There are some things I just can't do anymore

How I wanted
Longed and hoped for
Real piano
Could somebody
Anybody
Play piano?

I don't know what key
Just give to me
Something that will soothe my ears
And warm my heart
I cannot play
Maybe some day
Until then,
I can't bear what only brings more darkness to the dark

Somebody, Let it be
Real piano
Somebody, play for me
Real piano

I don't know what key
Just give it to me
Something that will soothe my ears
And warm my heart
Just not as poised
To handle noise
That makes you wanna seek a hiding place
Take refuge underground

Somebody, Let it be
Real piano
Somebody, play for me
Real piano

VRW c2011

ATTITUDE IS EVERYTHING

2011-07-13T21:53:00.004-04:00

Ideas and suggestions are good. Good ideas and suggestions are better. Good ideas, implemented properly, and motivated by a desire for the benefit and enrichment of everyone involved are the best. Self-motivated ideas that serve to take advantage of, and diminish the contributions of others are the worst. Never confuse what you think you deserve with what you were actually promised. When there's a collective goal to be reached, competitive spirits have no role other than a divisive, destructive one.

You can't take it upon yourself to change the parameters and purpose of an opportunity that's presented to you. Doing so forfeits your right to cry foul when the opportunity doesn't yield the windfall you foolishly expected. When you decide to do what you were neither asked nor authorized to do, and you come up short, it's your own fault. Creating a need where there is none is done at your own expense.

Until you actually own the land that the road is on, it might be a good idea to follow the rules, perform well, stay in the lane you've been allowed to occupy--and show a little gratitude to those who so frequently sacrificed their time, effort, and resources for you.

Whether it is naturally occurring or drug-induced, don't, don't, DO NOT allow the arrogance, self absorption, delusion, complaining, deceit, desperation, immaturity, jealousy, or out of control ambition of another person to sour or destroy a good opportunity for you. Attitude is EVERYTHING. Always check yours--honestly. Even the most amazing talent can be quickly overshadowed by a sense of entitlement, irrational behavior, or an overbearing, unreasonable disposition. People won't put up with drama and foolishness for long--no matter how good you are at what you do. Some people have no idea that they are merely being tolerated. Though your contribution may be unique--even excellent, is it worth the accompanying headache that others have to endure in order to appreciate it? Having healthy self-worth is one thing. Thinking more highly of oneself than one ought is another. The indispensable person you think you are can never be realized if the obnoxious person you REALLY are, always shows up first.

RESIDUE

2011-07-10T23:09:00.000-04:00

I overheard a stranger cry
There had been a injury
So deep I was sure that I
Would begin to weep
The response to so much hurt
Was as cold as ice
"Look, just get over it.
Get on with your life."
Just made me realize
Some things you ought not share
Things you, nor friends can solve
Take to the Lord in prayer

Some stuff has residue
Traces left over after the real thing has gone
That you just can't get over soon
Can't seem to recover from
Some stuff has residue
It's designed that way
To leave you weak and confused
Feeling there is no way

Yeah, I kept listening
To see where things would go
Would there be drying of tears;
Would a smile replace the flow?
Instead along with hurt
Anger came
No empathy helped make sure
Not a thing would change

No, "It's gonna be alright."
No "Let me help you through."
No mention of God's love
Mercy was left out, too
Just a cold "Get over it."
Without a suggestion how
Sometimes, I wonder still
If things are alright now

Some stuff has residue
Traces left over
After the real thing has gone
That you just can't get over soon
Can't seem to recover from
Some stuff has residue
It's designed that way
To leave you weak and confused
Feeling there is no way

Oh but there IS a way
It might take a little time
Joy comes in the morning
Things will be just fine
It's up to you to decide
When your morning will be
Just know the Lord is there
He hears your prayer
He knows

Some stuff has residue
Traces left over
After the real thing has gone
That you just can't get over soon
Can't seem to recover from
Some stuff has residue
Let God wipe it away
Feeling weak and confused
Isn't the way you have to stay

THOUGHTS ON THE 6TH OF JULY

2011-07-06T15:08:00.001-04:00

It was raining this morning, Lawd, and some challenged spawn of Satan was outside setting off fireworks...I'm beginning to think it's an addiction.

The DC Fire and Emergency Medical Services Department, and the Metropolitan Police Department's Fireworks Task Force reported that 125,000 illegal items have been retrieved. They are asking residents to call 311 in their continuing effort to dispose of unused fireworks. I guess 911 dispatchers are tired of getting calls from people who can't differentiate the sound of fireworks from the sound of gunshots. (If only the US Army would only institute a special draft, round up all of the wannabe ammunition experts, and transport them to a REAL war zone.) Someone was shot last night on Barnaby Street; another person on North Capitol Street. Who knows how many other crimes were committed involving guns? I wonder if the first person who heard shots fired, last night didn't bother to call 311 OR 911.

Today some disgruntled guy is shooting on 295. Good grief.

Sometimes, what people have a right to do, makes life miserable for others. Your good time shouldn't be at the expense of another person's well being. Fun is relative.
Consideration for others has to be taught.
I hate to think that the 295 shooter is some poor guy who snapped because he couldn't get any sleep last night.

4TH OF JULY BLUES

2011-07-04T12:16:00.008-04:00

An opportunity to sing background vocals for Jordin Sparks tonight on the West Lawn of the Capitol never materialized. I'm not sure what happened. I got the tracks to learn last week, and a tentative schedule, but no follow up. Not a word. In light of the sudden storm yesterday, and today's weather forecast I'm wondering if the change of plan was a blessing in disguise. It would have been nice to participate in "A Capitol Fourth" again this year, AND have a reason to be out of the neighborhood, other than a desperate search for peace.
I just looked out of the window. A car just drove by with a grill strapped to its roof. I've got to get out of my neighborhood before I find myself strapped to a bed in a psychiatric ward.
The noise is a bit too much.

I heard, "There's no better place to celebrate the birth of our nation than right here in Washington, DC." That's highly debatable. One person's celebration is the source of another person's newly acquired mental disorder or drinking problem.
Where am I? Afghanistan? I heard the first blast of the morning, a little after 9:00 AM. The revelers are late today. Fact is, folk started celebrating around here sometime in May. (Internet fireworks sales, or leftovers from last year, I suppose.)

I don't like feeling irritated. I like waking to the sound of birds singing, but I fear they have all packed up their nests and songs to seek refuge in Maryland, where their little bird brains won't be damaged by the sound of heavy artillery. There's usually a smile on my face. I still have my joy, but I am not exactly happy. My right to relative quiet is being infringed upon. Can't SOMEBODY amongst the powers that be see that this is a HUGE problem? Don't get me wrong. Fireworks displays are spectacular; a veritable feat of physics; awe inspiring, colorful eye candy. I think they're all of those things and more when operated by pyrotechnics professionals...legally...safely...in a big, wide open cordoned off space...on The Mall. When in the hands of intoxicated people in residential parking lots, and unsupervised children on sidewalks, however, they're a complete, utter nuisance.

I read a 2 year-old blog at chicagowindycitizen.com,(http://www.windycitizen.com/~chicagoexplainer/2009/07/07/bang-gunshot-of-firework) and wholeheartedly agreed, but the problem discussed is not unique to Illinois. It persists here in DC. I wonder what the statistics are HERE concerning the volume of 911 calls in the days leading up to, on, and after the 4th of July?
I did just what DC Fire EMS advised, and called 311 last night at 10:33PM. I was on hold for about 15 minutes, but the home grown jazz music that was playing did make the wait a little more bearable. The exasperated person on the other end of the line gave me the impression that I hadn't been the first caller of the evening. I was immediately transferred to a 911 dispatcher. "We'll send somebody out", she said wearily. What do you do? Put on headphones and ignore it? What if someone IS being wounded or murdered? Then, you wake up in the morning and everyone's vehicle looks like it was hit by the Abominable Soot Monster. On top of that, the empty containers of what was consumed, as the peace was being disturbed, are left strewn all over the ground.
I like my neighborhood. There are many positives and advantages to living on the SW side of SE, but I officially hate it when 4th of July weekend rolls around. Somebody suggested I move, and, well, you know where I think they can go with THAT thoughtless suggestion. (People make me sick coming up with trite solutions when an issue doesn't affect them, but when a problem DOES visit them, they want EVERYBODY'S agreement, undivided attention, immediate action, and support.) I realize that there are those who disagree with me on the fireworks issue. Going outside to join the noisemakers is not an appealing option, although it would change the impact of the sounds I hear.
In a city with a widely publicized homicide and gun control problem, one would think that anything REMOTELY capable of producing explosive sounds, that penetrate walls and assault your very soul, would be frowned upon. All one needs to do is ride around the city's neighborhoods and conclude that laws are DEFINITELY being broken, parents are being careless, and accidents are waiting to happen. Unless "explode" has acquired a new definition, it seems that the volume of arrests should be the thing that skyrockets, and fireworks stands should be more vigorously inspected and/or shut down.
I am convinced that fireworks enthusiasts in MY neighborhood are being serviced personally by The Pentagon. Surely, they are obtaining surplus weapons once bound for Iraq. There is nothing festive, or celebratory about incessant, nightly, window-rattling noise in a residential neighborhood.
I am seriously praying for rain, but then that would just prolong the problem. In SE/SW the 4th of July is celebrated, unabated, until about the 4th of September.

(No, this guy is NOT walking down the street with a grill slung over his back.)

Right now, Maryland residents are staking out the choicest cookout spots in Oxon Run Park. Cars with Maryland tags are beginning to fill otherwise empty parking spaces. Sound systems are being set up, and the most ign'ant boy in everybody's party usually has possession of a microphone. Maybe someone will decide to put an amphitheater on the property, like WolfTrap or Carter Barron. Right now, it's a free-for-all venue for anyone who wants to come and entertain the neighborhood. Some of that entertainment ignores the fact that there are impressionable children within earshot. *Sigh*
I admit I smiled the other day while I was at a Bank of America ATM on South Capitol Street, when I heard the sirens, and saw a car being pulled over near the entrance of Eastover Shopping Center. When will Maryland fireworks shoppers EVER learn that every vehicle at the Southern Avenue Shell station is NOT there for gasoline?
Happy Birthday, America. I love you, and pray that you will bless God as He blesses you, but I don't think I like the 4th of July in DC any more.
Maryland, here I come...for today, anyway.

I wrote a song about it. Wanna hear it? Here it goes. Just channel your inner B.B. King.

FOURTH OF JULY BLUES

Just wanted to get some shuteye
Turned off the lights, and climbed in bed
Just wanted to get some shuteye
Turned off the lights, and climbed in bed
Blasts break through the darkness
Sure do hope nobody's dead

Threw off the covers
Should I hit the deck, or bar the door?
Threw off the covers
Should I hit the deck, or bar the door?
Lawd, it's half-past midnight
Guess I won't be sleeping any more

Feeling kind of tired
Thinking to myself, "You know where you live"
Feeling kind of tired
Thinking to myself, "You know where you live"
What made me think this year would be different?
Enough is more than enough.
Somethin's gotta give.

Wooden eyesores on corners
Selling weapons to kids
Explosions and rapid fire
Can't make out what it is
Should I call the Po Po?
Should I just decide
To get the heck out of DC
While I still have a piece of my mind?

I got the blues
The 4th of July in DC blues
Miss the birds singing outside my window
Kinda scared to turn on the news

"Reports of shots fired"
"Child maimed in the park"
"House went up in flames"
"Crowds wandering in the dark"
"Somebody sneaked a gun in"
"Maybe they can save the eye"
"Bodies found in the water"
"Happy 4th of July"

I got the blues
The 4th of July in DC blues
Gonna go find a nice, quiet spot in Maryland
Soon as I can find my shoes.
Da DA da-- Da DA da-- Da DA da-- DA
Da DAAAAAAAA....

OPPORTUNITY

2011-07-03T22:06:00.004-04:00

Driving back from Forestville this afternoon, I noticed a woman standing on a median. She was selling water and Krispy Kreme doughnuts. As much as I love Krispy Kreme, I can't see my way clear to buy them off of the street. The thought of exhaust from cars, dirt, debris, gnats and ants making their way into the boxes is a bit of a turn off. It was so hot today, too. I could imagine the doughnuts continuing to bake in the sun and losing the melt-in-your-mouth quality that Krispy Kreme is known for. My apprehension, however didn't matter. For everyone like me, there are probably others who simply see the logo and could care less if the boxes are stacked on the ground at a busy intersection.
The woman seemed determined and prepared.
Even though I had no plans to make a purchase, I hoped she would sell off her stock quickly and get out of the heat.
She walked past the car and headed toward other cars that were approaching the traffic light. I guess she assumed that if I, or people in the three cars in front of me had been interested, we would have gotten her attention. The people sitting in the back seat of the car in front of me WERE interested, though. They seemed to be scrambling for money, and kept looking back to see where the woman was. One lady let down her window and was waving, but the woman never turned around. The other back seat passenger was waving, too, but neither of them could get the woman's attention. She'd probably concluded that there were prospects headed toward her, and she never thought to look back. The light was unusually long, and one of the passengers was waving cash out of the window. I looked in the side mirror to see if the woman had turned around, but she hadn't. I decided to blow the horn. When I did, she turned around, but just then, the light changed from red to green. She couldn't get to the car fast enough. The car in front of me hesitated, but I imagine the driver decided not to hold up traffic. They'd get their water and doughnuts elsewhere.
The woman was in position for a sale--not one, but two-- but she was facing the wrong way. She had a good product, a great product, even, that was desirable even though her venue was unorthodox. She gave up on one direction and opted for another.
I drove away, too. I don't know what happened next. Did she decide to give up? Did she sell all of her merchandise? Were the people in the next few cars ready with their cash? Is she still out there? Did she get caught in the thunderstorm?
What stuck with me was that she missed an opportunity because she was too far away and looking in the wrong direction. Fortunately, it doesn't mean that she failed. Maybe now, she'll remind herself not to give up so easily. Maybe she'll look both ways from now on. Sure, she missed THAT opportunity, but it doesn't mean that another, perhaps better opportunity isn't on its way.

NEED TO KNOW

2011-07-02T17:19:00.007-04:00

Notice is important.
Sometimes, receiving pieces of information is worse than getting no information at all. Fortunately, there are numerous ways to find out what you need to know, and one of the best skills ever taught is HOW to find it. It doesn't have to be as deep as scientific research, but knowing where to look will keep you from depending on unreliable people, finding yourself exasperated, missing opportunities or deadlines, and being forever in the dark about things that actually concern you.

Sometimes people don't realize that their inefficiency and carelessness reflects poorly on others. You can't act on what you don't know.
"Contact Person" has to be more than just an impressive title, and the title has to be held by someone you actually trust.
There's nothing underhanded or sneaky about taking it upon yourself to find out where you're supposed to be, if, for example a deadline or date is fast approaching and you haven't even heard the quietest of crickets.

A contact person who can't be contacted is nervewracking. Waiting is difficult enough without having the feeling that you are being ignored deliberately, or your concerns are deemed without merit and not deserving of a reply. What's worse is the thought of the source (who also relies on the contact person), somewhere giving YOUR reliability a second thought.
A contact person who, either has no information, or sees fit to dangle information like cheese before a hungry mouse, is not only useless, but irritating. Why bother to tell others anything at all if it's sketchy, then suddenly go silent, or missing? God forbid you've traded definite plans for tentative ones, only to hear a flippant, "Oh, didn't I tell you? It was canceled" or be asked, "Where WERE you?"
It's hard to respect people who demonstrate that your time means nothing to them.
If you want someone to do something today, and you've known about it since last month, you can't get mad when they're not available, or they choose not to rearrange their day.
You can't be too busy to share information if it's your job. Information is not a pawn in a game. When YOU find out, let others in on it as well. Why delay? When you give the impression that information concerns them, don't be alarmed or overwhelmed if people actually anticipate and want it.

On occasion, the problem lies in a contact person's fear of being removed from the equation. Without a barrier, new relationships can be formed, and information can flow freely from the source to the prospective players. It's sad, but some people work so hard to keep others from knowing who, or what they know, that they risk their own position. Inside tracks and scoops have been known to be tracked and scooped. "Need to know" is relative. When someone THINKS it's appropriate to share may be too late--or is that what they're counting on? It's amazing how people will lie about being able to reach you, or give incorrect or incomplete information. These days there are simply too many ways to connect. "I tried to reach you" just doesn't hold water the way it did when pay phones were all the rage.
If some people can successfully keep you from reaching the source, their controlling shenanigans can continue. It is imperative to know that everyone can not--should not-- speak for you.

The role of a contact person should be taken seriously, but the espionage has to go. You'd be quite comfortable with people handling a thing if they weren't behaving so inconsistently. It's information sharing, not prison escapes. The road blocks and barricades get tiring.
If you're the middle man/contact person, holding on to pertinent information forces participants to skip you; ignore you--even mistrust you-- and go after what they need to know--be it positive or negative.
Dispensing information helps people to plan efficiently, make adjustments in their current schedule, or as every church clerk advises, "Govern yourselves accordingly".

The middle man/contact person has to be available for valid questions that people may have. Being clueless will not go over well, nor will being shady. Secrecy translates into arrogance, and arrogance is often met with defiance and disrespect. If you have the information, GIVE IT UP. Don't hold it hostage in some kind of silly power play. It's an unwise thing to do with otherwise cooperative, compliant people.

LESSONS FROM ESTHER

2011-07-02T10:06:00.002-04:00

That's the Book of Esther, by the way, not Aunt Esther.

1. In the case of a noble, just cause, if it's going to get done whether you do it or not, why not let it be you?
2. Don't forget the real reason you're there. (wherever you are)
3. Evaluate the situation. It may not be that great, after all.
4. Someone on the outside looking in shouldn't know more about what's really going on than you do.
5. To a ruthless person, everyone is dispensable--even loved ones.
6. If you're one among many, "favored" takes on a new, not so favorable meaning.
7. People shouldn't expect more of you than they are willing to give.
8. Maintain your standards.
9. Make informed decisions.
10. Good advice often comes at inopportune times.
11. Read carefully. Sometimes the main idea or moral isn't what everyone thinks it
is.
12. Never forget who you are.
13. Good opportunities will not require that you check your integrity at the door.

COMMUNICATION

2011-07-01T17:07:00.001-04:00

Every teacher I had said. "Think before you speak."
Write only about what you know
Now, I wonder if I just start talking, or writing
Whose friend won't I be any more?

You don't have to say all that pops into your head
You don't have to write down every thought
There is such a thing as discretion, and
Some sacred things
Should just stay as they ought

What have we become?
Are we really communicating?
Are we friendly and sweet,
Or cowardly and mean?

I want to hear a voice
I want to look into eyes
I want to touch, and feel--
Not always have to guess what you mean when you write
I don't want to see a colon and parentheses
I want to see your real smile

There's really nothing like human interaction
There's so much that you, too, can convey
Have abbreviations, emoticons, and our new gadgets
Left us scrambling for real words to say?

Every teacher I had said "Think before you speak"
Now I'm speaking
I hope that today
We'll all take a little time from the keyboard
And greet a loved one face to face

LAST NIGHT I DREAMED...

2011-06-27T08:11:00.002-04:00

I remembered my dream again! Once again, it wasn't continuous.
In one segment, I was watching a late-night talk show on TV. The house band decided they were walking off the set, and they did--live on the air. There was a mad scramble to replace them. Guys from the audience rushed to the stage and manned all of the instruments. When they began to play, a blue curtain rose to reveal a huge choir, clad in robes. They looked terrified, and were barely singing. One of my Vision brothers, Byron, was suddenly directing them. I started screaming, "Look! It's Byron! Byron's on TV!" He was wearing a blue striped shirt and slacks, and had apparently been sitting in the audience too. (Perhaps the choir's director had left with the band.) The choir seemed more confident, and began to really sing! Byron motioned for a soloist to step forward to a microphone with one hand, and kept directing with the other. He made some kind of gesture to the sound man to either turn on, or adjust the microphone that was nearest him. The whole time he was communicating with the sound people to fix everything back the way it was, he never stopped directing the choir. When the soloist was done, Byron turned around to the audience and began to sing, himself.

In another segment, several people had come to my home. I had apparently been babysitting. I walked everyone to their car when it was time to leave. I waved goodbye to them as they drove away, and was skipping back to the house. I was smiling and happy. My hair was all over my head, bouncing, and like a thick natural cloud. I was wearing a sleeveless, short gray sundress. (It never fails. There's always some indication that it WAS a dream...The gigantic Afro...The sundress...The SKIPPING.)

In the last segment I was amongst a crowd of people in the basement of a church. There was food everywhere. People were laughing, talking, and greeting one another as if they hadn't seen each other in a while. One person was snapping photos with an old-fashioned camera. The person asked if I would take a photo with the pastor. I agreed. He put his arm around my shoulder, and pressed his face against mine. The person took the picture, and as I turned to my right, there was a small group of women glaring at me. I quickly turned away, and was suddenly in a room where 2 older ladies were unfolding a large paper tree that had hundreds of gold paper leaves. I began helping them with it. They said it was a prayer tree, and that people would be coming in to the room. Sure enough, people DID begin filling the folding chairs that were set up. The women encouraged everyone to take a leaf off of the tree and read it so the pastor would know what to pray for. He came in, took a leaf off of the tree and began speaking to me. "When you were a little girl and trying recipes, you would always follow the directions exactly, but then, you would always add something extra." He then looked past me to the back of the room. My mother was sitting there. He asked, "Isn't that right, Sister Williams?" My mom smiled and nodded her head. I didn't know that she was there. The pastor continued, "Even when you go, you're never too far away. You always stay just close enough." The people in the room had begun to talk amongst themselves as he spoke, and it got a little noisy. The pastor quieted them, and began to pray.

Then, I woke up. I wish I could remember the song Byron was singing...: )

TODAY I LEARNED

2011-06-26T19:34:00.000-04:00

"Giraffes have vocal cords but rarely use them. They communicate with their eyes...
Other animals can just bend their heads and drink. A giraffe must, first, get his head to the water...A giraffe has no tear ducts, but has been known to cry."

Becoming separated is what made the fish vulnerable...Though the predators have disbanded, the threat still remains. Trapped in shallow waters, fish begin to suffocate--victims of their great numbers..."

Wow. Nature programs, designed to be educational, have such profound spiritual implications. I feel like I should send an offering to PBS.

SHARING DREAMS

2011-06-26T16:34:00.004-04:00

If I don't recall my dreams immediately after I wake up, they're gone. I might have faint recollections of the full-color movies of my mind, but that's all. Last night's dream was all over the place. It wasn't continuous, but 3 or 4 separate story lines. It featured people I knew, and didn't know. It also featured me displaying a boldness I only hope I would display in real life. I was admonishing someone about a highly unacceptable business proposal. It surely was a dream. When I'm awake, the individual generally demonstrates a great deal of integrity. I hope that's not about to change.

When I woke up, I shared one of the sequences of my dream with my daughter. She suggested that I share it with our friend--immediately.
I dreamed that I was looking out of a second floor window at the rear of a house. The area reminded me of my childhood back yard, except that there was a short sidewalk. I saw a friend's pre-teen daughter walking slowly on the sidewalk. She was carrying a backpack, and had on a black blouse and blue jeans. She was making progress, but it was clear that she was out of it--sleepy even. As she walked in a daze toward her school bus, a tall man, who was walking a black terrier-looking dog approached her. I couldn't identify, the man's face. The dog leaped up and grabbed on to her shirt and wouldn't let go. I threw open the window when it seemed that the man was just standing there doing nothing. I was screaming, "Let her go! Let her go! Get off of her!" My daughter, who in the dream was a little girl herself, joined me in screaming--only she added that she was calling the police. The dog finally let my friend's daughter go, and she continued walking out of our sight.

I phoned my friend when I decided I'd better share the dream, but got her voicemail. I didn't leave a message. Part of me still thought it was a little silly to alarm her. She returned my call, though, and I told her of my dream. She said that she was so glad that I shared it with her. She and her husband had been considering allowing their daughter to walk home alone after school. They'd reasoned that she had proven herself responsible for her age. She would only be alone for about a half hour until one of them arrived home from their respective places of employment. Even so, she said she had been agonizing over the decision--praying and wondering what to do.
I was stunned. She thanked me for getting over my apprehension about sharing, and said her decision was made. Her daughter would remain in the aftercare program at school.
I'm not a spooky person, nor do I ascribe to superstition. That was a little spooky, though!
Dreams DO serve a purpose--either for ourselves or others. I'm glad, now, that I remembered mine before the activities of the day caused my memory of it to fade.

Not minutes ago, I found out that PBS is airing "What Are Dreams?" on Wednesday night at 9:00PM. I think I'll tune in...: )

RACISM AND TENNIS

2011-06-25T12:02:00.003-04:00

AOL FanHouse columnist, Greg Couch's article, for AOL's Sporting News, in which he addresses Serena Williams' Court 2 placement at Wimbledon, wasn't NEARLY as interesting as some of the comments it generated from readers. One comment that struck me was made by a woman from Houston, Texas. She wrote:

"History, what do blacks know about history. After all, your always making yours up as you go along. Taking credit for things you did not create or invent. All you act like only blacks, made history, but guess what most blacks don't really have much history, unless they make it up, which they do all the time."

I can only imagine the conviction with which the statement was written. One shouldn't laugh at sheer ignorance, but some things call for that "Oh, poor thing" kind of laugh you have when a toddler, with a straight face, strings together completely unrelated words and believes he, or she is making sense. As the daughter of an English teacher, the comment was scary enough, but I admit the grammar and sentence structure was what really made me cringe. My laughter didn't last long. It was followed by a little sadness as I thought about my old "They Had A Dream" scrapbook (filled with the biographies of noted Black pioneers in every field of study.) I thought to myself, "She truly really believes what she wrote. Perhaps, in order to feel good about herself at all, she HAS to". I thought about something my grandmother used to say, "Don't pay them no mind. They don't know any better."
The Houston-based writer continued with the following:

"I got news for you. There are a huge number of blacks today, who think blacks use the race card way to much. I will say it to you, like I have said it before. Blacks are just as racist as anyone else. The difference is, we admit it, but blacks refuse to look at their own communities and see it in themselves. Look close because it is there."

Don't you love it when someone endeavors to speak for you when they have no clue about your experience, other than their oppressive role in it? Readers wasted no time berating the proud daughter of Confederate ancestry, and questioning her schooling, and values. One reader identified her as "a sheet wearing creature of the 18th century", another suggested she read her Bible, while another decided against replying altogether.
Undeterred, the writer pressed on with her take on Serena and Venus:

"The problem is she has not win, any big matches in over a year. She and her sister are not listed in the top 10 or even the top 20 anymore. That is the problem. Her career is almost over and she is in panic mode."

Again with the grammar, hearkening for the days of the red ink pen. *sigh*

I was born in Louisiana, and am the daughter of an eighty-four-and-a-half year old Black man. I have seen, experienced, and heard countless stories of overt and covert racism all of my life. I now understand the fear-based nature of it; the selfishness and desperation of it. Some people underestimate God's ability to care for and love us all. They also fear that everything they've ever known has been a lie. The lie has to be maintained because the truth is too difficult to bear. Being wrong is too much to handle. Saying, "I'm sorry" would be tantamount to poisoning oneself. Asking, "Will you forgive me?" would be like betrayal. Laying down the rhetoric and accoutrements of hate would mean an admission of wrongdoing and thinking. *Cue Yai Yai* "You are going to Hell." No one thinks they're going to actually hear that concerning themselves.
When something is so deep and interwoven into the fabric of an individual, it's hard to extract. One becomes comfortable, and feels justified in their ideals and positions. A hardened heart is a terrible thing. It has the capacity to dictate that there is a way that things are supposed to be-- even if resorting to criminal, inhumane behavior are acceptable forms of enforcement. When righteousness and justice confront and expose perpetuated evil, there is STILL a remnant that longs for evil to remain. That remnant then teaches evil to its children. Even when one's lot in life is the curb, instilled hatred will cause one to insist that one is better and higher up than one's fellow man--especially if that fellow man is of a different ethnicity. Racism is so alive and well in America. Those who are connoisseurs of it try so hard to camouflage it, but it is just too darned arrogant, loud and obvious to hide. The mouth just can't hold back what is abundantly present in an individual's heart. Hatred is so cunning, that it doesn't even allow a person to hear or filter their own words. Hatred makes blind fools out of people. Hatred makes blind fools celebrate and agree with the agendas of other blind fools. Anyone who says that racism does not exist, or carps about race cards being played has either never experienced it, or is severely deluded. Hatred also cultivates denial.

Racism plagues our president. His election has NEVER been proof that racism is dead. It's just lends credibility to the argument that those who THINK they make up the so-called voting majority selectively forget to TOTAL the numbers of so-called voting minorities. The idea that a Black man is the President of the United States sticks in the craw of so many people. No matter what he does, someone will find a problem with it, not because he is shiftless, lazy, uneducated, unrefined, rude, profane, irresponsible, or immoral, but because of the color of his skin. So many people cannot, and WILL not see past that to see or hear HIM. He could find a cure for Cancer, end hunger, AND achieve world peace, and some people would STILL only see him as another out of place, uppity nigger who upsets the balance of their world. Likewise, Serena and Venus Williams will never be more than two black intruders in the eyes of tennis fans and players. They may as well keep having fun in a place that seemingly wants to, but cannot exclude them. Cocoa hue or not, those women are just phenomenal on a tennis court--whether it's center court, court 2, or the court on the grounds of THEARC on Mississipi Avenue, SE in DC.

Jealousy is one ol' hate motivator! I guess it is possible for a person who longs to run, or hasn't experienced anything outside of their own community or state, to be envious of someone who not only runs, but leaps and dives...and jumps...and is celebrated worldwide.
I simply HAD to see if the woman from Houston was a REAL person, or just some random hacker looking to cause a message board riot. Who knew that bitterness can ooze from a facebook page right through your computer screen? Her favorite quotation is,
"Live and let live, but don't rub my nose in your life style, or then I get cranky, and tell you to shut the hell up, live your life and leave me alone."
Hmmm. Nice. On her wall, in her OWN rebuke of the inappropriate behavior of someone named "Tommy" (who happens to be white), she wrote the following:
"Stirring the beans to make a good point is ok, but doing it just to get people fighting is unacceptable Tommy; and interrupting people when they talk is WRONG; and telling people they don't know something that happened, and IT'S ABOUT THEIR OWN LIVES, TOMMY is really, really, RUDE and JUST NOT DONE."

The latter portion of her statement leaped off of the screen. It always amazes me when people can't see that THEY are doing the exact SAME thing about which they criticize others! It appears that Jesus and a heart transplant are needed in the worse way. Is this the SAME person who wrote the provocative response to Couch's AOL article? It couldn't be! I read some of the comments on her wall, and realized that much of her incendiary rhetoric has its roots in instability, loneliness, and disappointment. She made sarcastic remarks about Serena Williams career, but it seems that her OWN career is threatened and has HER in panic mode.
When one knows better, one does better. If one lives ignorance, that's what one learns. I realized that she can't help how she thinks. She could change if she wanted to, but she doesn't have to, nor does she think she needs to. A pattern of hatred has probably been in her family for generations. By her own admission she is disabled and wants to get back into nursing. I hope and pray that she does, and needs the assistance a Black person, no, SEVERAL Black people, to help her or her mother very soon. I pray that through the interaction, she realizes that her ignorance and negativity has no merit, and has harmed no one but herself. She may not want my prayers, but I'm praying for her just the same.

The Williams sisters are laughing all the way to the bank. Readers of Couch's article, on the other hand, are defending Venus and Serena's right to play on a spot of land that is probably the size of one of their closets. They are living their dream, and demonstrating the skills they both learned and mastered long ago, no matter WHERE they play at Wimbledon. Even if they were lobbing balls on the parking lot, they're THERE while we, the readers of Couch's article, are sitting at home at our respective computers.

It is pitiful that in 2011, folks get downright irate at the successes of people of color. In 2011 people still would rather demonstrate unbelievable levels of stupidity and reject truth, than to shake off the hateful binds that strangle them.
I would love for the History Detectives to research the African-American side of the writer's family. I know quite a few non-white people with a similar surname. I wonder if they are descendants of slaves who took on the surname of their Texas slave master, but, after emancipation, decided to change one vowel? The writer's ancestors were a part of Stephen Fuller Austin's colony in Texas called "The Old 300". Between 1821 and 1823, he established a colony of families along the Brazos River. Of the nearly 1800 people in the colony, almost 500 were slaves. I wonder how many shared the writer's surname, and how many degrees of separation exist between them and the Williams sisters' family? I wonder if the writer is as white as she thinks she is? Maybe she DOES have authority to speak for Black people, after all, because she IS Black (by virtue of plantation shenanigans).
I know. I'm reaching, but I love it when truth, historical records and DNA put a muzzle on ignorance.

Sorry, proponents of hate and fear, but God is STILL no respecter of persons. We ALL can pick up a tennis racket or a BOOK, if we want to, and make the best use of our talents and intellect. We don't have to diminish or deny the accomplishments of others because our own lot in life isn't sunny and bright.
Why put others down, and then wonder why elevation--even employment, or good health are elusive?
Play on, Serena and Venus.
Play on, Colored, Negro, Black, African-American People of America. Some things will never change, however, I have to believe that "in the end, Love wins".

UNSTOPPABLE

2011-06-22T08:16:00.000-04:00

The men in hard hats were back on the job today. They couldn't begin work at 7AM yesterday. With equipment in place, they waited a few hours before they could really start working. They found things to do to pass the time, but they seemed a little frustrated that a single parked car delayed their start time. When it was finally moved, another car, parked at the foot of the hill, caused them to make adjustments in how they would dig. The car limited the use of their equipment, but they figured out a way to work around the car until its owner finally moved it.
I was sure, since they couldn't start at 7 yesterday, that a decision would be made for them to report to work at 9 or 10. That was the time that the majority of people in the community left for work and other destinations. I was wrong. Just a little before 7AM, a truck pulled up. The men reported to work once again, on time. Their standards were not going to be compromised by a few parked cars. They had a time established to be on the job, and they showed up whether the work conditions would be favorable or not.
Today, apparently, everyone in the community got the message. "Don't park on the street"--at least not the side of the street where the excavation was taking place. One man operated the vehicle that would move the heavy metal safety plates that covered the deep rectangular hole that had been dug yesterday. (It was interesting to be able to see the actual thickness of the pavement.)Even with the clawed digging machine in place, three men with long poles manually broke up the earth. (I admit I was hoping to see something emerge from the excavation other than the chestnut colored dirt.)
There is no standing around today. Work is under way. Maybe they will be able to complete this phase on time.

I suppose when you make it clear that you will not be stopped, folks get the message, take their hindrances, and get out of the way.

My grandmother Ethel used to say, "If you get up soon in the morning and get all of your work done, you will have the rest of the day for yourself".
My grandmother was right. Not only are the street construction workers on the job bright and early, the landscaping company workers are, too. I may as well get up altogether. There's no resting or sleeping through all of the buzzing, drilling, humming, whirring and whizzing...: )
Don't let anything stop you.

DELAY

2011-06-21T11:41:00.011-04:00

Several men in hardhats and safety vests were just standing on the sidewalk talking. Occasionally, they would walk up and down the street on both sides, moving or realigning cones. They'd stop, lean against the fence or sit on the sidewalk. A few might light up cigarettes. They talked amongst themselves, but for the most part, they seemed idle, and even anxious. They'd look around, switch from foot to foot, but mostly, if not for their attire, it would have appeared that they were loitering. They had posted signs on the orange cones. From 7AM until 5PM there were to be no cars parked on the street, but the street was lined with parked cars on both sides. There would be no drilling, excavating, or digging going on. Their equipment was in place, but it was silent and still.
As residents emerged, headed for work and other places, and moved their vehicles, work began, but cautiously--and perhaps, not as planned. The cars cleared out on one side of the street, but was that the side on which the workmen wanted to begin?
At 11:23, there were still a few cars on the street. The workmen have decided to maneuver around them. If the vehicles are damaged, who is at fault? There is now a long, narrow, but deep hole in the ground. Only one vehicle can pass now. The work has reduced the street to one lane. How far could they have been into the job had the street been completely cleared of vehicles at 7AM? It's now after noon. The lone vehicle still parked on the street is causing the workers to do manually what a single machine could have done. They don't look too happy, but they're digging anyway. They were prepared obviously. Perhaps this has happened to them before.

A single, unmovable item can delay progress. Those willing, able and ready to work have no choice but to stand around and wait, because they have no authority to move it. As soon as it is gone, however, the work can continue. The delay, however, will cost.

It's now 2:50. The last vehicle is finally out of the way. The equipment can now take advantage of its full range of movement. The job can be completed--later than anticipated--but completed. What if a few hindrances caused the workers to leave the work site or cancel the work altogether?

Sometimes, even when it's unbearable, you just have to work around it.

FRIENDS

2011-06-21T10:23:00.000-04:00

Social networking is a trip--a very fun, helpful, informative trip, but a trip nonetheless. Sometimes I think about abandoning it altogether. There are days when I think, "You're not strong enough for this", or "You should SAY something!", or "Do NOT reply! DO NOT REPLY! Back AWAY from the computer!" Obviously I haven't given up on the newest way to occupy/waste time. It has its merits. It also has its down side. The word "friend" has come to be defined as "one who is in your life as a result of the striking a computer key".

I read the comment that showed up on my twitter time line. It was so touching and complimentary. It was also sad, because I knew it was not something the recipient would want seen in public. The writer was sincere. He really thinks they're friends now. If he only knew how they wish he would keep the sentiments he shares to himself...and what is said when he's not around. He keeps plugging away though, and daily interacting with people who share his profession, but not his philosophy. Every day he exchanges pleasantries with people who desire his notoriety, chase after his fame and finances, and covet his contacts, but would rather that it not be assumed or known that he is a CLOSE friend.
What would people think? Much of what goes on with social networking doesn't really give much thought to discretion, sensitivities, or truth.

So many people. So many ambitions. So much deceit. So much rejection. So much information. Today, there's a way to interact with people who were once elusive. Today, people can say what they've always wanted to say--whether they get a response or not. It's how badly people want certain things that could really pose a dilemma. People are going for it, though. Taking chances. Taking that shot, and getting shot down--in public, in 140 words or less.
Some public endorsements can be problematic and imply relationships that don't exist. Even if justified, are there some stamps of approval you'd rather do without simply because of the speculation they may cause?

If it meant lowering standards, abandoning faith, embracing bad habits, or losing dignity, it wasn't a missed opportunity.

AN OLD ISSUE

2011-06-21T10:09:00.001-04:00

Very few people go to work and have NO idea how much, or IF they are going to be paid. Musicians and singers do it all the time. There's a hope that people will operate in good faith. So often, the way they operate is less than insulting. Some of the greatest insults come from fellow singers and musicians-- who should know better.

Contrary to popular belief, monthly creditors, like Potomac Electric Power Company, for example, do not consider sheet cake, chicken drummettes, meatballs, corsages, flowers, centerpieces, scarves, ties, souvenir booklets, certificates, or red church juice as negotiable, legal tender. They will not allow customers to exchange ANY of the aforementioned items for the necessary services they provide in these hot and muggy days. Musicians and singers who labor at the request of others to enhance anniversaries, conferences, weddings, christenings, openings, closings, etc., DESERVE to be fairly compensated. What they do is, in fact, WORK.
What IS it that causes people think others should pay to participate, (transportation, wardrobe, grooming, parking) get nothing out of it, and yet be grateful for being in the red? Consider YOUR expectation on payday, and ask yourself how YOU would feel if your boss gave you a handshake and a "Thank You" instead of your check--or ducked you at the end of the day.
People always have choices to do, or not to do. When participation costs more than one is capable of paying, the choice becomes an easy one.

You hope that people would stop expecting something for nothing, but good luck with that. Those who sing the praises of volunteerism as they drive to the bank to deposit the money THEY earned, are something else. The religious guilt trips about "service" and "ministry" organized to camouflage cheapness, ignorance, deceit and selfishness are hilarious. People should really stop playing dumb or being offended when they're told, "The freebies are over". They should stop insulting professionals and diminishing the value of the work they do. If you're the user, stop taking advantage of the time and kindness of others.
Want people to WORK? Pay them. Good grief.
Unfortunately, part of the blame are the singers and musicians who continually rely on the integrity of others--integrity, of which, others prove to be void. Some singers and musicians have learned the lesson. They speak up for themselves. They get mountains of flack about it, but they are no longer standing among the angry, dumbfounded, disappointed, and flat broke after a musical event is over. As long as there are hungry, gullible others, the pattern of flat-out cheating people will go on.
Know your honest worth-- and don't be afraid to declare it. Those who respect what you do will recognize it and respond properly.

WAKING THOUGHTS

2011-06-21T09:39:00.000-04:00

I consider an app page potential spam if:
1. It was not developed by the social network.
2. It doesn't include a "block" option.
3. It makes my anti-virus software go all Navy Seals on my computer.

When people have a habit of dropping cheese cracker crumbs all over the place, and spilling sugary drinks but never cleaning it up, the person they should be angry with is not the exterminator, but themselves. Critters are only looking for food. Don't be surprised when they show up if you're forever feeding them.

Sometimes people are confident that you approve of what they're doing or saying. They're so sure you will agree with them, that they come to you to air their issues, decisions, and plans. As they vent/talk, they never get it that your silence is not consent, but shock and disbelief (that will quickly turn to anger and disgust if you allow their words to marinate in your mind too long). You want to say something, but ANYTHING you say will be met with a defensive response. You don't want to appear judgmental, but the whole time they're talking you wonder if they're even listening to themselves. Surely they don't actually think what they're saying makes a lick of sense, do they?
Sometimes when you see people coming--when you see a name pop up on the caller ID, you have to tell yourself, "You can't. Walk in the opposite direction. Let it ring. You are a drama-free zone. Mind your own business."

When you've already won, don't let anyone trick you into thinking the game isn't over. Shake hands, thank Mom, get off the field, hit the showers, and prepare for the next contest. Don't make some stupid play that won't count. Don't do something ridiculous that will cause you to lose your position, or the win to be disqualified.

IN FAIRNESS

2011-06-21T09:35:00.000-04:00

If you're fortunate enough to have capable, efficient people to call upon when there's a job to be done, recognize it, and stop making them feel as if they are forever proving themselves, paying dues, or competing for the job. If those capable, efficient people happen to be friends, act as if you care about the friendship, or don't be surprised when your calls go unanswered. Instead of being hurt and puzzled, consider that, though YOU may think you were trying to hook them up, their "No" or failure to respond is their way of rescuing themselves from a hanging. People don't like being jerked around ONCE, let alone repeatedly.

When you seek out person A, and they consent to do the job, do YOURSELF a favor and show them the same respect and consideration as you would have shown Person B--whose price was too high--or who is hip to your attitude and poor business practices, and refuses to work with or for you EVER again. It's amazing how person A is suddenly "not all that" after they inform you they will no longer be doing freebies or favors.

When economics or padding your own pockets is your real motivation, say that. Ever notice that people who are constantly leading the rallying cry for volunteers and low paid workers, are earning a regular pay check? The true spirit of service and volunteerism is one thing. Trying to convince people they should be anxious and grateful for being devalued and disrespected while you profit, is another.

I've said it before and will continue to say that the easiest ways to lose a friend are to:
1. treat their livelihood as if it is your hobby,
2.behave as if you own their gifts and talents,
3. make demands of them, receive a service, and then, when it's time to pay up, act as if they did no work at all.
Embrace a little integrity, doggone-it. Stop being shady, and treat people the way you want/expect to be treated. Don't expect others to be happy or content with what YOU wouldn't accept for YOUR own time and effort. If you place little or no value on the work of others, it stands to reason they will not be thrilled when you call--no matter WHAT the opportunity may be. If it's true that others would kill for the opportunity you want to provide, then, seek out those desperate others, practice your con game on THEM and leave your friends alone.

People who expect something for nothing are exhausting, and their deceptive, manipulative rhetoric gets old and tired very quickly. Stop saying you can't compensate people, or wish you could compensate them, and tell the truth--you don't want to, or you want to keep a bigger piece of the pie for yourself. Just stop it. Slavery is over.

SOURCES

2011-06-21T09:32:00.000-04:00

Some opportunities are seem promising--could even be life-changing--but there's a catch. You'll be required to abandon a friend. Everything about you that will aid in you being an asset to the person or organization is fine, except your association with a person or group. What would people think of THIS if you become a part of it while maintaining your close affiliation with THAT? You have to wonder if it's a test of your integrity, loyalty, or ambition. If you have to let go of one thing in order to meet the standards of another, is it worth it? You have to decide, "What's more important? A friend or an opportunity?"
If someone has an issue with, or prejudice against a friend of yours, don't let them use you to perpetuate it. Your association with one person may very well be problematic for another person--but unless the other person is God, sometimes you just have to conclude, "That's THEIR problem", and continue enjoying your relationship.
If a person has proven to be a friend, don't let the opinions of anyone else cause you to forsake them. If you're going to end a friendship, or dissolve a business partnership, let it be your decision, made in your own time, based upon your own experience, and at your discretion.
By the way, if you want to know something about a person, don't be a coward. Ask them--don't interrogate their friends. Ask yourself what you want with the information and what you plan to do with it. When and if you get a reasonable, rational answer, other than sheer nosiness, ask yourself if you might need to talk to someone about your obsession with other people's business.

Don't let ignorance or laziness be an excuse for being in the dark--especially when you have access to the same resources as others do. If you want accurate information, go to the right source. The person you THINK might know, may be equally or more clueless than you are--they might even have a knack for stretching the truth, or editing out important details. Want to know? Go to the source.