MONDAY THOUGHTS: AFTER "RED TAILS"

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 man 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 that 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

"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 onto 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 miss out on significant strides and improvements if we're constantly preoccupied 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 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.

THURSDAY THOUGHTS: SOMETHING TO SAY

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 a lot more productive.

SING-A-LONG

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.

FLEE GOSSIP

 

SECOND SNOW

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!

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...: )

P.S. Someone asked me if prints were available, so I turned to cafepress. Click on the picture above or the links. 

MONDAY THOUGHTS: FIRST SNOW

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 unseasonally 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.