SATURDAY THOUGHTS: O, WHAT A NIGHT

Richard asked Roger to let him hear what Darlene and I had done. 

"Turn up the volume!" 

Roger supposedly kept turning the knob and pushing buttons, but there was nothing but music and background vocals. 

Somehow, the lead vocals had disappeared from the track, and we were summoned back to Omega Studio in Rockville to record them again...I'm glad we were. 

I'd had a bit of a sore throat, and I didn't think I'd done my best the first time--and I'd been a little nervous, and a lot honored. 

It was my first recorded duet with one of my favorite DC singers, who, in my mind, was the vocal clone of Chaka Khan.

On trip two to the studio, Darlene had her kids in tow, and Richard ordered food for them. 

It seemed like he had ten hands, as he was serving the kids, opening ketchup and mustard packets, dividing up french fries, asking who liked what, and passing out forks and napkins. 

He was The Maestro AND Uncle Richard that day. 

It was hard to keep a straight face as we watched him through the glass, moving from one child to another, cutting bite-sized portions, wiping the table, passing out napkins, opening sodas--all of this while looking up periodically to direct us.

He looked up at one point, late in the song, stopped the tape, and said, "Hey, y'all, I was thinking..." (History has since revealed that if he EVER says, "I was thinking", you should just pray, and get your brain and throat ready.) 

He suggested, "Right during that chorus...right there. I want you to sing 'OOOOH, OOOOH, WHAT A NI-I-I-I-I-IGHT', okay?" 

He demonstrated how he wanted it sung. 

He did one of those perfect, southern-accent-tinged runs, then looked at us as if it was as common as breathing. 

First I just stared back at him, appreciating the confidence, and then I looked at Darlene, who nailed it on the first try. 

"Nessa, girl we got this", she laughed. 

 He wanted it done in harmony. 

"Darlene, you take the top". (Well, DUH? lol)

Darlene gave it "full out", and with all the signature sass of a Smallwood Singer.

I just closed my eyes and tried to hang on, hoping I could mimic her timing and texture.

It really was a fun session.

After we were done, Darlene's daughter told Richard she wanted to sing a song for him. 

We were all anxious to hear her sweet rendition of her favorite Smallwood composition, and she commenced to keep her own beat, by tapping her little foot on the floor. 

Then, with all the attitude, dance moves, and facial expressions of a pro, she sang the lead and background vocals of Kirk Franklin's "Stomp"...lol

That day is among my fondest memories as a member of Richard's Vision, and I love that Christmas project. 

You can still get it if you don't have it, and fill your home with even more holiday music. 

http://www.amazon.com/Rejoice-Richard-Smallwood/dp/B0000005CO/ref=tmm_acd_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-1&qid=1419105607

I don't recall that we've ever sung this song, live, before.

Darlene and I will tomorrow, though, with the help of the gracious music ministry of Friendship Baptist Church http://www.friendshipbaptistdc.org/  in SW, under the leadership of that hymn-loving, piano-playing, all around nice guy, Derrick M. Anderson Sr.---who is a faithful Smallwood Singers/ Vision supporter if there ever was one...: )

BEGINNING TO END

END OF AN ORDEAL

After 5 years in a Cuban prison, and a loss of 100 pounds and five teeth, one of the first foods Alan Gross enjoyed after his release, was popcorn.

You know that, and of course, the end of his imprisonment, made me, and my popcorn-loving self, smile. 

It's strange, however, that not everyone is elated that his ordeal has come to an end. 

Funny how some people are crying foul and complaining about Cuba's lack of Democracy.

If the complainers would only redirect some of that indignation, and recognize the audacity of their views. 

If they'd only work as diligently to ensure that democracy thrives for all...here...in America.

DC, after all, still has Eleanor Holmes Norton--a diligent, dedicated, but NON-voting member of the U.S. House of Representatives--while DC's population is certainly comparable to that of the state of Vermont. 

DC is still a colony.

Why doesn't that bother anyone?

Sounds like some people would rather that the poor man remained incarcerated and away from his family, than to at least try to move toward a new, honest, healthy relationship with the island nation.

  

I wonder how many Cubans have been longing for the lifting of the economic embargoes? 

I wonder how many have been waiting for an open door; a new political policy; new relations between nations that would allow them and their loved ones to travel freely to see one another?

 

I don't know. 

Some things just don't have to be difficult...do they?

CAREGIVER DIARIES: THE NEED FOR ADVOCATES

Many of our elders aren’t screening calls, or ignoring caller ID. 

Many have use for, but aren't huge fans of cell phones, and are frustrated by, or skeptical of technology, and social media in general. 

The trusty ol' home phone is just fine with many of our elder relatives and friends. The phone rings? 

They answer. 

Why not? It’s what they’ve always done. 

Consider, too, depending on their temperament or living situation, that they simply enjoy having someone to talk to. 

Telemarketers are happy to oblige, if they think a sale is imminent. 

Many seniors are thrifty. 

If someone is making a pitch, they perk up and listen. 

If they hear the words "save you money" or “reduce your current bill”, they may happily take the bait.

I'm not saying that all telemarketers are unscrupulous shysters, but some are, and they target the pockets, wallets, and purses of vulnerable seniors.

Individuals and businesses that take advantage of the often fixed resources, and trust of seasoned citizens are...okay...I can't type that.

Let’s just assume that special corner in hell we hear about, is specifically reserved for their ilk.

Make sure your seasoned loved ones and friends who aren't so tech savvy, or are suffering from Alzheimer's, or dementia, have not been coerced into the following:

1. contributing to bogus missions trips, by individuals operating independently from their places of worship.

2. switching their electricity, phone, and gas utilities to fly by night, substandard companies (that, should there be an emergency or equipment failure, have to use the infrastructure of existing, reliable companies anyway.)

3. opening multiple lines of credit for home improvement projects

4. signing up for subscriptions, clubs, recurring payments, or direct debits that require an act of Congress to stop.

5. Giving too much personal information, particularly their social security or bank account numbers, or birth date over the phone.

Also, check for correspondence and bills from extended warranty companies, questionable charities, political organizations, prescription drug, and landscaping companies. 

Some notices will often appear to be legitimate; they’ll come enclosed in pink envelopes (implying a late bill), be stamped with “final notice”, or use the name of companies with which seasoned citizens currently do business. 

Correspondence that come with “gifts” like address labels, greeting cards, calendars, bookmarks, tote bags, t-shirts, or coins, make some seniors feel obligated, or think they have to return the manipulative favor. The more they reply, the more mail they’ll get.

If the seasoned citizen in your life seems to be inundated with snail mail, particularly bills for nonexistent goods or services, be alert...respectfully take a look, make some calls, and invest in a good shredder.

Handle it.

Seniors need extra eyes so that they’re not such easy targets. Shame may keep them quiet about being scammed, particularly if they had a reputation of being sharp, in control, discerning, and conscientious, but as their caregiver and advocate, nip the scams in the bud.

#caregivers

#scams

SUNDAY THOUGHTS: BILLINGSLEY HOUSE

I didn't know it existed. 

It is a perfect, beautiful venue in which to host an event.

It's a sight to behold...uh...once you get there...through the gate that opens like the Addams Family's...by way of those narrow, winding roads...in the dark...through the eery trees (with vertical branches that dangle like snakes)...across that little bridge (Are we supposed to be driving across this?).

The ride seemed to last forever, and a couple of times the road seemed to run out.

It conjured up "Roots", "Roots II" AND "12 Years a Slave".

I suddenly felt like singing a Negro spiritual, and wondered how fast I could run if I had to.

When you're expecting to see something and you don't, and all you see is more darkness, you might get a little anxious. 

When you think you've arrived, and realize you actually haven't, you may wonder if you've taken a wrong turn. 

For a minute it seemed like we were just going deeper and deeper into the woods, and unwittingly staging a perfect missing person's scenario.

You imagine your car is going to get stuck in some mud, and you're going to be found months later living off of Patuxent River fish.

If you happen to go there at night, fill your tank...check your tires...charge your phone...pack a flashlight, a blanket, and some non-perishable items.

Turn on your high beams...Pray...Drive slowly...Forget GPS. 

You need Harriett Tubman, William Still, and Sojourner Truth.

You may begin to think you saw them on the road waving for you to keep goin'.

Don't be surprised if you suddenly consider the plight of runaway slaves, and what your choice would have been had you lived in that ghastly era. 

You will consider, as you go, the gravity and bravery of their decisions to run for it....Okay...just kidding.

Those high beams, though? I'm not kidding. Use them...and do drive slowly.
The width of the road only accommodates one vehicle.

The Billingsley House has got to be among the best kept secrets in Maryland. 

The young staff there was very gracious, the food was delicious, and again, it's beautiful. 

Just know that you won't see it right off of 301 via Route 4. 

Once you get onto WSSC property, you still have a little bit of a field trip. 

You may think to yourself (or say out loud) "What the____?"

"What happened to the road?"

"Oh, Lawd, where am I?"

Don't be alarmed. Just follow the Drinking Gourd--or the many signs that a conscientious party host, like my cousin Frannie, will think to post all along the narrow way.

When you see the house, you'll breathe a sigh of relief, and start singing, ("You're out of the woods, you're out of the dark, you're out of the night! Step into the Sun, step into the light..."), or laugh...at yourself...and be thankful for the struggles of previous generations....after all, you're an invited guest at a party on a plantation. You're not the help.

When you leave, you'll be keenly aware that no one is viciously chasing you to bring you back. 

If you do go back, it'll be by choice, because it really is a beautiful place--in what was once the largest slave-owning county in the state of Maryland. 

BEGINNING TO END

FRIDAY THOUGHTS: WHAT YOU SAY

It seems that, each day, internet users are facing and embracing the notion that there is no such thing as privacy.

As we cruise along the Information Superhighway, icily spewing, or gently sharing our thoughts, opinions, ideas, and images, we are not alone. 

Clicking "send", "enter", "save", or "post" seems to be taking its place among others of life's critical decisions. 

Every day someone's actions and words are landing them in piping-hot you-know-what. 

Once they're mired in it, they need help getting out. They need protection from the faceless masses manning laptops and smartphones. 

Who keeps the latest round of keyboard-happy, offended human beings from being restless, appalled, retaliatory, and poised to comment with ever-increasing venom and snarky-ness? 

"Who you gonna call" when your thoughts aren't between you and your intended recipient, but you and all of cyberspace?

"What You Say, Think and Believe When You Assume You're Among Like-minded People and No One Else Is Listening" is oozing through computer screens like "The Blob". 

I am particularly amused by those who, in the aftermath of an attack of verbal diarrhea aimed at Black people, seek counsel from the good Reverends Jackson and Sharpton. Respected as they are, it's funny how people obviously think the two of them have Moses-like power to turn the heads and govern the thoughts of the entire Black population. 

People think it's their job to weed out the troublemakers, and facilitate the laying down of weapons--verbal or otherwise. 

Those who find themselves branded racists because of their racist comments, also seem to think that those two aforementioned, iconic men of the cloth, have Hitler-like power to brainwash Black folks into sheer anarchy.

I'm on the sweet side of 50 and I STILL haven't found the secret meeting place where all Black folk assemble to vote on what we all like or hate, support or reject. Where is this hallowed convention where we go to decide who's the designated Wizard of Black Oz? Who are the appointed apology investigators who mete out pardons and mercy for us all? 

It's sad and telling when people think that members of a particular ethnic group all share a collective brain whenever: 

Someone says or posts something in jest. 

Someone deliberately berates someone else in an email, or in private. Someone is overheard via a live mike, an open door, or a phone in speaker mode.

 

Loose lips are betraying speakers and writers every day, and messy talebearers (and hackers) don't mind sharing with us all. 

When the you-know-what hits the internet fan, some Chatty Kathies or Typing Tessies, skip introspection and sincere remorse and move immediately into panic mode. 

"Hey. I might actually need the person or people I've criticized, demeaned, ridiculed,  misjudged, deceived, spitefully used, or embarrassed".  

"Oops. My employment may be compromised! Did I forget I have a job and am a representative of a business that depends upon the very consumers I've offended?"

It doesn't take people long to realize how difficult it is to operate with more than one face in our unfiltered social networking climate. Anticipating backlash (particularly a drastic loss of revenue, public embarrassment, or the severing of critical personal or working relationships). offenders make a frantic switch into damage-control mode. They then hunt for the person who they think is the peacekeeping mouthpiece of everyone else. Surely that person will bring calm and understanding. Everyone will join internet hands, take up internet brooms, and sweep the hurtful words under the internet rug. 

Unfortunately, the person they choose as savior may serve to expose just how out of touch, narrow minded, and woefully ignorant they really are. 

It's amazing, surprising, and even a bit frightening when people think you always and instinctively take your moral and intellectual cues from total strangers just because they're functioning with a bit more melanin. When someone says something incredibly stupid, who do they call to gain redemption? Here's an idea: Seek the individual or individuals one has offended, but don't make it a habit.

I suppose a person WOULD be "ready to heal" once the extent of their disdain of others is exposed. Why wouldn't someone take full responsibility for the opinions they form, the filters they ignore, the games they play, or the tact they choose not to employ? 

When they're caught and confronted with undisputed, albeit improperly obtained, proof, what is it for which they are sorry? 

Is it for being exposed or being jerks?

Some are quite sincere, but many apologies are tricky, especially the variety issued while one is furiously backpedaling and covering one's behind. It's a multitask that fails miserably. Some apologies are reduced to mere optics, and trotted out when people realize they've been snared in their own webs of manipulation, deceit and shadiness.

It takes a lot of nerve to depend upon or expect the assistance of those one has mistreated in order to be freed from one's own tightly woven snare. Gratitude and change is in order when one is forgiven, not business as usual.
I'd prefer that people stop apologizing for how they feel, and what they do and say, particularly if they don't mean it. If the only change on the horizon is yet more apologies crafted in different ways, good luck with forging healthy, lasting, trusting relationships, harmonious homes, and productive workplaces.

Ah, those smiling faces. It's so much better to know where people stand, even if their stances aren't favorable. At least you're not blindsided, disappointed, forming doomed alliances, or constantly dragging yourself out from underneath buses.

Perhaps the citizens of cyberspace should revisit grandmotherly advice:
"Every action has consequences."
"Put yourself in their shoes".
"Think before you speak."
"Do the right thing the first time."
"Mind your own business."
"If you don't want it known, keep your mouth shut."
"Tell the truth, and you won't have to think up a lie."
"If it doesn't come out in the wash, it will come out in the rinse".

TRAFFIC STOP

The officer gave me a warning. I guess I didn't stop long enough before I turned on red...I couldn't believe I was trembling...I was heading home from Rivertowne. As I approached the intersection at Indian Head Highway and Livingston Road, I looked to my left to see if cars were headed north. My way was clear, so I made a right turn. I've made that turn hundreds of times. I was nearing the next light when the I saw the flashing lights and heard the siren behind me. I was startled, pumped the brake, drifted to the left lane and stopped. I kept saying to myself, "What did I do? What did I do?"
I got my purse and took out my wallet as the officer approached. I let down the window and he shined his flashlight into the car. I could hear my Mother's voice, "Know when to turn it on and when to turn it off". In other words, be the poster child for law abiding citizens, don't make any sudden moves, and break out your best English. "Good evening officer". I couldn't believe my voice cracked. He'd actually frightened me. I'm sure my eyes had enlarged. "May I see your license and registration?" I asked him, "What did I do?" I heard a little girl's voice. It wasn't mine. He saw my hands shaking as I searched for my driver's license, and told me to calm down. "It's just a traffic stop. Happens all the time. It's okay. Calm down. It's just that you didn't come to a complete stop before you turned on red back there."  I could not find my license! It's always in the same place, but my hands were shaking so much I couldn't find it. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes but couldn't figure out why I was about to cry. He shined his flashlight into the car again so that I could keep searching. When I found my license, I handed it to him and he told me he'd be just a minute. My heart was racing. I couldn't believe how I was reacting! He came back to the car, handed me my license and told me I was okay. "Just be careful back there next time, Ma'am."  I said thank you, and put the car in gear. I drove home and took my groceries inside. My stomach was in knots. 
He seemed sad that he'd frightened me. The look on his face was almost remorseful. I was sad that he was sad.

The news really does affect us. 

SATURDAY THOUGHTS: CYBERBULLYING

Yes, yes. I saw it...Yes, yes. I wanted to jump... both feet...Hey. I'm a mom! WHAT?

I think there must be a new game sweeping the nation called, "How Insensitive Can YOU Be?"
I saw the arrogant, self-righteous, sarcastic, shady, misguided, unwarranted cyber-bullying that was masquerading as helpful advice. 

It got attention, alright, but it surely wasn't the kind the poster bargained for! Maybe she thought it would score some points with her employer, or impress her friends. If what she wanted was for everyone to know her name, she definitely succeeded--if you can call being reprimanded by strangers a success. 

At what point did she think this was a good idea? What was the trigger? What was the thought process? 

Hate does that, though. It makes one believe that something profoundly hurtful and stupid is wonderfully helpful and brilliant. 

As she was typing, the little Christian angel that should have been shouting wildly from her shoulder, "Hey!!!Nooooo! Step away from the computer!!! Abort! ABORT!", was obviously in a post-Thanksgiving dinner, high carb, high fat, tryptophan-induced coma.

I wonder if she forgot, or wasn't aware that cyber-bullying is covered in the District of Columbia's anti bullying laws?

God bless the Obama girls. They're not even my daughters, but really, lady? Do people really want to tangle with a mama bear? 

Wise folk, even if they think you're a punk, know better than to set their evil sights on a child! 

If people bear resentment, or just don't like or respect you, they tend to see your loved ones and children as fair game; erase their humanity, ignore their innocence, demonize them, diminish their accomplishments, ignore their track records, and simply fail to care what impact their words or behavior will have.

It's amazing. When people can't rattle YOU, and drag YOU into their nets, they hastily go after those closest to you, hoping that you WILL wile out just so they can say, "I told you so". They must give their own deep-seated hatred an excuse to exist and thrive. The Obamas didn't have to part their lips in reply, or type a single alphabet of a message. The irate Citizens of the Internet did it for them...and we all know how irate those Facebookians and Twitterians can get. To say that they can be ruthless and unrelenting is an understatement.

Dealing with bullies and difficult people is where the Jesus in me really has to stand up, kick into high gear, and push me out of the way. I thank the dear Lord for his sacrifice, 'cause I SURELY wouldn't want to miss Heaven on an "I Hate Bullies" technicality. I had to learn that bullies operate purely from a place of insecurity, envy, ignorance, and weakness. People who are hurting, really DO hurt others in an effort to make themselves feel superior in some way. It takes someone who isn't intimidated, spineless, or afraid to cry "Foul!", to bravely point out a bully's gross errors in judgment and highly inappropriate actions.
It took a while for me to get it--to stop quietly excusing myself from situations where bullies seemed to reign; to stop running; to stop being afraid of making waves, and confront. Peace and harmony mean so much to me, and I hate when it's threatened. I know I'm a bit of a sponge. I hate to see other people being picked on. There's nothing funny or harmless about bullying. It's worse when adults target children. Why do people have to start stuff where stuff doesn't have to be? I had to learn, not to excuse or trivialize the behavior. I had to learn to genuinely pray for, and forgive the many bullies I have encountered-- and not wish that a farmhouse would land on top of them....and explode...and roll down a mountain...into a lake of fire...filled with fire-retardant piranhas.

I hope the young...wait...MEDIA SPECIALIST? Say it ain't so!!! Wow...Anyway, I hope she has learned a very valuable lesson. I hope that her aim, from now on, is The High Road, and closer scrutiny of her OWN actions (considering her job, which would be so tragic to lose in this fickle economic climate). The actions of two very impressive young ladies, who have clearly been nurtured in a manner in which we can all be proud, should no longer be her concern--not publicly anyway. Perhaps it was good for her to expose her true colors and subsequently have a long conversation with God. Maybe she was led to read the book of James, specifically, chapter 3.

I hope that those who advised her to apologize (and scrub her social networking pages) made a genuine impression. I'm hopeful. There's some indication that she has had some home training, and I hope Washington's political climate doesn't strip her of it completely. She has to know, after this weekend, anyway, that there are some bandwagons one shouldn't hop aboard. All she managed to do is shine a boomeranging spotlight on the jolly, drunken, irresponsible antics of two other daughters--who, too, should have been off limits. Fancy that...and we had forgotten all about them.
See? The devil will make you kick your own people in the behind and brand yourself a hypocrite.

P.S. The first daughters don't need any outside help in the style and class department. Their mom clearly has a handle on that.

TODAY

I saw a brother walking down the street

Gesturing and rapping like he was on stage

So caught up in his rhymes; not 'stud'n me

Just dealing, in his way, with snow and rain

A lady walked as if the sky was clear

No umbrella, no hat, no gloves, or boots

And now I wonder if she wished she'd had those things

And wondered how we passersby could be so cruel

I saw people running for a bus

Others shouted for the bus to wait

The only other sounds, the traffic made

The playground was too wet for kids to play

I walked, too as if I didn't have a care

I went out into the cold so purposely

To breathe the air, to move, to think

And get some popcorn before the freeze

(Thank you, Elmira Grocery for being there.)

 

"You know you really don't have to go back in", I thought

I strolled back; took a good look at my home

A lady said, "Hello"; a guy said, "Hey"

I'm not sure why I was so glad they spoke

It's something how the snow can change your view

How your own views change so much as you grow old

I hated Winter's guts when I was young

Today I volunteered to brave the cold

TUESDAY THOUGHTS: SAVAGES?

In the 70's, we had ZERO business sitting in a movie theater watching the string of Blaxploitation films that were produced, but it was so exciting to see Black actors on screen. No one at the box offices was conscious of ratings, nor asking how old you were. 

When I was a kid, there were three, one-screen theaters to which we had access: The Atlantic, The Congress, and The Anacostia. 

Every now and then, we'd go to 'The Town". 

There, we could see people who looked like us. Every film based on slavery was entertaining, but sad and maddening. 

Everyone left the theater boasting what they would have done if they had lived during slavery times. (Ummm hmmm...stuff that would have left them beaten or dead). 

Everyone left thinking that we hadn't quite overcome, but any advancement was better than being a slave.

Today, as the word "savage" gets tossed around in reference to Ferguson, Missouri protesters, and women continue to emerge with accusations against "America's Dad", I was reminded of Warren Oates' closing lines in the film "Drum", the sequel to "Mandingo" (starring Ken Norton and Pam Grier). Oates' character Hammond Maxwell, a slave trader, had been rescued by Drum as his plantation was on fire as a result of a slave revolt. 

As Maxwell, Marianna (Drum's white mother) and Drum took refuge in a barn, Maxwell said, 

"You zany not to kill us while you got the chance, Boy...You better run. You better run like Hell...Run, you goddamn nigger. I don't wanna have to kill ya. I don't wanna have to kill ya! Run!...

Them niggers. You never know about niggers. They act like humans sometimes, then all of a sudden they go crazy like some kind of mad critter. 

Once they get human blood in 'em, they just can't act like proper niggers no mo'."

Clearly, people today share his ignorant views--and have obviously not seen (or deliberately ignored) the images of sports fans rioting in Arizona, Minnesota, San Francisco, Vancouver, Connecticut, Kentucky or San Francisco after athletic games. But I digress.

I don't know why hatred and prejudice ever surprise me. I'm a Jesus fan. I know why he had to leave his throne in glory. The creation that God once deemed "very good" had gone buck wild, and lost its collective mind.
"He that saith he is in the light, and hateth his brother, is in darkness even until now." 

1 John 2:9 is true, but it doesn't apply to the person who sees another human being as less than human. Surely a savage isn't a brother. Is he?

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." 

Matthew 5:43-45 is true, but it doesn't apply to the person who sees another person as unworthy to occupy the house next door. Savages can't be neighbors, can they?

People who have never experienced discrimination can only empathize. People who are convinced of their superiority, and totally negate the role of grace in their lives, don't care. 

They will never fully understand. 

Being inflammatory, insensitive, and clueless is their only mode of operation.

I remember summer trips to Louisiana. 

My grandmother always gave us the speech before she sent us off to the store. 

We had to make sure we were polite--extremely polite. 

We were not to sass anyone at the store. 

Just give the clerk her list and watch our mouths. 

We were children. 

Why would anyone want to hurt us? 

We were the children of the "uppity niggers from up to DC", but we were also "Miss Ethel's grand". 

The respect they had for her made life easy for us. 

It was up to us as children, however, to make sure we didn't get too big for our britches as we navigated Addis. We were in their town. What flew in DC didn't fly there. 

We had to remember that.

I don't know if you got the speeches from your parents that I got from mine: 

"Know when to turn it on and when to turn it off"; "You have to be twice as good"; 

"You have to have a college degree to compete". 

I imagine we were groomed to become the "acceptable" brand of Negro. 

We had to dress up to go shopping. 

We had to be respectable. 

Years later, my respectability still didn't stop a white woman from getting out of her car and calling me a "filthy Black bitch" when I pulled into a parking space downtown to let my friend Alice get out in front of a dry cleaning establishment. 

The woman said it as if that was precisely what I was. The words of a stranger stung. Something snapped. I just stared at her. Although I never moved or said a word, suddenly she was afraid, screamed for her husband to come back, got back into her car and locked the doors. 

He shrugged his shoulders, and told her that she shouldn't have spoken to me that way. 

He kept walking into the store. 

That day, I wanted to fight. 

Her husbands words were calming, amusing, and informative. 

I was reminded that not everyone is ignorant and bigoted. Some people will leave you to get just what you deserve.

We were taught to be peaceful. We were taught how to stay alive; how to diffuse situations; how to minimize the waves we made; how to put our best foot forward. 

Here we are in 2014. 

There is a hated Black man in the White House, yet the lives of young black men are being snuffed out with painful regularity. 

Is it because they are more like Yaphet Kotto's character "Blase" than Ken Norton's character "Drum"? 

Are young Black men tired of being patient, polite, and subservient? 

Are they deciding that if they're going to be referred to as "savages", then they may as well play the part? Is their motto "No discretion, no fear, no filters, no regard for systems, rules, laws, or authority, no finesse, no self-control, no bowing, scraping, tap dancing, singing, dancing and no cotton picking"?

Fathers. 

Brothers. 

Black men, retain your authority in your homes and communities. 

Talk to your sons, grandsons, nephews. 

Go and get them. 

Embrace them. 

Show them the history. 

In the words of comedian Paul Mooney, "Know your history. You've got to know your history, You have to know". 

Show them the images. 

Tell them the truth. 

Teach them how to play the game, and explain that the rules are always subject to change. 

Tell them who they are--valuable, loved, filled with God-given greatness. 

Resurrect the speech that preserves dignity, self-worth and at the same time, keeps your sons alive. 

At the end of the film, Drum ran. His master told him he had to. Either he was going to kill him himself, or watch him be killed by an angry mob. What he said he could not do, was vouch for the fact that Drum neither organized, nor wanted to participate in the revolt. 

He took his master's advice and ran. 

We don't know if he was shot in the back, escaped, or captured and returned to the fields. 

He was running, but the look on his face revealed that he had no idea where safety, fairness, and freedom ruled and reigned.

I listened to Stevie Wonder's "Love's In Need of Love Today", and "Heaven Help Us All" last night. His composition, "Misrepresented People", featured in Spike Lee's film "Bamboozled", is profoundly fitting today. 

CHOOSING WORDS: R.I.P., MAYOR BARRY

Proverbs 24:17-18 is a sobering passage of scripture. I wonder if it's the reason that some people seem to bounce back over and over again, in spite of opposition:
"Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice, or the LORD will see and disapprove and turn his wrath away from them."

I saw the TMZ headline reporting Mr. Barry's death, and shook my head. Someone thought it was highly appropriate. 

One last turn of the knife whether it can be felt or not. We human beings really are a piece of work. Why be so evil and deliberately hurtful?

I'm always a little afraid for those who so grandly ridicule others; those who forget that people have families, friends and acquaintances. Those who can't even back off of a person in death, and find something tactful to say, as if death isn't enough, make me a little sad. Everyone's mother and grandmother warned, "If you don't have something good to say, don't say anything at all". 

Maybe some people missed that speech.
 
Marion Barry, Jr. showed DC that he, like all of us, was flawed, but he was dedicated and committed. TMZ has shown me that it too is flawed, and dedicated and committed to being unnecessarily provocative and pitifully lowdown.
There is nothing entertaining about the way people are hounded under the guise of gaining information, or enlightening the public. Payback is a dog, though...a big rabid dog. What goes around really does come around, but it comes around with a vengeance. People really should be more careful about what they say. Tables do turn. 

What would happen if, tomorrow, a new show debuted, dedicated to solely following, investigating, and exposing the indiscretions of all employees of this program and other programs like it? 

Mr. Barry might emerge as the most squeaky clean of all.

Many people are so confident that their own indiscretions are secret; so wonderfully arrogant and self-righteous, so adept at categorizing and rating wrongdoing, that they are extremely callous, careless, thoughtless, and vocal in their criticism, judgment, and scrutiny of their fellow human beings. 

Just because one can do something doesn't mean that one should. 

It bothers me when supposedly intelligent, educated people fail to think. I don't want to know that it was Harvey Levin's idea. This cannot be the action of an intelligent individual who boasts collegiate degrees. I need to know that some ignorant, drunk, rogue employee overstepped his or her boundaries when no one was watching. 

What would make anyone think that headline was entertaining or necessary? Who thought that would be a good idea? 

If the plan was to upset people...well sir...or ma'am...it worked. Perhaps not so much that it was an affront to Mr. Barry, but that it was in such poor taste for anyone. 

One need not have been a former supporter of Mr. Barry to find the headline so dreadfully heartless and wrong.

What have YOU done, about which no one knows (or so you think), that, if made public, would cause others to demonize you, negate your entire body of work, and make you the butt of jokes? What if you found out that thing you've done (or are still doing) was going live, worldwide in 5-4-3-2-1... Would you continue to work on behalf of others in spite of relentless opposition, or would you make excuses for yourself? Would you quit? Would the shame and embarrassment motivate you to figure out a way to disappear, or end your life?

Marion S. Barry, Jr. proved to be more brave than most. He fought for the residents of DC and Ward 8, especially seasoned citizens and school children, perhaps more than he fought for himself. 
SYEP offered my own daughter and thousands of teenagers their first summer jobs. Say what you will, but Mr. Barry cared.

The mercy one shows is the mercy one will receive. 

It's time for "I was just doing my job" to stop being an excuse for crude, crass, tactless, petty, and childish behavior. 

(Wait. I'm sorry children. That is an insult to you. Even you know better.)

The headline demonstrated a total lack of respect, compassion, and understanding...but of course, tenets like respect, compassion, and understanding have to be taught...early.

The New Yorker's David Remnick, fortunately, had the right idea. Truthful, but respectful.  Postscript: Marion Barry
 

SATURDAY THOUGHTS: COMEDY AND TRAGEDY

Not Bill Cosby. 

Not America's Dad. 

Clearly, someone thought we needed to know what one of the most beloved individuals on Earth was doing while we were all cracking up until we cried, and our sides ached.

 

I really could have survived without knowing. 

Someone now wants me to burn my albums, cassettes, DVD's and VHS tapes of "The Cosby Show".

 

Not so fast. What if he's innocent? 

Good grief. What if he’s guilty?

I'm always challenged by my take on any situation, though. 

It informs me of whether I have resolved, or unresolved issues in my own life. 

There is always some spiritual lesson to see if I'm mastering patience, compassion, wisdom, understanding, discernment or empathy. 

It's as if God says, "See that? See what's unfolding in that person's life? Watch. Are you going to go with the prevailing attitudes, or are you going to dig a little deeper?...Now, what have you learned?"

There are some things that you don't want to believe about a person, but I suppose it is very easy to keep a rosy view of a stranger who has only indirectly impacted your life. This stranger's impact, however, has been profound. He is among those people you feel as IF you know, but you really DON'T.

His talent has been a part of the fabric of my life.

From "I Spy", to "The Bill Cosby Show", to "Fat Albert" to "Uptown Saturday Night" and EVERYTHING else in which he appeared, he has been a favorite-- the clean alternative to the MAN—the initially, squeaky clean, Richard Pryor.

When my father was extremely ill, I bought some Cosby DVD's for him to watch. I wanted my Dad to laugh, and I knew what would work--and it did. One year, we wondered what to buy my Dad as a present. Tickets to see Bill Cosby live in concert, was the perfect choice.

I just don't want to believe what I've been reading. Why would they lie? What if they aren't? Will it matter one bit to my daily routine? Has deception taken place, or is America guilty once again of failing to separate the real man from the characters he has portrayed?

Triggers in life are interesting, and this situation has pulled a few. We've all kept quiet about something that we see no point in dredging up today. We know it's just not going to go well. 

We've all been prompted to stay mute about something, and the secret has neither served us, nor others. 

We've all looked the other way. 

We've all been used, rejected, and cast aside in some way. 

We've all wanted to be believed and vindicated. 

We've all trusted someone we should have avoided like a downed, live power line. 

We've all failed to ask pertinent questions, and embrace confrontation. We've all foolishly stuck with something, someone, or some plan of action we should have abandoned. 

We've all walked away from things and people, and never looked back, because the price to play along was too high. 

We've all been lied on; made a fool of, or taken advantage of. 

None of it makes us feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 

We've all done things, the memories of which, we wish we could erase. 

The line Anne Northrop spoke in "12 Years A Slave" came to mind: "I have done dishonorable things to survive, and for all of them, I have ended up here." 

We've all felt we didn't have a choice in a matter. 

We've all asked ourselves "Was it worth it?", and the answer was a resounding "Hell no. If I had the chance to do it all again...." 

We all know, now, that we ALWAYS have a choice. It's living, or not living with the consequences that can be tricky.

For some people, who have reached certain pinnacles in life, they feel that there's nowhere to go but down. There are other people, envious, angry, greedy, and covetous, who would like nothing more than to show them the way.

There is always a reason why we do what we do, but our actions may not always be excused or forgotten. Some actions will come back to haunt us--or torment us daily--unless we genuinely embrace forgiveness and grace-- for ourselves and for others. 

Romans 12:19 reminds us of Deuteronomy 32:35. We never have to avenge ourselves. We have a superhero. What God can do, is so much more thorough than anything we can think of, in our efforts to get back at those who have hurt us. We have to remember, though, that the sword doesn't just swing in one direction. We should be very afraid of the mercy we refuse to show. 

Does that mean that we fail to report crime? Of course not. 

Feeling powerless, fearful,  and having no faith in the systems in place that are supposed to protect us, however, keep many people silent.

Is it possible that an enemy is prospering because we decided to usurp the vengeance that belongs to God? 

While we're putting people on blast because we feel we have a right to do so, and while we're itching to see people suffer for what they have done, God is watching and listening. The LAST thing I want is for God to assist my enemies (because of my big mouth or impatience) when he could be assisting ME. 

Proverbs 24:17-18 is sobering. 

"Do NOT gloat when your enemy falls; when they stumble, do NOT let your heart rejoice, or the Lord will see, and disapprove, and turn his wrath AWAY from them".

No one wants to find out that their relative, mentor, friend, or favorite celebrity is a liar; deceitful, unfaithful, or a criminal. 

No one wants to question the integrity of someone they've always loved, admired, or supported. 

What's happening to Mr. Cosby could very well happen to any of us.

Everyone who knew you "When" is not dead. or suffering from some debilitating mental condition. 

You didn't have to be impaired in any way at the time, but there are things about yourself that you don't even remember, but some not-so-well-meaning someone you used to know, has preserved the tape, the letter, the memo, the transcript---and they've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to trot it out in this unrestricted, indiscreet information age. 

There's no taking things to one's grave anymore. No news outlet can report of the death of someone without reminding us all of the worse thing the deceased did in their lives. 

God maintains his mode of operation for The Sea of Forgetfulness. No wading. No swimming. No fishing. Man, however, has other plans.

Who is to be believed? 

There's always more to stuff than we think; two sides to every story; two sides to every person. 

I consider myself. People have referred to me as "quiet", "nice" or "sweet". That's cool. It's how I prefer to be. I like peace. No. I crave it. I don't go around picking fights, starting arguments, or minding other people's business. (Wait. Isn't that the very nature of social networking? But I digress.) I don't go around bothering people. I don't start stuff. Going around looking for trouble, or creating conflict where none needs to exist, is not fun to me. I like being considered pleasant, and cooperative. I think most people aim at keeping peace and harmony, but I know that there's a ratchet, wounded, unfiltered, version of all of us somewhere deep inside. There is someone inside who has not always been been too bright. We've seen those broken people. Eeew. We know them. We don't mind when we see them emerge from others a la Jerry Springer Show, but we don't want to see the Hulk/Mr. Hyde in ourselves. 

We all have another side that would leave others completely shocked. 

I think about that when pushed to my limit. I may not say much, but I know that I am armed with a fairly decent vocabulary, and I forget very little. 

I know that I don't even need profanity to inflict deep cuts. I know that I am of the "Be Seen and Not Heard Generation", and can be misjudged as passive...no...a punk. 

The other side of all of us gains strength whenever we have failed to speak up when we should have.

Suppressing things we should have confronted or exposed, makes us all potentially dangerous, and can make us appear to be a little unstable. That is why it is imperative that we thoroughly clean out the storage spaces of our minds, and address things immediately. The repressed side of us all, has to be monitored. There is a reason why a part of us is not allowed out to play in public. Unsupervised Us will shut down the playground so that no one can slide or swing. 

The annoying, arrogant, antagonistic bullies, who have had the misfortune of meeting the other side of us all, can attest to that. 

As for me, I give the credit to Jesus and my dear, departed, wise mother for keeping ballistic, volcanic Vanessa under wraps. 

My mother always insisted, "Don't make a scene", "Don't ever embarrass yourself", "Write it down, read it, and then tear it up.", "Always, be a lady".

What happens, though, when people get tired of being and keeping quiet, and watching evil appear to win? What happens when a window opens that allows wronged people to finally unite and unburden themselves-- even if statutes of limitation mean that there will be no justice? 

Are victims okay with the ire, pestering, and annoyance of courts of public opinion, and temporary loss of income being the only repercussions? 

Even evildoers have supporters. Not everyone will abandon ship. Not everyone will get mad just because you are.

It IS difficult to see people prospering when you KNOW what they've done to, or said about you or others. Some people can put things behind them and genuinely move on, allowing their own good life to be the best revenge. Others, however are hurting, consumed, and unable to crawl out of despair. The impact of life's occurrences have arrested and crippled them. They've been wronged and want everyone to know. They stew and simmer, and continue to bleed; never fully living the life they could because the past looms large. The desire to right the wrongs of the past, just won't go away. When they do finally get the opportunity to tell all, in what masquerades as getting justice, they forget that the light they generate isn't only going to shine on the perpetrators of their lives. It’s going to expose them, too.

Vengeance seekers have to be prepared for the covers to come off of every area of their own lives, too. Light will reveal totally unrelated, irrelevant, old stuff. Accused people are not content to go down without a fight if there's ammunition they can use. Accused people have no qualms throwing everything and everyone in sight under several buses. Vengeance seekers have to have clean hands, and not be worried about what may be revealed about them. Unfortunately, vengeance seekers are so busy in their mission, that they forget what they've left hanging in plain view in their own closets. Oh, they may get their man, but not before they, too, are dragged unmercifully through the mud, and forever painted in such a horrible light that people will begin to deem them deserving of the pain they suffered. 

Fear of one's own missteps have a way of silencing people. Those who don't care what others think, and know that truth is on their side, are a different animal, altogether.

Certainly he doesn't need my pity, but I feel so sorry for Mr. Cosby. Somehow society has learned how to strip the humanity from people when they reach certain economic or professional plateaus. He is still a human being. There was a time when he was not well known. The soul of that person, who just wanted to make people laugh, still exists. He is not a young man. He has spent his life bringing joy to millions. To see worry and anxiety on his otherwise animated face is more proof that he is yet a human being. Ties are being severed daily. Money is proving to be more important than relationships. 

Persecution is stressful. It seems that society is very, very good at hounding people, and these days we do it collectively, ruthlessly, and in real time.

Is he the perpetrator or the victim? Has he been taken down by the words of another Black man who perhaps jokingly, encouraged us all to look at him with a little more scrutiny? 

Who is it that we have all been applauding? 

As drama plays out in Ferguson, Missouri, is this, too, yet another attempt to devalue the life of a Black man?

I've only ever seen Mr. Cosby's extremely funny, responsible, intelligent, philanthropic side. Now people are talking about his legacy as if, by virtue of one Facebook post or tweet, his entire body of work, his family, his contributions to the world, and his life are all suddenly worthless.

My first thought when I read the allegations was, "Who has he made very, very, VERY angry?" 

My second thought was that this is a huge attempt at distracting a lot of people. 

On what should we be focusing? 

Ebola? 

Immigration reform? 

Gas prices? 

Election results? Terrorism? Unemployment? 

Arsenic levels in rice? 

High fructose corn syrup in everything? 

Climate change? 

Our OWN affairs?

Of course, I've thought about his accusers. I'm a woman. I have a daughter. I have sisters and nieces. I have a vested interest in what happens to women. I'm pro girl, but as a mother, I'm not pro stupid girls. Women must be honest. There are situations in which we place ourselves; choices we make; motives we have, behaviors we display, words we say, and ideas we share that can yield unfavorable results. There is no excuse for abuse--none. NONE. For some things that occur, however, we have no one to blame except ourselves. Many women have lied to save face. We cannot assume that everyone has good sense. It's true. When people tell us and show us who they are, we really do need to believe them. We have to think. Sometimes we invite ridicule and skepticism. Playing "Dumb and Ditzy Victim" after the fact is a failing strategy. It's not always the alcohol. Some things we have to own.
What is to be said of the accusers? Are they credible? 

Is this extortion? 

Were they silly? 

Star-struck? 

Groupies? 

Scorned? 

Opportunistic? 

Broke? 

Manipulative? 

Gullible? 

Were they, in the words of my grandmother, "Fast"? Were they afraid? Threatened? 

Intimidated? 

Powerless?  

Did they see dollar signs and a ticket to fame, and have consensual sex with a married man, or were they drugged and raped by a heavily protected, highly respected criminal? 

If it happened the way they said it happened, is there a percentage of the responsibility that falls into their laps? 

What should they have known, not known, done, or not done? 

Are these questions offensive or irrelevant? Does ambition get in the way of reason, common sense, and instincts? 

Has the behavior of some women made it darn near impossible for women who have been brutally assaulted to get the justice they deserve?

I wasn't there. I'm just asking questions. Somebody, though, is lying and their pants or slacks are on fire.

The big question is, "Why now?" Why NOW? Is there strength in the numbers of women currently crawling boldly out of the woodwork? Why DIDN'T they speak up, loudly and boldly before now? Why NOW? 

Luke 12:2 came to mind. "There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known."
Does that apply to this?

It's as if a pact was made with the devil, and 2014 was the end of the ride. "For half a century, you can have the world--celebrity status, first class service, people at your beck and call, fortune, and more resources than you can consume, but one day, you will be branded a villain. Do you still want this fame? If so, sign on the dotted line".

I wonder if people who are clamoring to be famous are paying attention. THIS is a commonly seen part of what one gets for daring to share one's talents with the world. The barrage of accusations, the loss of business ventures, the severing of relationships, the turning of backs, the ridicule, speculation, and rumors, are all a part of the territory. 

Is it worth it?

The whole thing makes me very sad. When you've been lied on and impacted by those who choose to believe AND spread the lie; when you've been affected by hearsay; when you have missed out on personal and professional opportunities because of the unkind words of someone whose words had weight, you tend to have a little more mercy for others, embrace clear evidence, facts and truth, and reserve comments and judgment. Even when all of the facts are in, you still use discretion. 

Sometimes we forget about how God's grace works. It could very well be YOU in the hot seat....The only difference between him and everyone else is that his business is unfolding publicly...worldwide. 

Not many people would be able to stand up against the pressure whether they're innocent or guilty of the accusations. The stress would be devastating. The sudden inability to do what one loves, and does well, would be tragic.

Many have drawn conclusions and have taken sides. There are things we all have to remember, though: 

People DO collectively lie. People DO consent to behavior, and then have regret or backpedal afterward. 

People DO use their authority, wealth, and power to commit crimes. People ARE protected by gullible cronies who value relationships with, and perks from powerful people more than they value the truth. 

People DO target others who, in their opinion, have gotten too big for their britches. 

People WILL place others upon pedestals, and high horses and then delight in toppling them. 

People DO have utter disrespect for women. Some women DO seem to be on a mission to make all other women seem like opportunistic sluts. 

People DO take advantage of the racist fabric of America. Crying rape against a Black man is nothing new in our country. Historically, who was most likely to be believed?

My heart goes out to everyone involved. I feel for Mrs. Cosby and her daughters. Some men don't truly feel the impact of the pain they have caused strangers, their exes, their girlfriends, the mothers of their children, and wives until they have daughters of their own--and have to stand by while some man treats their beloved offspring(s) with the same disdain and contempt as they would a bag of rotting garbage. 

It is sobering when a man, looking into the eyes of his child, realizes that every woman he has encountered was someone's daughter.

But...what if he's innocent? Human beings have historically disregarded the truth, preferred to believe a lie, and indicted, persecuted and executed innocent people. Apologies after the fact just don't cut it or bring relief to accused individuals and their families. When it comes to accusations, and taking sides, the watchword is "caution".

 ********************************************************

I was watching "Whoopi Goldberg: Direct From Broadway". Her character Fontaine's monologue included a segment about a visit to a Holocaust exhibition. It was also a lesson on compassion and hope. Every day it's clear how much we need to cultivate them both. There is so much that can cause us to be jaded, and rightly so.

"These folks were stuck in this room for two years and it wasn't like they was living...non movement...no noise...They sat-- with no sound...Nerve wracking ain't it? Yeah, and I discovered...I couldn't do it. See, I'd a HAD to make some noise and mess up. You know, and I realized that was really a stupid way to do things. You know, because, why cut off your nose to spite your face? And when that hit me, so did the fact that I was in an empty room, crying...See wasn't nobody in there saying they was gonna kick my ass. You know, wasn't nothin' in there threatening me. I said, "No, this don't have nothin' to do with me. Get me out", and I ran to the door, but I got stopped by a big sign that said, "In spite of everything, I still believe people are good at heart." I said, What?!...Of course Anne Frank could say that. She was a child." 

~Whoopi Goldberg, as Fontaine