'Be anxious for nothing..." ~Philippians 4:6

Saturday, June 21, 2014

SPRING CLEANING

The internet has added a new twist to spring cleaning...I ran across a green vase I've had for a very long time. As I was wondering whether to keep it, give it away or toss it, I turned it upside down to see if there was something to identify the maker...I was hoping it was Blenko glass, but the stamp on the bottom read, "E.O. Brody, Cleveland, Ohio". Now I'm curious about "Depression glass".....I think I'll keep it--and fill it with flowers.

When you've taken everything out (and I mean everything), you realize that not everything has to be put back...some stuff can go to others. Some stuff should be in a place of prominence, and some stuff needs to go. How many hand mixers, candle holders, and vases does one need? Some things are reminders of long ago abandoned color schemes--that someone else could now be embracing and enjoying. Some things are positively unidentifiable. "What is this? What did it go to? What is it for?" Someone else may have lost or misplaced their whatchamacalit and could use it...Thrift Store, here I come.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

CUSTOMER SERVICE

Yesterday evening's experience at a gas station on New York Avenue, was interesting, to say the least, and a poor example of customer service to say the most. While I waited, so many things ran through my mind:
1. There is someone who is more suitable for the job, and it may not be a relative--as much as one wants to help one's own. Never leave an incompetent individual in charge...of anything...in front...where they have to deal with people. It could be disastrous for business.
2. Someone else has what one is selling--and will be more gracious about it.
3. Have no respect for one's customers and one's customers may show one just how unruly, loud, and impatient they, too, can be.
4. In one's haste to get rid of people, one may end up cheating oneself.
5. Learn of legitimate businesses that may partner with/benefit yours. Learn of their practices--especially ones with positive reputations--worldwide.
6. Customer service DOES matter.
7. Language barriers have a funny way of breaking down when people get angry. Everyone understands "Nasty Attitude".
8. Waste and delay can occur when one fails to do one's part.
9. It's not the neighborhood, it's the people in it that can spark uneasiness and mistrust.
10. One bad experience can/will determine future behavior. One can always take one's business elsewhere.
11. One may never know the real reason for a delay.
12. There may be a non-malicious reason why rules weren't followed.
13. Sometimes the decision to do it later should be reconsidered.
14. Someone will pick up the dropped ball.
15. People matter.

FATHER’S DAY: THANKS, BUT I'M NOT A FATHER

According to dictionary.com a "father" is:
1. A male parent.
2. A father-in-law, stepfather, or adoptive father.
3. Any male ancestor, especially the founder of a race, family, or line; progenitor.
4. A man who exercises paternal care over other persons; paternal protector or provider.
5. A person who has originated or established something  



















While I understand the underlying sentiment of the "Happy Father's Day" greetings that have finally stopped filling my phone and social networking inboxes, I must, respectfully, reject them. Yes. I was the single parent in my home, but my child's father was also the single parent in his. I think society deemed me the "primary parent". I can't honestly say, however, that raising my daughter was a solitary task. There was a village.


Father's Day is all about the fellas, at least it's supposed to be, but, man do attitudes flare every year around this time in June! Many conclude that there is nothing to celebrate; that it's not a special day at all, and the sooner it's over, the better. It's just another Sunday-- and it conjures up too much bitterness and pain. 

As I drove to my Dad's house, I noticed that there were no chocolate/teddy bear/roses/carnations/perfume vendors on every corner and highway island; no crowds were at the Hallmark displays; no restaurants were packed with patrons. Father's Day, to many, is a joke. 

It is not always the fault of fathers whether Father's Day is happy, painful or shameful. Sometimes, the shattered feelings of rejected mothers who needed to be loved, wanted, cared for, supported, acknowledged, and protected, resulted in the fracturing of beneficial relationships between children and their fathers. The emotional and fabricated substitutes just don't work. Mothers can't be fathers any more than sons can be husbands.



Money and resources are great and needed, but at some point in my young, very green life there was an "aha" moment when I fully understood the value of time. When I saw the look on my little girl's face when her very tall Dad picked her up, hugged her, and let her experience the air up there...well...let's just say my broken heart and I had to take several seats, and see the big picture. I loved and missed him, and mourned an intact family for years, but it was impossible to ignore that she needed and loved, and revered him. I could provide a lot, but I could not be all things to my daughter. I could not be her father.
















Seeing my daughter and her dad together as adults, makes my heart very glad. They look, laugh, and even sneeze alike. They use the same mannerisms in conversation. They have an incredible work ethic. They're problem solvers. She's almost as tall as he is. They're quite a team.


Children DO need their dads. We really do have to mind the messages we send to our children, and let our love for them overrule any issues we may have, or had with their other parent. A child simply cannot get enough love. Mommy's way to show it, although wonderfully wonderful, can and should, if possible, be supplemented by the wonderfulness (is that a word?) that Daddy has to offer....Children WILL grow up, they will find out truths, and what we feed them when they are young will affect how they view themselves, and manage their relationships with others. Lying will backfire.

Don't let your child find out that you were the reason a relationship never existed between him or her and his or her father. Don't be the one who initiated the strain. All of your hard work and sacrifice will be seen as manipulative and selfish. Don't sow resentment. You will reap it when you could have had harmony. 

Every episode of one of the numerous paternity shows that features adult children, reveals the lingering pain that they feel when denied an opportunity to know their fathers. Every mother always feels that her own efforts to house, feed, clothe, educate and socialize their child should have been enough; their child should have been happy and satisfied with just one parent's attention. The truth is that mothers can't ever be fathers. 
Arrogantly declaring, "I'm mother and father" may make one feel better about oneself, but it does nothing for what one's child needs.

Maybe your relationship didn't work out, but your child was not the result of an immaculate conception. If your only issue is that he's not with you, doesn't want you, or is in a relationship someone else, don't punish your child by denying him or her a very important relationship. To deny a child a relationship with his or her parent is punishment...and criminal...and evil. It's hard to be a single parent, but don't let your own brokenness, bitterness, or hurt cause harm to your child.
If your child's father was, or is no good, a sperm donor, a deadbeat, a drunk, a crackhead, a moocher, a user, a rolling stone, a womanizer, a player, missing in action, in denial, a friend with benefits, a one-time thing, or any of the other unfortunate titles we assign, remember-- in the words of Judge Judy-- "YOU picked that loser to be the father of your child(ren)!" 
It doesn't say much about the brightness of the bulb in our own lamps if we go around bashing the individual for whom we once had great affection--at least long enough to conceive a child. No. We DIDN'T have to be mother and father, ladies. It's a hard pill to swallow when a man adores the child you bore but doesn't want you, but it's not the fault of the child. Many say they are protecting their children, but the truth is they are protecting their own fragile hearts.

My daughter's late, great Aunt Daisy had severe dementia, but she had enough sense to say, "Look deep before you leap".  Whether someone has the ability to "step up to the plate" and be a father is something to determine BEFORE disrobing and swapping bodily fluids.

No matter what kind of maternal gymnastics you had to do, how much money you spent, or how much time you put in, you were mother--period, and unfortunately, you don't get awards for doing what you were SUPPOSED to do. Motherhood is a full-time job and if you did your time, good for you.

You don't get extra pay for the person who didn't report to the workplace--but if they can do a reasonable job successfully from another location, don't hinder their progress, minimize or criticize their performance. If you decide to single-handedly take on their job title, duties and your own, it's a choice, not a requirement or an order.  
Even if he's dead, a mother is still not a father--overwhelmed, frugal, and sleep-deprived, perhaps, but not a father.
If the father of your child(ren) is still around and is neither pedophile, nor psychopath, wise up; wake up for the sake of your child(ren) so that next Father's Day day isn't full of sarcasm, jokes, criticism, questions, secrets, lies, tears and shame. Speak well of the individual who provided a good deal of your child's DNA, and if you can't find anything good to say, say nothing--at least not in the presence of your child. After all, there had to be SOMETHING good about them of which you can speak, or else you wouldn't have been with them in the first place, right? RIGHT? 
Right...: )

TUESDAY THOUGHTS: PATRIC MCDOWNEY: COLLEGE BOUND



















In my family, college was not an option. 
I'm sure that many of you, who had southern-born, African-American parents, heard the "You have to be twice as good" speech. 

My Mom was the first in her immediate family to graduate college. 
My Dad, who completed his high school education courtesy of the U.S. Navy, spoke often of his post-retirement from the Navy, and his foray into the Federal Government. 
He lamented having to sometimes train/mentor/cover for people who were his superiors. They were so, he believed, only by virtue of their formal education. Although many of them got the top jobs and coveted promotions, they, at times, demonstrated little competency when it came to the actual duties outlined in their job descriptions. What they were good at was delegating authority to subordinates whose paychecks were considerably smaller. 

I learned early that attending college was not an option. My Dad didn't want my siblings and me to go through what he'd experienced.

It was later in my life that I heard the phrase, "Favor ain't fair", but it perfectly suited the work situations about which my Dad would share. The college degrees his superiors held, he said, "showed that they had potential".  
And "That piece of paper" was obviously very valuable; it clearly got one's foot in the door. 
My siblings and I, therefore, HAD to get "a piece of paper" of our own

In our house, it wasn't "Are you GOING?" or "Do you WANT to go?", but "WHICH one have you decided to attend so we can get these coins together?" Yep. "coins" were set aside before we could even spell "college". 

When I was a student at Howard University, tuition was $882.50 a semester. That was the late 70's/early 80's and, in my mind, it may as well have been a million dollars out of the pockets of my parents. (SIDEBAR: I auditioned and earned a spot in Howard University's gospel choir, but declined when I found out how much the robe cost. I just didn't want to ask my parents for the money. It seemed frivolous. I know. Silly, right? I was young...SMH...It's okay. I've stopped kicking myself about it. Insert the words of the Apostle James: "You do not have because you do not ASK".)
Soooo...whew...Can't you tell I'm not a good salesperson? lol...(SIDEBAR 2: When my daughter was younger, and had to sell things for school fundraisers, I'd rather just buy the whole case of whatever the kiddies were peddling that year, than ask others to purchase it....See? What's coming after my rambling is making me wish I were independently wealthy, and I'd write one big check to the Art Institute of Philadelphia.)

Okay. Here goes... to whomever may be reading this...I know that college isn't for everyone, but it's so important to encourage kids, who have goals of their own, that include higher education. 
We have LOTS to say about young men who are choosing the WRONG path, and doing nothing with their lives except courting trouble. 
Here's an opportunity to be a part of the "village" and cheer on a young man who WANTS to go to college. 
I admire a kid who knows what he or she wants to do in life. 
I also like funding sites like Kickstarter and GoFundMe. They show that a little bit of kindness from many strangers can accomplish a lot.
I don't usually do this, but I figure if every one contributes something--even a quarter--Patric McDowney (Yes--Angeleque's baby boy. Lawd, am I getting old!) could be well on his way to seeing his name emblazoned on a future college degree...AND embroidered/embossed/etched/stamped on the labels of fine apparel and accessories, too.

Give, won't you? 
You'll feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Just click on the link, and check out his page at GoFundMe.com. http://www.gofundme.com/aegkmw

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

MY 20 FEET FROM STARDOM

When you hear that a legendary artist is coming to town, the plan is to find tickets to the venue, secure a good seat in the audience, and sing along. Every now and then the plan changes. You find that you're going to be on stage, behind a hot mike, wearing the customary black attire, and harmonizing with two other people. You can't just sing any old part like you would if you were in the audience, or in your basement. You have to know the music. You're suddenly a part of the show you would have gladly paid to attend...and you can hardly believe the favor you've been shown.

Last Saturday night at the Howard Theater, THE A'ngela Winbush took me by the hand, led me away from my very, very, very comfortable background spot, and handed me her mike....You could have bought me with 2 cents.
I wonder if the general public even knows the extent of her musical resume; the contributions she has made that don't even bear her name. At nearly 60 years of age, her showmanship is astounding, and her voice--wow.

I heard her sing for the first time when I was about 13, I think. Union Temple's choir was tops in my book. When their album was released around 1974, I was so excited! Google "Look Up and Live" and you'll see what I mean. With that album in hand, I knew I could hear them ANY time, and not have to wait until the next time Bethlehem Baptist Church visited Union Temple--or vice versa. Walking up those creaky, winding, wooden steps (that never seemed to end) at the old Union Temple was worth it. Once you got to the top, it was like arriving in Oz! There was excitement-- and great and wonderful music. Union Temple was the hip, afro-centric church around the corner. They had a really cool pastor (Willie F. Wilson), the fair-skinned dude with the big afro who could really play that piano (Richard Smallwood), a singing deacon named Sully who should have been a star, and a choir that rocked! I used to wonder if there was anyone in their congregation who couldn't sing or play an instrument. A'ngela was in the choir, and her voice was clear and strong and sounded "just like the people on the records". It still is!!!

When I think about those days and consider today, I smile and am very grateful. Who knew I'd not only get to meet many of the people whose talents I soooo admired, but to work with her as well--and I wasn't even trying! 
Harmonizing with family and friends is always a real treat, too--even if they do make me sing soprano. Sharing DNA has an uncanny way of taking care of the blend and tone so you can concentrate on other things like remembering the lyrics and singing your part--and Ms. Winbush had harmonies in her head that challenged the brain, but were so much fun to sing! 
The experience was fun. (Thank you, Lord). It may have even jump-started my fitness regime. In six-inch heels, A'ngela went from a squat to a standing position without touching the floor. Let me try that. I would have tripped on my own hem, toppled off of the stage and been sprawled out, unconscious, on top of some patron's dinner and destined for a ride in an ambulance to the nearest ER. 
Nevertheless, we got to hear her play piano, and sing the songs she'd penned--songs we'd sung along to, but never really explored. Singing along is one thing. Listening to learn is an entirely different animal. 
Ms. Winbush deserves a place in music history.
 

I love my own "20 Feet From Stardom" experiences...: )