SATURDAY DETAILS

 

FRIDAY THOUGHTS : GIFTS

Once a gift is given, it no longer belongs to you. You can wonder about it, of course, but once it leaves your hands, you have no stake in how it is used (or not), who has access to it, or whether it is kept. 

When a person to whom you have gifted something, passes away, that gift is still not yours. There’s no automatic reversal, or moral dilemma. The gift is at the mercy and discretion of the deceased’s family, or designated executors. You can make no commands, nor have expectations for its return. You have no entitlement to it, unless it is bequeathed to you, or legally transferred to you. It was, after all, a gift, not a loan. There were no strings attached. There’s no “my” or “mine” to speak of.

It’s quite likely that a total stranger is now enjoying your gift. Maybe it was sold, given away, or discarded, and you’ll never see it again, but were you supposed to?

If by chance, kindness, or benevolence, however, your gift finds its way back to you, that’s where your gratitude kicks in, not your arrogance. You gave it, but without conditions, and then, someone recognized the value (sentimental or otherwise) of the gift, or the strength of your relationship, and thought, “I wonder if he/she would like to have this back?”. 

When a gift finds its way back to you, perhaps it was given so long ago, that you may not even remember giving it! You may not initially remember IT, at all, but the memories it inspires, are as priceless as the genuine smile your gift put on the face of the recipient, whom you now mourn. You may even gift the gift to someone else, who you know would appreciate it more than you.

MONDAY THOUGHTS: REMEMBERING BURL

The Lauriol Plaza margaritas: 

At his instruction, two waiters appeared, and placed beautiful, brightly colored drinks in front of everyone at the table. I grabbed my straw and took a sip. “Van! Slow down! That’s not a Slurpee!”, he laughed. "Well, what is it?", I asked, him. He picked a fine time to tell me what it was, and my non-drinking self, relieved to see something cool in front of me, on such a hot day, just froze, mid sip...It surely looked like a Slurpee, albeit a fancy one. He thought it was so funny that I didn't know any better, and promptly ordered a ginger ale for me—with lemon.

The bus trip:

We had two tour buses. Vernon was supposed to tell us that Burl had gone back into the hotel to use the restroom. He didn't. It wasn't until we were near our destination (somewhere in Ohio, I think), several group members needed an ATM, and the buses stopped, that a very worried Vernon boarded our bus, to ask if Burl was with us. He wasn't--but all of his stuff was on the other bus. There was a chorus of "Oh, Lord! We done left Burl!"

We laughed about it subsequently, over the years, but let's just say that Burl wasn't happy with any of us, when we got back to Nashville. He said he'd come out of the hotel, only to see the buses going over the hill. Yelling or running after them would have been pointless. Fortunately, Betty Holmes was still around, so that he wouldn't be completely starved and stranded until we got back. 

Incidentally, that trip was the origin of Vision rule number 1: “No number 2 on the tour bus.”

The Baptist fit/shout/praise break in Memphis:  

Everyone marveled at the way he lost all of his dapper, debonair cool, disregarded his starched attire, let out those booming Hallelujah's, and danced up a storm! That dance ended with him stretched out, underneath the grand piano, with only his feet sticking out, like the Wicked Witch of the East.

The runaway lyrics:

He was singing at Metropolitan, and his cheat sheet seemed to miraculously fly off of the music stand, and land in the potted plants at the base of the pulpit. He needed those words, but he was quick with the adlibs!

He looks just like Wesley! 

The umpteenth time that someone mistook him for the late, original Smallwood Singers' tenor, Wesley Boyd, all you could do was agree. They did favor one another.

"I'm retired...well... sort of": 

Just when we thought he would be chilling, grilling, and crooning, after 41 years with the Information Technology Management sector of The Department of Justice, he decided to take his dapper self to the men's department at Nordstrom, and assist fellow gents in achieving their dapper-ness.

The call for a jazz singer reference: 

There was a masquerade/Halloween party he was responsible for planning. "No, Van. You can't do it. It ain't that kind of party." He mentioned something about my salvation...lol

You had to be there.

Sometimes, when a friend or loved one passes, remembering the funny stuff helps.

He was such a crooner. He's the first lead on "When We All Get to Heaven", Richard's homage to Edwin Hawkins' early group, The Hebrew Boys.

He was also featured on Tre Thomas' song,  Everything to Me

Rest in peace, Burl. It was a pleasure singing and traveling with you. You were always kind, encouraging, gracious, and a class act...and I'm determined to find those Eiffel Tower photos.

My sincere condolences to his immediate, Metropolitan Baptist Church, Richard Smallwood with Vision, and Alabama A&M University families, and his beloved friends.

Burl's wonderful life will be celebrated Saturday, March 28th, at The First African Baptist Church in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and Tuesday, April 14th, at Metropolitan Baptist Church in Largo, Maryland.

#BurlBinion

#RichardSmallwoodwithVision

MONDAY THOUGHTS: TELEVISION

 

"If you don't want to do it .don't do it--but don't get up there and not do it..."

MONDAY THOUGHTS: TELEVISION