Raise Your Hand If You're A Nappy-Headed Ho

Don't worry, I'm coming with it. Stay tuned. In the meantime here are the facts.

And the Roar Award Goes To ....

Sherry over at Sage and Thyme did me an immense honor by presenting me with an award for my blog. She has given me the “A Roar for Powerful Words” award from the Shameless Lions Writing Circle. I am honored because Sherry is such a great writer, as well as a gentle, wise spirit, a mother-angel to many of us in blogosphere. I smile when I visit her blog and read her comments because I imagine her blog friends saying, geez what’s Sherry doing hanging out with this big mouth? *giggle*

The instructions for this award are as follows:

Those people I’ve given this award to are encouraged to post it on their own blogs; list three things they believe are necessary for good powerful writing; and then pass the award on to five blogs they want to honor, who in turn pass it on to five others, etc. Let’s send a roar through the blogosphere!

I took a few days to read about the Shameless Lions Writing Circle and visit the blog of its founder, Seamus Kearney, a journalist who resides in France. In keeping with the award's theme, three things I believe are necessary for good writing is:

TRUTH- No matter how difficult or painful it is to write, I think readers deserve to be given the author’s truth as he or she reflects the world through their art.

RATTLE- Nerves and thoughts should be smacked, shaken. The readers should come away from good writing reflecting in a new way, even if only for a moment. An author who rattles his or her readers sparks strong emotion in them.

HUMOR- Everyone of us can identify with someone who demonstrates good humor. Laughter is an elixir, a good medicine. It connects the child in all of us. While humor may not be appropriate for every article, a good writer should be capable of weaving it in on any occasion.

I don’t know enough people on the blogs to choose five, but I do know one. I pass this award on to Nikki. Nikki and I disagree on a number of her views, but I LOVE reading her blog because of the fire she’s unafraid to bring with her words. You should check her out if you have a chance.

Raising Our Kids - Part 2

I DO want to add something about the kinds of jobs parents are doing with raising their kids. I have two daughters, 19 and 16. They couldn’t be more different from each other. I love them both dearly and am extremely proud of the young women they’ve become.

However.

My oldest came to this planet with a mild irritation in her demeanor that morphed into a full blown attitude by the time she was two. It was like she had a few tiffs with my spleen and other innards before she made her appearance in this world.

During her infancy there was lots of crying. If she could speak at that time I feel certain she would have told me that her formula wasn’t warm enough or there was a pea imbedded in her crib mattress.

Thank god her sister came along three years later to distract her from her woes.

Here is my point: this older child of mine was difficult to love. She fought me at almost every turn. My recourse? I had to love her more. I had to show her more love, more patience, more consideration than I did my youngest. It was a pride swallowing, ego-stomping journey layered with gobs of mental gymnastics and hugs and kisses whether I felt like it or not.

Today she is a young woman that I am proud to call my own, I admire her so. A college sophomore with a 3.5 GPA, her drive and focus is a thing to behold. But she is also just as flawed as the rest of us are. What I am always mindful of when I look at her today and reflect on how she grew up, is how different she could have turned out.

What prompted me to write this addendum, was having my bedroom slippers, this morning, suction noisily at a sticky, clear-brown, dried puddle on the white linoleum beneath our fridge. My college girl has been home from school one week, but she’s still a work in progress. Only she would spill a puddle of iced tea in the middle of the night and walk away from it as if she were walking away from a spill in the street.

Oh yes, my lovely girl might have turned out differently were it not for the choices I made. Even if I did something as unintentional as staying out of her way and simply providing for her physical needs, she would have been ruined. So in the end, the truth is, I stand on both ends of this issue. Every individual should most certainly be held accountable for any grievous action they take against another.

But on the other hand, SHAME on the parents out there that indulged their wayward offspring or held their breath as they studied the hands of time, eagerly waiting to turn their unattended trouble-maker out onto the world.

The tears for your train-wreck in some county’s courtroom are for your rotten, selfish self.

Eyes wide open, icanseeclearlynow

Parents of the Criminal Minded

This article is not my usual style.

I re-read the shooting stories of Columbine, Virginia Tech, and Omaha. I think I jumped the gun on what I thought I wanted to say about this topic. As I researched I found that I had a change of heart.

I can’t in good conscience, rip the parents of these perpetrators. Sometimes children come to the planet with physical challenges, sometimes it’s emotional. In response, sometimes parents have what it takes to make their childhood walk healthy despite circumstances, sometimes they don’t.

There is no magic formula.

I will just say this, children: need love and discipline to be productive citizens. They don’t need your friendship, they don’t need your money, and they don’t need a lot of time on their hands while you are off doing your own thing.

The shooters of Columbine, Virginia Tech, and Omaha were all angry young men living isolated existences. Their isolation had gone on too long unaddressed. For any of you reading who’ve been parents of at least one teenager, you know that it’s difficult to stand up and be the repeated bad guy in the life of your offspring. But was it a lack of standing up for the parents of these shooters? I really couldn’t say.

At his sentencing, I read that Michael Vick’s mother sobbed in distress. I rolled my eyes when I read that. How many of you reading this are raising kids likely to torture small animals in the backyard? Not many. OR how many of you are the parents of bullies? I’m thinking most of you are not. I wouldn’t put Vick’s parents in the innocent category. I would say Michael Vick was allowed to get away with a few things he should have been corrected on.

But the parents of Eric Harris, Dylan Klebold, Seung-Hui Cho, and Robert Hawkins, I’m not completely sure what I can say about them. For the families of the victims, my heart is heavy. But it’s also just as heavy for the families of the shooters.

That’s my truth and I’m sticking to it.

Eyes wide open, icanseeclearlynow

The Splintered Group

*Sigh*

How can I lecture at you? You are who you are, afterall.

Last night I watched with helplessness as my 16 year old wipe away frustrated tears. She said, “Mommy, the world’s gone crazy.”

*Sigh*

You moved out of the cities, you bought your big homes. But. You are who you are.

What were you teaching your children while I was raising mine?

So many of her friends are announcing their pregnancies with some ridiculous, teenage, romantic delight. My daughter knows what they probably know deep down and won’t say. Their friendships are over. She must move on without them.

I can’t go into everything this morning. I can’t sleep and am up writing in the wee hours as my household sleeps.

The world has been spinning while you’ve been on your rants or amen-ing someone else's. What do you discuss in your homes with your children? You’ve been telling them something cause I watched them grow and interact with my daughters. After all these years, not one reliable girlfriend can I point to. I saw constant bickering, biting, mean-spirited behavior from your kids. What an unhappy bunch. I'm not even going to discuss the sons you raised looking either lost or angry and stumbling into adulthood without a map.

What were you telling them? A store clerk followed us around for no reason. That teacher does not like my son. That hostess seated us by the kitchen. If we were white, this that and the other. I have to deal with a racist supervisor. They’re not hiring my kid cause she’s …. Oh please DO shut up.

Yes, life is unfair. But. It is what it is. What have you been focused on? Did you teach your children to roll with the punches or to get out there and punch?

What’s your story? Your father left you, your mother beat you, you were sexually abused, you were poor? Or maybe none of these things and you just think America is biased against your kind. Where has that focus gotten you? How did you reflect and explain it to your kids?

Am I pissing you off or am I making you think?

Homophobes, what are you hiding?

I know at least one (there’s probably more) teenager, 17, that is in the closet because his parents are homophobic. He is handsome, smart, thoughtful, and great fun to be around. In other words he’s a good teenager whose parents did a great job raising him.

It breaks my heart that this beautiful kid is living a lie, hiding his authentic self because the two people he loves the most has made it clear to him that they are AGAINST a gay lifestyle.

Why do some of us get so upset about the gay lifestyle?

Why are some of us homophobic and others of us not?

I’m not talking about the bandwagon people who follow the nay-sayers and quote religion and/or for lack of a better explanation will say, “It’s just not right.”

I am talking about the ones who get extremely agitated, those that will even go so far as to commit a hate-crime against a gay person. I’m also talking about those that will dedicate their careers, be it political or otherwise, to fight against every gay rights issue.

I will tell you why. It’s called PASSION. And passion is a dead give-away about what’s going on in your heart, my friends. In case you never knew, I will tell you that EVERY time you open your mouth, you open your heart. Every word you utter reflects your thinking. For instance if you are someone who lies, you’re likely to accuse someone of lying. If you are someone who has cheated, you’re likely to accuse someone of cheating. And so on.

We are only human. And humans are passionate about the things they care the most about. Most of us have either been through a divorce or know someone who has gone through one. Few of us have born witness to civil, clean break-ups. My break-up was ugly and messy. Why so?

Passion. One of us was still in love with the other and was roiling mad about letting go. It would take nearly two years of living apart for the ex and I to accept that our marriage was over and civilly move on with our lives.

So of course when I met my present husband nearly five years ago and saw how incensed his ex-wife was about him remarrying, I knew what I was witnessing. Passion.

My biological family is riddled with homophobic behavior. I have a lovely 18 year old nephew who has his own unique style of dressing; it reminds me of George Michael, the singer from the 80s. He likes straight-leg jeans, patterned shirts, and he usually loops a chain loosely through his belt loops. He has a mane that he’s proud of, sometimes wearing it big like Beth’s son, or in tight short curls. He has a large zirconia in one ear. Two years ago on a very brief visit back home I winced listening to my mother and my brother take turns calling him a faggot.

Two years ago I spent a few agonizing days in one of the southern states visiting my estranged sister, her hubby and their sweet two year old daughter. One morning as their daughter and I were watching Teletubby’s on Nickolodean, he walked into the living room, switched the station and informed me that he doesn’t allow his daughter to watch them due to their possible gay affiliation.

So here’s what I believe about you HOMOPHOBES who are PASSIONATE about being anti-gay. I think if you are a man, you have harbored fantasies about having intercourse with another man. If you are a woman you have harbored thoughts about having intercourse with another woman. And these thoughts scare the crap out of you. You are afraid that something in your demeanor will give these thoughts away, so you speak or act out against the gay lifestyle to show the world that you are as straight as a pin. You speak/act out against the gay lifestyle hoping that this will banish the thoughts.

Of course, we all know that trying to stifle our desires is often a lesson in futility. Thus, the dual lifestyles that many have chosen to lead. I would name a few celebrities, but I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have.

My nephew is straight, but his spirit is broken. He’s already been in trouble with the law on more than one occasion. As for my two year old niece, I predict she will announce that she’s as gay as sunshine by the age of thirteen. Check the blog in eleven years, and I’ll be tickled to let you know.

Eyes wide open, icanseeclearlynow

How O.J. Simpson Divided Our Nation

Readers I suggest strongly that if you’re going to read the following article, you suspend your emotions, you open your minds, and you open your hearts. If you can’t do that then hop off my blog cause you’re just going to get yourself all riled up for no reason.

First off, let’s get one thing straight. O.J. Simpson is a RESPONSIBLE party in the deaths of Nicole Brown-Simpson and her friend, Ronald Goldman. In 1994 our nation was divided by race lines when O.J. Simpson was charged and arrested for the grisly murders of his ex-wife Nicole and her friend, Ronald Goldman. Though O.J. received a not-guilty verdict in criminal court, he was found liable for the deaths of Nicole and Ron and subsequently ordered to pay over $3 million in damages.

Twenty-five years ago OJ was a young African-American man enjoying success and celebrity during a period when the nation was grappling with hotbeds of racial turmoil throughout the country. In 1972 O.J. became the first running back to rush for 2,003 yards, becoming the first player to ever pass the 2000 yard mark. He was named NFL player of the year in 1972 and 1973 and would eventually be inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1985.

Nicole was an admittedly shy and insecure person. She was also young, blonde and beautiful, these traits typically present in a trophy-wife. The two met in 1977 at a Beverly Hills night club when Nicole was 18 and OJ was 30. They were eventually married in February 1985. The honeymoon period in their marriage elapsed quickly and after seven years riddled with domestic violence, the two separated.

According to the Brown family, during their stormy marriage police were called by neighbors to their home on a few occasions, yet despite the bruises on Nicole’s face, O.J. was never arrested and reports were not filed. Finally on January 1, 1989, Nicole suffered a beating by O.J. that was so bad, pictures were taken of her face and body and medical reports were recorded citing O.J. as the source of her bruises. These reports and pictures would be on display during her eventual murder trial.

Nicole divorced O.J. in 1992, the same year that Los Angeles erupted into what would become known as the Rodney King Riots or more famously, the L.A. Riots. I will explain later how the riots largely impacted the murder trial outcome and the views of everyone involved, including the courtroom spectators and television viewers.

Plain and simple O.J. was a bully of the worst kind: he was a bully with privilege and influence because of his celebrity status. Unfortunately for the Brown and Goldman families, at the time of Nicole and Ron’s deaths this country was in the throes of racially charged unrest and their loved ones would become collateral damage for that period.

On June 12, 1994 the bodies of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman were found just hours after they’d been brutally murdered. Nicole’s throat was cut, her head nearly severed from her body. In the courtyard of her condo, both Nicole and Ron were stabbed multiple times while her children slept in the bedrooms above.

Five days after the murders police found a “suicide note” from O.J. in which he professed his innocence and said his goodbyes to friends. In pure circus-dramatic form, the note was read on television by one of his lawyers as television cameras filmed him leading the police on a slow-speed car chase. Supposedly O.J. was holding a gun to his head as he sat in the back of the white Ford Bronco famously driven by one of his cronies.

Following this hours-long pursuit, O.J. eventually turned himself in. The trial of the century ensued and we all know how the story ends. In 1995 O.J. got away with the murders because in 1994 Los Angeles was a racially charged mess!

The murder trial came on the heels of the acquittal of three police officers in 1992, who were caught on film, beating an unarmed and defenseless Rodney King, who moments before had led them in a high speed pursuit. The acquittals lead to the L.A. riots which lasted four days, resulting in millions of dollars in property damages and the loss of 53 lives.

The Los Angeles police department had a well-deserved reputation for racial profiling and biased treatment against blacks during that period. Adding to the racially charged environment, just a few months before the riots, 15 year old Latasha Harlins, an African-American, was shot and killed by a Korean store owner in L.A. who suspected her of shoplifting.

During the O.J. Simpson murder trial one of the key witnesses for the prosecution, L.A.P.D Detective Mark Furhman, perjured himself. He denied that he’d ever used the word “nigger” during his career, but an audio tape played by the defense proved he’d used it repeatedly. This had a huge negative impact on the prosecution’s case.

Now I’m not saying everyone across the country was hoping for a particular verdict because of the SKIN COLORS of the lead characters in this tragic story. BUT the TRUTH is MOST of us were and justifiably so. In 1994 white people were HORRIFIED that a murderer who happened also to be black would not pay the price for taking the lives of two of their own. In that same year black people were justifiably angry and outraged with their treatment by police.

Black people didn’t care whether O.J. did it or not, it was time for the tables to turn. In previous years countless black lives were taken at the whim of racist white men without any consequences. So why shouldn’t O.J. get away with these murders?

Well here we are, it’s now 2007. O.J. is in the press again, facing a pending burglary trial, because as luck would have it, he is just as stupid as he is arrogant. Hopefully by now we’ve all pulled back from the trees and we’re looking at the forest. Hopefully we’ve pulled closer to each other with more understanding and an appreciation for our respective, previous biases. Hopefully we can now agree with shared understanding that one way or another O.J. should be sent to jail.

"Let's say I committed this crime .... even if I did do this, it would have been because I loved her very much, right?"

-- O.J. Simpson

1998 Interview

Esquire Magazine

Eyes wide open, icanseeclearynow

Interracial Dating

A couple of months ago my husband and I were out doing errands and we stopped in at a Perkins restaurant to have lunch. It was noon on a sunny Saturday, so the place was pretty crowded. We were told there would be a twenty minute wait. So we took a seat in the lobby.

Seated across from us was a young married couple, also waiting for a table. Hubby and I are partial to married couples who display affection for one another cause that’s how we are and this type of couple seems sparse in most communities. It was apparent to us immediately that these two were in love. They were holding hands and gazing at each other as they spoke. Here’s what else I found apparent. When they weren’t having a verbal exchange, they worked hard on avoiding eye contact with the other waiting customers.

The couple, a black man and a white woman in their early twenties, looked extremely uncomfortable when they weren’t absorbed in an exchange with one another. The young man looked guarded and yet apologetic. The young woman looked a little bit fearful. I looked around at the faces of the other customers. They didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the couple. But the couple’s demeanor of discomfort spoke volumes.

Maybe on this day, with this group of people, in this restaurant, the young couple would face no hostility or insidious stares. But what went on in their life yesterday, last week or last month? What’s waiting around the corner for them next month or next spring?

I admit, when I was a young adult I was AGAINST interracial dating. That was because I had low self-esteem and I saw it as a rejection of me by my male counterparts. But the larger reason was because I was ignorant. Ignorance and low self-esteem are an ugly combination.

Those of you out there for whom this is a non-issue I appeal to you to educate your kids, your family members, maybe even your friends. At this stage in history that young couple should not have to spend their days being fearful or uncomfortable every time they leave their home. Here is the UGLY TRUTH. If this doesn’t apply to you there’s no reason to take offense like I know some of you will.

There are a number of black men who date WHITE women because they are tired of dealing with so many pissed off BLACK women. Obviously not every black woman is pissed off, but there are enough of them to make it look like they are in the majority. Writer/Director Tyler Perry has made a lot of money using this stereotype of black women in his movies (Madea, Diary of a Mad Black Woman).

There are a number of black women who date WHITE men because they are tired of dealing with angry BLACK men who think it’s ridiculous to romance them. These woman would like a little piece of the fairy tale where a man makes her feel like a princess sometimes. Some black woman would like to know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a loving gaze out in public or a hand-in-hand stroll absent of the bebob dip in a man’s steps.

A number of the white men and white women who date outside their race do so because they are bored with their traditional counterparts. They want a relationship with someone who might be perceived as racier, spicier, or maybe even exotic. Sometimes a white young man or white young woman wants to rebel against their parents. Sometimes it’s just a matter of physical attraction.

Whatever the reasons, during these controversial dating cycles, people fall in love. All the initial motivations fall away and a pair of people just simply clique. And THAT readers, is a beautiful thing. A man and a woman should be able to love whomever they choose without fear of being judged by others. What’s it to us anyway? Why does it matter so much?

UNLESS, your world is replete with boredom OR your life is unfulfilled OR it sucks to be in your skin OR your parents were abusive to you OR you are destitute and therefore angry, then, YES. I see your point and your rationale. Misery does tend to enjoy company. But if none of these apply to you, then I strongly suggest you live and let live.

Eyes wide open, icanseeclearlynow

"Mommy, this place is RACIST!"

So I get a call from my college sophomore daughter last week.

“Mommy, I attended a forum last night. Have you heard of the Jena 6?”

“No honey, I haven’t.”

So she goes on to explain to me about these six black male teenagers who’ve been arrested and charged with attempted murder for jumping a white male teenager. I listen quietly and respond with, “Hmm.” Translation: okay, so now I know; thanks for the information.

“Mommy! Doesn’t that bother you? Isn’t it upsetting?”

“No, not really.”

“How can you say that?!”

“It’s an unfortunate situation, Twinkle. But I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that it’s upsetting me. Life is filled with good and bad, fair and unfair. These types of scenarios were going on long before you were born.”

Needless to say, my daughter became irritated with me. When I suggested we change the topic and talk about more pleasant things, she feigned off, citing homework and studies.

Unlike my daughter, I take the media with loads of salt grains. I spent several hours researching the Jena news story in preparation for writing this blog.

To the families and parents involved with this case, my heart goes out to you. To the citizens of Jena, my heart goes out to you too for all the labels, scapegoating and stereotyping your hometown will endure compliments of the media while this unfolds.

To my readers, here’s what I think about these unfortunate events stemming from the racial tension catalyzed by some bullies at Jena High School in Jena, Louisiana. The story goes, in September 2006 several black students sat under a tree on school grounds that was previously laid claim to by the white high school students in recent years. The next day upon their arrival to school Jena students were greeted by three empty nooses hanging from that tree.

The guilty parties were suspended for three days. In the months to follow tensions among the students would increase and more incidents requiring discipline would ensue. According to reports, in December 2006, a white male student, Justin Barker, was jumped by six black male students. As a result, Barker suffered bruises from kicks to his body while laying unconscious on the ground and lacerations on and around his face. He spent several hours being tended to in the local hospital’s emergency unit.

Drawing the highest bail was 16 year old Mychal Bell, his bond set at $90,000. Now 17, Bell was eventually convicted of second degree aggravated assault. The initial charges (trumped up by over-zealous and obviously not without some racial bias himself, DA, Reed Walters) included attempted murder and conspiracy to commit murder.

Bell has been sitting in jail since his arrest last December whilst his lawyers work to get the conviction thrown out so that he may be retried as a juvenile instead of adult on the charge of aggravated battery.

As the mother of two teenagers, here’s what I knew instantly upon learning of this story. None of the young men involved in these incidents – from the noose-hangers to the hapless victim to the punks who jumped one kid – were innocent angels. According to student reports, Barker (the kid who was jumped) was targeted because of racial slurs he and friends were taunting black students with in previous weeks. Of course, that is NOT an excuse to beat him up.

Listen up people: DO NOT LET THIS INCIDENT FOOL YOU INTO FURTHER DIVISION OF THE RACES.

There are PLENTY of Jena citizens, BLACK AND WHITE, who are experiencing peaceful, productive, and cooperative living with one another. Their kids are not getting caught up in scrapes like these. The only people who are gabbing it up for the media are the opportunists. Most of the Jena citizens are feeling too humiliated and embarrassed to talk with reporters.

Racial divide keeps certain people in jobs. Hmm… let me see…. Oh yeah! Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson to name a couple. And I don’t have time to explain how the continued division of the races improve economics for the wealthy as well as the government. Let’s not forget about the media whose job it is to fan the flames, beat the drums, get people hollering so that ultimately they tune in and stay tuned. Economics, here also.

On a last note, here’s something you should know about Mychal Bell before one of you decide to join the throngs of rabble-rousers with your picket sign. While it’s noted that he’s an honor student and a football star on the school’s team, he also has a juvenile offense record of four adjudications, two of them for battery. At the time of his arrest he was on probation.

That said, be reminded, the residue of racism exists in places all over this country. But it is not an accurate reflection of how most of us are living. Twinkle, we'll just have to agree to disagree until you increase your life experiences and grow up a little more.

Eyes wide open, icanseeclearlynow

The black people and the white people.....

There are bad apples from each group that are are always trying to mess things up for the rest of us.

Alas! Here we are: the topic area I’ve been heading towards since I started this blog. This is what I promised in my “about me.” I will tell the truth. I will say the things that most of us are thinking, but are afraid to say.

Our country, America, has a wonderful history. It also has some ugly, not-so-hidden skeletons hanging in its closet. While this beautiful country was built on many things, including determination, hard work, and pride, it was also built on and driven by racism.

Let me be flip and say, that’s all water under the bridge. Because it is, actually.

There are thousands of books and articles written from the perspective of both blacks and whites outlining the history of racism in this country. Therefore, I’m not going to get into all of that. Besides, anyone who’s spent at least a year here in this country has felt the residual affects of its racist history.

Here’s the problem: roughly 400 years ago, in less civilized times, bullying dullards ran rampant. Unfortunately, some of them were wealthy and held powerful positions. They contributed with significance to laying the foundations of our America.

Today we are living with the ramifications of their actions. There was no consideration or plan for how future generations would move forward from the mess created by this history and co-exist.

Plan or no plan, here we are. And guess what? The majority of us do not require instructions on how to behave like civilized human beings. But as there will be in any given group, there seem to always be some bad apples. Now let me say to each of the two groups, I understand how challenging it can be to shake old behaviors. And yes, white people, you’ve been accustomed to being the leaders, the privileged, always having things go your way (so many lawyers, so little time). And yes, black people you were treated in the most heinous of ways, from slavery, to discrimination, to violent and hateful crimes against you.

We’ve all – well a lot of us, I hope – been in relationships that helped us to understand that some of our ways needed changing. But change can’t come if you can’t see how your conduct impedes our progress as a social set. So here I offer you some guidance to help you in your self-growth.

There are numerous traits among the bad apples that I can name, but in the interest of time, I’ll name the most outstanding ones.

The bad apples among the black women are pissed off every day. And they’re not taking shit from anybody. They wear expressions that say, “Don’t even try it.” In the work place they challenge every directive, every rule, every procedure. They speak a little louder than the other people around them. They are extremely suspicious of any behavior that is contrary to their own, such as being too nice or too friendly.

The bad apples among the white men are arrogant and they possess a tendency towards bullying. They are accustomed to living a privileged position in a society where they rank highest in order of interest and importance. Their privilege also extends to being a member of the alphas in a society that hold the majority of this country’s wealth. Their behaviors towards cultures outside their own reflect disdain, hostility, and ignorance.

The bad apples among the black men are even more pissed off than their female counterpart. Their facial expressions reflect hostility, dangerous foreboding and they tend towards implacable behavior. They talk in loud voices, their intention to intimidate. They are convinced that our society is largely evil and on an active campaign to keep them from getting their piece of the American dream. They approach every situation that involves a white person with a pessimistic attitude of suspicion and distrust.

The bad apples among white women are frightened and complacent. Their behaviors reflect a constant fear that any exchange with a black person could erupt into violence. They see no need to have blacks move into their community or socialize with their children. Where they are typically quiet and acquiescent with their own, they are condescending and rude with those outside their culture.

Let me say this, we have ALL harbored bad apple thoughts. We are only human, after all. We watch movies and route for the bad guys, don’t we? It’s fun to fantasize about robbing a bank or hoodwinking the IRS. But it’s our actions that we are judged by, and rightly so if we are to live in a civilized society.

I’ll wrap this up by leaving you with a gauge to help you determine if you are one of the bad apples. If you became angry at some point(s) during this read, you probably saw yourself in this article because you ARE a bad apple. If you became defensive at some point(s) during this read, you’re probably NOT a bad apple, but guilty of some bad apple behavior. If you held your breath at some point(s) during this read, you’re probably one of the civilized black or white persons who do NOT need a lesson in how to treat people different from yourself, but always wished you could speak up without being misunderstood.

And finally, if you smiled, laughed, or cheered at some point(s) during this read you are probably just like me: you love ALL human beings for the uniqueness that they offer. And you’re living your life mostly with a smile because we know a secret: life is really a fun, loving, blast!

Eyes wide open, icanseeclearlynow

The Speeders

It's raining out here and the speeders are riding my bumper!

Speeders never slow down no matter what the weather is doing. They're ridiculous. Despite the PA license plates, you can tell they're mostly transplanted New Yorkers. Though I grew up in New York, I never liked city living.

Watching the speeders today as I headed home, I imagined what they would look like arriving at their destination. They squeal into the parking lot, leaving tire marks and smoke in their wake (probably have to change those brake pads every two or three months). They jump out of their car and whether in sneakers or shoes, they sprint into some building pumping their arms like Flo-Jo.

And I guess once they're inside they do some jogging laps up and down the hallways, up and down the stairs in an attempt to work the crack out of their systems.

I worked on Wall Street for a little over four years. Before that I lived in Florida for five. Slower living in the south. When I relocated from Florida to New York to be nearer to my family, I was shell-shocked. The crowds there were too much. But the thing that stands out the most was the 8:45 a.m. crowds on any given week day. They were speeders on foot!

It was actually entertaining to watch them. We'd all be standing at a light waiting for it to change. And everybody's staring straight ahead at the light box that says "don't walk." Then bam! Once it changed people started jostling for positions and hustling in quicksteps across the street. Pavlov's dogs come to mind (hey, look it up and learn something new:). I don't have to tell you that I didn't try to keep up.

So what do you think? They probably have to work the crack out of their systems too once they make it to their desks. Do some push-ups maybe, leg lifts, karate kicks.

When I was in my twenties, I can definitely say I was a speeder. Not a speeder on foot, I drove too fast. I've since learned what 2300 pounds of steel can do to flesh and bones.

Eyes wide open, icanseeclearlynow

I Saw My Mother Today ....

Let me begin by saying this: not everybody comes from a mother who showed them love. Some of us come from mothers who are drug addicts or prostitutes or teenagers or hateful or murderers. There are all kinds of mothers out here in this world. That said ...

I saw my mother today. It's been 14 months since the last time I saw her. We saw each other last summer when my child was in the hospital.

You're probably wondering what category my mother falls into. Well, she falls into the hateful category. Everyone of us has good and bad in our make-up. Which side of ourselves we choose to live on is up to us. My mother has always felt that as the fifth and last child born in an extremely poor family, she was given life's short end of the stick. In other words, she felt gypped.

In that poor family all kinds of bad things happened to her. So she decided that since her life was so jacked up, it seemed only fair to jack up life for some other people. She saw the world as a place where you either rob or get robbed.

She laid eyes on my father and robbed him from his mother, who hated my mother until the day she died. I won't go into all the reasons they were wrong for each other except to mention that at the time he was a 19 year old schnook and she was a 23 year old single mother of two school age children had with two different fathers. They would bring out the worst in each other for the next 25 years. They were abbettors in evil. Today, thankfully, they are divorced.

I have no relationship with my mother. I cut her out of my life. For a long time I hung in there, figuring that there was some rule written in stone about sticking by your own mother no matter what. But thankfully, I figured out, sooner rather than later, that was nonsense. Evil is evil. And you either stand for it or you stand against it.

Soooo ..... I saw my mother today. She was perched in her spot next to the window at the front of her house. You know that nosy neighbor whose curtain moves every time there's activity outside their home? Since we were kids, growing up, everyone in our neighborhood knew this was our mother. Only, the window was curtainless. My mother didn't care if you saw her staring.

The spouse and I drove up to my mother's house to drop off our college-aged daughter, leaving her to continue her summer stay with my mother following a visit home with us. We all piled out of the car and helped her unload her few things. We chatted for a few minutes, all the while my mother watched from her perch.

We hugged our daughter good-bye, and as she walked towards the house, my mother opened her window and barked my name. Yes, barked! Her voice was gutteral, loud, bass-laidened. "Come inside!" she called. "Your Aunt So and So is here from overseas and wants to say hi!"

I didn't even raise my head in her direction. Instead, I turned my back to her, waved and called out. "Another time, we're in a hurry." We got into our car and drove away.

Five years ago I would have kowtowed to her command, so hungry was I for her love.

But life is short and it is precious. God presents his gift of life to each of us in puzzle pieces, over time. Our job is to put it all together in the lifetime that we're given. As a child my mother never once held me in a warm embrace, she never said the words "I love you," and her only touch was either accidental or violent.

And yet, my assembling puzzle is beautiful: two gorgeous and brilliant daughters, one amazing and wonderful spouse, the best in-laws, a well-meaning ex-spouse, whose in-laws I'll always consider as my family, and so much more that I can name.

So yeah, I saw my mother today. And yes, with a blind wave of a back hand, I passed her by as I would an insolent teenager in a schoolyard.

Eyes wide open, I can see clearly now.

Suck It Up!

Newsflash for all you folks out there that think you can gain favorable or sympathetic responses with tearful histrionics: suck it up! People do NOT want to see you crying. Your ridiculous display of emotion only serves to make others uncomfortable.

Don't think me heartless, hear me out first. Most of us have given in to tearful bawling at some point in our lives. Those of us with a modicum of self-respect will usually regret allowing others to bear witness to our tears. Now I'm not talking about being at a funeral and dabbing at tears that trickle or flow. I'm talking about being at a funeral and wailing like a wounded animal. Throwing yourself on a casket or on the floor to writhe. What the heck is that if it isn't a performance?

Children (and I am talking about those less than 12 cause the older ones should be charged with preparing to act like adults) throw tantrums and release emotions with abandon. We expect that because that's what children do. We are adults after all, possessing control of our faculties. We know how to hold our bladder until we get to the bathroom. We can cross a street without getting hit by a car. So why can't we control the tears when the company lays off 50 people or the boyfriend or girlfriend dumps you or the bank turns down your loan or the policeman writes you a ticket? Exactly what purpose do you think the tears accomplish? Zero, actually.

Let's examine what's really going on when the water works accompanied with body spasms occur in public. In your head you're replaying every sucky thing that's ever happened to you, including the day your dad left your mother a week before your piano recital and you couldn't perform. You're replaying the time your parents up and moved in the middle of ninth grade, forcing you to be the outsider at a new school. You're probably also replaying the day you found out that your husband was sleeping with that tramp who smiled and chatted you up every time you saw her in the grocery store. Are you getting my point here?

We've all done it at one time, whether we were nine or 29. The other thing playing in our head is a mantra or two of our choosing. Life sucks! Life is sooo unfair! Oh why did this have to happen? Everybody's staring and I don't know how to stop! I hate everybody! I just want to die right now! Why did I get my hair cut so short? Whether the tearful theatrics are occurring outside the hospital room of an injured family member, in the church during a revival, or during a funeral procession, it's really not necessary and it changes nothing.

Another truth for all you convulsing cry-babies out there, you want a little (or a lot of, cause it varies) attention. For those few minutes that all eyeballs are uncomfortably focused on you, you are eating it up and happy to have time stand still. Hey we're all human and who among us doesn't want some attention. We've got YouTube, MySpace, yes and even Blogspot. We're living in the age of reality t.v. where "performers" up the ante on antics in competition for center stage. An example: remember that idiot judge who presided over the televised court proceedings for the Anna Nicole Smith burial debate? Geez!

You might say who am I to say how much crying in public is acceptable. I'm part of the public that's who! I'm ashamed to say that I have "broken down" in the open thinking people would feel sympathetic. And while some did, they shouldn't have to.

I've watched my child fight her way out of a wheelchair, learning to walk again after a car accident where she almost died. We watched, with awe, the family of my daughter's friend, Amanda, prepare to bury her, carrying themselves with quiet, dignified grace.

I've stood at a funeral and watched a relative buried. And during those times, guess what? I sucked it up! So I feel confident about sharing my thoughts on this topic.

So for all you bawling, blubbering, babies, do us all a favor and suck it up!

Eyes wide open, I can see clearly now.