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.