I want a secret room in my house!

Ever since I was a small child, I've always absolutely loved to read. The East Liberty branch of the Carnegie Library was at the end of my street. Each Saturday, I would go to the library and spend hours there, my head buried in a book. When I left the library, I would check out the maximum number of books I could and most times finished them before the next Saturday. Because my mother also loved reading, books were a staple in our home. As a result, books often became an escape for me. Not from any bad situation at home, but an escape into a world of vivid imagination. I usually could be found somewhere, hidden away from everybody, curled up in a window seat with my head buried in a book. As children, my siblings and I often would walk to Mellon Park in the East Liberty section of Pittsburgh. On our way, we would stop at the NBC Bakery and get little snack cakes and take them to the park with us. While my brothers and sisters would spend their time on the swings and the slide, I would be laying in the grass, reading. I remember lying beneath a grove of trees, the branches forming a leafy ceiling between me and the sky, reading my latest book. Even today, I can spend hours in a bookstore. I often go to my local Barnes and Nobles, grab a decaf mocha and browse and read for hours. In several of the books I read as a child, there were houses with secret rooms, accessed typically through a panel disguised as a bookcase. These were places where one could escape the villain who was chasing them. Sometimes, it was a secret passage that led out of the house. In the back of my mind, I always wanted to have such a room. I guess it's the little child in me. When I saw the movie Panic Room, I was once again reminded of my lifelong desire to have a secret room in my home. When I build my new home, it won't necessarily have a panic room, but it will have a secret room. It will have a window, a comfortable chair, music and a bookcase. The window will have glass that doesn't permit one to look in from the outside. My grandson and future grandchildren will have a ball hiding in it and their Nana will no doubt spend some time in it, too.

Blessings,
T

Stuck in the Meantime

This year, like every year at this time, I find myself contemplating changes that I want to make in my life commencing with the new year. A friend told me several years ago that January 1^st is not an ideal time to make such changes or resolutions. He told me that changes and resolutions are best made in the spring, which is a time of renewal and regrowth. January 1^st comes in the winter, when things are cold and stagnant. Though this makes a lot of sense to me, I still find myself thinking about affirmations and resolutions at this time of the year. A few weeks ago, I made the decision to cut most of my hair off. I wasn't happy with its condition and it just didn't seem healthy to me. Strangely, this cutting of the hair has been a renewal, a rebirth of sorts for me. I feel that, symbolically, I am starting in many ways, a clean slate. I can choose to write, draw or sketch whatever I want on this clean slate. The year 2008 was a tumultuous year for me in many ways, mostly having to do with the loss of my dear father. There were many ups and downs for me in 2008. In the process, I continue to learn a lot about myself. Isn't it funny that no matter our age, this journey called life continues to teach, and lead us? It seems that I've been stuck in the middle of what Iyanla Vanzant calls the meantime. I know exactly what I want in life, but what I want is nowhere in sight. The windows of the meantime house are clouded by fear, and self-doubt so that the light of love cannot shine through. The windows of our hearts and minds are streaked with past pains and hurts, past memories and disappointments. In the meantime, we keep looking through the foggy window, trying to convince ourselves that what we see is the real thing. It's not, and some part of us knows it, but we keep looking through the clouded, dirty windows anyway.

I've decided that the renewal that I'm experiencing will include a massive cleaning, cleaning out the old so that the new can see in and I can see the new. It will include a sweeping out of the old stumbling blocks that have stalled me in the meantime time. In order to welcome the new, to be open to what will be, I must prepare myself to be ready for the next steps in this journey called life. These steps at first will be baby steps, then they will be long strides, I may even take a few steps backwards, but I will resist the urge to be stuck back there. I will be open to new experiences, new people, new relationships, new career opportunities and a new openness.

So, there are things I will resolve to do and other things I will resolve not to do in the new year. I won't list them here for the world to see because I am a private person, and this I'm sure won't change in 2009 J. I do feel such a strong feeling of good things to come for me and those close to me. In The Secret, it tells us to envision it and then go live it. I intend to do that in 2009.

 

Blessings,
T

People who need to get a real job

Or, how do these people really earn money?

1. Alan Keyes – The perennial presidential candidate. Mr. Keyes has been around for a long time. This also-ran needs to get a real job and face the fact that he will never be elected dog-catcher, much less president. After failing in his many attempts to win the republican nomination for president, he finally left the republican party and joined the constitution party. Surprising to no one but perhaps, Mr. Keyes, he also failed in this presidential bid. His latest act to keep his name in the news is his filing of a suit to require Barack Obama to produce the "long form" of his birth certificate before he takes office to prove he was born in the United States. Alan, read my lips. YOU WILL NEVER BE ELECTED PRESIDENT. Go home to your family and attempt to reconcile with your lesbian daughter who you disinherited because you "cannot approve of that which destroys the soul of your daughter."
   
2. Jesse Ventura – Jesse, you were a good wrestler and a so-so governor. Now, you're just a loudmouth who likes to hear himself talk and who makes inane statements and predictions on the various news talk shows. Jesse, take a deep breath and hunker down for the cold Minnesota winter ahead. Perhaps by the time spring arrives, you will have figured out a real job you can handle.
   
3. Ross Perot – Ross, you will never be president either. You're rich and nearly 80. Shut up, take your money and go retire to some island country.
   
4. Ralph Nader – Another perennial also-ran. Ralph, you've had your fun as a spoiler. Time to stop running for president and get a real job. How do you make your money anyway? People have long tired of hearing your rants and raves against the main political parties. You're nearly 75 now, Ralph. AARP has been pounding on your door for a few years now. Answer the door, Ralphie, take what little money you have left (according to you, you live on $25,000 a year) and please fade into the sunset.
   
5. Newt Gingrich – Newt, Newt. I thought we had heard the last of you and hoped you had quietly retired to the ranch. Let's see, you married your high school geometry teacher, who was seven years your senior. When she lay in her hospital bed recovering from cancer surgery, you brought divorce papers to her bedside. You cheated on your second wife for more than a decade during which you led the charge against Bill Clinton for the Monica Lewinsky debacle. You were finally sanctioned for ethics violations and left the house in disgrace. Now, you're back, I guess assuming the American public has a short memory. I don't, Newt. Get a job. Your alimony payments must be killing you anyway.
   
6. Ward Connerly – probably the most well-known black opponent of affirmative action. I should probably clarify the adjective black. Mr. Connerly claims to be only one-fourth black. I admit he looks like a straight-up brother to me. Mr. Connerly's job seems to be to allow himself to be the tool of affirmative action opponents for pay. He travels around the country attempting to dismantle affirmative action wherever it exists. Odd, since Mr. Connerly, born in 1939, undoubtedly benefitted from affirmative action. What more can I say about someone who, in 2008, supported Rudy Giuliani for president. Ward, get a real job.
   
7. Joseph C. Phillips – that guy Denise married on The Cosby Show who now feels compelled to share his opinions every opportunity he gets. Joe, hopefully you saved the money you made on Cosby and now you can do sit down somewhere. Your homophobic views are outdated and out of sync. Joe, get a real job.
   

And, I'm not going to start listing the "celebrities" who seem to have endless funds from doing absolutely nothing.

Blessings,
T

Obama Does Not Walk on Water

In other words, Obama ≠ Messiah. With all the talk and expectations of Barack Obama even before he takes office, I am reminded of the line from a movie that asks, Is he the One? It would take a Messiah to clean up all the mess left by George Bush. The financial industry is in shreds, the auto industry is going bust, unemployment is near record highs, our image overseas is badly tarnished, we are occupying Iraq in a fraudulent war, we have a record budget deficit, the war on drugs has long been lost and home foreclosures are at record highs. Who but a Messiah could fix all that in four years, or even eight years? Anyone who expects, believes, that a President Obama can fix all that in four years is living in a fantasyland. Yet, somehow I suspect that Obama will be held to a much higher standard than any of his predecessors. You know, "we've" always had to be better to get and keep the job. Every cabinet choice he makes, every speech he gives, even every stroke of his pen, will be analyzed and over-analyzed.

I would have voted for Obama if his skin color had been purple. I voted for change. I voted for the hope that things would get better, for all Americans, but most especially for the 95% of Americans who are not wealthy. I wanted a president who cared about the environment. I wanted a president who did not practice bully politics. I wanted a president who believed that health care was the right of every American. I wanted a president who would end this fraudulent war in Iraq. I wanted a president who cared about international relations. Do I expect him to be a miracle worker? Nope. Do I think he can clean the mess of the last eight years in four years? Nope. Do I expect him to make a dent in restoring all of the above? Yes. Do I think he will walk on water? No. I even expect him to make some missteps. And, I expect him to be crucified by some for those missteps. I have no doubt that Obama will be under the microscope more intensely than any president in history.

Every single job I've held in my life, I've had to be better just to get the interview. It will be the same for Barack Obama. Will I hold Obama's feet to the fire? Darn tooting! If he fails, will it have anything to do with his race? No, not one single thing to do with his race. I am claiming success for him. Success, not as a Messiah, but success as a president who just happens to be a black man.

Blessings,
T

 

And the tears flowed

What an evening! The tears flowed freely. I did not believe I would live to see this day! My heart and my spirit are full! As an African American woman, I wanted to stand on the roof and shout! I wanted to set off firecrackers! I wanted to shout! I wanted to give thanks, thanks to all those who fought, marched and even died so that this day would one day come. I am so proud, not only of our new president, but of my country. This is not just a victory for African Americans, but is a victory for our country as a whole. One hundred and forty-three years after U.S. slavery ended. One hundred forty-nine years since the death of John Brown. One hundred thirteen years since the death of Frederick Douglass. Sixty-eight years since the death of Marcus Garvey. Forty-five years since the death of W.E.B. Du Bois. Forty-three years since the assassination of Malcolm X. Forty years since the assassination of Dr. King. Three years since the death of Rosa Parks. I am thankful to all of them and to all the many others who lived and often sacrificed their lives for this day. We owe them all our thanks.

The images from around the country were moving. Jessie Jackson, who marched with Dr. King and was with him when he was assassinated openly shed tears. The students at Spellman who shouted with joy, hugged each other and cried. Mothers in Chicago who brought their children to Grant Park wanting them to witness and be a part of this day.

I hugged my son and told him that this means that anything he dreams is possible. My grandson can now point to someone who looks like him and say, "I want to be president like him." My forebears are looking down relishing this day. My Dad is looking down beaming.

I am bursting, beaming and bawling.

Hope prevails.

Blessings,
T

Standing at the Precipice

My country, the country of seven generations of my black and red ancestors stands at the edge of a precipice tonight. Tomorrow, November 4^th will be an historical date in the history of this country – regardless of who wins. The United States will either have its first African-American president or its first female vice-president. I am unabashedly an Obama supporter. While my support of him is not solely based on his race, I am mighty proud of him and this country. I honestly doubted that I would live to see the day when a black man would occupy the oval office as commander-in-chief. I doubted whether my sons would live to see such a day. I hoped my nine-year old grandson would live to see such a day.

As this day approaches, I think of my father who passed away at the age of 82 in March of this year. I think of his early support of Obama and though I know he's beaming down from above as this day approaches, I sorely wish he were here to cast his vote and celebrate the victory. I also think of my ancestors, both African and Native, whose blood enriches the soil of Virginia. I think of James Chaney, Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner, the three civil-rights workers who were murdered by the Ku Klux Klan in 1964 for attempting to register blacks in Mississippi. I think of Denise McNair, Cynthia Wesley, Carole Robertson and Addie Mae Collins, the four little girls murdered in 1963 in Birmingham, Alabama. Denise, Cynthia, Carole and Addie were my contemporaries. These little girls were killed in Sunday School at the 16^th Street Baptist Church. This election is for them, too. I think of Irene Morgan, who in 1946 refused to give up her seat on a Greyhound bus to a white person and was jailed. I think of Rosa Parks, whose courageous act in 1955 in Montgomery, Alabama helped to begin the crumbling of the Jim Crow South. I think of W.E. B. DuBois and his Talented Tenth. Specifically his words, one in ten black men becoming leaders of their race in the world, through methods such as continuing their education, writing books, or becoming directly involved in social change. He believed they needed a classical liberal education to reach their true destiny as what would in the 20th century be called public intellectuals. I think of Booker T. Washington and Frederick Douglass and Sojourner Truth and, oh so many others, countless and often nameless. And, of course, I think of Dr. King, who knew we would get to the mountaintop though he would not get there with us.

My heart, my mind and my spirit is full. Words fail me at the pride I feel. Pride not only in this black man, Barack Obama, but also pride in my country, that finally, blessedly, hopefully, we are finally beginning to make progress on the racial stain that has blighted this nation since its birth. I give thanks to all those who fought and died for this day to be possible. We stand at the precipice.

Still I Rise!

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Maya Angelou

Being A Bridge

I’ve had enough
I’m sick of seeing and touching
Both sides of things
Sick of being the damn bridge for everybody

Nobody
Can talk to anybody
Without me
Right?

I explain my mother to my father
my father to my little sister
My little sister to my brother
my brother to the white feminists
The white feminists to the Black church folks
the Black church folks to the ex-hippies
the ex-hippies to the Black separatists
the Black separatists to the artists
the artists to my friends’ parents…

Then
I’ve got to explain myself
To everybody

I do more translating
Than the Gawdamn U.N.

Forget it
I’m sick of it.

I’m sick of filling in your gaps

Sick of being your insurance against
the isolation of your self-imposed limitations

Sick of being the crazy at your holiday dinners

Sick of being the odd one at your Sunday Brunches

Sick of being the sole Black friend to 34 individual white people

Find another connection to the rest of the world
Find something else to make you legitimate
Find some other way to be political and hip

I will not be the bridge to your womanhood
Your manhood
Your humanness

I’m sick of reminding you not to
Close off too tight for too long

I’m sick of mediating with your worst self
On behalf of your better selves

I am sick
Of having to remind you
To breathe
Before you suffocate
Your own fool self

Forget it
Stretch or drown
Evolve or die

The bridge I must be
Is the bridge to my own power
I must translate
My own fears
Mediate
My own weaknesses

I must be the bridge to nowhere
But my true self
And then
I will be useful


by Donna Kate Rushin

Make it believable – Blame it on a black man

The hot news today is the story of Ashley Todd. This 20-year old woman claimed on Wednesday to have been mugged by a black man at an ATM in Pittsburgh. The story made national headlines because Ms. Todd, who is white, gave a detailed description (6'4" black man, black shirt, jeans and black sneakers) of the man who mugged her and, after the mugger spied a McCain bumper sticker on her car, returned to hold her down and carved a B for Barack Obama on her cheek. The story was accompanied by photos of Ms. Todd with black eyes and a clearly visible B on her cheek. When I first heard the story and read the discussions about it, my skeptic alarm bell went off big time. First, being a Pittsburgh native, I wondered about what she described as "a bad part of Pittsburgh." Bloomfield is a mostly white, working class neighborhood of Pittsburgh. Nobody would describe Bloomfield as a "bad part" of the city. Secondly, I wondered why the B on Ms. Todd's cheek was written backwards. It is unnatural, and very awkward to write backwards. I wondered why a mugger who had just committed a crime would return to his victim, hold her down and take the time to not only carve a letter on her face, but to take the additional time required to carve the letter backwards. Pittsburgh police considered the story suspicious from its onset. Today, Ms. Todd's story was revealed to be a complete fabrication. There was no mugging. There was no sexual assault. She evidently carved the B onto her own cheek (obviously using a mirror). Most importantly, THERE WAS NO 6'4" BLACK MAN.

This is just the latest evidence of what seems to be an inbred reality in the hearts of many in the United States. If a white person really wants their story to be believed, blame it on a black man. We all know that evidence of this abounds in our culture, not only in recent history, but in the entire history of black people in this country. Perhaps the most infamous incident in recent history was the story of Susan Smith. Ms. Smith fabricated a story of being car-jacked by a black man who subsequently kidnapped her two children. Most black people who heard the story doubted it from jump. We know the drill. Sadly, we were correct in our skepticism and it was later revealed that there was no black man. Ms. Smith sent her car with her two small sons into a lake in a warped belief that without her children she would be able to resurrect a relationship with the son of the rich man in town. Then there was the story of Charles Stuart. Stuart was a white man in Boston. He claimed he and his nearly nine months pregnant wife were carjacked by, what else, a black man. This black man shot Stuart and his wife. Stuart survived. The baby was delivered successfully but died a week later. Mrs. Stuart died the first night. The city of Boston was outraged. Boston police went on the rampage, determined to find and arrest the black man who had committed such an horrendous crime. The black community was harassed non-stop. Black men of every age were accosted by the police. Police eventually arrested and coerced a confession from a young black man. Of course, the end of the story was there was no black man. Charles Stuart didn't want a child. He shot his wife and himself. He murdered his wife and caused the death of his son. Being the coward he surely was, Stuart committed suicide by jumping into Boston Harbor.

Going back a little further, there is the infamous story of Rosewood, Florida upon which the movie Rosewood was based. In 1923, a black man supposedly raped a white woman. The strong, prosperous and self-sufficient town of Rosewood was destroyed by avenging white men. "Official" reports claim that only something like eight people died. "Unofficial" reports report scores of black people were murdered. Of course, there was no black man. The story was invented by a promiscuous wife who feared her husband's reprisal. I suspect if there had been such a thing as a witness sketch of the suspected black man back in 1923, he would be an identical twin of the black man in the Stuart, Smith and Todd sketches.

As I discussed this latest hoax of the criminal black man with my younger son today, he reminded me of the incident that happened several years ago in San Antonio. The story broke on the evening news that a white woman had been kidnapped from the parking lot of an Albertson's. She was then taken to a wooded area (coincidentally not far from my home at the time), doused with gasoline and set afire. Someone noticed the fire and called police. With her dying breath, the woman described the black man who had committed this horrendous crime. She died a few hours later at the hospital. We all know the ending of the story, but I will relate it here anyway. The woman was about to be arrested for embezzlement from her employer. There was a videotape of her purchasing the gas can from WalMart. There was video of her filling the gas can at a Diamond Shramrock gas station. There was no abduction. THERE WAS NO BLACK MAN. The woman set herself on fire. Her dying words were a lie! I remembered at the time thinking that even as this woman lay dying, her last words were a lie about a black man.

As a black woman living in the United States, I ceased being surprised a long time ago by stories like Ms. Todd's, Mr. Stuart's or the woman in San Antonio. Despite all that black people have contributed to this country, in many corners of it black men are considered natural suspects, men who are not to be trusted, men whose greatest wish is to ravish a white woman, men who, when encountered on the street, should be feared. As a mother of two black sons and as a grandmother of a black nine-year old grandson, it saddens me to realize, to accept, that no matter what education they attain, no matter what success they may achieve, they will always remain the proverbial suspect by many. Mr. Stuart and the woman in San Antonio were middle-age people. Perhaps some might conclude that they had "old school," racist thinking. Ms. Smith and Ms. Todd, however, were women in their twenties. The message is clearly that this racist thinking and conniving is not limited to the older generation. There are two sides to this coin. First, there are those who continue to perpetrate the lie of the criminal black man. The other side of the coin is that, even in 2008, many people automatically believe the story about the black man who committed a crime to be the truth. What does this foretell for the future of my sons, my grandson and all the other black men in this country"? Government statistics show that most crime is intra-racial, that is the victim and the criminal are the same race. Nonetheless, stories about the black man who committed a crime must be disproved, rather than proved.

I wonder even if Barack Obama is elected president if this will change. The specter of the criminal black man will remain – and be believable.

Blessings,
T

Life’s Changes and Challenges

There are two things I rarely blog about: politics and with the exception of my father's passing, my personal life. I don't blog about politics because passionate as I am about it, my passion is just that, MY passion and my opinions, and you know what they say about opinions. I don't blog about my personal life because I am an intensely private person and being a true Cancer, keep my innermost thoughts and feelings close to my chest (the crab is NEVER without its shell). Today, though, I found myself thinking on a really deep level about the changes and challenges of life and the reasons and meanings behind them and decided to blog about some of what I've been thinking today. There are so many trite, but true, sayings about life: It is what it is. Nobody ever said life was fair. Nobody's getting out of here alive. Life is short, make the best of it. We've all heard them all. The one that kept popping up in my head today was that people come into our lives for a reason or a season. Sometimes, it's difficult to decide the reason or the length of the season.

During the now two years since my last chick has flown the coop, I've been attempting to discover – and become – who I am to be for this next phase of the journey called life. It's hard to do the latter without successfully determining the former. I am so fiercely proud of my two sons. They are both intelligent and good human beings. If I leave this earth tomorrow, I will know that I've done something right – raising them to be the men they are today. The role of mother is many-faceted and now that my sons are grown, I've moved into a different type of mother role. I'll be honest and say that it's left a big hole in me; being a mother was such a large part of who I am. I am living alone for the first time in 28 years and I'll be honest and say I hate it. Yes, my days are my own. I don't have to cook if I don't want to and if I wish, I can say up all night watching movies or t.v. When I lock the door at night, I know I won't be awakened by my child coming in. But, this freedom isn't all it's cracked up to be. I'm attempting to forge a new life – and a new career – for myself but it's not always been easy. I even found myself suggesting to my now 22-year old son that he's welcome to move in with me next month when his brother gets married and he gets his own apartment. He thanked me but told me he's always wanted to have his own place and is looking forward to it. C'est la vie, I guess.

Sometimes, though, I wonder about the people who have passed through my life. I wonder if I got the lesson, if I learned what I was supposed to learn from them or vice versa. I don't believe in coincidences. I truly believe things happen for a reason and that people come into our lives for a reason. There's another truism that if we don't learn the lesson, we are doomed to repeat it. As I sat in a park this afternoon, I pondered that one for a long time. Are the patterns I've experienced in my life because I've not learned the lessons that were there for me to learn? Will there always be lessons, challenges? I suspect the answer is yes to both questions. When we face a challenge, we have two and only two possible responses to the challenge. We can accept and be open to the lesson, or, we can resist an opportunity to grow.

Today I am cancelling mess!
Getting rid of confusion that's been hanging around like cobwebs on my ceiling.
I am releasing my soul from tiredness and antiquated, meaningless crap!
Stepping out of traps that have long been rusted.
I'm doing like some companies do when they reorganize, forgiving debts, writing off losses, and establishing good credit for myself.
There are simply some things that need to be written off.
Some people, too!

Reverend June Gaitlin
from Spirit Speaks to Sisters

Love,
T

Our History Still Saddens Me

Those who know me well know that I like to discuss and write about race and ethnicity. They also know that I have been pursuing genealogy for more than 25 years now. Though I came of age at a time when, at least in my high school, there were no black history classes, I grew up with a strong knowledge and pride of my black ancestry. As I've pursued my personal genealogy over these 25 years, I also developed a knowledge of and love for history. As I've read and discovered many of the atrocities African-Americans underwent during our history in this country, I have still not become inured to what occurred. I am often amazed, but more often saddened, at the mindset of many whites in the early history of this country. One such person was Dr. Walter Plecker. Dr. Plecker was the first Registrar of Vital Statistics for the state of Virginia. Dr. Plecker was a racist, a white supremacist and a proponent of eugenics. For the uninformed, eugenics is the now discredited theory that applying the principles of genetics to improve humankind. That is the "nice" definition. Its most rigorous proponents felt that interracial relationships diluted the superior race and, therefore, should be prohibited. Sir Francis Galton, in 1904, stated "Eugenics is the study of the agencies under social control that may improve or impair the racial qualities of future generations either physically or mentally." Wikipedia defines eugenics as a "social philosophy which advocates the improvement of human hereditary traits through various forms of intervention." See http://www.ourfounder.com/jleroy/eugenics.htm for a primer on eugenics. All of this is, of course, code language for selective breeding and a method to promote irrational fear of miscegenation.

About ten years ago, I stumbled across what I thought was an index of the marriage license of my paternal great-grandparents. I mailed the required fee to Virginia to obtain a copy of the actual license, knowing it would not only contain the dates of their marriage, but also the names of their respective parents. After an anxious two-week wait, I received the copy. As I eagerly perused the license, I realized that, rather than it being the marriage license of my forebears, it was the license of white couple with very similar names. Disappointed, I filed the license away. Several years later, I was able to obtain via inter-library loan, the actual microfilm of the marriage license. On the microfilm, I once again saw the marriage license of this same couple, but the race white was struck through and "Col." was handwritten on the license. After some research, I learned about the infamous Dr. Plecker. It seems that shortly after he was appointed Registrar, Dr. Plecker decided there were no true "Indians" left in Virginia, but rather "negroes masquerading as Indians." He then sent a directive to all of the vital records offices in Virginia warning of these negroes and directing the staff in those offices to comb vital records and "correct" the records. His memo even included a list of the negro families who were doing this. See http://www.melungeon.org/node/91 for an actual copy of Plecker's 1943 letter. In 1924, Plecker had this to say at a joint session of the Public Health Administration and Vital Statistics Section of the American Public Health Association in a speech that was published in 1925 in The American Journal of Public Health:
"When two races live together there is but one possible outcome, and that is *the amalgamation of the races. The result of this will be the elimination of the higher type, the one on which progress depends. In the mixture the lower race loses its native good qualities which may be utilized and developed in the presence of a dominant race."

"The mongrels are superior in mental power to the lower race. They are more cunning and more capable, but they lack the creative power of the higher race, and cannot sustain a lasting civilization that will rank with the best of the world."

Both my paternal and maternal great-grandmothers were Native Americans. After Plecker's racist initiative, many Native Virginians fled Virginia rather than be classified as "colored" or negro. Following Plecker's death in 1947, his successor continued Plecker's legacy. At about the same time Virginia's Racial Purity Act was passed, another act, "The Sterilization Act was passed. From 1927 to 1979, about 8,300 Virginians were sterilized involuntarily in Virginia.

From the grave, Plecker continues to harm the Native population of Virginia. In order to be a federally recognized tribe and receive certain federal benefits, a tribe must prove its continuous existence since 1900. Because of Plecker's actions and his declaration that there were no Indians left in Virginia, many Virginian tribes are fighting to this day to prove their continuous existence.

Further reading:

http://www.amren.com/mtnews/archives/2004/09/the_black_white.php
http://www.virginiavignettes.org/?p=45
http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1157/is_1999_April-Sept/ai_70872606/pg_5

Am I One or Two

More than a year ago, I picked up The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. It is a very enlightening book, not a book to be read once and put up on the shelf, but rather a book to be read, thought about and picked up again and again. It is more an ongoing course than a book. It took me a while to fully grasp the concepts illustrated in the book. One of the early parts of the book asks the question, Am I One or Two. The author, at a particularly depressive stage in his life, made this statement to himself, I can't live with myself any longer. With this statement, he realized that there are two of him: the one he couldn't live with any longer and the one who realized he couldn't live with the other any longer. This leads to the question, are we controlling our brains or is our brain controlling us. The two are NOT the same. After reading this, I realized that I have control of my brain, and therefore, my thought processes. I can control the outcome of my day, my life. It reminded me of those who say that people cannot hurt us; we can only allow people to hurt us. For a long time, I had trouble with that. I would argue that people very often do hurt us and we end up hurt not because we allow people to hurt us, but because we are hurt by the actions of others. Then, after much reflection, I understood. People and events can certainly aim to disappoint or hurt us, but it's up to us to allow the hurt or disappointment to occur. Our mind tells us: That hurts. That's disappointing. If we follow through on the "orders" from our mind, we experience that hurt, that disappointment. Think about it. Have there been times when you've resolved that a certain situation or person is not going to hurt or disappoint you – and they haven't? If so, you've taken control. We are not our mind.

We all hear "voices" in our head. Yet, we don't go rushing off to a psychiatrist nor send for the men in the white coats. These voices speculate, judge, compare, complains, like or dislike. These voices belong to our conditioned mind, often or usually based on past experiences or even cultural mindsets. Listen to that voice for a minute. Don't judge it or censor it, just listen to it. Then realize that there is the voice and you are listening to it. Two separate things, beings. Once you realize this, you can end involuntary and compulsive thinking. Tolle says that by doing this, you can direct the focus of your attention into the Now. This thinking is the essence of meditation. Instead of focusing on the past, you're focusing on the here and now.

I wrote in an earlier post about the concept of stillness, just letting our minds be still and enjoying the peace of the moment. Try it. You'll notice sounds and sights you've never noticed before. You won't notice the car horn blasting for your neighbor nor the airliner flying overhead, but instead will hear the chirping of the birds, the whispering of the trees, the brilliant azure sky. With this stillness comes a certain unshakable peace, a certain bliss.

 

Love,

T

Things I’ve Stumbled Across on the Web

I found a site called www.obsoleteskills.com

One poster, who called herself Ms. Obsolete posted the following and admitted she still did them all:

* Adjusting the rabbit ears on your TV set
* Adjusting a television's horizontal and vertical holds?
* Adjusting the tracking on a VCR
* Cleaning head of a VCR?
* Darning a sock
* Defrosting the Icebox?
* Formatting a floppy?
* Having Cash?
* Lining up paper on a dot matrix or line printer?
* Looking up a business on the yellow pages?
* Local Grocery Store?
* Paying for something with a check
* Replacing Shoe Sole and Heels
* Reading a paper map?
* Rewind VCR tapes?
* Sending a letter?
* Setting the timer on a VCR?
* Threading a needle?
* Using a card catalog?
* Using a fountain pen?
* Using a typewriter?
* Using carbon paper to make copies?
* Using correction fluid?
* Winding up loose cassette tape with a pencil eraser before putting the cassette in the deck?

Many of these I had forgotten. I learned to type on a manual typewriter and using carbon paper was standard. I can't remember the last time I used a paper map. I usually use Google Maps and/or a GPS system. My Yellow and White Pages have dust on them. I never did darn a sock. I throw them away and buy new ones. I still love fountain pens though I don't currently have one.

Another interesting site http://members.tripod.com/mnmee/games/Jokes/funfacts.htm has funny and odd facts. For instance, did you know that a cat has 32 muscles in each ear? Or, that a group of unicorns is called a blessing?

How about a page with odd state laws? http://www.harford.edu/Faculty/DVolkart/Handouts/odd_state_laws.htm For here, I learned that in my adopted state of Texas, the entire Encyclopedia Britannica is banned in Texas because it contains a formula for making beer at home. To be fair, in my home state of Pennsylvania, In Morrisville, women need a permit to wear cosmetics.

Laughter is Medicine for the Soul!

Blessings!
T

Whatcha Listening To?

I have always loved music and I have always loved to dance. One of my resolutions this year was to dance, sing and listen to music every day. I got sidetracked a little with my father's illness and subsequent passing. But, I am getting back to my resolution! I have oodles of cd's and my video Ipod is filled with music. Periodically, I surf Itunes to get old school music that has been remastered onto cd. I'm slowly but surely replacing the vinyl with cds.

On my listening list of late:

Al Jarreau (still love We Got By and Look to the Rainbow)
Lou Rawls (especially the live album)
Oleta Adams (another beautiful voice that sadly faded away)
Phyllis Hyman (my homegirl, still miss her)
India.arie
Peabo Bryson (he's got new music out and he hasn't lost his touch a bit)
Blue Magic (boy, does What's Come Over Me bring back some memories!)
Isaac Hayes (By the Time I Get to Phoenix ALWAYS sounds good! RIP Isaac)
Rob Thomas
Josh Groban
Chante' Moore (her new cd is really good)

and a new artist I discovered while surfing Itunes:
Carol Riddick. Check her out y'all. The girl's got some pipes. Check out A Better Me http://www.myspace.com/carolriddick


Music has always warmed and lifted my soul. I grew up hearing the melodious voice of my father. Between he and my uncles, they played every instrument and played them better than most musicians today. Music is in my bones. It just makes me feel good!

Have a blessed weekend!

Love,
T

Congratulations Brentin and Ramenta!

Receiving Line

Parents of the Groom

Parents of the Bride

Bridal Party

Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Brentin Cottrell!
Welcome to the family, Ramenta!

I travelled to New Jersey to attend the wedding of one of my "baby" nephews a few weeks ago. The ceremony was beautiful and it was wonderful to attend a family gathering that was joyous. The food was good (strawberries dipped in white chocolate - Yum!) and the music was off the hook. One of my nephews actually got me up on the dance floor (after a few sips of champagne) and I cut the floor a little.

Everybody had a great time. After a honeymoon to Mexico, the new couple will reside in Philadelphia, but will shortly relocate to Maryland.

Much love Brentin and Ramenta!
Aunt T

Climbing back on the saddle

It's been a while since I've posted on this blog. If you read my last post, you know that I lost my beloved father on March 22^nd. It's been a struggle for me to get back to me since that time. Though my father had been sick for quite a while, I really had not prepared myself for living the balance of my life without him. I miss him so much. Because I am still in Pittsburgh in the home where he lived, there are daily reminders of him. It's been kind of surreal for me. Because he was in and out of the hospital so often the last two years, it seems like he's just away at the hospital or the rehab center. When it slams home to me that he's not and that he's not coming back, I get a stabbing pain in my heart and the tears once again flow. Strangely, my mother seems to be coping the best out of all of us. I suppose that older people accept death as inevitable and perhaps are more accepting of it when it occurs. Though I know that my Dad is no longer in pain and being poked and prodded, the selfish, imperfect human side of me still wants him here with me. I want to be able to hear his beautiful voice. I want a few more hugs. I want to just know that he is still here. I know that my Dad would not want any of us to be sad, that he was ready to go, that he only hung on as long as he did for our sakes. Yet, I was not ready for him to go. I want to believe that "he's in a better place." But, how do we really know? Some religions teach that the dead are resurrected to heaven and are wearing wings and golden shoes. Others teach that at death, a person ceases to exist and that hell is the grave. Though I've lost others who were dear to me, my father is the closest person I've lost to death and suddenly, I want to really know what happens at death. A friend told me recently that my father gave me all I needed to build and live my life as a good and successful person so he had done his job. This is true. So much of who I am, the values I hold dear, the traditions I cherish, the importance I feel of family, are all directly attributable to my Dad. Thank you, Dad.

T

His Name was Bill

His Name was Bill

.

My memories of him are numerous:

• Cream fills and cruellers from Wohfarth's bakery every other payday Friday
  
• Cartons of hotdogs with all the toppings from the Original Hot Dog Shop on Station Street
  
• Hot sausages from Frankies on Station Street
  
• School picnics with the family at Kennywood, ended by a family ride on the train
  
• Post office picnics at Westview
  
• Dad and Uncle Jimmy paneling walls, laying tile and painting
  
• Fixing anything that needed fixing around the house
  
• Don't put your hands on anybody but if somebody put their hands on you, defend yourself
  
• Carrying a club made from the bottom of the Christmas tree to school with us to fend off bullies. (They never bothered us again.)
  
• Whuppings when we needed them
  
• Sunday school and church at Mt. Ararat
  
• His playing Row Row Your Boat with the grandchildren and great-grandchildren standing on his lap
  
• Getting what we wanted for Christmas, not what we needed. Christmas was for fun stuff.
  

Bill loved pecan rolls, halibut, red salmon patties, steak, oysters and BUTTER. But, most of all he loved and cherished his family. Family was paramount to him. Like his father before him, he believed that if you had your family, you really didn't need anybody else. He didn't have many outside activities that didn't include his family.

But, most of all, I remember the music. Bill had a beautiful baritone voice. I grew up listening to the rich, melodic sound of his voice as he sang both religious song and popular standards. I have often said over the years that Nat "King" Cole voice was nothing compared to his. I still remember all the words to Moon River, You Belong to Me, Mona Lisa, and so many others. Years after he left the choir, I would often run into people who remembered him and they always mentioned his beautiful voice.

Bill was a man of his word. If he said he would do something, it was as good as done. To him, a man's word was his bond. He didn't believe in foolishness or loud talking and shouting. Though Bill was a quiet man, he had strong opinions on many things and if asked, he would discuss anything with you.

Bill was a proud, loving and independent man.

His name was Bill, but we called him Dad.

William Garfield Cottrell, Sr.
January 28, 1926 – March 22, 2008

Coffee

A group of alumni, all highly established in their respective careers, got
together for a visit with their old university professor.

The conversation soon turned to complaints about the endless stress of work
and life in general.

Offering his guests coffee, the professor went into the kitchen and soon
returned with a large pot of coffee and an eclectic assortment of cups:
porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal - some plain, some expensive, some quite
exquisite.

Quietly he told them to help themselves to some fresh coffee.

When each of his former students had a cup of coffee in hand, the old
professor quietly cleared his throat and began to patiently address the
small gathering.

''You may have noticed that all of the nicer looking cups were taken up
first, leaving behind the plainer and cheaper ones. While it is only
natural for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is actually the
so urce o f much of your stress-related problems."

He continued. "Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the
coffee.

In fact, the cup merely disguises or dresses up what we drink. What each of
you really wanted was coffee, not a cup, but you instinctively went for the
best cups. Then you began eyeing each other's cups.''

"'Now consider this: Life is coffee. Jobs, money, and position in society
are merely cups.

They are just tools to shape and contain Life, and the type of cup we have
does not truly define nor change the quality of the Life we live.

Often, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee that
God has provided us.


God brews the coffee, but he does not supply the cups.


Enjoy your coffee!''

T

I love to cook!

I'm one of those women that most men love and a lot of women envy: a woman who loves to cook and does it well.

Though I have my insecurities, my cooking is not one of them. I am a very good cook. I can't claim all the credit for it; I inherited my love of cooking from my mother and, I've learned, from her natural mother before her. Growing up, while my mother cooked the usual fare – fried chicken, roast chuck, roast chicken and the like – she also regularly cooked a variety of other meals, including duck, goose, oysters, shrimp and the like. When I was home this summer, my younger brother asked me jokingly, "if you like to cook so much, why aren't you fat?" I laughed and told him that while I love to cook, it doesn't necessarily mean I love to eat. I mostly enjoy cooking for others and seeing others enjoy the food I've prepared. I also find it therapeutic , in an odd way, to do the cutting, chopping and slicing while preparing the food. I love the sifting of the flour, the rolling out of the dough and the chopping of the nuts. I find that when I'm down and depressed about something, there's nothing better for me than to get in the kitchen, roll up my sleeves and make something from scratch. Of course since I now live alone, I must constantly find someone to give my food to, mostly my sons. I'm that person who sees something that looks good on Emeril or another cooking show, goes to the website, prints out the recipe and cooks it. I don't feel there's much I can't cook – other than biscuits. Well, I can make a passable biscuit, but I'm still not satisfied with my biscuits. I've tried numerous recipes but haven't quite hit upon one that results in the light, fluffy biscuits I desire. One rainy afternoon, I tried three different recipes in a row – all to no avail.

Because I love to cook, there' have been ideas for several different types of food establishments in the back of my head for years. I've finally settled on one. I'll reveal the specifics of the venture at a later date as I must first get everything, including funding, in place.

I also must admit that I am something of a food snob. I dislike, no, I despise, fast food. I see most of it as empty calories prepared by often less than clean hands. I don't eat out much, but when I do, I want quality food prepared correctly. I don't eat everyone's food either. I rarely participate in the potluck thing at work either. I find that there are a lot of people who think they can cook who can't. One guy I know makes spaghetti casserole that he always brings to work functions. Basically, it's spaghetti with sliced wieners mixed with Prego Sauce and topped with slices of American cheese. Now this dish may sound interesting to you, but believe me, it doesn't taste very good at all. Surprisingly, he actually gets requests for this dish. Different strokes, I guess.

Now, while my ancestors are from Virginia and not Louisiana, I make a mean, put your foot in it, seafood gumbo. Recently, I attended a house party and one of the guests, a man actually born and raised in Louisiana, brought gumbo. I just knew it was going to be good. I got a bowl and piled a heaping amount in it, got the Tabasco Sauce and a spoon. Well, let me just leave it at, not everyone from Louisiana can make good gumbo. It was so bad I threw most of it in the garbage. Funnily, this guy actually raved about his gumbo the entire night. I made sure I hid my smirks.

My younger son seems to take after me. After working at several restaurants, he has become a quite adventurous and daring cook. He'll call me up and ask me what are shallots? How do you make fresh pasta? How do you make hash browns? He'll sauté some shrimp, toss in some fresh garlic and mix it with pasta in a minute. Recently he also made breakfast tacos to go along with a seafood supper. (He is after all, a 6'3" young man whose appetite is always ravenous.)

What's on the menu for today? Mahi Mahi in a cream Cognac sauce over wild rice pilaf accompanied by a Greek salad!

Bon Appetit!

T

I’m Dancing Like There’s No one Watching!

One of the resolutions I made for this New Year was to sing and dance every day. Music is such salve for my spirit. There's an old superstition that however you bring in the New Year is how you will spend the New Year. I brought the New Year in singing and dancing (and playing cards). I'm reminded of the following:

Dance Like No One's Watching

We convince ourselves that life will be better after we get married, have a baby, then another. Then we are frustrated that the kids aren't old enough and we'll be more content when they are. After that we're frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. We will certainly be happy when they are out of that stage.

We tell ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act together, when we get a nicer car, are able to go on a nice vacation, when we retire. The truth is, there's no better time to be happy than right now. If not now, when? Your life will always be filled with challenges.

It's best to admit this to yourself and decide to be happy anyway. One of my favorite quotes comes from Alfred D Souza. He said, "For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life."

This perspective has helped me to see that there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way. So, treasure every moment that you have. And treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time... and remember that time waits for no one...

So stop waiting until you finish school, until you go back to school, until you lose ten pounds, until you gain ten pounds, until you have kids, until your kids leave the house, until you start work, until you retire, until you get married, until you get divorced, until Friday night, until Sunday morning, until you get a new car or home, until your car or home is paid off, until spring, until summer, until fall, until winter, until you are off welfare, until the first or fifteenth, until your song comes on, until you've had a drink, until you've sobered up, until you die, until you are born again to decide that there is no better time than right now to be happy...

Happiness is a journey, not a destination.

Thought for the day:

Work like you don't need money,
Love like you've never been hurt,
And dance like no one's watching.

So, this year, I'm dancing, and singing and I don't care who's watching!

T

Sunday Morning

It's a beautiful Sunday morning here in San Antonio. We've been having, even for us, unusually warm days for nearly the last week, highs in the 70's. I'm loving it. (There's a reason I moved from Pennsylvania.)

I've had an amazing week. No earth-shattering events, however, for reasons that I don't understand and am not questioning, it seems I'm gaining a sense of stillness, balance in my life. I began reading, again, The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. I knew, but had forgotten or rather had not been living, the principles taught in it. I am, by nature, a worrier or what I like to call, an anticipator. You know the type, anticipate this, worry about that, expect this, a kind of what if this happens person. I'm learning to separate my mind from myself. Sounds kind of New Age, right? But hold on, don't get caught up in labels. Our minds are ever in motion, constantly thinking, anticipating, even awaiting. This process prevents us from the stillness that is necessary for us to become attuned to ourselves, our being. The most brilliant accomplishments - musical compositions, literary masterpieces, even scientific discoveries - have come from a moment or moments of stillness. It is when we are most in tune with our true self. True intelligence operates silently. Stillness is where creativity and solutions to problems are found.

Be still for a moment and allow and enjoy the suchness of the moment.

Have a blessed week!

T

Disappointment

Disappointment is defined as: a feeling of dissatisfaction that results when your expectations are not realized.

Lately, I've been thinking about disappointment and my ownership in it. I realize that we have control over disappointment in our lives. Often, we set expectations about jobs, lovers, children and even ourselves. We have an agenda and when that agenda or expectation is not met, we feel such a sense of disappointment. So, are we setting ourselves up for disappointment when we place an expectation or agenda on something or someone over whom or which we have no control? I suspect we do. The only person or thing over which or whom we have control is ourselves.

Yet, I think it normal, even human to have expectations. It's how we handle it when those expectations, for whatever reason, are not met that is at the crux of the matter.

Think about these disappointment quotes:


The size of your success is measured by the strength of your desire; the size of your dream; and how you handle disappointment along the way.”

Disappointment to a noble soul is what cold water is to burning metal; it strengthens, tempers, intensifies, but never destroys it.”

We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”

and my favorite:

“Ones best success comes after their greatest disappointments.”


Disappointments are a part of life. It's how we handle it and what follows it that truly matters.

T

Daytime TV Musings

I worked for more than 20 years during the day. That being the case, I've missed out on the "pleasures" of daytime t.v. Now that I am a student who, for the most part, is home during the day, and since I often have the t.v. on, if only for company, I have gotten a large dose of daytime t.v. My observations:

1. Most of the commercials are for technical or trade schools for the people "who aren't doing anything but laying on the couch." One nauseous technical school actually says this in their commercials that are repeated back-to-back during the same commercial break. Others feature mainly minority young adults who say things like, "I have seven children and didn't even graduate high school." One of these schools has a grammatical error in their commercial that has irritated me for more than a year: "We can train you to be a nurse's aid." (The correct word should be aide.)
2. There are a lot of women out there who have so much sex with so many men that Maury Povich constantly finds women who are testing more than 10 men to determine who is the father of their baby. One woman was on her 25 "possible" father. (It wasn't him either.)
   
3. Oprah has some kind of fixation on Dr. Oz. If I hear her mention "poop" one more time, I'm going to puke. Watch for him to get his own show soon.
4. Oprah needs to shut up and let her experts talk. I'm noticing now, though, that more and more she doesn't have an expert, she just gives her expert thinking on guest problems.
   
5. People are willing to tell the world their most intimate business on court shows. I guess they do it to get a free trip to and hotel stay in New York, Chicago or Miami. Oh, and every woman should know by now not to get a cellphone, furniture, car or apartment in their name for a man. It doesn't matter if "he had bad credit." That's why he can't get those items and that's why he's not going to pay you back and will mess up your credit.
   
6. No particular ethnicity corners the market on trashy behavior. The court shows, Jerry Springer and Maury Povich all prove this.
   
7. Now that the new year has come, the rest of the commercials are for weight loss products, quit smoking products, so-called healthy eating products, payday loans, title loans and Wal-Mart. I guess people are fat and broke and want cheap stuff after the holidays.
8. Lifetime TV repeats the same movies over and over and when they finally quit, the same movies are moved to The Lifetime Movie Network.
9. Judge Mathis plays bid whist and knows how to do all the latest line dances.

My t.v. is now mostly off during the day. Late night t.v. is not much better. What man truly believes there is a product that will make him grow four inches? Or, what man wants to use a product that "might" cause an erection that lasts for more than four hours? Who knew that on certain nights, after a certain hour, Oxygen becomes an Erotic QVC?

Ok, I'll quit.

T

I didn't make my bed this morning.

And you know what? The world didn't end. The Good Housekeeping Committee didn't show up banging at my door. And, I didn't hear my mother's voice in my head chiding me. For those who don't know me well, this is a big thing for me. I am such a creature of habit - and routine. Even though I've not worked for two years, I arise each morning early and before I take my daily bath and brush my teeth, I make my bed. Today, I didn't. No reason. No excuse. I just looked at it and said, I'm not going to make my bed today.

This year, I'm really trying to do things differently. While I doubt that not making my bed daily will become a habit (I really do love the look of a neatly -made bed), I'm realizing that I don't always have to be "on" and neither does my home. What a breakthrough! What's next, leaving dishes in the sink overnight?

T

My Favorite Things

Hey, Oprah has a list of these, why can't I?

Things I love, aka My Favorite Things

1. The sound of a child laughing
2. Dark Chocolate
3. Simply Apple Juice
4. Bearded Men
5. My sister's macaroni and cheese
6. Beautiful Smiles
7. Sunsets
8. Sunrises on a beach
9. Lighthouses
10. Books
11. Jasmine Vanilla bath products from Bath & Body Works
12. Cheesecake
13. Chinatown by Bond No. 9
    

now you just know I have more than 13! :-)


T

Sunday Morning

Several years ago, I had a very serious relationship with a man who lived in another state. We communicated, A LOT, via e-mail. One of the most special routines we had was to write each other intense, heart-felt e-mails on Sunday mornings entitled Sunday Morning. Sunday mornings were a time when we both relaxed from the stresses of the previous week. I would sit on the patio of the townhouse where I was living at the time, sip on a cup of tea and write to the man I loved to my heart's content. He, sitting on his patio in St. Louis or in his garden in London would do the same. It was a special time.

I digress. I think I'm going to convert Sunday Mornings to my blog. It will be a collection of my thoughts from the preceding week and perhaps my thoughts, desires and hopes for the upcoming week. Welcome to the inaugural edition of Sunday Morning!

It's amazing to me that though I am not exactly a youngster, I continue to grow and learn, not only about the larger world around me and the people in it, but also about myself. As an old lady told me many years ago, I will continue learning until I'm laying in my grave. I'm discovering that living in the moment is not necessarily a bad thing. Not planning or anticipating each and every thing and instead, just enjoying what is, is less stressful. I tend to be a person that looks down the road - far down the road - to see or imagine what lies there. The danger in doing so is that often we cannot appreciate what's going on at the moment for the constant looking ahead, the constant wondering "what if?" This change has been liberating, even freeing for me. I forget to worry. :-)

This past week was an interesting one for me. I continue to enjoy, immensely, getting to know a new person in my life. It's fun and, strangely, a boon to my self-esteem, my ego. I've been on a three-week break from my interior design classes. Those three weeks have been filled with a series of happy things and some sad things. My father's health continues to decline and I am struggling with facing the inevitable. My oldest son is engaged to a wonderful woman whose company I really enjoy. We spent an evening together last week looking at photo albums of my son as he grew up. We laughed and laughed. I couldn't find the naked baby pictures, though. I think my son threw those away sometime recently. Yes, all mothers have those naked baby pictures and yes, we will show them to the women in your life when you are older. Accept it. :-)

The week ahead will be busy. Classes start tomorrow and a volunteer effort I'm starting with some others will begin to take shape this week. I've resolved, though, to continue to blog regularly, hopefully daily.

I'm determined that 2008 will be a new year for me in a number of ways and living in the moment will be my new mantra.

Have a blessed week!

T

We Can't Afford to Forget

Today, I went to see the new Denzel Washington film, The Great Debaters. As sat through the more than two hour movie, I experienced a range of emotions: sadness, anger and most of all PRIDE. Though the film is called fact-based fiction, and there is artistic license in the film, the film is a true story. The actual final debate took place at USC and not at Harvard, and other than the Farmer characters, the other characters are composite characters. Nonetheless, it is a story of triumph. It is a story of courage. It is a story of those who paved the way for us.

African-Americans have experienced AND overcome so much in this country. What other group of people could still exist in 2008? All of us today are standing on the shoulders of the ancestors who came before us. Ancestors who were stolen, enslaved, beat, lynched, and dehumanized in every conceivable manner; ancestors whose children were taken from them; ancestors whose families were torn apart; ancestors who witnessed lynchings for no other reason than the color of their skin. The image to the left is the lynching of Laura Nelson in Oklahoma in 1911. It is from the book, Without Sanctuary. Difficult to view, but we need to, we MUST remember our ancestors and what they endured that enable to be who we are and where we are today. Our lives should honor the legacy of those who came before us, as should the lives of our children.

Yet, our ancestors persevered. Yet our ancestors did not give up. Yet, our ancestors were able to carve out a legacy in a country that thought them less than fully human. Every one of us, everyone of us, has ancestors who stood, fought and even died so that we could be where we are today. We need to remember the legacy of those who came before us and honor it. We need to remember and we need to inform our children so they are aware, don't forget and pass it on to the generations who follow.

I admit to not being a big Tyler Perry fan until I watched his Madea's Family Reunion. There is a part near the end where Maya Angelou and Cicely Tyson talk about ancestors and those who came before us and how many of us today dishonor them because we have either forgotten them or are ignorant of their struggles and accomplishments.

The Great Debaters is just one story out of thousands of stories of the people who came before us. I urge all of you to see it ....... and remember ..... and honor the legacy of our ancestors by our behavior.

T

What is this thing called Love?

I'm not asking a rhetorical question. It seems love means different things to different people. It often seems love is indescribable. For some, it's a feeling of floating on air. Others say being in love gives a person a certain glow that others readily notice.

Check out these quotations on love:

• Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it...It really is worth fighting for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk everything, you risk even more." - Erica Jong
• "Sometimes love is stronger than a man's convictions." - Isaac Bashevis Singer
• "Love is the master key that opens the gates of happiness." - Oliver Wendell Holmes
• "Love stretches your heart and makes you big inside." - Margaret Walker
• "Love has no awareness of merit or demerit; it has no scale... Love loves; this is its nature." - Howard Thurman
• "Love is like war: Easy to begin but hard to end." - Anonymous
• "Where love is, no room is too small." - Talmud
• "Loves makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place." - Zora Neale Hurston
• "Love is the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired." - Mark Twain
• "Love is more than three words mumbled before bedtime. Love is sustained by action, a pattern of devotion in the things we do for each other every day." - Nicholas Sparks
• "To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven." - Karen Sunde
• "A love song is just a caress set to music." - Sigmund Romberg
• "Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit." - Peter Ustinov
• "Love is like a violin. The music may stop now and then, but the strings remain forever." - unknown
• "Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence." - Erich Fromm
• "Love doesn't make the world go round, love is what makes the ride worthwhile." - Elizabeth Browning

Many people are afraid of love and therefore don't seek it or even run from what looks like it might grow into love.

Even others say there really is no such thing as true love. No such thing as a true soulmate.

Still others say that "love hurts." That, perhaps, is the saddest comment of all to me. It causes me to ask, "if it hurts, is it really love?"

In the movie, The Firm, Tom Cruise's wife tells him: I loved you before I knew you. Even before I knew you, there was the hope of you. Call me a hopeless or hopeful romantic, but I absolutely love this concept. I like the idea that we know what love means to us and that the challenge is to find the person who fulfills that promise, that hope.

I'm learning that perhaps we enter new relationships asking ourselves "Is this the one?" Instead, I suspect (because I certainly don't have all or necessarily any of the answers) we should learn to let relationships happen, follow a natural course, instead of trying to force the relationship, or the person, into who we want it or them to be. I'm talking about a kind of live in the moment mentality. I strongly believe that what will be, will be.

I love the quote from Elizabeth Browning:

Love doesn't make the world go round, love is what makes the ride worthwhile.-



T

Random Musings

Why do people decorate their vehicles for Christmas? I never noticed this until I moved to Texas in 1984. I think it is the most ridiculous thing. Since I live in Texas where just about every other vehicle is a truck of some sort, I see big F-150 trucks with Christmas wreaths and bows on the front grill. Why?

Why are clerks surprised when you tell them they've given you too much back in change?

Why are May-December romances more acceptable if it is the man who is older?

Why was HBO "Off the Air" for several hours on Wednesday night? Subscribers pay for this premium channel. Do they get a rebate/refund when it is "off the air?"

Have you noticed that practically all channels synchronize commercials now? Trying surfing when a commercial comes on while you're watching a program. Chances are the majority of what you'll encounter will be more commercials. I HATE COMMERCIALS. This new practice of synchronization seems to be an attempt to force me to watch a commercial. It doesn't work. I keep surfing until I hit something, anything,, that is not a commercial.

What's that tapping noise on my third-floor dining room window?

T

My Apartment is Haunted

I've begun to think that over the last few weeks. There have been strange goings on in my apartment. Not things that go bump in the night, but washers that start running without any input from me, wastebaskets whose lids suddenly start swinging even though there is no breeze in the room, objects that disappear and reappear. I could go on. On New Year's Eve, in preparation for a party, I looked for some lingerie I've had for several years, specifically a black garter belt and black strapless bra. I live alone and only my sons have a key to my apartment, a key they've never used. Yet, the black lingerie and a white set are simply gone - vanished. In addition, other items have simply disappeared. I am a very organized person. I absolutely hate looking for things, so I am almost fanatical about putting things back where they belong so I don't have to look for them. I don't misplace things. Come to think of it, while things haven't exactly gone "bump" in the night, I do hear unusual, unexplainable noises some nights. I've been tempted to ask the apartment management if someone died in this apartment, but since I've just renewed my lease and would be unable to break it, I won't.

A few years ago, I learned about the phenomenon of "disappearing objects." One night, I was giving myself a perm when the phone rang. I was using a blue comb I had had for 15 years. As the phone rang, I went to put the comb on the vanity countertop to go into the other room to answer the phone. The comb missed the countertop and I heard it hit the floor. After answering the phone, I walked back into the room and bent to retrieve the comb; it was gone. I spent about 15 minutes looking for that comb, even opening drawers and doors that had been closed. No luck. The comb was simply gone. One son spent ten minutes looking for it; another son spent 30 minutes looking for it. Both to no avail. When I moved from that house in 2006, the house was completely clean - and empty. We never found the comb. Being the logical, analytical person that I am and knowing that I am NOT crazy, I set off on a search to find out what could have happened to the comb.

I learned that there is a whole field of study on what is called the "disappearing objects phenomenon." It seems that many, many people have shared my experience of the disappearing blue comb. Many people have experienced misplaced objects, often keys. You "know" you put the keys in a particular place, yet when you go to retrieve them, they're simply not there. Often, you will scour the entire house looking for the object only to discover them in the place you first looked. You chalk it up to overlooking them or perhaps even simply shrug it off as something weird. There are numerous reports of objects that disappear - and often reappear, sometimes in places originally searched, other times in places that cannot be explained. One woman told of keys for a new car found in the pocket of a coat she had not worn for years before the car was purchased. Perhaps the weirdest thing for me was people who report objects reappearing, materializing, before their eyes. One woman couldn't find her car keys and needed to get to work. Her spare keys were with someone 30 minutes away. She asked (the Universe?) to please return her keys. The keys materialized before her eyes. Here are a few links on the subject:

http://amasci.com/weird/unusual/objs.html
http://paranormal.about.com/library/weekly/aa060500a.htm
http://paranormalinsider.com/2007/09/objects_that_disappear_and_rea.php

I should explain that I've long known that I am psychic; I've just never developed my talent for many reasons, most of them religious. I have always been able to intuit people and situations. I would chalk it up to chance or gut feelings though I knew otherwise. To be truthful, the whole subject scares me somewhat. A few years ago when I visited a local clairvoyant, she told me that I was as psychic as she is and that I needed to stop being afraid of it. So, I can't say that I rushed out to buy books to learn more about the subject, but over the years, I've purchased a few books on the subject.

What do I believe? I think it's arrogant of us to assume that, religious doctrine to the contrary, we know everything there is to know about the subject and that our dimension is the only dimension that exists. I can't explain it, but I know in my heart (my gut?) that something exists beyond what we know and have been taught.

Believe me, at this point, I don't want to ever see my blue comb again.

On Bearded Men

I have always liked facial hair on men. I think back to a boyfriend I had in my early 20's who had a full beard. I liked nothing more than to stroke the hair of his beard. Facial hair, neatly trimmed of course, will make even an unattractive man attractive. This has not changed as I grow a little older. Now, I don't care for the scraggly beard or the Santa Claus look nor, for that matter, the handlebar moustache or strangely, goatees with no other facial hair. But, I find almost any other type of facial hair hugely attractive.

Over the years, I've talked to quite a few men about beards and even tried to coerce a few into growing one. One of my brothers wears a beard fairly regularly. He says it's easier on his skin than shaving which seems to cause his skin to break out. A close friend told me a few years ago that he thinks men who wear beards should - the implication being that men who wear beards would be unattractive men without them.

It seems that beards, and facial hair in general, have faded in and out of popularity, especially in western cultures. During the era of the Viet Nam war and for a time after it, beards were immensely popular. Hippies wore them, usually uncropped and free-flowing. Black Nationalists and others in the black power movement also sported beards. Of course, beards have long played a role in religion, in Christianity, Judaism, Islam, and many other religions.

In the U.S., for quite a while in the 1960's through about the 1980's, many employers forbid male employees to have any facial hair other than a small, trimmed moustache. The military of many countries ban beards, including the U.S. Army and Marines, ostensibly for reasons of hygiene and, oddly, because beards prevent a good seal on gas masks.

A lot of women, my mother for one, abhor beards. My mother says they're scratchy and itchy. Another friend hates them because she says food gets caught in them. Yet another friend says that in very "intimate" encounters, they cause abrasion. I won't delve further into that discussion.

Personally, I love facial hair. Often, when out shopping, I have to refrain myself from commenting to a male stranger, "great beard." I suspect many men know that women like me exist. Many men with neatly trimmed beards seem to exude a healthy confidence that they know how good they look with their beards. They seem to have an invisible sign that reads, "I know I'm working this beard."

Oh, if the beard is salt and pepper or heaven forbid, silver, they could father my next child.

T

Happy New Year

Like many people, this is the time of the year when I make resolutions, or as I like to call them goals. Each year, however, the same set of goals seem to be on the list. They say that stupidity is continuing to do the same thing and expecting a different result. That said, although there is one goal that is carried over from last year, the rest of the list are new items.

1. Quit Smoking - this is THE year I will.
2. Find supplemental income. Resolve that interior design IS my new career and find a job or internship in that field.
3. Continue in my spiritual walk.
4. Learn Spanish and refresh my French.
5. Find a relationship.
6. Get back to the gym and get toned.
7. Stop multi-tasking. Relax and do one thing at a time.
8. Sing and dance more.
   

I've printed this list and will post it in a place where I see it daily.


T