Getting off the rat race treadmill

It seems in Western cultures that we are almost programmed from birth to acquire THINGS.  If you ask people what they WANT out of life, most will respond with THINGS, e.g., comfortable home, nice car, clothes, good job and most will probably answer, money.  If you ask these same people what they NEED out of life, most people will likely pause and then say, health, safety, food and probably love.

Why are the two lists so different?  Why is there a separate list of WANTS and NEEDS?  Why do we spend our lives chasing the former and not the latter?

In Western cultures, it seems children grow up in an environment that emphasizes the WANTS over the NEEDS  They observe their parents working very hard to be able to purchase THINGS that are on the WANTS lists.  Incorporated into the WANTS lists are the NEEDS, but the focus seems to be on the WANTS.  Education is to be obtained so that one can obtain the WANTS.  So, these little people become adults chasing the WANTS.  Sure, some would say that the WANTS include the NEEDS.

When did education become a means of obtaining WANTS rather than a means of enriching the mind?  How exactly are our lives enriched by the THINGS on the WANTS list?

At a base level, humans NEED shelter, food and good health.  Yet, we climb on a rat race treadmill, chasing the THINGS on the WANTS list.  We want a big and even bigger house.  We want a new, fancy car with all the gadgets.  We want a bigger television.  We want lots of clothes and shoes.  We want a refrigerator and pantry stocked with lots of food.  We want our children to have the latest video game systems.  The list of WANTS is endless and the obtaining of these WANTS is a never-ending journey.  It's as if the obtaining of all these WANTS give us a badge that shouts to the world, I HAVE MADE IT, otherwise known in this country as "obtaining the American Dream."  Throw in 2.5 children and a healthy retirement fund that many will not live long enough to spend.

At the end of the day (your life), none of this will amount to anything.  Your survivors will pick over these THINGS that represent your earned badge, sell most of them and add to their collection of THINGS.  And the cycle continues.

Satisfying the NEEDS list is less time-consuming and ultimately more satisfying.  A life uncluttered by THINGS will open the way for the blessings!

Blessings!

Tee

Purging the Stuff of Life

It is spring cleaning time, but this year, my spring cleaning has turned into purging, serious purging. An article I read recently has really added fuel to my purging fire. Additional fire was added by a recent segment I saw about a young woman who is attempting to live a zero-waste life.  Over the last month or so, I've been giving a lot of thought to the "stuff" I've accumulated over the years. I must admit first that I come by my tendency to acquire stuff naturally. My mother has always had a lot of things, stuff. I tease her that she doesn't try to keep up with the Joneses, she IS the Joneses. Always the first in the neighborhood to get a new gadget or kitchen tool, she was the first person I knew who had one of the earliest mobile phones. It was a bag phone she kept in the glove compartment. She had one of the first VCRs. She has about ten cameras, including one that is a binocular camera combination. Even at 90 years old, she is still a clothes horse. Confined to a wheelchair, she still comes downstairs each day in matching clothes, complete with jewelry. So, I guess I can say honestly  that I came by my love of clothes, shoes and other stuff, genetically.

Nearly ten years ago, I lost my last full-time job. I was pushed out for my younger replacement. I had been fortunate to have made good money for years so I bought most of the things I wanted and all of the things I "thought" I needed. Working as a technology director, I had a budget that enabled me to be on the forefront of new and upcoming technology. I had the latest computer, software and mobile technology. It was transformative when I lost my job. Reduced to a mere fraction of the income I had made for years, I was unable to "keep up" with the latest and greatest. I had racks of clothing and shoes but I was unable to constantly supplement my clothing and shoe wardrobe. Along the way, I discovered that much of what I thought I "needed" was unneeded.

Over the years of my forced frugality, I realized how much the media and society pushes at us "stuff" that we think we need. The first place I noticed this was in mobile phones. People spend hundreds of dollars on the latest iPhone only for a new model to be released nine months later and, of course, one MUST get the newer one. Every year, clothing designers and manufacturers come out with the latest "trends." People rush out to buy new clothing so that their clothing does not look dated. Funny thing, though, clothing and shoes styles are recirculated. For example, wedge shoes are all the rage now. They were also the rage about six years ago before the new rage became 6-inch heels. The maxi dresses of the 70's and 80's are back now. How long do we chase current styles until we realize we have been had? About 15 years ago, I purchased a smoothie-maker from QVC. My son and I had fun making different fruit smoothies. Smoothies are once again the rage and the media is pushing new gadgets at us, at twice the price I paid, that will juice and make smoothies. Funnily, I still have my old smoothie-maker.

The recent stories mentioned at the beginning of this post caused an epiphany of sorts for me. For those of us who have been gainfully employed, we travel along our adult life collecting "things" We buy art. We buy gadgets. We buy knickknacks. We buy book after book to add to our library. We buy music to build our music library. We buy furniture. We buy clothes and shoes. We sit at the end of the day and feel proud of ourselves at being able to buy the stuff of life. At the end of day, what do we really gain from all this buying of stuff. Yes, we have nice décor in our homes. Yes, we have our collections of knickknacks, bells, clowns, coins, stamps, etc. It's as if we gain a badge that shouts "look at me; look at what I've been able to accumulate." But, at the end of day, what have we really gained? What have we missed out on in our attempt, in our race, to gain all of this stuff?

So, the purge has begun. I've long had a rule that if I've not used it or worn it in two years, I donate it.  This year, I'm going further, deeper. I'm purging my home of the stuff that is not vital to my well-being. I firmly believe that all this stuff has been blocking my creativity, blocking my blessings. I rarely drink or entertain – out goes the stemware I've collected for years. I'm tired of dusting knickknacks that really serve no purpose. Out they go. I've practically lived in jeans for nearly ten years –out goes half of my shoe collection. I live in a large house with a dining room that is only used at most twice a year. I have a guestroom that is only used maybe twice a year. My third bedroom is a library/office which houses mainly hundreds of books, most of which I've not reread. I'm downsizing my living space. I don't need a three-bedroom, nearly 2,500 square feet house for one person.

It is a cleansing feeling. The more I purge, the more I feel my energy surging. The creativity and blessings are sure to follow.

Blessings,

Tee

Have we become complacent?

Last week, social media was abuzz with chatter about the B.E.T. Awards, Being Mary Jane and whether Beyonce was again pregnant. Yet, there was little chatter about a landmark piece of legislation that was gutted by the U.S. Supreme Court.

Last week, the U.S. Supreme Court struck down (many say gutted) a large portion of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. This landmark legislation was signed by President Lyndon B. Johnson in 1965. The Act was implemented to overcome legal barriers that prevent African-Americans from voting under the 15th Amendment of the Constitution.

As a little refresher on the pertinent point, The 13th Amendment (1865) abolished slavery and involuntary servitude. The 14th Amendment was enacted in 1868 and granted citizenship rights to emancipated slaves. It said that if states don't give voting rights to black men, they cannot then count them as part of the population for purposes of gaining seats in the House of Representatives. (Women did not gain the right to vote in the U.S. until the 19th Amendment in 1920.) Southern states vigorously and violently opposed the right of black men to vote, yet they wanted representation in Congress.

In 1870, the 15th amendment was ratified. It stated that voting rights in states cannot be withheld on the basis of race, color and previous position of servitude. Despite the ratification of the 15th Amendment, southern states still fought giving the ability to vote to black men. They instituted poll taxes and literacy tests for black men. White people were "grandfathered" in and did not have to take such tests or pay poll taxes. This was the impetus to the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

The Voting Rights Act was a landmark act. It prohibited "states from imposing any voting qualification or prerequisite to voting, or standard, practice, or procedure ... to deny or abridge the right of any citizen of the United States to vote on account of race or color." This is the Act that was gutted (by a vote of 5-4) by the Supreme Court.

During the run-up to the 2012 Presidential Election, many states attempted to enact "Voter ID" laws. This is the 21st Century version of the old poll taxes. Realizing that the minority will soon by the majority and that this new majority more and more votes Democrat, Republicans had to find a new way to deter and dis-enfranchise voters. The various voter id laws are one way to do this. Another is the re-districting that is going on in many southern states. Without the protection of The Voting Rights Act, in its entirety, many blacks and people of color will be unable to vote. Failing to attract minorities and many young people to their party, the extreme Right is seeking other means to disenfranchise voters of color.

Of course, Congress and the Legislature can pass new legislation to enact new law, but with the Republicans fighting tooth and nail, it will be an uphill battle.

Young people need to learn the history and become involved in the process. Rather than worrying about whether Beyonce is again pregnant or discussing 50 Cent's latest troubles with the law or who won what award at the B.E.T. Awards, get involved in what affects your future. Learn your history and HIStory.

Now that the election is over ....

In an earlier post, I talked at length about the origins and now dominance of what I call the new majority in the United States. As a member of this group, I am, of course, ecstatic. Yet, I have many concerns.

As I watched the numbers increase during the last two decades, I also began to notice that rather than a bridge being constructed between the brown and black communities, we began to chip away at each other. Rather than recognizing our commonalities (one of my favorite words), it seemed that many of the members of both communities began to exhibit what is called the "crabs in the bucket" mentality. This mentality alludes to a bunch of crabs in a bucket, all attempting to climb to the top of the bucket and freedom, pulling each other down, somehow thinking "if I can't get it [freedom], neither can you. This saddened me tremendously. The black and brown communities share the same issues and problems: crime, drugs, teenage pregnancy, poverty, high drop-out rate and many more. Rather than recognizing our strength collectively, we began to denigrate and chip away at each other, each afraid the other would attain something the other lacked.

With the election of 2012, these two communities, along with the LBGT community, are now the new majority. I'll say that again, they are the new majority. This word brings with it power, both political and economic power. Now what are we going to do with it? We now have the power to exact not revenge, but fruit, fruit of the centuries of labor and enrichment of this country exacted from our ancestors. If, and this is a big IF, we work together collectively, we can move mountains. We can continue to elect politicians who will enact legislation that benefits the majority, not the minority. We can boycott businesses who treat our members unfairly. We can join and support each other in our respective battles. We can educate our young people both about the past battles and the battles to come. We must pass the baton on to these younger people so that they can do the same to their children. We can do a lot, collectively.

Be neither naive nor misled. The former majority is not going away quietly. Already, they are conferring behind closed doors in their country clubs and executive dining rooms. They are angry about the election loss. Their ethnocentrism and arrogance will not let them rest nor be satisfied with the wealth they've obtained through the abuse/misuse of the former minority. They will attempt to categorize the new majority as people with their hands held out for "goodies" or "handouts." They will attempt to create problems within the new majority. They will even find a few members of each respective group in the majority to join their team, promising them a share of their wealth and power. These "tokens" will attempt to convince members of their own group to join them.

Now is the time to continue the momentum. Don't stop with the presidential election. Vote in the off-year elections. We cannot afford to stand still nor to go backward.

Blessings,

Tee

Reaping What Was Sown

I read a blog post earlier today that inspired me to finally write something about the recent re-election of Barack Obama.

The post has, in my view, a general theme of the United States reaping what it has sown. It got me thinking of what I now called the New Majority. Rather than the oxymoronical term minority/majority, the demographics of the majority in the U.S. has changed. The majority is no longer white.

The name of one of my other blogs is America's Birth Defect - Racism. Oddly to some, the name came some Condolezza Rice said in an interview. Racism founded this country, made this country rich and for the most part did it with the free labor of slaves, indigenous peoples and poor whites. The white and wealthy elite have reaped the benefits of this stolen labor for centuries. Indeed, the major reason for the break from England that resulted in the Revolutionary War and the subsequent birth of the new nation was England's burgeoning abolitionist movement. Slavery was profitable and necessary for the new country. The Founding Fathers (most of them slaveholders) were willing to fight rather than give up the free labor necessary to build their new country.

African slaves and their descendants did not take the envisioned eternal stripping of their freedom lying down. From the onset, resistance, uprisings and other challenges were constant. Blood was shed, lives were lost, but the resistance continued. Freedom, and the longing for it, is something innate in a man, regardless his color.

As the centuries passed and the country grew, others of color joined the slaves and indigenous peoples in the building of the country. In later years, immigrants both legal and illegal, came to the U.S. in hopes of a better life for themselves and their families. Most were treated as second-class citizens, but still they came and their numbers grew. Initially, many if not most of these immigrants were so happy to be in the country they psychically shrugged off their second-class status and treatment. But, these people watched, learned and waited - patiently - as did the descendants of the formerly enslaved.


Meanwhile, the majority was busy reaping the earnings of the system they had created. Perhaps the thought, the wish, was that the second-class citizens though finally deemed 100% man rather than three-fifths were too ignorant to watch and learn. Please let me digress here by discussing, briefly, what came to be known as the Three Fifths Compromise.


As the new country grew and developed structures for the distribution of taxes and the apportionment of members of the new House of Representatives, the slave population also grew, especially in the south. This meant the slave population in a state determined not only the wealth of the state, but also its tax obligations. The northern states objected to this because it would mean the southern states were wealthier, while the southern states, of course, objected because of the larger tax burden to be placed on them. Thus, began what was actually a series of compromises, one in 1783 and another in 1787 that determined that slaves were only three-fifths of a white man.


And the disenfranchised, second-class citizens continued to labor, watch and most importantly, learn. Added to this rapidly growing group was the LBGT community, also a rapidly growing and politically significant part of the population. Yet, despite its wealth, education and other legacies, the majority group didn't pay attention, occasionally throwing tidbits of political crumbs at the minority group. Busily counting and continuing to amass their wealth, they failed to notice the growing size of the disenfranchised group and probably didn't even consider that the latter group might be also learning.


However, the minority group never stopped watching and learning, until 2008, when the black face of an African-American man named Barack Obama emerged as a serious threat to their complacency. By then, it was too late, and we all know the result. By 2012, the minority, disenfranchised group was no longer the minority. They asserted their political and re-elected Barack Obama. In their egocentric, arrogant complacency, the former majority group was so confident that their candidate would win they were celebrating before the final returns were counted. In fact, their candidate, Mitt Romney, wrote only an acceptance speech. (A fact that to this day truly stuns me!)


I have no sympathy for the former majority group. They are reaping EXACTLY what they sowed.


Blessings,


Tee

Why do we let age define us?

Earlier today, I watched CBS’ Sunday Morning. There was a segment on their correspondent, Susan Spencer, learning to ride a unicycle. Susan had just reached a milestone birthday (she didn’t indicate which one but I suspect it was her 60th). She was determined to learn something new – and daring. She found a woman on the Internet who has been unicycling for more than 25 years. Despites falls and missteps, Susan had a ball learning to ride the unicycle.

As I watched the segment, it finally dawned on me that I am one who has not let age, or the calendar, define who I am and my capabilities. As I’m marching toward a milestone birthday, several friends my age had made comments such as: “you know our life is more than half over;” “our best days are behind us:” “I’m too old to do that;” and my least favorite, “people our age don’t do that.” I say, psssh to all of that. Who said so? I have a friend who retired at age 52 with “no intention to ever work again.” Since then, he spends his days sprawled in his recliner with his remote in hand.

The dictionary defines retire as: to withdraw, to remove oneself, to fall back or retreat. Using these definitions, I don’t ever want to retire from life. I see life as a journey that has many paths, many chapters, many adventures. More than six years ago, I decided to make a career change at an age that many of my contemporaries were contemplating retirement in ten years or more. I am truly my mother’s child. My mother, in her 8th decade of living, is always up for a new journey, hobby or adventure. I always say were it not for her arthritis, she would bunjy jump. She has a desktop computer, a laptop and most recently purchased a tablet. A voracious reader, she’s always finding some new technology that interests her or a new hobby that she’ll pursue. I’m like my Mom. I decided - and not even consciously, it’s how I’m wired - that I’m going to pursue what interests me.

I suspect that this idea of slowing down as one enters their 50’s is primarily a Western custom. We work, work, work, then we retire to the armchair or recliner with the remote in hand. No wonder we die earlier than our contemporaries in other countries/cultures. We ride our cars everywhere, eat processed foods because we’re so busy with work to cook wholesome meals, we chase material things – the new car, the bigger house, the more expensive vacations – only to retire, withdraw.

I don’t let the calendar define, or limit, me. Life is for the living. For me, there’s no such thing as preparing for the end of my life, certainly not by withdrawing from life. As long as I’m blessed with good health and the ability to try and experience new things, I’m going to do just that. I know two languages, I want to learn an additional three: Spanish, Portuguese and Arabic. I want to start a business, or two. I want to start a foundation to assist the homeless. I want to travel. I want to learn, finally, to swim. And so much, much more.

Nearly thirty years ago, I talked with an elderly woman in the produce department of the local grocery store. After telling me how to prepare spaghetti squash, she told me that she learned it from an old Italian woman and concluded with “chile I’ll be learning until the day I’m laying in my grave.” I’m that elderly woman. I will be learning and enjoying this journey called life until the day they close the casket lid.

Be Blessed!
T

Gone too soon - Gary C. “Spanky” Cottrell, 12/25/1974-05/03/2011

Like a comet blazing cross the evening sky,
gone too soon

Like a rainbow fading in the twinkling of an eye,
gone too soon

Shiny and sparkly and splendidly bright, here one day, gone one night

Like the loss of sunlight on a cloudy afternoon,
gone too soon

Like a castle built upon a sandy beach,
gone too soon

Like a perfect flower that is just beyond your reach,
gone too soon

Born to amuse, to inspire, to delight, here one day,
gone one night,
gone too soon

Like a sunset dying with the rising of the moon,
gone too soon,
gone too soon

I will love you forever, Spanky,
Aunt "Treesa"

The Summer of My Contentment

I've spent the majority of my summer this year in my hometown of Pittsburgh. Since the transition of my father in March, 2008, I've been seriously considering moving from my home of 26 years in San Antonio back to my real home – Pittsburgh. Though there are numerous reasons for my desire to move back home, paramount among them is this simple fact: I've never stop missing Pittsburgh. I often tell friends, "I cry when I come home and cry when I leave." The reactions to my decision to move home have been mixed. It seems that a lot of the people who never left Pittsburgh feel that "there's nothing here in Pittsburgh, why would you ever want to come back?" Others ask, "why would you want to come back to the cold winters?" Others who moved away decades ago would never consider returning because "the city isn't what it used to be."

I've been gone from Pittsburgh for 26 years. During that 26 years, I've changed. I've remarried, had another son and divorced. I've had jobs where I had a prestigious title and made very good money. I've gained experience, education and training and have progressed through my career. I've gained much insight on my character and integrity and thankfully, have made progress on this journey called life. Many things have changed in the 26 years I've been gone. I say that to say that many things have changed in 26 years, Pittsburgh among them. When I left Pittsburgh in 1984, bus fare was $1.00. Gas was about that price. Gangs were practically non-existent. Violent crime was not as prevalent. The crack epidemic was just beginning. Housing prices were lower, as were wages. Groceries, of course, were cheaper. Many of the old neighborhoods were dramatically different from what they are today.

Change occurs to us all, both organic and non-organic. It is the way of the world, of humanity. Those who realize they have changed but are disappointed, even disgusted that the city has changed puzzle me. Do they really readily accept the change in themselves but somehow expect Pittsburgh to be stuck in some time warp? Pittsburgh has consistently been rated as one of the top cities in the U.S. in which to live. Pittsburgh has one of the lowest crime rates for cities of comparable size. And, Pittsburgh is one of the few cities which has been able to successfully reinvent itself following the collapse of the U.S. steel industry.

Each year when I come home, I go on a "nostalgia" trip through the neighborhoods of my youth, East Liberty and the far East End. It saddens me that the old neighborhoods have changed. It saddens me that I can't drive through the neighborhood where my grandmother spent the majority of her adult life. It saddens me that Isaly's, Alexander's, Sun Drug Store, Poli's and many other businesses that existed during my youth no longer exist. However, there are new businesses that offer both the same goods and new goods.

Yet, the new Pittsburgh invites and embraces me as did the Pittsburgh of my youth and young adulthood. The people are still some of the friendliest people I've encountered. There still exists a strong sense of community in Pittsburgh. Housing is still affordable. There's no price that can be attached to being in the grocery store and encountering a childhood friend not seen in years, or a friend of my parents, or a classmate from high school. I can still buy a hot sausage at Frankie's Hot Sausage, though it's now on Butler Street. I can still go to Kennywood and ride the Racers and get food from the Potato Patch. I can ask for chipped ham and Jumbo in Giant Eagle and not be given a questioning look. I can go to the Carnegie Library and spend hours, just browsing. I can visit the Aviary and marvel at the beauty of the birds. I can go to the Strip District to buy fresh vegetables, spices and of course, seafood at Robert Wholey's. And, though Three River's Stadium no longer exists, I can still attend a Steeler, a Pirate or a Penguin game. And, what can one say about the new Soutside, a neighborhood where I worked for nearly 10 years!

This summer, I've also been acquainting myself with the new elements and revitalized neighborhoods of Pittsburgh. East Liberty is in the midst of another revitalization and I'm confident this one will succeed. I'm a city girl and have no wish to live in the suburbs. I want to catch a bus downtown. I want to walk to a park. I want to stroll along the streets. I want to ride a bike through a neighborhood. I miss the smell of the old NBC bakery that permeates my childhood memories, but I'm looking forward to the condos being built there and hope to be one of the first residents.

Though I've done most of these things this summer, the most important thing I've been able to do is spend time with family and close friends. There is no substitute for family and close friends. I have friends in Pittsburgh who, though we've not seen each other in years, can pick up right where we left off years ago. I've also spent time just sitting and absorbing the beautiful greenery and nature that is Pittsburgh. I sit in the mornings and listen to the conversations of the birds. In the evenings, I listen to the conversations of the crickets and cicadas. I watch deer cross backyards in the early mornings.

No matter what occurs in the months ahead as I return to San Antonio, I've had this summer of contentment, this summer of peace. For those who've left Pittsburgh and deride it because the neighborhoods as they knew them in their youth no longer exist, I say yes, that is true, but the Pittsburgh of today is a different yet same Pittsburgh. The city has changed but so have you. For those who never left Pittsburgh and feel that there's nothing in Pittsburgh, I remind them of what Dorothy said in The Wizard of Oz, "there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no ………"

Blessings,

T

When Your Grown “Kids” Don’t Need You Anymore

I admit that for the last few years, I've been going through Empty Nest Syndrome. My chicks have flown the coop and are doing what I raised them to do – stand on their own two feet and go out and be men, forging their own road, following their own journey. For the first time in 28 years, I'm living alone and trying to decide who I will be on the next leg of this journey called life. One of the first things I did was to decide to make a career change and I am happily in the midst of doing that. Yet…….

Being Mom has been a HUGE part of who I've been for the majority of my adult life. While, intellectually, I realize that my sons won't need me in the same way they needed me as they were growing up, I admit that I wasn't quite ready for the lack of being needed, at least needed as much. Neither of my sons are mama's boys, so I didn't expect the phone to be ringing constantly asking for advice nor did I expect daily visits or even phone calls. What is surprising to me is that I don't exactly have a place in their lives as men, or to put it more succinctly, an easily-defined place in their lives as men. Sometimes, it seems that I'm this ghost of a person, waiting in the wings, overseeing things from a distance, ready to advance forward and assist, IF needed or asked. Weekend plans don't seem to factor in Mom. If I suggest an activity that includes me, they already have plans that somehow won't accommodate me. It seems that when I am included in an activity, it's for a short window of time, not the entire day or several hours, because they have other plans that don't include me. On some level I understand this. On another level, this kind of hurts. I remember being in my 20's and 30's and spending time with my parents was not a part of my regular weekend activities. Yet, I also remember many times that my social calendar included activities with my parents.

As I was contemplating writing this blog post, I realized that I owed my mother an apology. In an odd segue, I recalled an incident that occurred earlier this year while I was home visiting my family. Now, I should preface this segment with the fact that though (like everyone) I have my insecurities, my cooking ability is not one of them. I am a very good cook and I absolutely love cooking. One evening, I was pan-frying some fish. My mother (whose age I won't mention here, but suffice it to say is several decades older than I) was seated in the kitchen at the time. As I was frying the fish, she commented, "you know, fish doesn't take a long time to cook. It only takes a few minutes on each side. Most people overcook fish." I admit the comment irritated me and I said, "Mom, I know how to cook fish. I've been cooking fish a long time and in fact, I prepare and eat fish and seafood almost exclusively." (I am pretty much a pescetarian [someone who primarily eats seafood and vegetables.]) My response irritated and somewhat hurt my mother and she said, "T nobody knows everything and everybody can learn something from somebody." At the time, I didn't understand her reaction and in fact, thought she over-reacted. Upon retrospection, I understand that my mother, even acknowledging that I am a long-grown woman, needed to be needed, needed to feel that she could contribute something to her grown daughter. I'm sorry for my reaction, Mom. I didn't understand that at the time. I do now.

Several years ago, when my older son was dating a young woman, he remarked to me that "everyone knows the girlfriend comes first." I wondered at the time who in the world had told him this. Everyone has seen the big-time sports star on the field who says, "Hi, Mom" when the camera is on him. I felt small and unimportant when my son told me this. As he has continued on in his journey of manhood, there have been numerous times when I felt that I was unimportant in his life. Not that I sat on the pity pot feeling sorry for myself all the time, but nobody had prepared me for the way my role as mother would change once my sons became men. Don't get me wrong. I know my sons love me, would defend me to the death and would be devastated should anything happen to me. Yet …..

What is the definition, the role, the place, for a mother of grown "kids?" Yes, I know all the intellectual responses to the question. We reforge our own lives. We reshape our lives so, while remaining available should our children need us, we pursue other interests and use our talents and passions in other areas. We take those spontaneous trips out of town that we couldn't take when our children were little. We take a class. We find a hobby. We make new friends and schedule activities with them. We write blogs. J We fill up our time with other things. Yet ….

I miss being needed the way I once was. I miss the filling of the space I once filled in my children's lives. I miss being a participant in their planned social calendar. I guess I just miss being Mom.

Blessings,

T

Conversations

Today, I sat in a chair in front of my family's home in Pittsburgh and attempted to read a book on my Kindle. It was a beautiful, somewhat overcast, summer day. Though the book was very interesting, I found myself continually being distracted by the conversations around me. Usually, when we think of conversations, we think of the conversations of people – conversations between people around us, conversations in the immediate area, conversations on the television, conversations on the radio or even the conversations in cars that pass by on the road. I'm talking about different kinds of conversations. Because of the absence of people and their conversations, what I heard was the conversations of nature, of God's creations. I heard the conversation of the wind rustling through the many trees. I heard the conversations of different species of birds as they chirped, tweeted and sang back and forth. I heard the conversations of the leaves as they brushed against each other in the trees. I heard the conversations of the insects as they flew around me. I even heard the conversation of the wind as it caused the blades of grass to brush against each other. All of these conversations caused me to stop and give pause. So often we (humans) see ourselves as the largest and perhaps most beautiful and important of God's creations. We get so got up in our own world, our troubles, our challenges, our goals and our plans that we forget all about the other creations of our Creator.

Though the conversations I observed today were in a language different than my own, the conversations were beautiful and awe-inspiring. For a while, these conversations caused me to cease concerning myself with problems that had been occupying my mind. I was reminded of Mathew 10:24-31 in which Jesus says that if God takes care of the sparrow, He will certainly take care of us. As we get caught up in the worries and concerns of our daily lives, we often forget this.

Take time out of your busy day sometime and just sit and listen to the conversations around you and be reminded that we are His creation and He will provide for us just as He does the sparrow.

Blessings,

T

And the greatest of these is Love

It's been a long time since I've regularly written on this blog. A lot of things have transpired in my personal life that had, somehow, stalled my creativity, including writing. I don't usually blog about things of a very personal nature on this blog because of the nature of the Internet itself, and because I am, by nature, an extremely private person – a person who bottles up her true emotions deep inside, hidden from the world including close friends and family. By nature, I am a person who loves people and someone who is always there for others, especially emotionally. Yet, at least as an adult, I have always kept my innermost feelings locked away deep within me, far from the eyes and ears of those who might judge me. A therapist once asked me if I thought I was unworthy of being loved and suggested that though I made myself available to others in their times of need, that somehow, I felt I didn't deserve the same in return. Of course I rebelled at the suggestion. "Of course not," I remember replying, "it's just that everyone has their own problems and issues and I don't want to bother them with mine." I think a part of me knew at the time that it was a copout, another way of bottling up what I truly felt.

A little over two years ago, I lost my father. Dad was 82 and had been in poor health for a few years. Though I had lost other loved ones during my life, Dad was the closest person in my life to pass. To say I grieved him deeply would be an understatement. For the longest time, I couldn't bear to think of him or hear his name mentioned without feeling a pain deep in my gut and tears forming in my eyes. I have always struggled with the concept of death. I was raised in the church which preached about a heaven where "all God's children will dance around in golden shoes." In my young adulthood, I studied with the Jehovah's Witnesses who taught that the soul dies at death and the spirit returns to God and that certain dead will be resurrected after Armageddon. The combination of the two teachings left me really confused about death – and other biblical teachings. Sure, I read a lot of books and the bible, but really, nobody has ever come back and told us what death is truly like. And sure, many people have given me their version of what they "think" happens after death, but again, where's the proof? After I lost my father, I became even more confused. I couldn't believe that the wonderful, baritone-voiced man I had loved all my life simply didn't exist anymore. How could he have simply closed his eyes and POOF, was gone? Forever? Of course, being who I am emotionally, I rallied around my mother, siblings and other family members, supported them and for the most part, locked my feelings away. My father's sister told me that I was questioning my faith in being so uncertain about death and where my father was now. I disagreed with her, telling her that I had a very strong belief in God but that didn't answer the questions I had about death and what happens when someone dies. When I returned home to San Antonio, I pulled out the Ouija Board and attempted to contact my Dad. (I seriously considered not including that information here – fear of being judged, but more on that later in this post.) I communicated with someone who appeared to be my father and the first thing he told me was not to cry; he was fine. I guess this was comforting on some level, but the doubt in me remained. Where is he? What is he? What is that place where he now resides? DOES he still exist somewhere? The intellectual side of me knows that it's the selfish side of humans that still wants our loved one here despite how ill they may have been. Yes, I know that, intellectually, but the emotional side of me still wants my Dad here, here with me, with the family. So, I guess I was, as my aunt said, struggling with my faith – not my faith in God, but my faith that any one interpretation of the bible was correct about death and the hereafter.

That has now changed for me. This week, I had an epiphany. Merriam-Webster™ defines epiphany as: (1) a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something; (2) an intuitive grasp of reality through something (as an event) usually simple and striking; and (3) an illuminating discovery, realization or disclosure. The definition that applies most to me is the first one: …"sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something." What caused this epiphany for me? Reading The Shack. Reading this book was for me life-changing. As one friend described it, it was "riveting." For me, it filled in many of the gaps I had been missing in my faith. Yes, the book is fiction, but it is a book that explains God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit in a way I had never before considered. As I read it, tears continuously flowed. I sobbed. The book moved me so much that at one point, I had to put the book down and go do something else. I couldn't take any more. I don't want to give the storyline away or give any spoilers, but it put our relationship with God in a way that will help me not only to deal with my father's passing, but also will help me to develop my relationship with God in a way He desires. The book is not "preachy" or one that beats you over the head with religion, scripture or holy commandments. It will make you think, consider, cry and probably sob.

My signature line in my e-mail for a while has been "And the greatest of these is love" The Shack really helped me to understand the meaning of those words. If we approach things and people with love, we will not judge, attempt to change others, attempt to make others fit into our ideals or even judge ourselves or fear being judged. At the base of everything, and I mean everything - our relationships, our attitudes, our ethics, our morality – is love. If we strive to approach others from a base of love and live our lives with love, the rest is gravy.

Blessings,

T

Somebody’s Baby

Today, I read the online version of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette©, my hometown newspaper. I read the stories of not one, not two, but three young men arrested for the murder of another young man. The stories were accompanied by photos of young, fresh-faced young men. I found myself thinking as I read the stories and looking at the pictures that this was somebody's "baby," someone's "grandbaby," someone's baby nephew. I found myself wondering, once again, "what is going on with this younger generation?" Some will, and have, argued that these things have always gone on, that we just hear more about them now because of the prevalence of the media in our lives, both through the Internet and through 24-hour new channels. But, I beg to differ with those who espouse such a sentiment.
I believe that my generation has largely failed our children. Each generation has an innate desire to give their children more than they had. Children of my generation shared bedrooms and often beds. The homes had one television and often only one phone on each floor. We ate dinner together as a family. We went to church AND Sunday School and often Vacation Bible School during the summer. Many of us had school clothes, play clothes and church clothes. Tennis shoes were for gym class. You had dress shoes for church and regular, leather-soled shoes for everything else but gym. At most, most kids had three, maybe four pairs of shoes. When you came home from school, you took off your school clothes and put on your play clothes. Some children wore the same outfit two days in a row and no one teased them about it because they did the same thing. Sure, there were the exceptions. I knew a few girls who had "stretch pants" in every color of the rainbow, but for the most part, we were all pretty much the same. Adults were to be respected, whether it was Mrs. Gaines next door, a teacher, Mrs. DeLuca at Pompa's Grocery store or Sister Staunton at church. In my family, we even had to call adult cousins by a title, such as Cousin Susie or Cousin Bobby. The line between adults and children was clear – and enforced.
In my home, we were not even permitted to raise our voices to our parents. I remember clearly my father saying, "who're you basing at?" Suck your teeth? We never dreamed of doing such a thing. Roll your eyes? Sure, if you wanted to get slapped. Children had chores around the house which were required to be done before we could go play. The girls in my family had kitchen duty. My mother cooked all the meals and we did the cleanup afterward. My two brothers took care of the bathrooms and the garbage. I clearly remember being so anxious to go outside and play that we rushed through our chores so we could get outside. At most, we spent an hour or two a week watching television. Jacks, hopscotch, kickball, jump rope and just about anything outdoors occupied our time. We were sent to school to LEARN, not to be involved in any foolishness. A note sent home from the teacher resulted in a whupping and/or a loss of privileges.
As my generation matriculated into adulthood, we went off to college or got jobs. I can't think of a single childhood friend who chose to just laze around in their parent's home after high school.
Despite all this, somehow, our generation dropped the ball when it came to our children. We've somehow managed to raise children who expect, not appreciate. We gave them their own bedrooms. We first gave them a phone extension in their bedroom and later cellphones. We gave them a television and a stereo for their room. We began buying them video game systems and the games they required. When a later model came out, we often stood in line to be sure they had the latest model. We gave into the pressure to buy them brand-name clothes and tennis shoes. We allowed them to decide IF they wanted to go to church. We stopped giving them regular chores. We allowed them to spend hours in front of the television or talking on the phone. We allowed them to erase the line between adult and child. Worst of all, we listened to popular thought and decided we wanted to become THEIR FRIEND. We began to believe their side of the story when they got into trouble at school. We challenged the teacher's version.
Then our children matriculated into young adulthood. Who do you think many of them became? They became a generation of adults who wanted, expected and having lived a childhood where what they want was given to them and not having learned the lesson that there is consequence for every action, didn't want to work, be educated or trained for a job that would provide the means to get the things they wanted. They just wanted. I have a relative who, after dropping out of high school and finally obtaining a G.E.D. told me "I'm not about to work for no minimum wage." Having such attitudes, the allure of selling drugs was powerful – and addictive. Why flip burgers at McDonald's™ for minimum wage when you could earn thousands a week selling drugs. And so it began.
Along with the selling drugs, of course, came the violence. I listen to and read story after story of young people being killed by another young person. The underlying cause is usually D.R. – that's Drug-Related – for the un-initiated. A drug transaction gone bad. Someone selling drugs in another's territory. Someone attempting to rob a drug dealer. Someone selling fake drugs.
Then we have the gangs. Children and young adults who don't even own a piece of real estate who claim certain neighborhoods as their own. People who DEMAND respect that they've not earned. Wear the wrong color in a certain neighborhood? Be shot or killed. I know of neighborhoods where senior citizens who've lived in their home for decades are afraid to venture out their front door after dusk. Where are the parents and grandparents of these young criminals? With what values were they raised? Where was God, Allah or Buddha in their lives when they were raised?
I am by no means demonizing every parent of my generation or their children, but the numbers continue to alarm and frighten me. It seems we've a whole generation of young adults currently in prison, recently released from prison or headed that way. These young people are Somebody's Baby. I can't stand the thought of some hysterical mother on television, bemoaning the loss of "her baby." It breaks my heart. It should break all of our hearts.
Blessings,
T

Odd and Interesting Tidbits

From time to time, I come across what are, to me, very interesting and sometimes odd tidbits that surprise me. I've also discovered that, for the most part, if you have a question in your mind about something, the chances are great that someone else has also wondered that same thing. Notice that when you type a question in Google, the auto-fill completes your question. This means someone else has asked Google the same question.

Recent oddities and tidbits:

• Is ear wax really a wax? No, ear wax isn't really "wax" as in the candle wax (paraffin) sense. Skin contains many tiny glands whose sole purpose is to secrete a variety of substances. Ear wax is one of these substances. The main purpose of ear wax is to trap anything foreign that flies, crawls or is blown into the ear canals. Ear wax protects your ear canal and ear drum from foreign materials.
• Most of us probably know that when a female horse and a male donkey mate, the offspring is called a mule. But, did you know that when a male horse and a female donkey mate, the offspring is called a hinny? Did you also know that when a male zebra and a female donkey mate, the offspring is called a zedonk or a zebrass?
• If you are right-handed, you will tend to chew your food on your right side. If you are left-handed, you will tend to chew your food on your left side.
• If you stop getting thirsty, you need to drink more water. When the human body is dehydrated, its thirst mechanism shuts off.
• Chewing gum while peeling onions will keep you from crying. (I'll have to try this one.)
• The Titanic was the first ship to use the SOS signal.
• Laughing lowers levels of stress hormones and strengthens the immune system. Six-year olds laugh an average of 300 times a day. Adults only laugh 15 to 100 times a day. We grownups need to laugh more.
• Dalmatians are born without spots.
• Your left lung is smaller than your right lung to make room for your heart.
• When you blush, the lining of your stomach also turns red. (Now, how is this known?)
• When hippos are upset, their sweat turns red.
• Google is actually the common name for a number with a million zeros.
• Switching letters is called spoonerism. For example, saying jag of Flapan, instead of flag of Japan. (And here I thought I was exhibiting early signs of Alzheimer's when I did this.)
• Intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair.

Now, go enjoy your day!

Blessings,

T

Loss of a Musical Genius – R.I.P. Michael Jackson

MICHAEL JOSEPH JACKSON – AUGUST 29, 1958 – JUNE 25, 2009

Last evening, as I sat on my sofa watching the CNN story about the passing of Farrah Fawcett, I saw the scroll at the bottom of the screen stating that Michael Jackson had been rushed to the hospital after suffering cardiac arrest. Minutes later, it became the lead story. To say I was stunned would be putting it mildly. As the story developed, I got a sinking feeling in my heart – somehow, I knew he wouldn't survive.

What can one say about Michael Jackson? Talented? Gifted? Weird? Sad? Lost? Genius? Probably all of these and more. But, who among us doesn't have some type of issue and idiosyncrasy? As Michael grew older, quite different-looking and embroiled in controversy after controversy, my heart always held a certain sadness for Michael. His often almost child-like persona always made me feel sad for the childhood he never experienced. From a young age, he was pushed into the public spotlight. Raised in a home with a devout Mother on the one hand and an abusive, driven father on the other, Michael didn't have a childhood. As it became evident that he was the clear star among his eight siblings, he was pushed further and further into the public eye. I remember thinking this when he built and developed Neverland and when it was revealed that two of his closest friends were Macaulay Culkin and Emmanuel Lewis (the boy who starred in the series, Webster ). He was trying, as an adult, to create the childhood he never experienced. Michael became the major breadwinner for his family at a very young age.

I remember when the Jackson Five appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show during my early high school years. Everyone I knew immediately fell in love with them, especially little Michael. Here were these cute, darker-complexioned boys with big Afros who could sing and dance their butts off. Other than Nat King Cole, the Jackson Five were the first black folks I remembered seeing on The Ed Sullivan Show which my family watched faithfully every Sunday. Girls would debate about who was the cutest, Jermaine or Michael or Jackie. When I got my first six-transistor radios and a Jackson Five song came on, you would find me with the radio glued to my ear and me dancing around doing, or trying to do, their steps. Later, when they appeared on The Mike Douglass Show and American Bandstand, everyone I knew was glued to the television. I spent my teen-aged years being one of their biggest fans. They had these cool, matching outfits and big Afros. Their dance steps were coordinated and smooth everyone tried to copy their moves and always, there was cute, little Michael with the brilliant smile and shining personality.

As I grew into early adulthood, so did the Jacksons, and Michael broke from the group to start his own career and what a career it was! Got to Be There, I Wanna Be Where You Are, Ben (who but Michael could have a hit with a song about a rat?, With A Child's Heart, Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough, Rock with You, Off the Wall, The Girl is Mine, Billie Jean, Beat It, Thriller and so many, many more, too numerous to name here but we all remember hearing them and dancing to them. When Thriller aired on MTV in 1984, it was the first time a video by a person of color appeared on MTV and the video was hot, smoking! It was more like a mini-movie than the standard music video. It was choreographed perfectly and those zombies were jammin'! It remains my favorite Michael Jackson video.

As Michael's looks changed over the years and stories of his low self-esteem about his looks began to surface, I was mystified. I always thought Michael was cute and attractive. I never noticed what he referred to as a nose so big that he father called him Big Nose. I found his dark, Hershey Bar-colored skin one of his most attractive features. Though his music continued to evolve and excel, his physical appearance changed to that of someone I could not recognize. This did not diminish one iota my admiration for his musical genius.

Rest in peace, Michael. May you finally find the peace and serenity you long sought.

In tribute, here is the link to my favorite Michael Jackson video, Thriller http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtyJbIOZjS8&feature=featured

Blessings,
T

Everything I know about the male species, I learned from raising sons

Well, not really, but I've learned a lot.

Since I grew up female, I've learned I was, in many ways, clueless, about the male species and their thoughts and habits. For example, I could never understand how males can miss that big hole in the center of the toilet. It's so big, how can they miss it and end up with a bathroom that smells like urine. Why do they urinate on the sides of the seat and toilet? Finally, when my youngest son was a teenager, he told me, "Mom, you have to understand the sprinkle effect." With a, I'm sure, puzzled look on my face, I asked him, "what is the sprinkle effect," thinking of the lawn sprinkler. He then explained that unlike what I (and probably most women thought), the stream of urine is not one stream that stays in the straight line as it enters the toilet. Rather, it is a stream with lots of "sprinkles" on the side that fall off the stream as it enters the toilet. These sprinkles are what hit the sides and the raised seat on the toilet. It seems that, with the exception of aiming for the basket on the basketball court, men can't aim worth a hoot. This applies to the toilet, the hamper, the sink when brushing their teeth, or even the trashcan when aiming some balled-up piece of trash at it. I won't even go into the need to ball up something and throw it at the trashcan rather than simply walking to the trashcan and dropped it in. I'm assuming it has something to do with basketball.

I also learned that, once they get to be a certain age, boys do not want to be seen being dropped off at school, or work, by their mother. "It's like being dropped off at grade school on the first day of school." Later on in life, many men would rather drive their wife to work and keep the car rather than being dropped off at their job. Hmm, seems like there is something testosterone-like about being seen driving a car.

It's easier to get males to do something if you ask them rather than tell them. "Will you take out the garbage?" "Will you unload the dishwasher?" Being told to take out the garbage or to unload the dishwasher results in a sullen, begrudging look from a male teenager and a job poorly done at best. In an adult male, the task usually won't get done. Males like to be ASKED to do things.

Males don't like to accompany us to buy bras. One Saturday, when my youngest son was a teenager, I asked him if he wanted to go with me to the mall. He asked me what I was going to get and I told him I needed several things and perhaps we could have lunch when we were through shopping. After stopping at a few stores, I started to go into Victoria's Secret to buy a few bras. He decided he would wait for me in the mall. Later that night, he told his older brother "Mom, tried to trick me into going with her to buy a bra." When I was married, my husband ALWAYS declined to enter either Victoria's Secret or Bath & Body Works. Now this reluctance I just don't understand. Are they afraid that some male friend will spy them leaving Victoria's Secret or the lingerie department of Dillard's? If they are seen, so what? What will be the implication?

Now this one has been written in granite since probably the caveman was around. MALES DON'T NEED DIRECTIONS AND WILL NEVER ASK FOR THEM. THEY ALSO DON'T NEED MAPS AND WON'T USE THEM EVEN IF THEY'RE LOST. Once my sons got to driving age, they knew absolutely everything. This, of course, included the directions to places they had never in their life seen before. I learned not to offer directions and only hope that they arrived at their destinations. Last year while in Pittsburgh, a male friend travelled to the house where I was staying. It was about an hour's drive from his home and he was totally unfamiliar with the area. I gave him directions and he picked me up. As we were leaving the house, I began to give him directions to our destination. He stopped me and said, "I got this. If I need some help, I'll ask." My older son recently told me the same exact words, "Mom, I got this."

I suspect the GPS Navigation Systems in cars and on smartphones was the brainchild of a male. This way, they never have to admit that they need directions.

Blessings,

T

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