hafacenturyncounting

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Archive for the category “How We Relate”

14 Mar 2015
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Twice A Child V-LIVING

Okay,  here we are and we now know,  It is what it is.  Trouble is where do we go from here? What do we do, how do we cope now that life has changed on us, where are the solutions ?

This is a very difficult entry for a couple of reasons. Due to the fact it is the final entry for this series, as well as it is something that I am currently experiencing. I do not know how to feel from day to day. Am I guilty because I am not right there physically, in the “trenches” or does my guilt come from relief that I am not there in the “trenches”. Is my bravery and acceptance a disguise for fear and denial. Do I keep busy so that I am not in a state of constant infantile bawling, because the person I love, respect, need is no longer here with me. Yet an image and a sound-bite tells me different.  What is it like for her; trapped by her surroundings real and imaginary. Moments of being seemingly lucid only to be followed by complete confusion. She is angry, she is determined, and she is afraid.

The process of life gives you 9 months to prepare for the arrival of new life, yet when life ends it is a flash. Be it prolonged illness that feels like it will never end or a sudden unexpected accident, the truth is life still does stop in the cessation of one tiny breath. The deterioration of the mind is a cruel painful experience. Each time I see a lost soul walking down the street I fight the growing lump in MY throat, because I know that IS someones loved one.

Think about scenarios you have witnessed, someone speaking crossly to a poor soul weak and frail. Nurses and doctors along with family members  trying to hold down a silver haired being who is screaming and fighting with ever bit of their strength. The Aging Process can be cruel. You do not witness that poor frail person being spoken to in a cruel fashion telling their child how bad each and everything they try to do is, yu do not see the silver haired person fighting off nurses, doctors and loved ones throwing things when they don’t get their way or wandering off time and again without a trace. You don’t have the “luxury” of knowing the worry, the pain, the frustration, the hurt that WILL take it’s toll on an able-bodied strong human being. Try not to judge as an outsider, as an observer. As a participant, buckle yourself in this is GOING to be a rough ride. There it is life coming straight at you; yet YOU can be blind-sided, YOU can get the sucker punch in your face. There is no preparation for this experience.

I recall aging friends and family members who have been confined to assisted living facilities, convalescent hospitals,etc. I can clearly see the faces of folks I do not know lined up in the hallway or sitting in a chair in their solitary rooms. Some faces cry out for help, some stare blankly ahead. We, the ones left behind search for a glimmer of hope, a slight chance that the person we love will return.. Medical science has yet to  figure out a way to release the mind from the confines it sometimes finds itself locked in. Therefore we are left with that hope, that prayer the one we love will one day come back. How heartless would we be if we said,”They are gone forever”. How heartbreaking is it to know and feel that very same thing. I wish I could tell you how to accept,” My loved one is gone and I didn’t even get to say good-bye”. I cannot. Remember your heart is fragile and so is your soul. Try to keep loving them even if they are not aware, even if they are mean to you…try to remember the love.

 

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10 Feb 2015
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A View From Inside-Part IV

I cannot blame today’s youth completely. I believe we parents did not prepare them. We were so busy making it better for them, because we could. Our parents and grandparents fought long, hard, deadly struggles. We forgot, the pain, the long talks, the faces of disappointment, anger and fear. We did NOT want our children to see that in us. We forgot to remind them that trouble is always waiting for an opportunity. What happened it bypassed us and went straight for our jugular vein. It knew we would not let it slip up on us, but our children, weak vulnerable that was the target. While they slept, while we were away from them to far to fight for them, it pounced.

I recall hearing time and again, “It’s a jungle out there”. As a child, I dismissed it as one more thing adults say that children don’t understand, but they are not talking to us anyway. The older I got it made more sense, it became relevant to my life it addressed the competition involved in staying alive. Now I could relate. Once my kids were born it took on a whole new meaning.

As the mother of two sons, I remember the days they were born respectively. Back in those days you did not really know what you were having until the child was born or if the ultra-sound tech got a “lucky” shot. I remember wanting girls both times. I told my boys as young adults, not to hurt them but for information. I did keep a deep dark secret from them and that secret was I did NOT want to face the challenges and likely heart break having a son who was black could bring.   I knew in spite of everything one can do to prepare that man-child, a predator waits for him. I also knew that I faced having to tell my innocent boys about this treachery or leave them helpless and clueless. I was afraid for them. Hell of a choice AND one that I had less than a decade to decide which one was the right one.

The right choice was for us to take them away from the element. We moved them into a predominately white environment complete with a public school system that ranked among the scores private schools in Southern California. Whew, now I could breathe. There we were defeating the odds, so we thought. They were from a two parent household, above average income, educated parents and an area that was “safe”. Remember that decision I had only a decade for? The first came in the form of them being ostracized by people they were entrusted with. Fortunately we were always present, always watching over, always apt to pop in. However, didn’t we take them to this place so we would NOT have to do all of that?

My eldest son did not experience this unyielding ugly and potential danger first, it was my youngest. I always wondered about that. My eldest is dark and clearly black. The “baby” had his own grandparents laughing at his fair characteristics, but that happens in our families more often than NOT. I remember the day we took him from a beautiful little church school on the peninsula, because no one would play with him; they were afraid of him because he was a big boy. I thought how could ADULTS allow that to go on? Furthermore not bother to tell us. He went to that little church school two weeks before we found a more diverse environment. If my husband, who was ever-present (as I was), had NOT happened along to bring him a surprise lunch, we may have never known. He was a big, tall kid, he has big tall parents so that did not phase us, but being told the other children were afraid of him. Remember he was also a fair-skinned child.

In the wake of so many ugly police related wrongful deaths I wonder if the fear began for these same policemen as early as preschool? If so did an insensitive teacher, like the one at my son’s former school, ignore the behavior. I cannot say enough times I do not believe all policemen are bad, I do believe all police departments could benefit from addition training. Clearly something is being missed.

 

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10 Feb 2015
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A View From Inside-V

Now I address fear and anger for the future. Each day something more happens, each day the media releases information that incites and upsets me. Married to a black man, mother to two black sons and expecting a black grandson. I cannot forget what is done to men in our race just because of their skin color. I watch people try to explain away the injustices, trying to make these terrible things our fault exclusively. Please understand and do not get me wrong, for everyone has to be held accountable for their deeds. None of us is exempt in this sense.

However, let us examine the phenomenon of the victim victimizes, the punished punishes, the abused is now and abuser. What do they all have in common?It is simple really, you survive something horrible and bad, but you are not treated and healed therefore you believe the treatment you were given is the treatment you must give.  You view these things as normal, the way it should be and you act accordingly.

I came across a piece about the family of actor Don Cheadle. His family genealogy was the subject matter and it was uncovered his ancestors we enslaved by Native Americans. It seemed to come as somewhat a surprise to him and others that watched the piece also were enlightened. While I knew of the enslavement of our ancestors, I also knew there were men who rose to the esteemed position of “chief” in some  tribes as well.  Mr. Cheadle remarked about the status of his kin as they were at one point people without a country. Being slaves of the Native American tribes put them under the jurisdiction of those same tribes and once the USA determined and declared slavery was illegal, those Native Americans were NOT under the rule of the USA. In many cases a separate negotiation had to be conducted for the slaves to be freed and then only to be placed in a status as outcast. They were not American citizens and they were not recognized as members of the tribes either.

I initially shook my head in disgust and disbelief. I asked how could a people who were treated so horribly by the white European settlers turn around and adopt the very same hideous practices. However, Native Americans often took slaves from wars among the warring tribes. “To the victor goes the spoils…” I do not want to trivialize this, but to point out how these negative practices are cyclic.

The behavior has to be modified and changed. Bridges and positive interactions will breed positive interactions. Stop believing every black man is a man with the strength of 20 angry men on crack with an I.Q of 7 because he was stopped by the police, justifying “shoot first ask questions later” mentality. Understand a mere fashion trend is not a disguise for a hardened criminal. We charge our law enforcement officers with many tasks but one task they must take on, along with a great portion of our society, is to not merely look beyond an individuals  skin color; no they must go one step further and they must do it rapidly, they must do what John Grisham asked of his audience in A Time To Kill, “Imagine them white”. Can you accept the challenge?

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04 Dec 2014
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A View From Inside-Part III

When I think about childhood and youth, I think of silliness, laughter, fun, and appreciation for the simple. There is a time allotted for pretending and games. Through our experience in childhood we are preparing for our adult lives. Think about yours; the good, the happy, the uncomfortable and even some of the bad, that’s life right.

My children were raised and grew up in a way that was vastly different from my experience. Simply rearing and girl versus rearing a boy, there are many, many things that can be touched upon. However, there is a task at hand that must be addressed and it is “A View From Inside”.

My childhood was sheltered and safe. We lived on a quiet street in Kansas City, Kansas and my paternal grandmother, aunt, and uncle were two doors down across that same street. We had ten pairs of familial eyes upon us most everyday. We walked to school, in Kansas and later in California. There were boundaries set, my mother was a stay at home mom. She knew where we were at all times and we knew it was our job to make sure she did not have to do more than call out our names in order to find us.

We moved to California when I was 7 years old; sometime between my earliest recollections and that move a little “colored” girl was kidnapped, and it made the evening news. I remember the event because kidnapping did not happen a lot or you did not hear about it like you do now, I remember she was from Missouri(Kansas City has a Kansas and Missouri side) and a white man was the one who did it. I remember this because she had a little brother who witnessed the event, and he recounted the information to his parents and the police. This story did not have a happy ending, and I remember that I was introduced to a fear that I never had known before.

I grew up in the 1960’s race was NOT discussed in my home with us until we were much older. This was the case in spite of the fact that my father’s brother was the president of the ;local NAACP and was friends with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I did not know this or how important and potentially dangerous that was until after the assassinations began. Remember race was not discussed with us children until we were older. We had our place and it was not in adult conversations. I knew the difference of course, but I didn’t know any white people at that time, unless you counted my grandmother. She by-the-way was not white but simply had the complexion of.

In spite of what is reported on the news, or what is characterized on television, in the movies, etc. black people hold their children near and dear to their hearts. Black parents are over-protective and over zealous at times, but that comes from a history that made them adapt for survival. YES I SAID PARENTS!

I think back of the rules of the day with my parents; being visible or within earshot, the corporal punishment( I can say/admit most if not all I was at fault), the lectures( I better discipline you now than the white man later). I am not unique, but that was some heavy shit to put on a child. However, this part is about childhood and childhood shapes us into who we are as adults.

My parents were not hateful, but they were protective of us. Whatever one may think of corporal punishment, lack of racial discussion( barring the one about punishment later in life coming from the ever present yet elusive “white man”) ; my parents managed to stay married happily till the day my father died, raise four children( none of who were ever incarcerated nor teen parents), buy a home, and live to see their grandchildren. A slice of Americana, glamorized, marketed, denied to many people of color and TOLD it is THEIR fault as to why they do not have it.

We hold our babies near and dear; our hearts ache because they do NOT get the opportunity to just be children, because we live with the very real threat that they may not survive childhood. That is EVERY parents nightmare, to outlive their child. When a 12 year old with a toy is shot dead because of a toy in 2014, when a 14 year old is tortured and killed for a “wolf whistle” and a smart comment 59 years ago and all the other stories you heard about in between. The fear is warranted, the threat is real. I tell myself my children grew up in a world different than mine, but is it really?

My children grew up in Palos Verdes, California and Alpharetta, Georgia; white suburban heaven and havens, aesthetically pleasing, economically privileged, but the underlying feeling from most of our neighbors was “What are YOU doing here, oh that’s right affirmative action”. Damn we couldn’t even feel safe with all of that.

We shook our heads in disbelief when we saw children barely more than toddlers riding bikes in the middle of the street with no sign of a parent/their parent anywhere in sight. As time went on realization of ,”What do they really have to worry about” came to us. Their children are afforded the ability to make mistakes that kill off our babies daily. Imagine that, a child who actual has an opportunity to be a child; not a being who has that magical time of exploration and beauty tainted and poisoned with real fear, eminent threats, and horror.

Black people ARE angry; we DO love our children and we hold them in the highest esteem. A prank, youthful exuberance, or a traffic violation should NOT hold a death sentence that can be carried out by anyone carrying a gun, night stick, or possessing the acceptable skin tone.

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04 Dec 2014
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A View From Inside-Part II

My beautiful friends. I say that from a literal standpoint. I am a Libra, I revel in that. Libras have an affinity for beauty, the finer things. However, I have been blessed with people in my life who have the inner beauty as well as the outer. I look at them and enjoy their company. They remind me that there is still quite a bit of good out there in the world.. When the ugliness come to the forefront. I know I have secret weapons in my life.

I met the real life version of “Alice In Wonderland” when I was 22 years old. I had been raised in a predominately black suburban environment, so my contact with white people my age directly did not really happen until college.

Let’s call my friend, Dena. There are others I mention(Kim B., Cyndi H., Rachel F.) who I did NOT care for and they will get No love or respect, their names and ugliness will be out there.  If Disney needed a model for Alice, Dena was it. Dena came to work with me at my second real job for a large retail drug chain in their administrative offices. It was strange she and I took a liking to one another. As time went on and we discovered our backgrounds it would become more logical as well as illogical that we did become “friends”. I trained Dena, we had lunch together, we exchanged gifts. Odd as it seems we did not go out much or have each other’s phone number. However, that was 33 years ago, memory may not be exact.

Dena was younger than I was and single. She was a California girl who as the result of divorced found herself in Salt Lake City, Utah. We laughed over lunch how her primitive classmates asked, “If she had ever seen a real black person before and what were they like?” We never found irony in our being friends, at least we never discussed it. Dena was a Mormon too.

One day Dena quit the job, we did a farewell lunch and cake for her ( I was in charge of the festivities because everyone KNEW we were close) and I never saw or heard from her again. I didn’t feel hurt or cheated. I was not surprised she divorced herself from her experience with the job, and me for that matter. However, I remember her. She was in my opinion “kinda pretty”. She had gorgeous long blonde hair, ANYONE would envy. She was a nice, fun, kind person. I wish we had remained or actually became real friends, I think we could have learned a lot from one another.

In spite of my upbringing, environment, and late interaction with white people on a personal level, Dena was not my first “BLONDE friend”. She was also not my last nor was she my only. I wonder what they thought beyond conversations we had about subject matter, which did in fact transcend race. I do NOT believe they befriend me because of or even in spite of race. My being black, like their being white, came as a interesting as-a-matter-of-fact snippet. I LOVE that about those “friendships” too. I have always connected with PEOPLE based on a vibe, the energy their souls give off. I know that I am not unusual in that. Let me generalize here;  black people have to go by what their inner eye tells them, white people by and large are performers/chameleons(Kim B., Cyndi H., Rachel F.) . Therefore I also recognize many of these connections were simply associations rather than friendships. They were relationships though and you have to start somewhere.

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04 Dec 2014
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A View From Inside-Part I

I awake and my mind is generally a blank canvass. It has only thoughts of the rituals of the morning. I yawn. I stretch. I make myself aware of any pains or aches I am suffering from. If there are none that goes unnoticed. There are a few plans like this is the day I have to drop a piece of dry cleaning off, or my hair appointment is at 2:00, but overall I have no master plan to take over, ruin the life of, or hate. I JUST WANT TO LIVE.

I don’t ask for happy, I desire content; I want my family safe and happy, for with them rests my true happiness. I pray for that daily. This all goes on in about 2 seconds after I  rise in the morning. Often times there is even more, but the gist of this is, it doesn’t take long and I still have 23 hours 59 minutes and 58 seconds left in any given day. What happens during the rest of that time?

I cannot speak for all black people, but I think ALL people want some of/many of the same things in life. Just because I am black does not mean I have a inside track to the workings of ALL or most of my fellow black people’s agenda. What I have is shared experiences, as white people have with one another. What is ironic, seemingly to some if not many white people, is that we also share those same experience with the white population as well. What we don’t always share in vastly disproportionate levels, is the injustices we STILL suffer and that is race based.

I have to say to myself when something bad happens is it because of the circumstances or is it because I am black. White people who say, black people are always bringing up race want you to believe that THEY do not think there is a race problem to address. To ME that is code for,”It doesn’t concern me and mine so I don’t really care about it or care to talk about it..” Take note ignoring “it” won’t make it go away AND just because YOU don’t use the “N” word does not mean you are not prejudiced.

Prior to the Ronald Reagan Era being prejudiced was not thought of in high regards. He/his policies/his administration told white people on the fringes of being down right racist, it is okay NOT to like other races typically blacks, and that being overt in those feelings was acceptable. The standard,”Some of my best friends are black” changed to, ” None of my friends are black and I  am glad about that”.

I hated Ronald Reagan. I grew up in Southern California, I watched this horrible”c” movie actor become governor of a great state and try to change it’s dynamic. Republicans don’t do well in Cali..too much ocean and free spirit out there to be clouded with the narrow-minded thought patterns. You look at the Pacific and think.. “Yeah it’s all good”. When he became President he followed a time of massive change the decades that preceded him had been tumultuous but people were trying to get along AND like one another. As lame as the 1970’s are thought of.. folks were having”Nice Days” complete with “smiley faces”.

HE brought with him, his crotchety old body in full theatrical make-up, old  cranky thoughts and ideas. Forget about the new and young, keep things the same way we old, mean, dying folks like it, because it is familiar and WE don’t like change. He managed to regurgitate ugliness and fear. Then it started reproducing.

Back to the matter at hand, A View From Inside.. as you venture in, you find each small subject matter takes on a life of it’s own.  It has to, because to gain understanding you have to “be there”. Ronald Reagan took up three paragraphs and could have involved more, because he was in my opinion a catalyst of something I selected to write about. He affected my ability to just navigate throughout the atmosphere of life without the worry of an apex predator; which now comes in the form of a job turn down, being cut off in traffic, my child not being selected for the lead in the school play, or false arrest waiting to devour me and mine. Not because he is hungry, but because I am there.

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19 Aug 2014
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A Matter Of Trust

Have you ever been betrayed? Of course you have. You recall how badly you felt. There was a lot of emotion involved no doubt, there was anger, there was hurt and pain. Time was the only thing that would help to neutralize or erase the damage done. Then once the time had passed, what was necessary to get that individual back in good graces with you. Hold that thought and carry it with you throughout this piece.

Being a 54 year old American black woman, I am once again having to reach back and  regain my composure. I have a husband, I raised 2 sons, I have brothers, I have nephews, and then there are my friends; I must try to exist with a real monster hanging over my head, and over the heads of people I know, love , and care about. Understand the use of the word monster here, and if you don’t get it, look it up.  Fear… monsters are effective because they control us with  our very own fear.  They need not do a thing, but make their presence known and our very own psyche will do the rest.

There are some of us  who want more, so we choose to go to where the monsters can be made more tangible. Theme parks, haunted houses, and movies help provide us with a hands-on scare. However, you have to say one is still able to get a portion or even their fill and walk away. That is not the case with the monster I spoke of earlier though. This monster is ever present lurking in the dark corridors, the recesses of your mind, and maybe to some of your surprise he comes at you in broad daylight too. You don’t know exactly how to fight him because the mention of his name suggests, you are imagining things, monsters aren’t real. The “naysayers” would have you believe just that, I ask you how do you explain the dastardly deeds then? How do you defend and protect yourself from something like that. The moment you give in and say,” well maybe I am over-reacting, maybe it isn’t the way I think it is, you get hit once again. Later you ask yourself how am I ever supposed to be able to trust again.

The human spirit is resilient, but it can only be trampled over, ripped and torn, beaten up and knocked down so many times, before one invariably will lash out. The monster never thinks about that, the monster is always in the pursuit mode. Yet think of the many monster films you have watched over the years, in the end the monster usually get destroyed.

You have to realize we are talking about real monsters here, not the ones in the movies.  The monster that has treated us badly, the monster that has abused us, the monster that has lied to us and we have gotten hurt because of the monster. Then the monster says, “I have changed. I am not like I used to be, I will show you.” After all the monster has done to us, how do we forgive him, how do we begin to trust that which has been so terrible to us, when all we have is a history of being mistreated. All we want from the monster is to be left alone and at volatile times we  do want to see the monster destroyed in order for us to go back to our lives and just live. Even though we’d love to have the same outcome as in the movies, this is real life. We still have the tendency to expect the same result in real life as we get in the movies, it does not always hold true.

 

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28 Jul 2014

It Is Better To Remain Silent

Sometimes words are just too much. I may not be the”brightest light on the Christmas tree”, but I am certainly not a full blown “power outage” either. People think they know you and oftentimes will express this verbally, but situations will expose the real truth. As time goes on you realize it is not always necessary to  give everything you have away, not all of your opinions, not all of your feelings, and not everything you know/or think you know.  I have honed this skill carefully and use it regularly. Although, this is true there are still people in your life who will challenge this ability of yours to keep things to yourself.

This is because people ALL need to have a “voice”, we all want to be heard. Some require and auditorium filled to capacity  in order to “mic it out”, that is not to say what these folks want to convey is any more significant than those who choose a quiet one-on-one intimate talk. The talkers aren’t always the best listeners, and being realistic listening is an acquired skill. We grow tired of being in the perceived inactive state, because we are impatient.

My latest experience that prompted this piece came as the result of someone I know, and THEIR “guilt trip”. Additionally, it is the beginning of one of my father’s favorite sayings and it’s meaning eluded me until I was older due to a very short attention span with “adult old sayings”. Little did I know one day I’d be quoting those very same words.

I bet there was an occasion or two in your childhood that you broke something. Maybe you were playing in  the house, maybe you touched something you were told not to. Once it was broken then you tried to hide the fact YOU were totally and completely responsible for this mishap. Maybe you hid the object hoping it would not be missed, maybe you reported you “discovered” it broken to draw the attention away from self (not an option for the only children out there), maybe you outright lied, or maybe you blamed it on someone else. While none of these is the honorable thing to do, we are humans and what we imagine is generally far worse than what actually will take place. This is expected behavior in a child and though it is undesirable one can understand.

Yet the same behavior in an adult is not understood nor tolerated, sorry you don’t get a pass because once you enter adulthood the “token/chip” you carry  with you at all at all times is responsibility. Now you can deny it if you want to but it changes nothing. YOU ARE LYING TO YOURSELF! I have come to know this individual for blaming mistakes, bad behavior, etc. on someone other than self it still does not take away from how annoying the characteristic is. The long term result is you do not believe anything, absent of documented proof, this person says. The more he talks the further away from what actually occurred, you become We are at the point that an omission would be welcome.

As I recognize I am NOT the only person who knows a being like this, I offer the advice of the old saying that is timeless(as most of them are).

“It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to open one’s mouth and remove ALL doubt.”

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15 Jun 2014

Daddy’s Baaaby…..

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY; TO ALL THE INDIVIDUALS WHO MAKE THIS DAY WORTHY OF NOT ONLY BEING RECOGNIZED, BUT MAKING IT WORTHY OF CELEBRATION. GOD BLESS YOU !

hafacenturyncounting's avatarhafacenturyncounting

As I was driving one morning I saw I tall slender man walking. In his arms gripping him tightly about his neck was a small child. It was chilly this particular morning so the child was bundled up, hat and overcoat, I could not tell if this was a boy or a girl. However, what I can tell you is that child was surrounded by all it needed in the world, the obvious love and protection of this man. My heart filled with admiration, I smiled and thought of the two of them all day long. I knew I had to say something about DADDIES. I got all of this passing these two on a busy four lane street.

Love is a funny thing. We speak of it or don’t say a word about it. We oversimplify the impact of it and we take it for granted. Love does…

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24 May 2014
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Ooops I’ve Said Too Much

And then you get the look. You know it is too late the taste of Doctor Scholl’s foot powder almost chokes you, but it is too late you know you should have stopped talking at least one sentence ago.

The stupid things, the word regurgitation; if only somehow you could take those things back, a rewind if you will. There is nothing magical or mysterious about saying a mean and hurtful thing; your moment of  “telling it like it is” may be subject to all kind of review from all kinds of sources, even though the intention was other than that. You put it out there and now you must deal with  ramifications.

The truth is the truth hurts, at times and is down right difficult at others. Some days you throw in the towel and say you’re going to throw caution to the wind, but then what happens when the wind changes directions and it come back in your face.  Are you really ready for that?

When one writes there is material all around for you to pick and choose from, in the non-fiction forum we battle with being too sickeningly sweet to being to morbidly real. Even falling somewhere in between can be dangerous, because you can get stuck there. This is the where the point is driven home. Moderation once again is the solution. We need balance in our lives, our very make-up dictates this. The next time you feel compelled to say something that occurs to you might be  taken in a way that you don’t necessarily mean for it to be taken.  Hold off, your haste may later require  your foot being surgically removed from your mouth.

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