Things I Wonder About

No formal introduction on this blog.  Let's just get right to it.

1.  Why do some women shave their eyebrows off only to draw them back on?  That has baffled me since childhood.  I didn't understand it then, and I don't understand it now.  That black eyeliner brow you draw on looks like you used a Sharpie on your face.  Stop it!

2.  How does an athlete / entertainer who makes tens or hundreds of millions of dollars go broke?  How does that happen?  Does putting money aside for yourself and family make too much sense?  There's a story in the news about an NFL player, Ryan Broyles, who decided that he and his family would live off $60,000 a year while saving and investing the rest of his millions for their future.  Why is he the exception and not the rule?  I hate reading or hearing stories about people who had small fortunes only to end up broke.  That's just crazy.

3.  How can you be a part of a group of people who has been discriminated against and then discriminate against others?  Let me make it more plain.  How can some Black folks discriminate against other folks?  Let me break it down even further.  As Black people, we have and continue to be subject to racism and prejudice.  So ... how can some of us then turn around and take issue with gay / lesbian / transgender people in their fight for equal and civil rights?  The comments I read and heard from some Black folks (and people, in general, who identify themselves as "Christians") when the Supreme Court upheld gay marriage rights a few weeks ago astounded me.  In the not-so-distant past, people fought to deny Black people basic civil rights.  Shoot, some states are still trying to pass legislation to suppress the Black vote.  How do you look tripping over someone's right to love and marry whomever they choose?  And because God says it's wrong?  You sound like the plantation owner using the Bible to justify the treatment and enslavement of Black folks.  Have a seat.

4.  Why do people act the fool when folks die?  I'm not talking about grief.  I'm talking about sheer, utter, and complete ugliness.  I'm 42 and in my lifetime, I have seen and heard horror stories about messiness and bitter feuds families have when folks die.  For example, Big Mama ain't even buried yet, but folks are fighting over who gets the house or whatever else she owns.  June Bug's funeral is in a couple hours, and Aunt Polly is trying to start some ish by introducing the family to the cousins they never knew they had (ie. June Bug's kids from his "other family").  While there are some things that can be done to help curb the craziness (ie. have a will, have a burial plan, or get a life insurance policy and keep it updated after any major life changes), some folks will still bring the crazy.  It's unfortunate and so unnecessary, too.  Not only do people have to deal with the grief of losing a loved one, but they also have to deal with other people's messiness at a difficult time.

5.  Why is it that when people are messy and you call them on it, they get defensive?  Seriously.  When you are old enough to know wrong is wrong but you still do wrong, why get an attitude when you get called out ... for being WRONG?!?!  Is your messiness supposed to be acceptable?  Are folks supposed to look over you being trifling because ... well, you ARE trifling, and that's what should be expected of you?  Give me a break!  My granddaddy used to always say that a hit dog will holler.  Go to your corner and whimper by yourself.  No one's gonna feel sorry for you for your own self-imposed foolishness.

6.  Why do people get on Facebook and pretend their lives are perfect?  Some of those same people forget there are folks on Facebook who really know them (lol).  My husband refuses to get on Facebook.  Why, you ask?  His reasoning is that he regularly communicates with everyone he needs to, so there's no need to get on Facebook and be "friends" with folks he hasn't seen or spoken to in 10 or 20 years.  He also feels that most of the stuff people post to Facebook is embellished or posted to see how many "likes" are received.  He might be on to something.  Just recently, there was a post on Facebook where someone asked for prayer over the loss of her beloved sister.  I think it's important to tell you this same "beloved sister" had been ill for over five years, and the person asking for prayer had not made any efforts to see or talk to said sister in three years.  But you're on Facebook looking for sympathy?!?!?  Wow.

7.  Why do people trip when you are planning a wedding?  I went through this years ago when my husband and I were planning our wedding, and I have a dear friend going through this now.  People are quick to tell you what you should do or what they want you to do for YOUR wedding, but they haven't offered a dime to fund their requests.  Here's a newsflash.  Not your wedding.  Not about you.  Let the bride and groom do and plan as they please.

8.  Republicans ... how crazy do y'all look with Donald Trump as the leading candidate for your party's nomination for President of the United States?  No need to elaborate further on that one.

9.  Now ... this one hurts me.  Bill Cosby.  Really, dude?!?!?  I grew up watching "Fat Albert" on Saturday mornings, and I have the DVD collection of the show.  I loved watching "The Cosby Show" when it was on TV and have always watched the show in syndication.  I've shared both "Fat Albert" and "The Cosby Show" with my children.  While I didn't want to believe the allegations against Cosby at first, it's hard to deny them now.  I just don't understand.  Bill Cosby?  Rich.  Famous.  Not a bad-looking dude in his young day.  Why in the hell did he have to drug women for sex, and what kind of sick, depraved person do you have to be to do something like that?  I know I don't know Bill Cosby personally, but I feel betrayed.  Damn, Bill.  I'll never be able to watch these shows in the same way again.  Ever.

10.  Why do couples who have been together for 20 years or more separate?  Is it me, or does this seem to be happening more these days?  Does it take 20+ years to realize that your mate wasn't "the one"?  Was the couple waiting for the children to grow up or move out before they separated?  After years of unhappiness, what was that final straw that broke the camel's back?  Do you stay together that long because it's cheaper to keep her (or him)?  20 years, in my opinion, is way too much time to invest in something to let it fail.  This year will make 17 years married and 23 years total I've been with my husband.  There's only one way either of us is leaving this marriage ... somebody's gotta die.

11.  People really make a living impersonating Elvis?

12.  Black Republicans?!?!?

13.  How is it that people who go the the bathroom and leave without washing their hands are surprised when no one eats the dish they bring to the office potluck?

14.  How can you pass a person (on the sidewalk, at the office, or in a hallway), make eye contact, and not smile or say "hi"?  That irritates me because I think it's so rude.  I'm not asking you to strike up a conversation or tell me your life story ... but a "hello", a smile, or a head nod would be nice.

15.  How can any Black person of voting age not vote?  People have marched, protested, and died for your right to vote.  Even now in 2015, some state governments are trying to suppress your right to vote.  If it wasn't so incredibly important, those before us wouldn't have sacrificed themselves for you and people wouldn't be fighting so hard to keep you from doing it.  So get off your butts, register,  and go to the polls.

The things that run through my mind ...

Losing Mama

My mother passed away a few days ago.  I cry even as I type that.  It still doesn't even seem real yet.

My mother had Alzheimer's disease.  When she first got her diagnosis a few years ago, I read any and everything I could get my hands on about the disease.  The one thing I read that stuck with me was this ... when a loved one gets an Alzheimer's diagnosis, the time that's left becomes what many consider to be a long good-bye.

That ain't nothing but the truth.

It was extremely difficult to watch what Alzheimer's can do to someone I love more than life itself.  Even though I knew the day would eventually come when I would have to say good bye, I could never fully prepare myself for that moment.  How could I?  How could I possibly prepare myself to say goodbye to Mama?

Between all the crying spells, the feelings of numbness and disbelief, the countless visits and phone calls my sister and I received from friends and family, the smiles and laughs I had when strolling down memory lane, and eating all that dang chicken folks brought over to my Mama's house, my mind and my heart raced as I found myself having so many thoughts and feelings.

For starters, I'm angry.  I hate Alzheimer's, and I hate what it did to my Mama.  She was loving, smart, spirited, spunky, independent, and kind.  The disease took all that away from her.  I'm angry because she didn't deserve that.  I'm angry because I feel robbed.  Not only did the disease take her away from me, my sister, and our families, but it did so slowly and painfully.  Why MY Mama?  It's just not fair.

Mama schooling her grandkids on the basketball court.

I am saddened that my daughter won't get to know and have a relationship with Mama.  One thing about my Mama.  She loved and spoiled her grandchildren ... ROTTEN.  My niece, nephew, and son are old enough to have been able to enjoy Mama at her prime and have memories of her that I'm sure they will always cherish.  Mama was already suffering from Alzheimer's when my daughter Sydney was born.  While Mama was able to hold Sydney and love up on her for just a short time, I am sad that Sydney won't have any real memories of spending time with Mama.  And oh how Mama would have spoiled her!  All the dresses, clothes, and toys she would have bought.  She would have made sure to have the pantries and refrigerator stocked with Sydney's favorite snacks and cooked all her favorite meals just like she did for her other grandbabies.  She would have showered Sydney with all the hugs and kisses she could stand.  Sydney will miss out on knowing and loving a great person.

Mama and Sydney (July 2013)

And speaking of Sydney, my Mama is gonna miss out being able to laugh at me for all the hard times that may be coming with such a strong-willed little girl.  Now my story is that I was the perfect angel growing up, but my Mama may have told you differently.  I was stubborn.  I liked what I liked and I wasn't shy about expressing what I didn't like.  Because of that, my Mama and I had some clashes when I was growing up, and some of them were epic.  She always said she couldn't wait to see the day I had a daughter that was just like me.  Heaven help me because that day has come.  Sydney is stubborn.  Sydney quickly lets me know what she likes and doesn't like.  Even at the age of 2, we have already had our clashes.  She may look like my husband, but she is definitely my mini me.  My aunt Janice, my Mama's sister, pulled me aside after Mama passed away to tell me she knows my Mama will enjoy watching the show that will be Sydney and me from Heaven.  I have to chuckle to myself because I know she will.

My Mama was an excellent cook.  The holidays will not be the same without her.  One of my absolute favorite childhood memories is waking up on Thanksgiving mornings and smelling the kitchen coming alive with the feasts she stayed up all night preparing for us.  Mama had the house smelling like love.  After I got married, I wasn't able to go home every Thanksgiving.  So, I did everything in my power to recreate the feasts Mama would make in my own kitchen.  Although they were good, they still didn't hold a candle to Mama's.  At Christmas time, Mama and I would bake cookies for Santa.  Even when I was old enough to know the truth about Santa, we still baked together.  Those were great times.

After Mama passed away, I found myself looking through the thousands of photos my parents took and collected over the years.  Even though I always knew my mother was beautiful, some of the photos my sister and I found of her ... WOWZERS!!!!  Mama was a knockout.  My Daddy used to tell my sister and I of the story of the night he met Mama.  She had a smile he couldn't get enough of, her skin was flawless, and she had a bangin' Coke bottle figure.  (Ok, that part was TMI, but you get the picture.)  Mama had an outward beauty that was only surpassed by her inner beauty.

Mama (early 1960s)

Mama and my sister Lisa (1969)

I wish I could have one last conversation with Mama.  What I wouldn't give to hear her voice and get a hug from her one more time.  I would ask her to give me every single piece of advice she had for me, and I would listen intently to make sure I didn't miss anything.  And ... I have so many questions for her.  How did you stay happily married for over 40 years, raise two daughters, work outside the home, keep the house immaculately clean, cook great meals every night, and stay active at church and in the community and make it look so easy?  Where did you hide your Super Woman cape?!?!?  I know doing all that had to be stressful, so how did you cope?  I need to know because there are days I struggle with everything I have on my plate.  How were you able to so easily love and forgive people ... especially when they are less than lovable and thought nothing of mistreating you?  I will be the first to admit that forgiveness is not a strength of mine, and I have given several mental funerals for folks over the years.  What an example you set, Mama.  I'm 42, and I still want to be like you when I grow up.

My favorite picture of Mama and me

The other day, I was in a store, and I heard a teenager talking very disrespectfully to his mother.  It took everything in me not to haul off and smack the shit out of that kid.  (Please excuse the language, but sometimes you just have to say how you feel.)  I literally felt my body getting so hot that I put the items I intended to buy down and left the store.  I was jealous.  This kid had his mother there with him.  She was alive, well, and breathing.  How dare he talk to her like that?  Doesn't he realize how blessed he is to still have her?  And if I talked to my Mama the way he talked to his?!?!?  Please.  My Mama wasn't having any of that.  Sure, I had my disagreements with Mama when I was growing up, but I knew how far I could push things.  I wasn't crazy (lol).

The awesome foursome that was us is now down to the dynamic duo.  Now Daddy and Mama are both gone.

Daddy, Mama, Lisa, and me (2004)

While losing Daddy a few years ago was really hard on us, losing Mama is just different.  Daddy indeed loved his daughters.  He was our provider and protector.  He was our first love and our first example of what a good man looks like.  But Mama.  There is nothing like the love you get from Mama.  Period.  Losing Mama is a heartbreak like none I've ever felt before.  I know it's only been a few days, but I wonder ... how do you heal from this?

Through all the tears I've shed over these last few days, there are two things I can say I'm happy about.  Mama and Daddy are together again.  Daddy passed away almost 7 years ago, and Mama never recovered from that.  I'm no medical doctor or researcher, but I think her grief over losing Daddy led to her rapid decline with Alzheimer's.  This year, they get to spend their wedding anniversary together.

My parents on their wedding day in September 1964

I'm grateful for a supportive husband, family, and friends ... but thank God for my sister, Lisa.  I can't imagine going through this without her.

Lisa and me ... the dynamic duo (May 2015)

A co-worker shared a poem with me after Mama passed away.  Because I couldn't, my sister read it at Mama's funeral.  It was beautiful and so rightly fit with how I was feeling.

God saw you getting tired

and a cure was not to be.

So He put His arms around you and whispered,

"Come to Me."

With tearful eyes we watched you

and saw you pass away.

Although we love you dearly,

we could not make you stay.

A Golden heart stopped beating.

Hard-working hands at rest.

God broke our hearts to prove to us

He only takes the best.

I miss you, Mama.  Terribly.

Faith and Church Attendance : Can You Have One Without The Other?

Disclaimer – Very personal blog entry here.

Confession.  2014 was a very difficult year for me.  While there were some good things I definitely celebrated over the course of 2014, I experienced some significant setbacks that left me reeling.  So when 2015 rolled around, I’m not sure if anyone was happier to see 2014 go away than I was.

For as long as I can remember, I have always gone to church.  Always.  When I was growing up, there was no question where I was going to be every Sunday morning … first Sunday school and then at 11am worship service.  Mama and Daddy made sure of that.  I went to church sporadically during my college years (ie. when I was home from school).  But when I ventured out on my own and settled down in my current hometown, I found a church, and I faithfully attended.  Every Sunday.  Without fail.

For the first several months of 2014, I still regularly attended church.  Even with every disappointment and difficulty I was going through, I still got up and made my way to weekly worship service because I enjoyed it.  There was always a good word.  There was always a good song that ministered to me in some way.  There was always something good I could get from service that kept me wanting to come back the following week.  Well … one Sunday morning, I woke up and decided that I would stay home and relax that day.  The next thing I knew, one missed Sunday morning turned into nearly a year of missed Sunday morning services.  Before I knew it, I had become a faithful and devoted member and president of the deaconess board at Bedside Baptist Church … which was just around the corner from St. Mattress Cathedral.   

During these months of my self-imposed sabbatical from worship service, several thoughts ran through my mind over and over again.  How much of my previous church attendance was just plain old habit … 40+ years of habit?  Was I going to church simply because it’s what I had always done?  While I missed seeing the people and friends who attended the church I was going to, why didn’t I miss going to worship service?  Why was it so easy to stop going and why didn’t I feel bad about not going?  And more importantly, had my faith been so shaken and had my heart become so hardened over things that had happened and were happening that I no longer saw or felt any need or benefit to keep going to church?

Even with all those questions, I still had a couple more.  I’m old enough to know that the storms we go through in life are just temporary and how important it is to hold fast to your faith, stay in prayer, and just keep pressing your way through.  So then, what kind of Christian was I to fall out of fellowship with my church?  There had been no scandal at my church.  Nothing out-of-the-ordinary was going on.  No one hurt me or made me angry enough to want to leave.  My pastor wasn’t making any crazy requests to the congregation for a luxury plane to fly on mission trips.  (Ok.  Lemme just go on ahead and stick my hand out for somebody to pop.  Lol.)  And sure … there were things that happened and didn’t happen at my church that I wasn’t pleased about, but it is a great church with good people.  I just had no desire to be there anymore.

And … who was I to question and be mad at God for placing all these obstacles in my path?  After all, He’s God, and I’m just little ol’ me.  But that’s exactly what I was doing.  I was angry at God because it seemed like every time I turned around, there was something happening.  Disappointment after disappointment.  Bad news on top of bad news I was already dealing with.  Health issues.  Folks that I had to give mental funerals for.  It was too much.  And why the heck was God picking on ME?  Couldn’t He see a sistah was going through some things and give me a break?  He’s seen me struggle.  He’s heard my prayers, but my prayers were falling on deaf ears because He’s still not helping a sistah out.  What gives, God?

The first Sunday I didn’t go to church was really no big deal.  The next Sunday rolled around, and I decided to take another week off.  After a few weeks had passed, I concluded that maybe I just won’t go to church anymore.  When I go to church, life is hard.  When I don’t go to church, life’s still hard.  So, what does it matter, right?  What’s the difference?  

Even though I haven’t regularly attended church and even though I called myself being angry at God for this seemingly continuous and unrelenting storm I’m in, I found that I must have picked up something from all those 40+ years of going to church.  (If not, I’m an extremely slow learner, but I digress.) 

Admittedly, I don’t pray as often as I should, but I still pray.  I mostly pray for others, and I still pray that God will reveal whatever lesson He’s trying to show me (and I really pray He does it quickly). 

I don’t pick up my Bible as much as I should, but He still puts people in my path that can give me a word, and oftentimes it comes when I least expect it.  Several days ago, a coworker posted something on Facebook that was EXACTLY what I needed to hear on that very day.  A few weeks ago, it was from a man who recognized me from my church.  I was in the checkout line at the grocery store when I looked up and saw him staring at me.  I smiled and went on about my business.  When I turned to walk out of the store, he’s waiting on me and tells me he needs to see me back at church.  He told me no matter what I’m dealing with, it wasn’t too big for God.  Although he looked familiar to me, to this day I have no clue who this man is, what his name is, or what he thinks he knows about me.  All I know is that it was meant for our paths to cross at Food Lion that day.

And yes, I feel like I’m still in my storm, but I have found when things go well, I catch myself telling God “thank you”.  I thanked Him for sparing my job recently when others around me were let go.  I thanked Him for the good report my daughter recently received after having to undergo testing at the pediatric cardiology department at Duke Children’s Hospital.  I guess somewhere deep down in all my hurt and anger, I know all the good things that happen are also a part of God’s plan for me. 

(But again, though.   God … can we push this big reveal along?  Please and thank you.)

So then, my question becomes is it possible to still have faith even without seeing the inside of a church in months?  To answer my own question, I guess it’s a yes.  My faith has been shaken.  My faith has been tested.  My faith has been tucked away on my mental shelf … but it’s still there.  If it wasn’t there, I wouldn’t have been able to pray at all even though I don’t pray (or praise) like I should.  If it wasn’t there, I wouldn’t be able to tell God “thank you” even though I’m angry, hurt, and don’t understand why things are as they are.  If it wasn’t there, I wouldn’t read the countless scriptures my sister emails, texts, or quotes to me on a near daily basis … and I do mean countless.  It’s still there.  I just need to get all out of my feelings and tend to my mustard seed.

Will I go back to church?  Eventually.  When?  Who knows?  But what I have learned about myself over these past few months is that I am far from being a perfect person, let alone the perfect Christian … if there is such a thing.  I am still a work in progress.

Y’all pray for a sistah.  

Finally ... It's Down

The South Carolina capital ... without the Confederate flag.

A little over a month ago, I wrote a blog entry (see "Pardon Our Sensitivity") about the Confederate flag after some recent events that happened in North Carolina.  In that blog, I talked about growing up in South Carolina and how it had been made clear year and year and over and over again that the state government in South Carolina was never going to remove that flag.

A couple weeks after I wrote that blog, there was the shooting at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston.  And days after the shooting, there were renewed pleas and protests in getting the Confederate flag removed from the state capital.  After weeks of heated discussions, several rallies in favor of and in opposition to the flag, and many hours of debate on the state senate and house floors, the flag is down.  It's came down TODAY.

I never thought I would live to see this day.  Never.

But ... I'm glad the day has finally come.

The debate over the removal of this flag has gone on in South Carolina for as long as I can remember.  I never understood the debate because the flag should have NEVER been on the capital grounds in the first place.  For some people, the flag means "heritage".  For others, it means racial oppression.  How in the world could something so divisive be allowed to fly for so long on a state capital when it clearly isn't representative of all the state's people?

While I am happy, grateful, and thankful the flag is not on the state grounds anymore, today's removal is a bittersweet victory.  I'm still saddened that it took nine innocent people getting killed in order for lawmakers in South Carolina to realize the flag needed to go .., something many of us have always known.

Facing Facts - I'm Old

I will be the first to admit that when I turned forty a few years ago, I was all in my feelings about it.  I don't know if I was just going through a mid-life crisis or if I was just thinking too much about all the things I still wanted to do before my time here on Earth was up.  My bucket list was pretty long, and at forty, I had barely scratched its surface.

When I was younger, I was always under the impression that forty was old.  Ancient.  Over-the-hill.  Half-way to the grave.  I remember my Mother having a minor health scare at age forty.  I remember my Grandma Frances telling folks she was 39 my entire life.  I've been doing that, too ... celebrating the anniversaries of my 39th birthday for the past few years.

Well ... I've recently come to a realization.  I AM old.  Surprisingly, though, I'm at peace with it.  I am in good health.  I look good, as I am often told, "I never would have guessed you were THAT old".

Here's how I know that I am old.

1.  I find myself more and more these days starting off sentences to my kids like, "When I was your age, I ..."  My toddler daughter is still too young to care when I say that, but I get big eye rolls and hefty sighs from my son when I do ... probably because he knows he's in for a long story when I say that.

2.  I am a lover of music.  Always have been and always will be.  I find myself dissecting new music I hear on the radio these days and can quickly identify the songs that are sampled in them.  If my son is with me when I do this, I always hit him off with, "Lemme pull up the original song on my iPod."  He hits me back with more eye rolls.
 
3.  ... and speaking of music, some of the stuff that comes on the radio these days?  Straight garbage.  Seriously, anybody can have a hit record now.  No matter the message, if it's got a catchy beat, it's a hit.  If I'm not listening to my iPod or CDs in the car, the radio stays on my local R&B and classic soul station.  I don't even wanna know what a flick of the wrist is or what the hell a trap queen / king is.  Whatever it is / they are, it just sounds stupid.

4.  ... and while we're still talking about music, I know I'm old when I find myself watching music award shows (the Grammys, the AMAs, and especially the BET awards), and I'm on my tablet trying to Google people to figure out who they are and what the heck they are performing.

5.  I remember my grandparents and my parents keeping weekly pill boxes for all their medications.  And what do I use now?

Yeah ... that good ol' weekly pill box.  While I could stand to drop a few pounds, I am in relatively good health.  I am on no doctor-prescribed medications, but I take vitamins and dietary supplements so my body won't break down completely on me.  It's just easier to keep up with them all in a pill box.  So, I bit the bullet and bought one a few years ago.

6.  Just this past weekend, I did something I told myself I would never do.  I knew I was going to be outside for a little while, and ... well ... hot weather and ample breasts don't really go together.  So ... I used baby powder to help cut down on the wetness.  All I could think about as I powdered myself were all the old women (grandmothers, great-aunts, older cousins) who hugged me as a child at reunions and how I would always have baby powder on my shirt after we separated.  I could do nothing but laugh at myself and hope that if I hugged someone that day, I wouldn't leave them the gift of a white spot on their shirt.

7.  My husband and I will be needing to buy a new car in the near future.  While we both are of the same mindset that we will drive our current cars until they just refuse to move anymore, we do recognize that we are in need of another vehicle.  While we aren't actively shopping for a car, we have narrowed our list down to a few vehicles.  One of them is a ... (gulp) ... BUICK.  I swore on a stack of Bibles when I was growing up that there would be two cars I would never, ever buy.  One was an Oldsmobile, and the other was a Buick.  I considered those to be old people cars ... and here I am thinking about buying one.  Wow.

But those Enclaves, though ...

8.  The older I get, the more I sound like my parents.  The sayings I grew up hearing have somehow now made their way into my everyday language.  Just like my Daddy, I tell my son to turn off the lights when he leaves a room because he "ain't paying any light bills 'round here".  My sister and I were good kids most of the time, but on several occasions I remember my Mama saying she wished she could take "a slow boat to China" whenever she needed some down time.  Why does that boat ride sound so nice now?  And did you know that "Slow Boat to China" is a real song?

9.  I find myself thinking of and dreaming about retirement more often these days.  I've been in the workforce now for 20+ years.  I'm tired.  Between my full-time job, my side hustle business, and running around with two active children, I daydream about the time when I can sleep late, take leisurely strolls through my neighborhood or go mall-walking while wearing a fanny pack, and travelling the world.  At my age, I still have about 20 more years before I retire.  That seems so far away.  (sigh)

10.  Do old women still wear pantyhose / stockings / knee highs?  Because if so, then ... yep.  I'm old.

11.  Judging from the looks, side-eyes, and blank stares I get sometimes from my kids, I'm old.  A few months ago when we were playing music at home one evening, "Rollin' With Kid-N-Play" came on.  What?!?!?  Instant dance party.  My husband and I broke out dancing, and even did the Kid-N-Play.  I wish the cameras could have caught the looks my son gave us.  Priceless.  And afterwards, he asked us with hints of disgust and bewilderment in his voice, "What was that?"

12. I also know I'm getting old when my friends and classmates have children graduating from high school and college.  One of my husband's classmates just had a son graduate recently from law school.  How old are we?!?!?

And my niece ... Lord!  I remember when she was born.  She was the flower girl at my wedding.  I remember spoiling her rotten and taking her to Chuck E. Cheese when I would keep her on weekends when she was little and taking her shopping when she became a teenager.  Now ... she's my Sorority sister and is in graduate school.

And my nephew!  I remember burning up the interstate when my sister went into labor to get there in time for his birth.  I remember how not one summer would go by without him spending at least a week with my husband and me.  Now ... he's a 6 foot, 4 inch tall college sophomore.

... and my son!  He just turned 13.  THIRTEEN.  He's getting tall, he has pimples, and a mustache.  A MUSTACHE!!!  His voice went from El Debarge to Barry White overnight, it seems.

Where did my babies go?

My son, niece, and nephew ... in 2007 and 2014.

13.  In my younger days, I was all about wearing cute, fashionable heels.  These days, I'm all about comfort.  While I still have several pair of killer heels on my shoe rack in the closet, they are reserved for Sundays or special occasions.  Everyday footwear is now dominated by Clarks and sneakers.  I still haven't brought myself to buying a pair of Hush Puppies, but they are in my future.  Oh, yeah.  I even got my eye on a pair.

14.  I used to pick at my parents and grandparents for going to bed early and waking up at the crack of dawn.  Guess who does that now?  Yep, that would be me.  I'm so glad there's a 10pm news broadcast because the chances of me staying awake past 11pm are pretty slim to none.  And ... I find that I'm up early in the mornings, too.  Sometimes I'm up doing chores (laundry, cooking, or whatever).  Sometimes I'm up just because that's about the only time all day I get time to myself.

15.  I can't see a damn thing anymore these days.  I've had to change the font on my computer screen at work from medium to extra large.  When I read stuff, I do a Fred Sanford and move the book or papers back and forth to try to focus on it.  AND ... now?  Bifocals.  My Grandma used to wear bifocals, and now I do, too.  When the optometrist hit me with the B word, I felt some kind of way about that.  What's next?  The large print Bible by my nightstand?

16.  And of course the older I get, the more I hear about my old school, hometown, or former work buddies who have passed away.  It's happening more and more frequently in these last few years.  Sad.

There are still times when I feel some anxiety about getting older.  Some of that is because of my vanity.  I may be getting old but I'm not trying to LOOK old.  Some of the anxiety comes because of the unknown.  But ... I've learned to take it all in stride.  Waking up everyday pain free, with the activity of all my limbs, and able to have another chance to do something and to be great is a privilege denied to many.  I'll take it.

Prayers for Charleston

My heart is heavy today, and I just can’t seem to shake the sadness.

I went to bed last night to the news that someone opened fire at the historic Emanuel A.M.E. Church in Charleston, SC during Wednesday night Bible study.  Even though I heard and saw the breaking news story before I lay down, something would not let me believe that this had really happened.

I woke up a few hours later, turned on the television, and what I was hoping was a very bad dream turned out to be a reality.  Nine people killed as they attended Bible study.  Others were injured.  I heard a report that a 5 year old child played dead, and that’s what spared the child’s life.

When I realized this shooting in Charleston was indeed real, I thought of the church bombing of the 16^th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham of 1963.  Another act of hate carried out on sacred ground.  Innocent Black lives lost. 

But … my mind kept racing and wandering.

Unarmed Black men in this country are killed at an alarming rate, and rarely do their killers face any consequences … even when they go to trial.

Police brutalize our children in the streets … and at pool parties, too.

Many Southern states are trying to pass laws to restrict our voting rights.

There have even been recent stories of lynchings in South.  Remember hearing about Lennon Lacy?

People have taken to the streets in protest or have staged sit-ins to demand equal rights and opportunities and to take a stand against injustice.

And now this … innocent people are attacked and killed at a house of worship ... a place of refuge.

Remind me again what year this is?  The more things change, the more they stay the same.

These same headlines from 2015 could just have easily been ones my parents read about and saw on the news and lived through in the 1960s.  People fought, marched, and died so this generation – OUR generation – could have unmatched and unlimited freedoms.  So my rhetorical question of the day is this … why are the same things that happened decades ago during the Civil Rights Era recurring now with such frequency? 

It’s sad.  It’s disheartening.  It’s a shame.

Have we really overcome?

My heart breaks for these families, for this church family, for this community, and for our country.

God be with us all.

Pardon Our Sensitivity ...

Sometimes the best way to approach a subject is just to go ahead and put it all out there.  So, here goes …

It is 2015.  Why is the presence of the Confederate flag in the South STILL a big issue? 

If you know me personally or if you have been following my blog, you know I was born and raised in South Carolina.  Even today, South Carolina still flies the Confederate flag over its state capital.  And year after year it has been made abundantly clear to South Carolinians and to everyone else in the world that the flag ain’t going anywhere, either.

There was a story circulating in my local area a few weeks ago about some high school students who took a picture at a historical site in Gettysburg and posted the picture on Instagram with the caption, “The South will rise again.”  Later on in the comments, someone posted the remark that they had already purchased their first slave.  That comment was supposed to have been a joke according to the person who posted it.  Well … not funny. 

In another recent local news story, a student at Duke University hung a noose on a tree, forgot about it, and left it there for the entire campus to see.  That student later issued an apology that went something sort of like this.  My bad.  I didn’t realize hanging a noose on a tree in the South was a big deal.  (Yes, this is my loose translation of that “apology”.)

I was reading the comments on the pages of my local news stations and on social media, and I found the overwhelming sentiments on that flag incident I mentioned are that “we” (READ – Black people) just need to get over it.  The Confederate flag is a part of Southern history, and “we” need to accept its historical significance, stop being so sensitive, and basically shut the hell up.

Well, I can agree with one thing.  The Confederate flag is indeed a part of Southern history.  What I don’t agree with is that “we” need to accept the flag and all it symbolizes as being okay to wave, wear, or revere.  And here’s what baffles me the most.   Why is it so difficult for some people to comprehend why the Confederate flag strikes such a nerve with Black people? 

Supporters of this flag are quick to say that Black folks need a history lesson on the significance of the flag.  The flag symbolizes history and not hatred.  And here’s my favorite … “we” are racists if we get offended by the flag.  What kind of stuck-on-stupid reverse psychology is that supposed to be? 

When I think of the Confederate flag, I think of how it was present at every lynching of Black people by angry mobs.  When I think of the Confederate flag, I think of how it was waved after homes and churches of Black people were bombed and burned to the ground.  When I think of the Confederate flag, I see it being carried by hooded members of the KKK as they spread their doctrine of White supremacy and as they tried to strike fear the lives of Black people by leaving burning crosses for all to see.  When I think of the Confederate flag, I see it flying highly and freely by crowds of people attempting to block the doors of schools as National Guard troops escorted children to school during the times of integration.   

Clearly, the Confederate flag has a drastically different meaning for some of us.  So … dear kind sir or ma’am, please excuse us Black folks for being overly sensitive.  What are “we” thinking?!?!?