Ode to MJ

Picture it…1972, the Jackson 5 come to Jamaica and my sister, their greatest fan, goes to their concert. I am too young to go but I ride in the backseat of my father’s Ford Cortina to the national stadium to drop her off and witness the euphoria in the parking lot for my four year old self. My big sister, my idol, brings home a signed poster of the Jackson five that adorns the wall of our shared room until she leaves for college in the United States and I, thinking I’m big, take down the poster to make the room mine, after years of waiting. The poster is lost but my journey with Michael begins.

Summer of 1983, I’m not sure whose party on Norbrook Drive in Kingston, Jamaica. I don’t remember whether I was invited or if I was along with an invited friend who carried me in but all my gate crasher friends were there. I can still remember the electric blue halter top dress I was wearing and the smell in the air of chicken being barbequed wafting up into the sky in blue plumes that clear, beautiful, summer night.

We were all dancing en group when a change in the pace of the music had signaled that single folks like me needed to depart the dance floor, while those with boyfriends snuggled in close. So I sat on the driveway of some person’s yard trying to save my hair from being too much of a sweaty frizz, when the DJ put on “Human Nature” and the boy I had a crush on asked me to dance. I still remember being led by the hand through the crowd to the dance floor and my heart beating so loud it almost drowned out Michael’s singing while my sistrens gave me the thumbs up signal as we moved closer. That was teenage bliss.

Fast forward a couple of years; my sister, her baby and I are leaving the hospital after a long sad visit with a loved one. The drive home was draining and sad, no one is speaking, our hearts were grey and the flow of our tears had just stemmed, momentarily. Michael Jackson’s “Leave Me Alone” comes on the radio and out of nowhere this little one year old in her car seat starts to sing “Neave me ano ow ow ow; Neave me ano ow ow ow; Just stop dogging me around.” We burst into laughter as our adult eyes made four in the front seat, amazed. She could not even talk that well, much less to remember the chorus of a song plus, when did she learn to sing? Just like that the mirth was back in our lives. Good memories from my twenties.

Next, that baby turns nineteen and suddenly, excruciatingly, her spirit is called home. Her funeral is being planned and I am to eulogize her. One my sistrens calls me from yard and says ‘what can I do?’ I say send Chissy to sing “Gone Too Soon,” she says “done.” Her daughter comes to Florida with a professional arrangement of “Gone Too Soon” on CD, belts out an unforgettable rendition of that Michael Jackson classic, stuns the gathering at the emotion and beauty in the voice of a then thirteen year old. We send that singing baby home in fine style. I say goodbye to my thirties.

Then Michael Jackson dies on my sister's birthday, she is the one who calls me to let me know.

So, today during MJ’s memorial I insist my girls watch, telling them that this is history in the making. They are not impressed! But then Brooke Shields comes on and wait a minute, that’s Hannah Montana’s Mom! They are enthralled and somehow a five year old and an eight year can relate, his multi-generational appeal has touched the youngest amongst us. Remarkable!

Goodbye MJ, I did not realize I was such a forty-one year old fan until you were gone. But as I am now just beginning to comprehend, your songs were there at every metamorphic interval in my life. I heard on TV that your career spanned thirty eight years, I know, I was there. God Speed. Selah.

Dancing Between the Raindrops

I decided that I had to carry out the garbage in a deluge tonight. Why I thought it could not wait until my husband came home or till when there was less water, I don’t know but I knew I had to carry it out so I did. I had been as mean and as stern with my children as I could have been as I ordered everyone to go to bed so as to rush out on my ridiculous task ignoring the hints their worried bedtime prayers spoke out loud, I was too focused on my mission.

When I opened the front door, the downpour roared right up to my face daring me to step out flashing its promise of deceptive luminance in brilliant waves of forbidding sheet lightening. So ignoring my inner alarm of the marauding elements, I ducked my head down and made a run for it. But then a funny thing happened.

I glided outside almost as if I was moving between tears. At first while I dropped my recycling tins in the bin I thought… for real the reflection of these cans shall surely cause me to get stuck by lightening… but it didn’t. Then I became energized. I ran with the first bin to the gate not feeling the rain and the cold as it emptied down from the skies on my head, I felt curiously free and almost as if I danced. By the time I got to the second bin I had hit a rhythm, I grabbed it from the side of the house, hoisted it over the car as if dancing with the stars bound, launching my partner to the sidewalk with pure unfettered athleticism even pausing to check that it and all its contents remained intact as any good waltz partner would. For my final flourish, I jumped in full out split mode, toes pointed on my rubber boot clad feet, spread eagle to back to the front door and safety. The dance was done, mission completed.

Back inside, I walked happily back up the stairs to the quiet of a sleeping household proud of my accomplishment. Then two little voices called out “Mummy are you safe, we were praying for you.” I was struck right then. The lightening came to me in the form of the insight that:- as I looked down on my jeans in awe at the fact that all but the hem of the pants remained dry as a bone:- what kept me safe outside was not my own courage but two children’s innocent forgiving hearts and a loving God who allowed a mother who had misplaced her priorities in urgency, the chance to come back and hug her children, again. Awesome!

Dance then wherever you may be,
I am the Lord of the Dance said he,
and I’ll lead you all wherever you may be,
and I’ll lead you all in the dance said he.


Selah.

At Last!!

How appropriate was it that President Obama and his wife danced to the Etta James classic, “At Last,” on inauguration night? I alone can think of so many at lasts that culminated in that dance, on that hour, for so many, on so many levels, that so very historic night.

At last Mr. Obama was no longer President in waiting! At last Mr. Bush was out! At last there was a new direction, with the world watching, feeling inspired in this at last’s wake! At last the attempt to heal a nation broken by years of divisive policies could begin! At last Dr. Martin Luther King’s dream had been realized, he had been to the mountaintop and knew this day would come! At last African Americans, no, make that persons of African descent worldwide, could hold our heads high, our young people could respectfully pull their pants up, realizing that we are no longer a minority, one of us is the leader of the free world…At last!! At last the inescapable contribution of the slaves on whose backs the new world was built, had not toiled in vain; the tears of mothers whose children had been lynched had been vindicated; at last the indignities of the Jim Crow era were satiated and we could ride anywhere in the bus, design the bus, fix the bus or drive the bus, BMWs or walk, if we pleased (shout out to AKH)…At last, At last, AT LAST.

At last in this symbolic act, children who once saw themselves limited in the reach of their potential realized that they actually could be exactly what they wanted to be, at last their potential was really limitless. So here we sit ushering the dawn of a new era of inclusiveness awestruck. For those of us who thought we would never see it our lifetime, pinch yourselves, you are not dreaming; that night, the spirits of our predecessors (TMWR) danced right up there with the first couple. AT LAST, AL FIN, ENFIN… Jesus Wept. John 11:35. Selah.

Election Day Hi – Jinx

So in a cute development this morning my five year old’s Pre-K teacher set up a mock election for her Pre-K class to participate in. It was too cool to look at. There was a little privacy booth complete with photocopied pictures of the candidates for the children to circle the aspirants of their choice. And this was completely unexpected so parents did not have time or enough information to coach their children on their own voting preferences.

I was so amused and tried to chant the name of the nominee of my choice to my baby’s ears but was quickly shooed out of the room for trying to influence the electorate. Well cut to 12:45 pm when I picked up my daughter only to see a glum face. I enquired as to the cause and the teacher happily blurted out the candidate of my daughter’s choice. To my surprise my child was unhappy because the teacher was saying that she had voted for a particular candidate, a charge which she vehemently denied, and then began to sulk about it. It was almost as if she expected to be chastised for her vote.

Quickly I tried to reassure her that her vote was her choice and she was entitled to her opinion and there was no such thing as a bad or wrong vote. To the contrary I reasoned, what was a reprehensible act is having the facility to let your voice be heard and not taking full advantage of that ability! She was just interested in the fact that her ballot did not go to the candidate that she intended to choose and was so crestfallen by same.

Subsequently, while we were waiting for her older sister to be dismissed, another favorite teacher saw her downcast face and enquired like I did as to the matter. When I told her, she was almost visibly offended and asked in an accusatory tone “So is that a bad thing?” Realizing that this could be a supporter of the other candidate I immediately backpedalled and tried to say that because there was a majority in the class my daughter was objecting to the fact that she did not have a chance to be a part of the winning ballot group. Right then and there I began to really get how much of a personal choice this was and even to a five year old the right to keep your selection private is sacred and both the well meaning teacher and myself had unintentionally violated her suffrage entitlement – if a five year old can have one!

I guess the moral of this story is that as we keep living, we keep learning.

Results of the Pre K vote:

Barack Obama 11 John McCain 4 Margin of error +/- 1

Selah.

Change is in the Air!! Notes from the Ground On This Historic Election Day 11/04/08

Even the weather feels different today…. Change is not coming, it is here! Usually the morning is brisk with a chill that would numb your bones!! Not this morning! It feels like all provisions were being pulled out even in the heavenly realm to ensure that all goes well for the voters. I did not drop my kids to school today, I walked because I knew there would no available parking at their polling station school. And What A Sight! There was a line already out the door at 8:30 am, excitement is in the air!! Everyone is happy, pleasant and polite the electricity in the air is palpable!

There are some reports already of electronic malfunctions at that polling station, everyone is wary of that situation but interestingly enough they are not leaving! All around there is a buzz that no one should leave the polling station until their vote is cast! People are on there phones calling work explaining that even though they have been at the station since 7:00 am they cannot vote and they are not leaving until they do!! The authorities have already changed out one machine and everyone is prepared to wait it out! The common feeling is that no one is going to allow an election to go the way of the hanging or dimpling chad of lore!

In the classroom, my youngest in her Pre-K class is participating in a mock election…too cute while my eldest also goes to the polls in her class!! Isn’t democracy great? I’ll post updates later.

I have been to the mountain top and I have seen the promise land and I may not get there with you but I have a dream…Yes, We Can!! Selah.

Friendship Redifined

The other day I was remarking to someone that I thought I might have recently offended another person. But further in the conversation it occurred to me that I could check a popular social networking website to which I am a member to see if I was still on that person’s friends list. By that point in the conversation the person that I was speaking with was convulsing with laughter and right then the truth in the absurdity of what I was saying hit me like a ton of bricks, Facebook and MySpace are at the helm of a quiet revolution that is redefining the contemporary parameters of the word “friendship” as we know it.

Take this for example; someone else once spoke about being sent a friend request again on a social networking website, by a co-worker who was really just an acquaintance. That individual then was forced to either let this person have access to the private details of his life that a co-worker would not ordinarily have access to, or ignore the friend request. He decided to do the latter but his distress was compounded when the co-worker, several days after not getting an accepting friend correspondence, came to him to enquire as to the matter. Well needless to say, I’m sure the office became a less friendly place when an explanation along the lines of ….”I’m just not that into you,” was given.

Another person spoke of feeling very awkward about a friend request that he had gotten from an ex-girlfriend who had been very deceptive all during their relationship. Though it had been several years since the relationship had ended and both of them had moved on, he was conflicted as to whether he wanted to allow this murky figure from his past to have such a familiarity with his new and improved life.

Also, sometimes on those websites hackers disguise viruses as friend requests as that appeals to some people’s vanity. You see, all types belong to these networks including those who it seems are in a race to add to their friends lists in some sort of rabid popularity contest gone awry mode; the premise being, the more friends the more worthy thus these people become quick fodder for scams when they befriend a frienemy.

More than that, I have been privy to persons having to explain who they are and where they know an individual from when a friend request comes back with questions like, “who are you again!” At that point I believe you should cut your loses and move on, clearly a friend you are not, if they have no recall of your existence. On the other end of the spectrum, there are those who develop a running online dialog with persons after receiving their friend request but do not acknowledge same. Maybe they are worried that the seeker might disapprove or be horrified by the intimate details of their life so they ignore the olive branch of new age friendship that is being waved their way. I tell you it is all so complicated.

At this point I am not sure what the current definition of friend is, given these new friendship factors. All I can do is to figure that the people who you can call in the middle of the night and disturb their sleeping baby when you are in a bind, are your friends. Those who don’t laugh at your hatred of your middle name are your friends; those sounding board listeners who don’t judge your idiosyncrasies are your friends and those who you haven’t seen in ten years but can pick up where you last left off without pauses in the conversation being uncomfortable, are your friends. Who knows, maybe the traditional definition has not really changed, instead maybe it has evolved with the times. Selah.

"It's the Economy, Stupid!!"

Years ago when President Bill Clinton was campaigning against President George Bush sr., this was the catch phrase of his campaign, “It’s the Economy, stupid!” Well fast forward sixteen years and it constantly befuddles me how come none of the campaigns have seen it fit to focus on the economy. I mean with Lehman Brothers, Merril Lynch and AIG all recording major trouble in the same week, where is the rally call…”It’s the economy, stupid?” I have heard about a bridge to nowhere, championing voting rights in congress and lies in the media, but no one has clued into, …”It’s the economy, stupid!”

On the street where I live, the man across the road, the lady beside him and my neighbor directly beside me have all lost their jobs over the last year. Certainly they were able to get jobs again but I’m almost sure their rate of pay and not to mention their tenure has suffered …”It’s the economy, stupid!” There were two houses on this street that recently sold after being on the market for over a year and a half and when they did sell they went for almost twenty per cent below asking price…”It’s the economy, stupid!” I was speaking to a friend of mine who was having a migraine headache and when I enquired why she did not go to the doctor, she told me that she had a choice of making the doctors co-payment or putting gas in her car so she was taking Tylenol instead…”It’s the economy, stupid!” My sister in law in the medical field speaks of getting less hours on the job because people have to make co-payment choices, my sister speaks of massive layoffs in her sector …”It’s the economy, stupid!” Can anyone hear me?

A lot of people on the top of the food chain think of the economy as some airy fairy, pie in the sky concept that that is to be tracked by statistics and graphs. No it is not! It is a bread and butter issue that affects the way how people feed their children. How can I expect a man whose wife’s outfit cost more than most people’s house to understand this predicament? How can I expect the first term governor in her second year of office, from an oil rich state with a population barely higher than that of the county I live in, to catch my drift? Does the regular guy from ordinary circumstances who worked his way to the top comprehend this plight? I don’t know but November is coming and these issues need to be addressed, shucks they could once again become a rally call…”It’s the economy, stupid!” Selah.

9/11...7 Years Later.

You know when I was a little girl, my mother would always tell me about her experience of a worldwide life changing event - when everyone it seems felt the same vulnerability. For my mother’s generation that event was when President John F. Kennedy was so horribly killed in such a frightening way. For my generation the event was September 11, 2001 when those two buildings fell in almost slow motion. I feel I could wager that just as how my mom’s colleagues could always remember where they were and what they were doing on that fatal day, my contemporaries too will forever have this date etched in their minds and the feeling of helplessness that occupanied the disaster.

I remember how much of a beautiful morning, September 11, 2001 had started out as being as I cradled my baby in my arms. I remember how that all changed in a heartbeat. I remember being struck by the cacophony created as every available sirened vehicle rushed down to the scene to assist in anyway possible. I remember TV showed nothing else. I remember the smell of burning ruins with all their contents burning too, that filled Brooklyn’s skies and parched the back of your throat. I remember the darkness that covered that city during the daylight and people just standing outside looking up for answers to the common unspoken question…”Is this the end?” I remember children being stuck at home panic-stricken as they longed for some word, any word of their parents fate. I remember seeing thousands walking home trying desperately to get a signal on their cell phones as the roads in were closed, heavily guarded and public transportation halted. I remember how communication ceased in the city as one of the WTC towers had an important transmitter that was lost in the days events. I remember how much that day caused people to look at themselves and reorder their priorities.

I also remember the change that followed and New Yorkers rallying to tame the turmoil. How a city that was known for being distant and unfeeling wore its heart on its sleeve and the entire world reached out to comfort it. I remember the vacuous hole that appeared in the center of the city once the rubble had been cleared became a pilgrimage of the macabre that everyone had to make and the twin rays of light that beamed up into the sky soon afterwards in ethereal remembrance of what was. I remember looking down into that deep unforgiving cavern marveling through my tears.

Since that time, hope has replaced fear and has finished a memorial to that day at the sister site in Washington DC. Hope is rebuilding on that same Manhattan site with reverence and a view to the future. Hope is everywhere even outside of a little town in Arkansas and as Jamaicans would say, “its better to live in Hope than Constant Spring.” So now the air is no longer blocked by haze and my baby is a second grader who on a clear crisp, September 11, 2008 is being taught to respect and never forget, September 11, 2001 while expectations remain bright. The world has changed. Selah.

Does God Have A Brother?

So we were out in the backyard early one Saturday morning my girls and I, communing with nature as we bathed our dog when my eldest, obviously struck by the absolute beauty of the moment and the serenity of the mood, asked the following question…

“Mummy, Does God have a brother?”

I sat bolt upright. The depth of this child’s thoughts always intrigues me. Then her sister chimes in,

“Yeah, or a sister?”

Building on that sister theme, my eldest then added,

“Yeah and does that make Mother Nature his sister?”

I liked the fact that given the direction of the questioning, both my girls had come to a realization of God’s omnipotence because they did not seem to think that Mother Nature was God’s Mom. But to me it was curious that they chose to put her in a sister slot. And then it struck me that the beauty of the morning could only be attributed to God or his sister Mother Nature who must be his proxy for all things beautiful, while his is busy handling bigger issues like hurricanes and new born babies.

So I answered,

“No he doesn’t girls, but that is a wonderful question.” “Good Thinking!”

Selah.

Somethings To Make You Say Hmmmmm!!

Yesterday morning I checked my television’s Olympic coverage and was surprised to see that a decathlon race was being broadcast live from the Bird’s Nest at 9:30 in the a.m. Whatttt! How come when Lightening was striking at that venue, we on continental United States had to settle for watching his reflected magnificence in rebroadcast? Were the higher ups at that t.v. station trying to steal his thunder from us? How can that t.v. station’s coverage on behalf of the world be so one-sided? I wonder what is going to happen now that the Americans have DQed out of the sprint relay finals - if they will attempt to bury coverage of the race in the 2:45 a.m. broadcast slot? Maybe the BBC would do a better, less biased job in coverage and this should be considered when the Olympic coverage contract bids are being reviewed in the future. Something to make you say Hmmmmm!

As for you Mr. International Olympics Committee chairman, your cowardice is unbearable. Sure you are big enough to pick on a single sprinter from a poor island, third world country, but do you have the chutzpah to take on a world power about discrepancies in their athletes eligibility requirements or far more detrimental to the entire global athletic contingent, would you question same power about the quality of the air those sports people are breathing? When you can do that, then your opinion will hold more weight with the ordinary person like me, or do you care? Something to make you say Hmmmmm! Selah.

Trifectas Galore

Sometimes there is no greater motivation than being overlooked or being undervalued. This was proven two nights in a row when the Jamaican Women sprint team took the 100 meter final with a 1-2-2 finish and again the following night when the U.S. male hurdlers swept the 100 meter hurdles final with a 1-2-3 finish. The results should not have surprised anyone, for the Jamaican Women needed to prove themselves as a separate but equal entity apart from the men’s team and the Americans needed to do something to redeem themselves from a very dismal team performance to that point.

What happened next was a fantastic rebound in an almost textbook way that showed spirit leading talent into greatness and Trifectas galore. I mean, I could be wrong but I don’t think that it happens often in a single renewal of the Olympics that two teams sweep an event in world record times. So hats off to the Jamaican Women and the American Male Hurdlers. Job well done. When Men on earth have done their best, Angels in heaven can do no more. Selah.

Struck By "Lightening!"

I would not be a Jamaican worth my salt if I did not take time out to bask in Usain Bolt’s, or “Lightening's” as he is more favorably known ah yard, glory. The feat was phenomenal. He not only broke his own record but he did it while slowing down to celebrate. One can only imagine what the record would have been had he gone for broke straight through the finish line. Then there is the fact that never before had anyone broken the world record while winning the gold in the 100 meter sprint final, at the Olympics. The commentator even mentioned that before “Lightening” struck, it was thought to be impossible to smash the record and win Olympian gold in the 100 at the same time. Oh Well!!!

“Lightening” struck in other places too. For instance, here in the north east I was not able to watch Olympic coverage of that race until way down in the night, somewhere after eleven o’clock. Now I know that the race was telecast in Jamaica at 9:30 am, 8:30 am our time, so I wonder if when “Lightening” stuck he inadvertently disabled all the fancy rebroadcast equipment that NBC has and therefore caused a more than thirteen hour delay in telecasting the event. I know the delay was not due to the fact that Tyson Gay did not qualify for the race and there was only a bronze medal win for the other American participating. Bronze in a field of champions is great too but surely other accomplishments deserved and received more attention than a mere third place finish.

Among his peers in the race, some looked as if they had been struck by “Lightening” even before they started. My heart went out to fellow Jamaican participant, Asafa Powell. Deep in his eyes Asafa looked as if he had surrendered to not winning the race even before it had began, while Usain just knew he was going to win.

In Jamaica, the tumultuous gun violence that has shrouded some areas of the country for years stopped while the race was being run! Yes, it has been said that even the intrepid shotta of lore paused his misdeeds to watch “Lightening” strike. This being said, if true, places one man, Usain “Lightening” Bolt in the annals of history, able to do what countless political regimes, church caucuses and foreign government brokered peace initiatives have failed at doing, bringing a momentary ceasefire to the madness. Maybe the gods on Mount Olympus are missing their messenger. Is it just coincidence that our champion is Bolt in golden shoes and not Mercury in winged sandals? Check out his Olympic winning pose; you can either be the Judge or be struck by Lightening. Selah.

From One Bird Nest to Another

When I was in high school I was given the unfortunate moniker “Bird Nest.” Make no mistake there was nothing complimentary about the name. You see in an all girls high school nicknames could be cute or complimentary, mine was not cute. It made direct reference, whether true or untrue, to the perception that my flyaway hair was not as well coiffed as others. I protested the intent behind the name and happily it was soon dropped from usage.

Well fast forward more than twenty years and there is a new, positive and without a doubt far more spectacular Bird Nest on the scene. Better than that, there are now all these positive associations with the name. There are allusions being made to the nurturing environment provided by the Birds Nest, it is being linked to the wisdom of the Chinese society, its revolutionary design is being heralded by everyone with eyes, great!!

From one Bird Nest to another, I would like to say, there might be a myriad of untold less savory stories beneath the surface about you but that doesn’t stop you from being magnificent! You go girl. Selah.

Birthday Cake Politics

It recently occurred to me that even in birthday cakes there is politics. At a child’s party it is the most political item there. Firstly its color speaks to the sex of the celebrant that could be considered sexist and therefore very politically incorrect but who’s counting. Then the way its decorated speaks to preferences, skill level (if homemade), age bias – who came up with the brilliant idea of putting candles on it to indicate maturity level?- and dependent on age, pyrotechnic ability.

But the real politics comes when it is time to cut the cake. Initially, the party child chooses a cohort who shares his or her limelight, that child’s status among party goers is immediately elevated. Then there is the obligatory singing happy birthday and blowing out the candles. The real money event is however the cake cutting. Now I’m not certain how it works but where I‘m from some people believe that there is luck to be associated with the person who wins the cake cutting race. However that race is fixed by virtue of the fact that the invited child dare not beat the party child at the race because if that happens, for the rest of the party he/she would be a party outcast.

Then there is the division of the cake or spoils if you will. The party child designates to the party Mom who gets what. The most coveted pieces are the with the name, which the child usually saves for himself; the writing pieces – Happy and Birthday – never were so exalted and the much overlooked aces in the hole, the corner pieces blessed to have two sides of icing for the lucky recipient. When these treasures are dispersed through cronyism, the rest of the general public lucky enough to attend the party line up to have the “what-left”, divided up amongst them. But even this is hierarchical because Mom still has the ability to decide on thickness and size of slices, while making sure to set aside some to be left for those belonging to the party household to enjoy in days to come kind of like an austerity measure.

I’m sure by now the metaphorical significance of birthday cake politics has not escaped the keen observer of the political scene especially in a general election year. How the spoils are divided up is always interesting as well as cake cutting partners, who is invited to the party and what Mom reserves for herself. Oh to have ones cake and eat it too!! Selah.

Bring Back Hillary

Has anyone noticed how uninspiring the political landscape has become ever since that epic battle between Democratic Presidential hopefuls, Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton ended? It was so awesome that now, everything after that seems ho-hum. Republican Presidential hopeful John McCain simply does not have a commanding presence and even his party seems to be worn out now that the clash of the titans has ended. That party does not have anyone to be the subject of their ire, so much so, it’s as if the President has been selected and there is no more fight left.

But how wrong are we if we think that it’s over. That’s why I would like to suggest that the Democratic Party bring Hillary back to the campaign trail, for real. Not a couple of days of a grin and bear it tour like what we saw recently, but a as a running mate. You know one can say what you want about Hillary but what you have to acknowledge what she does well, and that is raise hackles. She is a fighter, a scrapper and an individual that is passionate about what she does. Her passion elicits passion in others and that is what the Presidential campaign is lacking now.

It’s funny that the Democrats have not won and the Republicans have not lost yet but everyone is presupposing same and that is a dangerous thing. If through this presupposition voter turnout is low, then a race that was formally thought to be in the bag could perceivably be a lost bag, just like that. When Hillary is around she attracts attention, like her or dislike her, she is good for the political process. I put it to you this way, when was the last time you paid attention to what going on in the race now? Even the media houses are bored with this vacant faceoff. Hillary’s presence causes people to act and that is good for everyone, Democrat and Republican alike. I’m just saying!!! Selah.

Bull Buck and Duppy Conqueror

Recently, my youngest who is in the throes of her ‘no I will not stage’ was standing with her arms folded at her chest, eyebrows knitted, looking up from under at me. Her father walked by and snickered and all I could think was, “Look at this little girl trying to scare me as if she’s some Bull Buck and Duppy Conqueror.”

Bull Buck and Duppy Conqueror, Bull Buck and Duppy Conqueror!! Very few of us in the world have the distinct pleasure or occasion of using such a fine idiom. It’s totally Jamaican and possibly one of the most colorful terminologies that I remember from my childhood. I don’t even know its origin but Bull Buck and Duppy Conqueror always conjured up images of a swash buckling obeah practitioner facing off in a head to head match up, against an untamed, fearless animal and emerging victorious.

Therefore when I had, my first instance to use the saying and use it in the context it has always traditionally been used, to describe a defiant child, I felt a bit as if I had received the gauntlet passed from a previous generation, preserved in my memory to be brandished at this particular time in this particular way and hopefully to be carried on in my child’s memory to the future. Heady stuff!! I wonder if I will ever have the privilege of using it again? Maybe not. But trying to say the entire phrase five times really fast can be great fun. Selah.

Navel Gazing

The other day my youngest noticed her navel and asked, “What does this do?” Before I could answer, her older sister replied,

“That’s your navel” “It’s where you were attached to your Mummy when you were a baby in her tummy and then she breast fed you milk!”

Then she turned to me with earnest eyes and said, “right Mummy?” I did not have the heart to correct her so I said, “Something like that.”

She’ll get it right eventually. Selah.

Second Generation Steve Ercoliltes

Family Matters is back in syndication on Nickelodeon and my kids love it. I however am having the same problem with it as I had in its first incarnation. While his antics are mildly amusing, I find him to be annoying and almost offensive. I have never understood why the eccentricities of one set of people are to be laughed at. This concept of the nerd has always befuddled me. Others will point out that his buffoonery belittles all of us as a people.

But when I realize that my children get a gut laugh at his tomfoolery, something that bubbles up from their toes and rolls around in their tummies and comes rushing out of their smiling faces, how could I continue to hold the show up to a microscope. Utilizing a willing suspension of disbelief and just viewing it on one level one can really laugh in spite of oneself. So now my household’s second generation Steve Ercolites have influenced the first generation doubters to, “relax…. its not that deep.” A little child shall lead them. Selah.

On The Horns of a Moral Dilemma

I always as a child thought that the choices that adults made were cut and dry. Really, to me it seemed that answers consisted of either, yes or no. But now as an adult, I know that answer variations between the negative and the positive extremes are infinite. So how does one really know that a decision made on a child’s behalf is the best decision? The truth is that one does not know for sure. All a person can do is to rely on whether a situation raises your hackles enough to be passionate about your conviction and then follow your conviction, all the while asking God to guide your resultant decision.

Scenario 1

At a dance studio, class is already in session. One little girl comes half an hour late unaccompanied by her parent and is told by the office personnel that she is too late to participate in the class. Therefore, she stands quietly and awaits the start of the next class to join her peers. Ten minutes later, a parent comes hurrying in with a child. It has already been established that this child is related to both the office personnel and the dance teacher. The parent does not stop. He ushers the child unto the dance floor and she blends right into the class uninhibited. Now the reason that the office personnel gives for not admitting the first child is that; the class has already started to grasp the lesson and interruptions will break the unit’s concentration not to mention that the teacher will have to update the new entrant on the whole routine that was missed.

Did that premise not hold for their relative? As an observant parent should you not have stood up for the disadvantaged child’s interest in her parents’ absence or at least question the officer about it? Left unchallenged, would that type of preferential treatment be meted out against your child in your absence? Is it your obligation to fight other people’s battles unrequested? Do you have a right to question the administration’s traditions in their dance studio with their pupils? Do you defend the child who also notices the favoritism and clearly feels slighted?

Scenario 2

A child has a playmate that is a lot older. The Parents are wary from the start of the friendship that while it might be good for the older child to stay in the company a younger more naïve playmate, the younger child is being prematurely exposed to the pre-teenisms of the older child.

So what are the parents to do? Allow the younger child’s innocence to be eroded by a more world wary pre-teen or perhaps diminish the older child’s opportunity to be a questionable influence while appearing to be the villains of the neighborhood?

What are your options as you sit languishing on the horns of a moral dilemma? Those who stand for nothing will sit for any and everything.

Selah.

Matchmaker Triumphant

I’m always trying to do what Jamaicans call "a set up," or what the rest of the world refers to as match make. I think I can just see when two people will get along. Most times to no avail, sometimes with limited return but every once in a while, success!! How good it is!

There is a lady on TV that has an entire business based on matchmaking and then it occurred to me that Eharmony.com and Match.com are simply matchmaking ecommerce, I could be on to something big. But what I have come to realize is that there are so many factors involved in how people click. I once tried to step up two people on the basis of, one person having tremendous resources and the other needing a resourceful person in their life. That did not work. I once tried to set up two people based on their sharing success in the same profession. That did not work. I once tried to set up two people based on them both being single, that was a colossal failure.

So what worked this time? Well there was an all important meeting of the minds; a vital and very sexy component in my estimation. Then there was a surprise physical attraction, they were so caught up in logistics that they forgot to enquire, “…so what she/he look like?” Plus, expectations were kept at a realistic level and so everything was good karma and moved upwards from that point. Finally and most importantly, I was not there at the initial meeting to interfere with the vibe, so they were forced to make nice all by themselves. Thus, while no one has ridden off the sunset yet, and I haven't incorporated at the local licensing authority, I think a cool friendship has been made. What more could one ask for? Selah.