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.