BBG C-Notes Weekend Edition May 16-18

 

 

 

 

 

As much as I am an “Old Head” when it comes to music.  I definitely appreciate the artist today who are original and soulful.  Jill Scott comes to mind among others.  Performers are cool and they serve their purposes for entertainment - but there is something about the “artist” of the world who inspire and make me feel things on the inside that words just can’t describe.  Artist move you, make you think, feel, reflect, they touch you whether it’s through acting on a screen or theatre production, through painting on a canvas, through instrument or dance.  With all of the technological advances and quick fix ways to imitate, I am thankful that there remains within our midst the artist who shape hearts and minds in ways that transform spirit through creative expressions.  One such artist is Raheem DeVaughn who released his second CD  called “Love Behind The Melody”.  DeVaughn is poetic, soulful, sensual, sexual, bold, imaginative, and tasteful in his mix of old school melodies and new school innovation.  I can clearly sense his love for the craft of music and the message he is looking to offer the world.   He is currently on tour and I was blessed to see him recently as an opener for Jill Scott.  He is headlining his own show as well so check him out in a city near you.  I recommend this artist to anyone out there who loves great music.  He is on my short list of potential greats for the 21st Century!  Thanks Raheem!  Keep on doing what your doing bro!

Supreme Court in California Overturns Gay Marriage Ban

This is a fight that is not going to go away anytime soon.  One court rules over another in this politically charged issue.  Certainly the issue will be back on the forefront in the upcoming election as the canidates will be questioned about the federal or supreme court judges that either Senators McCain or (more than likely) Obama will choose.  One thing I know for sure, the nation was blindsided the last couple presidential elections because the gay issue took precedence over other issues that pertain to life outside one’s bedroom.  As a nation we cannot affored to allow poverty, high energy and food prices, an economy in recession, unemployment, housing crisis etc. to be placed on the backburner.  Let’s keep our eyes on the bigger prizes this time ya’ll!     

Happy Birthday!

A very special happy birthday to my main man… Alex McCaleb holding it down in the ATL!  He turns 15 on Saturday.  From what he tells me he is 5′9 now which would make him taller than me!  Wow!  I miss you and your brother so much!  I hope you have a great birthday!  I love you man!

 

Ahhhh, it’s May and time for graduations all over the nation.  Congratulations to my little cousin Bre’ Fields who will graduating from Collinsville High School in Collinsville, Illinois Saturday.  Sorry girl I’m gonna be working when you “walk” but I will be thinkin bout ya!

Wednesday night I got to spend some time with Rev. Michael Eric Dyson as he spoke at the St. Louis Public Library to lecutre and promote his new book, ,”April 4, 1968″ Martin Luther King Jr.’s Death and How It Changed America.  It was a great crowd and though I have met Dr. Dyson several times hearing him speak in St. Louis and Detroit, this was probably the most memorable as he preached and broke down the last few weeks and days of the MLK’s life, his obsession with death, the political climate, and how it relates to today’s voices such as Barack Obama and Rev. Jeremiah Wright.  As always Dyson was insightful, humorous, enlightening and above all else truthful.  From what I can see this book is a great read and I plan to dive into it soon.  I enjoyed it immensely in the front row with my boy Rich from http://www.the-rich-house.blogspot.com/

But Mike, I am still looking to get that interview from you for MY book!  I got all of YOURS and six of them are signed!  Holla at your boy!

~Have a great weekend! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lame Apologies & Hypocritical Philosophies

After all of that BS that went down with the Rev. Jeremiah Wright and his words/associations with Senator Barack Obama, John McCain for the most part has been given all but a free ride with the endorsement of John Hagee.  Hagee, a long time evangelical zealot nutcase gave a few choice words regarding the Catholic church in calling them “the apostate church” or “the great whore.”  McCain glady took his endorsement anyway and claimed to be ignorant of his remarks.  This is because McCain is trying to shore up as much of the republican base as he possibily can.  It is interesting to see him play this game of conservative musical chairs, as on one hand he plays to his past as being an adverary of many of the ways and policies of W, and at the same time embracing many of W’s policies such as the war in Iraq, the disdain of anything Islamic, and making permanent tax cuts for the rich.  Like many politicians he’ll say anything to get elected and because Hillary and Barack have been kicking each other’s asses in the headlines from state to state, he has gotten a free ride. 

In addition, I believe that in addition his ride has been easier because to a degree white people can afford to be more polarizing than people of color.  You’d be hard pressed to convince me that there would be that many Catholics who lean towards conservative politics who wouldn’t vote for McCain regardless of some crackpot preacher comments.  But Obama’s relationship to Wright who didn’t call any religion any names has to be exhausted to the point where we are tired of hearing about it. 

But what is with the generic apologies that people make often in the media?  Rarely do I hear these people take responsibility for what they said - or speaking directly to the core of what was done or said. 

For example, what about a racist comment like Fuzzy Zoeller’s years ago at the Masters:

“That little boy is driving well and he’s putting well. He’s doing everything it takes to win. So, you know what you guys do when he gets in here? You pat him on the back and say congratulations and enjoy it and tell him not serve fried chicken next year. Got it?”

Then Zoeller smiled, snapped his fingers, and walked away. Then he turned and added, “or collard greens or whatever the hell they serve.”

After the outcry from fans who found those statements racist and stereotypical - Fuzzy’s apology went like this:

“My comments were not intended to be racially derogatory, and I apologize for the fact that they were misconstrued in that fashion.“ 

He apologized for our dumb selves misconstruing his comments - Imagine that?

Hagee chose a similar reprive:

In a letter to William Donohue, president of the Catholic League for Civil and Religious Rights, Hagee wrote: “Out of a desire to advance a greater unity among Catholics and evangelicals in promoting the common good, I want to express my deep regret for any comments that Catholics have found hurtful.”

Uhhh does that mean he no longer thinks the Catholic church is an apostate or the great whore?  And perhaps others who are not Catholic found those remarks to be offensive.  He continued…

“In my zeal to oppose anti-Semitism and bigotry in all its ugly forms, I have often emphasized the darkest chapters in the history of Catholics and Protestant relations with the Jews,” Hagee wrote. “In the process, I may have contributed to the mistaken impression that the anti-Jewish violence of the Crusades and the Inquisition defines the Catholic Church. It most certainly does not.”

“I may have contributed????”  What is that?  It’s a poor excuse and a lame ass political statement is what it is.  Can you imagine telling your significant other,  “In the midst of arguing in the kitchen last night, I apologize for words I may have used that may have given you the impression that I called you a bitch.”  This would never fly in real life - but in the life of media and politics it seems to be just fine.

When it comes to race or hate politics, whites who are racist tend to effectively dismiss such comments by Hagee as being a part of the process.  They know that McCain probably does not have an opinion on Catholosism one way or the other - other than they vote.  Therefore Hagee’s comments won’t stick to him like a leach sucking his political hopes away.  As long as he holds to their political views when it comes to abortion, gay marriage, the economy, the war and a prevailing dose of subtle white superemacy.

If there was no election at stake and McCain wasn’t pining for every vote there would be no apology.  clearly they got to Hagee.  Meanwhile McCain never disassoiated or rejected Hagee’s endorsement anyway.  And it was cool - unlike Obama who had to run the hell away from fellow Chicago resident and political firestormer The Minister Louis Farrakhan who is still getting raked over called the Jewish faith “a gutter religion” after so many years have passed.  Look at how Obama responded to Tim Russert’s questions about Farrakhan’s support of his candicy:

“You know, I have been very clear in my denunciation of Minister Farrakhan’s anti-Semitic comments. I think that they are unacceptable and reprehensible. I did not solicit this support. He expressed pride in an African-American who seems to be bringing the country together. I obviously can’t censor him, but it is not support that I sought. And we’re not doing anything, I assure you, formally or informally, with Minister Farrakhan.”

See the difference?  We have a long way to go in this country when it comes to sincerity and acknowledgment of these subtle nuances.  When we are honest with ourselves and our prejudices - then we won’t accept these lame apologies and hypocritical philosophies.

Puppy Love and 5th Grade Politics

Ok - so I wrote this blog about my relationship with Jose Cuevas who didn’t speak English - that is till I caught him hitting the “hippie lettuce” in the garage - But I mentioned during that story that my other Mexican friend Alfred Hernandez (who spoke English very well thank you) had a sister that I liked named Leticia.

Leticia or “Letsy’ as her family lovingly referred to her was in my 5th grade class.  She had fair skin and long brown hair.  She wasn’t necessarily the prettiest girl in the class - she had a serious look about her though and she was quiet and yet smart. I was smitten.  She was shy so she didn’t socialize much.  I never had a real reason to like her for real cause we never talked about anything.  It was just a crush thing I suppose. 

Anyway somehow it got out that I had eyes for her.  But no one really said anything out loud.  That is until Robert Sanchez decided to blow up the class.  I don’t remember the details exactly, but the teacher was out of the class and we were all joking around and talking.  Someone said something about Leticia that had nothing to do with me or boys, but Robert took it upon himself to blurt out… “Leticia?  Oh that’s McCalee’s lady.”  My mouth fell open and as I darted my head over to her seat I sighed cause I knew she was terribly shy.  She was not the subject of any classroom kid conversations and this was the worse one to start with.  I could see the fury in her eyes and she must have thought I was the one who spread that rumor.  Well I didn’t.  I never talked about Leticia - I think I told Ivel Jennings or Rob Laskowski but definitely not Sanchez especially. 

I wasn’t savvy enough to approach her and assure her that it wasn’t me.  I was handcuffed without knowing it.  But I hoped it would blow over.  It didn’t.  I called Leticia from time to time.  I would be so nervous that I would write down the things I should talk about so I wouldn’t be holding the phone as if I was playing a game of ’silent chicken.’  But the tone was always set negatively from the go.

ME: Hello.  May I speak to Leticia? 

Brother Hector for instance: Hold on….  Letsy - telephone.

Leticia: Hello

Me: Hi Leticia how are you?

Leticia: What do you want?

Me: Uhhh, just wanted to see how you were doing.  That was some spelling test today huh?

Leticia: I gotta go… bye.  CLICK

Thats how it went on more than one occasion… or whenever I had the guts to call her.  And don’t even think about speaking to her at school.  Cause that was out.  I thought for sure that she hated me.  That was until I stayed the night at her house as a invite of my boy Alfred’s.  We did a home and home Friday night stay and when I came over to my surprise Leticia and I got along great.  We ate, watched TV, laughed till our stomachs hurt, ran around the yard and at night chased each other around the house having pillow fights.  I couldn’t believe the girl I was seeing.  She was smiling, laughing, more talkative than I had ever heard in school.  We had a ball.  Nothing romantic at all - but big fun as kids just being kids.

Upon getting back to class on Monday I spotted ‘Letsy’ and thought of speaking or telling her again how much fun I had at her house with her family.  She shot me a subtle look as if to say, “You better not!”  I got the message.  Leticia never had anything against me.  She thought I was an OK guy.  But the thought of it appearing that she had ‘a thing’ with me was not going to be acceptable.  Nevermind that we never had anything romantic goin on in the first place.  It was just the appearance of it.  If she was like my youngest daughter is now at the age of 10/11, she didn’t even like boys yet.  My kid loves her some Chris Brown but that doesn’t count.  My point is that Leticia wasn’t messing around with any of the little cats in the school yard. 

It was all good.  I never called Leticia again.  I avoided her at school.  And she in turn didn’t give me the gas face anymore if we happened to bump into one another.  We had an “understanding.”  It was my first lesson in pupply love and 5th grade politics.

**I had not spoken to Alfred or Leticia since I left South Bend in 1981.  I did speak to their mom about 3 years ago.  I called their old number just to see if it was still good.  Alfred’s mom remembered me and gave me his number, but he never answered and whomever answered the phone didn’t seem to care to give him the messages.  Leticia - married with at least four kids at the time.

 

 

Whats My Line?

I admit it, I am a movie buff.  I love good movies of all kinds.  I have a love and appreciation for all of the different kind of artist who can take me into their worlds and allow me to see what they see, as well as get my own interpretation.  I’ll never forget the first time I saw “The Color Purple” when I was 17 and not only almost walking out of the movie within the first 20 minutes because the contents were so dark and hurtful, but it took Lethal Weapon 2 before I could like Danny Glover in any shape or form.  My grandmother STILL hates him. 

Anyway when I see a great movie, some of them have lines that to me define the film.  And those lines I always remember most.  When it happens, normally I exclaim on the spot, “Now that’s the line of the movie!”  Some movies have more than one line, but most I find one or two at the most that says, “Its a wrap!”  I’ll name a few for instance:

“Frankly Scarlet I don’t give a damn.” - Gone With The Wind

“We’re gonna need a bigger boat.” - Jaws (The first time Roy Scheider’s character got a look at the great white shark they were to fight with.) Or “Smile you son of a bitch!” … right before he blows up the oxygen tank in it’s mouth.  Take your pick!

“There is no winning, only degrees of losing.” - The War of the Roses (Danny Devito’s character when trying to tell Michael Douglas’ character how trying to win an argument with a pissed off woman was going to go.

“Ahhh vanity!  My favorite sin!” - The Devil’s Advocate (Al Pacino as the devil himself, posing as an attorney.  This summed up the constant battle that Kienu Reeve’s character faced when trying to balance his ambition at work against the fact that his wife was losing her mind and the life of his family would be the price for the success he desired.

“Hey Sal.  How come you don’t got no brothas on the wall?” - Do The Right Thing (Giancarlo Espisoto as Buggin Out who’s battles with Sal told of the polarizing issues of race within a Bedford Styssevant community in Brooklyn New York.) Or, “D mothafucka D!” - Radio Raheem trying to buy batteries from the Koreans.

“Am I here to fucking amuse you?”  - Goodfellas (Joe Pesci - need I say more?)

“Shut yo five dollar ass up before I make change!”  New Jack City (Wesley Snipes as Nino Brown talking to Christopher William’s character during the roundtable discussion.)  Martin’s parity of it was hillarious with the fake dog.)

Oh here is a favorite!  “The call me Mr. Tibbs!”  In The Heat of The Night (Sidney Potier)

Ok last one.. Most people will think of, “You can’t handle the truth!” when they think of A Few Good Men.  But my favorite line is Jack Nicholson’s first as Col. Nathan Jessup which sets the tone for the remaining dialogue he would have as the drama develops.  “Who the fuck is PFC William T Santiago?”  You knew it was ON when he said those words!

What movie lines can you think of that bring you right to the time you last saw your classic?

BBG C-Notes

C-Span and Book TV did a wonderful interview with Author and Activist Alice Walker.  It was filmed from her home in Berkely, California and covered topics such as the books she has written, love, politics, Earth as divinity etc.  The interview was extensive one lasting almost three hours which included telephone questions and comments.  I have never read any of her books (though the movie The Color Purple is one of my favorites.)  I did find her to be an extrordinary thinker and posess a beautiful spirit.  I definitely plan to read her work!

http://inside.c-spanarchives.org:8080/cspan/cspan.csp?command=dprogram&record=560312243

 

 

On the book tip - Over the weekend I started reading a new book.  Well not new but new for me.  Its called “Parting The Waters”, America In The King Years 1954-63.  This is the first editition of a trio of work done to chronicle the life and times as they related to America and MLK during a span of 14 years.  The first book won The Pulitizer Prize and though it’s close to a thousand pages the information is the best work of a biography that I can ever recall seeing.   Certainly this is the most extensive work done to chronicle the life of Dr. King.  So far in just a few pages I learned the connection of Spellman and Moorhouse Colleges with the philanthropic efforts of John D. Rockefeller.  How MLK’s dad who was an adult with a 5th grade education when he met the future Mrs. King who was a student at Spellman - and because he had to be an educated man to even think of approaching her, (literally) he put himself through school to get his high school equivalency.  Furthermore, upon trying to attend college he miserably failed the college entry exam, but stormed into the president’s office and talked himself into getting admitted anyway.  He did all of this because he was interested in marrying the woman who would give birth to Dr. King.  The whole set up seems quite divine to me in the way it was “orchestrated.”  There is great detail to all the ins and outs, and it reads part like a commentary, part documentary and part scholarly dissertation.  I plan to purchase all three books as they provide a history and detail that I could not imagine let alone have seen before.  I have close to 100 films and documentaries regarding African-American history, but nothing has given me what I have seen so far in the pages of Mr. Branch’s work.  I would recommend these books to anyone who has an interest in the life of Dr. King and America from a perspective not seen or heard often enough.

Quick Bits

Wasn’t it sad to see that poor horse Eight Belles fall to the ground after breaking both legs and have to be euthanized on the spot? 

Tomorrow is the North Carolina and Indiana primaries.  I hope they put us closer to some finality in terms of the Democratic ticket for president. 

Mothers day is Sunday!  Don’t forget to honor the moms in your life.

One of my favorite scriptures: Proverbs 21:2 “All the ways of a man seem right to him, but the Lord weighs the heart.”

Ten Things I Know For Sure (Part 1)

1. As a nation we are still far away from having an honest discussion regarding race.

2. As parents, we are stewards of our children, not owners.

3. I love my momma!

4. Knowledge is power, but love is the most powerful force in the universe.

5. God is sovereign - not dogmatic.

6. Senator Barack Obama got pissed and threw Rev. Jeremiah Wright under the bus!

7. Children are our most precious resource.

8. Truth is ever-unfolding, and we can only know and understand in part.

9. There is nothing like the love between a man and a woman.

10. Americans by in large are gullible, simple-minded, and easily seduced and deceived.

Gender Discrimination or Soclialization

In light of the primary elections with the Democrats, I can’t help but notice how Hillary Clinton vacilates between strong fighting woman and sensitive woman depending on when it serves her needs.  Sometimes she makes a point of coming off as the “fighter” when challenging Barack Obama on some issue within a campaign speech.  Other times like in New Hampshire or during a particular debate she plays the “woman card” in displaying forms of emotion that would allow especially women voters to feel sorry for her - thus rallying them to the poles.  Women face enough struggles as it is without doing things that complicate and confuse the average cave man.  And Hillary’s behavior reminds me of an experience I had with mixed female signals.  I’ll explain.

 

A few years ago I was playing some pick up basketball on a Monday evening.  Normally on those days, if no one else came to the gym I could count on Mack (male) and Sabrina (female) to show up to participate.  One this particular day Sabrina came to play but Mack didn’t.  This left Sabrina and me to go one on one.  Sabrina is a very good basketball player.  She played Division I in college and currently plays in several adult leagues around the metropolitan area.  I’ve seen her play on several occasions.  She has good ability and is highly competitive.

 

I am also a highly competitive player.  And sometimes in a competitive setting, the game of basketball can get physical.  However, I could hardly avoid treating Sabrina differently within the context of the game in terms of the physical contact of the sport. My social education told me that no matter how good a woman can be at basketball, she’s still a woman and shouldn’t be treated harshly by a man.  When I guarded her defensively, I tried to avoid as much contact as possible.  I really tried hard not to foul her hard, or get too physical with her.  Although some contact is inevitable, I did my best to play with more finesse.   

 

However, whenever she could push, shove, or poke an elbow at me to gain an advantage, she didn’t hesitate. Because she is such a good player, her style of play plus my intention to avoid using my muscle to influence the game helped her to get a few wins against me.  I hate to lose, but I had a hard time playing too physically against Sabrina.  That had nothing to do with her ability to play the game, neither my respect for her abilities.  I just couldn’t ‘treat her like any other guy.” 

 

As the evening went on I was starting to evolve a bit.  First: I didn’t want to lose to Sabrina because I didn’t play the game correctly and as best I could.  I also didn’t want to denigrate her by trying to play “soft.”  I felt that in order to best respect Sabrina, women in general and the game of basketball I should really try to play as normal as possible.  As I turned up my intensity and focused on Sabrina as the “opponent,” my performance was noticeably better. I began to score more points and show her that I could play the game too.  On one particular play, as she was about to shoot I reached out in an attempt to block the shot and fouled her.  She sort of gave me a surprising if not questioning look.  I couldn’t be sure what she meant by the look.  Sometimes when I play with guys, they act surprised if they get fouled on a play, or act as if they should be allowed to do as they please with little or no contact.  That could have been what she was thinking.  I couldn’t help but think however, that maybe she thought that I was treating her harshly or that I had crossed the line.  Since I knew that she was a hard-core ball player, I dismissed the latter and decided to keep playing as if gender was not a factor in the game. 

 

A funny thing happened shortly thereafter.  She went for a difficult shot and made it though I had contested it vigorously.  Without thinking about it, as she walked towards the free throw line to shoot her foul shot, I tapped her on the behind and said, “Good shot.”  When I thought of Sabrina as a woman, I would have never done that.  For that would be breaking rules of etiquette.  But I had almost managed to forget that she was a woman, and I looked at her as a ball player who was very capable of embarrassing me by defeating me mercilessly.  As competitive as I am, I’m still a good sport.  So I don’t see anything wrong with paying a compliment even in the heat of battle sometimes.

 

Perhaps Sabrina was glad to see that I turned my level of play up.  Perhaps she noticed that I wasn’t treating her “like a woman.”  However she didn’t like the tap on her behind.  She said, “Hey watch that.”  She didn’t sound angry but stern nonetheless.  I felt embarrassed.  I did it at that moment without thinking of her as simply a female.  I had done the exact same thing to countless men on the court during competitive play.  As much basketball as Sabrina had played within her lifetime, I think it’s safe to say that she has traded that gesture with other women in the past without it being considered something offensive or sexual. 

 

I tried my best as a player and as a person not to give Sabrina gender discrimination.  For the time on the court, I wanted to treat her as a ballplayer first.  But Sabrina reminded me, that she was a woman.

 

 

 

…the story goes.

With the news today that once again New York City cops got off with shooting an unarmed black man 50 times, this video of a white minister discussing The Rev. Jeremiah Wright is all too telling.  Its a bit long (9min) but worth your time.  Dare I say it… he broke it down!  Amerikkka still doesn’t want to hear the truth.

An Undeserved Punishment

As a parent discipline can be a funny thing to administer.  I came from a generation of spankers so I was spanked.  Dare I say it, I was “whooped” even when it came to my mother’s ultimate form of capital punishment.  I won’t get into the gory details of how she administered such punishments, but usually the reasons varied from bad grades, or something having to do with getting in trouble at school.  This was the worst you could get from me cause I was a “good kid.”  I didn’t drink, drug, or blatenly disobey unlike my sister who was a glutton for punishment and did everything she could to tempt the beck and call of “The Belt!”  She wasn’t a nice sister either.  But thats another blog. 

Most whoopins I got I couldn’t argue with.  I was smart in school so I was expected to get good grades.  Behaving was also mandatory.  But there was one whoopin I got that I will never ever agree with; neither will I ever forget.  Let’s call it, “The Case of the Microwave.”

At the time we were living in South Bend, Indiana.  We had that middle class type of family that got most everything that came out when it was new.  For instance, for those of us old enough to remember, when cable first came out it wasn’t called cable.  It was called HBO.  And if you had cable all we said was that you had an HBO Box.  The other channels came in later.   Living in South Bend we were  able to get WGN and WBBM which was a local CBS station in Chicago.  That was just a result of the extra power from the reception that allowed HBO.  WGN was not a Superstation like it is now.  We even used the cable to the HBO box to plug into the back of the stereo in order to get the radio stations from Chicago so we could listen to Black artist.  South Bend was nothing but pop, rock, and country.  We had one radio station that played the likes or Parliament, Heatwave, The O’Jays etc. and it was only from 6-11pm on Saturday nights.  But I digress.

This wonderful thing called a microwave oven came on the scene.   As a pre-teen, my sister (almost four years my senior) and I were expected to cook more on our own cause our mom was not cooking as much as she used to.  Normally I didn’t care about cooking cause I could eat cold cereal any freaggin time of the day.  No time was a bad time for Coco Puffs or Captain Crunch with Crunchberries.  As long as I had access to my favorite breakfast treat, some milk and a tupperware bowl big enough to satisfy my appetite it was all good.  But I wanted to have more choices.  Not being skilled in the kitchen beyond the huge brontosaurus burgers I made on Saturday nights, the microwave provied the perfect tool.  I loved baked potatos and it was awsome to think that I would throw that lil thing in the “mic” for just 5 minutes and “Damn!” out pops a nice warm “papa” that I could smother with butter salt and pepper.  Not to mention I could reheat stuff without turning on the oven.  Are you kidding?  It was nothing to come home from McDonalds and throw that Big Mac in this wonderful invention and have it come out smokin - pipin hot!

One day after school me and some friends went to Wendy’s.  I got whatever burger my allowance provided for, and brought the thing home.  I couldn’t wait to throw that thing in the “mic”.  And I did.  After I put the timer on 30-45 seconds or whatever it was, I walked away to use the restroom.  All of a sudden I heard this loud scream and whale from the kitchen as my loving sister Darcel quickly turned the microwave off.  What was the problem I wondered?  She was always bitching at me about something anyway.  What now?  Obviously she doesn’t think I am worthy of using the microwave or something. 

Seems the problem was that Wendy’s wraps their burgers in aluminum foil - and you can’t put foil in the microwave.  The foil began to shoot sparks all around and the thing damn near caught fire.  “Damn boy, don’t you know you ain’t supposed to put aluminum foil in the microwave,” my sister yelled.  “Uhh, no.  No one ever told me that.  Ok, I won’t do it again.”  Normally this would be enough of explanation.  No one gave me instructions about what not to put in a microwave.  But since I was now informed I would easily correct that mishap.  Oh no not to my dear sister.  She pressed on.  “YOU WERE GOING TO BLOW UP THE WHOLE HOUSE!” 

Of course I’m thinking this girl is such a drama queen and obviously overreacting.  No biggie right?  Wrong!  She picked up the phone and called my mother at work.  “MOMMA, CHRIS IS ABOUT TO BLOW UP THE WHOLE HOUSE BY PUTTING ALUMINUM FOIL IN THE MICROWAVE!!!”  I wasn’t trippin at all.  I knew I was totally ignorant of foil/microwave procedures, and now that I know I never have to do it again.  My mom was reasonable and would surely understand this - and understand that my sister ever telling on me about something early and often was just up to her normal spouting.  Wrong again!  My momma came home and whopped my ass regardless of my ignorance.  I remember pleading, “Momma, how you gone whoop me when I didn’t know?”  She said, “Your going to know from now on!”  Oh man!

Till this day I am sure that my mom overreacted because my sister overreacted.  And to this day I will never ever believe that whoopin was justified.  Mom and I are super cool these days and she is one of my hero’s.  But the woman doesn’t even remember giving me that whoopin or the microwave incident at all.  Go figure. 

 

 

 

Friends Beyond Language ~ Or Something Like It

When I was growin up in South Bend, Indiana from the ages of 8-14, part of the fun for me was living among other cultures and races.  Most all of the people I came into contact with living in East St. Louis, Illinois were black.  When we moved and I started going to Benjamin Harrison School K-8, I was exposed to not only people of African-Descent who looked like me, but also Caucasions and Mexicans.  As a matter of fact, there was a very large Mexican migration from Mexico and Texas during the 70s and early 80s.  This is common place now in America, but South Bend was at that time starting to become just as integreated as Chicago or Miami would be.  Having a love for people of all races, I quickly made friends with many people.  There was Robert Laskowski.  He was a cool Polish kid who was my age.  There was Alfred Hernandez, he was a Mexican kid who was a couple years younger than me.  So he was like a little brother to me.  After he and I became friends I found out that he had a sister (Leticia) as well that was in my class that I had a big crush on.  (Thats another blog so stay tuned.)  I had Black friends too like Ivel Jennings.   Each of these friendships were special to me.  But none of them had the unusual circumstances surrounding them like the friendship I had with Jose Cuevas. 

Jose was a year older than me.  We both lived on Liberty and his house was just a block away.  He came by way of Mexico to live with his uncle.  They had a large family and to this day I don’t remember exactly how we met or got hooked up.  But we did.  We hung out all the time walking the neighborhoods.  We’d walk to the store, catch the bus or ride our bikes to the mall.  Normally if you saw me you saw Jose.   Sounds like a typical boyhood friendship right?  But not quite.  I would talk and talk and talk to Jose, but Jose never talked back.  Thats because Jose didn’t understand English, nor did he speak it.  That didn’t stop me from talking as if he understood everything I said, nor did it stop him from hanging out with me.

It was over Jose’s house that I learned what real authentic Mexican food taste like.  Yummy!  I saw his aunt make homemade tortillas and they would warm them by putting them on top of the burning eye on top of the stove.  When one side was warm after a few seconds they would take their hands and flip them over without getting burned.  It was over Jose’s house that I learned what birthday parties with Piñatas were all about.  Only half of his household spoke English.  He had an older cousin who used to whistle that flirting whistle every time she saw me before giggling and walking away into the other room.  I never heard her speak a word of English.  They were the absolute coolest people and I loved going over there.  They accepted me as one of their own.  When Jose wanted to get my attention, he would whistle as well - not the flirting kind but in a “heads up” way to get my attention and then he would point to something or the direction he wanted to go.  And thats how we got down. 

Sometimes I often felt sorry for Jose too because he also went to Harrison School, and one day while walking home from school he showed me his report card.  I was proud of mine and happy that the good grades I got assured me of not getting punished once my mother saw it.  But not Jose’s.  It had a full row of F’s from top to bottom.  Its not that Jose was stupid, he didn’t understand the language and there was absolutely nothing in place for him to transition.  Even in the 5th grade I could figure that out.  I’m not sure if he even knew his grades were bad or not. 

Later on Jose learned to speak some English, though he never revealed this piece of information to me.  I learned it purely by mistake ~ or should I say by some strange circumstances. 

I walked to Jose’s house and though he were not home his uncle told me where to find him.  He was at a neighbor’s house in the garage.  I went through the backyard, around the alley and eventually found the garage.  Opening the door to look for my “boy” my mouth went agape after my eyes fixed on what Jose had in his hands.  It was a blunt!  I could smell it all in the garage and I was shocked.  Beginning my lecture I started in.  “Jose, what are you doing?”  (I was real proper talking back then) “I can’t believe you are in here smoking marijuana!”  (yes i said marijuana) “Man are you crazy, dope is for dopes and junk is for junkies!”  (I saw that on an episode of Fat Albert.) “What do you have to say for yourself?!” I said that as if I expected this dude to talk, but you have to understand that is how we, errr I always communicated. 

Jose said nothing… just sat there with this stupid look on his face as if he had not understood one damn thing I said.  Finally I said, “Well if you have nothing to say fine!   I am leaving!”  As I stormed out his friend with whom he was sharing the ‘budda’ blurted out in a Latin accent, “Hey man, he’s gonna tell!”  He said it in English not Spanish.  Well all of a sudden, in the name of Jimmy Swaggert a miracle occured.  Jose began to speak… English no less.  He ran after me exlaming, “Cliss Cliss… WAIT!” 

The fact that he did learn some English without telling me didn’t seem to bother me at that time at all.  Nevermind we had been cool for almost a year and the cat never spoke a word to me.  I was not a snitch and was quick to let him know.  “Man I ain’t gonna tell on you!  I just don’t want to be around while your smoking that dope!” 

Jose and I never spoke again about that little incident.  I acted as if it had never happened.  Shortly aftwerwards he moved to Texas to stay with some other relatives.  I assume their school systems were better able to accomodate a young man trying to learn his way around and eventually become a citizen.  He surfaced again a couple years later speaking English a lot better.  By then all he could talk about was girls.  He was 16 now and his hormones were going a mile a minute.  I wasn’t into lusting yet.  So I couldn’t relate.  Our friendship was never the same and I learned for the first time that you can’t always pick up where you left off.  I’ll never forget Jose.  I sometimes wonder what he is up to.  But I laugh at the thought that when it comes to the fear of getting in trouble, language becomes universal.