Face It - You May Be a Racist

In response to the outrage over Jesse Williams' speech at the BET awards - I just thought I'd post this for those of you who are unclear as to the definition of A RACIST...

 

rac·ist

/ˈrāsəst/

noun

noun: racist; plural noun: racists

1.a person who believes that a particular race is superior to another.

synonyms: racial bigot, racialist, xenophobe, chauvinist, supremacist More

"he was exposed as a racist"

•(racially) discriminatory, racialist, prejudiced, bigoted

"a racist society"

adjective

noun: racist; plural noun: racists; adjective: racist

1. having or showing the belief that a particular race is superior to another.

"we are investigating complaints about racist abuse at the club"

At no time in my six decades of living on this planet have I ever heard a non-white person describe themselves as being "superior." Wanting "equality, justice or fairness" but never claiming to be "superior."


I have, however, heard many white people actually say they are. Superior, that is. I've heard lots of things spewed about African Americans, Hispanics, Japanese, Jews - you name it.

 

I guess I can forgive them because, after all, they were predominantly German - many with the Hitleresque view certain people were superior. No? Well, right. I remember, even as a young child thinking, "What the hell are these people talking about??" Those people being my family members. All of their IQs combined couldn't add up to one intelligent human. But they believed themselves to be better than - well just about everyone.

 

I also remember the men in the family cheering on Black athletes and everyone admiring Black entertainers - but that was different. Unless a person of color could prove themselves to be almost super-human they didn't stand a chance. The "Colored" guy they worked next to in the mill had better be quiet, hardworking and not "uppity" or he was sure to meet their censure.

 

Let's get real. The only thing that separates us is MELANIN. Certain people have more of it - because of their genetics. Why is this such a difficult concept to get? Genetically speaking, Caucasions tend to be "colorless" and lacking in many ways. Remember that when you're paying a fortune for a fake tan...

 

A Reason, a Season or a Lifetime

I don't know why the poem about people coming into our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime came to me out of the blue last night. Not only did those words come to me as I was trying to fall asleep, but the same feeling I had the first time I heard them washed over me.

I remember that first time vividly. It was over a decade ago, and reading it filled me such sadness all I could do was weep. Just the thought of a dear friend I had at the time only being a part of my life for a reason or a season filled me with such heartache. I remember telling myself we would be lifetime friends, but I had a sinking feeling it was temporary. I was right.

My friend was such a huge part of my life. I remember her coming into my life like she had a purpose. We knew each other through our church, but it was a casual friendship. It grew into much more when I suffered a serious loss. Her friendship helped me through a horribly dark period.

We did everything together. The four of us - she and her husband and me and mine - travelled and spent most of our time doing things as a unit. We never ran out of things to do or talk about. We spent holidays together and celebrated our children's accomplishments and milestones.

I'm not sure how it all fell apart. One day everything was fine and the next thing I knew, they were moving away. Far away. Now, we barely speak.

Loneliness. It's like a smothering sensation that grips you when you least expect it and takes your breath away. I remember having surgery when I was a kid. Back in the dark ages when they still used ether. I will never forget the sensation when they slapped that ether-soaked mask over my face. I couldn't breathe. I had the sense I was being rolled up in that green, outdoor carpeting and I could not escape. I just wanted fresh air. That's the way loneliness hits me.

I am alone. My husband works and my children are grown with lives of their own. I have few friends - almost none. My only connection to the outside world is social media. I don't belong to any groups and I rarely leave the house. I suffer from chronic pain which makes even a trip to the store a major chore.

I live in my own little world surrounded by my animal friends. There are the two Bullmastiffs - Jack and Rooney. Six cats: Eli, Fancy, Finn, Chance, Dash and Boo. A bunny named Roxy, a hamster named Emily Elizabeth and a Bearded Dragon named Bennett. Then there are the feral kitties I feed. I am surrounded by life and love - just no human interaction.

My husband works very hard and wants to retire soon. He comes home from work and reads on his I-Pad or just wants to watch TV. Truth be told, he talks to his dog more than he does me. Our conversations are limited to discussions about the kids or the house. He stopped asking me how I am because he knows the answer. I'm in constant pain.

So, as I was lying in bed trying to shake the feeling of loneliness, it hit me that, when I die, there will be very few people at my funeral. If my husband outlives me, he will be there with our two kids. My cousin had 800 people at his funeral. He was well loved.

I shall forgo a funeral and just have my husband spread my ashes around the yard. This is my world, and I have been happy here. Yikes! Now I feel so low it's almost funny. I know I'll be okay when I can see the absurdity in feeling sorry for myself. I've had a good run. Yes, this sucks, but it could be worse. I could be a Republican...
 

Don't Overthink It!

I confess. I'm that crazy grandmother who hugs too hard, gives sloppy kisses and screams like a wild woman at my grandkids' sporting events. I do not care. It is who I am.

 

 

I love to watch their games - even the ones I can't pronounce, like whatever they call indoor soccer (foosball, soccerpuss, soluble fiber????) So, this past Saturday, I was in my glory, cause everybody was at the same place - the guys were even on the same court. Well, it was divided with half of the court that indoor soccer thing and the other half pre-school basketball.

 

Watching three and four year olds play basketball is something everyone should see at least once before they croak. I can only describe it as a free-for-all, blood bath. I guess at last week's game the casualties mounted up with nose bleeds, black eyes and more than a few tears.

 

Coaches and parents must have intervened because this last game was pulled off with no bloodshed. The focus this week was keeping their arms up. They looked like tiny participants in a Southern Baptist Revival.

 

Oh, sure, there was a lot of other stuff like one little guy who was more interested in hanging from the net while his team was at the other end of the court trying to dribble and shoot. And my little grand-of-the-heart, "Daw-some," who is a tiny dynamo, kept stopping the action to ask questions. He would stop mid-game, tap the coach or referee on the knee, and ask his question in his adorable, lispy voice. I'm thinking that innocent, I'm too cute for words, vibe will get him far in life.

 

His brother, "Lan-man," who is six, plays in the next level up. We call him our ball-hawk because he has an innate sense of the ball. He is the one who scores the most in soccer and makes the most baskets in basketball. He is focused on winning and does. He will be our attorney someday.

 

Seven year old, Ez, plays that indoor soccer thing, whose name eludes me. Playing soccer indoors on a half court is maddening. The ball is out of bounds more than not. Usually, it's out the door and down the hall. My son's brilliant girlfriend made the observation they should just put the goal in the doorway.

 

Anyway, Ez spent most of his court time watching his "brother" play basketball on the other half of the court. My husband, their Pap, shook his head - a lot. Ez is very good at scoping out the action and letting others do their thing. He is just as happy if somebody else scores - as long as the team wins. He is the "big picture" man who will make a great CEO someday.

 

My granddaughter, who is ten and very tall is playing basketball. It is her first time playing an organized sport. Some of her team mates are incredibly good - like Harlem Globetrotters material. And they are very aggressive. My sweet Lily is not. She may be taller than most, but she is very gentle and soft-spoken. Let me qualify that - unless she is dealing with little brother(s) - then she channels Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty.

 

On the court, she is a tad hesitant. I mean, I get it. Who can think straight with a girl waving her arms in front of you like a demented windmill? But that's all part of the game. She spent awhile on the bench. Then, she was on the court. My heart was aching for her as I watched her, wide eyed, talking herself into focusing on the ball.

 

Then everything went into slow motion. I held my breath as she got the ball, turned and lobbed that thing straight into the hoop!! I have goose bumps now recalling the whole thing. It's not like it was a championship game - just an everyday game of hoops. But it was her first basket in her second game. I went completely bat-shit crazy...

 

You have to understand. I have a very bad back. I mean, I need help getting up and down the bleachers. My husband had to make a trip to Publix in between games to get me some Motrin. But there I was, channeling my high school cheerleader self - bad back forgotten - because my sweet Lily just made a basket! I was a wild woman.  My poor son was trying to focus on the game as well as keep me from ending up in the ER. I know she heard me across the court and at one point made eye contact and gave me a tiny grin and a thumbs up.

 

Now, lest you think I am one of those competitive whack jobs who boo the opposing team - let me assure you - I applaud each side. I do. I mean, the other team had a precious girl who was taller than everybody and got every rebound. But she couldn't sink a shot to save her coach's life. I was praying for her each time she went for a layup.

 

But this was different. This was more than the game. It was about self confidence. It was about grabbing life by the balls - literally. It was about learning how to be part of a team but successful in your own right. Oh, I know, I overthink everything. Ironically, it was the piece of advice I gave her right before the game - "Don't over think it. Just focus and throw." - which I'm sure contributed to her sinking that shot...

Looking for the Punchline

I'm not feeling very funny today. I was awake most of the night watching the Democratic sit-in at the House of Representatives, over the gun control issue. No shtick material there. It was serious as a crotch itch.

Turned on my music playlist for inspiration. Nada. From Doo Wop to opera, most of it appeals to that darker, sadder part of my psyche. Don't believe me? Here's a sample:

• Leonard Cohen - "Bird on the Wire" "Hallelujah" "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye" :"So Long Marianne"
• Bobby Vinton - "Blue Velvet"
• Joni Mitchell - "The Circle Game"
• Paul Potts - "Con Te Partiro" and "Nessun Dorma"
• Patsy Cline - "Crazy" "I Fall to Pieces" and "Sweet Dreams"
• Roy Orbison - "Crying" (arguably the most intense unrequited love song)
• Buffalo Springfield - "Expecting to Fly"
• James Taylor - "Fire and Rain" (the song of my life)
• Pink - "I Don't Believe You" and "So What"
• The Beatles - "In My Life" "The Long and Winding Road" and "Yesterday"
• Lazarus - "Porcupine Tree"
• The Moody Blues - "Knights in White Satin"
• Nashville Cast - "No One Will Ever Love You" and "Stronger Than Me"
• Smokey Robinson - "Ooo Baby Baby" and "The Tracks of My Tears"
• Andrea Bocelli - "The Prayer" and "Time to Say Goodbye" (I'm crying typing this)
• CSNY - "Our House"
• Buddy Holly - "Raining in my Heart" and "True Love Ways"
• Neil Young - "Round and Round"
• Snow Patrol - "Run"
• Judy Collins - "Send in the Clowns"
• Tony Bennett - "September Song"
• The Skyliners - "Since I Don't Have You"
• Boz Scaggs - "Lowdown"
• Dave Koz - "That's the Way I Feel About You"
• AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST - my life's anthem, Jefferson Airplane "White Rabbit"

"Tell them a hookah-smoking caterpillar has given you the call.....and remember what the dormouse said, Feed Your Head!"

Well, now that I'm practically crawling across the floor, time to bring out the big guns - "This is Halloween" - from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Call me weird - gah head, do it - (David Guetta's "Titanium") - but Halloween makes me happy... 

The Human Perspective

Arguably the hardest thing to do as humans is to see something from another's perspective. As I sit here typing, I am thinking of two very different posts I just saw on Facebook. One was a video in which a baseball capped, boot wearing, guitar player was singing a country ditty about how his "dog must be a Democrat."

It wasn't flattering to Dems, just so you know. While he strums away on his guitar, rhyming away in a twangy voice how Dems are like his dog for the following reasons:

1. They expect free handouts like food and shelter
2. They're lazy freeloaders  
3. Basically he works while his dog does nothing but lay around and get fat.

It is supposed to be funny but I didn't laugh. All I could do was sit there and think - this is the way non-liberals think. They characterize Liberals as blind fools who have no common sense. They are looked upon as stupid, no matter how well educated and rational.

I, myself, am a Liberal. Truth be told, I lean more toward the Left, as in Socialist. I believe there is more than enough to go around and we need to do a much better job of evening things out. I consider myself a spiritual person who does not believe I possess the right to judge anyone's life choices. Oh, and I am a Vegan.

I believe the wealthiest of the wealthy need to pay more taxes - well more than nothing - which is, sadly, the way things get played out when you have enough cash to hire high priced lawyers and accountants.

You see, when a poor person aligns themselves with the Republican party I am more than a little confused. I don't ever remember a time when Republicans cared about the poor. I remember them wanting to break up unions and do away with government subsidies. Trouble is, those using food stamps are the very same people supporting the Republicans - and those conservatives despise.

I grew up in a Northern state - Western Pennsylvania. Specifically, Pittsburgh. A steel city. Made up of people from every race and ethnicity; working together to put food on their tables. My folks were Democrats. They were pro-union; pro labor; anti-gun and anti-white collar greediness. I cannot say my parents were exactly liberal, even though they aligned themselves with the Democratic party. They were blue-collar mentality, and more than a little prejudiced.

Maybe because they had survived the Great Depression, they had sympathy for those who struggled to put food on the table. They never begrudged anyone using food stamps. They did, however, despise laziness and if someone seemed to not be pulling their weight, well they were subject to criticism. I, myself, was never allowed an idle moment.  

Somewhere along the line, the two parties have switched or morphed into a strange mess. The lower middle class now claims allegiance with a party that has never had their best interests at heart. It's a little like a dog chasing - and hating - its tail. That's a better analogy if you're going to compare dogs to any humans.

Anyway, another post caught my attention. This one was a video of Melissa Etheridge, who wrote an incredible song, after the massacre in Orlando at a club called Pulse. Her song appealed to me way more than the country ditty. It made me cry, actually, as she described how we're all different but all have one thing in common - a pulse. The song is powerful and meaningful and I couldn't help but cry as I listened.

Different perspectives. Each side thinking the other is misguided. How on earth can we ever come together? How did we get so far apart? What is it going to take to bring everyone together with a similar mindset?

I honestly thought Bernie Sanders would be that unifying force. I thought he would appeal to all who work hard to take care of their families. I honestly thought people would see the sincerity in his heart. I honestly thought the middle class would realize their true "enemy" is corporate greed - not immigrants seeking asylum or children in need or those with a different sexual orientation or religion.

But, sadly, that was not the case. Instead, they have aligned themselves with a crooked, multi-millionaire, carnie barker who is filled with hate??? On what planet do they think he will give them another thought once he has their vote??

It has come down to "love versus hate" once again. Well, I'm on the side of love and I'm staying put.

It's All in the Narration

In typical old lady fashion, I fell fast asleep watching television. When I woke up, it was still early (9:30 p.m.) but I went to bed anyway. No sooner did my head hit the pillow, my eyes flew open and would not close for the next several hours. Despite many attempts to turn off my brain, it was stuck on the spin cycle, so I just gave up.

As I lie there at 4 a.m., my mind drifted to writing. I may not be the best writer but I am always thinking about it. What to write about that is. I seem to come up with just the right words when I am without paper and pen or computer to document my brilliance.

Oh, I have lots of material - six decades worth to be precise. The problem is, a lot of it isn't funny. Since I seem to get the most readers when I go for the laughs, this presents a challenge. My political rants have a few "likers" but, for the most part, the stories about life's craziness hit the mark. (To MW, that was not intentional, I swear.)

So, I thought about how, for most of my life, it was a struggle to find the "funny." My folks were not funny. Oh, my father enjoyed the random joke - at someone else's expense - but he was not what you'd call a comedian himself.

My mother enjoyed humor - the MASH variety - as in sarcasm and irony. Her brothers made her laugh with their crude, often inappropriate, form of story telling. As kids (the ten grandchildren) we were never escorted out of the room while our uncles did their risqué stand-up in the kitchen. I suppose the adults thought most of what was said went over our heads. It did not. But I watched my mother laugh and laugh at their routines, then turn back into old stone face the moment we left Grandma's house.

My mind so often drifts to unhappy childhood memories. As I lie there trying to figure out how to morph them into funny ones, the answer hit me - It's all in the narration!!! Yes! That's it! The most successful producers know it's what turns a good movie into a great one.

Imagine "War of the Worlds" if it had been narrated by - oh - say - Mel Blanc (the voice of Daffy Duck, Bugs Bunny and Porky Pig, to name a few) instead of Orson Welles!! People would have been laughing their butts off instead of trying to save them - screaming in panic and stampeding over each other to escape the imminent alien invasion.

Why, inhale the helium from a few balloons and you will entertain folks until the effect wears off. It's not the Audio-Animatronic Abe Lincoln, but Morgan Freeman's narration, at the Disney Hall of Presidents that brings even the most hardened cynic to tears. And how funny would those three chipmunks be if they had the voices of - oh let's say - any member of Congress, instead of the squeaky cuteness people have loved for decades?! (Well not me. I can't stand the things, but you get my point.)

Here's a test. Read the following as if Orson Welles was the narrator:

"My mother was so mean, the grass moved out of her way when she walked out the door."

Now, read the same sentence as if it was being spat at you by Daffy Duck:

"My mother was so (spit spit) mean, the grass (spit spit) moved out of her way when she (spit spit) walked out the door."

 

 

 

Narration. Somehow I have to make sure I write as though Daffy himself was telling you the story. It's a tall order, but I'm up for the challenge....

 

 



Out of the Cesspool, a Leader Emerges

I don't know. Maybe it's me, living in a perpetual state of denial, but I thought we, as in citizens of the United States, had moved way past judging people over their sexual orientation. I sure as hell don't want someone questioning mine, so what is up with the resurgence of homophobia? What or who is driving this crazy train?

Some say terrorists. Really? But that wouldn't account for the trend sweeping the nation. Christian Fundamentalists? That is actually an oxymoron. From my understanding of Jesus Christ - he for whom the religion is named - he was far from judging and labeling (the Fundamentalists' modus operandi.) So, if we remove "Christian" then we're left with Fundamentalist. Here's the definition:

fundamentalism definition. A conservative movement in theology among nineteenth- and twentieth-century Christians. Fundamentalists believe that the statements in the Bible are literally true. Note: Fundamentalists often argue against the theory of evolution.

Fundamentalism | Define Fundamentalism at Dictionary.com

www.dictionary.com/browse/fundamentalism

 

Oh! That's right! I keep forgetting about those folks who have been mucking up education, people's lives and Christianity for - what? - decades now. They don't want evolution taught in schools, are foaming at the mouth against anyone with a different lifestyle and, worst of all, they are directly responsible for the Duggars. Literalists, huh? No, they cherry pick which of the biblical tenets they wish to enforce (on others) and which they choose to ignore (on their own behalf.)

But hold on, I thought they had withdrawn into their caves - due to the push back from intelligent folks who did not want them to redefine Christianity. You know, the real Christians who paid attention in Sunday School when the Gospels were read. All that stuff about loving one another and not judging; caring for the poor and not judging; all people are equal - and NOT JUDGING etcetera, etcetera, etcetera...

Could it be they were hibernating in those caves; waiting for a leader to emerge - someone like Vlad the Impaler?  For decades, Billy Graham kept them in check with his crusades in which he preached self condemnation with a good dose of schmaltz and that gut wrenching hymn, "Just As I Am." His son, Franklin, is a sloppy second who can't be taken seriously with some of the inane things he spouts.

No, they needed a powerful leader...(cue the drum roll).......

Donald Aloysius Frankenheimer D'Rumpf - er - Trump. Like his hero, Hitler, the Donald is rallying his troops; drawing them out of their caves and survivalist shelters and on to bigger things like destroying lives.

I can picture him sitting around the conference table with his "advisors" - you know - all of his mutant children, former beauty pageant winners and a slew of other whack a dos - planning his campaign tragedy strategy.

Donald: Okay - let's make a list - a yuge list - of everything we've ever heard the lowest of the low wish for.

Everyone else: Well they hate gays, and blacks and Mexicans and women...

Ivanka (Is that her name? All I remember is she is bff's with Chelsea Clinton): Wait a minute! I'm a woman! Daddy told me so and he even said he'd do me if I wasn't his daughter!

Everyone else: Okay - ugly and fat and old women.

Donald: Wait, strike 'old' cause they're the ones who will fall for this crap. Keep going...

Everyone else: Muslims! They hate them. Doesn't matter that millions of them are okay - we need to come up with an enemy for Donald to defeat.

Donald: I've got it! I will appeal to the OLD, WHITE, NOT GAY, CHRISTIAN FUNDAMENTALISTS, (somebody look up that word) RACIST PEOPLE WHO THINK AMERICA USED TO BE GREAT (when they were in control) AND I'LL TELL THEM I CAN MAKE IT GREAT AGAIN!
Done and done and now you're all fired....

P.S. I usually feel better after blogging - you know like how you feel after that first cup of coffee - but I actually feel worse. I'm gonna take a shower and start packing now. I know it's early, but I'm slow these days and I want to be ready to go if this monster somehow becomes the next potus...after which I will move my life to Canada...