Don't Ask, Don't Tell....Don't Care....

You know usually when you retire from a job or you graduate from school or say , you just leave a job and move on....You always say to the people you knew (and likewise they say to you) ''We'll keep in touch". You know , you all promise each other you'll do that and you even take phone numbers and addresses..but then you start your new life , you make new friends, you get a new schedule and soon, you forget all about those folks you left behind.

How many of you really keep up with people you went to high school with? or college or your first job???Well, that used to be the way things went...But today thanks in part to Facebook,Twitter and even blogger..Social Networking sites...

We can keep up with everybody from every period of our lives....I retired from the U.S, Air Force on the eve of such a boon in technology.   Thanks in a large part to it....The people I cared about the most when I was in the Air Force keep up with each other and every four or five months we actually meet up and have a meal together , just like in the old days when we had a meal in the "chow hall"

This past weekend, Me and about 13 of my old Air Force pals met up at Chickie and Petes to enjoy a meal and to watch the Phillies play the Cardinals in the first of the playoff games this season.  We organized the entire thing on Facebook.

Most Philadelphians know that Chickie and Petes is the ultimate Philly sports fan's sportsbar....So it has been said...I could name a few that I like better...but since this is where we were on Saturday night , watching the game...I'll leave it at that!

What was special about this was this was the largest turnout we've had since we've been doing this...People came who hadn't previously come to these events....People I hadn't seen since I retired in 2006.  One person in particular who came to the event was someone who we had all suspected was a homosexual. A few of us had whispered about it...but it had never gone any further than that.  What also was apparent was that I am pretty sure that everyone on our base was aware of this person's sexual orientation and to their credit, did not make a big deal of it and did no more than whisper about it, if anything was said at all.

This person was as patriotic an American as any of us and performed their duties admirably in all of the 22 years I knew them in the United States Air Force...So contradictory to all of those nay sayers...This person's orientation did not disturb or destroy military discipline.   Of course you could argue that this person was also in the closet..  You could argue that during the last ten years of my military career...We couldn't ask this person about their orientation even if we had wanted to and they were under no obligation to tell.

This person I am speaking of retired just six months shy of President Obama lifting the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell"
law from the military and allowing Gays to serve openly in the military...Last night ,perhaps it was the fact that this person was no longer in the military and therefore free of it's laws or perhaps that this person had way too much to drink.....or both....I over heard this person discussing for the first time the nature of their realtionship and their domestic partner....Several of my compadres expressed admiration and joy at how long our former associates relationship had managed to last....This relationship had lasted longer than some our heterosexual unions...

It must have been freeing for this person to finally be able to talk about their partner...When I would be talking about my wife and my daughter and my grandchildren or one of the women would be talking about their husbands or their children or their pregnancies...This person of whom I am talking about could only talk about their "room-mate" and their room-mate's child....

It was quite obvious that this person and the "room-mate" were raising the child (Now a twenty something adult) together...but there was no way in the Reagon 80's when we all entered the military anytime up until now that the true nature of their relationship could be discussed.

Saturday night, it was discussed and it was not an issue...I was proud of my former Air Force comrades for the decent, sensitive and human way we all comported ourselves...I don't know if our gay comrade will wake up Sunday morning and wonder what they said or not...(Sometimes I wonder what I say, even when I'm not drinking.) but one thing is for sure...It didn't matter to us when we were in the military and knew and it doesn't matter to us now that we are civilians and still know....

Most people are decent ...I believe this in my heart....and when they are thrown together in difficult circumstances and have to work together for the good of the whole...they tend to see what they have in common more than their differences....This group was made  up of African-Americans, Latinos, Whites, Men, women, straight and gay....and what we all shared in common was service , protecting the nation from it's enemies...domestic and foreign....We all had to learn to work together and when one's life is dependent on another person doing their part and playing their role and performing their duties properly...no one has any time to worry about the color of someone's skin, someone's gender, someone's language or who someone chose to sleep with....We only see the human being....not their politics or sexual orientation.

One day a future generation will read our history and wonder how we got so many things wrong...as far as civil rights , gender equality and just plain humanity is concerned...I hope that we who are currently living will be the fathers and mothers of that generation...

To my former Air Force comrade , who is now out of the closet...congratulations on finally being free!

The Good Brother

Kappa Alpha Psi Official Website

I first met the brother I'll call BKL when I was in college, pledging Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity. So, that would be early 1980 and I was 21 years old. He wasn't a student at my college, Shippensburg... he was from a neighboring state college, Millersville. He was one of several "visiting brothers" who flowed into our college that spring. There was 11 of us pledging together at that time and there were no brothers on our campus. We would be the first. Officially, we were pledging at nearby Penn State. When word got out that we were on a campus with no "supervision", guys flowed in on a regular basis to make sure that we were getting (I'll say) the " proper acclimation" and leave it at that.

I believe the brothers from Millersville were the most constant visitors, next to Cheyney State. Anyway, This is really not about my pledge period... it's about a friendship that has lasted over thirty-some years. When I first saw this brother, I was ready to just drop off the line and say forget it. He was huge... even his muscles had muscles and he wore his hair in a process (kinda like David Rufffin of the Tempts). He had a goatee and those big dark shades... a very imposing figure. When he took his shirt off, he had a Kappa brand on both arms and one on his chest. Years later, I would ask him why so many brands and he would jokingly laugh, "I wanted to make sure."

As fearsome as this guy looked, he was one of the nicest guys you would ever want to meet. Just a gentle soul that barely raised his voice above a whisper. He didn't have to... you weren't going to disobey him or get on his wrong side. He didn't make it to my initiation, which was a few days after my 22nd birthday, but he did see me a little while after. And, as is tradition, he gave me some paraphenailia that had been his... a cane, which I in turn gave to one of my former pledges some years later, and a Kappa insignia pin, which I still own to this day.

When his school had pledges the very next year, I came down with my guys and BKL treated us like royalty. He got all of us a room to sleep in and made sure we were fed and entertained. He was just a good guy all around. It gave me great pride to see his son, who I'll call ML, come along and pledge the same fraternity that his father and I had pledged... on the same campus and the same chapter. I didn't see his son when he was going through the motions, but I became acquainted with him in Philadelphia shortly after he became a brother at one of my last Greek picnic appearences.

Sadly, he told me that his father was battling cancer... that demon cancer, that had taken, my mother, an aunt, a couple of uncles, and recently, another good friend of mine. I told him that I'd keep his father in prayer.

Yesterday, his son contacted me (via Facebook) and informed me that his father, one of the best guys I know, had won his battle with cancer. He had survived an operation and it appeared his cancer would be in remission. If that's not a miracle, a prayer answered, I don't know what is. It's nice to have some good news in a world where there is so much bad news on a constant basis. I'm still praying and hoping for his father's complete recovery!

Some Of My Best Friends Aren't Democrats!

Elena Kagan

You know, President Obama could nominate Mother Theresa or Jesus Christ himself for the Supreme Court or to be a federal judge and some Republican somewhere would come from out of the woodworks and find fault with them, simply because it's this president's choice and their entire reason for living is to attack everything he does, regardless of what it is.

Supreme Court nominee Elena Kagan pledged at her Senate confirmation hearing on Monday to show the "evenhandedness and impartiality" the Constitution demands if she is confirmed, and to offer proper deference to Congress and the laws it makes. The court must ensure that "our government never oversteps its proper bounds or violates the rights of individuals," she said before a rapt Judiciary Committee and a nationwide television audience on the opening day of her hearing. "But the court must also recognize the limits on itself and respect the choices made by the American people."

The 50 year old solicitor general and former Harvard Law School dean appeared on track for confirmation before the high court opens a new term in October, as she delivered a brief statement at the end of a day of senatorial speechmaking. Kagan stopped by the Oval Office of the White House to receive best wishes from President Barack Obama on her way to the hearing. A few moments and little more than a mile distant, she strode with a smile into the committee room and took her place at the witness table, where senatorial ritual then required her to sit for hours while lawmakers delivered prepared speeches from an elevated dais across the room.

Finally, at mid-afternoon, it was her turn. "I will listen hard, to every party before the court and to each of my colleagues. I will work hard and I will do my best to consider every case impartially, modestly, with commitment to principle and in accordance with law," she said.

Kagan faces hours of questioning, both friendly and otherwise, when the panel meets on Tuesday, a grilling that she has spent hours preparing for under the tutelage of White House advisers. Already the political fault lines are well-drawn. "I believe the fair-minded people will find her philosophy well within the legal mainstream," said Sen. Patrick Leahy (D-VT), the panel's chairman. "I welcome questions, but urge senators on both sides to be fair. No one should presume that this intelligent woman who has excelled during every part of her varied and distinguished career, lacks independence."

But, the committee's senior Republican signaled that Kagan can expect tough questioning. (See what I mean?) "It's not a coronation but a confirmation process," said Sen. Jeff Sessions of Alabama. He said she had "less real legal experience of any nominee in at least 50 years." And, he said her decision to bar military recruiters from Harvard Law School's career services office was in violation of the law, a legal conclusion disputed by the White House. And, the battle goes on. They would say that Jesus Christ drank too much wine if he was nominated or that Mother Theresa was too much of a pacifist. Nobody nominated for anything by President Obama could just get a free pass and be liked by all. That's just not how it works.

I know someone, a stauch Republican, who happens to be black and in my fraternity, believe it or not (which is probably the only reason I deal with the brother at all), who states that the constitution grants us all the right to question our president and hold him accountable as well as respectfully disagree with his policies and nominations. I couldn't agree with him more. He agrees with me that the "tea baggers" or "tea party" crowd (whatever) are a bunch of ignorant zombies being led by (and, this is his term) "entertainers" (Rush Limbaugh, Glen Beck, and Sean Hannity). He finds them embarrassing and he finds Ann Coulter to be mean-spirited and racist. So why does he align himself with a party that uses said "entertainers" as its standard bearer? You tell me... I'm trying to figure that one out.

I bring my friend and fraternity brother up because, while we manage to agree on some things and feel the same way about some of the same people, he still spouts the Republican Party line and sees President Obama as "close to being a socialist." He was once a Democrat, but feels as though the Democratic Party has betrayed black people and taken them for granted, which is something I can't completely dispute. He finds fault in everything this president seems to do and he is one of Elena Kagan's staunches critics. He says she is "too left-leaning."

Most of the brothers steer clear of talking politics with him. We keep our conversations mostly on the fraternity, sports, sex, and typical guy things where we find common ground. But, every once and a while, politics rears it's ugly head into the conversation and this poor guy, the lone Republican and Obama-hater in a pool of Pro-Obama, Democratic, and left-leaning brothers, gets shouted down. If you mention George Bush and HIS record, we get... "Okay, how long are you guys going to keep hanging on to that?"

Again, I bring this brother up, because he is my only avenue into the "Republican mind." He's not the only Republican I know... not even the only black one... but, he is the only one that I like otherwise, in spite of his politics. No, I take that back. I have an ex-girlfriend who "thinks" she's a Republican. If my fraternity brother and friend think so narrow-minded and one sided, I can imagine what long-time members of Congress and the Senate must be like... Poor Barack, you just can't win! Poor Elena Kagan... you just might get through this and then what?

Perhaps, we should all be like Brother Charles Williams. Brother Chuck is not a Democrat or a Republican... he holds both parties and their candidates accountable and votes for the candidate that best serves his particular interests at the time. Now, that I can certainly get behind. Oh, and he voted for Barack Obama! (Just thought I'd throw that in there.)

This Might Be Controversial But....

This might be a controversial post, but this being my blog and a place where I can get things off my chest so, let me just get to it...

There was a somewhat controversial show on Nightline last week that featured Steve Harvey, Jacquie Reed, Sherry Sheppard, and Hill Harper called "Why Can't A Successful Black Woman Find A Husband?" And, before anybody asks... no, I didn't watch it. Why not? Well, for one thing, I've been married to a successful Black woman going on 21 years now, so this program doesn't fit me. Secondly, I'm sure that nothing was said that I haven't read in my wife's Essence magazines, that I haven't heard discussed by my single Black female friends ad nauseum, and I'm tired of having this discussion and hearing all the takes on it.

Every Saturday, I drive through my predominately black neighborhood and I see a wedding at some church. It's almost always a Black woman and a Black man coming out of the church, smiling, laughing, and having rice thrown on them, along with a huge wedding party. I don't know the occupation of either person, but I can guess that at least one of the happy people is "successful" according to our society's standards. So, were these couples left out of the statistics?

While I'm mentioning "statistics", where are these stats coming from? Who does the research? Why does it seem like this is just a problem amongst Black people? Are Asian, Arab, Native American, Latino, and White women having a problem finding a "successful" man of their race to marry or is this just a Black thing?

What I do know is that this is a money thing! Careers have been made (by some friends of mine, I must admit) by mining the waters of the so-called relationship-challenged, sucessful sistah. Now don't get me wrong... I know that it's hard out here for a lot of educated and employed Black women. I also won't dispute the fact that a lot of brothers are (and here comes the litany) already married, gay, incarcerated (or on their way to being incarcerated), underemployed, and undereducated.

I have heard this litany ever since Terry McMillan wrote her novel "Waiting to Exhale". If I wanted to be persnickety, I could also say that there are now a number of Black women who fall into some of the same categories... which means that the young man coming out of college who is gainfully employed and "marriage material" now has to watch himself and weigh his options. But, I won't get into that because Black women outnumber Black men nearly three-to-one. We could argue that finding a suitable mate is much more in a Black man's favor than a Black woman.

We can argue the numbers game all day long (and all night long), but the thing is, we will never come to a solution. The reason why is because you're not supposed to. Not coming to a solution gives someone else a new relationship book to write, a new speaking tour to go on, and unfortunately for those who are weak-minded, a new reason to feel hopeless.

When I met my wife and decided to get married, I didn't consult Essence and I didn't read any book for statistics either. And, if you ask the people who are getting together and getting married, they aren't either. hey are getting out there and making it happen. They might fail, but they aren't giving up. They are getting up and going at it again. They are learning from their mistakes and adapting to situations. This stuff comes from common sense and life experiences... not books, forums, etc.

Comedian Kat Williams said (in so many words), "If you are a woman over 30 years old and you still saying 'Niggas ain't shit', maybe you should be reevaluating what is it about you that attracts niggas that ain't shit." Funny, but true. I can't tell you how many of my female friends have unsuccessful relationships because they constantly attract and choose to get involved with the same type of man over and over again.

One girl constantly gets involved with insecure, jealous, overbearing, and controlling men. Another constantly falls for married men, men who are seperated but not yet divorced, or men who just got out of a marriage last night. Another constantly gets involved with damaged men who she feels she has to " fix". So, I sit by and watch relationship after relationship fall apart. It's like the record by the Four Tops... "It's The Same Old Song". The guy just has a different name and lives on a different street.

Ladies, here's some advice. Wanna find a good man? (notice, I didn't say "sucessful"). Your version of "sucessful" and my version may differ from "Nightline's" version. Start writing down realistic qualities that you want and look for them in the guys you meet and date. When you're on the date, this is what you should be talking about... likes, dislikes, beliefs, associations, etc. Not what kind of a car the guy drives, whether or not he has an MBA, etc.

A guy can have a fly car, six MBAs and on his way to a PhD, and be the worst bastard you ever met. A guy could have just a Bachelor's degree and not making six figures yet, but is on his way and could be the nicest, most caring man you'd ever want to meet. But, hey sistahs, I hear you... sometimes it's hard to meet a guy who even has that much goin on. I know.

I could go on but I've probably said enough already... but, I'd be most interested in your thoughts on the matter.

Manny

I had a friend once who I'll call "Manny". We knew each other for all of maybe seven months and we worked at the same establishment. People pretty much thought he was a prick but he was my boy because we talked and both had pretty much the same (bad) attitude about life at the time.

You see, some people (people who don't and who never knew me) got the idea that I was a pretty nice guy... that I was almost like Jesus Christ. True, there are times when I can be very gregarious, very compassionate, very what you would call "nice". Then, yeah... then there are times when I can be a world class a-hole and that's the time when I can bring out the worst in everybody around me.

I always understood my dual nature, even if nobody else did. My mother always understood just who I was because she was my mother. When I was being praised by some neighbor as being "such a nice boy". She was proud for a minute and happy that I wasn't out causing the family any embarrassment... but at the same time, she would look at me side-eyed because she knew her little boy and she knew that her little boy was more than what some deceived neighbor thought they saw. She knew who I could be when I thought no one was looking. She was never fooled.

And, that's why I liked Manny... he was just like me and we understood each other quite well. We worked at this job... a job we both hated... cleaning office buildings and being blamed for everything that wound up missing or wasn't where it was placed the night before. We both had a deep hatred for our supervisor... A man who made it plain that he thought the two of us were a bit too "leisurely"

I used to tell Manny..."Yo man, one day I'm gonna work in an office like this and I'll be leaving my trash for someone to pick up after I get off at 5:00pm." He used to look at me when I said that with one of those "Yeah man, sure" looks. And, how ironic... today, I do work in an office building... one of the ones that I used to clean decades ago and part of my job is to assign work details to people like me and Manny. I'm a lot nicer than our supervisor was back then... at least, I think so.

Manny was a year younger than me. He didn't have the benefit of a college education like I'd had and because he had done a year as a guest of the state of Pennsylvania (state prison), he couldn't enlist in the military as I had already done at the time. At age 24, he felt as if this was as far as he could go in life and that might have been the reason for his bad attitude. Me, I didn't have a reason or justification. I just had a bad attitude at the time, but I knew I was moving on and that's why I could dream out loud.

I had another job, working at a Burger King in North Philly (far enough from my home so that no one who knew me would see me, though everyone who knew me, knew that I worked there). I was just trying to bank enough money so that when I eventually made my move, I'd have plenty of cash to keep me straight until my rich uncle (Sam) kicked in and started paying me.

Manny and our supervisor had one too many altercations. His lateness, attitude, very existence... you pick one... and Manny and the man nearly got into a fist fight. Of course, you know led to him being terminated. It was bad for me then because I had lost a brother, a comrade in arms. Some people just help you do your time in a bad place (jail, bad job, etc.) a little better. They help you pass the time. When Manny left, things got boring around the job. I had no one to talk to and I didn't really vibe with the other folks who worked there.

About two months before I was to leave Philly to report for basic training at Lackland Air Force base in San Antonio, TX, I ran into Manny. He was decked out and had a knot of cash in his hands. We sat in a restaraunt and he bought me a steak, baked potato, a salad, and a beer. He said, "Yo man, you sure you wanna go in the Air Force? I got a big money game goin' on and you could be in it with me partner." It didn't take much imagination to figure out that Manny was selling drugs and apparently was doing well at it. He told me he had three "corners" in North Philly and was getting ready to take one in West Philly.

"You sure got big in a short while." I said. "That's cause I know somebody, somebody important" he said. "Somebody that set me up nice. I could talk to him, and get him to set you up too man" he said. I declined his offer but looking at all of that cash he was throwing around and the nice clothes he was wearing at the time was tempting. Yet, the thought of living that life and always looking over my shoulders just wasn't appealing to me. It wasa good thing too. I couldn't have known that would be the last time I'd see my friend alive.

A few days before Christmas of that year, I was getting off of the 46 bus near 61st and Oxford Streets and I ran into a girl that we both knew. She called me over to where she and a bunch of her girlfriends were standing. "I guess you heard about your boy Manny?" she asked. "No. What about him?" I asked. "They found him slumped across the front seat of his car with two shots to the dome. I heard the Junior Black Mafia got him", she said. Everytime somebody got killed back then, the Junior Black Mafia got blamed. They did kill a lot of people, but not everybody. To this day, no one has ever been arrested for Manny's murder.

I was sick to my stomach, hearing that and I couldn't believe that he had been killed. We were supposed to hook-up before I left for active duty and hang out. I had already quit both of my jobs. She looked at me as if to say... "Why couldn't it have been you?" She didn't say that, but I never felt this particular girl cared too much for me anyway so, that's what I thought she was thinking. She, too, had gotten a glimpse of the "other" me.

I don't know why I thought about Manny today. I was sitting in an office... ironically enough, of one of the buildings I used to clean... drinking coffee, tapping the keyboard of a computer, and listening to the radio. A young skinny guy came by and emptied my trash can... a trash can he should have emptied the night before. I didn't say anything to him and I thought about what I said some 26 years ago..

"Manny, one day I'm gonna work in a building just like this... in an office... and somebody is going to empty my trash." And, he said..."Nigger, you crazy. Come on man and get back to work." Yeah, I am crazy. Manny, whereever you are, this one's for you!

I Got Your Back

ART: "Daily Prayer" By Wak

Check This Out...

There was a 9 year old boy named Hakim, sitting at his desk and all of a sudden, there is a puddle between his feet and the front of his pants are wet. He thinks his heart is going to stop because he cannot possibly imagine how this has happened. He has peed his pants!

It's never happened before (at least not in school), and he knows that when his boys find out, he will never hear the end of it. Never! When the honeys find out, they'll never speak to him again as long as he lives!

Hakim believes his heart is going to stop; he puts his head down and does what we all do in such situation... he prays. More importantly he prays this prayer: ''Dear God, this is an emergency! I need help now! Five minutes from now, I'm in the mud!"

'He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a look in her eyes that says he has been discovered. As the teacher is walking toward him, a classmate named Shaniqua is carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Shaniqua trips in front of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water in the boy's lap. The boy pretends to be angry but, all the while, he is saying to himself... "Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Jesus!''

Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule, Hakim is the object of sympathy. The teacher rushes him downstairs and gives him gym shorts to put on while his pants dry out. All the other children are on their hands and knees cleaning up around his desk. (Of course, if there were any children like the child I was, I'm sure somebody is somewhere laughing about this whole thing.)

The sympathy is wonderful but, as life would have it, the ridicule that should have been his has been transferred to someone else, Shaniqua. She tries to help but, they tell her to get out. "You've done enough, you klutz! Fall back!"

Finally, at the end of the day, as they are walking home from school, Hakim walks over to Shaniqua and whispers... ''You did that on purpose, didn't you?' Shaniqua whispers back, ''I peed my pants once too.'' He smiles at her and says... "Good lookin' out, buddy."

Of course, that was my spin on an old fable but the point is, that's a true friend... a person that will sacrifice themselves to save you. Do you have a true friend like that? And, more importantly, are you a friend like that yourself? Who has your back and who's back do you have? Whether we like it or not, we are our brothers and our sisters keepers. Just a nice thought for the weekend...

Peace!

The Maverick of All Bloggers
(and former "disgrace to the negro race")

Speak It Into Existence

I was sitting here at my keyboard thinking... this is my 500th post. What should I say? And, it immediately came to me. It's amazing how I can do this and I never really thought that I could or would keep this blog going this long. I thought that by now, I would have gotten bored or burned out or both. But, it hasn't happened. Just about everyday, I find something new to write about and something new about myself to reveal.

I remember the walks I used to take around West Philadelphia with my grandfather and how almost everywhere we went, he knew somebody and somebody knew him. They called him "Slim" and every few blocks... "What'cha know, good Slim?"... "How you doin', Slim?"... "Slim, what's goin' on?" I was fascinated by how many people he appeared to know. I couldn't have been more than about 7 or 8 years old when I said to him... "One day, Pop-Pop, I'm going to be well known just like you." He laughed and said, "Anybody can be known... just make sure you're known for something good." That was just loose talk and I had no idea that one day I might even surpass my grandfather.

If I was ever on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted List, I would have to leave Philadelphia. There is simply very few places in this city that I am not known by somebody... Black, White, Asian,
Hispanic, or what have you. That's not a shallow boast... I had the disease of "wanderlust" as a young boy and I was never satisfied with the surroundings of my own neighborhood. I had to always venture off into another neighborhood, another place. The grass was always greener somewhere else.

Most mothers love their sons and mine loved me. But, I'm certain that if she could've, my mother would have tried to hold me in the womb a little longer if that meant that I would've been safe. "Safe" to my mother meant in the house where she could see me but, that was never me. I had to venture out. I would often offer to take out the trash and vanish for a couple of hours. I loved to explore.

I lived a few blocks from the elevated train and by the time I was 12 years old, I could recite every station from one end of the line to the other backwards in my head and I still can. I rode the trains, I wandered around, and I met people. I was always a friendly child. But, that was a different time. People are so crazy now that a child could have all kinds of bad things happen to him or her in this big, scary city. The city wasn't scary to me then... it was my playground.

Between my wandering and going to different schools and such, I collected an enormus amount of associates. Some, I still know today... some of whom show up in my fiction and short stories on my blog, "Escapades" but, that's another blog post for another day.

I've heard in church that the tongue has the power of life and death and that we can speak things into existence. I've said things and had no idea they were going to happen and been astounded when I realized that they would happen. I told my mother that, before I die, I was going to see the world. There was a great big beautiful world out there and my name was all over it.
Again, just loose talk. I used to say stuff like this all the time and never give it a second thought.

Well, after college (as you all know), I joined the U.S. Air Force. During those years I traveled throughout most of the United States and across two oceans. I've been in the U.K., Amsterdam,
France, Germany, Italy, Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan amongst other places. I've made friends there with both Americans (usually other servicemen and civilians alike).

Then there is Blogger and Facebook. I couldn't have conceived the modern world of the internet just ten years ago. In the short time that I have been blogging, I have made friends with a close knit group of fellow bloggers from Georgia, Louisiana, Texas, California, New York, Washington D.C., Arkansas, Colorado, and even London, U.K. Most of these are people I have never met in person but, people who visit my blogs daily and whose blogs I visit. They also talk to me on Facebook.

My Facebook family has included relatives, friends from the Air Force, college, high school, the streets, and the blogging world. So, when I told my grandfather that one day I was going to be well known like him, I suppose I did speak that into existence. It wasn't easy. I had to write 500 of these posts and about 300 or so posts on my other blog to get to this point. I guess that
included a lot of riding and flying too.

It's been a pleasure and tonight, here's a toast to all of you who have been with me along the way... too numerous to name... but, more special to me than you could ever know. A drink and a two-step to 500 more posts.

Unfriendly Wagers

The recent death of fellow blogger, Nikki Harris, has caused me to stop, pause, and think about life and how fragile it is... as well as death and how sudden can be. I suppose every death is sudden to the person who is dying, since even the condemned don't know the exact hour or minute until it happens.

One day you are healthy and vibrant... and the next, you could come down with something or you're involved in a fatal accident, get shot, or what have you. The thing is, everything in this human existence is urgent and dramatic. The reason being is because, whether we consciously admit it or not, life and death are just so sudden. I would like to talk about two people I know who played the games of chance to illustrate my point...

About two years ago, I was part of a group of five guys who used to make "friendly" wagers (bets) on sporting events... most notably, boxing and football. We would usually bet about $20.00 on (let's say) an Eagles game or a big fight. Throw all of our money in a hat.

One of these guys, (I'll call him) G.F., bet the princely sum of $50.00 on the Floyd Mayweather-Ricky Hatton bout. I wisely chose to sit that one out. At the time, I didn't know much about Ricky Hatton except, he was unbeaten and had never fought in America. G.F. said that he didn't think Floyd took Hatton seriously and that he smelled an upset. He and the other three guys put $50.00 dollars down on the fight and they all took Mayweather.

Well, if you're a boxing fan, you know what happened. Floyd Mayweather knocked Ricky Hatton out. G.F. also vanished right after the verdict and stayed missing. He had welched on his bet. Most of us who have played with him knew that he was always prone to do stuff like that... that's just him. We still bet with him because (if you're a fan of "The Wire ", you'll relate to this) this is America... we have to let everybody play.

One of the guys playing must not have watched "The Wire". He was an old timer and I'll call him House. House wanted his money and he was quite vocal about it. So vocal that, by the time he got finished telling everybody about how G.F. welched on his bet, een G.F.'s girlfriend was talking about him.

G.F. never paid him and then put up $100.00 with these other guys on last season's Eagles-Dallas game. He said that Dallas, who still had T.O., should trample the Eagles. As you all know, the Eagles surprised quite a few people that Sunday and gave Dallas the worse whipping of the season. Once again, G.F. was in the wind.

Old head House and some of his friends caught up with G.F. and lifted him up by his pants loops and shook him until his wallet and all of his belongings fell to the sidewalk. He wanted his money... the man just didn't play that! This pretty much broke up our little group and we never bet on anything else again. Except for me, none of those guys spoke to G.F. again. In the meanwhile, his girlfriend broke up with him and for the next few months, G.F. lived the life of a social pariah.

Earlier this year, old head House had a stroke and died suddenly. We were all sitting around talking about him and sharing stories after the funeral. Then, I heard G.F. say... "You know man, we didn't speak for the last year of his life and it was all over a couple of bucks. It wasn't worth it. He was my friend, man. I was gonna pay him and squash all of that stuff. I was gonna wait until Christmas. Damn, man. You think you got all the time in the world." Which brings me to my point.

You do think you have all the time in the world and you really don't. Here today, certainly gone tomorrow. You never know. Petty beefs over money, something somebody said, whatever... are not really that deep. Not when it's a friend or relative. Is anything really that deep? You better tell somebody that you love them and appreciate them while they can hear it. We better squash the beefs while they can be squashed. When someone is dressed in a suit and laying in a casket with their hands folded, it's a little too late.

My mother always used to say... "Give me my roses while I can smell them." Wise words, indeed.

The Text That Broke The Camel's Back!

Okay, I'll admit it... I'm a petty man by nature. I can't talk about other people's faults and not talk about my own. I don't ask for much in life but, the little that I do ask for, I expect to get. No excuses... that's just how I am. I have certain rules of etiquette. If you are a friend of mine and you break these rules, you may not be a friend of mine much longer. I suppose it all began in the first grade...

Christmas was approaching and we were having something called a pollyanna so, I had to get a gift for the person whose name I pulled from the hat. My uncle took me to the "five and dime" store (better known as Woolworth) on 52nd street and we bought a nice bright racing car for the person that I would have wanted for myself. I was so proud of the gift that I couldn't wait for my school chum to open it... I was just bursting with joy. Do you know what I got in return? A pair of socks! That's right... the cheap bastard got me a pair of socks and what was worse, they were too big. My mother, grandmother, and uncle thought it was funny but, I didn't find the humor in it because I wanted a toy too.

From that day on, I rarely (if ever) participated in pollyannas... not family, not school, not college, not fraternity, not in the Air Force, and definitely not at any job. People have probably called me "Scrooge" but, I have always declined to participate just the same. Now don't get me wrong, if I have a friend or acquaintence that I'm particulary close to or fond of, I will buy them a nice gift and not necessarily expect anything back. But, that's different because I wanted to give them a gift and not because I was part of some organized tradition where I was supposed to give a gift and expect to get something equally nice back!

With my friends, and especially my close friends, I expect some parity too. For instance, I had a friend (and the emphasis is on HAD) who I would get a birthday gift and a Christmas gift for every year. When my birthday would come around, I would be lucky if I got a card and I would get my Christmas gift about three months later on my birthday as a sort of combination gift. I didn't want to bring it up to them because that would have been kinda... well, you know, in poor taste.

Eventually, I stopped buying birthday gifts and Christmas gifts for this person and just started sending cards. Recently, this person had the nerve to mention to me that I didn't buy gifts and I played the "poor mouth" card. I said that I was married, had a family, and now with grandchildren so, I just couldn't swing it.

A few days before my birthday this year I got a text message saying "Happy Birthday" from this person. It was the kind of text that makes noise and the phone provider probably sends you. I shook my head... I couldn't believe it. Come Mother's day, I called my friend (as I do every woman I know) and wished her a "Happy Mother's Day". I mean, come on... it's Mother's Day. You know what I got yesterday? A Text message that said "Hapy Father's Day" and it wasn't even spelled right. Come on... they left out one of the p's! Well, that was the text that broke the camel's back.

Am I too old fashioned to expect a call? I make calls. If we are good friends, shouldn't we be a little more personal than a text? Don't get me wrong... a text message is cool for a lot of things but so uncool when you're asking somebody out on a date, when you're breaking up with somebody (to me, that's downright cowardly), and when you're sending greetings for birthdays , Mother's Day, Father's Day, etc. Is it just me? I like a call or a face-to-face, if possible. You can text me about the game, Kanye West's new album, the guy's toupee' in church that fell off when pastor really got to goin' in his sermon. But dammit, call me or come see about me on the days that really matter!

Blogger & Facebook

I have wondered for a while if I am really addicted to both Blogger and Facebook... the answer was yes. I do write for two blogs, the one you're reading and my other fiction and poetry blog, Escapades, on a daily basis. Anyone who has followed me on Facebook knows that I must have taken all of the Facebook quizzes there are (and then some) and that I hold converstaions with close to 161 people on a daily basis. Okay, maybe not all at once but, in the short time I've been on Facebook, I have reconnected with people I went to high school with, people I went to college with, people who I served in the Air Force with, and guys who are members of my fraternity. I also have a number of relatives and other people who I just knew from... well, just being me.

I have always been somewhat of an "electric personality" and a "people magnet". I'm not just saying this either. In every aspect of my life, I came to know a cross-section of people. My wife and one of my co-workers used to say, "My God, is there any place we can go where you don't know somebody?" What can I say? I've been many places and seen many faces. A social network like Facebook was tailor-made for the "social animal" that I am.

My little blog opened me up to an entire network of like-minded people who I have followed to Facebook. I have not decided if I am going to get on Twitter but, I understand that there are even more people on that social network. I've also heard that it is even more addictive that Facebook or Blogger. Do I really need that too? I've got living to do! :)

I'm a natural born writer but, I never dreamed that I would spend this much time in front of a computer. I spend an hour to an hour-and-a-half each night writing my blog posts and another hour on Facebook. I suppose I could be doing something worse but, I'm going to try something else. I'm going to spend a little time this summer reading (I've got three novels and some magazines that are awaiting my attention) and I'm going to go out a little and actually touch some real live human beings.

I think that this will improve my writing and I hope all of you who read my blogs will let me know. I may not be blogging everyday like I have been but, I'll be around enough. Most of my blogger friends have taken weeks off at a time. I won't be doing that because I love this blogging thing too much. I love Facebook too. Can Twitter be next? Lord knows, I don't need another electronic addiction.

Make Me Smile

I've been thinking a lot lately about life, death, and all things meta-physical. Without being too preachy or too deep (after all, it is Friday and the beginning of the weekend), I would like to pose the question of what makes us happy? What really makes us smile from ear to ear? Did you ever stop to think, when was the last time you were truly, truly just happy to be alive?

I don't have time to answer this in one blog post and I'm not sure I could write a book to answer this but, I do know one thing... people don't have a clue as to what really brings them joy. It has been said by someone wiser than I that we all live lives of quiet desperation and everyday that I'm still allowed to breathe in and breathe out, I realize that is true.

Somewhere after the age of (let's say) 21, life stops being this wonderful journey of constant discovery and wonderment to us and we get serious. We get locked into jobs, relationships, morgtages, automobiles, bigger homes to store more things in, and making more money than the next guy. Before we know it, life is over and we find that we don't know our spouses... our kids have grown up and we don't know much about them or feel comfortable having a conversation with them... and most of our friends have gone on to other jobs, new cities, or what have you and at the end of the day, you really don't have much to smile about. This thought came to mind this afternoon.

I was driving past the first place my wife and I lived as man and wife. It was a huge house on the corner of the block that the owners had turned into a duplex. Their son lived on the top floor, they inhabited the floor below it, and my wife and I lived in what was really a basement that had been turned into an apartment. It was very roomy... the bedroom we had, as well as the kitchen, were actually larger than the bedroom and kitchen in the house that we live in now. There is a huge for sale sign on the house now and the couple that rented the apartment to us have since died and, the last I heard, their son was living in Washington, DC.

I spent some of the happiest days of my life in that place. We didn't own a car but we lived near the train station so, I commuted to work everyday. We lived near a market and a dry cleaners and there was another black newly married couple that lived near us. They moved into a house a few years before we didbut, I couldn't tell you where they are now. The point is, I was blissfully happy. I don't even think I had a credit card then.

Today, I have a home, a car, a grown daughter, two grandkids, a job that is very stressful and unfulfilling but pays well, and a lot of stress and free-floating anxiety. I've got a savings account, checking account, credit cards, and the like but, I'm not as happy as I was then when it was just the three of us and we had next to nothing, except each other. The funny thing is, if you had asked me back then, I would've told you something like... "When we get a home of our own and a car, we'll be so happy and so set. We all do that... "If I can get a bigger house, I'll have it made!" "If I can get that new BMW, I'll be happy!" "If I can make 200K next year, I'll be king of the hill baby!"

When we do get what we say will make us happy, we find ourselves miserable still. Do you know why? Things can't make you happy. Some of us never find that out until it's too late. I'm not writing this to make you think that I'm depressed. I'm not... I'm doing real good. It's just that the things that really made and continue to make me happy have nothing to do with money or the accumulation of things. Usually, people who don't have any money or anything else write something like that but, I'm being the exception to the rule.

Think about this... every dollar, every quarter, every nickel, and every penny you ever earned and put aside will go to somebody else after you've gone. The house you are living in will, more than likely, be lived in by somebody else. The car you're driving now will be driven by somebody else. You're only using the stuff that you sweat and bleed to obtain for a short period of time. Money doesn't have an owner... only a spender.

So, what makes me really happy? What makes me smile? Probably something different from what might make you smile but, I can say this... what makes me smile are things that can't be bought. Things I brought here with me when I came and things I hope to take with me when I leave. The answer is in the spiritual... the unexplainable. Those things, those moments... with a child, a lover, a good friend, or a pet that are priceless. Those things that can't be measured... at least not by man.

Circle Of Life

A lot has been going on with me lately. I have been putting off writing this post but, I finally decided to go on and do it. I wrote a post about two weeks ago in which I spoke of going to my Air Force unit's reunion and having a rather humorous encounter with a drunken racist at a roadhouse on my way there. I spoke of how even temperedly I handled the situation so that it did not get out of hand and how I went to the reunion and was reacquainted with several people I had known throughout my 22-year military career.

What I left out was that, while on route to that same reunion, I got a rather disturbing phone call from a friend of mine. It seemed that another friend of mine had suffered a massive heart attack the day before and was in the hospital in critical condition. I was stunned because I had been out with this guy just two nights before and had even run into him and his girlfriend the day before that and he seemed just fine. I was just blown away by this news and with everything else that was going on, I couldn't bring myself to write about it.

Any of you who have a huge network of friends knows how news can get passed around and how a story can morph from one thing to another very quickly. It's bad enough when news is being transmitted by word of mouth but, email and texting haven't made it any better. I got a story that my friend was in an induced coma, his liver had failed, and he had to be resuscitated ten times to keep him alive. Then, I got a story that he had come out of his coma and was awake talking to people. None of these stories turned out to be true.

By Thursday, I decided to find out the truth for myself by visiting the hospital. I knew he was in intensive care but, I took a gamble that, since I knew so many of his people, I might get a chance to visit him. While I was en route to the hospital to see him, my daughter called and informed me that "she thought her water broke and she was on her way to the hospital to have my second grandchild.

At this point, my mind was traveling in one million directions. I entered the hospital, asked for my friend by name, and was told to go to intensive care. I wasn't prepared for what I was about to see. He had all kinds of tubes in him and he was breathing heavy. He was on life support. A doctor was explaining to his girlfriend, closest relatives, and comrades that, if he was removed from life support, he could die right away or he might breathe on his own but, the person we knew and loved was gone because there was no brain activity.

To say I was shocked would be putting it mildly. His closest friend explained to me that he had a bad heart for a couple of years and he kept it a secret. Further, he rarely took his medicine or made any attempt to slow down his lifestyle (you had to know this guy... he truly partied like a rock star). So, he had suffered a massive heart attack and was now brain dead. I had never known about his heart and neither did anyone else, including his girlfriend.

Well, they took him off of life support and miraculously he didn't die right away. He gasped for air for a few minutes and then, he turned his head toward the ceiling and just stopped moving. For a minute, he just looked very serene and peaceful. The doctor came in, touched his chest, and then said to all of us... "He's gone." I have never seen anything like that in my life.

Of course, the room filled with howling and crying and I stood there, numb and stunned. A man had just died right in front of me... I didn't figure on that! I left the hospital, got in my car, and called my wife. I told her what had happened and I asked about our daughter but, she hadn't heard anything yet.

The next morning at 4:26am, as you now know from my previous post, my second grandchild was born. Unlike my first grandchild, I was not present for the birth yet, I was overjoyed just the same. In a period of 12 hours, I had witnessed a death and celebrated the birth of my grand-daughter. As you can imagine, I was in an emotional freefall.

Saturday, I attended my friend's homegoing service. This funeral was a virtual who's who of people we've known for years. There was so many people there that we had to go in shifts to view the body. I know that he would've loved that.

Yesterday, I celebrated Mother's Day with my two favorite mommies... my wife and my daughter (and grandchildren) and thus, the circle of death and life came to fruition. I've purged myself for the time being. Now, I can go on. I still have some living to do myself. Peace!

Chicken Lickin'

One of my co-worker's emailed me yesterday and asked what I was doing for lunch. I replied that I didn't have any plans. She then told me that she was sending me a link from Oprah Winfrey which would enable us to get free Chicken from KFC. The first thing I said was, "Is this some kind of internet hoax? I don't want my computer to get any more viruses... I just had it cleaned a week ago." She assured me it was not. She said that Oprah was giving everybody in America a free Chicken dinner at KFC.

I was certain that she misunderstood and that there was some kind of catch... the kind of catch where we had to wind up paying a small fee. Nobody "gives" you anything and I guess that's just the cynic in me. Then again, I thought that Oprah does give people stuff on her show every once in a while and she does have it going on financially like that so, who knows? I went to the link and downloaded two coupons. I even got fancy with it. Instead of sending it to the black and white printer, I sent it to the color printer in another part of the suite and then rushed to get it.

Armed with my two tickets (in KFC red and white no doubt), I met my co-worker outside of my building and we caught the subway downtown to the nearest KFC. Guess what? They didn't honor our tickets and they didn't even know what we were talking about. We got back on the subway and rode further downtown to yet another KFC and not only did they not know what we were talking about, they were out of chicken! Yeah, you know my reaction to that... "For God's sake! How are you going to call yourself Kentucky Fried Chicken and you don't have any chicken?"

By this time, we were both hungry and had four useless coupons and a 1/2 hour of our lunch hour was gone. We got back on the subway, returned to the original KFC we went to before, and we were told that they had run out of chicken too! How do you run out of chicken during the lunch hour?

Dog tired, we got back on the subway and headed back to work. We both got some General Tso's Chicken and fried rice off of a lunch truck. I asked my co-worker if she thought this might be a hoax. She told me that they were talking about it on the radio and that everybody in her office was talking about it too. Was it a hoax? I still don't know for sure but, what I really want to know is how did two KFC's run out of chicken during the lunch hour?

(Update: It's no hoax... it was for real... and it was for the Grilled Chicken only.)

Wedding Singers

I was at a wedding recently and they had a wedding singer there that was really, really bad. To begin with, while I was standing in the hallway of the church before the wedding began, this particular person was bragging about how she was going to be featured on the next season of "American Idol" and how she would be in the first group of contestants. Nobody asked her but, she felt the need to repeat this over and over to anyone who would listen. She reminded me of some of those really stuck up, high maintenance divas that I used to be so attracted to back in the 80's... so much so that I was annoyed with her before she even began to sing.

I was only at this wedding in the first place because the bride was the niece of a friend of mine. I didn't know the bride or the groom personally. The first thing about this wedding that took me out was that the groomsmen came down the aisle from one direction and the bridesmaids came from another direction. Once they were lined up, somebody cued up the music... Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell's classic "You're All I Need To Get By". The groomsmen turned counter clockwise and the bridesmaids turned towards them. Then, they all walked past each other, came back, spun around, and walked down the aisle together. I suppose, somebody thought this was cute. I just chuckled and sat in the back of the church in my suit and sunglasses, trying to look cool. Then, the wedding singer appeared.

If you thought the bridesmaids and groomsmens little "whatever" was bizarre, it got worse. First off, the song she sung had nothing to do with a wedding, love, or anything. She sang "Listen", the song that Beyonce sang in the movie "Dreamgirls". Maybe it did have something to do with the wedding.

Usually a wedding singer sings one song right? They had this woman down to sing two songs. She was so obnoxious and over emoted so much that, one song from her was more than enough. She then belts out the Keisha Cole song "Sent from Heaven" and dragged it on as though Simon and Paula were in the audience. I just shook my head. At least, she didn't sing "Bust Your Windows" by Jazmine Sullivan.

Do you know that at the reception, she had to nerve to be asking people if they thought she was good? Of course, people lied and said... "Oh, chillle, you was wonderful! I ran off to the restroom because it's hard to hold your food down amongst so much B.S. As obnoxious as this woman was, at least she could hold a note. The other wedding singer that I'm going to talk next about brought me to tears.

I was the best man at my frat brother's wedding and this guy comes in wearing a pink suit with ruffled sleeves and a gerri curl. He looked like an overweight version of Martin Lawrence's character, Jerome. He also looked like time and good fashion sense stopped for him on December 31, 1974.

We were standing up in front of the church and this guy was singing (and not well, mind you) "You Are My Lady" by Freddie Jackson. He's doing all of these runs and fills and making me hate the song that I once liked. I was holding my head down and trying as hard as I could not to bust out laughing. I looked over at my frat brother and he's got his head bowed and waving his hand at me as if to say, "Don't look at me, man." I can see tears running down the side of his face.

I looked at the bride and she's not even trying to front... she is visibly laughing (a girl after my own heart). Anyone who has ever been in the black church knows that, no matter how bad you sound, someone in the church will egg you on. "Go head boy! Sannnnnnng! Let Him use yahhhhh! Alright now! Welllll!"

Upon hearing this, Gerri Curl Jones really began to perform. He got down on one knee and held the mike like he was James Brown. I was about to burst. If somebody had walked out with a cape, put it on his shoulders, and walked him back to the pew, I would have left the church.

The piano player stopped playing, folded his arms, and just glared at this guy. I just couldn't take it any longer... I howled! My frat brother lost it and his bride, who was already laughing, let it hang loose. The groomsmen smiled but, they tried to hold it together. A few of the bridesmaids began to laugh too. Nobody in the audience had a clue as to why we were laughing. I'm sure that they thought we were just nervous young people.

Unlike the American Idol runner up in the other wedding, this guy knew that we were laughing at him. He got his check and caught the fastest thing smoking out of that area when his part in the wedding was done. He wasn't at the reception or around for any of the photos. Thank God!

Now, what I didn't mention is that I used to be a Wedding Singer too. In the 80's and once in the 90's, I sang at a few weddings and made pretty good money at it. I always wore a black tux or at least a black or gray pin-striped suit and had a nice close haircut... nothing extreme. I would like to think that I always picked tasteful music and brought my own musician with me to make sure it was done right.

I haven't sung at a wedding since 1992 so, when a co-worker who is the daughter of another one of my former college friends asked me to do so today, I respectfully declined. After the way I have laughed at and clowned the previous two wedding singers, bad karma might be following me. I might trip and fall or get my pants caught on a hook and rip them off in the middle of the church or something. I choose not to tempt fate.

Another Day In The Life

Every day that you wake up is like a roll of the dice. Your life can go one way and it can go another way. It can be routinely boring and run of the mill or it can be fascinating. I always wake up expecting a fascinating day... forget the stories you have heard me tell on this blog that might lead you to believe that my life is one big drama. Most of my days are as routine and boring as yours. It's just that I've had my share of extraordinary days and this day was one of them.

It started as normal as any other Sunday Morning... my wife and I woke up to (unseasonable) 93 degree weather and sunshine, which was a relief. We have had a rash of cold, nasty, and rainy days so, this weekend was well needed and appreciated.

My Air Force unit was having a reunion picnic today that I planned to attend. Since I got on Facebook, I have been "discovered" by several of my old Air Force buddies. We have been talking back and forth on Facebook, through emails, and by phone. We agreed to meet up in Horsham, PA at the VFW post to attend our old unit's picnic and reunion.

One of my Air Force buddies lives about four blocks from me. We talked yesterday and agreed to go to breakfast this morning before we went to the reunion and I told him to pick the place. I was just glad that I didn't have to drive for a change. He picked a nice bar and grill in a suburb of Philadelphia that was on our way to the base. The first thing I noticed was, not only were we the only African Americans in the eatery but also, the youngest. Most of the guys in there were my father's age and older. An interracial couple (black man, white woman, and a child) about my age or a little younger came in after us and sat in the booth across from us.

There were two white men about my father's age sitting at a table right across from us. One guy who was talking loud and obviously inebriated (drunk). It was 10:30am, he looked at the couple, and then said, "Soon we are all going to be one race, you know... with all the mixing going on." His friend said to him, "Curt... Curt... will ya shut up and drink your coffee." But, Curt kept talking and said... "Well, you got your new President and he's half white you know. His mother is white and his father is African so, he's mixed. It's the new trend."

His friend looked at me and my friend and then, at the interracial couple. He admonished his friend and said... "Curt, would you please shut the hell up. People are trying to eat." Out of the blue, Curt then says to me... "Hey, pal... Are you a full-blooded negro?" The guy that was sitting with the white girl turned and looked at him. Then, my friend said... "Yo! What the hell?" I raised my hand to tell my friend to cool it. I looked at him, smiled, and said (using my best Stepin' Fetchit impression) "Why, yas suh. I sho' is... One hundred percent knee grow. And, how 'bout you? Is you part negro?" I was having a good time and it was obvious. The brother with the white girl looked at me and winked. Then, he cracked a smile but, his wife didn't find it funny at all.

Curt's friend was mortified. He looked at all of us and apologized... "I'm awful sorry for him guys. He's drunk and when he gets drunk he's a little irregular." I looked at him and said... "It's okay, I imagine he's not much different when he's not drinking, am I right?" Curt's friend grabbed him, hoisted him up, began walking him towards the door and replied... "You got that right buddy. Thanks for being a good sport. I'm really sorry." I looked at him and said, "It's okay. If I'm lucky enough to live to be his age, I'm gonna say the first thing that comes out of my mouth too." Then, they were gone.

The brother with the white wife and child looked at me and laughed. His wife said, "You were a lot nicer to that creep than he deserved. What a racist lout." I simply said to her and my friend, who was equally astounded at the man, "He was drunk and he only asked a question. He didn't call anybody any names." Her husband agreed with me. Then, my friend and I were off to the reunion.

This was the first time I had been anywhere near my Air Force unit in the three years since I retired (June 2006) and it was like a high school reunion. Here I met and got reacquainted with Black, White, Asian, and Latino people that I had served with in the United States Air Force for a span of 22 years. I caught up on who had gotten married, who had children or grandchildren, who had died, who was still "in", etc. It was a decidedly more civil racial atmosphere. We were one Air Force, one military, and our obvious differences had to take a back seat to the mission at hand. At least, that's what was instilled in us from boot camp.

Let's face it... even little children notice differences. It's just that, unlike adults, it seems that they don't let it bother them. They are just happy to play. We kinda lose that as we get older and drift into our tribes of differences. Today, on this brilliant sunny day with summer like weather, we were all one and it was good. A situation in a bar and grill, that could have turned into a big "rowdy dow" had someone else been involved that didn't share my sense of humor, was averted and peace ruled the day. As I returned home, I wondered why these bizarre events always seem to happen to me or when I'm around?

When you wake up, you never know what a day may bring your way. One day is boring and routine and another day is... well, like this one.

To Facebook With Love

I've been on Facebook for about two months now (kinda, sorta)...

Early in January, a young lady who I used to supervise in the Air Force found my name on one of those blast emails that a mutual friend sent out so, she contacted me. I hadn't seen her in five years... she left the Air Force right at the beginning of the second Gulf War. She had finished nursing school, gotten married, and had a baby. She always said that I was her favorite mentor and I helped her get promoted to Staff Seargent. She told me that she was on Facebook and she sent me instructions on how to set up my page. On January 17th 2009, I officially went on Facebook but, I promptly forgot that I had the page after that... I didn't write a profile, didn't upload a photo, didn't post anything, or nothing. Now, fast forward to two weeks ago...

While I was at work, I got an email from my wife with a link on it. I click on the link and see a beautiful photo of my wife's Facebook page. She had a detailed profile and several "friends" already. She had done in one day what I hadn't done in two months! I kept thinking to myself, "I've got two blogs... Do I need to get into something else?" Well, just like it was a nudge from my wife that started me to blogging, it was a nudge from her and my Air Force friend that got me into Facebook.

The next day, my wife and I uploaded a photo for me on my Facebook page, I completed my info/bio, and began sending out invites for "friends". Much to my delight and surprise, several of my cousins are on Facebook and they found me. People in Atlanta, Chicago, and elsewhere have found me. A young Hispanic guy that I also mentored in the Air Force found me and has given me an update on his life since we last saw each other.

Another thing that I'm glad about is that I've caught up with a lot of my fellow bloggers on Facebook (shout outs to Rich, 12Kyle , Eb The Celeb, Shelly Shell, The F$%k It List, Shai, Queen Of Her Castle, Nikki, and Southern Gal) and can keep up with them now, even on days when none of us are blogging.

By the way, my daughter, who has been on Facebook for sometime now, was not pleased. She jokingly said to me and my wife, "Y'all are too old to be on Facebook!" I keep wondering can Twitter be far behind? Believe it or not, my grandson is already on Twitter and has been for sometime-lol!

Grown Man Rambling

I have a birthday coming up in a few days (Tuesday to be exact) and today as I write this, I was doing something I rarely ever do. I was taking time to think and take stock of where I've been and where I am. I'm sure that most people don't do this. Who has the time, right?

One of the things I like about the blogs that I read is how personal and how introspective a lot of the posts are. I have read some incredibly raw and personal blog posts that have just blown my mind and made me want to tighten up my game. Unfortunately, for you the reader, you're not about to read one of them. This is just me riffing. This post came about because of two things that happened to me while I was driving today...

First, I offered a ride to a young lady I know who was waiting for the bus. I was on my way home after coming from the barber shop. Picking her up was a big mistake. She railed on and on about the break-up of her latest relationship the entire time I was driving. I hear this stuff everyday at work from different people. On any given Friday night, if I stop at a local establishment to get some food and hear a little music, women in my age bracket are complaining about how hard it is to find a "good man" out here. I don't doubt that and I feel for a lot of them.

It's just that, I don't feel like hearing it since I can't do anything to help them and anything resembling advice that I give them, almost always falls on deaf ears. She went on and on about how terrible this guy was and how the woman he is with is a "young strumpet" (her words) "who lets him do anything he wants to do." Finally, I said to her in as nice a way as I possibly could, "You know, you're sitting here fuming and foaming at the mouth over this guy and his new girlfriend and they are probably somewhere having a good time, not giving you a second thought. How pathetic is that and how pathetic are you? What you ought to do is get dressed up, go out, have yourself a good time, and not give them a second thought. At least, you would be even."

She didn't really want to hear it and she told me that it was easy for me to say that because "you've been married for like-forever". I told her that even when I wasn't married, I didn't fume over anyone too long. I usually found a way to have a good time and keep it pushing. She got out of my car and said to me rather snidely, "Oh gee, if everyone could be you." I didn't take it personally. In fact, I probably deserved it. This is another reason why I didn't feel like hearing it. She then said to me in parting, "I wish I could have been married as long as you have. You don't know how good you got it." Actually, I do.

Later, as the afternoon turned to nightfall, I drove to the gas station and my cell phone went off. It was a guy I know. From the background sounds, I could hear that he was in a club... a hip-hop club. The same club that the radio station I was listening to was broadcasting from. This guy, who is 50 years old (like myself), is in a club with women in their 20's and 30's, flirting and dancing with them. I know I sound like I'm hating but, I'll tell you all something that I said when I was 23 years old and partying pretty hard. I always said that when I got past 40, I was not going to be the "old man in the club", still chasing women the age of my children. Me and my friends used to laugh at people "that old" trying to hang with us and do what we were doing. One thing I didn't want to do was be the joke myself. In between 18 and 39 years of age, I represented as well as anyone in the game... I don't think I have anything to prove to myself or anybody else as far as that's concerned. I can close the book on that part of my life now.

I laughed and talked with him but, it was so loud in the club that I couldn't hear him and he couldn't hear me. I told him to have a good time and hung up. Don't get me wrong, I like to have a good time as much as the next person. I will go out to eat, go to spots where a live band is playing, and have a drink or two... but, I can't see myself hanging out with young ladies my daughter's age or younger and trying to hit on them on top of that. For one thing, I don't have to. Second, I really, really shouldn't, if you know what I mean? Third, I haven't a clue as to what kind of dances the young people are doing today. Wow, I even sound like I got my extreme "grown man" on. Did you just read that?

Right now, I'm just happy to be where I'm at, acting my age, and not having too much to complain about. That may not sound like much but, I know at least two people who might agree.

Deacon's Blues

In addition to being a part of the "Marriage Enrichment Ministry" (MEM) with my wife at church (you've seen a few of the date night posts where all of our married couples went out to dinner, bowling, movies, etc.), I also took part in the "Mighty Men's Ministry" (MMM) for a brief period. Essentially, this group was a think tank where brothers of all ages met to talk about issues that effect men. I know that the women reading this are laughing because you all know that it's close to impossible to get men to discuss anything with passion outside of sex and sports, right? The discussions we had spanned generations and while sex was part of the discussions, it wasn't what you might normally think. We discussed fatherhood, responsibility, community issues, marriage, relationships, and a number of other things.

I'm sorry to say that it has been a while since I've been to one of the meetings but, it was during the time when I was there that I saw the man I am going to write about today. I suppose he is living proof of how God can change lives. I thought of him today because I was driving past a particular trolley route that he and I made "famous" years ago. He had put on weight and had grown a beard but, I recognized him as soon as I saw him. He was a deacon in the church now, married, and had a little boy (about 3 years old) that he was playing with. This guy and I had history...

A long time ago, I went to a junior high school that everybody in the neighborhood nicknamed "The Gladiator School"... William Shoemaker Jr. High. It's a middle school now but, it was notorious because it sat in the middle of three warring gang turfs. You had the Hoopes Street gang on the side nearest to 52nd Street... the Boot Hill Gang (later known as the "Hilltop Hustlers" in the surrounding area) and the Moon Gang, which had been around when my mother was a little girl. This gang was bigger and more organized than the other two gangs combined. Although I was never in any gang, I lived on "real estate" that had just been claimed by the Moon Gang, much to the detriment of the "Hilltop Hustlers". My brother and I had to walk to school through these two foreign turfs and then had to finesse our way back home everyday. If we were lucky, we only got shook down for some cash. Other guys weren't so lucky,they got beat up, got articles of clothing jacked.

Despite the beard, I knew who the deacon was or rather, who he used to be. After one of the MMM sessions was over, I walked over to him and said, "Ronnie, is that you?" He turned, looked at me, squinted his eyes, and it appeared that he didn't know who I was. So, I said to him, "You don't remember me? We used to go to Shoemaker. You used to take my lunch money." Ronnie replied, "Man, I used to take a lot of people's money." He laughed and then, he stretched his hand out to shake mine. I shook his hand and then asked him again... "You still don't remember me, do you? I was one who didn't give you my money." He looked at me again and in his mind, I guess he imagined me thinner and without the moustache. Then, it hit him... "Oh my God! Keith! Keith! Man I heard you were dead!" he said and we embraced. I said... "Nah, that was the other Keith. I'm very much alive." There were at least two other "Keiths" in our neighborhood at any given time.

Ronnie was a fringe member of the "Hilltop Hustlers". Well, actually, he just hung with them. He really wasn't in the gang but, he terrorized those of us (like myself) who didn't have any gang affiliations (as if he did) or no one to have our backs. He would "ask" guys for their lunch money and if they didn't give it up, he made them jump up and down to see if he could hear change jiggling. If he caught you in a lie about having money, there was hell to pay. One day, I made him pay his fare to hell.

It was a Friday. I had saved my lunch money all week and I was going to treat myself to something after school. I didn't feel like giving up my cash on this day so, when school let out, I tried to slip down the avenue as quick as possible but, here came Ronnie and his cousin. I was with another boy named Greg and I told him, "When they get up close, let's run in two different directions because they can't catch us both." Well, that's just what we did... we broke out. Unfortunately for me, both guys ran after me and forgot about Greg.

Boys didn't wear their pants saggin' back then and were in much better shape than they are today. So, when something went down, we were prepared to "get in the wind." Back then, you always saw somebody running... either from the cops or gangs. It was better than watching track and field in the Olympics. You could look out your window on any given day and see somebody running. It's the Philly way!

Anyway, Ronnie picked up a brick and sailed it right past my head. I threw a bottle at him and it just missed him. This nonsense went on for a few minutes and then I just decided to run it out! Mind you, not one cop showed up the entire time our little guerilla warfare was going on! I had a two-parked-cars lead on both of them and I was very agile and adept at weaving in and out of parked cars. These two yokels were no match for my speed and I easily out ran both of them and hopped on the trolley. I looked out the back window and waved at them as the trolley pulled off down the street. But, guess what? These two fools kept coming. I couldn't believe it! My laughter quickly turned to panic when the trolley stopped!!! A delivery truck was blocking the trolley.

I ran to the door and just as Ronnie's cousin came up the trolley steps, I kicked him right in his stomach and darted off the trolley. So, I was out in the street... running again. We continued to play our game of bottles and bricks... kids were ducking for cover and we continued running and throwing whatever we could pick up and hurl at each other. Not one adult intervened either. These people were so used to seeing worse things on that avenue that this little brouhaha was nothing to them. Social novocaine at its beginnings, I guess.

After I got down the street, I realized that Ronnie was still coming. He was mad (as well as out of breath and out of bricks.) I reached into a nearby trash can and pulled out an empty bottle of Old English and cracked it against the wall. Then, I turned around, so they could see the jagged edge of the bottle, and headed toward Ronnie and his cousin. I really didn't want to give up my cash that day and Ronnie and his cousin got the message real quick. They turned and ran. I stood there, sweaty, heart racing, and scared myself. I don't know what I would have done if I had caught them because I was really bluffing with the bottle... but, neither one of them wanted to find out if I was or wasn't for real. Sometimes a good bluff works. This was one of those times.

Neither Ronnie nor his cousin ever bothered me again and after I left that school, I only saw them occasionally on the street as adults. Ronnie's cousin got shot to death in 1986 trying to hold up a liquor store. I never knew what happened to Ronnie until I saw him at church. It was hard to believe that this gentle man, who was playing with his son, was once the neighborhood terror. God really does change lives. I told Ronnie that I had gone to college, joined the military, was married myself with a family, and had just recently moved my membership to this church. He told me that he had been in prison a little while and after he got out, he turned his life around... he got married and found God.

It was funny... I walked away thinking of how we almost killed each other that day, just because we lived in different neighborhoods and adhered to some silly code of the streets. We could have been friends all this time but, such was the insanity of growing up male of any race in Philadelphia at the time. It's even worse now... people who might have been friends really do kill each other nowadays so, I guess we were lucky, depending on how you look at it. As I was driving along that trolley route, I had to laugh... thinking of that early spring day when two young men turned that route into a war zone.

He Didn't Look Like The Type

Rhianna & Chris Brown

I wrote a post last year during Domestic Abuse Month (October) about an acquaintance of mine who cold-cocked his girlfriend right in front of me while we were riding in his car because she complimented me on my shirt. He viewed it as being "disrespectful" to him. He also told me that if I didn't like it, (which I didn't and I told him so) I could get out of the car too. I wound up having to take the bus, the El, and another bus home from my destination and so did the girl, who had a swollen face and a black eye.

I brought this back up because I've heard yet another story about Rhianna and Chris Brown today and why he beat her up. The point is, not only do I not care why he beat her up, there is no why he had to do it, as far as I'm concerned. I kept looking at his photo when the story first broke and remembering the guy I saw in the movie "This Christmas". I kept saying, "He doesn't look like the type." Then, I had to catch myself... just what does an abusive man look like?

My former friend who punched his girlfriend in the car we were riding in didn't look the type either. For one thing, he was short (about 5' 7"), had a cherub-like baby face (the kind old ladies like to pinch), and was of slight build. Yet, he terrorized his girlfriend. In my previous post, I talked about how he had knocked another of his girlfriends down a flight of stairs, which caused her to lose the child she was carrying. He was a vicious little guy and during the entire time I knew him, he and I had argued quite a bit but, he never raised his hand to strike me. I believe I gave him plenty more reason to do so than any of his girlfriends yet, the thought never came to his mind (which is why he's alive today).

The night he told me to get out of his car, after he hit the girl, I called him a punk and a few other unprintable things. Yet, he did nothing to me, except drive off. He even apologized (to me) a few days later. Which brings up one of my main theories about guys who beat on women. They almost never flex or get chest up with other guys. I have never seen a case of that yet. They terrorize women but, are as meek as a lamb with men. So, I call abusive men what they really are... bullies. (I was thinking of another word that begins with a "b" but, I'm a Christian now and I don't talk like that anymore. Y'all get my drift, right?)

A man should never put his hands on a woman. If you get that angry, walk away. The same strategy could be used when dealing with other men too... just walk away. Nowadays, that could save you from being shot or stabbed.

I am hearing that Chris Brown got a text message from his cougar of a manager, who he's been seeing since he was 16 years old. Rhianna allegedly got upset about it and tossed his BlackBerry and car keys out into the street. This is what led to the punching, biting, and scratching that now threatens to derail both of their careers and possibly land him in deep legal waters.

I don't know if this story is true or not but, of the many I have heard, this sounds the most credible and logical. It doesn't really matter. Of all of the stories I've heard, Chris Brown still was not justified in punching Rhianna. I have also heard that this is not the first time this has happened between them either... it was just the first time that Chris was caught! It wouldn't surprise me if that turned out to be true too... just like it doesn't surprise me that Rhianna has gone back to him.

My former friend's girlfriend eventually went back to him too but, she didn't stay long. A lot of these women go back to the abusive guy because they don't feel as though they have anywhere else to go. Their sense of self-worth has been stripped and they don't feel as though anyone else will want them. This is the little shell game that the abusive guy runs on these women. The truth is usually the reverse... he's the one who nobody will want!

The best thing to do when you're in a relationship and somebody hits you once is to leave and never return. Once it begins, there is no reason to think that it's not going to continue. I can't tell you how many times I have put on my cape and told someone this and they haven't listened... even made excuses as to why they were hit, like it was their fault. This is why I retired from the superhero business. My warnings fell on deaf ears.

I don't know Chris Brown or Rhianna and I don't pretend to know what happened that night in Hollywood. Unlike a lot of people, I'm not that invested in knowing either but, I did see the end result of what happened and regardless, Rhianna didn't deserve that... and she deserves better than what she's giving herself by continuing to be a part of it.

Related Post: Click here to see "Conspiracy of Silence" 10/09/08.