Cat's in the Cradle

A child arrived just the other day
He came to the world in the usual way
But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay
He learned to walk while I was away
And he was talking before I knew it and as he grew
He said, "I'm gonna be like you, Dad,
You know I'm gonna be like you"

And the cats in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin home, Dad, I don't know when,
But we'll get together then,
You know we'll have a good time then.

My son turned ten just the other day
He said "Thanks for the ball, Dad, come on lets play
Can you teach me to throw?" I said, "Not today,
I got a lot to do" He said "that's okay"
And he walked away but his smile never dimmed
And said "I'm gonna be like him, yeah
You know I'm going to be like him"

And the cats in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin home, Dad, I don't know when,
But we'll get together then,
You know we'll have a good time then.

Well he came from college just the other day
So much like a man I just had to say,
"Son, I'm proud of you, can you sit for a while?"
He shook his head, and he said with a smile

"What I'd really like, Dad, is to borrow the car keys
See you later, can I have them please?"

And the cats in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin home, Son, I don't know when,
But we'll get together then, Dad
You know we'll have a good time then.

I've long since retired, my son's moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said "Id like to see you if you don't mind"
He said "Id love to Dad, if I could find the time.
You see my new jobs a hassle, and the kids have the flu.
But It's sure nice talking to you, Dad,
It's been sure nice talking to you........"
And as I hung up the phone it had occurred to me
He'd grown up just like me,
My boy was just like me..............

And the cats in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin home, Son, I don't know when,
But we'll get together then, Dad
We're gonna have a good time then.

- Cat Stevens

I was listening to this song just yesterday (I've always loved Cat Stevens - yes, I'm a hippy at heart) and I had a thought about it I'd never had before.

I realized that the son actually hasn't turned out like his father. And that the father hasn't grown.

In the end, when the son doesn't have time to visit with his father, one of the reasons he gives is that he has to BE THERE FOR HIS OWN CHILDREN. The son has learned from his father's mistakes. He's going to be there for his kids. And the father, who has always thought of himself first, continues in his narcissism by having the expectation that his son would forsake his own kids in favor of the father who never had time for him.

My whole life, whenever I heard this song, I always felt really bad for the father in the end, and sad that the son hadn't turned out to be better than his dad. But suddenly, yesterday, I realized that I had no sympathy for the father and I was proud of the son.

It got me thinking about my friend, the BearMaiden, and the rest of the Bear Clan. They have all rallied around their patriarch as he has undergone health issues. And the love and devotion and sheer connection that exists amongst all of them is something that really just has to make your heart swell. So few families have this kind of closeness and love. And I have realized that PapaBear has to be an even more amazing man than I already knew. That the only way a person gains this kind of love and support and devotion and caring is by giving love and support and devotion and caring in return.

And then, I live the flip side. My relationship with my mother is more along the lines of the Cat Stevens song. My mother has lived a life in which she has always placed herself, her wants, desires, idiosyncracies, comforts and perspectives before all else - even her child. I don't feel much like going into detail, but I will only say that often while growing up - there were basic necessities I had to do without which my mother had in abundance.

So this morning I got a phone call - my mother is in the hospital. I still don't understand exactly what's wrong. Apparently she got sick and didn't go to the doctor right away and it just kept getting worse. Now she's in intensive care with low blood pressure, anemia and dehydration. The doctor says she's stable but he's having a gastro-enterologist examine her and there's a kidney specialist who, according to my mother, says her kidneys are "shot."

And I'm sitting here, 3000 miles away, thinking "I hope I don't have to go out there." And somehow that seems wrong. But it's the reality of our relationship. I feel an obligation to be there for her - but no desire, no will to do so. And, like the son, in the Cat Steven's song - I am more concerned with how my children need me here than how my mother needs me there.

I don't know if there's any point to this. But I just needed to get it out. I guess the point is that I suppose some would say that by not wanting to be there for my mother, I've grown up to be just like her - which is the one thing I don't want to be. But, from my perspective, I'm not like her because my children mean so much more to me that I ever meant to her.

Pass the butter...'cause my car is TOAST

Tuesday, February 17, 2009 was Sugar's 10th Birthday. I felt the need to mark it - to make it a big deal, though in a very personal way. The Friday before we took her and friends out for a movie and pizza and cake, and that was nice. But I felt like it was really important that on her birthday it be just her and me - sharing experiences together, just like we shared our very first experience together the moment she was born 10 years before.

So we had a wonderful day together. We went to the top of the Empire State Building, where neither of us had been before. We had lunch and shopped in Times Square and Rockefeller Center and basically had a NYC tourist day - which is always a bit of a treat when you're a native NYer.

It was the kind of day that should make you sleep like a rock all night - but neither of us did. Spice climbed in bed with the Bull and I sometime in the night and seemed determined to suffocate me by sleeping on my head. I spent hours moving around the bed trying to get away from her. And then I woke up around 4:30 am to the Bull's voice talking Sugar.

Sugar was saying she couldn't sleep and for some reason the Bull was asking her if she'd done her homework. I guess he thought that doing homework would bore her into falling back asleep.
Finally after listening to this ridiculous exchange for a bit, I got up and took Sugar back to bed. I put her in Spice's bed, got in next to her and waited for her to fall asleep. By about 5:00 she was knocked out. I stayed for a few more minutes, contemplating whether I would get more sleep by staying there with her, or going back to my own bed, where Spice was waiting to spread her little body over my neck and nose and cut off my air. I finally decided that the worst thing that could happen was that Spice would wake up, come looking for me and all three of us would wind up in one little twin bed. I got up to go back to my bed when the bell rang.

Let me tell you, even if it's never happened before, when your bell rings at 5am, you just instinctively know it's the police. You don't know why they're ringing - but you just know there's no one else it can be.

The Bull answered the door, and as I came out of Sugar's and Spice's room, I heard a deep male voice say my name and ask if I lived there. The Bull said yes, and the official sounding voice said,

"Her car has been set on fire. She needs to come with us."

Something in my head went numb at that moment, and I don't know if it's gone back to normal since then. I ran to my dresser, grabbed a bra and a shirt and jeans and threw them on. I asked The Bull, "Which car?" while hoping against hope that it was our beat-up 14-year-old Camry. He looked at me, shook his head, and said "The Sienna." My worst fear, the still new, 2007 Sienna that the girls and I practically live in.

The Sienna has been my life-line for the last year and a half. With the girls in schools on opposite sides of the city (Sugar on the east side, Spice on the west), and the best shopping and cheapest gas in the country across the river in NJ - we spend a lot of time in the car. Not to mention that we chose the Sienna with the understanding that we needed the space for extra kids to ride. But it hasn't just been the kids who bring their friends along. It's been me. As often as not, my friends are piling in to go grocery shopping, take the kids on excursions, etc. It's been the center of the girl's and my social world - freeing us to do whatever, and go where ever we want.

So I was almost shaking as I shoved my bare feet into sneakers and grabbed the first coat I put my hands on, to walk out the door with the two officers that were standing there, waiting. Downstairs, I climbed into the back of the squad car as the officers debated about whether to take me to the scene or back to the precinct to write up the report. They asked me and I said I wanted to see the car - that I needed to see it to know that this was real. So they took me to the scene - just two blocks away.

As we pulled up, I could see a fire truck, and police cars and yellow tape - and then there was my car. At a quick glance, in the dark, it almost looked normal - the outside paint was completely in tact - but the windows were all broken out and as I looked past the shards of broken glass sticking out from the window frames all I could see was black. Black metal. Anything soft or made of plastic or rubber was gone. The seat frames were all that was left of the seats, the metal frame of the steering wheel. The cushions I sat on. The driver's seat cushion where Sugar had gotten fabric paint on it, while climbing into the car with a project from camp when the car was just a few weeks old - gone. Spice's Britax Roundabout car seat - gone.

Even now, a week later, it's the sight of a small glob of melted plastic, small enough to fit in my hand, stuck to the metal frame of what was the seat that could only be the remains of Spice's car seat that sets me over the edge. My baby's seat, the contraption I most relied on to protect her, reduced to a small glob - sent me into a small fit of tears.

But somehow, standing outside in the cold at 5:30am with a bunch of detectives and uniformed cops and firemen, just doesn't seem to be the time to break down and start crying. So I pulled it together quickly. Still, one of the officers who brought me over, saw my distress and offered me the comfort of remembering that my loved ones are safe and that a car can be replaced.

I spent the next 2.5 hours out there, talking to detectives and fire marshalls - telling them over and over, that no, I don't have any enemies and neither does the Bull. That's there's no one we know who would do something like this. And over and over, they reassured me that they felt it was a random act. That it really had nothing to do with me - but that they just had to ask.

As I watched, I noticed them fussing over something on a bench. Then I started hearing detectives talking about it and began to understand that the person who set my car on fire had left a note. I began asking around, but no one would tell me. So I just waited.

Finally they started talking to me about being able to go home. They'd all asked me everything they needed to. I asked about what would happen with my car - if I could get the plates. At first they weren't certain, but eventually they decided the car would be impounded as evidence. They said they'd get the plates back to me.

I went home. The girls were just waking up. I told Sugar what happened and tried to go about my day. I called the insurance company and told them what had happened. They were very helpful. Gave me the name and number of the person who would handle my case. Later, I called them again about getting a rental car and they set that up. By the end of the day I was in a rental - relieved that I could at least get around.

At one point I went out and came back in and there was a business card on my door from a reporter on ABC news. I debated for a while about whether or not to call him. Finally I decided I would. He answered immediately, only to tell me that he was now covering a story about a 14 year old boy who had jumped or fallen from the window of an exclusive private school. He'd landed just a few feet from a group of 4th and 5th graders who were playing outside in the closed off street.

This put everything in perspective for me. The police had arrived at my door that morning to tell me my car was gone. Somewhere else in the city, on the same day, someone would be contacting a woman to tell her that her son was gone. My pain was manageable. Hers is something I can't even let myself imagine.

A car can be replaced. This is the mantra I held close during the first days after the fire. And I still hold that thought close. Though now, more than 2 weeks later, I have a clear understanding that replacing that car isn't going to be so easy.

I was told, at the scene, that the car was going to be held as evidence in the investigation and that the police would get the plates and send them to me. That seemed fine to me.

What I didn't know was that the insurance company won't do anything if they can't see the car. I've spent two weeks trying to connect the insurance company and the police or the fire marshall. The police and fire marshall won't let insurance investigators near the car and the insurance company won't do anything unless they inspect the car. The fire marshall's office says they'll send pictures to the insurance company and/or will talk to the insurance company, but the insurance company won't call the fire marshall.

I thought getting a lawyer would help - so far all it's seemed to do is make the insurance company refuse to speak to me anymore - they say that since I've given the lawyer permission to represent me, they have to speak to my lawyer only.

I'm at the end of my rope. I wish that it could just be as simple as saying "Look at these pictures the press took! My car is TOAST!"





Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way. I am close to the end of my rope. I'm about to start calling the press and local government representatives. I am starting to feel more victimized by the lack of help I'm getting from the insurance company than by the fire. It's easier to accept that a crazy man randomly targeted my car than it is accept that a company is being deliberately stubborn about resolving this issue.

For now, I'll keep the name of the insurance company to myself. I know this blog isn't well read, isn't known by many, but it still doesn't feel right to put them on blast while they have the opportunity to do the right thing. But if it goes on much longer, or gets worse - I will be gladly put the word out in any way I can to warn people away from a company that will drag its customers through hell.

Slavery

When Sugar was younger, around 5-years-old, we read the American Girl Addy books. Sugar became interested in history, in particular the history of slavery in this country. We read other books about it and had a lot of discussions about slavery. Some of the discussions were surprisingly amusing - like when I told her that back then it had been illegal for people of primarily African descent to marry people of primarily European descent, and she said - "You and Daddy wouldn't have been able to be married?!?!" Of course that led to a conversation about how "Black" people come in all different skin tones. But, most of our conversations were serious and centered around how people sometimes forget their own humanity and can deny the humanity of others.

Always in these conversations we talked about slavery as a thing of the past. I've always thought of slavery as a thing of the past, as something that happened long before I was born. That had ended before the birth of anyone I know. Certainly, I understand the long lasting repercussions of slavery in this country - repercussions that reverberate throughout society today. However, the actual existence of slavery, the trafficking of slaves, the selling of people who are held and made to work without pay, against their will - that is something I really thought of as being something of the past.

It never occurred to me, as I talked to Sugar about slavery, that there are slaves in the world - in this country, this city, probably even my neighborhood - right now - today. I mean, I know that there are, individually, people who hold people against their will - make them do things they wouldn't otherwise do. But it never occurred to me that it was wide spread. That it was any more than an occasional aberration.

Then, the other night when I came out from putting the girls to bed, Law & Order was on. I wasn't going to watch it - though it's a show I've always appreciated - because I wanted to take the decorations off the Christmas tree. But I kept peeking at it as I went about my task and before I knew it, the decorations were piled on the coffee table and I was sitting on the sofa engrossed in the most eye-opening episode of the show I've ever seen.

It was about a couple, both divorce lawyers, who had been murdered. As the story went on it was discovered that the wife had represented a woman in a couple that were divorcing who had adopted a child from Haiti. It turned out that friends of the divorcing couple had a son adopted from Haiti as well. As the detectives delved further they discovered that the boy was not exactly a son - but more of a slave. Then he discovered that the boy's "parents" had arranged for many children to be bought from Haiti to live and work in the homes of their friends and colleagues. Many of the children purchased of the street for as little as $50.

Now, I know that most of Law & Order's stories are taken from the news. So, I couldn't help but know that this - they buying of children and transporting them to this country, this city to work as domestic help in people's homes - well, that's happening here, now.

I wanted to close my eyes and pretend I'd never seen this episode. I don't want to think that children. Young children. Children like my girls and their friends are living and working in deplorable conditions - are suffering and being neglected and hurt and even tortured - right here, right now.

But I couldn't, I can't. I went to the Law & Order website on NBC and found a link to an organization called Free the Slaves. And there I found myself overwhelmed with facts and statistics that astounded me.

There are 25 MILLION slaves in the world today.

1 in 10 children in Haiti are slaves.

14,500 slaves are trafficked into the United States every year.

50% of slavery in the US is in the commercial sex industry.

The average cost for a human slave around the world is $90.

There are more slaves in the world now than any other time in history.

I'm still exploring the website. Still trying to understand how this can be happening in the world today. Still trying to wrap my head around the enormity of this and what I can do about it.

One thing they suggest doing on the website is to write about it. So that's where I'm starting - here and now. The word about this must be spread. I'll keep thinking about what else I can do - but words - words are something I can certainly give freely.

Please take a moment and go to this site. See what's happening in the world. Think about what you can do.

Giving Thanks for my life and for the 44th President

I am thankful for many things. My beautiful girls. A roof over my head and food in my mouth. As much as I complain about working, I am thankful that for the last 9.5 years I have been able to pay most of the bills, mostly by working from home. That work has rarely kept me from a class trip or a parents association meeting, or a performance or birthday party or any of the many events big and small that have happened in my children's lives.

I am thankful, truth be told, for The Bull. With all the problems we've had, with all the turmoil, with all the tears over the years, I still have to recognize that he and I have stood by each other's sides and been there for our girls together. I am thankful that, when things are good with us, we realize that there is still SO much for us to discover about each other. I am thankful that we are still growing and developing within this relationship. I don't where the future will lead us. But I am thankful for what we have right now.

There's a lot that I want in my life. But this day, I know that I have very much to be thankful for. For some reason, this morning, before I was even fully awake, before I even remembered it was Thanksgiving, I had this flash of clarity in which I was thankful for toilet paper. I suddenly remembered going to this mock refugee camp that Doctors Without Borders set up in Prospect Park a couple of years ago and learning that people there didn't have toilet paper. And this morning I thought about what would happen if our economy collapsed, or if there was a major disaster. That something as simple and basic as toilet paper, something I take completely for granted, could actually become a luxury. IS a luxury for some people. That there could be a day when my preference for soft, cushy Charmin, could be forgotten and that I'd be happy for any kind of paper.

So, today, I'm thankful for even the simplest of things.

And I am thankful for the big things too. I am thankful that Barack Obama will, in less than two months, be sworn in as the 44th President of the United States of America.

This past election day, for the first time in many years, I was excited to go vote. I took the girls with me and the three of us pulled the lever together. And I felt very conscious of the fact that we were joining history as we flipped that little black switch. Though I'd previously had the opportunity to vote in six Presidential elections, none of them had felt historic. And the candidate I voted for only won two out of those six times I voted for President.

This time, though, history swirled around me as I entered the polls and for the first time ever, I was certain, beyond any doubt, that my candidate would win. I'd had moments all through the year when I knew Obama would be President and each time I had one of those moments it became harder for me to let doubt cloud my certainty.

This election day, I could so clearly remember my introduction to Barack Obama - the first time I saw him I was certain he would one day be President of the United States. I watched him speak at the Democratic Convention in 2004 and thought, "If this guy were running, we'd definitely win," and then, almost immediately realized, "Wow! This guy is going to run for President someday, and he's going to WIN!" At the time, I thought he would do that in 2012. In fact I spent time at the very beginning of his campaign thinking he'd made the wrong choice, that he should have waited for 2012. I'm thankful he didn't wait.

Some time earlier this year - maybe even around the end of last year - I heard Barack Obama make a speech that changed everything for me. I don't remember his exact words - I just remember that I felt compelled to get up and DO something. And I started looking around me and seeing that other people were doing things - or talking about doing things - all inspired by Obama. I realized that this man was a once in a lifetime kind of leader. He could motivate and inspire others - and there are so few people throughout the course of history who could do that - and too many of them have employed that talent in a negative fashion. I am thankful that he came along in my lifetime.

Thankful that there is this man who embodies all the charisma and power and sheer motivational force of a true leader and he is also intelligent and aware and has had both a broad range of life experience and plain old integrity. How rare is that? How unusual? Really, how many people like him are born in a century? In a millennium?

When I heard that speech, no matter how good I felt about Hillary - and I started out feeling really good about her - there was no doubt that Obama was the only real candidate. For me, Hillary represented the best that politics had to offer, but Obama's appeal was beyond politics. I felt and still do feel that he became a part of the system in order to do things, make changes, fulfill ideals that were born outside of the system.

Wow, it sounds like almost a religious fervor I have for him. And honestly, while I don't place him on a pedestal, don't think he is any kind of deity, I do now understand a little of what religious people feel. I never understood the idea that a belief in God or Jesus or Allah or whoever could make someone a better person - or want to be a better person. I've always believed that you are (or should be) good for the sake of being good - not because some unseen entity says you should be good.

And yet, Barack Obama inspires me to be better, try harder, challenge myself and my thinking, open my mind, explore, ask questions, look for answers, devise solutions, think, care, do. How can I not be thankful for someone who inspires so much, not only in me but in so many people.

Not that I put Obama on a pedestal of any kind. I recognize that he is human and will have his flaws will make decisions and policies that I don't agree with - may even have some scandal or another pop up along the way.

By the way, I don't believe that the "scandals" that came up during the campaign were scandalous at all. The Reverend Wright and Bill Ayers things actually help solidify my respect for and belief in him as someone who is open to looking at our country and our government objectively. Both Wright and Ayers represent people who have found fault with many of the practices of our government over the years. The way they expressed their disdain for these practices wasn't the best - but that doesn't mean that they didn't have a valid point of view that is shared by many people.

That Barack Obama was open to hearing and understanding these points of view is vitally important. A true leader can't just walk around saying that everything is fine and ignoring the people who say it isn't. He HAS to listen to those who are pointing out the flaws. He has to be willing to see the cracks, to notice the tarnish, to acknowledge that there is decay that can make everything crumble if it isn't attended to. That's what Obama's association with these men represents to me - an openness to seeing and acknowledging the ways that our government hasn't always worked, that our country hasn't always lived up to it's promise. I am thankful that someone with an open a mind and the intelligence to not be afraid of dissent is about to take office.

And now he is about to be President and we will see what he does with all his insight and openness, how he uses his ability to inspire and motivate. I believe he will use it well. But even if he doesn't, even if he makes mistakes - he has already done a spectacular thing that will ripple throughout history affecting many things and people for years to come.

The morning after election day, Sugar said to me that she hoped Obama would bring the change he promised. And with tears in my eyes (I cried a lot that day because the emotions were so full within me that my eyes seemed to be the only outlet for them) I told her that no matter what he did, he had changed everything - us, our country, the world, history - forever. And it seems that a thousand times a day I am struck by and thankful for the ways that Barack Obama being elected President of the United States of America changes so much.

I am thankful that every little kid who is too young to understand what's going on with this election, and every child who is yet to be born, will never know a world in which there has never been a President of color. The same way that my kids don't know what it's like to live in a world without a computer or a dvd player or a microwave oven - Spice will never understand what it's like for there to have never been a brown man in the White House. A friend of mine was determined to get papers the day after election day so she would have them to show her grandchildren - and I found myself thinking that our grandchildren may well look at those papers and wonder what the big deal is?

I am thankful that every kid who's ever been teased for having a funny name - will now be able to point to the President and say "See where having a funny name gets you!" It's like the Kevin Henkes book Chrysanthemum come to life on a big scale. (Though, it might well be that in the kindergaten classes of 2013 and 2014 Barack might be a quite common name.)

I realize and am thankful that for the first time in my life I want to watch each and every Presidential address and that I will encourage my children to watch as well. That what is happening in the government will not just be background noise that I feel hopeless and helpless about. That I will be informed about what the President has to say and what he's doing, not because I consider it some obligation of duty, but because I WANT to know. I want to hear him speak, want to know what he has to say. Want to know what I can do, what I should know, what I can learn from him this time. And that, again, I am not alone - that here is a man who millions WANT to listen to.

I am thankful that for the first time since the Bill Cosby show went off the air, there have been and will continue to be, consistently positive images of a Black man and Black family on the airwaves. And I realize that this isn't just good for Black people - but for everyone. That we all need to see the negative stereotypes broken with as much regularity as we have seen them reinforced.

I realize that for Black people in particular this is a huge thing. That it is vitally important to the self-esteem or each and every one of us to see a positive representation of ourselves over and over and over again - and that's something Black folks have had in short supply. And that a lot of brown people who feel good about themselves is good for everyone. That people who feel bad about themselves usually do there best to make everyone miserable and people who feel good about themselves, tend to want to spread the joy. I am thankful that there is about to be someone in the White House who can make all of us feel good about ourselves.

I realize that Obama's win goes way beyond race - that it's was truly like a battle between good and evil and I am thankful that for the first time in my life - the good guy won. Not just the guy who could play the game the best - whatever the game happened to be - but the Good Guy. I told a friend that when they announced Obama won I had a feeling like I had as a teenager seeing the Death Star blown up at the end of Star Wars. She laughed and said that for her it was like seeing the house fall on the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz. It comes down to the fact that for both of us - and I think for millions of people - the good guy only wins in the movies. But not this time. This time the Good Guy won for real. Who can't be thankful for that?

And if seeing positive images of a Black man and a Black family does something positive for the self-image of Black people - what kind of wonderful things does it do for EVERYONE to see that being good, having integrity, taking the high road can win the prize? Doesn't that make each and everyone of us value the good within ourselves a little bit more? Yes, we should all be good for the sake of being good. But it's extra sweet when being good means being victorious.

And on a very personal note - though I'm sure there are thousands of people out there who have the same personal note - how thankful am I that there will be two brown girls growing up in the White House while I am raising my own two brown girls. And doesn't it help that the older one is almost the same age as my oldest and that she too seems quiet and introspective while having a bouncy, vibrant, younger sister who's a bit of an attention-hog. And, can I tell you that when I told Sugar that the Obama family wants to adopt a shelter dog - but that might be difficult because Malia is allergic - so they need a hypoallergenic dog - my girl just beamed! Because, of course, she is allergic and we wanted to adopt from a shelter - so it took months for us to find Oberon. As I looked in Sugar's eyes and saw her pride at having something in common with Malia, I realized that it's not just Obama who will inspire and encourage and uplift and instill self-pride. It's his whole family.

I am thankful that this man can inspire not just personally, but globally. That here is a man who's election was cheered around the world. That hopefully the perception of his intelligence can extend to us all. That people around the world can look at Americans and think of us, first and foremost, that we elected an intelligent, thoughtful, brown man. That we could make an intelligent choice. That we are not ruled and motivated by fear and ignorance. I am thankful that the American people have shown themselves to have some plain old good sense.

And lastly, I have to say that the culmnination of history and the efforts of many in Obama is just overwhelming to me. On a bulletin board in Sugar's school some one posted up a huge paper with with the following written on it,

"Rosa sat so Martin could walk. Martin walked so Obama could run. Obama ran so our Children could fly."

When I saw that the morning after election day, I burst into tears. The truth of it is so evident to me. Except that that it's incomplete. There are SO many people, of multiple ethnicities, who have played a part in the history that has led to it being possible for Obama to be elected. In my mind I see a huge timeline of the history of this country and all along it the images of people stand out and look towards today and Obama and I know that he is here where he is, and when he is, because of each and every one of them. I have never felt that before. Never felt the evidence and impact of history as I do in him and his being elected.

I am thankful for a history that has led to this moment in time. And thankful that this moment is now.

The Return of the Reluctant Blogger

I wasn't sure if or when I would return to blogging. I suspected that the urge to do it would be great, but that the time to do so would be lacking. I was right.

Over the last few weeks since I posted my goodbye post I've had many occasions when I wanted to blog - most notably when Barack Obama was elected 44th President of the United States.

For a few days I was speechless. I could do nothing more than weep tears of joy as I listened to and read the words of others describing their feelings. Then, on the 4th day after the election I wrote a post to an email group I belong to and I very much wanted to turn that email into a post here on this blog. But, I knew I still wasn't ready to come back.

I needed to detox from blogs for a while. I found that I was escaping into them in an unhealthy way. I was wrapping them around me like a security blanket - and I was shutting out and not dealing with my life as a result of it.

I came out from that protective shell and started looking around and I didn't like what I saw - but I was also motivated to make some changes. I've been much more involved with my kids, with my home and with my spouse. Most importantly, I've been much more involved with myself.

So, if things are so good being away from blogs, why return?

Well, I do miss writing. I do miss having a forum to share my thoughts and my point of view with others. Not that I've had a huge following. But, I think I've had some regulars who popped in for a look. And I've had friends who've discovered my blogs, and thus discovered a different side of me. I need to share this side of myself. And I need to write. So I'm back. But with a new set of rules for myself.

I have limits on how much time I can spend reading blogs. At one point I was reading about 40 different blogs a day - numerous times a day. I can't do that anymore. Fortunately, when I look at the list of blogs I used to read, I find that there are very few I really have any urge to delve into. Thank goodness.

I also need two limits on myself with writing. I need to be consistent. But I can't get lost in writng posts to the point where I'm ignoring other aspects of life. I've found what I hope is the solution to both of those limits.

I will only post once a week. But I will post every week. Right now I'm leaning towards Monday being my day to post. Whatever else is happening, I can usually find some quiet time on Sunday nights. It gives me the week to gather my thoughts and the weekend to write them down and edit them.

Hopefully, my posts will be more coherent this way. And the discipline of writing - and actually editing my posts, instead of just rattling them off (like I'm doing now) should be good for me as well.

Let's see where this takes me. Where it takes us - if anyone is out there reading.

Stepping Out

It's been more than a month since I've posted here ---ok, more than 2 months. All along I've assumed that I'd get back to it because I saw blogging as an opportunity to clear my head and deal with issues that I definitely need to deal with. But, not for the first time, I've come to understand that my online activity actually gets in the way of my life rather than enhancing it.

I escape into the computer. I use the computer to distract me from the things I should be facing. As a way to take the edge off of what's happening in my life without actually facing it. It's easier to hide in the computer and pretend I'm delving into my thoughts and feelings - than it is to really face the stuff in my life that isn't working.

But, I've done this for too long. I've distracted myself from the things that are really important for years now - and I'm running out of time to make my life better. So it's time to strip away the distractions and face my world and myself.

So, effective immediately, I'm putting this blog to rest. I won't delete it, or my other blog, but I won't post on them either. I also won't be reading blogs anymore. If it's easy for me to get distracted by writing about my own life - it's beyond tempting to lose myself in reading about the trials and tribulations of others.

Some of the things I will be tackling in my absence from the online world are taking care of myself, getting my home clean and in order, going back to school, looking for work that doesn't make me feel like I'm compromising myself, spending real time with my kids, and seeing if there's anything left to my relationship with the Bull.

That's a lot of stuff and the number one priority is taking care of me. My whole life I've put EVERYONE else first. I've always thought I was being giving or caring or loving or just plain considerate. But the reality is I was being neglectful of myself. I was raised to believe that my needs were second to my mother's wants. And I translated this later in life to believe that my needs and wants should always come last. Now, I've finally realized that I deserve to put myself first and that's what I'm moving towards. It's not easy for me. But its essential and it's my main focus moving forward.

I want to thank all of you who have come back to check this space even when long periods of time have passed without a word from me. I appreciate your comments and ideas and will miss contemplating life with you.

I hope that someday I can come back to blogging. It's something I really do enjoy. Hopefully there will be a day when I've managed to get my life in order and blogging can be something I do for fun that doesn't detract from my everyday life.

Thanks for all the words and the thoughts.

Mistaken Identity

For reasons I cannot completely understand, TheBull is more and more regularly mistaken for actor Michael Clarke Duncan. It's hilarious. People have mentioned it here and there over the last few years. But the incidents were few and far between. But lately it's becoming a regular thing. Someone recently walked into my parents' house and saw a picture of us on the computer's screen saver and immediately asked if that was "that actor."

We were introduced to someone recently who told TheBull, "Hey has anyone ever told you that you look like..."

And just today, TheBull was stopped on the street in lower Manhattan by a group of tourists who wanted to know if he was, "that guy from that Stephen King movie."

That's usually what he gets - "the guy from that Stephen King movie," or, when they actually remember the name of the movie, "the actor from Green Mile."

If he really was Michael Clarke Duncan, I'd think he should be offended, because no one ever remembers the name of the actor.

The funny thing is that we, the Bull, Sugar and I, just don't see it. Other than the most obvious attributes of bald head and skin color - there is no resemblance as far as we're concerned. Even the shape of their heads is entirely different.

What do you think?









Honestly, I really don't get it. I think TheBull is much better looking and has a much nicer smile - but obviously, I'm biased. If there's a famous person I think TheBull does look like, it's director John Singleton.










But really, I think he just looks like himself.

It's funny, though, how people tend to see one or two obvious traits about a person and will then compare them to someone else.

Another example of this is the fact that most people think that Sugar and Spice look much more like me than they do like TheBull. I will admit that they do bear a resemblance to me. But they also have many of his features - and most people don't notice that at all. They see light skin and dark curly hair and swear that the girls look nothing like him.

And yet they have his eyes and his chin and Sugar's lips are more like his than mine.
Both girls even have a tendency to raise one eyebrow like he does.









I really think the girls are a perfect combination of TheBull and I - they got the best of each of us. But most people don't see it. But I guess I could fill a book (or a blog) with the things most people don't see.