It seems odd to me that, at this time of year when I am usually sad about and missing my mother, my father has been on my mind so much.  A lot of recent circumstances and conversations have focused my thoughts on him and who he was and how I became who I am because of him and, as you will soon learn about, the lack of him.

I wrote this piece about my father a while back.  I have never published it and have only allowed one person to read it before now…but it seems I am in a period of healing and prayerfully, renewal.  I guess it is time that I let go of some of the things that I have held onto so tightly for so long.  So, here it is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was 5 AM.  Early morning early cold 5 AM and he had just finished his shift.

Gray workshirt and pants black workboots over full body thermals under dark work jacket against early morning early cold 5 AM cold.

Midwestern early cold wind cut across his head and face, so cold he pulled a dark wool cap from his dark work jacket pocket and against early morning early cold pulled it over his needing a haircut head and ears

     ahhh warm.

He walks tucks metal lunch bucket under his arm other hand casual waves

      See Ya 

with that you know upward nod to his boys and heads off to home.

Him, a husband now not so new anymore but still amazing after five years

that he goes home,

home that word so amazing that he has to say it twice sometimes

     I’m going home Man home to a wife so pretty and sweetmean

and his son just three and looking exactly like him

still sleeping now and his baby daughter tiny brown delicate smelling like a new baby daughter

powdery and made to be hugged

thinking about her made him smile and more warm so

he walked faster

faster to home

home where his pretty wife now awake and shuffling softly through the house,

their home,

would be rubbing sleep from her brown eyes and ironing her skirt for work

so she would be dressed and in the kitchen stirring soft scrambled eggs

glancing at two strips of bacon and hoping for enough butter for toast,

coffee in the old percolator that her mother gave them

said it made coffee good enough for his father in law while father in law

worked at the steel mill and now that son in law was on at the plant

he would need good black coffee too.

Thinking of his pretty wife moving her lovely hips back and forth in front of the stove timing his eggs so that the eggs would be hot soft scrambled the way he liked

just as he walked in the door not too cooled down or not yet ready so he would have to wait

made him move faster

he started a jog to get home faster

his home where his pretty wife would be warming a plate and cup for him

and son who looked just like him big headed and long brown legs

already the eyes of a son who knows his father works but plays with him too and

delicate baby daughter who needed lots of hugs.

The jogging became a run

a feeling good in the early morning early cold run that would get him home and

when he got home sooner because he ran,

she would pretend to be angry and it would make him smile while he ate his soft scrambled eggs that she would pout and

he would smack her lightly on the behind

Him only 27 and not spotless but now with a home with a pretty wife

a lookalike son and tiny new daughter

Oh he ran faster

on the early morning early cold sidewalk past the bus stop where he didn’t stop

because to catch the bus meant a quarter the he needed to save towards the car that

he wanted to buy so she didn’t have to catch the bus in the early morning early cold to get to work and

some of the fellows from the neighborhood on the way to the dayshift hollered

     Hey Man Where you going in such a hurry

but he only ran faster

running

     home Man home

running

If he got home in time he could watch her finish getting dressed

tucking her blouse in her skirt while he finished his toast and sipped his coffee

then help her bundle the children for the trip to her mother’s so he could sleep,

running past the barber shop and Best Place In Town for Ribs

     Black Man Running! Slow down Man! HaHaHa You running from the law?

Running

she would pretend to fuss over what to have for dinner running so he could tell her not to worry he would cook before his shift

running

and she would turn and smile at him in their house with his son who looked like him and knew daddy worked but played with him too and his delicate baby daughter who needed hugs

Running

Running home to the reason he worked lived breathed ran

running to home his pretty wife and looks just like me son and tiny new daughter who needed hugs

     Stop Police!

Running

he only heard the sound of his pretty wife saying to his son

     You can sleep a few more minutes until Daddy gets home

running

so he could wrap his son up warm in a blanket and his delicate baby girl for the trip to her mothers before she went to work

     Stop or I’ll shoot!

running

he heard a loud bang

running

he began to turn but the bullet spun him around

     No!

away from home

     BANG OHMYGOD BANG

     Home! I need to get home!

warmth spread over his chest and stomach but he wasn’t running anymore

     Did they just shoot that boy?

     Get in the house.  It aint our business.  Go now!

     Oh my God! The police just shot that boy lives down the way!

     Did you see that?

     Hey, why yall shoot that boy?  He wasn’t doing nothing.

His legs still wanted to move kicking a little now and again

     Home Man Home

to his pretty sweetmean wife and his lookalike son who would yell

     Wake Up Daddy Wake up!

at the funeral and his tiny delicate baby daughter who would not get his hugs

but would grow up to write about how he got killed

running

in the early morning early cold on the way home to his pretty wife who was making him soft scrambled eggs two slices of bacon hoping for enough butter for toast.

For My Father, William                                                                                                           (c) May 2, 2006

On New Year’s Eve, I made a beautiful snack tray for my family.  It is our usual New Year’s Eve tradition to enjoy snacks as we listen to music, watch comedy shows, sip champagne and wait for the ball to drop at midnight. The champagne was chilled. The candles were lit.  I had sliced some lovely fruit and decided to add the summer sausage, cheese and crackers to our snack tray.  I went into the refrigerator to retrieve the snack package and went to open one of the flavored summer sausages. Much to my horror, the sausage was molded!  There were large areas of mold on both packages of sausage.

I searched the package to see if I could find the expiration date.  Much to my amazement, the package indicated that it had expired in February 2010!  The package was almost 2 years old! Disgusted, I threw the entire package into the trash can.

I called my relative and thanked him for the snack gift and I also informed him that the expiration date was almost 2 years ago. I wanted to make sure that he had not purchased an expired package. He was embarrassed and admitted that this was a re-gift. (duh!)  He said that someone had given the package to him and that he had passed it on to me because he did not eat that kind of meat.  Hmmmm… As I always say, there ain’t nothing like family!

Well, lesson learned here:  If you are going to re-gift, make sure that your gift is appropriate and within the expiration date.

Happy new year!

I decided to take 2012 and do the 31 day reset challenge featured on the Happy Black Woman blog. I’m going to do 31 days of activities and exercises that should give me the ability to create new possibilities for my life. Give me the ability to think about my goals and actually find my way to higher place in my life and that’s exactly what I want in 2012.

To get started, I completed the first challenge.  I chose a mantra for myself: Think like a queen.  I chose this mantra from a quote from Oprah Winfrey and although I haven’t been a really big Oprah Winfrey fan, I do respect and admire her for her accomplishments, for her perseverance, and for all the struggles that we probably don’t even know about that she had to endure to get to where she is today.  Oprah’s quote says “Think like a Queen.  A Queen is never afraid to fail.  A Queen knows that failure is nothing but a stepping stone to greatness.”

My theme song for 2012 is the same theme song that I have had for years and that song is “I’m Every Woman”, the Chala Khan version.  With all due respect to Whitney Houston, Chaka’s version has brought me through many days and tight situations so I am partial to that one.

The third thing that I did to get started on my 31 day life reset was to choose a notebook to keep my exercises and notes.  An actual physical notebook although anybody that knows me knows that I’m such a techie.  I have an iPad and all of that and I’m actually recording this on a dictation app for my blog but I like the idea of a physical notebook. I like the idea of an ink pen sliding over paper.  So I chose a notebook that I have been using for a few months as a kind of spiritual notebook or a gratitude journal.  I really like this journal and I have plenty of room in it for my 31 day challenge.

I am excited about this life reset and ask that you pray for my motivation and perseverance. If you are interested in joining me and others on the 31 Day Life Reset Challenge, check out happyblackwoman.com.  Rosetta Thurman has to the whole thing laid out for us and I think it’s going to be great. I’d love to see all of us take 2012 and make it into the most wonderful, positive, powerful, productive year that we have ever had!

Y’all take care. Happy new year!

Taviaz

Of course, someone had to pull out those old photos. There we were, the crew from Wilberforce University.  We were eagerly posed for the camera, full of undergrad bluster only thinly disguising the fact that we were all just trying to find our way.

I saw me staring into the camera, all those years ago. Who was that naïve and arguably innocent young girl? She looked back at me with such hope and anticipation of what was to come… with a youthful confidence that life was going to be good and everything would be just fine.

If only I could tell her some things, I thought.

If only I would warn her about the bad decisions that she would make, about the miscarriages that she would grieve over, the disappointments that she would live through, the loved ones she would lose, the opportunities that she would miss, and about all the things that would seem so important but would turn out to be just the opposite. I wanted to tell her about the people she should avoid and the people she should hold on to and to be a bit more bold and not so trusting. I felt so sad for that girl who was long gone from me.

Then, it hit me. That girl had brought me through some difficult times. Her optimism was what had helped me through life’s crises and challenges. Yes, she had made mistakes but she had achieved some things too. She had had grief and setbacks, as we all will have in life, but she hadn’t let her spirit die.  She had faith and passion and courage and she was a lot tougher than she looked.

I enjoyed my friends that weekend.  I know that from now on, I will reach out more often because time flies.  But when I look at them, I see the girls that we all were and  the women that we have become.

The girl that I used to be was sending me a message across the years. She was saying that life was going to be good and everything would be just fine.  I was proud of her… and I realized that that young girl isn’t such a bad old girl either.

A bargain

A great nap in a quiet place

Unexpected money

Answered prayer

Fresh cut flowers

My body in good health

Spicy guacamole

A card, letter or email from a friend

A great leather handbag that I can afford

A new computer

A funny joke

Finding something that I thought I had lost

Accomplishing something

Learning something new

A good hair day

Holding hands

Family celebrations

Anticipating something great

A good gospel song

Warm memories

Being first in someone’s heart

A new friend

a good piece of homemade pound cake

A cute winter coat

the “happy”

jeans that look good on me

a good picture of me

a shade of foundation that matches me

a ringtone that fits my personality

a great black pantsuit

peach ice cream like my grandfather used to  make

perfect black pumps

a great book to read

a great black ink pen

sweet,, juicy seedless grapes

a love song that reminds me…

a beautiful shade of nail polish

a comfy bed pillow

luxuriously scented body lotion

interior decorating skills

a good night’s sleep

a pretty journal to write in

a flattering swim suit

my keys, glasses and cellphone!

One of the first things I did when I got home was to call up my friends and put the word out that I was back.  Some of my old crew from college had also left home for school and some had remained in Kansas City, working or going to the local community college.  After a few phone calls, we decided to meet that next night for drinks and dancing at a new dinner club that was new to some of us.  Michelle, one of my best friends from high school, wanted to show off her brand new car so she offered to pick me up and drive.  It was just as well, I didn’t own a car and didn’t have a drivers license.

The next night, Michelle picked me up around 9 PM.  We were dressed to be cute but respectful of the below freezing temperatures and the snow and ice on the ground.  The club was located in midtown, a neighborhood with an artsy mix of shops, restaurants and apartments.  Midtown was surrounded by middle and upper middle class neighborhoods but wasn’t surburban at all.

Michelle and I were excited, chatting, laughing, catching up on news.  We arrived at the club and found the parking lot full.  That didn’t bother us, it just meant that the club was jumping and we were in for a good time!

We soon found a parking place on the street beside the club.  Still talking and laughing, we go out of the and Michelle dropped her purse.  Change, makeup, her wallet and all the other stuff we keep in purses dumped into the snow and slid under the car.

Of course, I went around to help Michelle gather up her things.  A man walked by but I hardly glanced at him.

“Hey! Are you looking for a date?” he called to us.

“No!” Michelle answered. I didn’t respond as I was busy plucking Michelle’s lipstick out of the snow on the curb.

Suddenly, the man turned around and was next to Michelle in just a couple of steps.

“Don’t look at me,” the man commanded.  “I said don’t look at me! I’ve got a gun.”

We were in shock, surprised and scared.  I don’t really remember what we said.  I just remember seeing him grab Michelle by the arm and force her into the open car door.  He pointed the gun at me and told me to get in the back seat.  He jumped into the driver’s seat, pushing Michelle to climb over the gear console to the passenger side.

The robber waved the gun and growled orders at us in a threatening voice.  He demanded money from our purses and our jewelry.  After a few minutes, he told me to lay down in the back seat and put my coat over my head.  I was scared.  I just knew he was going to shoot me.  I remember saying my prayers and asking God to forgive me for my sins.  I prayed that my mother wouldn’t be so very sad and that she would be okay.

The gunman drove us around in the car, talking to Michelle who was clearly terrified.  I don’t know if she knew where we were and I had given up counting turns and trying to figure out where he was taking us.  At one time he stopped, got out of the car and walked around to the trunk.  I tried to convince Michelle to open the door so we could run (the car was a 2-door) but she was so afraid that she couldn’t move.  I tried to push the seat forward with her in it, then the gunman came back.

He got in the car again and started driving but this time, he had plans.  We drove for what seemed like hours.  The whole time, I kept thinking that I would soon be dead.  I swore if I got the chance to escape again, I would take it, with or without Michelle.

After a few turn, our kidnapper stopped the car and began talking to Michelle about whether or not she had a boyfriend.  He kept on that topic until he just came out and said that he wanted to have sex with her before he let us go.  Michelle bargained with him, trying to get him to say with certainty that he would let us go if she allowed him to rape her.  He said yes.  So she did it.

He did finally let us go.  He stopped the car not far from where he kidnapped us.  He tried to lock us in the trunk of the car but luckily didn’t realize he didn’t have a trunk key.  He told us to stay in the car for 15 minutes after he got out but I climbed over the seat and got out as soon as I heard him running away.  We ran from door to door in this upscale  neighborhood trying to get someone to call the police or let us use the phone.  After trying at 3 houses, a gay couple finally let us in to call the police.

Michelle didn’t want to tell that she had been raped.  We did though, after the police told her that she wouldn’t be identified.  The next day, there was a small item in the paper that didn’t name her but talked about a girl who lived on her block who was kidnapped and raped.  Michelle called me, furious, hurt and feeling betrayed.  That was the last time I talked to her.  After that, she never answered or returned my calls.  Once, when I called her, her mother answered and asked if I was the girl Michelle was with that night.  I said yes.

“Okay.  I’ll tell her you called,” she said.

I hardly ever talk about that night.  If I do have to talk about it, I just kind of skim over parts of it as I have done here.  But when I think of things I have lost, I think about that night.  The night I lost my youth, my innocence and most of all the night I lost my friend.

First of all, Molly doesn’t drive. She does her cleaning during the morning hours and works at a nursing home in the evenings while depending on her customers and her family members for transportation. It is kind of inconvenient for me, a spoiled woman who is not necessarily known to be a morning person, to get up earlier than usual to drop my kid off at school, pick up Molly, take her back to my house, then head off to my office. My usual morning routine is that I get up with just enough time to get dressed, rush my child out the door to school just beating (most of the time) the tardy signal and then off to work. Luckily, Molly doesn’t live too far from me so I have to just bite it and pick her up on the days she cleans for me.

Secondly, while Molly has a great personality, she isn’t a rocket scientist. I don’t think I have ever seen her read or write anything. I have given up leaving her notes and have resigned myself to the fact that I will have to give her the same instructions over and over again.

Now, that doesn’t mean Molly isn’t smart. Over the years, I have observed that Molly is a very savvy negotiator and has great planning skills. She will only accept cash for payment (hmmm…..) and will never give you a specific amount that she charges. She says that you can just pay her what you think the cleaning is worth. She will however ask for any clothing, appliances or household items that you might be thinking of getting rid of. Or even if you aren’t planning to get rid of something, Molly will ask anyway just to get her bid in. She used to tell me that she had a family member (usually a sister) who had lost everything in a fire and needed _________________ (fill in the blank with clothing, shoes, dishes, computer, etc.). After many years, many sisters, and many fires, I found out that Molly sells the stuff in a booth at a local flea market on the weekends.

So, on to the last and probably most annoying issue. Molly drinks. When she is at my house, she drinks my husbands liquor… his good liquor. I am talking Gentleman Jack, Wild Turkey Special Edition, and Crown Royal. The last few times Molly cleaned for me, I have found one of the plastic cocktail cups we use for entertaining left on the back deck… sometimes with melting ice and a cigarette butt or two. This last time, when I picked up Molly, she seemed a little…off. Her appearance was kind of disheveled. Her skin was very oily and her hair didn’t seem to have been combed. I was surprised but Molly explained that she was off that day and was going right back home after helping me. Ok….. I dropped Molly off as usual and went off to work.

When I returned that evening, I found that one of my champagne flutes (I put them out in preparation for the holidays) had been broken. One of my son’s bath towels had been ruined with bleach stains. Molly had used one of my son’s favorite t-shirts as a cleaning rag and… my husband’s Gentleman Jack bottle was almost empty. Of course, further investigation revealed one of the plastic coctail cups on the back deck next to another cup holding cigarette butts. It seems that Molly works hard to finish her cleaning early so that she can relax with a smoke and a drink before her ride comes to pick her up.

Guess I will have to have a talk with the help.

I know that TPS can do more than the Madea movies.  I have always believed that.  And, I have always believed that Tyler Perry is working toward becoming a great teller of the stories of African American people.  My first concern, though was that this particular story was over his head. 

There was a rumor (and I dont know if it is true or not) that Beyonce would have a role.  I swore that if Beyonce was in this movie, I would not see it.  I know that any of the characters would be beyond Beyonce’s fledgling acting talent.  Sorry, Bey, but I gotta call it like I see it. 

Anyway, there was no Beyonce role but I still had my reservations about Tyler Perry.  I did, however, go to see the movie on opening night.  I went with a group of 4 high school and college aged girls that I mentor and a friend from work.  The younger girls were not really familiar with Ntozake Shange, the original play or prose poem.   So we got our tickets, popcorn and diet colas and seated ourselves in the theater to watch the movie.

First, let me tell you.  The entire theater felt like a Circle of My Sisters meeting.  There were women of all ages from high school to good and retired.  Everyone seemed to come with their ‘girls’.  I saw groups of sorors from different Greek organizations, Eastern Stars, groups of two and three BFFs, a bridge club, a couple of bookclubs, and some crews of ride or die homegirls.  It was fabulous and felt good to see all of us black girls there representing.

So the movie starts and it was on.  Ok, there was a little more commentary and nervous laughter than I really care for.  And the movie?  It was good.  The cast and the acting was excellent.  I could not have asked for better.  I felt a connection to the stories and even recognized some of the poem in the dialogue.  I enjoyed it more after I got over the fact that it wasn’t really the movie version of the play that I was hoping for.  Tyler modernized and screenplayed with the original and that wasn’t what I was looking for.  He took artistic license and added in a couple of characters.  I believe that he wanted to ensure that there was at least one image of a positive black man in the movie.  I am not mad at that but that is still a departure from the original. 

Yet, I am hoping for a revival of the original play.  Hoping to, again, feel that story move me with the emotion and passion that I felt 35 years ago when I discovered For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide when the Rainbow was Enuf.  In my most honest moments, I admit that I am pouty about the fact that For Colored Girls is about me and us as black women.  So why is a man telling our story?  I believe that the treatment would have been different if it had been done by a woman.  There, I said it.