Where Were You?

Now that I’ve finally thawed, I’m ready to share my experiences at last week’s inauguration in D.C. To be honest, it wasn’t only the bone-chilling cold that’s delayed this post, but the fact that it’s been difficult to gain perspective on the expansiveness of what we experienced.

We got on the road to head down to Maryland to spend the night with my girl, Tammy, late Monday afternoon. The plan was to get to Tammy’s, get a little sleep, head out to the Metro station at 2:30am and get in line to catch the first train into DC on Jan. 20th.

At 3am, we found ourselves with about 1,000 other folks with the same bright idea. We snapped photos, waited for our turn to participate in the group wave, sang songs and did whatever we could to keep our minds off the cold air. Thankfully, we boarded a warm train at 4:10am. We arrived in DC around 4:45am and headed over to the Newseum where we had tickets to enjoy the day’s festivities indoors and with access to clean bathroom facilities---- YEAH! The only hitch is the doors to the Newseum didn’t open until 10:00am and it was frigidly cold. I mean cold-to-the-bone... never felt this cold before kinda cold. Fortunately, Loverman had the forethought to pack hand-warmers to put in our gloves and foot-warmers for our boots, and although I’m sure they made a difference, in the middle of all that cold it was hard to tell.

Trying to walk over to the Newseum was no easy feat. As soon as we exited the Metro station, we joined hundreds of people making their way to various locations… the Mall... the Newseum, like us… or some other vantage point to witness history. No matter where you were headed, you were surrounded by a sense of good will, hopefulness, joy. I don’t remember ever feeling so a part of humanity before this day.

Sometime before 6:00am, we found ourselves in a sea of people unable to move forward. Loverman lifted Yannick onto his shoulders and I held Olivia’s hand tightly. Word had drifted through the crowd that anyone with a ticket to the Newseum would be allowed through the barricade to make our way to another line into the facility, but despite our best efforts we couldn’t move. In the midst of all of this I exchanged glances with Loverman wondering if we’d made the best decision to bring the kids into the mass of people. For a brief moment I felt great anxiety at the thought of the potential danger of being unable to move or get out of harm’s way if something jumped off. At some point after the sun had risen we heard a familiar voice pleading for passage through the crowd and as I turned to my right I found myself face-to-face with CNN’s Soledad O’Brien. She, too, was trying to get to the Newseum. We tried to push through with her, but had very little luck.

It was until about 9:00am did we get to the line to gain access to the Newseum. We were probably in the first third of the line and there were still at least 800-1000 people ahead of us. Again, we danced around, tried to keep the kids occupied and our minds off the cold. While in this line we met three lovely women from Georgia and police officers from Louisville, Kentucky, who volunteered to come to DC to work for the day.

I should also note that at no point did I see a Port-a-Potty or encounter a police officer that could offer more information than what we already had. Thankfully, Starbucks allowed folks to use their bathroom facilities. Loverman thinks the hundreds of law enforcement officers were probably working on a need-to-know basis, because there’s no way the powers-that-be could coordinate the DC cops, Federal Marshals, Secret Service and visiting volunteer officers onsite to shepherd the 2 million visitors in town for the festivities.

We finally cleared security and made our way into the Newseum at 11:45am, just in time to jockey for a position in front of the huge Jumbotron. I’ve never felt so at-home surrounded by complete strangers. While waiting for the ceremony to begin I exchanged niceties with a woman who traveled from Colorado and a couple who had just moved to the states from Ghana. Olivia took dozens of photos of the crowd and Yannick simply enjoyed being able to sit in a warm place. Loverman wandered to an upper level of the building to get a better vantage point. As the television cameras caught Barack as he walked down the hall to the Capitol steps, I unexpectedly burst into tears. Why… I’m not sure. A stranger handed me tissues to wipe my tears. After getting myself together, I began to take some photos and scored two especially great shots for a news geek like me, one of George Stephanopolis and another of Charlie Gibson, who demanded a hug in exchange for having his photo taken. I gladly obliged.

Once the ceremony began, you could almost hear a pin drop throughout the viewing area and collective cheers, hugs and flashing flashbulbs abound as Obama completed his mangled oath. It really was an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime moment, but I’m not really sure if it felt any different because we experienced it in DC. Over the past week, I’ve seen the most incredible photos depicting how folks all over the globe witnessed this historic moment and I don’t feel like our experience is any more significant because we traveled to DC to be closer to the scene. Don’t get me wrong, it was an unforgettable day and I’m happy we could share it as a family in DC and I’m sure it’s a day my children will never forget…. but no matter where you were the day Barack Obama became the 44th President of the United States, we were all one… really ONE… full of hope and good will for the road ahead.

Fever Broken

I’m happy to report that the fever of my addiction related to anything even remotely pertaining to the 2008 Presidential Election has finally broken.

How have I come to this conclusion you may ask? Well… for one thing, I haven’t watched Keith Olberman’s Countdown since last Tuesday. I’ve also begun to limit my daily visits to The Huffington Post and CNN.com. Last night I even checked out Unsung on TVOne. In fact, right now as I write this post, I’ve got my old standby Law & Order on the boob tube.

Now, these may seem like baby steps to you, but for me these mini milestones mark real progress, because for the past eight months, all things Obama have consumed me.

So, barring a relapse, I really do believe I’m on my way to returning to that well-rounded Mango Mama my friends and family has come to love.

WWBD?

The Mango Tribe found itself in a nasty situation this past weekend. It began when I left Olivia’s soccer game to take Loverman to work. I’d called my dad and asked him to sit in on the last half of the game in our absence. On my way back to the field, my dad called told me to meet him, Olivia and the rest of her team at McDonald’s for a team lunch. Once I arrived, I was confronted with several team parents relating a nasty exchange that occurred at the end of the game when a parent from the opposing team rushed on the field, grabbed Olivia by her sleeve and aggressively berated her for spilling water on her daughter. Olivia burst into tears and tried to explain that it was an accident. My father immediately tried to console Olivia, and by the time he turned around the offending mother was nowhere to be seen.

I called Olivia aside and asked her what happened? She related the same details and recounted how frightened she was by this woman’s behavior. Olivia’s coach approached me and asked me what he’d like me to do as other parents from our team offered to act as witnesses to the event. I was flabbergasted. I wasn’t sure where to start, but decided to collect their numbers and make a call to the league’s commissioner. Let’s call him Rob.

I called Rob and he explained that he was on the field when the incident occurred, but didn’t see anything, and went on to say, “The situation had been resolved.” When I asked “how,” he assured me someone had spoken with the out-of-bounds parent. I asked, “who?” He said he wasn’t sure, but again tried to assure me that issue had been addressed. I asked if the soccer league had a policy in place to address such situations and he replied, “no.” I couldn’t believe this and informed Rob that indeed the situation had not been resolved. I told Rob I wanted this parent’s name and telephone number to speak with her directly.

Once I hung up with Rob, I called and relayed the details of the event to Loverman and he then called Rob directly, again demanding the contact info for this broad. Rob called Loverman back in less than 5 mins. with the woman’s name and telephone number. Think he had the number all the time?

Loverman immediately called the woman, introduced himself and before jumping in her ass about putting her hands on our girl and speaking to her in a menacing tone, he asked if she had been on the playing field hollering at a player. She admitted that she had, but didn’t know the child’s name. Loverman asked the woman to describe the child and after stuttering for a few seconds this is what she said----- “A colored girl with those long braid things.” No lie, four days after the election of the first African American president, this biddy is still referring to Black folks as “colored.”

This, of course, illustrated exactly what we were dealing with and we proceeded knowing this woman isn’t ready for prime time. She went on to pitifully apologize for her actions offering that she knew now that she was wrong and didn’t mean to make my daughter cry. She even said she didn’t even remember how she made her way onto the field and has no recollection of putting her hands on our girl.

After reading this woman the riot act and threatening her with legal action, Loverman instructed her to call me immediately. She did and offered another lame apology, begging us not to call the police. I put my foot further up her behind and informed her that she needed to apologize to Olivia directly. She complied. Olivia accepted her apology.

But, for us, the story doesn’t end here. I’m really peeved with how the Lansdowne Boys and Girls Club (LBGC) handled the entire situation. Why did Olivia’s coach ask me what did I want him to do 45 mins. after the fact and why did the league’s commissioner tell me there is no policy in place to address inappropriate parental/adult behavior? Why did no one step up and advocate for Olivia right there on the field? If I’d been there and someone had put their hands on a kid that wasn’t my own, I know I would have been right in that adult’s face letting them know their actions were unacceptable. Why did no one from the league contact us, why did we have to reach out and demand this contact info to attempt to get resolution for this situation?

As Loverman and I grappled with these questions, I decided to contact the LBGC president and ask him these questions. He promptly responded to my email and informed us that there is a policy in place and this offending parent has been banned from next week’s game.

I’m not sure where to go from here. I do know this incident is making me put into practice my new internal barometer--- WWBD (What Would Barack Do). Olivia hasn’t mentioned the incident since Sunday and doesn’t seem to be dwelling on what happened. Some of my anger has dissipated, but I still think more should be done, not only on Olivia’s behalf, but also to ensure a message is sent that this type of behavior will not be tolerated. I do know Lansdowne’s Boys and Girls Club needs to be doing a much better job in informing both their leadership and volunteer coaches of the league’s policies.

It’s also clear to me that as upsetting as this situation was, the divine was definitely at work, because if either me or Loverman had been present when this occurred, it would have erupted into an extremely ugly scene and Olivia wouldn’t have been the only person leaving the field in tears.

Obama Buzz

Yesterday, I had one of the most amazing days of my lifetime. And this morning, I awoke full of hope and good cheer, but also with a hazy head and a slightly unsettled stomach that I’ve carried with me for most of the day. Despite the fact that I didn’t drink a drop of alcohol last night, I feel as if I have a hangover--- that’s right a happy hangover—an Obama Buzz.

No Ordinary Day

I’ve received dozen of emails warning me not to wear any political paraphernalia to the polls here in Pennsylvania, and I will follow the rules and be sure to remove my Obama/Biden button before I head out tomorrow morning, but in my mind’s eye, I imagine African drummers lining the sidewalk, drumming their heart out as I make my way to the polls and the pouring of libations calling out the spirits of the ancestors who made this moment possible. So clearly I see my grandmother, Veronica Nelson, a community organizer and an alternate delegate for Jesse Jackson’s bid for the presidency at both the 1984 and 1988 Democratic National Convention, taking my hand--- leading me forward to cast my vote. I imagine the spirits of Frederick Douglass, Sojourner Truth, Fannie Lou Hamer, Malcolm, Martin, Shirley Chisholm and countless others crowding me and I add my voice to this historic election. Sure, I’ll follow Barack’s impeccable example and tow the party line, but make no mistake, tomorrow is no ordinary day— God willing, it will be an historic day which will change our lives for better days to come.

Putting It In Context

Rosa sat... so Martin could walk.
Martin walked... so Obama could run.
Obama ran... so our children can fly.--- Anonymous
YES WE CAN!

What a Difference a Day Makes

Last week I experienced examples of both the best and the worst of this country’s efficiency and can-do spirit.

Last Thursday, Loverman and I joined about 300 volunteers to build a playground for our kids’ school. It was amazing---- it’s like extreme makeover for playgrounds. We actually built a brand new playground from the ground-up in less than 7 hours. You can check out the slideshow of photos from the day’s activities on the right side of this blog.

I think I mentioned a few weeks ago that the school was awarded a grant to build a playground from Kaboom. This is a non-profit organization based in Washington D.C. and their mission is to ensure that all kids have a great place to play within walking distance of their home. They partner with local corporations to subsidize the creation of these playgrounds. For our playground, IBM and SAP stepped to the plate to make our playground dream a reality and in addition to funding the project, they elicit the support of their workforce to volunteer their time and sweat equity to actually build the playground.

So, after six weeks of mobilization and preparation by various committees, including logistics, public relations, and construction, we all came together and with a lot of muscle and elbow grease, transformed a dilapidated and neglected space into a playground. In addition to the swings, monkey bars, monorail, sliding board, and rock wall, we also painted a mural and transportable chess and checker boards, built 6 planters, and planted flowers and trees.

I cannot remember the last time I was so physically tired. My feet and legs hurt like hell by the end of the day, but I also cannot remember the last time I felt so sated and full of goodwill for my fellow man. I didn’t know half the folks I was working along side, but that made no difference. We were all there for one common purpose and we worked together like a well-oiled machine.

Then after my productive Thursday, came Friday when I had to deal with a issue that had presented itself a week earlier at my annual OB/GYN appointment. Usually, I breeze in, hop up into those stirrups, relax my legs, let the midwife check things out, grab my prescription for my annual mammogram and then I’m outta there. Well… not this year. The midwife found an enlarged thyroid and a dense lump in my right breast. She ordered a diagnostic mammogram ASAP.

You’d think I’d be freaked out, and maybe I was, but didn’t know it. I just moved forward, had my blood drawn to check out the thyroid, and made an appointment for the mammogram. Once I slowed down long enough to process the possibilities, I was more concerned about getting drawn into this country's screwed up medical system, than the possibility of having breast cancer.

When I went in for the mammogram, I was immediately sucked into the inefficient vortex known as a managed health care. The well-versed receptionist explained that the industry standard for a digital diagnostic mammogram includes an ultrasound, but I would need a referral from my primary provider for this ultrasound. She offered to call my primary to get a referral faxed over, but I knew this would be easier said than done. First of all, my primary didn’t even know I was having this mammogram and secondly, it was late Friday afternoon and I knew the folks in my primary’s office get their hat and hit the road extra early on Fridays and the office was more than likely closed. I also wondered that if an ultrasound is “industry standard,” then why didn’t the prescription include the ultrasound or why hadn’t this been mentioned prior to my visit, so I could have gotten the referral for the ultrasound before heading into the office to get the mammogram.

Once I gave the receptionist approval to bill my insurance for the ultrasound, I moved onto the technician who would do the mammogram. This lovely young lady reviewed my file and noticed that my last mammogram was in November 2007 and despite the fact that I was prescribed this diagnostic mammogram ASAP, she was only allowed to look at the breast in question--- the right breast, and I would have to secure another prescription from my OB/GYN for a mammogram of the left breast for next month.

What the hell? Can you believe this? What kind of convoluted sense does this make? By this point, I didn’t even care and didn’t have the energy to make a stink about this (remember I had just built a playground the day before), I just wanted to get this boob checked out and go on with my day.

Fortunately, all’s good, I just have lumpy, dense boobies, but the whole experience was very draining. I’m consistently stunned by the inefficiency of our medical system. I know most of us are looking forward to some of the health care changes Barack has proposed, but I bet if we simply chucked all the bean counters who have created this dark hole and reviewed and refined the system to work in a more intuitive and effectual manner we’d be worlds better.

See, just the day before I learned firsthand what can be accomplished if folks are committed and of the same mind and not simply a bunch of boobs sitting around trying to devise a complicated scheme to bilk folks for all their worth.

It Could Get Hot

Is it me, but are some White folks starting to look at me a little differently in anticipation of a win by Barack Obama over John McCain? Sure, I live in Southeast Delaware County here in Pennsylvania, and it’s an area known to be a Republican stronghold, but Barack is up in the PA polls by a significant lead. And up until recently, I felt perfectly comfortable sporting my Obama t-shirt, but yesterday when I made a quick run into Kohl’s not far from our house, I do believe I got a lot of funky looks from my brethren of the lighter hue. It may have been just my imagination, but I don’t think so.

I think that in addition to getting folks out to the polls on November 4th, we also should prepare ourselves for a backlash from certain sectors of our community, due to the change of the racial dynamics of the residents of the White House.

Be prepared because while most of us are basking in the glow of an Obama victory, some will view his election as a call for all “good ‘ole boys and girls” to get buck wild and act on their racist and divisive views. In other words, it could get hot in here.

KaPow(ell)!

She Touched Him!

Barack Obama was in Philadelphia today. He made four stops throughout the city. As astonishingly as it must sound, the Mango tribe was not able to check him out. Nope, we were too busy with soccer games and work commitments.

But not to fret… our friends and family did follow him to various locations (some may call it stalking), and below is a gloating email from my girl Lori. She actually, physically touched him. She also took this accompanying photo. Lucky girl!

Ladies,

I touched Barack Obama today and it was everything I thought it would be. Please excuse me while I pause to take a drag from cigarette.

I have attached one photo to this email. I apologize for not having more to show, but these were taken under adverse and hostile circumstances, for I had quite aggressively muscled my way past several people in the crowd to get closer to Barack. With shouts of "Where the hell does she think she's going?! We're all here to see the same damn thing." at my back, I valiantly held on to both my balance and my life. Were these people insane? Alas, I was not there to merely see – but also to touch, feel, and even taste had the opportunity presented itself. The gods be damned! I was going to emerge victorious from this crusade even if it meant leaving children, the elderly, and the handicapped in my wake. So it was done.

The details:
We touched with our left hands.
His – large with long fingers, soft, warm. He has a strong, deliberate, and genuine shake. He holds on for a moment, squeezes, then gently and slowly lets go.
Mine – frantic, desperate, obsessed, and vice-like. We all know I'm unstable.

Wish you all could have been there and touched him also. Enjoy the photo.

Love,
Lori

Heading the Call

Early Friday afternoon I was hit with a huge wake-up call after taking a dose of Sudafed to battle a headache I’d been suffering with for almost three days. I took the Sudafed, rested on the couch in a back room of our offices for about a half hour when I decided I should put something on my stomach. On the way back from grabbing some soup, my heart started to race, my head continued to pound, my hands and feet began to tingle and the world started to spin around me. The next thing I knew, I was stretched out on the ground with my boss demanding that I stay awake.

When the EMT guys arrived they took my blood pressure and it was through the roof. Despite my protests, I was soon in an ambulance and on my way to the hospital. By the time we arrived at the hospital, my blood pressure started to come down and the EMT guys suspected the Ephedrine in the Sudafed might be the culprit of all this drama, but when probed a bit deeper, it became glaringly apparent that the last few weeks have been much more hectic than usual and maybe the Ephedrine acted as a catalyst for a good old-fashioned anxiety attack.

What?!?!?! Me, Mango Mama, not able to handle (with grace and ease) all being thrown my way? Say it ain’t so. Sure, trying to juggle Loverman’s new work and travel schedule, three nights of soccer practice for the brown babies, with two games on Saturdays, weekends of work-related performances or workshops may seem like a lot for mere mortals, but not me--- no way! Not true. In fact, I sensed things getting a bit out of control when Loverman announced he had to head out to L.A. about two weeks ago. He would only be gone for the weekend, but it was the same weekend when I would be tied up working with an artist with press appearances and performances. My mind raced as I tried to figure out how I could meet both my work and familial responsibilities. I finally decided to reach out and get some help. I was able to hire a young lady who works as a babysitter for a good family friend to come in to stay with us for the entire weekend and work as a mother’s helper.

In spite of my careful planning and logistics management, Friday afternoon I still found myself flat on my back in the emergency room. I couldn’t believe it and I couldn’t slow my brain down enough to understand how serious this situation could get if I don’t make some changes. As I watched the meditative drip of the I.V., I fretted over who was going to pick the kids up from school, especially since Loverman was in the air on his way to Los Angeles, and never for a minute did I consider rescheduling the press appearances for the artist I was working with, but what took me over the edge while I lay there was hearing the emergency room nurses commenting on how Sarah Palin touched them the night before during the vice presidential debate. I couldn’t believe it! These broads went on and on about she was speaking “their” language and seemed really down to earth. One went on to say, “She couldn’t do much worse than what we currently have, and what do we really know about Barack Obama?” By this point my heart was about to jump out of my chest and I knew I had to get out of there if I was going to get my anxiety under control. I called for a nurse and explained that I was feeling loads better and needed to be on my way because I had to get my kids by 3:30pm. A few minutes later, after the attending physician looked me over, I was out the door, right on time to meet the rest of my responsibilities for the evening and the weekend.

Now that this weekend is finally behind me and other than the little side-trip to the emergency room, all went off without a hitch, but that’s not the moral of this story. The moral is that I have more going on than I can handle by my lonesome and in addition to asking for help, I need to make time to take care of myself. I haven’t had a bit of exercise since the pool closed on Labor Day. I haven’t had a day off since Sunday, September 21 and I won’t until this coming Sunday, October 12. I’ve gotten up every morning for the last three weeks at 6:30am and sometimes I don’t get to bed until 11:00pm. My mind is constantly racing and instead of being present in the moment, I’m thinking about what needs to get done next. This can’t be healthy.

But, I’m overwhelmed simply thinking about how to make some obviously needed changes. I don’t think I can get up any earlier to take a much-needed walk. I’m hoping things will slow down once soccer season is over, but I can’t seem to get my head around some me-time. So, if I’m going to be completely honest with myself, at this point I’ve only heard the wake-up call, but how I’m going to address this call is still a complete mystery to me.

Getting Personal

We’ve got less than 49 days until what may be the most important presidential election in our lifetime and things are getting tight. Being totally devoid of an agenda to address our hemorrhaging economy, failing education system and skyrocketing healthcare costs, McCain, his side-kick Palin, and the Republicans have resorted to outright lies and distortions in an effort to divert the American public from the real issues.

Yes, I am a proud and vocal Obama supporter. I have read many of his policy papers and support his positions. I believe this man is America’s best hope for securing a better future for my children. In past presidential elections, I was offered very little choice and I cast my vote for the lesser of two evils, but not this time. We have a real opportunity to do better, be better--- much better.

But, make no mistake, everyone does not feel as I do and despite the fact the choice is clear to me, I’ve encountered folks still sitting on the fence, proclaiming they haven’t made a choice yet, or who outright declare themselves as McCain supporters, or don’t offer an opinion either way. The lesson here--- don’t assume.

Believe me, voting for Obama is not a Black thing, or a Democratic, liberal thing, we’re beyond that, it’s all about striving for more than mediocrity. I’m not interested in electing a president who I’d be comfortable sitting down having a beer with. I want intelligence, integrity, thoughtfulness, diplomacy and vision.

Yes, I respect everyone’s right to vote for whomever they chose. Yes, on most issues, I’m mature enough to agree to disagree, but not when it comes to this presidential election. This is too personal. The stakes are too high and the McCain/Palin ticket has yet to demonstrate any sort of understanding or empathy for the issues me, my family and community are dealing with daily. In fact, their stump speeches are totally devoid of any specifics, offering little in terms of a policy change of the current Bush agenda.

So, for me it’s quite simple. A vote for McCain/Palin is a vote against Olivia and Yannick and that’s totally unacceptable.

Iconic Moments

I remember clearly, my grandfather, Big Ray, scooped me up out of my grandmother’s bed and gently placed me in front of their small, black & white TV. I didn’t really understand what was going on because when I caught a glimpse out of the living room window it was still dark on St. Albans Street in South Philadelphia. It wasn’t yet morning, but Big Ray insisted we watch what was about to come on the television screen. Moments later, I saw the grainy image of the first American astronaut walk on the surface of the moon. I was only four years old and I don’t remember being excited, only a desire to go back to bed.

February 11, 1990 I whooped and hollered, shook and shimmied as I watched Nelson Mandela triumphantly join his family and nation as he was released from Robbins Island.

Eleven years later on the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, I was pregnant with Yannick, preparing to drop Olivia off at preschool and make my way to work when the telephone rang. It was my mother asking if our television was on. It was, Olivia was checking out Elmo on Sesame Street. My mom urged me to turn on the news and as I tried to digest what I was seeing, I called for Loverman to come into the room and just as he approached we watched in horror as the second plane crash into the World Trade Center. It was incomprehensible. I wasn’t sure what was happening and after watching the news for just a few short minutes, I returned to going about the business of getting my day started. Looking back on that morning, I cannot believe Loverman and I went ahead and dropped our little girl off at school and proceeded to work. It wasn’t until I sat at my desk did I begin to realize the severity of the situation. I was in shock and as I continued to process all that was happening, I immediately felt the need to gather my family close. I cried for days sitting in front of the television, wondering how could we possibly bring another child into this mad, mad world.

Three years ago tomorrow, Aug. 29, 2005, Hurricane Katrina devastated America’s Gulf Coast and again I sat paralyzed in front of the television as I watched thousands stranded…no, abandoned in the world’s richest nation for over a week.

Tonight I’m primed and ready to witness what may be the most iconic moment of American history in my lifetime--- Barack Obama accept the Democratic nomination for President of the United States of America, and just as my grandfather felt compelled to wake me to see that iconic moment on April 20, 1969 for myself, I, too, will sit with my two children and celebrate this most auspicious, historical occasion. YES WE CAN!

I'm a Wreck

I’m a wreck, and although it’s only Wednesday, it feels like it will take forever to get to Friday and the long holiday weekend. I’ve been crying at a drop of a hat and feel emotionally fragile.

I don’t find myself in such a state very often, but when I do, I need to identify the cause. Some of it has to do with the fact that my kids don’t go back to school until September 15th because their school is moving into a new building and they won’t receive the certificate of occupancy until September 1st and they’ll need the next two weeks to get settled. This is a problem because all of the summer camps I know of closed for business last week and Loverman is preparing to go back into the classroom next Tuesday to teach his own classes at Temple. Our game plan is to take it one day at a time, lean on family and friends and I guess I’ll have work from home for a few days, but I can tell already it’s going to be a bumpy two weeks.

Another cause of my funkdom is the unofficial end of summer--- never liked it, never will. Summer is my favorite season and I am mournful.

Finally, this week’s Democratic National Convention has consumed me. I am a political junkie and for me politics is not a game, and I take it quite personally, probably too personally. Until Hillary’s incredible and unequivocal endorsement of Obama last night, I was feeling some sort of way about her and her husband’s tepid, at best, support of Barack since the end of the Democratic primary and I’ve been totally outdone with the pundits constant questioning what Obama needed to do to win over Clinton’s supporters. The question is offensive, tinged with racism, because the man has done all he has to do--- he followed the rules, won the necessary number of delegates and thus secured the nomination. Now, it’s time for us to get our act together and battle the true opponent—John McCain and the Republican Party. Our children’s future is dependent on the success of Barack Obama and Joe Biden and anything which takes our focus off winning back the White House and righting our country’s ship both domestically and internationally is counterproductive.

I was born in 1965 and raised with a ringside view of the political process. My paternal grandmother, Veronica Nelson, was elected as an alternate delegate and attended both the 1984 and 1988 Democratic National Conventions and throughout the primary season I imagined how proud she would be of Barack Obama. She would be working tirelessly on the frontlines to ensure his success in the general election in November.

Because of the incredible access my grandmother’s political activities offered me when I was younger and in spite of my wholehearted attempt to view the world from a global, We-Are-the-World perspective, I firmly believe America is still very much a racist country and when I hear bullshit like, America just needs to get to know the Obamas and then America will feel more comfortable about voting for Barack, I want to throw up. Let me say this, if you want to know them, then get to know me, because the Obamas are a reflection of my family and ideals and those of many of my friends and associates. If you don’t know them or me or people like us, by now, it’s simply because you don’t want to, but know this… Barack Obama is this nation’s best opportunity to live up to the ideals upon which it was founded.

We are at a most critical time in our country’s history and this moment is pregnant with possibilities and never in my lifetime have I released myself with such abandon in hope that we finally live up to our true potential.

Still Waiting...

I’m still waiting… Sure, I knew it was some sort of promotional stunt, but still… I was/am waiting for my text message from Obama giving me the heads-up for his VP pick.

Yeah, I heard earlier this morning when I rolled over and turned on MSNBC, Joe Biden is the man and yes, I’m pleased as punch because I know Biden will add the bite Obama’s been reticent to take, and in my humble opinion, that’s what it will take to beat crotchety old McCain and his dirty tricks. So, let the games begin!

Laying of Hands

As I was about to shut down my computer last night, I decided to check my inbox one more time and there was one new message and it contained this incredible photo which bought tears to my eyes and chills down my spine. It was taken on July 5, 2008 at A.M.E. General Conference.

Get Over It and Get On Board

O.k., so I’ve got to make a concerted effort to stop reading comments on posts on sites such as CNN and The Huffington Post. I can’t believe some of the madness I encountered while reading comments to an article on Cnn.com regarding the reaction of a number of Hillary’s supporters following Saturday’s concession speech. I thought it was a great first step in bringing the Democrats back together, but I’m obviously still high on the fumes of Obama’s ascension to presumptive Democratic nominee, because vitriolic hatred abounds and some of these broads cannot see past their own disappointment and vow to support McCain in protest.

Sure, it’s never easy when your guy, or in this case gal, doesn’t win and maybe it’s because I’m so used to being on the short end of the stick when it comes to my candidate not winning, but opting for McCain is simply not the answer, nor do you have the right to shove Hillary down Obama’s throat as his vice presidential running mate.

Get over your loss and get on board, because more than your hurt feelings and overwhelming disappointment is at stake. We’re at a very critical point in our history. Our economy is tanking. Our standing in the world community has been greatly compromised, and during the last 8 years, our domestic infrastructure has received virtually no attention. John McCain knows only one thing--- war and combat and even four years under his administration will lead to the further determent of this nation and our children’s future and other than Condi Rice, I’ve yet to encounter a woman, who doesn’t want to ensure a better, more secure future for our children.

Today's the Day!

I am so excited I could just about BURST! Barack Obama has just secured the Democratic nomination and as a 43 year-old Black woman in America I never thought I’d see this day. A Black man is running at the head of the Democratic ticket for President of the United States. But, dreams do come true and for all Americans this is the beginning of a new day. So, excuse while I head outside, because I’m sure I can still catch a pig or two☺

Yes we can!

No Comparison

This morning Good Morning America raised the issue of why members of Trinity United Church applauded Father Michael Plfeger’s mocking of Hillary Clinton. They positioned the story to mark the contrast between how Blacks vs. Whites interpret Plfeger’s display.

Hmmmmm…. could it be that they agree with him? Is it possible that as hurtful as his portrayal may be to some, even to Hillary herself (and her supporters), he could be right on point with the underlining cause of her (and their) bitterness? And, with all of this discussion about mocking, why wasn’t there an uproar when Hillary mocked Barack with her “celestial choirs” speech in Providence, R.I., a few months ago?

Sure, I know where GMA was trying to go with this little discussion, but at least the brothers and sisters of Trinity were enjoying a harmless parody, whereas back in the day, White folks gathered friends and family to witness and celebrate the lynching of thousands of Black men, women and children. So, if we're going to take the time to deconstruct the differences of the cultural "read," let's do the hard work and provide a historical context.

Stuck In My Craw

While watching both the national and local news over the last two days I caught two sound bytes which just about sent me over the edge. Sure, I’m aware crazy, stupid things are said daily, but these two really got stuck in my craw.

The first had to do with a story out of Philly that’s gotten plenty of exposure on the national level because it includes the senseless beating of shooting suspects by officers from Philadelphia’s police department. This beating was caught on tape by the local Fox affiliate and to their credit, the city’s mayor and police commissioner swiftly stepped in and condemned the officers’ actions and launched an internal review. There’s been a public outcry on both sides, those who support and are empathetic to daily charge of the police to protect and serve in communities which are often hostile towards their presence; and those who see this incident through the prism of an endless stream of unchecked police brutality in communities of color. Fortunately, the race card was more of a non-issue in this instance because some of the participating officers were Black, but I assert that when it comes to the police misconduct, black vs. white is often trumped by those living by the code of the fraternity in blue. So, last night it was announced that four of the participating officers have been fired, and four received suspensions and one officer was demoted. The union representing these officers immediately cried foul and said the punishment of these officers is a rush to judgment and the officers weren’t allowed due process. Hmmm… isn’t that exactly what these officers did when they wantonly grabbed these guys from their car beating and kicking them without an ounce of mercy or restraint? It’s no fun when steel toe shoe’s on the other foot, is it?

The second kernel caught in my craw came this morning when watching an interview with Cokie Roberts on Good Morning America. Diane Sawyer was discussing with Cokie and Matthew Dowd Hillary Clinton and some of her female supporters recent rant that sexism has raged throughout this primary season. Towards the end of the interview, Cokie commented that if some of the things written in the blogosphere and the caricatures seen on the op-ed pages at newspapers all over the country, had been as mean-spirited towards Obama, the way, in her opinion, they have been towards Clinton, the country’s African American communities would have been up in arms. Well, Miz Cokie, obviously you’ve missed the news about the ignorant pub owner in Marietta, Georgia, who’s now peddling t-shirts featuring Curious George peeling a phallic-shaped banana, with the words, “Obama 08,” emblazoned below; and a piece in last week’s Washington Post detailing the overt racism projected at many of Obama’s field teams throughout the country. Let’s face it honey, with this year’s historic Democratic primary race, there’s been loads of doo-doo thrown haphazardly and with ferocity at both candidates and as Hillary Clinton has said several times on the campaign trail, “If you can’t stand the heat, then get out of the kitchen!”