American Woman in Angst

New Year

2005-12-26T17:08:00.000-05:00

I've been away for a while. Things were incredibly hectic and the thoughts could not, would not, convey themselves to my blog. But I am in the mood to blog again.

Something amiss

2005-06-25T17:12:00.000-04:00

I sit and ponder why I have such a restless feeling. Things are going as smoothly as they can, at the moment. Everyone is relatively happy and healthy as am I, but I have the feelings of things not accomplished. My routine is the same every day. Work 12 hours with a 2.5 hour round trip commute just to be able to pay bills and put away a little something. The end of the fiscal year for the job is coming up June 30th and everyone is waiting to exhale as to whether they will be employed come the first of July. Many think of the severance package: 2 weeks base pay for every year of service. For me that would be a nice package, and following behind that will be, if needed because I haven't found work, applying for unemployment. Per the move to Jersey, the unemployment rate is much higher than the rate for New York, so that will a offer a little solace. But what of the pounding the pavement trying to find a new gig. The thought of it is draining. Every year during this time comes the awareness of fiscal uncertainty for the company for which I work. The trickle down effect of firing/laying-off-to-never-be re-hired workers who are deemed expendable by the powers-that-be so that they may get their six figure bonuses is disturbing. And to think this corporate greed can turn my life upside down has me at an imbalance. I trudge ahead, but am always aware of the possibilities of that dreaded spiel, "We think you are a wonderful employee and am sorry to inform you that because of ...."

I forge ahead knowing I can survive whatever comes my way. I think?

Class Trip to Criminal Court

2005-06-15T23:06:00.000-04:00

There are many headlines in the news today in The New York City papers involving the criminality of young people. Young girl, 9 years old kills 11 year old friend. 12 year old Long Island girl strangles mother to death. 17 Year old Long Island, NY boy choke holds his father to death at the family barbecue. I see these headlines and am numbed at the impossibilities and the possibilities. Why is it not impossible for a child to strike and kill the one that gave them life? And to do such a vicious act at an age that should be full of innocence? How is this possible that children are killing at the age of 9?

My daughter is 13 years old and her 8th grade class took a tour of the criminal court of New York City. I was asked to come along as a chaperon. I was happy to do something for the class and for my daughter. When I arrived at my daughter's school and was introduced to her classmates, I felt good about the excursion and the adventure it would bring us. I did not expect the trip to be as deeply emotional as it was.

The trip came about because the children had a mock court in their class and were learning of court procedures and rules. The teacher decided at the end of the two week mock court to actually have them visit the several courts in downtown Manhattan. We were to visit the many courts that are featured in Law and Order, the television franchised tv programs. We were treated very respectfully by the court officers who were cheery and smiling when ushering us through the process of being screened for weapons. They made the experience as good as possible, but though pleasant could not mask the seriousness included in having your body scanned for weapons. That was the first step in the children being aware of the possibilities of violence and crime and the real life in which it happens.

We were met by an Assistant District Attorney of which there are over 500 in Manhattan Criminal Court. He was very sweet and didn't take any mess from mostly East Harlem Children he would be escorting through halls in which he prosecuted hardened criminals. I worried previous to meeting him that he would be overwhelmed by the children, many of whom were much taller and bigger, and, some seemed, more street wise than even me. He was old hat with the children, not hesitating to tell them to be quiet when it was needed, telling them to act right, and doing so without looking at me or the teacher for the go ahead. There were seventeen children in all and it was just me and their teacher escorting them to and from the school, and during the court proceedings he was with us. We meet him initially in a conference room and we all were sizing each other up, doing the usually thing people do when meeting others for the first time. He was explaining what his position was and what was the difference between a felony and a misdemeanors, and because the children knew a lot of the answers he asked from where did they got their knowledge of the court system and its proceedings. Many said from watching show such as Law and Order and The Wire, which happens to be a cable show. He said incredulously, "Oh some of you guys have cable?" And the air just sucked out of the room. The kids and I looked at him, "Like, what we can't have cable? What, just 'cause we're from the inner city, we don't have money to afford cable?" No one said it, but we were all thinking those words. It was like, "Oh, this is a bleeding heart liberal trying to give back to inner city people, meanwhile we didn't ask him for jack." Everyone kind of held their breath, and just paused. I said to myself, "Uh oh, this guy just messed up real bad." But he felt the tension really quick and understood from where it came, and said "No, no, that's cool you have it. You're lucky 'cause I am way too poor to afford cable." Everyone exhaled because his statement was from the heart and seemed beyond truthful and not judgmental of the children's' financial situation, but simply, just sorrowful about his. Everyone laughed. He, at the point, was alright with the children because he passed a major test: that he did not fake the funk about his financial situation. Often times that is a ice breaker for many people in social situations, and more specifically, in this one involving children from the inner city.

We continued with the lesson of what happens in court and then he laid down the law as to how the children were to act when going to the various court rooms. We would be going to the arraingment courtroom first, and that involved people who were arrested the night before who would then, by law, have to be seen within 36 hours by a judge and told why they were arrested, and what was to happen to them to address the charge. Would they be given a desk appearance ticket to come back and answer to the charge? Would they be released on their own recognizance or have to put up bail to guarantee they return to court? Or would the crime be so serious there would be no bail and they would be put away in the jail until a trial? There were other circumstances a person could find themselves under in the arraingnment court. What was stressed the most was the importance of having the uptmost reverence for the proceedings as this was a life and death situation for some people. At minimum, family members were present in the courtroom and were likely to be upset that their loved one was locked up for the night in prison, and per that we were to be respectful which entailed no talking, chewing gum, cell phones, no movement, just complete and utter attention to the proceedings.

What rattled many of us were that out of 10 defendants 3 were 16 years of age. That was a shock and many thought they should have been in Family Court. Upon leaving the courtroom we conferred in a common area outside of it, and were told by The ADA that what those teenagers were charged with obligated the courts to have their proceedings in Criminal Court. One of the cases involved a 16 year old who got caught up because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The police got a report of a young Hispanic man in a particular school with a gun in Spanish Harlem. Spanish Harlem is called just that because it is an enclave of Spanish, or rather Latino people, in Harlem. For the police to look for a Latino man in a school located within a Latino enclave that would presumably turn up the majority of the male population of the school as Latino, and do so without extreme care because of the great possibility of getting the wrong guy, is beyond me. This young man attended the school being investigated and was cutting class and was therefore the only one in the halls when the police pounced on him as he fit the general description of "Hispanic Male with a gun" He unfortunately did not react correctly as he fought the two plain clothes police men who undoubtedly were in fear of their life as they were doing their job and accosted him. They had probably cause as this young man fit the very general description of an armed man. Instead what they found was an unarmed man child, who was rightfully in the school he attended, albeit, he was out of class wondering the hall. Cutting class is an infraction of school rules but not a crime in the penal system. What is a crime is resisting being searched for a weapon when there is probable cause, and then fighting with and swinging on the police officers who are trying to frisk you, and doing the frisking within the letter of the law. This was explained to us by The ADA who noticed the looks on the children's, and I am sure, on my face, as to the ridiculousness of the situation that landed the boy, so young, in a prison, with grown men, for 36 hours, who will now, undoubtedly have a police record, because no matter that he was not the man the report indicated, but that he fought with the police in the course of their duty. And as such, these actions are punishable under the law.

We then went to another courthouse which had the trial phase of the criminal court process. After a person is charged with a crime should s/he not plead guilty to the crime and accept the punishment offered by a judge, the case goes to trial. We were witness to a murder trail and The ADA took the time to again stress the need for reverence and told of the two times he mistakenly thought his own cell phone was off and was reprimanded by the judge who took the cell phone away from him to only be returned after The ADA asked for it at the end of the work day. It was stressed that a man was on trial for murdering a man in the streets of Manhattan, and that should he lose the case he would be in jail for the rest of his life. We happened upon the day when the most riveting testimony happened, and it was the day the testimony was about how the murder took place. An eye witness came on the stand and told the gory details and we in the audience were riveted. It was an eye opening experience where the defense, trying to discredit the witness, got into the life of the witness and made it known that he was uneducated and a convicted felon, and the prosecution tried to paint a prettier picture of the eye witness by telling of his struggle of being born into poverty and struggling to survive. It was very interesting, and we happened on the day when the testimony was crucial.

The class trip was extraordinary in that I was able to spend time with my daughter in an environment that was hers exclusively. I saw her interact with her classmates and was struck by the respect they had for each other. Many of the students were from Spanish Harlem and were rough and tumble and were beautiful specimens of our youth. They were street wise, book smart, and respectful, and that is a wonderful combination. The trip was also extraordinary because of all the defendants in those Manhattan courtrooms, not one was white. All of the defendants were persons of color, and made me ask myself, "What, no White people committed any crimes on The Island of Manhattan." And all of the defendants are men. The Kings of people of color were locked up, and sure, maybe some of them were guilty, but why such a statistical lop-sidedness, a disparity, to the racial make-up of those being arraingned and tried. The young man who was arrested for resisting and was essentially in the wrong place at the wrong time, when released on his own recognizance, after spending the night in the infamous Tombs jail cells in the bowels of the city of NY only because he fit such a broad description in a neighborhood were the majority of the men fit it, was upsetting to see. When he turned from the judge and was released, an older woman, possibly his mother, met him in the aisle, with tears streaming down her face, and when he saw her, his face almost dissolved into tears but it was evident he choked them back and slung his arm around her neck and they walked out, him with defiance, and possibly with a hate for the penal system and its caretakers because of a situation that was all so avoidable. Will he be able to put this incidentsin a box within him so that it does not contaminate the goodness that is in him, or will he let it release into his soul, to darken it and darken his spirit? It was frustrating to see the many aspects of this court system and its incongruity and its exaggerated representation of the criminality we all know does not statistically occur in a metropolis like NYC.

It was a great class trip.

In The Box

2005-05-30T23:37:00.000-04:00

Recently I attended an event that required me to wait in a waiting area with several women. Upon entering he area as directed I went to a seat that was unoccupied and proceeded to take off my sweater and exhale knowing I had arrived on time and the event would soon start. I was happy to be there and to have done so without incident. Then came a woman who stood over me, in the proverbial box that I set up around myself to determine if someone is just too close, and proceeded to tell me I was in her seat. I, still doing the tasks of setting myself up to sit for a moment, stopped my movements and looked up at her in a slow manner, all the while looking at the vast amount of unoccupied seats all about us, and said to the woman slowly while looking in her eyes, for her to go find another seat and to do so because my sitting in "her" seat should not be a big deal. I further glanced around me to re-assert that there was no way for me or the best detective in the world to decipher if I was sitting in "her" chair as there were no items of clothing nor bags in its vicinity. I was amazed that she was "up on me" in such close poximity and surmised she must not be a native New Yorker as anyone who is would never have been that close without there not being a good reason such as a crowded subway or restaurant.

This chick was trying to intimidate me, why I don't know, to move out of a seat that upon view no one would have surmised had ever been occupied by her, and per these facts it can only be surmised that this chick was just power playing. The tables were turned on her quickly when the normally low base that is my voice got even lower when I told her to find another seat. She may have very well been in the seat before I entered the room and vacated it when she got up to partake of the wonderful refreshments that were laid out for all the attendants which is probably when I entered the room thus not knowing she had been sitting there. But for her to then think that any new arrivals could discern who was formerly sitting in the many seats available and to then intimidate someone into moving from a seat she once occupied by standing over said person, closely, with a hot cup of coffee, was mind boggling.

I practiced restraint on this occasion, and thought I handled it well. I talked to her like she was one of my children when I tell them to go sit down somewhere when they get on my nerves. She replied like a child when she heard the tone of my voice with a very perky voice, "Oh that's OK. I'll just move to another seat even though my stuff is there." I looked around AGAIN to ascertain what stuff she was talking about and saw AGAIN that there was none, and just thought to myself she was just trying to save face because she was put in the awkward position, and more specifically, she had the awkward position she tried to put on me thrown back on her.

I was offended by someone standing over me while I was sitting, and doing so with hot cup of coffee that could have easily spilled on me, and per that, I felt she was very threatening. I have not felt that feeling in a while from anyone, and it was shocking. It came from a person that I felt was used to getting her way, and I was not letting that happen because she was rude, there were plenty of other seats available, and I don't threaten easily. If looks could kill this chick would have been dead a hundred times over.

The moment was a very NY moment and I have not encountered one of late as I think I project a certain, "Do not mess with me" as soon as I step foot outside my apartment door, as do most NY'ers, and we all get along famously. Everyone knows where the lines are drawn and everyone has that box made up of those lines in which you are in the center, and no one is to intrude. For this chick to step in that box so aggressively is shocking to me, and reinforces my notion that it can come from anywhere a situation that can drive you to smack the living day lights out of someone who steps to you so aggressively. I handled the moment I think as gracefully as anyone could have, and didn't hesitate in understanding the situation. Years ago I think I would have been confused and possibly have moved as she sounded so confident that I made such a harsh mistake and she was pointing it out by embarrassing me in front of 20 people, loudly. I think I have grown in sniffing out the drama queens of the world, who don't take the high road, but take the low and try to drag many of us down there with them.

Only in NY.

Consumer Addict

2005-05-23T09:35:00.000-04:00

A guy from work invited me to the release party for a CD he performed in with his choir. It was to be held in Hell's Kitchen of NYC with free eats and drinks. I was happy for him and his success and wished to party with him and his friends. I took the subway to Delancy Street in NYC and emerged at dusk to see the sun shimmering off the East River just beyond The FDR Drive and it many homeward bound cars and their occupants. It was a beautiful sight and a beautiful night. I walked west towards Houston towards a church and entered into its sanctuary to a sensory overload. The music was blasting and there was a continuous stream of film of my friend and his group on many of the walls of the church. The Church had no pews which allowed for the crowd and the hot dog stands and the pop corn machines and the open bars from which people partook the tasty treats. The crowd was load and excited and the vibe was very New York. I looked around at the standing room only crowd and saw a man with a shawl fur and a advant guard skirt with combat boots on who looked very interesting. Most were upwardly mobile looking, if not upper middle class, and that, in my opinion, is not a bad thing.

The theme of the night was consumerism and the specific aspect of everyone's purchasing all items consumed responsibly. It was a night that spoke of everyone being aware of many of the things consumed by us everyday have a heavier price paid than that we put in the cash register. While we sip on lattes purchased from S.t.a.r.b.u.c.k. it was said during this event I attended that this multi-million dollar conglomerate uses underpaid and therefore exploited labor in third-world countries. I paused during the festivities that were presented to all as a choir in a church and done so in a comedy skit fashion I suppose to soften the blow of the essential lecture being put forth that we are all slaves to consumerism. Many of us want the latest fashions, cell phones, food, visit the latest restaurant, etc. and do not think of how the products being consumed were derived and produced and delivered for our consumption. It is a phenomenon that those conglomerates that produce such products certainly don't want the consumers to thinks about as many of us would give pause when and perhaps would not purchase said items.

The Rev.erend Bill.y and The Sto.p Sh.opping Choir is the official name of the choir my friend belongs to and have, upon my investigation into their website, a history televangelical satire to put forth the message of responsible consumerism. The are often at major political and consumer related events such as the recent Repub.lican Natio.nal Convention and The Wor.ld Tra.de Organization gatherings that happened recently in NYC. It is admirable that such a group exists and made me think about who I am as a consumer. It just struck me as sad as most of those present in the audience seemed not to need much prodding to believe the message being put forth, and that those who most needed to hear the message of that evening are the young people with the still forming view points about consumerism who clamor for those items pitched continuously by commercials and The M.T.V. culture we live in today.

The night was fantastic and I appreciated being invited as it makes me aware of my need to be ever vigilant in understanding what I consume litterally affects the world around me.

Casual Racism

2005-05-07T13:03:00.000-04:00

Casual racism effects society in countless ways and chips away at the very soul of those who encounter it on a daily basis.

"Oh, you're from Harlem! You don't act like someone from Harlem."

"Oh, you go to (an Ivy League) University?! How did YOU get in?! You're on scholarship, right? Oh, you're in the degree program and not some certificate program!?"

Getting on an elevator a Caucasian woman when she sees you, an African-American woman entering the elevator alone, shifts her pocketbook to the other side of her body, and looks fearful, as the doors of the elevator closes.

A problem comes up on the job and someone is asked to get a specific supervisor who is sitting on the other side of the department. She is training. The person is given the name of said supervisor and when sent to summon the supervisor, sees an African-American woman who is training two Caucasian women employees who are subordinate. He excuses himself to the African-American woman and speaks to the two Caucasian women and asks which of them is the supervisor. They point to the African-American woman who he has just ignored as possibly being the supervisor he was sent to summon.

A well known Georgia State Congress Woman, an African-American Woman, and two of her clerks try to enter The House of Representatives for a meeting of Congress, and the two Caucasian women are allowed to enter without being asked for ID to prove their identity and the reason for their being there, but The Congress Woman is stopped and detained and questioned when she does not provide ID nor is she believed when she states that she is a Congress Woman. A similar incident happens again months later. Members of Congress are traditionally not requested to show ID, but the civilians who work for them are, when trying to enter The Floor of The House of Representatives. Congress Woman Cynthia McKinney lodged a formal complaint as to her treatment at the hands of security.

A woman decides to run away from her home days before her wedding, a wedding that included 14 brides maids. It is unclear why she ran, but it is certainly clear that she lied when she called to state the reason for her disappearance. She stated that she had been kidnapped by a Latino Man and his Caucasian female companion. She then recanted a few days later. Sometimes during such weird cases of disappearances and other extreme matters, a person will lie to cover the fact that they are the reason for the extreme matter occurring by saying someone, usually a person of color, created the problem. This stems from the fact that it is so easy to believe a person of color committed a crime.

The feasibility of stating a lie - that a disappearance occurred because of an act of criminality by a Latino - is that which is the very base of what society thinks of people of color. And all other thoughts about people of color by persons spring from this very base and foundation, thus tinting the thought process of what and who people of color are, as a group, with casual racism. The woman did not care that she risked The Latino men of her community being snatched from their homes, cars, and jobs, to be questioned by police authority as to her whereabouts. The casualness of some racism and its acceptability in it being spoken and used as a weapon to thwart the truth, and its acceptability allowing those who use it to think of people of color as beneath them and inferior, and hoping that others do same so that lies will be believed, is angering.

Casual racism, the small incidences, and not the outlandishly racist occurrences we read about, are sometimes more effecting in spreading ugliness than the not so casual racism, as it is a process that ferments and festers in the brain to be forever remembered as a slight that was unjustified, undeserved, unwarranted, and came about just because of the color of one's skin and the inherent racism that exists in the society to which we all belong.

PTO Days

2005-05-02T19:05:00.000-04:00

There are many who are familiar with the expression PTO. Paid Time Off is magic to many working people's ears as it allows them to escape their jobs and take a vacation. Or if one is sick, one can call in to the job and tell of whatever illness they are suffering with knowing they will be paid while they languish and recuperate from what ails them. My job moved my department from the Wall Street area of NYC to Jersey City, NJ and many of my department were none to happy. This has manifested in many not showing up for work for numerous days. We have been at the new location for about eight weeks and about 60% of my department's workers have not completed a full week of work. Many of the absences are unscheduled, and the amount per my group is massive and exemplifies the dissatisfaction with the move from NYC to NJ. Before we left New York it was obvious many of my department had used most of their PTO, as it is a normally weird practice to abuse the system of PTO days, and many had done so before it actually accrued. The company for which we worked has always forwarded the time to the workers as a sign of good faith, and of course doing so knowing it would be easy to recoup whatever money was extended via PTO when the person left the employ of our job from the last check of said employee.

What is shocking is the rate that days are being used via PTO in our new facility. It is as if people do not want to be here, and are therefore risking being looked upon like irresponsible employees. And this is happening from the managerial level all the way down to temporary employees. But what is baffling is that they all need their jobs. No one is independently rich (to my knowledge) and works to appease some work demon they have inside themselves. So it is astounding that the manifestation of not wanting to be someplace acts out in taking unscheduled days that may not be paid for because of over extension of the usage of PTO.

It is certain that the vibe is different when going to work. When working on Wall Street one knew that though the job was not creative nor paid well, when one stepped out of the office one could find a vibrancy from the neighborhood in which the job was located. There may be a concert of major stars just blocks away in Battery Park. We have all seen, with our office views of the Statue of Liberty, concerts directly across the street with such performances from Janet Jackson, James Brown, Black Eyed Peas, Wyclef Jean, Nora Jones, Mos Def, Robert DeNiro, to name a few. And now, what do we get? Jersey. So, people are not happy as the neighborhood in which the job is located, while it is a neighborhood consisting of skyscapers on par with the ones left on Wall Street, does not have even a percentage of the vibrancy that was in the neighborhood of Wall Street. The place becomes deserted come five o'clock and literally tumbleweeds could roll down the avenue without bumping into anything. It is so desolate, but with the monstrosity that is the skyscrapers in the area, it looks like a vacant set of a very big budgeted blockbuster movie in a metropolis.

Having said the above, it is understood why people would be disillusioned about the job and what it once offered in terms of outside entertainment, but one thing is certain, bills still have to be paid. So, yes it is understood that there is an adjustment period, but for 60% of the staff to have had an unscheduled absence at least once a week for all the weeks we have been in New Jersey, and many to do so when their PTO has already been exhausted and therefore will not get paid for the days absent, is beyond incomprehensible.

But then, those are the types of people I work with. They are inexplicable in their actions.

Disparity

2005-05-01T16:20:00.000-04:00

My oldest son and I went shopping on 34th Street today. We went directly to Macy's as I had an all day pass acquired from a friend of a friend whose wife works there and who had a 20% coupon on every purchase all day. We had a great time shopping and he was very happy with his purchases. I paid for all the purchases with my debit card and really put a hurting on it. Everyone was personable and pleasant.

On the trek home to The Bronx, my oldest wanted to purchase a few more items from a sports store and we proceeded to chose items and go to the check out counter. When the debit card was presented I was asked for ID. I asked the young lady why I would need ID for a debit card. She gave some lame excuse, and I then proceeded to ask does she ask everyone who presented a debit card for ID, and she stated yes. I asked for what reason and she said for security reasons. I was well aware what her answer would be but was feeling mischievous.

It is so funny the difference between Manhattan and The Bronx and the way in which their respective merchants treat their patrons. One's institutions treats its customers with the respect they are due, and the other, like they are common thieves. And if I had purchased said items with cash in The Bronx, no questions would have been asked, instead all that would have happened is the snatching of the 20 dollar bill out of my hand and the chi-chinging of the register's resounding ring in my ear, and not the question, "ID, please" for the purchase of items worth less than 20 dollars.

I love The Bronx but some of its hang-ups and the manifestation of such really irritate me.

People of Need

2005-04-27T22:18:00.000-04:00

Sitting on the train on my way home from a long night of working overtime, I and everyone else on the train of my car was besieged by a homeless man begging for food and money to subsides until his Social Security check came through this Thursday. It was officially Wednesday morning, 12:30 AM and I look at him, I am sure like many of the passengers, like he is absolutely crazy. We did this because on the first instance of him telling of not having funds until his next check, there seemed to be a consensus on the train of, "Join the club." For others on the car who are better with budgeting their money, I am sure the thought process was why in the world did he not budget the money from his last check to last until the one he is currently awaiting arrives. With the looks of incredulousness gazed upon him, he tried another method of begging and that was to tell of his need to wear adult diapers, one of which he was wearing at the moment, because he had The AIDS Virus which contributed to him being unable to control his bowels. Of course, he made this statement when he was standing in front of me. Many were thoroughly grossed out on the train, and threw money at him to get him out of the car before an involuntary bowel movement happened. Before he moved through the car, collecting his bounty the whole while, a fellow entered the train on the other side of the car and proceeded to give his spiel on why he is begging and why we should give him money. The guy who had just begged for money looked back with a look of contempt as if he were offend by the guy coming upon his territory before he vacated. Meanwhile many of us on the train car just shook our heads at the ridiculousness of the situation. Times are hard, and many on the train are coming from low paying jobs that we work long grueling hours at and these beggars come on the trains and treat them as a playground that rewards them with money for playing at life.

I have sympathy for all who hit hard times, but have none for those who do not take appropriate routes in which they can get back on their feet. Social Service Agencies, unemployment benefits, and the budgeting of such are that which allows for some dignity in paying bills and living life in a upstanding way when times are down financially. The transit system is not the way for one to rebound financially.

The Season of My Discontent

2005-04-24T15:23:00.000-04:00

Spring is in the air and I am excited at the possibilities it brings. On the first warm, clear day in NY I was ready to embark on an excursion to Manhattan and got dressed and was thankful for the day. It was bright and shiny outside, and I felt limitless. I have always appreciated the changing of the seasons and thought of them as progression in my life. The winter winds, the April showers, the brightly colored leaves of fall, the steamy air of summer are the things that represent that I am moving forward in my pursuit of being an adult. I appreciate the changes as they represent little milestones and I am happy when they manifest in glorious days. Spring is the season I look most forward to in its brighter days and signs of things about to bloom. Hope is eternal, but with spring there seems to be a fruition of that hope. A new beginning awaits.

I recently walked down Fifth Avenue and walked by The Plaza Hotel on a 86 degree day and it felt so good. Hope springs eternal for me when weather is like that. I feel anew and refreshed. Ever since I can remember, the changing of the seasons gets me excited, and of the last few years, it magnifies my feelings of life, as a whole. I don't walk in fear of things not going right, knowing that if they do I can rebound. The confidence of being an adult and seeing things and knowing that whatever the end results will be I will be able to handle them has allowed me peace, but has also added an element of cynicism.

When I was younger and growing up in a highly dysfunctional household, I imagined that when I got away from my parents I would be out and about in the world among people who were nothing like my family. I never imagined the possibilities that people, every day people, people that I see in the periphery of my life - delivery people, people on the subway, and people I spend more time with than family, the people on my job - would be as dysfunctional as my family, as that would mean the world is a potentially cruel place, as cruel a place as the home I grew up in. I felt, when I left home at 16, people could not be as dysfunctional as those I was leaving behind as they were an aberration who were victimized themselves as children and visited their pain on me. All that I saw on TV and read about in the thousands of books I perused to take me away from the drudgery of my home life told me life was beautiful on the outside of my parents' home, and that once I ventured forth, I would bask in the goodness that was society and the life I could provide for myself. On this day I know I have worked hard to provide for me what I know is a good life. I have fulfilled what I set forth to do all those years ago when I left home, but what I did not find was the society I thought was outside that door.

When I was sixteen and on my own I always had a smile on my face and looked at people as potentially good people as I was hopeful at the odds those I encountered would not be dysfunctional as the people I left behind. Some 20 odd years later when I walk from my home and enter society, I know that many are as dysfunctional if not more than my parents and the rest of my family could have ever been. I get on the train and see faces, many faces ravaged by what I know are the effects of drugs, whether they are now on the straight and narrow after drug rehab, I have always clung to the adage, "Once a drug addict, always a drug addict". Though someone may have gone through "program" they will always have the sensibilities of a dope fiend. I try not to be judgmental, but only knowing that dysfunction brought them to that edge of drug addiction. I have a financial service job that the workers of which advice shareholders of various companies how to handle their stock, but meanwhile these same workers, I hear on the phone, make drug deals with codes they think those of us within listening range can't decipher as such, and those same people have bill collectors calling about late rent payments. I work with mean and disrespectful people. I take the train with people who I sometimes inquire if I am invisible to them because they push into me as if I am not there, thus the need for them to answer my question and put forth an apology. There are so many incidences I have experienced in my life since I have embarked on being an adult that have darkened my thoughts on the luminous society I thought I would find.

As I get ready to go to work everyday and walk to the subway, happy to smell the air of Spring, and I look around at the various people I encounter, and I know I was right to believe that there were better things outside of my parents doorway. I still know that there are good people in society, but I have an edge to my thoughts that makes that thought process delayed. I am cynical upon seeing and meeting people. I don't approach them as if they potentially are good people. I approach them as if they will be dysfunctional. I have become jaded. I read people like I do a book, and don't doubt that I am wrong. From the first meeting or viewing I believe in the possibility of bad, and should I have met and been introduced to them, I wait for incidences that may prove me wrong, but certainly don't hold my breath. I believe in decent people and know they exist, but also know they are few and far between.

Essentially, I am disappointed in people. I had hoped all those years ago to meet and be around confident, well adjusted people, who may or may not be friends, but who were people who viewed me the same way and therefore had respect for themselves and for others. But everyday I see stupid actions from people who are not self-loving which then manifests in them being rude to those around them, be they strangers or people they know. And I am now detached, and no longer have a ready smile for people, as I did those many years ago.

I love the changing of the seasons as they represent newness. The seasons have always represented newness to me, but during these most recent years there is an edge to the thought process of newness as I am jaded toward people upon first glance, but have the hope they will prove me wrong. I love life and people, but have a certain solumnness about and during that process of loving. Because I am older I am more aware of the dysfunction of people in society at large. This is the season of my discontent as it brings forth a newness of knowing life is good for me and it must be shared with many around me who do not know it nor appreciate it, and sometimes have the manifestation of that non-appreciation imposed on those around them.

Move to New Jersey

2005-04-09T09:35:00.000-04:00

The department I work in has been deemed transient and as such my job transferred its operation to New Jersey. Mind you the distance via train takes workers about 5 to 10 more minutes out of the way of their usual way of arriving to the old location, and of course there is the extra expense for the New Jersey leg of the trip. We can view the old office from the windows of our new location. We are across The Hudson River from each other. The new excursion is not any more strenuous than the old except for the added trips to the pocketbook for the transportation. But from the reaction of the workers you would have thought we were being sent to Alaska.

It amazed me the lies people came up with to say they could not go to New Jersey and thus had to stay in The Wall Street office. One woman, an almost 6 feet loud mouth, who once said loudly on the floor that she knew Geraldo Rivera in the biblical sense and laughed heartily about it while some looked on in horror, that her husband would "not allow" her to go to New Jersey to work because it was not "worth it" financially for the family budget to go. Meanwhile, for all of the years we worked the job, she exclaimed often the various episodes in her household that told every one in listening distance who had no choice but to hear her boring stories, that she ran it. She finagled a way to stay in New York, and bragged that she wasn't going to Jersey. She manipulated the situation which she has a history of doing and the director of the department was given an earfull about the inappropriateness of her staying in The New York Office. He was told if her husband has her best interest at heart than she should act upon those interests and start looking for a new job. The director has stated that as soon as the floor in NY that we occupied is eliminated, so would she. He was reminded that should that not happen and she was snuck into a position in The New York office, there would be a mutiny among the troops of NJ who made the move, and did so in a dignified manner. If she was able to maneuver a position in NY because of her loud mouth, he would have several formerly quiet workers loud mouthing him and all others as to the unfairness of the situation and then demanding her getting on board and coming to Jersey or getting out of NY and going home to her husband who thinks the move is not financially solvent. One guy said his mother was deathly ill and could not take the chance of being in NJ should she take a turn for the worse. He said he therefore needed to stay in the New York office. He was immediately told he could take a medical leave of absence to get things straightened out and would have a job waiting for him whenever he was ready no matter how long it took. He was informed that to make it official and in adherence to "The Family Leave Act" paperwork regarding his mother's illness would have to be submitted. He quit the same day. The train to Jersey, The Path, cost $1.50 each way and if 20 rides are purchased at the same time there is a discount to $1.20. The job offered everyone who didn't live in Jersey a $75 dollar travel expense, that would be taxed, for three months to offset the extra expense for those who decided to come to NJ. Everyone grumbled, but most got on board with the move. What was one to do with the job market the way it is in the financial services industry, and why give up the longevity of a position one has had for at least 5 years, as is the case of most of the employees of my department.

What was most evident in the move was the attachment to New York many of the workers had. This attachment was derived from the elitism of working in The Wall Street area and having the address of the job change to a New Jersey address had many in an uproar. Even those who lived in New Jersey and made the trek to the job on Wall Street did not want to work in New Jersey though their commute may have been easier. It is simply the supposed prestige that a Wall Street address provides to those who can quote the such, and having it eliminated and replaced with a New Jersey address seems to have non-plussed many a person. Some of my co-workers were outraged at the suggestion of the job moving to New Jersey when first told, but many have gotten with the program after a month of being there.

What other reasonable choice do they have?

The Times

2005-04-08T22:02:00.000-04:00

NYTimes.com

OP-ED COLUMNIST

Black, Dead and Invisible
By BOB HERBERT

Published: April 8, 2005

I once had a young black girl, whose brother had been murdered, tell me she was too old to dream. She was 12.

I remember a teenager in South-Central Los Angeles a few years ago saying, in a discussion about his peers, "Some of us don't last too long."

Don't bother cueing the violins. This is an old story. There's no shock value and hardly any news value in yet another black or brown kid going down for the count. Burying the young has long since become routine in poor black and Latino neighborhoods. Nobody gets real excited about it. I find that peculiar, but there's a lot about the world that I find peculiar.

Tafare Berryman was born on Feb. 16, 1983, in Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn. He debuted at 9 pounds 7 ounces. His mother said he was perfect, and she was still saying it this week as she prepared for his funeral. Tafare grew, as they say, prodigiously. When he was murdered early last Sunday morning, just five weeks short of his college graduation, he was six feet seven inches tall and weighed 240 pounds.

His massive size was no defense against the bullet that came out of the predawn darkness. It was like an instant replay of all the bullets over all the years that have ended so many young lives for no good reason whatsoever.

The fact that he had stayed out of trouble, and that his parents were strict, and that he'd graduated from high school in three years and was serious about his college work - none of that afforded him any protection, either. The fact that he was a popular basketball player at the C. W. Post campus of Long Island University, and that his classmates, teachers and coaches all swear he was a lovely person, counted for nothing. There are a lot of good kids who don't last too long.

The shooting happened on a street in Nassau County on Long Island. There had been a fight at a club, and a friend of Tafare's suffered a knife wound to the head. The two young men left the club in a car, with the friend driving.

After a couple of miles, they had to stop because the friend was bleeding profusely. As they were switching seats, with Tafare climbing into the driver's seat, a car approached. A shot was fired, maybe two shots, and Tafare's life was over. His friend was not hit. The police said they did not think that Tafare had been involved in the fight and that the gunman might have mistaken him for his friend, or someone else.

Tafare's mother, Dawn Thompson, who lives in Brooklyn, got a call about 6 o'clock in the morning. All she was told was that her son had been shot. She and three carloads of relatives rushed to Long Island. In the town of Long Beach, the family was given directions to the morgue.

"He was laid down with his eyes open and his mouth open, like he was saying, 'Oh, God!' " said Ms. Thompson. She began to sob. "He was just tall and stretched out. He's very tall, you know. And his eyes were open like he was looking for somebody. And I started crying. And I said: 'Yes, that's my son. That's my son. He's dead.' "

When I was growing up, I didn't worry about getting shot or getting stabbed, and, frankly, I thought I would live forever. But there have been many cultural changes since then. I've talked to hundreds of youngsters over the years who have either witnessed homicides or been very close emotionally to young people who had died violently.

Entertainers sing ecstatically of rape and homicide, and rappers like 50 Cent and The Game brag about the number of bullets their bodies have absorbed (at least 14 between them). Street gangs have spread from the cities to the suburbs and beyond, moving into those places in the hearts of young people that have been vacated by parents, especially fathers. Guns in some neighborhoods are easier to get than schoolbooks.

None of this is new. Two days before Tafare Berryman was killed, a 17-year-old freshman named Sequoia Thomas was shot to death outside Jamaica High School in Queens, apparently by an acquaintance. Her last words were: "Help me. Help me."

The big shots have other things on their minds. In New York there's a football stadium that the power brokers want to build. In Washington, the focus of presidents of the United States, past and present, has been on who would get to go to the pope's funeral. In Los Angeles the other day, the black celebrity elite turned out en masse to profile at Johnnie Cochran's funeral.

Youngsters dead and dying? Nobody of importance is much interested in that.

E-mail: bobherb@nytimes.com

Dreaded N.Y.C. Transit

2005-04-02T11:59:00.000-05:00

Thursday night I took the train home from work as I always do, and as always, asked that I be delivered safely to my family. Well, the going that night was such that I thought some of the peril I witnessed on the train may have impeded that wish. Upon the car that I normally take pulling in front of me in the station, I noticed three people in the usual seats that I sit acting rather haphazardly, leaning and gesturing aggressively. When entering the train I made haste to the opposite direction of the acrimonious noise they propelled for all to hear. After listening to what anyone with any sense could decipher was the babble of drunk people, I settled in for the ride with the knowledge that though drunk persons were on board my car it would not effect me.

Others on my car, however, were intrigued by the spectacle of drunk people on their train and wanted to take in all their antics, and trust, their were quite a few. I have seen much on The NYC Transit so what was going on was nothing new, but I guess to the guy sitting a seat from me it was. He stared at them so much that they asked him why he was staring. He then averted his gaze, but when one of the woman of the group kept loudly insisting that she had to relieve herself and took measures to do so between the two cars of our moving train with an assist from the other woman who stood steadfastly in front of the windows of the door of the car to block anyone's view of her friend, he started to stare again. Why, oh why did he do that? The friend acting as a shield to the disgusting act her friend was performing asked the guy, again, what he was staring at and why. When the woman performing the lewd act finished and came into the car pulling up her pants, she was told by her friends that the same man who stared before was staring at her again while she was performing the act, and so she ran up to him, and after being egged on by the members of her party, slapped the total stranger for doing something he has every right to do considering the spectacle presented to him, and did so four times in the face, hard. Her companions, screaming support, laughed hysterically. The occupants of te car including myself, were horrified as we did not know what to do. The man, a Latino, kept saying he did not speak English which seemed to infuriated said vile group of persons to a frenzy. He finally stopped talking which in turn seemed to satiate the group into leaving him alone. Finally, thankfully, their stop came and they proceeded off the train.

Upon their departure many on the train exhaled. Some laughed, and questioned the man as to why he didn't fight. One guy actually said, "Poppi, why you let that girl do that to you. I would a choked that B, yo!!! Word!" The ride was surreal, to say the least. The man, now amazingly able to speak English, said he didn't want trouble. From this I assumed that the man perhaps was here in The States illegally and as such did not want to do something or have something done to him that would ultimately involve police and they then finding out his dilemma.

I was sitting one seat away from this man and felt the impassioned yearning that was his to have this terrible episode in his life stop. I wanted to do something to help him make that happen, but also wanted to go home to my family. To confront or not confront three drunk persons about their abuse of a small man who himself took no measures to stop the abuse was a dilemma. It has always been a question of mine of what I would do in similar situations, and seeing that no one else reacted, even the person being abused, I continue to ponder about my decision though, ultimately, I know I did the right thing that Thursday night. I did not becoming involved in a fight that wasn't mine to fight.

I need to look into purchasing a car.

A felon can't vote, but he can serve in Iraq

2005-03-27T18:43:00.000-05:00

The Army is so wanting to replenish its ranks that it has lowered its' standards in seeking and enlisting those who have committed and been convicted of crimes and those who have a General Equivalency Diploma instead of a High School Diploma. This very telling maneuver by The Army speaks volumes about the military's efforts being waged in Iraq and them not being popular ones within the US community. This method of recruitment tells of how many soldiers have done several tours of duty and are refusing to re-up for another thus forcing The Army to find a body, any body, to replace the ones that are refusing to return to fight in a war that has been declared over. With these several tours of duty done, sometimes unwillingly as The Army sometimes extended a soldiers enlistment period without any recourse for the soldier to thwart that effort, these soldiers return with tales of what has gone on in the communities of Iraq and do not have a clear understanding as to why they were there as long as they were. The communities of The United States are being flooded with soldiers returning home with stories of the non-war that is being fought, and The Army is unable to woo them back for more tours of duties, so they now must make moves to get those who are willing to go.

The Army is now hedging that those who will be most willing to go are those who are the disenfranchised. For many the make-up of the disenfranchised is a person to whom opportunities do not present themselves willingly. The disenfranchised are thought of as persons who live in poor communities that have inept schools that these persons ultimately drop out of before completion of their scholastic programs, and because these were unable to finish school, often because of the hopelessness of the school, they then have a greater possibility of a life of crime because they are less employable without a high school diploma than someone who attended and graduated from high school.

Those same recruits that The Army is seeking are the same persons that society does not want to deal with. They are the same individuals who do not have the same funding pumped into their schools that those living in the suburbs have. They are the same people who do not get their fare share of tax dollars to fund the paving of their streets, the upkeep of their transportation, and the better super markets that their suburban and down town neighbors may have. These are the same persons that if convicted of a felony cannot vote to change these things but can be recruited by The Army to replenish the ranks for a war that was declared over months ago. Is there not blatant irony in this situation? One wonders.

D.A.F.U.R and the rest of Africa

2005-03-20T20:52:00.000-05:00

How astounding are the stories that are coming out of the country of Dafur? As they are being read one imagines the mayhem and the genocide and destruction that is going on in real time while the very words that are painting the pictures of destruction are being uttered. And what is one to do? Recently a letter campaign was waged to the local and national politicians of the US of all who were concerned with the goings on in Dafur and who wished to voice their opposition and to do so via someone who could possibly change what is going on in this ravished country. Some believe that the answer to effect change ultimately lies in the hands of politicians. And so recently a musician, Bob Geldof, made an expletive ridden speech on a stage in front of Tony Blair, The British PM, to do something about the general poverty on not only Dafar but in all of the continent of Africa. Bob wants poverty to be ended in this beautiful continent and can not think of a worthier cause, and reminded those in attendance of the gathering that much money has been thrown about haphazardly for far less worthy causes by some of the richest countries. So why not the same be done for a continent, which when in receipt of anything similar in funding, can be turned into a continent that can rival Asia in its economic resources?

The United Nations has started The Millennium Development Project that pledges to have those countries who sign on to the project to donate 0.7 percent of their Gross Domestic Product towards the reduction of the current number of the world's people living in poverty - 1.1 billion - in half by the year 2015. Of course there are other matters that occur that go hand in hand with poverty, allowing it to subsists and grow, and therefore need to be addressed, that cannot be alleviated by money. It is certain that dictatorships, autocrats, corruption, the such that is going on for example in Dafur, are some of the things that allow poverty to happen. But certainly to give funding to those same people who are affected by such conditions and they then have the means to buy and make food which can allow them to fight such negative influences, and then perhaps, with the strength of heart, mind, and body that food in their bellies provides, they would then have a better chance at ridding themselves of those very things that allow poverty to flourish.

If the industrialized countries of this world, especially The United States, join in the fight against poverty, perhaps the dream of it ending can come true. Bob Geldof exclaimed the need for Tony Blair to get the President of The United States to do the right thing in joining a commission formed by Blair to fight poverty in Africa, and did so in very base language. Any and all other commissions whose purpose is it to wipe out poverty in Africa and any and all other places that experiences it may lie the answer to the very base problem that is poverty.

B.I.G.G.I.E.

2005-03-19T23:59:00.000-05:00

March 9 was the 8th Anniversary of the death of Christ.opher Wal.lace aka Bi.ggie Smal.ls. He is reputed to be one the greatest rappers that ever lived and he was mourned all over again recently because many are missing him. Mr. Wallace, aka Frank White, was the type of rapper that talked of the dreams many from his part of town, Brooklyn, NY's Bed-Stuy, had. His part of town can be found all over the world, and these town's various dwellers's common denominator, no matter what part of the world they are found, is the lack of money with which to live decently. Chris rapped about the dreams of making it out of these towns and becoming somebody. One of his most famous raps, "Juicy" states his teachers told him he would become nothing, and told him so, blaringly, as a child. They said this because the only saw the bad and not the greatness that he and every other person that has ever had someone say those despicable words. The dreams that all persons have, the dreams of every ordinary person who can and will do extraordinary things, if allowed, were trying to be deferred in the body that was C. Wallace by the very beings that had the job of trying to develop those dreams.

He told the story of those dreams and of the many times they were almost deferred, and with the telling of those stories, he has fans that will always exult him. These fans will always remember and recognize his words as personal experiences he verbalized that they can recognize as their own. Biggie was an ordinary man who did extraordinary things.

March 12th, 2005, The FBI ended the investigation of his death and many are perplexed. This is another unsolved murder of a Black Man. It is disputed amongst many that the clues are clearly available to solve the crime that snuffed the life of this lyricist. Those same proponents of the theory that this murder can be solved further theorizes that the killers are part of a conspiracy. The conspiracy that the life of a Black person is not valued, and therefore does not warrant much effort into finding the killers, and for the case of a celebrity such as Christopher, only the appearance of such should be put forth. And now is the time to end such perfunctory appearances, and to do so nearest the 8th anniversary of his death is chilling.

Biggie, Brooklyn's Finest, RIP.

Adult Child-Parent Relationships

2005-03-10T20:00:00.000-05:00

I have tried to be a good person and daughter to my mother, and it has been to no avail, as she has not reciprocated. It started getting to the point of my not wanting to speak to her about 4 years ago when I discovered that, when composing a message on her newly purchased and first answering machine, she stated that she had 3 mail boxes. One of the mailboxes was for her, the second for her family, and the third was for "the children". I am an only child and my mother lives alone, so upon calling her and hearing the message on the answering machine when she didn't pick up, I remembered during a conversation I had with her later that day to ask why would she put such a message on her machine when no one lived with her. She kind of blew me off. Later that year we attended a family reunion and things were nice, but I picked up a vibe that I was thought of as an errant child, a burden to my mother, and not deemed an adult. I had some questions asked of me that I thought somewhat inappropriate, such as how old was I and the age of my oldest child, as if the family member was trying to decipher if I had my oldest when I was a child. I answered the question, as it was a family member and I therefore thought the question an innocuous curiosity at the time, but when this family member looked at me with the wheels turning in his head as if he was trying to figure me out, I was a little perplexed. I also caught looks from distant family members who attended the family reunion who made certain to speak to me with incredulous tones and had looks of concentration on their faces. I was further perplexed when these distant family members seemed to be surprised by me and my children in our appearance and demeanor. It seemed as if they expected my children and myself to be downtrodden. My mother seemed uncomfortable when I was in a situation with her when we were talking to other family members in a happenstance way. I couldn't figure out why she seemed so uncomfortable.

Directly before this trip there were other incidents with my mother that had proven to equally perplexing as the aforementioned. I work at night and sometimes my mother would call bright and early (9:00 AM) during the week and bark out things on the phone to me as soon as I picked up the receiver, and did so without identifying herself nor saying the obligatory, "Hello". I often didn't recognize her because she would sound so angry and gruff. On one occasion I had spoken to her on the weekend and stated that I would be keeping my youngest home as he had a cold. The conversation that night was pleasant. She called the next day, from her job, 9:00 AM in the morning to my home and was yelling into the phone as soon as I picked it up the question, "Did you take the kids to school today!?" I first asked who it was as I did not recognize her voice because it was filled with self-righteousness and anger, and she identified herself by her nickname which I find juvenile. I stated to her that she must have forgotten that I was keeping my youngest home today as I had told her about it the night before. She replied in a gruff voice, "Well, that's not good, not good!" I was confused by her statements and asked her what she meant by that, and she said something unintelligible and said she would call me later. There were other phone calls like that until I got an understanding of what she was doing. And what she was doing was playing to the audience that was/is her co-workers. It became obvious to me that she wanted them to hear her end of the conversations and in doing so, wanted them to think she had to call me to wake me up to make certain that I took my children to school. To act like she didn't know one child was sick, and thus, act surprised he was home, sounded like she was scolding a child of hers who was acting irresponsibly towards her grandchildren specifically, and towards her also, as she was supporting them financially and otherwise. Meanwhile, I am on the other line confused as to why she is making statements that don't correlate to what I am saying and what was told to her the previous night. Only after hearing from a relative after the family reunion did I further understand that the way she would speak to me during phone calls from her job to my home shows that she told the same lie she told to my family members to persons on her job. The lie that I lived with her, and she had to support my children and I. And to validate this lie she made calls to me that were charades that made it seem she was trying to make me take my children to school.

When we arrived home from the family reunion, I put the thoughts of apprehension behind me and forgot about them. I, some months later, then discovered that family members had been told by my mother that my children and I lived with her in her apartment, and she was supporting me and my children as I did not have a job. She also alluded to them that I had a drug habit, thus the reason why I lived with her, thus the answering machine message. To say the least I was floored by this. I had put up with a lot of nonsense from my mother since I started speaking to her at the age of 21 after 6 years of silence in order to let bygones be bygones, and had hoped her alcoholism and drug abuse had ceased or at least decreased in such a way that she would not pull many of the means stunts that propelled me out of her house and life at the age of 16. But alas, here comes a blow that was almost unforgivable. I detest drugs and what they do to a person and the family members that will always ultimately be affected. I have been on my own since I was 16 years old, and am proud to say I have traveled the world, gotten an Ivy League education, and brought a home at the age of 19 years old in preparation of starting a family and began that family at 21 with a man that I am still with to this day. We have three children and do our best to support them and ourselves in a dignified manner, and have done so with no regrets. So for my mother to say this about me when I have accomplished so much in my life despite all that she did to me as a child that could have hindered me in doing so, is mind boggling. And to make such lies that are further from the truth and parade me around other family members, some of whom looked at me with incredulous eyes, some with pity in their eyes, and some with nasty glares, makes me know that something is definitely wrong with my mother on a mental level.

I don't allow her in my home and I often don't pick up the phone when she calls. I finally got Caller ID because of my wanting to avoid my mother. What is strange about the situation is that she is loved by my youngest children. She has shown them love that I have personally witnessed, and they have reciprocated to her. My oldest has never vibed with her from a young age and has called her out on some of her rude behavior towards me, and does not go out of his way to deal with her. The youngest two often seem to have not been aware of some of her nasty antics towards others and/or are just persons who let bygones be bygones. My daughter, my middle child, is old enough that should anything happen while my mother takes them on local excursions, like to the mall or to movies, she can walk away with her brother in tow, and that her parents are a cell phone call away. So I will try not to deny them what my mother seems incapable of giving me.

I wonder often what will happen when my mother is older. Will I want to deal with her should she become incapacitated because of age? Will I want to deal with the issue of hospital or funeral arrangements when she gets ill and/or dies? But then I think she is only 14 years older than me, and with the luck of people like her, she will probably out live me. I know that I must do for me when it comes to the issue of my mother. She has done something that is inconceivable and does not deserve a moments thought as it is too sick to contemplate, and as such, I must protect myself, and the way to do so is to have minimal exposure to her. This pathway I have taken to deal with my mother has worked well as she has become aware that I will not put up with her nonsense. I told her that I knew of her lies to family members and virtual strangers about me, and of course, she denied it. When I mentioned the things that made it clear to me that she told these lies, such as the answering machine, she just brushed them aside. I didn't argue further. I just effectively distanced myself from her, and did so much so that when receiving nasty phone calls from her, I have hung up in her ear. This has happened so much so that she is very respectful and careful when she is on the phone with me from the beginning of the conversation to the end as she knows she will hear a thunderous click in her ear if she acts otherwise.

I can't change my mother, but I can change how I allow her to treat me. The process is well underway, and I am pleased with its results. But it doesn't soften the knowing that the person who gave birth to me told such lies and did so to make herself look like a martyr. I have to accept that she is and will never be able to accept the greatness that is me and will try to mitigate it at every turn.

Sex to die for

2005-03-06T17:06:00.000-05:00

Sex may be the one thing that many agree is the most pleasurable sensation a person can experience. It is usually free, usually easily attainable, usually can be done anywhere, and when done the appropriate precaution, can be done with no consequence other than lost time. So why is sex then the thing that can bring about the most horrendous death that one can experience to those who partake, and is doing so in record numbers to the point that some country's median age for life expectancy has dropped to 40 years of age?

Everyone knows that sex is the embodiment of what makes the world go. Without it there would not be the birth of our future generations. Those future generations, who will pick up where the older ones have left, helping to sustain life as we know it, and possibly, improving on what past generations have done. Sex is a good thing, some would say, as it allows a closeness to all involved, if that is what they seek. Some would say it allows people to be as base as animals, partaking only to relieve themselves of an animalistic desire. These same proponents would state that sex should only happen for the sole purpose of procreation. But no matter what the view of what sex should be or is, it is, in this society we live in, a facet of life that, when done irresponsibly, can be a weapon that kills people. This weapon is HIV, that ultimately turns into AIDS. Many reports have come out telling of the horrendous statistics regarding this dreaded disease, and the statistics are abysmal. To think that life expectancy has dropped to below 40 years of age in some countries, and to know that this fact impacts greatly, economically, spiritually, medically, on the society in which it is happening is frightening.

So why is this dreaded disease still subsisting, if not growing, exponentially? Is there so much despair in the world that people just want to feel the momentary pleasure that is sex so much that they forsake the knowledge that doing so might kill them? Is it that people want to feel that high that is sex and put aside the notion that they may too become a victim of this disease? Perhaps a point has been hit upon in stating the phrase "feel high"? Isn't that what we all seek? The "feeling high", the euphoria of getting a project done at work that receives praise from the boss, scoring the winning basket in a pick-up game, cleaning the house and going out to return to the wonderful smell of a clean house. These types of euphoria one must work at attaining, and are therefore, that much more meaningful.

But what of the easily attainable euphoria? Sex is one of the easiest to attain. There are always willing partners, there is always a place, it doesn't have to take up a lot of time, and you don't even have to take off your clothes, or do a lot of changing of your bodily positioning. But now a days there is a new element to having sex that requires work, and often times, more than a nominal bit of money, and that is the purchasing and the using of condoms. Sex is no longer an easily attainable euphoria. One has to work at feeling this high if one is to do it responsibly. And therein lies the problem. In doing so, being a responsible sexual person, a partner may be deemed by the other as sending a message to that accusing partner of being disease ridden, or of being "fast" as they were prepared and thus "hot in the pants" for sex. In some country if a woman even speaks of her partner using a condom she may beaten. Sometimes condoms may be cost prohibitive. Just the use of condoms cuts down on the euphoria of sex as it reminds participants that they are taking a chance, albeit, they have minimized that chance of contracting HIV by using a condom.

Sex as wonderful as it can be, has changed in its ability to be the sensual high that we know. The high is no longer so easily attainable, and in fact, may be less euphoric as this disease is ever present in all aspects of life. One always has to look at a potential sexual partner as a possible carrier. Whether or not people accept this change is where the problems lay. Ignorance, or perceived ignorance, is bliss as many are aware of how and why people get this disease, but do not want to think that the very thing can happen to them.

Abysmal Stats

2005-03-04T20:26:00.000-05:00

Blacks are contracting HIV at twice the rate they were in the late 1980s and early '90s, which researchers and AIDS prevention advocates attribute to drug addiction, poverty and poor access to health care, according to government statistics.

Link

So goes the beginning lines of the troubling story of HIV infection. One wonders how in this day and age are rates like this a possibility? Have we not come further than this? Drug addiction and poverty are elements, that unfortunately, are too heavy a burden to eliminate effectively when dealing with HIV rates. How often, though the persons are trying to be diligent, do persons relapse into drug addiction? How difficult is it for those who are poor to rise above the doldrums of the despair that is poverty? It takes sometimes years for a family to rise above the poverty line and is often not possible unless those persons have acquired schooling. Drug abuse and poverty often go hand in hand as a person caught up in the ugliness of poverty may try to deadened the pain of such with drugs, and vice versa, a person who becomes involved with drugs will inevitably spiral into a poverty they may have never experienced nor recover from easily. To try to concentrate efforts against this one-two punch combination of poverty and drug abuse is not the way in which to advance against the scourge of HIV as they may be insurmountable. These two elements of those lives who are a part of the statistics mentioned are such that they may be everlasting, and as such, the concentration in how to prevent HIV should lie in the hands of health care providers and the institutions in which they work.

Health care providers are at the fore front of the war against HIV and AIDS. They are the people that see, first hand, the effects this virus directly has on afflicted individuals physically and psychologically. These effects are devastating to say the least, and who better to identify the new trends in the effect of HIV and also be the first line to identify what may be new trends in how it, the disease, is acquired. Health care workers also see, secondarily, how it effects the afflicted persons personal relationships within their communities and families, and as such, may then be able to disseminate information to social workers who can than address whatever social anomaly (drug addiction, poverty, etc.) that has resulted or pre-existed.

What is more probable in bringing about change concerning this new urgency for the elimination, or at least, the suppression of HIV rates, is access to health care. This access to health care is the front line defense to all elements of this dreaded disease. It will take much too much time and money to eliminate or decrease poverty and drug abuse, so why not concentrate on the one thing is this fight against HIV/AIDS that is achievable. Health care access, though it can prove to be as costly as the other two, is the first thing all who are willing to fight must concentrate their endeavors toward to realistically have a chance at victory against one of the most dreaded disease of modern time.

Racial Divide

2005-02-22T18:46:00.000-05:00

Dean and Bush have made statements that conceivably can be deemed racially inappropriate.

Dean's statement:

During a meeting Friday with the Democratic black caucus, Dean praised black Democrats for their work for the party, then questioned Republicans' ability to rally support from minorities.

"You think the Republican National Committee could get this many people of color in a single room?," Dean asked to laughter. "Only if they had the hotel staff in here."

Bush's comment:

At a White House conference on Social Security in January, Bush said, "African-American males die sooner than other males do, which means the system is inherently unfair to a certain group of people. That needs to be fixed."

These same statements though rooted in truth are not, when dissected and looked at with an objective eye, factual. The Republican Party is notorious for not having many Black members since The Reconstruction as many Blacks since that era have chosen to be members of The Democratic Party thinking the party is more suitable to their needs. The Mayor of New York City, when giving his State of The City address, talked of tax breaks given to corporations who build hotels in NYC and justified the institution of such breaks as it provided "marginal" jobs to "marginal" workers. Bloomberg is a Democratic turned Republican and speaks the language of someone of priviledge who sees those in the service industry as marginal. Marginal often translates into menial and often translates further into minorities - people of color. This is the same type of language Dean was spouting in trying to make a joke. Hotel workers, in the language that he spoke, are minority and could not be a part of the Republican Party. The joke did and has not gone over well.

Then we have Bush who stated that Black men because they die sooner than other males will benefit from the privatization of Social Security. Bush and his people crunched the numbers incorrectly on Blacks to bolster this argument. Black men who reach the age of 65 have a death rate similar to other male groups between the ages of 65 to 90 years of age. In addition the only disparity that happens with Black males in death rates to other male groups happens at the time of birth and in adolescence. These specific death rates can be attributed to 80 percent of the difference in life expectancy between Black males and other groups of males. These black males are babies and teenagers, not old timers. So Bush's theory that Blacks will benefit from the privatization of Social Security per high death rates when these men are of an age to receive these benefits is blatantly incorrect and has no relevance. The 20 percent of the negative disparity in rates for deaths of Black men to other groups of men that is factual and thus, concerning, may leave behind family members who will benefit from Social Security funds to which they are entitled as a result of these deaths. For family members of Black men who die in adulthood to benefit from the accrual of these men's Social Security also discredits Bush's theory on why Social Security should be privatized. The benefits can still be utilized after the death of Black men who are of retirement age by family members.

The statements of Bush and Dean have caused many to re-examine the racial divide these two have flaunted to bolster their incorrect arguments.

Brother Malcolm

2005-02-21T16:15:00.000-05:00

Today is the 40th Anniversary of your passing and many still miss you. The presence of such a man is still needed and the essence of your message of self love and the understanding of why one has self hate and hates those who look similar, is still being studied so many years later after the messenger has turned to dust.

Such is the legendary Malcolm X. The hero to many, a man who shortly before his passing came to an understanding that any one can be equal and open no matter what their color. The understanding that one can have enemies the same color as they, and friends who are not of the same color. The messenger, Malcolm, put forth the words that we must be open to all who are for right.

RIP Brother Malcom, and and his dearly departed wife, Sister Betty. Your message lives on.

Man on train

2005-02-18T16:42:00.000-05:00

Of late there are quite a few homeless people riding the trains of NY and some are more aggressive than usual. One night when coming home from work, seeing the same people I have seen night after night who inevitably were also drudging home from a long day at work, we encountered a homeless man who stormed onto the crowded train and said expletively that if anyone of us got in his way he would kill all of us on the car. He literally jumped on the train as soon as the doors opened and screamed at the top of his lungs this threat and the mood of exhaustion shifted into one of righteous indignation and pugilism among its riders. Suffice to say this guy picked the wrong train in which to act crazy and murderous because most of us on the train started putting away whatever reading material we had to get our hands free, looked at each other, and with that eye contact between us, the message was communicated that this guy would get jumped and stomped on at the first hint of him acting out the aggressive moves he proclaimed he would make. The mood on the train became especially electric, especially silent.

The homeless guy, while certifiable crazy when he initially got on the train in his declaring and ranting of his murderous intent, suddenly became aware he was about to get hurt for such declarations upon gauging the swift changing of the mood of the train that read clearly to all who felt it. Everyone else on the car of that train was also made aware that this homeless guy would not make it a step further were he to act in any way aggressive. Suddenly this homeless guy acted appropriately, and in moving through the crowded train to get to the next car of the train to undoubtedly escape the glares of his fellow riders, he repeatedly said, "excuse me, excuse me," to all who were standing per the seats all being occupied, all of whom turned to face him as he passed, daring him with eyes full of the same aggressiveness he had when he entered screaming his intent to hurt people.

I have never been a part of a mob before that day, but that fateful day on that train, I appreciated the fact that I was, as it, my mob, quelled the ability of one person to scare people into a state of hopelessness on a train ride home. Life is perilous enough without a strange someone adding to that element.

The Journey

2005-02-12T15:22:00.000-05:00

A documentary, The Origins of AIDS, appeared recently on The Sundance Channel. This documentary theorized about the the origin of the AIDS Virus. The telling of this story, based on the book The River that theorizes how this deadly disease could have started, is complex. In the 1950's polio vaccinations that were made from Chimp cultures instead of the standardized practice of utilizing Rhesus monkey cultures were given to people living in The Congo. This was a mass inoculation utilizing an experimental vaccine. The straying from standard practice in the composition of these vaccinations and the administrating of such to the people of The Congo is theorized to have been the origin of HIV and AIDS as the population of this area of Africa is where persons who had the first cases of AIDS resided. The intentions of administrating polio vaccines was upstanding, but it is further theorized that there has been, for quite sometime, the simian type of AIDS present in some chimpanzees and that this disease, if the chimpanzees' kidneys were used in the composing of the polio vaccines, facilitated the leap from Simian AIDS to Human AIDS when administered to humans.

We know have news that a man become ill with HIV and in less than two months from the time of his initial infection he has now developed AIDS. It is believed his strain of HIV was able to flourish into AIDS abnormally quickly because of susceptibility to the disease, which is a phenomenon in and of itself, and because he has a resistant strain that is not diminished by the usual cocktail of HIV treatment drugs. These two phenomenon may cause a new era of HIV/AIDS.

The beginning of HIV/AIDS cannot be determined concretely. Many theories abound as to how and where and why this dreaded disease came about. What is certain is that it is here, the journey through this maze we call HIV/AIDS has been treacherous, and this new strain that is the toughest we have seen, has presented itself. Theories aside, whether this was an act of inoculation that went wrong, or some other sort of conspiracy to wipe out the groups most affected - Africans and other people of color - this disease is not yet on its last legs, and as such all efforts should be put into getting rid of the dreaded disease.

Good Reverend Doctor

2005-02-09T15:50:00.000-05:00

A great soldier has passed and left behind a legacy that will be difficult for any to replicate in its purity and righteousness. He was a friend to many icons, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Jr., with whom he shared the conviction that much was not right with the world and went about doing the work, often along side these friends, of change. I speak of the great Ossie.Davis, an actor and an activist. His passing makes many re-visit his many accomplishments. He was the man who, along with his equally impressive wife Ruby.Dee, continuously put out screen works that spoke of the needs of common people and often marched in civil disobedience protests to tell all who would listen of the subsisting and current civil injustices. He was also an actor who shined in his roles on stage, and was a family man who set up a stable life that was not brought any negative attention.

Ossie Davis has left us and will be sent home soon in rousing ceremonies at Abyssinian Baptist Church and Riverside Church located in New York City. The services are open to the public, and undoubtedly are so per the wishes of Davis as he is a man of the people. He is a man that fought the good fight for people, common people. He and his family have seen fit to share with the public the last moments of his essence on this earth.

RIP, Good Reverend Doctor. You will be missed.

Burden

2005-02-05T09:54:00.000-05:00

Is it right for anyone to judge another of the choices they have made in their lives? I often have had people comment on my life in the most intrusive and rude ways, and have had to step back and assess the inappropriateness of their comments. Often I let the comments go as I know they come from a projection on to me of the negativity the person is feeling about themselves.

Recently at my job I was in an area of the office that is cut off from others doing a task alone and a colleague stepped into the area and commented that I looked tired. I looked at him and shrugged my shoulders and said that I wasn't, all the while thinking the comment was a little forward. He then started a spiel on his knowledge of my having three children and the burden that he was sure was unwanted by me because of them, and his assuredness that I would become pregnant soon again as "girls" that he knows personally who "are like you, who have kids, keep popping them out." Needless to say he was pulled into an office with myself, and my manager who was there for the sole purpose to witness what I would say to him. I thought it paramount to state the obvious that my children bring me purpose for being, and for someone to state the opposite and for that statement to come from someone who doesn't even know their names is totally inappropriate to be said in any setting, let alone an office. This person is someone that I am not close with nor rarely initiate a conversation about anything, let alone anything personal. He is known as socially inept office wide. One woman in the office has told him not to speak to her per rude comments he made about her body. Others have literally told him to shut up because he talked to much. He then has stopped talking to them altogether to which they cheer with gratitude.

I was told during this meeting that I am quiet. He said, "You're always so quiet." I was stunned by the comment and stated that had nothing to do with the conversation but since he mentioned it I could only think that there was a hidden meaning behind the statement, and that was that he was surprised I was voicing my opposition to the rudeness he displayed, and doing so in such a verbally aggressive manner. He was surprised that I stated I knew he would never say rude things to me outside of the office because he knew verbal fusillade would come his way possibly followed by a chair directed at his head. And in knowing this he uses the safety of an office to spew nasty comments knowing people will be professional and not react inappropriately. Such is the case with myself, and so he was warned that should such comments every happen again he is being given fair warning that he will be in human resources and will be reported officially for harassment. I then asked him did he still think I was quiet.

I am tired of being judged in a negative manner on the one thing that brings consistent light to my life. That anyone would think children are a burden to me dramatically tells that they do not know me and are judging me from stereotypical fallacies.