Earth Angel

My aunt underwent brain surgery yesterday. This morning my sister called to let me know that she was finally in her room and that by all accounts, the surgery was successful. Oh, did I mention that the surgery took 18 hours? Yes, I said 18 hours…no typo here. Umm, let me add that this is the fourth brain surgery that she has endured. Now close your mouth and lower your brow.
My aunt is an amazing woman. She is definitely a person worth emulating. In our family, most would consider her to be the matriarch. She’s a natural born leader who has a tendency to put the weight of the world on her shoulders and carry it—and she makes it look so easy. She has no children of her own, but so many call her mom. She is one of the most giving people that I have ever met. I don’t think she realizes that she can’t help everyone. Whether financial resources, personal advice, constructive intervention, physical, emotional or spiritual support, she finds a way to give what is needed, when it is needed without seeking acknowledgement or praise for her deeds. She’s the type of person who sees a problem and makes a decision to be the solution. She’s a modern day Mother Teresa. During last year’s presidential campaign there was an ad that received a whole lot of attention…remember the ad that Hillary Clinton put out with the red telephone ringing at 3:00am that asked us who we wanted answering that call??? Well, my aunt is the one that answers the call in our family. She is the very definition of our family name.
So I guess you can just about imagine what yesterday was like for us huh? Pins and needles, that’s the understatement of the century! Of course my aunt had prepped us all for the surgery. She’d given instructions, assigned various people to fill important roles, discussed her will and other related business in the event that the unthinkable had occurred, and tried to assure us that she has lived a great life and was prepared should God decide to call her home. Up until the day of the surgery this natural born leader was still taking care of business and making sure that everyone else would be okay in her temporary absence (temporary absence was all we could fathom.) Even with all the prepping, praying, and positive thinking, we were struggling to get through every hour...it’s tough to remain positive through an 18 hour ordeal. Such an event can certainly help to put a lot of things in perspective. First and foremost, some of the things that we worry about on a day to day basis are really not as important as we think—it’s not brain surgery. Also, we have to take time out to show and tell our loved ones that we love them. We have to cherish every moment because history is made in the blink of an eye. Last but not least, we have to live each day to make a difference in our world so that when we leave this earth, it is indeed a better place for us having been here.
I am grateful that my aunt has been to Heaven’s door four times to interview for the Heavenly Angel position and that God turned her down each time. Not because she is unqualified, but because he has yet to find someone who could fill her current position…Earth Angel. Selfishly, I pray he never will.

When Bowling is More than a Game

I attended the Special Olympics to watch two young women compete in the bowling tournament. I had a great time and would go as far as saying that the experience was quite enlightening to me. From the moment I walked in the door I knew it was going to be a great day. Everyone was excited. Participants were waving and talking to their peers and to people that they had never met—like me. Volunteers were helping with everything from tying shoes to pushing wheelchair bound participants to their lanes.
After the opening ceremony, the participants roared and clapped with excitement. The games had officially begun. I watched as many lanes as I could see and observed the dynamics surrounding each team assigned to those lanes. I think the greatest thing that I saw was that in this setting, they all felt empowered, important, and that they were a part of a special group. They weren’t a group of people who were being looked at for what they couldn’t do, we had gathered to see a group of people compete in a bowling tournament. Today, they were the majority…I was the minority. As I looked down at the lanes I noticed that they were using different techniques to get the ball down the lane. Some were using arrows etched in the flooring as a guide to hit the pin they were trying to knock down, others squatted down and released the ball, there were those who seemed to have a natural flow—they just let the ball go and it glided down the lane to the intended destination, a lot of the bowlers spread their legs and used both hands to roll the ball down the lane, and there were a few, especially those using crutches, walkers, or wheelchairs, who used a special assistive device that allowed them to prop the ball up, line the apparatus up with the pins and push the ball with little or no difficulty. The lesson here is simple. There are many ways to reach your goal. If one doesn’t work, try another.
It seemed that each bowler understood the rules of the game and showed respect for their peers by waiting patiently for them to release their ball before releasing their own. Wait your turn. It’s a basic rule, but sometimes we seem to forget it. I also noticed that the players seemed to be genuinely interested in helping each other. Although it was a competition, they were rooting for one another. They cheered every strike, high fived when an opponent picked up a spare, and patted those on the back who couldn’t seem to keep the ball from going into the gutter. They recognized that even in a competition it’s important to be a good sport. I believe those pats on the back and words of encouragement helped ease the frustrations of a lot of players out there. It was great to see someone who wasn’t doing as well as the others finally bowl a strike and return to a bunch of high fives, applause, and thumbs up. I saw quite a few bowlers today that were either bowling for years or born with a special talent for knockin’ em down. It seemed that almost every ball that they sent down the lane had a magnetic attraction to those pins. But notice that I said “almost every ball.” That’s because every once in a while they’d do the improbable—roll a ball straight down the gutter or barely knock over one pin. Great players throw gutter balls too. Everyone makes mistakes, and there is always room for improvement. Although we should strive for perfection, we have to recognize progress.
At the end of the competition, each bowler made their way to a special seating area that had been set up to celebrate both individual and team success. They were so proud to be seated in the special section. They knew that it was an honor to be honored. All too often we wait for the “ultimate” accomplishment before we celebrate ourselves or tell others how proud we are of them. Unfortunately, we miss the obvious opportunities to tell people how important they are, how much they mean to us, and how their life is making a difference in ours. But I digress…there was a podium equipped with first, second, and third place blocks. There were bunches of balloons and most importantly, there were ribbons with varying colors signifying first through fourth place. I watched a young man jump out of his seat and run to the podium to accept his ribbon. The crowd cheered, his parents shouted his name and his smile extended the entire width of his face. He had trouble standing still because he was so excited. He couldn’t believe that he had taken fourth place. For him, he had achieved something beyond what he thought possible. Today I learned that sometimes fourth place means just as much as first place.
I was famished and the smell of fries and pizza had finally got the best of me. So before leaving, I decided to take on the snack bar. I ordered a hot dog (thinking “what could possibly go wrong with a simple hot dog”)and a soda. As I took the first bite of the hot dog, I looked up to see a woman walk by wearing a t-shirt that said “Label jars, not people.” I smiled and she waved. I took a sip of soda and reluctantly bit another piece of my hot dog as I thought to myself “even the Special Olympics can’t make the food at the bowling alley taste any better.

Labor of Love

There’s only one profession where you can be both teacher and student, the judge and the jury, landlord and housekeeper, chef and waiter, detective and private investigator, coach, referee and cheerleader, bodyguard and prison guard, doctor and emergency room nurse, personal shopper and fashion critic, chauffeur and driving instructor, and financial advisor as well as collection agent. The duties and titles for this profession are used interchangeably, and quite often, simultaneously. Although this profession does not offer a salary, it can be quite rewarding. It’s a profession that requires nearly two decades of internship, but results in no formal certification or degree. Ideally, this profession involves a lifelong co-worker to assist with the responsibilities attached to success in the role. The profession is Parenting. The job title is either Mother or Father depending on ones gender. I am proud to be a Mother.

This role is not one to be taken lightly. The responsibilities are far too great. From the moment I heard my eldest son’s first cry, I knew that the magnitude of the journey ahead was far greater than I had imagined. This innocent child who reluctantly entered our world had no choice but to go home with me. He was defenseless, needy, helpless, and vulnerable. It was up to us—his parents, to give him what he needed in order to survive, and later, thrive. The position that I applied for and accepted is “Mother.” Of all the positions that I have had over the years, “Mother” is the title that I am most proud to hold.

You see, it’s so much more than having a baby. It doesn’t take much to do that. It’s raising a child in a safe environment, nurturing, teaching, caring, sharing, loving, sacrificing and being selfless. It’s tough love, long hugs, long talks, and discipline. It’s setting expectations and providing encouragement. It’s believing in their dreams and lending support. It’s offering a shoulder to cry on or being someone to cry with. It’s earning respect and ensuring that it’s given for a lifetime, and giving respect when it is due. Ah, the thrill of Motherhood! It’s challenging and complex and at times, it’s simple and uncomplicated. It requires that we give without expecting any personal reward. We give, expecting that our children will get more, be more, and do more as a result of what we gave…or gave up.

As a young woman awaiting the birth of my firstborn, I thought labor was the most difficult part of the experience. I was wrong. It was only preparation for the task ahead. It was preparation for the sleepless nights I spent worrying if he was still breathing and the soft bounces as I rest his head against my shoulder to comfort him while teething. It was the excitement of his first steps and the fear I felt when he had his first fall. It's the frustration of potty training and the aggravation of cleaning the floor around the toilet when he missed the big hole in the center. I can't forget about the anticipation on his first day of school and the stress of his first day as a latch key kid. It's the pride associated with admission into all honors courses as a freshman in high school, and the difficulty in knowing when to push harder and expect more, or when to accept that what they've done is their best. It's the fear in trusting that you have instilled enough to get them through their first crush and their first rejection, as well as their first test of peer pressure...knowing one decision could change their lives forever. The list goes on and on, but I wouldn't trade the job for anything. It's hard work, but it's a labor of love.

Today is the day that my oldest son was born. I'd like to think that in working to ensure that he grows up to be a great man, I too have become a better woman. I'm proud to be his mother, and I couldn't ask for a better son.

If the Sun Never Shines Again...

Recent statistics cast a cloud of hopelessness on inner city youth—particularly African American and Hispanic youth. Results of nearly every study on the future of our youth indicates a less than bleak outlook. According to research, these youth, our youth, are more likely to go to jail than to college, more likely to contract a sexually transmitted disease than to abstain from sex until marriage, our young ladies are more likely to become teenage parents, and our young men are more likely to dodge the responsibility of fatherhood. From predictions of poor health and disease to a lifetime of poverty, the gray skies of low expectations make it seem nearly impossible for inner city youth to hope for sunny days.

While it is important to be mindful of the statistics, we mustn’t allow these indicators to determine what we can accomplish. For every negative statistic and projection there is a person who decided not to subscribe to the narrative and ignored the data. Instead, they decided to work harder, set goals, believe in themselves, accept responsibility for their actions, develop positive habits and relationships, and approach every day of their lives with a sense of purpose and urgency. As a result they beat the odds and had their opportunity to laugh in the face of adversity. A few well known examples that come to mind are Michael Jordan who was cut from his high school basketball team, Jennifer Hudson who wasn’t good enough to be America’s Idol, Jay Z who was raised in one of the worst NYC housing projects, Fantasia who was a teenage mother and high school drop out, and Kevin Garnett who gave everything he had on the court even when he was playing for a losing team.

Set your own goals, make your own predictions and live up to your own expectations without factoring in the negative forecasts projected by others. Be prepared for the storm, but don’t let it keep you from living your dreams. If the sun never shines on your side of town again, then dance in the rain. And dance like your life depends on it.

My name is Melanie and I'm an Addict...

I had an in depth conversation with a substance abuser yesterday. I wanted to know why she would allow a drug to control her life. I wanted to understand her mindset before, during and after drug use in the hope of helping her pinpoint some viable solutions to her problem. Here’s what happened:

She shared that since the first time she used her drug of choice she has been trying to duplicate the feeling, the high. She said that once she begins to use the drug, she falls into a dark place where nothing else matters except getting more drugs. She has sold her television, small appliances, jewelry, toiletries, household items, and her body in order to get money for drugs. Sometimes she will find another drug addict and they will put their money together and share the smallest amount of the drug that their money can buy. When she’s sober, she will quickly tell you that she cannot be trusted with any sum of money because she will use it to buy drugs. On a regular basis she can be found panhandling (she hates when I say begging) for spare change outside of her local grocery store or gas station. This woman will deprive her body of food, water, and sleep in her quest for her next high. She walks alone in dangerous, drug infested neighborhoods from dusk to dawn without any concern for her safety. She fails to bathe and doesn’t even think about the fact that she needs to take several prescription medications on a daily basis to maintain her health. Everyone in her community knows that she is a drug addict. I asked her if she ever feels regret or shame and she said “not when I’m trying to get high.” Nothing, and no one, is more important than getting high.

Unfortunately, her goal is a negative one. It is completely detrimental to her health and well being. But what if we applied the same energy to our own positive goals? I mean, we all say that we have something that we want to achieve and I’m sure we’d all like to think that we are giving it our all. However, when something we are working towards doesn’t go according to our plan or vision, we often rewrite the plan. We convince ourselves that we did our best and that there is nothing more we could do without some outside intervention.

Well, what if we approached our goals with the determination, commitment, and sense of urgency of a drug addict? What if we were fearless, focused, and fired up about our dreams? What if we were willing to put pride aside and ask for help? What if we were willing to give up material possessions to invest in our dreams? What if we stopped competing with others and instead learned to work together to reach a common goal? What if we gave our goals and dreams so much attention that everyone who knows us knows exactly what we are trying to achieve? What if we were relentless in our pursuit and able to show resilience in the face of our failures? Let’s stop “trying” to accomplish things. Let’s stop “hoping” it all works out for the best. Let’s develop a mindset that says “I am not willing to do without achieving this thing—because it’s way too important to me.” I want to be addicted to achieving my goals. What about you?

Are You too Busy to Live?

Often we find ourselves consumed with tasks, appointments, responsibilities, and the day-to-day stresses of work, family, and the like. In our own private world everything seems urgent. Most of the time there just doesn’t seem to be enough hours in the day. As a result we scramble to accomplish those things that we consider important and struggle to prioritize our personal to-do lists. At the eleventh hour we might try and shortchange an item or two by giving it less attention than we think it really deserves and still hoping our effort will be good enough. Other items we simply take from the bottom of our list for the day and put it at the top of our list for the next day.

As we nestle beneath the sheets and rest our heads on our pillows, thoughts of tomorrow become a silent nuisance that sometimes causes us to lose sleep. As fast as we can close our eyes and quiet the hysteria in our heads, we are awakened by the dreaded ringing of the alarm clock. We will ourselves to put our feet on the floor, and repeat the sheer madness of the day before. This, my friends, is what we call “life.”

I think it’s important to step out of the routine and humdrum and approach each day with a true sense of purpose. I’m not talking about the completion of an item on a to-do list kind of purpose; I’m talking about the kind of purpose that defines you as a person. The kind of purpose that makes you excited about getting out of bed in the morning and makes you feel complete at the end of the day. Take a moment and think about what would happen if you didn’t wake up tomorrow. Now, is there anything that you are doing that would make it impossible for the world to go on? Probably not.

Since we have established with some degree of certainty that life goes on, I think it’s important that our purpose be connected to carving our names in the tree of life by leaving our own personal mark on the world and the people in it. We should all focus on ensuring that the world is a better place for our having lived in it. Make no mistake; this does not have to be some enormous Mandela-like undertaking. It can be a small act that makes a big difference. Mentor or tutor a child, volunteer at a local community organization, support a cause here or abroad, protest injustice, donate food or clothing to a local church or shelter, go back to school, take an acting class, send a care package to a soldier, work towards that goal that you set for yourself but haven’t gotten around to because it’s too difficult, get out a board game and sit on the floor with your children and play it, let your kids help you cook and then eat dinner at the table as a family. That’s my idea of purpose. That’s what I call living.

The secret of life is that it’s not about what you accumulate materially, that will not last a lifetime. It’s about what you give to others that cements your footprint on life’s walk of fame. So tonight before you crawl into bed, take a moment and think about what you did today that really mattered. For tomorrow is not promised.

I leave you with a quote from the great Ray Charles – “Live each day like it is your last, because one day you are going to be right.”

Remembering a Legend

Two of my most prized possessions during my childhood were my Michael Jackson posters that I purchased with my allowance. They hung prominently on the wall on my side of the room. I was a part of the Pepsi generation…because of Michael. I can remember wishing I had money for one of those Michael Jackson jackets, but settled for a cheap imitation of the glove. I tuned into the television to watch every new video he crafted. The Thriller video solidified my belief that he was amazing! I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to see him make an appearance at an awards show and would stop in my tracks to gaze at his picture on a magazine cover. If that weren’t enough, there was Motown 25—his performance in a word, unforgettable.
To write about him posthumously is quite surreal. For although he was one of the greatest singers to ever hold a microphone, one of the best songwriters to pen a hit record, and the best performer to ever grace a stage, he was the furthest thing from my mind until yesterday. He’d sort of made his way into the recesses of my mind. Don’t get me wrong, if I were surfing the radio for a tune and heard any two notes from Billie Jean, Remember the Times, Man in the Mirror, PYT, Thriller, or any of the other anthems, I’d immediately turn up the volume and sing along while driving. If I were home, I might even throw in a few of the dance moves for good measure. However, I just didn’t have a reason to think about how amazing he really was as an artist.
Michael Jackson the artist was perfection. He wrote songs that had meaning…Beat it, Black or White, Heal the World…I could go on forever. After writing the songs, he sung them with passion. You could feel the emotion that he wanted you to feel. If you don’t believe it, go back and listen to She’s Out of My Life. He didn’t stop there. He put together award winning videos to bring the words of his songs to life. The videos were, and still are, unparalleled. Michael didn’t live on yesterday’s laurels; he kept trying to take his craft to the next level. He wanted to give his fans something new, different, better than before. His work was never a disappointment. If we were all willing to work as hard as Michael, I’m sure we’d be better at whatever it is we are doing.
Sometimes it takes death to make us realize the value of a life. This is one of those times. Legendary, Iconic, Hall of Famer, Greatest of All Time, Musical Genius, these are the words that I will use to describe his life and legacy. I will also remember to say a prayer for those who will remember him as son, father, brother, uncle, and friend.
Rest in Peace Michael.