Song That Still Make Me Cry

She Who Heals - An American Indian Healing Prayer

I found this poem in my drawer of saved papers.  I don't know who gave it to me or how long it's been in the drawer, but I must have really liked it.  I still do.


She Who Heals – An American Indian Healing Prayer



Mother, sing me a song 
That will ease my pain, 
Mend broken bones, 
Bring wholeness again.


Catch my babies 
When they are born, 
Sing my death song, 
Teach me how to mourn.


Show me the Medicine 
Of the healing herbs, 
The value of spirit, 
The way I can serve.


Mother, heal my heart
So that I can see
The gifts of yours
That can live through me.


American Indians believe that every act of life is a cycle or step on the path to healing. When we learn how to let go of our need to hold on to the past, we heal our formerly limited potential for growth. When we find courage and faith inside ourselves, we can heal our fear of future. We refuse to mentally degrade ourselves. The mind clears and allows us to be present-conscious of everything that is happening in the moment. These are all examples of healing the fragments of our lives that need to come into wholeness. When we go beyond the places where we have become numb, we feel life again. When we learn to feel again, we can heal.

Why am I crying?

This past weekend my son and his girlfriend came over and we had a cookout.  Jake and I like his woman.  In fact, he went out and picked the kind of girl I would like to see him with.  She got good sense. That's all we care about.  The girl has common sense.  Everything else is irrelevant.

We were looking at some old pictures.  I said in I would always see that child's face and Bub would forevermore be my boy.  The next day I realized I actually see all of his ages when looking at him, that he is no longer my boy but a young man with his own life to live. Immediately a wave sadness came over me.

I started to cry, but couldn't figure out why.  Jake and I both like having our freedom again as we did before we had Bub.  We come and go as we please.  We don't have to worry about babysitters or bother about dinner.  We don't want to go back.

What I worked out is we can never go back.  The finality is scary.  Bub's childhood is over.  If I had understood I would have paid more attention.  Now it's important to savor these times because one day they will be over too.  This realization brought tears to my eyes.

Bub and the Andretti's around 1990

Another Crazy Neighbor

On Friday at 8:15 a.m. my neighbor across the street decided to turn his banjo music as high as it could go.   His very large speakers are outside.  He played the themes for the Beverly Hillbillies and Petticoat Junction.  He also played Lester Flatt's and Earl Scruggs's "Foggy Mountain Breakdown."  I remember that song from "Bonnie and Clyde.

My first reaction was to go into my back bedroom, shut the doors, windows and turn the radio up.  It was no good.  I called the rental office. It wasn't open yet.  I put on some clothes to go out and ask the neighbor to turn down his music.

When I got outside at the bottom of my steps the cops came driving up.  Two cops tried to explain to this man that he could not play his music so loud that it disturbs other people.  He told the cops he knew his rights and he could play his music until 11:p.m.  Meanwhile I'm listening to this "unbelievable." exchange at the window.  After about five minutes the cops convinced him to turn down the music.

Now get this: He thinks I'm the one who called the cops.  How do I know this?  Another neighbor said he told her so and she also told Jake that it was her friend down the street who phoned the police.  Don't trust her with any important information.

This man thinks he knows what happened but won't directly confront me.  Clearly, if he hadn't turned down the music I would have called the cops, but I didn't get the chance and that's exactly what I would tell him.

I hope he doesn't slit my tires.

Article on Exposing and Eradicating Sex Trafficking

Secret Life of A Manhattan Call Girl has an excellent post on survivors of trafficking.  I am a survivor of sex trafficking and really appreciate this excellent information.  I have never heard of most of these organizations.  I don't feel so alone.

Website:
http://secretlifeofamanhattancallgirl.wordpress.com/2012/05/09/survivors-must-lead-the-anti-trafficking-movement/
Post:
Survivors Must Lead the Anti-Trafficking Movement

Not A Girlie Girl

I have never been or considered a "girlie girl.  Pantyhose is itchy.  Thongs: My ass has to be comfortable.  Rarely do I shave anything.  Bikinis show too much of my body.  That's only for Jake to see.  High heels feel like walking on stilts.  My hair is natural.  A perm feels like the hair on corpses and hair dye on an older woman makes some look fake and hard.  Hands are used for creating jewelry, so my nails are short and unpolished.  The bottom of my feet need to be hard because I walk barefoot outside.

At the same time my touch and presence are calming.  These days my body is amply padded and supportive. I generally smell good.   My skin is smooth and my breath is fresh.  Peppermint.   Unfortunately, I have a feminine voice, not deep and sexy like Brenda Vaccaro's.  Secrets are safe with me.  I have always been extremely loyal.  My money isn't spent on clothes, shoes or makeup.  It's incense, lotion, soap, oils and too many books that I hide from Jake.  My immediate family is very important.  I see much, but try not to say a lot.

My three sisters are different from me.  They wear heels and hose, hair weaves, wigs, and false nails. They are all strong and smart women whom I admire.  It seems okay to be unalike, eh?  I think so.

After saying all that, I could use a breast lift.

Disclaimer:  This is the opinion of Judaye.  There's no reason for anyone to agree with me.  Most of my family and friends don't.

All American Muslim

Some people have problems with Muslims.  I know it for a fact.  I have a problem with Muslim men because I think most of them are misogynists.  A few days ago I put some beautiful work from a Muslim artist in London on a certain website (not mine) and no one looked at it.  I have to say I am shocked by the prejudice.  Here is the post:.http://iwannalearntowrite.blogspot.com/2012/04/wednesday-word-of-wisdom-art-provided_25.html

Here is an episode from All American Muslim in Dearborn which is outside Detroit.  Detroit is where I grew up.

Music Written and Performed By Women of Color: Corrine Bailey Rae

Remember This? Yes We Can!

I found a container of cassettes in our shed and the Pointer Sisters was one I decided to keep.  Oh they are so good.  I enjoy this kind of music.

I Like Girls

I was coming back from my favorite book store running out of gas, so I stopped at a station I had never been to.  I put a few gallons in the car, then went inside to buy something to drink.  When I walked back outside this old sweaty hairy man in a tank top, shorts stuck up his butt, filling a tire with air, looked at me with his bleary red eyes and said,

"You one of those girls that like girls."  He sounded like he had phlegm in his throat.

"How can you tell," I answered.

"I can just tell."

What could I say?  I love women but don't want to have sex with them.  Why are people always bothering me?  I just be minding my own business.

Worrying About What People Think

I have a serious problem.

For some irrational reason I am fearful of what other people think.  I mean people who do not know me and I do not know them. Then there are the people who think they know me that I do not have a relationship with.

I did not have this problem when I was younger.  When I got married I changed.  Why did I change?  I was trying to fit into a new environment.  We moved from a state I liked to a state I will never fit into.

As I get older I do not have the energy to try to fit in.  Also, people work my nerves with their bullshit.  One of the things that I have slowly learned and accepted is that all people, that is everybody,  have faults, problems, and disappointments.  Yet they continually put other people down.  Probably to deflect attention from themselves.  I admit I am occasionally guilty of this too.

From now on I am going to concentrate on myself and ignore what most people say about me, usually behind my back.  I am going to work on my goals and try to please myself and try to leave other people alone most of the time. Yep. I will let Bub make his own mistakes just like I did.  It really feels good to live this way.

Be good to yourself or I'm going to talk about you.
Judaye   

There Are Good People

I know this world is full of good people. Still it feels good to experience their goodness.  Yesterday I was at the library using the computer because sometimes I write better there.  I had my purse between my feet under the table.  For some reason I cannot understand, I got up and left it there.  My purse is usually attached to my arm like another limb.  There was a man sitting at the station I had been at.  When I started to panic and asked the front desk if someone had turned in a purse, this man said "Miss, you left it here under the desk."  I had looked under the desk in the station but his feet  pushed it out of my field of vision.  I was so grateful.  I thanked him profusely.  People can be such a blessing.

Be good to yourself or I'll talk about you.
Judaye

At The Grocery Store

When I go out I'm usually thinking about what I have to do and where I'm going.  Never do I anticipate what will come into my field of vision.

In the grocery store one time there was a balding woman.  Balding means that her hair was missing past the middle of her head.  Her exposed scalp was a rich brown color and it glowed with good health.  The hair that was left was thick and beautiful.  She gave me a defiant look then went about her business.

Another time in the grocery store, a bearded woman was walking down the cheese and milk aisle. It was the kind of beard that isn't completely grown in.  The beard itself was very attractive; it was pretty, wavy, and shiny.

She gave me a look that said, " That's right.  I've got a beard and it looks good don't it?"

I said to myself, "Yep. I don't know if it looks good on you."

Today in the grocery store: I go to the store twice a week.  There was this young man in a long trench coat with wild looking light brown hair wandering around with his hands in his pockets.  After the massacre in Afghanistan my nerves are on edge.  The strategy was to actively avoid him.   Of course, at the self checkout he was behind me with two woman.  One looked like his mother and the other his sister.  He hadn't come into the store alone.  Relieved, I started to check out my small order.

Guess what?  My debit card was rejected, but this time I actually had the money in the account to cover my purchase.  My face burned with embarrassment.  Luckily my skin is a dark brown so most people don't notice.  They went to another line.  I used a credit card then rushed to the car to check my balance.  The cell phone didn't work.

Calmly, I drove home to see about my bank balance.  I was right. The money was in there.    Happy sigh. 

John Legend And The Roots

Written By Bill Withers, One of the real "Big Papas."  Bill Withers I appreciate you.  Thank you so much for your music.

The World Is Warming

We had less than a few inches of snow throughout the whole winter.  There are buds on the trees and my mint and marjoram are coming up.  This usually happens in the middle of April. This is six weeks too early.

I can't help but wonder how this will effect the lives of average people.  Will this change our lives? How?

Be good to yourself or I will talk about you.
Judaye

Some of us need a breast lift

Karen Kaapcke
"Lisa I", 18x22

"Lisa I", 18x22", graphite on pape"Lisa I", 18x22", LL
Women, it's like this.  After the age of 45 your breasts will droop.  If you have large ones it will happen sooner.  People been talking about that actor from The Help that won the Oscar, Octavia Spencer.  She said she had to get those babies pulled up.  I know what she means and you will too one day.  Leave her alone and let her take care of her business the way she sees fit.

Ain't she a cutie?

Be Good to yourself or I will talk about you.
Judaye

Music Written And Performed By Women of Color

Written By Bernice Reagon

Letter From Federal District Judge Cebull To President Obama

To read the letter click here.

This is the joke:  Cebull told the newspaper that his brother sent him the email, and he passed it on to six "old buddies" and acquaintances.


Subject: A MOM'S MEMORY
Normally I don't send or forward a lot of these, but even by my standards, it was a bit touching. 
I want all of my friends to feel what I felt when I read this.
Hope it touches your heart like it did mine.


A little boy said to his mother; 'Mommy, how come I'm black and you're white?' 
His mother replied, 'Don't even go there Barack!
From what I can remember about that party, you're lucky you don't bark!'


Some people don't like to call the president President Obama.  President Obama is who he is.  Deal with it.  This repulsive loser, his brother, and his friends are sick.  He should be fired or resign.  How can a judge have such poor judgment?

On The Soapbox.. Again! Moisturizing

Now that I am over 50, I can see the effects of 30 years of daily hot soapy showers while using regular moisturizers.  Those showers have caused extremely dry patches on my skin.  It's my elbows, knees, and the calf of one of my legs.  My feet look like I got away from Pompeii.  I simply cannot take a shower every day anymore.

I take a shower every other day and wash my face and the necessary parts in the sink.  Then I use a very heavy, fatty organic coconut oil on the dry areas every day.  All of these changes are helping the dry skin to stop looking like alligator hide.

When I was growing up all of the older women in my family had smooth skin. They didn't bathe everyday because they grew in houses with one bathroom or no bathroom and lots of children.  They washed up everyday and took a bath only once or twice a week.  They kept those habits all their lives.  Then my mother taught it to me, but when I got older I fell in love with very hot water.

I am wondering if human skin is meant to be scrubbed every day.  Personally I don't think so.

Be good to yourself or I will talk about you.
Judaye

Schoolhouse Rock Just A Bill

This Statement Will Make Some People Angry: The Husband Is The Leader Of The Family

That's what I said.  The husband is the leader of the family  What I mean is that he is responsible for the family as a whole.  He cannot make anyone follow him.  He can never control other people, especially not his wife.  He has to earn the respect of his family and children.  He will never earn it by trying to control them.  No, a man has to love his family.  He has to know he needs a lot of help because he doesn't know everything.  In some cases he doesn't know much of anything.   He must try to build up the self esteem of his wife, daughters, and sons. He has to tell his family what he thinks is right and let them do what they want or need to do.  Sometimes he is right.  Sometimes he is wrong.  He has to know that he and his reasoning is imperfect and yet he is ultimately responsible for his family.  He has to work hard and do everything he can to financially support his family.  He is responsible for doing the best he can to insure their well being.  It is his duty.  It is who he is.

Be good to yourself or I will talk about you.
Judaye

On The Soapbox: Billy Crystal and the Oscars

I didn't see the Oscars last night.  So I just watched Billy Crystal's opener on You Tube.  I thought it was hilarious.  Why some people are offended I don't know.  The line "Isn't he another Sinatra?" referring to Justin Bieber had me laughing out loud.  Bieber is a cutie but he doesn't sing very well. And Crystal wasn't in black face.  He had on brown makeup to look like Sammy Davis Jr.  It's getting to the point where some people are trying to make something racial out of everything.  Aren't there enough real racial problems to deal with?

Going In Circles

I don't have a problem with being lost.  That's probably because I get lost on a regular basis.  I can find my way by looking at the position of the sun or from experience without knowing the name of streets.  Sunday morning Jake and I got lost in downtown Washington, D.C. looking for a church where my little brother (he's thirty-five) was being baptized.  We saw all the people lined up to see the  attractions, the poorer sections of our capitol and that erect pointy white phallic symbol also called a obelisk and a monument.  Did ya'll know that G street NE is on the other side of town from G street NW?  You probably did.  We didn't.  We do now.

Jake on the other hand doesn't like to get lost.  Have you ever seen a grown man have a tearful tantrum behind the wheel?  That might be a bit of an embellishment but he did almost run three men over on the sidewalk.

They shouted "Hey man. What you doing? You trying to run us over?"

He replied, "Shut up. I've got a truck." He gunned the engine and sped away.

At this point I am silent and dazed because I had no idea where we were and Jake was angry at me because I had downloaded the wrong directions from Google Maps.

Meanwhile Bub had found the church, which I think irritated Jake a little.  Bub kept giving us the wrong directions on the phone.  He was insisting the church was on K NW and 7TH.  It was on 13TH and G NW.  My brother was absolutely no help.  He didn't know if we should turn left or right.  He does usually use the subway.  So my brother's friend told us to go to 13TH and turn left. 13TH is a one way street.  We could have gone to 14TH and turned but the baptism was over, and Jake just wanted to get the hell out of D.C.  He wouldn't let me drive because it's his truck.

Those kind of situations make me giggle.  So I'm laughing and Jake's silent and fuming.  Then he missed the turn onto 95 and started screaming and cussing which just made me laugh harder.

The experience wasn't totally a waste of expensive gas.  I know how to go downtown.  Jake did eventually calm down and see the humor of the situation.  What did it was driving past a docked Carnival cruise ship and imagining what it would be like if it turned on it's side.  That is serious.  Getting lost is not.

Amel Laurrieux and Mondo Grosso

"Who You Are"

Excellent Article On Bessie Coleman: The First African American Woman Pilot

http://www.centennialofflight.gov/essay/Explorers_Record_Setters_and_Daredevils/Coleman/EX11.htm

"Soon after being turned down by American flight schools, Coleman met Robert Abbott, publisher of the well-known African American newspaper, the Chicago Defender. He recommended that Coleman save some money and move to France, which he believed was the world's most racially progressive nation, and obtain her pilot's license there. Coleman quickly heeded Abbott's advice and quit her job as a manicurist to begin work as the manager of a chili parlor, a more lucrative position. She also started learning French at night. In November 1920, Bessie took her savings and sailed for France. She also received some additional funds from Abbott and one of his friends."

Sociopathic Tendencies in Child Sex Abusers

As someone who has been sexually abused, I've always wanted to understand how a human being became depraved, full of enough evil and cruelty to rape an innocent child.  To try to increase my perception and knowledge I have been reading The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout Ph.D.  In the book Dr. Stout dedicates an entire chapter about the value of a conscious.

Dr. Stout's book covers why not having a conscious is fatal, how sociopaths can appear to be harmless and sweet, and how difficult is it to immediately know if someone is a sociopath. Stout describes a sociopath as "someone incapable of having a real emotional attachment to another, is unable to love or worry about family and friends and cannot share joy with others" (Stout 45-47). Sociopaths know how to pretend to love, but cannot actually care for another person.

In Chapter 7, "The Etiology of Guiltlessness: What causes Sociopathy,"  I had to look up etiology.  According to the Webster-Merriam Dictionary, etiology, a noun, is the cause of disease and abnormal disease or a branch of knowledge concerned with knowledge; specifically: the branch of medical science concerned with the causes and origins of diseases.  http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/etiology  Stout discusses her belief that sociopathy is probably caused by both heredity and environment.

It was creepy reading about these people.  I suggest you read it only if you're in a good place mentally.

You can read a preview of the book here.

DetroitBlog Article By Detroitblogger John: Soul Kitchen

Reblogged from http://metrotimes.com/culture/soul-kitchen-1.1255797

Soul kitchen


It's about the shared inability to afford something as necessary to life as a meal
The hungry line up for a meal at Crossroads Soup Kitchen.
By Detroitblogger John
Published: January 11, 2012


They stand in line so patiently, you'd never know some of them haven't eaten since yesterday.


The line's so long it winds from the soup kitchen door along the wall and around the corner to the back, then curves down the alley and out to the street on the side. And no matter how hard the wind blows or how heavy the rain falls, they wait politely. By the end of the day, a thousand of them will have stood here.


The crowd is a mix of those who are somewhat poor to those who are desperately so. Some are homeless and have to scrounge every meal, while others are just short on their assistance at some point each month and need a little help. But once in line the distinctions are blurred. They're just hungry people waiting for a meal.


Here is Jean Kahn, 72 and slight, who walked a mile to eat today. And here is Jessica Rodnez, 23, who works at McDonald's and just started nursing school, but whose food stamps don't cover a month's worth of meals for her and her two young children, who've come with her, bundled in winter clothes. Here is glassy-eyed Billy Rogers, 52, who's waiting on a dishwashing job he says he's sure to get any day, though the wait so far has been 16 years. And here is Sidney Lester Williams, a name the 72-year-old offers with aristocratic flourish. He's a well-dressed gentleman who, like some here today, isn't really here anymore in a sense. "My father was a wizard, mother was a witch," he announces.


Inside the door, Saundra Richardson sits alone at a small table, same as every Sunday, waiting for the hungry to pour into the building. She's like the lunchlady and doorman in one, the person who instructs the volunteers making the meals, the one those in line have to see before eating one. And whether it's due to her calm demeanor or the white clerical collar she wears, everyone is soft-spoken and polite when they approach her.


An Episcopal minister since 1990, Richardson spends her weekdays working at Mariners Inn on Cass, a substance abuse treatment center, and spends her Sundays at this table, inside the Crossroads Soup Kitchen on West Grand Boulevard near 14th Street. The two jobs leave her no time to preach at a church. "My altar is a soup pot," the 63-year-old says.


To eat, each person in line has to get a little paper ticket from the big roll Richardson holds in her hands. Each person gets one ticket, and each ticket gets one meal. A handful of those in line are allowed additional tickets for someone ill or infirm back at home, but that absent person has to be on the extras list. There are so many people in line that if someone takes more than one meal just for themselves, some in line might not get anything at all.


No proof of income or need is required to get food. "We'll take anybody who wants to come in, anybody who wants a meal," says Nicole Harris, the 31-year-old associate director of Crossroads, waiting for the door to open and the room to fill.


About two-dozen volunteers scramble in the kitchen, ladling soup out of massive pots, making ham and cheese sandwiches one by one, pouring coffee or lemonade into Styrofoam cups, and meeting face to face, one at a time, with a thousand single casualties of bad times and hard lives.


"People are people, and they're just a little down on their luck," says volunteer David Schull, 52. "These are just people wanting to make a living, wanting to have a life. And everybody that could possibly pitch in to help them out, if they would, things would be a lot better in this area of Detroit."


Crossroads does a little of everything for the poor, because there are so many ways the poor can use help.


They offer counseling, employment assistance, a food pantry, a clothes closet. They let the clients, as they're called here, use their copiers and fax machines to try to find work. Sometimes they'll buy someone their prescription medicine for the month, or help with a late utility bill, or cover overdue rent, or buy someone a bus pass to get them to a new job until they start getting regular paychecks. They'll help people get new IDs, work boots, tool belts, eyeglasses.


So this place becomes the general go-to spot for those who are struggling. Although hundreds of homeless stand in that Sunday morning line, many who come here have simply fallen into poverty but are just one or two factors away from rising above it.


"I would say more than half, if given the opportunity, could make it," Harris says. "If they could get into some kind of job training program, if they could get into some kind of supportive housing program, if they could get support for child care, if they could get their GED, then they could make it."


Crossroads was founded in 1971 by Father James McLaren, an Episcopal priest at the Cathedral Church of St. Paul at Woodward and Warren, to offer general outreach to the poor of the area. It began in a small church office, moved to a Midtown building when the demand proved too great, and then to this west side location four years ago when even more space was needed. A small office on Jefferson serves the east side too. Everything's funded through donations.


Back in Midtown, the clients were mostly single men. At this building, there are a lot more families and single mothers from the neighborhood. And nobody who visits here is ever forgotten.


There are reams of paper files upstairs for every single person who's passed through the doors. "We are still real old school," Harris says, showing a 2-inch-thick file. "Clients will have us keep their birth certificates or their Social Security cards, and I think that's a big reason why we haven't gotten away from the paper files, because this is like mom's house for a lot of people. It's like their safe deposit boxes."


Though the homeless will often float between different agencies in town depending on what they need on a given day, some grow attached to Crossroads because of all that's offered under one roof. Recently, the county morgue called Harris to say they found a homeless person dead in the street. She got the call because the one piece of ID he had on him was his Crossroads card. "We hadn't seen him in about 10 years," she says. "But he still had our card in his wallet."


Jesse Travis, 30, walks meekly into the soup kitchen. "Where do I sign up for the food?" he asks Richardson. It's his first time here.


"No, you just get a ticket," Richardson replies, giving him one. He looks relieved that it's this easy.


It's noon. The door has just opened and the line has moved inside. Long white tables offer space for 175 people to sit and eat. But there are usually plenty of seats open, since most clients seem to prefer takeout, wandering back into the cold to eat somewhere alone.


Travis chooses to stay, takes the chili and a ham and cheese sandwich served today, sits alone and eats while looking around, curiously. A friend tipped him off to these Sunday lunches.


He's open about his circumstances. "I have a mental disability," he says, matter-of-factly. "I receive Social Security disability every month but it's not enough to cover my bills, not enough to cover all my expenses, so I came here." He had attended a good college, held a great job, then a bad breakup with a girlfriend when he was 20 years old led to him hearing voices and seeing things, he says. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia.


"Life just went downhill from there," he says. "A lot of my life has been lost because I've been focusing mostly on my illness."


Loss like his defines the lives of those in line — loss of their job, or their home, or their sanity. Loss, somehow, of their old life. The causes are different but the effect is the same — a shared inability to afford something as basic to life as a meal. That common fate brings them together here, at a place that offers each of them just about any kind of help to rise out of this life.


After a couple of hours the line finally dwindles. The volunteers grab bowls of soup and sit with those who they just served, those who but for a few wrong choices or turns of bad fortune, turn out to be not that different from them.


"So many people come down and say they realize they have way more in common with the people that we serve than they ever thought," Harris says. "You know, we all kind of want the same things — everybody wants to be able to provide for themselves, and we have a lot of the same values. We think that we're coming down to serve them, but we have a lot more in common with the poor than we'd like to admit."


Reblogged from http://metrotimes.com/culture/soul-kitchen-1.1255797

"Something I'd Like To Do" By Brenda Russell.

http://www.brendarussell.com/about/

Especially For Wide Awake Jake.  This song is from the Love Life Album that came out in 1981.  I had the cassette and wore it out.  Literally.

Music Written And Performed By Women Of Color: Abbey Lincoln.

"Throw It Away" was written by Abbey Lincoln.

"Quiet Girl" by Langston Hughes

Thank you Langston for seeing and writing about women like me.  I love you.  Happy Birthday.  Hughes was born on February 1, 1902.

Quiet Girl

I would liken you

To a night without stars

Were it not for your eyes.

I would liken you

To a sleep without dreams

Were it not for your songs.

Happy Birthday To Me!

One of my favorite singers/songwriters/activists Erykah Badu.  I want that chance to cry and fly.

True Story: This is what happened to my son.

Gulnare Free Will Baptist Church: Kentucky Congregation Overturns Ban On Interracial Couples.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/12/04/kentucky-church-interracial-couples_n_1128712.html

From Huffington Post: "Stacy Stepp, pastor of the Gulnare Free Will Baptist Church in Pike County, told The Associated Press that the vote by nine people last week was declared null and void after it was determined that new bylaws can't run contrary to local, state or national laws. He said the proposal was discriminatory, therefore it couldn't be adopted."

Jesus didn't change their minds, but public pressure and the law did.  Hmph!  Jesus must be disgusted.  I am. 

My son Bub, pictured in his younger days on the right of this blog, joined a Freewill Baptist church in Hixson, TN about three years ago.  The minister said that several members left the church when Bub started attending.  Certain people did not want to worship with him and they claim to be Christians.

That fact is that many churches of all kinds are segregated and it does not have to be that way, but it is.

From The Root: MTV Seeking Black Woman Going From Weave to Natural.

http://www.theroot.com/buzz/mtv-true-life-black-women-go-natural

Blog Change

Wednesday Word of Wisdom will now be posted on Let Me Tell The Story!

Wednesday Word of Wisdom. Wisdom Provided By Lucy Parsons

"Never be deceived that the rich will allow you to vote away their wealth."  Lucy Parsons

http://www.lucyparsonsproject.org/

Poetry: A Short Note to My Very Critical and Well-Beloved Friends and Comrades by June Jordan

http://junejordan.com/

"A Short Note to My Very Critical and Well-Beloved Friends and Comrades" By June Jordan
First they said I was too light
Then they said I was too dark
Then they said I was too different
Then they said I was too much the same
Then they said I was too young
Then they said I was too old
Then they said I was too interracial
Then they said I was too much a nationalist
Then they said I was too silly
Then they said I was too angry
Then they said I was too idealistic
Then they said I was too confusing altogether:
Make up your mind! They said. Are you militant
or sweet? Are you vegetarian or meat? Are you straight
or are you gay?
And I said, Hey! It's not about my mind.

From Passion: New Poems, 1977-1980. Published by Beacon Press.

Child Rape At Penn State

Because I too experienced child sexual abuse, I have to surround myself with positivity in order to write about the subject of sexual violence and secrets. 

While writing I'm listening to Moroccan jazz.  Malika Zarra's "Run."   She's on my ipod.

When I first heard about a child allegedly being raped by Penn State's former defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky in the showers at Pennsylvania State, I went into a strong stormy rage.  It was the kind of rage that enables one to kill with deliberate messy violence.

Then I went on the Penn State's website and read the statements by former president of Penn State Graham Spanier Nov. 5 Nov. 8, heard about the student riots in reaction to Penn State football coach Joe Paterno and Spanier being fired, and became ill when someone told me about Sandusky's book Touched.  I needed a break from this shit.

"How  To Regain Your Soul" by William Stafford

Come down Canyon Creek trail on a summer afternoon

that one place where the valley floor opens out. You will see
the white butterflies. Because of the way shadows
come off those vertical rocks in the west, there are
shafts of sunlight hitting the river and a deep
long purple gorge straight ahead. Put down your pack.

Above, air sighs the pines. It was this way
when Rome was clanging, when Troy was being built,
when campfires lighted caves. The white butterflies dance
by the thousands in the still sunshine. Suddenly, anything
could happen to you. Your soul pulls toward the canyon
and then shines back through the white wings to be you again.

Hidden In Plain Sight

It is well known that degrading images of women and men being sexually assaulted are all over the internet.  Almost every week someone on the news is arrested for having child pornography.  Children and women are regularly kidnapped and coerced into prostitution.  A prominent psychiatrist who worked with the county and school government in my area was just sentenced to prison for sexual abuse. Part of Story here.  To Catch A Predator will never run out of guest stars.

Let's get real!  Sandusky is not a horned gargoyle.  He is a human that came from human beings.  He has lived with humans all his life.   That evil man is one of us.  We have a human problem that is monstrously ugly and difficult to think and talk about.  To be continued...

Music Written And Performed By Women Of Color: Sweet Honey In The Rock

Fulani Chant was written by Aisha Kahlil.  I saw Sweet Honey sing live a few weeks ago and Ms. Kahlil said she was inspired to write the song early one morning when she heard birds singing.  During the performance of the song each member had a separate part, but they sang in one accord.  The result was exultant, otherwordly, beautiful, uplifting.  I will never hear birdsong in the morning in quite the same way.  http://www.sweethoney.com/about/Aisha.php

Penn State Rapes

I am still too upset to write about this subject, but let me put this question out there; why do you think Sandusky felt comfortable taking children to the showers at Penn State?

Wednesday Word Of Wisdom. Wisdom Provided By Dalai Lama

"I find hope in the darkest of days, and focus in the brightest. I do not judge the universe."


Dalai Lama

Readers

I'm off to read some poetry to try and calm down some before I write about what I think about the letter Graham Spanier, current president of Penn State, wrote on the school website about Jerry Sandusky and the children he allegedly abused on and off the school's campus.  I am past angry, mad or disgusted.  I am just warning you that there is probably going to be some cussing out loud in the post.  God Damn!  There are some sick twisted people around us.

Music Written And Performed By Women Of Color: Jazzyfatnastees

The Jazzyfatnastees are Tracey Moore and Mercedes Martinez.  "Hear Me" was written by
Tracey Moore.

WEDNESDAY WORD OF WISDOM. Wisdom Provided by Vijali Hamilton.

"We are witnessing the fragmentation of our world right in front of our eyes. Our social, economic, spiritual, and environmental systems are disintegrating, yet I hold a positive view of the future. In order to give birth, you have to let go of everything inside you. The old has to break up before the new can come through. So, what's happening right now is actually positive.  But it's painful, because birth is not without pain."  Vijali Hamilton

Remember The Loved Ones Lost To Alcoholism: Amy Winehouse-Brother

Nope.  Amy's definitely not the only one.

On The Soap Box! Over Fifty Fun.

Wide Awake Jake and I just renewed our AARP membership and guess what: We get a discount  at at least 530 Regal Theatres in the U.S.  That right, that's right!  For $5.50 we get in the theatre, a 32oz drink, and a 64oz popcorn.  The next think you know, young people will be trying to get fake AARP cards.  Yeah baby!  Age does have some advantages. www.aarp.org/regaldirectory

WEDNESDAY WORD OF WISDOM. Art Provided by Various Crochet Artists.

"The essence of all beautiful art, all great art, is gratitude."

                                                                                                                      Friedrich Nietzsche   

"I gotta find a circle to teach me how to crochet." Judaye

All of this spectacular work can be found on Flicker on the8thgem's photostream.

African Flower Bag by eclectic gypsyland

Crocheted Felted Flower 6 by renatekirkpatrick

Circle of Friends Afghan by Mossyowls

 

Shawl by uju1960

"Climbing" By Lucille Clifton

"Climbing"
a woman precedes me up the long rope.
her dangling braids the color of rain.
maybe i should have had braids.
maybe i should have kept the body i started,
slim and possible as a boy's bone.
maybe i should have wanted less.
maybe i should have ignored the bowl in me
burning to be filled.
maybe i should have wanted less.
the woman passes the notch in the rope
marked Sixty. I rise toward it, struggling,
hand over hungry hand.
Lucille Clifton

WEDNESDAY WORD OF WISDOM. Art Provided By Carolyn Crump

"I've never been married, but I tell people I'm divorced so they won't think something's wrong with me." Elayne Boosler

http://crumpfiberart.com/

Joy by Carolyn Crump, Engraving 7x5

http://www.justlookin.com/results.asp?mnuArtistName=Crump%2C+Carolyn&mnuMedium=All&mnuStyle=All&mnuSubject=All&page=4

Some Other Things My Mind Can't Absorb...

Some people can't understand that people of African descent in America are individuals with differing opinions on everything, and that it's suppose to be that way because we are human.

Troy Davis was executed and Charles Manson is still alive.

Thousands of children in Somalia starved this year. 

The belief that there is only one way to be.

Universal Fear of Strong Women

How quickly time passes...

You Are The Only One.

Post election show, November 9, 2009, Joe’s Pub, NYC.
Sing my heart, sister.

The Post Office and the Video Porn Shop

Close to where I live there is a United States Post Office and a Video Porn Shop right next to one another.  They are both built into the same building.  I would like to know how they came to be that way.  Sometimes when I park at the post office I worry that someone will see my car and think I'm out buying porn.  Ha!  There are always more cars at the Video Porn Shop than at the Post Office.

Music Written And Performed By Women Of Color: Phyllis Hyman

Song written by Phyllis Hyman. Video is from television special in 1984.

WEDNESDAY WORD OF WISDOM. Wisdom Provided By Robert Cormier. Art Provided By Alice Beasley.

"Family life was wonderful. The streets were bleak. The playgrounds were bleak. But home was always warm. My mother and father had a great relationship. I always felt 'safe' there. "

Robert Cormier

 

http://www.alicebeasley.com/index.html

Tuesday in the Park with George

54 1/2" x 35"

Cotton Quilt

Time

When will I begin to feel old?

In the 1969 film Marooned Gene Hackman (one of my favorites actors) and the very sexy Richard Crenna fly through the earth's atmosphere at tremendous speeds that they appear to take for granted.  This is how time feels to me.  My mind cannot absorb what is happening.  Bub is an adult now and seeing him helps me to see how much time has gone by, because mentally I feel the same aget I did over thirty years ago. 

Why can't my body feel the same way?

Wednesday Words of Wisdom : Music Sang by Marlena Shaw And Written by Ashford And Simpson.

"If a composer could say what he had to say in words he would not bother trying to say it in music." Gustav Mahler http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gustav_Mahler

I'm More White than My White Husband!

According to the Stuff White People Like List I am more white than my german-irish husband.  So what does that mean?  I think it means that it is hard to categorize anyone.

Music Written And Performed By Women Of Color Joan Armatrading

Ain't Too Proud To Beg from Detroit Metro Times

After several years on this corner, life has settled into a miserable routine she dreams of escaping despite having no clear way of doing so. "I wanna live life," she says. "I wanna live. I don't wanna be out here, but I don't have no choice. I don't have any other options. I don't even have an identity right now."
Read the whole article here.

IN THE NEWS: Researchers Advance Cloning of Human Embryos

How long can humans live in these bodies?  It seems that one day we will find its limits.

http://www.npr.org/2011/10/05/141073036/researchers-advance-cloning-of-human-embryos?ft=1&f=1001#commentBlock

Just For Laughs!

This really happened to me.

WEDNESDAY WORD OF WISDOM. Art Provided By Swiss Quilter Maryline Collioud-Robert

"Imagination is the voice of daring. If there is anything Godlike about God it is that. He dared to imagine everything."  Henry Miller

White is White, 2008

Mary Collioud-Robert

Cotton; machine pieced, machine appliqued

51 3/16 x 43 5/16 inches (1.3 x 1.1m)

Photo by the artist

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gujarat, 2008

Mary Collioud-Robert

33 7/8 x 67 9/16 inches (0.8 x1.7m)

Cotton; fused, machine appliqued

photo by the artist

http://www.marylinecollioudrobert.com/en/Home.html

I found Ms. Collioud-Robert in the book Masters: Art Quilts, Volume 2.  This book is so full of stunning works of art that I will be using it for the whole month of October.  View on Amazon

Michael Jackson Before

Since I heard the tape of Michael Jackson slurring his words at the trial of Dr. Conrad Murray I have been thinking about the Michael of my childhood.  I remember Michael before the drugs, bleach, perm, makeup, plastic surgery, and molestation charges. All of this is very sad.  I never expected things to turn out the way they did.

Music Written And Performed By Women Of Color: Angela Bofill

"The Voyage" written by Angela Bofill from the album Angel of the Night.  Oh Miss Angie, write us a song and sing, sing!


 ,http://www.angelabofill.com/home.php

WEDNESDAY WORD OF WISDOM. Art Provided by Desiree's Desired Creations

Old age, though despised, is coveted by all.  Proverb by Anonymous


Cha Cha Pendant and Bracelet, brass and polymer clay.
http://desiredcreations.com/index.html

Make Me Laugh!

Sometimes I just have to laugh at the absurdity of this life.

"The Laughter of Women" by Lisel Mueller

The laughter of women sets fire

to the Halls of Injustice

and the false evidence burns

to a beautiful white lightness

It rattles the Chambers of Congress

and forces the windows wide open

so the fatuous speeches can fly out

The laughter of women wipes the mist
from the spectacles of the old;
it infects them with a happy flu

and they laugh as if they were young again

Prisoners held in underground cells

imagine that they see daylight

when they remember the laughter of women

It runs across water that divides,

and reconciles two unfriendly shores

like flares that signal the news to each other

What a language it is, the laughter of women,

high-flying and subversive.

Long before law and scripture

we heard the laughter, we understood freedom.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Lisel Neumann Mueller born 1924 was born in Hamburg, Germany where she lived until she fled from the Nazis with her family in 1939. Both of her parents were teachers and her father obtained a job at the University of Evansville.

A short bio written by the artist from http://www.wiu.edu/foliopress/illinois/poetmueller.htm

Detroit Diaspora: I Am The Product Of My Environment.

The Spirit of Detroit by Marshall Fredericks

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Spirit_of_Detroit

.

I grew up on the east side during the sixties through eighties, before crack, and during white flight. 

There was a little bit of everybody.  As a result I feel most comfortable in diversity.

The neighborhoods were mixed with Southern Whites, Blacks, Greeks, Italians, Poles, and Arabs.

We had a lovely neighbor categorized as white whose family came up from Tennessee.  This little girl had pretty brown hair that curled at the edges.  We loved to comb it and she loved to comb ours.  Everytime she touched our hair she had a look of awe and wonder on her face.  No doubt she influenced some of how I see my nappy hair. 

Thick nappy hair greased and washed is a blessing to behold.

Detroit is the place that shaped me.

Music Written And Performed By Women Of Color: Brenda Russell

Walking In New York is on the Paris Rain Album.  For Josh and Melissa.

Let's Talk About Sex!

It started in eight grade when I made a comment that one of my classmates was pretty. Someone in the group of girls I was talking to said "Oooooh that sounds gay."  All the girls looked at me to watch my reaction. I just shrugged and replied, "Well, I didn't mean it that way." That satisfied them. The subject changed to something else and I stood there wondering what had just happened.

So, I thought, if I acknowledge another woman's beauty, does that mean I want to have a sexual relationship with her?   I knew the answer was no, but for years I was careful about what I said about women and men.

I think that men and women are irresitibly beautiful.  When I was nine years old I thought Tom Jones was hot but I have never wanted to have sex with him.  Some people don't understand why.  It is because we don't know one another.  I don't know where his hands have been, but I would take a peck on the cheek if he smelled good.  The same goes for Delroy Lindo, Keanu Reeves, and Avery Brooks.  And Ruben Blades.  Sexy women I want to emulate are Gloria Estefan, Tina Turner, Ann Margaret, Lizz Wright, and Queen Latifah. And Sade Adu.  This list of lust could go on forever and it does.  

Once, I made the mistake of asking a man the name of his cologne in front of his woman.  She thought I was flirting with him.  The thought never occurred to me.  Jake was standing right next to him.  Another time I saw a woman with beautiful wrinkles.  It looked like she had a spider web on her face. I saw a man with a lustrous silver mane and a little woman with a grand large nose.  He was sexy and she looked like a queen.  I try not to stare.  People might jump to the wrong conclusions.

Paraphrasing Audre Lorde, these days I'm saying what I think even though my words may be misunderstood or twisted.  I love men and women and there is no way to change my preferences.  That's all I know.