tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20799595914476377132024-03-13T07:48:40.888-07:00Conversations... with DadBelinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-88290791908561343542021-11-19T23:40:00.000-08:002021-11-19T23:40:33.155-08:00I Got No Title<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UaKHdsBhRC4/YZhynZ9uLrI/AAAAAAAAIqo/GSPn1hpNU3so62b_JXs11V-BSbTCukNqwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1149/IMG_0819.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1149" data-original-width="857" height="211" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UaKHdsBhRC4/YZhynZ9uLrI/AAAAAAAAIqo/GSPn1hpNU3so62b_JXs11V-BSbTCukNqwCLcBGAsYHQ/w158-h211/IMG_0819.jpg" width="158" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Intentionally, I did not watch the Rittenburg trial. I didn’t read about it in the newspapers or on social media. I didn’t watch the news. In 75 years, I have learned that this system will work as it is intended to work. On my way home from a doctor’s appointment today, I received a phone call from a friend. She asked if I had heard the verdict. I said no. She asked if I wanted to know. I said no. She asked if I should want to talk about it, to give her a call. I didn’t want to, and I didn’t call. I also didn’t want to expose myself to “social media” and stayed away from my email. I knew. I already knew, and there was nothing to talk about. I knew it would hurt.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a9t94eo4v1k/YZiQFnzszBI/AAAAAAAAIqw/BBmHzvwPJq07E5orCsetssSkQK4xUSHnwCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/service-pnp-ppmsca-40800-40895r.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="526" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a9t94eo4v1k/YZiQFnzszBI/AAAAAAAAIqw/BBmHzvwPJq07E5orCsetssSkQK4xUSHnwCLcBGAsYHQ/w263-h320/service-pnp-ppmsca-40800-40895r.jpeg" width="263" /></a></div>During the earlier years, in the struggle for human rights, when churches and schools were bombed and burned; Freedom Riders and little black boys, men and women were disappeared, it happened in the dark of night. There was once some level of shame demonstrated by those who acted with such impunity by their <span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue;">need to wear masks…hoods to hide their identity. Hate and the violence that came with it was not viewed as acceptable.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8uR30l6_TNc/YZidjnmqWGI/AAAAAAAAIq4/GeMYQMiJE3klNnbEuRPXeE_8FjkGM5ZiACLcBGAsYHQ/s1024/RTX1KURH-1024x639.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="1024" height="125" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8uR30l6_TNc/YZidjnmqWGI/AAAAAAAAIq4/GeMYQMiJE3klNnbEuRPXeE_8FjkGM5ZiACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h125/RTX1KURH-1024x639.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><br />That is no longer the case. We have returned to a level of incivility where the lynching and burning of human beings was a spectator sport attended by communities including women and children. A time when violence and terror were an open and acceptable strategy for maintaining the status quo. So, they come unmasked. And they call themselves patriots. They march with American flag. They continue to carry with it the confederate flag and other gang symbols. They are armed with assault weapons. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_9HAfmcL0-M/YZifuNpuyTI/AAAAAAAAIrA/JuAiY6uAmKkBQi9pXKNhmpRVJ5D3xUtCwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/2021_storming_of_the_United_States_Capitol_DSC09254-2_%252850820534063%2529_%2528retouched%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1256" data-original-width="2048" height="122" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_9HAfmcL0-M/YZifuNpuyTI/AAAAAAAAIrA/JuAiY6uAmKkBQi9pXKNhmpRVJ5D3xUtCwCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h122/2021_storming_of_the_United_States_Capitol_DSC09254-2_%252850820534063%2529_%2528retouched%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue;">Make no mistake… what exists and where we are is by design. It is a system built around the perception of scarcity…that has resulted in greed. It is a system built around dualities…winners and losers…and winners take all. It is a system based on dominion…dominance and distorted perceptions of power over each other and every other living being on this planet. Every social, cultural and religious aspect of this system has historically been designed to hold that system in place. Everything. The segregated “communities” in which we live, our segregated and unaffordable “educational” institutions, our segregated “churches”, our "social" clubs and organizations… literally everything. For America we could say that the foundation was laid down in 1691, however as it relates to the entirety of the human condition, we have to go further back to how this land property, and its people colonized. And, if we examine the world wide phenomenon of enslavement and colonization it's not a pretty picture. It could present a hopeless picture for the future of humanity.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; text-align: left;">That being said, this is not an abdication of my responsibility to humanity…my own and others. My responsibility to those who came before me and those who will come after me…my responsibility to help image and create a world where we can all live. I know that there is no way for human kind to survive without hope…love…and courage. </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; text-align: left;">And courage begins with the heart…”cor”. I know that I can no longer sing old litanies…with weaker and weaker voices. Love has to be exercised boldly and demonstrated with courage… if it is to be. If it is to be in this country…this world… love cannot be hidden in secret, in closets. Love has to be visible, conscious and intentional. Love requires work and many times sacrifice. In the struggle for love and the survival of humanity THERE ARE NO ALLIES!!! Indeed there is a lot to unpack about this trial but none of those murdered should be considered allies. They were human beings engaged in the struggle for humanity. </span></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"></blockquote><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/HIxfRsD560w" width="320" youtube-src-id="HIxfRsD560w"></iframe><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #741b47;">I will go to sleep at some point tonight...rather...this morning and I will dream of </span><span style="color: #b45f06;">Tamir Rice pitching a ball, or sitting in a dug out thinking about what he'll be when he grows up.</span></b></span></div><br /><div><br /></div>Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-81330604965335833472021-10-19T13:19:00.002-07:002021-10-19T14:22:55.624-07:00What Would He Say? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qC4FmWtp6-4/YW8EuXzelOI/AAAAAAAAIlA/0Sp7VSkyuBoAIyA-OTEQbAMl2gZLcEXfQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_0720.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1707" height="394" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qC4FmWtp6-4/YW8EuXzelOI/AAAAAAAAIlA/0Sp7VSkyuBoAIyA-OTEQbAMl2gZLcEXfQCLcBGAsYHQ/w329-h394/IMG_0720.HEIC" width="329" /></a>Whenever I am asked to write or speak about my father, or the men of the Negro League, or the Negro League in general, I always have to ponder the question: What would he say? What would THEY say? That’s the first thing I think about. What would he say? I do this because there is a certain amount of responsibility that comes with telling someone else’s story. Even though I am a part of my father’s story it is his story. It always reminds of the tragedy of our myopic portrayal of history. The old adage that “History is always told from the perspective of the “winners””. When the fullness of our social evolutionary experience is not told through the voices of the many, and when we lose undocumented primary sources of our history, we lose our ability to be informed by the lessons of our past. We remain trapped in this endless cycle of half-truths, a breeding ground for bias, intolerance and self-righteousness. </div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">But what would he say?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U0_rOOThIFI/YW8KYjJT4HI/AAAAAAAAImw/QpH9vxiDr1MsbSAb-8KRzD0eEgfn1Dm4ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_6054.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I think he would say the story of the Negro League is a story of Black people in America, and their struggle not only to survive but to thrive.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aj6nRECntLQ/YW8Io1jtE7I/AAAAAAAAImI/uAKWaD09EKAxLW64GRaVx5-KkT89zlmBQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_6054.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aj6nRECntLQ/YW8Io1jtE7I/AAAAAAAAImI/uAKWaD09EKAxLW64GRaVx5-KkT89zlmBQCLcBGAsYHQ/w150-h200/IMG_6054.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He would no-doubt speak about the joy of the game and the fellowship of like travelers. He would talk about the brotherhood stronger than could be expressed using words like “team” or “team mates”. You would know and understand the strength of their connection as he described their relationships. He would smile at the remembrance. He would find excitement, as he leaned forward to tell anecdotal stories that he wanted to make sure you heard. He would laugh, and the joy of the experience would be reflected in the vibrations of his body. He would lean back and take a draw on his cigarette and then move on to the next story. He, like all the other men who played in the league, were marvelous story tellers. <br />But they told very few about what it took to move through the streets of America at a time when violence and terror were open strategies used to maintain the “racial” hierarchy. This was a time when Black men would go to war and come home to live through another. It was a time when the economic and legal systems created other mechanisms (red lining, disparate banking practices etc.) that ensured that returning GIs would soon understand that the GI bill didn’t include them. So Black communities did what they have always done. They created their own reality parallel to the country that turned its back on them.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CZ21Lj6m9CA/YW8LanCFLHI/AAAAAAAAIm4/1UX-_1gbDsMBTRPOPC01HIiWk9ZhfjMfACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_6048.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="277" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CZ21Lj6m9CA/YW8LanCFLHI/AAAAAAAAIm4/1UX-_1gbDsMBTRPOPC01HIiWk9ZhfjMfACLcBGAsYHQ/w208-h277/IMG_6048.JPG" width="208" /></a></div><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I cannot imagine all that it took to continue to dream into anything beyond what existed, but they did—and generations learned it is possible. Pioneers like Rube Foster were models for anyone wanting to create something out of nothing. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EszQYWZAzMM/YW8L1DDpwgI/AAAAAAAAInA/rlV23oGfAhwRDXGLZcz-DPujxuoS_lSzwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_6042.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="245" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EszQYWZAzMM/YW8L1DDpwgI/AAAAAAAAInA/rlV23oGfAhwRDXGLZcz-DPujxuoS_lSzwCLcBGAsYHQ/w184-h245/IMG_6042.JPG" width="184" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Little Black boys learned that they could not be denied the right to exercise their talent and skill at thehighest level of play. And, like their white counterparts in the “Major” Leagues, they could make a living doing it. Though their compensation was less, their play was magical and inspiring. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The robust level of play they exhibited evolved from an existing community coloring their language with “trash talking”, being “called out”, and the “opportunities to improve” that looked and felt more like a challenge or dare. They bought all of who they were to the game. They filled stadiums (with Black and white patrons) and when playing in large cities, leading parades. Professional, organized baseball with Black players who put their own brand of magic on the game. Players who would find their way south of the border, to Mexico, Cuba, Venezuela, Puerto Rico. There they would find themselves on teams with white counterparts from “Major” League teams in the US. They would then return sometimes never seeing them again. </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TIvUVbV2Z7U/YW8WNbhsS7I/AAAAAAAAInQ/16q0JqjT5wM4yGH2C4E9OncucUsSADxRgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1129/1946%2BNegro%2BChampionship%2B%2BNewark.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="464" data-original-width="1129" height="132" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TIvUVbV2Z7U/YW8WNbhsS7I/AAAAAAAAInQ/16q0JqjT5wM4yGH2C4E9OncucUsSADxRgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/1946%2BNegro%2BChampionship%2B%2BNewark.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">But I doubt, if not asked, he would ever say much of that. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He would be too busy telling the stories of a kind of magic more difficult than pulling a rabbit out of a hat. The magic of maintaining your humanity in a place that would deny it. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i><u><span style="color: #b45f06;">The magic of knowing your worth and expressing the fullness of your human potential; and the joy that comes from doing just that.</span></u></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(180, 95, 6);"><i><u><br /></u></i></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--YT0DSPSf7o/YW8M48tbxDI/AAAAAAAAInI/BwXL_MsezPwm7rgmpmKrxmIDtd7NKVsNQCLcBGAsYHQ/s300/Day-Leon_10.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="300" height="246" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--YT0DSPSf7o/YW8M48tbxDI/AAAAAAAAInI/BwXL_MsezPwm7rgmpmKrxmIDtd7NKVsNQCLcBGAsYHQ/w358-h246/Day-Leon_10.jpg" width="358" /></a></div></span></div><div><br /></div>Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-30468318338541759262016-12-12T10:16:00.000-08:002016-12-12T10:16:48.520-08:00Reflecting on Love<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’ve been sharing the this advent season with a community of Christian faith at the Ocean Heights Presbyterian Church. It’s been a wonderful, enlightening few weeks following the story of Hosea through scripture passages like the one below ...and guided through its telling in sermons by Blake Spencer---a truly gifted Christian leader. No, I’m not a Presbyterian...that’s a story for another day. But this passage, and this story is quite different from the one usually chosen by Christians for this time of the year. This is one of the reasons it has intrigued me...because it is so appropriate. Anyway I’m pairing it with Leonard Cohen...Steer Away...a song fitting for this third Sunday as we approach this season of giving...Hanukkah and Christmas... Stories of love..the gift of love...are important reminders for me of the true meaning of this season and this year when it seems so illusive. Remembering that love cannot truly be experienced without forgiveness is my constant learning.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Then God ordered me ”Start over. Love your wife again, your wife who has cheated. Love her the way I God, love the Israelite people, even as they flirt and party with every God that takes their fancy. “I did it. I paid good money to get her back. It cost me a steep price. Then i told her. “from now on your living with me. No more cheating. You’re living with me and I’m living with you.” The people of Israel are going to live a long time stripped of security and protection, without religion and comfort, godless and prayerless. But in time they’ll come back, these Israelites, come back looking for their God and their David-King. They’ll come back chastened to reverence before God and good gifts ready for the end of the story of his love. Hosea 3: 1-5</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">This song was first published as a poem in the New Yorker Magazine in June of 2016. It appears in his final album "You Want It Darker".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Steer your way past the ruins of the Altar and the Mall<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Steer your way through the fables of Creation and The Fall<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Steer your way past the Palaces that rise above the rot<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Year by year, month by month, day by day<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Thought by thought<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Steer your heart past the Truth that you believed in yesterday<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Such as Fundamental Goodness and the Wisdom of the Way<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Steer your heart, precious heart, past the women whom you bought<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Year by year, month by month, day by day<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Thought by thought<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Steer your way through the pain that is far more real than you<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />That's smashed the Cosmic Model, that blinded every view<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And please don't make me go there, though there be a God or not<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Year by year, month by month, day by day<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Thought by thought<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />They whisper still, the injured stones<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />The blunted mountains weep<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />As he died to make men holy<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Let us die to make things cheap<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And say the Mea Culpa, which you probably forgot<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Year by year, month by month, day by day<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Thought by thought<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Steer your way, O my heart, though I have no right to ask<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />To the one who was never, never equal to the task<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Who knows he's been convicted, who knows he will be shot<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Year by year, month by month, day by day<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Thought by thought<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />They whisper still, the injured stones<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />The blunted mountains weep<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />As he died to make men holy<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Let us die to make things cheap<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And say the Mea Culpa, which you gradually forgot<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Year by year, month by month, day by day<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Thought by thought</span></div>
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Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-83786959873063097762016-01-14T21:24:00.000-08:002016-01-14T21:54:36.080-08:00For Monte<div class="p1">
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When I read writer, Jerry Izenberg’s tribute to Monte Irvin today, I remembered that day at the Newark/Bears stadium. Monte in his wheelchair, Ray Dandridge’s son, Geraldine Day (the wife of Leon Day), Larry Doby’s son, Red Moore and me with my father’s great-grandson on my lap. <br />
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I also remember the last conversation I had with Jerry when he spoke of Monte Irvin’s declaration that he couldn’t die because there would be no one to tell the story. When I heard that Monte had passed, I waited for Jerry’s story because I knew it was coming, and I knew there was no one who could write it as well as he. I knew he could capture the essence of the man and what was important to him. I was not disappointed. You can read his tribute <a href="http://www.nj.com/sports/ledger/izenbergcol/index.ssf/2016/01/monte_irvin_the_last_newark_ea.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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There are few left who can articulate the stories of the men of the Negro Leagues. And because their history for years remained largely unrecorded, it is left to those of us who were privileged enough to sit at their feet, who store those stories, images and memories in the libraries of our hearts and minds to tell them and live them day-to-day. My father met Monte Irvin when they were both freshmen at Lincoln University. They were both on the baseball team. They both wanted nothing more than to play baseball. They both left to try out for the Newark Eagles and both made the team, the youngest members at the time. Until the day my father died, I could tell when he was talking to Monte on the phone because I could hear him laughing the minute I opened the door. A loud raucous laugh similar to men telling each other dirty jokes. Although Jerry describes Monte Irvin as the last of the Newark Eagles, there remains one more...Red Moore, who lives in a small town outside Atlanta. Red left the Eagles early in his career. He went on to play with the Baltimore Elite Giants. He was missing from the roster of the dynamic team of the ‘40s; the legendary winning team of the 1946 Negro League World Series. That team included: Larry Doby, Leon Day, Monte Irvin and my father, Max Manning. It was managed by Hall of Famer, Biz Makey. Ray Dandridge, Don Newcombe and Willie Wells, who would also find there way into the Hall of Fame, had left earlier. There are no members of that 1946 team left. With the exception of Red Moore, there are no Eagles left. They have flown to higher ground.<br />
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<span class="s1">They would come together for gatherings at card signings and the meetings of the Negro League Player’s Association. Before the NLPA formed in the early ‘90s, they would share conversations on the phone or with brief visits. </span><br />
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<span class="s1">For 20 years, they would sit together at their beloved Pop Lloyd Weekends here in Atlantic City with other former league players from the Philadelphia Stars, the Kansas City Monarchs, and the Birmingham Black Barons to name a few. They would talk way into the night with guests like Congressman John Lewis, Bob Feller, photographer Gordon Parks, Earl Woods, the father of Tiger and most importantly the children of this community.</span><br />
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They were remarkable men, not because of <i>how they played the game</i>, even though their sheer talent would have been enough to win them distinction. They were remarkable because of <i>how they lived their </i>lives<i>...</i>refusing to allow anyone to take their joy and by creating a parallel universe that was filled with it...to the brim.<br />
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As I have mark each passing, another crack appears somewhere deep inside me. Although I know that is how the light gets in, I’m also aware that I become more fragile. We all become more fragile. When our stories, the fullness of stories of our nation and our world, are not explored and told by those that lived them, all of us become defined by those that are considered the “winners”. Those pictures, those images, those representations are and will always leave us less than we can be. They leave us as incomplete as they are. As Monte would say: “...true story.” And tonight I say: "Good Night, sweet prince. One of the sweetest of them all. TRUE STORY!<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gvcIJIGViZQ/Vph9yzUd5BI/AAAAAAAAEZo/EPHJeN6mn54/s1600/monte.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gvcIJIGViZQ/Vph9yzUd5BI/AAAAAAAAEZo/EPHJeN6mn54/s320/monte.jpg" width="317" /></a>Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-72046548352328001032015-07-16T10:14:00.000-07:002015-07-16T10:14:24.408-07:00For Mahlon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pSlRTNmfYPc/VaflAl79y7I/AAAAAAAAEG8/Wnrfckwo8DM/s1600/mahlon2_edited-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pSlRTNmfYPc/VaflAl79y7I/AAAAAAAAEG8/Wnrfckwo8DM/s400/mahlon2_edited-5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">I don’t know what happens when the last Star goes out. I can only imagine how very dark the night sky will become. I remember some time ago being in Washington State lying on my back in an open field, and watching stars appear one by one. As the sky grew darker, I watched and counted them until they began to appear too quickly for me to count and they literally covered the sky. I remember the feeling of peace and awe that filled my body. As far as I could see, from the North to the South and from as far as I could see from the East to the West I was covered by the grace of the night sky. I was blanketed by its stars. My soul was reminded how important they were in the universe. There are even songs which speak to the significance of the stars as we once “Followed the Drinking Gourd” (A Negro Spiritual which was code for slaves to follow the big dipper North to freedom.) My entire body remembered to give thanks and acknowledge them. I was filled with overwhelming joy. I cried.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Although I know that there is no difference but place, those stars are harder for me to find here in South Jersey. The fact is: I rarely look up at night. I know the stars are there but it is a more difficult reach for me to <i>see</i> them because they are obscured. We have replaced them with street lights, neon signs and the glow coming from security lights left on in high rises and homes. We use them now as markers to guide our paths. They mark our “way”. A way once guided by the stars. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">These are the thoughts that have filled my mind this week. This is the conversation that churns in my heart and takes me to my bed. Another Star has faded farther from our view. The sight line is dimmer, and I feel the void. I remember when I first met Mahlon Duckett and some of members of the former Philadelphia Stars. There were quite a few of them then. They would come together with other members of the Negro Leagues to form the Negro League Players Association. My father was president. I remember typing up the pages of a directory that was printed by Atlantic Electric, the company where I used to work. Yes, there were pages. (I add these things for my own benefit. It’s just part of my internal conversation ... my remembering.) I remember being surrounded by these men and their hearts melded in shared struggle and joy. I remember feeling blanketed by their grace and loved by them for simply being. It was very much that same sense of being that I felt on an empty field in Goldendale, Washington.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I don’t know how you explain the beauty of a night sky filled with stars to children/people who have never seen one. I don’t know how you tell the story of Mahlon Duckett to people who have never witnessed that infectious smile, or the tender gentleness and smoothness with which he would call your name...as if it were his own. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I don’t know much today except that I need to have this conversation here because I can’t yet speak it. (Can’t even speak his name yet until I figure out how to honor it.) I need to know that real stars/Stars don’t just “go out” even though we can’t see them/it. I need to remember that stars/STARS are light and real light is always present. (It’s only the artificial stuff that loses is radiance.) I need to find a way to look up more, to reach out more, to search the skies for those STARS that really are still there to guide us/me. I need to remember to use my discernment to separate the real from the false. I need to remember that beyond the sodium vapor street lights and the neon signs, which only provide a false sense of security, there is real light that the universe alone can provide. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I need to remember that Mahlon Duckett died in the way that he lived: surrounded by his loving family, and I need to remember that we will continue to tell his story because that’s how stars/STARS continue to shine and light our way in the darkness.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">On the Friday before his death, I was speaking with my friend Michael making plans to go see Mahlon. We never got there. </span></div>
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<span class="s2">You can read read more about Mahlon here: <a href="http://www.csnphilly.com/baseball-philadelphia-phillies/negro-league-philadelphia-stars-mahlon-duckett-dies-92"><span class="s3">http://www.csnphilly.com/baseball-philadelphia-phillies/negro-league-philadelphia-stars-mahlon-duckett-dies-92</span></a></span></div>
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Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-87968349255841801462015-06-19T13:09:00.000-07:002015-06-19T13:09:32.371-07:00Mother Emmanuel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In reading the various “news” accounts of the yet another terrorist attack at “Mother Emmanuel” (Almost 200 years ago it was defiled and burned to the ground because of its reported connection to a planned slave revolt.), there has not been much talk about those who physically survived this assault. It has been reported that one was a five year old girl who was in attendance at the prayer meeting with her grandmother. Her grandmother reportedly covered her with her body and whispered to her to pretend that she was dead.</div>
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<span class="s1">I can only imagine the pain of this grandmother as she covered this child’s body praying that she be spared. I can only imagine the strength of her prayers of intersession, knowing that only her body and a merciful God stood between the child beneath her and the ultimate of evil. There is probably not one of us who has brought a living being into this world, or cared for one, who cannot imagine the pain of feeling powerless to protect them. Our prayers for their safety always occupy a portion of who we are. Sometimes we articulate those prayers and sometimes we push them to the background of our mind because the pain of believing that they wouldn’t be safe in their daily journey is far too much to carry with as we move about our day. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">And, I CANNOT imagine what it must have been like for this child lying beneath her grandmother. The incomprehensible horror of bearing witness. The sense of guilt, loss and fear as she listened and felt her grandmother’s life slip away... as she struggled to hold on to her own. No, I CANNOT EVEN IMAGINE!</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Just like I cannot imagine what it was like for those fearless souls who stood in the halls of “Mother Emmanuel” before these. Those who rebuilt it from the ashes left when it was torched by the hands of racism and slavery that still loom like a ghost stench in the very air that we breathe. They were fearless souls. Like those that bear their legacy and invited in a stranger, trusting his intentions. Without benefit of weapons other than their belief in goodness of humankind and the strength of an Almighty God. They let him into a sanctuary, which was not theirs to exclude him from. They let him into their hearts because that’s who they were. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">“Mother Emmanuel” and all that she is and represents will continue to move forward in the march towards freedom and a better world for us all. She is fearless in the face of these many years of hate, racism and oppression. She will continue to guide us as she has done in the past. She will shelter children and adults as she did former slaves separated from their children, grandchildren, husbands and wives. We will stand with her as she continues to call out and confront the ghost stench of racism that strangles this nation so that none of us can truly breathe. We will stand with her as she calls it out from the hidden corners of our nation shrouded by an unhealthy and misguided allegiance to a legacy born of half truths and lies. We will She will call it out fearlessly until it falls away. </span></div>
Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-8622169225833270202015-06-02T07:15:00.002-07:002015-06-02T07:15:57.253-07:00The Poem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For friends coming here from my facebook page, this is the poem in its original form as submitted and judged for the NJ Wordsmith Competition. It has gone through many iterations and I still don't consider it "finished". The first change was a title change when I completed the digital art for a mixed media project. You can see it as the photo under the original. I also made some format changes when I included it here. Not sure of the next leg on this particular journey BUT... I know it ain't done. Thanks for checking it out. By the way, if you've appeared here from somewhere else. I hope you enjoy it.</div>
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<span class="s1"><b>The Long Journey Home</b></span></div>
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<span class="s2">at first they were just “little” things</span></div>
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<span class="s2">keys...directions...dates...times...commitments...</span></div>
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<span class="s2">“That happens to us all”, I would say</span></div>
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<span class="s2">“You just have a lot on your mind, you’re tired”, I would say</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Then the forgotten things </span></div>
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like when the call came from store security that she had been wandering through the parking garage </div>
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<span class="s2">for hours </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">she couldn’t find her car...she couldn’t remember what it looked like...</span><br />
<span class="s2">please...come for her</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">like when my father called to ask me to go find her</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">after she had been gone all day...</span><br />
<span class="s2">leaving early that morning to take a friend to the store </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">I found her in her beloved red corolla...puttering ever so slowly... down the middle of the street...</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">I followed her home.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">I took her keys.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2"><br /></span>
<span class="s2">I watched her forget that filters were important especially in public places</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">that elevators are close quarters and you don’t have to comment on the odor of the people standing next to you...no matter how offensive </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">that clothes are necessary when leaving the house</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">that the living room was not the bathroom...</span><br />
<span class="s2">that chairs were not toilets.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">Then it was her name...and then my name</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">I watched her forget that there were people who loved her</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2"><br /></span>
<span class="s2">And when she forgot my place in this world...I too struggled to find my place</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">I tried to make a place for us</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Some place that would be familiar to her...Some place where I could still be beside her</span></div>
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<span class="s2">Like in the kitchen baking sweet smelling rolls like she used to do for holidays using her mother’s recipe...or at the piano where her father had taught her to play</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">But she had forgotten how to do all of these things</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">And I had never learned.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2"><br /></span>
<span class="s2">In the end she had even forgotten how to speak...</span><br />
<span class="s2">not how to to tell me how she hated me touching her...</span><br />
<span class="s2">not to use her sharp and stringent tongue to let me know that she hated me bathing her, changing her...</span><br />
<span class="s2">because I was the one who had taken away her keys. </span><br />
<span class="s2">I was the one who uncovered the “secret”.</span></div>
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<span class="s2"><br /></span>
<span class="s2">In the end I would spray her bed linens with lavender... something that I had read somewhere was relaxing... each night I prayed that the lavender would calm and bring her enough peace to sleep for the night, </span></div>
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<span class="s2">I would lift her lifeless and burden filled body from her wheel chair and lay her on her side of the bed I would lay there next to her...until it was too painful to watch her cry... </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">soundlessly...motionlessly</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">I would wipe her face..Tell her I loved her...and leave...for the night.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">Of the end, I can only say there was something in me that was glad it was the end</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">But then endings only transform themselves into beginnings</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">for another ending...</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2"><br /></span>
<span class="s2">“It's no big deal” she says.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">“That happens to all of us”, she says.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">“You just have a lot on your mind, you’re just tired”, she says.</span></div>
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<span class="s2">And as SHE now speaks ME... </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s2">to ME </span></div>
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<span class="s2">my heart cries.</span></div>
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While you're here... Can make a plug for a contribution to my American Cancer <a href="http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR?fr_id=66631&pg=personal&px=36067355" target="_blank">Relay for Life</a> page? No amount is too small.</div>
<br />Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-14151394880154883042015-05-27T14:17:00.000-07:002015-05-27T14:43:31.762-07:00Relay For LifeThis year my fundraising efforts for American Cancer Society, Relay for Life have been going pretty slow. Poorly, I might add. I am down to my last few days...about 2 weeks. So, hopefully I can encourage you to donate to my page by sweetening the pot. Here's what I'm offering:<br />
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<li>For everyone who contributes at least $20 you get the chance of winning one of my handcrafted dolls. I'll pay the postage and will post the winner here. You get to select the doll of your choice. (I may even give away both of these dolls. The dolls are pictured below. They're not professional pics but I think they are a fair representation.</li>
<li>For everyone who contributes at least $10 you get a chance to win a package of handcrafted cards. 10 cards with envelopes and I'll pay the postage. Original photographs and artwork...samples below.</li>
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So, all you have to do is go to my Relay for Life page and make a contribution to the American Cancer Society. On or about June 12th, I will post a picture from the Relay as well as the winners. I'll send out your "rewards" the following week. </div>
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I hope this encourages you to help me out. I'd like to reach my goal of $750. Thanks, folks.</div>
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Doll #1...Moon Child</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yPAE7Ky0WFs/VWYqLw3gq8I/AAAAAAAAD6A/VoRhFft3MoQ/s1600/moonchild2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yPAE7Ky0WFs/VWYqLw3gq8I/AAAAAAAAD6A/VoRhFft3MoQ/s320/moonchild2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Doll #2...Mermaid (I'll post better pics of doll #2 My Mermaid in a couple of days when I get a chance to take some pics of her.)</div>
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Cards will include the following images:</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xwura_Tb63Q/VWYsmvhQ2PI/AAAAAAAAD6M/kqZEel7_f3o/s1600/newcardrainiris1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xwura_Tb63Q/VWYsmvhQ2PI/AAAAAAAAD6M/kqZEel7_f3o/s320/newcardrainiris1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A55o7cc9GJg/VWYs3qnV5dI/AAAAAAAAD6c/TjeTWXAY77g/s1600/The%2BStorm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A55o7cc9GJg/VWYs3qnV5dI/AAAAAAAAD6c/TjeTWXAY77g/s320/The%2BStorm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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In order to make a donation just go to my page at American Cancer Society. Just click on the link below and it will take you there.</div>
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<a href="http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR?fr_id=66631&pg=personal&px=36067355" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vF2r15DBwMw/VWYzHnmfNxI/AAAAAAAAD64/CLFucvSkd9E/s1600/relay%2Bfor%2Blife%2Bbanner_edited-2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR?fr_id=66631&pg=personal&px=36067355" target="_blank">My Relay for Life Page</a></div>
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Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-11278445992952855592014-02-18T18:45:00.000-08:002014-02-18T18:45:18.152-08:00For My Clan... Just so you Know<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 15.333333015441895px; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><br /></span>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's important to sometimes pull together the fragments of our lives... so </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;">that we know. And not so that we alone know--but that our children </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;">know </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;">and that they might be able to tell their children. It's important </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;">that </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;">we </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">collect the </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;">pieces of our patchwork quilts that are our lives and </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;">knit </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;">them </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;">together. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> It provides a covering, warm and comforting; and as we knit the pieces </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">together our quilt becomes stronger. It becomes a shield, protecting us </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">for </span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">when the cold winds blow and threaten to rip us apart. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 15.333333015441895px; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">Rev. C. Max Manning, D.D.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><i>"His mother. Millie E. Johnson, was a native of </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Edenton and was of Burmese and African </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><i>extraction. She was a slave, but her freedom was </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><i>purchased by her husband, together with that of </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><i>their oldest son. While Dr. Manning was still- an </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><i>infant the family moved to Philadelphia and later </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><i>to New York. He was educated, therefore, in the </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Institute for Colored Youths in Philadelphia and </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><i>completed his literary course at Lincoln </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px; text-indent: 17.33333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><i>University, in 1872"</i></span></span></div>
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The following is an excerpt from: <br />
<u><i><br /></i></u>
<u><i>History of the American Negro and His Institutions edited by </i></u><br />
<u><i><br /></i></u>
<u><i>Arthur Bunyan Caldwell, originally published 1917</i></u><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt;">CORNELIUS
M. MANNING<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt;">AMONG the older leaders of
the race in the South in both political and religious circles, few have been
more active or done more efficient work than Rev. Cornelius Maxwell Manning, of
Atlanta.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt;">He
is a native of North Carolina, having been born in the historic old town of
Edenton, December 8. 1845. His father was Moses W. Manning, a tailor by trade
and a minister by profession, who had been born in Canada. His mother. Millie
E. Johnson, was a native of Edenton and was of Burmese and African extraction.
She was a slave, but her freedom was purchased by her husband, together with
that of their oldest son. While Dr. Manning was still- an infant the family
moved to Philadelphia and later to New York. He was educated, therefore, in the
Institute for Colored Youths in Philadelphia and completed his literary course
at Lincoln University, in 1872. He<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt;">made his financial way
through school by working as cook at Northern Summer resorts. Years later,
1900, Morris Brown College conferred upon him the degree of D. D.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
1867, which was the year of his conversion, Dr. Manning began teaching at
Hertford, N. C., and in 1868 was elected delegate from Perquimans county to the
new State Constitutional and nominating conventions. The same year he returned
to the old home, Edenton, and founded there French Academy, an institution
which is still running as Edenton Normal and Industrial Institute.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt;">Having felt called to the
ministry, he began his work as a preacher of the A. M. E. Z. church at Big
Wesley chapel in Philadelphia in 1874, was ordained a deacon in 1878, an elder
in 1879 and elected delegate to the General Conferences in 1880, 1892, 1896 and
1900. Meantime, in 1881, he had joined the A. M. E. church under Bishop
Dickerson at Augusta, Ga., and was assigned to Savannah for two years, Newnan
one year, Cartersville one year, Acworth two years, Lexington three years,
Palmetto two years, Madison one year and Washington one year. This latter
service brings his career up to 1896, in which year under appointment of
President Cleveland, he went to Liberia as Secretary to the U. S. Legation at
that point. He utilized this opportunity to do all the good possible, working
as a missionary of the A. M. E. church. He pastored a church up St. Paul's
River one year, and the second year of his stay pastored at Monrovia and
assisted the church in building a house of worship there. After his return he
served as Professor of Homiletics and Sacred History at Turner Theological
Seminary eight years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
1914 Dr. Manning was appointed to the Athens station which is regarded as
having one of the most cultured congregations in the connection. In 1915 he was
elected to the General Conference.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt;">Dr. Manning's activities,
however, have not been confined solely to the work of the church, but he has
taken an active part in the movements which had to do with the progress and
development of his race. Admirably fitted by training and experience as a
leader, he has been recognized by both races and frequently placed in positions
of honor and trust. In 1884 he was appointed Commissioner to the New Orleans
Exposition, and his appointment to Liberia has been briefly described.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt;">He
saw military service during the war as a member of Company K, Thirty-Fifth U.
S. Infantry, from '63 to '66. With his command he took part in the bombardment
and final capture of Fort Wagner, was in the engagements of Olustee, Honey Hill
(or Pocotalligo) and was not mustered out of the service until nearly a year
after the close of the war.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
1868 he was married to Miss Elizabeth A. Hathaway of Edenton, N. C. She bore
him two children, Chas. C., deceased, and Anna (i. (now Mrs-. Todd). Subsequent
to his first wife's death, he again married, in 1884, Mrs. Mary A. (Wesley)
Thomas, a daughter of David and Elizabeth Wesley, of Augusta. Of the four
children born of this union two survive—Lorenzo D. C. and Robert W. Manning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt;">Dr.
Manning is a Thirty-Third Degree Mason, and is also prominently identified with
the Odd Fellows. His intellectual calibre may be inferred from the lines of
reading he has found most helpful. They are: History, sacred and profane;
philosophy and poetry, especially the English classics, such as Shakespeare,
Milton and Tennyson. While he has not himself been a prolific writer, he has
occasionally contributed to church papers, and some years ago prepared a
booklet entitled "Is God Knowable?" He also wrote a hymn.
"Creative Week," which has found a permanent place in the hymnal of
his denomination.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14.0pt;">Out of a long experience, he
would advise young men not to divide their energies in this day of specialties
by trying to master too many things, but to seek to be proficient in some
chosen line of work or profession. He considers the questions of immigration
and temperance among the most important with which we have to deal as a nation.
He has given careful thought to our social and economic conditions, and
believes that the best interests of Georgia may be served, not by a policy of
repression, but by a policy which would give larger opportunities, which would
inspire hope. With this in view, he would like to see better wages, bettor
school facilities, better quarters in the country, and a penal system which would
undertake to reform. rather than punish the criminal. To this end, he advocates
the abolition of stockade sentences, shackles and stripes, as well as corporal
punishment."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-24418897345195740212013-11-12T17:49:00.000-08:002013-11-12T17:49:27.322-08:00My Sons... My Daughter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SMLHKouGjMg/UoKvcFxo4VI/AAAAAAAADMo/6sciO60wYas/s1600/jamison.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SMLHKouGjMg/UoKvcFxo4VI/AAAAAAAADMo/6sciO60wYas/s1600/jamison.jpg" height="400" width="335" /></a></div>
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My thirty-three year old nephew posted this picture on his facebook page the other day along with this comment:</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; line-height: 18px;">This picture used to be in my house growing up. I really liked it then and I still do now. Shout out to the Pooh Bears in my life."</span></span></blockquote>
I have four nephews...sons. They are gifts from my three siblings. I gifted them with a niece...a daughter. They are warm, loving, sensitive individuals...all of them. They are responsible. They are kind and caring. They were the light in their grandparent's eyes. They continue to make mine shine. They give generous, unpretentious hugs and never leave me without pressing their soft warm lips upon my cheeks and reassuring me of their love. They provide friendship and support to one another and have a strong understanding of what the word "family" means. They struggle. They work every day to meet mortgage and car payments and all the other financial obligations that come with daily life. Like all of us, they try to make sense of their lives in this world on a daily basis.<br />
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I have four...sons. They are gifts from my three siblings. I gifted them with a daughter. And, I cannot understand how it is <i>reasonable</i> for anyone to believe they are a physical threat to the extent that they would do them harm, physically, emotionally or spiritually. But that is the argument which has been raised everywhere from the streets of New York City by the New York City Police Department, to a string of homicides from <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/topic/4dc2fa74-6396-4856-902f-a4e98d2d1451/trayvon-martin/" target="_blank">Trayvon Martin </a>to <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/24/nyregion/in-sean-bell-killing-4-officers-to-be-forced-out.html?_r=0" target="_blank">Sean Bell</a> to <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-201_162-57603215/" target="_blank">Jonathan Kerrick</a> to <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/US/renisha-mcbride-family-demands-conviction-autopsy-shows-shot/story?id=20863639" target="_blank">Renisha McBride</a>. That is the argument they have been confronted with on vehicular stops. That is the argument when they have been frisked in front of their dates. The argument is that by the very nature of their physical attributes--young, black with commanding physical presence--it is "<i><u>reasonable</u></i>" to believe they are a threat to society, should be viewed with suspicion, and handled accordingly. <br />
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I have four sons and a daughter...precious gifts. And, everyday I pray for their survival and that their steps be guided and guarded. <br />
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<br />Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-35128956215149088222013-10-09T18:55:00.003-07:002013-10-11T10:08:29.826-07:00Been Thinking...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-joGqEWWS_xg/UlXdHDbBINI/AAAAAAAADIM/fXkZ73IXA9M/s1600/Halloween_blog_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-joGqEWWS_xg/UlXdHDbBINI/AAAAAAAADIM/fXkZ73IXA9M/s400/Halloween_blog_edited-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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This morning I was listening to <a href="http://facingchange.org/ta-nehisi-coates/" target="_blank">Ta-Nehisi Coates</a>, a young man of extreme brilliance. If you are not familiar with him, today's blog at the Atlantic Monthly is a great place to start. It's titled <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/ta-nehisi-coates/" target="_blank">"The Fact of A Dual Society"</a> and was delivered at Harvard University's Shorenstein Center. I'm not going to attempt to articulate any of the talk, only where it took me. <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TyRdohmRNIE/UlfoSLFUgmI/AAAAAAAADJQ/FQ7k6Hlq8ag/s1600/kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TyRdohmRNIE/UlfoSLFUgmI/AAAAAAAADJQ/FQ7k6Hlq8ag/s200/kids.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r5Fx9-qMrJc/UlfqAPLHYgI/AAAAAAAADJk/MzgQAaxl85E/s1600/halloween-candy-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r5Fx9-qMrJc/UlfqAPLHYgI/AAAAAAAADJk/MzgQAaxl85E/s200/halloween-candy-small.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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Halloween and more specifically it's connection to slavery in the chocolate industry and the candy industry in the United States. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2Cg26eMiw6U/UlfrsOOGliI/AAAAAAAADJw/2FUP_Qf7EH0/s1600/chocolate_slavery_main1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2Cg26eMiw6U/UlfrsOOGliI/AAAAAAAADJw/2FUP_Qf7EH0/s320/chocolate_slavery_main1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Over the years journalists have attempted to shed light in these dark places where human trafficking and slavery continue to exist, but with very limited success.<br />
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Chocolate is a product of the cacao bean which grows primarily in the tropical climates of West Africa and Latin America. The cacao bean is more commonly referred to as cocoa, so that is the term we will use throughout. Two West African countries, Ghana and the Ivory Coast, supply 75% of the world’s cocoa market.<sup style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">[1]</sup> The cocoa they grow and harvest is sold to a variety of chocolate companies, including some of the largest in the world.</div>
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In recent years, a handful of organizations and journalists have exposed the widespread use of child labor, and in some cases slavery, on West African cocoa farms.<sup style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">[2,3]</sup> Since that time, the industry has become increasingly secretive, making it difficult for reporters to not only access farms where human rights violations still occur, but to then disseminate this information to the public. For example, in 2004 a journalist was kidnapped and remains missing today.<sup style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">[4]</sup> More recently, three journalists from a daily newspaper were detained by government authorities in the Ivory Coast after publishing an article about government corruption related to the cocoa industry.<sup style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">[5]</sup> The farms of West Africa supply cocoa to international giants such as Hershey’s, Mars and Nestlé – revealing the industry’s direct connection to child labor, human trafficking and slavery. (<a href="http://www.foodispower.org/slavery-in-the-chocolate-industry/" target="_blank">source</a>)</div>
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There are many thoughts on why we should, or should not, celebrate Halloween--with or without children. It is not my intention here to argue either side. I've only been delivered to this place by a gifted writer/orator and memories. I have fond memories of walking the streets and collecting pillowcases full of candy and other treats. I remember my grandmother making candied apples for her "specials". My warmest memories though are not of childhood "Trick or Treating". They are from watching my mother in her later years waiting in the living room by the door. For my mother, Halloween brought children to her door and children brought laughter. And though each year the numbers became fewer, she continued to wait to reward those that did. Her rewards consisted largely of pencils, novelty erasers or some change for their pockets. This was not because of any political awareness. It was because even though she had lost touch with much of the why and how of things, in her heart and in her soul she remained a teacher.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uOpg2qz3Mbk/UlgeSAxideI/AAAAAAAADKA/llvfO49mTXQ/s1600/Dorrothyhalloween.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uOpg2qz3Mbk/UlgeSAxideI/AAAAAAAADKA/llvfO49mTXQ/s200/Dorrothyhalloween.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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So, if you are inclined to provide something for the little goblins that knock on your door this Halloween, think of my mother. There are a host of options that can go into a bag. Options that provide opportunities for learning and laughter. It might also provide an opportunity to slip some information about why you have chosen other treats for them, or a note thanking them for their visit. What an opportunity to make a connection.<br />
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Here are also some sites for all kinds of ideas for alternate choices:<br />
<ul>
<li><a href="http://greenhalloween.org/content.php?page=treats" target="_blank">Green Halloween</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.trickortreatforunicef.org/" target="_blank">Trick or Treat for UNICEF</a></li>
<li><a href="http://mommiesofmiracles.com/halloween/" target="_blank">Mommies for Miracles</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.clemson.edu/extension/hgic/food/nutrition/nutrition/life_stages/hgic4112.html" target="_blank">HGIC 4112 Healthy Halloween</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.examiner.com/article/healthier-trick-or-treat-options" target="_blank">Healthier Trick or Treat Options</a></li>
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And after Halloween you can get your chocolate fix at one of these spots:<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4aPfJhkATXA/UlYBB_yQfCI/AAAAAAAADI8/RZalLVuBcHU/s1600/ma_pa.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4aPfJhkATXA/UlYBB_yQfCI/AAAAAAAADI8/RZalLVuBcHU/s200/ma_pa.gif" width="148" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.newmansownorganics.com/index.php" target="_blank">Newman's Own</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://mama-ganache.com/level.itml/icOid/176" target="_blank">Mama Ganache</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://shop.equalexchange.coop/" target="_blank">Equal Exchange</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 16px;"><a href="http://chocolatebar.com/" target="_blank">Endangered Species</a><br />
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You can also find a listing that reflects the most recent research of the Food Empowerment Project which does ongoing research into how our food choices can change the world. Their work involving child slavery is commendable. You can find a description of the categories <a href="http://appetiteforjustice.blogspot.com/2011/05/understanding-food-empowerment-projects.html" target="_blank">here</a>, and the actual lists <a href="http://www.foodispower.org/chocolate-list/" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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These may be a little pricey, but they don't come at the expense of someone else.<br />
Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-43404976617636274792013-08-20T10:36:00.000-07:002013-08-20T10:36:30.892-07:00Just A Huge Pile of Sadness!<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anymore I find myself overwhelmed with sadness. The kind that used to be crooned by singers of the '50s in those lay down and cry hope to die love songs. The kind of sadness that takes you to your bed pulling the covers up over your head. The kind sadness that leaves you silent-- unable to explain the reasons why you make me so sad. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can't wrap my arms around the trigger point, but I can say that the Zimmerman verdict left me pretty empty. But the Dream Defenders gave me a whole lot of hope. Then came the Jay Z/Belafonte fiasco. WOW!!! Now I know that there is not one of us who wants to get called out in public but really...</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #666666; font-style: italic; line-height: 24px; text-align: justify;">“</span><span style="color: #666666; font-style: italic; line-height: 24px; text-align: justify;">My presence is charity. Just who I am. Just like Obama’s is. Obama provides hope. Whether he does anything, the hope that he provides for a nation, and outside of America is enough. Just being who he is. ...</span><i><span style="color: white; line-height: 21px;">I</span><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"> felt Belafonte he just went about it wrong. Like the way he did it in the media, and then he big’d up Bruce Springsteen or somebody. And it was like, “whoa,” you just sent </span></span></i> <i><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">the wrong message all the way around…Bruce Springsteen is a great guy. You’re this Civil Rights activist and you just big’d up the white guy against me in the white media. And I’m not saying that in a racial way. I’m just saying what it is. The fact of what it was. And that was just the wrong way to go about it.</span><span style="line-height: 24px; text-align: justify;">”</span> </span></i></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And...</span><br />
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<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 21.237499237060547px;">"I'm just trying to find common ground/'Fore Mr. Belafonte come and cut a n--ga down/Mr. Day O, major fail/Respect these youngins boy, it's my time now/Hublot homie two door homie/You don't know all the sh-t I do for the homes</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 21.237499237060547px;">."</span> </span></i></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Really? Right here is where I have to say that this is why we, and our educational system have failed and continue to fail our children.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is a short clip of a documentary about Belafonte (UK produced by the way). Sad.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then, the other day I watched what Russell Simmons described as the "funniest thing he had ever seen"? Really. He has since "apologized" and removed it from his YouTube channel after much controversy. The video was titled the "Harriet Tubman Sextapes". The video is described as a "comedy parody" of Harriet Tubman having sex with her "master". So here's my take on this, and why it makes me so very sad.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yj2SMjySbv4/UhOWla5k6YI/AAAAAAAADE0/I5ejAer7mjw/s1600/simmons2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yj2SMjySbv4/UhOWla5k6YI/AAAAAAAADE0/I5ejAer7mjw/s1600/simmons2.jpg" height="200" width="147" /></span></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d8r-3qRdYHg/UhOWYY5WZ_I/AAAAAAAADEo/4fT4xiGttzU/s1600/Simmons1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d8r-3qRdYHg/UhOWYY5WZ_I/AAAAAAAADEo/4fT4xiGttzU/s1600/Simmons1.jpg" height="200" width="140" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was a period in our lives not suited for comedy or parody. Though there are some who have chosen to diminish the extreme relevance of it by reducing it to just that. In doing so, it has and continues to reduce all of our humanity. I certainly did not expect Russell Simmons to be a contributor to the continuance of this unfortunate part of our American legacy. Sad. Beyond sad when Mr. Simmons tweet is reduced to: "...I must be missing a sensitivity button." </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u-hLt53c4yE/UhOb3LSl7sI/AAAAAAAADFA/ZV3qZkBPnCw/s1600/simmons6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u-hLt53c4yE/UhOb3LSl7sI/AAAAAAAADFA/ZV3qZkBPnCw/s1600/simmons6.jpg" height="200" width="162" /></span></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E1JWJYx59UA/UhOcOAURz-I/AAAAAAAADFI/B7Wg-3JRalk/s1600/simmons7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E1JWJYx59UA/UhOcOAURz-I/AAAAAAAADFI/B7Wg-3JRalk/s1600/simmons7.jpg" height="200" width="132" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I think it's a little bigger then that because I don't believe for one minute that producing or supporting a comedy parody around any of these horrific acts ever crossed his mind. Sad, because he didn't see the similarities.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That jokes, parodies and disclaimers about the occurrence and severity of our vileness as human beings are usually left to those we believe to be less informed and who don't sit in positions of influence. At least that is what we hope. Sad when we recognize that's not the case. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Call me a hater but I'll be the first to say that I have the greatest respect for James and the Heat. Especially after they came out as they did for Trayvon. HOWEVER, this is all kind of ways wrong. If you go to this instagram <a href="http://instagram.com/p/dGCeGNiTFN/" target="_blank">post</a> you will hear James in the background. "Police escort on the wrong side of the street, need it..." And where's he going? <span style="color: red;"><u style="font-style: italic;"> The Jay Z concert in Miami Florida!!!</u> </span>The place many recording artist including Stevie Wonder and Bruce Springsteen (the one noted in the Harry Belafonte feud) are boycotting behind Stand Your Ground Laws. You can't make this stuff up. As Mandela would say:<i><u><span style="color: red;"> "You Can't Just Talk About It, You Got to BE ABOUT IT!!!"</span></u></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So folks, I'm about weighted down here under a huge pile of sadness guess I'll have to just "Cry me a River".</span></div>
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I love Stevie Wonder! He doesn't just talk about it, "he be about it"! When I read that Stevland Hardaway Morris, Mr. Wonderful, had announced that he would no longer play in Florida or any other state with "Stand Your Ground Laws", I was reminded of a different time... ground covered. I remember Roxanne Ellis and major protests at Hampton Institute. The late '60s and early '70s times of struggle and protesting to encourage, among other things, the divestiture of corporate interests in South Africa, raising our voices for the freedom of Nelson Mandela and the end to apartheid. I'm certain that to some this may seem a stretch. Certainly there are many who can not draw a parallel between what's happening in America today and South Africa of yesterday. To those I can only say that your reality is not mine; and I know that my reality is but a walk in the park for many of my sisters and brothers.</div>
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From where I stand, "Stop and Frisk" and ethnicity as probable cause to question a person's citizenship or right to be in this country are as much a violation to one's human dignity as having to carry a pass book. And the Supreme Court's gutting of the Voting Rights Act, which provided access to voting for thousands if not millions, has ushered in new more sophisticated mechanisms to disenfranchise the poor and seniors. The promise of desegregated schools and the perceived death of "separate but equal" have been replaced by the vile reality of de-facto segregation that resulted from the flight from inner cities and public institutions which has resulted in the loss of "good paying" jobs, ratables, the collapse of unions, the lack of resources and the ever growing pit of poverty of the communities as a result. Those of us who can/could have all run from these communities and the myriad complex issues that surround them. We run from them and we don't look back. And Sundays... and Sunday mornings remain the most segregated time across America. </div>
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But maybe worst of all is the selective application of laws like "Stand Your Ground" that render them nothing more than part of the Twenty-first century Black Codes. Read about Marissa Alexander <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-201_162-57433184/fla-mom-gets-20-years-for-firing-warning-shots/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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But then there comes the children...</div>
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And these children? God bless them! These courageous young men and women, these Dream Defenders who are "being about it". </div>
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"We found beauty in the dark. We found strength in our struggle, determination in our dispair. We are good kids growing up in mad cities. We started at the bottom, now we're here. We believe in freedom and we will not rest until it's won. The dream defenders welcome you to the dream era. Join Us. Bring your chisels, bring your paint brushes, bring your creativity, bring your light we've got some national redecorating to do!"</blockquote>
So for me, I'm all for redecorating. At least sprucing up a bit. But I still think Sun City is one of the greatest protest songs of our times. It was great to see Marvin Gaye and a younger Springsteen and Ringo Starr. That doesn't mean I'm not open to another to bind our hearts in struggle. I'm sure this younger generation can come up with something, and I'm willing to follow. But like I said before. I sure love me some Stevie Wonder!<br />
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Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-5818088349671289962013-07-14T21:00:00.000-07:002013-07-14T21:07:02.930-07:00Talking to myself... more oftenI've spent a great deal of time this morning reading articles about two separate events: The verdict in the George Zimmerman trial; and the erroneous reporting on the names of the captains who piloted the Asiana Airlines plane that crashed earlier this month.<br />
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From the start I knew I could not bear to watch the televised trial or listen to any of the reporting of Florida v. George Zimmerman. For me, the stage was set long before the "trial" but the results were solidified with the defense attorney's opening remarks--a joke. When the <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">trial </u>became the "Trayvon Martin Trial" it became pretty clear to me how we were painting the world (at least this corner of it). Semantics help us to create images, and they describe how we see the world and the world we create. We must always chose them carefully. Trayvon Martin should have never been on trial. But for many he was, and continues to be.<br />
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I think the most level statement I've read to date was the press release issued by Richard Cohen, president of the Southern Poverty Law Center: a response to verdict in <u style="font-weight: bold;">State of Florida v. George Zimmerman.</u><br />
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"Can we respect the jury verdict and still conclude that Zimmerman got away with killing Trayvon? I think so, even if we buy Zimmerman's story that Trayvon attacked him at some point. After all, who was responsible for initiating the tragic chain of events? Who was following whom? Who was carrying a gun? Who ignored the police urging that he stay in his car? Who thought that the other was one of 'them', someone about to get away with something?</div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); line-height: normal;"><br style="line-height: 1.25em;" />The jury has spoken, and we can respect its conclusion that the state did not prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt. But we cannot fail to speak out about the tragedy that occurred in Sanford, Florida on the night of February 26, 2012.<br style="line-height: 1.25em;" /><br style="line-height: 1.25em;" />Was race at the heart of it? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); line-height: normal;">Ask yourself this question: If Zimmerman had seen a white youth walking in the rain that evening, would he have seen him as one of 'them,' someone about to get away with something?</span> </div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); line-height: normal;">We'll never really know. <br style="line-height: 1.25em;" /><br style="line-height: 1.25em;" />Racial bias reverberates in our society like the primordial Big Bang. Some years ago, Rev. Jesse Jackson made the point in a dramatic way when he acknowledged that he feels a sense of relief when the footsteps he hears behind him in the dead of night turn out to belong to white feet. Social scientists who study our hidden biases make the same point in a more sober way with statistics that demonstrate that we are more likely to associate black people with negative words and imagery than we are white people. It's an association that devalues the humanity of black people -- particularly black youth like Trayvon Martin.<br style="line-height: 1.25em;" /><br style="line-height: 1.25em;" />George Zimmerman probably saw race the night of February 26, 2012, like too many others would have. Had he not, Trayvon probably would be alive today.<br style="line-height: 1.25em;" /><br style="line-height: 1.25em;" />The jury has spoken. Now, we must speak out against the systemic racism that still infects our society and distorts our perception of the world. And we must do something about it."</span></div>
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You can find it in its entirety <a href="http://www.splcenter.org/get-informed/news/press-statement-from-the-southern-poverty-law-center-in-response-to-verdict-in-sta" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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The second event also is another which highlights the cultural discord and our continuing inability to see others as simply "others". They are objects of amusement, even in the face of tragedy.</div>
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This a screen capture from an actual newscast reporting the names of the pilots in the Asiana crash earlier this month. There are a number of accounts on how this happened. No one seems to be in any hurry to resolve the matter. Only to absolve themselves and their organizations of any guilt. </div>
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This looks to me like one of those inappropriate e-mails generated by folks around a water cooler or at a local bar. It looks to me like one of those horrid e-mails that you get that leaves you wondering how you got on <u><i>this</i></u> list. Only this one... this one... got out of hand! This one actually made the air.</div>
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I cannot admit to you how many times I have received similarly racist emails. After deleting them, I can't admit to you how many times I have not taken the right next step. I didn't call and have a conversation about the inappropriateness of the e-mail. I didn't trust that the person/s who sent me the e-mail had enough humanity to understand why their missile was inappropriate. I thought as little of them as they thought of the "object" of their ridicule! That won't happen again.</div>
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Believe it or not, there are real conversations taking place across this country. All with one single agenda: creating communities where we can all live together. They are happening in large groups and small groups. They are taking place in large cities and small hamlets.</div>
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I'm not sure where we humans are on the evolutionary timeline. ( I can also respect that many people don't believe there is an evolutionary timeline.) I don't think we have forever to get it right: to get our greed in check; our self-absortion and all of the other ways of being that constantly motivate us to exploit our home planet and each other. We either learn to live together in mutual respect sharing the resources provided, or we die... together. Playing out our existence as if we truly believed that we cannot surpass our lower desire to remain Neanderthals. It's as simple and as complex as that.</div>
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Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-29915768964831570512013-06-26T17:09:00.000-07:002013-06-26T17:09:34.586-07:00The 2013 SABR Jerry Malloy Negro League Conference<br />
Ah, the Jerry Malloy Baseball Conference... Let me work on establishing some wonderfully joyful channels in my brain, rather than focusing on the insanity that seems to want to pervade!<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gNnlsG8fW0k/UctAhqgvpuI/AAAAAAAAC70/L6frCeYbr6o/s1600/IMG_8799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gNnlsG8fW0k/UctAhqgvpuI/AAAAAAAAC70/L6frCeYbr6o/s1600/IMG_8799.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lwA3wdU4Vqo/UctDQFupMMI/AAAAAAAAC8E/zsVcjsG3WQQ/s1600/IMG_8860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lwA3wdU4Vqo/UctDQFupMMI/AAAAAAAAC8E/zsVcjsG3WQQ/s1600/IMG_8860.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>The Society of American Baseball Research Conference was June 13th - 15th in Newark, New Jersey. It was truly a phenomenal conference. I enjoyed every minute of it. Maybe I'll see you there next year as the conference moves to Detroit.<br />
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I have a great deal of respect and admiration for the men and woman who continue to work tirelessly to shine light into the dark places where we have buried much of this countries history. It's not an easy job to unearth and chronicle some of this history, like that of the 1889 Cuban Giants (none of whom were Cuban); nor to talk about the rise of the Cubans from 1880-1885. I'm always triggered by the enthusiasm of these "historians" to ask the questions: why and how?</div>
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I always find the same answers. In detail, these men and women can articulate their journey from point A to B. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zKXrmLo0SeU/UctGZBRPACI/AAAAAAAAC8s/IEnEELkUBWg/s1600/IMG_8894.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zKXrmLo0SeU/UctGZBRPACI/AAAAAAAAC8s/IEnEELkUBWg/s1600/IMG_8894.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>Much the details of their journeys are different. Where they were, who inspired them, the miles they have traveled and the many libraries and stadiums they have visited. But it's not in the details of their journey where my heart finds resonance. Because the devil is truly in the details. </div>
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It's in every twist and turn, in every hurdle and obstacle that falls in the way. It's in the absence of a solid trail and in the void created by inattention. But the beauty, the resonance, is in our search to reclaim our common humanity by rebuilding our common history, by filling the void... story by story.</div>
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One of the things we all know is that everything goes better with kids.<br />
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SABR Jerry Malloy Negro League Conference was no different. The students of the Bowser School for Excellence in Newark provided conference participants some of the best of what Newark has to offer.</div>
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A corp of bright young citizens provided a performance complete with original scripting and music. They designed and produced a set, accompanying multi-media presentation, and original music that would be the envy of Kanye and Jay-Z. </div>
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It was a performance that provided a view of a reality of our schools that we don't get to see often and which the media does not usually report. The Bowser School students and staff demonstrated the kind of results they achieve through their hard work and dedication. They wove together children's learning that included a mastery of public speaking, language development, history and self discipline. They did all this while having fun. And believe me, we had fun with them. I feel privileged to have been a witness. <br />
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Thank You Bowser School. You honor your namesake as well as all of the men and women of the Negro Leagues you portrayed.<br />
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This one was quite special to me. He did an awesome job!</div>
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For more information about SABR and the Jerry Malloy Negro League Conference follow these links: </div>
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<a href="http://sabr.org/malloy" target="_blank">Society for American Baseball Research Jerry Malloy </a></div>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/496067240431585/" target="_blank">Jerry Malloy Conference on Facebook</a></div>
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Now I must confess I have never been a fan. The itch for me started somewhere during the long, long fought battle between Smithfield Tar Heel plant and it's employees who sought to unionize. <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">“I’m here to tell you that Smithfield Foods ordered me to fire employees who supported the union and that the company told me it was either my job or theirs,’’ Sherri Buffkin told the U.S. Senate Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions Committee in 2002. “I’m here because Smithfield Foods asked me to lie on an affidavit and made me choose between my job and telling the truth. I’m here today to tell you how Smithfield Foods sought out and punished employees because they were union supporters, and that the company remained true to its word that it would stop at nothing to keep the union out.” (source <a href="http://www.cis.org/SmithfieldImmigrationRaid-Unionization" target="_blank">Center for Immigration Studies</a></span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #42210b; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 24px;">"When workers seek to organize to protect themselves, meatpacking companies use tactics of fear, intimidation and interference to block union organizing efforts. For example, Smithfield Foods fired union supporters and threatened to close its massive hog slaughtering plant in Tar Heel, N.C., when workers there tried to form a union. Company police have targeted union supporters for harassment, arrests and beatings. Some of these violations of workers' organizing rights go back eight years, but National Labor Relations Board remedies have not been enforced." (source <a href="http://www.hrw.org/en/news/2005/08/02/meatpackings-human-toll" target="_blank">Human Rights Watch</a>)</span></blockquote>
Paula Deen was hired to promote Smithfield products. Her stated reason for "partnering" with Smithfield was because "it shared my family values and traditions." At that time, Paula Deen's cooking demonstrations and public appearances became the target of picketers and activist working on behalf of Smithfield Tar Heel plant workers. Towards the end of her Diane Rehm (NPR) interview in 2007 about a new book, Diane could not resist questioning her about conditions at Smithfield. Ms Deen demurred (I love that word.) "I have no particular expertise in these (labor) matters. I only have expertise in how ham tastes, and how it is processed." I must add that she stated this not once but several times, like a mantra. The hook, the trigger for me was when she was asked if now that this was brought to her attention, would she speak to the company. What would she do? Ms Deen again demurred, "I have no particular expertise in these matters." I must add here that Paula Deen is well, Paula Deen. She has a warm and engaging way of pulling you in (my heart warms and attaches), but then she pisses me off! If you can stomach it, the interview can be found at: <a href="http://thedianerehmshow.org/topic/religion?page=11" target="_blank">Diane Rehm: "Christmas with Paula Deen"</a>. Again you need to be able to listen to the entire interview, don't partition or take components out of context.<br />
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Paula Deen continued to represent and market Smithfield products never intervening in any area where she had no "expertise". The United Church of Christ passed resolutions urging congregates to pay attention to what was happening here. The DC Food Blog reported that cities of Boston, Chicago and Sommerville among others passed resolutions calling for removal of products produced in the Tar Heel plant. <a href="http://dcfoodblog.blogspot.com/2008/03/paula-deen-resolution-why-we-think-you.html" target="_blank">(source)</a> And, Paula herself was petitioned to intervene. But she continued to represent Smithfield. "...(she) had not expertise in these matters." That is until yesterday when Smithfield products decided that <b style="font-style: italic;">she </b>had to go.<br />
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The next itch was a little more recent and further illuminates her incredible hypocrisy. Now I don't have diabetes (or as my people would call it "the sugar"), but sympathize with those who do AND have eating habits that could lead me there. Paula Deen was diagnosed with T2 diabetes 3 years before she outed herself and ONLY after obtaining a $6 million "partnership agreement" with Norvo Nordisk the Danish company that produces the drug Victoza. I also don't normally reference things from FOX News. This excerpt from an interview conducted during that time with Donna Shaft, a marketing consultant struggling with T2 diabetis during that time is pretty telling--so today I will make an exception.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">“We of course don't know the terms of her contract with the drug company, but it seems either stupid or hypocritical of them to be endorsing the eating lifestyle she advocates. For her to publicly facilitate the illusion that a T2 can consume the quantities of fats and carbs and sugars she showcases, even occasionally, is nothing short of a dangerous abuse of the trust many in her audience place in her as an influential public figure.” (<a href="http://www.foxnews.com/entertainment/2012/01/19/diabetics-call-paula-deen-hypocrite-for-hiding-disease-while-promoting-sugar/" target="_blank">source)</a></span></blockquote>
Which brings us to the latest Lisa T. Jackson v. Paula Deen, Paula Deen Enterprises, LLC; The Lady & Sons, LLC; The Lady Enterprises, Inc.; Earl W. "Bubba" Heirs; and Uncle Bubba's Seafood and Oyster House, Inc. I find legal documents interesting. I also like to read statements in context. This particular document has been referenced quite a bit in the news and blogs. I read it. I was/am disgusted., but I am not surprised. Here's where you can find the entire document: <a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/148832518/Paula-Deen-Deposition-Testimony" target="_blank">Deposition Lisa T. Jackson v. Paula Deen et al</a><br />
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This is why I'm not surprised--<b><u><i>GONE WITH THE WIND</i></u></b>. Did you see it? Remember Scarlet? "I'll never be hungry again." Remember Rhett's line: "With enough courage, you can do without a reputation." Remember Scarlet, please Rhett don't leave me. Didn't see it? You must, or just watch as it plays it before our eyes. Paula does the BEST Scarlet ever! And the rest of us... well we play our parts. I'm not surprised at Paula being Paula. I'm just surprised at how long it took for it to be noticed... "Honey".Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-25221457001504299022013-06-05T19:57:00.000-07:002013-06-05T19:57:01.704-07:00Yet Again and Again...<br />
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In honor of John Carlos Birthday, I'm reposting this article to my blog. I originally posted it in 2012. Hope you'll find it worth a few minutes.</div>
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I suppose for the most part we could call this an oxymoron. A painful one. I find the arena of the athlete, no matter the country more and more difficult to watch. I find myself lost in cynicism. I can remember my father's final days still being able to lie in the bed and enjoy a good baseball game. I didn't get it. But what I know now is that those games were being played out in a different part of his mind and his body. There was actually a process of displacement. Every throw of the ball and every crack of the bat triggered a memory that displaced the one on the screen and replaced it with a young, long lean athlete. One, who took to the fields at another time in this country where segregation was the rule of law; and yet they played THEIR game. And one that gathered them and their families together to follow the sun to countries of Latin America to play winter ball and be hailed as heroes.</div>
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But I don't want to dwell on the seedy side of sport. I want to elevate the heroes. Those that allow us to speak of the nobility of the athlete and the contribution that he/she has made on and off the field. Those who make my heart jump and bring me to my feet. Those who have grabbed their moment in time, at great sacrifice, expose the harsh lines that separate us as human beings, and forced us to have to bend our perception of reality, wrestle it to the ground and force it to succumb to truth. These are the ones that kept me up last night.</div>
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Listen to a few words from Dr. Harry Edwards, then click on the links below to check out some videos.</div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large;">There was John Carlos and Tommie Smith...</span></div>
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I'm having a hard time moving away from the story '68 Olympics this year. It continues to resonate in my heart and travels deeply into my soul. Maybe it's the recent publication of The John Carlos Story, his book written with <a href="http://www.thenation.com/blogs/dave-zirin" target="_blank">Dave Zirin</a>. The great respect I have for all of these men.</div>
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<a href="http://www.haymarketbooks.org/hc/The-John-Carlos-Story" target="_blank">Order Here</a></div>
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Maybe it's because it was also my time in history. I was a sophomore in college at the time.</div>
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Maybe it's because it allows me some kind of molecular connection that I can maintain to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Stockton-College-G-Larry-James-Legacy-Fund/138663409539023?sk=info" target="_blank">G. Larry James</a>, "the mighty burner" himself a '68 Olympian. A man so dear, a friend with a heart of pure gold, whose song was song all to softly, and who left us all too soon.</div>
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I remember the 40th Anniversary, the return to Mexico.</div>
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The celebrations, the honors, the "redemption".</div>
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But today I relearned a very important lesson. We cannot be one story people. It destroys the human experience. It denies our growth. It makes us less than complete. The rest of that lesson: we are not the author's of the stories of others. Our job is to listen, with an open and willing heart. To hear the truth from another perspective, to honor it as another's truth and allow it to come into our hearts. And it is an honor to hear the story from the author of the life. It is a responsibility to "pass it on" with the honesty and integrity with which it is told.</div>
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My last "again"... on the '68 Olympics is that there were 3 men who stood on that podium that day. One who is too often forgotten, but one whose image though muted is as strong as any other. There were three men. John Carlos, Tommie Smith and Peter Norman;</div>
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Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-50828801319373136272013-04-06T10:41:00.000-07:002013-04-06T14:38:55.535-07:00Just Sayin'<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I listened to Rutger's president, Barchi yesterday with my mouth open... wide open. "I want to be clear. I did not fire him (Mike Rice) for cause." He further stated that there was nothing in the Rutger's University policy that would allow him to do that. (That last sentence is a paraphrase.) But here's the thing, at least for me. When I look at these tapes there appears to be numerous incidences of assault taking place. They are violent and they are repetitive. Even if we examine them contextually, they are over the top. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">An even larger issue is the statement of Barchi as it attempting to explain why he never viewed the tapes. Why he relied so heavily on the inside and outside counsel; why he relied on Pernetti. It was because no one else: not the players or "anyone else in the gymnasium" that witnessed any or all of these acts complained. Although there was some question from reporters if others were in the room, Barchi insists there were. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px; text-decoration: underline;">He also insists that no one complained or brought this to his attention</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">. That's pretty frightening. Because what I take away from that is that this abhorent behavior is more strongly a part of the culture and in keeping with the Rutgers' way than not; and that no one will stand up to it. (unless they are denied $950,000) This is pretty scary stuff, especially at a public institution. Either folks thought that this was just what we do here or there was some level of fear in reporting it. For all we know, going to watch basketball players be trashed and humiliated may, for some, have been part of the entertainment for the day. Am I supposed to believe that professors allowed to use books, rather than basketballs, when attempting to get students to understand course material?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And President Barchi has a record of being sensitive to minority issues; especially those of the LGBT community. So it really puzzles me that when hearing that "homophobic slurs" were used </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px; text-decoration: underline;">repeatedly</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> at basketball practices, by school leadership; and knowing that these practices were open; and knowing that there were other members of the school community present that there was no desire to take a few minutes to look at the video tapes. It takes more than building a Tyler Clementi Center to create an accepting culture a reality. It’s a great gesture. It’s a step in the right direction; but it really isn’t about a building. It’s about the hard stuff: addressing destructive behaviors </span></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">“Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">―</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/23924.Martin_Luther_King_Jr_" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">Martin Luther King, Jr.</a></span></b></div>
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Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-35924404609391075142012-12-12T16:57:00.001-08:002012-12-20T18:29:39.080-08:00What's Cuter Than a Second Grader?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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What's cuter than a second grader? Eighty-eight second graders, eager and ready to learn. What a joy-full afternoon! I was invited to South Main Street School in Pleasantville, NJ to collect 88 cards from the second graders who had so lovingly made them and their teachers who thoughtfully guided them.<br />
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I took along books and pictures to share. They were appropriately curious and excited about new discoveries. Their little bodies squirmed and wiggled like mine does when the energy to see and take it all in is just too much to contain. They shared with each other generously even when their turn to hold on to the picture seemed too short, and they wanted just one more minute.<br />
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One of my hopes is that some of my favorite books become some of their favorites. You've got to go pretty far to beat the artwork of award-winning artist, Kadir Nelson, and so "<a href="http://www.kadirnelson.com/Books.html#page2" target="_blank"><u>We Are the Ship"</u> </a>takes a front row seat. Although the text is a reach for a second grader, the illustrations captivate any age!<br />
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Also sitting front row is this gem... Perfect for kiddos!</div>
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Leagues Apart is a little harder to find, especially in hardcover. Former New Yorker illustrator did a great job with this award winner.</div>
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But back to the kids. I'm sure they were all that could have filled a heart broken by a torn rotator cuff. Because a teacher is what he really was. Not necessarily in how we see or image them to, but as THEY really are. TEACHERS teach in every moment of their lives and in aspects of their lives. They explore each moment as a "teachable moment" and live as if someone is always watching. Because "someone" always is.</div>
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I'm reminded of that each time I walk into a classroom. I am reminded each time I share his story in ways his humility would never allow him. In ways that none of the "true" heroes would. </div>
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I'm reminded of our heroes, especially the men and women of the Negro Leagues whenever I see I child searching for a path to follow, a story that could be theirs. When I see children, our children looking for a hero that looks and lives as they do, I share the missing stories of their history. Because in those stories, they can find themselves and know how rich their lives are and what a powerful legacy they have inherited.</div>
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And on those days... I am fulfilled! </div>
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<br />Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-3997819212563958042012-12-08T17:39:00.000-08:002012-12-21T11:52:06.454-08:00How do You Honor 90 Years?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3oNz87jmAVs" target="_blank">John Henry "Pop" Lloyd Committee</a> published: "Out of the Shadows", Gils Wright, formerly with the New Jersey Historical Society, included these words in his introduction:</div>
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"This work of art thus serves as an impediment to historical amnesia; it is a reminder that black baseball players were historical actors in a story that was truly dramatic and compelling, a story of black athletes who excelled in the face of racial bigotry and adversity who demonstrated beyond a shadow of a doubt that their mastery of the art of playing baseball was inferior to no one..."</blockquote>
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On December 20th, the former <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philadelphia_Stars_(baseball)" target="_blank">Philadelphia Stars</a> player, Mahlon Duckett will turn 90 years old. Duckett continues to live in Philadelphia where he grew up and attended Overbrook High School. </div>
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So, what do you give a 90 year old, former Negro League Player from Philadelphia for his birthday? A man who happens to be the last living player for the <a href="http://mlb.mlb.com/mlb/history/mlb_negro_leagues_teams.jsp" target="_blank">Philadelphia Stars</a>. One of the few living Negro League players who played in <a href="http://www.negroleaguebaseball.com/history101.html" target="_blank">Rube Foster's powerful social and economic construct </a>that served as a focal point for the African-American community prior to "integration". </div>
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One of the few living pioneers who can remember the <a href="http://www.baseball-reference.com/bullpen/1946_Negro_World_Series" target="_blank">1946 Negro League World Series</a>, and the 1946 Newark Eagles believed by many to have been "one of baseball's all time greatest franchises".<br />
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"The ’46 Eagles showcased a collection of players that rivaled any ever assembled. At first base was Lennie Pearson, owner of a gaudy .393 average in the series. Up the middle was Pearson’s high school friend, shortstop Monte Irvin, who led the Negro National League in runs batted in that year. He would go on to win a World Series ring with the ’51 New York Giants. His double play partner, Larry Doby, would be the first African American to play in the American League, where he won two home run titles.</div>
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The pitching staff included Leon Day, who marked his return from two years of war service by pitching a no-hitter on opening day that season. Another war veteran in the group, Max Manning, used a deceptive sidearm delivery to rack up an 11-1 record in ’46.</div>
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Three members of the ’46 team – Day, Doby and Irvin – would go on to be enshrined with the sport’s all-time greats in the Baseball Hall of Fame. There they would be joined by two other Eagles: Ray Dandridge, regarded as one of the best third basemen in any league, and shortstop Willie Wells, who anchored the team’s “Million Dollar Infield” in the late ‘30s. Even the team’s co-owner and business manager, Effa Manley, would be remembered as an extra-ordinary pioneer in the male-dominated world of baseball." <u>Soaring Eagles, Newark and the Negro Leagues</u></div>
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And Mahlon Duckett can describe for you what it was like at a packed stadium during the <a href="http://www.larrylester42.com/intro-black-baseball-s-national-showcase" target="_blank">Negro League East/West All Star Game</a>.<br />
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Since it's formation in '90s, Mahlon Duckett has been an vital part of the work of the <a href="http://www.popsballyard.org/" target="_blank">John Henry "Pop" Lloyd Committee</a>, and has made yearly journeys to <a href="http://www.atlanticcityweekly.com/arts-and-entertainment/sports/Beloved-Pop-Lloyd-173534611.html" target="_blank">Atlantic City</a> to share his knowledge, his warmth and his unmatchable generous spirit.<br />
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Believe me, Mahlon Duckett has all the ties, shirts, sharp suits, slippers and soaps-on-a-rope anyone could ever need. He's got enough books, radios, magazine and newspaper subscriptions. So, how do we honor the birth of this man 90 years ago? We say "thank you", for his contributions to our legacy. We say "thank you" for that sweet and gentle spirit that has only modeled dignity, humility and strength of character. We then share his story and those of the men and women of the Negro Leagues so they are never forgotten.</div>
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Take a few moments to send Mahlon Duckett a birthday wish. We're collecting 90 cards for 90 years. Add your name to the numbers.</div>
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Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-46546742415510496832012-09-15T04:52:00.000-07:002012-12-20T18:32:44.588-08:00Don't tell me you can't... Just Keep It Movin'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today marks the 49th anniversary of the bombing of the 16th avenue Baptist Church. Here's why that's important...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;">The Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham was used as a meeting-place for civil rights leaders such as Martin Luther King, Ralph David Abernathy and Fred Shutterworth. Tensions became high when the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) and the Congress on Racial Equality (CORE) became involved in a campaign to register African American to vote in Birmingham.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;">On Sunday, 15th September, 1963, a white man was seen getting out of a white and turquoise Chevrolet car and placing a box under the steps of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church. Soon afterwards, at 10.22 a.m., the bomb exploded killing Denise McNair (11), Addie Mae Collins (14), Carole Robertson (14) and Cynthia Wesley (14). The four girls had been attending Sunday school classes at the church. Twenty-three other people were also hurt by the blast.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;">A witness identified Robert Chambliss, a member of the Ku Klux Klan, as the man who placed the bomb under the steps of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church. He was arrested and charged with murder and possessing a box of 122 sticks of dynamite without a permit. On 8th October, 1963, Chambliss was found not guilty of murder and received a hundred-dollar fine and a six-month jail sentence for having the dynamite.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;">The case was unsolved until Bill Baxley was elected attorney general of Alabama. He requested the original Federal Bureau of Investigation files on the case and discovered that the organization had accumulated a great deal of evidence against Chambliss that had not been used in the original trial.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;">In November, 1977 Chambliss was tried once again for the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing. Now aged 73, Chambliss was found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment. Chambliss died in an Alabama prison on 29th October, 1985.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;">On 17th May, 2000, the FBI announced that the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing had been carried out by the Ku Klux Klan splinter group, the Cahaba Boys. It was claimed that four men, Robert Chambliss, Herman Cash, Thomas Blanton and Bobby Cherry had been responsible for the crime. Cash was dead but Blanton and Cherry were arrested and Blanton has since been tried and convicted. Cherry was deemed unfit to stand trial.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;">Human Rights, Basic Dignity and Justice have not been easy roads. But we put on our armour and we walk them anyway. The obstacles become different and so we must remove them differently, BUT WE KEEP IT MOVIN'. So as legal challenges are being mounted in the courts, we need to make sure that Senior Centers are being attended to so that our seniors can get their pass books (oops sorry, I mean voter ID). We need to canvas our friends and neighbors to ensure they are registered and have the identification they need. We need to talk to our young adults before they get to involved in their studies to make sure they have either registered to vote by mail; will be coming home to vote or have the proper identification to vote where they are. And by the way, if you live in one of the 26 states that now require pass books (Darn, I mean voter IDs) you need to figure out what you need! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The bottom line: KEEP THIS TRAIN MOVIN' It's not only a responsibility, it's an obligation.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></span>Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-72813443509511361472012-07-17T18:52:00.000-07:002012-07-17T18:52:07.351-07:00Putting it SomewhereSometimes I get all this stuff jumbled up in my head and I just got to put it somewhere. It comes from gobbling up volumes of information and then stewing over it. Or maybe I stew in it, or maybe I become the stew. I found this quote this morning:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">"He in whom the love of truth predominates will keep himself aloof from the moorings, and afloat. He will abstain from dogmatism, and recognize all the opposite negations between which, as walls, his being is swung." -Ralph Waldo Emerson</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> </span></span></blockquote>
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It didn't help clear up anything. It was just something else to put somewhere. When I used to have these kinds of questions I'd ask my Dad, "Does this happen to everybody?". Standard answer: "What do I know?" I don't know either, but what I do know is that I got to put it somewhere. Twitter doesn't work--tweets to short. Facebook is truly a "Social Network" and I think folks get REAL TIRED of my stuff. Especially when the general discussion is focused on the next 'event', or the heat index for the day. SO, since it's got to go somewhere, here goes...</div>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-myrIa8-01Qk/UAXr78mtuDI/AAAAAAAACko/PVkXgwCYJ9w/s1600/600-prison-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-myrIa8-01Qk/UAXr78mtuDI/AAAAAAAACko/PVkXgwCYJ9w/s1600/600-prison-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"> </a><br />
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Our education, housing and job's programs:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-myrIa8-01Qk/UAXr78mtuDI/AAAAAAAACko/PVkXgwCYJ9w/s1600/600-prison-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-myrIa8-01Qk/UAXr78mtuDI/AAAAAAAACko/PVkXgwCYJ9w/s320/600-prison-1.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"The Corrections Corporation of America, the largest private prison corporation, has proposed to 48 state governors that it will operate their prison systems for 20 years with a guaranteed 90% occupancy rate. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">A majority of those incarcerated have committed non violent crimes."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Marian Wright Edelman </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Children's Defense Fund</span></div>
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An alternate strategy..</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p7b7xugjBmQ/UAVHeb4qiwI/AAAAAAAACkU/MCfJZAC0EPo/s1600/chicago.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p7b7xugjBmQ/UAVHeb4qiwI/AAAAAAAACkU/MCfJZAC0EPo/s200/chicago.png" width="190" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/06/16/chicago-homicide-rate-wor_n_1602692.html" target="_blank">"The war zone-like statistics are not new</a>. As WBEZ reports, while some 2,000 U.S. troops have been killed in Afghanistan since 2001,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><a href="http://www.wbez.org/blogs/bez/2012-06/truth-numbers-former-gang-members-discuss-reality-chicagos-rising-homicide-numbers" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; color: #00614f; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none;" target="_hplink">more than 5,000 people have been killed by gun fire in Chicago during that time</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">, based on Department of Defense</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">and FBI data."</span></blockquote>
- full article <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/06/16/chicago-homicide-rate-wor_n_1602692.html" target="_blank">Chicago Homicide Rate Worse than Kabul...</a> and video <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/06/16/chicago-homicide-rate-wor_n_1602692.html" target="_blank">here</a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Vonness Bold Compressed', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">"All of the violence that is taking place in Chicago and other urban cities is not about gangs and crews. It is about the convergence of massive and generational poverty, under-education, addiction, a culture of violence to solve problems, lack of opportunity and unemployment, and oh yeah....lack of hope...on a packed city when it gets hot."</span></blockquote>
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The entire article,<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1402002759"> </a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 43px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><u><a href="http://www.blackamericaweb.com/content/raise-hell-about-chicago-violence" target="_blank">Raise Hell About Chicago Violence</a></u>, </span></span>written by Jeff Johnson can be found <a href="http://www.blackamericaweb.com/content/raise-hell-about-chicago-violence" target="_blank">here</a>. </blockquote>
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And then there was this:<br />
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And who could go a day without being assaulted by:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">"I think it can now be said, without equivocation ... that this man hates this country. He is trying -- Barack Obama is trying -- to dismantle, brick by brick, the American dream. There's no other way to put this. There's no other way to explain this. He was indoctrinated as a child. His father was a communist. His mother was a leftist. He was sent to prep and Ivy League schools where his contempt for the country was reinforced...". </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">-Rush Limbaugh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">There appears to be a major move to complicate the voting process for American citizens by requiring some form of voter's id. When does a "right" no longer look/feel like a "right?</span></span></div>
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More information on voter identification movement can be found at the<a href="http://www.ncsl.org/legislatures-elections/elections/voter-id.aspx" target="_blank"> National Conference of State Legislatures</a>.</blockquote>
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Staying with this 2012 Election campaign (which would really be laughable, if it were a comedy show) take a look at this:</div>
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Yes, there's been quite a bit of discussion about Romney being booed at the NAACP conference. Personally, I thought it a little rude and that wasn't even the real highlight of the engagement (to me). The real "moment" was his standing ovation. It didn't get much play. Now if I were a conspiracy theorist, I would be thinking like this guy--AnimalNewYork.com. I would have been wondering: "Hmmm, what is that Karl Rove up to?"</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/45729323" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/45729323">Ill Doctrine: Mitt Romney's Blackest Week Ever</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/animalnewyork">ANIMALNewYork.com</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
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You see, it wasn't about the NAACP Conference at all. That was the set up for his speech the next night in Montana. This is how he described the previous nights experience:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"When I mentioned I am going to get rid of Obamacare they weren’t happy, I didn’t get the same response. That’s O.K, I want people to know what I stand for and if I don’t stand for what they want, go vote for someone else, that’s just fine…</span> </span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But I hope people understand this, your friends who like Obamacare, you remind them of this, if they want more stuff from government tell them to go vote for the other guy — more free stuff."</span></span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1402002835">excerpt from:</a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1402002835">Romney's 'Free Stuff' Speech Is a New Low</a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://readersupportednews.org/opinion2/277-75/12382-romneys-free-stuff-speech-is-a-new-low" target="_blank">by Matt Taibbi, Rolling Stone </a></span></div>
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One of the journalist I read regularly is Dave Zirin. This was a response I wrote to Dave's recent article: <a href="http://www.thenation.com/blog/168853/shocking-truth-about-joe-paterno-penn-state-and-governor-tom-corbett" target="_blank">Shocking Truth About Joe Paterno, Penn State and Tom Corbett</a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><u>The Freeh Report: A Picture of Who We Have Become</u></b></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> -You know, Dave, after reading The Freeh Report, I am struck most by how very much "Happy Valley" is a perfect microcosim of who we have become as a nation. We talk about how important our children are to us; but when it comes to allocating resources to nourish and protect them... not so much. We talk about honesty and integrity but when it stands between us and $... not so much. A culture that supports concealing criminals is pervasive. In "higher" circles we don't describe it as snitching, and no one is giving out t-shirts encouraging alternate behavior. This report comes complete with representation from all walks of American life, and they played out their roles as if scripted. From the politicians to the janitors, each in turn uttered their predictable lines, and scrificed our children. Unfortunately, if I am honest with myself, I cannot say that any of it surprises me. I have seen it all before. I see it every day. And unfortunately, I cannot say that I would be surprised if I didn't see it repeated again...and again. Because as ugly as it is, as hard as it is to look at, it is who we have become. Over the coming days, months and years there will be the struggle to paint over the soiled picture and return it to a pretentious "happy" pastels. There will also be the ever present need to close our eyes and just turn away. But there will also be those who continue to say NO to the status quo, and those voices are the glimmer of hope for us and our children.</span></span></div>
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So there you have it. Maybe you can sort it out. "What do I know?"</div>
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<br />Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-9861553963166983432012-07-02T07:56:00.000-07:002012-07-02T07:56:51.390-07:00Less we Forget...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_wa6peB27NU/T_G1zppV5lI/AAAAAAAACj0/nk2OToP7Izk/s1600/marshall+portrait.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_wa6peB27NU/T_G1zppV5lI/AAAAAAAACj0/nk2OToP7Izk/s320/marshall+portrait.png" width="264" /></a></div>
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Today is the birthday of the brilliant attorney and former Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall. Somehow, he often gets lost in the discussions of great minds and men of character and high moral standards. I mean, when you think about it, how much do we know about him? How many times have you heard any of segments of his many legal arguments before the Supreme Court quoted? Many of us are familiar with the fact that Justice Marshall argued the famous Brown vs Board of Education, ending the notion of separate but equal as de facto law in public education; and overturning Plessy v Ferguson. But what of the other arguments presented before the Supreme Court by the young lawyer from Baltimore. Given that he made 32 arguments as head of the NAACP Legal Defense fund there surely must be something of note there. And, given that of those 32 arguments he won 29. This record remains unmatched by <i><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">any</span></u></b></i> lawyer. I'd say he was really throwing down!<br />
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With the advent of access through the internet, we have the opportunity to hear his voice through YouTube interview and other resources. You can listen to the American Public Radio documentary: <a href="http://americanradioworks.publicradio.org/features/marshall/" target="_blank">Thurgood Marshall Before the Court </a>. You can readily, share some of these resources with your children. It's something that can help them answer the question: "What did you do on your summer vacation?" It can help to balance out over exposure to "Housewives of...", "Basketball Wives" or any of the other "reality" shows they consume daily. It can provide a jump off point for conversations.<br />
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Two of my favorite YouTube videos (and they're pretty short) provide a picture of the man that was Justice Marshall:<br />
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Here, Constance Baker Motley talks about her times working with Thurgood Marshall. This interview provides a rare and unique picture of the man as a strategist, orator, humanist, teacher, mentor and cook! </div>
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This clip gives voice to the universality of Marshall's stand for justice. His campaign was not only for rights of African-Americans but also for women and other disenfranchised.<br />
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So, today treat yourself to a bit of Thurgood Marshall. I guarantee you'll look for more.<br />
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Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-62614249053330945472012-02-21T09:58:00.000-08:002012-02-21T09:58:03.557-08:00Ode to the "short month"... Otherwise called Black History Month<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Pleasantville-My Home-The Place I Knew</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">It’s funny how my father always called this “the short month”: Not February, or Black History Month... the short month. It was a standard joke. February was his busiest month because EVERYBODY needed someone to speak for their “Black History Month Programs”. By March 1, he was always exhausted. After some time he just started saying: “No thanks.” Well, I’ve had a lot of “No thanks” moments this month. Mostly about moments in MY history which I don’t care to memorialize in a Hallelujah kind of way, or relegate to a sale week or a time set aside to “think” about what was, in a place where I was.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">For me, history is of no value unless you do something with or about it. You can count me out of the “short month” if our lives are not a CONSTANT struggle to figure out how to live and grow in community and evolve into the fullest of human beings God intended. </span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">I grew up in the small town of Pleasantville. I could/would walk it. From one end near the mental hospital to the far end where the pool was concreted in so “coloreds” couldn’t swim there. As a real young kid my community was quite smaller and everyone watched. It’s funny that no one needed special training. We all just watched out for each other. </span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">I remember a hurried breakfast on school days and running around the corner to school--Park Avenue School. A short walk down the street, around the curve in the corner, past my grandparent’s home a few doors down, a left hand turn and a couple yards down the street.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Birthdays were special because it was also my grandfather’s birthday. He was always on the porch that morning. He’d greet me with a “Happy Birthday, girl” and I’d always say the same thing: “Same to you.” </span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">I come from a family of teachers. My grandfather taught 6th grade at Park Avenue School, as did his neighbor Eliza Mack and my brother’s godmother Marianna Hunter. It was a safe place for me... and most I suppose. But that’s not a part of this story except that Park Avenue School is no longer standing. For the most part, it’s an empty lot.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">On Saturday morning, breakfast was always special. I could walk out the back door, through the back yard, and down the dirt road to Mr. Brownridge’s Fish store. He’d be back from fishing by 8 or 9 AM. I can even remember what we usually got: Spots, porgies, whitings, head’s off and split. And of course some conversation that always started off with a question about school. By the way, that dirt road is still a dirt road but Mr Brownridge, nor his store, are there anymore. It runs a paved bike path, too often littered with broken glass.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">I grew up in a community where I could go out my back door, cross the railroad tracks and walk two blocks to a local library. It was one room, filled with heavily handled books. There was one large table and quite a few chairs. I never knew, ‘til I was quite older, that there were only children’s books and young adult books there and that the Library was her home. All I knew was there were tons of books that I could take home and bring back the next week. And I did. I grew up in a community where the constant message that I heard EVERYDAY from EVERYONE was: “If you can learn to read, you can do ANYTHING.” But, that’s not why I learned to read. I learned to read because I was a dreamer with a huge imagination. I learned to read because books would transport me to another time and another place. I learned to read because I loved the pictures it helped me to create about unimaginable tales and live them out in my mind. That library is no longer there, nor is the house, and I can’t remember “my librarian’s” name.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">I grew up in a community, in a church that consisted of one large room (the sanctuary), a bathroom and a kitchen. For celebrations that required “feasts”, the sanctuary became the dining hall. For children’s pagents and plays: it became a theatre. For important discussions: it became the town hall. We kids were always there, packed shoulder to shoulder, licking our lips and listening to grown folks. I listened to grown folks talk about the challenges of the day, debate the solutions and organize to solve the problems. Whether the issues were about schools, or parks and recreation or how to get together to build on addition to the building, we were there. And on Saturday afternoon, when the men came together to build on that addition, we were there. That’s how we learned.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">So what is my point. My point is they aren’t there. Our children are not there and neither are we. Many in our communities work too hard away from our homes and the responsibility to parent and build community has been left to the street. There’s no income for nannies, (sometimes no nanny), we don’t know our neighbors and are afraid to do anything but mind our business. We haven’t learned that we need to fix this particular issue somehow, and not with an i-Whatever, x-Whatever, or the newest PS- Something. That’s not to say that the world of electronics and it’s importance in building the world and our minds has no place. Our “gadgets/tools” are not the enemy, and in many cases they are not even a luxury, but we need to define how and when they are used and useful, or they will define us.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bigger isn’t always better, nor is faster. WHAT WORKS? Not what works next door or in the next town. WHAT WORKS HERE? What is it that we know about the past that we can use to inform the future? How do people learn to create, learn and live together in community?</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span></div><div class="p2"><br />
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</span></b></div>Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2079959591447637713.post-72421709155921726502012-02-20T17:21:00.000-08:002012-02-20T17:21:35.999-08:00Historical Blindspots and Amnesia...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="74" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a8nauYW70kE/T0Ltr3g-fMI/AAAAAAAACi4/twpADrVx2gk/s320/interment.png" width="320" /><a href="http://www.pbs.org/childofcamp/history/index.html" target="_blank">http://www.pbs.org/childofcamp/history/index.html</a></div>On February 9, 1942 Executive Order 9066 was issued by the United States government calling for the interment of all American citizens of Japanese origin. And although this is the short month, "Black History Month" it's still worth noting and recalling to our attention as a tragic day in American History that should never be repeated. This video is still available on WHYY for viewing. The documentary can be viewed by clicking the link above.<br />
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From the introduction to this documentary:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small;">The order set into motion the exclusion from certain areas, and the evacuation and mass incarceration of 120,000 persons of Japanese ancestry living on the West Coast, most of whom were U.S. citizens or legal permanent resident aliens.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small;">These Japanese Americans, half of whom were children, were incarcerated for up to 4 years, without due process of law or any factual basis, in bleak, <a href="http://www.pbs.org/childofcamp/history/camps.html">remote camps</a> surrounded by barbed wire and armed guards.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small;">They were forced to evacuate their homes and leave their jobs; in some cases family members were separated and put into different camps. President Roosevelt himself called the 10 facilities "concentration camps."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small;">Some Japanese Americans died in the camps due to inadequate medical care and the emotional stresses they encountered. Several were killed by military guards posted for allegedly resisting orders.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: x-small;">At the time, Executive Order 9066 was justified as a "military necessity" to protect against domestic espionage and sabotage. However, it was later documented that "our government had in its possession proof that not one Japanese American, citizen or not, had engaged in espionage, not one had committed any act of sabotage." (Michi Weglyn, 1976).</span><br />
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</span></div></blockquote>Belinda Manninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08239486017568065631noreply@blogger.com0