My Sons... My Daughter

My thirty-three year old nephew posted this picture on his facebook page the other day along with this comment:

"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."

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.

I have four...sons.  They are gifts from my three siblings.  I gifted them with a daughter.  And, I cannot understand how it is reasonable 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 Trayvon Martin to  Sean Bell to Jonathan Kerrick to Renisha McBride. 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 "reasonable" to believe they are a threat to society, should be viewed with suspicion, and handled accordingly.

I have four sons and a daughter...precious gifts.  And, everyday I pray for their survival and that their steps be guided and guarded.

Yet Again and Again...

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.

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.

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.

Listen to a few words from Dr. Harry Edwards, then click on the links below to check out some videos.

There was John Carlos and Tommie Smith...

And there was also...  Peter Norman.

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 Dave Zirin.  The great respect I have for all of these men.

Order Here

Maybe it's because it was also my time in history.  I was a sophomore in college at the time.

Maybe it's because it allows me some kind of molecular connection that I can maintain to G. Larry James, "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.

I remember the 40th Anniversary, the return to Mexico.

The celebrations, the honors, the "redemption".

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.

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;

Just Sayin'

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.  

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.  He also insists that no one complained or brought this to his attention.  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?

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 repeatedly 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 

“Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.” 
― Martin Luther King, Jr.