SEEN/HEARD
(The Very Invaluable Reality Check)

Don't really want to quote this one; just have to tell it as it happened. Was in the grocery store in Brownsville/Bed-Sty yesterday. A woman and her teenage daughter ahead of me were having difficulties. Apparently the woman did not have enough money on her EBT card. She also had some other type of card, but it was not sufficient enough. After several attempts at swiping the card and also putting a few things back, the woman gave up and left the store without the groceries.

The woman's clothes were not tattered, nor did she or her daughter appear to be destitute or poverty stricken (but don't get it twisted; they were not wearing Baby Phat or Prada, like many people think welfare recipients do). They were neat, clean and looked like "ordinary people."

Been a little sheltered for a minute now. In the military, one becomes blindly accustomed to "three hots, a cot, and steady check with benefits," dangerously oblivious to the realities of life. This can cause the average soldier, sailor, etc. to look down on those who struggle in civilian life. So over the past 16 months, my thinking has been a little jaded.

But I was never naive.

Yes, I always knew that people go hungry everyday, even while the US spends millions on millions in Iraq and Afghanistan (that's a whole "other" blog site that I am working on, though, so we won't go there). When I see homeless people asking for change outside Walgreen's on Piedmont in Atlanta or hustling at the Hess gas station on Atlantic and Ralph in Brooklyn, I realize, "Yes, I am blessed."

Yesterday, though, as I looked at these two people, a mother and a child, who looked very much like me--hell, could have been me, I was struck to say, "Damn, people are hurting. For real."

Currently Listening To: Mama's Always On Stage by Arrested Development
Currently Reading: Babylon Sisters by Pearl Cleage

'ROUND THE WAY GIRL

It dawned on me today as I crossed Atlantic Ave. that during my 18 years growing up in New York City, I never, ever saw a news crew in my neighborhood.

That is, of course until today. Not sure what was going on. There wasn't a crowd or anything, so nothing of true significance, I am sure. Still, this was the first time I can recall seeing the media taking a real interest in my part of the 'hood.

And there was plenty going on. Like the time Rita's mom and boyfriend were fighting and the boyfriend threw the television out the window (4 stories down; no Honeymooners' reruns that night). What about my first day of school--it should be a national holiday, you know. Then there's the rip-roaring block parties we had throughout the 80's and 90's. Or the summer days we gleefully played in the water being sprayed from the johnny pump (that's a fire hydrant for you youngsters).

How about the numerous trash-talking filled softball, handball or basketball games peacefully played in the park across the street from my parents' house? Or the silly pranks the boys in the neighborhood pulled, like the Wedgie Game (Lawrence was the only one who ever cried)? Or when Mike, Black Mike and Sammy all got shot for being in the wrong place at the right time; Sammy survived and is currently a NYC Corrections Officer.

So while some news crew or another may have wandered into Bed-Sty, Brownsville or East New York, during the time I was growing up here, I never saw them. Ever. Yet I always wanted to be a journalist. It wasn't watching Sue Simmons or Chuck Scarborough on the local NBC news that fostered my desire to pursue journalism. They were just images on the screen and weren't necessarily real to me. Still, I loved writing; especially the who, what, where, when and why (and sometimes "how").

Which proves that it is, in fact, very possible to grow almost anything out of nothing.

Currently Reading: Speak So You Can Speak Again: The Life of Zora Neale Hurston by Lucy Hurston
Currently Listening To: (what else?) Round The Way Girl by LL Cool J

SEEN/HEARD

I was very moved by the Brooklyn Congregations Together (BCT) sponsored Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day Celebration. I was also enlightened, inspired and, alas quite amused by some of what I heard; check this out:


"I'll treat this like the Eddie Murphy and Tracey Edmonds affair...I won't hold you long."
--says Rev. Clinton Miller, Pastor of Brown Memorial Baptist Church to parishioners as a promise to be brief with his sermon.



Also Heard...
Upon a request for a few more dollars for the offering*, an Assemblywoman (local politico) rudely shouts from the audience, "Play some 'giving' music!"

Not skipping a beat, Dr. Johnny Ray Youngblood, Pastor Mentor of St. Paul's Community Baptist Church replies, "Do they pay 'giving' music when you pay your bills? No."

*the offering, in its entirety is being donated to the MLK Memorial in DC.


Currently Listening To: "I'm Looking For A Miracle By the Clark Sisters," "Ye Of Little Faith," by Yolanda Adams
Currently Reading: Speak So You Can Speak Again: The Life of Zora Neale Hurston by Lucy Hurston

KILLING DESIRE TO SAVE MY LIFE

"...Stop! The love you save may be your own...you're headed for a danger zone."
--Jackson 5

I killed my microwave. Not literally, of course. But using it was killing me...LITERALLY. And while I am no doctor (biology was the least of my favorite subjects in school), and I do not have all of the facts--YET, this is a move that so far, seems to be right and justified. From what a few of my friends have told me (one of whom is a strict vegan and "knows about these things,") microwaving food alters it to the point where the foods' natural ability to nourish and help our bodies fight infection or disease is seriously diminished and often eliminated. What is ultimately leftover is not something we would willingly touch let alone ingest. I'm going to stop here, because again--I do not have all of the facts, but I am working on it.

The past twelve days have been tough. I love my food piping hot. A microwave always guaranteed me that. I'm in unfamiliar territory; at almost 40, I really just cannot recall what life was like before we "nuked" food. While not using a microwave really tests my patience, at least I have an excuse to go and shop for some stoneware/oven safe dishes.


Currently Listening To: "Danger" and "Vagabound"by Amir Sulaiman, "Scar Tissue" by Shanelle Gabriel, "Jesus Children of America," by Stevie Wonder
Currently Reading: The Fortunate Son by Walter Mosley

SICK, TIRED AND ALL THAT JAZZ

Once again, we as a people are late; late, late and more late!
--Vaughn "Dap" Dunlap
School Daze

The revolution was televised. Some of us missed it because you were laaaaaaaatttttte! Proof of your tardiness was my recent experience at a popular spot in Atlanta last night which will remain nameless, because the name is the besides the point. The open mic spoken word poetry show started one hour and 40 minutes late. That is 100 minutes; 600 seconds of my valuable time.

No there wasn't anyone holding a gun to my head; I could have left--should have left. Maybe demanded my money back and actually gotten it. HOWEVER, I had been waiting almost a year to witness this weekly presentation of creative word stylings and knowledge being broken down. And my soul was, in fact, filled. But the message was tainted and I had to leave after only hearing five offerings; usually get to hear at least seven and I needed a lot more this time (been going through some stuff, y'all).

We have stop to got to stop this late bullshit. Your word is your bond. If we cannot be at the appointed place at the appointed time, ready and on point, how can we expect to be taken seriously in the fight for freedom and equality?

Currently Listening To: "Past Time Paradise" by Stevie Wonder
Currently Reading: Not a doggone thing!

RETURN

"It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you
Without a strong rhyme to step to
Think of how many weak shows you slept through
Time's up, I'm sorry I kept you..."
Eric B & Rakim

After a little vacation and a necessary yet painful, emotionally long reality check, the State of Zora is back. And since I love lists, here are the highlights of what happened over the past 11, 904 hours (or 496 days):

1. The Pur$uit of Happine$$: It became crystal freaking clear to me that for damn sure, money ain't everything and it matters even less if you value the all mighty dollar more than your self worth.

2. Got My Feelings Hurt Quite A Few Times: Oh yes, it's true that, "Love don't love you and love don't care." Shit, sometimes love straight up hates your guts.

3. (I) "Went There:" Knowing that your family needs you and that you, too, in fact, need your family ain't always enough. Sometimes, as Janie tells Phoebe in "Their Eyes Are Watching God," one has to "go there" to really know--and to believe.

More later, including a new blog site detailing the adventures of a former soldier with a new perspective on "what's really going on."

Currently Reading: "The Fortunate Son" by Walter Mosley
Currently Listening To: Optimistic by Sounds of Blackness