RUN LONG
(Or, "Who's Got The Pepper?)

At 43.7 years of age, many, “old folk” clichés run through my mind on the regular. Pathetically, I find myself involuntarily repeating several of them aloud to younger people—to their dismay and mine. “You’ll understand when you get older.” “If I had to do it all over again…” “Work smart, not hard.”

The one plaguing me of late is, “you never miss your water…”

Twenty-five years ago, I had no problem coughing up 30 push-ups before starting to struggle. Today, 7 is an issue. My senior year in high school, I could do 69 sit-ups in a minute and boastfully possessed a washboard stomach. Now, I have a spare tire that has become a permanent part of my axle system. At 18, I enlisted in the Army weighing a lean 120 lbs. with massive amounts of energy to spare. Admittedly, I hated running; still, I made the best of it.  Without much effort, I usually earned a near perfect score in the Run category on my semi-annual fitness test. Now, it takes everything in me to pass that event; everything and then some!

So, as I watched an old episode of, “The Cosby Show” last week, it dawned on me that I am now extremely close to Cliff and Clair’s age. Damn. Cliff’s nightmares caused by the late night sausage sandwiches (after Clair warned him what would happen!) are now my nightmares after I have had my favorite meal of mac & cheese, yams, turkey meatloaf and corn after 10 p.m. Double damn.

In, “Back To The Track, Jack,” Cliff’s former college track rival challenges him to a relay rematch to settle an old score from back in the day. Struggling to prepare for the race, the good Dr. Huxtable laments regarding not being in the same shape as the rest of the other participants. Can’t exactly recall what I thought of Cliff’s dilemma when I first saw the show back in ‘85; old age settling in, I guess…

But more than I want to, I can now relate to his challenges in that episode. Your body simply refusing to do what it used to “do” is a hard pill to swallow, especially when you are in a physically demanding field. Although a part time Soldier, I have to keep step with everyone else. And while the military tests each member’s physical abilities based on their age group, I cannot help but recall my first active duty enlistment. My friends and I mercilessly teased older Soldiers who were close enough in rank and cool enough not to check us for insubordination. Ah, what a difference two decades and a break in service makes—alas, I am now the old Soldier!

Most of my fellow Reservists do not believe I am over 40; occasionally, someone asks to see my driver’s license. They are even more shocked that my old ass can keep up and sometimes I have the nerve to conduct running cadence. I take it all as a compliment. Said kudos eases my soul as I apply generous amounts of Icy Hot post-Reserve duty weekends.

Moreover, I remember the catchy motivational query and reply phrase used frequently in this Cosby episode.

Question: You got the pepper?

Response: I got the pepper!

Not sure exactly what exactly this question and its answer means, but it seemed to inspire Cliff.

The kudos and quote aside, I still cannot help but feel a sense of, “…chickens coming home to roost.” A, “what goes around, comes around,” aura. What did I “do” to deserve to get, “old?” What happened to the chick who won a few medals in high school, had the round ass and wore a size 8? Sadly, she has been replaced by this pathetic elderly woman who huffs and puffs on her weekly jogs, wishing, hoping that she, “had the pepper.”

P.S. to all the young people who I am always smothering with my years and years of knowledge, I have one last sentence of advice and it’s not a cliché, either. You listening? Come closer; here it is: don’t get old!

 

WHAT MATTERS
(Or Why I Did Not Watch The Debates)

“Knowledge is power.”

~ Francis Bacon

“Tomorrow belongs to those who prepare for it today.”

~ Malcolm X

Voting in the United States, almost like any other country in the world, is serious business. Democracy and the right to select leadership are part of the ideals this country was built upon. It is the very essence of our foundation and should not be taken lightly.

So while the Presidential debates are supposed to help people decide who to vote for, I find them a waste of time. With our advanced resources, why do we have such a hard time selecting a leader? If folks would simply listen, read a bit, and just pay attention, they could decide without spending 360 minutes of their time (4 debates) watching 4 grown men argue as if they were on a playground. And by the way, that’s 6 hours. That’s almost a whole day’s work, glued to a television, radio, computer (livestream), etc.; and it’s time one can never get back. Besides, can 90 minutes, really tell you what you need to know about a person and their qualifications to run one of the most powerful nations on Earth?

What I also find unsettling, is how Americans love putting all their business in the street. It is beyond ridiculous. The rest of the world probably figures the average American to be greedy, wasteful, overzealous, and arrogant. Proof positive is in our reality shows, sports worship (guilty, I am), senseless violence, and the 3-ring circus masquerading as the electoral process. Add the debate posturing, jesting, facial expressions, indignant-remarks-triggered scoffs, and other semi-buffoonery and the United States looks ignorant.

Moreover, why do we vote for someone and then tear them down when they cannot fix their inherited mess overnight? Surely, we understand we are electing a human who has to decide which problems to take on first; we are not hiring a magician for “entertainment purposes only.”

Furthermore, is it smart to share so much of our military strategies and foreign policies during the debates? It is one thing to say to another country, “We know that you don’t like us; and we want you to know that we know you don’t like us…!” Yet quite another to say, “If I’m elected, I’m going to bust a cap in that country’s ass!”  As a member of our military, I very much want to be informed of my boss’ thoughts. However, I do not think the rest of the world needs to know. But that’s just me.

With all the pomp and circumstance of the DNC, RNC and the debates, the question burning in my soul was, “who is campaigning for the misfortunate, the downtrodden, or those who cannot speak for themselves?” Because at the end of the day, the following issues still prevail:

1.      Rampant bullying, obesity, dysfunction and bloodshed amongst our young people, specifically, in Chicago.

2.      Children who cannot read or write on their grade level. Bottom line, our education system stinks!

3.      Homeless and hungry Americans, most of them Veterans of our Armed Forces. We probably could have fed 10,000 families for a year with the money spent for both the DNC and RNC.

4.      Military personnel are still dying in Afghanistan and Iraq.

5.      No cure for cancer.

Americans get so caught up in the process that they forget what actually matters. We also fail to recall that after the laws of the land prevail, we must support the winner. Added to that, we must take ownership as citizens of our nation. Volunteer, mentor, and stop waiting for someone else to step up if you are able to do something to make this land a better land (cue the Pointers Sisters, “Yes We Can Can”).

And yes, I do hope my guy wins. He’s faced a lot of adversities, involuntarily became very unpopular via his tough choices, and shown great courage. He remains a gentleman who has had to bite his tongue numerous times when the average person would have said, “Your Mama,” followed by, “Boys, handle my light work!”

What exactly, did I do instead of watching the debates? Spent about 2.5 hours in the gym (collectively), started a new Pearl Cleage book, messed around on Facebook a bit, wrote and checked out 2 movies I’d been itching to watch…

…and yes, I have a ways to go before I truly understand, “what matters,” too.

"TWENTY QUESTIONS TO THE BEAT Y'ALL..." (PT. 4)

1. Is Kevin Hart not having the time of his short life? Are we not digging that BET picked up and is currently filming his mockumentary, “Real Husbands of Hollywood?”

2. Was not the Foster-Raymond vs. Raymond custody battle one of the most embarrassing displays of human disregard for two centuries?

3. Isn’t said case and the case of Dwayne Wade a lesson to men about where they lay their seed? Will they actually listen?

4. By a show of hands how many of us thinks that vis-a-vie her “mock” lyrics claiming to be a Republican, in the words of the Old School phrase, Nikki Minaj, “play-too-much”?

5. In awe over Dr. Dre’s financial genius and ability to turn headphones, instead of beats, into millions?  (Still) curious as to how he was able to break his contract with Deathrow Records and lived to tell about it?

6. Are we truly ready for this election to be over or do we just want to see who President Obama will have preform at the Inaugural Ball?

7. Are we so ready for EnVogue to be, “over” so they can stop playing with our emotions?

8. By a show of hands, who has been trying to emulate the hotness and electrifying moves Carmen Ejego displayed in film, “Sparkle?” 

9. By a show of hands, how many of us think if Marvin Gaye and David Ruffin were still alive they would pimp slap Chris Brown and Drake for fighting over a woman?

10. Would they pimp slap Chris and Drake twice when they realize they were fighting over the likes of Rihannna?

11. By a show of hands, who thinks Chad Johnson and Terrell Owens would be better off leaving football for good, taking voice lessons and going into country western or blues music?

12. Is Patti LaBelle settling her lawsuit for cursing at and splashing water on an unruly toddler admission of guilt?

13. By a show of hands, how many of us think Patti should have thrown the water on the parents of the unruly toddler instead?

14. Overwhelmed and sick of all the talent contest-slash-reality-slash-singers-scrambling-to-stay-relevant-as-judges shows?

15. By a show of hands, who cares who has the Voice, who Got Talent, who is Dancing with the Stars or who the American Idol is?

16. How many of us remember when it was much easier to find talent singing on the city bus, like Tyrese in the Coca-Cola commercial?

17. Did you get whiplash doing a double take when you read or heard the words, “Deacon” and “DMX” in the same phrase?

18. By a show of hands, how many of us want to be the fly on the church wall the first time Deacon DMX is called upon to pray?

19. Still in denial or mourning over Whit, Mike, Heavy, Teena, and Vesta?

20. By a show of hands, how many of us think that the ghost of Redd Foxx will appear to Lauryn Hill in jail frequently, only to speak his infamous line, “You big dummy!”

WHAT IN THE HAIR IS GOING ON…?

There are so many realms to this argument, but I promise to try to stick to one; or two...

So Hampton University’s School of Business has banned their students from wearing locs, braids or cornrows. HU, if you didn’t know, is one of the oldest historically African-American institutions of higher learning (HBCU). People are quite upset, throwing around statements such as, “they are encouraging self-hatred.”

No, we have done a good job of that all by ourselves...

One of the many reasons the African American community, in general, has come to such a pass is accountability—or the lack thereof. People are afraid to hold each other accountable. When my Mom was a girl, it was nothing to get a whipping or chastisement from a non-family member and still get the same punishment when you arrived home. Today, not so much…

Constantly, we see our young people looking, for a lack of a more suitable term, a burning hot ghetto mess. But we say nothing. Pants sagging, three-week-old cornrows, weave that is holding onto consciousness, damn near comatose and locs that look like wildlife is growing in them. What in the hair is going on here?

Furthermore, a lot of us in our 30’s, 40’s and even 50’s have not shown our children, nieces, nephews, etc. that if you cannot fully commit to a style, keeping it looking fresh on a bi-weekly basis, you need to leave-it-alone. End of discussion. We must teach them that neatness and cleanliness is not only next to Godliness, it can mean the difference in getting hired or not.

At the end of the day, HU’s new requirement is not about conforming, assimilation or stifling the African-American culture. It’s about teaching our children, that if you want it, you have got to be better than the next applicant, who is probably hue-challenged (i.e., a person of non-color). So your locs, your afro, your cornrows, your weave, your wig, or your whatever, has GOT to be tight.

I do hope that one day, HU lifts this ban. But for now, because a lot of our people are walking around looking some kind of crazy, it is necessary. And I support it.

I am reminded of that scenario from, Barbershop. Lamar who is always broke, yet constantly hustling a free haircut, has a job interview. He has on a suit and tie, but his hair is clearly in need of maintenance. Lamar makes a simple request to Calvin (portrayed by Ice Cube), the owner and head barber who inherited the Chicago shop from his father, Calvin Sr. “I-need-a-cut. A-little-off-the-top, long-in-the-back, but-not-quite-no-shag, (throwing in gestures) sloped-to-the-left-like-Gumby, Eddie-Munster-in-the-front, and a-little-Wyclef-on-the-right—come on, hook that up for me.”

Unfortunately, Lamar “steals” said haircut from Calvin, running out of the door without paying him. However, he returns later that day, pays Calvin for the cut, apologizes and thanks him. Lamar shares with Calvin that he knew he was qualified for the job, but the haircut was crucial—he wanted the edge of looking his best. Moreover, landing the job means Lamar keeps custody of his child. Throughout most of the film, Calvin contemplates selling the shop because he deems it no longer profitable or a viable part of the community. This conversation, plus a few other significant twists in the plot convince him otherwise.

HU’s hair requirement for their Business students says, “Yes, there is some schooling that (still) needs to be done and it starts right hair…!”

HARD LIFE LESSON #101

(Or Why Ann Curry Is Saying, “Damn, Damn, Damn…!”)

As the world turns colder and crueler, each and every day, we learn why EnVogue crooned the lyrics, “…love don’t love you, love don’t care!” An obscure cut for the Funky Divas that resonates with me every time I hear of someone getting stomped on by, “the man.” Such is the case with Ann Curry and NBC. About a month ago, the network yanked Curry from her co-anchor spot on the Today Show—which is as American as apple pie. Her new title: Anchor-at-Large. Not necessarily a demotion, but undeniably a degrading lateral move. She was paid $10 million, no doubt to avoid a lawsuit, but probably more so to ease the network execs’ conscious.

There are a few proverbial elephants in the room. First, and sadly, NBC humiliated her with their hap-hazard handling of the situation. And while the leak, the rumors, lack of a proper final broadcast, etc., were probably not done on purpose, there is no question they treated her like a $2 whore. Or in this case, a $10 Million whore. The level of humiliation here even disallows the term, “call girl.”

Although I deem Ann an excellent journalist, who has no problem going anywhere to bring the real story to us, she was reaching. Yes, “reaching.” She had two big sets of shoes to fill—Katie Couric, America’s sweetheart and Meredith Vieira, tough as nails, but still a passionate journalist. There were some interesting online comments regarding Ann’s dismissal; one thing that struck me but is admittedly true—Ann is “quiet.” To quote a commenter, “she whispered too much!” Moreover, in a June interview with Ladies Home Journal, Curry admitted that she, “sometimes doesn’t know her worth.” She continues that she meant that personally, not professionally. I don’t believe that Ann meant personally, and I don’t think she believes that either.

Furthermore, take a look at the careers of Couric, Vieira and Robin Roberts. These women diversified their talents and skills wherever possible. In the African-American culture, we call this, “getting your hustle on.” That is, work the day job, but have something on the side to fall back on, “just in case.” Ann’s bio reads straight, company stuff with no interests or goals outside of work. Huge mistake; when you lack additional outlets or do not expand your horizons beyond “work” and the powers-that-be decide to cut you, your ass is twisting in the wind with a $10 million check tucked in your G-string. However, having a side hustle makes you more visible and more marketable—the boss thinks twice about letting you go.

Lastly, while this country was, in fact, ready for an African-American president, it is not ready for a Today show host who is, well, mixed. Curry is a descendent of few distinctive heritages. I can dig it, but an honest survey of Today show viewers might not feel the same. Not saying she was fired because of her mixed ethnicity, but I’m not saying she wasn’t, either. Howsonever, when Al Roker joined the Today crew several years ago, NBC apparently deemed him talented, competent and “all the window dressing” that they need.

Two examples for Ann to marinate on: Chris Spencer and Vanessa Williams. In ’97, UPN hires Chris Spencer, an up and coming comedian, writer and author, to host the late night show, “Vibe (the network’s answer to Arsenio Hall).” After 6 weeks, Spencer was unceremoniously fired. A few weeks later, Chris whines about it in Jet Magazine. Fourteen years later, people ask, “Chris, who?” In 1984, Vanessa Williams, however, was disgraced when scandalous nude photos she took in college surfaced forcing her to relinquish her Miss America title. Diva Williams did not crawl up in a hole and die—she went to work! Now Ms. Thang writes her own ticket.

And if that is not enough for Curry, she need only ask Deborah Norville—if she can find her.

My heart goes out to Ann, but I have a message for her: get your shit together! It’s been a minute and it’s time to declare the Pity Party over. Get up, write a book (or two), teach a class, surround yourself with the right people, get a side hustle and diversify your damn self.

A-HA MOMENT #7 TIMES 7…

(or Where Is The Infinite Tolerance?)

None of us have the answers. I say again, “None of us have the answers.” What answers, you may ask? Answers to the questions, that have recently, taken residency in our living rooms, at our dinner tables, during the uncomfortable carpools, after church/before church, while playing cards, and anyplace the topic dare rear it’s imposing head.

“Should homosexuals be given equal rights?”

“Who the hell do they think they are asking for ‘rights?’”

“They know they gone to hell, right?”

Tough questions; and there are people on both sides of this ridiculous and dangerously heated argument, who rush to debate, deeming themselves, “right.”

Notwithstanding, I have questions of my own to add to the pile…

Why, with all our other problems (war, violence that’s completely out of control, poverty, obesity, homelessness and a recession), do Americans continuously bicker about people’s sexual preference, especially when said bickering is literally ripping the country apart?

Is it better to be a heterosexual who is a serial fornicator, humping everything that moves, sleeping with partner after partner, than to be a person who has committed themselves to someone who happens to be the same sex?

Where were the good people of Chik-fil-A, “all-married-to-their-first-wives,” when Jerry Sandusky was having his way with little boys? Or when Eddie Long allegedly used his pulpit position to coerce teenage male congregants into having sex with him?

Would Chik-fil-A be so concerned with going public regarding, “their ‘stance,’” if President Barrack Obama, who is running for re-election, had not recently supported gay marriage?

Can the Boy Scouts guran-damn-tee that banning gay people from leadership positions will keep troop from harm at all times?

Doesn’t God say that we should all love one another as we love ourselves?

And, how can we claim to love, God, who we have never laid eyes on, but dog, diss, dismiss and talk shit about people we see every day…?

I’m just asking…

NO ONE LIKES TO FALL
(Or A-Ha Moment # 65)

So during the practice run for a recent beginner motorcycle class, I fell. Hard. Scraped up my elbow (road rash is the proper term, I believe) and ruined my favorite DKNY jeans that fit “just right.” I knew this was going to happen. But I was hoping it wouldn’t.

If you do anything in this life besides take up space and breathe, accidents are going to happen. The first thing we learned in the class is one of the (several) reasons accidents occur is because we take risks. The higher the risks or the more risks, the more likelihood that an accident will happen; not “guaranteed to happen,” but might, probably, could possible, etc., happen. I can dig it.

Leaving the house in the morning, that’s a risk. Going to college, applying for a job, starting a business, falling in love, getting married, having children—all involve risks small and great.

Twenty minutes after my fall, I was thinking about President Obama. The audacity of his hope; how dare he think he could run for President of the United States and win. Wasn’t he, “scared?” He is African-American… And now he is going for a second run, too?

I do not know why President Obama wants to be in charge of this country. He’s running one of the most powerful nations in the world, taking on an infinite number of problems—many of which he knows he may not be able to solve, and there are a great deal of people who dislike him simply because his skin tone is dark. It is the latter that really baffles me. As an average African-American man, he would have the usual issues—specifically, racial profiling; but as the first President of color, those issues are multiplied and morphed beyond the imagination. As a reservist of color who serves this country, I am sometimes called nigger or discriminated against by people whose freedoms I have to defend. So I fully understand about, “doing what one has to do,” despite the circumstances. Still, our President puts up with an unbelievable amount of bullshit while facing a lot of risks.

Now, I am not comparing my motives to learn and master the motorcycle to the President’s reasons, whatever they are, for wanting to be America’s leader. Nevertheless, President “O” does the job as if he is taking care of his own family and our very lives depend on the decisions he makes. He does not all seem concerned with the risks to himself. My hat is off to him for courageously and selflessly wanting to make the world a better place.



My thoughts turned back to the motorcycle. Even before the class, I knew this shit was dangerous. But on the first day, it became more real. Sitting on the motorcycle, starting it up, putting it in gear, easing off the clutch and ultimately letting go; balancing, adjusting speed according to traffic—there is a lot of shit happening on two wheels! Still, the bike does what “I” tell it to do it goes where “I” tell it to go, etc. Basically, it is a serious game of, “Simon Says,” on wheels, as it were.

Forty minutes after my fall, I was excited again. Inside I’m screaming, “All right, Lady, let’s get it. Fall again if you have to, dammit!” Was I actually inviting another impromptu meeting with the pavement? Indeed, I was. No worries, that feeling passed after a while—later that night when I was sore and nursing my lumpy knee. Still, I was no longer as fearful as I was before I started the class. Humble, yes—not that I was ever arrogant or cocky in believing I would never fall. Respectful of the bike, (double) hell to the yes!

And am I ready to fall again? Indeed, I am.

Dedicated to my late Dad, Rudolph Clark, who rode a motorcycle as long as I can remember, and fell one day—but he got back up and rode again. Thanks, Dad!

HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM
(Or Hell To The No…!)

I was determined not to blog about the late Whitney Houston—to let her finally, “rest in peace.” But I was moved to break my promise by comments from the ignorant, the racist and those without a soul. Somebody has to say, “Hell to the no,” in defense of Lady Whit.



For the record, however, this is not the first time I’ve written about her. In 2005, I wrote an article about then-husband Bobby Brown’s reality show. I was not too flattering; nor have I been supportive of her comeback in two of my blog entries last year.

But it does not mean I am not a fan; indeed, a huge fan, I am. Like most of the world, she, “had me at ‘Hello.’” From, “Saving All My Love,” to ,“The Greatest Love of All,” and then her performance at the Super Bowl (say what?), to, “The Bodyguard (movie and soundtrack),” then, “Waiting To Exhale (ditto),” and of course, “The Preacher’s Wife (ditto times two).”

Unfortunately, by 2000, her music slowly began to fade for me; never stopped being a fan of her talents, but ceased digging, “Whitney the person,” as it were.

Fame and drugs were killing the Whitney I knew and loved—period, point blank.

Still, it was probably the Diane Sawyer interview and the now infamous, “Crack is whack” statement that officiated the end of my support of Whitney. Nevertheless, afterwards, I continued to give her much propers for all she gave us. I still blast, “I’m Every Woman” and her other up-tempo songs during impromptu dance fits. Or, I croon to her love ballads as if they were written just for me. Plus, I have my own doubt-erasure elixir of Whitney’s gospel music—“Joy” and “Help Is On The Way,” are my choice singles. And my true Whitney favorite, especially when there’s a new man in my life, is the obscure cut, “My Heart Is Calling.” I truly wish she knew just how much that song moves me!

It simply breaks my heart that in her death, folks trying to honor her or support her family are being bombarded with bullshit. And it’s not just one topic; it’s multi-layered venom. The speculation of how she really died, the unceasing reminders of her issues with drug addiction, the deafening whispers that her voice, “had been shot for some time” and that perhaps, marrying Bobby Brown was not her best move. People dwelling on the negative are present on every other newscast, blog, Twitter feed and Facebook status post.

Moreover, this active duty veteran and current reservist finds it disturbing that some people are upset over the Governor of New Jersey’s decision to fly the state flag at half-mast in her honor. Those outraged ranted about her not having been to war or “officially” serving our country. Hmmmm. Let’s see, the media was always out to get her, she battled drug addiction, and attempted to continue performing despite the naysayers—sounds courageous to me.




The fact that she touched so many lives with her music and films has been drowned out by the constant highlighting of her personal troubles. No one besmirched the names of Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor (who could not sing, by the way) or Elvis Presley when they died; all had drug issues. Elvis not only died of a drug overdose but was grossly overweight at the time of his death. And what of Judy Garland…?

In almost 30 years, Whitney accomplished what most people only dream of; she dreamt it, she dared to do it and we loved it! And then, for all of that, in both life and death, she is treated like dog shit by the righteous few because of some serious mistakes that did not hurt anyone really except Whitney herself. Is that what being an American is about? Hell, is that how fellow humans treat one another? If Whitney were guilty of killing, harming or stealing from someone, perhaps the posthumous vilification—which technically began the day after she and Bobby Brown married, could possibly be justified.

For the sake of her family, why can’t we let her find the peace, quiet, rest and respect, she so aptly earned and deserves? If it will help any, why not, to quote, “A Time To Kill,” simply, “…imagine she’s white?”