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?”

“Twenty Questions To The Beat Y’all…(Pt. 3)”

Thoughts, queries and shit we pretty know the answer to, but briefly wonder about anyway…

1. By a show of hands, how many of us are wondering how in the hell we have time to earn awards let alone have so many award shows—NAACP Image Awards, BET Awards, BET Hip-Hop Awards, Dove Awards, BET Honors, Grammy, etc.?

2. Isn’t cool that Musiq Soulchild and Anthony Hamilton has stepped up the music game, channeling the spirit, heart and sound of Marvin (Gaye), Eddie (Kendricks), & David (Ruffin)? Are we not marveling how they are representing strong for the short dudes?

3. Are we not equally impressed with Tyrese channeling a combo of Teddy Pendergrass and Sam Cooke?

4. By a show of hands, how many of us had not really thought about how close liquor stores are to schools before Tyrese blasted Delaware radio listeners?

5. Is Estelle’s, “Thank You,” the new break up anthem?

6. Aren’t we digging the sophisticated yet sultry sounds of Marcia Ambrosius?

7. Are the foreign songbirds—Estelle and Marcia, giving Mary J., Fantasia, and ‘em a run for their money?

8. Isn’t it cool to see T.I. and Tiny handling the day-to-day problems of a large family? But, by a show of hands, how many of us think King is in serious need of an old fashioned ass-whipping with a switch, extension cord or shoe? Guys: do you feel sorry that T.I. is banned from weapons and pretty much powerless against the dudes trying to step to his daughters?

9. Are we not proud of our divas—Jennifer, Janet, and Mariah for making the commitment to lose weight?

10. How many of us who struggle to make it to the gym after slaving at a regular job want to see behind the scenes footage of said divas fighting off snack attacks or refusing to work out and having to be kicked in the head & dragged to the gym by their trainer, personal assistant, etc.?

11. After all he went through with Sony Music, how many of us think that Prince is a hypocritical asshole for refusing to allow the Time to use their stage name now that they have reunited?

12. By a show of hands, how many of us are willing to bet that Toni Morrison’s, “Beloved” was not in the trunk full of 300 books that Oprah sent Blue Ivy Carter?

13. Who was for a minute sick of “Love On Top,” but can’t help do the “Beyoncé” dance every time we hear it?

14. Aren’t we digging Cee-Lo Green & Melanie Fiona on, “Fool For You?”

15. But aren’t we just a little disturbed to hear a grown-ass black man say, “Oh, chile,” with such conviction and so reminiscent of ‘70’s singer Sylvester (“You Make Me Feel Mighty Real”)?

16. Shouldn’t Chris Brown, who reportedly recently tweeted Rihanna, be sat down and explained why exactly it is that actress Denise Nicholas and singer Bill Withers do not exchange Christmas cards or Ike and Tina were never within 100 miles of each other post-divorce?

17. By a show of hands, how many of us hear the following people talk and immediately think of nails on a chalkboard: NeeNee Leakes, Tasha Smith and Fantasia?

18. Still in shock or mourning over Heavy D?

19. Is the mixtape more popular than radio?

20. Isn’t it sad that the majority of urban music has become more about endorsements, landing a reality television show, etc. instead of, “great music that soothes your heart & moves your feet created by truly talented artists who actually give a damn about the crap they are putting out?”