Springer's Journal

Evolution

2012-01-26T07:43:00.000-05:00

(For Gigi De LaRosa)

interrupted

this is

the what

is. peace.

in 50 shades of vibrant

tones

and memories. best

left alone. I am

vibrating

something better than 32

flavors. or leap!

RPM’s away

from 32. I

am well

gone

into living love. this

you bring me

home.

please & thank you. frees - Draft

2012-01-22T11:02:00.005-05:00

Gabby was off the record

like skilled musicians competing

with turntables. on the quiet

street. a bbq place

in a blue and white shack.

vinyl foot stools making

the grease easy to forgive.

symbolic or just love

offering. his motto:

"it is nice to be nice."

yesterday, we could

not exit the cul-de-sac.

a FED EX truck was mired

in our private street snow.

and the strange stones

everyone uses

to mark territory trapped

all of us. needed to go.

after two hours finally we thought.

asked, "what's going on?"

how frustrating!

us in our warm home

him in his heated truck

waiting for a supervisor’s

bitching. given the scenario,

we offered him coffee

(our superior, hand-pressed expresso.)

lowered our eyes at

his Christmas morning face.

he accepted

expresso with cream and sugar.

just like us. after

he was liberated

by the tow truck.

he returned the cup.

all of us want

to reuse, recycle

and re-connect

to being nice.

kindness costs

nothing. love

is free,

empathy

is a cup

of coffee

or something like ribs

to gnaw. succulent

meaty nourishing

spice. like good music

is prescience offering

Blessing The Hostile - draft

2012-01-22T10:30:00.003-05:00

(for Marjorie Liese)

may your body bring you

blessings. may it show you

every lesson you have tried

to teach it.

may it be wiser

than you. all of your dreams

realized - regardless.

may you open to paradox.

and kindly greet

reality. may you wish

upon a star. suddenly

understand

it was the sparkling fog of your own breath

in the twilight.

may you breathe.

and again, take another breath.

let those around you sing,

chant, prepare. celebrate.

you are. now!

Transformation Breaks

2012-01-22T10:15:00.006-05:00

"I feel as if I could heave for hours and never purge my broken heart with its crushed jagged edged pieces ripping my belly." ~ Chas Brack

your soul ~ the ocean

churns pieces

over and over.

moon manages.

demands polished

stone. a surprise

making someone gasp.

how smooth. how polished.

how perfect.

mine!

earth, moon, sun

the very trees themselves sing.

"look at the miracle

this is divine!" pain

turns sand

to glass. pressure

turns bones

to diamonds. loss

turns souls

to saints

stars...and round

again to human.

A Teacher Should Make Should Make A Parent Cry

2012-01-17T18:47:00.001-05:00

Those pesky, weird, awesome, troublesome joy tears. Welcome and awkward they are. They come at the strangest moments. They come at weddings, naming ceremonies, and birthdays. Uninvited, they arrive just to remind oneself, “in so much exaggerated and repetitive ugliness, beauty is a constant.” Beauty is a thing which deserves the shedding of your soul’s elixir.

As a reluctant unschooler, I fight myself constantly about trusting my child to learn. I mean, really, if I can raise my African-American son to the age of 21 without him being tasered, trussed, hand-cuffed, billy-clubbed, jailed or killed dead, then….I might just be an okay parent. (And none of these items listed mean that you are not an okay parent. Because we all know what world in which we are living.) If I can raise him to be connected to the world around him, take action, think independently, offer his ideas and instigate change, well then I would be a kick ass parent. Time will out.

But, I got lucky. I happened to find - through a friend - the most perfect music teacher in the entire world. I sincerely could not imagine that the quintessential unschooling music teacher would salsa into our life. And she did. And today, she made me cry. Again.

What kind of teacher has the audacity to encourage a 6 year old to compose? What kind of teacher says, “That was interesting (banging on the piano.) Where are you taking that idea?” What kind of teacher rewards a student by making them de-code their favorite (shitty, Disney, flip frap) songs so they can internalize chord progressions? And then, discover that they have a preference for A major chords? Lunacy!

Something is right here…. So why does it feel so wrong? Because we were hit with rulers and rosary beads. Most of us were never given an opportunity to experience joy and knowledge simultaneously. And so I have decided. It is the teacher's job to make a parent cry joy tears. And THAT is the only kind of testing we need.

MLK 2011

2012-01-16T22:09:00.004-05:00

lead them not into illusion,
but reality. fortify

their bones and souls
with vision and fact.

teach them magic
is science and science

is magic. invite
them to be color-blind

without putting the nuances
of spectrum in the garbage.

allow them to be human. invite
and encourage thought.

be kind.
and thank

you. costs nothing,
and nothing is open

so whomever
and whatever

can grant
this wish of mine.

the blessing
simply rebounds.

Catch!

(MLK B-day 2011)

Conversation

2012-01-16T19:50:00.004-05:00

Conversing. It seems so easy and natural.

I am not a good conversationalist. I do respond well to questions, prompts, statements and other verbally presented facts and sentiments. Converse? No. I am totally inept.

Listen? I like that a lot. My husband likes this as well. But, so do many other people. Suddenly, my dinner party becomes a Quaker meeting. For The Fail!

I have many friends who are excellent and awesome conversationalists. I admire them. I often sit back and study them. But, lately, I have been really needing to …..something.

What I have learned so far is that good conversationalists ask questions. Like any weird or random question which crosses their mind also passes over their teeth, tongue and lips and blossoms in the air. And then they listen to the answers and ask another question.

This is a habit I could really strive to adopt. So, the theme of the month is toys, What the hell does that have to do with conversation? Well. Alot.

Stumbling around during the Christmas season, I came across one of those “gotta love people” items. So, I know my husband absolutely adores his Gryffindor necktie. But, the gift he looked cross-eyed at me about is the one which has been making a huge difference in our life right now. At least he had tom open The Family Dinner Game in front of his family!

But, the conversations! (And I pride myself on being a family who discusses interesting stuff!) But seriously, some of these questions are off the hook. For example, “Which historical figure would you like to meet?”

Son says Benjamin Franklin. WTF!!!! Since when have we done a unit on Benjamin Franklin? But, son is very clear. "He was an inventor, a freedom fighter and made this country." Okay. Where he learned any oft this I am unclear. But sounds like a fair assessment to me. Nice choice.

Husband steals *my* historical figure, Le Chevalier S Saint Georges …and the conversation dissolves into a demonstration of who had French and/or Latin and would actually be able to converse with Le Chevalier. Therefore, the study of different languages are vitally important. Next card.

"If your family had a motto, what would it be?"
Husband: “We three and no more,” Owen Springer, Grandfather in law.
Me: We would gladly feast upon those who would oppose us.
Son: Think also of the comforts and right of others.

What widely divergent ideas we all share. And yet, we agree that each idea is important, valid and relevant. And we laugh.

Finally, “where do your first and last name come from?”

Some things can be taught. I am happy someone took something obvious; put it in a little handy tin and helped me get even better at connecting with the people I love.

Gotta Love People

2012-01-16T17:12:00.001-05:00

It is a mandate. It is a daily practice. It is a challenge. It is the most important behavior of all. Love. Act on love. Just gotta. Love people.

There are 50 thousand ways of doing this everyday. Just stopping and approaching your personal agenda sideways is fun. For example, put a little love wrench in the pseudo customer care training. You know the script. You know the drill,

“Hi. How are you today?”

[Stop everything. Realize this is a person who has been trained to “make lively customer care banter. “ Look at this human being who is putting energy into the food you will be feeding your family this week. Understand, s/he probably has a family…or wants one…or maybe not….doesn’t matter. Just stop and see this human being who is being paid very little money to serve your needs. Will s/he be you BFF forever? No. Very unlikely. Does this mean you shouldn’t invest a 1/2 ounce of positive energy in her? No. Every investment in remembering humanit is a good investment.]

So look up and directly into their eyes and say,

“I’m okay. Thank you so much for asking. How are you?”

And wait for their response. And listen when they give it.

“I’m alright.”

If they are alright, or okay or good, acknowledge that fact.

“I’m happy that you are okay. Maybe tomorrow you’ll be awesome. Maybe tomorrow I might be not so good. It’s great that we have okay right now.”

It is really that easy to reclaim meaningless exchanges and transform them into honest, sincere connection. Which reflects acting upon the mandate, “gotta love people.” Which brings me to toys. No seriously. Toys.

I went crazy for these silly toys this past December. Can you tell me how this toy is not perfect in every way? It
takes virtually no space in your purse;
engages the imagination;
can be used in airports, trains, restaurants or wherever you happen to be with a child who will act out on their boredom in unacceptable ways; and
And can be traded, modified and changed to suit the mood of the day.

I sure hope someone comments. The game is called Think-ets. http://www.amazon.com/Think-a-Lot-Toys-THK-20-Purple-Think-Ets/dp/B003ETXJP2/ref=pd_sim_t_2.

So why is this toy filed under ‘gotta love people?” Because anyone can put 10 to 12 assorted trinkets in a lovely colored mesh bag. Anyone can provide five different game play scenarios. But, not everyone can bless themselves with honoring and acting upon viewing themselves as a being a person of vision. Not everyone can say, “wow this cool thing I’m doing with my kid can become such a successful toy that we have to develop a Teacher’s Edition.” Not everyone can just step back and love themselves and others.

And so this gets filed under “gotta love people” because I could totally hate on this concept and hate on the creator for doing something obvious or hate myself for not bringing the same idea to market first. Or I can totally love on this person for making our lives so much fun. I choose the latter.

Fat. Zen. Clothing Lessons

2012-01-15T11:25:00.001-05:00

A friend of mine has lost as much weight as I have this year. (For very different reasons.) But, every time she mentions it, I realize that fat women have something like our own culture.

It is hard to no longer be eligible to be part of a vibrant and dynamic culture simply because of what my body is doing. It is sort of like being a lesbian and falling in love with a man. All of a sudden, you are on the outside looking in at friends who now suddenly think you are a stranger. Or like being Amish and sent off on your walkabout only to choose something different and therefore, accept being shunned. Weird!

I never knew that fat women have our own rituals and rhythms until I wasn’t perceived as fat anymore. (And yes I still identify as a fat woman and will continue to do so until I am a size 4. Just joking!) Recently, my friend mentioned going to her favorite big girl clothing shop. Now, she can’t even wear the smallest size. And she was sad. I understood. That happened to me. I mourned. Not being able to shop at the fat girls shop has a massive meaning. It means you are no longer able to support a business which helped you defy society.

Not shopping at the fat girls frock shop puts you in the status quo. No longer can I support a business which told runway models to eat a cheeseburger. No longer can I walk home looking gorgeous and feeling like some fashion designer out there knows and understands not only me…but…my body too. No longer am I a visual representation of the fact that, no matter what package my good gorgeous soul comes in, it is that soul you love. Love the soul, not the box or wrapping paper it comes in. But, I do dress up nicely.

I didn’t give in easily. When my clothes were literally falling off of me, my husband said, "Baby, you gotta go shopping." And I didn't know what to do. Where do I go shopping? What size am I? It is all very confusing. When your whole way of being (regarding being polite and covering yourself so as not to offend anybody) is taken away. That is how it feels suddenly being a big woman in a small body. It feels as if nothing anywhere fits anymore.

But shopping I went. I quickly understood that what size I am is irrelevant. Some designers try to satisfy fat girls…cough… normal, healthy women. And some are trying to reach the anorexic market. It was so confusing! One pair of trousers that fit perfectly was a size 8. But the dress which fit like a skin tight glove was a 2X. And the gorgeous cashmere sweater was a size 12. What are these people doing to my head? When I went to the fat girl frock shop, I knew what size I was. It all fit perfectly. It all made me look stunning.

Now, I’m in this maze of diversion from important and reasonable activities. I can’t just go grab a sweater because I am cold. I have to spend two of my precious hours trying on sweaters. How do “thin” women do this? Why do “thin” women do this? Why do women want to wiggle out of their clothes, then wriggle into new clothes, then see how unflattering it is and repeat until something is right? I would rather sit naked in front of my computer and write a poem. But, society says this is unacceptable. So….wriggling it was. Until I had enough clothing that wasn’t falling off of my body.

Time suck. Not only did I have to navigate the maze which is the fashion industry’s method to imprison you in a store for two hours…when I got home, I had to clear out my closet just to fit the new things into it. Salt in the wound. Yes.

I mean - it is one thing to be fat. It an entirely other thing to be slovenly. I was the former, never the latter. Each garment in my closet was a hard won treasure. Imagine looking at all the cute and wonderful fashions that never come in your size. Then imagine having to go to the ends of the Earth to get even a minor facsimile thereof. Big doesn’t mean sweat pants and XXXL t-shirts. Big can wear a classic black dress and pearls if it wants to. Big is very beautiful. (But only if big sees itself that way.)

Salt in the wound. Clearing out the closet. Pain. So much so, that I couldn't even conceive of sending the clothes to Goodwill. Each and every garment was a fiercely fought for treasure. Just give it up? That’s kind of like making a will which says: “the balances in all my bank accounts should be turned into cash and then thrown from the rooftop of corporate headquarter’s building at noon on a Wednesday.” No. That doesn’t quite work.

But I posted about it on FB and lo and behold two of my tribe members took me up on my nostalgia. So I shipped the clothes to them. And if they wanted to throw the balance off of corporate headquarters at noon on a Wednesday, well so be it. Peace. I am absolved.

Anyway, the seasons went and turned on me. I had to shop again. So, I dutifully wasted my time in order to be warm. (Once the winter sets in clothing is no longer a means to not offend anyone, it actually becomes a necessity. Sigh.) So, I submitted to the fashion designers size roulette wheel. And came out okay.

But, it took me all the way to Thanksgiving to start buying the right size. I was with a college buddy and we were hanging out....and shopping. I discovered that I was still buying one size up…just in case. (You know, preventing the need for any future shopping. Preventing the need to ship clothing which is 10 years old - yet classic and timeless. Planning to not accept this body.)

So, I tried something on and my friend said, "That's too big." She went and found a smaller size. I put it on. It was still too big. "It fits!" I said, " Sort of...but...if I get fat again...I can still wear it." She scowled and then went back to get me a smaller size. (Which actually fit quite nicely.) She proclaimed, "Just wear what really fits you. Stop living in some strange in between place. Just do what is right now. You put this dress on. It fits. Wear it and enjoy it. Just for right now.”

So, I did. And I am. It is strange how something so stupid as covering oneself with cloth can take on such huge significance.

Lament Of The Blessed One

2012-01-14T23:43:00.007-05:00

Well, I pity my son. HA! But, yes I do. Pity the boy.

Imagine. Just imagine! How awful can it be to grow up with a mother who not only believes in home education…but loves toys. I mean, really! A mother who unreasonably, obsessively, unbearably loves educational toys.

You say, “What could be wrong with that?

I know. Imagine! Every holiday, my son thinks, “Oh Divine Universe, it is the holidays again. I know what I’m getting ~ sigh, deep, heavy laborious sigh ~ I’m getting school supplies.

And as he grows older, I know he thinks, “But, I just want….want… want… something I do not have. My mother is a toy geek. I have everything I could ever want. But, please Universe…there must be something…more? And thank you! ?”

The prayers begin anew. “Dear Universe, thank you for giving me a Daddy who is a tech-head. Thank you for giving me a Daddy who has given me - not only a roof over my head, food in my belly, heat and lights to see at night - every game system and every game worth playing within my age bracket.

But still…the media says I am missing something.” Pity the boy.
Pity the boy agonizing over war. Pity the boy
struggling to understand famine. Pity
the boy who googles fairies and gets this result and doesn’t understand
what is even so funny about it ...
other than how people react.
(Yes, he typed fairies and he was given this result http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=52VbWz4BjC4 Yay!!!!! Hmmmmmm.) Regardless, imagine the joy of the mother.

Still.
pity the boy confused about his powerlessness
in spite of having power.
So, this past

holiday, we scaled waaaay back. And strangely enough, he didn’t seem to notice or care. We actually had one day of Christmas and seven days of Kwanzaa. We are still trying to get to some of the presents.

"If it is a good toy, one will play with it until one is done," thinks the foolish mother. There is a reason the fool was the most powerful people in the medieval courts.

This year, we made a very solemn choice to only buy from local businesses. (Who they deal with is their own business. But, if they are local and independent, we support them.) I’m hoping to look at a few more of these gifts over the next few days. I know you can find them at some somewhere local. Google!

Into the present! The toys and games I hope to present are just toys and/or games. Frivolity! I am not trying to be judgmental. Every family does the best the can in the moment!s they experience I just want to offer ideas about play and it’s cognitive resonance. I am not one of these eagerly sought after “visual therapists.”. I’m a Mama who also happens to be a toy geek.

There are board games and there are “bored” games. (So says my son.) I enjoy watching my son be confidant, strategic, and proficient. (Yay, home education! Ooops, yay, active, mindful parenting!) But, one day, he is going to meet an actual shark (who is not merciless Daddy.) On that day, son will have to call upon the eclipse I gave him in utero and step up. Hence, the toy geek's first recommendation.. Dun dun duuuuunnnnnn.

This to post is in response to a new trend of "visual therapy:" Get this before you get referred to that!

The game is called "SPOT IT!" Wow! Under ten dollars..or at least at my local shop.. I got a cute little round tin which fits easily in my purse. Inside is a ton of fun which reinforces pattern recognition. memorization, and multiple methods of play...vis a vis negotiation skills.

Each player must evaluate and assess their own strategy? Okay. Thank you. That is good life long learning.

http://www.amazon.com/Blue-Orange-410-Spot-It/dp/B0039S7NO6/ref=sr_1_1?s=toys-and-games&ie=UTF8&qid=1326602464&sr=1-1

Happy New Year!

2012-01-14T20:54:00.002-05:00

(Oh and resolving to remedy - at least - my FB addiction.)

Wow! It is good to be back. Some of may you have followed along whilst I indulged myself in a Facebook delirium. It was good. Very convenient! And I hit rock bottom - which is what every addict ever does. Sometimes, the drug insures that the addict conforms. Sometimes, the drug acts like a porter carrying your luggage to the ticket counter or cab. Invariably, the addiction kills the addict.

Literally - all you have to do is fart (type) an idea out of your brain (ass). For doing so, you are rewarded with instant feedback from 10% of all 300 to 1,000 of your friends. Every moment of your life “liked” by 10% of your friends. Each valuing the moment it took you to make utterances such as , “I made corn today from my own garden!” And make it sound exciting {with pictures.}

Think about what Facebook does. Belching and farting ~ albeit thoughts ~ has become the norm. What makes it better is the time warp component. This is the feature which allows your “see you at the organic grocery store, stay groovy” friends to interact with your “I am a rabid Republican 1% friend from high school, but, I always loved you because you were not only Black, but, different, so de facto, I belong in this post-racial America because I am not racist for being your friend. Thanks and smooches!”

Facebook is kind of like being at your own funeral everyday. But, instead of being chunks in a jar, you get to interact, discuss, moderate, and debate! Now, that’s cool!

(Except when the bare bones of text fail to deliver nuance. Suddenly, everyone moves rapidly from discourse and dialog into cyber-slapping and demanding apologies from the slapped for provoking the need to cyber-slap somebody by the slapper. Imagine an IRL (in real life) cocktail party or pot luck at which this occurred. Now, tell me where your eyebrows are on your face? You, dear reader, are welcome to your own opinions. Maybe a good slap is necessary. {Really?} Personally, I have never, ever, ever condoned any one person slapping another. So ~ in my opinion ~ if your eyebrows are not trying to meet your hairline,, I wish you the best of all growth opportunities.)

So, I journeyed all the way to the low place. Yes. I did feed the troll. (In fact, after discussions with my husband, I have been unwittingly feeding this specific troll for over 6 years.) Shock and amazement! Wow! And so, at this point, I just have to giggle. When you make yourself the fool ~ well ~ you giggle. And reflect.

This is part of the addiction. Ephemeral, profound thoughts and ideas jump over the mountain and rufflle your hair. The immediacy of having someone - anyone - acknowledge that you breathe, receive ideas, exist and share - is exhilarating.
Excluded from this deal are the daily people who want breakfast, clean clothes, clean house, clean bodies, accountability, a product, bills paid, mortgage paid, and dinner. Suddenly, 10 % of the 300 to 1,000 others who only want seven words on a newsfeed that they can click “like” becomes an elixir easier to ingest than the daily hard work demanded by those live-in flesh petitioners that circle each day.

But, they circle each day. Because I want them. I need them. I can touch them at any moment. They can look across a room at my face, stand, cross and enfold me in their arms. Because they are witness to this one second which changed my face from serene to concerned. And they are there in that second which is faster than any computer can ever be.

Next Up: I totally admit that I am a toy geek. And in light of all manner of new trendy weird therapy for “learning disabled children,” I just want to offer up a few ideas. Especially about the ways we “learn.” But, yeah, it is winter so it is all about toys. Hopefully come summer, I’ll go on about rocks, logs and Nerf swords.

Thank you, Giant Eagle for your previous service.

2011-05-01T15:20:00.002-05:00

I have woken up. Convenience no longer feels convenient to me. For more than 20 years, I over-looked your obvious racial profiling in your stores. Shakespeare Street store is close and easy. When I want something more “upscale,” I go to Waterworks or Shadyside. I spend our Earth’s precious fuel driving around to feed your idea of what the market demands.

I won’t be doing that anymore. For a long time, I considered myself an activist. I was quite forgiving because you gave me “fuel-perks.” I could jump from store to store. The gas prices, thanks to your program, didn’t make it prohibitive to me. Then, Whole Foods made you remember that organic and sustainable food is important. (But, only to certain demographics.) I am ashamed of myself for buying into your marketing strategy. It lulled me into a dreamy wonderland.

I felt generous enough to forgive your obvious race and classism because you are a local company. Your foundation does good things in our community. But, I have had enough. I am Black. I am female. We are living Martin Luther King, Jr’s dream. And my family is intelligent enough to see through your duplicity. And in order for MLK’s dream to become a reality, I must object to your corporate marketing silliness.

Considering the recent, coordinated, calculated attacks on workers, farmers, and those who are not in the top 1% of America wealth, I can not in good conscience shop at your stores. You patronize us. You belittle us. You do a great dazzle-bedazzle magician’s act. You pat us on the head with incentives. We blink our eyes and stay asleep.<

I am awake now. And I will not excuse you any longer.

Five times, I have tried to get the Shakespeare Street store to sell me a case of Horizon Organic Chocolate Milk boxes. The fourth time, I even abandoned my entire cart full of groceries and announced, “Well, I’ll just get it from Whole Foods.” Then, I tried a fifth time. No change. Shakespeare Street Giant Eagle wants “it’s demographic group” to think organic is low quality or too expensive. The Shakespeare Street workers understand fully that their “demographic group” are unimportant. There is no need to “serve” us, after all, we are all servants. But, at Shadyside or Waterworks Giant Eagle, I am treated better than HRM Elizabeth of England.

My son sampled a cake at Shakespeare Street three days before his birthday and pronounced it to be “his perfect birthday cake.” He even announces that is is better than the “regular cake” (Whole Foods Vegan Chocolate Cake) we always buy. At Waterworks, the day before the party, I am informed, “we don’t sell that cake here.”

So, I high tail it back to the other store and buy the last 1/2 cake for his party. I check in the morning of the party to purchase his “perfect birthday cake.” I get a sullen, “we might have it by 2:00.” (I only get this sullen response because I keep standing there pressing for information for over 15 minutes.) I have a party to make happen in 3 hours, but she can’t be bothered. I mean, who am I? A Shakespeare Street customer...nobody important. But, if I’d been at Waterworks or Shadyside, they’d unwrap and let me taste the product, improve my party ideas and direct me towards more product I wouldn’t have ever considered purchasing. Are we not past the time when class determines level of service? Maybe at a Farmer’s Market....or a local farm. Certainly not in your stores. But, I digress

Party starts at 2:00. So I call a friend and beg a favor. “We’ll hold the Treasure Hunt, if on your way here you can pick up the “perfect birthday cake.) The party started. We held the Treasure Hunt. I get a call. “The Perfect Birthday Cake” isn’t here...should we get something else?” No. No. No. No good company has a taste test and then does not deliver product. That’s the kind of bad business that makes me say enough is enough.

And all of my forgiveness for you as a company drained away in that minute.

Thank you for helping me remember that I may have to pay a little more...but from this day forth, I know the farmers from whom I will buying food. I don’t know you. (The only exception being...perhaps... a handshake at the Elsie Hillman Awards.)

Thank you for reminding me that I am a member of a local food co-op. Thank you for helping me remember that I need to get busy in the garden. Thank you for helping me remember that convenience cripples workers. Thank you for bringing me and my family closer to the selves we wish to actualize.

Response To An Idiot Who Gleefully Shouted "Hand Job Time"

2010-11-25T00:58:00.006-05:00

Sometimes the internet provides challenges. Recently, folks began to notice that the "Enhanced Pat Downs" may traumatize victims of rape or sexual assault. Go figure! So, I find this link on a popular news site and the first comment is "Everytime I go through one of these I'm going to loudly proclaim "HANDJOB TIME." My blood boils often and it does so at a steady and controlled temperature. But, tonight, I had to let it run over.

Please, dear sir, inform me why you needed to make that remark. Truly, I'm not judging you. I am just curious.

As a rape survivor, I'm quite free. Many of my sisters are not. And I'm okay with that. Everyone is where they need to be when they are there.

So, where are you? Me? I’m an artist. I just like to sit back and watch the human condition. Thanks, you textually provocative man-thing!!

So, baby, dance for me...sputter and spew your male-feminism. Scream, "HANDJOB TIME!" Don't stop! Keep the groove going! Writhe a little bit for me.

Now, look me in the eye. I want you to see your sister, your cousin, your aunt, your mother and your grandmother looking back at you. They are all smiling now. They are all screaming “HANDJOB TIME.” And they descend upon you. And it doesn’t feel that good. And then, they turn into Eagles and fly away with your penis and balls.

In your heart, you know, that you will find them on the highest mountain top. So, open and wounded you set off. You have nothing there anymore, unless you count empty promises.

And there, they have built a fire. And over that fire, they are roasting your penis and balls. Each of your sisters, cousins, your aunts, your mother and your grandmothers take a tiny nibble of your tiny parts. (They know how to share power.) They may spit you out because you are too bitter. But, they will have you because they love you.

You have nothing left.. They will devour it all. But...there in that place which begs for resistance. The only thing you can do to get it back is accept what they have done to you. They only thing which will give you back your penis and your balls is the love of people who trust you. They want you to use your brain.

They have their teeth on your balls right now. What will you you do? Their eyes are greedy and they haven’t been fed for centuries. And they have no corporeal form. So, how about those survivors? What do you say now? Can you love? Can you act for righteousness? What undeniable promise can you make so they don't devour your privilege?

Simply Sheer Genius!

2010-11-17T21:10:00.003-05:00

Well, this video sums it up folks! Sorry I couldn't it embed it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXDLQPfqc04

Simply Sheer Genius!

2010-11-17T21:10:00.000-05:00

Well, that about sums it up folks!

A Call To My Sisters | Fly With Dignity Is A Feminist Issue

2010-11-15T17:30:00.010-05:00

I became attached to the issue about AIT scanners because I am a woman, a mother, a feminist and an African American. Most of the discussions I see online seem to revolve around men who are worried about other men touching their “junk.”

I will agree, this is a broad and sweeping generalization. Many men are discussing the violation of their 4th amendment rights. Many are addressing the legitimate scientific concerns about the health risks posed by continued exposure to radiation. And I applaud these gentlemen.
In relation to action statements, this is where the discussion devolves into a circle jerk. The men are all discussing wearing kilts “commando” style or getting boners, or making orgasmic noises when they get pulled aside to have an intrusive body search. It seems like a big game of “My junk is bigger than your junk and so I can bully you.

Sadly, I am not seeing as many women speaking up about this issue. Nor, do I hear many of my sisters getting out there to protest this by choosing to “Opt Out” on November 24th. The few women speaking up (as usual) are not getting the same media attention as White men who dare people to “touch my junk.” Of course, statistically, 1 in 6 women have been sexually assaulted. We are fully aware that society expects us to let “our junk” be handled, abused, and violated at anytime it is deemed necessary for the greater good.

It hasn’t been that long since women have even begun to believe that we can be protected by half of the civil liberties that White males grow up believing is their God-given right. It has only been 90 years since women gained the vote (even less for Black women.) It has been almost 40 years since what a rape victim was wearing became inadmisseble in court. We’ve barely won the right to wear whatever clothing we want and not expect to get raped. It has only been approximately 37 years since Roe V Wade. Yet, every year, women have to campaign for the right to make choices about when we choose to bear children. We’ve barely won the battle against domestic violence. Women still don’t feel as if the same rights and privileges which extend to White males apply to them. We have had to fight every step of the way.

Forgive me if I don’t have all the timelines in order - but - I’m old enough to remember when many of these rights were extended to us in my lifetime. And I remember either my mother or some college professor or some cool activist talking to me about these “great victories.” What I am trying to say is, the majority of our civil liberties as women are barely as old as I am. And I hold them precious.

So this is a call to my sisters. Our great grandmothers, grandmothers, mothers and even ourselves have faced every threat, inconvienence and even death to have a few simple things we take for granted. This is a call to every woman to remind the world that we fought hard and long to simply obtain the right to:
walk down the street unescorted,
wear make-up;
smoke or drink in public;
expect not to be raped or molested;
expect for our bosses or co-workers to not touch us or speak with us inappropriately;
expect not to be beaten by a spouse and have legal recourse;
choose when to bear children;
and vote for people who will not try to steal these victories from us.

We, as women, have more at stake. We have barely claimed our bodies. And we are under attack again. This is our issue. No on should ever touch our bodies if we do not consent. Ever. And we must never let them touch our children's bodies without their consent. (As is what happened to a three year old girl here.) And furthermore, I don't want this spoof cover of a pretend book to ever be needed in my home.

I also don't want my son sitting in therapy with one of these dolls and the therapist saying, "Show me where the TSA agent touched you." (The quote is by some random reddit poster.)

November 17th will have a Senate TSA Oversight Hearing. Here is a link to an article which posts all the numbers and names. Call and write!

Please - join in the discussion! Thanks!
www.flywithdignity.org

Life In Our House / Flying With a 7 Year Old Boy & Opting Out

2010-11-12T21:45:00.004-05:00

This mini-script was inspired about recent articles regarding the porno-scanners now moving into most American airports. We'll be flying over the holiday season. And we will also be "opting out." We urge you to do the same.

Some of the inspiration for the script:
http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2010/nov/11/ta-at-the-tsa/

http://www.boingboing.net/2010/11/11/tsas-new-book-for-ki.html

http://docs.google.com/viewer?url=http://www.npr.org/assets/news/2010/05/17/concern.pdf

And of course, the unattended flight desk.....
http://i.imgur.com/9U5NK.jpg

Life In Our House / Flying With a 7 Year Old Boy & Opting Out

Mama:
Okay! So it’s the great big day! We’re going to find out where all those Monarch butterflies go in the winter!

SON:
Yeah! I think I have everything. Let’s go!

Mother:
Let’s check.

(Mama looks in her son’s back. )

Mama:
Ok! We just have to loosen the strap on your lap top.

Son
Why?

Mama
Becuase we have to get it out quickly for security.

(Son’s shoulder’s sag.)

Son
Oh, right.

Mama
And these cables, let me tidy them up nice. Can you get me a twist-tie and baggie from the kitchen.

Son:
Yes, mama

Mama
Thank you baby

Son
You’re welcome mama

Mama
Okay, we’re ready! Daddy are you ready?

Daddy
Yes.
Mama
Let me check your bags.

(Surly look from Daddy)

Daddy
I’m a platinum card member. I know how to pack my bags.

Mama
Okay!

(They get into the car and drive to the airport.)

Mama
Son, remember all of the security checkpoints?

Son
Yes Mama. Take off my shoes. Put them in the shoe bin. Get out my laptop and ds and put them in 2 bins. Then I have to smile, because I am cute. Then, I have to look at the officers faces and smile. Then I wait until I go through the gate.

Mama
No things are diferent now.

Son
I hate changes:

Mama
You have to wait for Mama to tell you if you can go through the gate.

Son
Okay...why

Mama
Because some of the new gates will give you cancer.

Son
Oh.

Mama
If they want us to go through the new gates, you have to wait for Mama to say, “Opt Out.”

Son
Okay
Mama
When Mama says “Opt Out.” Except everyone to become very rude.

Son
Why

Mama
Because they don’t believe in those songs we like “The Bill Of Rights” and “The Constitution” by www.songs of higherlearning.

Son
Oh. Why?

Mama
Because they didn’t leaqrn what they needeed to learn when they went to school.

Son
Oh, that’s sad. They should really learn that stuff.

Mama
Yeah, but people felt sorry for them and gave them jobs even because they didn’t learn anything important. Mostly because, they count on Daddy to pay taxes for all the other people who don’t want to learn everything to be unhealthy.

Son
That’s sad

Mama
Yes, it is. But, we have to get focused.

Son
Okay

Mama
When we get to the security place, you must continue to smile. All the time.
And when we “Opt out.” Can you repeat what Mama is saying? Opt Out

Son
Opt Out

Mama
Good! When Mama says opt out, you need to be be ready for some kind of agitated, nervous people to come around us.

Son
I don’t like that.
Mama
If it happens, you can have a long talk with Grad dad afterwards....and I can always hear you, love you and support you. Grand dad spent a long time opting out so you can play with Giselle and Gwen without worrying that some one would hang you from a tree until you are dead. Things are so much better today. But, you have an obligation to smile, be polite and let people touch you in your private places.

Son
I don’t want to go.

Mama
Your Great Grandmother was beaten in the streets so Daddy only has to work part of the day. You Grand dad took things to the courts and kept cities from burning. Your mama (until she met Daddy) spoke all over everywhere to say that human beings should love human beings. And Daddy became the best ever mathemagian in the world so people are thinking about everybody being given a chance to learn. So, what are we doing to keep the family legacy moving forward.

Son (dejected, sullen and worried.)
Opting out. And letting strangers touch me even if I feel very bad about it because I don’t want to die from some evil disease.

Mama
Good boy!

In The Light Of Bobby Porter

2010-10-31T00:25:00.001-05:00

Towards Fragile Peace In The Confrontation Of Vulnerability

Disclaimer: I did not know Bobby Porter that well. Much of what I may say could be construed as romanticism or hearsay. This is simply my journey towards approaching a tangible understanding born from a stirring realisation when I was an artist in my mid thirties. One day, I woke up and screamed, “I’m not going out like Bessie or Zora.” This internalisation of the history of American artists of colour, made some profound changes on my psyche.

Bobby Porter was an African-American artist in Pittsburgh who crossed genres and lived a life in harmony with his muse. Recently, he made his transition. How sad for all of us still waiting. How glorious for him. From all I know, he was a big-spirited man who just made himself a place wherever he was. Some very high brow people call that “zen,” now. In fact, there are even best-selling books called “Be Here Now.” Well, he was here. He was now. And from what I have been told, there was not a cardboard box on the planet which could label and contain him.

What is actually sad about Bobby’s journey to the ancestor’s arms is that he made it as a United States veteran. Not sad, you may say, because he lived to sing even after Vietnam. He stood up and defended our ability to choose liberty, freedom or both. His artistic life celebrated the notion of liberty. (Our founding fathers made it quite clear that “freedom” comes with responsibility, frugality and work for the sheer joy of combating the evils of idleness.) But, liberty....is a very different concept all together. And he went out there and defended both principles....liberty and freedom. Those same founding fathers who believed Bobby’s ancestors should not be free and also did their best to control his ancestor’s liberty when freedom actually arrived.) So - in spite of every historical nuance - Bobby presented a persona that through his life and artistic choices stated firmly, “we all arrive here on this planet as homo sapiens. And, we have the liberty to choose the ways in which we conduct our lives.”

So, it does not surprise me that our government could not even allow him liberty in death. They will only pay for a body to be interred, not cremated. In this day and age of discussing “greening everything from our bathrooms to our cities, this is a curious standpoint. Cremation is the greenest form of remembering that the soul has moved on and the Earth remains a limited resource from which all of humanity must sustain ourselves. Regardless of politics, the fact remains, that Bobby’s close friend had to find a way to remove him from their facility and find the funds necessary to honour his last wishes.

We live in a wonderful digital time. People can be mobilised within seconds. A heroic effort was launched on Facebook letting people know about donation centres or events around town which would take money to offset the costs of honouring a valuable community member’s wishes. Awesome!

However, this got me thinking. Why are we as an artist community not tapping into those resources which allow us to care for our own? Six years ago, my friend’s house burned down. I learned that in order to get relief donations broadcast on the news, we had to set up a “relief fund” through a reputable bank.” Getting the relief fun set up took one hour. Once it was set up, I was able to contact all news media sources and they gladly did “follow-ups on the tragic fire and how you can help.” My friend was able to rebuild her life. I learned a lot from that.

We now have excellent resources such as, “Caring Bridge” and Helping Hands” and “Kickstarter.” And here is where I begin to question our - defined as the artistic community - commitment to liberty but not freedom.

Every time an artist gets sick or dies...it is always a mad scramble to fix it. And so many wonderful energetic souls step up. It and always seems to happen. But, we don’t we plan for these eventualities?

Some of us may be off the scene for a period of time and want to help. But can’t because we are no longer able to whip by “this show” or swing by “that venue.” Yes, in fact, some of us have traded our liberty for freedom. We have living wills, regular wills and great detailed plans for “controlling our artistic work” long after we’ve gone. (With allocated administrators and folks we deem appropriate to the task of honouring our artistic vision. Laugh all you want, but, Langston Hughes was one smart cookie. And whomever is his beneficiary is doing just fine.)

Just because some of us think like this, doesn’t mean we don’t want to help. It just means as artists, each of us choose their own path. Some paths value liberty. Some paths value freedom. Some paths value a balance between both. But, we are all out here together sewing our souls onto our sleeves and asking the world whether it moves them or not.

Even before Abolition, Black folks knew that “shit happens.” I remember reading about a Free Men’s Society in Philadelphia circa 1830. Every member paid one nickel a month. (Approx. $20.00 today) And when it came time to bury someone or help someone or send someone down south the free a free man who was taken by unjust laws., they had it! There was no corporation trying to minimise risk for shareholders. There were people in this community who had a need. Period. And if the coffers went dry, well, I suppose they fund-raised. (I apologise for not citing a reference. Those books are no longer littered up with bookmarks. In fact, they all live in a closet at the top of the staircase because I care so much about “neat” and “tidy.” No longer do I feel a compulsion to immediately reference a source and make a footnote on my musings. As I’ve grown older, I’ve begun to validate my own knowledge. Look it up yourself.)

So what do people think about getting behind the knowledge that “shit happens?” What do you think about organising and pulling our resources together so that we are prepared? What intellectual, emotional, physical, financial resources would you contribute to making sure that this never happens again? Because - I’m not going out like Zora. And I know you don’t want to either. And I know that betwixt all of us....we may just build a better legacy for Bobby and all artists ...whether they are of colour or not.

Dread = Fear OR Head Injury Failure

2010-10-20T23:38:00.000-05:00

So, I’ve had some ongoing health issues lately. We have insurance. We have the best doctors. We have the ability to address the issues. And after a year, they still haven’t been solved.

But, we’ve been muddling our way through and counting on the fact that we have the rare privilege here in America of being able to afford healthcare. But, it seems as if even the ability to afford it doesn’t deliver.

Last Friday afternoon, I tried to walk from the dining room to the kitchen and fell over. My friend said, she heard a thump and rushed into the kitchen. I was on the floor. My eyes were rolled up in my head and I was drooling. Ten seconds later, I woke up. Needless to say, I was a bit out of it.

She kept saying should I call 911?

I kept saying “No, I’m cool. I’m sorry for messing up the play date.”

Finally, I felt the back of my head. There was an Ostrich egg there. Another friend dropped by. She is also dread. I asked her to look at my head and see whether we had anything to worry about. She kind of gasped and said, "OMG! It's really red." It was then that I decided that going to the hospital might be a good thing. Husband came home and kids were packed off. (Thank you lovely friends)!

So, we go to the ER. Great. I am interviewed. I am given standard neurological tests. I am given an EKG. Blood is drawn. An I.V. is inserted. Heart is monitored. But, nobody will touch my head.

I am released. I am not allowed to go anywhere unattended. I may not drive. I am to follow up with my PCP on Monday. I sleep for two days. I wake only to restlessly try to make our son’s life seem “normal.” My husband makes sure I follow up with our PCP on Monday.

So, I do. And the PCP is incredulous that I am in his office and nobody ever thought to scan my head. I can’t walk unassisted. I’m dizzy. I can’t see straight. So, he sends me off for a CT Scan. Never does he touch my head.

(In defence of all the lovely health professionals who attended me, I will state now for the record that I present “poorly.” That means, I’m not moaning and crying. I am often witty and engaging. And I have to spend a lot of time thinking about what ails me because, why complain for no reason? I like to present all of the facts in a rational manner ....somehow hoping they will be relevant. And pain is a state of mind we accept. Right? This does not not help me or them.) Moving on....

(Side-side note: this is the woman who swears child birth is painless. Both of my births had to get someone to coerce me into the hospital by my midwives because I kept saying, “it’s all cool. the ancestors are with me. the ocean waves are great and I love riding them.”)

But the fact remains, nobody was willing to touch my head. Not even today during the CT scan. When asked if I had any metal in my “braids,” I suddenly realised that I do. I began combing through my locks looking for this one piece of jewellery. The technician simply stated, “As long as it is way down there we don’t have to worry.” Well, I did worry.

I don’t know about CT Scans but I do know that my dense heavy locks were over the exact place they needed to be looking at. And I do know that the ER MD wasn’t willing to touch my head to feel the Ostrich egg presenting itself there. And I do know that no one was willing to look under the mane for any damage. And I wonder....will this leave us in a deeper more long lasting limbo.

Am I so fierce? Is my mane too terrifying to diagnose? And why aren’t there more African-Americans in these fields? Because there seems to be some deep fear about approaching my dread.

And fierce as I am....I hate limbo.

Club Family!

2010-10-12T17:32:00.007-05:00

(in this post - the word "we" refers to me and my husband.)

So, in London, we used to go out once a month and dance. Those, nights, we also hung out with adult friends. Maybe we had a pint and a tasty morsel we would name dinner. They used to call it the "baby disco." And it was fantastic! But, America has moved on beyond the "disco era." We have "clubs" now. Isn't it so inclusively exclusive?

Well, we want to keep dancing with our children. We want to hear fresh beats and see cool talent working their two turntables and their microphones. We want it to feel like we are home with friends, and, at the same time having a special evening out on the town. So, we invented Club Family for Pittsburgh.

Club Family features DJ Supa C spinning clean sounds for full family enjoyment. No longer, do you have to dance around your living room alone. No longer do you have to get home in time for "pookie's" 6 AM wake up call. Don't wait for date night! Club Family brings fun fresh sounds to get the whole family moving, grooving and fantastic fit! After all, we're in this together now.....because we've chosen to have families.

And if families can't get their groove on together, what kind of world are we creating? So, spend your date night eating great food and discussing books, career moves, philosophy, religion, household budgets, and education. But, jump into your body and get "high-up clean fun" with the rest of us at Club Family! (Please note: high-up clean fun could be construed as an antonym to "low-down, dirty fun." Of which I think many of us has had their fill. Or maybe not.....but, who has to change pookie's diaper in the morning changes the perspective quite a lot.)

and then comes the unwelcome (draft)

2010-10-05T23:23:00.001-05:00

sunrise with trumpets, pearls
and bouquets of wild
flowers falling out of a little boy's mouth.

next bodies
slipping together
same as seven

years ago
adjusted
for growth and

loquacious inventions
detailed. minutia forgotten
the moment we seek

coffee and milk
and peanut butter. must
get to bed if I care

to enjoy the show.

NOT Back-To-School (Or regular school that is.) Presenting the School Of Magic!

2010-09-04T20:18:00.002-05:00

So, now I know why I haven’t been blogging much. It’s a holiday weekend. This morning I had a bit of a lay-in, but once I was up, it started. It took me 30 minutes of trying to play one uninterrupted game of Bejewelled Blitz to understand why I haven’t been posting much lately. It seems that I can’t get through 60 seconds without someone saying, “Mom!” or “Honey....?” For me this translates into a feeling of being constantly on call. There just doesn’t seem to a be a moment where I just fold deeply into myself and ruminate.

But, I’m not here to complain. I just wanted to take a few moments to cheer on the fact that yet again this year, we will be not going back to school. And I’m here to jump up and down and express my extreme happiness for the personal growth I’ve experienced simply by being fortunate enough to be surrounded by good friends.

Some of you may remember that I was part of this awesome home school group called PALS Enrichment Programs. Many of you may remember that we moved back to Pittsburgh from London because we simply could not see home educating Winston without such a group around us. So, it was very hard to be forced to leave this group after giving three years of significant time, energy and financial resources. But - to me - a socially healthy environment is the first and foremost reason to home school. So, given that I was unable to provide leadership to allow for this, I had to go.

How fantastic! Community is what you make it. You don’t need a 501 C3 tax-exempt status, rent a fancy building, or insurance to facilitate your child’s whims and notions. You need some Mamas and Daddies who care about listening to their children and figuring out a way to meet those needs.

And, WOW! I’m lucky. Last year, I asked Winston what his educational objectives for the year were. He said, “Magic.” I rolled my eyes and said, “Great” in a rather snippy tone of voice. One year later, thanks to a homeschooling Mama friend, we are opening the “School Of Magic” next Friday.

Children are profoundly intuitive creatures. They are amazing. I can’t believe I wasted an entire year on a rigid, unhealthy home schooling group only to wake up an embrace my son’s genius. My friend, C, started talking about “what will we do” when we realised we couldn’t return - in good conscience - to PALS.

“I dunno,” I said.

“What does your unstopping day look like?” she asked.

“Not what I want it to look like,” I said.

“I know what you are saying, sister,” she said. “Mine only wants to study magic.”

“I know!” I said. “WTF! Next year is testing year for us! I can’t work with this.”

“I think I’m going to go with it,” she said. (Insert here that the backyard of her house leads out to a magnificent forest with a crazy amount of wild edibles that she has been studying.) “I think I’d like to offer and herbology class.”

“Cool, we’ll be there!”

Two days later, I call her on the phone. When she answers, I screech, “EVERYTHING IS MAGIC!” Wizards, witches, shamans...they were scientists. They observed and recorded the world around them. They experimented. They failed and succeeded and recorded their experiments. A School Of Magic is the School Of Life! This is why we are home educating our children. We want them to have fun, observe, record, fail, try and generally soak up all of the magic around them everyday!”

And so it begins after a few e-mails to some friends asking whether they thought their kids might be interested in hanging out, hiking through the woods, gathering herbs, making potions, blowing stuff up and talking about some “famous wizards”, our School Of Magic opens next Friday.

Next up - I gotta work on this trusting my child to be a self-directed learner thing. Educational objective = magic? Yup, sure ‘nuf. I’m just sorry it took me a year to figure it out.

Big Brains At A Box

2010-07-31T15:57:00.001-05:00

for Tom Hesse

connect

only the minds

wireless. hum

the ozone. buzz

and blitz

never slick

with humidity pouring oil

out of pores. or hair

on the shoulder of a blazer,

a fleck of dandruff betraying

anything personal.

surrenders, a body releases

everything. like the way

a motorcycle crash

softens and cracks the bones

that could manipulate a keyboard.

a keyboard which connects

a heart that pumps thoughts

into nerves endings fed

by thumping muscle,

to the big brains at a box

silently pounding

LOL or OMG

everything poured out of a body

you never touched

with hands. only eyes on

a status message.

away means for good this time.

none of the brains

programmed it exactly

this way. clean. dry. electric.

NOTE: Today, I find this modern world very perplexing. Norman's co-worker made his transition last night. He never met this person. They all worked together in their virtual office. But, the loss is deeply real and made even weirder because his IM status says he is just "away." Having a hard time wrapping my brain around this one.

Husband Plays Video Games

2010-05-24T23:47:00.000-05:00

the toilet is weeping.

i just found obscure lyrics connecting

my past to a profound silly word. hard

drive and what the hell

does googol mean anything

anymore? it helps me forget.

Thoughts on "Schooled" by Gordan Korman

2010-03-06T13:52:00.003-05:00

a book which makes me question the intersections between home education, capitalism and community

No Spoilers

Meandering through a bookstore, a bright yellow book entitled “Schooled” caught my eye. I pick it up, turn it over and begin to read the summary. The main character, Capricorn (Cap) Anderson is a homeschooled boy who has never watched television, tasted pizza or heard of a wedgie. He has been raised on a commune by his Grandmother, Rain. But, Rain falls out of a Plum tree and breaks her hip. Placed in foster care for the duration of her recovery, Cap suddenly finds himself placed in 8th grade in a modern American middle school.

I decide to buy it. I’m very curious about how the author is going to treat this subject. This is the first book I’ve encountered with a homeschooled child as a primary character. Let me rephrase that. This is the first book in which a philosophy of home education contributes to the circumstances surrounding a homeschooled primary character. For example, the poor children in the Lemony Snickett books are home educated, but, nobody addresses this fact. It is just the way in which their lives are being lead.

I bought this book even though I was well prepared to be offended by it. The circumstances are stereotypical. The first question most people ask home educating parents is, “What about socialisation.” For this reason, the book already had a strike against it. Isolated, sheltered child with no socialisation gets thrown out into the big wide world. To quote the book jacket, “Right from the beginning, Cap’s weirdness makes him a moving target at Claverage Middle School.”

Suddenly, here is a book in a major bookstore with a homeschooled primary character. When I decided to purchase a book which I was sure to offend me it was also because another question nagged at me. Are we, the homeschooling community, being viewed as a market by the publishing community. And if so, what message are they trying to send us?

These days, it sure feels that way. The resources available to home educators in my local community seem to indicate that we are being viewed as a fantastic new market. (Not that I am complaining, it is nice to have such affordable educational opportunities for my son.) Sixteen years ago, I was hard pressed to find any secular educational and social opportunities for my daughter. Today, my son attends classes just for home educated children at the Natural History Museum, Science Centre, The First Tee Of Pittsburgh, the Pittsburgh Zoo & Aquarium. He participates in all of these activities, in addition to the more organic, community driven enrichment classes provided by our largest resource, PALS Enrichment Programs. And still, everyday, some new tutor who wants “to serve the homeschooled community” pops up offering their services.

So, I am leery of a book with a home educated character. I want to know exactly what the publishing industry thinks of us. I also want to know what they want from us. With home education on the rise, I can only assume that people think they’ve found a jackpot. From the outside, we must seem like an incredible market. More and more these days, American children are moving towards electronic stimulation.

On-line video games, Ipods, portable game machines and home entertainment centres dominate the landscape of children’s free time. A child today never has to crack a book for entertainment unless their parent has strict requirements about screen time. Who is left to buy these crazy archaic blocks of text which demand some amount of brain engagement and imagination? These things are heavier than a Wii remote; take more energy to consume; and worse, are made from trees.

Well the answer to that question is a bunch of radicals who are either right or left of centre. Both groups seem to be willing to make sacrifices for their children on behalf of their education. Both groups seem to have some sort of ideology which is important to them. But, one group - the one a little left of centre - seems to value critical thinking, pursuit of knowledge and logic. You can sell more books to a group like this, after all, they are willing to look objectively at anything you try to offer them.

So, I open the book and begin to read. By chapter three, I am feeling more forgiving towards the author. Right around chapter twelve, I begin to understand that the author would be unable to advance the plot without the stereotypical nature of Cap’s upbringing. I also realise that it has a distinct head nod towards Christianity. A clear Jesuit affirmation of “Give me the boy until he is seven and I will give you the man.” I’m okay with that, part of me buys into that idea.

My own personal experience of homeschooling 19 years ago validates this thought. My firstborn was not raised in isolation. She was, however raised among people of like minds. Because we allowed a certain amount of media and awareness of society at large, she was not quite as out of her depth as Cap. However, her transition to a mainstream school had some intersections with the way in which Cap navigates his new circumstance.

From chapters 20 until 30, I began to understand the way in which the author attempts to serve both communities of homeschoolers. Cap becomes Jesus. It isn’t until the final chapter - chapter 31 - that the author chooses no alternative side. he chooses the mainstream - with boundaries, balance, limits and a head nod to staying true to your beliefs.

I am still left with questions. I am still trying to figure out who the publishing industry thinks they want to serve. The book is a delicious tightrope walk between conflicting ideologies.

I enjoyed the read. I do not regret buying the book. I only hope they can do further investigation into reality and portray us accurately in the future. Standing on the fence and then falling into the mainstream does nobody any good whatsoever.

Ain't Letting No Fat Guy Steal My Thunder

2009-12-21T02:51:00.002-05:00

In our house, Santa's gifts are unwrapped. There are two reasons for this decision. First, the child/ren can see exactly what Santa thought of their behaviour this year. Second, less work for Mama.

Imagine the scenario....

it is Christmas morning! Happy excited child races down the stairs to see what Santa brought. There is a lot of the very same, exact wrapping paper. But there is - within immediate vision - cool and fun things to look at. These are the gifts from Santa. They require no assistance. They don’t need to be unwrapped. They are ready to play with! They pass the time whilst the coffee brews. But how do we justify this?

Santa is unsure about the effect of his increased travels on the time/space continuum and the ozone layer. Due to science, the population has increased exponentially. However, the forces of European colonialism have increased the number of children needing to be served every year. Both Santa and the elves have an unprecedented workload. They are trying their best.....so.....

very, very special children choose to do their part by accepting the "not wrapped mode" of delivery. The elves are grateful that these children are willing to apply decent and respectable labour laws to include them - as non-humans. Therefore, all "unwrapped children" get an extra gift.

Finally, as a home school family, we use Santa as a tool. Santa brings the cool “school supplies.” He brings the pre-packaged science kits, the tanagrams and logic puzzles. He knows who is naughty and nice. He lets children know where they may have “more self-directed and less accomplished” than they could have been that year.

But, let us not forget that the Elves have been pushed to their limit. After hundreds of years of massive technological break throughs, they have to spend all of their vacation time cramming our new technology into their brains. Target can deliver a PSP or a Nintendo DS with ease. An elf who makes this item gave up wandering the dwindling Alaskan tundra and observing frolicking penguins in order to learn new technology....just for your child.

After so many years of playing this game, I’ve grown tired of some fat guy taking the credit for all my hard work. Because, eventually, they discover that Santa isn’t real. They move on. But, somewhere, they never make the connection that their Mama was busting her a$$ to make it wonderful for them.

This Santa does not add to the landfills. This Santa takes her glory and her due. This Santa isn’t hiding behind any man.

International Pretend To Be A Time Traveler Day

2009-11-27T00:40:00.003-05:00

Well, it's been awhile....but my husband, Norman, but a bug up my nose this morning.

For the rules, go here:
http://forums.koalawallop.com/viewtopic.php?t=1719

Feedback is VERY welcome!

I want to pretend to be a time traveler on Dec. 8th...location to be disclosed.

Norman and I were talking about the fact that there are so few African Americans in time travel literature. (The only one I can think of is Octavia Butler's Kindred)

It struck me, what would the effect of African Americans be on this event? What different choices would we make? And given that it is done in public, how would people respond to Black time traveller's? Given the historic nature of the past election, what would African-Americans from a dystopic future be here to "correct." And what would ones from a Utopian future be here to encourage?

The current scenario with which I am working is that a series of catastrophic events leads to the extinction of the White Race. My character comes from a future where there are no White People. I live in a world where I've never seen a living White person - only ancient photographs. I've returned to prevent that from happening.

So, I plan to walk around a good portion of the day marveling at the curious wonder of White People. And, I’ll be asking White people the same questions White people ask me everyday in the supermarket.

In order to be safe, my character must look opulent, regal and unthreatening. Her tone must always be soft, cajoling and co-operative.

Sample Scripts

In reverse to the "How long have you been growing your hair." For short haired people, I plan to use "It was kind of you to give up your hair for The InCureables. You look like the kind of person who would donate. I'm right, aren't I?" (with a great big smile and nod as if they are the best ever person in the word.)

For a person with very straight hair. "How long does it take to do your hair? I've never seen hair so straight. May I touch it?

With an incredulous look on my face followed by great concern, "You are so pale, are you safe outside at this time of day?"

LUNCH

Approach a random person.

“It is the time of Satiation. Where is the Community Cook Pot?”

Likely response - HUH?

Where do you gather to celebrate the gifts of nature?

Likely response - Huh?

Make the sign for eating. If they catch on, listen intently for directions. Then thank the profusely.

In the food court -

Ask a person “Which of these Community Cook Pots is for the scientists?”

Likely response - Huh?

(Gesture at all of the lines.) Which queue is for the scientists?

Likely response - Huh?

Where am I allowed to dine?

Likely response - Anywhere.

Stare at them in disbelief. Then, walk around a long time staring at the menus.

Hold up the line.

Ask the cashier -

“What is my allotment today?

Likely response - Thanks for choosing X. What can I get you?

What is my portion today?

Cashier
Huh?

What is my rightful allowance of food today?

Cashier
Huh? Have whatever you want.

That’s is unacceptable. I have not earned anything I want. What may I have?

Cashier
What do you want?

(Joyful!) A test! This is a test of my honesty!

Rummage through very small purse. Pull out pesos, dollars and pounds.
Order the smallest thing on the menu.

Here is my offering, what do you choose?

Let clerk pick up the dollars and give change.

I have done well!

Take food to a table. Bring out a candle, a lighter, some incense. Light the candle and incense. Open arms and give a great LOUD prayer of Thanksgiving.”

Eat....relishing every single bite.

To insinuate the Time Travel motif - What is the year?

Likely response, “2009.”

Who is the Nations Elder?

Likely response: Obama

(joyful response) Then we still have time! Oh! Oh! We still have time.

NEED:
More ideas
Some help with costumes. Flowing, new age-y, ethnic-y clothing. (A cloak in the event I don't choose a mall.)
A cohort ( or a court)
Documentation
Witnesses in the event that a Black Time Traveler is way too scary for some random people.
Childcare

Anyone interested?

Video of White men who have done brilliant applications of this are here:
http://vimeo.com/2567037
and here
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEtVGsV2EcQ&NR=1

Watching Stacey Waite Open For Dr. Bernice Reagon

2009-03-16T17:28:00.003-05:00

behind me was a murder of cackling elders.
during the entire evening, they crackled their candy wrappers;
tittered; giggled; sucked their teeth and said "Oh, no!"

(especially when Jan was reading.)
they harumphed, groaned "uh, uh, uh"
and muttered about poems in which no cock protruded.

when you took the stage, I heard them shifting;
settling; roosting. You spoke.
and they didn't.

I saw a bridge building itself
that, in death, not even Sakia Gunn could erect.
under the eyes of frozen painted muses

these women recalled
passing; chewed on choices;
and were finally brought

to peace.

Seedlings

2009-03-15T10:46:00.002-05:00

Some people say the universe sings a song. If you listen closely enough, you can hear the moon in its orbit. Perhaps I am wrong, but it sounds something a calimbas, xylophones, violins and a small wooden drum.

I have heard the Earth’s heartbeat. Sometimes it is a reassuring sound ~ something deep ~ like the moment my brain finished forming and I noticed the heartbeat pumping nutrients into my forming limbs.

Whether these things are real or not, I do believe everything has a song.

As the weather warms, our thoughts turned to the garden. Winston was so pleased with himself last summer. So, no cajoling was necessary. He has big plans this year. He knows what he wants to plant. Milkweed is high on his list because he wants to attract butterflies. But, he also wants pumpkins, beans, broccoli, basil, mint, corn, and the list goes on and on.

Last week, we planted seeds. The little peat pellets are a magical thing. When you pour water on them, they expand. It was his favourite part of the planting.

But, my favourite was observing how clearly he could hear the songs of life all around him. As he placed each seed in its little hole, he sang it a growing song. Plant and sing and plant and sing - until all of the seeds were snug.

With each packet, I read him the germination time. He seemed a bit disappointed that it would take so long. But, lo and behold. Not three days after planting, his seeds sprouted. He was so proud that he had given them such a good start. And he sings to the seedlings almost every other day.

We’ve discussed the science of why plants enjoy having a soft song every now and then. As much as he understands and nods his head. I think, he knows there is something deeper. He believes in his songs.

And I believe him. He hears the world's music. And I hope he never forgets how to listen for it.

Utterances

2009-03-10T15:13:00.000-05:00

NOTE: These are exact utterances made by my son while he played a game called Noby, Noby Boy.

Scene 1

I learned that Boy could climb up anything when he climbed up a rainbow.

Cat can climb really well. Just like boy can climb up anything.

Boy has to stretch to feed girl so they can go to Saturn.

Look at the human girl standing on the floating turtle.

The people are always up.

I’m never leaving down here because of the people.

Look at the people running away because I want to eat them.

Scene 2

Want to see me go up to the clouds?

I’m flying.

I’m not flying, I’m falling. That doesn’t count for me. I tried to tell you, but, you wouldn’t listen.

(Singing)
But, I am mad at Boy because he is the cutest little doggie

He’s really a boy not a girl with little hearts coming out of him.

He’s not a girl. He’s a boy.

(Spoken)
He can only eat when he stretches.

Boy is missing! Oh! There he is, he’s right down there.

Okay, eating face. I call Boy eating face.

Scene 3

Want me to show you how I feed Girl?

I have to report my length to Girl.

Girl swallows the heart I gave her. It’s 879, 345,823 meters long. She grew! See!

Scene 4

Look Grandma can float. Run for your life, I’m coming for you Grandma! Grandma is by my house, but she can’t see me coming for her.

I got you Grandma.

I figured out a sneak attack for eating her.

Grandma come back, I just want to eat you.

Grandma won’t see me up in the clouds. She won’t be expecting me. I’ve been following Grandma all day. But, still she’s not running. She’s not hiding.

That sneaky little Grandma. She went into her house!

But, now, I’ve knocked her out of her car.

You can’t run. You can’t hide, Grandmas. I’m going to eat you.

Stupid old Grandma.

Where is she? In my tummy! I got you inside my tummy!

Better run. Better hide. I’m gonna get you inside.

Come here, darling!

Boy, come down, Grandma knows you love cookies. Come inside for cookie nookie tookies.

Bye, bye Grandma. I ate you all up.

Scene 5

I’m done with this.

Athena

2009-03-10T15:11:00.001-05:00

this young man rummages through your
top drawer, fingering knickers, bras,
personal things I used to fold, put away

in that cloudy dark universe I painted.
to sleep you sang through insomnia.
and sunny days began to slip

into hunted nights. no longer owl
but snake busy chasing tail.
you’ve left behind

the blue moon bedroom,
the soprano bow with its quiver,
the hounds and heart pumping

deer. dryads are simple,
fragile, easily burned like mist;
tattooed by men and felled

with rings carved around their trunks.
at the edge of every limb, roads
with racing cars, gun shots,

mutilated virgins, crumbling temples.
and consider these forests: they have never
been forever. not the way you think

they should be. but, sit
upon your own scale
if you can find it.

in their own way,
sirens have always been
beautiful. still. stride your night;

sing down sailors;
or fade like your temple.
but, look before you cross.

NOTE: My daughter just broke her other wrist after completing rehab for the first broken wrist. I trust her to choose wholeness.

this heavy house

2009-03-10T15:07:00.003-05:00

observe them drinking the laughter out of the air, smell
their vowels; taste their assonance and echo. I still feel

my favorites drinking my sweat, biting
my tongue, sucking alliteration and active verbs

from my pussy. the words keep coming ~
see this wrinkling brow; caress this grey hair;

fuck these fingers which keep typing. I am
tired of dead poets around my dining room table.

FRIENDS: I've been absent for awhile. Living life, observing deaths and evaluating the future. I wrote this thinking about the passing of my friend Brenda Moossy.

Today I Will Sit | After Mo Willem's "Today I Will Fly"

2009-02-20T09:19:00.002-05:00

Today I will sit.

No, you will not sit.

Yes, I will sit.

You can not sit. You must fix lunch.

Sit. Sit. Sit. Sit. Sit.

STARVING! DYING!

Sit. Sit. Sit. Sit. Sit.

I will get help.

I will sit.

I will get Daddy.

Good, I will sit.

Look! Chocolate and shortbread cookies for lunch!

No. I will fix lunch.

No, you sit.

Happy New Year!

2008-12-31T20:39:00.005-05:00

I've been focused on family these past few weeks. After all, it is the Mama who makes the holidays.

They say you spend the next year in the same way you spend the first day. I thought to myself, I'd love a year of laughter. So here is my new year's moment.

Today, I mentioned disliking the show The Doddlebops to my husband.

Without missing a keystroke, he looked up and said, "They are a Minstral Show. Except with White people in Blue face." And kept on typing.

I nearly fell over.

Talking Back Is Okay

2008-12-11T04:22:00.003-05:00

Obama is using technology to find out what is important to people. What a cool idea. Change.gov now has a place to go and ask leading questions. If you log in, you can vote on the questions or ask a few yourself. Here are some of the top questions.

"What will you do as President to restore the Constitutional protections that have been subverted by the Bush Administration and how will you ensure that our system of checks and balances is renewed?"

"Will you appoint a Special Prosecutor - ideally Patrick Fitzgerald - to independently investigate the gravest crimes of the Bush Administration, including torture and warrantless wiretapping?"

"What do you plan to do to our food industry to make it more sustainable? Will there be changes to our farming policies?"

"Solar energy is in use throughout the world on an individual household basis for water and facility heating, as well as electricity generation. Will your admin. attempt to utilize the millions of acres available for solar energy collection?"

Okay, you know what to do. Go vote. Go ask. And remember, it's more than all right to talk back.

Wordless Wednesday | El Santuario Roseria

2008-12-10T12:13:00.008-05:00

So we went to see them.

Other people participating in Wordless Wednesday here:
Electronic Village,
Wordless Wednesday Headquarters

Pittsburgh | ACLU Bill Of Rights Poetry Reading

2008-12-01T16:53:00.002-05:00

Well, I'm honoured to be in such excellent company. If you are nearby, please consider attending!

The Fifth Annual ACLU Bill of Rights Poetry Reading will be held in the Adamson Wing of Baker Hall at Carnegie Mellon University on Thursday, December 4 at 7:30 p.m. Ten well-known, Pittsburgh-based poets will read their original work in celebration of the Bill of Rights. The event is a benefit for the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU).

The Adamson Wing is located mid-way in Baker Hall. Parking is available in campus lots and at meters on Frew Street, directly behind Baker Hall. For a map of the CMU campus, go to: www.cmu.edu/about/visit/campus-map.shtml

The poets sharing their works will be:

§ Jan Beatty, the winner of the Agnes Lynch Starrett Poetry Prize from the University of Pittsburgh for her first book, Mad River, directs Carlow University’s creative writing program, and Carlow’s Madwomen in the Attic Writing Workshops; she is the author of Boneshaker, Ravenous and Red Sugar. Her radio program, “Prosody,” appears on WYEP-FM on Tuesday nights.

§ Jim Daniels is the author of eleven books of poetry, including most recently, In Line for the Exterminator, and Revolt of the Crash-Test Dummies. He has received the Brittingham Prize for Poetry, and his poems have appeared in the Pushcart Prize and Best American Poetry anthologies. He is the Thomas Stockman Baker Professor of English at Carnegie Mellon and directs the Creative Writing Program there.

§ Angele Ellis is a longtime peace activist and educator, and co-author of Dealing with Difference: Taking Action on Class, Race, Gender and Disability; her poetry has been published in numerous journals, and she is the author of Arab on Radar.

§ Cvetka Lipuš was born in Austria. Having grown up as a member of the Slovenian minority in Austria, she writes poetry in Slovenian as well as non-fiction in German. She is the author of five poetry collections and has received several fellowships and literary awards. She has lived in Pittsburgh since 1995.

§ Peter Oresick is the author of Warhol-O-Rama, published by Carnegie Mellon in 2008. His other books include: For a Living: The Poetry of Work, The Pittsburgh Book of Contemporary American Poetry, and Working Classics: Poems on Industrial Life. He is Associate Director of the Low-Residency MFA Program in Creative Writing at Chatham University, and also teaches publishing at the University of Pittsburgh, and the Tepper School of Business at Carnegie Mellon.

§ Richard St. John is the author of The Pure Inconstancy of Grace, published by Truman State University Press, after placing 2^nd in the T.S. Eliot Prize competition. His poetry has appeared in Sewanee Review, Poet Lore, Carolina Quarterly and other periodicals. He is Executive Director of Autumn House Press, a non-profit literary press based in Pittsburgh.

§ Mike Schneider has written widely in Pittsburgh publications, including award-winning articles in Pittsburgh Magazine. His poetry has appeared in many journals, including 5 AM, Atlanta Review, Shenandoah and Poetry; and his chapbook, Rooster, was published in 2004 by Main Street Rag.

§ Ellen McGrath Smith teaches at the University of Pittsburgh and has been awarded the Academy of American Poets Prize, the Zone 3 Rainmaker Award, and the HyperAge Ascher Montandon Award for her poetry. Her work has appeared in the anthologies, For a Living: The Poetry of Work, and Living Inland, as well as numerous journals.

§ Christina Springer is a text artist who uses poetry, dance, theatre and film. She’s taught creative writing at City Lit College and The University of East London. Poems have appeared in Gathering Ground: A Cave Canem Reader, The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Slam Poetry CD, The Drunken Boat, Janus Head and Callaloo and other journals.

§ Justin Vicari is the recipient of the Third Coast Poetry Award and the New Millennium Writings Poetry Prize. His first book, The Professional Weepers, and his chapbook, Siamese Twins of the 21^st Century, are forthcoming.

§ Joan E. Bauer (emcee) won the Earle Birney Poetry Prize in 2007 from Prism International. Her poetry has appeared in 5 AM, Italian Americana, Paper Street, Poet Lore, and several anthologies. Her first book, The Almost Sound of Drowning, has just been published by Main Street Rag.

A reception will follow the reading, and a selection of the poets’ books will be available for sale. A program will provide further biographical notes on the poets, and will acknowledge a “Friends of the ACLU” Host Committee that helps make this event possible.

Those attending are encouraged to renew or initiate an ACLU membership for $20, checks payable to ACLU, or make a donation to the ACLU Foundation. Requested donations: $20 (regular admission), $10 for seniors and $5 for students. Free book for those making a $20 donation or $20 membership!

For more information or to RSVP, please contact the Pittsburgh ACLU office

at 412-681-7736 or email poetry@aclupgh.org.

Journey To The Monarch Butterflies

2008-11-25T23:21:00.003-05:00

Photos later, uncooperative computer - ah...Mexico

We came to Morelia to visit friends and the Monarch butterflies which migrate here every year. In spite of landing at 1:50 in the morning, Winston was eager to get going. And in so many ways, for Winston, this has been the best vacation. He is wide open to possibility. He is eager to experience adventure. He trusts us that everything is okay.

On Sunday, we rose early in the morning. Travel is slow through the small towns of Mexico. No main roads lead to Ocampo. Every half mile, there are bumps in the road which would rip the underbelly right off your car. Cows, sheep and dogs appear to contemplate suicide using the hood of your car as their tool. From time to time we had to stop for a chicken to cross the road.

We stopped at a roadside stand to use the bathrooms. Winston was amazed that he had to pour water into the toilet so that it could flush. How amazing! How wonderful! How delightfully curious. Then, back into the car for more driving.

Morelia is not a top tourist destination. In comparison, Ocampo ranks right up there with a trip to the swamps of Mississippi. The road up the mountain is paved with bricks and stones. The bricks are where your tires should be. The stones are where you tires should not be. It looks and feels like driving for miles onto a mechanics lift. The side of the road is alternately a sheer drop off the mountain or a deep ditch.

After three hours of driving from Morelia, we arrived at Santuario de la Mariposa Monarca El Rosario. We pulled into the car park. Our car was surrounded by little boys brandishing souvenirs, bamboo walking sticks and songs. Here it seems, everyone wants a peso or five. We made our way through this mob towards the bathrooms. After spending 6 pesos for a wad of toilet paper and a receipt celebrating our eco-tourism, we felt prepared to head up the mountain.
Winston is so excited. He has this vision of holding a butterfly. I try to warn him that the butterflies might not land on him. He assures me that if he is still and patient, they will come to him.

Uphill and up the hill some more. Past singing children who think their songs are definitely worth a peso. Past wooden shacks selling souvenirs, food, water, soft drinks. We trudge up hill through the dust and wood smoke from the great metal drums which served as grills. Up and up we went seeking butterflies.

Finally, I see a great white building announcing that it is the butterfly sanctuary. On the mountain side, hundreds of butterflies are stream down the mountain. I think, we are here! Finally! Winston and his friend Ezzat romp through a small meadow outside of the sanctuary. Winston stand still. He is waiting for a butterfly to choose him.

“Wow!” I think. “The walk was totally worth it!” It will cost us 85 pesos to enter the Sanctuary. I’m ready for lunch. I’ve seen the butterflies. They were great. Bring on the cervessa and tostadas! We’ll sit around and wait for Winston to hold a butterfly.

But, no, the orange and black stream of loveliness is not what we came to see. So, we pay up, pass up through the building, and out onto the mountainside. We are given a guide. Suddenly, I am grateful that we paid our fee. Before we came, I was aware that the butterflies are endangered. Illegal logging has created a severe loss of habitat. Their numbers are dwindling.

Our guide seems to take his role very seriously. He will not let any of us lag behind. He watches us carefully to make sure we don’t touch the few butterflies we see resting in the plants or bushes along the path. He watches every time we remove something from our packs which might generate rubbish. He seems to serve a dual role - both protector of the forest and informative tour guide. This place in which his family has resided for generations has now become a viable means of support to him. Conservation is suddenly profitable.

As we reach the first cement staircase disappearing around a bend into the trees, our guide informs us that there are 600 of them. Okay.

So, up and up and up we climb. After the first 50 steps into the forest, it occurs to me that eco-tourism is not for me. (Not one single write up discusses the grueling up hill journey which awaits you.) I decide, I won’t make it. This is very different than hiking through Frick Park. This is a mountain. And there are 550 steps to go. Unlike the Cupola in the Vatican, there is no crowd pressing behind you. You have to do this on your own. You have to do it of your own free will.

Winston and Ezzat alternately race ahead and then double back to inform us they are tired. Then - off they go again. Only stopping only to carefully examine butterflies laying eggs, drinking nectar and resting in the shade.

I marvel at their youth and fitness. I am sure that I am going to have a heart attack on a Mexican mountainside where no emergency vehicles can reach me. After 200 more steps - with frequent rests while the children, my friends and the tour guide wait - I refuse to walk any further. I tell everyone to go ahead. I’ll meet them at the bottom. The tour guide reluctantly agrees. But, he insists that he will come back for me. Panting, sweating and with a racing heart, I sit on a bench.

Nobody speaks English here. Nobody believes I don’t speak Spanish. Old ladies with canes hobble down the mountain praising Jesus and urging me to get up and keep walking. Young women in heels pick their way down the steep hill. A stooped old man in a sombrero with cane limps past, a beatific smile on his face.

I realize that if I can painlessly give birth to two children, I have what is necessary within me to walk up a mountain. So I get up. I walk 30 paces. i sit and pant and rest. I repeat this for the last 400 steps. Finally, a dirt path snakes off up into the trees. I’ve made it!

With renewed vigour, I set off. A quarter of a mile later, I realize that I am not even close. I sit. I pant. I rest. I sweat. More people stream past me. The flow of butterflies has increased. Yet, the people walking down the mountainside take little notice of them. They all appear as if they have had some glorious and divine vision and the butterflies are but a residual manifestation of some more poignant experience.

I press on another quarter mile. I give up again. Suddenly, a family chattering in English approaches. I perk up. I ask them how much farther I have to go. The mother tells me, I’m almost there. I have to keep on. She points to a patch of blue sky.

“That’s the meadow,” she says. “Right there. So close. Keep going.”

Her teenaged daughter chimes in, “It’s awesome! Sooooo awesome!”

The teenaged son adds, “You have to do it. You have to.”

The father enthusiastically nods. (I’ll bet he was also worried about his heart an hour ago.)

So I press on. Suddenly the tree cover ends. The sun is warm and lovely. Brown grass, scrubby brush and the odd blooming flower look stunning to me. I make my way through the meadow. I don’t see many butterflies, but I keep walking. Up ahead, I see Norman, Winston and our friends. The guide stands off at a distance. He sees me approaching. The look on his face is priceless. He seems relieved, delighted and amazed.

I can only imagine what he thought of me when I sent them on ahead. Every morning to come to work, he walks up the mountain for an hour and a half. Then he spends his day walking tourists up and down the mountain. I must have seemed like every American stereotype - fat, privileged, wasteful and stubborn. (After all, the cost of my admission fee could probably feed his family for a month.) And he meant it that he was coming back for me. I’m sure he imagined having to prod me - with his worn walking stick - up the mountain like an old fat goat. The guides take their job very seriously.

Everyone else is surprised that I made it. But, the guide’s face was the best gift I could ever receive. It turns out that they had only arrived in this spot 10 minutes before I did. I remember at the beginning of the journey, he warned us to take it slow. He urged us to rest when we needed to rest. So, the fact that I came up the mountain at my own pace and in my own way showed that I respected what he had told us at the beginning.

He came over to talk with me. He seemed so disappointed that i couldn’t speak Spanish. I was so disappointed that I couldn’t speak Spanish. He wanted to say something to me - but he was not eager to have it translated. I’ll always wonder what it was.

I made my way over to Winston who was crouched at the top of a stream bed covered by butterflies - thousands of butterflies! They all had their proboscis stuck into the mud to get water. Patiently, Winston waited for a butterfly to notice him. The guide urged us onward. Apparently, we hadn’t seen the real deal yet. If this wasn’t what we’d travelled three hours and hiked two hours to see, I was sure curious about what was ahead. So, I urged the boys ahead.

Up and up some more. We stop at a marshy bit of land covered in thirsty butterflies. Then, into the thick Oyamel trees. I look up and the limbs are bent from butterflies too soporific from the shade to fly. It looks like a forest of Christmas trees covered in butterfly ornaments. It is staggering. There are millions of butterflies who have spent a month travelling from Canada to winter here. We find a dead butterfly. Our guide informs us to put it back where we found it.

“This is a cemetery. They must remain here. This is like a cemetery.” He says solemnly.

This holy place. This fragrant harbour. This refuge for a centuries old biological drive is sacred. Our guide watches us as we place the butterfly back down. It is time to return.

On our way back down the mountain, deep in the forest, on the top of a mountain, at the end of a five hour journey, Winston received what he had travelled so far to get. A butterfly chose his hand and stayed with him 500 feet until the sunshine warmed it enough to fly away.

And I realized, if I hadn’t made it, I would have missed one of the most important lessons life has to offer him. In one day he learned that patience and perseverance always pay off.

Dollar Tree Denies Claim From Victim Of A Hate Crime

2008-11-25T12:49:00.002-05:00

Good-bye Dollar Tree, you are a despicable and evil corporation. I can not imagine how callous and insensitive you are. I don’t shop often in your stores. But, I don’t think I’ll be setting foot in your establishment again.

Taneka Talley worked hard for Dollar Tree doing extra shifts and aiming for advancement. She wanted a better life for her son. Her sights were set on sending him to college.

In March, she was victim of a hate crime during her shift at a Dollar Store in California. A man stabbed her to death simply because she was Black. An ABC News report says,

"According to a psychiatrist, the suspect woke up that morning determined to kill a black person, and Taneka was the first one he saw.

Now, Talley's mother is fighting to get her daughter's workers compensation death benefits, which, according to the family's lawyer, have been denied because the killer's targeting her as a black person established a "personal connection" that the company says releases them from having to pay."

How outrageous. Her biological make-up gave her a “personal connection” to an insane racist? Give me a break. This is corporate greed at its worst.

The least you can do is not shop there. But, I'm going to send them a letter telling them why.

The Deep Thoughts Of Children

2008-11-16T18:37:00.004-05:00

I'm not a Christian. I'm more of a multi- path person. One of these folks that serves as a witness to good and then strives to adapt myself to that model.

I was raised Catholic. But, I haven't been back to church in years. My soul could never reconcile the history and reality of the church with what I knew to be true about Jesus. Since the election, there have been renegade priests who attempted to deny communion to people who voted for Obama. It happened in South Carolina. And a woman in California was told to leave church and remove her car which was covered with Obama stickers before he called the police! Not wanting a big public hoo-ha, the Church has since corrected these men. But, it looks like to many shades of the past to me.

I often find myself pushing my feet back from entering the circle of judgement. It is so easy to point a finger at a priest, preacher, rabbi, imam or other holy person skewing reality to their twisted agenda. And then to point the finger and say, "Bad! Awful! Wrong!"

In these times, I have to invite myself to recognize their fragile humanity. To understand that they are in a place where they can not see the true teaching of so many prophets and wise men/women. Because - they are human.

We are so much smaller than divinity. Try as we may to understand the Power/s That Be is not what we were made for. We were made to exercise our free will in conjunction with the gift of knowledge about right action. We were given the ability to discern.

The other day my son said, "Do you ever think that God has us all on puppet strings and moves us around like toys?"

And I answered, "That's an idea. It sure feels like that sometimes. But, God made some rules. And he told us what they are. Then, he asked us to choose. That's called free will."

And he said, "But not everybody follows the rules."

"Yeah."

"Because sometimes, the rules don't agree with the other rules."

"Yeah."

"But there ARE rules."

"Yeah."

"Like be nice, share, cooperate, solve problems nicely."

"Yeah."

"And sometimes that's hard to do."

"Yeah."

"So, we can always walk away when people aren't really doing the real rules."

"Right."

"That's what God wants. We gotta follow the real rules."

"At least the way we understand them best."

"Does that mean people who don't follow the rules don't go to heaven?"

"Some people say heaven is being close to God. If you don't follow most of the rules most of the time you go farther from God. And to be near God feels sooooo good."

"Oh."

End of conversation. Children are very wise. I hope my interpretation of the rules gets me closer to God.

Share Your Vision

2008-11-13T19:19:00.002-05:00

Obama's transition team has asked us to share our vision. You can do that here. This is an excerpt of mine:

As you prepare to address the agenda item of education, I ask that you take the needs of home educators seriously. Many universities, such as your alma mater Harvard, have been discovering that home educated students make some of the strongest students.

The home education community is growing. With it, are growing numbers of People Of Colour. (We now make up 26% of the community.) Many of us have chosen to home educate our children because we can no longer wait for change.

I'm very proud to feel as if I am raising a world citizen. I follow an educational philosophy with I call directed autonomy. It is a variation on a philosophy often referred to as "unschooling." Since, I allow my son to make some choices about what he wants to learn, I've been surprised at where he leads me.

Needless to say, this can get expensive. We manage. We are very fortunate to be able to afford extra classes. Not everyone can.

For this reason, I hope you will support S. 3076, the "Homes Act." As I am sure you know, this would relieve some of the financial burden of homeschooling families by providing a tax deduction of $500 per child (with an annual limit of $2,000.)

In addition, I hope you will also support S 3243 and 3244, the Education Savings For All Act. It seems unfair to me that only public and private school families have the opportunity to invest in a Coverdell Education Savings Account. I am sure you are well aware that this legislation would stop the discrimination faced by parents who choose to educate their children at home.

I strongly support better schools. I look forward to better resources for teachers. Every child deserves an excellent education. However, as you know, change does not happen over night. And true educational reform will not occur in time for my son to benefit from it. Therefore, as you develop polices and actions regarding education, I hope you will remember that there are many families who prefer to educate their children at home.

Throughout the election, you repeatedly reminded us that we had a responsibility to part of the change. And when you won, you let us know again that we had just begun making change happen in this country. I applaud the way in which your transition team has used all available technology to open the lines of communication between your team and the American people.

Everyone's Talking About Obama - What About Michelle

2008-11-13T13:03:00.004-05:00

Yobachi was discussing the significance of Michelle Obama being the First Lady. He asked for some feedback. So, I wrote this in response to his post.

It is exceptionally significant for a women like Michelle Obama to have become the First Lady. The early campaign days when they tried to swift boat Obama because of his spouse are very telling. “She angry.” “She’s unpatriotic.” These tactics were used because she is not the “preferred” image of a Black woman. (Read Lena Horne, Halle Berry, etc.) Michelle represents the “other Black woman” that America both reveres and fears.

She is the one who will not entertain you. She is the one competent enough to “steal” your God-given job. She is one people really worry about when they discuss affirmative action.

She is the revered no-nonsense lady who will tell it like it is. She is wise. She is the flip side of the woman Whites love and respect because someone like her was paid to raise them; was the only one they could rely upon; had a sense of her higher self and brought that sense to themselves. She carries all of that historic legacy.

I think the reason I always become weepy eyed when I see the first family is because it takes me to the Kennedy era. In spite of all of the compelling contrasts there are intersections between the two women. Where Jackie O represented the paragon of White femininity, Michelle O represents the paragon of Black femininity.

Jackie Kennedy was demure. Michelle is fierce. Jackie was fashionable. Michelle has style. Jackie provided support to her husband in matters related to the social networking, household and child-rearing. Michelle supports her husband by providing intellectual and critical feedback, managing the household, the children and her work. For Jackie O work was what she did for the family. For Michelle work is what she does to simultaneously fulfill her own sense of purpose and contribute to the financial goals of her family.

So, this has huge significance because it invites the nation to examine to different standards of womanhood. We have known the value of ours for centuries. Perhaps, the time has come for White people to learn from us. (Or rather - not just hijack the entertaining things - but to embrace the deeply ingrained cultural values that the recent media and corporate interests have tried to erase.)

To Be Invited To Teach

2008-11-11T18:14:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, we went to our homeschool class at the zoo. I recognise so few of the children at this particular homeschool class. Where are they all from? Considering how many conservative, Christian homeschool groups there are in and around this area, I hesitate to assume.

(I’m going to stick my neck out.) But comparing the scientific knowledge between kids at the zoo class with kids at the evolution museum classes, my guess about where they are all from is probably pretty right on.

Anyway....I’m usually one of the only mothers still sitting in on the homeschool classes that we attend. Most of the others have successfully separated. But, we’ve had several years of big transitions. So, if Winston is behind the separation curve, I don’t really mind.

I don’t like to waste my time. When I’m sitting in, I pitch in where I can. I compliment the children on their work. I do my best to be a supportive presence in the classroom. I listen and respond to the children. In some ways, the children have accepted me as part of their educational resource.

Yesterday was cold. So we all bundled up to trek through the zoo to meet Reptile Ray. We arrived a bit early so the kids were milling around. I didn’t bother to take my coat off. As the children were unencombering themselves, a little blonde girl looked up me. Her eyes went wide - almost fearful. She actually took a step back.

I cocked my head to one side and smiled.

“You....y...y..you supported Obama?” She asked incredulously.

“I sure did.” I said in a soft, gentle, smiling voice.

She took a step back. “We are for McCain,” she said nervously. (I knew what was racing through her brain - palling around with terrorists; killing babies; stealing people's hard earned money through taxation; killing babies; the fall of the government to socialists; killing babies; enslavement of the White race and killing babies.)

I smile. The teacher steps in closer. I feel the tension emanating from her body. The home schooling demographic has changed so drastically in recent years. These encounters between liberal and conservative homeschoolers could turn ugly.

I step closer to the little girl. I paste a huge, loving smile on my face. I softly say, “Well, that’s awesome! “

“It is?” she replies. Her eyebrows knit together. A timid frown quivers.

“It sure is!” I say. “You’ve made America a beautiful and strong place.” She looks even more confused. “If nobody could have different ideas, then nothing good could ever happen. We’d stay the same way forever and ever. We’d never grow. We’d never change. Nobody would think of new medicines or create the internet or anything.” I stop smiling. “That would be awful and boring.”

She just stands there looking mildly confused.

“Our forefathers made this country because they wanted everyone to have lots of different ideas. It is what has made us a great country.”

The teacher jumps in, “That’s right. We’re all free to think whatever we think. And we’re all free to talk about it. If nobody disagreed, then, nobody would ever learn anything new.”

I smiled. “And that is democracy,” I said. Everybody says what they think. And then we vote about which person has the best idea.”

Little girl looks confused and unsettled.

“So, you’re awesome for believing in someone you thought had the best ideas. You keep doing that.”

Then she ran off to play. And I was honoured to be invited to teach. I hope she gained a new way of viewing the world. If not, maybe a seed was planted for a later understanding.

Beautiful Evening!

2008-11-08T20:19:00.003-05:00

We had a beautiful evening. Tonight, a few friends gathered to celebrate the outcome of the election. All of us had done whatever we could on behalf of the campaign.

All of us are parents of young children. Many of us are home educators who also practise attachment parenting. Others are dynamic innovators in their field. (Like one poet celebrity guest who joined us.) Still others are out there in the trenches everyday healing people or teaching our nation's young. But, each of us were praying, hoping, working and doing whatever wa sin our power towards an Obama win.

We couldn't celebrate Wednesday. We delayed our celebration until a convienent time. So, tonight we gathered at my house. Norman got the fire pit burning bright. The children played. We had a little sumthin' sumthin' and some snacks. Then, using lovely paper, each of us wrote down a well wish (or five) for Barack Obama. Some folded their wishes into cranes. Others folded them into stars. One even folded their's into a box. We gathered around the fire and - one - by - one - we cast our good wishes out into the universe in support of the Obama family. Some of us spoke about what we'd written. Others just quietly tossed in their wish.

The children got caught up in the idea. One wrote, "I hope he will bring and end to the war." Another wrote, "I hope he will make the country great again." Pre-literate children made lovely drawings. Some had us write words like "hope," "peace," and "love" on their paper. Then, they ran out to cast their wishes into the fire.

We had a lovely dinner. The political banter continued as the children got caught up in their games again. And suddenly, it was bed time.

Here's a lovely video which encapsulates our evening.

Remembering To Go Where The Learner Is

2008-11-07T18:10:00.004-05:00

So we found this great learning resource. It’s called Study Dog. It is a online literacy game. (Fairly pricey, but, if you can round up 11 friends, they lower the cost.) Study Dog has taken over Winston's brain. He absolutely adores it. He would sit and teach himself to read all day, if I let him. I had to pry him off of the computer this morning to go to his violin lesson. Then, I added a caveat. “You will only get to play Study Dog later if you are very focused in violin today.” Well he was more than focused. He had his best lesson this year.

I should be glowing with excitement. But, this has been incredibly difficult for me. I prefer a more natural, organic approach. I’d like to form letters with dough; draw them in the dirt; dance their pattern on the floor while we said their sounds.

He is not interested in a single idea of mine. (And until we met the most wonderful librarian, Miss Leanne, he was a reluctant reader.) I was puzzled. My only back up for teaching reading was to read to him; talk about the concepts when the opportunity presented itself; attack the infrequent work sheet; and trust that he would eventually pick it up.

But, in two days, Winston has learned more than I have been able to teach him for months. The program kept urging him to stop. It praised him for working so hard. It said, “we’ve done a lot today.” But, he just wants to keep going! It is the most remarkable thing I’ve ever seen. Suddenly, I am confronted with actually practising what I preach.

This child will draw letters in the dirt. He will dance the patterns on the floor. He will use the worksheets I’ve gotten for him. But, he craves the fun and adventure of a game and the neutral privacy it provides him. He has preferences about the way in which he prefers to learn.

And facilitating those choices is what I believe in doing. A long time back, I posted a quote from a teacher I admire. (I think it was Kit Crawford from The Antioch School. ) She says, “Learning begins where the learner is.” It made so much sense to me. And it still does.

But, here I am...he wants to learn in a completely different way than I prefer to facilitate. But, then just to back her colleague Kit Crawford up, Jeanne Felker adds this other favourite bit of wisdom, “We have to move out of the way, so knowledge can move in. We have to make space for learning to happen.”

So, now I’m on a mission. I'm looking for other game-like educational resources. I like Study Dog because they did an initial assessment of his skills; tailored the game to his level; track his progress, and gives me detailed assessment. The only thing I don’t like is that none of the characters I’ve met as non-white. (But, they have this other bonus of letting him use the points earned in his game to order little toys as a reward.) So any tips would be useful.

THE FUN PEACE - WEEK SEVEN

2008-11-06T18:16:00.007-05:00

I. Welcome
Craft - Peace Sticks
Using string and a stick, we are making Peace Sticks. Thoughts on peace have been written down each week. Then they are being wrapped with coloured string.

Movement Meditation - Walking The World
Today, we practised all of the different ways we walk in the world. We took big giant steps, itty bitty tiny steps, sideways steps, turtle steps, stomping steps, goose steps. Everyone contributed ideas about how to go from one place to another.

II. Circle
A. Get in Circle
1. Love Grows
2. So Glad You’re Here
3. Wind The Bobbin Up

III. Story
The Three Questions, by John Muth. (This is a remarkable book. Okay, all of the books we’ve been using have been remarkable books. In the story, Nikolai needs to find the answers to three questions: “What is the best time to do things? Who is the most important one? What is the right thing to do?”)

Discussion - we discussed circles today. The Earth is a circle. The day is a circle. The year is a circle. The seasons are a circle. Our lives are a circle. And when we are able to sit calmly in the centre of the circle, we can see the way the world moves around us. And we are able to take good action.

IV. Craft
Wreaths - We decorated grapevine wreaths with feathers, raffia, acorns, buckeyes, seed pods, pom poms, and bits of felt (hearts, lightning bolts, triangles, etc.)

V. Undirected Play
It was a lovely Autumn day, so we too the children outside to play. They burned off some energy and were ready to suggest organized games they would all like to play together. Some wanted to play “Together Tag.” Others wanted to play “What’s The Rhythm Mother Earth.” We discussed voting. Then we took a vote. It resulted in a wonderful game of “What’s The Rhythm Mother Earth.”

VI. Snack
We did more circle discussion. They were really keen on the importance of circles.

VII. Story
The Librarian Of Basra: A True Story About Iraq by Jeanette Winter with discussion on how she was able to remain calm and peaceful at the centre of the circle of life. (Another remarkable book which tells the story of Alia Muhammad Baker's book rescue mission in Basra, Iraq, in spring 2003.)

“The Little Girl Named I” from Fairy Tales, by e.e.cummings. Lovely laugh out loud.

And...we ran out of time!

Shocked And Numb

2008-11-05T19:34:00.004-05:00

Thanks Electronic Village for the nifty picture!

You may or may not know that I can handle Barack alone. But, every time I picture his family romping across the White House lawn, I get all weepy eyed. Every time I witness M'dear Obama being her family's bedrock, strength and power, I get all weepy eyed. Everytime I imagine them in their new home - with their LOL! puppy - I fall to pieces.

Ready, Set, Hankies Ready.....

On another note, thanks to my Funky Cheeky Mamas and Brigit from African-American Unchooling list for pulling these few words out of me.

I'm still kind of shocked and numb. I have deeply entrenched faith tempered by cynical self-preservation. My cynicism was greatly challenged today. I hope I am strong enough to let it go. I want to give in to hope. I want to release my self to belief. I want to be free to dream wildly. I also need to keep my head space intact.

Funny, Winston seems almost nonchalant. It makes me adore him even more. Ah! The unshakable faith of children! When Mama says we have to make something happen...it does. But, I am so not looking forward to the day when that is tested.

I remember Imani working her tail off for Acorn when Kerry was running. It was the first election in which she could vote. She was pumped! She out-performed every other worker at Acorn. They even gave her an office job - she was so excellent. Then Bush won. She was so sad, it kind of broke my heart. She totally did not commit to this election. She had lost her faith.

Today - she was completely shocked and delighted about the Obama win. (But, she wasn't part of it.) I hope she sees this as a way to regain her momentum.

VOTED!

2008-11-04T16:30:00.003-05:00

Yobachi over at Black Perspective is calling for people to share their voting stories. This is ours.

We woke to a gorgeous, warm Autumn morning. My husband, Winston and I walked into the sunshine filled with excitement and optimism. Our polling place is in the park one block from our house. It is a small, grey cinder block building which used to be Westinghouse's laboratory. My son only knows it as "the voting building."

Approaching the polling place, we encountered sign after Obama sign. There was not a single McCain sign in sight and one sign for Nadar/Gonzalez. (WTF? How did I miss that?)

We entered and were happily signed in by our neighbor. As she gave me my card to sign, Winston proudly stated his name and looked on eagerly, as if she would produce a card for him. A late middle years African-American gentleman guided me and Winston to our voting machine. He gave Winston a short tutorial on how to use the machine. Winston nodded and listened, then stated, "Just like last time, right?" This generated a chuckle.

As I pulled up the ballot, I asked Winston if he wanted to push the buttons. He said, "No." I think he was really worried that he might mess it up. He seemed to understand how high the stakes are. Instead, he offered to push the next button.

Finally, it was time to push the flashing red button, which he did with great concentration and controlled excitement. As we left the booth, the elder shook his hand and thanked him for voting. We walked back out into the sunshine and played at the park.

It occured to me that he will remember this election for the rest of his life. It made me realize this would be a story he would tell his grandchildren about one day. And I can't think of any better civics or history lesson that I could offer. Then again, this is why we home educate because life is filled with so many beautiful lessons.

VOTE!

2008-11-04T09:43:00.003-05:00

Rosa sat,
so Martin could walk,
so Obama could run,
so our children can fly.

- quote flying around the internet.

Go vote! And if you have any trouble, report it here at Voter Supression Wiki

Blessed & Sweet Transition Toot

2008-11-03T17:32:00.004-05:00

(go to hell GOP)

Between 4 and 5 AM, one day before the election, Madelyn Dunham made her transition. She did so in an increasingly rare manner in modern America. She died the old fashioned way - peacefully, at home. From the way in which Obama talks about her, I believe she can do more for the election in the destination of her choosing. It gives me comfort to believe this is why she chose this moment for her transition.

And while John & Cindy McCain expressed their formal condolences, their party was busy at work maintaining the detestable shenanigans for which their party has become known.

At 1:30 today, the GOP firmly cemented and proved that they have a unique ability to consistently make poor decisions. They filed a complaint with the Federal Elections Commission claiming Obama violated federal law when he made one last visit to "Toot Madelyn Dunham." They stated:

"Obama for America violated federal law by converting its campaign funds to Senator Obama's personal use," the release stated. "Senator Obama recently traveled to Hawaii to visit his sick grandmother. This was the right thing for any grandson to do -- at his own expense -- but it was not travel that his campaign may fund."

Of course, the Obama's want to create change. They issued this statement to direct well-wishers to take a positive action:

"Our family wants to thank all of those who sent flowers, cards, well-wishes, and prayers during this difficult time. It brought our grandmother and us great comfort. Our grandmother was a private woman, and we will respect her wish for a small private ceremony to be held at a later date. In lieu of flowers, we ask that you make a donation to any worthy organization in search of a cure for cancer."

Dear "Toot" Madelyn Dunham, may your transition bring you every reward in the place you imagined yourself going. May your passing motivate others to find a cure.

The Maids | Elizabeth

2008-11-02T19:18:00.004-05:00

tuesdays and thursdays.
tiny wire sprung cinnamon milk
chocolate woman hunted dirt:

under beds, above
window sills,
grease dots

on the cook top.
thrust
deep into the toilet’s infected bowels.

from fabric or shag,
extracted hidden detritus -
strands of untamed kink,

fingernail clippings,
sloughed dry skin.
teary-eyed smiled at

me watch
my brother spatula spanked
by the Irish nanny screaming

about his dark skin
and the devil.
never minded

slipping his 2nd grade beer can
into the outside trash. until
she got fired for drinking.

i still
try to make fried baloney
and butter onion spinach.

I can eat tender brown love
and taste a perpetrator's guilt.

Another Journey

2008-11-02T18:29:00.006-05:00

So, I’m balancing homeschooling a five year old; a husband on the road; and an adult child who believes she can choose to be Tinkerbell. There have been some emotional and real-time chaos lately. So, I went to see a therapist.

I had done extensive psychotherapy years ago. It was tremendously helpful. Now, when therapists ask about my mother, I say, “She’s the one I got. So, I’m thankful for everything she’s done for me. She did the best she could for us with the resources she had at the time. And more importantly, I’m damn glad she is the real maverick she is rather than the phoney ones we see on t.v..” And..........I actually mean it.

Nothing transformed my life more than my ability to accept my mother for who she is. Now, I find ways for us to have a comfortable connection. I know what she is able to do. And with this understanding, I don’t waste time with a lot of disappointment about what I think she ought to be doing. I harness the what she can do and revel in how delightful the results are for all of us.

Until my husband was on the road all of the time, I didn’t need a therapist. He is one of the healthiest human beings on the planet. When I would go crazy with family dynamics, he would shrug. Then, he would make some profound proclamation. And leave it up to me. If I chose to swim in unhealthy behaviour, he would patiently wait for me to start drowning and save me. Never a “told-you-so,” only observation and questions. If it impacted our financial matters, he put his foot down. Rightly so. And he didn’t care if he was cast as the bad guy. (He’s a lot like my grandfather whose motto was “we three and no more.” Well....only when it pertains to bank account issues.)

But, with him on the road, I’ve suddenly realised that I must create my own internal boundaries. So, off to therapy I go again. And I’m experiencing some visible truths I had not seriously acknowledged for a long time.

Recently, I read this piece of humour. Wealthy Teen Nearly Experiences A Consequence, on one hand, I was rolling on the floor. On the other hand, my eyes went wide, my mouth made a huge O; and my brain catalogued the outcome of several of my daughter’s prep school friends.

So, what does this have to do with therapy? When asked to say “who nourished my soul and spirit,” I thought first of my father - when he was home. Then, I could only come up with a list of my mother’s best “maids.” (And since my daughter broke her wrist and has become a hostile, antiestablishment punk - with my Mother’s Godsend of a maid to tend to her three times a week - it suddenly clicked. We have allowed others to do our “dirty work” for several generations.)

But, the other “aha!” was that by agreeing to the terms established by wealthy persons of European descent, we open ourselves to a sickness which has permeated the owning class for many years.

So, this time around, when I attachment parent without apology; allow self-weaning; home educate; give up professional gains which support some external idea of self-worth...I am breaking a cycle. I am breaking the cycle of the sick and privileged.

And I am beginning to think.... now, this will be an interesting journey. And I begin to understand, every conclusion is the preface for something new. We never get to the end...until we get to the realend.

"Taster's Choice Remix" For Obama featuring Dres

2008-11-02T08:05:00.003-05:00

You can get with this, or you can get with that. The Obama re-mix...'nuf said.

Obama | So Many Reasons, Many Of Them Small

2008-10-30T17:36:00.004-05:00

So, I get to my homeschool group yesterday. Everyone wants to know if I went to the Obama rally. Sheepishly, I said, "No, it would have been too much to ask of Winston (my five year old.) I just couldnt bring myself to make him stand in a line for hours on end; get inside - and warm; and then listen to boring adult's talking.

Then it was revealed, that the people with children in the line were approached by campaign volunteers and ushered in to a "child area." I literally hit myself in the head and exclaimed, "why didn't I assume this from this man, this presidential candidate, this thoughtful human!" Everyone laughed. And I felt so heartened and simultanously kicked myself for not showing up.

I let it go. I had no way of knowing. Many Western societies ignore their children or make it difficult for them to be present in our grown-up intellectual lives. Then, I read this article. It seems that Obama wants all of us to be heard. Of all the letters sent from Solomon Schechter Day School, only Obama replied.

The list of recipients was impressive: Yankee third basemen Alex Rodriguez; Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, Olympic gold medalist Mark Spitz; Republican presidential candidate and U.S. Sen. John McCain.

But, it wasn't just any schmalty reply. He replied, thoughtfully, respectfully and with attention to age-appropriate communication.

Obama's three-page letter to Aron described Flat Stanley's visit with him and his staff in Washington, D.C. It chronicled their busy day together, which included coffee with constituents, a Senate committee meeting and a trip to the gym. It also had historical facts about the U.S. Capitol, details of Obama's job and a confession from Obama.

"Sometimes I get a little nervous before talking in front of a crowd, but Flat Stanley helped me practice the speech," Obama wrote. "He made me recite it in front of him and then even gave me some advice so the speech would go smoothly. Flat Stanley is really a great coach."

And, once again, I got a little teary-eyed. Because, it is hard to find a person who approaches even the smallest things with intense thought and focus.

Everybody Is Praying

2008-10-30T15:59:00.005-05:00

Eleven shamen's in Peru held a ceremony so that America will elect "the right president." (See the video by clicking the link.)

Nine are for Obama. Two of the shamans are for McCain.

Oh, Lordy, Ms. Palin must be having fits. Here are nine "witches working against her." Is she all right with the two working on her behalf? Wouldn't it be nice if the news media bothered to ask her?

I'm wondering if she can figure out a way for the GOP to pay for that African preacher to be called in again to step up his prayers protecting her from witchcraft. (Watch her being protected from witchcraft here. NOTE: You have to skip past the sermon. The video tells you how.)

But, then again, even elephants are defecting from their party. This one chooses Obama. So, Ms Palin, no need to worry about witchcraft! Even nature is against you.

The Fun Peace - Week Six

2008-10-29T14:58:00.007-05:00

I. Welcome
Craft - Peace Sticks
Using string and a stick, we are making Peace Sticks. Thoughts on peace have been written down each week. Then they are being wrapped with coloured string.

Movement Meditation - The Wind
Today, we were both the wind and objects which encounter the wind. We were light breezes,tornados, flashing gusts. Then we were leaves, dust, raindrops, trees, ocean waves, and fire.

II. Circle
A. Love Grows
B. So Glad You’re Here
C. Wind The Bobbin Up
D. Follow Follow

III. Story
Harvesting Hope The Story of Cesar Chavez by Kathleen Krull (modified for pre-school)

IV. Craft
Banners - Muslin, water-colours in spray bottles, leaf stencils, ribbon and sticks. We lay down a square of Muslin. Placed a leaf stencil on the muslin. Using the spray bottles, we lightly mist the fabric. When we remove the leaf stencil, we have an imprint and the leaf is a lovely colour! When the banner is dry, we glue the banner to a stick. Tie on a long piece of ribbons so it can be hung.

V. Snack with Story
A.Owl At Home by , Arnold Lobel. (the winter story)
B. Jonathan and His Mommy by Irene Smalls

VI. Moving Meditation
We adapted the game of “Mother May I?” to incorporate the way Jonathan and his mother use different ways to move through the world. Each child took turns asking to take different kinds of steps. They tried to move together as a group. When they finally got close - instead of tag, we had a great big group hug.

VI. Toning
This week we will do toning with a didgeridoo. We did the different vowel sounds, a,e,i,o,u. We combined the vowels in different ways - “i,u,e,” “i,u” “i,e” “a,o.” We examined different ways we could move our mouths to get different sounds.

VII. Meditation
A. Seed Meditation
We were seeds waiting in the ground through the seasons. Then we grew into shoots. We grew into flowers. And we found uses for our seeds including helping animals cary them far and wide. Then we became seeds again nestling in for the winter.

B. Song - “My head Is In The Sky”

VIII. Story
We finished our craft, so we didn’t get time to read our story, Click, Clack, Moo, Cows That Type by Doreen Cronin

The Feel Good Video Of Campaign 08

2008-10-28T19:32:00.002-05:00

If this is standard educational fare at Ron Clark Academy, then I may just re-consider homeschooling. The video is called "You Can Vote However You Like." And whilst they attempt to be fair to both candidates, Obama's solid talking points have tilted this video a bit to the left. But, you've got to praise the teacher for trying to portray both sides.

Am I Not Human?

2008-10-27T11:54:00.002-05:00

As you’ll note in an earlier post, I encountered Amazon.com’s racist search engine. Well, it got me thinking. Since alerting the community; having Amazon call me and sending a follow-up email to the company’s customer service, we’ve made the tiniest progress.

Now, it seems that all a searcher has to do is request “Arab terrorist costumes” in order to get costumes which imitate traditional Arabic clothing. This is still unacceptable to me. However, at least the search no longer yields links to pictures of Barack Obama. In this one small correction, I am satisfied. But, I’m really not.

I have this taste in my mouth.
It is maybe the flavour of:

rancid fruit, pickled
lynching remains served

58 years later at a BBQ
whose kindling was made

from archival lynching postcards;
blood on an arm after scratching

a new mosquito bite; scabbed
by dust from a global Trail

of Tears to Al Shifa
bombed. I might add

pustules - poorly lanced
diplomatic ooze;

or starving bloated
aneurysms of wrong action

silently exploding. and in
my mouth - twitching pointing

rage fingers swabbing
my dna screeching

different bad different bad;
acidic adrenaline sweat

after scenting the smoke
of supremacy; the vitriolic spit

of old White women
at Palin rallies.

by most accounts
I am not human

but will give candy to
Indians, ghosts, demons and Arabs

on Halloween.

More about the "Am I Not Humans?" blogging campaign here:

Amazon.com's Search Engine Is Racist

2008-10-27T07:38:00.007-05:00

There are many benefits to shopping locally. If I went to a local bookseller, I could always bring a reusable bag to carry home my purchases. I'd be putting money back into my community in the form of jobs and tax revenues. But, I've never quite brought myself to doing it.

Online shopping is easier for a person with a small one in tow. It is easier to compare prices; the search engine knows the products better; and there are no lines with impulse items at check-out. So, I dutifully recycle all of the cardboard boxes and hope it is enough. Well, no more!

At least not Amazon.com. A huge fire has been lit under me. Imagine my surprise when I discover through an LA Times article that the Obama masks are listed under the heading "arab terrorist costumes." They have a screen shot to prove it. So, I headed over to one of my favorite retailers and typed "terrorist costume." I tried to get my own screenshot, but, am not that tech saavy.

I vote with my dollars. I do not give my dollars to racists and I encourage you to do the same. What is worse is that they make it very difficult to call or email them. In fact, they don't give you a number, they ask for yours. So, spread the word.

UPDATE: I had them call me. As soon as I clicked the button, my phone rang. A lovely woman with a strong Indian accent asked what my concern was. I explained the issue succinctly. "I'm calling because there is a mask of presidential candidate, Barack Obama under the heading of terrorist costume." She didn't understand and asked again what my problem was. I simply repeated myself. She then asked for the item number. By the time I toggled back to that screen, the website had been fixed.

I got an email asking if I was satisfied with customer service. I clicked the link for "No." Here is my response.

"It was inappropriate for the website to include a mask of presidential candidate Barack Obama under the heading of terrorist costumes. Nor is it acceptable for Amazon.com to show traditional Arab clothing under that same title. The call center failed to understand that racism is not good for business. Until this problem is fixed and denounced, I will not be shopping with Amazon. Furthermore, I will encourage my friends and associates not to shop with you. I do not support racism in any shape or form."

I encourage you to have them call you and then send a follow-up email. Calls and responding to email complaints cost money. Show them that racism is never profitable. Thank you.

Send Energy To Obama And His Grandmother

2008-10-24T15:24:00.003-05:00

This video with Obama visiting his Grandma brought me to tears. "First, I'm going to give her a kiss, and a hug, then I'm going to look around the house to see what chores need to be done."

I support that man because he reminds me of my grandfather, my father and my husband...so calm, so cool, so assured, so ready to lead wherever goodness invites them. But, more importantly, he reminds me what people ought to be.

In the wake of attacks by the GOP for taking time off...I can only wonder if they are going out of their way to make all of us Obama supporters so comfortable that we become complacent enough for them to steal the election. Or perhaps, they've just given up. (Let's hope.)

Regardless, Time Magazine, seems to have already called the election by printing this awesome article entitled "Why Obama Is Winning." It's a durn good read. But please, don't stop here. Do visit with Opie and Richie Cunningham below!

Why "The Real America" Supports Obama

2008-10-24T10:40:00.008-05:00

I look back on the shows of my childhood with cynical amusement. I have this clear memory of loving The Beverly Hillbillies. They were forbidden. I recall Miss Shaw - my ancient, Irish Catholic nanny - declaring loudly that she "would not allow us to watch White Trash on television." I didn't know what that meant, but, as far as I could tell it meant they were exciting and funny - like the "dirty, immigrant gypsies" I was not allowed to play with either.

I recall Lassie, Bonanza and The Andy Griffith Show. Miss Shaw, loved these programs. In the instance of Bonanza, I came to understand through Hop Sing that not all immigrants are dirty. I suppose these television programs exemplified the "real America" which Palin still celebrates today.

This morning, I awke to discover that Ron Howard is "desperate"to get the vote out for Barack Obama. So in the video below, Ron Howard dresses up as Opie to talk with Sheriff Andy (Andy Griffith) to talk about Obama. Then he dresses up as "Richie Cunningham" from Happy Days to talk to Fonzie (Henry Winkler) about Obama.

This intriguing ploy re-invents and re-contextualizes that peculiar and bizarre White American nostalgia. These characters symbolize everything McCain and Palin have attempted to cater to. These characters represent the "real America." In many ways, Happy Days was a bizarre show. Post-integration, it celebrated and revered the same racist "real American middle class" which was happy to lynch Black men, bomb churches and terrify children in the process of trying to obtain their court-given right to an education. And that is what makes this video so effective. Because it states clearly that "the good people of America" want change. Perhaps, my friend Tami says it better here: Middle Class Americans Are Not Just White, Christian, Working Class Folks.

See more Ron Howard videos at Funny or Die

Thanks Ron!

Checklist For Making Sure Your Voice Is Heard

2008-10-23T12:28:00.001-05:00

12 Ways You Can Safeguard Your Vote

Then, make sure you show up on Nov. 4th. (If you are eligible.)

Now, Who's A Terrorist?

2008-10-22T11:59:00.006-05:00

Well, it seems that the terrorists support John McCain as their candidate of choice. Why? Because they feel his presidency will run America into the ground. So, they support him because he supports their mission. That's a pretty awful endorsement to have. I can't wait to see what the campaign spin control folks do with this one!

From The Associated Press article:

The message, posted Monday on the password-protected al-Hesbah Web site, said if al-Qaida wants to exhaust the United States militarily and economically, "impetuous" Republican presidential candidate Sen. John McCain is the better choice because he is more likely to continue the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

"This requires presence of an impetuous American leader such as McCain, who pledged to continue the war till the last American soldier," the message said. "Then, al-Qaida will have to support McCain in the coming elections so that he continues the failing march of his predecessor, Bush."

Obama-Biden Tax Calculator

2008-10-22T07:31:00.003-05:00

Here's a nifty way to see how your taxes will change with Obama's plan. Isn't this a handy way to compare all the speeches and rhetoric?

If you click through to taxcut.barackobama.com You'll be able to enter more data. This will give you an even more clear picture.

Thank you, Mr. Hustleknocker | "Yes We Can" by Green Lantern

2008-10-20T17:07:00.005-05:00

I'm sitting here listening to DJ Green Lantern's free, full cd of pro-Obama hip hop. It includes nice re-mixes of his speeches. And so much more. Need a little hope on your Ipod/media player? Please thank Mr. Hustleknocker for tipping me to this.

Get "Yes We Can"by DJ Green Lantern and Russell Simmons

Smokin!

2008-10-20T16:35:00.002-05:00

Here is Obama at a dinner "roast" on behalf of All Smith:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5SWQJWm6Tg

Now, everyone is calling for health records from all of the candidates:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/20/us/politics/20health.html?bl&ex=1224648000&en=58e40a86ada65725&ei=5087%0A

Suddenly, it is revealed that Obama has trouble quitting smoking cigarettes!
http://rawstory.com/news/2008/Secrecy_surrounds_candidates_health__1020.html

Egads! But, in his speech at the roast, he comes clean and let's us all know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is superman. So, should we really worry?

Oh, I hope we don't loose this election because Obama tries hard not to smoke cigarettes! (I mean, c'mon America! A man fit as a fine fantasy vs a 72 year old with cancer. Is this really an issue?)

The Fun Peace | Week Five

2008-10-20T15:47:00.008-05:00

Sorry for the late post, I was ill last week. (And the husband will be gone for two weeks, so after I felt better, we glutted ourselves on family.)

I. Welcome Craft - Peace Sticks
Using string and a stick, we are making Peace Sticks. Thoughts on peace have been written down each week. Then they are being wrapped with coloured string. (They are starting to look gorgeous, maybe I will capture a picture nex week.)

II. Circle
A. Get in Circle
1. Love Grows
2. So Glad You’re Here
3. Wind The Bobbin Up

III. Story
To Be A Drum, Evelyn Coleman (modified for pre-school)

IV. Toning - we made harmonies with our voices.

V. Craft
Using recycled containers - such as coffee tins, oatmeal boxes, cornmeal tins - we will made drums. First we wrapped the drums in the water colours we made from the first class. Then we added jewels, stickers etc. to make them our special drum.

VI. Snack with Story “Whoever You Are” by Mem Fox

VIi. Movement Activity - Earth My Body
Chant
Squatting, pat the floor, chant, “ Earth My Body.”
Squatting, pat the thighs chant, “ Water M Blood”
Squatting, pat the chest chant, “Air, My Breath”
Rise up and move your hands in a big circle and sing
“Fire my Spirit!”

When everyone has figured it out , speed up. Then slow it down.
Lay on the floor and feel the earth’s beat.

VIII. Meditation - Living Drum
After all that activity, their hearts will be beating fast. We’ll lay down and feel our pulses. Drum it on the floor.

Then we got our new drums and our peace sticks. Everyone took turns making a rhythm which others could copy or add their own rhythm. We experienced the sound of everybody doing their own thing. We also experienced the sound of everyone listening to each other. Finally, we experienced the sound of unity.

IX. Story
Martin’s Big Words, Doreen Rappaport - adapted to pre-school

X. Hands (5 minutes)
A. Pass Phe Pulse
B. “Hands” = something we are thankful for today.

Happy Halloween, Early

2008-10-16T12:00:00.000-05:00

Scary, scary people!

Click. Give. Feel Good.

2008-10-14T13:34:00.004-05:00

Thanks to one of my AfroSpear brothers, The Urban Scientist, I came across a site which helps teachers simply do their job. DonorsChoose has a very simple formula. Teachers ask. You give. Children win.

I like it. It doesn't try to solve every problem in the world. It takes it one classroom, one project at a time.

Click. Give. Feel Good.

Urban set up a group, Black Bloggers For Education. He asked if some of us would step up and help out. I joined.

Why should I, as a home educating parent, care about a bunch of public school kids? Well, because I care about children. Here is what I wrote on the site:

Fifty plus years after Brown vs Board Of Education, the playing field still isn't level. It is shakier and more uneven. That’s why our family is in the growing 25% of People Of Colour who home educate. Bush’s policies have left far too many children behind. We are worried that McCain will abandon them to the wilderness. Our children won’t be one in those numbers.

We realise our choice won’t work for many families. We also understand that there are teachers of generous spirit who suffer from poorly planned budgets, ineffective school boards and insane national polices. With help, these teachers may just be able to touch enough lives to make a difference.

For this reason, we support projects which encourage autonomy, free thought, and experiential learning. We seek projects which support undirected playful learning; foster an understanding that learning is fun; and promote critical and creative thinking.

We’ve already given. So, now I’m asking. Will you join me and my husband?

I’m looking for 20 people to give $10.00. But, if you give, we’ll give again. We’ll match half of what is raised up to $200.00 That way your donation will go even farther.

Please click. Give. Feel Good.

Zoo Encounter

2008-10-13T16:31:00.002-05:00

strange joy. kissing
a giraffe.

hands above
my thrown back head

he leans over
the chain link fence

so I can blow
into his thin nostrils.

he blows into mine
and I kiss him

thinking of plantations
and our separate secret

unspeakable
wild places.

Success | Poets For A Better Country

2008-10-13T10:43:00.004-05:00

What an awesome event! Reading with so many talented people was exceptionally energizing. In spite of not having a packed house, the end of day informal count is pretty darn good. It's not official, but, the last tally was "a little over $1,500." Good job poets!

Here's some silliness.

TODAY | Poets For A Better Country

2008-10-12T08:08:00.002-05:00

October 12, 2PM until 5:00
Poets For A Better Country
Kelly Strayhorn Theatre
5941 Penn Ave in East Liberty

$10 donation
Benefits the Obama campaign

I'll be reading with Jan Beatty, Deb Bogen, CM Burroughs, Jim Daniels, Toi Derricotte, Lynn Emanuel, Vanessa German, Terrance Hayes (emcee), Sam Hazo, Yona Harvey, Romella Kitchens, Ben Lerner, Dawn Lundy Martin, Jeff Oaks, Ed Ochester, Peter Oresick, Ellen Smith, Sheryl St. Germain, and Judith Vollmer

As the City Paper says "it's clear that if Pittsburgh's top poets constituted the electorate, we could call Nov. 4 today."

The Shenanigans Step Up A Notch

2008-10-12T08:02:00.003-05:00

In the early election, There was some delightful optimism. There was doubt that America was ready for a Black president. Then, Obama made history and won the nomination. The tone of the country took on a rosier glow for me. I thought maybe all of these years of being side by side on playgrounds and in schools had made some small difference.

But, they haven’t. In fact,things are getting very ugly. I see illogical ideas on mailing lists which pretend that they are logical. I’ve been noticing colour aroused anxiety taking a tighter grip of people. The same people who in one breath condemn overt racists worry about Ayers’ connection to Obama in the next.

The McCain Palin campaign is fanning the flames of the racist vote. Palin - in particular - revels in whipping a crowd into a hysterical terrorist frenzy. I’m sure you’ve seen the videos, I won’t post them here.

But, now this. Come on. How low and dirty can you get? In upstate New York, several residents received absentee ballots with the name Barack Osama on them. Meanwhile, some states are illegally purging eligible voters from their rolls.

I begin to think this BBC documentary, "Set up to steal it again. Is 2008 already fixed?” is true. Watch Part One here. They have no intention of allowing us a democracy ever again. That was stolen from us in 2004. It’s harder to get something back than let it go in the first place.

On election day, please keep watch at this great site Voter Suppression Wiki. They’ll be keeping watch. And if you see something wrong at your polling place, report it.

Debate Epiphany

2008-10-07T21:01:00.002-05:00

I was never raised to be
a flag waving American.

The colour
of my skin necessitated

the creation
of a skeptical, cautious American

with unyielding belief in truth.
Ink on parchment. Revised. Scratched

out. Over 9,000 times
we asked and received

a simple 27 rights.

Most Valuable Home Education Resource, A Good Librarian

2008-10-04T14:50:00.008-05:00

I’ve been meaning to write this post for quite some time now. I don’t know why it hasn’t felt more urgent. But, then again, we are in the midst of the most important presidential race ever. That and being at home six days a week with a home educated five year old has a way of zapping one’s time and energy. But, with that said. I simply have to take a few minutes out to give some praise.

Everyone agrees, a library is one of the most awesome resources in the world. With the advent of the internet and public access in local libraries, I often find myself challenged. I can’t get to a card catalogue for all the focused, dedicated web surfers. I never seem to bring the list of books I’ve compiled. So, my experience lately has been to walk in - chatty child in tow - and feel a searing wave of frustration settle over me.

Without a good librarian, the library becomes a saucy, nasty temptress of unrequited knowledge. For this reason, I must unequivocally state that the most valuable resource a home educating parent can develop is a good librarian.

Some folks might say that any intelligent person can find all of the great books a library has to offer. Not true. Librarians love books unlike any other type of person on this planet. They know the new books, the best books, the coolest books.

There is one striking difference between a good librarian and a librarian. The good librarian is like a village wise woman - one part mystery, one part common sense, one part psychologist and two halves each of magician and show person. (Something like a kinder, gentler Granny Weatherwax.) The good librarian knows the secrets of the books you would never think to look for on behalf of your child.

Until we met Miss Leann over at the Homewood Library, Winston had a tepid relationship to books. They were good and all of that. They were essential at bed time. But, quite frankly, there was always something more interesting to do - like splash in puddles; look at bugs; or build a fire. Lately, he’s been developing a passion for books.

Now, I must admit, I would rather spend my afternoon reading something like “Zen Shorts” And at bedtime, I think “Cendrillion” or “The Girl Who Spun Gold” are just perfect. But, thanks to Miss Leann, we reading things Winston loves. And I am so impressed that she has found books that I am enjoying.

I would never have found either of these books without her. And my jaw is bouncing against the floor that they made it to print. And finally, I’m thinking, I wish I’d written these books. And that’s the best ever feeling because I’m stimulated by these books. So thanks, Miss Leann. She is a good librarian. And like any village wise woman, she serves the whole community.

Ugly Fish by Kara LaReau is a cautionary tale about being a bully. At the end, Uglyfish learns - quite permanently - that being a bully never pays.

Tadpole’s Promise, by Jeanna Wilis is a must read for teenagers and folks unsure about what it takes to have a healthy relationship. (It’s a good kids picture book also.) Basically, caterpillar falls in love with tadpole but insists that he “never changes.” Well, caterpillar experiences some pretty serious consequences for her demands. I just have to say, I am so happy Winston is growing up with these ideas at this age.

The Fun Peace | Week Four

2008-10-01T14:28:00.006-05:00

As children drifted in today we all chose to herds, flocks, gaggles and schools of animals.

I. Welcome Craft - Peace Sticks
Using string and a stick, we will make Peace Sticks. Thoughts on peace will be written down each week. Then we will wrap the stick with coloured string. Each week, we will use a different colour.

II. Circle (15 minutes)
1. Love Grows
2. So Glad You’re Here
3. Wind The Bobbin Up
4. Verse
5. “Sharing A Shell,” by Julia Donaldson

III. Movement Activity
A. Parachute Games
We tried to work together to see how many wiffle balls we could keep inside of the parachute. Then we saw hwo high we could make them jump up. We took turns running through the parachute and tried to keep it high enough for the person to get all the way through.

C. Village Idiots
This game is very much like the game "Machine." One person makes an action and a sound. Each person connects to their movement by making an action in reaction to theirs with another sound. For example, I bent my knees, put out my hand and said "ding." Another person mimicked dropping something into my hand and said "zip." People kept joining in until we had a crazy entity that all worked together. Each time it turned out differently. We learned how people's reactions to a single movement can create a loud or soft entity or a rythmic or atonal entity.

IV. Snack time
“Earth Mother” by Ellen Jackson

V. Meditation
1. We did a moving meditation where we were the whirling wind. Then we became clouds and made thunder by clapping our hands together. Then we brought the storm to quiet.

2. Beauty - Song

3. My Head Is In The Sky - Song

VI. Story
“Wangari’s Trees Of Peace,” by Jeanette Winter

VII. Craft - Nature baskets (15 minutes)
Using the watercolours from the first class we made a box. We lined it with wax paper and a cotton balls. We planted alphalfa seeds.

Lyrics for "My Head Is In The Sky"

My head is in the sky, sky, sky.
My feet are on the ground, ground, ground.

And what about my blood?
It is from the sea.

And what about my bones?
Like the mountains be.

And my hands, oh my hands!
I believe with my hands I can hold this land.

My two hands hold the Earth.
My two hands hold the Earth.

See My Finished Poems | The Drunken Boat

2008-09-27T17:29:00.003-05:00

I'd love to announce the stellar new issue of The Drunken Boat. This exceptional online literary journal has had some fascinating issues. However, the current issue focuses on the work of Cave Canem poets. (Of which I am one.)

I am so pleased to have been included in the current issue. They have given a lovely home to three of my poems. You may see them here. Readers who have been with me awhile may remember the first drafts of these poems. After all, this blog is really a series of "post it notes" where I share raw moments and momentary musings. Now, you get to see the end of the cycle.

The Fun Peace | Week Three

2008-09-24T14:51:00.007-05:00

At the beginning of class, we did a moving meditation where we were a river, the fog, the sun lifting the mositure out of the air, the wind blowing a seed along. Finally, we got down on the ground and became a seed. We waited for the rain. We waited for the warmth and then we all grew into flowers. Some of the “flowers” chose to be “picked and brought inside.” Other “flowers” chose to “stay in the field and make seeds for next year.”

I. Welcome Craft - Peace Sticks
Using string and a stick, we will make Peace Sticks. Thoughts on peace will be written down each week. Then we will wrap the stick with coloured string. Each week, we will use a different colour.

II. Circle
A. Get in Circle
1. Love Grows
2. So Glad You’re Here
3. Wind The Bobbin Up
4. Verse
5. Brother Eagle, Sister Sky, by Susan Jeffers

III. Movement Activity
Parachute - We’ve been discussing circles. With our parchute, we took turns working together to make it go way up high. We experimented with what hapens when everyone just moves it whatever way they want. We took turns running under the parachute and changing places on the circle. We took some Whiffle balls and tried to work together to keep them from jumping out.

Due to popular demand - we played Together Tag again.

IV. Movement Meditation
The children moved to a guided meditation where they were stones, sticks and other quiet natural things.

V. Story
A. Beauty Song - lyrics below
B. Old Turtle by Douglas Wood

VI. Craft
Medicine Wheels / Spirit Shields using water colour paint, silk hoops and feathers.

VI. Hands
A. Pass The Pulse
B. “Hands” = something we are thankful for today.

The Beauty Song - based on a traditional Navaho Prayer

On my left beauty
On my right beauty
Beauty above me
Beauty beneath.

At my front beauty
At my back beauty
Beauty within me
Beauty within

The image above is last weeks, wish mobile.

Time permitting we'll make more and turn them into a mobile.

Scenes From Our Autumn Garden

2008-09-23T15:05:00.008-05:00

This is how one of our pumpkins insisted on growing. Every day, I would push it out of the fence. Every night, it would wedge itself back in.

The cricket we found in our kitchen. Crickets are supposed to be good luck. Lucky us!

Our green beans are purple. When we cook them, they turn green. The storm blew them over, still they bloom and produce. This is lovely magic!

Winston is very proud of his garden this year. His father hates tomatoes. (Winston isn't keen on them either.) We've made lovely marinara sauces for pizza. He adores homemade pizza with his very own sauce. But, the real lesson learned is abundance and generosity. He's been making bi-weekly distributions of his produce to the neighbours. Next year, I think he could set up a little produce stand in front of the house. Then, he could learn abundance, generosity and business. Not a bad trio.

Interesting Reading | Obama & Hip Hop Rountable Discussion

2008-09-23T12:20:00.004-05:00

I'm getting old when professors up in the university are writing books about hip hop and discussing it's impact on current events. I remember when it was an underground dance party in New York. But, I have to thank poet, scholar and writer, Kyle Dargan for his fascinating journal, Post No Ills.

Recently, he conducted an E-Roundtable entitled Sucka-Free Democracy: Hip Hop's Potential Response To An Obama Presidency. The participants include Adam Bradley, R. Scott Heath, Natalie Hopkinson, Natalie Y. Moore, and Mark Anthony Neal. All of the participants are scholars who specialize in Black popular culture. In this roundtable, they discuss the hip hop generation as it relates to expectations of leaders, governance and hip hop's traditional critique of the establishment. (Did I just write hip hop and traditional in the same sentence? Dang, I'm old.) I very much appreciated R Scott Heath's closing comments.

Excerpt from: "Obama has never claimed to be a King (though Lil Wayne does, basically), and he is not a preacher proper. And King never aspired to be an Obama, which is to say that he never ran for senator or president. They are two different, extremely charismatic individuals being syndicated to practically discrete audiences."

The Fun Peace - Week Two

2008-09-17T16:02:00.002-05:00

As the children came in, my co-teacher, Trillium played soft music and invited them to dance and move like animals. Once we reached critical mass, we moved into our first activity.

I. Welcome Craft - Peace Sticks (15 minutes)
Using string and a stick, we will make Peace Sticks. Thoughts on peace will be written down each week. Then we will wrap the stick with coloured string. Each week, we will use a different colour.

II. Circle (15 minutes)
A. Get in Circle
1. Love Grows - see last week’s entry for lyrics
2. So Glad You’re Here - ditto
1. Wind The Bobbin Up
C. Verse
D. Today’s Theme - Be Yourself
E. Tacky The Penguin, Helen Lester

III. Movement Activity - (40 minutes)

a. Together Tag
Clarify that we play safe tag. That means we only tag with one finger. One person chooses to be “it.” They try to tag one person. Once tagged, that person joins hands with the original “it.” Together, they must try to keep tagging the other players until everyone is “it.” The last one tagged gets to be “it” in the next round.

b. Knots
Students hold the hands of two different players. Players cannot hold both hands of the same player, nor can they hold the hand of a player next to them. When the students are ready the signal is given for them to begin unraveling their knot. Players are not allowed to let go of each other’s hand until the game is finished. When the knots are unraveled students should be in a circle with their hands joined. Occasionally, two intertwined circles may be formed. Source = http://www.mrgym.com/Cooperatives/Knots.htm

VI. Craft - Wish Mobile (20 minutes)
Each child was given a piece of hemp string on which was tied a natural piece of wood with the word Peace on one side and Harmony on the other. We put out beads and buttons. Each piece was finished off with a bell. This craft will be repeated and by the end of term, they each should have enough to make a mobile.

IV. Story (10 minutes)
Child Of Faerie, Child Of Earth, Jane Yolen

VII. Hands (5 minutes)
A. Pass Phe Pulse
B. “Hands” = something we are thankful for today.

Lyrics To Songs And Verses Used

Wind the Bobbin Up - Traditional English Children’s Song

Wind the bobbin up,
wind the bobbin up,
pull, pull,
clap clap clap.

Wind it back again
wind it back again
pull, pull,
clap clap clap.

Point to the ceiling,
point to the floor,
point to the window,
point to the door.

Clap you hands together 1 - 2 - 3
Now place them nicely on your knees.

Revised Waldorf Verse

I look into the world,
in which the sun is shining,
in which stars are sparkling,
in which stones are still,
where plants are growing,
where animals live with feeling,
where humans dive dwelling to their spirit.

Now, I pledge my Heart.
Now, I pledge my Mind.
Now, I pledge my Soul.
Now, I pledge my Whole Being.

To be Present;
to Learn;
to Grow
To Share

And be Whole.

Someone Has A Great Mama And She Must Be Proud

2008-09-14T08:07:00.005-05:00

Dalton Sherman is 10 years old. He was wearing khaki trousers and his school t-shirt. Just an ordinary African-American boy until he opened his mouth. As the the keynote speaker at a back to school convocation in Dallas, Texas recently, it was almost as if every great Black orator from time began came flooding out. The griots to Fredrick Douglas to King, Jr. to Obama echoed in his demeanor as he stood up in front of 20,000 people delivered his speech. I was inspired. I thought, if you're going to send your children to school, make sure they are filled up with a similar sense of confidence and surety.

Here is his speech. This one is definitely worth the click through.

Because Fathers Are Important

2008-09-12T19:09:00.003-05:00

As many of you know, my husband is on the road almost six days a week. We have an extra whole 24 hours with him this week! In honour of our glorious extra 24 hours, I had to share the video below.

Deesha over at Mamalicious tipped me to this awesome public service announcement by the AdCouncil. (Remember the folks who brought you the Native American anti-litter commercial which made you cry?) Well, this time, they bring us one that made me giggle. After I giggled, a snuggly hoarde of warm fuzzies took over my chest. I quietly smiled and then said, "Wow! That's powerful and important. Why don't I see this every half hour on the television?"

And yes, I hope noone ever catches Obama doing this with his own girls. But, like my husband, I'm am heartened that another Black man out there knows how important it is to play, to love, to nurture and to parent his children. The smallest things can change a child's life forever.

Time Better Spent

2008-09-12T16:28:00.006-05:00

I wanted to post yesterday about 9 - 11. But, the day marched along as the days always do. It was a lovely Autumn day. Instead of being out in the sunshine, my son donned his navy blue blazer and grey slacks. I dug around for some item of corporately appropriate clothing. And we went downtown to attend a luncheon hosted by the New Pittsburgh Courier.

We were there to celebrate 50 Women Of Excellence. My mother was one of the 50 women honoured. She’s usually being honoured for something. Even Winston has started to pick up on the fact that every time I say the word “grandmother,” it means wearing a blazer. He doesn’t mind. He loves his suits. And he loves his grandmother. Cake, ice cream, chocolate or all three are often part of the process.

The fact that it was 9 - 11 just didn’t feel all that big to me yesterday. On the actual day, I remember it just didn’t register. M. Ayodele Heath, a formidable poet was in town to read for the poetry series I was producing. I’d lined up a bunch of school performance/workshops for him. We arrived at the first school, Winchester-Thurston. The private school cancelled. They were sending the poor, shocked darlings home.

So, we went to the next school, a public school, the Creative And Performing Arts School. I checked in to see if they were cancelling and sending the children home. The answer was an unequivocal no, the show must go on. The children filed into the auditorium. Ayodele performed. I performed. Then, we answered questions. Our final message was that as artists, they could use their voices to make change in the world. They could use their talents to create a world in which people from other places didn’t want to fly aeroplanes into our buildings.

The day went on seven years ago, just as yesterday came and went without a post about 9-11. After the luncheon, we walked around downtown looking at the tall buildings and small parks. It truly is a lovely city. Winston misses the urban environment. So much of our time their was spent meandering the streets.

When we went to to New York last month, my nephew wanted to see Ground Zero. So, we went. We went to the memorial. We looked at the hole. We left. I kind of shrugged. We were in London for 7-7. There is no memorial at Kings Cross or Tavistock Square. By evening, people were riding buses, taking trains and walking through the city. The next day people had picked themselves up and moved on.

People mourned. People were sad. It was a tragedy. Most cities in the world have people in them who remember having been bombed. Most cities in the world have experienced terrorist attacks. Right now, somewhere in the world a child is having nightmares because of gunfire in their streets or village. And here we are, seven years later in an endless war because we’re so special.

Instead of waking up and figuring out why people might want to bring this type of activity to American soil, we take that same behaviour to another country. Here we are seven years later, still whining and still trying to put irrational, self-interested, greedy people in office. My heart goes out to people who lost family members seven years ago. But, my heart especially goes out to the family members of the military and the people of Iraq. There are more dead because of this war then the number of people who died that day. they are all senseless deaths.

This has got to change. I’m hoping people can bring Obama to the White House. It is our only hope. I can’t stand another four years of public hand-wringing about 9-11. I can’t stand another four years of private cackling and coins clinking in personal coffers. My time was better spent yesterday celebrating 50 Black Women Of Excellence.

The Fun Peace

2008-09-10T17:11:00.008-05:00

At the beginning of class as children drifted in, we played soft and mildly energetic music. Each child was invited to find a way to move quickly in one space or quietly through out the whole room. As soon as we had enough children, we moved into the first activity.

I. Welcome Craft - Peace Sticks
Over the course of the term, we will make Peace Sticks. Each child will be asked to remember a peaceful moment. This will be written down on a piece of paper. The paper will be wrapped around the stick. Then, they will choose a piece of coloured string. The string will be tied to the stick. The child will wrap their peaceful memory around the paper. Each week, we will use a different colour.

II. Circle
A. Love Grows - song
B. So Glad You’re Here - (song which greets each child by name.)
C. Wind The Bobbin Up - (song which settles)
D. Circle poem - modified waldorf verse, see below
E. Story - “Somewhere In the World,” by Shelley Moore Thomas

III. Movement Activity
a. Partner Call
Each child will be given a word that is related in some way, to their partners word. Some examples may be: Ice Cream, Peanut-Butter, Pop-corn. Now, separate the pairs, each player to opposite sides of the playing area. Each player will now close their eyes or play blindfolded (make sure before playing any blindfolded game, that you teach the players to move slowly and keep their hands up at shoulder level, and out from their body, to act as bumpers). The object of the game is to move across the playing area and find your partner. The players will begin announcing (shouting) the word of the person they are looking for. For example, if I am Pop, I would move around yelling the word "Corn". Of course my partner will be yelling "Pop". (Resource here.)

b. Together Tag
Clarify that we play safe tag. That means we only tag with one finger. One person chooses to be “it.” They try to tag one person. Once tagged, that person joins hands with the original “it.” Together, they must try to keep tagging the other players until everyone is “it.” The last one tagged gets to be “it” in the next round.

IV. Meditation - The Empty Meditation
“empty your toes, empty your feet, your ankles, etc.”

V. Story
a. In The Small, Small Night, by Jane Kurtz
b. discussion

VI. Craft
Wet water colour. (Painting will be saved for use in future projects.)
Each child wet their paper with a sponge and clean water. Then they used one brush to create 1 or 2 water colour painting using only red, yellow and blue.

VII. Closing
A. Pass The Pulse - Teacher starts the pulse by squeezing a hand. They "pass the pulse" around the circle by squeezing the next hand until it returns to the teacher.
B. “Hands” = Hlding hands and taking turns, each person states something they are thankful for today.

Notes: Today was an exhausting, yet, exhilarating day! Trillium, my co-teacher, and I need to smooth some of the transitions out. Some children race through a project whilst others take their time. So we discovered a need to better facilitate the "high energy" children.

It is very hard to work in an empty huge room with hard wood floors. The echo simply begs the children to experiment with sound. Because the room is used for anything from yoga to meditation classes, we can not create a "classroom environment." However, in keeping with the idea of this class, it does beg us to find ways to incorporate "simplicity" into the very bones of running this class. Good challenge!

Highlights: Writing down the peace experiences today was exceptional. Here are some thoughts on peaceful moments they experienced this week. Peace is:
"when the birds stopped chirping"
"when the sun sets.
"ice cream and t.v."
"no barking dogs."

Glorious!

Lyrics
Love Grows - we only used the chorus below. The rest of the song is included because I like it.

LOVE GROWS ONE BY ONE
TWO BY TWO AND FOUR BY FOUR

LOVE GROWS ‘ROUND LIKE A CIRCLE

AND COMES BACK KNOCKING

AT YOUR FRONT DOOR

Note by note we make a song

Voice by voice we sing it

Choir by choir we fill up the world

With the music that we bring it (CHORUS)

So let me take your hand, my friend

We’ll each take the hand of another

One by one we’ll reach for all
Our sisters and our brothers (CHORUS)

So Glad I'm Here - modified
For lyrics/ tune please check the Sweet Honey In the Rock album, "All For Freedom"

Baby Preacher

2008-09-09T08:08:00.006-05:00

Your laugh of the day can be found here. Only in America do fundamentalist churches allow toddlers to preach to the congregation. Not only do they allow it, they encourage it. Then they label it, "a powerful move of God in worship service."

You won't be disappointed by the click through. You'll howl with laughter. Then, you'll be very afraid. You'll realize people like this are in our White House and want to keep other people like them there. Then, you'll go out and register someone to vote for Obama. Or just send him some cash.

On that note, introducing, America's youngest preacher, Kanon Tipton. Laugh, get scared, face your fears and get out there and do something.

I Am A Community Organizer

2008-09-08T15:47:00.004-05:00

For a comprehensive list of people participating in today's "I Am A Community Organizer," please visit: Electronic Village. Each blog has something different to say, and yet, we all seem to agree that community organizers are important.

I Am A Community Organizer #3 | The Fun Peace At PALS

2008-09-08T10:24:00.003-05:00

SNAP SHOT 3 - The Fun Peace

This weekend, I will get the wonderful privilege to volunteer as a Storywalk reader for Beginning With Books. I’m so excited to present a new version of a book I’ve incorporated into pre-school performance and workshop for almost fifteen years. Honey I Love, by Eloise Greenfield has been redone with colour pictures by artist, Jan Spivey Gilchrist!

Back when I was actively presenting workshops, I used to pack extra copies. Invariably, there was always some little kid who couldn’t let me leave with the book. I’ve probably bought 25 copies of the original version. I mean, could you stand in a housing project looking a cute kid in the eyes and take a book away from them? Not me.

Reading at the Storywalk will be a wonderful end to a week in which I’ll be combining my skills as an artist, performer, educator and mother for the first time in a year. I’m nervous. I can handle the 6 - 8 group. I excel with the 9 - 13 crowd. And I always manage to be effective with the teens. I’ve done performances for pre-schoolers before. I’ve even done a few early literacy workshops. But, I’ve never taught a class for a term for a bunch of 3 - 5 year olds.

For two hours over the next ten week period, I’ll have a group of twelve 3 - 5 year olds at PALS Enrichment Programs. I’ll be teaching a class called “The Fun Peace.” I think I’m crazy. But, I believe that early exposure is one of the most critical gifts a parent can give a child. So, here is the synopsis:

The Fun Peace

Peace can mean many things - quiet, stillness or an active call. Fall is the perfect time for reflection on connection, stillness, warmth, co-operation, and love. Every human, no matter how small wants to be in a peaceful place. Using movement, art, poetry, folk tales and historical stories, this class seeks to invite young people to find and become peace. During the term we will decorate candles; make drums; become "a living drum;" walk a spiral, dance and a host of other creative projects. Young people will be afforded opportunities for creative undirected and directed play. And hopefully, together, we will write our own peace stories. Historical figures introduced will include: Cesar Chavez, Wangari Maathai, Martin Luther King Jr, Ghandi, Alia Muhammad Baker and Chief Seattle's speech about the Earth.

I originally developed the class because I was pondering the way in which I’m raising my son as a conscientious objector. (You can look at these old posts for more information.) As we read books and did projects, I realized some other parents may want to have an arty-crafty, storytelling, movement, history class. I was right, because parents actually signed up for the class!

If it hadn’t been for PALS, I wouldn’t have believed the work we are doing at home is relevant to others. So, now, by giving of my time, energy and expertise, I am once again a community organizer. If any of you out there are interested, I’ll post my bibliography and lesson plan each week. That way you can round up your friends and teach it along side of us.

As to Sarah Palin - to whom I don’t want to give undeserved attention - watch out! Here comes a next generation of community organizers. And because of the class size, we outnumber the drones you’ll be unleashing on the world two-to-one.

I Am A Community Organizer #2 | PALS Enrichment Programs

2008-09-08T09:10:00.008-05:00

This is my second post on how rich community organizers make my life. If Sarah Palin hadn't made her unfortunate comment last week, I probably wouldn't have shared this with you. It's just a little something in which I participate that may or may not be of interest to other people. Until she made that comment, I just privately acknowledged how blessed I am to be part of PALS.

SNAPSHOT TWO - Pals Enrichment Programs

This is the first week of enrichment classes for our home schooling group, PALS Enrichment Programs. This dynamic, diverse group of mamas (and papas) have given so much to the secular home educating community. (Secular home educators are families that are home schooling in the effort to raise independent and creative thinkers. They are not home educating out of a desire to prevent their children from being exposed to ideas like evolution, diversity and sex education.)

Back when I was raising my firstborn, Imani, there were very few secular homeschoolers out there. It was hard to find playmates. Eventually, we sent her to school. However, many of the mamas who founded PALS discovered each other. They shared their skills and taught each other’s children in a living room. This small group grew until they finally had to incorporate as a 501C3 ten years ago. Now, because of such high enrollment, they must rent space and organize and schedule classes for pre-schoolers all the way through early teens.

PALS is a completely volunteer run organization. It is run by the parents for the children. It is open to anyone who wants to belong. And as trying as it can be sometimes, diversity is in action. (Which means we can and often do disagree...respectfully.)

The classes at PALS are taught by mothers (or Dads) who have some special talent or creative idea that they can share with the group. (Many of us have had dynamic careers in a variety of fields before we chose to stay home with our kids.) Parents pay for classes. The proceeds go toward facility rental, insurance and teacher pay. Any surplus is usually put towards giving families in need scholarships.

Through PALS, my son has had the opportunity to interact in a classroom setting with his peers. But, more importantly, these classes are taught in the way I want my son to learn. For example, last term my son took a dance/literacy class. The teacher incorporated yoga and modern dance to build early literacy skills. He has also been able to learn Mandarin Chinese from a native speaker.

The classes are always affordable, innovative and taught in a way which stimulates the child’s imagination. I’ve seen children being spies and breaking codes. I’ve witnessed children building constructions out of “wood, metal and the occasional match.” I’ve seen a group of 7 to 10 year old interpret MacBeth and stage their own production of it. One afternoon, some of the younger children built this “bench” out of sticks and rocks.

In addition to the weekly classes, PALS offers a Curriculum Lending Library. This library provides access to many high-ticket items which make no sense for a family to buy. For $25 a year, I can check out things like microscopes, telescopes, anatomy models, test tubes, Bunsen burners, and cuisinairre rods. Many of these items have a prohibitive price tag which is unrealistic for the average family to afford.

Finally, a parent organizes opportunities for interested members of the group to attend the “school performances” of a variety of cultural programs. The ticket price for an opera or a ballet is sometimes well above $35.00 a person. Considering that the majority of us are choosing to live on one income, this affords our children the ability to be exposed to arts programs at a discount price.

Other than it exists and I can be part of it, what warmed my heart last week in regards to this organization is its ability to respond swiftly to the concerns of the community. Earlier in the week, a few parents raised the issue that many home schooling families couldn’t afford the membership fee for the Curriculum Lending Library. The community immediately rallied around these families by contributing solutions in the form of money and work exchange ideas. In a little under a week, the community raised a significant amount of money and created a committee to develop policy on how to make disperse scholarship money in the effort to make sure the library is inclusive.

More importantly, I meet parents who say, "I wish I could homeschool." I respond that they can choose not to "leave their child behind." And then I tell them about the programs available to them. It makes them stop, think, and plan.

This is a picture of a "monument to justice" my son and his friend built in the park. Sarah Palin may think community organizers have no actual responsibilities, but, facilitating opportunities that result in a generation of creative and independent thinkers may just save our future from her kind. And that is probably what she fears most of all. People of her ilk would prefer an America filled with sheep masquerading as people.

I Am A Community Organizer #1 | MCAI 20th Anniversary

2008-09-08T07:12:00.007-05:00

“I guess a small-town mayor is sort of like a 'community organizer,' except that you have actual responsibilities.” - Sarah Palin, 2008

This past week provided so many uplifting moments. Maybe Sarah Palin’s sniping made me see more clearly how much my life is made better by people in my community who care enough to take actions which make our lives better.

I probably wouldn’t have taken the time to write about these powerful moments. But, I was shocked that anyone - especially an elected official - would denigrate the very people who help keep government small.

I’ll be posting some of these snapshots over the course of the day.

SNAPSHOT ONE - Multi-Cultural Arts Initiative

On Friday evening, I attended the 20th Anniversary Of The Multi-Cultural Arts Initiative
From the MCAI website:

"Over the years, MCAI has awarded close to $7 million and over 600 grants. During this time period almost a third of MCAI funding was directed toward providing operating support dollars for targeted African American arts organizations."

They enact their mission by identifying

“four strategic goals:
1. Institute an organizational and financial infrastructure, which allow for achievement of the mission.
2. Increase the quality of culturally diverse programming.
3. Strengthen African American arts organizations and infrastructures to support individual artists, providing increased value benefiting the primary customer (consumers of the African American and culturally diverse arts programming.)
4. Increase awareness and visibility of culturally diverse arts in the region.”

I can’t believe they have been around for twenty years now. They have been involved with me and my art work for 14 years. They have been directly responsible for any success I've had.

Back in 1994, I was in post-production on my first (and final) 16 mm film. They were the first to support my project. Without them, I would have never been able to complete my film.

Later down the road, as I headed into my performance art career, they were the first to support a non-profit organization I cofounded with Christiane Leach. Our mission was to support emerging artists. Sun Crumbs produced over 52 programs a year which included visual arts exhibitions, The Bust-A-Myth Series, the Sun Crumbs Performance Poetry series, the Pittsburgh Poetry Slam, and commissioned an interdisciplinary arts collaboration on an annual basis.

During the five years, Christiane Leach and I were running Sun Crumbs, we provided support and economic assistance to emerging artists of all colours. For many of the poets we served, it was the first time any reading series had provided: one on one consultations about career development; paid them university wages; housed them in a posh hotel; gave them opportunities to work with children. Many of these same poets such as: Staceyann Chin, Roger Bonair Agard, Regie Gibson, Al Letson, and Tyehimba Jess have gone on to contribute to the national and international community.

We commissioned Staceyann Chin to perform her first interdisciplinary collaborative performance with local jazz musicians. Later, she went on to create a one woman show off-broadway. Roger Bonair Agard went on to be a founding member of The Louder Arts Project - a very Sun Crumbs like group of artists who create opportunities for artists in New York City. Al Letson has had tremendous success as both a playwright and performing author of a one man show. And Tyehimba Jess has been a recent winner of the National Poetry Series with his stunning collection, Leadbelly. Without the belief of MCAI, we would not have been able to touch directly and indirectly so many lives.

The 20th Anniversary event was an exciting evening. The performances and visual art exhibited reflect the true diversity of African voices. A stunning performance of drum and dance by Africa Yetu; a beautiful modern dance piece, art from Women Of Vision and a video documentary tribute to Thaddeus Mosley. Thaddeus Mosley was the honoured artist that evening.

The highlight of the evening the premiere of a new jazz piece by Sean Jones and The Mission Statement. (More about Sean Jones.) Entitled “Oliver: The Master Builder,” it paid tribute to Oliver Byrd, the man who has kept the MCAI going. Without his brilliant leadership, the MCAI is a 20 year old non-profit which has never run at a deficit. Pretty amazing. But, more importantly, MCAI is not some behemoth foundation made by the super rich to alleviate their tax burden. MCAI is able to contribute to the community by pulling together big donations, small donations and a lot of people power. (Envelope stuffers, committee members, round table participants, etc.)

The most amazing thing to witness was that in these hard economic times, the diversity of my fellow celebrants amazed me. With a fifty dollar entrance ticket, folks from unions, blue-collar workers, big corporation employees and executives, individual artists and regular folks managed to find a way to get there. That’s saying something about the way they enrich our community by their support. These days fifty dollars is hard to come by and still folks found a way.

A Helping Hand | Not Back To School Resources

2008-09-03T17:29:00.004-05:00

an interview with Songs Of Higher Learning

What do you get when a father is committed to making sure his children succeed academically? The answer is Songs Of Higher Learning. I posted about this group awhile back.

After living with the CD for a few months, I have to state that unequivocally, every child needs this in their musical collection. What is Laurie Berkner teaching our children? Not much. What is Raffi teaching our children, well a little bit of something. But, the educational bang-for-the-buck I get with Songs Of Higher Learning is priceless. (I also get a side benefit. It is simply not having my nerves set afire whilst driving from Point A to Point B because I’m being infected with aesthetic diarrhoea. )

For the record, I’ve purchased these products without any kickbacks or freebies. (Heck, they’re too small for kickbacks and freebies.) So, read along and visit the website. And by all means... even if you don’t like hip hop...support.) Winston’s current favourite song is “Phases Of The Moon” from “Astronomy.” They recently released a few videos to accompany the music. You can preview those here.

Interview

CS - Who is "Songs Of Higher Learning?"

SOHL - Songs Of Higher Learning are a few parents trying to make a change. We're trying to make the teachers job easier while making the kids want to learn.

CS - Do you have children of your own? Is this how you got the idea to begin doing this important work?

SOHL - Yes. I myself have 5 kids ranging from 1 to 14. Songs Of Higher Learning began when my son had a test coming up and he couldn't remember the 7 continents, the four major oceans and which states surround Virginia. So we put them into songs and that was the beginning of Songs Of Higher Learning.

CS - You are obviously a grassroots effort. I've truly appreciated how responsive you've been to me as a customer. I also very much appreciate of the fact that I can support a company which shares values that are exceptionally important to my family. How difficult has it been to get started?

SOHL - We at Songs Of Higher Learning truly appreciate you as a customer. It has been very long and very costly getting this started. The hardest part is coming home after working 12 hours, tired, body aching and then studying a topic to make a song about. I look at this as another part of life because there have been many obstacles along our path and we overcame each and every one.

CS - The cd's feel as if you have either a background in education or have researched core curriculum materials for today's public schools.

SOHL - Well one of my partners is a 5th grade teacher. I myself have no prior educational background. I was actually a high school dropout and then eventually settled for a G.E.D.. But now with all the work that I do for Songs Of Higher Learning and helping my kids with their homework it puts me back in school.

CS - I've got to ask. Only one song really bugs me on the CDs. No, it is not "From The Sun To Pluto.” You make it very clear in that song that Pluto is no longer considered a planet.

It is the "Nouns" song on the grammar CD. First, you ease your way into the introduction of pronouns and proper nouns.

Verse 1 quote:
"AND WE BOTH WEAR JORDANS TOO;
WE (NOUN) JORDANS (NOUNS) "

We is a pronoun. As I understand it, Jordan's is a proper noun.

Then in Verse 2, you introduce proper nouns,

"WE DRIVE A MERCEDES BENZ; MERCEDES BENZ (PROPER NOUN)"

Finally, pronouns are introduced in Verse 3. What contributed to your artistic and educational choices doing it that way. And finally - how much were you catering to an intended audience by using things like Jordan's as Mercedes Benz as proper nouns? And why would you choose to cater to this audience? Where you assuming there wouldn't be a wider interest? Are you afraid of dating yourselves by these choices?

SOHL - Yes. We is a pronoun and Jordan’s is a proper noun. I've been criticized over that line a few times. The reason why I haven't changed it is because it was done like that to show that everything is a noun. That's why the first verse is just nouns.

Then when you get more in depth with nouns, they get broken down into pronouns and proper nouns. That's when the second and third verses comes into play. It was set up that way because we felt that it would be easier to teach nouns, pronouns and proper nouns all in one song. If a child learns that one song they would learn 3 different topics.

We're not necessarily catering to a specific audience. I used Jordan’s and Mercedes because those are two of the most popular materials things that kids all across America would love to have. So it’s definitely universal.

Now, I was told by people who work in music industry and work with Disney that what we're doing won't work. I was told that I need to make all the music sound happier so it can cross over to a wide audience. I told them that their wrong for the simple fact that Hip Hop is not a "black thing". Hip Hop is an "everybody thing". The majority of Hip Hop fans in this country are NOT black. What we offer is Hop Hip intended for ALL kids.

As long as we can keep finding young and talented producer and writers I don't think you’ll be able to put a date on us. The key to longevity is the ability to change with time.

CS - Do you do other kinds of music?

SOHL - Currently no. Between my regular 9 to 5, my kids and Songs Of Higher Learning, I don't have the time. But I would love to do some work with r&b and pop-rock soon.

CS - Where do you see yourselves in 5 years?

SOHL - In 5 years I can see Songs Of Higher Learning in more than half of the school districts in the country. We also do songs or change songs to fit specific curriculum.

CS - What other exciting projects can we look forward to seeing?

SOHL - In the very near future we'll be presenting a lot more videos to go along with all the albums. We also have a CD coming that teaches Spanish and English.

CS - Awesome! I look forward to it!

The Not Back To School Year Begins

2008-08-31T10:20:00.004-05:00

When I applied for the job of mother, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I didn’t improve the job description by adding home educator to the list of responsibilities. The past six weeks, I’ve been a single mother six days a week. (My husband is currently working on a contract out of state.) I’m beginning to look at this job I’ve signed up for. It has truly shaken some of my fundamental beliefs about what works for my family.

I’ve started to day dream about Kindergarten. For my own sanity, I’m allowing activities I previously deemed “not right for our family” - like more television. I have less physical and emotional space to allow the endless free roaming through parks. I am less patient than I was six weeks ago. Still, I think to myself, this is temporary. Many women do this without any hope of respite year after year after year.

It was getting downright depressing. I actually began talking about school with Winston. He did not like that idea one iota. Then, this morning, something wonderful happened. It was the kind of wonderful which makes me stop and say, Oh, that is why I’m doing this.

As many of you may remember, Winston loves all things science related. But, his passion is chemical reactions. We’ve done baking soda and food colour. We’ve done mixing of primary colours. We capture bugs and study them. We’ve hatched butterflies and ladybugs and set them free. For the longest time, his favourite bed time stories were The Rookie Read Aloud Science Books, “What Is Matter,” “What Is A Solid,” and “What Is A Liquid”. We find ourselves watching those mad professors from the University Of Nottingham. They make the Periodic Table Of Elements so thrilling.

After them, my science just isn’t cutting it anymore. Winston wanted to know “why can’t we get some hydrogen and balloons like the men on the computer?” Hard question to answer. So, I started hunting around for something else to do. I came across this science kit that had been stashed in favour of the outside summer.

“Scientific Explorer’s Magic Science” has been a blast. This morning we used purple cabbage juice powder as an acid base indicator. He had mixed baking soda into coloured water before. Nothing exciting happened until he added an acid. So, he wasn’t expecting much when he dropped the baking soda (base) into the purple water. Then the water turned blue. His face was priceless! He was eager to see what happened when we dropped the citric acid into the water. It turned red. Deep dimples and deafening decibel levels. Then, the last and most exciting thing. The creation of fizzing, foamy purple foam! “Let’s do it again!” He exclaimed. And so we did. Again and again and again.

Jiggity Jig

2008-08-23T20:29:00.002-05:00

The firstborn is at her home. She has been released from the hospital. Pins anchor her arm to her hand. It's pretty bad. But, she's coping.

Epiphany for me has come and fled. Too much to share here. When I gain some distance, I'll share. Needless to say a critical review board has moved into my mind.

A good friend, David, said, "the rich kids are the worst of them all." What is it about privilege that creates black holes?

DO NOT RESUSCITATE

2008-08-15T20:34:00.002-05:00

This is a standing order given to me by my daughter today.

Tomorrow, she will have surgery to repair the wrist she broke whilst stair surfing.

HA. HA.

She and her many punk friends think she is so cool.

Great.

At least I don't have to show up at 6 AM to get her to surgery. Nor do I have to monitor her fluid and food intake after midnight.

I have been gifted with life and death decisions.

Standing order resembles my own personal choices. So, let's twiddle our thumbs

and hope someone notices.

I Love Folks With A Direct Line

2008-08-15T17:46:00.004-05:00

Jiminy Cricket. Travesty Packet! Muck Bucket! This world is a tipsy top turvsey old crazy place. Check out my AfroSpear friends...they're talking about tasering, missing children, the elections, Darfur, every unimaginable subject that life has been delivering to the news.

But, today, I got word of a tragedy in my own community of African-American unschoolers. How much should my friend 'M" have to bear? Not a few months ago, her husband (and sole family provider) had a stroke. Now the firstborn has been in a car accident. I read her message and then prceeded to feeling sad, helpless and bound for some knee time.

Then, a wonderful sister for the African-American unschooling list chimed in with her prayer. She wrote:

"You are loaded daily with benefits and surrounded with favor like a shield!
You are being strengthened beyond measure for a greater cause.
You are a phenomenal woman! After this, when you open your mouth, many will receive healing, wisdom, encouragement, and victory because of the power of your testimony!
Thank God, He always causes us to triumph!"

Okay, so I think this is some of the best creative writing I've seen in a long time. Most of ya'll know that I'm a polytheist...if you will. I've always been about the enerey everyone's giving to the all powerful whomever is out there. But, this prayer caught my attention. Enough to say, please visit the author, Toni Hatton. Trust me my liberal and pagen friends, I wasn't sputterng for breath or holding my nose. It wasn't like the rabid lunatic fundamentalist Christians we've visitied with before. It was kind of fresh.

Seen & Unseen | Natural & Unnatural

2008-08-11T17:21:00.004-05:00

Went to Falling Water today with my Norwegian sister and her son. Winston was not allowed in because he is five years old. So, he and his grandmother hiked around and did .... something.

What struck me the most was how manipulative and controlling Frank Lloyd Wright was. The whole house seemed to shriek, You must live my way. My vision is what is important! Our wet dish rag of a tour guide seemed overwhelmed by his genius. I think it flavoured my perceptions.

I enjoyed the evidence of subtle battles between Mrs. Kaufmann and Wright. The blinds she put in the guest room. The gorgeous freeform 14th century peasant chairs she had imported from Europe to use at their dining room table. The chair designed by Wright was on display in the guest house. I think Mrs. Kaufmann was correct in her choice. Her chairs represented a female element. Lovely naturally curvilinear wood perched on three legs - how pagan and earthy. Very unlike the controlled stiff straight lines that Wright imposed on nature. Wright wanted all the views unobscured. Mrs. Kaufmann wanted privacy in her bathroom. I loved the way she used potted plants as a natural curtain. The guest house also reflects her influence. It is more spontaneous and natural than the main house. The type of art hung, the cushions on the built in couches reflected a sense of colour and texture that Wright's designs don't use. Interestingly enough, the pool which Mrs. kaufmann loved and used frequently is easily accessible from the guest house. (I get the feeling she spent a good amount of time up there - even if nobody said so.)

By the end of the tour, I was also unimpressed by the sameness of every room. The way in which each bedroom and bath had only one method for occupancy. Edgar J. Kaufmann, their son, had a same knack for design rebelliousness as his mother. He made several untenable modifcations to his suite that would have thrown Wright into seething tantrums.

You can tell a lot about a family and the vision of the architect by what is seen and unseen. The kitchen was deemed unimportant” because only the servants used it And the servants quarters were now the administrative offices. In the words of the tour guide, they look just like every other room in the house, except instead of those little white buttons they had to call the servants, they have bells. The highest wall on the property was placed to screen the carports and servants quarters - effectively rendering them invisible. They don’t want us to remember the human price of grandeur and elegance.

It is truly stunning and innovative architecture. Here are some pictures and the wikipedia page. But, I’m glad I don’t live that way.

Help A Brother Do His Real Work

2008-08-09T16:09:00.005-05:00

It happens to every artist. At some point, being hungry and poor gets old. So, you do a piece of work which pleases an audience. Or you take a commission which will pay your bills. Meanwhile, you keep on doing the “good work,” the stuff that feeds your soul. Invariably, that work you did to hook another gig; please an audience; or pay some bills comes back to bite you in the ass.

I have mine. Fortunately, you can no longer find it on the web.

But, my friend, Chris Ivey has finally gotten his. Those of you who have been following along may remember mentioning Chris Ivey when I was observing the gentrification of Hackney in East London. He had just released Part Two of "East Of Liberty"

Today, in an email he wrote:

“Okay... so the absolute ridiculous has happened.
A bar owner I know hired me to make a stupid movie about an overweight guy who practices rapid tai chi, stares into the sun for energy and claims he has the Guinness Book World Record for high scream....
Okay...
So... The people at the LATE SHOW WITH DAVID LETTERMAN saw the clip and want him to appear this Fall on the show. The other day... NETFLIX saw the stupid thing and bought up 30 copies for starter. BLOCKBUSTER is now interested because NETFLIX is interested.”

The good thing is that if you rent the film from Netflix, they’ll buy more copies.

This will help Chris finish his important film, “East Of Liberty.” It is a three part documentary about the affects of gentrification on a predominantly Black neighbourhood in Pittsburgh. It’s great work. It’s important work. It is necessary work which touches people beyond the borders of Pittsburgh. So, go ahead. Put it on your queue. And as Chris says,

“I really don’t care if you watch it or not.”

The point is to really get them to buy more copies so he can raise some money to do his real work. Here’s the link to it on Netflicks. And here is a link to the movie, Chi Guy: Weapon Of Mass Decibels. (I can’t believe this made it to Letterman.)

Vote From Abroad

2008-08-09T10:39:00.002-05:00

Okay, my expat friends, it's time to start thinking about November. No, I'm serious. The elections are coming up faster than you can imagine. So, you need to be prepared to participate.

My friend Adrianne over at Black Women In Europe pointed me towards this video. But, you could always just go here and get your absentee ballot. Believe me, it will make a difference.

Lazy Crazy New York

2008-08-04T19:08:00.005-05:00

New York City isn't my first choice of vacation spots with a five year old in tow. But, considering that my husband is commuting here Sunday through Thursday for the next 10 weeks - I'll move it on up to the top of the list.

This week, we are tagging along. Winston needed to see where Daddy goes to work - ALL THE TIME.

So, here we are. Daddy gets up; puts on a suit and goes to work every morning. We have the city. And Winston is loving it! Life in London turned the boy into a big city kid. I'm a little weirded out about how naturally he has taken to life in midtown Manhattan. This morning we went to FAO Schwartz, walked down 5th Avenue and meandered around Rockefeller Centre. Then, we hopped home for lunch and a rest.

We ran into the Parrot People that we met last night. They are a lovely couple who frequent a cafe near our flat with their parrots. They've taken a shine to Winston. When they told him their birds names were "hard to say because they were Chinese," Winston said, "we'll I'm learning Chinese." The usual shock and awe. The usual explanation about home education. Needless to say, they were eager to teach him to hold the parrots. It kind of worked. Winston is very small. The two parrots - they come as a pair - are huge and medium. He may try again tomorrow.

Later ~ out we went. Tried to fit the Central Park Zoo into our afternoon - before Daddy got off from work. We were rushing so we didn't take the tube. The stupid cabbie took us to Central Park West. So - the rest of our afternoon was spent trudging through Central Park in search of the zoo. But, we got to see the sound check for some unknown band mainlaining the "Summer Stage," observe a zither player, discuss algae on the lake. We made it to the zoo 1/2 hour before closing. Hardly worth the price of the ticket. So, we canned it and put it at the top of our agenda for tomorrow.

He didn't care. He decided he wanted his portrait sketched, instead. So, he posed. The man drew. We have a rather angelic, idyllic version of him. Maybe he will resemble it in 2 years. (The guy forgot his chubby dimple cheeks.)

Two striking things for the day:

1. He was largely uninterested in most of the toys at FAO Schwartz. He was given a budget. He chose three toys. He came in under budget. The two toys he loves he most are:
a. a telescope/microscope which looks like a pocket pen
b. Ball Of Whacks It has a lots of Rubix-type "puzzles." He has solved a majority of them today. But, it doesn't stop him from playing with it at every opportunity.

Regardless, he loved the adventure. It is nice to see him swagger confident through a city again. To quote myself from a poem coming out in The Drunken Boat shortly,

"What is it I'm not getting
about this antlered sunrise?"

The Periodic Table Of Videos

2008-08-03T07:30:00.002-05:00

Before I head off to New York this morning, I thought I’d leave you with some entertainment. Those wacky professors at The University Of Nottingham - over across the pond in the U.K. - have found a way to make the Periodic Tables fun and interesting! (Hat tip to Natasha from PALS.)

In The Periodic Table Of Videos the mad scientists demonstrate the properties of elements in a manner which any adventurous child would appreciate. I particularly like the discussion about oxygen in which he says, "it can make for very energetic experiments." These are a must if you have a budding young scientist. (Or a child who really hates science.) Thanks to Tickle Tune Typhoon’s CD, “Singing Science,” Winston is particularly fascinated with atoms and dna. So far he has watched, oxygen, sodium, helium and phosphorus. His favourite was helium. But, he keeps asking for more.

Helium