Month: December 2018

I have never liked the idea of the backstory, the rags to riches tale that every minority or person of color who garnered any success had to have in order to prove to White people that no matter what the odds, we could improve our lot if we just tried hard enough.

I grew up in East St. Louis, Illinois. Started out in the projects next to the high school where I would eventually graduate in one of the top ten. There is nothing spectacular about that because it was expected of us. In a town where more than 95% of the population was Black, it was the norm. Because of the flavor of our family, I didn’t really see or understand what true racism was.

We moved from the projects across town into a beautiful home that had been owned by a banker. He was a participant in the “White Flight” movement. Within the year, my neighbors on both sides of us (also white) would move. I loved my life, new home and making new friends. I didn’t realize that the childhood I enjoyed was an oddity. Everyone had two parent homes, friends of different ethnicities, relatives who had children out of wedlock.

M first years on the planet were fairly reckless so I learned later in life. Retrospect is a beautiful thing. Over the next year, I will discuss some of the things I’ve learned on my trips around the sun. I will share my work, my loves, pieces of my life and tales of people who made an impact. There will be politics, religion, arts and crafts, family, whims, fancies and idiosyncrasies, I hope you enjoy the perspective of one who has survived herself. Happy Birthday to me.

Sometimes a singer/songwriter gets it right. This is one of those times. Every year, George Michael would sing this live somewhere, on some show. Now he’s gone and we only have the memory. The words are still as potent today as they where when LISTEN WITHOUT PREJUDICE was released. Now more than ever we need to heed the message.

Praying for Time

These are the days of the open hand
They will not be the last
Look around now
These are the days of the beggars and the choosers

This is the year of the hungry man
Whose place is in the past
Hand in hand with ignorance
And legitimate excuses

The rich declare themselves poor
And most of us are not sure
If we have too much
But we’ll take our chances
‘Cause God’s stopped keeping score

I guess somewhere along the way
He must have let us all out to play
Turned his back and all God’s children
Crept out the back door

And it’s hard to love, there’s so much to hate
Hanging on to hope
When there is no hope to speak of
And the wounded skies above say it’s much, much too late
Well, maybe we should all be praying for time

These are the days of the empty hand
Oh, you hold on to what you can
And charity is a coat you wear twice a year

This is the year of the guilty man
Your television takes a stand
And you find that what was over there is over here

So you scream from behind your door
Say, “What’s mine is mine and not yours”
I may have too much but I’ll take my chances
‘Cause God’s stopped keeping score

And you cling to the things they sold you
Did you cover your eyes when they told you
That he can’t come back
‘Cause he has no children to come back for

It’s hard to love, there’s so much to hate
Hanging on to hope when there is no hope to speak of
And the wounded skies above say it’s much too late
So maybe we should all be praying for time

Songwriters: GEORGE MICHAEL© Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.For non-commercial use only.