President Obama’s First Inauguration, January 20, 2009

Reflections about walking the streets of Washington, DC on Inauguration day, January 20, 2009 with the masses and our many other friends, loved ones and ancestors that were there in spirit.

A Majestic Walk Into World History

Reminiscent of the great migrating herds that dot the African landscape in search of food, comfort and sustenance which sustains their lives.

My wife and I, along with perhaps billions, were innately driven by instinct and remembrance to stand a little taller to walk a little straighter knowing that we are standing on the shoulders of so many others. Family, friends that are living but unable to attend and those who are no longer with us but watching from heaven on this day saying thank you thank you all for remembering us.

After this day I feel my family has grown to include billions. This event truly had an air of greatness. A collective feeling and connection that will never be broken. We all have been provided spiritual sustenance that will feed us and others for centuries long after our time here has passed.

It can now truly be said that we know what it feels like to be citizens of the universe. Living in this world and being supported by so many other known and unknown people who are waiting on us in Glory.

Composure Under Fire

“The Big Spoon”

The Big Spoon

Part I

Friday night and Gwen the number two child was sick. This was serious business and all ears were peeled to get a hint of what was to be..

There was an eerie sense of foreboding in the air as everyone went off to bed with little fanfare. Not the usual banter and arguments that echoed thru out the small three bedroom two bath rambler. The kids all six having conversations some of which not being so pleasant. It was off to bed without the usual directive from Mama ” Every rat to its hole”. Translation – be quiet and go to sleep. Everyone would fall off to sleep fearing what was to be. Hoping that it was just a bad dream that would be over when we awoke to an adventurous day without structure..

Saturday morning was usually a good time no school and always awoke to the smell of bacon or sausage , biscuits and ….Not this mourning just humidity in the air filled with a vague sent of boiling water. I could tell that my siblings were awake. You could see their heads peeking thru the covers but all afraid to say a word for fear that someone in the kitchen might here them and come in. Some of the younger ones had already began to quietly sob from imagining their fate that was inevitable..

In the kitchen we could hear Big Mama’s voice as she had a laughing conversation with her eldest daughter Mama. Some of the smaller children whispered who is that with Mama ? I responded “Big Mama ” with in seconds of my confirmation the quiet sobs had turned into rivers of tears and outright fear. Even I (Junior the number three child) the eldest boy felt butterflies in my stomach. With this loud cacophony of sounds wafting thru the house it would not be long now before we all met our fate.

We could see the shadow of someone moving down the hall headed to the bedroom. Looking up it was Big Mama she was a stout woman about 5’7″ close to 200 lbs give or take dark complexion ,big booming voice and a smile that could light up a room..

It was cruel and unusual punishment for her to come in and try to comfort us in our time of need. “Hello babies” she said as she came thru the door. We all said hi Big Mama or at least the ones that weren’t crying. With a smile she ask what was wrong even though she knew exactly what the ruckus was about. Taking time to try and comfort us and prepare us for our trip, a sort of “Trail of Tears” she would sing a song to calm us and promise to make us a sweet potato pie. In my house sugar was pretty much the way to turn us all into brave little soldiers. Now at least we have something to look forward too after our ordeal.

Part II

One by one we all got dressed ,cleaned up and marched into the TV room and lined up on the couch like jaybirds, both quietly and not so quietly awaiting our fate. This was serious business and how you handled yourself in these situations could result in either a reward or a whooping. From our vantage point we had an unobstructed view into the kitchen and watched as the kitchen table chairs were being lined up like prisoners being placed before a firing squad. We could see a bottle sticking out of that pan with the boiling water and if that was not bad enough mama went into the kitchen drawer and got out a spoon simply referred to as “The Big Spoon”. It was a very old spoon clearly worn by time perhaps passed down for generations. Made of some combination metal like brass, iron… When used it left a distinct unpleasant taste in your mouth as it touched your tongue. The sight of it was scarier than if Norman Bates strolled thru the kitchen with his butchers knife to cut your commodity peanut butter and molasses sandwich a childhood favorite.

At the sight of the “The Big Spoon” all of the kids would loose it. Even Daddy who was even more skittish than all of us at the prospect of having to watch any child crying ,begging and pleading for mercy. He could not stand the pressure and hurriedly exited the room, Normally, Daddy was a good ally but in this instance it was best for him to leave since now the rules were simple “Everyone for them self”. When any of the kids got hurt he would end up crying more than we did, then most of our time was spent trying too comfort him. Mama was happy when he left, because she said that he was just a big baby and only hindered the process. He had failed miserably as Mama’s helper that is why Big Mama was there.

Part III

When the tough love had to be handed out it was always the women carrying the load. Preparations continued towels, dish cloths, lemons slices, peppermint candy, “The Strap” and … as if laying out surgical instruments before a major surgical procedure. Trying to anticipate every possible contingency even blocking the exits so that anybody stupid enough to try and run away would not make it very far.

Soon there would be a roll call and no one wanted to report for duty. Often it would start with a request for senior leadership from the older children to provide a positive example for the younger kids. That strategy didn’t work since our oldest sister Gina (the number one child) was most often crying and snotting more than the small ones. She was the very reason for the barricades blocking the exits. You know what they say everybody is an example even if its a bad one.

We would talk among ourselves trying to fake someone into going first that strategy would only worked one time at best. Eventually an order was made for one of the older soldiers to report. Since Gwen was the reason for this it was logical that she go first. Instead hear words, but didn’t understand them, the others start to laugh and then I hear “Junior come on” . All the mental preparation goes out the window and my knees go week as I walk toward the kitchen. Big Mama was there to grab and drag you those last few feet when your brain refused to allow your legs to move. Something else that we had Gina to thank for. There were to many of us for them to have to chase us around.

I can remember Gina’s first dramatic performance passing out a few feet short of the chair. Once it was determined to be an act, reparations had to be made. It was usually in the form of another play ” The Strap” no acting lessons required there would be real tears and pain to follow. Even though it was funny you best not laugh once Mama started swinging ” The Strap” she had a very short fuse and you didn’t know what might have her requesting that you become a SAG cast member. All of Mama’s plays had dialogue with each swing something like “So you want to be an actress” ” POP” “You better not do that again” “POP” If you were lucky it was a short play with only three or four lines. To finish it off there would always be a comment designed to taunt you and invoke a reaction. For instance “You must be a really good actress those look like real tears”. If you were smart you would not look in her direction or say a word unless asked. Any reaction on your part would likely get you an encore performance with substantially more painful dialogue. Mama could do this all day. She was a teacher during an era when teachers could spank their students (spank the politically correct term Mama’s was ” Whoop their little bad asses”) and believe me she did, we knew it so did her students. ” The Strap” was her constant companion both at home and school. So taking on six kids was nothing when compared to the thirty or so that she dealt with daily. She could hold you with her left hand and whoop you with ” The Strap” in her right hand a technique clearly designed to eliminate any need to chase down her victims. “Mama don’t play”.

Part IV

Thoughts racing thru my mind … Surely this must be illegal and the police could be called in to stop this crime, ” that’s just crazy talk I told myself ” the consequences of such a betrayal would have an unimaginable payback. Just take it today and tomorrow we all have pie. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

Once in the chair you would be held down as if in the electric chair. Forced to watch unable to close your eyes, with a front row center seat to the train wreck that was about to happen. As Big Mama held me in place Mama picked up “The Big Spoon” and stepped over to the stove to get the bottle now sitting in warm water and poured some of its contents into “The Big Spoon”. While walking back towards me she would say ” Open Up”. Of course by now I no longer had control of my bodily functions. My brain was not allowing my mouth to open up. I should be hearing the sirens of an ambulance coming to save me. Instead I hear a more direct angry order ” I said open your mouth NOW !!! “. My mouth opens slightly… Followed immediately by ” If you make me spill this you are going to get double !!!!” Then as soon as the verbal threats and physical assault forces your mouth to open wide enough to get the big spoon in. Before you knew what happened the spoon was in and had deposited the most foul disgusting liquid known to mankind “Castorol” (Castor Oil ). Once the spoon was withdrawn Big Mama would hold your mouth shut and Mama would hold a dish towel over my mouth saying “SWALLOW !!” “Swallow it NOW “. When she saw my eyes start to roll back in my head another round of threats would start to flow, “don’t you let it come back up or else …” ” After my vital signs started to normalize I would get a slice of lemon and peppermint candy to keep it down. If you had to go to the bathroom you were watched thanks to Gina in the past she had been found in the bath room with her fingers down her throat throwing up. Her prize for that treachery was a big double spoon offering and a beat down. Upon completion of my tour of duty I was back on the couch watching and creating as much anxiety producing propaganda as possible. It was wrong, but it made for considerably more drama during our breakfast theater.

Part V

The Buggs Bunny cartoon show was on TV during this whole ordeal, but it couldn’t hold a candle to the real drama being acted out just a few feet away in the kitchen. It was now funny to hear Mama dishing out designer threats meant to exploit our individual fears. There was no mercy to be found in this house today all must comply, yes even her baby. Failure to comply would simply mean a beating or two with “The Strap” and then eventual compliance.
Even after returning to the couch you had to keep your wits about you. After all you were sent to sit around and allow the magic elixir to do what it do do. There was a show going on in the kitchen, but if you didn’t recognize the little signs you could easily go from a tormentor to the tormented. Having to walk the gauntlet of cat calls, laughter and the sight of your siblings holding their noses and saying ” You Stink”. This was a time that you could get a nick name that would haunt you throughout time just ask Keith the number five child or better known around the neighborhood as “Do Do Boy”. This was also true of Wayne the number six child who was devoid of any control of his bodily functions and at any point you would see him stripping out of and throwing his soiled clothing which got him the name “Birthday”. Under normal circumstances you wanted to keep your distance from him, today this was especially good advice since his soiled clothes could be flying around like grenades landing on you and causing irreparable psychological damage for life. Darryl the number four child simply known as “Pooter” and “Skid Boy”.
At least now we had two bathrooms and the slop jar usually buried under some junk in the play house. I can remember the old days when we had only one bathroom that came with a monitor a judge of sorts whose sole purpose was to determine who would get to use the bathroom first. After all the crying and begging was over Daddy would come back in to enjoy the jokes and humorus dramatic creative begging used to move up in the rotation for a trip to the bathroom. Like “Do Do Boy” holding his pants up, begging and making faces while doing the ” gety up got to go” dance at the bathroom door. Him not being old enough to know that any quick rapid movement would surely compound his problems. We simply had to wait… for the explosion. This while we were all cautiously rolling on the floor laughing and trying not to be the next embarrassing performance. While there was some shame and ridicule associated with having to use the old old school third option it paled in comparison to the alternative. To quote a song ” Some times you have to know when to hold em — know when to fold em — know when to walk away and know when to run “. Good advice when you had to grab the jar and try to find a semi private place to use it out of sight of the others.

Part VI

This day ended much differently than it had begun from the despair of the morning. To a night ending with each child’s humorus performance mimicking their favorite shameful scene of the day. A sort of academy award salute to the best performances of the day. A time when all the tears of fear had turned to joy and laughter, making the small house a happy home once again.

I guess in the end we kids exacted our own version of sweet revenge. That laundry day Mama had to deal with more skid marks left in our underwear than those cleaned off the tracks at the “Daytona 500”.

Something born of fear that just turned out to be another shining example of a mother’s love.

Now, after all these years I realize that sometime Love really does hurt and it may stink too.

Lesson

“Embarrassing moments only hurt briefly , but the humorus stories last a life time”

Always try to handle your self and others with dignity and respect because your actions under adverse circumstances just may follow you for the rest of your life. Ask 49 year old — now “Grand Daddy POOTER” , as he is referred to by his grand children Qalambrequin and Jamaserati. He can more clearly explain my point.

MAMA

For every drop of rain that falls it makes your flowers grow. The hard rain that dances across a window pane the sound that rocks our aching souls. The rain the fog the cloudy day doesn’t keep us down. Thoughts of you brings a smile that brightens up our day.

EXPERIENCE ALL IN LIFE

From the worst of us

Comes the best of us

Which the rest of us

Can admire

1. Self Awareness

Our ability to listen, evaluate, process and clarify. Then give a heartfelt response that leaves all observers and participants of this experience with some varying degrees of a personal victory.

2. Potential

When we define ourselves in terms of the things we won’t do. We can’t achieve the potential and greatness that will truly/ positively change the world.

Our Life

It is not about where we start out but rather where we end up

More about our own Legacy of how we handle life’s failures , personal success

and the perceptions left along the way.

Great and Simple Life

The Simple Things That Make Life Great

Short Stories

President Obama’s First Inauguration, January 20, 2009

A Majestic Walk Into World History

Composure Under Fire

“The Big Spoon”

Almost “Death by Chitlin”