Time for the Black Man

Recently, my youngest son came in all aglow saying..."Mom! It's our time! It's the Black man's time. Who would ever think we'd have a Black man running for president, two black governors, the man at the top of golf is black and the team that took the NBA championship was all black with a black coach! In Boston!" As he added Lil Wayne's album success and more, I could not help engaging in his enthusiasm so, right on, my brothers! I gotta give y'all your props. When many said it couldn't be done, y'all are doing the danged thing!


Cheering for the Black Coach
I am a Laker fan. Period. I'm the kind that is thankful the fellas got there and am not embarrassed at all by game 6. But, I thought we were all past cheering on the Black coach because he was Black, but I'll be darned if many of my Laker fan friends didn't jump ship and side with "The Brothers from Boston." Makes me wonder if what happened won't send Phil Jackson in search of some more black power. Now I love Sasha, (Boo-Ya Chic!), Mihms, Radmanovich, Gasol and Walton --all white players. I have thanked them all during the season for saving the day. It did look a bit odd when Coach had what looked like an all white squad on the floor during the season--when Farmar and the fellas played some good minutes. (Farmar-- whose dad is African American,) blended right in. Not one announcer even commented. One columnist wrote "How far ahead do you have to be before it's safe to put in an all white squad?" He was writing about UNC being up 40 points, and they put that white squad in with under 2 minutes. That's cold.

Aren't we beyond all that? Having said that, did the media recognize the black squad playing for the black coach? Or did I miss something? One sportswriter said the Lakers have 6 white players while Boston only has 2. Times: They are a-changing.

For another take, visit here: http://news.yahoo.com/s/csm/20080605/cm_csm/yzimmerman


URBAN LIVING: When things can change on a dime

I enjoy Leimert Park living on days like today. I started the day off at a live broadcast from KJLH talking about Obama, then went to Dr. Kwaku's Black History for Young People. The Park was prepping for a full out Obama Rally and Kwaku took the students. When else would they see a presidential rally like that? Then at noon, there was Elaine Brown, former head of the Black Panther Party. She and others organized a reunion/fund raiser to call attention to the fact that Chip Fitzgerald, a blank panther, is still incarcerated after like 38 years.

Ran into some of everyone from Poetess to Parks...and everything was all good.

Not at all like a day or two earlier when the police cordoned off our street. I had been sitting at my 'puter trying to stay awake in the unforgiving heat when I heard a thud and I said"That can't be good."

I got up to investigate but my husband was already outside along with the neighbors. There was a fuming white man walking around with one pants leg flapping in the wind, exposing his bare white scraped and bruised leg. Since a white person getting beat up in my neighborhood is grounds for all hands on deck, police cars were screeching to the scene and the harsh helicopter blades beat the hot, humid air mercilessly. Who knows what really happened but the scuttlebutt was he had followed a black woman he knew home in his shiny black Mercedes, there was an argument and two black dudes beat the man up, throwing him against his car (the thud I heard). Neighbors whispered about the newcomers: "They are up to no good over there." Made my imagination run wild. Drug deal gone wrong? Love triangle? Was he strung out and just trying to cop?

I should not have had to mention this man was white. But coming from where I'm from, that's reverse segregation.

My son's Utopia notwithstanding, it was business as usual on my block.



Let's Talk About Shoes: Because, there, race definitely doesn't matter.
Do you have a good shoe story? I mean we are living in times where there's all kinds of murder, mayhem and economic instability. I decided to conjure up some old thoughts of days gone by. Oddly enough, these thoughts are about shoes.

Many years ago, I went to a supper club in New York to hear a popular jazz band. The restaurant had three floors, with round tiers, and our tables ringed the circle so we could all look at the stage in the middle below. The bottom floor was full of tables except for the small stage.

While I ate, and drank and laughed and talked, I dangled my shoe off the tip of my toe ( a bad habit I got rid of that night). I was really cracking up when all of a sudden my shoe disengaged, and dropped square into the plate of a diner below.

I had to hobble downstairs on one foot to retrieve my high heel, wade through the tables to find out where it might actually be and face the taut faces of the livid when I got there. A woman held out my shoe, now drenched in tomato sauce, balancing my shoe on the tip of her finger, kind of like I had done on my toe. I never went back upstairs...choosing to slink out and hail a cab instead.

Last year, though, a friend of mine bought a new house and instituted a "no shoes" rule to preserve his white carpet. We had a delightful breakfast with his family and friends, then departed for the next affair we were to attend. When we got there, I stepped out of the car and noticed that my slip-on black leather heels were off balance. One step was up and the next step was an inch down. When I looked down I noticed that the two shoes did not match!

We had to drive all the way (30 mins) back to my friend's house, and give his sister-in-law her shoe back and retrieve my own. My friend had placed the guests' shoes on this cubbyhole contraption but he did not put them next to each other, for some reason. Naturally, I grabbed the two black shoes next to each other (Hey made sense to me!) and dashed out.

And my last shoe story (I promise!), as I was preparing to leave my beloved dog and go off to college, my mother had been discussing whether or not she should be put down. She had been getting fatter and slower and I would not be there to care for her. I did not want to put my best friend to sleep!

One night, some friends wanted to go bowling, so I rummaged in the back of my closet for my bowling shoes, and felt something cold, slimy and wet. Yuchh! But when I looked closer there were two of the cutest little wriggling puppies! My dog saved her life by giving birth to Sophie and Lorraine, a shock to us all. I had always been told she had been spayed before we got her and I even took her to my employer-- the local veterinarian-- who couldn't find out why she was getting so fat! He said it was because she was old! Little did we know...

OK...thanks for letting me "walk" down memory lane!