Tag Archives: thoughts

Elderhood

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I was parsing out some advice to a friend a couple of days ago who then commented “Why do you always have just the right answer, Raivenne?”. Of course me, being me gave her a sarcastic and completely narcissistic, but humorous reply at the time, but it set me to thinking. It was not the first time I unintentionally found myself in the role of wizened advisor as of late and had a similar comment made regarding it.  It made me wonder were my advisors, when I have questions?

I lost one set of grandparents before I was born. I lost the other set by my mid-twenties. I have no siblings. Other than my sons, I am estranged from everyone I am related to by blood by mutual apathy. My family is the one  created from marriage and from those whose lives have intertwined with mine over the decades. Even so, my personal family is small and at this stage of my life, pretty much without elders.

Some things are irreplaceable. Recipes I never had a chance to learn, childhood pictures and family stories forever lost. Apologies that never had to chance to be given or perhaps received.

It started hitting home one day when a group of us peers were sitting around the dining room and realized we were now the ages of our parents, aunts, uncles et cetera when many of us met and become the tight-knit group we were. We are now the elders.  Back then, none of us in our early thirties to early forties lives, were ready to embrace that title. Now at fifty and one of the youngest of that core group, and having already lost a few of them -including my husband- there’s no denying it.

When my husband died, the few elders I had loved, trusted, would turn to for advice were no longer among us. Luckily among my peers in real life and one or two from the Internet a wellspring of information and inspiration was found and I happily get by and for the most part thrive on it.

Mine is an interesting sort of elder-hood at this moment. I have no grandchildren, no nieces or nephews. No immediate young family to look up me with their expectant eyes while I bake pies and look oh so wise over my bi-focal glasses. My late-husband and I somehow raised two very self-contained men who at this point in their lives are even less ready to see me as crone than I am. Most of my motherly advice, worldly wisdom -such as it’s not- goes to my younger peers. The twenties and thirties among my friends who are where I once stood 20 -30 years ago. And you know what?-that works for me.

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Slice of Life – Two Writing Teachers – Write, share, give: SOLS time

Scared of Me…

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Think about this for a moment: Yes, we all know what we look like smiling and laughing, there are pictures galore of such, especially in this modern age of cell phones capturing our lives in vivid pixelation. We see ourselves disappointed, sad, depressed and even crying because we lock ourselves away for a private moment in our bedrooms / bathrooms and a mirror shows us our hurt.  We may even see ourselves in various states of tumescence.

However, we almost never see ourselves truly scared or really angry or outright furious because we are generally facing that which has made us truly scared or really angry or outright furious and rarely is a camera there to capture the moment.  If you’re about to go postal do you think anyone would want to flash a camera directly in front of you? Don’t think so.  Yes, we can imagine what we may look like from what we’re told after the fact. However, when such strong emotions occur we are rarely in front of a mirror and by the time we reach one, we are no longer at the height of that emotion to really know.

Except I now know what that type of fury looks like for myself…

Today started as your normal Tuesday morning. I was up, my bed made; I was showered and dressed for work.  I made a quick call to a friend to confirm a detail on plans for later this week.  As usual between her and me it was not quite the quick call expected.

Our conversation meandered and somehow touched on an erstwhile family member I had not laid eyes on since 1991. Let me just say, point-blank, it was under very bad circumstances when we parted ways. If I never lay eyes on that person again, it is because even the deities know it would not be good thing, especially after this morning.

So I had her on speaker phone as I stood in the mirror applying make-up. I was looking at my eyes, giving them a final check before I close the eye shadow case, when she dropped the following what if on me:

“Yes, but he doesn’t know where you work. What if your boss called you into his office one day and he was sitting there a new employee?”

Only because I was looking dead into my own eyes at that exact moment did I see it. I felt my whole being react to the thought of the scenario proposed and in a split second went from apathetic to apoplectic before my very eyes.

My pupils dilated fully and something in them… around them… behind them…

Flashed.

…And scared the shit out of me.

I scared myself so badly that the eye shadow case slipped from my fingers as I took a step back.

The sound of the crash as today’s colors hit the floor and flung out in all directions, along with my friend wanting to know was that noise, snapped me back to reality.

There was so much strength, so much power, so much rage in that one glance of myself, I shudder now as I type this thinking of it.

What there was not, was absolution. None. Whatsoever.

But what frightened me the most of the experience was the fact that my reaction was from a mere hypothetical “what if…?”

How much worse would the reality be should the deities change their minds and let it occur?

I have actually seen the evil within me start to emerge.

And now I wish I could go back to when the only thing I could do was imagine it…

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Two Writing Teachers | Tuesday Slice of Life December 2, 2013

I’ts Never “Okay”, But…

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Most football fans have finally stopped cheering/grumbling/talking/ about the New York Jets win over the New England Patriots due to the enforcement of a new rule in the NFL that went against the Pats. However, an incident after the game may very well eclipse all the brouhaha over the controversial call.

Videos of a male Jets fan punching a female New England fan have gone viral over the past couple of days.  One of the videos of the altercation starts with the alleged attacker, wearing a Wayne Chrebet (No. 80) Jets jersey, is being pulled away from a fight in progress. It is not clear how the initial altercation began, but a woman, wearing a Patriots T-shirt in the videos, steps forward to confront the alleged attacker and tries to push him, before he responds with a punch to the left side of her head.

If you’re interested in more details of the event, you can Google it. This post is not about the above incident in and of itself, but about the adage that “it is NEVER okay for a man to hit a woman”.

First, let me preface all else I am about to say with the following: It is not acceptable for anyone to hit anyone. Regardless of gender, there should never be an acceptable time for someone to use violence to solve a problem. And please note that I said should. Unfortunately, we do not live in a white knight world and there are certainly exceptions to that rule.

As a mother of two sons (now adults),  I am well aware some women, safely cocooned in the belief that the man will always be considered at fault should he physically hurt her, will use that to their advantage and push, goad, provoke and/or physically attack a man.   Knowing such, I fully admit I could not teach my sons such a hard and fast absolute.

I’ll refer to men/women here because it is easier to use the hetero standard, but this applies regardless of orientation.  People have to realize not all women are defenseless and not all men are necessarily stronger than their partner. On the flip side, the physically smaller partner is not necessarily the weaker one, especially when there is any sort of weapon involved.

If the woman is yelling and screaming – let her.  You know what’s reasonable and what’s not.

If it’s starting to piss you off that you’re even thinking of doing something physical, it’s time for you to either a) leave for an hour or so to call down or b) leave temporarily and consider whether or not it is time to c) leave permanently.

However, if she’s coming at you with a cast iron skillet or a pot of hot cooked grits (some of you will get that reference), and you by that look in her eyes that tells you she means business  – what you both did so wrong that it got to that extreme point and what should be done to fix it, if it can be fixed – can be figured out later – you very much have the right to knock her on her ass, but ONLY ENOUGH FOR YOU TO GET TO SAFETY.

If your partner/significant other/spouse is beating the crap out of you, you should be able to defend yourself enough to get to safety, until the police arrive if necessary, regardless of gender.

When it comes to my sons, the only person allowed to even attempt to take them off this earth is the one who brought them into it, and I have told them as much.

Swinging this back around to the incident on Sunday…

The controversial call that that cost the Patriots the game/gave the Jets was likely the first spark to heated words between the fans.  I’m sure once all the investigation comes out; there likely were copious amount of beer involved on both sides further kindling an already contentious rivalry between both teams and their respective fans.  He (the alleged attacker) is just wrong.

  • Regardless of what kicked-off the initial altercation.
  • Regardless that she was yelling at him and even ran up and tried to push him.
  • Regardless that she was able to just shake it off.

She had no weapons and posed no physical threat to him as he was nearly twice her size.  Were this between two men, 1) this would not come up for discussion and 2) he would still be just as wrong.

As all parents tell their offspring at some point while raising them – which many seem to forget upon reaching adulthood:

KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF.

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Slice of Life Story Challenge

I See Your True Colors Shining Through

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So last night  this happened…

Miss America 2014

Miss New York –YAY TO MY HOME STATE, TWO WINS IN A ROW!-,  Nina Davuluri, was crowned the winner of the 2014 Miss America Pageant.  The 24-year-old is the first contestant of Indian heritage to become Miss America.

And the racists go wild!

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 twitter_starnes_1The new Miss America 2014 barely had the first hair pin in to secure the crown on her head when the backlash started.

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Being that this is Twitter, and we all know what a rainbows and lollipop filled space that is, I am not in the surprised by the nasty vitriol the spewed by these lesser informed Americans.  As usual along with their hate, their ignorance is shown at an all time high.

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I’m willing to bet a good majority of these ignoramuses against Miss Davuluri being chosen to represent the nation, were also upset that Marc Anthony sang the national anthem at MLB’s All Star game this past July because he wasn’t an American either. And we know how well that turned out for them.

If you’re born here in the US or in a recognized US  territory you’re American. If you immigrate here and become a citizen, guess what? you’re American. And American melting pot has a hell of a lot more colors in it these days.  Like it, and apparently quite a few do not, Nina Davuluri is an American citizen and is fully worthy of wearing the crown.

It galls me to no end how immigrants of color “are welcomed” to have anything they want, but -to quote Guns’N’Roses- “you better not take it from me”.  Immigrants of color are an asset to the country until they cross that invisible line and achieve -read as “take”- something deemed should be an American -read as “white”- ideal. Then it’s a problem and one of the first thing out of the complainer’s mouth usually is “They’re not from here”. If they would take their respective feet out of their mouth and extrapolate on that theory a bit, they might remember neither are they and the majority of us living here.

And I am sure all those of Native-American heritage justifiably nod their heads in agreement every single time they read something like this.

I find it appalling and yet “same old/same old” that ones spewing the most hatred were mostly Caucasians and the one shocked at that very same hatred are mostly Caucasians. As a minority I live with this on the daily. It’s fucked up, but not in the least surprising. The new Miss America is of Indian descent – it is a huge step forward in diversity.  Unfortunately, all those in the Twitterverse who feel otherwise about her win sends us two steps back in maintaining that divisiveness.

If I Read One More Thing About Weight Loss I’m Going To Throw Up!

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Do you know how sometimes you and/or your friends come across something so WTF?, so  – I don’t even know what to call it – that it must be shared just so the burden of knowing this exists is not yours bear alone.

This is one of those times….

The Device
To begin Aspiration Therapy, a specially designed tube, known as the A-Tube™, is placed in the stomach. The A-Tube is a thin silicone rubber tube that connects the inside of the stomach directly to a discreet, poker-chip sized Skin-Port on the outside of the abdomen. The Skin-Port has a valve that can be opened or closed to control the flow of stomach contents. The patient empties a portion of stomach contents into the toilet after each meal through this tube by connecting a small, handheld device to the Skin-Port. The emptying process is called “aspiration”.
http://www.aspirebariatrics.com/how-it-works.html

Where a standard catheter processes food removal after digestion. Here, the person has a type of catheter attached to his/her stomach that allows a portion of  food to be removed from the body before digestion is complete. This medically sanctioned bulimia is calories in, calories out without having to stick one’s fingers down one’s throat. Good, because I imagine that must be murder on one’s manicure.

Now, as a medical procedure for those who would need to do such to save their lives, I understand. I fully understand that there are those who can’t, and I do mean cannot, make use of the socially accepted methods of weight loss – dieting-exercise-Weight Loss Surgery.  However, let’s be honest. Never mind all the verbiage on the website that this “therapy” is used to assist in one’s “lifestyle modification”, and requires careful monitoring by one’s doctor.  We know a good portion of those who will volunteer to use this are going to be the ones who won’t (not can’t – won’t) be so bothered with those sociallyaccepted methods.

Considering the ‘aromas’ involved during a normal body waste removal and/or auto purge response. Never mind what’s involved scent wise with the use of catheters when things go wrong – and they occasionally do go very wrong.  I do not want to even think about what charm would emanate should that valve and/or pump ever fail.

And So…

  • If it comes down the front tube it’s urination.
  • If it comes down the back tube it’s defecation.
  • If it comes up the esophageal tube, though not necessarily out the mouth, it’s regurgitation.
  • And if it’s sucked out the inserted plastic tube on the side it’s aspiration.

They liken the process of expelling the contents of one’s stomach to the process of drawing one’s breath.  I know aspiration is the technical name for that part of the process medically speaking, the drawing of air or liquids through suction. Still, I’m betting, if the standard definition of the word were a person, s/he would be appalled and highly insulted by such.

And ooh, when it comes to sexy time, I bet that ‘poker chip’ must be so lovely to kiss to lick to gaze upon. Talk about redefining let me stick it in your port baby, ugh!I don’t know about you, but this is not something I will ever aspire to.

9/11 Twelve Years Later — Six of One / Half Dozen of the Other…

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Six of one –lest we forget– and half-dozen of the other –let us remember– still totals twelve years.

Today marks the 12th anniversary of the attacks of September 11th.  On that beautiful sunny day in 2001, it seemed that nothing would ever be the same again. That we would never get over it.  The collected we of the stunned free world, the collective we of my heart-broken fellow Americans, but specifically the collective soul-shattering we of myself and my fellow New Yorkers, who survived through it then and live with it now.

If I could pack my things and move back home per se, perhaps I would be a little more nonchalant about it, as some are all this time later. But I am not a transplant, I have nowhere to go to and ‘get over it’ as I’ve heard/read over the past few years.  New York City is my home, where I was born and raised. The Twin Towers were as much a given in my social and physical landscape as The Statue of Liberty, The Empire State Building and hell, even Madison Square Garden.

The destruction of the Twin Towers changed not just our geographical landscape of the city, but of our very psyches.  What we went through as a City, as a people along with our kins-of-circumstance in Somerset County, Pennsylvania and the Pentagon in Washington, DC was something we will never forget.  Or will we?

We grossly underestimate the human capacity to forget. Not the overall event itself, that simply cannot be done. Not the individual stories of horror and of hope, as those who went through them deserve to honor or dismiss such as their souls can bear. I mean the necessity to resume our daily habits, the need to return to as close to our day-to-day existence pre September 11th as possible.  And other than our annual remembrance, or the accepted inconveniences now related to travel, this collective selective amnesia was actually encouraged in the first few crazy years after the attacks.

It is a cold reality, yet cruelly disconcerting fact to know that for most of us, in such a very short amount of time, the enormity that was September 11th has pretty much been reduced to conversational trivia. In the 70’s the curious question was ‘where were you when Kennedy was shot’? Now it’s ‘where were you on 9/11’? And I cannot remember the last time it was asked of me.

It has stopped being a part of the collective daily conversation, but it does crop up from time-to-time.  In my case, it also does not help that my working career for the past twenty plus years have been within viewing and often walking distance of the old and the new.

I remember this rush of pride, of honor, for the nation in general, but especially for my City the day I took this picture in January of 2012:

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click for full picture

When I saw it that day, I was reminded so much of the original towers, when low clouds and fog would shroud the upper levels of the buildings in this same manner. Caught in the bittersweetness of the old and the new, I  had to take the picture. When I posted it to my Facebook I quoted Maya Angelou giving it the caption of “And still I rise…” Because yes, we did and still are rising as the rest of the construction that will comprise the new World Trade Center continues.

I was on a cruise on the Hudson River this summer (July 2013), and took this picture of 1 World Trade Center and the beginnings of what will be 2 World Trade Center:

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This past May, there was a cheer that arose across the City when it was announced the final spiral of the Freedom Tower was up, officially making it 1 World Trade Center. Now all 1776 feet of remembrance, national perseverance and home town pride is up for display. To quote Donnie McClurkin, “We fall down, but we get up…” Yes, yes we do.

To those who think we’ve “milked” this long enough and prefer that we forget it – I ask you to remember Pearl Harbor and think about it. We still honor the fallen at Pearl Harbor and that was how many years ago?  This is our new Pearl Harbor. The building of the World Trade Center and the National September 11 Memorial & Museum located in the footprints of the Twin Towers, is our new USS Arizona Memorial. Let those who want to forget about Tuesday, September 11, 2001, go ahead and do so.

The rest of us? We will remember.

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Halo? Hell No!

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Verbal Diarrhea Diaries (a.k.a. the shit that comes out of my mouth):

Lyn:  Well, I already knew you’re beautiful inside and out, but this makes you positively angelic. Now stop sticking out your tongue and continue to straighten out your halo.

Me:  Straighten out my halo? Are you kidding? That thing needs a forge, an anvil and one hell of a beat down to get in any kind of usable shape.

How Could You…?

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So, after some serious internet searching on Sunday, I finally saw the “Harriet Tubman Sex Tape” video by Russell Simmons’ All Def Digital that raised such a stink.  I didn’t even watch it all because all I found myself asking and continue to ask is…

How could you…?

Females in general have so few women in history to look up to and aspire to, to begin with. American historical females are much fewer and the number of American heroines of color that is even smaller still. And you take Harriet Tubman, the most courageous, the most noble of them, the most widely known black woman in history next to Rosa Parks and turn her into some antebellum Jezebel for the sake of what was presumed to be satire. No! Just no!

How could you?

To the actors and crew involved, yeah, I know… It’s just a job, and you got paid. If you did not do it, someone else surely would have. So the money might as well go in your pocket, right?  I hope you are all proud of it because this will permanently be on your IMDB page someday.  I get it, really I do, but still I ask…

How could you…?

Russell, how little you must think of the woman who made such remarkable history! Clearly, you do not respect her or her deeds.   Deeds, may I remind you, that were among the stepping-stones, which now give you the ability to create the tripe you posted in the name of humor.

What on earth made you –the collective you for all who participated in this nonsense, but you Russell Simmons specifically– think this would be acceptable, let alone funny, to the intelligent general public and to black women in particular? You didn’t.

And that is what is so appalling.

Black women here in America spend every damned day of their lives overtly or otherwise fighting sexual stereotypes.  Stereotypes placed upon us by the very type of “massas” portrayed in your little piece of jacked-up faux history.  Over a century later and we women of color are still fighting those stereotypes just so you can take Harriet Tubman, one of the very few examples of black womanhood who was above all of that nonsense, and turn her into a sexual parody.

How could you…?

Simmons, you are –well, I thought you were– an intelligent man.  There is NO way you could not have known there was going to be some backlash on this. Perhaps not as much as what you received, but you had to know. I believe this was done solely for getting All Def Digital noticed. There were so many other ways All Def Digital could have debuted to be smart, edgy, relevant, and divisive. You chose to make a mockery of Harriet Tubman.  By making her a joke of this caliber you diminish not just the woman, but everything for which she is known.

And do you want to know the real funny part? Image this video some 50, 20, 10, hell perhaps as little as two years from now. When all of us have moved on to the latest hullabaloo of the time, some ignorant racist assholes –who managed to download a copy before you had your ass handed to you and pulled the content off YouTube– will  show this to others of their ilk and pass it on as ‘historical truth’.  All because of you  thought it was something hilarious. Ha-ha, very funny motherfucker.

We need to fight not just to preserve her history and her reputation. Not just Tubman’s, but all the sisters  who have managed to make an indelible mark on our history.  In addition, to keep known for our future generations for the truths they are. Not tear them down, not desecrate their images to garner base humor.

How could you?

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Royal Pains…

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Let me begin with, I honestly am happy for Kate and William. I am glad the newest prince is healthy. I truly am as happy as I would be for any woman successfully bringing life into this world.  However, that is where my empathy/sympathy begins and ends.

I hold my hand up and totally acknowledge my desire to be the total bitch here.  You’ve been warned…

So, Catherine (Kate) Middleton, Duchess of Cambridge, had a baby…

Yay, we’re celebrating the business of royal marital arrangements a.k.a. your womb is mine a.k.a. what’s love got to do with it?

Yeah, I said it.

They had a year and a half of time to themselves as man and wife. Most of it spent introducing the new bride to the rest of the free world.  Well, as much time as a young couple can have when heirs to the monarchy of one of the most prosperous of the first-world nations that is, but eventually the honey moon period is over. Duties await and what is a new royal wife’s first royal duty? – why to be an heir making apparatus of course. Don’t kid yourself, Kate performed her royal duty to the Crown and popped out an heir as fast as not-so-little Willie could pump one in her. I’m giving them three years max before Royal Tot #2 is out. After all, there must be a royal back-up baby in case, well, you know….  Royal Tot #2 can ask good ol’ Uncle Harry about how always being 2nd best feels, once he or she gets here.

So, Princess Catherine had a baby…

So did blank.blank million other women yesterday. Are we globally Facebooking and Tweeting about all of them?  I didn’t think so.  I wonder how many of the imminent-to-be  mothers were thinking ‘Ooh my baby is born on the same day!”? Oh come on, you know some of the ones in British territories did, or they will once they learn of the coincidence.  I’m guessing the rest of the women in the world, whose contracting wombs, widening canals, separating hips and ripping perineum were likely too preoccupied.  I could be wrong.

So, Kate Middleton had a baby…

Mind you, I fully comprehend the British interest in such; after all she is their princess.  I’ll even branch it out to Europe in general as they are all nearby neighbors of the monarchy such as it is, so love thy neighbor and such. What I don’t get is the American fascination with such so that nearly every other status post in Facebook and Twitter tweets are still yapping on about the royal birth. Hmm, I wonder what Kate would about all those who are playing the baby’s birth date or weight/length and other such factoids at the numbers/lotto/horse race?

I feel as though I am the only hard-nose, heartless wretch not wearing the “Awww the prince and princess had a baby!” rose-colored glasses in this.

So Kate had a baby…  

She’s fine? Yes.  The baby’s fine? Yes.  Okay then. What’s for lunch…?

 

You WERE warned…

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Slice of Life Weekly Writing Challenge – Jul SOLSC #4 

Feeling Good

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I’m feeling good…

Good like the cool rain taking the heat out of a sultry day
Like the breeze causing my skirt to gently sway
In that zany, loopy fun kind of cray

Good like finding a long-lost favored ring
A walk in the park the first days of spring
On a hot day, a sip of some cool fruity thing

Good like cutting with the Little Joker in Spades
Knowing I still have the big one to be played
Hiding the gleam in my eyes behind some shades

Oh, I’m feeling good.

For I’ve  spent way too many days with my smile lying
Fake laughing to cover how my heart was crying
In a world not even close to caring how my soul was dying

And too long I let others tell me how I should be
But never was it ever what I knew I could be
So now I only work on what is it good to me

Now that’s not saying I’m not feeling for my brothers set adrift
Or lost my empathy for my sisters getting the short shrift
Or that I don’t care about our socio and economic rift

Because sometimes the world makes me wanna holla from that stress
And like Marvin I want to know what’s going on with this mess and…

Excuse me, I digress…

Where was I?

Yeah, but right now? I’m feeling good!

Good like looking the mirror and loving the sight
Whether in silks by day or leathers by night
When I know I’ve got it all together so tight

Good enough to wear a mini in a skinny crowd
Not hide my beauty in some mumu or shroud
Head high, gut forward, loud and proud

And yes, sometimes it comes to pass
That there are those who chose to lambast
For they have a problem with my fat ass

But I’m not the one that’s going to obsess
And with each bite of food reassess and…

Oh excuse me again, I digress…

I am feeling good!

Good like having a day that started with doubt
But then proving I do know what I’m about
And later catching someone fine checking me out

That kind of good that can only come from within
That sneaky good I feel when I’m about to sin
With the one that gives me more than just a grin

The good of being in the zone
When my voice takes on that tone
Like the sound of a pleasured moan

Good like when I get that feeling of that special caress
From the hand slipping slowly under my dress and…

Damn, did it again, huh? My bad… Excuse me… I digress…

But no, y’all just don’t understand! I’m feeling good!

The giddy with friends that’s fondly tolerated
The kind of good that’s always celebrated
Where those near can’t help be feel elevated!

Feeling like Joy has answered my speed dial!
Good like not a thing on this earth can cramp my style
Good like the strength of my strut, the gleam of my smile

Good for the first time in a long time I feel like I’m able
To handle the crap still left on my mental table
Feeling a  good, that’s so good, that I a poet can’t even label!

Umph –  that kind of good!

And yeah I know I can’t sing it as Nina would, but

Birds flying high, you know how I feel
Sun up in the sky, you know how I feel
Leaves drifting on by, you know how I feel
It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me and…

I’m feeling GOOD!

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Feeling good about dVerse ~ Poets Pub’s | OpenLinkNight : Week 104