My Heart is Blue

A Chicago police officer was killed early this morning.

He leaves behind siblings, parents, friends, a fiancee and a host of brothers and sisters in blue.

I am very saddened by this tragic turn of events. It breaks my heart to hear of a police officer slain in the line of duty.

Yes, I know there are officers who are racist and bigoted.

Yes, I know there are officers who abuse their powers and beat up innocent civilians.

Yes, I know there are officers who drive drunk and cause accidents that take the lives of innocent citizens.

But for every one of those examples, there thousands more who get up every day, strap on a gun and a vest and become human targets for those who choose to break the law. These men and women are the ones who will run into a burning building and not think twice. They will search for lost children and adults, even on their own time. They will be the first to get in front of a bullet to protect innocent people.

They do this because this is their life. And they do this often at the cost to their marriages, families and sometimes sanity. Those who make it through to retirement without being shot, injured, maimed or killed are the lucky ones.

Every time I hear of a cop being shot, my heart stops for a minute. Because I know that there’s a chance that my cousin could be the victim. He’s a proud Chicago police officer and has been for more than ten years. Being a part of law enforcement is all he’s ever wanted to do. Now, he’s a detective and his work mostly keeps him off the streets. But he’s still vulnerable every time he sets foot out the door. He’s a police officer, but he’s a husband, father, son, brother, nephew, uncle, cousin and friend. And I know that it grieves him when another officer is shot down, even if he didn’t know the person.

Each time I hear that a cop has been shot, I listen carefully, praying that my cousin isn’t the one who’s been killed. And I breathe a sigh of relief that he isn’t and pray for the family of the one who was.

When I’m with my son and we encounter a police officer, I tell him to greet the officer and shake his or her hand. I tell him that officers are here to help us whenever we’re in trouble. I want my son to know that being a police officer is an honorable thing and a noble profession. I want him to know that police officers are among the bravest of the brave.

So the next time you see those lights flashing in your rearview mirror after you’ve been speeding or blown through a stop sign,

The next time you see an officer pulling over and searching someone’s vehicle,

The next time you see an officer watching over a wreck or speeding down the road to some emergency,

Say a prayer for the men and women in blue.

Who says I’m not a Superwoman?

I have finally found my true inner ego.

Don't mess with Ms. Inferno!

It wasn’t the Kool-Aid, stupid…

I was 9 years old at the time. I had just arrived home from church and turned on the TV. CBS was running a special news report and announced that more than 900 people were dead in Guyana in an apparent mass suicide. They had all drunk Kool-Aid laced with cyanide. There were men, women and children.

At the time, I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing. There were bodies laying all over the ground. Surely some of them were just laying there. They couldn’t all be dead, could they? Where was Guyana anyway? And who was this Jim Jones they were talking about? This was some church, some cult, what?

Today marks the 30th anniversary of the Jonestown massacre and I’m still trying to comprehend the magnitude of what happened.

After watching a couple of specials on MSNBC and CNN this past weekend, I know there were survivors and I listened to their stories. I know of the terror that was inflicted on them and I know the guilt and pain they have had to live with. I also know that it wasn’t Kool-Aid, but Flavor-Aid (and if you’ve ever had the two, you know the difference. As I reminded my husband, this event is what propelled “don’t drink the kool-aid” into our lexicon.) I also know that many of those who died were actually murdered; children were unwillingly fed or injected with the poison, many adults were injected after being threatened, some were shot to death trying to escape.

But here’s what confounds me. One survivor said he chose to leave but left his son behind. How? How could he do that? Was his survival more important than protecting his son’s? I’m sure there was some reason in his mind (and I know that many parents were forced to give up custody of their children through illegal means), but still, if it came down to it, why didn’t he fight to take his son? He knew what was coming or at least had some inkling; otherwise, why did he feel the need to leave? I look at my own son and I believe that if it came down to it, I would die before I’d give him up. But then, back then, those people were so brainwashed and disillusioned, maybe they thought it was the right thing to do. I do feel bad for that man, though, along with the others who survived.

Another thing confounds me: how did they get sucked in by Jones? By all accounts, he started out as a preacher on a mission and devolved into a megalomaniac. The people who joined Peoples’ Temple in the early days were also on a mission: to achieve racial equality, feed the poor and take care of the children and elderly. That’s what Scripture says true religion is. And I believe they had good hearts; they also had what Scripture calls “itching ears”. They heard what they wanted to hear and ignored what they wanted to ignore.

I believe by the time they reached Guyana, they were too far gone. Jones had systematically destroyed them physically, emotionally and spiritually. And when the final day came, most realized it was too late. Their fates had been sealed.

Some of the survivors have reclaimed their faith, though they rebel against organized religion (understandably so). One survivor has become a pastor; he says he has found a true and personal relationship with God. The father I mentioned above has rejected the Christian faith and has embraced a multitude of religions; I believe he still has itching ears.

I may never fully comprehend all that led up to the events of November 18, 1978, just like I will never fully comprehend the events of 9/11. I can only pray that we will learn our lessons from the past and never repeat them again.

I also pray for all those who survived Jonestown and were left behind to mourn the dead. I pray for peace and comfort for them on this day and every day. And I pray that one day their faith in Christ – not man – will be fully restored.

The Neverending Hudson Family Nightmare

Like many people, I was shocked and saddened by the senseless tragedy that befell the family of Oscar-winning actress and singer Jennifer Hudson. Because she’s a native South-sider of Chicago (like me), a Christian (like me) and a bit on the curvy side (like me), I found a kinship in this woman and all her successes. Like many people, I desperately prayed for the safe return of her nephew, Julian. Sadly, this morning it appears that the answers to those prayers will be no. The Suburban was located and the body of a black male child was found. As of now, there has not been a positive identification, but it’s becoming increasingly clear that Julian is dead.

In the days and weeks to come, the press will focus on the more sensational aspects of the case: Jennifer’s statement, photos of her grieving, how she reacted at the funeral. Eventually, there will be more coverage: the People magazine article, Jennifer’s first public appearance, the first TV interview, the first time she performs, etc. Because she is a star, it’s to be expected. Truthfully, I’m also curious about these things, so I will follow the coverage.

But that’s not really who I’m concerned about.

My thoughts are for Julia, Jennifer’s sister.

The alleged suspect in the killings is Julia’s estranged husband. The man is an ex-con on parole and it’s been reported that he had threatened to take Julian away from her.

I don’t know if he’s guilty or not; that’s for the courts to decide. But if he is, the tragedy is compounded on so many levels.

For Julia, not only has she lost her mother and brother but also her son. She has to wonder how she could have brought this person into her life – and the lives of her son and the rest of the family – knowing that he has a criminal record and a violent past.

I believe that everyone deserves a second chance. And maybe this man had made mistakes and was trying to turn his life around. Perhaps he was a good man, a working man trying to take care of his family. Perhaps.

But I’d bet not.

In the days and weeks to come, the focus will move solely to Jennifer. And in her interviews, she won’t blame anyone but the person responsible. And maybe she’ll mean it.

But privately, she’ll probably question her sister’s judgement, as will Julian’s father, Greg King. Anybody that’s human would.

But the doubt, the recriminations, the guilt will be Julia’s alone. In those sleepless days and nights to come, she’ll bear the burden of “What if?”

The Hudson family declares they are a family of faith. It’s their faith that will sustain them through these dark hours.

And it’s my prayer that Julia will find some comfort and peace for the many dark days to come.

Hope he’s wearing his mint-flavored socks…

Don Imus is in trouble again.

In a story about Adam “Pacman” Jones wanting a clean slate and dropping the nickname, it was mentioned that Jones had been arrested six times since being drafted by the Tennessee Titans. Imus then asked, “What color is he?” The answer that he was African-American drew Imus’ response: “Well, there you go.”

Later, Imus said he was making a sarcastic comment about why black people are picked on by the police.

Hmmm… Jones has never said that he’s been picked on.

Imus’ black producers have said the statement was out of context and it wasn’t racially offensive.

Hmm… They work for Imus, so they would naturally defend him.

The question that has to be asked: why even bring up Jones’ race in the discussion? The issue was him dropping the “Pacman” moniker and getting a fresh start.

I think Imus is an idiot. His true nature has revealed itself again. And the only reason he’s not going to be fired is because Adam Jones is not exactly a choir boy. He doesn’t have the virtues of the Rutgers basketball going for him. Most people associate Jones one step above Michael Vick.

And Imus continues on. Long live the legacy of George Carlin…

Oh Fathers…

On Sunday we celebrated Father’s Day. While my hubby and I didn’t do anything special, we spent the day with our son and that was enough for him.

As I reflected on my dad (who passed away in 2005), I also thought about two other fathers that impacted my week – Tim Russert and R. Kelly.

I didn’t really pay much attention to Tim Russert until this year. I watched “Meet the Press” for the first time in January and watched it faithfully for the few weeks I was absent from church. I loved the diversity of his panel, his inquisitiveness, his sincerity without bias or malice and his humor. Then, as he moderated debates, he refused to let either candidate on the Democratic side off the hook during the tougher questions. When I learned of his unexpected death last week, I learned that he had a son and that his father, “Big Russ” was still alive. What a tragic way to bring in Father’s Day this week – a father mourning the loss of his son, a son mourning the loss of his father.

From all accounts, Tim Russert was a hardworking, honorable, devoted father and son.

Contrast that to R. Kelly, who was acquitted on all counts of child pornography. No, I’m not surprised, just disappointed. Like OJ, I believe Kelly is guilty – it just couldn’t be proven in a court of law. (Yeah, I said it.) But Kelly was able to celebrate Father’s Day as a free man. What does he say to his children? What example is he providing for them?

What’s even more shameful are all the parents – fathers and mothers alike – who brought their kids to the courthouse to celebrate. What message are they sending to them?

R. Kelly will continue to make his controversial music and videos and influence a generation of young children in a negative way.

Tim Russert won’t have that same chance. And that’s too bad.

Chicagoing’s On

A couple of interesting news items from Chi-town:

The R. Kelly trial continues. There’s talk of a surprise witness who will rebut the 10 previous witnesses’ identification of Kelly and the girl in the video. But this alleged witness has also given a false Social Security number to authorities conducting a background check, presumably because s/he’s trying to avoid getting caught up in some other issues.

Now, I’m no fan of R. Kelly’s. There’s only 2 songs of his that I like; the rest I consider garbage. Do I think he’s guilty? Probably. But if the woman says she’s not the one on the tape and the defense says that the mole-less man is not Kelly, do I think he’s going to jail? Probably not. I believe he slept with underage girls. My question is why they aren’t going after him for statutory rape rather than child porn.

Northwestern graduates are up in arms over the choices of commencement speaker. First, the law school grads had a hissy when Jerry Springer was chosen as their speaker. (Truthfully, I probably would have laughed.) Now the undergrads are up in arms because Mayor Richard Daley has been chosen. Apparently, he’s not prestigious enough for them.

I’m no fan of either man. But I read the text of Springer’s speech. It was thoughtful and encouraging. I’ve always thought he was a smarter man before he started pandering to the lowest forms of society. As for Daley, he’s one step short of being indicted for corruption. He’s a terrible public speaker. But he probably has a good speechwriter. It’ll be fine.

Here’s the thing NU grads: who really cares? When all is said and done, the only thing that will matter is the diploma in your hand. No one is going to say, “Hey, that’s right, your school sucks because you had Jerry Springer/Richard Daley as your speaker.” I know it’s been a while, but I can’t remember any of my commencement speakers. I can’t even remember what they said. What I do remember from graduation is wearing my cap and gown, standing with my classmates, getting that amazing feeling when I saw my diploma. At my college graduation, I remember the collective tears of our graduating class as we awarded posthumous degrees to two of our fellow classmates, one who was killed only a week before graduation. I still get misty-eyed remembering the courage of David Koole’s father – having just buried David, knowing that he should have been among us — standing on the stage with David’s degree and encouraging us to move forward.

As for the speaker – who remembers?

NU grads – who cares? Let it go.

Whinin’ Ryan

Former Governor and now-convicted felon, George Ryan, lost his appeal for a new trial today. The Supreme Court refused to hear arguments that his trial was unfair because the judge replaced two of the jurors with alternates during deliberation. Alternates, mind you, that sat during the entire trial and had to make their decisions based on the evidence presented.

Ryan was sentenced to 6 1/2 years in prison. He may wind up only serving half that time, if his influential friends have anything to say about it.

Six years. One year for every child that Rev. Duane Scott Willis and his wife Janet lost in that tragic auto accident in 1994. The same accident that triggered the corruption investigation that led to Ryan’s conviction.

Ryan is 74 years old. For 74 years, he’s been able to live his life, see his children and grandchildren grow. If he’s lucky, he’ll still walk out of prison and have some viable years left before he dies to be with his family.

Scott and Janet Willis lost 6 children who won’t grow up, won’t get to go to school and graduate, won’t have families of their own.

Ryan has never apologized for his actions or to the family. The Willis’ don’t expect one.

Ryan and his supporters are whining. The Willis family is moving on.

If there were true justice, Ryan would have been sentenced for the rest of life in prison to answer for the deaths of the six Willis children. Instead, he got a slap on the wrist. Ryan and his supporters should shut up, go away and be thankful that he may get a few more years with his family.

The Willis family never will.

In Him,

Donna