Three the Hard Way

They say that celebrity deaths come in threes. Last week we got hit with three whoppers: Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson.

As I was contemplating all the news, hype and hoopla surrounding their deaths, I began thinking about something that they all had in common (besides the obvious): they all had bright shining stars and all had strange, sad ends to their lives.

In Ed McMahon’s case, he had debilitating health problems and was virtually broke. His house was being -foreclosed on; Donald Trump intervened and help him keep his home.

Farrah Fawcett started out as a pinup girl and became a celebrated actress in such films as “The Burning Bed”, “Extremities” and “Small Sacrifices”. She was a gifted dramatic and comedic actress, but those gifts were marred by strange career choices and personal appearances. Her well-documented battle with cancer provided hope for those who struggle with this insidious disease.

Michael Jackson’s meteoric rise and tabloid-centric downfall has been chronicled for years. He was on the verge of a major musical comeback that had fans salivating. I was hoping that he would be able to redeem his image through the concerts and his music. Sadly, this was not meant to be.

I think of this as I continue my writing career. Friends who know me know that I believe that one day I will be sitting beside Oprah in her studio as she praises one of my novels. Her endorsement will lead to untold success. And while I welcome the fame and fortune, I know that it will change my life and the lives of my family. It’s up to me to determine how I handle that success when it comes.

Until then, I will keep writing because it’s what I’ve been called to do. I’ll keep writing because it’s what I love to do. Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson didn’t set out to be superstars or tabloid magnets. They set out to do what they loved to do, what they were passionate about. They worked hard for all they achieved. And when the dust settles, long after they’re gone, I hope that we as fans will remember that; let that be their legacy.

Not With My Bible, You Don’t!

Actor Jon Voight has called President Obama “the Messiah” and a “false prophet.”

What a load of crap.

I get so sick of right-wing nut jobs calling Obama these names. Not just because they are so wrong, but because they are trying to use the Bible to justify their hatred of the President.

I realize the Republicans are still upset over losing the White House and Congress. They have no one to blame but themselves. (Okay, they can blame Bush and Cheney. And Limbaugh. And maybe Sarah Palin, but to be fair, John McCain is to blame for her.)

What I don’t get is why they seem to think that Obama is this side of the anti-Christ and try to use the Bible to spew their venom.

Obama has been in office for less than six months. He’s been working hard to undo the messes it took 8 years of Republican “leadership” to create. As he himself has said, it’s not going to be easy and it’s not going to be fixed overnight, but we have to start somewhere. He’s also said that if someone else has better ideas to bring to the table, he’s willing to listen.

So far, all I’ve heard from these blowhard “conservatives” is a load of hot air – and a lot of crap.

Still, with their disappointments and bitterness, I keep wondering why they’re using the Bible as their particular whipping board.

Then it hit me. It’s part of their history.

They used the Bible to justify slavery and the systematic destruction of non-European people in this country.

They used the Bible to justify lynchings and murders in the South.

They used the Bible to create the KKK and sustain segregation.

They use the Bible to create fear and divide our nation and our world.

They use the Bible to create an “us” vs. “them” mentality, vilifying other religions as “intolerant” without seeing the irony of their own intolerance.

Enough.

I’m calling out Jon Voight, Rush Limbaugh, Newt Gingrich, Sarah Palin and all their ilk, right here, right now.

I don’t care what you think of Obama and the Democrats and gay marriage and abortion or any other issue. Use whatever words you choose: inexperienced, bull-headed, dumb, stupid, ignorant, intolerant, misguided – take your pick. I’ll put my Flip Dictionary up against your limited thesaurus any day of the week and twice on Sunday.

But you will no longer use my BIBLE – GOD’S HOLY WORD – as a way to denigrate my President or my nation. (Note to Sarah Palin: look it up, sweetie.)

Those of us who know who THE MESSIAH is know that Obama ain’t it. Nor is he a false prophet. According to the Bible, false prophets were those who led the people from God and his Word. Obama has never done that and in fact, has encouraged us to turn to our faith during this time of crisis.

So go on, spew your venom all you want. You just make yourselves look pettier and smaller than you already are.

Just leave my Bible out of it.

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.

I’m a PC…

Yesterday, my 6-month-old earphones for my 6-month-old iPhone broke. I knew I needed to replace them but I wasn’t thrilled about spending the money. Plus, all the reviews said they were crappy. (I personally thought they were fine once I figured out how to get them to stay in my ears.) I tried looking up some alternative headphones; I found several, but most didn’t have the microphone I needed or were way out of my price range. I did find the perfect replacement set at Best Buy; unfortunately, I could only purchase them online. (More than a day without listening to my iPod on the train? Sheer torture.)

So I knuckled under and decided to get the replacements. It was a gorgeous spring day and walking the two blocks to the Apple store was just what I needed. A cheerful associate in an orange t-shirt sympathized with my dilemma and pointed me upstairs. I spoke with another associate in a blue t-shirt; apparently, my needing help conflicted with his conversation with the security guard. But he plastered his fake helpful smile and dutifully showed me the three options to replace my headphones. The first were identical to what I had. The second were almost identical, except there was a great feature that allowed you to control the volume on your iPod. Only it was incompatible with the iPhone. (Thanks a lot smart guy. Get my hopes up then slam me into the concrete floor.)

He then showed me another pair that looked a lot like the first pair, but these had some sort of case that I could put the headphones in when not in use. Hallelujah! Only these were more than twice the price of the other ones. No thanks, I say. He tells me that these are as good or better as the third party headphones that are way more expensive. No thanks, I say again. I wonder aloud why I have to pay for the headphones in the first place as they’re less than a year old. “What did you do?” he asks. I must have given him my best diva glare because he instantly backpedals. “I mean, you must have done something for the glue to break, not that I’m accusing you of anything. You’ll have to pay for them. You can ask one of the ‘genuises’ but I’m telling you what they’re going to say.” I thank him for his time and proceed to wander through the store.

I was about to leave but I decided to stop by the “Genius Bar.” (I guess this is like Best Buy’s Geek Squad.) A cheerful associate in a blue t-shirt asks if I have an appointment. “Do I need one?” I ask. She says, “Let me see what’s going on,” and introduces herself as Katie. And in a simple case of “You have not because you ask not,” I explain to Katie what happened and she sympathizes. “That shouldn’t have happened. Let me see about getting you another pair. Can I see your iPhone?” Startled, I hand her my phone and she checks for pertinent information. Confirming my identity, she says, “Give me 5 minutes and I’ll get you another pair.” She hands me paperwork I need to sign, saying I’m getting replacements – for free.

Sure enough, less than 5 minutes later, Katie comes back and hands me a brand new pair of headphones and sends me on my way. The sun was shining just a bit brighter as I exited the store, with $30 still in my wallet, my new headphones and knowing that I could drown out the sounds of train that very afternoon.

I’m a PC… but I can dig the Apple.

Ramblings and Ruminations

I had a radio interview scheduled last week and I was very excited, as it was my first. The time came for me to go on the air – then nothing. Dead silence. Seems that system that hosted the show crashed. Ah well, these things happen. I was annoyed, but I got over it. I know the show host and she’s a lovely woman who was mortified at the turn of events. Hopefully, I’ll get rescheduled soon and all will be well.

On the upside, I heard from my publisher that my novel got picked up by a new book club as it’s book of the month in June! Woo-hoo! I have to give props for my publisher, Brian W. Smith at Hollygrove Publishing. The man is a hustler – and I mean in a good way! He’s been doing everything he can to push my book out there. One of his strategies is cutting the price of the book so it’s more affordable in this economic climate. He’s taking a hit out of his own pocket to make sure that I and other authors in the HG family get out there. I don’t know of any other publisher willing to take that chance. Way to go, Brian!

Last week, I was forced to watch some of my talented colleagues and friends be let go by our company. It was not easy situation for anyone involved. Having been on the receiving end of such news, I know how devastating it is to have your world shot to hell in one moment. It’s even tougher because of the economy. But I know these people will land on their feet quickly. I’m proud of the way they have handled themselves with grace and dignity. I’m equally proud to have worked with them and call them friends. I’m also very grateful to still be employed. Though I often dream of being a stay-at-home mom/full-time writer, the reality is that it’s not going to happen anytime soon. But the minute Oprah comes calling, look out!

I have one child that I love to death, but he is a handful. My hubby and I often joke about what we would have done had he been twins or triplets. I still want another child, and I realize that it would impact our financial status in a big way. Which brings me to my next point:

Nadya “Octo-mom” Suleman brought the first two of her octuplets home to a media circus. As much I was first fascinated then angered by this woman’s choices, I have to admit that my thinking about the situation has changed, thanks to Dr. Phil. No, I haven’t spoken to the man, but I read he gave Suleman an on-air baby shower. To quote him, I thought, “What were YOU thinking?” That’s when my thinking changed.

It’s about the children.

Regardless of how I feel about the choices this woman made, it’s her kids that I’m concerned about. None of them asked to be born, especially not to her. But they are here and they need help. They’re the ones who will have to live with her decisions, the media circus and the teasing that will surely follow them for a long time to come. They need food, shelter, clothing. Some of them need special educational help. All of the octuplets will need additional medical care for a long time. And while I don’t personally plan to contribute to her cause, I respect her need to raise money in whatever way she can to support her children.

Despite all of this, I hope Suleman truly loves her children and do what’s best for them. And I hope the vultures will give her the space to try.

Finally, I’m just going to say to all those who hate the new Facebook – either stop complaining or quit using it. Hey, here’s a thought: if everyone who hates the new Facebook stops using it, maybe it’ll convince the owners to go back!

Yeah, right, like that’ll happen. If the owners were smart, they’d do like Yahoo did and give the members the choice of which layout they prefer. With so much backlash against the new format, it would be unwise for them to not listen to their consumers.

Oh wait. That’s exactly what AIG did.

Zippity Doo-Dah!

I’ve been a Disney movie fan all my life. Though I haven’t seen all their animated movies, I think they’re as good – if not better – than most of the live action flicks being produced. (At least I know when I go, I won’t be mad when the movie is done.) I distinctly remember going to see “Aladdin” with some college girlfriends one Friday night. And when “The Little Mermaid” came out, I went with a roommate and came out singing and dancing to “Under the Sea,” even if I couldn’t remember all the lyrics.

Yet, something troubled me. In all their movies, I rarely saw African-Americans as a main character.

Some would argue that “Lion King” would counter that. Although I love the movie, I have two problems with it: first, with James Earl Jones and the late Madge Sinclair voicing Simba’s parents, why couldn’t they find a suitable black actor to voice Simba? (This isn’t a slam against Jonathan Taylor Thomas or Matthew Broderick who respectively voiced young and adult Simba.) Second, why would the first “black” animated film have to be featuring animals?

I was waiting for the first black HUMAN film.

To be fair, Disney made some terrific strides in their television department. Tia and Tamera Mowery, Raven-Symone, Corbin Bleu and Kyle Massey have had films and shows centering around them. (My son is a huge fan of Corbin Bleu and Jump In.) But still, no black animated theatrical films. Zut alors!

But hold on a minute…

Every so quietly, Disney announced a new addition to their ever popular Princess line.

Wait, wait…

Wait for it…

She’s African-American! And she’s Disney FIRST AMERICAN princess!  (There are those that argue that Pocahantas was the first American princess, but though she’s in the Princess line, she wasn’t a princess, she was a heroine like Mulan.)

Yes, ladies and gents, Disney got off it’s butt and created a brand-spankin’ new princess – Princess Tiana – in a new movie, The Princess and the Frog.It’s due out during this year’s holiday season and along with the requisite movie marketing, there will be a doll (created to look more “realistic”) and all the tchotckes that Disney can crank out. The film stars Tony award-winner Anika Noni Rose (Dreamgirls), Terrence Howard and Oprah Winfrey. (And no, I don’t think she produced it.)

Yes, I will be going to see the film, even if I have to go by myself, though I have enough cousins and nieces that I can drag along with me. And yes, I will be buying a doll for myself.

As thrilled as I am about this news, I’m curious about the lack of publicity surrounding this. If I hadn’t seen the announcement about the doll on Entertainment Tonight, I wouldn’t have known it was happening at all. Maybe when the movie comes out, there will be a bigger hype.

But the real thrill will be seeing girls of all colors lining up at the Disney store demanding all the Princess Tiana merchandise they can sell and the film being a box office smash.

Then I’ll be able sing, “My, oh my, what a wonderful day.”

Drunk with the wine of the world

I went with my hubby to the store to pick up a prescription and a few groceries. Imagine my disgust when at the door there was a poster: “Celebrate Black History Month!” followed by a tasting for a certain beer brand’s new flavor.  (I won’t call out the brand or the store, though part of me thinks I should.)

I’m not against advertising. (I used to work at an ad agency and I loved it.) I’m not against companies using their advertising  campaigns to tie with a significant event on the calendar.

What disgusts – no, angers -  me is the use of this brand to exploit what Black History Month is supposed to mean for it’s profit. Black History Month was created to celebrate the achievements and history of Black Americans. Alcohol does nothing but bring Black Americans down, creating our own little slavery. This beer company wasn’t trying to use this campaign to promote black achievement or even provide scholarship or business opportunities. No, this campaign was designed to say, “Hey black people! Get yo drank on! Get down and party with us, ‘cuz this is YO month! Nevermind that alcoholism in your community is a predominant force behind homelessness, abuse, and criminal activity. You should be celebratin’!”

Sadly, no one has spoken out about this. Not even me, except for now. It’s just business as usual in our community.

Yeah, this was a month-long campaign. Next month we celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, which is known for all its alcoholic imbibing. I can’t wait to see if this same store and same beer company do a month-long celebration in our community.

Stony the road we trod…

It’s not lost on me that yesterday, we celebrated the life of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and today we celebrate the inauguration of the 44th President of the United States, Barack Obama. There has been much discussed about the fulfilling of Dr. King’s dream, the election of the first African-American president, the ceremony and all the festivities. And there has been much coverage of all the celebrities and dignitaries that will be present. I know Oprah will be there, weeping on some stranger’s shoulder, Muhammad Ali will be there, Tom Hanks, George Clooney, Beyonce, Denzel Washington and many, many more will be there.

But there will be other guests that will be there. They are the ones I will be watching for. When Barack stands and places his hand on the Lincoln Bible, he will be surrounded by his wife, daughters and the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. But they won’t be the only ones standing there.

Martin and Coretta will be there. Malcolm will be there. JFK and RFK will be there. Medgar will be there. Cheney, Goodman and Schwerner will be there. Emmitt will be there. Rosa will be there. Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth, Nat Turner, Phyllis Wheatley will be there. Frederick Douglas will be there. Addie Mae Collins, Denise McNair, Carole Robertson and Cynthia Wesley will be there. They and many others will be there, standing sentry, standing guard, heads high, hearts full, spirits proud.

They will be there and as Barack takes the oath, I will join with them in saying, “Yes, we did.”

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 time of my life

I just sat through “Dirty Dancing.”

Not the Broadway musical, but the original movie starring Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey. I haven’t seen it from the begining to end in a long time, though I know it by heart now. I’ve seen parts of it so many times, I can quote lines. I know the backstory of the filming and the fighting between the two leads. The movie is over 20 years old.

And yet, sitting through it, I still want to get up and dance. I want Johnny to come up to my table and say, “Nobody puts Donna in a corner.” Then we go up and do the incredible dance at the end, including the lift. You know the lift – the one she’s too afraid to do. The line that makes it for me is, “You will hurt me if you don’t trust me.” Johnny says that while they’re practicing the lifts in the lake. But in the end, that’s the real point of the movie’s theme: until she trusted him completely, everything she did would hurt him. But when she did – confessing to her father about their relationship – it was wonderful.

But that’s not what makes this movie so special to me.

When the movie first premiered in 1987, I went with my college roommates, Patti and Kimberly, for Kimby’s birthday. We argued about who used whom (I was Switzerland; I thought they used each other). But after that, practically every Friday night, we piled into cars and headed to the Bremen movie theater and watched it fo $1.00. We tried to do “dirty dancing” in our dorm suite, which was pretty pitiful since we were all girls. We convinced a friend of ours (another Patti) to do a lift in the stairwell. We also debated the themes of abortion, premarital sex, lying, etc. (we were at a Christian college). But we loved the movie and the music.

So I watched the movie again tonight. And for a few moments, I was transported back to those wonderful Friday nights at the Bremen theater with my roommates and best friends. I remembered the fun, the laughter, the dancing.

We’ve all grown up and moved on. Most of us are married; some of us have kids. “Dirty Dancing” was pretty tame considering what’s out there now. And I wonder how our kids will react to the movie (especially the boys). We’re scattered across the globe and rarely keep in touch these days. And somewhere, wherever they are, “Dirty Dancing” is proably being shown on television.

And I hope that Patti, Kimby, Sherry, Wendy and Heather will sit down and watch it again. And I hope they’ll remember that wonderful time in our lives.