The Unimaginable Weight Of Honesty

I see this unimaginable image floating around, waiting to be recognized. It’s like a yellow, greenish, orangish, silver and pink existence that comes near each of us; longing to be embraced. Some recognize it’s purity right away, realizing that if you grasp and hold onto it, the feeling it returns to you is euphoria mixed with fearlessness. It speaks not too often because once embraced, it fits you like a glove yet never is it an uncomfortable squeeze because it’s a no brainer dimension of life. It’s just there; apart of you... You know it but you need not call it’s name because the euphoria keeps you so much at peace… You walk taller. You’re at ease; suspended in the day to day reality of taking one moment at a time and doing the best you can with it. You greet the world with a peaceful spirit that only goes away momentarily when the twists and turns, bumps and bruises of life present themselves. But in the end, it’s all okay because you’re surrounded by the aura of that unimaginable existence. Sort of like being in a room filled with reassuring concerned, giving individuals that love you for you without a care for what you can do. The sad thing is that many choose to embrace it’s counterpart; holding it up like a badge of invincibility. It’s that heavy set, always needy, always wanting attention; forever needing to be remembered sort of existence that basically keeps them in a state of anxiety because it’s so easy to slip when standing upon the pile that’s created with each calculated self-absorbed step. When it piles up too much, it’s so hard to remember direction. It’s difficult for them to remember what they were supposed to say and do. Things get repeated. To the wiser, they appear incompetent but the badge worn is misleading, blinding; like the sun reflecting against the dirty windshield of an automobile. Sunvisors don’t remove dirt. They just soften the glare of neglect allowed as a representation of self, combined with the weakness which prevents the unimaginable… basic honesty…

Cadillac Records

I'm shocking myself in that I actually liked this movie a lot... Maybe it's because I love the music so much and a lot of the scenes, the style, the southern influence, the whole vibe of the film took me back...way back to a place and time that I'd much rather be, strangely enough... I dont know. I've just always loved those times, perhaps romanticized in my mind but to me, it just seems like folks valued things, each other a little more... Of course times was rough, prejudice was serious and this movie more than depicted it on several occasions. The movie wasn't really historically correct from a musical standpoint; a lot was left out and a few important people completely left out of the story like Philip Chess(brother of Leonard Chess depicted in movie), Bo Diddley, and countless other musicians that would make the story very long and maybe less entertaining to a general audience. Each musician pretty much deserves a movie all to themselves, telling their story. The best way to describe this particular film, is a fictional account of the Chess Records story. And one thing its not, is an Etta James story... The previews kind of have you thinking that way.. It's not that at all... The characters of Leonard Chess and Muddy Waters dominated the story and also Little Walter was a big part of it as well... They went over the top with his way of hard living but I've read about him definitely having a penchant for getting into fights and basically dying young because of injuries sustained but musically speaking, he was the best harmonica player ever and in real life back in those days, Muddy Waters had the tightest band in all the land... Me being a music fan, a musician and a lover of the blues, I'd more like to hear stories about what was passed over briefly in this film... Stories about this man named Alan Lomax and why, how and what he discovered by traveling to the south to record these various musicians on behalf of the Library Of Congress... Must be some truly fascinating stories and images that he took with him from his travels... And then also why musicians from Mississippi and other areas of the south tended to travel to Chicago to eventually create the incredible music that they did... In the movie, they also touched upon a rivalry between Muddy Waters and Howlin Wolf and they had these two men not liking each other at all. I wonder if that was true. No doubt as musicians there was probably rivalry amongst everyone because of all the great players from Howlin Wolf to Muddy to Little Walter, Jimmy Rodgers, Hubert Sumland, Sonny Boy Williamson, Willie Dixon, John Lee Hooker, Bo Diddley, Elmore James, Jimmy Reed, Chuck Berry, and later on the incredible and often overlooked and appreciated, Buddy Guy who is a living legend right now..... Anyway, it was great to see this movie and I hope that it generates interest in these incredible stories, musicians, artists, people from the past... so many stories left behind and so many forgotten that should be told as often possible.... As a side note, I loved the strength and honest conviction portrayed in "Cadillac Records" by the character of Howlin Wolf. A strong man who took control.. Nice to see on the screen... I'm looking forward to the upcoming film, "Who Do You Love," which is also about Chess Records; sure to be entertaining as well and based upon the title, they haven't forgotten Bo Diddley in that one.

Movin In The Direction Of Song

Moving in the direction of song keeps my head afloat when dealing with so much that's wrong...

Only In The Past

Thanksgiving represents a reflection of what time has brought within my family. Gone are the days when gathering together to share laughter, love, great food and conversation existed. The glue that brought us together was always my grandmother. With her around, everyone made the effort, though love and family or love of family should inspire everything to be effortless, especially during this time when not many of us are still among the living and one; my grandmother's eldest daughter(my mother) fights to remain... Instead, there are promises to spend time but no follows up on that promise... In a family where everyone lives less than an hour away from each other, no one can find the direction that leads us in similar paths. No one truly reaches out. No one remembers that life ain't guaranteed and a phone call does nothing to cover the tracks of a real true showing of love and appreciation for family... Nah.. Instead, we go elsewhere in opposite directions, doing things we've done in previous years that takes us away from what we once promised. My mother is blessed with three brothers and one sister; most of which have kids and families of their own. So, the potential of possibly nine to ten folks or maybe more around the dinner table is like a daydream or silly wishful thinking... The dinner table this year had four and that's only because someone special to me joined in along with my mother and her sister. There's an old song that says "the best is yet to come" but in this case, the best has come and gone. The best days, the best years, the times when family remembered family, first... But alas, without the glue around, we float in distant opposite directions, believing that coming together during times like funerals changes everything but it doesn't... the glue is gone and tape can't last forever... Promises hold the same weight as smoke blowing in the wind...

"Sometimes, not having the very best makes you push the limits of what little you have..."

If I didn't love life or possess a curiosity for the future, I would request a checkout pass right now. I look at the world and the way some folks represent themselves as humans and question simply, why? People go out of their way to lie, to distort, to find fault, to tear down, to blurt out nonsense, to hate for no reason and to embrace amnesia when it comes to their own mistakes or lack of commitment to promises they've made... Seems like there could be a much easier route toward living lives of dreams fulfilled than to have to step over so much bullshit, walk around so many lies, or tip toe and try to avoid so much negativity only to find yourself being greeted by either incompetence or deceit around the corner and sometimes just a phone call away... It's no wonder why you find so many tired looking faces in the world because so many are trying to sift through the nonsense just to take a vacation but alas, funds are low so can't do that either... Thank God for the ability to dream, for the blessing of finding a quiet place to regroup, take a deep breath and rekindle good thoughts with the hopes that this too shall pass once you get over the final hump of someone else's stupidity; one of life's frustrating speed bumps...

LA in the Fall..

LA in the fall is beautiful yet I wish for a real true fall season leading into the winter... I miss the fall colors of the south but today was a soothing day. Temperatures warm yet the visuals were something else... The sky was yellow at the beach. Drum beats could be heard in one direction and in the other, skateboards mixed with dancing skaters spinning and twisting to an semi-old E-40 song. Graffiti artists were out and about, photographers, models, restaurants filled with folks eating and drinking and in one club on the beach, a rock band was playing Darling Nikki; the Prince jam and had everyone dancing on the sidewalk.. Just a nice day in LA on a Saturday... It didn't feel like fall but nevertheless it was cool...

Prop 8 LA Protest

LA was wild this weekend. In the midst of so many fires burning all around, there was a huge protest rally downtown going on.. I love capturing moments at protests. This one was interesting.. Definitely filled with colorful folks, marching, displaying creative signs, and shouting with passion. I saw a few signs that attempted to connect the cause with past civil rights movements and the struggles of African Americans. I can't say I agree with that argument. I mean, one sign said "someone forgot about Jim Crow" while another said "gay is the new black." The battle over prop 8 seems to me more about a disagreement of beliefs held by two different sides.. What african americans went through from slavery to civil rights to being hosed down, denied, killed, dying for the right to vote, the right to go to any school, to drink water out of the same fountain, use the same restroom, eat in the same diner/restaurant, sit anywhere on a bus, live in any neighborhood, etc. is hard for me to swallow with respect to comparing all of that to this battle to have the right to marry. I give much respect to the protesters and wish them the best in their fight but in my opinion, the cause, the struggle, the fight is not the same... Toward the end of this rally, the protesters wanted to begin another march from the same starting point. Their time was up so the police informed them that the city streets needed to be opened up to traffic. They were given a certain time to protest and march and that time was up. A show of force from the police came out with rifles at the ready but everything was cool. The protest organizers talked things over with the police and they made an agreement to march a short distance under police supervision. That sort of working together meets compromise didn't exist back in the day... Another huge difference in years gone by...

The Greatest Person May No Longer Be Around..

With time comes destinies defined by what used to be and what we’ve become as a result of our choices made during the journey of living. The life we’ve lived presented to us sometimes as flashbacks because the end could possibly be near. Flashbacks for not only us but those that share the same memories; family, friends, etc. Right now, someone that means everything to me, speaks about the inevitable. She speaks words I don’t wish to hear and express thoughts that I counter with positive outlook. I tell her, why not simply live and not worry so much about how long. I believe she’ll out live expectation but she counters with medical reasoning and responses to treatment given; all of which are probably true but I still look toward the positive; erecting a sense of positive stubborness that’s anchored where it should be; Love... I believe you can remain positive without tossing away reality. I’m not living in denial about the inevitable, I just believe you can squeeze out more minutes, more seconds, more hours, more time, more life… Anything is possible isn’t it? So, the greatest person in the world to me might one day no longer be around and as always she worries about me more than about herself. It’s not the pain from her condition that causes her to toss and turn at night. It’s her concern for what my life will be or become. She’s seen me encounter and endure ups and downs, lows and highs, sometimes successfully and sometimes not. The most recent crossroad had been a tough one to bear but the lessons have been enormous. Through it all, she’s always been here and if it wasn’t for her, I would not be around to express my gratitude. I would not have survived those crossroads and I imagine that’s what concerns her most; future crossroads. Thing is, I know without a doubt that I am better prepared. My strength is a lot less wavering for reasons I hold close to my heart and for reasons that spark memories similar to warning signs resembling journals filled with wise words and revelations from past mistakes; some of those words passed on to me by my mother… I get the feeling that a mother’s life is like one long beautiful sacrifice, flowing not only thru life but carrying on perhaps into the hereafter but I don’t want to consider the hereafter just yet. That’s a hard one to swallow without feeling anxious or wanting to retreat into disbelief while preventing the eyes to well up in tears. Life came too soon. I wish it were still 1974 when I returned home from a couple months of a summer visit spent with my grandparents in Texas. I came back home to Cali with so much weight on my young body that my mother instantly put me on a diet. I remember dinner with less calories and some kind of bread that was almost as thin as paper and tasted nothing like the baked from scratch, toasted with churned butter, straight from the farm biscuits and breads that grandma was cooking me everyday and early evening in Texas. Yeah, if I could put the brakes on time and move it back to then, I would but it can’t be done so now it’s all about squeezing in every second… Squeezing is hard sometimes but I remain prayerful and grateful even when strength becomes that which I attempt to squeeze out the most…

Greatest Place 2 B... the road

Ain't nothing like being on the road.. My favorite place to be... Out on the highway; one adventure after another... This time of the year is synonymous with cruising down the highway for me. I'm reminded of a special memory, driving down interstate 20 about an hour away from Dallas, Texas. It's about 3:00 in the morning and I'm blasting some Parliament while looking forward to making it so close to my second home in east Texas. I didn't expect to make it this far and should've gotten a hotel earlier that night but I was pumped up and my adrenaline just wouldn't allow me to stop until the subwoofer in my car blew out. Awwww man! I was left with music that sounded as if I were listening to a small hand held radio... That deflated all my energy and cruising into Dallas ended up being a big letdown for a moment. I found a place to rest soul but I wasn't down for too long. Once I saw the beautiful country side and fall color drenched trees in east Texas, I was way past excited all over again because that's what its all about to me... being on the road; one unexpected adventure after another... the greatest place 2 B..

For No Other Reason

For no other reason except to reflect how incredible I felt this weekend, I just have to say that I had a blast! It was one of those weekend escapes that you never want to end.. A beautiful moment that you'd wish could last forever... Smiles and laughter... closeness that makes you feel like it should be a crime to have to return to reality but as they say, time waits for no one. It keeps on going, ticking, moving forward so it's left up to us to appreciate, be thankful, enjoy, endure, work for and live for more chances at whatever bridges the gap between reality and dreamed about moments as this... It was beautiful, special and more to come on the way, I pray...

Historical Importance

I took this picture on election day of a man playing his trumpet in downtown LA. The sound echoed down the street. It traveled with the cool winds that were blowing at the time; whipping in, out and in between buildings. He stood down the street from a park called Pershing Square. I could hear him from there at first. The songs he played were a great tribute to what would become a very special and historical day. One melody sounded like that Sam Cooke song, A Change Is Gonna Come; a beautiful song which could surely serve as the theme for the now President Elect, Barack Obama.

Today as I watched more interviews, opinions, and thoughts shared about Obama's victory, I questioned though not too vigorously, the ways in which such a huge moment tends to be defined by the media, per se. I mean, the effort is geared more so toward what our celebrities think and feel rather than the people in say the most remote parts of this country. I'm slightly guilty of wondering about the thoughts of those famous ones that I admire too; I can't lie; Denzel, Michael Jordan, Spike Lee, etc but a nice little quote floated across my mind as I was thinking about this stuff today... I said something to myself and wrote it down...

"It's important not only to know how the famous feel but also or perhaps more so, how history resonates within our own hearts. It is also important how we respond to what we've seen as a new measuring stick for just how far we can dream, thus turning that dream into achievement at the cost of hard work. Dare to dream and follow it up with effort."

As cool as it is to see and hear from Oprah, Jessie, Brad Pitt, and others, I would love to hear the personal stories of the regular folk on the street, in the country, in the hood, in the senior citizen homes and in the schools that have been motivated and inspired by this very human beacon of hope... I would love to hear more from the elders who can compare and contrast how things were and how this became... An elders journey from what was to how it is now are stories we should never take for granted. This moment in time is huge and humbling, especially if you're aware from whence it all came to be... Awareness is important and respect always due...

Unyielding Hope

Unyielding hope is now a historically beautiful reality come true...

November 4th Shots of the day...

My anxiety got the best of me. It was hard to just sit at home and wait, watch, wonder how it's all gonna play out. I decided to just drive and capture shots of the day from my car as I traveled from one area of town to another... Here's a little of what I saw...

Pride In Voting..

What a great feeling it was on November 4th to cast my vote. It never felt this good before. The feeling of pride snuck up and caught me by surprise. I stood in line for what was to me, a short thirty minute period. The sun was hot at first. The Cali weather still hasn't changed much from summer time; at least not during the first part of this day. Then as the voting line inched closer to that final few steps before giving your name and receiving your ballot, there was lots and lots of cool shade to hide underneath. Perhaps that was a sign of good things to come; the first sign... Another good sign of what this day would become was the unity expressed between myself and several black men that had voted before me. As they walked out individually, each one greeted me with quiet pride. It felt as though none of them wanted to celebrate in advance or perhaps intimidate by showing outwardly, the kind of unifying feeling we were all experiencing. Instead, we all gave each other smiles and head nods as if to say, we've got extra incentive for making our vote count like never before... Again, it felt good... I walked inside what is a senior citizen home, received my ballot and headed for the booth. I noticed a few eyes of assumption smiling upon me. Folks that quickly summed me up as an Obama supporter based on skin color, of course... BUT... I didn't mind. Part of that is the reason he gets my vote but also, in my heart of hearts, I have no doubt that he is the best candidate for the job and in watching his story played out many times on CNN and other channels, I also feel in some ways that his mission is greater than himself; sort of like he's the "chosen one" if you will... It's amazing what he's done in such a seemingly short time but at the same time, it all makes sense..

So, I casted my vote and stood there for a moment. Then I had to collect my thoughts and figure out how I would vote on the local issues as well... After I finished voting, I checked my ballot three times. With so many stories that you hear on the news, you end up leaving the booth feeling like you have to watch every move of those voting workers. Suspicion was on high and I noticed I wasn't the only one keeping an eye on things... Half the folks still standing around in the voting area had already voted. We just all wanted to make sure the ballots were put into the machine and really and truly counted.. whew... When I left the voting place, I felt so good and so proud of myself. I had parked pretty far away because of the parking situation being on a busy street, which meant I had to park around the corner in the neighborhood. An african american man yelled out to me from his car "hey brother, how long did it take?" I told him thirty minutes and he gave me the thumbs up. Then after I turned the corner, a latino man pulled up next to me after noticing that I still had my sample ballot booklet in my hand. He asked me where the voting place was and I directed him where to go. He thanked me and leaned his arm out the window to shake my hand; another cool showing of unity that I felt today... I felt completely like a walking example of pride... And then the rest of this day and night became one of anxiety, waiting and listening out for confirmation that HOPE came true and history or perhaps OUR-story was made...

Dr. Robert Klapper

This is a good hero of mine. I look up to this man and I'm amazed and fascinated by the passion in which he lives and even loves his life. He is as gifted as he is blessed with not only creative but scientific tools at his disposal inside his mind, heart, body and soul... Imagine, a gifted orthopedic surgeon, sculptor, husband, father, and a working on being gifted, surfer. Plus on top of all that goodness that would make an average man's head swell, Dr. Klapper is a very down to earth, sincere, personable man. I listen to his stories; his punch-lines always demonstrate his love of life. I wish there were more doctors like him just as I wish there were more truly good people, like him. My "regular" work is at a hospital and unfortunately, I've come across many a doctor that somewhere along their paths checked their human qualities, their compassion and common sense at the door. Some even in their first years of residency, succumb to huge egos and/or child-like behavior. When I see and listen to Dr. Klapper, he simply appears as a man who truly "gets it" about life and about actually living it in a way where you can look back on your journey with pride, smile real big and say "wow!"

I had the honor and privilege to watch a lecture today given by Dr. Klapper. It was like an art history/appreciation lecture combined with anatomy, expressed with passion and an appreciation for capturing emotion. He spoke about Michelangelo's work and demonstrated not only the emotional and artistic approach to what this amazing artist did but also it's relation to orthopedic surgery. Dr. Klapper also showed his own sculptures, which were re-creations of Michelangelo's work. It was amazing stuff just as his work has been as a surgeon. Many of his patients were in the audience and one elderly lady that was a patient of his thought I was a basketball player. She shook my hand and held it for a while. She was very sincere; shining in personality, similar to Dr. Klapper. Perhaps he injected sincerity into her along with the hip replacement. Dr. Klapper is the coolest... From what I've found out about him, he owns nine patents on the angled telescope and other instruments used to do hip arthroscopy. He's designed special tools to repair hip implants and he's got the hollywood credentials too being that he's served as a Orthopedic consultant to the "ER" television show... He's not a bragging kind of guy so I never knew about these things until I read it. The only thing he does is live with passion and along the way, make other's lives better through his incredible work as a surgeon and his natural gift of being a good man... Much respect..

Southern Winds

I was feeling the south today.. My southern spirit calling me as it does every so often. Typically this time of the year I would be driving through backroads, small towns and beautiful country sides somewhere between Mt. Pleasant, Texas and Atlanta, Georgia, taking the longest route I could find. Living out of a suitcase for three weeks is the best kind of fun. Capturing images along the way and playing music reminiscent of what I was jamming off of this morning... good old delta blues music. I had to postpone my trip due to family illness and financial struggles.. hard times hit hard but it don't take away happiness or the drive to reclaim what was lost.
This morning after I experimented and discovered something delicious to eat, I picked up my dobro guitar and started making up some funky but delta blues inspired jams. It was fun. I stopped only to dip the piping hot sweet potato biscuits that I made into some maple syrup.. The taste was heavenly! The southern wind blew in again.. I strummed a few more chords. I could visualize my grandmother hanging clothes out to dry on the farm in Mt. Pleasant. I could visualize a few years ago when I drove down a lonely road in Arkansas. All the trees were different colors; a lot of bright reds, yellows, browns, paprika, light green... I couldn't believe my eyes. I'd never experienced fall colors like that before in my life. I stopped at a small store. Inside were people with seriously southern accents. I was greeted with stares from some and friendly head nods from others. There was positive and negative tension flowing through the air but me? I loved everything about it. As I've expressed many times, I'm always wishing I could travel back in time and that's exactly what it felt like when I stepped inside this store. When I stepped outside, I heard some hip hop blasting from a pickup truck; a reminder that I was still in these times...

I strummed some more chords and beat a little funky rhythm simultaneously... I remembered my mother pulling fresh water out of a well and preparing a bath for me as we adjusted for a couple weeks of living in the country. No running water, no bathroom no toilet.. Only one very small black and white television in my grandparents bedroom. Had to rely on what was called a "transistor radio," which only seemed to pick up country music stations and very passionate church services; preacher always hollering and others shouting in the background; gospel music sounding both eerie and celebratory...

I strummed some more, simultaneously playing a melody on the high E string... I remembered walking thru an old cemetery in the middle of town in Savannah, Georgia. The spanish moss hung low from trees. I reached and grabbed some of it. The first time I noticed a huge spider crawling up the first hand full that I grabbed. I quickly dropped it. I grabbed another hand full and placed it inside a paper bag that had a couple souvenirs inside. I picked up my camera, took pictures and walked around the cemetery. When I got to the other side, I'd realized I left the bag on a bench. I went back. The bag wasn't on the bench but instead appeared to have fallen underneath. All the contents had fallen out but I didn't see the spanish moss... I picked up my magnets and ceramic coasters, took a few more pictures and then went back to my not so comfortable hotel room. The hotel was really weird because the rooms had no windows and at the time I checked in, I was desperate to find a place to sleep so I wasn't choosy. I stopped at the first place I could find. It was strange how a lot seemed to be going on outside. All I could do was either listen to what was going on outside or turn up the volume on the television to drown it out. The outside seemed more entertaining. I had used up all the film on my camera so I was looking forward to seeing the images. When I made it to Atlanta, I had the pictures developed since I had time to wait and was planning to stay for a couple days. Crazy thing happened... there were no images whatsoever on the film...

I strummed some more.. ate more biscuits... The wind was howling, memories flowing fast.. I could go on forever.. The images blowing across my mind like a warm southern wind in Mississippi... I can see the highway... that's where I belong; where I wish I was right now...

Life and Death

I know someone who embraces the possibility of death though I can tell she's hiding from her true feelings. She hides a lot even in the presence of others. She has no clue about death. She's prepared? She paid for all her funeral costs, her program, and mapped out how everything should be. Nah, she's not prepared... It shows in how she handles her believed to be final days and how she struggles with her illness more in frustration than actual fight... I picture her in the final moments panicking because basically, she'd stepped over the process by which one should take time to come to grips with their own journey. Her ascension will be filled with panic and worry rather than a peaceful, ready, and embracing transition.

I remember a long time ago I used to imagine to myself about why people die or perhaps are chosen to go. Maybe its kind of silly but in a way I used to think that in some cases, God takes those who "understand" and leaves behind those who need more time to figure things out. This person underestimates her time and will probably be around a lot longer than she imagines or believes, thus she'll waste time sitting around wondering "when" rather than living, loving, and enjoying life to the fullest... Other's might go before her and this loss will weigh heavy on her heart as she tries to figure out why... I always believe that things make more sense when you can look beyond yourself... If she finds it, it won't happen until discovery becomes too late.

Great Escape

This year in 2008, my second greatest escape has been movies... I haven't seen a lot but I have seen a few and most of them have been my way of leaving the world and perhaps my own life behind for a couple hours. Hollywood should recognize that in rough times as these, some form of mental escape is very much needed. For me personally, a great movie/story works a lot better than drugs or drink (I've not indulged that route)and great stories watched on the big screen is a lot more enticing than the silliness they refer to as "reality TV." Inside the theatre, the lights go down, the movie comes on and while I watch, I can feel, imagine, think, experience... especially if the film tells a great story.. I found that in Spike Lee's Miracle At St. Anna a couple weeks ago and I also found that today in The Secret Lives Of Bees. This movie was an emotional escape for me... A great story. I loved all the characters... The young girl was very good. Narration thru the eyes and soul of a young girl works well. Reminds me of one of my favorite movies, Eve's Bayou. In Secret Lives Of Bees, I loved the strength and grace of Queen Latifah. Alicia Keys played her part very well as if the attitude her character possessed came very easy for her... However, my favorite character was played by Sophie Okonedo or as she was known in the film, May Boatwright. May feels very deeply. Everything hits her hard, be it joy or pain, perhaps a little too much.. When she first came on the screen and became so emotional, I laughed as did many in the theatre. I think we all judged her immediately as strange. But then as the story continues you begin to understand her, thus her ability to feel so deeply touches your own heart and makes you think about life's loves, joys, and pain... Of course as always, I love the southern backdrop of yester-years gone by and wish most times that I lived back then despite all that went on... I'm sure I'd be fine without the computer, HDTV, cell phones, and all the other things we worship daily. It reminded me of the times I've parked my car and walked down country roads in east Texas and Louisiana, thinking how faraway I feel from my so-called real life at home. I felt that while watching this film. I also felt a connection between what was happening on screen and that very special part of my life that I can say is my number one greatest escape these days... It's something that Queen Latifah aka August Boatwright spoke about often in the film... Love... being loved, feeling loved.... I'm honored by someone who expresses it to me daily... The look, the smile...every part of me feels appreciated... but no ones world can ever be perfect... well, seems that way... I'm on a beautiful ship, constantly sailing in positive directions yet I still have to reach back on broken promises from another who cant seem to understand the value in simply being true... So my side keeps its thorn buried deep... A reminder or a curse; I'm not sure which but I keep fighting and hanging on or fighting to hang on as the frustration is both annoying and exhausting. So, in the midst of something so unnecessary, I cultivate that which I truly see inside of me... flowing... streams of hope, love, and dedication... I find strength and when I'm able to enjoy the gift of a great story, I find motivation and inspiration tucked inside what is always a great escape....

Imagine His Shoulders

Imagine his shoulders.. the weight of the world, carrying "HOPE" everywhere he goes. His schedule is beyond hectic. I wonder if at times the faces all become a blur, the hands coming from nowhere to touch his. He's received the blessing, honor and privilege of becoming a beacon of light for so many and a symbol of pride for not only those that look up to him now but those that watch over him, smiling down in amazement, whispering the mantra "we've come a long way..." He's on the verge of carrying that mantra into the uncertain but still very hopeful future. And looking at this picture, it shows that beyond the greatness and achievement of something once imagined impossible; as a man, as one soul walking this earth and living his journey, he still requires a moment to himself to collect his thoughts, to take a deep breath... I imagine the deep sigh and long train of thoughts that flow through his head like sitting at a light, waiting for a long train to pass by. And then when that moment is done, he has to stand and rise to the challenge because so many seek his leadership... HOPE rest squarely on his shoulders... Imagine the weight and watch how he carries it... it'll raise the level of your respect and even your pride...

Ten Years Gone

On this day ten years ago, my father died. It's a helluva mental trip to even go back in memory, thinking about that day and night. Today, ten years later, I felt the same pain in my chest. The same tightening in my shoulders as though I had some major stress gripping my body. That's how I felt on October 3, 1998 even before I learned of his death. I remember I was with a friend and for whatever reason, I couldn't sit still. I kept thinking about my mother for some reason. And when I did see her, the first thing I noticed was a picture of my father in her hand. She didn't have to say word. I knew before she confirmed the first thought that ran through my mind. He was gone and that was the beginning of a sad and very trying time in my life. Death and funerals can bring out the worst of times... sometimes... So-called friends of my father decided and acted as if they owned his life while he was among the living. Their orchestrated greed enabled them to take all his money and material possessions. My mother did her best on my behalf. All she wanted was to make sure there was money to be used in taking care of the mother, my father left behind aka my grandmother, Senora Rivers. My father's body was flown to east Texas via a lot of confusion from Richmond, California where he lived his last years. The orchestration was so intense that they even sought control over the wording of the funeral program, thereby seeking to make it appear as though I didn't exist. My mother and I had a crazy time making sure the funeral program was worded as it should be. During this time, I held tight and still do to that last time I saw my father. He told me he was proud and said "love you, son." We hugged. It was a strong and reassuring moment. Previous to that we'd had a not so positive moment with mutual misunderstanding involved but in that last time together, we'd reconciled everything in a way that I can positively hold onto forever. Those individuals that took everything went on about their way, despite having promised my grandmother to do things that would keep her comfortable. They enlisted a cousin of mine who fell for possible financial promises. She took advantage of the situation but never made out as big as she'd hoped for. In the end after my grandmother passed away three years later, this cousin asked me for five grand; payment for all the help she claimed to be doing because she "loved her auntie so much." Love... I said no and never heard from her again...

Ten years ago after my father was buried and I was met with the responsibility of taking care of my grandmother, I welcomed the honor of doing all that I could to keep her comfortable. I'm grateful that my mother lent a very strong supportive hand. I took a three week trip and spent two of those weeks with my grandmother. The other week I set out on a special journey, driving from east Texas to the Mississippi Delta region. I had my father's spirit by my side and whenever I think about it, I can recall every minute of that special trip. I can remember the music playing on the radio, the food I ate, the smell of the country, the cool temperatures during that third week as October was coming to an end. I remember everything.. And now, ten years later, ten years gone, what happened back then feels like a lifetime ago one moment and the next minute it feels like yesterday. I've had a lifetime of experiences in between those moments that still remain... Moments that have to do with missing his presence. As he watches my life continue from above, I've probably given him reason to cheer and jeer.. Reason to laugh and cry... reason to smile and say "got!" which usually preceded a silent, "damn.." I believe that no matter what, there's deep pride and I'm sure he still smiles when he says out loud, "There go that Rivers kid." In memory of my father.. this is for you dad... Love alwayz..

Spirit of...

Sometimes you miss out on the spirit of folks.. You don’t know that in a short time, their memory will be etched into your psyche for a long long time. You’ll wish you had watched a little longer or sat with them during those times when you walked away because your mind was elsewhere.. Or maybe you were just like me; too young to appreciate anything around or in front of you… There I was, a small child in the midst of grown folks having a party… BBQ dominating the air and smelling so sweet… Good funky soul music spinning on the stereo, long before CD’s and such. And in the middle of all this was Uncle Pete, made infamous thru memories shared by myself and my uncle Richard… Uncle Pete had a way of dancing that was not only on the beat and entertaining, he had style. It was comical too. He preceded those that sort of remind me of his style of dancing. Folks like Sherman Hemsley of the Jeffersons television show, Martin Lawrence when he would do that funny dancing, and this music artist from the seventies that sang about a few dances like the funky chicken and the breakdown. His name was Rufus Thomas. Uncle Pete was like those three and then some. He commanded the dance floor with his funny style, feet stomp to the beat, right on time, serious look on his face, sometimes wiggling and rubbing his hands up and down his pants legs. Then when you throw into the mix, his wife Ethel who resembled Aunt Esther on Sanford and Son, you really got a show going on right in front of your eyes... Those were the days; good times I didn't realize I had. Uncle Pete passed away a long time ago but for some reason his memory has been coming around lately. I appreciate the visit...

Water

In the beginning I was too blind to see how good I had it. The flow was so perfect. Streams rushing so plentiful. I was able to float in directions I never dreamed, imagined or expected. Beautiful discoveries that allowed me to stand tall because I had something to add to my existence; my journey. Memories stacked upon memories like the many pages of thoughts that fill so many diaries. The water it flowed but I took it for granted; never measuring it's true value or purpose. Blinded by influences and negative directions; suggestions... They say you don't miss your water, until your well runs dry... chi-ching..

Love, War & Politics

The weekend formed into something cool. It was a weekend of inspiration and thought. A weekend of love in all shapes; the kind of love that never stops growing. The kind that flourishes because of the differences and the similarities; a blessing always recognized and appreciated... adored in disbelief sometimes.. This weekend found me enjoying culture too; deep in Watts in front of the towers. It was a beautiful scene of all kinds, enjoying various music, art, and food. It was nice to see such a great park and important landmark being used for such a positive event. Then I became drawn to what surrounds the park so I took a walk around the neighborhood for a moment. I walked some streets that aint supposed to be cool to walk down but I was greeted all the time with positive head nods and hellos. I only cut short my walking because it was hot outside! I'll be glad when fall rolls in and cooler days prevail... I headed back to the park to get a pina colada smoothie before hitting the streets again. I ended this warm hot day/night by checking out a deeply moving movie with someone special. It was the new Richard Gere flick called Nights in Rodanthe. Loved the location. I need to go to North Carolina.. I hear I have family out that way.

The movie was good. I got lost in the story though at the same time this special someone was right there with me. I thought about her most of the time as I watched the movements, the expressions and feelings expressed by the characters onscreen. The story is one of those passionate love stories that take you on a whirlwind of emotions, so powerful that your heart is ripped in two, thereby pulling with it whatever causes one to release a full load of tears... Yeah, that's the kind of story that I love to write myself and in some ways, live... I even shed a few tears. Movies can do that to me or I should say great stories. I was moved to tears on Sunday as well while watching Spike Lee's new movie, Miracle at St. Anna. Great film, intelligent, truly great story telling and a powerful ending... I wondered while watching the movie would people be turned off by the subtitles. I imagine the subtitles were used to force you to pay close attention to the story and also bring a lot of realism to what's happening on screen. Everyone should see the film. Just like this weekend as a whole, this movie was great inspiration for all that was going through my mind. I've been developing a story in my head and on paper for about two or more years now. I write from time to time but I put it aside. I'd really like for the story to be authentic and heart wrenching. I give it time because I like to allow my own life's disappointments, accomplishments, dreams and goals to connect with and influence the ways in which my characters speak. I use conversations and life events, memories of mine and others, news and chance moments.. Then I watch the characters respond, typically allowing their decisions and reactions to be completely different from what I might do or even think about doing... These are strange times with so much going on all at once... The good and bad colliding with the bullshit and good sense. Patience is tested and trampled upon but hope keeps you walking despite the unstable footing.

Thinking back to a couple days ago after the debate, I kept hearing talk about Obama being soft, McCain being out of touch and both VP candidates being kind of stupid or silly or both.. Obama makes sense to me most of the time though no one seems like the answer to everything and probably no one should be placed on that unreachable pedestal. The days of those kind of leaders have long come and gone and these times have been allowed to become as complicated as they are perhaps due to the greed and the consistent and constant lying. However, I do think Obama needs to put aside some of the respect he has for McCain and adopt a Michael Jordan like passion for his game of politics. Develop that killer-in-your-face kind of instinct and definitely drop those three words, "you're right John" from his vocabulary. McCain shows no respect nor does he make real eye contact. Obama can show respect, kindness and good games-man-ship after the game is over... but anyways... time is rough and tough and aint no one man or woman the answer but I'd feel not so secure if Palin was a heartbeat away from Prez. That's kind of scary but at the same time it's sadly an on the point reflection of what this country seems to value today... So-called realism, good looks, popularity, a lack of depth and intelligence, sound bites and slogans, drama queen politics, and speaking basically on automatic pilot without a clue as to what was said until they play the tape back...She has no mind of her own. Its completely controlled and filled to the brim with someone else's words and ideals.. It's all crammed into her head and she can't remember when a curve ball such as an easy question is thrown her way... It's sad. It reminds me of those that hold themselves accountable to nothing and no one, thus lying and taking advantage of others is nothing to them. The ego is so inflated that they float sky-high. The only image in their radar screen is themselves until some sort of karma catches up...

But anyways, life is a trip and right now its a major league soap opera too. I'm all for a little fantasy to off set the so-called keeping it real world? Or if not fantasy then how about kickin back on memories... I welcomed this monday by finding an old recipe that belongs to my mother. It didn't take long to accomplish and the aroma smells way too good.. I baked a fabulous banana pudding with the vanilla wafers sticking up from all sides... A small victory.. Life is good for a few minutes...