Why

photo credit © Pattie Baker 2015

Last year, I stood on a vacant construction site on the other side of town and listened to a young black man cry out in fear, anger and sadness.  The things he said and his body language spoke volumes about his existence.   He told me that the very pigmentation of his skin made him a suspect.  Or worse, a criminal.  He told me how his future, despite his education and privilege and ambition and charm, was diminished.   He told of a well-meaning white community, literally bulldozing through his neighborhood in the name of helping him and others of his same skin tone.   He cried out over the loss of so many opportunities, usurped by those well-meaning folk from across town.  He spoke of the little boys who were in jail, nothing to do but get in trouble.

I couldn’t comprehend then and I struggle to now the things he revealed.  But I see their manifestations daily.   I see hate through inaction.  I see fear through misunderstanding, unknowing and assumption.  I watch busy lives, too bothered to connect.  I witness greed, insensitivity and shrill political showmanship.

Why?  Why do we act this way?  Why don’t we stop repeating the mistakes?  Why do we behave as though we’re not the same?   Why can’t we listen?  Why can’t we be generous of our time, money, efforts, love?   Why do we kill each other?

Why.

Bloody Motherfucking Asshole

Dear Donald,

This song is for you.

Good luck in November, you are certainly going to need it.

Love,

JOHN

Finally

It’s all that and a lot more.

I’m not quite sure how I got to this point.  It seems like I’ve known him forever, that we’ve been together since day one.   And in a way, we have.   Since the first day he came into my life.   Half a century after I came into this life.   Odd, that is.

But not.

In some ways, it’s much easier.  I know this side of the court and that other side is not so unfamiliar.   I’m sure the vantage is similar from over there.

Things only need to be said once, should they require saying.   My sense of self is still intact, even stronger I think.   I understand the value of time, of patience, of waiting, of process.

He holds my hand and snores in my ear and speaks that syrupy drawl and laughs his staccato laugh and all is right with the world.   Favors are returned, courtesies given.  There’s room, space, tenderness, laughter.

And there it is.

Falling

It’s been a while but the symptoms…the signs, the thoughts, the stunning clarity of it all…are unmistakable.  I am falling in love.

Wow.

I mean,  I’m 51.   Thought I was done with this.  But BAM!  There it is.

Must.  Go.  Slow.

Must.  Retain.  Self.

Must.  Give.  In.

And awaaaaay we go!

Before Today

Wow…when you least expect it.   Let’s see where this goes.

Burn, Baby, Burn

Some smidgen of me wants to feel sorry for the GOP. But I cannot. Not after 8 years of thinly (and that’s generous) veiled racism against the twice-elected President. Not after attempting at every turn to block equal rights for all citizens. Not after their xenophobic worldview (look it up, betches). Not after gerrymandering in all 50 states. Not after denying women’s rights over their bodies. And especially not after flagrantly abusing the constitution for their own goals. This is what you get. This is exactly what you deserve.

Keep digging y’all, I’ll bring the shovels.

What I do feel sorry for is this once great democracy. Let’s make America great again, indeed.

Without the GOP.

Let Us Pray

I saw “Spotlight” tonight.   While I was aware of the scope of the Abuse scandal in the Catholic Church, I was not aware of how the story in this country broke.  The film is amasterful piece of storytelling that lays bare the intense, personal stories involved with bringing this particular truth to light.

What struck me most about the film (and is still reverberating around in my brain) is how such horrific deeds could be buried and simultaneously suppressed and seemingly forgotten by so many people.  So many people.  Mothers, fathers, priests, victims, reporters, police, clerks, lawyers, judges, bishops, sisters, brothers.  Everyone seemed to know about the systematic sexual abuse of children and its cover-up and few did or said anything to bring the awful truth to light.

When it was spoken of, or mentioned, or reported, it was often swept under any variety of rugs…rugs of denial, rugs of regret, rugs of inconvenience, rugs of misunderstanding, rugs of legal maneuvering, rugs of shame and rugs of white-hot fear.

The complicit cover-up was and is astounding.  It hit home for me — not only the importance of telling the truth, but of speaking up and telling the truth that lays dormant, unspoken and unseen.

This film is as much about the sins of action as it is about the sins of inaction.

Ashes to Ashes

I used to wait and wait and wait for this to be played on Night Tracks, Ted Turner’s short-lived precursor to MTV.  Of course, I had grown up with Bowie on Top 40 radio but never really knew his music.  That is, until my neighbor Ann Beavers turned me on to him, along with B-52’s, Talking Heads and The Cars.  She had a couple of albums and we’d listen to them when our folks weren’t around.

Something about this video’s  eerie melody, synthy guitar chords, negative visual treatment and, of course, Bowie’s androgynous harlequin character struck a nerve with me.  It was his first video I recall going big time and I was hooked.

The nerve it struck, as with so many, was the self-realization that I, too, was different.   And profoundly so.   Years later, I would realize that being different was OK, maybe even better.

Thank you Ann for the introduction.  And thank you David Bowie for years and years of pleasure.  You left the world a better place than when you arrived.

Godspeed.

Warm Leatherette

Join the car crash set….

Anyway, sorry for being radio silent.    December was a mixed bag-o-tricks.  Good riddance to an average average average month.

Hightlights:  I got 5 more chapters written and the rest of the book outlined.   That’s all I’m gonna say about that.  My visit home was initially stressful.  And it was all my stress.  When will I learn?  I got it out of the way on Christmas Eve with a stern talk with my mother.  She, however, was a good 30 years ahead of me.  Hello?!   I mean, really.  Look around Brown.   They’re not here forever.  And Dad, always so perceptive.  He reads me like a book.   Christmas Day was lovely…until we had to seek shelter in the workshop closet.   There was a confirmed tornado inbound.  It was prudent.   All ended well and dinner was only a half hour late.  I’m especially thankful for the blessings that my sister is finally enjoying.  She deserves to be happy.  Yay Liz!

Turns out my trip to Florida was just what the doctor ordered.  Great friends.  Easy hospitality.  Good sex.  Lots of debaucherous fun.  Great weather.  What’s not to like?

And so is the tone for this New Year.  So far, so great.   I’m happy.  Much of it has to do with my attitude and what I’m putting forth.   I’m 50.  I should remember these things.

Love to all.

Disclosure

Sorry for the doom and gloom.  But man, there’s some shit going around!  The universe is definitely doing a little cosmic (and karmic) rearranging.

I’m blaming it on my own little universe being out of sorts…All will be will by the end of the week!  Trust-n-Believe, y’all. TNB