I Talked with my Mother, Moses Talked with God

June 1, 2017 by Leave a Comment

The mist was in her eyes when she looked at me as we exited the court building. “You can’t keep doing this, not to you not to me. I can’t take this. I can’t, I am tired of it,” she said. I turned and looked down. I didn’t want to see her cry. I was happy to get out of there and get back to freedom. No matter the trouble my mother never left my side. She played the duel parent most of the time.

Her voice normally soft and comforting was stern as she continued, “This type of life won’t get you anywhere. It hasn’t gotten no one in our family nowhere. Who else will your sisters look up to? I need you to be an example, a positive example for them.”

I tried not to look at her, but I did, and her eyes hazed with water, struck my heart.

“I asked you to let me see you finish high school. Is that too much for you to do — to do what’s right and finish high school, is that too much!?”

I said, “No, that’s not too much.” But I had a problem, like Moses, when he said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh…?” I thought, who am I that I should tell my mother, I am not in school anymore? I was expelled from Eastern Senior High and she didn’t know. I was told by Eastern High, that I wasn’t fit for regular school.  I didn’t tell my mother that, so I had to try to fix it myself. I reached out to Eastern High, and asked them if I could return, but they said “no”. They offered night school as an option. I asked could I go to my neighborhood school, and they agreed only if the neighborhood school agreed. I worked on the alternative, and Ballou Senior High agreed to allow me to enroll for the next school year, but with two conditions; “I get into no trouble, what – so – ever and I join R.O.T.C.”

I went to my mother, and under self-control, I told her I had something to say and that I needed her to believe me. I said, “I messed up, I was put out of Eastern, but I am gonna finish high school, I promise; but I have to go to Ballou to do it — and I need you to sign for me. I will do what’s right and graduate.”

I couldn’t shame my mother. The least I could do was get out of high school for the woman who rubbed me with Vicks Vapor when I couldn’t breathe. She held my hand when I was a toddler and kept a roof over my head. As a teenager it was different, I was on auto pilot everyday to the streets, but now I had to retreat and slow down that type of activity. ROTC was like kryptonite to me and some of my friends, but it helped and was a humbling experience that introduced me to military order.

I told my mother I would graduate and I promised her that. In order for me to do that I shut myself down — and it was extreme. When I was informed about the parties, I said “no”, when I was briefed about the women, I said “no thank you”, and when I was told about the drug shipments coming in, I was invisible.

My reading level measured a few fingers on one hand and I was in the 11th grade – go figure. In my isolation I started practicing to read. I picked up the Bible, and not only did my reading improve but a whole universe of kingdoms and writers opened up and I couldn’t get enough. Like the story of the conversation between God and Moses. When God first spoke to Moses, this story was the gateway to me understanding the power of history.   It’s written that “Moses saw that the bush was on fire and it did not burn up.” It continues that when God saw he had gone over to look, He called his name. And God introduced Himself as the “God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob.”

Moses is the #1 author of all time, the most read of all the authors in the world. And he writes, that God said, “…I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.” And what Moses writes next blows my mind. He asks God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” He questions the Most High, about going to Pharaoh and I thought that was amazing for so many reasons. Who is this Pharaoh I thought, that Moses feels hesitant to go before him.

For perspective, here is a little something from Pharaoh. He writes thus, “Hekamaatre, the son of Re, lord of crowns, like Horus of the horizon, Ramses, given life, like Re eternally. The king of Upper and Lower Egypt, lord of the two lands, Hekamaatre, son of Re, lord of crowns, Ramses, given life like Re has said: I was wise in my heart… It is a written text and not an oral tradition, and the living count in order to know the day and the month to add the one to the other and know the span of their life.” These writings were translated from what the ancient Greeks call sacred writings. The Egyptian Empire was a great nation more than two thousand years before Moses was born. So, it is in this context that God’s conversation with Moses is so amazing.

Moses says to God, “O my Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.” When I read that, I thought, that’s me “never been eloquent, slow speech and tongue.” And if Moses can end up being the # 1 author of all time, then not only could I get out of High School, but I could do much more.  Then Moses just flat out says to God, “O Lord, please send someone else to do it.”

So, as I began to change, it was with the help of the book many call the Bible, and the stories that lie within, that almost single handedly took my interest from the streets to a Ballou Senior High graduate. And it all started by the mist that formed to a tear from my mother’s eyes.

Filed Under: Easter, Fallout, The Core Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Battle Ground: Image Wise

February 8, 2017 by Leave a Comment

Images are tattooed in our memories like the information on a computer’s motherboard. Some images in our minds will never go away.  The image of President Obama will forever exist — his looks, his walk, his beautiful wife, his dignity and his intelligence. The image of his opponent’s hysteria and disbelief that a man with African blood could lead the greatest nation on earth, was absolutely an amazing image tattooed in my mind. Why would his opponents and others alike have such beliefs in the first place? Some of them were called obstructionists and at every level they fought against President Obama. Yet, President Obama was an excellent politician and an intellectual master. We will forever have Mr. and Mrs. Obama’s superior integrity as they were insulted time after time. The way they handled the vile insults, was as if they were a King and Queen. Black America has had Kings and Queens but many of the kings have been killed or harassed in the battle for justice and image representation.  Some images run deep, unconsciously employing subliminal messages.

When I was seven years old I saw my first black Santa Claus and I was mad. I thought the black man beat up the white man and took his the toys and the Santa suit. I didn’t want to sit on the new Santa’s lap. To me, he represented a lie, a fraud, and a thief — and he had nothing good for me. Why would I, at that age, think that about a black man dressed like Santa Claus? The image of the black man is sometimes equated to the broadcasted stereotype. I was watching the movie, The Alamo the other day. It was an epic based on American history. John Wayne directed and starred in the movie. He played the Tennessean Davy Crockett. This movie set in 1836 was about war in Texas and portrayed such men as General Sam Houston, General Santa Anna, Commander William Travis and James “Jim” Bowie. What caught my attention was Jethro, a black servant. The night before the final great battle, James Bowie signed and handed Jethro freedom papers. Jethro thought about it and then said “no”. The next day, when Santa Anna troops stormed the Alamo Mission and got to Jim Bowie, Jethro jumped in front of Jim to take the deathblow. Now why would Jethro sacrifice his life for a man that has enslaved him? This is an image black people have had for more than two hundred years. We need a fresh perspective. I am looking for the black Alexandria the Great or a black George Washington – it has to be one.

Growing up in Washington, D.C. in the height of the drug wars, I became a teenage dad, like many other teens in my community.  Watching the fathers die, go to jail and leave their children was a penetrating image that was sickening at the core, and it forced me to take a vow of commitment and do my best to focus on my children. Death was almost every day and watching us rotate in and out of the court system was hard, but I was blessed and raised in a strong family. One day, my son and I were walking to our local liquor store — chips for him and beer for me. Right in front of us was a poster that read “Kings and Queens of Africa”. The poster represented a program sponsored by Anheuser-Busch the makers of Budweiser. The King and Queen were Akhenaten and Nefertiti. During that time, I was becoming increasingly aware of image and the presentation of history and its value. Here, we have all the drugs, all the guns, many liquor stores, two baby mommas, and no representation of our ancestors before the plantation; yet all I had to do was walk in a liquor store, and my real education began.

I was furious. I went and got a pen and pad, and wrote a letter to Courtland Milloy of the Washington Post. I posed the question, “How is it that we have a series of African Kings and Queens in the local liquor stores but not in our schools?” I ached for a gallant positive historical image that was not killed for one reason or another. A black Batman or black Superman…give me something. Everything about Ham’s children isn’t about being a liar, a thief, a weakling, and a servant who jumps in front of his master to take a deathblow. If it is true that you emulate what you see, then, we thank God for Barack and Michelle Obama.

Even in a world that still holds onto falsehoods and loves the pit of darkness, Mr. and Mrs. Obama were a shining light to millions of children and adults. The image of grace under fire will never fade when we reflect on Mrs. Obama’s words, “When they go low, we go high”. Many years of servitude with strength are images we know very well. We call on our names received from the plantation with honor. Black America would have been happy with a black president whose name was Johnson, Jackson or Smith. Yet, the Lord gave us Obama. To the indifference of what we like or know, our ancestors came to America and helped build this great nation. They came here loving their children, loving their husbands and wives. Then no more, did they cling to their family or their language, and with their strong arms and legs they worked like cattle and were sold on the auction block.

What an honor to the African-Bantu Diaspora, their ancestors, and those forgotten ones who screamed at night for their children. Those who couldn’t imagine a future that one of their children would ever be the leader of the free world and will be considered one of the best presidents ever. When they read the scroll of the American Presidents and get to #44, it will ring Obama! This is a name from the Bantu family of languages, a language that black America’s ancestors spoke. For so many years of slavery, you would’ve thought it would have been a black person with a plantation name. No, it was not, and we thank God for a reminder that he made us who we are. Without them there is no us.

I thank President Obama, for he was the most powerful man in the world who maintained intellectual strength and personal dignity, which will forever be a shining light to black America and the entire world.  We must represent the quality of that image in our presentation, whether on the block in our neighborhoods or in a million dollar Hollywood movie. In honor of those who have represented our authentic culture appropriately, let’s commit to maintaining the pursuit of freedom, mind and body…image wise.

Filed Under: Fallout, Images, The Core

Fallout III: Stress to Death

October 12, 2016 by Leave a Comment

Even as the sun shines we move and are occupied in our occupations, moving to and fro while death speaks of a thirsty earth. I still didn’t understand why my mother’s doctor couldn’t come to the hospital with his files and consult with the hospital staff for treatment. I was under the false impression that because he treated her cancer since the beginning of this 4 year nightmare, he was in charge of all her cancer related treatments. But that only would have worked if he were a participant in the hospital’s network. I felt my mind and body tightening up on me, but a deep breath would fight off the light-headedness.

The doctors explained that the chemo treatments took a very serious toll on her body, shutting down her kidneys and causing serious damage to other organs. And that’s what caused her to go into a lethargic state. I prayed to the Lord, and touched her and told her, “I’m right here, I love you,” and I watched her for an hour or so, before I went to sleep on the floor beside her bed.

The next morning I woke up, kissed my mother who was still heavily sedated and told her I had to run to Philly for a one day trip. Looking at her, I didn’t want to leave, but in my occupation the last job was the most important one. At this time, I was a Master Facilitating Messenger who traveled the world with good and bad messages. When I picked up my instructions, I was told Rupert was looking for me and he needed to see me right away.

“I know, I just got his e-mail,” I replied. Rupert was the new CEO. He’s been with the firm for about 2 years and we didn’t get along. I couldn’t effectively deal with him as my mother was my number one concern and after our last meeting, I went into absolute isolation.

Our last meeting was routine with department managers providing updates and receiving instructions. But by that time, Rupert and I were looking pass each other and playing corporate chess. I made sure he understood I did my homework and that I understood the value in it, but nothing seemed to matter to Rupert. Bit by bit he began to undo established policies and cause chaos in my department and the firm. Stress takes you on wide mood swings, and this was the day my stress made me fly off the rail.

In that meeting, Rupert said,

“I got a company coming in to survey, section one and section two, and from preliminary discussions, I think it’s something that could benefit us.”   Then he passed me some paper work.

“No, naw” I said. “Don’t think it’s a good idea. And I am tired of this shit. All you’re here to do is destroy. You have no respect, and maybe you don’t have to have respect, but ever since you’ve been here you’ve been dictating us to destruction. You not that fuckin’ smart, you or your dumb ass side kick. Ya’ll sittin’ here like this shit ok. I can’t do it, it’s not ok.”

Rupert says shockingly, “Excuse me?!”

Without hesitation I respond.

“Not really, man fuck this! I tell you what, don’t call me for another motherfuckin’ meetin’, I am tired of you. Everything I put on the table, you take off the table. You say for two fuckin’ years, ‘No, we could do better.’ Everything I do is wrong, hell naw, you not that smart, this ain’t no rocket science. When I got here, they had one floor, now they got six floors and offices all over the country. And my motherfuckin’ hand was in every bit of that progress, now you say it’s all wrong, comin’ at me with that under handed bullshit.” Don’t call me for another fuckin’ meetin’.”

This was not the way to go about things but I was tired and lost my sense of balance. My whole focus was the comfort, support and care of my mother, but I still had responsibility to the job and I did that every day steady with minimum energy. After the meeting, I told my staff to take a message, and do the task if the motherfucka called. And since that time, I ignored all his calls and messages. I planned to do that as long as I could, because I didn’t have any more “yeses” that I could give him.

I took a deep breath and headed to Philly. I’d been routinely breathing in a rapid pattern while dealing with my mother’s condition and the responsibilities of the job. Taking deep breaths seemed to help as I felt like I was suffocating from within at times. The Philly job was a good interruption as driving long distances has its own type of therapy, the road and the music calmed my thoughts. I continued to take deep breaths as they seemed to help with my muscle spasms, chest pains and faintness. I thought those symptoms were due to the lack of sleep and worry. I soon realized that those are symptoms of a silent and invisible triple dose of everyday stress.

As I drove I reflected on the situation with Rupert. He has denied and retracted everything in his power. Even when the numbers were excellent, it was no. I racked my brain, thinking what was I missing? I went back to the books, the numbers, and meetings, no was still the answer.   I never thought it was racial, yet, at that time I was the only descendant from the ancient father Ham in the managers meeting. So I took leave of all meetings with Rupert and told him that if he needed something to call dispatch and put in a request. I was done with the bullshit.

Philly was a sister city and very easy to get in and out from DC. When I was a youth my uncle taught me how to drive by letting me drive to Philly. I got to Philly finished the job and got right back on the road and back to my mother that night. She was awake when I got there…I kissed her. Her voice was soft, but her spirits were high. I told her what the doctors said about hospice care at a local facility. She said, “No, I am going back home with my family.”

She made it clear that she wanted to be with family. If the doctors were saying that her last days on earth were near, she didn’t want to be among strangers when she died. She had said again and again, “I want to be with my family.” And as her oldest, I took heed to her wish and honored her word.

Filed Under: Fallout, The Core Tagged With: , , , , ,