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: , , , , , ,

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: , , , , ,

Fallout II

November 20, 2015 by Leave a Comment

My mother was my comfort zone, the hidden shelter, the soft pillow and as the oldest of her children, I was very uncomfortable mentally and physically, trying to adjust to her sickness. My mother was dying and I couldn’t find a good balance in my mind or body. It was a long destabilizing ride that introduced me to stress, anxiety, depression and the meaning of capitalism. Day by day, I watched my mother fight death with grace. She wasn’t mad about her situation; she was courteous and displayed a royal kind of grace. I believe that millenniums past my mother would’ve been a great ancient queen mummified and placed in a royal tomb. Her grace spoke to me day by day, even when her energy was at a minimum and she couldn’t feed herself, she found grace to say, “Today is better.”

I noticed as time went by, my mother’s pain continued to increase. They gave her hard drugs that had very good street value; she only took them sparingly as she dealt with her pain gracefully. Our routine continued with chemo three times a week and then we added dialysis once a week. My mother was a great elephant of a woman. She covered a lot of ground with her love and support for family and friends. As pleasant and non-combative as she was, I thought her sickness was a mistake or a test. “She will win this battle,” I kept saying to myself over and over again.   With all that’s going on in our world with deceit, murder and poverty, she was needed. Millenniums ago her royal tomb inscriptions would have read:

“Great Daughter and Queen of the Most High, She who helped the widow and fatherless children, rest here, precious one. In grace She lived and in grace She died. May Her Spirit be in union with the Creator forever.”

One evening my mother called and said, “I want to move with you.” “Ok,” I said.

“I just want to be with my family,” she said. I moved her in and she was happy. She had her own door to the house with no steps. She got to sit outside and watch the sun set with her grandchildren, making them run back and forth to get her some ice… she loved the ice. We watched some of her favorite TV shows together, like Murder She Wrote and the Andy Griffith Show. I didn’t have any interest in watching those shows every day, but she changed all that as we spent time talking, laughing and watching TV.

One Saturday afternoon, I got a crash course as my mother was not responding well after a meal. I called her doctor and relayed her symptoms and he advised me to take her to the hospital. When we got there, it was all new. Before this, we had no emergencies; we only had scheduled appointments and never missed any. When we arrived to the emergency room, I was told to fill out paper work, and forced to answer questions like, “did she have insurance?”

I answered with force, “Yes, she has cancer, stage four, chemo three times a week, dialysis once a week. I’ve called her doctor’s office and let them know, he should be here shortly,” I said.

They asked me for her doctor’s name and information.

“We’ll take tests to evaluate the patient. Are you legally in charge? Is there a husband or does anyone have a power of attorney?” They asked.

“Take tests? I just told you what was wrong,” I said.

“We must evaluate the patient.”

“Evaluate what, I just told you what’s wrong! What is this, what? I called her doctor,” I said, “She don’t need to be tested, she need to be treated.”

I insisted they just stabilize her. I repeated, “Her doctor is on the way.”

I told them, “All this poking of my mother was unnecessary, and the extra questions bothered me.”

I called the doctor’s office again, “They’re poking my mother and asking questions, I need you to get here.”

After an hour or so, a doctor from the hospital staff came out. “We are getting her stabilized, but the situation is very serious,” he said. “Her kidneys are failing, her liver is not functioning properly, this is life ending, she is dying. The family needs to consider hospice. ”

I called the doctor’s office again and got the voicemail. “Look, these motherfuckers keep talkin’ nonsense. Saying my mother is dying. They talkin’ shit I don’t understand, they said her life is over. Talkin’ stupid shit. I need you to fuckin’ get here!”

The doctor called me back after my last rant. He told me to listen to what the doctors are saying, and that he wasn’t a participant in that particular hospital…there is nothing he could do. I hung the phone up in a state of shock, thinking none of this shit was making any sense. My head was spinning. Thoughts and questions spilled out, “was it that easy, are they in charge? Just do whatever they say. What kind of sense does that make? This man has been her doctor, and now, “do what they say.” And what did they say?

The words echoed continuously in my ears, “there is nothing we can do, your mother is dying, you need to consider hospice.”

To me this was some cold bullshit that was beyond my understanding. They were telling me she was gone, while she was still breathing, and her doctor said nothing.

While I sat there in disbelief, my job called.

“We got a situation and we need you to go up Philly and Rupert is looking for you. He said he needs to see you right away.”

Life continues to move, even when the silence roars loudly and the Fallout grows near!

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Fallout

May 5, 2015 by Leave a Comment

When I was a young boy growing up on Newcomb Street in SE, Washington, DC, I was blessed to be part of a community with some of Washington’s greatest families…not great because of property or money, but great because of their unity and friendship in a hood of lawlessness. They were the buds of the 4th generation.   In my community the 4th generation got hit with the lightning bolt of freedom, bell bottoms and afros. I am the dirt diver. The one that stayed outside with the snotty nose, covered in dirt, day in and day out. I watched these families fight together and move about Washington with little resistance. They were the best of comrades. To them I give thanks as I observed good behavior with honor and bad behavior with viciousness.

This I remember as a true lesson. One day I was standing outside when shots starting ringing out across the street. Two families were having a Dirty Dozen type shootout. It was exciting and scary. I remember my aunt grabbing me and taking me inside. Once inside, I was still able to get to a window and I watched the shootout, like it was a good cowboy flick. I watched it until the authorities came and placed the white sheets on the victims. I always wondered, “was this just a part of life, and a perspective to process and move on?” Some would say, “get over it…its normal.” I come to think of it now as raw aggression, but not normal. Throughout my teens and early adult years the scene was the same.

Growing up in my community was still awesome with all the adversities because my family made it so. One branch of my family was from Washington’s Foggy Bottom neighborhood and the other branch from Baltimore, across the track from Pimlico. The Foggy Bottom side had twelve children and the Baltimore side had nine. 21 children from the second generation, if I add the first generation, we are talking about a whole country. With this many family members, all of us didn’t land in the hood. At family events, you could tell the difference. It was as though we spoke different languages and in two or more generations we would be a different race of people. But the greatest joy for me was my elders, their strength and their stories.

This blog will give you, the reader, an inside track to many things concerning my family, my life, and about me growing up as the dirt diver and becoming a man in North America. I call this the “Come Up”, but for now, its about the FALLOUT.

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One dreary day, my mother came thought the door, with her head down. I saw it in her eyes; she had to tell me something but didn’t want to reveal her news. She looked disoriented and scared. I’ve never seen my mother look like that before, it was different and unusual.

“What’s wrong,” I asked.

“I saw blood and I have to take more tests,” my mother answered.

When the last test came back it was positive for cancer.   CANCER. It was a massive blow. The blow was so hard I couldn’t hear people talking, I didn’t obey street signals, and all I could think to ask myself was “why…why?”

But my mother took it all in stride.

“I believe in God and I am okay with it,” she said.

I wasn’t okay with it. My reality was altered. I grew up in a generation that was raised and dominated by mothers. She was my everything…the reason I ate and witnessed the sun on a gloomy morning. With that said, I knew my father. But my mother was the soft pillow while the world offered a cold hard ground. It has been said, that she, “did not get a spanking.” Through members of our family and friends I was told she was, “the good one.”

There were many conversations with her doctors as I tried to get understanding concerning the fight. Two to three times a week we went to doctors and then surgery and then chemo. I held her hand from street to street and building to building. I wasn’t okay with it. But in my mother’s presence and as the oldest son, I maintained my strength while with her.

I watched as they hooked the chemo to her chest port. The smells were different and took some time to get used to. My reality was altered as I watched her vomit, over and over again. I watched her hair fallout. Yet, she would say, “If it’s God’s will.”

The journey ahead was one I couldn’t imagine…it was the beginning of the FALLOUT!

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