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Showing posts from July 8, 2007

All God's Children Got Swing

My Sunday sermon title was inspired by catching the last 30 minutes of the Marx Brothers' film, "Day At The Races" and their rousing albeit horrifically racially incorrect musical number. Picture if you will Harpo Marx leading the song "Who dat man? It's Gabriel!" Cut to the forlorn shanty where the 'colored folk' are singing "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen..." till Gabriel gets them up and inspired to singing scat that all God's children got swing and it's gonna be a better day.

It was deeply painful to watch the racial stereotypes. It kept getting worse and yet I noticed I didn't change the channel, either. After all, this was a Marx Brothers comedy which I usually enjoy; but this was hugely detrimental to stereotype that my generation worked so hard to eradicate. And yes, I can assuage some of my discomfort with idea that the film employed many folks, gave them a good film credit on their resume and Mr. Thalberg was…

Lucky Friday the 13th

Ok, so I am posting a day early but I have always been ahead of my time.
(insert rimshot here, please)

It is almost noon on Thursday and I am about to leave for the airport to pick up my cowboy uncle, Mike. He is driving with me up to L.A. so that he can visit my mother and my aunts. Notice I did say aunts as a plural because I have contacted my other aunt, Dany who is going to bring her daughter to L.A. on Friday so we can have a family reunion of sorts. I have not seen Dany or Mike since I did my grandmother's memorial in 1989. We will hook up with my local aunt Sunny and descend on my mom whose 77th birthday was yesterday. This is how my disparate, dysfunctional family operates.
Whew.

Then on Saturday, we are having a humble estate sale for mom's things so that Uncle Mike can help me clear out the apartment as I need before the timeline. Heading home again on Sunday.
Wheeeeee.

Life is good--and dang interestin'

Say Hey

Is it not macho to be blubbering at the opening of the All-Star Game? The tribute to Willie Mays just got to me. I did not realize that Mays hit for the cycle in the 1968 All-Star Game. Wow. It was great to see how the other players stood in awe of #24 and shared in his joy. Jose Reyes had him sign the ball was thrown by Mays; and Willie tossed out baseballs as he drove around the stadium in a pink cadillac and made sure one of the guards got one, too. Then all the umpires came up to shake his hand. They didn't have to do that. How appropriate that Willie Mays got be honored while at San Francisco for the Giants. I prefer these moving tributes to happen while the person is still alive and well enough to be there and appreciate the kudos.

Oh, and it was nice to see Junior grinning over his shoulder. Griffey will indeed pass Frank Robinson this year. I am so proud of that boy. This week, while clearing out 'stuff' of my own, I came across the personalized autograph I go…

No longer Adelaide's lament...

..it's mine.

If I am honest with myself, I have to admit that I am grieving the loss of my mother. No, she has not physically left this plane but she is not my mother as I knew her. The proverbial tide has turned and I am now the adult caregiver and she is the child.

Somewhere I bought into the fact that one is not allowed to grieve (lamenting is within bounds) until an actual death occurs. Not. It is not that I haven't shed a fair share of tears over all this but I do not think I have allowed myself the journey of grief.

Today, while guest speaking at the Light of Life CRS, the wonderful musical director, Daniel Hendrick sang his song, "You Are Not Alone" and I began to sob. The words of the song was paean to my Mother and even in my professional mode, I allowed myself to be at my mother's bedside and let Daniel sing this song to her, from me. Phrases stuck out in their bittersweet significance..."take a breath..." Ah, there's the rub. If she had qu…