When I was a child, I thought as a child. I spake as a child. I understood as a child. But, when I became a man, I put away childish things…when I was a child…put away childish things…when I became a man…put away childish things…away childish things….childish things…I became a man….
She was supposed to be done five minutes ago, but Dr. Johnson never let them on out of class on time; so she wasn’t surprised. Besides, her thoughts were elsewhere. She could no longer be distracted by the aroma of musk and chalk that hovered over Douglass Hall like the ghosts of athletic lockerooms past. The end of the semester was steadily approaching, and the small fliers with information about summer programs and internships, which she passed every day, now seemed to be billboards—gigantic signs foretelling a summer full of wasted time. These were the thoughts of Gene Yus as she left macroeconomics and the voices called her.
“Gene”, said a faint and slightly nasal voice.
Gene said nothing as the hallowed voice escalated to an almost insistent clamor.
“Gene!”, “Are you ok?”
“Yeah”, “Yeah, I’m fine” said Gene as she shook herself out of mild trauma. “ I just need to get my life together. It’s almost April and I have no idea what I’m gonna do this summer. What are your plans, Rose?”
“Well, you remember the issues I had with my Spanish class last semester, right?”
“Ha! How can I forget? And, World Lit., and Psychology, and…
“I GET IT, GENE! Well, the point is I need to make up ground so I’ll probably go back home to Alexandria and take some summer classes to get caught up.”
“I’m sorry, Rose, but I can’t go back home this summer! I won’t last another summer sitting around seeing all that ridiculousness! The people we graduated with aren’t doing anything, and the kids there now are just getting worse! I can’t deal with that this summer. ” Gene said giving her usual Jeremiad.
“Yea, I know what you mean, but it might be different this summer. Besides, I told BT I’d help him with that thing he wants to do back home while we’re all there” , says Rose as she makes the innocent shrug of a kindergartner reluctant to reveal the culprit of a classmate’s mischievous act.
Slowly and distastefully, Gene shook her head. She was tired of reluctance. She didn’t care about culprits. She had no time for mischief. And, these were the facets of life that reminded her of BT.
In almost choreographic fashion, BT cut a corner and began walking down the hallway towards Gene and Rose, while he sternly gazed at the cover of a book in his hands. BT was an average-sized guy with smooth brown skin and the type of facial features that would either make you run the other way or pull you almost magnetically in his direction. But, BT had one main imperfection that bothered Gene. BT was a very smart young man, who only enjoyed one thing more than learning—showing off everything he learned.
He was not the same person she knew in high school. He used to be so lackadaisical, and he was so bent on fitting in; never did he try to stand out. He was the class clown of the honors classes. He thought he was cool. Then, they went off to Hughes College, and he changed.
BT came to college to study Business, but he changed his areas of study when he found a love for politics. He was always going on about movements, social change, and problems in society. In Gene’s eyes, BT was an idealistic know-it-all, who only woke up from his sleep to fall from reach of his dreams. In fact, she thought of him always to be asleep; dreaming. As he walked by, he did not disappoint Gene, cordially addressing her and Rose for a moment before again fixating his eyes on the book in his hands; Dreams of My Father. He was never in reality—always dreaming. He dreamed about people he didn’t even know and things that weren’t even possible. He was egotistical, naïve, and childish to do such things—constantly dreaming.
And, for some strange reason, Gene admired that about him.
OxyJon
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
A Matter of Life and Death
Almost two weeks ago, I ventured down to New Orleans, LA to witness one of the greatest annual celebrations that takes place in the United States—Mardi Gras. Although it has become an ornamented secular event, Mardi Gras started through religious means as a festive ceremony for one last indulgence before entering a time of sacrifice, or we what they refer to as Lent. However, Mardi Gras is now associated with immoral indulgences and debauched activity, but while I was there, during a historic moment in which the New Orleans Saints celebrated their first ever NFL Super Bowl Championship victory, all I could see was life and death.
All throughout downtown New Orleans, exuberance filled the people! I could hardly walk a block without hearing jubilant screams and joyous chants of,”Who Dat!” I witnessed a moment in time in which the bliss from fellowship and victory (and maybe also inebriation) brought people together of different colors, creeds, socioeconomic class, and places to which they call home. After all, is life not supposed to be about union, community, and happiness? Many of you may not condone actions that take place every February in New Orleans, LA, and there are some that with too I do not agree. However, we cannot deny the type of life that breathes in this atmosphere, especially in a place that has endured so much pain for the last few years.
This snowballing of pain came as an aftershock of Hurricane Katrina, and through this pain, I saw death. New Orleans sits at an elevation so low that people cannot dig the grounds. Therefore, the people are forced, ironically, to entomb the dead atop the Earth’s surface. Meaning, I spent those jubilant moments occupying New Orleans’s swampy coast alongside the dead—men, women, boys and girls ceremoniously decorated in beds that lie on the same surface on which I stepped . Then, before leaving I saw the Ninth Ward Community, and witnessed another type of death on the surface. Through the battered and abandoned houses, poverty-stricken and malnourished environment, and signs of endless struggle, I saw the death of a “more perfect union”, a death in community and happiness, and a death in hope.
This snowballing of pain came as an aftershock of Hurricane Katrina, and through this pain, I saw death. New Orleans sits at an elevation so low that people cannot dig the grounds. Therefore, the people are forced, ironically, to entomb the dead atop the Earth’s surface. Meaning, I spent those jubilant moments occupying New Orleans’s swampy coast alongside the dead—men, women, boys and girls ceremoniously decorated in beds that lie on the same surface on which I stepped . Then, before leaving I saw the Ninth Ward Community, and witnessed another type of death on the surface. Through the battered and abandoned houses, poverty-stricken and malnourished environment, and signs of endless struggle, I saw the death of a “more perfect union”, a death in community and happiness, and a death in hope.
If I learned nothing else from my trip down to New Orleans, I came away with a deeper sense of urgency. I do not believe a human being could and should be able to see other people drowning and feel nothing, and that is what I saw in the Ninth Ward. The floods were long gone, but people were still drowning. Something needs to be done for these people, and people like them all over the world who lie dead atop the Earth’s surface. I believe I saw life and death in New Orleans because it sums up the situation of our generation. We are in the midst of a matter of life and death! Be a part of the Solution!
OxyJon
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Vision Meets Distance: A Reflection on the Death of a Friend
Vision is an interesting concept. We are commonly unable to see things when they are too far away, but we often forget the other difficult part of Vision—trying to see things that are too close. Just as things are difficult to make out from afar, things get blurry when right in front of our eyes. Therefore, often, I have to take a step back in order to see things clearly. Distance is where true Vision begins.
Distance is now one of the things that stand between my current thoughts on the death of my former classmate, teammate, and friend, Jerome Ellington. Two years ago from yesterday, he was murdered by a firearm. Even in the tragic act by which he was killed, Distance played a role. According to the police reports, Jerome was shot with a shotgun from a close range. Therefore, Jerome stood toe-to-toe with Death—so close that it became blurry.
Now, a year later, what is our position? How clear is our Vision? Ironically, when I was close to Jerome physically—shaking hands in the hallways, cracking jokes on the team buses, and running up and down the court alongside one him—I was actually the farthest removed from him. I failed to see the other dimensions he possessed as a person—dimensions we all possess as people—the ability to affect people’s lives. My Vision was blurry.
Then, January 28th happened. And, I received a series of calls and text messages that confirmed the misfortune—Jerome was murdered. After tragedy happened, I moved closer. I saw and heard friends, classmates, and his family members mourn. I , myself, mourned. As most do when events such as these occur, we posed questions, both to the natural and the supernatural, asking why. Emotions began to run rapid, as they should in such an emotional time, I began to see his dimensions, and I got close to Jerome—too close. My Vision was blurry.
A year later, I am still in search of the right amount of Distance. We need a place, especially in situations like these, where we are far enough to move with courage and clear purpose but close enough never to forget. I believe this is why Vision is so important. Clear Vision is what Jerome’s loved ones will need to keep peace and sanity. Clear Vision what motivates myself and dedicated members of the SOLUTION to want to do all we can to keep Jerome’s story from being told with the use of different names—making sure Jerome did not die in vain. Clear Vision is caring just enough to make a difference. Tonight, I pray that we all find the right position that will give us clear Vision—not just to handle the loss of loved ones—for our futures. Blurred Vision is the problem. Be a part of the SOLUTION!
OxyJon
Distance is now one of the things that stand between my current thoughts on the death of my former classmate, teammate, and friend, Jerome Ellington. Two years ago from yesterday, he was murdered by a firearm. Even in the tragic act by which he was killed, Distance played a role. According to the police reports, Jerome was shot with a shotgun from a close range. Therefore, Jerome stood toe-to-toe with Death—so close that it became blurry.
Now, a year later, what is our position? How clear is our Vision? Ironically, when I was close to Jerome physically—shaking hands in the hallways, cracking jokes on the team buses, and running up and down the court alongside one him—I was actually the farthest removed from him. I failed to see the other dimensions he possessed as a person—dimensions we all possess as people—the ability to affect people’s lives. My Vision was blurry.
Then, January 28th happened. And, I received a series of calls and text messages that confirmed the misfortune—Jerome was murdered. After tragedy happened, I moved closer. I saw and heard friends, classmates, and his family members mourn. I , myself, mourned. As most do when events such as these occur, we posed questions, both to the natural and the supernatural, asking why. Emotions began to run rapid, as they should in such an emotional time, I began to see his dimensions, and I got close to Jerome—too close. My Vision was blurry.
A year later, I am still in search of the right amount of Distance. We need a place, especially in situations like these, where we are far enough to move with courage and clear purpose but close enough never to forget. I believe this is why Vision is so important. Clear Vision is what Jerome’s loved ones will need to keep peace and sanity. Clear Vision what motivates myself and dedicated members of the SOLUTION to want to do all we can to keep Jerome’s story from being told with the use of different names—making sure Jerome did not die in vain. Clear Vision is caring just enough to make a difference. Tonight, I pray that we all find the right position that will give us clear Vision—not just to handle the loss of loved ones—for our futures. Blurred Vision is the problem. Be a part of the SOLUTION!
OxyJon
Sunday, January 17, 2010
All Shook Up: Haitian Tragedy
On January 12, 2009 at around 5:00pm eastern time, the Earth shook in Haiti. Then, people screamed, and then they cried. Then, many of them died—at least hundreds of thousands did according to the estimate of Haiti’s Prime Minister. And, ever since that day, people of many nations, races, and creeds have stood by the people of Haiti by offering their support. I am amazed, once again, by the hearts of people when touched by tragedy.
The best way to understand tragic nature of what happened in Haiti is to start where the event started for each one of us who heard about what took place. When I heard the news, I was at a Mexican restaurant eating dinner with an old friend. Ironically, I received word through her during a time that was supposed to be allocated for catching up on past events in our lives. She heard something about a tragedy in Haiti and, in an unsure fashion, passed word to me, as the arroz y pollo sizzled on the table. When I got home, I saw new stories on what had happened , and I was shocked.
This is where tragedy begins. The irony of the position I was in when I heard about the earthquake is the similarity it has to the position of people in Haiti right before the Earth shook. This does not mean that all the people of Haiti were sitting around Haiti eating Mexican food. However, I imagine many of them were going through a normal day; talking to a loved one, coming home from a hard day’s work, working on a homework assignment, shopping, playing a game, or maybe even catching up with a friend over a nice meal. I hope that you can think about where you were when you heard about Haiti—be it watching the news, riding in the car, or talking to a friend or loved one—and think about what it would have been like had the Earth shook at that moment causing you to lose everything. This is what makes tragedy so shocking.
Comparing the Haitians’ tragedy to the American experience, however, is in a way an injustice. Looking at Hurricane Katrina that struck New Orleans, LA in 2005, some of the poorest people in the country lost their homes, loved ones, and thousands lost their lives. This time, the poorest people on this side of the planet lost what little they already had for which to live. Now, we turn on our televisions, radios, computers, and cellular phones to see and hear the people, who already had nothing, continue to lose. It as if life decided the drowning man was not sinking fast enough. Therefore, he decided to tie an anchor to his foot. Haiti’s tragedy is unique.
We need to keep the people of Haiti in our hearts and prayers. They have endured an experience that we can only begin to imagine. It is hard for many of us to grasp what it is like to go throughout our days having literally nothing, and it almost impossible for us to fathom what it must be like to for tragedy to strike us while standing on the bottom. So, what better reason do we have to step in and donate our money and/or our time to help these people? I applaud the people around the world who have shown their support as much as, and often much more than, I. Lastly, I hope that this makes your heart shake, and you decide to help these people. Tragedy is the problem. Be a part of the SOLUTION.
OxyJon
The best way to understand tragic nature of what happened in Haiti is to start where the event started for each one of us who heard about what took place. When I heard the news, I was at a Mexican restaurant eating dinner with an old friend. Ironically, I received word through her during a time that was supposed to be allocated for catching up on past events in our lives. She heard something about a tragedy in Haiti and, in an unsure fashion, passed word to me, as the arroz y pollo sizzled on the table. When I got home, I saw new stories on what had happened , and I was shocked.
This is where tragedy begins. The irony of the position I was in when I heard about the earthquake is the similarity it has to the position of people in Haiti right before the Earth shook. This does not mean that all the people of Haiti were sitting around Haiti eating Mexican food. However, I imagine many of them were going through a normal day; talking to a loved one, coming home from a hard day’s work, working on a homework assignment, shopping, playing a game, or maybe even catching up with a friend over a nice meal. I hope that you can think about where you were when you heard about Haiti—be it watching the news, riding in the car, or talking to a friend or loved one—and think about what it would have been like had the Earth shook at that moment causing you to lose everything. This is what makes tragedy so shocking.
Comparing the Haitians’ tragedy to the American experience, however, is in a way an injustice. Looking at Hurricane Katrina that struck New Orleans, LA in 2005, some of the poorest people in the country lost their homes, loved ones, and thousands lost their lives. This time, the poorest people on this side of the planet lost what little they already had for which to live. Now, we turn on our televisions, radios, computers, and cellular phones to see and hear the people, who already had nothing, continue to lose. It as if life decided the drowning man was not sinking fast enough. Therefore, he decided to tie an anchor to his foot. Haiti’s tragedy is unique.
We need to keep the people of Haiti in our hearts and prayers. They have endured an experience that we can only begin to imagine. It is hard for many of us to grasp what it is like to go throughout our days having literally nothing, and it almost impossible for us to fathom what it must be like to for tragedy to strike us while standing on the bottom. So, what better reason do we have to step in and donate our money and/or our time to help these people? I applaud the people around the world who have shown their support as much as, and often much more than, I. Lastly, I hope that this makes your heart shake, and you decide to help these people. Tragedy is the problem. Be a part of the SOLUTION.
OxyJon
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Broke and Dying.... what to do. MEDIC!!
So we see and hear of the supposed historical debate now reform over health care and the future of health care in America. Below are a couple videos to summarize the issue and the main objectives. What do you (if you're reading this) think of America's health care and the ensuing reform?
Let me hear your thoughts....
CNN video 1 - Synopsis breakdown...
CNN video 2 - Response to text questions
Let me hear your thoughts....
CNN video 1 - Synopsis breakdown...
CNN video 2 - Response to text questions
From Abhorrence to Success
Most of the time, I want things to happen the way they are supposed to happen. That does not mean that I fear spontaneity. Actually, it is the opposite. I run to adventure and hope that it brings me what I expect from life—the belief that if I go on that random journey, I will have that exotic experience that changes my life or at least spices it up some. After all, is that not how life is supposed to be? College kids run to Miami, Panama City, and Cancun every year during Spring Break in pursuit of an experience that they are suppose to have. Then, during the summers, we go after whatever internship we can find in hopes that it will lead us to the career that we feel like we are supposed to take on. We see a life that has been already scripted in movies, television, and the lives of older people we admire, and we want to copy that life and paste it to our futures. But, is this really a bad thing?
What if doing what we are supposed to do makes us successful in the long run? Maybe, our efforts would not be in vain. More importantly, what is success? Success is a subjective term that can appear in many forms to many people; some positive, some negative. However, although the resulting success will differ from situation to situation, the journey required get to success is usually the same. It’s funny. As a kid, I used to hear the whole, “hard work pays off” rhetoric almost everywhere I went, but I would see people who simply got lucky or were born with it succeed while hard workers suffered. So, I questioned this whole idea of labor and fruit bearing. It was not until I got older that I realized that almost all of those people, who I thought had gotten lucky or the “success gene”, were working hard just like those people suffering. Actually, most of the time they were working harder, and if they were not working harder, they were working smarter. Therefore, success is the result of hard and smart labor.
Now, the question becomes, “Is doing what is smart the same as doing what one is supposed to do?” I think we can answer this one with relative ease, but if not, go back to early or mid 19th Century Southern America and ask a slave guided by the crack of a whip if doing what he or she was supposed to do equated the type of smart labor that equaled success. Maybe on a mere and superficial level, the answer is yes, but if we focus on a timeless moral code, the answer is a whopping no. And, if you are not much of a history person, look at it from an economical perspective. The years 2007 and 2008 were the worst fiscal years for the United States since the Great Depression in the 1920’s. During these eight quarters of economic apocalypse, we had thousands, maybe even millions, of people lose their jobs, homes, scholarships, and hopes. The worst part about it is that people lost everything by doing what they were supposed to do—take out loans for a house, a car, or nice clothes. It was as if Uncle Sam went to Wall Street and became more thorough with his command, “I want you”;therefore, the spirit continued to say “to take on debt until you drown in it” because that is the American Way—that is what people were supposed to do.
So, if our time shows us a negative outcome, then why do we continue to look for the things that we are supposed to? That one is easy. It is because there are people who do indeed do what they are supposed to do, and this following of a predestined road leads to success for them—the guy who follows in his dads footsteps by going to school, majoring in business, and taking over the family company or the girl who goes to nursing school and works her way up the ranks of the Medical field. But, there is something that makes each story different—that paves a distinct road for each successful individual. Most often, the differences in a group of success stories are the unforeseen; the setbacks, the obstacles, and the random opportunities. Therefore, people putting the step-by-step plan to the side for a moment and stepping out into the unknown—i.e. doing what they were not supposed to do--make success stories.
Therefore, as we look at life during fragile times in which the seemingly smallest decisions will make the greatest impact on them, we should try to be brave enough to look at what is on table and realize the moments in which we must do what we are not supposed to. Former Secretary of State, Political Scientist, and Stanford Professor, Condoleezza Rice once said something along the lines of “if you are about to take a regular job somewhere but someone offers you a position to teach in China, go teach in China because there is no telling where this opportunity may take you”. There is no telling where life will take us when we realize that “destiny is more than just a destination but a journey to be shaped, shared, and remade”. People getting too caught up in what they are supposed to do is the problem. Be a part of the Solution.
OxyJon
What if doing what we are supposed to do makes us successful in the long run? Maybe, our efforts would not be in vain. More importantly, what is success? Success is a subjective term that can appear in many forms to many people; some positive, some negative. However, although the resulting success will differ from situation to situation, the journey required get to success is usually the same. It’s funny. As a kid, I used to hear the whole, “hard work pays off” rhetoric almost everywhere I went, but I would see people who simply got lucky or were born with it succeed while hard workers suffered. So, I questioned this whole idea of labor and fruit bearing. It was not until I got older that I realized that almost all of those people, who I thought had gotten lucky or the “success gene”, were working hard just like those people suffering. Actually, most of the time they were working harder, and if they were not working harder, they were working smarter. Therefore, success is the result of hard and smart labor.
Now, the question becomes, “Is doing what is smart the same as doing what one is supposed to do?” I think we can answer this one with relative ease, but if not, go back to early or mid 19th Century Southern America and ask a slave guided by the crack of a whip if doing what he or she was supposed to do equated the type of smart labor that equaled success. Maybe on a mere and superficial level, the answer is yes, but if we focus on a timeless moral code, the answer is a whopping no. And, if you are not much of a history person, look at it from an economical perspective. The years 2007 and 2008 were the worst fiscal years for the United States since the Great Depression in the 1920’s. During these eight quarters of economic apocalypse, we had thousands, maybe even millions, of people lose their jobs, homes, scholarships, and hopes. The worst part about it is that people lost everything by doing what they were supposed to do—take out loans for a house, a car, or nice clothes. It was as if Uncle Sam went to Wall Street and became more thorough with his command, “I want you”;therefore, the spirit continued to say “to take on debt until you drown in it” because that is the American Way—that is what people were supposed to do.
So, if our time shows us a negative outcome, then why do we continue to look for the things that we are supposed to? That one is easy. It is because there are people who do indeed do what they are supposed to do, and this following of a predestined road leads to success for them—the guy who follows in his dads footsteps by going to school, majoring in business, and taking over the family company or the girl who goes to nursing school and works her way up the ranks of the Medical field. But, there is something that makes each story different—that paves a distinct road for each successful individual. Most often, the differences in a group of success stories are the unforeseen; the setbacks, the obstacles, and the random opportunities. Therefore, people putting the step-by-step plan to the side for a moment and stepping out into the unknown—i.e. doing what they were not supposed to do--make success stories.
Therefore, as we look at life during fragile times in which the seemingly smallest decisions will make the greatest impact on them, we should try to be brave enough to look at what is on table and realize the moments in which we must do what we are not supposed to. Former Secretary of State, Political Scientist, and Stanford Professor, Condoleezza Rice once said something along the lines of “if you are about to take a regular job somewhere but someone offers you a position to teach in China, go teach in China because there is no telling where this opportunity may take you”. There is no telling where life will take us when we realize that “destiny is more than just a destination but a journey to be shaped, shared, and remade”. People getting too caught up in what they are supposed to do is the problem. Be a part of the Solution.
OxyJon
Friday, December 4, 2009
Mis Education of a Hero
I don’t think I’ll ever forget the last time I saw Eric Shivers. It is not because of what happened during this encounter. We just had a normal conversation. Well, at least as normal of a conversation that you can have after what happened on the bus—the time that I thought would actually be the last time I saw him. I was wrong. And, like some type of clairvoyant, he jumped right into the discussion of what was on my mind—my inquiry for the motive of the actions that he had a few days ago displayed.
What happened? I was sitting on the bus on the way home, talking with my two best friends; caught in our usual meaningless but entertaining banter. Then Eric came up to us with a very serious look on his face. I asked him what was going on. He pointed to a guy sitting in the back of the bus, and he told us, “If he ain’t got my stuff, I’ma beat his a**”. Eric had gained a reputation with us as a guy prone to exaggerate or make up stories altogether. Unfortunately, this time he was telling the truth. After his apocalyptic decree, he swiftly walked past us, and within a few steps , he was standing in front of the pale, red-haired kid who was bobbing his head to whatever song blasted through his over sized headphones. Then, Eric struck. Next, Eric struck again. The red-haired kid tried to put up a fight, but his efforts did not last very long. Soon, all I saw was my short, stocky friend stabbing his fists into the seat in a rotating, almost choreographic fashion, and blood began to squirt out like water from yard sprinklers. After a few more crushing blows, Eric decided his damage was done. So, he walked to the front of the bus, gave the driver a shrewd look, and out of absolute terror she opened the door to let Eric escape.
I looked up to Eric. He had taken me “under his wing”, so to speak. He helped me develop my basketball skills. He made sure the older kids in the neighborhood gave me a chance when they would play pick-up games on the street or the driveway. And although he did not teach me to beat the blood out of people, he taught me how to believe in myself.
Suddenly, a few days after Eric scampered away from the bus, I was face-to-face with one of my heroes, and all I could think about was the malicious beating he put on that red-haired kid. His actions had been so violent and spontaneous that it was hard not to be afraid of him at that moment, but still I stood there, on a sidewalk midway from our houses, and listened to his explanation of what happened. He told me where he went after he left the bus. He told me how the police caught him and about his following court appearance. Then, after the conversation ended, we went our separate ways, and I had to deal with the reason Eric provided. It turns out Eric massacred that kid on the bus because the kid borrowed a CD from him and hadn’t returned it yet.
I never saw Eric again after that, but every now and again, I wonder about him. I do not really spend too much time on wondering what happened to him, where he probably is now, and picturing what kind of live he currently lives. That gets too depressing. What I think about is a factor that many consider uncontrollable; a factor people like to try to rule out of our minds—the “if” factor. I wonder what Eric’s actions would have been if he had really known how much I looked up to him. I wonder how he would have been if he had realized the type of influence he had. Moreover, I wonder if he would have been willing to throw away this high regard I had of him for a CD.
When I look at the situation with Tiger Woods and reflect on the ordeal with Steve McNair, I think about Eric Shivers. I wonder why these men had the audacity to think that they could lead normal lives as if no one was watching. I wonder why they even became heroes in the first place. Then, I remember the great things they have accomplished, and I wonder how I could have forgotten. I guess I forgot their accomplishments the same way that they forgot that little boys were watching them; believing in them. Eric taught me two lessons. First, violence is not cool. Secondly, before you act, think carefully about who may be watching. Be a part of the Solution.
OxyJon
What happened? I was sitting on the bus on the way home, talking with my two best friends; caught in our usual meaningless but entertaining banter. Then Eric came up to us with a very serious look on his face. I asked him what was going on. He pointed to a guy sitting in the back of the bus, and he told us, “If he ain’t got my stuff, I’ma beat his a**”. Eric had gained a reputation with us as a guy prone to exaggerate or make up stories altogether. Unfortunately, this time he was telling the truth. After his apocalyptic decree, he swiftly walked past us, and within a few steps , he was standing in front of the pale, red-haired kid who was bobbing his head to whatever song blasted through his over sized headphones. Then, Eric struck. Next, Eric struck again. The red-haired kid tried to put up a fight, but his efforts did not last very long. Soon, all I saw was my short, stocky friend stabbing his fists into the seat in a rotating, almost choreographic fashion, and blood began to squirt out like water from yard sprinklers. After a few more crushing blows, Eric decided his damage was done. So, he walked to the front of the bus, gave the driver a shrewd look, and out of absolute terror she opened the door to let Eric escape.
I looked up to Eric. He had taken me “under his wing”, so to speak. He helped me develop my basketball skills. He made sure the older kids in the neighborhood gave me a chance when they would play pick-up games on the street or the driveway. And although he did not teach me to beat the blood out of people, he taught me how to believe in myself.
Suddenly, a few days after Eric scampered away from the bus, I was face-to-face with one of my heroes, and all I could think about was the malicious beating he put on that red-haired kid. His actions had been so violent and spontaneous that it was hard not to be afraid of him at that moment, but still I stood there, on a sidewalk midway from our houses, and listened to his explanation of what happened. He told me where he went after he left the bus. He told me how the police caught him and about his following court appearance. Then, after the conversation ended, we went our separate ways, and I had to deal with the reason Eric provided. It turns out Eric massacred that kid on the bus because the kid borrowed a CD from him and hadn’t returned it yet.
I never saw Eric again after that, but every now and again, I wonder about him. I do not really spend too much time on wondering what happened to him, where he probably is now, and picturing what kind of live he currently lives. That gets too depressing. What I think about is a factor that many consider uncontrollable; a factor people like to try to rule out of our minds—the “if” factor. I wonder what Eric’s actions would have been if he had really known how much I looked up to him. I wonder how he would have been if he had realized the type of influence he had. Moreover, I wonder if he would have been willing to throw away this high regard I had of him for a CD.
When I look at the situation with Tiger Woods and reflect on the ordeal with Steve McNair, I think about Eric Shivers. I wonder why these men had the audacity to think that they could lead normal lives as if no one was watching. I wonder why they even became heroes in the first place. Then, I remember the great things they have accomplished, and I wonder how I could have forgotten. I guess I forgot their accomplishments the same way that they forgot that little boys were watching them; believing in them. Eric taught me two lessons. First, violence is not cool. Secondly, before you act, think carefully about who may be watching. Be a part of the Solution.
OxyJon
Monday, November 9, 2009
Renaissance: Rebirth of Suffrage
A Renaissance is a great revival, often of art, literature, and learning. It was the European Renaissance that marked the transition from the dark days of the medieval age into the modern world. Figures such as William Shakespeare, Galileo, Leonardo da Vinci, and Michelangelo have led us into a modern world in which the idea of social submergence has become a reoccurring theme around the world, especially in the United States.
American Renaissance began with the American Revolution in which the lowly colonists re-found their sense of common identity and pride which they created in Virginia before the early settlers dispersed; a pride that would tie them to their newly acquired land. Then, when slavery, one of the most venomous institutions of American history, divided this nation, a victory by the Union Army would bring to our nation a revival of a concept alluded to by their name—unity. Continuing the radical trend, there was a movement by people of color for the Civil Rights of all people; a rebirth of the type of revolution in which the country was founded.
Yet, before the ballet or the bullet and the seeing of the mountaintop, women stood up. They told a nation they could do the same jobs, handle the same amount of responsibility, and lead the household just as men did. However, just as the African-Americans’ struggle was not wiped away with the stroke of a pen, women’s suffrage was an issue left somewhat unresolved. And, due to a conversation I recently had with a friend, I’ve decided to address this issue, and hopefully you’ll address it with me.
My friend suggested to me, “[since] you [are] all about the revolution and social change we can do this one “sista” at a time”. The Renaissance he was advocating for is the rebirth of women only taking on domestic roles. After all, do we really need women in corporate America, the academy, science, medicine, and sports? Someone who will remain nameless says, “No, women sports in general suck. They should spend that time in the kitchen learning how to cook. All [of] these non-cooking females out here is a shame”. Outlining a strategy for this Renaissance, he laments, “They should make home-economics a required class for graduation at Spelman. Every woman should have a seven dish rotation with two special-occasion dishes”. He believes, “teaching women how to cook will lead to more successful marriage rates”.
What is suggested is definitely a Renaissance—a rebirth of the traditional female role. Yet, is this a social change, or the suppression of one? Being radical enough to speak out on the development of such a movement, is this a revolution that this individual is interested in starting? Considering the characteristics of our generation—love affairs with internet social sites, constant media messaging, virtual interaction, and instant gratification, is the future of male-female relationships and unified domestic life in need of/heading towards a Renaissance? I know one person who agrees. What do you think? Be a part of the SOLUTION.
By OxyJon
American Renaissance began with the American Revolution in which the lowly colonists re-found their sense of common identity and pride which they created in Virginia before the early settlers dispersed; a pride that would tie them to their newly acquired land. Then, when slavery, one of the most venomous institutions of American history, divided this nation, a victory by the Union Army would bring to our nation a revival of a concept alluded to by their name—unity. Continuing the radical trend, there was a movement by people of color for the Civil Rights of all people; a rebirth of the type of revolution in which the country was founded.
Yet, before the ballet or the bullet and the seeing of the mountaintop, women stood up. They told a nation they could do the same jobs, handle the same amount of responsibility, and lead the household just as men did. However, just as the African-Americans’ struggle was not wiped away with the stroke of a pen, women’s suffrage was an issue left somewhat unresolved. And, due to a conversation I recently had with a friend, I’ve decided to address this issue, and hopefully you’ll address it with me.
My friend suggested to me, “[since] you [are] all about the revolution and social change we can do this one “sista” at a time”. The Renaissance he was advocating for is the rebirth of women only taking on domestic roles. After all, do we really need women in corporate America, the academy, science, medicine, and sports? Someone who will remain nameless says, “No, women sports in general suck. They should spend that time in the kitchen learning how to cook. All [of] these non-cooking females out here is a shame”. Outlining a strategy for this Renaissance, he laments, “They should make home-economics a required class for graduation at Spelman. Every woman should have a seven dish rotation with two special-occasion dishes”. He believes, “teaching women how to cook will lead to more successful marriage rates”.
What is suggested is definitely a Renaissance—a rebirth of the traditional female role. Yet, is this a social change, or the suppression of one? Being radical enough to speak out on the development of such a movement, is this a revolution that this individual is interested in starting? Considering the characteristics of our generation—love affairs with internet social sites, constant media messaging, virtual interaction, and instant gratification, is the future of male-female relationships and unified domestic life in need of/heading towards a Renaissance? I know one person who agrees. What do you think? Be a part of the SOLUTION.
By OxyJon
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Microwave Dream: An Imperfect Love Story
The interesting thing about a “successful” married couple is that, majority of the time, we do not picture the full story. We easily imagine the wedding bells sounding, extravagant gowns and tuxedos, flowers fielding the aisles, rice showering outside steps, and two people riding off into a new world as one.
However, we fail to see the problems: the arguments, the letdowns, the temptations, the trials, and the setbacks. Most importantly, we overlook the sacrifice and hard work that must be put forward. After the intoxicated aunt or uncle devours the last piece of cake at the reception and the dream ceremony is over, the two ingredients, united under oath, now enter the oven in order to cook until they make that perfect love story.
The irony of the love story is that its glamorization has opened the door allowing it to walk into our dreams—a migration that has been happening throughout our canon of literature(Epic of Gilgamesh, works of Shakespeare, stories of the Bible). So, the question becomes, “how do we view the love story?”, and more importantly, “how do we view our dreams?”
I believe our dreams now reflect our time; a good and bad axiom. On one hand, we dream as if we can do anything to which we put our minds. We have seen a country go through depression, recession, world wars, and movements for the rights of people of all shapes and sizes. We have seen the creative ingenious of people enable us to fly the air like birds, swim the sea like fish, and interact with the world through the press of a button or the scroll of a screen. We dream big!
However, we dream as if patience does not exist anymore. When we need to get in touch with someone, we just make a phone call, send out a text message, or type up an email. We expect to do something once or twice and master it. We want everything, and we want it now because that is the world we live in.
We cannot be a generation of people trying to microwave dreams. That couple sitting in the oven will not be ready in 3 to 5 minutes. They will bake much longer, but as they argue and move forward, their different flavors will settle. As they suffer from letdowns and bounce back from them, their texture becomes stronger. Moreover, as they persevere through the trials, outside temptations, and setbacks, they begin to rise as one.
So, since we already dream of love stories, why not dream like love stories? We should put in the time and work ethic to reach our intended level of success. We should have patience and persevere. And, we need to realize how hard it is to reach the top, and not be fooled by the instant gratification we see around us. There should be no more trying to create dreams overnight. Let us step away from the dreams that require you to add water and heat for 2 to 3 minutes, and embrace the slow and steady roast of greatness.
Whether it be scholarship, sports, entertainment, law, medicine, theology, or blue-collar work, success has not come easy. Many have failed, and many of those failures enabled success. The people we consider the greatest are the ones who have the most failures. Failure is that part of the slow roast we try to bypass in the microwave, but it shapes a successful dish. Furthermore, dealing with failure is the only way to ride into a new world, the way we envision that perfect couple, and make our dreams come true. Microwave dreams are the problem. Be a part of the SOLUTION.
OxyJon
However, we fail to see the problems: the arguments, the letdowns, the temptations, the trials, and the setbacks. Most importantly, we overlook the sacrifice and hard work that must be put forward. After the intoxicated aunt or uncle devours the last piece of cake at the reception and the dream ceremony is over, the two ingredients, united under oath, now enter the oven in order to cook until they make that perfect love story.
The irony of the love story is that its glamorization has opened the door allowing it to walk into our dreams—a migration that has been happening throughout our canon of literature(Epic of Gilgamesh, works of Shakespeare, stories of the Bible). So, the question becomes, “how do we view the love story?”, and more importantly, “how do we view our dreams?”
I believe our dreams now reflect our time; a good and bad axiom. On one hand, we dream as if we can do anything to which we put our minds. We have seen a country go through depression, recession, world wars, and movements for the rights of people of all shapes and sizes. We have seen the creative ingenious of people enable us to fly the air like birds, swim the sea like fish, and interact with the world through the press of a button or the scroll of a screen. We dream big!
However, we dream as if patience does not exist anymore. When we need to get in touch with someone, we just make a phone call, send out a text message, or type up an email. We expect to do something once or twice and master it. We want everything, and we want it now because that is the world we live in.
We cannot be a generation of people trying to microwave dreams. That couple sitting in the oven will not be ready in 3 to 5 minutes. They will bake much longer, but as they argue and move forward, their different flavors will settle. As they suffer from letdowns and bounce back from them, their texture becomes stronger. Moreover, as they persevere through the trials, outside temptations, and setbacks, they begin to rise as one.
So, since we already dream of love stories, why not dream like love stories? We should put in the time and work ethic to reach our intended level of success. We should have patience and persevere. And, we need to realize how hard it is to reach the top, and not be fooled by the instant gratification we see around us. There should be no more trying to create dreams overnight. Let us step away from the dreams that require you to add water and heat for 2 to 3 minutes, and embrace the slow and steady roast of greatness.
Whether it be scholarship, sports, entertainment, law, medicine, theology, or blue-collar work, success has not come easy. Many have failed, and many of those failures enabled success. The people we consider the greatest are the ones who have the most failures. Failure is that part of the slow roast we try to bypass in the microwave, but it shapes a successful dish. Furthermore, dealing with failure is the only way to ride into a new world, the way we envision that perfect couple, and make our dreams come true. Microwave dreams are the problem. Be a part of the SOLUTION.
OxyJon
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Derrion Albert: A Story Tied to Our Own
A young African-American male with cornrolls and a love for basketball walks home from an inner-city school in a south Chicago neighborhood and gets killed in a gang fight. What is the first thing that comes to your mind?
What if I told you that the young African-American male was an honor roll student, went to church Wednesdays and Sundays, and had planned on going to college? Now, what comes to your mind?
16-year-old Derrion Albert was walking home from school to a bus stop when he was brutually beaten by a group of youth as people sat and watched. Young Derrion was an innocent bystander who was never involved in gang activity. Furthermore, he did not even comprehend what was taking place. Three of his peers have been charged with first-degree murder for the crime.
Derrion Albert was a junior at Christian Fenger Academy High School. He loved wrestling and basketball. He also made good grades and was planning going to college in the future. Now what could have been a person beating the statistics, has become a statistic himself. How many of our youth are we going to let succumb to this type of action before we make a stance? Over 30 students were killed in Chicago last year, and the number might be surpassed this year. Hostile surroundings and negative living environments that foster the conditions for these crimes are just subject to this community, but all of our communities across America.
This story touches me so because I was Derrion Albert. I was that honor roll walking home on the east side of Jackson, Tennessee and the north side of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. If you didn’t know, these two cities were in the top 10 most dangerous cities in the United States at one point and time. I know how it feels to try to get ahead and to be surrounded by those who are not. It is time that we stand up and make ourselves available to those who are trying to do better with their lives. Imagine if young Darrion Albert had a mentor picking him up from school and spending time with him? Imagine if those three youth who are being charged with that heinous crime had been too busy with after-school activities to partake in gang-related activities?
I hope this is a wake up call to our communities. Some blame the parents, the school, or the children involved in this crime. The real answer is we all are to blame. We all sit and ignore these problems in our communities. If you are waiting on the President to fix our problems, you are waiting in vain. The change has to come from the bottom up, not the top down. Our youth are in trouble and no one can save them but us. Children like Derrion become victims of violence or become disheartened everyday in a system where you cannot win. The only difference between Derrion and I is that I made it out alive and he did not.
Reach out your hand to the youth trying do better with their life and don’t be a bystander.
Be a part of the solution
--Written by Romane Goodlow
Murray State UniversityPublic
Relations Major
What if I told you that the young African-American male was an honor roll student, went to church Wednesdays and Sundays, and had planned on going to college? Now, what comes to your mind?
16-year-old Derrion Albert was walking home from school to a bus stop when he was brutually beaten by a group of youth as people sat and watched. Young Derrion was an innocent bystander who was never involved in gang activity. Furthermore, he did not even comprehend what was taking place. Three of his peers have been charged with first-degree murder for the crime.
Derrion Albert was a junior at Christian Fenger Academy High School. He loved wrestling and basketball. He also made good grades and was planning going to college in the future. Now what could have been a person beating the statistics, has become a statistic himself. How many of our youth are we going to let succumb to this type of action before we make a stance? Over 30 students were killed in Chicago last year, and the number might be surpassed this year. Hostile surroundings and negative living environments that foster the conditions for these crimes are just subject to this community, but all of our communities across America.
This story touches me so because I was Derrion Albert. I was that honor roll walking home on the east side of Jackson, Tennessee and the north side of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. If you didn’t know, these two cities were in the top 10 most dangerous cities in the United States at one point and time. I know how it feels to try to get ahead and to be surrounded by those who are not. It is time that we stand up and make ourselves available to those who are trying to do better with their lives. Imagine if young Darrion Albert had a mentor picking him up from school and spending time with him? Imagine if those three youth who are being charged with that heinous crime had been too busy with after-school activities to partake in gang-related activities?
I hope this is a wake up call to our communities. Some blame the parents, the school, or the children involved in this crime. The real answer is we all are to blame. We all sit and ignore these problems in our communities. If you are waiting on the President to fix our problems, you are waiting in vain. The change has to come from the bottom up, not the top down. Our youth are in trouble and no one can save them but us. Children like Derrion become victims of violence or become disheartened everyday in a system where you cannot win. The only difference between Derrion and I is that I made it out alive and he did not.
Reach out your hand to the youth trying do better with their life and don’t be a bystander.
Be a part of the solution
--Written by Romane Goodlow
Murray State UniversityPublic
Relations Major
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