19 posts tagged “family”

My name is Tiffany Browne.

From my mother's side I'm a decedent of Currie and William Camp; my great-great grandparents.

From my father's side I'm a decedent of Florine and George Browne Sr.; my grandparents.

I grew up proud of both families equally. However, it wasn't until I became older that I realized I'm a part of something much larger than me alone. Each relative, dead and alive, has led extraordinary lives. Each has left their own unique imprint in this world, big or small. Though sometimes in my life I feel the weight or pressure to carry on and contribute to the legacy of both my families, and perhaps trying to live up to the same caliber and beyond as those before me, I feel honored to carry such a responsibility.

Yet in recent days I'm learning that the two names I've been taught to respect and honor may be a facade for something that took place in the past. There are family secrets to unlock, that I hunger to know its truth. Who allegedly did what to whom, when, why and how? Not to take anything away from the heritage of my counterparts, but it's pretty known that there are deep rooted scars in the family history of Blacks in America; from slavery to the reconstruction era to Jim Crow to Civil Rights to now. Obviously as I'm learning, my families are no exception.

So what happened?

Pieces of the puzzle are still being put together; at least on my mother's side.

I'll start with my father's side first... The Brownes.  I don't know all of the history and I may need to make a couple of phone calls to my Aunt VJ and Aunt J. Both have the bulk of the family history written down or memorized.  So honestly at this point I can't tell who is who, just to say that according to my father a patriarch down the family line carried the surname Mitchell. It's unknown what kind of trouble he was in, but it was big enough at the time to change the family name to Browne.  I do know that despite some mixed cultures in the family (Irish, Italian and maybe Creole) the name "Browne" is English. Some years ago, a family of Brownes in Australia contacted my father to invite him and the rest of us Brownes to a family reunion "down under." According to the person that sent the letter along with a panoramic photo of the Browne clan there, he had looked up the name Browne in a data base and found my grandfather's name. My grandfather had been deceased for some time and so the next in line to contact was my dad.

Needless to say, we never made the trip to Australia. Maybe that was the first hidden clue then. We aren't really Brownes. We're Mitchells.

On my mother's side the mystery seems to keep unfolding as we are preparing for September's reunion. Growing up I always envisioned a love story to explain my great-great grand's marriage that resulted in 11 children. I always knew that Currie and William Camp originated from the Athens, GA area, but later moved to Washington, DC. My great-grandmother, Jeanette C. Camp, was number 5 (?) in the line of children. She was born in GA, but sometime before she reached the age of 5 that's when her parents made the move to DC.

It's known that the girls of Currie and William knew a big secret. My mother recalls times of when she heard the sisters talking about past dealings, and if you asked any of them about the Camp name they would get very defensive and swear to the Heavens just about that WE ARE CAMPS. No one dared to challenge or question the Camp name.

Knowing how big my Camp family is, anytime I noticed anyone with the last name I had to stop and ask them questions. Sometimes a connection was made and I find that the person is a cousin from another sect of the family. Other times I'm still left scratching my head. The name Camp isn't all that popular, especially in the DC area, so that means the person has to be family; at least that was my way of thinking. When I was about 13 a discovery was made. Someone found out we have a whole clan of cousins, aunts and so forth based in Ohio. The real connection was unknown at the time. Whomever made the discovery was trying to crack a secret code, but it wasn't moving too far.

However, a big reunion was planned that year, and a bus load of cousins made the trek from Cincinnati,OH to DC. Little me was confused at the time. Here we were having a Camp Family Reunion, but the folks from Ohio carried the name Ramsey. Who was related to who? It was a known fact that the folks in Ohio were related to my great-great grand, William Camp. Yet, I still didn't know how. In two or three years time, the Ramsey cousins invited the Camp cousins to a reunion in Ohio. I missed that trip.

Here we are in 2008 and the code starts to crack. A Ramsey found a picture of an unknown man. Something must have been written on the picture, because all they knew was that the man's name was Marlow Ramsey. For the longest time no one in the family could say who Marlow Ramsey was and they assumed he died suddenly at a young age. Meanwhile here in DC, a few of my cousins have been in constant contact with the cousins in Ohio. Sometime later in a barrage of exchanged emails, pictures and phone calls Marlow is also identified as William Camp.

A few weeks ago, I attended a family reunion meeting as I am (partially) on the committee. I listened as stories were flying about Marlow Ramsey. All 11 children of Currie and William aka Marlow are now deceased. They took their daddy's secret to their graves, leaving the rest of us wondering what took place. So far, all we know is that William/Marlow was some kind of outlaw on the run and changed his name. As for the folks in Ohio, that was his family he left behind; the decedents of his brother(s) and sister(s).   

Ever since I've learned of this truth I've been feeling a range of things. I'm mostly stunned and curious as to know what was going on in that point in time to force my great-great grandfather to live another life. I look forward to helping my cousins dig further for the truth.

As I said from the beginning.. this is bigger than me. This is my history of how I came to be.

I was pulling into my usual parking space in front the house yesterday after returning home from a late Saturday afternoon outing. Immediately I did notice movement across the street, but it was nothing unusual. I live on a main street so a steady flow of traffic via cars or pedestrian is nothing out of the sort. So when I noticed movement from a single female figure walking along the opposite side of the street, it was nothing more to me than added background "noise."

I went about my business of unloading my car by unloading the Snickerdoodle first. I grabbed her diaper bag/my over sized purse, the Snickerdoodle and marched her into the house. I placed her in the care of my father while I went to retrieve other items from my car. It was during my second trip to the car that the walking female REALLY got my attention.

"Do you live here?"

"That depends."

Female steps off the curb and walks in my direction, with a cell phone up to her ear. Instinctively, I want to hear the woman out. I do believe in being a good Samaritan, especially when I never know when I need the help of strangers. Yet, in this day in age its scary. You don't know who to trust, because not all people in need are really in need. Still I wanted to hear the woman out while keeping my distance. However, with each step back I was taking she was coming closer.

"I wanted to know if you could take me to the gas station to get some gas. My car ran out of gas."

Her cell phone was still stuck in her ear as she pointed in the direction of the bottom of the block. Only thing I saw further down my street was a Metro bus pulling off from its stop and making its usual left turn at the foot of my block. I saw a few cars but they were moving towards their destination. Nothing resembling a car, a truck or even a scooter at a standstill was in sight. The female further explained that she lives further up my street but not saying exactly where. My street runs a long way in this part of the city and I live on one extreme end. I asked her where was her car and she pointed down the street once more, but this time adding that the car was around the corner on the cross street that is at the end of my block.

I began to feel funny. 

I told her to wait where she was standing as I began to walk towards the house. She followed me for a few more feet before stopping at the gate in front of the house. Then, as I walked up the stairs she mentioned that her sister was suppose to be on her way to wait by the car.

I really felt funny.

First of all, if her sister was on the way AND she had a cell phone stuck to her ear half talking/half yelling at someone why couldn't the sister or the person she was speaking with help her? Another thing; where was her gas can? I approached my father and asked him if her could assist the lady outside or at least see what she wanted. My father immediately thought a scam was on the horizon. He walked out of the house and the female said nothing to him. My mother went to the door and boldly asked if there was anything that she could do for her. Again, the female didn't have much to say and kept on walking up the street. Moments later, my father spotted the female in a car riding down the street. I guess a ride came through for her to help with her need.

It's sad that in this day in age you can't be as free to help someone in need, because there are lot of predators on the loose. Now there is cause to be smarter in who you choose to help and relying more on your gut instincts. Lately it seems that everyone on my block and perhaps throughout this city is on their guard. It's summer, schools are out and idle hands and thoughts are getting the best of people. Even worse, apparently the 80s ARE back as PCP users are on the rise again. A few known incidents around here have occurred that involved folks on that superficial high, which can put any innocent person on edge.

My folks are going to be out of town for about a week and course my mother is nervous about me and my daughter being home alone, especially in light of a few (isolated) incidents that have occurred with a couple of neighbors. I'm scared to know how she will react when I finally do buy a home on my own. I worry about our safety, but I don't worry. I do have common sense with a bit of street sense. Also, I know this house is watched over by God and the good neighbors we are surrounded by. Thankfully, I live on a block that is like an old school village. We all know one another and therefore we all look out for each other. Even as new folks move in we eventually establish an understanding with them of what this block is all about.  We are a block full of working families, retired baby boomers, mobile and disabled elderly people, children, a couple of teenagers and young adults. We don't tolerant foolishness.

After the encounter with the female, I did wonder if she was really in need. I silently prayed that if she was in need, that she received the appropriate help. Then I resided with the thought that it just wasn't my assignment to help her. After an experience back in late January with my Aquarius Brother, I can say I can pretty much take the hint when I am being called to duty to be the good Samaritan. I can't say it enough... what an awesome experience it is to be used in that manner.

From my experience with the radical homeless lady a couple of years ago to the young guy roaming the local Giant grocery store looking for change to get a hot plate from the hot bar a month ago, I can pretty much tell when a person is in need. Still there are some tricky, clever ones out there. Those are the ones that scare me. Those are the ones that have turned me into a picky Samaritan.  

 

Every family has secrets. I wonder what mine are.

I just got off the phone with my Aunt P.  The conversation started out simple enough. She was checking on her son, my lil cuz. Tonight I'm "babysitting" the little cuz and my own little Snickerdoodle. Oddly, she asked me a question that seemed to have come out of left field.

"Are you happy?"

I sheepishly chuckle and tell her yes. I even inquire on why did she ask.

"Something in your presence," she responds.

She's reluctant to tell me the reason why she asked. She starts out by breaking down her feelings on how she believes we have a special bond. Despite her flaws, her mistakes, her bad choices in life, she appreciates how I never seem to judge her. Actually I don't. True, I get upset or a little disappointed at times when she does something that would make anyone go "What the flip?!?!?!" However, I always try to look at the bigger picture of the situation. Why should I judge? No one is perfect.

However, in that same token, while I am understanding of a majority of my aunt's ways, I still have a fear of becoming like her in some ways. Mainly my fear is more of my mother seeing me the same way she does my aunt. Yes, my aunt and I are two different people, but in some complex emotional way we are the same. Ironically, my aunt mentioned how at 46 she is seeing more clearly now that she can't live her life by my grandmother's standards or anyone else's. She must live for her. Through all her drama and goodness it's all her.

I mainly let my aunt vent or just speak freeling about what has been on her mind. It's probably rare that she gets to do that without being judge or chastised. What has piqued my interest a bit is the mention of my mother and how my aunt told me I only know half the real story behind my mother and grandmother. This I won't deny. I'm sure I'm spared a good decade of drama that doesn't concern me. However, if someone were to ask me what is something I would want in this world more than anything, it would be to learn or know more about my mother and to be closer to my mom whereas I can feel comfortable about talking to her about my life.

Tragically, this portion of my life is deeply scarred. Pain lies there, but I do feel it's getting a bit better. A mild stroke and a new baby girl later, we talk like adults, but still bump heads every now and then.  Just the other day, I had received a phone call from the University of Phoenix. It was a courtesy call since I was referred to them for a continuing education program and blah blah. My mother began inquiring about why were they calling me. Sorry to say, when speaking to my mother about school it's a painful matter and yes I do put up a wall immediately.  My college years were the worse in my life (thus far). It also brought up some issues I had with my mother; as far as control, her over protectiveness, money and trying to live by her standards. Naturally my mother took up a minor 'tude with me for brushing off the phone call.

"Everything is a secret. This is why your life falls a part. You don't talk to the elders."

*No. I just don't talk to you...much.*

A few hours later, the same thing she spoke against me she admitted doing herself. It was later that evening when we were in Forestville, MD (a hop, skip, jump, from the DC line). We were heading home when some police action was going down at the mall across from where we were. I was amazed by the number of flashing lights and cruisers wizzing by my car. I just shook my head and chuckled.

"Only my mother," I said as if to say only-my-mother-would-have-me-out-late-in-the-midst-of-police-action.

I was making a joke, but my mother seemed to have eased it into another direction.

"You just know the half of it. You only know what I choose to tell you."

I drove in silence for a while down Marlboro Pike, unsure what to say. So when my aunt  briefly mentioned how my mother's life was similar to hers back in the day, a chord was struck. What was my mother really like? My aunt never went into details, but made bref mentions on certain things. So now, at least one thing does make sense to me; how my mother and my aunt ended up living with my great-grandmother for a while.  

 

I'm sort of reminded of one of my favorite films: The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. I'm Sandra Bullock, a writer who has all these notions and ideas about her mother based on negative (and some good) experiences. Yet, I don't know what makes my mother tick. Yet, I never seem to understand her ways because she has never let me in or trusted me enough to let me in. So, I turn out to be like her and perhaps like her mother and so on.

Like Bullock's character, I use to have a fear of my children having the same negative traits that I seem to have inherited - "secret keeping." I use to always pledge that I will be as open about my life as I can be and my child will never feel uncomfortable about approaching me to talk. I still pledge this as as I continue to bond with my Snickerdoodle. I want that fine balance of yes-I-am-the-mom-and-I-have-the-last-say with I-am-your-mother-the-listener-and-i-will-hear-what-you-have-to-say-and-i-will-repect-you.

Since I was a teenager I use to wonder if my mother ever respected me. Yes parents are the authority, but I also feel that parents should have a level of respect for their children, especially when you are teaching them about it.

Back to my aunt's question to me at hand....

After I let her speak her mind, she eventually got around to saying how because of the special spiritual bond we have she takes notice of me from afar. I have to admit sometime she is a bit off the mark in her observing, but maybe she wasn't too far off this time. She said something about my presence just seems like something is bothering me. Still I confirmed that I was fine, but she kept going.

"Something in my spirit just moved me to ask you. 'are you happy?'"

I stopped talking.

I felt tears forming.

I didn't let them drop.

She kept talking...rambling on the same point.

My floodgates never open.

The topic quickly changes to the Snickerdoodle.

We say our "I love yous" and hang up.

Moments later I realized.....

I'm not completely happy. I'm content, but this contentness feels too confortable. Things in my life can ALWAYS be better, especially with my mother and me.

 

Lately I've come to conclusion that no one can talk to me about love unless they have been marred for 50 PLUS years.

This thinking has been generated through observations and listening to others in my family who have been divorced, are going through one or are considering one. One of the things I have noticed has been... the men in my family choosing bi-polar chics or chics with bi-polar traits as their wives.

As I listen to situations of my relatives, from every angle possible, I can't help but wonder what attracted them to such females in the first place. I also wonder... are we (the family) being too rash in using the term "bi-polar" to describe these wayward females, because the term does seem more convenient and easily acceptable in today's society?

Honestly, in light of some things that I've experienced or witnessed I'm realizing everyone in this world is messed up in their own way and is hurting deep within. 

...Well it seems like it.

How messed up can a man be to threaten his children lives to spite his wife and eventually drowning them in a tub, but too chicken to kill himself afterwards? (thinking of the man from Silver Spring, MD who killed his kids in a Baltimore Hotel)

How messed up can a grown woman be to not want to come to the aid of her mom, who has Alzheimer's, because of how she treated you when you were growing up? (thinking of a distant cousin here)

Sometimes I think of Seal's "Crazy" song and even quote some of the lyrics

"We're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy."

Yet, how "crazy" is too crazy? Is being crazy the only way to survive this life?

Imagine the great force of things (positive or negative) when defense mechanisms are unmasked.

WOW!

To think...some folks think I'm crazy because I hate and most of the time don't wear a coat in the winter, I do the same with stockings, wear high heels all the time, will bus out with the "Spider Pig" song at any given moment and will mix anything in a bowl like cabbage, rice, a cheese egg and scrambled salmon.

Some might even call me crazy cause I had a slight breakdown a few years back. They called Brandy and Mariah Carey "crazy" when they had theirs and not wanting to understand that it was just as simple as self-inflicted exhaustion.

When did this world get to be so over baring causing all these "bi-polar" or depression disorders and almost making it hip to be declared such? Think: Bobby Brown trying to use bi-polar as an excuse to escape a marijuana charge a few years back.

I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this post. Just that my mind has been wondering lately about all this bi-polar talk amongst my family, friends and society.

So really... is it "safe" to say that EVERYONE walking this earth needs some kind of mood stabilizer just to make it through the day?  Would this world function a lot better with everyone taking "the happy pill"?

Granted, bi-polar disorder is a serious issue as the ramifications from it can be devastating.  Still maybe this term is just a little convenient to use, especially if no one understands "the strange and abnormal," of even if the "strange" doesn't want to help themselves to be seen in another light - if that makes any sense...

Tired...

In awe...

Blessed...

I'm not sure where to begin to talking about what has taken place this weekend. Today's climax with TWO church services was the icing on the proverbial cake.

Though I basically write my blog reflections for myself - providing that years later I will look back on these virtual pages and go "What was I thinking?" - I doubt that my visible and invisible readers are interested in knowing how the renovations have started.. well just some wiring work. The electricity was shut off for much of the day on Saturday while the electrician toiled away. Everyone was out and about running their errands in the midst of crazy traffic. DC had a lot going on this weekend and I was caught in it.. from the National Marathon, to the Cherry Blossom festival and later on when I dropped my folks off at the National's exhibition baseball game in the opening of the new ballpark.

Yet.. all of that is not the real crux of my thought.

My agenda for this weekend was to mainly celebrate life.. my Snickerdoodle's life.

Today she is a year old.

However, in the midst of my daughter's birthday, a life suddenly was taken by the grace of God.

My immediate cousin Richard... whom we affectionately called "Cuz."

In other journals that I've kept, I've referred to Cuz in reference to 9/11.  He was a pilot for American Airlines and everyone was concerned about him in the midst of the horrific events of that day. His plane was destined for California. However, he was already up in the air when the hijackings and crashings were taking place. He was grounded in Texas, which was good for him since he has relatives there.

While it is obvious that his time to leave this life wasn't during 9/11, it is painful to know this time was the right time.  As the "story" goes. He was diagnosed with cancer this past Nov. I'm not sure what type or how far advanced it was. All I know is, he apparently took a turn for the worse this past week and quietly passed away yesterday morning at the age of 41, leaving behind one 13 year old son we call "Penta."   

Yesterday, I was pretty much in shock about the news. 1) I hadn't seen Cuz in a couple of years and I wasn't sure how to feel since I wasn't THAT close to him, he was....is still family. 2) I didn't know he had cancer.

Needless to say I pressed on with today.

It was already on my agenda to go with my family to hear my Aunt VJ preach. She has been a minister in training at her church and today was her initial sermon with a presentation for her to received her license. The whole thing about my Aunt VJ preaching wasn't a total shock because I knew that she has been working on this for a while. However, after today I see my aunt in a different light now. As of recent I would joke about Aunt VJ being a "Battle Ax," and how going to her house was like suburbia hell for me since becoming an adult with all my married and family oriented cousins around me... the single still in school.. (the sorta) gone astray chic.

I will be the first say, I'm EXTREMELY proud of my Aunt VJ and how well she preached today, especially in light of Cuz's death who is her (step) son. When I saw my family today, we were all in good spirits, but we were mostly concerned about Uncle Rich (Cuz's father/ Aunt VJ's husband). Uncle Rich is a strong, proud man. A wonderful father! I've always admired him..dispite the fact he is republican (hehehe).  Uncle Rich gets emotional and he isn't too proud to show it. So even at the mention of Cuz during service today... and even during Uncle Rich's dedication and Aunt VJ giving her praise thanks to Cuz...

The family broke down.

My tears broke loose.

Cuz's presence was felt.

Yet, in the midst of his death... we still celebrated life.

Aunt VJ preached form the Old Testament.. Deuteronomy Chapter 30 --- mainly focusing on verse 19.

"I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed (your children) may live." - KJV

Aunt VJ preached from the perspective of how folks can be the walking dead - living a life under the wrong spirit and allowing unnecessary suffering to enter. Choosing God allows life and light to come into your life and bring an unfounded peace. Life is different when you have divine peace.  For me, her message actually coincided with my pastor's message from today - about unlikely candidates of being used/blessed by God.  Earlier in the day I attended my own church and was hit with a reaffirming message that my life does have a purpose. Also, that pain is a part of life and the blessing in pain or hitting a deeper low is being built up. He used the analogy of tall buildings having a deeper foundation in order for it to be supported properly and able to withstand the strength it is built upon.

With the two sermons today, I was able to knock down some discouraging thoughts I had earlier in the week about my life. I had allowed some unsettling thoughts come in and I began to question some overall decisions I've made and perhaps having regrets.  Yet, in that particular time I didn't stop to think about the blessings that have been delivered unto me, especially in regards to my daughter.  I'll admit, sometimes I'm quick to forget how much of a blessing she is to me , because all I see were mistakes I've made in which she became the end result. Even though my daughter, in all of her beauty and innocence, is the love of my life and really can't imagine myself without her since her arrival, I still have a hard time forgetting and forgiving myself and even her father for what WAS, because situations could have been avoided altogether.

It's a process that I've been working on resolving from within. However I can go "would've, could've should've" all I want, but maybe this whole experience of being a single mom was in the cards for me all along.  Hearing my cousin LaJaun (who is also studying to become a minister) giving her thanks to her mom, Aunt VJ and small testimony about being the "product" of a 16 year old mother, I felt encouraged. So, despite the blues I felt during the past week or so, I choose to live.

Being around my family today (or any other time) I’m always filled with some sense of being whole. Even with this side of my family – my father’s side – we’re close, but not close. There is a broken connection somewhere and I use to get on everyone for not calling from time to time to say hello. Ironically it was my Uncle Mike who did that this time around.  However, as he criticized my father for not being in touch, in the same token he hasn’t been, nor Aunt VJ.  From the looks of things, it seems as if Uncle Mike and Aunt VJ’s clans have gelled together in the past couple of years; and still only calling my father and Aunt J in Seattle when something “special” is going on.

Honestly, I’ll admit, while the desire is there for me to draw my family closer, I haven’t made any attempts myself. My dream has always been to buy a house and have regular gatherings with my family (from both sides) in my house, even being a host to Aunt J when she comes to DC to visit so she won’t have to worry about staying with my cousin LaJuan all the time or in a hotel.

Work with the connection still needs to be done.

 

 

Aside from the "shadow of death" and other feelings, the Snickerdoodle had a very good first birthday. It may seem a bit unconventional to forego a birthday party and just spend time with the family and in church all day, but she enjoyed it. Just before leaving the house to see Aunt VJ, I iced up a cupcake that I made with chocolate frosting, lit her candle, and the family gathered to sing “Happy Birthday.” She dug into her cupcake…with a little help from me and of course got chocolate all over her face and hands – thankfully not on her “Sunday Best!!!!”

During Aunt VJ service, I was nervous because I didn’t know how the Snickerdoodle would hold up; being that it was close to her dinner time. She was a bit busy or fidgety, but she handled it well. Thankfully, all of us went to a nearby Old Country Buffet for dinner and the Snickerdoodle was started to get fussy then, but her food shut her up. The birthday wasn’t quite over, as my Aunt Edith and my mother told the staff that today was the Snickerdoodle birthday.

Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ten minutes later the staff made a big announcement and everyone in the place was singing happy birthday to the Snickerdoodle.

Note: I wish my camera was working properly at the time to catch the Snickerdoodle’s face. The look she gave was hilarious as if to say “Why is everyone singing and looking at me?” My camera briefly went on the brink as some of the Snickerdoodle’s milk got in between lens and made it sticky. It started working properly again once I got home.

It’s after ten in the evening and it sounds as if the Snickerdoodle is tuckered out.

*Pause to check*

The party girl hasn’t crashed just yet, but it is coming.

I think I feel my crash coming too.

Restless...maybe annoyed a little bit, but I'm definately restless. It's expected. I've been in the house all this week thus far. No place to go. No people to see. I feel bad though. I feel that I have to keep things moving for Snickerdoodle's sake. Granted she's only going on 10 months, but I want to keep her active as much as possible. I really dislike winter. I miss the sunshine and warmth.

What does a house along the equator go for?

And so, I've fallen into yet another routine.

*sucking teeth*

I hate routine. I hate it with a passion.

Breakfast for the Snickerdoodle, playtime with/for the snickerdoodle, domestic business until late afternoon, read a little just before dinner, sneak a quick nap while the snickerdoodle is calm, get up in time to hear the snickerdoodle whimper for dinner, fix snickerdoodle's dinner, if loving parents haven't cooked - cook for the whole family, wash dishes, bathe snickerdoodle, night time play with/for the snickerdoodle, sneak a check into the internet world, if snickerdoodle is fussy entertain her until she falls asleep, try to sleep after snickerdoodle knocks out, sometimes it works, other times I'm left to play by myself. inhale, forget not to exhale.

I will say I've managed to write something other than a blog entry these past few days. I'm working on a short deadline to submit to an anthology.  I'm nervous about it. I'm praying it makes into the final selection. After completing this there are a couple more anthologies I want to submit to.  My own solo novel - I need real special prayer for that. I have high motivation to finish the loose ends and complete my search for a literary agent. Then, as soon as that burst of motivation and energy gets here... it's gone as if the manuscript drains me everytime.

Either I shit or get off the pot.

Maybe I'm simply pushing myself too hard with this.... or that I'm truly a perfectionist in this effort that I'm driving myself bonkers.

 

There isn't much going on today. The snow came in from the southern states and finally landed here. I knew the indian summer we were having was too good to be true. As much as I dislike the winter and dispise the snow teasers (I prefer that if it snows it accumulates to be over 3 feet so nothing can move) - the snow does bring a sense of quiet to my neighborhood.  The restless teens that dwell in the housing complex a block down from me seem to go inside and hide. Even the rowdy neighbors on my block seem to "shut up."

I'm not even going to mention the drama I witnessed at 2:30/3:00 am this morning - BS - as in Before Snow.  

*sigh*

I just pray my neighbor's situation can work itself out.. somehow.

I plan to finish up the piece I'm working on and have one of the women in my writing group look it over for me. The Snickerdoodle is doing her usual - playing her mini piano and singing.

Maybe I do have an Alicia Keys on my hands.

 

I can expect my mother to fix chitlins later on - even though she is taking the shortcut with already cleaned and pre-packaged.

Yuck!

The smell alone makes me want to puke.

If this is the case.. more than likely I will have to fend for myself for dinner. I don't do chitlins. Now the qeustion remains.. what will I fix for dinner. I fried chicken last night.

Hmmm

This seems like a good lasanga day. Too bad I don't have all of the stuff.

 

The contractor should be here at any moment with more plans. Since our return from the Christmas trip to the mountains, my folks and I (mainly my folks) have been doing some major hualing and dumping of STUFF that was in the basement. Today the contractor has to do basement measurements and begin working on a floorplan.  It's amazing, you live in a house for over 20 years and just collect and store things that ultimately wind up being "just junk."  My mother found a social studies report she did in grade school. Too bad she tossed it away before I could get a look at it.

 

Anyone would think that with all the packing and hauling we've been doing that our portable storage unit would be full by now. Soooooooooooooo not the case. I realized that a lot of what we've been doing has been trashing a lot of items and bagging up old clothes, shoes, assesories, rugs, furniture, etc tht we don't use and donating them.

Can we say TAX WRITE OFF!

 

I'm a bit sadden though that a piece of history may be lost in the renovations. Horsey came with the house. When we moved in I was just a baby, but I grew to love Horsey. I rode him until I began to look like Baby Huey sitting on him. The little cuz got his fair share at playing with Horsey too. Or course I've been dying to know how The Snickerdoodle will react to him when she become big enough to sit on him.  However, I think she may not get that opportunity. Horsey may have to go as we extend out.

The stomach is grumbling. 

It must be lunch time.

Leftover baked chicken and rice.

 

In the meantime....

I think I have a call to make.  

Yesterday was one of those times when my emotions were running high. I'm not sure why that was. However, I had watched two movies and engaged in stimulation conversation with my family that got my thought catankers moving. Plus, as I'm continuing in reading the book Saturday's Child, I'm starting to see a few simularities with the main character Sara, which is hitting a nerve.

I'm not sure where to start with my thoughts, but I'll guess I'll start with late Saturday night into Sunday morning.

Once I put the Snickerdoodle to bed, I popped in my copy of Tyler Perry's Why Did I Get Marrried.

*Digressing with a note to Tyler Perry before Continuing*

Dear Tyler,

My apologies for looking at a bootleg copy of your movie; which was actually a gift of some sort. I do believe WHOLE HEARTINGLY is supporting you of any other artist, writer, etc. However, times have been a slightly rocky lately. I could give you the song and dance with a load of excuses, but that doesn't take away from the fact that I indirectly participated in the pirating of your movie. I plan to make up the lost sale to you, by purchasing the movie once it's on DVD. As always I cheer you on and very proud of your accomplishments.

Blessings,

Mahoganie

*End of Digression*

So I was looking at Why Did I Get Married, and though I laughed at the antics of the characters, especially Tasha and Marcus, and felt my emotions ride the roller coaster with everyone, in the end I found myself crying tears (of joy) with Jill Scott's character, Sheila.

Fortunately, I'm thankful that I've never reached an esteem or self worth low that I felt I NEEDED a man or allowed my whole life to be nothing but about whatever man is in my life. Yet, in light of some things I've gone through with men I felt the end result of a failed relationship and the pain is VERY real, especially if you are giving your all and the person doesn't appreciate you.

As Sheila said through her tears... it's like you pray to God hoping things will work out, but at some point you realize your relationship was built on the wrong things and why would you stick around to try to make it work with someone who .. as blunt and plain as Sheila put it...

"He don't like me."

In the midst of that particular scene I floated back to an episode of Sex and the City (if anyone knows me.. you know I was a fanatic of the show) In a particular episode, Charlotte attends a self help or motivational speaking forum where some flat robotic sounding lady was repeating these affirmations

something about...

putting yourself out there to a receive love...

Crap.. basically.

Charlotte stood up, made her case known.. and basically expressed how she did find love, but it didn't work and she was affraid that he took her ability to love away.  That's something that I've feared myself....getting involved with a person and being hurt to your very core that in some way they took your ability to love. I thought that would happen after my last (so- called) relationship I was in. Though I gaurd my heart, I would like to think I'm still pretty open to love.. and perhaps marriage...

My tears with Sheila really started to roll as she exhaled. She was sitting around her friends crying and explaining the goodness her new husband and the joy her brought to her when she exhaled.. not once.. but TWICE.

Though I'm not married and never been.. still ambivilent about marriage....I still long for that kind of love. The kind that is God given and so deep that it makes you cry tears of joy AND exhale a releases. Sometimes I think I found it with my daughter. I'm utterly in love with my child and I do find myself crying at odd moments when I'm just observing her. Other times, I think there is something more, and I'm not sure what that "more" is.

For the last few weeks I've been feeling pent up inside. I went to church last week, cried a few tears and felt a bit better, but I felt more was needed. I need an even bigger or "Grand-er" release.

The last time I cried and cried I was on the brink of coming out of my depression.

Yesterday, though I missed church I managed to get out of the house with my mother and some cousins. We headed to the movies to see The Great Debaters.

The movie is EXCELLENT!

However, the thing with me and movies that have racially charged scenes, I'm ready to start a revolution. Lo and behold, after the movie my family and I went out to eat and ended up with this tacky white guy for a server. What really got to me and my cousin "T" was when "this guy" our server.. was passing out the straws and threw one across the table to my other cousin "J."

A true What The Flip?!?!?!?!?! moment. Somehow I think soon after that he realized he was about to catch a case from six Black women and calmed his butt down.

Needless to say, within the movie itself.. I think the most difficult scene for me is when the characters came across a lynch mob. The mob had just lynched a Black person and set them on fire. There have been other movies I've seen with such scenes and still found those images hard to take. Being that The Great Debaters is based on a true story..the youngest in their bunch was 14. I can't imagine being 14 or younger and being exposed to such a harsh reality. Yet, it was 1935 and it was real.

The movie did fill me with a sense of pride, especially since the debaters represented Wiley College, a small, but historically black college. I guess it also helped a bit that Howard University (smiling) was mentioned in the movie and a debate took place between Wiley and Howard.. with Howard winning. Of course it made me hungry for school more. I shall be on campus this week seeing an advisor. I want to finish my degree... not even for me anymore.. for my daughter.

Back at dinner, I felt like crying tears of joy, but I held it in. Somehow my cousins, mom and I landed on the topic of my mother's health. Actually it went that direction as we were discussing another cousin who is currently in the hospital. This particular cousin is going through it right now with heart issues, diabetes and much more. Like my grandmother, this cousin - who is my grandmother's first cousin - hadn't been taking her medication, so her body is failing her right now.

As we discussed our cousin, my mother mentioned how she has some of the same issues as our cousin, but my mother is a picture of good health. She takes her medication, her diabetes is under control, she has a a good cardiologist and her blood pressure is normal. Yet as my mom told the story that has been recounted many times.. the mild stroke.. the possible heart attack while she was working.. the climbing the stairs at work.. the being out of breath.. the stress.. cardiologist telling she is lucky and that she could have died any day on the steps at work...everything....

I listened to all of that silently thanking God that my mother is still here. My mother and I may have our issues, but I only have ONE mother. At the time of her failing health, I was going through my own turbulant storm. Had she left this life I'm scared to know which direction my life would have taken..... for the worse or made me stronger?

 

From that conversation, talks about the failing public school system (which my mother retired from) and the state of the city's children. A couple of eyars back, my mother was attending these study courses at church around the book The Purpose Driven Life. She mentioned that after going to those classes she realized her purpose or her ministry in life were the children she "governed" everyday. As an assistant principle she saw and heard things that probably made her wince at first but as she got use to it.. she did what she had to for her students.

As I've said countless times, my mother is one of the good ones. She may have been tough on her students, but in the long run it was appreicated. If they see her on the street, they will stop dead in their tracks just to run to my mother and give her a hug.  They LOVE my mother.

Meanwhile, throughout that part of the conversation I thought how in the last couple of days I've been wondering what my purpose in this life is.

Whatever it is.. I have a feeling writing is involved.

Note: Most likely this will be a VERY random entry.

Honey I'm home.

We make it back into town today safe and sound. Though I miss the serenity of the mountains, I do ache to be back home. More than likely the achy feeling was me just wanting to get home in time to unpack and unwind.

I love going away, but I hate the packing, the move, hauling, unpacking, the rush... it's stressful to be honest.

Traveling along Interstate 66 going and coming, I realize that I too .. like most minorities.. have this fear of police. Virginia state troopers are notorious for hiding in unmarked sudans (guess this is one reason why it's easy to impersonate them?) or in their crusiers...waiting to catch a speeder or a violator of HOV restrictions.  It wasn't bad leaving town as it was around Thanksgiving. They were everywhere on 66 and maybe one or two on Interstate 81 (the highway that 66 turns into after a certain point). Today on the way home.... ok I won't lie.. I did comfortable cruise at 80.. and the speed limit for the most part is 65. I know... Baaaaaad girl.  However, I do have common sense. I did the speed limit once I got closer to the DC area, because sure enough what did I see coming up around the town of Gainsville and into Manassas, VA?

Yep!

A trooper in an unmarked car.

I passed him as he was returning to his vehicle after issuing a ticket. My heart actually started to thump faster than normal. My hands actually started to shake a little. I even cut down my music some.. (ha!) I don't know where this nervousness comes from. I don't think I ever had a bad exprience with an officer of the law. Not even when I was speeding in Oxford, NC and was pulled over by a NC state trooper.  Only negative experiences that sorta comes to mind are two things;

1) When I was about 10 or 11, I was with my family as we were coming from a bowling league night on Bolling AFB.  TWICE my father was pulled over at "random" for no reason. The second time was the last straw at they ordered us out the car as a dog sniffed through it. The reasons we were told "Just routine." However, car after car went by and no one else was pulled over. Just use, twice in one month. My father, being a high ranking officer in the National Gaurd, put his power to use.  He spoke to whatever general or commander he needed to, and the matter was cleared in a matter of a few days. I believe an apology was issued on behalf of whatever branch of the miltary that was represent at the gate those nights.

2) Around the time when I just got my first car (a moment of silence for the V-dub Jetta) I was driving around in a shopping center parking.. in Alexandria, VA (VA kills me.. oye!) I didn't look into my blind spot and see that a car was coming at me from the side as I pulled out of an aisle. What I do know is that an Alexandria City police officer saw me pull out and thought that I was intentionally driving wrecklessly. So he felt the need to be this tough cop.. picture Dwayne aka The Rock as that tough guy in that flick Walk Talk. What was sorta comical (only when I think back) is the fact that he yelled and scoled me from inside his car. He blew his horn, yelled at me to roll down my window and proceded to yell, scold and sceam at me some words... I don't even remember what he said, because at the time I was scared out of my wits and was ready to piss on myself.

Having that flashback makes me want to laugh but shudder at the same time.

Speaking of HOV restrictions (go up a few paragraphs) are babies considered a passenger during HOV times?

Speaking of babies, the Snickerdoodle is starting to form (somewhat) clear syllables. Right now we're at the stage where she wants to try to repeat some things I say. Though it still comes out as that baby "gobbly gook" she tries and tries until it at least sounds like a word.

What's erie though is this word she says "Nang." She says it was strong clarity.

Nang was a nickname my late grandfather gave to me from birth. He claimed that when I was babbling, all I ever said was "nang nang nang nang nang nang" So.. he called me Nang. He hardly ever called by my actual name.. unless I was in serious trouble, but even still he's only called me this maybe twice or three times EVER. My grandfather even had a wooden coathanger made for me with the nickname fixed atop in wooden letters. When he was alive, some of my family called me Nang.. just to be funny, but I retired the name after his death. Maybe in a way he was the only one I would really allow to call me that.

I never thought I would ever hear that name again until my daughter started speaking it only a couple of days ago. The facinating thing about it is, she looks me dead in the eyes and goes "Nang." My mother brought it to my attention the other, but even more so today as we were buzzing around the kitchen. As we were puttnig groceries away and getting the snickerdoodle's dinner together, the snickerdoodle cried her heart out. In the midst of her cries she went "Naaaaaaaaaang, nang!"

"She's calling for you," my mother said to me. "That's what you are. That's what's she's calling you."

I guess I'll always and forever will be "Nang."

In the meantime, as the household as settled down a bit, I still have some things to do. Thankfully I've already unpacked the suitcases of clothes.There's still a matter of downloading my photos onto Flickr (Thanksgiving and Christmas), posting offline journal entries onto my blog, more writing (something new), renew NABJ membership, follow up on important emails/phone calls -

Mental Note to Self - Call Mr. Sigma..he's been trying to get through since Thanksgiving - End Mental Note.

Right now I don't feel like doing Jack Boogie. I wanna do like the Snickerdoodle is doing now...

Sleep.

Instead I'm writing a blog while reading my snail mail and finding amusment amongst my pile of bills and late Christmas cards, I have a birthday card. The end of the year is only a few days away, but Feburary is a whole month and few days away. Yet, my health care provider felt the need to beat the birthday rush and send me a "greeting" all the while reminding me to have regular check ups....

Damnit!

I knew I forgot to do something this month...

Receive my annual Vaginal Probe... the PAP Smear.

Mental Note to Self - call OBGYN - End Mental Note.

I think my "goodies" just got scared.

 

 

 

Sooooo...

The contractor came by again yesterday to discuss more plans before actually going to blueprint.

(note: If you ever decide to renovate or do any construction to your home, be prepared for the long and over hauling process, especially in the plans.)

As he sat there talking about what adjustments to the original plans he made and so forth, I couldn't help but be reminded of a scene from Mommie Dearest - story about the classic actress Joan Crawford staring Faye Dunaway.

Noooo the scene that came to mind wasn't the most famous.. where drunk, bi-polar? Joan (Dunaway) is beating her daughter Christina with a hanger and screaming

"Noooooooooooooooooooooooo Wire Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaangers!"

I'm talking about another scene. It was right after she married the chairman of the Pepsi corporation and they were having a home built in Manhattan. A contractor approaches Joan and laments over the fact that a wall is obstructing his construction. So what does Joan do? She walks right over to the wall and goes..

*voice in theatrical czar of the land tone*

"I'll tell you what to do. Tear down that BITCH of a wall and put a window where it OUGHT to beeeeeeeeeee!"

I swear when I thought about it in my head it was the funniest thing ever.  I almost laughed right there in the man's face. Instead I excused myself to the kitchen for a minute. Needless to say after he left and I had a moment to myself, I thought about the scene again and erupted in laughter.

I called myself searching You Tube for the clip, but of cause most of what I found were montages, tributes, corny documentaries about the alledged abuse Christina accuses Joan of, or that famous "No Wire Hangers" scene.

You would think out of all of that mumbo jumbo, somebody on You would have found humor in the construction scene as well.

Speaking of the alledged abuse... as I combed through You Tube looking for that scene, I didn't realize that Chrisina's allegations set off soo much of a alarm. Granted I never read the book Mommie Dearest, but my understanding is it's not that far fetched from the movie, since Christina was the Executive Producer. What I took away from the story was that Christina and Joan had issues.. yes... but what mother and daughter doesn't? I thought their relationship was just like any other mother/daughter. If there is one that I know from experience is that the mother/daughter relationship can be the most hardest and complicated out of any in a lifetime.

Oh well... that's my two cents.  

It's a little past 11 at night. Nothing in particular is on my mind as I sit back and listen to my Justin Timberlake cd. Yes, I still buy cds. Yes I like Justin. I think this album is a step up and a lot better than the first, even though that song "Summer Love" urks me for some reason. Maybe it's too bubble gum-ish for me.

I'm happy to report my father is 95% normal. The bactera infection is clearing. The swelling in his hands and feet has reduced. He's able to walk without a cane.

My mother checked on my grandmother today and she is just about back to her normal self. My day with her yesterday was a bit of a riot as she was being a bit stubborn. I was that nice-firm with her, so she paid attention to me much better than my aunt - that is until she was refusing to take some medication that cost $87. She figured if it was costing her $87 she wanted to know what it was and what would it do for her. I'm shocked that CVS doesn't provide an info pamphlet on prescriptions. I thought all pharmacies did that. I guess not. Nevertheless, after a threat to "Shady Pines" and a firm "YOU WILL TAKE YOUR MEDICATION" she did.

I'm a bit at ease at the moment. My feet are bit cold, but that's because I don't feel like going back into my room to get my fuzzy wuzzies... or this furry socks I wear around the house to keep my feet warm.

My Aunt VJ called this evening to verbally invite us to Christmas dinner. (by the way Chuck.. if you see this you're invited as well HA!) However, I believe we are going out of town again, so we'll miss out. I actually had a nice conversation with Aunt VJ. I got a brief summary of how things are going on that end and I gave her one as well.

For some reason I like that breakdown at the end of Justin's "Lovestoned." Something about it..make me reflect a bit.. I don't know.

Remember the days of a cassette player or the turntables? Ever just rewind or place the needle on the exact groove of a certain part of a song.. the breakdown.. a verse.. the bridge.. just because it was the most important part to you.. it was the be all and end all?

Lift Your Head Up High
And Scream Out To The World
I Know I Am Someone
And Let The Truth Unfurl
No One Can Hurt You Now
Because You Know What's True
Yes, I Believe In Me
So You Believe In You
Help Me Sing It, Ma Ma Se,
Ma Ma Sa, Ma Ma Coo Sa
Ma Ma Se, Ma Ma Sa,
Ma Ma Coo Sa
- Michael Jackson "Wanna Be Starting Something"

Maybe after Justin I'll pop in Jill Scott's newest CD.

I'm inspired to write at the moment. Full ..complete thoughts, that make sense, haven't rolled out yet. Just fragments and some run ons.

Something like...

The room fell silent and all that was left was our synchronized breaths. In an instant as if the loudness of silence was killing her, she turned to him and urgently spoke, "I'm a silly girl."

Tonight I'm starting my search for something that is coming up in February. Other than my birthday, my cousin T's birthday is the day right after mine. While I won't quite make the 30 year mark (I'm pushing it though) T will be 30. So she is having an old style cabaret with a 1920s theme.