Strong Roots....

I went on a much needed vacation last month to Washington, DC. My primary reason for going was to visit my grandmother (top center pic, 1978.) who had a stroke in November. So even though it was wonderful to be around kindred, it was also bittersweet because it was my first time seeing my grandmother since she got sick.

You have to understand. This is the woman that raised me. I called her Mommy and my mother by her name. I can remember her getting up at 3 in the morning to go to work on her first job, and not coming home until late in the evening when she got off of her third. I know her to be strong, boisterous, loud and intimidating. But when we arrived in DC at around 4 am that Friday after our long drive, and I saw her for the first time, it broke my heart. She had lost a considerable amount of weight. Her hair was completely white and she looked frail. Her demeanor was even different. It was like something had been taken from her; like she was missing something. But I couldn't quite wrap my mind around what that something was.

The days flew by very quickly. I didn't get to see all of my friends. I didn't get chance to go up to Georgetown or take many pictures. But I did get some seafood from the Wharf. I went to Ben's Chili Bowl, bought some bad ass shoes, and I got my hair braided up. Now that I think about it, I covered an awful lot of ground in a small space of time. It took me two days to feel normal again once I got home.

The best thing that happened to me while in DC...better than hooking up and reminiscing with old friends...better than the chili dog I got at Ben's Chili Bowl...better than the 3 pairs of shoes and two pair of boots...better than the jumbo shrimp and scallops from the wharf... better than my super tight fly ass braids..was the photo album my grandmother gave me. In it, were photos long forgotten.

As I turned each page, memories flooded back. Winter, 1977 in Washington. Snowball fights in the streets. My first trip to Disney World in 1978 (bottom, right). My Uncle Jessie (center pic) who wasn't really my Uncle Jessie, but my grandmother's "special friend." My first time visiting my father (center, bottom) and his new wife.

It was like looking at someone else. I found myself feeling like I was spying on someone else's childhood. But it was the most valuable thing she could have given me.

Memories like the corners of my mind...


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Where Has All The Time Gone?

In June, Brianna and Brandon will graduate from high school. I am excited/nervous/thankful/apprehensive/emotional. I keep asking myself, "Have I taught them enough?", "Will they be ready?"

I keep thinking about how far we've come. I look back and remember all the bumps in the road, the transitions, sleepless nights and even though it didn't feel good at the time, I am thankful for them all.

It makes me appreciate this time even more. As they get ready for prom, their senior trip. I just remember what it was like for me and I get excited for them. What I wouldn't do to be able to press rewind and go back for just a little while.

There is a rule that during the graduation ceremony you are not allowed to clap or shout for your loved ones as their names are being called. I think this is the craziest, most absurd thing I have ever heard of.

Whatchu mean I can't shout????


Child please. I am gonna be all over that audiotorium jumping and shouting. All up and down the aisles. As much hell as we've been through????? As many times as I have had to fast, pray and cry? You think I am going to be quiet??

God had brought us to far. He has been way too good.

Though far from perfect, my kids are the exception to the rule. They didn't drop out, inspite of. They haven't ever been arrested, in spite of. They going to college, in spite of.

Oh yeah...it's on.

They will probably have to carry me out of there. In fact, I am certain of it. I have no intent on being quiet. Graduation is a few months away, but when I think about it now, it makes me well up. So I know by the time that day comes, I won't be any good.

It is hard to believe, but life for all of us is about to change.





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Hope is Contagious.

"People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend's voice up into the rafters....And in that single note - hope!

- Senator Barack Obama



Hope



Hope is contagious

It doesn’t discriminate

Or care about circumstances

Out of control

It spreads

From black to white

To yellow and to brown

Up and downtown

Over rivers and through woods

It transcends and leaps tall buildings

Just to touch you

It is persistent

And relentless in it’s

Pursuit of you



Hope is determined



Hope says

"Yes, we can."

When it seems improbable

Hope says

"Yes, we can."

When worries seem insurmountable

Hope stands in the face

Of adversity and remains poised

Because it knows

The Secret

Hope has made its way into

Broken homes

It's spreading like an epidemic into lost marriages

And moving into lonely hearts

All across America

How dare hope

Penetrate me

Break down my defenses

The very audacity

Of hope to lead me to believe

That there is some pie left for me

Some blue sky left for me

The unmitigated gall of hope

Who does hope think he is

to inspire me to

Move my feet and my heart

And my mind

To a higher place

And a higher state

How dare hope make me

Dream impossible dreams

Of making ways out of no ways

Of an end to suffering and cloudy days



Hope has been gone too long.



You can’t find it like you used to

It used to be in the church

Each and every Sunday morning

Auntie's and grandmas and

Momma's and daddies

Passed hope around at the dinner

Table with mashed potatoes and peas

Hope used to sit in the back of the classroom

And oversee the education of children

But somewhere between Martin and Malcolm

The World Trade Center and Hurricane Katrina

George W. Bush and the recession

Hope vanished like a vapor

And now it ain’t just the lowly downtrodden

Who ain’t got no hope and

It’s not just the homeless mother of three

Who’s living in a shelter with no hope

It’s not just that brother who lost his job

And has 5 mouths to feed with no hope

You see

U got people

Making millions of dollars a year

With all the luxuries of the world

Every material gift you could possibly

Think of

But they have no hope

And If hope walked in the door right now

And wanted to reach out and touch me

I would knock Jesus down

To get to him

If hope showed up and said

"Come, on let’s go."

I’d leave without my pocket book

And my keys

cause it's ride or

die

If hope tells me

“Yes, I can.”

Then be it unto me

Just as

hope

has said.







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Coochie Talks

Coochie Talks
Current mood: amused


Why y’all ain’t let a sista know that the price of coochie was going up? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Gas prices are through the roof. Stock market done crashed a couple times. Milk is $4.00 a gallon. Seems the only natural thing. Ho’s got to eat too. I watched in awe, with my mouth hung open at the drama that unfolded for New York’s Governor. Maybe not for the same reasons as the rest of the world. It wasn’t because he got caught in a prostitution ring. Or because he was exposed as a hypocrite for his actions. None of those things came as a shock. Powerful men have always paid for sex. I just couldn’t believe that old girl got $4300.00 for one freaking hour.



She must have the bomb digga. I mean it must do tricks. It probably has it’s own carrying case. I mean, after all, coochie that expensive should be carefully packaged. Don’t want to damage it in the transition of travel. I wonder if it is insured?


Whatever. I ain’t mad at the ho. (It is ok to call her that if that’s what she is, right?) In fact, I’m standing up right now and giving her and her high-priced nook a standing ovation. Because women from DC to Miami, California to Maine are on their backs nightly and ain’t getting a damn thing but excuses and promises. Do your thing Lil Mamma!!! Make that Money.



Ho’s all over the nation ought to be on notice. Stop under cutting the coochie. Raise your "price." Better yet, raise your standards cause only quality men can even be in the same room with quality coochie. Oh yeah. I’m re-thinking this thing. Hell, if she getting $4300.00 to use it, then my meter begins to run the moment I show up with it. That’s right. I feel like if I show up, and she’s with me, the meter is already running. My mom used to say it was powerful. But I had no idea.



Funny thing is…they had an "expert ho" on the Today Show this morning speaking on the behalf of other high priced ho’s. Shaking my head. How do you get to be an expert in such things?



Anyway….the expert says that the price is not just for the sex itself, but for the conversation, etc. Ok. So was he talking with her or her coochie? Cause it was worth that much if it talks. I mean, really. Imagine the idea. I’m sure men all over America would pay for a real one that could speak.



Wonder what it would be like if Coochie could Talk…

This just in...

in an amazing turn of events

Coochie all over America has begun to speak up for itself"I’m tired of not getting what I’m worth. You just don’t know how I feel." - Coochie Woods, Reston VA

"I ain’t never been so undervalued in all my life. I feel so cheap and worthless." –

Coochie Brown, Jacksonville, FL.

"Anybody know where I can find a good attorney? I feel violated." – Coochie Washington, Newburgh, NY.

In a seperate, but somewhat connected incident, a young woman in Buffalo, NY suffered a heart attack in her gynecologists office when, while being examined, her coochie unexpectedly began to speak to the doctor, causing him to pass out, hit his head and fall into a coma.



No one knows as of yet, what Coochie had to say.





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