Saturday, June 24, 2006

you can't sow yam and reap casaba

Have things ever weighed so heavy on your heart, that the pressure awakens you from your sleep? That's exactly what happened to me Thursday morning. I immediately recruited a friend to come along as I beat the streets and attempted to tackle my lengthy to-do list.

We ended up by Coolidge Corner, when a small, obscure art deco antique spot caught our eyes. As we explored the shop, we couldn't help complimenting the owner on his breathtaking collection. A sprite like older Jewish man with grand hand gestures, he told us that his store has existed at the same location for 39 years and how Luther Vandross once spent over $100,000 on his antiques.

Obviously, one who loves an attentive ear, Mr. Mark shared with us photos of his marvelous three-story South End apartment and stories of his youth. The story that touched us was how after repeatedly applying to the School of the Museum of Fine Arts, he was finally admitted on his ninth try. When I asked why he didn't give up, Mr. Mark gave me an incredulous look and simply replied , "Because I wanted to be an artist." Point. Blank. Period.

He graduated at the top of his class due to his perseverance and the financial support of a Black woman who believed in the importance of artistic expression. It is her generosity that has inspired him to offer annual full scholarships to students entering his alma mater.

On our way out he left us with the quote: Live for today and tomorrow miracles will happen.

Inspired, we headed to Ten Thousand Villages, a fair trade store whose purpose is to ensure that artisans from countries like Haiti, Sri Lanka and El Salvador, receive direct profit from their crafts. On this trip, we were in awe of a set of delicate colorful multi-sized boxes made by large sea shells. As the store manager explained to us the process, I wondered how we could ever consider creators of such marvelous artwork to be have nots. We in westernized society supposedly have so much but I have yet to see us produce anything half as stunning. Our growing dependency on technology has blinded us to the beauty and value of our natural resources, making us the unfortunate ones.

As cliche as it may be, I believe wholeheartedly that all things in life happen for a reason. And as we left Ten Thousand Villages I was overcome by all my blessings. The pressure on my heavy heart subsided and right on the sidewalk, tears almost escaped my eyes as I felt the humbling power of how good God is.

I was overwhelmed by the realization that all I ever need to be fulfilled and happy, I've already been given.

Meet me at the barn.....it's going down

Last Saturday, Kindred and her folks threw a celebration in recognition of her graduating from college and her two sisters finishing middle and high school. So, with our overnight bags, a bunch of us piled into cars and headed towards western Mass.

Forget the artists on Cribs and How I'm Living with their extravagant million dollar fish tanks, refrigerators filled with nothing but Cristal and shiny poles in the basement. I am not impressed.

Show me a home with a barn in the back and that's when I'll ooooo and awwww.

Yeah, I said it. B-A-R-N.

Right in Kindred's backyard is a dark red wooden barn, the same size of a one level, single-family home, with a front deck that leads to an above ground pool.

We spent the evening eating good ol' homecooked Haitian food, laughing, taking tons of pictures and dancing in the barn to music provided by our boy Jose from It Bees Like That Entertianment. As the sunlight subsided so did the debauchery and mayhem. In the late night we warmed up by a bonfire, ate s'mores and enjoyed the good company until 4 am.

With sleep still in our eyes, on Sunday morning we trekked down the road for breakfast at a small country diner, whose patrons obviously never saw Black folks in such large numbers before. As the temperature rose, folks said bump it to going back to Boston and hopped into the pool, in an attempt to beat the heat. Wanting to preserve my freshly done do, I opted to take a cold shower instead. But once they managed to push the Back Bay Madame , who's violently allergic to fun, into the water and she didn't come up swinging, my ache to cool off grew stronger. I finally couldn't take it anymore and jumped into the icy water, with my relaxer, pajama shorts, t-shirt and all. The humid afternoon was spent playing a hilarious game of water basketball and splashing around like kids.

My boy B from back home came through for the weekend and all my friends welcomed him into the family.

That weekend I finally, kind of sort of, understood the satisfaction those who aren't in school and are unemployed get from simply chilling. Being care and worry free definitely has its appeal but I just can't live that life for long. Way too ambitious for that.

It's nice to know though that when I need a little vacation and don't have the funds to jet out to St. Tropez and see a a man play the mandolin like Puffy, there's always a nice cozy spot in the boondocks of Massachusetts where I can hideout and relax.

The only sour part of the two day festivities was Kindred's teenage sister's friend (get it?) who is unfortunately lost. While folks scoffed at her behavior, were appalled by her choice of attire and deemed her destined for videos, my heart couldn't help crying for her. Because I know that people in her life are quick to call her degrading names and promise her material gains at the high cost of her selfworth. But who's taking the time to teach her her value?

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

My 50

Folks have definitely caught tagging fever nowadays. I'll be a good sport and go along with it.

So, here goes my 50:

1. How tall are you barefoot?
5′1″ and a half. I didn't realize I was considered short until my freshmen year of college. I guess being tall is a state of mind.

2. Have you ever flown first-class?
Nope and I don't yearn to.

3. One of your favorite books when you were a child?
Dag, I've always been such a bookworm so choosing just one book is hard. If I must, I'd say A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.

4. A good restaurant in your city?
My life is shared between two cities right now.

NY:
During Memorial Day weekend Kindred's family put me on to Silk Road Palace on the Upper West Side. That was hands down some of the best Chinese food I've ever eaten. To top it off the waiter continued to fill our glasses with free white wine during our entire meal. Kindred and I made sure to pour a little out for the homies who couldn't be there.

Boston:
Due to health issues my girl Ro has spent the past year on a strict eating regimen. In the beginning it was hard for her to hang out because we would often go to or order food from restaurants that couldn't cater to her dietary needs. Things have gotten much better and for her birthday we discovered Grasshopper in Allston. There isn't any meat, chicken or seafood on the menu but the dishes are so good that it doesn't matter.

5. What is your favorite small appliance?
Right now, my iron. It's been able to work wonders.

6. One person that never fails to make you laugh?
My family and friends. Definitely people who recognize the healing power of laughter.

7. What's your favorite Christmas song?
O Holy Night.

8. What was the first music that you ever bought?
I think it was a TLC cd.

9. Do you do push-ups?
Nah.

10. What was one of your favorite games as a child?
Kickball.

11.What is the one thing that you cook that always receives compliments?
The fam loves my scalloped potatoes, spaghetti and barbecue chicken.

12. When you were twelve years old, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Always an author.

13. Your favorite Soup of the Day?
My mom's soup joumou. January 1st doubles not only as New Year's Day but also the anniversary of Haiti's independance. Since that day in 1804, Haitians around the world drink soup joumou. It is also tradition to bring the soup to the homes of friends and family. We drink it to celebrate our freedom and foster unity.

14. What in your life are you most grateful for?
So many things. But the one thing that I'm consistently grateful for is my family.

15. Have you ever met someone famous?
Yeah but fame is relative. Those I consider famous others may not know or care for.

16. Date Of Birth?
12-09-83. Gifts are welcomed.

17. Top 3 thoughts at this exact moment:
Wondering if it's the truth.
How I can help my girls find what they're looking for.
Why folks can't allow things to be simple.

19. Name five drinks you regularly drink:
Water, apple juice and ginger ale.

20. From what news source do you receive the bulk of your news?
Mostly the internet but also newspapers. Nothing beats holding the actual news in your hands.

21. Current hair?
Jet black, straight and shiny.

22. Current worry?
That things may take awhile to work themselves out.

23. Current hate?
Nothing at the moment.

24. Favorite place to be?
In or by the water.

25. Least favorite place to be?
Anywhere with negative energy.

26. Do you consider yourself well organized?
I'm an organized mess.

27. Do you believe in a afterlife?
I believe in heaven.

28. Where do you think you will be in 10 Yrs?
Definitely someone's mother, maybe someone's wife and anywhere but here.

29. Do you burn or tan?
What? I guess I tan. Always trying to become more darque. ( that was for you Kindred)

31. Are you more optimistic or pessimistic about the future?
Optimistic. I'm in far too many people's prayers to fail.

32. Last time you had an alcoholic drink?
Last Saturday.

33. What songs do you sing in the shower?
Usually some gospel.

34. What did you fear was going to get you at night as a kid?
I don't remember. I do remember just being scared of the darkness.

35. What's in your pockets right now?
My sweats don't have any pockets.

36. Last thing that made you laugh?
Someone telling me tonight that Pat Riley can be the next great leader in the Black community.

37. Best bed sheets you had as a child?
The Care Bears.

38. Worst injury you've ever had?
Praising God for only experiencing minor scrapes and bruises.

39. Favorite song?
Far too many.

40. How many TVs do you own?
One.

41. In the last calendar year, how many people have you told that you love them?
So many people. Can't even count.

42. Last thing that made you blush?
When one of my boys said that everyone can't help falling in love with me.

43. Best Compliment received?
"Woooooow! That's my dream girl," said by a teen in Dudley Square.

44. What song is in your head?
"One Last Cry" Brian McKnight.

45. What is your favorite book?
Too many to list one.

46. Last meal you cooked for the opposite sex?
Spicy shrimp, mixed vegetables, rice and a cake for dessert.

47. What songs do you want played at your wedding?
My girl since childhood always jokes that my wedding will a be nonstop concert since I love music so much. There will definitely be some good ol' r&b, classic soul, kompa and something to electric slide to. Oh! Definiately some Cameo and Maze!

48. What song do you want played at your funeral?
Anything uplifting and rejoiceful.

49. What were you doing at 12 midnight last night?
Laughing and having good conversation at the Reflection Pond.

50. What would you like to accomplish with the remaining years of your life?
I hope to help others and myself to be fulfilled and genuinely happy.

What's your 50?

Monday, June 12, 2006

we've come a long way, a mighty long way

Way back in March, my mother let me know that she'd allow me to miss Easter Sunday if and only if I promised to come home for the church's march. So on a dreary Saturday evening I caught a ride on the Fung Wah and headed home to celebrate.

As my mother prepared Sunday dinner, I peered out the kitchen window at the dauntingly stubborn gray sky and noted that my new suit and satin pumps wouldn't withstand the rain. She assured me that God knew what day it was and He would send the sun down on time. Always steadfast, my mother went back to humming as she lowered the fire under the brown rice and beans.

Word of the march reached far. Over two hundred congregation members and supporters stood under umbrellas in front of the former worship space, waiting for the march to commence. It seemed that I was the only person concerned with the weather because no one else bothered to look up and acknowledge the dark clouds. I guess they had waited far too long for this day and would march through even the heaviest of snow if it was necessary.

As usual my mother was right. Once the police escorts arrived the sun sensed we were ready and chose to take its rightful place in the sky. Its rays shined so brightly that the prior rainstorm seemed like a figment of our imaginations.

The deacons and deaconesses took their positions in front holding the church's banner and both the Haitian and American flags. Behind them stood a Haitian marching band from Brooklyn dressed in pristine white uniforms and a large white pickup truck carrying several guitarists and a drummer.

Jenny, my girl since the days of colorful hair ribbons, and I decided to hold up the rear so that we could get a good view of the celebration.

Congregation members dressed in their Sunday's best and sensible flat shoes feverishly waved their Haitian flags as we made our journey through the city's streets. The further we walked the more the procession seemed to embrace the spirit. Apparently moved, the band's conductor, a handsome deep chocolate wiry man with microphone in hand, hopped onto the rear of the pickup truck and commenced to get the crowd crunked.

Men and women who once intercepted my notes during service and told me I was a fresh child when I asked how they knew my eyes were open during prayer if they were actually praying, lost all their inhibitions. The band caught the spirit and they began to play old celebration songs from back home. Sisters lifted their skirts a bit higher making it easier to dance and the brothers pumped their fists in the air as the music's tempo quickened. They looked more like revelers in Jacmel during carnaval or folks on Eastern Parkway during NY's West Indian Day Parade than participants in a church march.

A joyful chorus of 'HALLELUJAHS!' and 'AMENS!' filled the air once we reached our destination and the ribbon was ceremoniously cut. Several times I found myself in deep warm hugs and my cheeks moistened by damp kisses from those who still consider me 'the church's first baby'. Their eye's were misty from 22 year old memories of the living room of my step-father's old bachelor pad serving as their first worship space and how it soon became too small as more Haitians arrived in the city.

Eyes turned towards heaven and tears flowed freely as all the church's choirs sang a soul stirring rendition of Give Thanks. Pews filled quickly and those who couldn't find seats within the sanctuary instead stood in the aisles, outside on the church's steps and in the parking lot.

No one wanted to leave. They'd come much too far by faith to turn around.