We Are All Damaged

When I look at you, I do not see your skin color,

Or whether you are male or female.

 I don’t consider your gender identity

Or your sexual preference.

When I talk to you, I don’t think about your religion;

Your nationality or ethnicity.

I will not judge your outward appearance that is different from mine

Nor will I try to break apart your IQ.

The only thing I look for is compassion and humanity.

I look for a respect in our differences,

And that includes our difference of opinion.

I look for tolerance, but do not beg for acceptance.

When I look at you

I see a wonderfully imperfect human being.

And if you are nice to and respect me,

I will freely give you the same.

If not, I will walk away.

I will not beg for your approval

And I will not deal with your issues toward me,

For these issues are yours.

I would expect you would do the same for me.

For like me,

You are an exquisitely damaged human being.

My Two Cents on the Charlottesville Riot. (And yes, I believe it was a riot.)

I try to stay away from politics mainly because it irritates me to no end. However, what happened in Charlottesville, Virginia, last weekend is not entirely a political problem—it is a HUMAN problem.

Why?

We can’t let it go. We can’t let go of hate and our past. (This includes EVERYONE in this equation.) We can’t let the past and hate go because we HAVE NOT learned from it. We shame each other for what our ancestors did and seem to forget that healing starts with US.

White supremacy is a scourge that needs to be stomped out. Black hatred needs to go too, as does hatred for women, and for those who practice religion. Frankly, I think when it comes to religion, folks need to mind their own beeswax unless it directly hurts someone, and I’m not talking hurt feelings. If someone lives in a way you do not agree with, but does not hurt you or others, mind your business! But this is another discussion for another day.

Charlottesville was a hate fueled on both sides. I can’t honestly say I know who started it, I’ve researched and read different tales. But really, put a white supremacy group anywhere and you are going to have trouble. Mix that with BLM and ANTIFA and that’s a powder keg. The results were unsurprisingly explosive and tragic. This nonsense cost one poor lady, who was ran over by a neo-nazi, and two state troopers their lives when their helicopter crashed as they were looking over the scene. I cry for their families and applaud these lost folks their braveness.

All these groups have the right to assemble and to protest. However, no one has the right to run people over, injure them, beat them, or kill them—no matter what side you’re on. I think hate groups need to go, but you can’t force it. Being hateful is not a crime, although what you do with that hatred sure can be. Violence is not going to help the issue. Talking? I doubt it. We must learn and communicate, be informed, and enlightened—all of us. Folks, we have other extreme threats to our nation from other areas. If we stay divided like this over our differences, we are doomed and ripe for foreign picking.

Facebook—don’t get your news there. It boggles the mind and angers you to the point of an aneurysm. Twitter—I don’t listen to celebrities because honestly, I think they have no clue. Stay away from biased news if you can. I get mine from the local channel, and hell I wonder about them sometimes. I boycott Fox News, CNN, MSNBC—well I do watch Lockup on MSNBC on Friday or Saturday night… I also boycott most online news outlets. I try to learn which ones are fake and which aren’t. One thing to remember, “he who controls the media, controls the world.”

Trump? I don’t blame him for the carnage, BUT he really needs to shut his yap, stay off Twitter, and LEAD his county for a change. Anyone who hurt someone at this rally—or riot as I would call it—has something to answer for. Unless they were trying to defend themselves, of course.

Furthermore, I, as a historian, do not like the destruction of monuments. I think that’s what started the whole thing. If you don’t like them on state property, put them in a museum and leave them alone. As for stone mountain, there are those who are calling for that carving to be blown off the planet. That carving is historical and to destroy that would be a tragedy. It is important to realize that destroying monuments and statues will not destroy hate. It is important to see and learn—otherwise, we are doomed to repeat atrocities of the past.

The Pursuit of Happiness

It is truly in the small things; things you cannot put a price on. Some people chase happiness their whole lives and never find it, mainly because happiness does not need to be chased; it is not usually found in success, big houses, expensive cars, fame; this list goes on and on. These folks, I call them “chasers”, do not seem to realize that happiness—true happiness—comes when you treat yourself, not with a new car that is better than your neighbor’s, but with simple things like sitting in the park on a sunny day in your favorite season. NO ONE is too busy for that. If you have time to sit in a realtor’s office, a Mercedes’ dealership, or shopping at Sak’s, then you definitely have time to find a bench in the park, sit your backside down and enjoy whatever you enjoy. Feeding the birds, watching children play, or just taking in some fresh air.

 But this is only part of it.

I get on my Facebook account and get really sick of whiners who just have to have everyone know how bad their lives suck, how bad they are treated, and then how “strong” they are. Yes, a rant once in a while is acceptable, so is asking for help and support. But those I am referring to do this just about every day, sometimes several times a day. I want to grab them by the lapels and shake the holy hell out of them. Get off your ass and make yourself happy, Nimrod! You DO NOT have to be this miserable! “Oh I have nothing to be grateful for, there are no positives in my life, people bully me…blah blah blah… but I am the strongest person alive and you couldn’t survive all that I have…” Bullshit. Strong people don’t do that, and most people don’t feel sorry for you anyway. That sucks, but that’s how it is. After a while people get tired of your drama and will stop stroking your sad little ego and telling you how great you really are. You obviously don’t believe them anyway. Contentment does not come from approval of other people, fame, or fortune. Just ask Kurt Cobain, Marilyn Monroe, or other rich or famous unhappy dead person.

Now I know there are exceptions to every rule, even rules of contentment. If someone is constantly abused, a victim of human trafficking, in a war zone, someone who lives in bottom out poverty and filth and starvation. These poor folks, truly have it hard. I can imagine all they can find to be happy is their faith in God, should they have any, a minute of peace if they can find it, a chance to escape if they can grab it, or food and clean water. But this post is really for those who those who “struggle” with “first world problems.” I hate that saying—“first world problems.” And struggle is a word that is completely overused. Remember someone always has it worse than you. You either help these people, pray for them, or sit on your keister and do nothing. And helping those in terrible situations makes some people happy.

But, as they say, I digress.

For those who have a hard time finding positives in their lives, and yes I used to be one of them, here is a good suggestion that you can do. Journal your positives. YES! Journal your positives. Here’s how:

1. Grab a notebook. It doesn’t have to be some fancy journal or diary. A plain notebook will do. If you’re a digital person, do a blog.

2. On the first page put whatever month/year it is. You can also tape or paste a picture of something you like, i.e., a cartoon character, pic of your kids, your favorite Hollywood person, or whatever makes you smile.

3. Second page, today’s date. Sit back for a moment and think of ONE thing that happened that was positive, or something that made you happy. For example, “My BFF called today…I enjoy talking to him/her.” OR “I had ten minutes to myself today and was able to daydream.” Did these things make you happy or content? Dahlings, you cannot put a price on these things.

4. On day two, do the same. However if you are lacking for time, try to at least do this every week. Try to remember something good/positive that happened every day and put it in there. Add pictures if you like—creates great visual stimulation. NEVER put drama or bad things in this book. If absolutely NOTHING happy happened on a certain day, skip it.

 5. ALWAYS go back and read your entries. You will absorb them. You will find more and more positives in your life. Ultimately, your confidence and your own positivity will grow. Then you’ll realize that while life is hard, it is not as bad as you thought.

Sounds a little like I am selling something, doesn’t it? Well I’m not. I just feel that there are ways to enjoy life even when things are rough. This won’t make you hopping happy every day, but it can give you some contentment and peace. Times will get tough and this will show you that there is light in the darkness.

The Story and Legacy of Emmett Till

 In lieu of Black History Month, I decided to write about a young black boy I first heard about when I was a small child. Both my parents grew up in the segregated South when Jim Crow laws were the norm. One thing I can honestly say about both my parents is that they did not fall into that trap of hatred and segregation. They were unusual for the times in that they both loved and were friends with a very diverse group of people. (Go, Mom and Dad!) One day, I saw a program on the television where someone was talking about a black kid who was lynched back in the 1950s in Mississippi. They talked about these two bigots who had kidnapped him and murdered him because he supposedly flirted and whistled at one of the bigot's wives.

Being a child, it shocked and scared me that someone would kill a child no matter how many years ago it had happened. My parents were talking about this and Mother remarked that she remembered when the whole thing happened. A black kid whistled at a grown white woman? He was killed for that?! This bothered me to no end and I began to really think about this kid who was brutally murdered so long ago.

I went to my mother and asked her about what we had just seen on the television. She sat me down and told me, a little girl of six years, what happened to another kid named Emmett Till. I know many have heard this story over and over, but I feel it is important to post what happened, albeit a condensed version. There are those who have no idea about what happened; that a fourteen year old never had the chance to really experience life because of bigotry, ignorance, and intense hatred. Many do not know what impact his life, or death rather, would have on a fledgling civil rights movement. There are those who do not know that this event ignited the movement, in that finally, people of all races were able to see the atrocities that were being done to black people in the South, including innocent children. Finally, there was his brave mother, Mamie, who in her strength became a driving force in the civil rights movement. There are no new perspectives; mostly my own opinions and comments thrown into the story here and there.

Emmett and his mother, Mamie not long before he was murdered. Taken from chicagotribune.com.

On August 31, 1955, a boy who was fishing discovered the severely swollen and disfigured body of a young black boy in the Tallahatchie River near Money, Mississippi. The boy was severely mutilated; he had been shot above the right ear, one of his eyes was dislodged from its socket; it was also found that he had been beaten on the back and the hips, not to mention he was bloated from being in the river for a few days. His nude body had been weighed down by a heavy cotton gin fan blade, which was tied with barbed around his neck. The body was later identified as that of 14 year old Emmett Till, a young boy from Chicago who was visiting family in the area. He had been reported missing three days earlier. The only way his Uncle Moses could identify him was that he was wearing a silver ring with the initials “L.T.” and “May 25, 1943” engraved on it.

Three days earlier, on August 28, Emmett was kidnapped in the middle of the night from his Great Uncle Moses Wright’s home by a bigot named Roy Bryant, and his bigoted half-brother J.W. Milam. Bryant’s attention seeking wife, Carolyn, had her girdle in a bunch because this black kid supposedly had come into the store and flirted with her, even whistled at her. This enraged Roy Bryant to no end, so he and his half-brother decided to find this “uppity n____” and teach him a lesson in manners.

So, at around 2:30 am in the morning, these two wastes of oxygen forced their way into the home of Moses Wright and kidnapped Emmett. They proceeded to beat the holy shit out of him. When poor Emmett would not say that they were better than him, Bryant and Milam dragged him to the Tallahatchie River, stripped him, beat him some more, then shot him in the head. They tied his body with barbed wire to a 75 pound cotton gin fan and threw him into the river like he was a piece of trash. His Uncle Moses reported him missing, as if the all-white law enforcement in Money gave a rat’s ass.

The story takes a twist after Emmett’s body was shipped back to Chicago. His mother, Mamie, insisted on an open casket funeral. Emmett’s body was displayed in a glass covered casket for five days. Mamie had also insisted that the mortician not fix Emmett’s face; it was to be as it was when he was found. Thousands came to the Robert’s Temple Church of God to see. Jet magazine and the Chicago Defender ran a story about the hate crime, even publishing the extremely graphic pictures of Emmett’s unbelievably ruined remains. (And NO I will not post them here. If you want to have a look, just google “Emmett Till” and you’ll see as many as you can stand.)

Even though Emmett's murder and the showing his body caused Mamie tremendous pain, she wanted the world to see what two white cowards had done to her son. She wanted to show the world what was happening in the deep South to black people; really make them see it. Black people were not safe and treated worse than shit, even the children. Why? Because they were black. That was their only “crime.”

Friends, this is pain! Taken from thedailybeast.com

The trial commenced on September 19, 1955. (Extremely fast! Especially by today’s standards. If that had happened today, those two bozos would have probably went to trial a year or two later.) By this time, thanks to Jet Magazine and the Chicago Defender, Emmett’s murder had gotten national and international attention and outrage from both blacks and whites. Murdering a child, no matter what his or her color, was not right.

Mamie looking into Emmett's coffin. No mother should ever look like this. Taken from nbcnews.com. 

However, on September 23, an all-white male jury, (of course), acquitted Bryant and Milam. (Big shock there!) This joke…I can hardly call it a “jury”, sat in the jury room, smoked cigarettes and shot the shit for a good 67 minutes, before letting these two off.  Then, and brace yourselves, a few months later, Bryant and Milam admitted to committing the crime in an article by Look magazine. Look magazine paid these two murderers some $4000 to tell how they kidnapped and brutally killed an innocent boy. Because of the Double Jeopardy law, no one could legally do a damn thing. Not that I disagree with that law, it’s a fair law. It just makes me puke that these admitted killers were able to go brag about killing a child to a freaking magazine. I am guessing this magazine is out of print now as I have never heard of it.

No justice for Emmett or his family.

J.W. Milam and his wife Juanita  Carolyn (Poor white victim) and Roy Bryant just after their acquittal. Taken from clarion-ledger.com. 

BUT…

After the article in Look came out, Roy Bryant, J.W. Milam, and their wives became pariahs. Most people, although probably knowing they had committed the crime and probably did not care, shunned the hell out of them after reading or hearing of their confession in the magazine. The store the Bryant’s owned—which had sold merchandise to black sharecroppers--lost its business and had to close. Roy and Carolyn Bryant later divorced and it is rumored that Milam and his wife Juanita divorced, but no records of this have been found. Both families left Mississippi for many years because of lack of work and ruined reputations, but later moved back. These two men died unredeemed, unremorseful, and shunned by most people. Milam died of cancer in 1981, Bryant died of cancer in 1994. (Cold comfort for Emmett Till’s family.) Juanita Milam died in 2014 at the age of 86. Carolyn Bryant Donham is now in her 80s and lives in a secret location. (To stop people from lynching her, I guess.)

Mamie Till came out to be one of the strongest women that I have ever read or heard about. Her insistence and strength helped to bring out the severe brutality of Jim Crow segregation in the South. Mamie Till graduated from Chicago Teacher's College in 1960, which became Chicago State University in 1971, and became a teacher. She remarried. His name was Gene Mobley, and they wed on June 24, 1957. She then changed her surname to Till-Mobley and continued her life as an activist working to educate people about what happened to her son. In 1976, she obtained a Master’s Degree in administration at Loyola University Chicago.

She continued to be an influential speaker for the remainder of her life. Mamie was a deeply religious person and this was the crux of her activism. She made comparisons between what happened to Jesus to what happened to Emmett. It has been said that these comparisons that made people begin to see Emmett as a martyr.

Mamie and Gene Mobley were happily married until Gene died from a stroke in 1999. Mamie Till-Mobley died of heart failure in 2003. She was 81 years old. That same year, her autobiography, written with Christoper Benson, Death of Innocence: The Story of the Hate Crime that Changed America, was published. I HIGHLY recommend that everyone read this book! I, personally am sorry that I will never get to meet her in this life. It would have been a privilege to shake her hand and let her know that although I could never, ever know her pain, that she is an icon, not only to the civil rights movement, but to women.


Carolyn Bryant did some interviews some 10 years ago with Timothy B. Tyson, author of the new book, The Blood of Emmett Till--which came out last month; I have a copy ordered, and cannot wait to read it!  She recanted her story, saying she lied about what happened in the store that day. (Trying to get some redemption before she meets her maker, I suppose.) A member of the Till family stated although he knew she was lying, her recantation finally proved to everyone that Emmett was not guilty of what she told everyone he had done. What struck me is that some people seemed to think Emmett brought his death on himself because of his “behavior.”  Although it was a well known fact that in those days in the South, black folks absolutely did not want to piss off white folks, this thought makes me sick, He was the innocent here. Even if he had flirted with her, that did not justify murder. Perhaps her admitting that her lie got him killed brings some peace to what is left of his family.

Emmett Till did not die in vain.

Bryant's Grocery in 1955. Taken from nbcexcellence.org

Bryant's Grocery today. Taken from Pintrest.com. 

Sources

Carlson, Adam. "Emmett Till’s Family Reacts to Accuser Recanting Part of Her Story: ‘It’s a Great Relief’." PEOPLE.com. Time Inc, 08 Feb. 2017. Web. 18 Feb. 2017.

Linder, Doug. "Emmett Till Murder Trial." Emmett Till Murder Trial. Umkc.edu, n.d. Web. 18 Feb. 2017. <http://law2.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/till/tilltriallinks.html>.

Crowe, Chris. Getting Away with Murder: The True Story of the Emmett Till Case. New York: Phyllis Fogelman, 2003. Print.

Till-Mobley, Mamie, and Chris Benson. Death of Innocence: The Story of the Hate Crime That Changed America. New York: Ballantine, 2005. Print.

How I Became the Adorable Jackass I am Today...Part 1

2^nd Grade—

            When I was eight years old, I was in a class full of kids who were known as “gifted”. How I got into this class was anyone’s guess. Perhaps this certain Elementary school was so overcrowded; the only place they had to put my average little butt was in this class full of perpetual eggheads. Even to this day, I have always wondered what these “kids” did for fun after school. Did they go home and memorize the dictionary? Work complex math problems? Read encyclopedias?

            I ask these questions because I remember distinctly our teacher asking us to take a word from the dictionary, write down the definition, study, and learn the word. We were then to go in front of the class and present the word and see who in the class knew its meaning. No matter which word I chose, no matter how hard I made it, someone in this room full of little poindexters knew the definition word for freaking word! I could pick the most complex word completely at random, and some genius from this class recited the definition. Now that I am an adult, I have to wonder if these future rocket-scientists actually comprehended these words, or if they were just parroting what they had been forced to read from over-zealous parents who were desperate to see their children succeed.

            Of course, I did not fit in to this room full of future presidents, physicists, astronomers, brain surgeons, or whatever high achievers their parents had aspired them to be. (Of course most of them became accountants, teachers, nurses, a lawyer here or there, and surprisingly, a few bums and panhandlers) The following became one of my first experiences of being an ass although it was brought on by one of these “My-mom-said-I-was-the-smartest-kid-alive!” morons.

            Our teacher had given us a writing assignment. The assignment went something like this: “The teacher came into the classroom only to find all of the students were hiding in the trashcan. Write a story telling why.” My mind went into creative overdrive. The story I wrote was about a potato monster that had escaped from the cafeteria that day and had ran into the classroom and was wreaking havoc. The students were so frightened of the damned thing, they all were in the trashcan hiding from it. The teacher and the class loved it, except for Mr. I’m the smartest kid alive. I should mention that his real name was _____ Holstein. (No kidding.)

             I got some adulation from the teacher and my fellow students for writing this story of wit and hilarity, while others wrote lame stuff like the children were hiding in the trash to avoid doing school work or taking a test. While I was basking in my moment, this jealous little jerk leaned over to my desk and said rather nastily, “Oh my god, a potato monster? Seriously?”

            I took a “whatever” kind of approach to this. “Yea,” I said, nonchalantly. “A potato monster. At least I’m not named after a cow.  ‘Holstein.’”

That kid never bothered, or spoke, to me again.

Signs You Might Be A Hardcore Fundamental Christian Woman--And Possibly a Hypocrite.

*Disclaimer: These are observations and experiences I have had dealing with some members of the church. Most Christians are really cool folks...but then there are these...




1. You are at Church, front center every Sunday, Sunday night, Wednesday Night, Revival, and Special Singing Services. Not to mention you are at and probably in charge of every church breakfast, lunch, or dinner out of fear you’ll miss gossip and be condemned to hell by the minister or other members of the congregation. Plus it makes you look SO good!!

2. Attend every get together, function, visitation, religious ribbon cutting, wedding or funeral of every member, former member, or visitor who came once and never came again, whether you knew them or not.

3. Pray about each and every little thing in your daily life, including silly little things like if it is all right for you to clip your toe nails even though they look like Fritos—God is more than likely in Heaven shaking his head wishing you would get a life.

4. Suddenly, you remember the laws of the Old Testament and run to ask your husband if it is all right with him if you cut these same toe nails. Your hubs praises God and gives Him a spiritual high-five because he is tired of having to go get stitches every morning from those razor sharp toe nails!

5. You think anyone outside of your church is weird. (Applies to men and women.)

6. Everyone outside of your church thinks you’re weird. (Applies to men and women.)

7. Some people inside of your church think you’re weird—they obviously aren’t as righteous as you. (Applies to men and women.)

8. Everyone is going to hell outside your particular church—and half those inside your church—even people of the same denomination, not to mention the cat, the dog, the goldfish, that busty weather girl, and that weird cock-eyed kid down the street. There is no hope, they’re all doomed no matter what!

9. Your kids are the biggest hell raisers in a 200 mile radius and you, of course, are completely oblivious, because after all, you raised them in the church and they know better than to rebel.

10. Ned Flanders from “The Simpson’s” is your ideal mate. (“Hi-diddly-ho, wife-erino!”) However, you also think "The Simpson's" is the devil.

11. If your satellite or cable provider had a “Pay-Per-Pray” channel, you’d be in the poor house.

12. You have read and reread every translation of the Bible there is—not to mention spent a fortune learning Ancient Greek and Hebrew just to make sure things are completely accurate.

13. You believe heels and jeans are for whores but gold and diamonds, the more the better, go well with knee-high stockings and black loafers.

14. The art of gambling is a sin but being drunk off your ass is cool; when it’s done discreetly that is!

15. You donate to Westboro Baptist Church in secret.

16. Just to be safe, you don’t eat meat on Friday, even though you aren’t Catholic—God forbid!

17. Gossip is sinful unless it is done in the confines of fellowship.

18. You think the Pastor’s home phone number is a 24 hour crisis line—especially when you needed advice on what to do when you coveted your own husband.

19. Anyone mentions work on Sunday or a holiday, you completely freak out! BUT you go out to lunch right after church, go to Walmart on religious holidays, and gripe because all the “mom and pop” stores are closed. “Well…sinners…got to work!”

20. All TV, Movie, or Music stars are bad and going to hell, yet you watch and freely give money to some televangelist who has six girlfriends, five boyfriends, 12 illegitimate children with 12 different women, lives in a mansion, has a private jet, and drives a Rolls Royce paid for by your generous donations!

21. You preach kindness, patience, and goodness, but you threaten to bash the cashier on the noggin at the market for not honoring an expired coupon for paper towels.

22. You condemn the dog to hell for pooping on your brand-new beige carpet. 

23. You only make love to your husband in the dark...modesty you know.

24. You get pissed off because the pastor’s wife sold more brownies at the church bake sale than you even though they tasted better than your snickerdoodles.

25. Whores, porn stars, strippers, ladies in nudie magazines, or gay people are not to be forgiven—ever! You must hold their pasts over their head for the rest of their earthly existence; and NEVER, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD let these heathens into the church because the whole place might catch on fire!