O.K. – By definition, love is the kind of thing that throws you a sucker punch. No matter how prepared you think you are for what’s coming. Things come out of nowhere and sit right in front of you like here I am. Then, you have to figure out how to deal with the curve ball you’ve just been thrown. Ain’t it just grand!
As for me, I hadn’t quite given up on the prospect of being attached again. If I do say so myself, I am a pretty good catch. But that brings to mind the question, where are the ones to be caught? They couldn’t be found so I resigned myself to enjoying ME and falling in love with ME all over again. I know it might seem selfish just to deal with myself but more than selfish, I see it as safe. Seriously, dates with me mean – (1) I always know who I am going home with at the end of the night, (2) when I leave no one else has to be dropped off at home and (3) no bullshit! Granted that eating at the boutique bistro alone or checking out a movie by myself was a little disconcerting at first but given time, it worked.
But as life often throws, the curve ball comes.
Recently as I was enjoying ME, I took an invitation to join some good friends for dinner. At dinner, a quazi-ex (this doesn’t need defining) shows up to join us. Now, it was all good but there was immediate chemistry between the ex and I. That’s when the questions started. Am I just infatuated with this person? Do I just want sex? Is this for real? I mean they all come rushing back a mile a minute. After great conversation at dinner we spent part of the night talking alone. Nothing major happened. Maybe a kiss or two with plans for a date the next night.
The next night was great. The early dinner on the beach and movie hit the spot. It was cool to have some one to hang out with for a change. But why now and why an ex?
I guess in reality it was what it was, that which it was. This situation, much like life, could only happen one day at a time. No matter how much we try to figure out what is supposed to happen and who we are supposed to love (or like) that’s how the game is played. It’s a rule of thumb. From our vantage, love will always come from the wrong person at the wrong time. Truthfully, does life really give us things we want when we want them?
As for me, I don’t think I will end my rituals of my dinners and movies alone or my manicure and pedicure days or even my daydreaming about meeting that special specimen of perfection. That’s all the fun of being a unique individual. For now, I’ll take it for what it’s worth, enjoying sharing my ME time with someone else and taking this new found “friend” thing . . . one day at a time.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Remembering The Legends
It was an amazingly definitive experience and I needed it in my life – so I bought the poem. At that moment it was an heirloom that I could pass along. I bought the Pearl Cleage poem We Speak Your Names that was composed for Oprah’s Legends Ball. I read it aloud. In just that moment I was back to that place watching Angela Bassett, Hallie Berry, Phylicia Rashad and a host of other “Young’uns” honor the Legends of History.
After watching Oprah’s Legends Ball on Television last month, I was motivated. Motivated about what I needed to do, motivated about the possibilities that existed and ready for the challenge. As I sat there and watched these wonderful, extraordinary African-American women receive their honors, I was shedding tears by the end of the show. I needed more. But my tears weren’t just tears of appreciation and joy for these women, some were tears of sadness.
I looked at the fact that Oprah honored these wonderful women and gave them their flowers while they could smell them. And then I looked at the fact that men never do anything remotely like this. We (black men) rarely appreciate each other, rarely emotionally support each other and in an effort to try to be the “man” we step on each other.
In that I looked back at all of the groundbreaking African-American men who were never really able to be honored before they left this earth. I think of the fact that had it not been for Thurgood Marshall and Adam Clayton Powell, I could have never been elected to public office. I think of the fact that had it not been for Ossie Davis, Sidney Portier, Harry Belafonte and Sammie Davis, Jr. I could have never graced the stage and screen. Had it not been for Jean-Michael Basquait and Gordon Parks would art be what it is? If not for Paul Robeson, could I really know that it was O.K. to do it all?
I could go on remembering those that made a difference and have passed on but the larger questions remains, how many went on before knowing how we really felt about them? I only wish that I had the resources to honor black men the way Oprah did black women at the Legends Ball.
Now although I don’t have the financial resources the least I could do was write MY poem to black men. I look forward to one day sharing it with the world. I look forward to honoring the black men that are here and remembering those that have passed on like they should be remembered.
For now I hope that black men will wake up and stop being so bull headed, respect our feelings and support and honor each other. That way we can truly honor those that paved the way before they leave the road. We can do more than speak their names. We can honor their existence.
After watching Oprah’s Legends Ball on Television last month, I was motivated. Motivated about what I needed to do, motivated about the possibilities that existed and ready for the challenge. As I sat there and watched these wonderful, extraordinary African-American women receive their honors, I was shedding tears by the end of the show. I needed more. But my tears weren’t just tears of appreciation and joy for these women, some were tears of sadness.
I looked at the fact that Oprah honored these wonderful women and gave them their flowers while they could smell them. And then I looked at the fact that men never do anything remotely like this. We (black men) rarely appreciate each other, rarely emotionally support each other and in an effort to try to be the “man” we step on each other.
In that I looked back at all of the groundbreaking African-American men who were never really able to be honored before they left this earth. I think of the fact that had it not been for Thurgood Marshall and Adam Clayton Powell, I could have never been elected to public office. I think of the fact that had it not been for Ossie Davis, Sidney Portier, Harry Belafonte and Sammie Davis, Jr. I could have never graced the stage and screen. Had it not been for Jean-Michael Basquait and Gordon Parks would art be what it is? If not for Paul Robeson, could I really know that it was O.K. to do it all?
I could go on remembering those that made a difference and have passed on but the larger questions remains, how many went on before knowing how we really felt about them? I only wish that I had the resources to honor black men the way Oprah did black women at the Legends Ball.
Now although I don’t have the financial resources the least I could do was write MY poem to black men. I look forward to one day sharing it with the world. I look forward to honoring the black men that are here and remembering those that have passed on like they should be remembered.
For now I hope that black men will wake up and stop being so bull headed, respect our feelings and support and honor each other. That way we can truly honor those that paved the way before they leave the road. We can do more than speak their names. We can honor their existence.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)