Me and Tina

     Teena Marie's music was a part of the soundtrack of my middle and high school life..."young love why you wanna go old on me now?"...but one recent memory I have of her music was perhaps my husband's introduction to my habit of singing at a moments notice prompted by a word, a phrase, a sight. a taste, a sound whatever...in this case it was the first strings of "Casanova Brown" coming from the radio.
     We were on the last leg of a trip from New Orleans, in Georgia but not in "Atlanta" but close enough to get the local radio station.  I was the passenger on this trip, the one who was supposed to keep the driver awake and alert.  Instead I had finally succumb to sleep after doing the head wagging nod dance for a number of miles. I'm sure my husband was looking at me from the corner of his eyes, rolling them at me since I had promised I would stay awake, when suddenly, I awoke singing in my full 2nd alto voice "My baby's fine. He always keeps me guessing, but never leaves me guessing, about his love." and proceeded to sing every note, every "shubby dooby doo", even holding the long note in the middle until the last phrase "Over before the love turns to hate, let it end and let's still be friends."  and then the pause and finally "shu doo doo doo doo oo oooooo!".  I remember being wide awake after my "performance".  Music has that effect on me.  It's medicinal and therapeutic, it makes me feel better when I'm sick, makes me happy when I'm sad, keeps me company when I'm lonely, makes me happier when I'm already overjoyed and awakens me from a deep not supposed to be sleeping long road trip induced sleep.  Tina Marie's songs have done all of that for me.  Thankfully, she shared herself with us through her music such that even though she is physically gone, she will live on, on the radio, forever and ever...Amen. RIP Lady Tee!

TEENA MARIE CASANOVA BROWN

I WISH DEATH WOULD DIE

I wish that death would die..go away...leave me be with my family and  friends. I wish it to go quickly and quietly like too many of my friends have. Or perhaps it will go violently like a soldier or a son in the streets. How ever death dies, it won't be too soon. It won't be soon enough to take away the pain it has caused or to cover up the scars it has left.
Death is not final. Or at least I tell myself this to try to answer the whys and the hows in my mind and heart. I reconcile that those who have already succomb to it somehow live on...in us...in our children or perhaps in the wind...  a whisper...a song... 
I wish that death would die...or at least stay away a little bit longer...

Charter school in tough neighborhood gets all its seniors into college - chicagotribune.com

Charter school in tough neighborhood gets all its seniors into college - chicagotribune.com

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These ARE my Father's and Grandfather's Saints!

Usually when something old renews itself people say "this isn't your Father's fill in the blank"...

Where were you on a hot day in August 1972? Apparently I was in New Orleans at Tulane Stadium watching a Saints game. My Grandfather, in his infinite wisdom purchased season tickets for all of his grand kids that lived in New Orleans.

"Morris you're driving like a dam fool!" my Grandfather would yell.

"Whose driving this mule?" my Dad would reply.

And thus began our family time on Sunday. My parents, Grandfather and Aunt would proceed to the plush Plaza section while my brothers and I would ascend to the terrible Terrace. I was there in 1975 when they played their first game in the Superdome. I was there for "Daddy why do those people have paper bags on their heads?". I was there when the Saints were the Aint's. I was a reluctant fan. As a matter of fact I flat out didn't want to go. It was like torture to make a child/preteen/teen girl sit in the 600 Section at the top of the Superdome with her 2 brothers watching football! On days when one or both of my brothers couldn't go because St. Aug, their highschool was playing at halftime, my best friend Shelley and I would roam the ramps making sure we didn't see the game. On the other hand , as a Saints season ticket holder I learned the game so well I could coach a team and impress or embarrass male friends with my vast knowledge of the game.
You would think that once I went to college in Atlanta and I was freed from my Saints Fan servitude, I would have given up on them. But being away from home actually had the opposite effect. Instead it made me love my city and thus my team more. I cheered for them in a dorm room in 1988 when they were pelted by snowballs by the Chicago Bears fans. Later on I second- lined into the Fulton County stadium to play our arch rivals The Falcons and then even later second-lined out of the Atlanta Dome no matter if we won or lost.

My Dad and Grandfather started my affair with The Saints. At the end of every season they would say well there's always next year. Well Dad and Pops that year has arrived! THE SAINTS ARE GOING TO THE SUPERBOWL! I know y'all are leading the second-line somewhere, my Grandfather with his umbrella and fan and my Dad with his handkerchief and one finger in the air saying WHO DAT, WHO DAT and I'm sure "when the Saints go marching in" is playing!!!!!!

THE GRINCH THAT STOLE CHRISTMAS

Somewhere around my 11th year of life give or take a few years (blame Mommy brain), my Dad announced that we would no longer be receiving gifts on Christmas Day. You would expect that my brothers and I wanted to call the department of children's services, shout "I hate you Daddy", and ask to be moved to a different family. Actually we didn't because first of all my Dad was the Director of that department (or the one next to it)and secondly there was no such thing as shouting at my parents (AT ALL!). But more importantly the reason why we didn't take the first bus to our much more benevolent Grandparents' house is because of my Dad's explanation for his apparent "bah humbugness". He simply said that he didn't need anyone to tell him when to buy gifts for his children. He told us (and showed us) that if we needed something it was ours and if we wanted something we only had to ask and then it would be discussed as to whether or not it was a feasible request and because we knew that our father was a man of his word we didn't put up a fuss.
Did he know that in this world of materialism and commercialism our deprivation (one of his favorite concepts) from "things" at Christmas time would makes us better citizens or parents or just good people? Or maybe he was just like I am now, a parent trying to at least show my kids a right (although very different) way of doing this thing called life.
Now that I have my own family, I have had to contemplate how I want to handle this holiday. From my first post you would know that I am all about the hype so I love the "Christmas Season". I go full blast with decorations, tree (albeit a small one because 2 2 years old plus a big tree equals disaster), lights and especially the music ("This Christmas", MJ's "I saw Mommy" etc). I take the kids to see all the lighted up areas in town and we even played in the fake snow in New Orleans and at Stone Mounatin Park. And my parents were the same way until "the announcement". While I don't want my kids to get hyped up about getting "things" for Christmas I also don't want to take away the magic of waking up on Christmas morning and getting some of the "things" that you wanted, and feeling special because you got them.
And so while I have decided to buy some "things" for my kids, (1 big gift and 2 small gift per child) I really have them hyped up about singing Christmas carols, eating gumbo and turkey (especially gumbo) and visiting friends and family. I've explained to them that the real gift was the birth of the baby Jesus.
Remember in the tv show where the Grinch stole all the "things" but Christmas was still celebrated? My Christmases after my my Dad's announcement were still full of joy and happiness, singing and dancing, eating and sleeping (my Aunt has a whole album of my Dad sleeping after we ate) and just being merry. So my Dad turned out not to be the Grinch after all. Instead he was more like Santa (beard, laugh and all) in a black turtle neck, red suspenders and a green jacket (I hated that outfit) giving me and my brothers the gift of a lesson learned, a "thing" that we at first didn't think we wanted, but in the end we certainly needed.

The princess and the frog: We finally got us one!

My cousin called me last night to ask me if I had seen The Princess and the Frog yet. I hadn't but she had and she was brimming with happiness. She enthusiastically talked about how great the movie was and how much she truly enjoyed it. My cousin is almost fifty years old and she did not take one of her nieces (she is mother to many just not by birth) she went alone because she did not want to miss this opening weekend. She explained that when she was growing up there were very few Black faces on the small and large screen and on the occasion that one did appear everyone rushed to the den (there was only one TV in the house back then-imagine that)to see who it was and what they could possibly be doing.

And so this opening weekend is indeed a special one. Many little Black girls (including me)those young and those young at heart will flock to see Princess Tiana with her deep brown skin (a black black girl)and almond shaped eyes. We will flock to see someone who looks like the person we see in the mirror every morning. There has been much hype about this movie and if you know me you know I'm all about the hype. I was not even into the princess thing before I had my girls. Growing up we definitely did not do Cinderella, Belle/Beauty and certainly not Snow White(I grew up in an unapologeticly Black house-but that's another post). But master Disney has whipped us all into a Princess frenzy. Shirts and bed skirts, panties and purses, tables that turn into castles and castles that turn into tables, toy boxes and boxes of toys, you name it and Disney has put a princess on it. And I never purchased not one of those items. Not even the diapers (the baby wouldn't notice but I would and so would someone at the play group). But now (woohoo!)we got us one! And the fact that the movie is set in New Orleans my hometown (YES INDEED!) has sent me over the top with pride and sheer joy.

I am in the words of our first Black girl in the White House proud of being an American for the first time in my life(maybe not the first time but dam near). My generation and all the ones before grew up in a world that was Black at home but mostly white everywhere else. Some of us ignored this face, most of us tolerated it, too many of us fully embraced it (I've been to way too many Cinderella parties ok one but that was too much!) This generation sees more of us on the screen (TV, movie, computer)but they see much more of everything else too(no more Hannah please?!) so perhaps they need Tiana more than we did. Of course this lack of validation from the outside didn't stop manyof us from becoming phenomenal women. But then again who knows how many more there could have been if there had been a girl that looked just like you on the screen who was treated as someone worthy of the best life has to offer, whose dreams came true and whose Prince didn't sing nasty songs about girls name Nikki.

So believe the hype! Ignore the nay saying conspiracy theorist who said she was green for too long or that the Prince didn't have enough swagger. Go and be the Princess you were born to be at least for an hour and a half. And make sure you take your sons with you so they will know that little Black girls (not named Beyonce) can be and should be princesses too .