My two-cents worth and then some. An online journal by LP Brown.

Posts Written By L Parker Brown

Creeping Normalcy

by on ·Food for Thought, Opinion, The Way I See It

Is there such a thing as normal anymore?  Or is normalcy, like beauty – in the eye of the beholder? I often wonder about that.

It was easier to comprehend things when I was much younger (darn near a hundred years ago). It didn’t require a rocket scientist mentality or a Ph.D. in political correctness to determine what was normal and what wasn’t. Back then, we learned in school that two plus two equals four. Nowadays, even that is arguable. Ask a scientist or mathematician, and that person might tell you that two plus two doesn’t necessarily equal four. Then, they’ll go on to explain that significant figures and rounding could produce a different answer. For gosh sake, I am not delving any further into that. Anyone who wants additional information about the quandary of two plus two had best start doing their research.

The conversion from normalcy to the existing status quo sometimes annoys me. Things that once fit neatly into boxes now bulge and punch holes through the container. I like the way a friend of mine described the situation when we were discussing it recently. He said, “Society is on the downstroke. The best days are behind us.”

My favorite television show is The View. The women on the program are intelligent, courageous, and outspoken. They don’t give a flying squirrel whether the public agrees with what they say, nor do they hold back on voicing their opinion. Even when they have a co-host or guest on the show whose ideas I strongly disagree with, who I feel is teetering on the border of idiocy, I still respect that person’s right to voice their opinion.

Like The View’s co-hosts, I am not bothered by people’s judgment of my viewpoint. However, I am astute enough to know that there are times when it is prudent to be diplomatic instead of shooting from the hip. I feel sorry for people who are so afraid of expressing what they honestly think because they fear that being candid will make them look bad, biased, or bonkers in the eyes of their relatives or friends. So, they suppress their true feelings and deny what they are really thinking. Then, later they silently fume about what they wish they had said. Been there. Done that. Years ago. Ain’t doing it no mo’. (Okay, I got a bit carried away there. But isn’t that the freedom of journaling?)

Getting back to the topic. I miss the days when if I received an unexpected wedding invitation from an acquaintance who I didn’t know very well, I didn’t have to wonder if it would be a heterosexual or same-sex marriage. Of course, the gender of the partners will not determine whether or not I attend the wedding. I don’t care who weds who. But, the fact that I don’t care about the gender of the couple doesn’t stop me from wondering. With the growing trend of parents giving their children unisex names, guessing the gender of someone’s S.O. isn’t as easy as it used to be. For example, if a wedding invitation reads, “… joyfully invite you to the wedding of Blair and Blake” or “the honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of Casey and Hunter,” there may be cause for pause. Suppose I want to buy the couple a set of engraved coffee mugs or embroidered gift towels; in order not to commit a faux pas, I need to know whether to buy “His and Hers, His and His or Hers and Hers.”

And look at families. As I see it, there is no such thing anymore as a normal family. Okay, I suddenly sense that using the word normal will be like pouring rubbing alcohol on a bleeding, open wound in some folks. So let’s strike it. Perhaps, in this instance, traditional is a more acceptable word to use. Traditional families like I used to see on TV programs during my generation’s younger days. Families like Father Knows Best, The Partridge Family, Good Times, and even The Jeffersons are what I mean by traditional families. They used to be referred to as nuclear families. I wonder, is the term “nuclear family” taboo now, too?

Traditional or contemporary families are more on par with This is Us and  Modern Family.

When I was a child, I had friends who may have had one or two step-siblings living in their home. Aside from the step-siblings, the children in the house all had the same last name. (Sometimes the step-kids did, too.) According to a study by Cassandra Dorius, a postdoctoral fellow at the University of Michigan Institute for Social Research, “One in five of all American moms have kids who have different birth fathers.” So, there could be as many as five or more children in today’s household, each carrying a different surname connected with their numerous baby daddies. I suspect that this is now considered normal; oops, I mean traditional.

Well, those are some of my thoughts about normalcy.

Dare I publish this? People might consider me unreasonable, narrow-minded, or biased; whatever adjective suits their fancy doesn’t faze me. But in judging me, I hope that they will acknowledge that I am sincere in expressing my beliefs and opinions. I refuse to cowardly straddle the line and pretend to be impartial when I have concrete feelings about something.

I’m sure that even my critics would agree that Charles Addams was on point when he wrote, “Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.” With that – I do agree.

 

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The World is Watching

by on ·Social Media

It never fails. As soon as I get comfortable with something, the rules change. In this case, it would be more accurate to say that my perspective – not the rules – changed.

Back in the day, I clearly remember when I said I wanted no part of social media (SM). And then, after thinking about it for, oh, about two years (no joke), I relented and opened a Facebook account and later one on Twitter.

I became an active participant and proponent of Facebook. I began refuting the negative comments from non-user relatives and friends who said things like, “People put all of their personal business online. I want no part of that.”

My response was often, “It is up to you how much information you chose to share. Smart people don’t reveal any more on FB than they would disclose to a friend, relative, or neighbor, in person or on the phone. You have to know your boundaries. ”

Then, the nay-sayers would come back with, “It’s dangerous. You meet all kinds of shady people online.”  Umm. So, don’t you meet creepy crawlers elsewhere, even in church?

SM has its drawbacks, but I know that some people would agree that it has brought people closer. It has even facilitated the search for estranged persons seeking to locate a long-lost friend or relative. And, wherein before, some of us only occasionally saw each other – usually at some sad event like a funeral, now, we share photos and videos of birthday parties, weddings, and cook-outs. We even get to see children and grandchildren growing up. And since COVID and its variants cause many of us to have second thoughts about mingling with large numbers of people, our social media pages are a welcome respite and safer alternative to group participation. SM is also an excellent venue for promoting our entrepreneur businesses and other endeavors. That’s my usual spiel, or it used to be.

HOWEVER, after recently watching the Netflix documentary “The Social Dilemma,” my endorsement of social media has come to an abrupt pause. It was as if a bright yellow, black-lettered YIELD sign dropped in front of me. My first thought was to close all of my online accounts, but then I regrouped. (I admit sometimes I tend to be impulsive.)

But WOW! The documentary narrated by several tech experts, former employees of Google, Facebook, Twitter, and other social media platforms, is a definite eyeopener. If I had any idea that the ex-social media employees who produced the program were a bunch of disgruntled former workers, I soon put that thought to bed. So instead, I give kudos to those socially conscious whizzes who left their jobs in the tech world because they could not in good conscience continue to support what they saw as the manipulation and control of the masses by some rich folks with $$$ signs in the crosshair.

As one techie expressed in the film, social media is a drug and the account holders are addicted.

It is downright scary to hear the narrators explain the effect SM has on us all, especially young adults and children. Using a teenaged boy as a prototype, the film shows that some of us are so addicted that we don’t know what to do with ourselves when we are denied access to our SM accounts.

Meanwhile, we are given a disturbing look at some folks who are convinced that everything they read online is true because they found it on the Internet. Fake news and unregulated messages circulate on SM like California wildfires, and brainwashing the gullible with propaganda and gossip is big business.

This film reminds unsuspecting patrons that advertisers, promoters of conspiracy theories, divisiveness, and political discord are prevalent on SM platforms. SM managers are using access and power to their advantage. Not only will this documentary make some viewers angry, but it will also blow your mind.

As Kofi Annan said, “Knowledge is power. Information is liberating.” If this film doesn’t make you think, then you don’t have a brain.

One techie in the film said he does not allow his children to use social media at all. Another asked the profound question – “Are we being outsmarted by artificial intelligence?”

The film will not convince die-hard fans to abandon their social media sites. I might close Twitter. I seldom use it anyway, but I don’t see myself giving up FB, at least not in the immediate future. However, I will be even more cautious about what I share and what things like quizzes, polls, surveys, etc., I participate in.

Some viewers may not be affected by what they learn, while others will think what I thought after watching it – be afraid. Be very afraid.

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Rainy Day Reminiscing

by on ·Dreams, Exercise

At 5:30 AM this morning, my cell phoned blasted an Emergency Alert flash flood warning loud enough to wake up the dead. Unable to go back to sleep, I got up, walked to the window, and opened the blinds. Rain was pouring like Niagara Falls. Considering the wicked state of the world, I expected to see Noah’s ark floating down the street any minute.

Leaving the window, I walk to the table in the other room and open my laptop. As I pass the bookcase, I glimpse one of the books facing forward on the shelf. It is James Baldwin’s. I smile at the irony because the cover suggests I should not worry about the rain; the prophecy is for the fire next time.

It is predawn, the best time to sit down, do some writing, and introspection.

I think about one of my favorite Langston Hughes’ poems titled Harlem. Written in 1951, it begins with the line “What happens to a dream deferred?” Six years after he wrote that Lorraine Hansberry would parlay Hughes’ words into a prize-winning play titled A Raisin in the Sun. Although it has been decades since I first encountered the question raised in the poem, I think about it a lot. I suppose that a dream differed could wither on a vine, but it doesn’t have to.

I’ve read that Hansberry sometimes wrote during her free time while working as a waitress. I’ve never been a waitress, but the jobs I held, initially as a switchboard operator at the Pentagon and later in administrative positions, albeit some with creative titles, took priority over my dream since childhood to be a writer. The demands of a full-time job and the responsibility of singly raising two children after a divorce left little free time to pursue my dream. Throughout the years and to this day, I’ve often wondered what if my circumstances had been different? What if writing had been my primary profession instead of a sidebar? I’ll never know the answer to those questions, but I did the best with the time and resources I had, like Hansberry and numerous other resourceful souls.

Retirement has given me ample time to write but realistically speaking time is not unlimited. When I was still in the workforce, I seized every opportunity to compose everything from essays, letters to the editor, Op-ed pieces, poems, anything that inspired me, and that I thought I could get published. My perseverance paid off. I was fortunate to have some of my pieces published in The Washington Post, The Afro-American, The City Paper, and elsewhere. For three years, I supplemented my income writing as a contributor to the Metro Chronicle. That weekly newspaper stopped publishing decades ago, but I will forever be grateful to the editor, LaVerne Gill, for allowing me to swim in the journalism pool. Sometimes even the most unlikely angels arrive to help us along our way. In my now leisure time, I’ve published a book, and am working on another. I’m also a successful blogger with 12 years and nearly 400 posts to my credit. How blessed am I?

When I hear people say, I would have done this or that if I had had the time, but I had to work, I encourage them and try to convince them that it is never too late to pursue an obtainable dream. I say obtainable because an 80-year old whose lifelong ambition is to be a gymnast like Simone Biles might be a bit too ambitious. But then, you never know. Far be it for me to rain on anybody’s parade.

My cousin Akintunde Kenyatta was in his late 60s or early 70s when (like Ex-President George H.W. Bush, Wesley Snipes, and other over 50 brave hearts) he decided to jump out of a plane. Akintunde fulfilled his dream and proudly crossed skydiving off his bucket list a few years before going home to glory. I am still impressed.

Second to my passion for writing is exercising. Before the pandemic shut things down, I was an enthusiastic gym member for seven consistent years, usually attending three days a week. Before that, I was devoted to walking for exercise.

For over a dozen years, my neighbor and friend, Hazel Williams, and I regularly walked on most Saturdays. My treks started after she encouraged me to join her, walking inside the PG Plaza Mall. However, after a few years of strolling past storefront windows got boring, we opted for a change of scenery. That’s when we began walking outside, 5-miles round trip from our home to City Place (as it was then called) in Silver Spring and back.

Concurrently, we also began participating in walk-a-thons that raised money to support charities and causes like Osteoporosis, breast cancer, etc. Most frequently, we joined in the annual Fannie Mae Homeless Walk downtown on the National Mall. That walk took place every year on the Saturday before Thanksgiving. Hazel and I participated for about 12 to 15 years during the 24 years that the annual walk was held. Unfortunately, Fannie Mae ended the fundraising walks in November 2011.

If I could go back to my younger self and deliver a message to her when she was feeling discouraged and stuck in a rut, I’d tell her, “Girl, don’t you give up. A dream deferred does not die unless you let it. Don’t let naysayers, dire circumstances, or self-doubt stop you. You’ve got this!”

 

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A Private Conversation about a Public Matter

by on ·Cousins, COVID, Health, Vaccine

My cousin Butch is one of the most intelligent people I know. But he is also extremely modest, and I can imagine him cringing when he reads this.

I enjoy conversing with him, and although we don’t always agree on things, we are both open-minded enough to listen to each other’s viewpoints and respond civilly. We have had dissenting perspectives on subjects from the death penalty to the COVID vaccine (and now it’s back to wearing masks).

Below are snippets of our (abridged) conversation from about a week ago.

ME:  I am so tired of hearing the talking heads on TV chatter about the COVID virus, its variants, and the insistence that everyone take the vaccine. The folks who will take the shot have likely taken it already, and those who don’t want it will not be convinced to take it. The exception is for those who wish to take it but cannot get it for some reason or another. Although I took the shot, I remain convinced that we all are guinea pigs. I didn’t start having intermittent skin rashes and some other issues until after taking that vaccine – two months after my second shot. My dermatologist says it is likely caused by something that I am allergic to. Uh Huh. When I told both him and my primary care physician that this stuff wasn’t occurring before I got the shot, they fell silent. (What I forgot to tell my cousin is that I’ve talked to at least three friends/associates who months after that second shot are experiencing unusual health issues they’ve not had before.)

MY COUSIN: I know this COVID news gets old but, the fact is people are dying at a rate not seen for over a hundred years. It is terrible, and when we don’t take it seriously enough, it gets worse. Japan would not be restricting attendance to the biggest money-making event (the Olympics) of recent times if there wasn’t something to it. Americans (in general) are less sensitive to this because we have a less community-centric ethos than many other countries. We pride ourselves on our individualism and “every man for himself” thinking imposed upon us by centuries of robber barons and imperialists dictating the rules of the game. “If they die, they die” so long as they (the powers that be) have access to all measures to preserve themselves! Think about Rupert Murdoch. Do you think he didn’t vaccinate as soon as he could? Think about the orange one (I know nobody wants to [think about him], but) he surreptitiously got vaccinated and who knows what else for himself and his family, but what did Murdoch and [the orange one] feed their sheep? “It’s a hoax.” “It’s not that bad.” “You need to be a soldier and get back to work.” “You better go back to school.” “Scientists don’t know what they’re talking about.” “Listen to us or listen to your gut.”

Critical thinking tells us that the people who manipulate you for personal gain are probably not the most reliable sources for information regarding your personal safety (unless you are part of their “in group”). Dr. Fauci has dedicated his professional life to saving lives. He didn’t do it to be on the cover of “Time” magazine. Now he’s taking outrageous slings and arrows because he speaks inconvenient truths. Unfortunately, sometimes science gives us the information we don’t like or want to hear but listening and taking it always makes us smarter. Denying it could lead to our downfall. Murdoch and 45 don’t care about the meatpacking workers and food service workers dying, so long as they can be replaced. The “sheep” need to recognize this.

ME:  I know why the scientific community keeps quiet about possible long-term side effects because they are trying to encourage everyone to take the stuff. But I think they should be upfront and tell the public that some people are having allergic reactions and side effects lasting longer than a few weeks after the second injection.

MY COUSIN:  We’ve had at least 70 million people here take at least one shot and not anything alarmingly close to that here since the early J&J rare blood clotting issues. [He is referring to a link that I emailed him about some of the side effects of the vaccine.] That is not to say that these vaccinations are 100% safe, but they have never been. And but for vaccinations, the world might well be overrun with polio, smallpox, and rubella right now. I never wanted to get the shot, but the evidence was clear that my chances of surviving the shot would probably be better than my chances of surviving a bad case of COVID; plus, I hate getting sick.

I enjoy debating issues with my cousin and find it refreshing. Interestingly, some laypeople can have a civil discussion about controversial topics when numerous close-minded public figures, including rogue Congressional legislators, behave like temper-tantrum throwing spoiled brats.

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Speaking of Cousins

by on ·Cousins

“I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream,” or so the saying goes. So today (and each third Sunday in July) is National Ice Cream Day.

Some folks reading this are probably asking themselves, what does National Ice Cream Day have to do with cousins? If they keep reading, they’ll find out, won’t they?

One day as I wondered if there is any day recognizing cousins, I discovered more than I wanted to know. First, of course, there is a national holiday for cousins. But, in addition, there are numerous other national holidays; and some are not even on our calendars.

I think that society has gone way overboard with all its national holidays. There is a national day designated for nearly everything under the sun.

Animal lovers have National Love Your Pet Day on February 20. In addition, there is National Employee Appreciation Day (the first Friday in March) for people in the workforce. With the exception of two, hardly any of the national holidays that I mention in this post is a federally assigned holiday.

National Hot Chocolate Day is on January 31, National Pizza Day, February 9, and National Coffee Day is on October 1. (Fist pump for National Coffee Day!) The fourth Sunday in July (this year on the 25th) is National Parents Day.

There are also nationwide annual observances for families, like National Family Day on September 26, and who doesn’t know that Mothers and Fathers Day is celebrated on the second Sunday in May and the third Sunday in June, respectively.

Grandparents have their day on the first Sunday after Labor Day. Aunts and Uncles get recognition on July 26. Siblings Day is on April 10, and February 4 is Nieces Day. Interestingly, I did not find a national day for nephews. But I did learn that there is a National Cousins Day, and thus, my effort was not in vain.

How about a shout-out to cousins. Some folks think that they are the closest things to siblings.

Like a friend of mine, some people have only one or two cousins. Depending on one’s extended family size, some have none. Others, like me, have so many first cousins, I couldn’t give a precise count of them if my life depended on it.

I have a large extended family. Each of my parents had at least nine siblings that I am aware of, and those siblings produced a tribe of children. (Need I say that was in the days before the birth control pill?) My cousins on the paternal and maternal side could probably fill all the seats in the Apollo Theater.

I don’t know all of my blood-relative first cousins (firsties) as much as I wish I knew. I can do reasonably well naming those in my age group; many of us grew up and played together. But some of their siblings – I wouldn’t know them if I bumped into them on the street, nor do I know many of my cousins’ children. My children and my cousins’ children are second cousins. Unfortunately, unlike many of my first cousins and me, a lot of our children don’t know each other. Only with the aid of a genealogical chart would I know some of my first cousins once or twice removed, second cousins and cousins further down the line. I fancy myself as an amateur genealogist but sometimes, trying to figure out who’s who in the family starts my head swimming in the gene pool.

As cousins go, I can name maybe twenty or thirty firsties on both sides of my family. Those would be the ones I grew up with, played with, and with whom I made memories. Give or take a few years; we are in the same age group. And as for my cousins’ children and grandchildren, I couldn’t identify their offspring any more than they could recognize mine. To its credit, social media has helped with this somewhat.

That’s why I believe that regular family reunions are so important; it helps family members bond with the current and younger generation of relatives and stay connected with the elders.

Friendship among cousins often develops when we are children, and sometimes that friendship extends into adulthood. On the other hand, some cousins who were not particularly close during childhood became close when they were grown. Many things contribute to the ongoing relationships between cousins, including similarities in age, how much contact there is between them, and how near they lived to each other.

After all, cousins run the gamut – crazy cousins, kissing cousins, close cousins, distant cousins, and even play cousins. And let’s not exclude cousins-in-law, the spouses of our blood cousins. Who understands the craziness of our family better than cousins? Sometimes cousins are closer than siblings and may even be best friends

One day I came across the following quote. I love it because it is so applicable to my generation of cousins, “A grandparents’ house is where cousins become best friends.” Indeed this was the case for many of my first cousins and me. Some of us rarely see or talk to each other anymore, but when we were youngsters, the grandparents’ house was where we often gathered during summer vacation, and holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas.

So, while many national holidays seem trivial to me, next Saturday, July 24, I must remember to give a shout-out to my cousins in recognition of National Cousin’s Day.

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