Posts Written By L Parker Brown

Voting. Just Do It — or Don’t

“If voting made any difference they wouldn’t let us do it.” Certainly, some folks would agree with that statement by Mark Twain. It has been over a week now since the mid-term election and the recounts are ongoing.

A middle-aged friend of mine has no qualms about saying that she has never voted and never will. Lest you think that she is uninformed about the voting process, she is not. She is very intelligent and highly educated on many subjects. Were you to talk with her, she would tell you that this country’s prolonged history of injustices against so-called minority citizens is the reason that she refuses to participate in many traditions and practices, voting included. She and I agree on numerous things, but voting is not one of them.

I am hooked on politics like weed-heads on pot, and I enjoy spending time listening to spin doctors and pundits discuss all things political. The hottest topic of late concerns suspected manipulation, suppression, and alleged voter fraud in the recent mid-term election that is prompting recounts in various places around the country. Some folks wonder, how can we trust to have a fair election process under a leader who has shown himself to be unethical and morally bankrupt especially when he implies that he supports some of the unscrupulous candidates and at every opportunity reiterates that the Democrats are trying to steal the election? Nevertheless, I feel that not voting would be to dishonor people who sacrificed much and in some cases gave their lives, to ensure that every US citizen regardless of their skin color, culture or ethnicity would have the right to vote.

When I think of people who made the ultimate sacrifice, Dr. Martin Luther King, Medgar Evers, Andrew Goodman, Michael Schwerner, James Chaney, and Viola Liuzzo immediately come to mind. Because of them and numerous other victims who suffered for the cause, I must vote. And I suggest that anyone who is tired of hearing the constant refrain “people died so that we could vote” might benefit from viewing Katylin Joy’s list of well-known and unsung heroes of the civil rights era in her disturbing collection of 10 Forgotten Martyrs of the American Civil Rights Movement.

When it comes to voting at the federal, state and local levels, a common argument is “there’s no reason for me to vote. My ballot won’t decide the election.” Also frequently heard from reluctant voters during the presidential election is the excuse that “the electoral college decides the winner” so why should I bother?  While some political scientists and well-informed citizens support the continuation of the Electoral College, the popular public opinion indicates that many Americans favor abolishing it. Unfortunately, that is easier said than done. As with most significant processes, there are rules concerning the voting system which are determined by the Constitution. Anyone who wants to learn more about the Electoral College and its pros and cons can gain understanding by reading two books written by someone much smarter than I. The Indispensable Electoral College: How the Founders’ Plan Saves Our Country from Mob Rule and The Enlightened Democracy, were both written by Electoral College expert, retired lawyer and writer Tara Ross.

In two years, the presidential election will present another opportunity for citizens to vote. And if you choose not to vote because you dislike the candidates, lack confidence in the system or just don’t care, ponder this — not voting can itself be a way of voting. George Jean Nathan says it even better, “Bad officials are elected by good citizens who do not vote.”

 

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The Eye of the Camera Will Make You Fat

When I was a child in elementary school, on the first day of art class Mrs. Graves, our teacher gave each student a plain gray twin-pocket folder. She told us to store assignments that she would be giving us throughout the school year in the folder and keep it in the cubbyhole of our desk until she collected them. She then instructed us to write our name on the back of the folder and added that we had about 5 minutes to draw something of our choice on the cover. “Be creative,” I remember her saying. “Use your imagination.”

While we were sketching our amateurish masterpieces, she walked around the room. Stopping briefly at each child’s desk, she would look at the drawing and then hold up the folder for the class to see. Afterward, she’d offer encouraging comments about that student’s creation. Some of my resourceful classmates drew pictures of their home, a pet, or their family. One student sketched colorful birds perching on the branches of a leafless tree, and a couple of others attempted self-portraits. I looked intently at each folder. The skill of my classmates was evident. Then I looked down hopelessly at my naked cover.

As the teacher grew nearer to me, I became panicky because I couldn’t think of anything to draw. My brain was producing one big question mark. THAT became my cover. Question marks. Large ones. Small ones. Some were right side up, others upside down and sideways. Using every crayon in my Crayola box, red, yellow, blue, green, orange, brown, purple, and black, I covered the front of the folder with question marks and put down the last crayon as she arrived beside my desk.

Unlike the outspoken woman I became, the little girl back then was self-conscious and painfully shy. As I raised my arm and handed Mrs. Graves the folder, I simultaneously lowered my head to my chest, anticipating criticism for not being more creative.

“Curiosity. That’s what your drawing depicts.” She said cheerfully, after looking at my folder. “Lots of question marks. You are curious about things. Very good.” She handed the folder back, and I forced a smile as I exhaled.

I saved that folder for years and wished that I had it today. It must have been an omen because my insatiable curiosity hasn’t diminished over the years. To this day, I still ponder things that some folks wouldn’t give a second thought about; I want answers. I want to know the why behind the why.

Take photographs for instance. There is a common saying that the camera adds 10 pounds to the person in a photo. I’ve long wondered why people look fatter in pictures; then they do in person. Wait a minute. I think I hear the sound of the PC police approaching. Lest I be accused of body-shaming and offending someone, I’ll restructure the question. Granted that I already have more thickness than I desire I’d like to know why do I – let me emphasize I – look fatter in pictures?

According to Gizmodo, Business Insider and other sources of my research, the camera gives the illusion of people being larger than they are because cameras have a single lens through which they capture images while humans have binocular vision (meaning that we have two eyes). Our brains compensate for this double vision. When we focus on photographed images, we perceive depth and can see around the edges of objects. This perception can give the impression that an object is wider than it is, including our bodies. Other factors contribute to our perception of the images in photos including lighting, posture, poses, clothing, the angel (shooting position) and even the camera lens. When any of these things are askew, it can make images appear larger than they are. Viola! Extra pounds.

If my rudimentary explanation on why pictures make us look fat have you second-guessing whether you ever want to be photographed again, this short and entertaining video will provide some tips on how not to look fat on camera.

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Not Easy Listening

Today’s sound of music is a far beat from the 1965 Mary Poppins’ soundtrack. Old school sanitized hits like I’m Gonna Make You Love Me have been replaced by a genre of sexually explicit (some would say downright obscene) tunes like My Neck, My Back.

A sexagenarian (How’s that for a play on words?) friend of mine enjoys good music as much as I do. Like other mature people of our generation as we aged-out of youthful imprudence into responsible adulthood some things changed, but not our taste in music. However, unlike me, my friend can readily identify some of the contemporary and hip-hop artists about whom I know nothing and could care less. And while I consider much of the present-day music to be a waste of talent and airspace, he often defends it. But something that occurred recently when he was dining in a buffet-style restaurant gave him second thoughts.

When he began telling me the story, I figured that he was going to gross me out about the food. I didn’t want to hear that, because I have occasionally eaten at that place (that I will not name), although it has never been on my list of favorites.

It turns out that his complaint was not about the food or the service. His beef was over the sexually explicit lyrics in a song that was playing over the restaurant’s sound system as he was preparing to leave. He said he approached the owner and a clerk who were standing at the register near the doorway and in an unobtrusive voice complained that the music playing was unsuitable in a family diner. His expression of disapproval apparently motivated some other patrons who were standing nearby because a few of them chimed in. One man, who my friend guessed to be fortyish in spite of his backward-turned cap, said, “He’s right. There are small children in here. They don’t need to be listening to that s**t.”

Then, an older woman described as having the demeanor of a no-nonsense, church lady, added, “It’s a shame. This is a family restaurant. That music is totally inappropriate in a place like this. This ain’t some hip-hop joint.”

The owner apologetically explained that it was Sirius XM radio and added that he had no control over what the station was playing. As he left, my friend heard someone in the group (perhaps it was church lady) say, “Is it unreasonable to think that you could change the channel?”

When I asked my friend what was the name of the song. He said, he didn’t know it, but then he repeated some of the lewd lyrics. (Did you think that I was going to write those words here? Really?) No, I’m can’t name that tune either, but I’ll bet it’s on the Rankers list of rappers with the dirtiest rhymes. Finished reading this post, before your curiosity leads you to rush over to that page and check out the list.

Some of you readers may remember that in 1985, Tippy Gore, wife of Senator and later Vice President Al Gore, spearheaded an organization called The Parents Music Resource Center (PMRC). It championed the cause for including Parental Advisory labels on albums containing foul language and explicit lyrics.

PMRC faced strenuous objection from numerous people, including many in the music industry like John Denver, Ice Tea, and Frank Zappa, who protested that the proposed labeling would result in censorship.

In his book, “The Ice Opinion” published in 1994, Ice T wrote, “Tipper Gore is the only woman I directly called a bitch on any of my records.” In the same book, he later seems to express regret, saying, that he was 15 years old during the time of the PMRC controversy. He continues with, “I am now 41 years old and the father of two teenaged girls.” Ice T, whose real name is Tracy Lauren Marrow is now 60 years old with three daughters. I wonder how much has he changed his tune?

Although Tippy Gore and three other women whose husbands held prominent positions were successful in forming the PMRC, that guidelines and rating system did not last.

The current Parental Advisory warning label, trademarked by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) grew out of the PMRC. It was introduced in 1990, the same year that PMRC shut down. The label, now affixed to germane music products and other merchandise, does not control what is broadcast over radio programs. And while some broadcasters play edited versions of songs to eliminate content that may be considered objectionable or age-inappropriate, owners of restaurants and other businesses should assume some responsibility for music played in their establishments.

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Still Standing

I published my first blog post on September 17, 2010. Potpourri101 had not yet been born. The original blog called bboomersnet.com was consolidated into Potpourri101 in June of 2012.

During my blogging years, I have written many favorite posts. I’ve also written some that I consider bloopers. But I keep writing. I can’t not write. It’s in my DNA.

While reviewing some of the 388 posts published on my site, I came across some favorites like this one, originally published on December 2, 2010, and posted here with some slight revisions.

Stand Up and Be Counted

 “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”

Those inspirational words of civil rights activist Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., inspire courageous people who not only talk the talk but walk the walk. Ideally, his words also motivate closet activists, people who hesitate to speak up publicly or take action at the opportune time.

We all know someone who loud-talks up a storm behind the scenes, complaining about what “somebody” should or should not say or do, but when the occasion arises for the whiner to speak publicly about the issue, his or her jaws lock tighter than a hard shell clam.

I believe that some people are born activists, while others grow into those shoes. It doesn’t matter how they arrive at being a crusader, what is significant is that at some point they learn the importance of speaking out and championing their cause, whether it is a global effort like Climate Change or working to eliminate homelessness in their community. Activists are mindful of their Ps and Qs:  they prepare, participate, and when necessary, they question. Then, they pursue a course to affect the cause that they are championing – whether it means joining their colleagues in a public protest, taking part in a fact-finding survey, or simply casting a vote.

On the other hand closet activists often avoid publicly stating their opinion, preferring to cower in the shadows and grumble instead of taking a stand. No one is right or wrong all of the time. Sometimes we make good choices, other times bad. But regardless, the point is having enough gumption to express yourself. Don’t straddle the line. Whether you support a cause or disagree with it. Man or woman up!  Let your position be known.

People who have the opportunity to speak up and refuse, basically deserve whatever they get from the outcome of a decision by the majority. Life is a crapshoot, a gamble. Each one of us – from the President of the United States to the homeless person on the street – has limited control over some things and no control over others. It is liberating to be able to state a position, to voice an opinion. You may change your mind later on. You may even regret a decision, and that’s okay. Mind-changing is permitted. But you can feel pleased that you at least had enough backbone to assert yourself. As Malcolm X prophesized long ago, “If you don’t stand for something you will fall for anything.”

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Mother’s (Birth) Day and other Special Occasions

Had my mother lived she would have turned 91 years old on her forthcoming birthday, October 22nd. Instead, she slipped into eternity early on a warm summer morning four years ago.

I’ve seen where many people wish Happy Birthday, Happy Anniversary or post other heartfelt greetings to their deceased loved ones on social media; and if that works for them, that’s fine. But I can’t help but wonder – why?

When my mother’s birthday arrives in three weeks, I won’t wish her Happy Birthday on Facebook nor will I post it in any other public place. Because if the Bible is to be believed – that the dead know nothing (Ecclesiastes 9:5) – then mother won’t know that I wish her a Happy Birthday anyway. And as much as she expressed her disdain for social media when she was alive – by the off-chance that there is Facebook in the hereafter, she surely would have nothing to do with it.

My mother’s chosen religion forbids their members from acknowledging birthdays and other so-called pagan holidays; so when she was alive wishing her happiness on such an occasion often led to a repetitive interchange between us.

Mother would say, “You know I don’t celebrate (whatever the holiday in question).” And I would protest, “But I do.”  The conversation usually ended there, until the next time. Yet, to my pleasure, she never refused to accept the cards or gifts that I gave her on those days. And she always (perhaps begrudgingly, although she didn’t show it) acknowledged the gesture with a polite, “Thank you.”

I regretted the fact that mother would not allow me to take her out to dinner, to a stage play, or someplace special on her birthday, but it bothered me more on Mother’s Day. Even before I became a mother, I relished Mother’s Day and considered the day to be a special occasion for honoring and showing reverence to all mothers and especially good mothers like mine.

Since my siblings and I were adults when mother decided to convert her faith, I have wonderful memories to cherish of earlier times of family get-togethers at my parent’s home on holidays like the Fourth of July (Can you say crab fest?), Thanksgiving, and Christmas. And for a few years, even after my siblings and I married and had families of our own, we’d all bring our kids to the grandparents home on festive occasions. Unfortunately, those happy get-togethers dwindled and eventually stopped; too soon.

In three weeks when mother’s birthday arrives, I won’t publicize it on social media. I will acknowledge it privately. And before the day is over, I know I will smile with tear-filled eyes as I remember a recurring dialog that she and I shared many times in the years before she died.

“You know I don’t celebrate birthdays.”

“But I do.”

 

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