Posts Written By L Parker Brown

Kissing Cousins

kissing people, embrace men and girl, lover pair, love couple maDoes your family tree have kissing cousins on its branches? Ask anyone you know and you’ll find that the term kissing cousins means different things to different people. According to the Urban Dictionary, Merriam, and some other lexicons a kissing cousin is “a relative known well enough to be given a kiss in greeting.” On the other hand, some people think of kissing cousins as cousins (or other blood relatives) who are romantically attracted to each other as KCWB (kissing cousins with benefits). In this article let’s go with the latter assumption.

While researching the topic, I found some interesting facts to share with you. Kissing cousins – although considered incestuous and taboo in some societies – is more common than some people would imagine; and in the United States marrying a first cousin is a criminal offense only in slightly over a dozen states.

History tells us that the second US President John Adams married his second cousin, Abigail Smith in 1764. John Q. Adams, Jr., son of John Quincy Adams, the sixth US President, married his first cousin, Mary Catherine Hellen. There were other intermarriages among cousins in the Adam’s clan, keeping it all in the political family. Obviously, there were numerous John’s too. No pun intended.

In more contemporary times there was the controversial and nearly career ending twelve year marriage of 22-year old rock and roller, Jerry Lee Lewis, to his 13-year-old first cousin, Myra Williams, in 1958.

The first marriage of former mayor of New York City Rudy Giuliani to his second cousin Regina Peruggi, in 1968, may have caused a few leaves on his family tree to shrivel and fall.

Keeping it all in the family, it has also been reported that Britain’s Prince Charles and his wife Camilla are distant cousins.

Throughout history and to this day there are numerous accounts of kissing cousins (first, second, once removed, twice removed and on down the line) shaking branches on family trees all over.

Some people believe that sexual intimacy and marrying a cousin or other blood relative is immoral. To reinforce their position they may cite Leviticus 18:6, where the Bible addresses sexual impurity, including relations with close relatives. “None of you shall approach to any that is near of kin to him, to uncover their nakedness….”

For readers who are not inclined to be judgmental, but are merely curious about intimate relationships among cousins and the stigma associated with it, numerous books and articles have been written on the subject including an insightful piece published in The New York Times in 2009 titled Shaking Off the Shame.

You genealogists out there, shake, er, I mean study your family tree. You might be surprised to discover that there are married or KCWB hanging on the branches.

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Exercising the Calories Away

exercise vs counting caloriesWhile most people eat to live, there are some, like my SO, who will unashamedly tell you that they live to eat. He is a gourmand; I am more of a health nut. That, clearly makes us an odd couple; otherwise, we are good.

As studies show, it is difficult for one person in a couple to maintain or lose weight when the other person refuses to make nutritional food choices for a healthy lifestyle. For example, I love salads. He says, “Salads are boring.”  See what I mean?

I am determined and consistent. I watch what I eat, and I exercise regularly. Although I would be happy to lose 20 pounds, I am not dissatisfied with my current weight; I just don’t want to gain more. Most days it feels like I am winning the battle of the bulge, one protein shake at a time.

Nutritionists tell us that the way to control and maintain a healthy weight is to balance calories we eat with calories we burn; burn more calories than we consume.

Exercise is the way to go; not dieting. I never diet. Don’t even pretend to do it. I’m simply mindful of what I eat. I admit, sometimes, around certain holidays, I eat like it’s my last supper. But most of the time, I eat healthy, nutritious meals and limit the amount on my plate. Unlike my SO, I rarely consume salt filled, artery blocking, nutrient-lacking, obesity causing fast foods.

Whether we are weight conscious or health conscious, calorie counting can be as distressing as listening to a rant by the current US Commander in Chief.

Take my breakfast meals, for instance. Some days I might eat a bowl of raisin spice oatmeal (150 calories), a couple of slices of bacon (86) and an egg (90). And I always have a cup of coffee. That’s about 331 calories – give or take a few. On other days, I opt simply for coffee and a bagel.

Did you know that – according to the Mayo Clinic – a single cup of brewed coffee (without sugar) has less than five calories? Some coffee has only two. BUT include, as I always do, two teaspoons (or more) of Hazelnut cream and the caloric intake jumps to around 65. That’s right, a single teaspoon of cream contains thirty calories. Add a regular sized cinnamon raisin bagel, and I’m up to 240 calories. Spread that bun with my favorite Salmon cream cheese increases calories to 70. And wham! That’s 380 calories for a coffee and bagel breakfast.

According to the American Cancer Society calorie counter chart, I can maintain my current weight, by consuming no more than 2649 calories per day. Depending on what I have for breakfast, I’ll have a balance of 2269 calories left for consuming during the rest of the day before the red-alert button starts flashing in my head. The same ACS article says that if I cut 500 calories daily by eating less and exercising more, I can lose a pound a week. By my calculations, that means if I follow their plan, starting tomorrow, I will drop at least twenty pounds by Labor Day.

Of course, then I’d probably have to give up snacks. I enjoy my snacks. Especially nuts. Nuts are said to be good for us. Take Cashew nuts, for instance. Umm, um. Love them.  But did you know that there are 160 calories in a one-ounce serving of Cashews? I could easily eat a whole 8.5 ounce can in one day, but I wouldn’t. No, really. Okay, I might.

I also like M&M peanut chocolate candies. Six pieces – just six – of those little morsels contain 62 calories. Give up M&Ms? I can tell you that ain’t happening.

I rarely drink sodas, but my favorite IZZE sparkling apple juice contains 130 calories and 30 (OMG!) grams of sugar. Would you agree when I say it’s better off not to count calories if you want to enjoy what you eat and drink?

Fruits are good for us. I like most fruits. Fruits contain calories too, but they are a healthy snack. And then there are vegetables. Since I am not obsessively carnivorous, frequent veggie meals help me keep things under control.

As you can see from my synopsis, calorie counting can be an unwelcome distraction when trying to enjoy meals. So, why not eat, enjoy and then – Baby, work out!

 

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Reflecting on Paying it Forward

With Mitch Synder at a CCNV Christmas party in 1989.
With Mitch Synder at a CCNV Christmas party in 1989.

I strongly believe in “paying if forward.” For the uninitiated that essentially means that the beneficiary of a good deed repays it by doing a kindness to others.

People who are genuinely compassionate don’t go around doing good deeds with the expectation that they will be compensated. Many of us do kind things simply because it’s our nature. Although I strongly believe in the karmic law of return, I have no expectation that the kindnesses I extend to others will be repaid. If it is, then so be it. My reward is in knowing that in some small way I made a difference in someone’s life; just as kind acts by others toward me – in the past and present – has made a difference in my life.

Sadly, there are people who mistake kindness for weakness, and they come to expect that others will always answer their plea for help. (A saint would likely do that. Need I say that while I consider myself to be a good person, I am not a saint.)  I take issue with people who – whether they are temporarily down on their luck or seem to be stuck indefinitely behind the eight ball – feel that their fellowmen and women owe them something. And although it is not always the homeless or destitute who have that attitude, this post is about a street person who must believe that I’ve adopted him. I will call him Sselemoh. Don’t try to pronounce it. It is simply homeless spelled backward.

Sselemoh lives somewhere in my neighborhood. Where, I don’t know. But I’ve seen him walking the area often enough over the past few years to draw that conclusion. No matter what the season, he is always wearing the same linty, moth-eaten wool jacket and dirt-caked faded jeans. When the weather is warm, his rosewood complexion glistens with perspiration, and his thinning salt and pepper afro and shaggy beard appear to drip with sweat. He reminds me of the fictional character, Uncle Remus.

Sselemoh might be in his late seventies, although his, timeworn face, scattered and missing teeth, and unkempt appearance makes him appear much older. I imagine that at some point in his younger years, he may have stood at least six feet tall, but his physique is now curved forward like an archer’s bow, and he hobbles as though he is dragging his life on a ball and chain behind him.

I occasionally see Sselemoh when I am walking to the store or other places in the community. Sometimes when I am passing him, he will merely hold out his hand and say nothing. At other times he will hold it out and ask forcefully, “Got any spare change?” (Spare change! Every penny I own is essential; I don’t have spare money.) It’s the first thought I have whenever I hear that question, and I want to say it, but I say nothing. Instead, if I have a few dollars on me, I may give him a couple of them. Otherwise, I shake my head, negative, and keep moving.

One cold morning, several weeks ago, as I am walking by a fast food restaurant,  I see Sselemoh outside the place. He is leaning over a beat-up, newspaper vending box with both of his elbows resting on top of it. His ashy hands are clasped, fingers entwined, in front of him. His expression is, as I’ve only seen it, somber. When he sees me, he pushed himself upright.

The wind is gusty, and I immediately think, he needs a hat that is until my comedic side imagines him thinking here comes my ATM.  As usual, he asks me for some spare change so he can get something to eat, so he says. I ignore the request for money, and instead tell him that I will buy him breakfast. Without changing his facial expressionn, he nods his head slowly up and down and continues to stand beside the box, watching me like a cat eyeing a mouse as I go into McDonald’s. I buy two breakfast sandwiches and a large cup of coffee; place extra cream, sugar, salt, pepper and napkins inside the bag and then go outside to hand it to him.

Before I fully extend my arms, he grabs the bag as if he thinks I might change my mind. Then, without saying “Thank you,” he says in a demanding tone. “Cream and sugar? You get cream and sugar? I got to have cream and sugar.”

“It’s in the bag,” I replied. I bit my bottom lip, and then walked on my way, leaving his thank you unsaid, and trying to convince myself that his priority was not to remember to express gratitude. It was to feed his hunger. That brief exchange was the longest conversation we’ve ever had since I’ve been seeing him around.

Lately, whenever I see him leaning against a building or shuffling along the street – I spot him before he sees me. That gives me time to prepare to deny him politely, or I change direction. I am a generous person, but I don’t have Oprah’s millions. While my heart may be willing, there is a limit to my generosity.

Perhaps because my mother raised her children to be caring people, I’ve always felt tremendous empathy for the homeless. Years ago, I periodically volunteered at the Community for Creative Nonviolence. CCNV was a well-known homeless shelter in DC run by popular homeless advocate, Mitch Snyder. So, I am not repulsed by the homeless; I simply know that I can’t help them all and sometimes I can’t even help a few.

Many of my friends and associates are in the same financial situation as I am. We are not wealthy or naively convinced that we are financially secure for life. We count our blessings every day because we know that at any moment, on any day, an unexpected problem could occur that might not only wipe us out financially but would turn our currently stable little world upside down. A serious health ailment. A bad accident. Fire, flood or a natural disaster. Any unexpected misfortune could put any of us in dire circumstances.

So, like most benevolent people, I do what I can when I can, and if there is karmic payback, perhaps it will be in kind.

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Blogging for Dollars or Bidding Time

Friends keep sending me links to sites that are hiring bloggers to write content. Thank you, friends. Good looking out. I appreciate that. While additional income is something that no normal person would turn down, especially when working at something that he or she enjoys, I won’t commit, right now, to writing content for anyone else’s website, because I am having enough trouble finding time to write my own blog.

It’s not that I don’t have the time. Lord knows since I retired I am relishing the time that I have to do my own thing; things that I didn’t have the luxury of doing when I was working a full-time job. Some of those things either got pushed aside or were never done because my free time was limited.

So my problem now is not a time-management issue – or is it? Like many of you who are reading this, I have other varied interests and commitments. An insatiable appetite for reading. Attending community and co-op meetings or activism and social activities. And although I know I could live without TV, I admit I do regularly watch talk shows – primarily news summaries, political commentaries, documentaries, and self-help programs. And I confess, I regularly view three programs – EMPIRE, SCANDAL and This is Us – strictly for entertainment.

Listening to music is my favorite mode of relaxation. And since I had enough traveling on trains, planes, and automobile when I was employed, travel is not on my list of things to do when I retire. Writing is.

When I was employed, I prayed for time to write to my heart’s content, read my growing library of books, and do whatever I felt like doing whenever I wanted to do it. That prayer was answered eight years ago, and here I am still begging the Higher Power for more free time in a day. Some people just cannot be satisfied. Right?

Well, currently I am in the process of redesigning this website. The Word Press format makes it relatively easy, still, for a novice, it requires a lot of Goggling for instructions, tweaking, and finger-crossing before pushing that activate button. Once I get everything situated on this site to my satisfaction, then I might sign up with some of those content writing sites and go blogging for dollars.

 

 

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Claws

Woman stop talking hand gestureI was one of an estimated 500,000 participants in the Women’s March that took place in Washington, DC on January 17th. Sister marches occurred in cities across the country and around the world. Women of every culture and ethnic group participated. Sisterhood was evident. The mood was intoxicating. There were some men there supporting us, too. But this isn’t about the men. It’s about us. Women.

In addition to appearing to enjoy the camaraderie, every woman who I encountered was polite and pleasant, even when we were so crushed together that we were stepping on each other’s toes. I’m not a novice to rallies and marches, but I’ve been riding the natural high of the Women’s March ever since that day. Then, recently as I was chatting with a male friend of mine, he burst my bubble by stating what I already knew.

He did not bite his tongue when he said that the irony of the situation is that some of those same women were “Perpetrating. Hypocrites and haters.” They were showing solidarity with their “sisters” but would soon be back at work or going about their everyday activities, and then the claws will come out. “They will be bad-mouthing, mean-eyeing, back-stabbing and hating on” other women. Ouch! Women know that this stuff goes on, but you feel so transparent when hit with the naked truth by a man. So as much as I wanted to disagree with him, I didn’t.

Do you wonder what makes women so cunningly (or sometimes obviously) envious and hateful toward other women? I don’t know a woman who hasn’t either been the object of clawing or has shown her own claws. It is not improbable that many women wearing those pink kitty caps during the march had their claws concealed within mittens and gloves on that chilly day.

We’ve all seen it or we’ve been IT. If an insecure woman perceives that another woman is smarter, prettier, or more popular than she, it triggers her ire and the claws come out. If she is not only an insecure but also a manipulative and controlling woman, she will do whatever she can to diminish or destroy the woman who she perceives to be her competition, her imaginary enemy. You would think that this is something you see only among immature school girls; but many grown women act just as childish.

When will women realize that your self-worth cannot be measured by someone else’s?  But your empowerment can come from being supportive of like-minded women. Face it; there will always be another woman who is prettier, smarter and depending on your personality – she may even be more likable than you.

The instinct of many of my self-confident friends and my nature is to be helpful to other women; not only in the workplace but everyday situations.

Some women refused to vote for Hillary Clinton for no other reason except that she was a woman. Oh, they made up flimsy excuses like, “You know those emails.” Or “How could she stand by her man considering ….” Truth be told some women refused to vote for Hillary simply because they envied her. Hillary had the chutzpah to get into the campaign trenches. She had the audacity to do something that – given the opportunity – some women wouldn’t or couldn’t garner the nerve to do. Women need to be supportive of each other. To do otherwise is irrational.

Author Nkem Ikeke wrote, “A lady walks into a room, and some other ladies in the room start to hate for no reason…Unlike men, women will often dislike another woman for no logical reason at all.”

Will the day ever come when women stop seeing other women as their competition? Perhaps the Women’s March was a beginning.

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