Posts Written By L Parker Brown

Dancing Stark Naked on Facebook

I can’t tell you how often I’ve heard people say, “I would never get on Facebook. People put all of their personal business out there.” I’m sure you’ve heard someone say it too.

For the uninitiated naysayers, I’ve prepared these five guidelines to Facebook.

1.  Facebook reveals a lot about the cast of characters behind the pages of its social media website. Rational people use discretion on Facebook just as they do when they are offline. If someone is prone to oversharing when they are disconnected, then they will probably be the same way online. In fact, they might be more braggadocios because on Facebook members are the star of their own reality show. And if one believes the thought-provoking commentary titled, Healthy vs. Unhealthy Narcissism that claims “We are all narcissistic to a degree.” then Facebook is a narcissist’s playground.

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Pass the Baby, Please

Until recently, it had been some time since I held a newborn child. My now two grown children blessed me with six grandchildren. As a result of the good fortune of those accumulative births, I have fed, changed, bathed, and bounced on my lap a fair share of babies. But recently when I went to visit the child born to my first cousin’s daughter and son-in-law, I was a little nervous about holding the infant.

Let me take a moment to explain my kinship to the new infant. My first cousin, Lori’s, daughter had a beautiful baby boy. Lori’s daughter is my first cousin once removed. The child born to Lori’s daughter and her husband is my first cousin twice removed. Contrary to what I used to think (and what some people still do), that newborn is not my second or third cousin. Such family structure would be too easily understood. Instead, there is – in my opinion – an illogical and confusing design of the genealogical tree that determines the status of cousins and other extended family members. So, to simplify the relationship of the newest infant in our family to me, I will henceforth refer to him as my distant, baby cousin. That clarified, let’s get back to the point.

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Remembering Emmett Till

till_emmettI was a young child when my mother first talked to me about Emmett Till. It was not in the same manner that black parents today regularly instruct their children on how to avoid death by cop. Mom’s casual talks with me, her eldest child, were more of a lesson on the ways of the south where she had grown up during the Jim Crow years.

When relatives or other visitors came to call at our Washington, DC home, and their conversation turned to Till’s murder in Mississippi, even though I had been sent out of the room during the “grown folks conversation” I became proficient at eavesdropping. And at an early age, I was captivated by the tale of the tragic and senseless murder of  a 14-year-old boy who didn’t know his place in a racist society. To this day I remain fixated on the Emmett Till story.

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I’m Not Riding the Bandwagon

Street Road Sign Bandwagon“Whether I’m right or whether I’m wrong, Whether I find a place in this world or never belong, I gotta be me.” Those song lyrics written by Walter Marks and recorded by Sammy Davis, Jr. define me to a tee.

Sometimes I feel like a misfit in a go-along-to-get-along, anything and everything goes society. I long for the days when there was a clear distinction between right and wrong, good and bad, and males and females, instead of a muddled mess of confusion.

Back in the day, if an acquaintance asked me, “What are you doing for the weekend?” and I said “I’ll be hanging out with my girlfriend on Saturday,” I did not catch a raised side-eye or feel the need to explain that she is just a friend, who is female. We are not lesbians. I resent that nearly everything today requires clarification to prevent the facts from getting twisted.

“We the people” are expected to climb on the bandwagon and support every non-traditional lifestyle, fad, or fantasy that surfaces. Personally, I would rather walk alone than ride along with those who are playing follow-the-leader.

I know there are others out there who feel as I do and they are not afraid to

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We the Jury, find . . .

for blogFor weeks, I dreaded it. As the time grew closer, I accepted the inevitable. There was no avoiding it. Sooner or later, I would have to do it. Sometimes to avoid thinking about it, I would create a mental list of things that I would rather do:  listen to someone talk with their mouthful of food, step in chewing gum, or have a root canal. Dozens of other things came to mind. Things that I would rather do than IT. But alas, I knew I would have to comply with government orders or suffer the consequences. So, when the day arrived, I obeyed the summons and reported to the courthouse to do it – jury duty.

As incredible as it is, I know people who enjoy jury duty, but I’m not one of them. I resent spending hours sitting in the Juror Lounge feeling as bored as an egotist at a humility conference. Nor do I look forward to being in a closed room deliberating with a group of argumentative jurors. Been there. Done that. Never want to do it again.

Like many District of Columbia residents,  I receive a jury summons about every two years. If I were an irresponsible person, I would do what some defiant citizens do when summoned. Ignore it. In 2014, 70,000 people in the District of Columbia ignored the order to report for jury service.

There are consequences for being a no-show. The penalties vary from state-to-

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