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

Posts Written By L Parker Brown

Remembering Emmett Till

by on ·Race Matters

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

by on ·Lifestyle and Culture, Opinion, PC/Political Correctness, The Way I See It

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 . . .

by on ·Lifestyle and Culture, Opinion, The Way I See It

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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Crybaby

by on ·General, Lifestyle and Culture, The Way I See It

Very strong Image Of a afro American woman Crying isolated on BCall me a crybaby. I accept that. I’ve been turning on the waterworks since childhood. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not talking about infancy when all babies communicate that they are hungry, need changing or are otherwise discontent over something. I was a grade-schooler when – get ready – I turned on the waterworks over a television program.

Depending on the circumstance, I’ve been comforted, teased, or criticized for shedding tears. When I weep over a devastating event or at a funeral, there are usually others commiserating with me, so unless I become hysterical (I only lost it once), my tears don’t raise eyebrows. On the other hand, witnessing someone else’s joyous moment, like a wedding or a long-awaited reunion, could make me grab a Kleenex and wipe happy tears. Feelings of extreme anger or deep stress might produce a small waterfall. A tearjerker movie could cause a Tsunami. I am an equal opportunity crier.

I’ve discovered that a lot of people are uncomfortable around crybabies. I first realized this when I was around ten years old. I remember it like it was yesterday. I am sitting alone in the living room watching an adventure film. Everything is fine until the handsome male lead is captured and blinded by the bad guys. As the villains continue torturing the protagonist with a hot branding iron, my dad walks into the room and sees me frowning at the screen with tears streaming down my face. Immediately concerned he asked, “What’s wrong with you?”

Fighting to close the floodgates, I turn my watery eyes toward dad and whimper, “They are killing him.”

Perhaps not knowing how to handle the situation caused dad discomfort, because he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and left the room shaking his head side-to-side and grumbling. “Crying over a stupid TV show. Don’t make no sense.”

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When Lurkers are Lurking

by on ·Lifestyle and Culture, Social Media, The Way I See It

There is a saying, “If you can’t run with the big dogs, stay on the porch.” This post has nothing to do with dogs. However, I have a bone to pick with Internet lurkers.

Do you know someone, perhaps a next door neighbor who spends time at home peeping out of the window, from behind the curtains, spying on other people; being careful to see without being seen? Lurkers are much like that curious neighbor except they are online. They spend considerable time observing the content on blogs, in chat rooms, and other social networking sites, but they never make a contribution or interact.

Facebook lurkers are probably the coyest. They read our posts. They look at our

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