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

Posts Written By L Parker Brown

Putting an Old Spin on the New Norm

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

Banana 2Contemplating the state of  things boggles my mind. I can’t speak to other countries, but in America, the land of the free, the home of the crazed, er, I mean brave, in the land of opportunity, you can be anything you want to be. If you are male, you can transform to female or vice versa. Just ask Caitlyn or Chaz. If you are white, you can go black without transforming anything, except your skin tone and hair texture. Ask Rachael. And if the King of Pop were alive, you could ask him about making an ethnic transformation from black to white. Plainly stated, with courage and enough money, you can have it your way. And I’m not talking about a burger.

Rational dictates that just because you consider yourself to be something doesn’t make it so. Perhaps in Fantasyland. But in the real world no matter how you try to color it, reconstruct it, snip it, implant it, legislate it or rename it – it is what it is. Remove the thorns, trim the stem, and pick the petals off, a rose will still be a rose. Calling a dog a cat doesn’t make it a feline any more than calling a tomato stuffed into a cucumber stuffed inside a banana skin makes it a new fruit. Or does it?

Political Correctness or fear of reprisal prevents numerous people from publicly expressing their feelings about controversial issues, especially if their opinion goes against the grain of what some call “the new norm.” But there are some brave hearts who are not afraid to speak out.

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Ugly Feet

by on ·Lifestyle and Culture

FEET Sepia toneIt’s the time of year when women like to show off their pretty feet. That is women who have pretty feet. Let me be the first to tell you that I’m not one of them. My feet are so ugly that they would make a podiatrist recoil. And, if ever there is a TV show featuring the world’s ugliest feet, I will go toe-to-toe to convince you that I am a shoe-in to win first place.

There might be some saving grace for my right foot, but the left one puts its counterpart to shame. Lefty has a bunion that looks like a swollen golf ball, and it has a hammer toe to boot. The toe next to the hammer has a small bump. And though the middle toe has no defects, the one beside the pinkie has twin corns but the littlest piggy has none.

When I was a child, my mom, like most moms do, would take me shoe shopping and have me try on the shoes while in the store. She would press down and around the toe area to see if I had wiggle room and then tell me to walk around. If I assured her that the shoes felt “Good.” and she was satisfied that my feet had adequate space, she would buy the pair. But occasionally, a day or two later while wearing those cute shoes, my dogs would start yelping. It was as if the shoes had magically decreased a size after we brought them home.

When I became an employed young adult, living on a shoestring budget, I still, occasionally and inadvertently, bought ill-fitting shoes, mainly because I liked the style. One thing overlooked for years was that I had wide feet. The cute narrow shoes that I favored, especially the pointy ones, often scrunched my toes. My feet are a testament to years of wearing uncomfortable shoes.

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Page from a Police Officer’s Journal (A Poem)

by on ·Lifestyle and Culture

(This poem was submitted by Guest Blogger, N. Justus)

Crime Scene Chalk Mark

It may seem to some that we are killing all the black men.

Picking them off like flies, then using alibis,

Saying “I thought I drew my Taser,” but grabbed my gun instead

And shot him in the back.

Well, he shouldn’t have run for his life.

While I had my knee on his head he should have played dead

Instead of talking about “I can’t breathe.”

“Nigger, please,” I wanted to say, but my mike was on

And some dyke riding by on a bike was recording everything on her cell phone.

Caught on camera. Damn. Damn!

Why don’t they just leave us alone to do our deed?

No need to feed it to the media or put it on YouTube.

Saying cops gone wild. That’s putting it mildly.

We’re just helping you out ‘cause you killing each other anyhow.

Making it look like we’re so bad. How sad is that?

You know it ain’t true. We just do what we do.

Just like some of you.

What slavery failed to do

What the Klan couldn’t too

YOU are destroying you.

Thug life. White wife.

Homicide. Prison bride.

No matter how you color the story

It all boils down to Black Genocide.

And one day it will be bye, bye baby

black race gone.

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Intermission

by on ·General, Lifestyle and Culture

Big Bucket Of Popcorn. Isolated On A WhiteThe joy of having a blog is the freedom to write about whatever you want to write. And if your life doesn’t interfere with the process, forcing you to direct your time and energy elsewhere, you can write as often as you like. Unless, occasionally, there is an intermission.

Regular readers of this site will notice that I haven’t posted anything in a few months. (Thank you for missing me.) Rest assured that I am still here and still working. I’m just temporarily sidetracked by other things.

Currently, one of those things is a book I’m writing. It’s a memoir of sorts. If I am learning anything during this process, it is that no other piece of writing requires one to be so self-revealing as a memoir. It’s like exposing yourself naked to the world. That is if you are to be honest. Being honest doesn’t mean that you have to reveal everything. You can be honest and still hold back. If it is too embarrassing or too painful to air dirty laundry, you can either rewash it to remove the stains or throw it out. Choice is a wonderful thing.

Another lesson that I am learning from my latest undertaking is that writing a memoir dredges up long-suppressed thoughts and emotions, like when my husband and I divorced back in the early 1970s. I remained friendly with his parents who lived in another state although I rarely saw them. Sometime around 1975 my father-in-law phoned and asked me to bring the children for a visit since he had not seen them in a few years. I boarded the train with my two children and took the four-hour ride to Far Rockaway, New York, and we all spent an enjoyable weekend together. Three months later my father-in-law was dead of a heart attack. I was glad I had made the trip. I interjected that bit of information because it reveals one of the heartfelt memories resurrected while working on the book.

Although the book is a long-term project that is occupying much of my time, I don’t mind. The fact is that I love to write, and grasp every opportunity. I credit my experience writing  for a local newspaper, years ago, with keeping me eager to accept challenges and untroubled by negative criticism.  Lucky for me – and to the chagrin of some folks – my tendency to be opinionated and my sense of humor remain intact.

Some people live to travel and party, the nerd in me lives to read and write. I thank God everyday for my writing skills and count my blessings like a gambler counts chips. This blog is one of those blessings.

We’ll connect again when I put up my next post. Right now, I’ve got to get back to work. In the meantime, contemplate the eloquent words of novelist, Margaret Laurence, who wrote, “When I say work I only mean writing.  Everything else is just odd jobs.”

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Being the Executor:  A Lighthearted Look at a Serious Job

by on ·General

Folders with the label Estate and LawyerWhen a person dies leaving a will, the will frequently identifies the individual who is to be the executor of the estate. If the decedent died intestate (without leaving a will), then a close relative might assume the responsibilities of handling the estate or the court will appoint an administrator. As I am learning firsthand, being an executor of an estate with a will is not easy. I can imagine the frustration of the poor soul managing an estate without one.

In the District of Columbia where I live the executor (executrix, for a female) is called the personal representative. If you have never been an executor or a PR, you have probably heard the words, but don’t know exactly what they mean. If you already know it all, then read something else. But for the benefit of people like me, who had a clue, but didn’t really know what the job entailed, I will try to explain it to you, as one layperson to another. A heads up – so you won’t be confused – I will be using both titles, executor and PR, interchangeably.

The executor manages the deceased person’s property:  bank accounts, furniture and other valuables and delivers the assets to the heirs or other beneficiaries. He or she opens an estate account, transfers the decedent’s cash assets into that account, and uses the funds to pay the late person’s bills, creditors, and beneficiaries. The estate account requires an EIN (Estate Identification Number) obtained from the IRS, because the PR must file an individual income tax return for the decedent and pay the estate tax.

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