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

Browsing Category Holidays

Grinched

by on ·General, Holidays, Humanity

A friend once told me that some of my online journal entries tend to get personal. I laughed as I said to her, “You’re kidding, right? If you think the public entries are personal, you should see what I write in my private journal.” Ha Ha.

I intended this entry to be solely a humorous, upbeat post about Christmas because Yuletide is one of my favorite seasons. But, a recent encounter made me reconsider.

Some days ago, I was cruising along an imaginary highway minding my own business, when out of nowhere, Ms. Grinch appeared. She veered into my lane and tried to side-swipe me. I swerved to avoid a collision, but she, appearing to be aching for a confrontation, returned. Hypothetical road rage, for sure. I usually give as good as I get, but it’s Christmastime, so instead of engaging in a battle of words, I told her to butt out and went about my merry way.

People often say that today’s youth are a generation of troublemakers. Granted, many are, but I believe that the behavior of someone young and dumb is more excusable than the foolishness of an immature adult, especially one who is two decades older than Scrooge, á la Ms. Grinch. People like her are perfect examples of misery loves company. The envy and malice they harbor in their heart lead them to create chaos whenever and wherever they can. It doesn’t take a psychologist to know that mean-spiritedness and a penchant for troublemaking are often due to a lack of self-esteem. As a result, grinches live a lonely and unhappy existence. Life is too short to be prone to indiscretion and unnecessary drama. As Rodney King said, “Can’t we all get along?”

That said, I’m switching gears.

My peace-loving friends, stretch your imagination and envision Santa carrying a remedy for universal peace and love inside his big, red gift bag. The contents are shredded like trillions of bits of confetti to make transport and distribution more manageable. During his sleigh ride across the darkened sky on Christmas Eve, Santa will dip his gloved hand into the bag, grab handsful of the confetti, and sprinkle it everywhere he goes. The shavings will fall like snowflakes in a blizzard, landing on buildings, vehicles, and people. Everybody who comes in contact with it succumbs to the effects. It’s more transmittable than COVID and as potent as nerve gas, only non-lethal. However, it is saturated with a chemical that, when touched or inhaled, causes the host to lose all negative emotions and develop a penchant for harmony. As Santa continues ho, ho, hoing around the world, he revels in his achievement because he knows there will be peace in every country, city, and home – worldwide peace – on Christmas Day and forever after.

And one last thing before my pipe dream ends.

Folks will hear him exclaim, ere he drives out of sight, “HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!“

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Singing Auld “Lame” Syne

by on ·Book Lovers, General, Holidays

In five days and 8 hours from now, the clock will strike 12. The timepiece on all things digital will roll over to 2022. Broadcast stations will switch from playing What are you doing New Year’s, New Year’s Eve? to Auld Lang Syne. And I’ll be doing the same darn thing I did last New Year’s Eve –sitting at home cursing COVID.

Do you ever wonder why when you have the choice of going out someplace and choose not to go, you’re okay with your decision, but when things beyond your control restrict you from going out, it pisses you off? That’s my dilemma again this year.

So I know where I’ll likely be on New Year’s Eve. At home, wearing lounge PJs. And since my Boo and I are teetotalers, we will open a bottle of sparkling cider, toast to the upcoming year with the hope that it will be free of COVID and all of its variants, and watch the ball drop on CNN. And while the Times Square crowd is singing Auld Lang Syne, I’ll be singing Auld Lame Syne thanks to COVID.

I know what I won’t be doing. I won’t be making Resolutions. I never do. Lightbulb moment! I could do some creative writing. Do I sense eye-rolling? Maybe I’ll write about books I’ve read this year. At least two dozen of them were completed. Others failed to hold my interest and were set aside.

That’s it. Maybe I’ll write the revelations of a bookworm and explain that I prefer reading non-fiction but have accumulated a variety of genres in my library — hardcovers and audibles — over the years.

I’ll share that the best book I read this year was Perfect Peace by Daniel Black. I agree with Goodreads description of it as “The heartbreaking portrait of a large, rural southern family’s attempt to grapple with their mother’s desperate decision to make her newborn son into the daughter she will never have.”

Last night, I finished Breath:  The Science of a Lost Art by James Nestor. In short, that book describes how breathing affects our body and how controlled breathing can help eliminate some illnesses and other physical ailments. I imagine that cynics reading this are satirically thinking, “If we don’t breathe, we die; end of story.”

Months ago, when I first heard about Breath, I had the same thought. After reading it, I discovered that it was way beyond my expectations. I’m not going to promote the book, nor will I devalue it. But I will say that I found it to be thought-provoking.

As much as I enjoy a good book, I admire the people who write them.

As every novice knows, if you want to become a pro, you must associate with and learn from them. I feel fortunate to count among my dearest friends authors like Alexander Reed Lajoux. She has written and co-written a slew of books available on Amazon, and she was kind enough to write the forward for Legacy.

Another friend and a former employer, publisher LaVern Gill gave me my first chance to write regular columns in her award-winning weekly newspaper. She too has books to her credit including, “African American Women in Congress,” published in 1997.

I will forever treasure the copy she gave me with the following inscription. To Loretta. How wonderful it is to have a friend like you, a writer with good and great ideas, a wonderful compassion for words and a gift for crafting those words in such a way as to give life and meaning. The best to you and keep writing & writing & writing. Love, LaVerne. 

 

Years ago, I suppose I was a groupie. I chased authors at every opportunity and got a few copies of my books signed, like Bloods, a national bestseller about Black servicemen in the Vietnam War. Not only did I take off half-day from my job to go to author Wallace Terry’s book signing at the Dr. Martin Luther King Library, but some years later, I worked on a job across the hall from one of Terry’s daughters. She was as amiable as her dad. Talk about a small world.

One year, decades ago, I got an autograph from Nikki Giovanni. I had been a huge fan of hers since I read her first poems and even named my newborn daughter after her. On separate occasions, I met esteemed author and photographer Gordan Parks and playwright August Wilson. Little did any of those literary geniuses know that while we were meeting and greeting each other with a firm shake, I was hoping that I could siphon some of their writing intellect.

It looks like that’s what I’ll be doing this New Year’s Eve — reading, maybe a little writing, and much reminiscing about pre-COVID years.

In the meantime, I am wishing for all of my readers, happiness, health, joy, and love in 2022.

Happy New Year!!!

 

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Stuffing Memories

by on ·Holidays, Lifestyle and Culture, Nostalgia, Thanksgiving Day

I see Thanksgiving as a food-centered day where family and friends eagerly get together for a satisfying meal, a good time, and to engage in pleasant conversations. Even in families where the members are cordial but not close, you might make it through the day without creating ill will if you keep religion, politics, and social issues out of the conversation. I admit those happen to be some of my favorite topics, but I discuss them at the appropriate time and place. Nothing kills an appetite like a bad conversation.

There are some safe subjects to discuss during mealtime. For instance, you could talk about movies and TV, or music. I like to talk about books and writing. (Do I hear groans?) Or, you could have a roundtable  “what are you thankful for” session. That would likely work better in a small group of, say, six or seven people instead of a conference room size table with a dozen or more guests. But even that question has the potential to spark flames. I’m going to use fictitious names here to make a point. Any resemblance to people you might know is strictly coincidental.

Widowed Aunt Wilomena might say, “I’m thankful for getting the stimulus checks,” only to have alcoholic Uncle Nelson, who has already downed several gin and tonics counter with, “Well, I didn’t get mine. Those damned idiots in DC don’t know what they heck they are doing.”

Alleged devout Christian, Cousin Vivian, who tells anyone who will listen that she is saved, makes a religious effort to defuse a potentially volatile situation by quickly interjecting. “I am thankful for my generous family.” That raises a few eyebrows as nearly every adult at the table from who Vivian has borrowed money, over past years but never repaid, (that would be most of them), start shifting in their chairs, clearing their throat, and purposely holding their tongue.

Unfortunately, because political correctness now runs amuck in society, almost any subject is potentially explosive. So, proceed with caution. And if you, like I, have friends who, let’s say, are persons of non-color, hope that they will think – twice – before innocently setting off a potential firebomb.

Twenty-something-year-old Cousin Malcolm’s recently proclaimed fiancée, Becky, who most of those present are meeting for the first time, impulsively chimes in, “Well, I’m thankful for Black Lives Matter.”

Some folks who are slicing their meat, stop mid-stroke and start cutting their eyes, play with the food on their plate, or quickly begin stuffing their mouth as smiling Becky waits for a response that finally brings a subdued “Um-hum” or two.

Race matters should probably be number one on the list of touchy topics to avoid during Thanksgiving gatherings, especially in a mixed-race group. It’s best to save the cayenne pepper hot topics for another time and place. Surely, we all know the old saying about good intentions. Yes, that one – that implies that sometimes there are unintended consequences to good intentions.

On that note, I’ll leave things right there and, specific to the subject of this post, reflect on what I am thankful for – many things. But more than anything, I am grateful for the memories created by Thanksgiving’s past.

I deeply miss Thanksgiving dinners at my parents’ house with immediate family members when I was a young child and as an adult with our children and spouses. But those occasions when my family spent Thanksgiving down south at my grandma’s (Maw, we called her) farmhouse were the most unforgettable and enjoyable times of my life.

That long holiday weekend was one of the few occasions during the year when I got to see a number of my aunts, uncles, and cousins all together in one place. Of course, the only thing better than mingling with my extended family during those times was sitting down to enjoy the Thanksgiving Day meal. Thinking about it even now makes my mouth water and my triggered imagination take control.

I am standing in Maw’s kitchen watching my mom and aunties bustling around, helping Maw prepare a feast. The kitchen is lit with an appetizing aroma, including the smell of the turkey and ham that took turns roasting in the oven. A huge pot of collard greens harvested fresh from Maw’s garden is blowing off steam on the stovetop. Delicious, complimenting side dishes crowd the table. Corn shaved from the cob. Baked macaroni and cheese. Homemade cornbread, stuffing, and hush puppies. The last things to go into the oven are homemade rolls. Hardly anything came from a box or can including the fruit in the sweet potato and apple pies baked earlier in the day. I don’t know how all of those scrumptious dishes fit on the table, but the cooks made it work.

In my mind – once upon a time down south – Thanksgiving was a magical event that I will never forget. For those memories and beautiful experiences, I am thankful.

Wishing all of my readers a delicious, memorable, and Happy Thanksgiving (and those who don’t observe it – have a wonderful day anyway.)

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Reconciling a New Year, Old Resolutions, and Pet Peeves

by on ·General, Holidays

Wow! A new year rising. Who would have thought after the last hellish four years that any of us would survive to see 2021? Many of us did. Sadly, numerous souls did not. They succumbed to various causes, including more than 300,000 deaths related to the COVID pandemic.

Enough about the dark side. I promised myself that my first blog post of the New Year would be upbeat so, let me get back on track.

First off, I wish good luck to those ambitious folks who are making a list of resolutions for the New Year. I don’t do it. For years, I tried, to no avail. Then, one year, I created what I determined would be my final list of New Year’s Resolutions. I wrote.

Number one. Win the Mega Millions lottery. Too farfetched. You have to play to win. I don’t play. I scratched out number one.

Number two. Find and marry an African Prince. What was I thinking? I’d rather be a queen than a princess. Scratch number two.

Number three. Nah. Too risqué. Scratch that one, too. (Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?) I balled up the page and threw it in the trash.

I could have stuck with traditional resolutions — eat better, exercise more, and swear less. They are run-of-the-mill but attainable. Instead, I got resourceful. I created a list of non-resolutions and combined it with my growing list of pet peeves (You know, those things that annoy you like an eyelid twitch.). At the end of each year, I evaluate my list of Peevelutions. (You are right. I made that word up. Peeves plus resolutions equal, you got it, peevelutions.) At each year’s end, I either applaud my successes or move a goal from a lower status to higher on the list.

Some of the Top 20 items below are carry-overs from previous years; others are works in progress.

In 2021, I will . . .

  1. Stop squeezing my butt into Victoria’s Secret undies and start wearing big girl drawers.
  2. Conceal my weight gain by wearing baggy clothes.
  3. Stop hoarding paper towels, toilet paper, and coffee in the storage locker.
  4. Enroll in a 12 step program for political junkies. The last four years took me to rock bottom.
  5. Learn another foreign language besides pig Latin.
  6. Stop fake-smiling during a Zoom meeting, even when it is as tedious as folding fitted sheets.
  7. Finish reading a book before starting another, instead of reading two or three books concurrently.
  8. Stop letting my audiobooks read me to sleep at night, forcing me, the next day, to rewind and figure out the point where I dozed off before I can resume listening.
  9. Stop procrastinating and work on finishing my book instead of playing online word games.
  10. Devote myself as enthusiastically to working-out at home as I did when I was going to the gym.
  11. Stop unfriending people on Facebook who get on my nerves; continue to ignore them instead.
  12. Stop grumbling when the person delivering my groceries arrives 30 minutes early while I am still in my jammies; better that I complain to him about being 30 minutes late. At least I will be presentable by then.
  13. Acknowledge that Smart Phones, Smart TVs, and other alleged smart devices are fallible and, when they malfunction, are dumb as soap.
  14. Have more tolerance for people who never contact me unless they want something, forcing me while cheerfully saying, “Oh, hello, there!” to think hypocritically, What do you want this time?
  15. Resist rolling my eyes when I hear corny phrases like, “wrap my head around it” and “it is what it is.” The first expression sounds like you are doing mental gymnastics, and the other one begs the sarcastic response, “And what if — what it is — isn’t?”
  16. Avoid reading a book before watching the corresponding movie; then I won’t gripe about what was omitted in the film.
  17. Avoid feeling pissed-off when someone does not reply to my email or text or acknowledge receipt of a gift I sent them. Who doesn’t know that it is fricking rude not to respond?
  18. Be more tolerant of people who sit down beside me in a communal place, like on a park bench or in a waiting room when I am enjoying some quiet time, and begin chatting with me like we are old friends. I’d rather they pretend that I am an insect repellant and bug off.
  19. When I am dining with someone who not only talks with their mouth full but keeps shoveling it in while talking, stop pretending that it’s okay and don’t resist the urge to ask him or her to please shut up and eat.
  20. Keep being the good-natured person I’ve always been and remember the words of William Arthur Ward, “A well-developed sense of humor is the pole that adds balance to your steps as you walk the tightrope of life.”

Happy New Year!

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Keeping the Merry in Christmas

by on ·Holidays, Lifestyle and Culture, Nostalgia

While radio and television programs are broadcasting Yuletide carols and reminding us to be jolly, COVID is sucking the merry out of Christmas. That sad reality is the reason why this usual glass-half-full optimist is fighting the pandemic blues. I am not alone. I know this because many of my friends tell me that they feel it, too. We compare our symptoms. Short tempers and long-lasting anxiety. Mood swings from hopeful to hopeless. And the WTF (where’s the food) all we can eat syndrome.

Since the pandemic began ten months ago, it has dragged on from season-to-season, and the set of new rules to live by has become old. We’ve all got the instructions memorized. Wear a mask. Practice social distancing. Avoid large gatherings. Socializing with family and friends at birthday parties, reunions, holiday get-togethers, even weddings, and funerals is a no-no. I imagine that some employees are not too happy that this year’s Christmas office parties are zooming. Who doesn’t feel like screaming, “WHAT THE ELF? ENOUGH ALREADY!”

As an (often mild-mannered) spiritual person, I wonder if the global pandemic is a Biblical prophecy and punishment is being levied on humankind for our sinfulness. I suppose that atheists and scientists would dispute that statement; it is an ever-lasting argument. So, I’m going back to talking about Christmas. Foremost, December 25 is a day held in reverence. It also happens to be my cousin Jo Jo’s birthday (a shout-out to you, Cuz), and for wide-eyed children everywhere, it is the day when Santa Claus makes their day.

Unlike Scrooge, I don’t need spirits to show me Christmases past, present, and future. I remember, and I envision.

In my mind’s eye, I am about seven-years-old. My mom and my siblings, and I are cheerfully jockeying around the live Christmas tree in the living room. Dad is seated on the sofa, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, clutching a Kool cigarette between the index and middle finger of his right hand. He is all into watching a John Wayne western on the old black and white TV set as I am into hanging my made-in-school decorations on the tree. Occasionally horizontal line interference forces dad to leave the sofa and walk over to the TV. He sticks his cigarette between his lips, takes a long drag, and then removes it, exhaling a puff of white smoke before tightening a small piece of aluminum foil that is wrapped around the tip of the rabbit ear antenna. The picture clears up and dad returns to the sofa. As he is sitting down, he glances toward the tree at our handiwork and nods approvingly. We continue hanging decorations. Simple ornaments created with Popsicle sticks, Elmer’s glue, pipe cleaners, colored beads, and a red and green chain garland made from construction paper share space on the spiny branches alongside store-bought string lights, shiny, fragile bulbs, and long strands of silver tensile. Some years, we add tiny candy canes – and then we wait. Christmas morning is only days away.

During the evenings leading up to the big day, mother sometimes lets us stay up past our 8 o’clock bedtime to watch televised seasonal specials about Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, and Old St. Nick. On Christmas Eve, she doesn’t need to tell us to turn-in. We eagerly hurry to bed because we know that the next day will be magical when we awake. In the morning, the joy and laughter of enchanted children fill the air as we gush over the gifts that Santa left under the tree. Our family’s meager income prevented us, four kids, from getting many presents. And often Santa didn’t bring us precisely what we asked for, but we always got a few things each, and for that, we were thankful. Mother’s lessons of expressing gratitude for everything were not lost on me even to this day.

The sweet scent of fresh pine needles lingers in our apartment for days, and it seems to take forever before every stubborn spike that lodged in the rug or slipped into a crack in the aging wood floor bordering the carpet has is gone.

In the postwar era, many parents observed – and children believed in – the long-standing tradition of Santa Clause. Some of today’s contemporary parents feel that deceiving children about Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and other fictional characters hinder a  trusting relationship with their children. So, they don’t adhere to any of the rituals that created beautiful, lifelong memories for their grandparents and parents.

Christmas wasn’t the only day that held magic. I was a curious child. Whenever I would shed a tooth, I would place it under my pillow before going to sleep. The next morning I would wonder and sometimes ask mother how the tooth fairy could lift my pillow and replace my tooth with a shiny coin, usually a nickel or dime, without waking me. Mother played along, leading me to believe that she was as perplexed as I was. I treasure those memories, and I think that mother enjoyed the games as much as we children did.

I know that it is the parent’s prerogative when it comes to observing traditions with their children. Still, I’d bet four calling birds that some of the same parents who say that they don’t want to lie to their children about imaginary characters don’t hesitate to fib to them about other things when it serves their purpose. As I see it, our parents fooling us with myths about the Tooth Fairy, Santa, and the Easter Bunny may have been telling us lies, but they were good lies.

Sometimes, when I am stressed and longing for a temporary respite from everyday living’s harsh realities, reflecting on traditions involving make-believe activities that my family observed during my childhood makes me happy.

Christmas present is eight days away. I doubt if many folks would disagree with me when I say that the best stocking stuffer all of us could receive would be a miraculous, immediate, and complete disappearance of COVID. I’m not promoting fake news, I know it’s not a reality, but nevertheless, that’s my wish for this Christmas.

My visualization for Christmas future, 2021, and all years after that is for love, brotherhood, joy, and peace in the world. That, along with good health, is my wish for my readers and all of humankind.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and may God bless you all!

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