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

Draw Back Your Bow

by on ·Holidays, Lifestyle and Culture

Cupid archer and roses.Valentine’s Day is on the way out. I can see it coming. I think it’s a matter of time before PC advocates and Valentine’s Day haters put a lead-tipped arrow through cupid’s heart. (Someone please call 911 and resuscitate.)

My informal and impartial study (and the haters hotline) reveal that a lot of people – mostly single women who are not in a relationship and unhappily married ones – dislike Valentine’s Day. V-D is tough on some women. I get it. I’ve been there. During my lifetime, I’ve had my share of forgettable Valentine’s Days. Nevertheless, I still enjoy seeing the lover’s holiday celebrated and even if I disliked it I would not want it banished. Why destroy the joy for others?

Across the gender line, some men say they like Valentine’s Day as much as

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Taking the Christ out of Christmas

by on ·Holidays, Opinion, PC/Political Correctness

PC Snowman - RevisedI don’t send Christmas Cards every year. Whether I do or don’t depends on how much holiday spirit I have. When I send cards, I often write a brief message inside.

One year, I bought a beautiful card for one of my aunts and wrote a personal note in it ending with “Wishing you a very Merry Xmas.” Days later, as she and I were discussing how commercialism and anti-religious factions are destroying the true meaning of Christmas, she seized the opportunity to tell me, “I don’t like it when people substitute Xmas for Christmas.”

Immediately picking up on her subtle message, I respectfully asked (I emphasize respectfully because no matter how old we get, anyone with good upbringing is going to be respectful to their elders) “What’s wrong with Xmas?” Her response revealed her frustration with the issue and was similar to what I frequently hear from people concerned about Christ being taken out of Christmas.”

It seems like only a decade or two ago when the Merry Christmas greeting was put in the crosshairs of the PC brigade. Suddenly, on television broadcasts, in newspapers and magazines, and face-to-face people were saying, “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.”

I understand that Happy Holidays is an inclusive greeting that is less offensive to some people including nonbelievers and freethinkers. Also, there are people who because of their religious or personal inclination prefer wishing others a “Happy Hanukkah” or “Happy Kwanza.” Believe me — I get it!

Nevertheless, as I see it, PC is not only sucking the Merry out of Christmas, it is wreaking havoc all year long — revising the language, influencing behavior, and troubling the thoughts of people who are struggling to adjust to the so-called new norm.

American culture has rapidly disintegrated into one where people constantly

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Remembering Dad on Veterans Day: A Story of Two Flags

by on ·Family

Dad and flag Veterans Day 2015I think of my dad often, but particularly on four occasions. His birthday. Father’s Day. The day he died. And Veteran’s Day. Dad was among the many of my family members who were or are U.S. Veterans.

Of significance to members of the armed forces, as well as to all patriotic Americans, is the U.S flag. When a veteran dies, the Department of Veteran Affairs (VA) donates a flag to drape the casket and honor the memory of that person who honorably served this country. After the funeral service, the flag is given to the next-of-kin as a keepsake.

When dad died on August 30, 2006, there were two American flags at his funeral. The one donated by the VA draped his coffin. The second flag was handed to me shortly before the service began and I held the gift, folded inside a small flat box, on my lap.

Before dad’s death, I had worked for former Chicago State Senator and Illinois Democratic Party Chairman, Gary LaPaille. Upon learning that my dad had died, a staff member from that office called me to ask if I

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No Bra-ha-ha

by on ·General, The Way I See It

Let me put this right out there and say that I hate wearing a bra. Bras might be a sensual turn-on for men, but they are the ultimate torture garment for women. They pinch and poke. They’re uncomfortable and constricting. The first thing you want to do when you take it off is vigorously scratch those girls. And based on conversations had and overheard, I’m not the only female who has a hate-hate relationship with bras.

Whoopi Goldberg would agree with me. I’ve heard her say, countless times, on The View,  that she hasn’t worn a bra in over 40 years. I don’t understand why she feels the need to disclose that personal information to a national television audience, but I can relate to why she ditched the darned thing.

Some of my girlfriends and I have shared bra horror stories. One thing we all agree on is that there is nothing more disappointing than investing $40 or more for a bra that rides up, curls over, shifts around, and advertises the back fat.

Buying a bra can be as stressful as wearing one. Women who dislike wasting money with the trial and error process can get assistant from a bra fitter. Tape measure in hand, she is often available to measure you in stores like Victoria’s Secret or Norstrom. Or you can measure yourself at home. There are Internet sites that provide instructions on how to determine your bra size. But be forewarned, doing it yourself and getting the right measurement is not always as easy as A, B, C or double D.

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The Music Box

by on ·Lifestyle and Culture

Since publishing, Legacy, I keep thinking of other things that I wish I had included in the book. Discussions with some of my relatives also inspire ideas. One day, I may have to do as one cousin suggested, write Legacy II.

One thing that I might have written about, but didn’t is the music box. I recall seeing it while grandma was alive, but can’t remember if she kept it on the shelf of a small corner knickknack or on top of the old floor model TV. As far as I know, there isn’t anything special about the music box. It’s merely a keepsake for me. I received it, courtesy of a thoughtful aunt, who gave it to me after grandma died. “Just so you can have something that belonged to her,” she said.

Until a few weeks ago, when I was housecleaning, I had forgotten that I had the music box. I rediscovered it when I pulled a small cardboard box out of the closet. On top of numerous other odds and ends inside the box was the dusty music box. After glancing over the contents of the storage box, I hastily decided that I didn’t need any of the stuff and dumped all of it into a trash bag that I had placed on the floor near the closet. I picked up the strings, shook the bag a couple of times and was preparing to tie it up when the music box began playing a few notes. And then it stopped. Perhaps while shaking the bag, I had jarred the wind-up mechanism. I opened the bag, reached inside, removed the music box and then wiped off the dust on one pant leg of the old blue jeans that I was wearing for the cleanup. It was then that I remembered to whom the box had belonged.

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