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

Diary of an Indecisive Journalist

by on ·Lifestyle and Culture

Do you keep a journal?  Have you ever gone back and read some of what you wrote years ago and then asked yourself, “Did I write that?” Were you are amazed that you ranted angrily about something that made you cuss someone out on paper or did you write in detail about a romantic daydream in which you fantasized being with that special someone like Billie Dee Williams or Paul Newman? Yummy!

Many U.S. Presidents kept diaries. So do some authors. Lewis Carroll, who penned Alice in Wonderland kept a diary. Even Oprah Winfrey does it. She said, “Keeping a journal will absolutely change your life in ways you’ve never imagined.”

Over the decades, I have kept a journal now and then. Currently, I am in the now stage. I actually started my very first diary when I was about 13 or 14. It didn’t have any juicy stuff in it. In fact, as I think about it now, my diary was totally unexciting. Like many boomers of limited means who reached adulthood in the late 1960s or early 70s, I didn’t have anything very exciting to write about. School activities. A boy I had a crush on. Fights with my siblings. My adolescent years were boring. I’m talking Leave It To Beaver and The Partridge Family boring. There is absolutely no comparison to what I imagine is in the diaries of some of today’s teenagers. OMG! Blush. Blush. Is boiling water hot? Does a fire ant sting? Can you say triple X-rated teens gone wild? You get the point.  

But back to mine. One day my mother discovered my diary in its poorly selected hiding place under my mattress (I’m sure today’s teenagers are much more creative) and apparently it was no trouble for her to open the flimsy lock on it. Afterward, at the first opportunity, she let me know that she had read it by vocally lashing me with some of my own words and private thoughts. I felt as violated as I imagine a rape victim must feel, so I tore every single page of that little book into tiny pieces and then threw it in the trash. I promised myself I would never keep another diary. That promise didn’t last long.

Some years later, when I was grown and on my own, I started journaling again. In my mid-twenties I had page-upon-page of my experiences scripted in a couple of three ring binders. Life had gotten more exciting. Then, when I was thirty-something, I destroyed those, too. Second dumb move. If I ever destroy another one of my journals I hope someone will put me in bio-checkmate. I doubt if anyone can remember every aspect of their own personal history without recording it. So, why did I destroy my diaries a second time? That’s a post for another day.

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A Message to Young Men: Put a Belt On It

by on ·The Way I See It

Beyonce popularized a hit tune telling all the single ladies to “Put A Ring On It.” Meanwhile, well-intentioned people all over are wishing for an anthem that would convince young men to wear a belt and stop sagging their pants. 

General Larry Pratt came close to doing that when he appeared on American Idol, during its 9th season in January 2010. He wowed the judges with his clever song “Pants on the Ground.” While the catchy tune went viral on the Internet and brought the 62-year-old Pratt overnight fame, apparently the message was lost on the youths.

There is nothing sexy, cool, or attractive about young men wearing their pants drooping off their butt. Hip hoppers are no exception. I have been told that “saggin” as it is called, originated in prison where men are not allowed to have belts and some want to show that they are sexually available. The inclination of some young people to follow any trend, even if it equates them to criminals, is just another sad saga in a morally bankrupt society.

Well, saggin may be “in” outside the prison walls, but mature people think that it shows ignorance. Furthermore, it has to be as much a pain in the butt for young men to constantly struggle to hold up their pants as it is for reluctant witnesses to see their drawers, and in some instances their bare behind. And Jimmydee creepers! Don’t let them bend over while the pants are sagging. What do youths think is so cool about being prison chic?

When my adolescent son was growing up in the 80’s, I would often scold him about wearing his cap turned backward. “It makes you look like a thug,” I told him more times than he cared to hear. He’s a grown man now, and God knows that I appreciate the fact that my challenge of trying to keep him from conforming to negative peer pressure was minor compared to the challenges that nurturing parents face today.

Numerous states including Louisiana, Virginia, Florida, and public venues nationwide have attempted to institute anti-sagging policies that ban men from wearing their pants below their waist and exposing their underwear in public. Some people oppose criminalizing the practice, because they believe that the proposed law targets a particular group — black men.

Last Wednesday, a University of New Mexico football player was arrested at the San Francisco International Airport over the issue of his saggy pants. Reportedly his mother said: “He was attacked for three reasons – his clothing, his skin, and his hair.”

In my recent discussion of this issue with a few acquaintances, some opined that saggin is practiced by people who are immature and have no self respect. Then, a member of the group temporarily halted the discussion when he said there is a double insult when you spell the word saggin backwards.

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A Reflection on Father’s Day

by on ·General

Many boomers have reached the age when our parents are older than we ever imagined they would be – just as we are older than we imagined we would be. That bit of introspective humor aside, Father’s Day is one of those serious occasions when children of all ages, who are fortunate enough to know and love their father delight in spending time with him or sending tokens of appreciation; and those who have lost our dads reflect on Father’s Days past.

I reminisce about the happy times that my siblings and I shared with our WWII Vet dad over the years. Whether he was playing chef, as bar-b-que king at our backyard family cook-outs, fixing up a bushel of crabs, or slapping palms with his partner after “going to Boston” while playing Bid Whist, we had good times. 

I delight in remembering the weeks before Father’s Day, when I would search frantically for just the right card or gift. Do I get him another tie or a bathrobe? Shirts or cuff links? My dad liked music, so back in the day I sometimes bought him a couple of 45 rpm records or cassette tapes featuring his favorite, particularly blues, recording artists. (For Generation Xers or your children who may be reading this — No, your eyes did not deceive you. And yes, I said records — as in vinyl — and cassette tapes.) Even when some of dad’s buddies were switching turntables and cassette decks for CD players, dad rejected the idea of  fumbling and frustrating over such contemporary devices.

But Father’s Day isn’t all about giving material things. Sometimes an offspring gives dad something more precious. Joseph Mies gave his father the ultimate gift. 

The inspiration behind Father’s Day is to honor, appreciate and celebrate our dad. And if we had a loving relationship, we cherish the memories and do so for as long as we live. In recognition of every decent, hard-working father who lovingly and dutifully fulfills his obligation to his children, I share with you a favorite quote by writer Clarence Budington Kelland, “He didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.”

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