Get Out The Vote (GOTV)

I am a frustrated voter. I am frustrated with the system and I am frustrated with what we have become. Whatever happened to the time when we agreed, for the most part, on what was best for our country and our only disagreement was on how to accomplish it? Why is it that we have deteriorated to the point of yelling at our elected officials and candidates at town hall meetings? What has happened to our civility?

I am frustrated that there is a large group of people that feel it acceptable to doing nothing in response to proposed action. Why are we no longer exchanging good ideas and finding a middle ground in an effort to move our country forward? Why are we allowing our opinions to be shaped by television personalities, negative campaign ads, and polls?

I am a stressed-out voter. I am tired of my expenses rising while my income remains the same. It stresses me that there are so many of us who are still without jobs with no possibilities on the horizon. It angers me that there are still people who have to choose to pay the electricity bill OR buy necessary prescriptions.

Our country has always had a serious racial rift, and while things have gotten better in some respects, a lot has not changed. But even within the races, there was a time that we treated each other the way we would want to be treated. That has vanished. We seem to have no regard for the well being of others, whether they are the same race as us or not. It takes a catastrophic event to bring out the good in us, but that feeling of brotherhood lasts only as long as the event stays in the news.

I would argue that we are living in catastrophic times. Unemployment is ridiculously high. Healthcare costs are obscene. Food and gas prices are crazy. Energy costs are astronomical. The rate of foreclosures is on a constant rise. We have lost our ability to communicate with each other. It seems that our elected officials are more concerned with losing power than acting in the best interests of their constituents. If things continue in this vein, the future is not bright for any of us.

I am a frustrated and stressed-out voter, but that does not make me apathetic. We cannot sit idly by and stew in our anger and frustration. Voting is the best way to voice our collective frustration. No matter which candidate you believe can best represent your opinions, you have to support their efforts by casting your vote.

Early voting ends today, October 28th, at 8:00 p.m in Maryland, Illinois, and Tennessee. If you don’t take advantage of early voting, then please show up to vote on Tuesday, November 2nd at your designated polling place between 7:00 a.m. and 8:00 p.m.

Every vote counts. Show up. Exercise your right. Make your opinion count.

They're still around? Really?!

In court tomorrow, I have a case involving a registered sex offender, his wife, a popsicle, a banana, and a protective order. The story is crazy and not one that I will go into here because the thought of it makes me want to gag.

Anyway, it has been reported to us that the defendant has said that if he is convicted tomorrow, he's going to "take out" everyone in the court room.

It has further been reported to us that defendant's brother is a member of the Klan and he plans to take action if his brother is convicted.

I was the prosecutor that convicted his brother back in January of violating a protective order. With this new piece of information, I will not be the prosecutor tomorrow.

When I reported this news to my boss, he nonchalantly gave orders to call in extra security for the day and went on about his business. About five minutes later, he came into my office and said, "I don't know if this is good or bad, but I just now get why this is such a big deal. Klan. African-American prosecutor. Now I get it!"

Here's the rant: The Klan?!!!! Really?!!!! They're still around? According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, yes, they are still around. No chapters where I live, but there are some very close. Just the threat of dealing with the Klan has me changing my plans. I'm parking behind my house instead of out front on the street. I'm wearing flat shoes to court tomorrow in case I need to make a break for it. Even though someone else in my office is handling the case, I'm still a bit concerned.

If mention of "the Klan" still has this much power to instill fear, you can only imagine the power the N word still has.

Some things will never go away no matter how much we want them to disappear.

"You'd have to have a baby first."

I was in the nail shop a few weeks ago getting all dolled up for a trip I was planning to take. A little girl was sitting up front waiting for her mom. She looked to be about seven or eight years old. She had a number of twisty braids in her hair and each was adorned with two or three barrettes - all in hot pink to match her dress and her mother's pants. She was a pretty chocolate colored girl with a pie shaped face and dancing eyes. She was watching me intently as I was trying to pick out a color.

She started our conversation by telling me that I should paint my toes green as she pointed to a bottle of neon green paint. When I told her that green didn't suit me, she asked "What's your favorite color?". When I replied, "purple", she told me that was the color I should paint my toes. I told her that wouldn't go with the outfit I was planning to wear. She asked me where I was going and I told her D.C. Then she asked, "Where your kids at?". I told her I didn't have any kids. She asked, "Why?". I said, "I'm not ready for that yet." She said, "Yeah, cuz you'd have to have a baby first." I smiled, said good-bye, and made my way back to the magic pedicure chairs.

As I was sitting there with my feet in the water and my eyes closed, I chuckled about what the pretty pie-faced girl had said to me. Did she think I wasn't ready to have kids because I had no babies, i.e. babies grow up to be kids? The logic in that was quite strong, but at the same time, very funny. But then I realized that I hadn't told her that I had no babies. So then I started asking myself broader questions like, "Was this child's sole purpose in my life to tell me that I need to have babies?".

Here's the rant: BABIES...UGH!!!!!!! I love the idea of having children, but I've never relished the idea of giving birth. I also loath the idea of sleepless nights and 3 a.m. feedings. I love holding babies and watching them smile, but the idea of carrying one for nine months is scarier than a Hitchcock movie. On my Dad's side of the family, my sister and I are the only cousins of our age group that have no children. Last week I was at a family reunion. While hugging one of my cousins goodbye, she said to me "Ima pray that you have a baby real soon." I told her not to pray that for me. Why is it that having children is such a necessity? I'm not saying that I don't want to be a mother, but giving birth is not on my priority list.

So I've been considering adoption. I'm not financially ready to do that right now, but I have a few questions that I need to answer first. Is it selfish of me to adopt a child because I want to be a mom? Doesn't that child deserve a dad too? (For those of you that don't know, I'm chronically single.)

Sigh.

Just wondering...

I was in Target today when I heard a little boy say, "Look, Mom. They even have Michael Jackson shirts!" Being the ultimate MJ fan that I am, I walked over to look at the shirt to which the little boy was referring. It was a sequined tank top with a picture of a white woman with long hair wearing large sunglasses and a leather jacket. All I could do was shake my head and chuckle. But it did make me wonder - how does the young generation make sense of the changing MJ? Or do they just know the last version of him? I mean, it's not like anyone buys records or cds anymore, so there are no album covers to look at while you listen to the music. I wonder how aware that little boy is that MJ used to look more like me than like him. I wonder if they claim him as ferociously, personally, and adamantly as we do.

No rant today. Just wondering.

"One Like You"

This morning, as I walked up the steps toward the courtroom (I'm an attorney, for those of you that didn't know), I was greeted by a frantic bailiff. He ran down the steps as fast as his gray haired, seventy-something year old legs could carry him and announced, "The judge is waiting for you! Hurry up! He's on the bench waiting for you!" My heart started racing. Stress took over and I started to feel the knots develop in the back of my neck.

He met me half way on the steps and grabbed my files from me in an effort to be helpful. As he was lightening my load, I said, "He's waiting for me? I'm not supposed to be in court until 8:15. It's only 8:00."

"Aren't you supposed to be in front of Judge Green?"

"No. I'm in front of Judge Smith."

"Oh, I'm sorry." And with that, he handed me back my files and went back to his courtroom.

About an hour later, I ran into the bailiff again. I was returning to court to deal with a Defendant who didn't make it to court on time earlier in the morning. As he passed me on the steps, he said "I'm sorry about earlier. Judge Green was waiting for another one like you."

The only reason that I knew what "another one like me" meant was because on my way to court, I passed an unfamiliar African-American woman who, I could tell by the badge around her neck, worked for the Department of Social Services. We spoke to each other in that "I'm sooooo happy to see another Black person who's not a defendant" kind of way and kept moving. She was the other one like me to which the bailiff was referring.

Here's the rant: Another one like me?! Really?!!!! Wow.

And for those of you wondering, yes, the bailiff was Caucasian.

Help, please.

Why in the world are people so reticent to ask for help? We're quick to pray for it and then watch and wait. But has it ever occurred to anyone that the help we pray for might be right in front of us?

Here's the rant: I have a young family member who has either withdrawn from or failed out of school. If she failed out, why in the world didn't she ask someone for help before it got so bad?! There are three people in our family that hold the same degree that she was trying to earn. All she had to do was drop an email or give a quick phone call. If she withdrew, what in the world was she thinking?! It makes me so angry to know that with just a year left before graduation, she will not be returning to school. Life is hard enough for African-American women, but to be one with no college degree?! Sigh.

She may read this post, and if she does, she'll know exactly where I'm coming from when I sit down to talk with her in a few weeks. If she doesn't read this, I'm going to need some advice on how to approach her. Anger and wisdom are usually not heard by young ears. The young ones usually think they know everything and don't want to hear what you have to say because "you don't understand me".

What do I say to her? Any help here would be greatly appreciated.

MJ Therapy

I find myself thinking a lot about Michael Jackson this week. I can't believe it's been almost a year since he passed. His music and talent impacted my life in so many ways. Here's one of my favorite MJ stories.

The very first concert that I went to was the Jackson family show. All of the brothers took part and Janet was there doing her Mae West impression. I was about three. I'm not sure how much of that experience I actually remember versus hearing stories and seeing clips of the show on tv, but I know it was my first show and apparently I was quite impressed. After that, my parents took me to see Mike every time he went out on tour anywhere near us. Every time. I have great memories of The Victory Tour in Richmond. My cousin, Maria, was with us and told a story of how she ended up in an elevator with MJ. Don't know if that was true, but it sure did make me jealous. But the best story of all was what it took for us to see the "Bad" tour.

It was October of 1988. My parents were having some marital issues and a separation was imminent. I was in high school and my sister was in elementary school. My parents got us out of school early one day and Dad told us that we were going to family counseling. My stress level shot through the roof. No way did I want to sit in a room and openly discuss our problems! Dad assured me that I would enjoy this therapy.

"It's a new-wave type therapy", he told me. "You get to jump around and scream and yell and sing all you want until the stress is gone. They call it MJ therapy."

"MJ therapy?", I thought. "What in the world is that?", I asked.

He wouldn't be any more specific, but kept saying that he was very sure that I had heard of it before.

We were almost 30 minutes outside of our town when we stopped at Taco Bell. (My sister had a thing for Taco Bell at the time.) We got out of the car to go inside when it suddenly dawned on me.

"MJ therapy?! Michael Jackson?! Are we going to the Michael Jackson concert?! Oh my God, we're going to the Michael Jackson concert!!!!!!" I couldn't stop screaming. I'm sure I looked on the edge of insane jumping up and down in that parking lot. Dad was right. The screaming and yelling sure did make me feel better.

So we jumped back in the car and headed up Rt. 29 North towards DC in our Pontiac Grand Am. We were just about to get onto I-66 when the car made an explosive noise. We were able to pull into an Exxon right near the exit. Our car was dead. We were an hour from the Capital Centre and our car was dead. We sat in that parking lot for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, one of Dad's friends showed up to take us to the show.

We made it in time to see everything. We didn't miss a spin, a moonwalk, or a "hee-hee!". He was absolutely incredible.

Late that night, we journeyed back home in a car that Dad's friend loaned to us - a candy apple red Porsche. My sister and I were quite uncomfortable in the back of that car, but I didn't care. MJ therapy had taken care of all of my problems, at least for that one night.