Nine-Eleven: The Aftermath

Nine-Eleven Memorial In Lower Manhattan

For the past few months, and especially the past week, the term Nine-Eleven has been on most people’s lips and nearly everyone’s mind. I tried desperately to avoid dwelling on this. I failed.

I am beset by the images of ten years ago seared into my mind. I turned the TV on in my Oakland apartment to catch the weather. It took a while to understand the horror I was witnessing. No one in our office accomplished much work that day. Life, as we knew it, came to a standstill. I saw people jumping from the smoking, crumbling towers to escape fiery deaths; mayhem in the streets of New York City as citizens tried to outrun stifling, toxic clouds; hopeful people holding pictures of loved ones still lost; and the face of Mohammed Atta.

There are other unpleasant images I am desperate to banish, like ‘America’s Mayor’ Rudy Giuliani declaring, “Bernie, thank God George Bush is our president!”, or our smug POTUS declaring into his bullhorn that those who “knocked down” the towers would “hear from us.” Knocked down? How folksy! The public was inundated with color-coded terror alerts, but encouraged to spend, spend, spend! God forbid we allow capitalism and consumerism to suffer because of this tragedy. No! We must show the terrorists that no matter what they do, they will not curtail our latte consumption and shopping sprees. So, off we scurried to Starbucks and Macy’s to do our patriotic duty.

Back To Africa: Why I Am Not Going

I cannot go back to Africa, or China, or Germany, or Mexico. I have never visited any of those places. 

I was born in Jamaica, West Indies. It is a stunningly beautiful island teeming with warm, exuberant people, pristine beaches, and delectable food. Except for the occasional visit, I don’t plan to go back there. I made my home in the USA decades ago, and this is where I plan to stay. 

Upon my arrival in the US, I experienced emotions natural to anyone in my situation--culture shock, homesickness, sadness and depression. Nothing strange there. Those feelings faded quickly enough as I acclimated to my new environment. Eventually they gave way to curiosity, excitement, and a desire to explore this new culture. I jumped in with both feet.

Treme: For Believers

No hum-bow; don't know how.

I should have gone to New Orleans for Mardi Gras Carnival in 2010. 

I fantasized relentlessly about it. I dreamed constantly about it. I wanted desperately to go. I started making plans. I tried to convince any one of my friends to go with me, to sign on for this incredible adventure of a lifetime. No takers. I would have gone alone but I was warned, rightly, that was not such a great idea. So, I did not go. Now I’ve resigned myself to experiencing New Orleans vicariously through the HBO series Treme. 

I admit it. I am hooked on Treme. I am bedazzled by David Simon’s incredible stories about life in certain New Orleans neighborhoods after “Katrina”. Some people--yes, including me--often lazily refer to that tragedy as “Katrina” as if the hurricane alone caused the devastation. It didn’t. It was the floods following landfall of Hurricane Katrina that buckled the levees causing wholesale destruction and unimaginable loss of life. It was heartbreaking; it was tragic; and as we now know, it was preventable.

Time The Conqueror: Jackson Browne, Still Fierce

I love music. I don’t know how I would manage without it being part my everyday routine. I am not a shopaholic. I am not a fashionista. I don’t spend money frivolously in expensive stores or restaurants. But I buy music, and iTunes makes it easy. It’s become a weakness of mine, and may ultimately be my financial undoing.

Now, I know I created this blog to write about race matters, but today I feel the need to talk about Jackson Browne. That’s right, I'm talking about Jackson Browne (“JB”)--one of the most prolific and courageous artists of our time. The guy is flawed as hell, but he is a tireless activist and he never stops trying to shine a light on the truth, no matter how ugly.

Night Catches Us: We Should Embrace It

Recently, I saw a wonderful film called “Night Catches Us” starring Anthony Mackie (“McReele”), Kerry Washington (“Race”), Wendell Pierce (“Brokeology”) and Jamie Hector (both memorably featured in “The Wire”), Amari Cheatom (“Zooman and The Sign” and “The Book of Grace”) and Jamara Griffin, an apparent newcomer--and one to watch.

The film told the story of Marcus (Mackie), an ex-Black Panther, who returns home to his Philly neighborhood, after a self-imposed exile and a jail term, for his father's funeral, only to find himself up against issues he tried to escape. The main issue is the widely held belief that Marcus snitched and caused the death of their Panther brother--husband of Patricia (Washington) and father of Iris (Wilson). Marcus is conflicted, contrite, and somewhat afraid, due mostly to the notion of confronting his angry Panther brother (Hector) who has never forgiven him, and is bent on revenge. Marcus is determined to face his enemies and exorcise his demons.

The story is larger than described above.