One Month and Sixteen Days

It has been one month and sixteen days since Barack H. Obama was elected President of the United States - and I still get the same chills of delight when I think of it.

I am tickled about his cabinet. Not sure about how I feel about Rick Warren. Obama is truly going to be a President of the People. He will be my President. The first I have claimed.

Since this is MY blog and it is allaboutme, and since I haven't made an entry in a while, I am going to tell you about my experience on November 4, 2008.

Many of you know that I ran to be a delegate to the Democratic National Convention. (I lost that election.) That's OK because it had to be. I was present anyway. I watched all the silliness, listened to all the speeches (and can't remember a damned thing anyone said). I was a true political junkie that week - and I couldn't get a fix. I wanted to know everything that was going on.

So, Obama got the nomination. I got a new tee shirt, some buttons, and continued to do some volunteer work. Looking to November. In a previous blog, I wrote about my experience casting my vote. I kissed my fingers before I pulled the lever. I was voting in hope and in love. Early that morning, there was a HUGE line down the street and around the block. I had no idea of how the people in the line would vote.

Because I ran to be a delegate, I was invited to the Governor's Election Night Watch Party at the Sheraton Hotel. There were thousands of people there. The wine was expensive but not good, and there was nothing to eat to soak up the cheap wine. I invited my dear friend, Sarah Mahr, and we watched people. We chatted up some folks (I think) but I don't remember what anyone said. To say there was anticipation in the air is an understatement.

Some friends called me to talk about the excitement. My Lauren and her husband adopted a little girl from China. Olivia is four years old. Lauren mentioned that she'll have to explain the importance of this election to Olivia one day. While we were speaking, Obama won Virginia.

My Veronica called me to talk about what this meant to her. Veronica is bi-racial. We attended the same prep school in Washington, DC. The prep school mercifully, no longer exists. Sometimes we were very good friends. At others, we were acquaintances. I was very jealous of her. She was smart. (So was I, but I had "issues".) She was beautiful and all the boys at other schools wanted to date her. One boy (now, a politician, I think) asked me out on a date. My first date! He stood me up. I later learned that he didn't want to go out with me, but figured that since I was friends with Veronica, it would be a good way to get to her! Rather than getting really angry with him, I took it as another of my many short-comings. I felt fatter; I felt uglier; I felt totally uncool. Anyway, Veronica and I remained friends. I remembered that she wrote a speech about looking forward to the day when a black person and a white person could walk down the street, holding hands, and not cause heads to turn. She was very popular in school. I remember in a religion class, we were having a very stupid discussion about the color of Christ's skin. Someone said, "Christ was the color of Veronica. I just know it!" That was another reason to be jealous.

We went our separate ways, and lost contact as high school friends often do. A couple of years ago, I "Googled" her, and now we keep in touch through e-mails and occasional telephone calls.

Her speech from high school certainly made an impact. For some reason I thought about her speech on election day. Well, my Veronica was one of the people who called, and she mentioned her speech! We chatted for a little bit about how this election was a sign of the changing times.

I am glad my friends and I are all grown up.

Then my Christopher called me. Christopher is my nephew. (I just adore my nieces and nephews!) This was his second time voting. He was a lot happier than he was the first time he voted. Our candidate lost, and Christopher remarked that it didn't seem as if his vote mattered, and he didn't know if he would do it again. He is my nephew and he will always vote!

A lot of people called me that night as the excitement mounted and it looked as if BHO was going to be elected POTUS!

At 11:00 P.M. there was a countdown. Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! The room was in an uproar!

My response? I burst into tears. Big, ugly, snotty tears! In the midst of a room full of people. I sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. Now, these tears were tears of joy. They were tears of relief, hope and shock. I cried for my ancestors who struggled. I cried for my Mother, who is dead and who, I believe, would really like Barack Obama. I cried for my Grandfather who would really, really like him. I cried for Barack Obama because his grandmother died the day before he was elected. (Dear God, Couldn't you have waited a day or two to let Toot die? Couldn't she have stuck around for her grandson's election? You are the one with the miracles!)

I cried like a baby.

This paragraph may be painful to read, but it has a point. (Even if it is nothing more than cathartic for me.) I have never had a good dose of self-esteem. Growing up, I felt I was ugly. (I was often told I was ugly by "friends" and family.) I attended a parochial school that experienced "white flight" - as the blacks moved in, the whites moved out. I remember we had 4 or 5 white kids in our class, and the teacher (a nun!) decided we would have class officers. She appointed the white kids to be president, vice president, secretary, and sargeant-at-arms. They got special treatment. I felt flawed and ugly. I used to cry myself to sleep as I prayed at night for two things: one was to wake up white and beautiful. I will not tell you the other, because it would not to be fair people who are not here to defend themselves. It's too late for me to challenge them, but I can change MY point of view of WHO and WHAT I am. I am OK just as I am.

Back to election night. I didn't just cry. I danced. In the aisles of the D Train. And I knuckle-bumped people, and I sang "Can You Feel a Brand New Day?" And I danced some more in the streets of Harlem. (With many handsome young men!)

And I cried some more.

Hey, it was an evening of mixed emotions!

My tears were not just tears of joy and release. They were tears of hope. Now that we have a Black president surrounded by Black women - his wife, daughters, and mother-in-law, I don't want any little (or big) girls crying themselves to sleep at night hoping they will wake up white. I don't want anyone to make them think that being Black is flawed. None of us are "less than" - and I don't want anyone making us feel that way or for us to do it to ourselves or each other. No nuns appointed Barack Obama to be POTUS, the people elected him!

Barbara Walters asked Obama if his Mother would be surprised that he was elected POTUS. His response was, "No, she thought I could be anything I wanted to be!" This is the attitude we have to take for ourselves and for the children. "I can be anything I want to be!" (Right now, I want to be writer.)

So, now that we have elected him, we still have a lot of work to do. We must support him. We must challenge him. We must defend him. The grassroots movement helped him get elected. The grassroots movement is not going away. We the people have spoken, and must continue to do so!


OK - I sent e-mails to friends the morning of the election, and neglected to put my message in my blog.

This is what I wrote on November 4:

Dear People I Know:

At 6:16 this morning, I cast my vote for President,/Vice President, some judges, senators...and now I feel really great!

Working backwards, the first miracle was that I woke up at 4:55 A.M. It was my intention to be the first person at my polling station. I had timed the walk from my apartment to the polling station. (7 minutes) and I figured that I could leave at 5:30 and be first in line. Was I ever wrong!

Folks were speed-walking in the same direction in which I dragging. I had a little more pep in my step than usual, but it was nothing compared to others. It was as if someone was directing a movie, telling people to "move!move!move!" until they heard "CUT!" (Or whatever they say in movies to make the action stop.)

Then there was the line.

When it started to move, it moved swiftly. People on line were gracious for the movement. Some of us looked a little apprehensive. There was a young woman on the cellphone, telling someone that she was voting for the first time. Everyone smiled at her.

I found the booth for my District, and gave my name. I was asked for identification. I politely stated that this was the first time I was asked for identification. The woman turned red, and handed a card to me to give to someone else standing by the machine.

Then I cast my vote for Barack H. Obama.

I am sure that I wasn't the first person to feel a pleasant chill while pulling the lever. (In true diva dramatic fashion, I kissed my fingers before I pulled the lever next to Barack Obama's name.) I am sure that I am not the last to experience that today.

Think of the ancestors among us and how proud they must be. Think of the people who have fought for the right to vote - here in the U.S.A., and in other countries. Think of those who have died for the right to vote. I think of both of my parents (dead) who would have loved the opportunity to cast their vote for Barack Obama. I think of my grandfather, Harry, who I believe would really like Barack Obama - his intellect, his gentlemanly manner, the fact that Obama is always so neat, and, OK - that he speaks well. "What a fine young man!" my grandfather would say. I cast my vote because of the work and hopes of the ancestors. I cast my vote because of the hard work of Barack Obama's maternal grandmother. Because of her, I could vote for him.

I cast my vote for Obama because I believe in his message, I believe change is needed, I believe that this is an administration I would like to support, and that it is also one I will challenge. I believe my voice will be heard. By somebody.

After casting my vote, I met friends - who were in line ahead of me - for a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and grits. I later called my one friend who would understand exactly what I mean when I say that part of me is exhilarated, and that part of me is weepy. Voting has never been such an emotional experience for me. I get weepy at the thought of the daunting tasks ahead of us. I get weepy at the thought of the possibilities ahead of us.

Please vote. And then laugh, and get weepy with me. Eat your grits. They will fortify you.

Vote!

I cannot wait for Tuesday, November 4, 2008. I already have my alarm set so I can be the first person to cast my vote at my polling station.

To anxious to write about anything else.

Please remember to vote in hope, not in fear. If we do it the right way, we will get what we deserve. If we do it the wrong way, we will get what we deserve.

Do.It.Right.

Erlinda Goes to Harlem

Last Friday morning, I made an appointment to visit my dentist. You gotta take care of your teeth!

I do take care of mine, so I thought I was just making a visit for a cleaning. Twenty minutes later, I was chewing a piece of Dove (c) chocolate - a simple piece of milk chocolate, nothing crunchy, kind of soft because the weather was warm. Suddenly, something wasn't quite right. In my mouth. Along the right side of my jaw. Lower jaw. I managed to crack a tooth and loose a filling in one fell swoop!

My appointment wasn't until Tuesday, and all day Saturday, Sunday and Monday, my tongue kept scraping against the jagged edge of the cracked molar that was missing a part and a filling. I was sure the side of my tongue would be calloused by the time I got to the dentist. Oddly, my tongue didn't brush against that cracked molar that was missing a part and a filling when I chewed on that side. So I made sure I chewed on things softer than chocolate - like processed American cheese, peanut butter, and Wonder Bread. Yuck.

Today, I went to the dentist. He fixed the tooth, admired his work, and let me admire it. (I have a great dentist. He is nice and very cute. Having a cute dentist dulls some of the pain of visiting the dentist. Three shots of novacaine...) They gave me a cute little kit with samples of dental things, and I left the office.

Anyway, I decided to save some money and walk to public transportation rather than take a taxi back to my office.

I walked down Lenox Avenue, and admired the kinds of scenes you just don't see on the Upper East Side of New York City. There is some gentrification going on, but a lot of the flavor of the neighborhood is intact. I passed a lingerie store; backed up, and went in to buy leggings. I passed Carol's Daughter, my favorite beauty supply store, and got some stuff for my hair. I must have been acting funny, because the store manager kept asking me if I was OK. I explained I had just visited the dentist and was full of novacaine. I didn't realize I was acting strangely. She gave me some samples of hair stuff, and body lotion. Gotta support my Peeps!

Back on the street, I bought some incense and charcoal. Nearing the bus stop, I kept looking around at Harlem. Lots of colors, lots of aromas. I waved at babies. I listened to people cuss each other out. I watched young people flirt. One man was howling at the moon - and it was just 2:30 in the afternoon. School kids were running in and out of bodegas, buying quarter water. Street vendors were selling all kinds of stuff that nobody needs to buy. I wondered if it was going to rain...

Suddenly, I noticed a man giving me the once over. He wasn't totally unattractive. He kind of looked like Keb'Mo - but he didn't look like he could sing the blues and play the guitar. ( Just LOVE Keb'Mo'. This man bore an ever so slight resemblence to Keb'Mo.) I love it when men give me the once over. It doesn't happen very much in my neighborhood. He asked if he could walk with me. I said, "No, I am going back to work!" He responded, "I don't want to take your time, but I sure want to suck your toes!"

Freak!

Now, anyone who has seen my feet would not imagine that they would objects of desire for a foot fetishist. My feet are bit on the large side. My toenails are funny looking. (There have been occasions when I have walked into a nail parlour for a pedicure, to hear the nail technician say, "Oh no!" Now, this could be the only phrase the technicians know in English, but I doubt it.) My arches don't exist, and I tend to pronate. I have had two surgeries on one foot - and while it is structurally "perfect" - it is not what I think would bring out a lustful cry from a fetishist! A normal person who looked at my feet would think two things: 1 - "Hammertime!" and 2 - "She should carry butter, salt and pepper for those corny things!" Hell - most of the time, I wear "sensible" shoes. You would see my feet on the cover of "Paws" before you would see them on "WhateverFootFetishistsStoptoRead"...

In my own defense, my feet were clean, and the "Hot Tamales" nail polish helped give the appearance of a woman who cares about her appearance. But - a foot fetishist?!?!?!

Anyway, Mr. NotKebMo kept my stride, and asked if I would wear pantyhose while he sucked my toes. I said, "I don't wear pantyhose." (I don't know why I carried on this conversation...) He said, "I'd put you in [garbled] fishnets and suck away."

At this point, I'd had enough and went angrymiddleagenewyorkblackwoman on his natural brown behind! I called him a freak, (using an adjective that begins with the letter "f") and told him to get away and leave me alone.

His response, "I don't know what crawled up your @** and bit you! I just want to suck your toes!"

I hailed a taxi.

The Ancestors are Smiling

As I write this, my niece Tiffany is in labor. Within 24 hours, a new person in the family will appear. I think of Tiffany, and when she was born. I think of my Mother, who was tickled to death when Tiffany was born. I think of my Grandfather, who saw my Mother before my Grandmother did, and said, "Sweetheart, we have a little girl, and she looks just like me!"

I think of my Grandmother's birth, and wonder what her mother thought.
I think of the birth of my Great-Grandmother. And that of her mother.

What did these women think as they crossed the threshold to Motherness? What did their men think?

I think the Ancestors are smiling. Waiting to welcome the new life. Waiting to remind New Life that the Line of Life continues with her.

I whisper a prayer, "Welcome, baby girl. May you know that you are loved. May you live in love. May you be Love."

Take Care of My Karma

I've been doing pretty good lately. Sleeping well because I have a new CPAP. Trying to eat better. Visualizing my future - a cottage and a red car, lots of books, a wildflower garden, a loving man. "If you can imagine it, it can happen..."

OK. I have to admit, I haven't been sleeping that well. I had horrible nightmares two nights in a row. (Are there not "lovely nightmares"? These were downright hellacious!) But I visualize a good night's sleep because I have a new CPAP. My life is so not where I want it to be, and I feel like a deer in headlights. I am a mess.

I made a gratitude list in order to cancel the lively pity-party I was having:

1. A new niece is due to be born within the next two weeks.
2. I adore my nieces and nephews.
3. I really like my friends
4. I am getting a kick out of reading, "Queen Salote of Tonga: The Story of an Era, 1900-1965" - I SWEAR she is my alter-ego. There is a faint resemblence. All must kneel before me. hahahahaa!
5. I really love my dog.
6. I started taking cello lessons. It makes my thighs and hips and hands and shoulders cramp, but I like learning the cello.
7. I love my cello teacher, William. If I had a son, I would want him to be just like William.
8. I am pretty sure I'm going to Maine in a couple of weeks. This gives me something to look forward to.
9. My grandmother's 98th birthday is in 20 days. How many people have a 98 year-old, alert grandmother?
10. I am particularly pleased with the red shade of my nail polish. I can't remember what it is called, so I will have to admire it for a while.
11. "Little Dee" - a comic strip that just makes me giggle. "littledee.net" - you should visit it.
12. Music. I just love music. (Most music.)
    

Then, the worst thing happened: I had a conversation with an acquaintance about voting. Not imagining that she, or anyone, could possibly say, "No!", I asked her if she was registered to vote. I almost had a stroke when she, indeed, said, "No!" She went on to say that she wasn't pleased with either candidate, and that her vote wouldn't make a difference. I took a deep breath (so I could think before responding with a scream) and said, "Your not voting makes a difference. There are people who are fighting and dying for the right to vote [somewhere], there are people who have died for the right to vote in this country. I don't care who you vote for, but you must vote!"

I obviously care who people vote for. I wear that heart on my sleeve. (Obama/Biden are the men for me, in case you don't know.)

It IS important that people register to vote. One reason is: it affects my karma. When I heard that this woman isn't registered and doesn't vote, I took an immediate inventory of her shortcomings. "She's stupid, no wonder she's..." "I am so much smarter than she is!" Then something smacked me in the head and reminded me that my life isn't so wonderful, and there are LOTS of people smarter than me. (I hate them - I want to be smart, smart, smart!) It also gave me a strong inventory of my shortcomings - and there are many. It reminded me that someone could think I was stupid and "no wonder Erlinda is (or isn't)..."

So, I gave her a registration form. Offered to mail it. Told her that it was important that she registers and it didn't have to be for a particular party. Explained that she couldn't vote in a primary if she didn't declare a party, but that was her right. I even looked up the location for her to cast her vote, and got a stamp for her registration form.

I felt a lot better, and my Karma was in better shape.

Please vote. Please register to vote. If you need a voter registration form - no matter where you live - send me an e-mail, and I will get you a form.

Forget me. Make my karma happy.

Not Going to Denver. I Tried/Mean Christians

So, after volunteering, donating and entering all kinds of contests, I'm not going to go to Denver for the convention, or for the speech. Bummer.

To top it off, there is some conservative Christian group that is praying for rain on Barack Obama's speech. I read on the web about a Baptist Church that goes to the funerals of famous people and pickets and tells folks they are going to hell. They said some rotten things about Eizabeth Edwards. They said some rotten things about John Edwards. (Yes, what he did was awful, but these people went over the top condemning him...) They make statements, "God hates__________ (fill in the blank)."

How awful. Most people preach that "God loves us." and while, at times, I find it difficult to believe, I guess I have to believe it, especially when my faith waivers - which is often. For a group to state that "God hates..." and to call itself Christian or God-fearing is, succinctly, just awful. No wonder the world is a mess. I wish God would sit down with those people who say "God hates_______ (fill in the blank)." so God could say, "No! I do not hate them. I do not hate YOU, but you'd better start behaving and live in the love that I have for all that I have created - even YOU."

Maybe they would act better and I wouldn't have to read about them.

Wants and Needs

At this very moment there are three things I desperately want:

1. To be chosen to go to Denver, Colorado to witness Barack Obama give his acceptance speech. I believe that this man has so much to offer - the table is set, and I want to be there for the first course. I have made a couple of donations and I have shared my "story" so I hope I get chosen to meet him backstage and sit in the front row. I really do. This is what I have done to get to Denver for this occasion: I ran for office, and lost. I have done a little bit of volunteer work. Could I have done more? Of course! Will I do more? Yup! I made a couple of donations - nothing substantial, but a lot for the likes of me - and hope to be chosen to go to Denver, CO for the event. I also pray. I can only imagine that God has bigger things on God's mind than my sojourn to Denver, CO. I can only imagine that God might take breaks from working on the bigger things and might take a look at the "smaller" things, such as requests from Erlinda to go to Denver. I have a vivid imagination, God has power, and I make Gratitude Lists. Anything can happen. I am open to the grace. I know I belong there because Barack, while visiting Europe, said, "I am a world citizen!" That's exactly what I have on this blog. I put it there long before he said it. It's a sign - and I know it!!! This is something I want so badly and that I need to do.
   
2. A Nintendo DS Lite. Cobalt Blue. I don't know why I want one so badly, but I do. Maybe I'll use it to learn another language. Maybe it will be just another distraction. I keep saying to myself, "Complete one task, and you will have earned your DS Lite." I complete the task (or not) and continue to resist the purchase. Nothing philosophical about this. Just know that when I finally do break down and buy one, I will have resisted the purchase for over seven months! This I want. Do I need it? Probably not. It would be nice to have.
   
3. To rewrite a story that I wrote about my father and me. I submitted it to the "Lives" pages of the New York Times Magazine, and they didn't respond. I think that I should tweak it a bit, expand some parts, make others less sentimental, and submit it to the "Modern Love" section in the Arts & Leisure section. The by-line would read "Erlinda Brent" and the footer would read, "Erlinda Brent likes to write." or "Erlinda Brent has written two books, I Dreamt I was a Mermaid and I Dreamt I was a Comet - after all, I have written them. Even if they haven't been published, they are books. It wouldn't be a lie. This I want. Do I need it? Well, my Spirit does.
   

I don't want much - but I do want big.

Nephews

My nephew, Justin Earl Scurlock, will be graduated Magna Cum Laude, from Morehouse College in Atlanta, GA, this Sunday, 15 May 2008. Oh yes - he was inducted into Phi Beta Kappa! Joy all around!

My thoughts and prayers are with my family, celebrating this great event. I hope they have fun, and I hope they are safe.

Congratulations, Justin! Congratulations to his parents, Vanessa (my sister) and Greg. Bragging rights are yours!

Love, Lies, and Detachment

In my last blog, I yakked about my nephew Neeko and how wonderful it must be to realize that everyone loves you. I also wrote about truth and honesty.

I really don't know how many people love me - or if I am loved or just tolerated. (Another thing that will keep me in therapy forever...) That is just fine for now, I think. (I am being honest. Being loved is a responsibility and a lot of work.) I do think this world would be a lot better if we acted as if everyone DID love us. Result (choose one or all):

• We would feel better.
• Trust issues would be a thing of the past because one would not wonder if one was loved - or what people meant when they tell you they love you. (Now, when someone says, "I love you!" they usually want something. Not my body - heaven forbid - but usually a favor or something totally stupid. It is draining.)
• We'd act better because we would want to spread the love. Maybe it would be contagious and everyone would just be nicer.
• People would stop lying.

Among other things, I am trying to learn the fine art of detachment.

Last week, I was caught between two sets of lies. One set was the result of people trying to cover their butts, the other is the result of someone who would choose to lie if given a choice - and the truth looked better. I was very aware of the lies and made myself CRAZY wondering why people would bother to take that route? Bigger question: Why did it matter so much, since I knew untruths were being told - and I knew the motivation of the guilty parties - and I knew there was nothing I could do to change them?

So I bought a book on detachment - and promptly misplaced it because I bought a couple of other books. (Books are my addiction.)

OK, so I am working on: owning love, loving, detachment, and the elimination of lies.

Note to self: Address the lies in my life. Eliminate the need to tell white lies. Eliminate the need to live lies. Create a truth (or two!) Whew!

Tall order.

But it's ME!

There are seven points of light in my life that I am going to write about now: Tiffani, Nikki, Christopher, Justin, Nichalas, Neeko and Kineen. They are my nieces and nephews. (My sisters and my grandmother are lights too, but this blog is about a nephew.)

I am going to talk about Neeko.

Right now, I know there is nothing more delightful than an eight-year old boy who grows up in love. This child beams!

I went to Washington, DC (thecitythatIhatesomuch) to pay a surprise visit to my Grandmother, Sissy, for Easter. I was excited about putting together a basket of things I thought she might like. Some things I chose for their beauty, others because I thought she'd like to eat them. She is 97 years old, and while still pretty sharp, she can be puzzling. I never know if I hit or miss the bulls-eye with her. Anyway, we attended Mass together, and I enjoyed being with her. The priest who celebrated preached a sermon that sounded like one he might have preached for the past 40 years. It wasn't enlightening or imaginative. Maybe he Googled "Easter" and used something he found on the 'net. (I doubt it...) Anyway, it was his Good News, so I guess the bases are covered. The sermon I heard on Easter Eve was dead-on - and preached by a seminarian. It was about seeing life in those around us. Sometimes the light shines from ancestors and feeds our light. The Light never dies because it is resurrected! (Well, that's my take on it anyway....)

Back to my nephew.

I bought two really beautiful Easter cookies for my Grandmother's basket. I was much more excited about giving them to her than she seemed to receive it. I tend to get excited about things I do for people. Sometimes they aren't very excited about what I am excited about, and I feel I've failed. (This is something else that will keep me in therapy forever! Anyway, when Neeko came to visit my Grandmother with my sister (his Grandmother) and my brother-in-law (his Grandfather) and my nieces and nephew (his mother, aunt, and uncle) and their significant others, I showed him the cookies and asked him which one he wanted. His reply was, "I want both!"

That kind of honesty gets an eight year-old both cookies. Especially when the ninety-seven year-old for whom they were purchased didn't seem to notice them. I wanted to share in his joy, so I handed him both cookies, and broke off the ear of one and popped it in my mouth! It was delicious not because it was a good cookie (it was!) but because I was sharing it with someone I love very much.

He knows that in a play-reading, I will be the "Wicked Witch of the West." The scene in which I am acting involved me (the Witch) and the commander of my winged monkeys. His name happens to be "Nikko" - different spelling but pronounced the same way. A couple of weeks ago, I read him my lines, and he just giggled, guffawed and laughed. He asked me to do it again, on Easter. How could I resist. When I got to the point where I was yelling for "Nikko" - the child got hysterical! He loved that I was calling his name. He loved that in an indirect manner I was focusing on him!

A couple of years ago, we had a birthday party for my Grandmother. My sister prepared a tray with skewers of fruit cut in designs. They were tempting with the colors, the aroma, and the anticipation of this special event. Neeko was running around the house with two friends. He stopped in the kitchen where we were preparing the party food for transport. He saw the fruit. He asked for one. My sister (his aunt, not his grandmother) told him he would have to wait for the party, and explained that it wouldn't be fair to the other children if they had to wait for the fruit when he didn't. His reply: "But it's ME!" My sister resisted the temptation to give into his request, but it was hard.

How wonderful it must be to know that everyone loves you! All you have to do is receive it and glow. To know that you are special, to acknowledge it, and to use it is truly a blessing. I guess that is one meaning for "Letting your light shine!"

Neeko has been raised in such an atmosphere of love that he has no problem at all interacting with other children, and with adults. He is very playful. He is comfortable teasing people. (But not in a mean-spirited way. If he hears someone being mean-spirited about another person, he challenges the offender - even if the offender is an adult!)

I don't want to be like Neeko when I grow up - I want to be like him NOW! To be able to relax and be honest about what I want. To be able to say, "But it's ME!" and allow someone else to show me how much they love me. And to get the opportunity to announce it, experience it, and own it.

Me!
(Erlinda)

What's a "WIHA"?

In honor of Obama's winning the primaries in Wisconsin and Hawaii, I am going to have a very special sandwich. Grilled Wisconsin cheddar cheese. With pineapple. (Pineapple for Hawaii). And bacon. (Just 'cause it tastes so good - and there is good meat in Illinois where Barack lives.)

Sweet. Savory. Delicious.

I'll call it "Obama's WiHa" - Wisconsin. Hawaii.

Get it?

Eat it!

Obamamania - No, He Is NOT the Messiah!

By now, you know who my candidate of choice is for the position of POTUS. In case you need a little help, it is Barack Obama. I like him because I think he is smart and honest. I believe we deserve a smart and honest leader. Because I think he is smart and honest, I hope he will surround himself with smart and honest people who will advise him to do smart and honest things.

My politics aren't complicated at all.

At the 2004 Democratic National Convention, Barack Obama stated:
"there is not a liberal America and a conservative America—there is the United States of America. There is not a black America and a White America and Latino America and Asian America—there's the United States of America."

Now, I want so desperately to believe this. I blame a lot of the splits in our society on the "isms" - and I am SICK of the "isms" - particularly sexism, racism, and classism. I don't identify as a feminist because I think feminists do to men what they accuse men of doing. Brining our accomplishments and abilities to light is a good thing - but putting down men is not good. Racism is just awful. I am sick of the social construct of racism, the institutional construct racism - I am sick of racism period. There are people who keep their heads in the ground and say that "racism doesn't exist!" - and they are very wrong. There are people who could use a little time in the shade so they can stop attributing everything to racism. They dilute the reality of racism - and racism IS very much a reality.

Classism annoys me the most of these "isms" - No matter what rung we're hanging on society's ladder, someone can classify us. If no one classifies us - we classify ourselves. Most "isms" are about power. Classism works to seal perceived power, and imagines power where there is none.

Do I think all the "isms" will disappear when Barack Obama is elected POTUS? Not at all! I do think that he will help level the playing field. He will make it difficult for one group of people to wield power because they have money or position. He will also make it difficult for people to throw up their hands and say, "We're powerless." Most of his campaign has been grassroots - and I believe that the grassroots movement will continue into his election. I have to believe it. I need to believe it.

Yesterday's newspaper (either the NY Daily News or NY Post) ran an article on the energy of Barack supporters and how his grassroots campaign has taken off and caused a lot of positive energy. The article went on to suggest that some people believe Barack is the Messiah. Now, I believe we have suffered under Republican rule - particularly under a certain Republican's rule. I think history will agree with me, and generations will laugh at us after they pity us. I believe Barack Obama will help us out of this mess we are in. Will he bring us out of this mess? Oh, no! That is not his responsibility. It is OUR responsibility to save ourselves. He will just be a good leader. I think he will show us how to help ourselves.

We do not need a Messiah - we need a President.

Our first responsibility is to vote!

Good for a giggle: Slate.com has the Encylcopedia Baraktannica : http://www.clearspring.com/widgets/47b48c584dc30217?pid=47b5d3c231acb047

Thisjustin: Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream Founders have endorsed Barack Obama's campaign for POTUS. They have named an ice-cream: Cherries for Change. Ohhh! Can I vote twice? I'll do just about anything for cherries! (I hope there's a ribbon of chocolate to be found...)

I am really fired up right now - are you ready to go?

Time for a Gratitude List

I like to keep a Gratitude List, so I do. The list is very personal, and usually doesn't lend itself to publication - BUT - this is MY blog, it is MY list - and I'd like to share this segment with YOU...

Here's what I am thankful for today:

1. Nieces and nephews. I saw two nieces and two nephews this past weekend. One nephew was in his high school's production of "The Wiz" - he was the Lion - and he was fiercely wonderful. The other nephew is eight years old. Suffice it to say that you haven't lived until you've had a pillow fight with an eight year old. It is a sheerly joyful experience. My nieces are lovely. One niece is a very happy person, secure in herself, and really nice. The other is very quiet and reminds me of me. She is a very nice person. (I am not putting their names in my blog because I am protecting their privacy.)
   
2. I just listened to J.S. Bach's Violin Concerto #1 in A minor. Few things are better than music. (With the exception of nieces and nephews!)
3. It is snowing right now. Everything looks as if dusted with confectioner's sugar. And, I swear it - the snow is falling to the rhythm of the music.
4. Peanutbutter and grape jelly sandwiches are the absolute best things in the world. The truest comfort food. Even goes well with Merlot.
   
5. My sisters. One is a bossy pain-in-the-ass. The other isn't. Both have a quiet grace. They are really generous and have done wonderful jobs with their children. Both made me an aunt.
6. My grandmother, Sissy. She is 97 years old, and still pretty sharp. Sometimes she surprises me with her observation. We were watching television on Sunday. Someone was being interviewed, and she noticed that "Hannah" was spelled the same way front and back. My grandmother noticed a palindrome, yet cannot understand why we aren't celebrating her wedding anniversary on the 28th of this month. (Reason: my grandfather has been dead for over 20 years!)
7. My dog, Bella. I never knew I could love anything as much as I love my dog. She has me well trained: she gives me a look, then she walks backwards to me and sits down. She gives me another look. This tells me she wants a back rub.
8. Glaser's Bakery. It saved my ample beeeeeehind. Enuf said.
9. My aquarium. I have a pleco who has grown from one inch to over 9 inches in less than two years. I have a sword fish who just hangs in there. And there are two gouramis. One is very aggressive. Both are beautiful. They are relaxing to watch.
10. I am grateful for the end of the day - especially when I need to go home and get in bed.

Please remember to vote. If you are living in a place that is holding a primary (or caucus) please vote. Even if you are not supporting my candidate of choice, VOTE!

I Voted Today!

Today I cast my vote for my candidate, Barack Obama, and for ME! He's running for President of the United States of America, and I am running to be a delegate for him.

Pack rat that I am, I requested and received three paper ballots: one for my scrapbook, one for Sissy, my grandmother in Washington, DC, and one for my Aunt Sarah in Louisville, KY. Now, seeing your name on a ballot in a booth and on paper is BIG ego food! So I walked down the street with the HUGEST grin and kept staring at my name. (#6 under Barack Obama!) A man - a rather handsome man - stopped me and asked me why I had "those" - I explained that I am on the ballot, blah, blah, blah. He laughed and said he had to take them from me because it was illegal for me to have them. I guess he thought I was going to give him some lip, because he was surprised that I didn't. He was just doing his job, and I didn't realize I was doing something wrong.

He took the ballots and tore them into little tiny, teensy, weensy pieces and threw them in the trash can on the corner of 88th and Second.

My bubble wasn't totally burst because I can get a copy on the internet. If there isn't a copy on the 'net, there is something in existence that I had a brief moment of celebrity. (Even if the celebrity is just in my head.) The other reason it wasn't burst is because I accomplished what I set out to do - VOTE.

I'll never forget his eyes - and I hope I get elected.

Obama Mama!

I have been working on Barack Obama's campaign during the last few months. I turned 18 the year they let 18 year-olds vote and I am proud to say that I haven't missed an election - local or national. Voting is our right, our privilege, and it is exciting.

The experience has been good, and at times challenging. Lots of smart, young, and enthusiastic supporters have been working on the campaign, in the NYC campaign office and on the streets (this is a grassroots movement!), and I feel good about the future. I feel that someone is finally "getting it."

Throughout his campaign, Barack Obama has said, "I see one America!" I believe that's what he sees and wants us to see and be - one America. That's the kind of American I want to live in.

I fear that a lot of people don't. Yes, I feel good about the future, but I worry about the present, and sometimes, I curse our past.

While distributing Obama literature, ("Lit" is the lingo), an older, not yet elderly Black woman said, "I don't think Black people are smart enough to be president." I've heard similar statements from Black people, and from shock, shame, and sheer bafflement, I didn't respond. Yesterday, my tongue caught up with my guts and I responded, "Maybe it's the people YOU know." A man who owns a newsstand that I frequent - or, I should say used to frequent - remarked that he would die before he went to a Black doctor, and he sure wasn't going to vote for a Black man to be president. At a dinner party last summer, a woman who thinks highly of her opinion voiced her belief that this country isn't ready for a Black man or a White woman to be president. I asked her if she voted, and my assumption was correct when she said, "No!" I felt comfortable in telling her that her opinion didn't matter. (I liked her even less - and I didn't think that was possible.) A friend cannot seem to understand that it isn't just Black people who are supporting Obama. American people from all walks of life are supporting Obama. Some people don't get "it" and probably never will. Poor them.

I am supporting Obama.

I have always been an idealist, and for better or worse, for once, I can support a political candidate who I believe thinks like me and can include all people in his vision. Of course, I don't know anyone who thinks exactly the way I do. I don't want anyone to think exactly the way I do. I am an anarchist at heart, even though I know it isn't practical.

There is "something" about Barack Obama. Toni Morrison so eloquently put it: "That something is a creative imagination which coupled with brilliance equals wisdom."

To all the naysayers who say (and think) that this country isn't ready for a Black man or a White Woman, or a Black woman for that matter, I say, "This country is ready for the RIGHT person to lead it!"

I urge everyone to vote. People are dying in other parts of the world for the right to vote. People have died in this country for the right to vote. You have the right. You have the privilege. VOTE!!!

(And if you live in my Congressional District, please look for my name under the list of delegates for Barack Obama. Yep! That's me. If I am elected, I intend to take the train from New York City to Denver, CO, where the Democratic Convention will be held. I will keep a blog of my American Journey - and tell you all about my adventures at the convention.)

Happy New Year!

Well, DUH! How else would I start a blog at the beginning of the year? I'll let you in on a little secret: that message is more for me than it is for you. I figure if I start off wishing myself a Happy New Year, it would be easier and more honest when I wish it to you.

I have decided that self-denial is good in Catholic grade school when trying to impress the nuns. It is also part of a good discipline once you've "grown-up" because it teaches us not to be so narcissistic. It becomes a problem when one adopts the practice and thoughts of self-denial to the point where and when one loses her "self" - and that's where it comes to me. This year, I am going to actively take care of myself so that my "self" can function.

Wanna know what I am doing? (Yes, I know "yes" and "no" questions aren't good because they can lead to a wall. However, this is my blog, and I am going to tell you anyway. Remember, for now, this is all about ME - Erlinda!)

First of all, I have given up meat. There, now the world knows it. No beef. No pork. No chicken. No fish. (Some people think that it's ok to eat chicken and or fish if you are a vegetarian. It is not. Chicken and fish are not vegetables. They are meat. They are uglier than cows and pigs, but they are still meat, and I am not going to eat them.) I am hopeful that a vegetarian diet will make me healthier. I have too many dumb ailments and illnesses that are just annoying and inconvenient. Maybe a diet change will help me feel better. Maybe it will help me lose weight. Maybe it will be cheaper. (So far, it hasn't been cheaper - I've eaten a lot of pizza. So far, I doubt that I've lost a lot of weight because I've eaten a lot of cheese. As a matter of fact, I KNOW I haven't lost a lot of weight because I've eaten so much cheese. Cheese is convenient. Cheese is so g-o-o-d!)

As a result of my decision to change my diet, I just might have to plan what I am going to eat. I'll consider texture, color, flavor, etc. - and whether I like it or not. I saw a recipe for roasted broccoli that looked interesting. Did you ever notice that really fresh broccoli has a hue of blue? It is absolutely beautiful. The first time I really, REALLY noticed it in the grocery store, I stopped and stared. Fortunately, I go to the grocery store at odd hours, so I wasn't in anyone's way. I also saw a recipe for cauliflower steak. I will NOT try that. Cauliflower is a texture violation, no matter what you do to it. My new diet will be a lot of fun and I will write about it.

Secondly, I CLAIM my right to happiness. Years ago, I read an interview of someone who worked on a movie with Bette Midler and Goldie Hawn. I don't remember who was being interviewed or where I read it, but what I remember is the person said that every day Goldie Hawn greeted everyone as if happiness was her right. I figure I'll try that approach for awhile and wait to see if anyone notices the change.

Thirdly, I need to address my spirituality. Many people know that I have long been drawn to Buddhism. It is easy for me to question my Christianity because I know a little more about Christianity than I do Buddhism. I work for a church, there is a minister or two in my family (present and ancestral), I went to Catholic school from second grade through college, and people in my family pray a lot. I know that institutional religion and spirituality are not one and the same. I cringe at fundamentalism, be it Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Non-denominational. I like flexibility. I like quiet. I like Buddhist. I don't want to know or get involved in its administration. I just want to sit.

The struggle? Taking the plunge.

I think there is more Roman Catholic schoolgirl in me than I want to admit. I have no problem questioning religion or accepting that the Bible is not literal. Sometimes, I think Jesus was more a political figure than a religious one; at others, I think he was more historical. Still at other times, I totally accept and respect that he was a religious figure. (I love when I see a "WWJD?" piece of jewelry. What do I think Jesus would do? I think he would bitch-slap and sucker punch a LOT of people and say, "You've got it totally wrong - and you're doing in MY NAME! HOW DARE YOU!" Ooooo! I would LOVE to watch that event. Still, making the shift from Christianity to Buddhism would be like a rebirth. (I guess.) And I hear the birthing process is painful.

Next on the list is accepting that I am OK just as I am. I had a really great therapist named Scott. Once I was going through my litany of things wrong with me. Many of these things are embedded from my childhood and painful. A lot of the stuff, I picked up along the way. To me, the patient, they are BIG and TERMINAL. To a therapist, they are probably an article in an outline for Psychology 101. At one point, Scott asked, "Did it ever occur to you that you are alright?" Well, that concept was so foreign to me that it didn't sound like he was speaking English. Now, in my life, a lot of dumb, rotten stuff has happened, and I have done a lot of stupid stuff. I have also experienced a lot of pain. Being the victim helped me survive. But I think it also helped hide the good stuff. The OK stuff - even the fabulous stuff.

Just as I have a right to be happy. I have a right and responsibility to accept that I am OK just as I am. Flaws be damned. Gifts be blessed.

To be continued.