The Monsters Among us.

GADChild

The sudden storm blew in.   The tumbleweeds rushed by and the howl of the wind pushed them like unwanted stepchildren.    I was one of those unfortunate souls,  who prayed for darkness and heavy rain.  The gloom seemed to cheer me up,  the low clouds compacted the world and the heavy snows further reduced the shrapnel of ugly words and harsher correction.

Even better was the icy and snowy weather that kept the devil at bay.    The whiteness like a signet made it official and angry ice cycles crashed from atop the roof of our house.   At night I would sleep walk,  perhaps to walk into the road or fall upon the broken glass.  One night in my dream state I decided the camper window should be a punching bag.   The echoes of anger that permeated my realm.

In my heart I cheered the removal of my anxiety.   The sound of the engine and in it’s wake a measure of relief.    On one occasion we had two cats.   For some reason that one day would harbor a death penalty for one of our cats.   With seventeen acres of land,  my father determined that one should die.

My brother took at him and with a thud,  my heart filled with pity,  anger and disillusionment.  Unbearable voices led me to the scene and the grave of soft ash an ethereal tomb.   Suddenly the Raven appeared and that poor cat with blood on it’s side to my astonishment that poor gray cat seemed to be begging,  hoping for some kind of reprieve and a tear or many fell.    My brother finished the task and that thought and an attempted or threatened murder of my mom at five,  congealed into an unholy miasma of doubt and uncertainty.

Like the gales of a winter,   this inclement weather was a well-timed respite.  Revenge against the Tsunami that always lain in wait.   A patient wraith with a two-edged bite and like a small warrior I tried to turn away that wrath,  especially for a mother whose esteem in our eyes was stunted.

TS1TS2

Maybe the rain was a song of sadness reaching out for love,  surely such wrath would pass but never did.  As I grew up the mixed messages closed in around me.    I made my peace with that person I called dad and seeing his own tragedy I gained perspective about him.   Unable to justify he reached out.  Forgiveness?  Without a doubt and an unlocked toolshed seemed so unimportant now.

I did not glory in his sickness but I did look back and realized the good that was hidden from plain sight.   No one can justify abuse but a humble heart finds a way.  Gasping for breath all I could do is hold his hand.   This warrior who too late for himself never really enjoyed the fruits of his ambition until the very end.

He and my sister found a common ground and her fear was not being able to be loved by him.   In all that,  that is my special moment with Dad.   The cold aloofness and rage was dulled by the medication and softness of a pillow.     As he drew his last breath,   I felt release in him,  the devils vanished in a bright light and the shadows cowered.

The lesson is never give up.   As  bad as life can be,  we can survive.  I survived a certain hell which has led to my OCDs and fear of random violence.   I have several panic attacks every day but I am learning to get well and move on.   One rung at a time.

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It’s Not Just a Black Thing – Bingo Long’s Travelling All-Stars

The above movie was made in 1976 and it was a semi-historical look at the Negro Major Leagues of the 1930’s.    It starred Billy Dee Williams as a charismatic star pitcher in a league of undiscovered talent.   Also manning his team was James Earl Jones,  being one of the Negro Leagues most prolific homerun hitters.  And lastly and who can forget Richard Pryor trying to pass himself off as Cuban.   Talk about fuzzy math…

Below is that movie and I think,  it should be understood the context of the times the true greatness and soul of a people starving for their own heroes,  on their own terms.   Rather than do something construction it becomes all about you.  It is political correctness run amok.  It

http://youtu.be/bCJ_INhdW9M

The movie is comic ‘gold’ and with it gives us an impression of a world largely unknown to whites.    And for the people who talk about Blaxploitation go take another bong hit.   It is criticism with no object except self-aggrandizement.   It is not about you.   It is about Jackie Robinson, Willie Mays,   Hank Aaron and Bob Gibson and many more.   People who suffered Jim Crowe and have to listen to white people playing politics with all our lives.

We are all human and all have the potential for good.   We can try and make a difference  finding a way to unite us and break down stereotypes from all sides.   It is looking for good and turning over rocks to find things that make us shout in one voice about harmony than discord.

A good series about how things are changing from the heartbreak of the 60s both from the black and white perspectives is ‘The 60s’.    Julia Stiles goes through a lot as does her brother who comes back broken because of the Vietnam War.

I have ties to the Tuskegee Airman and I have a project in mind that could ultimately make a difference for all.   We can make a difference and I promise to make an impact where mainly people just rant,  trying to score points and kiss up.

I want MLK Day to be more than a holiday.   What does it do for anyone in the way it is celebrated?  This is all about inclusiveness and what Martin Luther King had in mind.