"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly ... who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly." ~ Theodore Roosevelt
It is from this quote that author Brene Brown derived the title of her book, "Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent and Lead." If all goes according to plan, approximately 32 single people who love books will dare greatly in search of a partner at my second "Speed Dating for Single Book Lovers" event on February 14, 2014 at The Brickhouse Art Gallery in Sacramento at 6:00 pm. The event is free (details are below).
To be a single person who is willing to be vulnerable enough to admit that you want a partner and daring enough to go to a speed dating event to find one is amazing. In all honesty, I would not want to be a single woman in these times. We've become a critical, cynical society. We Tweet, Facebook and blog other's shortcomings -- I'm even guilty of doing that. To be willing to put yourself out there and go on the equivalent of 16 blind dates -- albeit, very short blind dates -- in two hours is indeed valiant.
Truthfully, though, you cannot find love without being vulnerable. It just can't happen. You have to be willing to meet people, share a little something of yourself, invest time, and face rejection at any point along the journey in the hopes that you will find and receive a love that's worthy, affirming, and joyful. Nowadays, everybody's got their guards up. No one wants to be that vulnerable person, or at least not first. But, as Brene Brown would be the first to tell you, vulnerability is the sine qua non of finding love. I salute these brave souls who are coming to the event.
And at the risk of tooting my own horn, I'm daring a little greatly myself. Those of you who read my blog regularly know that I put on this same event five years ago and blogged about how I desperately needed Baracks for my Michelles -- the African-American women of substance and style I knew would be attending the event. It was by the grace of God, some called-in favors (including a favor from The Outraged Citizen, in which I all but begged him to attend), and one guy who went outside and called all his boys to come, that I had even a reasonable amount of men for the ladies. To be honest, I didn't want to chance it again. I'm anxiety-ridden enough as it is; I didn't want the responsibility of having to round up all those African-American men of substance AGAIN and the possibility of failing, even if I would have been daring greatly.
But it's been five years, and one of the speed daters, The Outraged Citizen, found his partner at that speed dating event. She's a fabulous lady, they've been together since, and that is cause enough for celebration.
So I'm sending out a prayer to God and the universe to once again send me enough single African-American men of substance, men who really do love books and African-American women (or men of any race who love books and African-American women), to come to this FREE event. Although I expect a predominantly African-American crowd, this event is open to single people of all races who love books. Black Man Not Blogging (BMNB) will again help me chaperone, and I'm going to do my best to have those purple tulips, starched white tablecloths, candles and low lights with some background jazz going. Just the right environment to talk about books . . . and dare greatly in the name of love. Here are the deets:
Speed Dating for Single Book Lovers
Friday, February 14, 2014 6:00 pm
The Brickhouse Art Gallery
2837 36th Street at Broadway
Sacramento, CA 95817
Cost: It's Free!
Single = Not married, not separated, and not in a committed relationship.
Dress is casually elegant; no jeans, sneakers or club gear, please.
Bring a positive vibe. Space is limited. RSVP at speeddating4singlebooklovers@gmail.com
Co-sponsored by underground books, The Brickhouse Art Gallery, and Should Have Been There Events
Mothers, Your Children Are Learning From You, But You May Not Live To See The Results
Today would have been my mother's 80th birthday,. I refer to her in this blog as "She Who Is Exalted," or SWIE. It's funny to me how so much of what she taught me I only started applying after she died. So my message to all you moms out there is this: Your children are learning from you, but you may not live to see the results.
One of the things I learned from my mother was to be observant of people and pay attention to what they say and do, then plan how to deal with them accordingly. Like my mom, after I've seen and heard enough, I've pretty much sized someone up and I plan accordingly. Unlike my mom, I didn't get good at this until later in life. There's at least one person who is gone from my life who my mom warned me about from childhood. Another person in my life is someone she met while I was in college and said, "Something ain't right about" that person. It took me years to see what my mom saw after only one meeting. And she was right. Still is. But she didn't live to see that I learned the lesson.
There are a lot of little things I learned from watching my mom that, when I don't do them, my life gets chaotic. My mom was vigilant about always making sure we never ran out of toilet paper (no small feat with a family of eight); making sure there was always, always food in the fridge (for her, poverty wasn't a lack of money; it was an empty fridge); paying all her bills on the first of the month (which I now do); packing lunches and laying out the next day's clothes the night before (me, not so much); doing laundry daily (she washed towels every day -- again, we were a family of eight); keeping her house and us on a cleaning schedule; and making sure she never had less than a half a tank of gas in her car (she was afraid she'd need to get a sick child to the hospital in the middle of the night).
My mom's standards about children are those I hope to live up with kids of my own because they are seared on my brain. My mother would never let us leave the house in wrinkled or dirty clothes or without our hair being combed. When I see a child out and about with wrinkled or dirty clothes or messed-up hair, I instinctively cringe and hear my mother say, "Where do you think you're going? Not like that you're not." My mother believed that children's appearances represent their parents' best efforts, and she refused to be misrepresented, especially when she worked so hard to keep us clean and fed.
My mother also insisted on manners. We were taught not to ask for as much as a glass of water when we were visiting someone else's home. We could have whatever was offered to us, and not too much, but we were not to ask. And we were never, ever to open someone else's fridge. My mom didn't want us acting like we hadn't been fed.
My mother also had higher expectations for her daughters because she felt the world was not fair when it came to women, and women had to be smart and fend for themselves because there were usually children depending on us. She drilled into our heads to never, ever, EVAH depend on a man. We girls heard this time and again: "Do for self." "Always have your own job, your own car, your own money, and your own home." "Get your education so you don't have to depend on no man." She didn't live to see all four of her daughter become homeowners, but she did live to see all of us girls get some kind of college degree, have our own money, and have our own cars. She knew before she died that we were capable of taking care of ourselves.
When it came to romance and men, my mom's advice was practical. "You better try on them shoes before you buy 'em." "Use birth control. Ain't no excuse to get pregnant nowadays if you don't want to be."
The three character traits my mother could not stand were laziness, stinginess, and whining. Whenever we were getting too lax with our chores, she'd go on a rant and rave that would have us all ducking for cover and running for the exits. When we didn't want to share, she'd threaten to take whatever we were hoarding away from us and shame us into sharing by saying , "That's your sister (or brother)! You're supposed to share with her (him)." And when we whined about life not being fair, she'd suck her teeth and say, "Hmpf. Who promised you fair? Well, they lied to you!." Even now when I start to indulge in a personal pity party, I am reminded of what my mother said and become thankful for the times when the pendulum of good fortune swang in my direction. And when the pendulum of good fortune swings away from me, I'm reminded of another lesson my mother taught me. "Everybody falls down. Everybody. You can lay down there for a while, but then you have to get up." To this day, I have no patience for laziness, stinginess, or whining. I am my mother's daughter. And as much as I doubt it sometimes, I am resilient.
So mothers, I write all this to say that even when you don't think your children are learning from you, they are. They really are, but you may not live to see the results. Just keep on planting those seeds of wisdom, even if they sprout in your children's heads and hearts after you're gone. You will have done more for your children than many other parents who had no wisdom to impart. And here's the kicker -- the wisdom gets handed down to your grandchildren and great-grandchildren, some of whom you might not ever meet. My husband, Black Man Not Blogging (BMNB), is constantly quoting his grandmother: "Don't say once what you can't say twice." "Cain't nobody ride your back if you don't bend over." "I'ma give you what you need. If you need a hug, I'ma give you a hug. If you need an ass whuppin', I'ma give you that, too."
Another lesson my mother taught me that she didn't live to see play out in my life was this: "You only get one mother. Y'all gonna miss me when I'm gone."
Truer words were never spoken.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
One of the things I learned from my mother was to be observant of people and pay attention to what they say and do, then plan how to deal with them accordingly. Like my mom, after I've seen and heard enough, I've pretty much sized someone up and I plan accordingly. Unlike my mom, I didn't get good at this until later in life. There's at least one person who is gone from my life who my mom warned me about from childhood. Another person in my life is someone she met while I was in college and said, "Something ain't right about" that person. It took me years to see what my mom saw after only one meeting. And she was right. Still is. But she didn't live to see that I learned the lesson.
There are a lot of little things I learned from watching my mom that, when I don't do them, my life gets chaotic. My mom was vigilant about always making sure we never ran out of toilet paper (no small feat with a family of eight); making sure there was always, always food in the fridge (for her, poverty wasn't a lack of money; it was an empty fridge); paying all her bills on the first of the month (which I now do); packing lunches and laying out the next day's clothes the night before (me, not so much); doing laundry daily (she washed towels every day -- again, we were a family of eight); keeping her house and us on a cleaning schedule; and making sure she never had less than a half a tank of gas in her car (she was afraid she'd need to get a sick child to the hospital in the middle of the night).
My mom's standards about children are those I hope to live up with kids of my own because they are seared on my brain. My mother would never let us leave the house in wrinkled or dirty clothes or without our hair being combed. When I see a child out and about with wrinkled or dirty clothes or messed-up hair, I instinctively cringe and hear my mother say, "Where do you think you're going? Not like that you're not." My mother believed that children's appearances represent their parents' best efforts, and she refused to be misrepresented, especially when she worked so hard to keep us clean and fed.
My mother also insisted on manners. We were taught not to ask for as much as a glass of water when we were visiting someone else's home. We could have whatever was offered to us, and not too much, but we were not to ask. And we were never, ever to open someone else's fridge. My mom didn't want us acting like we hadn't been fed.
My mother also had higher expectations for her daughters because she felt the world was not fair when it came to women, and women had to be smart and fend for themselves because there were usually children depending on us. She drilled into our heads to never, ever, EVAH depend on a man. We girls heard this time and again: "Do for self." "Always have your own job, your own car, your own money, and your own home." "Get your education so you don't have to depend on no man." She didn't live to see all four of her daughter become homeowners, but she did live to see all of us girls get some kind of college degree, have our own money, and have our own cars. She knew before she died that we were capable of taking care of ourselves.
When it came to romance and men, my mom's advice was practical. "You better try on them shoes before you buy 'em." "Use birth control. Ain't no excuse to get pregnant nowadays if you don't want to be."
The three character traits my mother could not stand were laziness, stinginess, and whining. Whenever we were getting too lax with our chores, she'd go on a rant and rave that would have us all ducking for cover and running for the exits. When we didn't want to share, she'd threaten to take whatever we were hoarding away from us and shame us into sharing by saying , "That's your sister (or brother)! You're supposed to share with her (him)." And when we whined about life not being fair, she'd suck her teeth and say, "Hmpf. Who promised you fair? Well, they lied to you!." Even now when I start to indulge in a personal pity party, I am reminded of what my mother said and become thankful for the times when the pendulum of good fortune swang in my direction. And when the pendulum of good fortune swings away from me, I'm reminded of another lesson my mother taught me. "Everybody falls down. Everybody. You can lay down there for a while, but then you have to get up." To this day, I have no patience for laziness, stinginess, or whining. I am my mother's daughter. And as much as I doubt it sometimes, I am resilient.
So mothers, I write all this to say that even when you don't think your children are learning from you, they are. They really are, but you may not live to see the results. Just keep on planting those seeds of wisdom, even if they sprout in your children's heads and hearts after you're gone. You will have done more for your children than many other parents who had no wisdom to impart. And here's the kicker -- the wisdom gets handed down to your grandchildren and great-grandchildren, some of whom you might not ever meet. My husband, Black Man Not Blogging (BMNB), is constantly quoting his grandmother: "Don't say once what you can't say twice." "Cain't nobody ride your back if you don't bend over." "I'ma give you what you need. If you need a hug, I'ma give you a hug. If you need an ass whuppin', I'ma give you that, too."
Another lesson my mother taught me that she didn't live to see play out in my life was this: "You only get one mother. Y'all gonna miss me when I'm gone."
Truer words were never spoken.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
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