As 2011 comes to a close, I'm happy and sad at the same time. Most of all, I'm filled with hope and optimism. Yes, hope and optimism, even in these trying times.
I'm happy about some of the political developments I've seen, political awakenings among the have-nots -- the Arab Spring, the Occupy Movement. I'm sad for the brilliant people we lost -- Professor Derrick Bell, Teena Marie, Heavy D, Amy Winehouse, Vesta. And I'm optimistic and filled with hope simply because of my garage.
My garage is a metaphor for me.
I started the process of cleaning out my garage back in August, and I didn't finish in time for winter as I had planned. In the process of going through over 30-plus years' worth of stuff, I came across old awards, grades, evaluations of me as a student and as a teacher, term papers, and columns I wrote when I was president of a minority bar association. One of my writing professors from a summer program I was in stated that I was a hard-working perfectionist who, in his estimation, would indeed reach perfection in her writing. Some of the evaluations from my law students stung, others inspired me. A letter of gratitude from a federal judge about whom I'd written a letter to the editor defending him and one of his most controversial decisions brought a smile to my face. I even found a treasure trove of piano books from my teen years, with pieces by Rachmaninoff and Chopin that I can barely read now but had mastered a long time ago. I've also discovered treasures large and small, pictures of long-lost friends, letters from deceased ones -- I even had a letter from Professor Derrick Bell saying that he had decided to move on from full-time law teaching to pursue his new passion -- writing. It buoyed my spirit.
It came to me that my garage is a metaphor for me. My garage, like me, holds hidden or forgotten treasures. Just as my garage houses unopened wedding presents, pictures, and all sorts of things that have the potential to make my still-unsettled house a home, I still hold the potential, hidden or forgotten, to reach goals I'd long ago given up or forgotten about on due to my age or lack of prior success, confidence, or focus.
So my one and only resolution for 2012 is to explore my hidden or forgotten potential and use it to reach goals I'd forgotten or given up on, even if I'm only taking small steps towards those goals.
Here's to my potential and yours, gentle readers. Happy New Year!
Showing posts with label Heavy D. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Heavy D. Show all posts
The Death of Honor
Honor is dead, y'all, plain and simple. Conrad Murray put it on life support, it flatlined with JoePa, and it died quietly with the passing of Heavy D.
Conrad Murray put honor on life support when he had the temerity to not only insist on a trial on his involuntary manslaughter charge in the homocide of Michael Jackson, but then attempted to blame Jackson for his own death. The question whether Murray had any honor was answered in the negative when his mistresses took the stand, when the argument was made that Jackson administered the fatal dose of propofol himself. Regardless of how Jackson got his last dose of propofol, he could not have had access to it but for Dr. Murray. To blame a dead man for his own death that could not have happened but for your own actions? Absolutely no honor. It would have taken me all of nine minutes, not nine hours, to vote to convict Murray, and that's including six minutes for going to the bathroom. If Murray had had any honor, he would have pled guilty.
An honorable man takes responsibility for his actions, no matter how horrific they may have been.
Then came allegations that Penn State football legend Joe Paterno knew that one of his former assistant coaches was alleged to have sodomized a child, that one of the assistant coaches, a graduate student, witnessed the act. Sure, JoePa reported it up the chain of command within the university, but honor demanded more -- that he go to the police because a child's safety was involved. Children can't defend themselves from predatory adults. If JoePa could play a paternal, protective role with his players, who are clearly capable of protecting themselves, why couldn't he have picked up the phone and called the police to protect a child who couldn't protect himself?
An honorable man stands up for those who can't stand up for themselves, especially children.
And just when honor was flatlining in State College, PA, we heard of the passing of Dwight "Heavy D" Myers of "Heavy D and The Boyz" fame. It's no secret that yours truly hasn't been an ardent fan of hip-hop, but I loved Heavy D. Why? Because his rhymes didn't demean women. You could listen to his music, and he was all about loving women and women loving him, and loving him as he was -- The Overweight Lover. I never felt that I had to put my feminism on the shelf to enjoy a Heavy D song. I never felt excluded from his music because of misogyny or profanity. I didn't have to be less than myself to enjoy a Heavy D song. In fact, in one of his songs, "Is It Good To You?", Heavy D raised the bar as far as what we women should expect from men in the romance department.
An honorable man honors and respects women.
And so it appears that honor has died. May it rest in peace.
Conrad Murray put honor on life support when he had the temerity to not only insist on a trial on his involuntary manslaughter charge in the homocide of Michael Jackson, but then attempted to blame Jackson for his own death. The question whether Murray had any honor was answered in the negative when his mistresses took the stand, when the argument was made that Jackson administered the fatal dose of propofol himself. Regardless of how Jackson got his last dose of propofol, he could not have had access to it but for Dr. Murray. To blame a dead man for his own death that could not have happened but for your own actions? Absolutely no honor. It would have taken me all of nine minutes, not nine hours, to vote to convict Murray, and that's including six minutes for going to the bathroom. If Murray had had any honor, he would have pled guilty.
An honorable man takes responsibility for his actions, no matter how horrific they may have been.
Then came allegations that Penn State football legend Joe Paterno knew that one of his former assistant coaches was alleged to have sodomized a child, that one of the assistant coaches, a graduate student, witnessed the act. Sure, JoePa reported it up the chain of command within the university, but honor demanded more -- that he go to the police because a child's safety was involved. Children can't defend themselves from predatory adults. If JoePa could play a paternal, protective role with his players, who are clearly capable of protecting themselves, why couldn't he have picked up the phone and called the police to protect a child who couldn't protect himself?
An honorable man stands up for those who can't stand up for themselves, especially children.
And just when honor was flatlining in State College, PA, we heard of the passing of Dwight "Heavy D" Myers of "Heavy D and The Boyz" fame. It's no secret that yours truly hasn't been an ardent fan of hip-hop, but I loved Heavy D. Why? Because his rhymes didn't demean women. You could listen to his music, and he was all about loving women and women loving him, and loving him as he was -- The Overweight Lover. I never felt that I had to put my feminism on the shelf to enjoy a Heavy D song. I never felt excluded from his music because of misogyny or profanity. I didn't have to be less than myself to enjoy a Heavy D song. In fact, in one of his songs, "Is It Good To You?", Heavy D raised the bar as far as what we women should expect from men in the romance department.
An honorable man honors and respects women.
And so it appears that honor has died. May it rest in peace.
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