Another bonus

GAMES PEOPLE PLAY

Late last evening on a news program, I heard a young educated black woman put into words what the media is not saying. It’s alluded to, but never really said with enough outrage.

This young woman told of her great grand-father in 1899 being arrested because he didn’t have his wallet on him when he was stopped and questioned by the police. He tried to explain that he had left it by mistake at work. He was still arrested and put in jail where he was beaten. Eventually his family found him and his employer produced his wallet and papers.  It was sometime before he was released.

She used this illustration to show that in over one hundred years when a black man became president, he is still asked to show his papers. Now the same black man is expected to show transcripts of his college grades to prove to a bigoted white man that he actually got there on his own merit.

This bigoted white man has been married three times, and two of those wives were not even born in the United States. He also has weird hair, which should be enough reason to arrest him.

BONUS FOR TODAY

Today I had an appointment at 10:00 AM with my doctor. I got there at 9:45 and didn’t get to see him until 11:30. Unfortunately for me, I had forgotten eat breakfast or bring a book to read which I normally do. So I was forced to watch the news on CNN and that didn’t make me feel any better.

When I was awaiting him in his office, I thought to myself, why hadn’t I started to carry a notebook to write ideas for my blog?  So I took out a receipt out of my purse and wrote on the back this bonus for you in the last five minutes before I finally saw him in person.

To all of you who worship at the shrine of George Bush Jr., the Republican members of the Tea Party, Donald Trump, The Birthers, Charlie Sheen and Lindsey Lohan there is good news. It was recently decided that maybe hell doesn’t really exist so they might not go there when they die, but that doesn’t stop the hell on earth they’ve perpetrated on the people like me.

PS I have no health issues.

WORKIN’

My friend was a majorette and in the summer before our senior year in high school she said she would teach me how to twirl a baton. I hadn’t asked, she offered to do it on her own. She lent me her old baton and taught me to do the “level spin”. Everyday I practiced with that old baton which weighted a lot more than the newer ones and everyday I banged the inside of my right elbow which became black and blue and swollen. It really hurt but I kept on workin’ until I could control it and later I learned how to do more spins. By the end of the summer my bruising was gone and I had learned all the routines the majorettes used.

Before school started, there were auditions for playing in the band as well as majorette tryouts. These were all done on the auditorium stage. Standing alone in the middle of the large stage, I twirled for the band director. I had worked so hard that I did the whole routine for him and didn’t flounder once. He asked me why I hadn’t tried out before. I remember walking home that day totally elated and not quite believing that I had succeeded. I had become a majorette and then I finally got my own baton.

The moral to the story is to work hard at whatever you want to do, no matter how much it hurts or makes you uncomfortable. The reward is the jubilation you feel when you have accomplished your goal no matter how insignificant it may be in the minds of others.

DANCIN’

I’ve written about singin’ and actin’ but never about my dancin’.  The description in my high school yearbook says something about being known for my dancing. Every Friday after any sports activity there would be a dance in our gymnasium to records.  We had DJ’s even then and a large amount of students always attended.

My mother had been taking ballroom dance lessons and she signed me up too. I learned to rumba, waltz, jitterbug and even to tango. In later sessions, I assisted the instructor by partnering with her new students and would get more lessons for free.

At school dances I was never without a partner. Some were good dancers and some were bad. One of the worst was a big and tall foot ball player and he always asked me to dance and as we did he swung my arm up and down like a pump handle. He then went on to Yale where he was captain of their football team and became a lawyer. We spent time with him at our 55^th school reunion and were saddened when he died the following year.

I also remember another young man, a year behind me in school, with whom I had a great friendship. He didn’t attend many dances, probably because he had a club foot and wore a platform shoe.  However, when he did come, he always asked me to dance. We were comfortable with each other and talked so it wasn’t too awkward for him. I hope he married someone who liked to dance with him, too. I never saw him after graduation and now I can’t remember his name.

After I broke my leg, I lost some of my balance so I can no longer enjoy dancin’. But I can still remember what it felt like to be so popular.

EXPLAININ’

One thing I’ve disliked about moving to a new area was explainin’ myself to new neighbors. The things I’ve always been interested in never seemed to be the norm for others. For instance, the first thing I always asked was where is the library? In an area of new homes you’d be surprised how many people don’t know. I would ask about the local theaters or where I might find a singing group. To their credit, they would give me information about schools and garbage collections, which are important.

My furniture has always been different and so is my artwork. A friend asked me onetime why I had all those pillows. One thing I learned when moving is that you have to fit the things you have into your new home, so I’ve always bought new pillows or covered old ones with new material. Some people buy new furniture, especially when moving to Florida, we didn’t. My friend also told me that you’d finally feel at home when in the grocery store you’d run into someone you knew. I’ve always found that to be true.

One of the reasons I wanted to move from our last home after seven years was because the neighbors never did “get me”. For instance, when I had my paintings on display in our local library, not one remarked on them and when there was a big article in the newspaper about me, not one of them commented on it. When I wanted to show them my new paintings, I was told they had already seen them. These were supposedly good friends I would see virtually every day. When I complimented one of those neighbors on some cushions she had made, saying I didn’t know she sewed, her reply was “other people can do things too!” I eventually came to the conclusion I didn’t want to be around them anymore.

Now I have a lot of new friends and neighbors who I really think do “get me” for the most part. So now I don’t have to worry about those that don’t.

SANSON IS VIDICATED

“Damn the Law! It’s Full Speed Ahead!” seems to be the new motto for the ethically challenged and morally corrupt Florida Republican Legislators as well as our new Governor. Unfortunately, the voters of this state don’t seem listen to the news, read the newspaper or pay attention to what is happening in Tallahassee. If they had they might realize that these politicians care only themselves and their own political future.

I’ve noted that some newly elected state officials are already positioning themselves for runs at bigger jobs with more status after being in office only a few months. Talk about political opportunism. Isn’t it strange how they’ve managed to join the Tea Party movement and still managed to distance themselves from it at the same time?

LEARNIN’

When I attended college (let me rephrase that) When I acted in a play at the University as the only townie, I learned an awful lot about stuff I didn’t want to know. I was in my early fifties and sitting in the dressing room listening to the various cast members talking. One person whom I had known previously started talking about drinking too much and being in embarrassing situations. Soon they all started playing “Can You Top This?” But the story she told was really the worst. Can you imagine waking up in bed with your fiancé’s brother? Though she was now married, she still told this to everyone. It was no surprise when a year later I heard she had gotten divorced.