I've observed a disturbing trend in people in general. We hold on to our pasts too tightly.
We're all guilty of it, even me. We refuse to acknowledge the child that has become an adult. We cling to old and obsolete rituals. We recount time after time stories of glories long behind us. We hold rose-tinted glasses to past joy and wrap ourselves in the comfort of old grudges. We do whatever we can to rebuke the passage of time. We do all we can to keep the old and familiar.
Time is always moving. Forward. One direction, no backsies. It would do us well to face that direction, considering it's the only way we can go. That is not to say that we should forget our pasts, or not celebrate them. We just can't let our pasts define us. While we are the sum of the experiences and events that occur on or forward path, dwelling in the past as people seem to do tends to leave us quite unprepared for the future. And the future, that's where life is.
The mistakes we make and the successes we have are momentary. Fleeting. Revel in that moment, learn what you can from that moment, and apply it to the next moment. Enjoy the moment for the moment, but don't forget to breathe in the next moment.
Continue going forward.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
A Nation of...
As the child of immigrants in to nation of immigrants, I find a particular point of contention in today's political landscape to be puzzling at best.
In the southern border states, there is talk of building an electrified fence. There is talk of mass deportations. of shuttering our borders so illegals can't get through, stemming the tide of the huddled masses as they get to our golden arches of opportunity. It makes me wonder, when it was exactly we got so xenophobic.
My parents arrived here from Jamaica in the 70's. I wasn't born until quite some time later, so the details are sketchy to me, but to my knowledge they weren't under the constant threat of deportation for the simple reason of being here. They were able to hold down jobs, earn a living, build a family all while taking the slow, necessary steps toward citizenship.
That was about 40 years ago though and in this day and age, there seems to be a concerted effort to stamp out that opportunity. This country used to advertise itself the world over as the land of opportunity, where all you needed to succeed was the ability to get here, a strong work ethic, and the strength of character to see your dreams through. The poem, "The New Colossus," on a bronze plaque at the Statue of Liberty welcomed other people's downtrodden and cast-offs. The famed excerpt of the poem proudly proclaims "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore..." and it is an ideal that we are failing, and miserably.
This nation has done plenty, especially in the last decade or so, to demonize the people who would come here to make a better life for themselves, to make it harder for them to gain legal status, to get a quality education, to achieve. It is shameful what we have become.
In the southern border states, there is talk of building an electrified fence. There is talk of mass deportations. of shuttering our borders so illegals can't get through, stemming the tide of the huddled masses as they get to our golden arches of opportunity. It makes me wonder, when it was exactly we got so xenophobic.
My parents arrived here from Jamaica in the 70's. I wasn't born until quite some time later, so the details are sketchy to me, but to my knowledge they weren't under the constant threat of deportation for the simple reason of being here. They were able to hold down jobs, earn a living, build a family all while taking the slow, necessary steps toward citizenship.
That was about 40 years ago though and in this day and age, there seems to be a concerted effort to stamp out that opportunity. This country used to advertise itself the world over as the land of opportunity, where all you needed to succeed was the ability to get here, a strong work ethic, and the strength of character to see your dreams through. The poem, "The New Colossus," on a bronze plaque at the Statue of Liberty welcomed other people's downtrodden and cast-offs. The famed excerpt of the poem proudly proclaims "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore..." and it is an ideal that we are failing, and miserably.
This nation has done plenty, especially in the last decade or so, to demonize the people who would come here to make a better life for themselves, to make it harder for them to gain legal status, to get a quality education, to achieve. It is shameful what we have become.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Thinking is fundamental; or, Everything I Needed to Know I Learned by the Eighth Grade
First of all, read this. And props go out to the Black Youth Project.
I applaud Jada Williams for calling it as she saw it. That took guts, as well as the kind of honesty you can only get from a child. It was an analogy that I never even thought of, yet is so scarily appropriate.
One of the more poignant comments to that article raises the issue that we don't teach kids critical thinking anymore, so that they don't grow up to challenge anything. I was having this very conversation last night at work; the system has become less about education and more about training middle management. Creating cogs for the machine. And (inflammatory statement alert) part of the machine is creating inmates out of our underprivileged. This isn't just a black issue, this is a middle/lower class issue that isn't going to go away.
Until we stop listening to the people who want to phase out quality education at public schools, the people who can't afford private schools, charter schools, or the like will continue the cycle that does nothing for our society but keep cops and corrections officers employed. Don't get me wrong, students and parents have to do their parts. The information is out there, and in this day and age there is no excuse for not getting it. But we the working class have every right to demand a quality education from our system.
I applaud Jada Williams for calling it as she saw it. That took guts, as well as the kind of honesty you can only get from a child. It was an analogy that I never even thought of, yet is so scarily appropriate.
One of the more poignant comments to that article raises the issue that we don't teach kids critical thinking anymore, so that they don't grow up to challenge anything. I was having this very conversation last night at work; the system has become less about education and more about training middle management. Creating cogs for the machine. And (inflammatory statement alert) part of the machine is creating inmates out of our underprivileged. This isn't just a black issue, this is a middle/lower class issue that isn't going to go away.
Until we stop listening to the people who want to phase out quality education at public schools, the people who can't afford private schools, charter schools, or the like will continue the cycle that does nothing for our society but keep cops and corrections officers employed. Don't get me wrong, students and parents have to do their parts. The information is out there, and in this day and age there is no excuse for not getting it. But we the working class have every right to demand a quality education from our system.
Friday, March 2, 2012
You Kiss Your Mother With That Mouth? (short post)
I don't get it.
I don't get the assault on the rights of women to control their own reproductive system. A woman requiring birth control pills to inhibit the growth of a cyst is not all that much different from, say, a man needing to take medication to retard the growth of a testicular tumor. And yet, this fine citizen Limbaugh suggests that in return for having that paid for, we should get to watch her have sex.
That's just wrong. It's this kind of talk that drags our openness about the concept of sex further and further behind the rest of the world. Should we hand out scarlet letters at Planned Parenthood too?
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Are you f***ing kidding me?!
Before I get into the meat of my little rant today, let me give you some backstory.
I grew up in Brooklyn, NY, a little neighborhood called Flatbush. Flatbush in the late 1980's to the mid 1990's was, for lack of a simpler term, intermittently violent. Gunplay was not a totally uncommon occurrence, and neither was frequent visits by New York's finest. My little neighborhood was -- and still is -- heavily Caribbean, where large families stuffed all their kids into apartments too small to accommodate them. We were a working-class family, where wages didn't rise quite as fast as the cost of living. I eventually struck out on my own, and circumnavigated the humbling process of apartment hunting by simply taking over the lease of my brother's 1,000 square foot place in Sunset Park. And after four years of scratching out a living with a salary that would be MUCH more than adequate anywhere else, I left New York, being priced out of the city in which I was born.
So when I hear Wall Street executives bitch and moan about how their $350K paychecks aren't enough for them to live comfortably, I call bullshit.
When Andrew Schiff, the communications and marketing director of Euro Pacific Capital gripes about "feeling the crunch," and how his 1,200 square foot place is too small, and complains about his lack of a dishwasher, I know we're dealing with someone who can't possibly be from the same New York I'm from. He talks about adding a 600 square foot extension to his place, and having a room for each of his three kids plus a guest room. What, your kids are too good to share a bedroom? He talks about other such travesties of substandard living, like having to do dishes by hand.
"The New York I wanted to have is still just beyond my reach." Well, boo-friggin-hoo.
How about hedge fund manager Alan Dlugach, who is quoted as saying "People who don't have money don't understand the stress." Really? His biggest stresses are whether to pull his kids out of private school, or whether or not to give up his motorcycling habit, or to cut back on the $17,000 a year in expenses for his dogs. Or to sell his beloved Porsche 911 Carrera S Cabriolet. Seriously. A drop-top sportscar in New York that you can only use half the year. As opposed to riding the goddamn subway. Hmm.
These are the types of people directly responsible for the economic crisis that we are now suffering. These are the people who feel entitled to excess, and are somehow slighted when they don't get it. I washed dishes by hand. I went to public school. I never owned a car in New York. I rode the subway. I busted my ass every day I lived in New York.
Mr. Schiff thinks that the New York he always wanted is just outside of his reach. He should walk a mile in my old shoes.
PS: all quotes from this blog post are from a Daily Mail article. Read it here.
I grew up in Brooklyn, NY, a little neighborhood called Flatbush. Flatbush in the late 1980's to the mid 1990's was, for lack of a simpler term, intermittently violent. Gunplay was not a totally uncommon occurrence, and neither was frequent visits by New York's finest. My little neighborhood was -- and still is -- heavily Caribbean, where large families stuffed all their kids into apartments too small to accommodate them. We were a working-class family, where wages didn't rise quite as fast as the cost of living. I eventually struck out on my own, and circumnavigated the humbling process of apartment hunting by simply taking over the lease of my brother's 1,000 square foot place in Sunset Park. And after four years of scratching out a living with a salary that would be MUCH more than adequate anywhere else, I left New York, being priced out of the city in which I was born.
So when I hear Wall Street executives bitch and moan about how their $350K paychecks aren't enough for them to live comfortably, I call bullshit.
When Andrew Schiff, the communications and marketing director of Euro Pacific Capital gripes about "feeling the crunch," and how his 1,200 square foot place is too small, and complains about his lack of a dishwasher, I know we're dealing with someone who can't possibly be from the same New York I'm from. He talks about adding a 600 square foot extension to his place, and having a room for each of his three kids plus a guest room. What, your kids are too good to share a bedroom? He talks about other such travesties of substandard living, like having to do dishes by hand.
"The New York I wanted to have is still just beyond my reach." Well, boo-friggin-hoo.
How about hedge fund manager Alan Dlugach, who is quoted as saying "People who don't have money don't understand the stress." Really? His biggest stresses are whether to pull his kids out of private school, or whether or not to give up his motorcycling habit, or to cut back on the $17,000 a year in expenses for his dogs. Or to sell his beloved Porsche 911 Carrera S Cabriolet. Seriously. A drop-top sportscar in New York that you can only use half the year. As opposed to riding the goddamn subway. Hmm.
These are the types of people directly responsible for the economic crisis that we are now suffering. These are the people who feel entitled to excess, and are somehow slighted when they don't get it. I washed dishes by hand. I went to public school. I never owned a car in New York. I rode the subway. I busted my ass every day I lived in New York.
Mr. Schiff thinks that the New York he always wanted is just outside of his reach. He should walk a mile in my old shoes.
PS: all quotes from this blog post are from a Daily Mail article. Read it here.
Monday, February 20, 2012
And now for something a little more fun...
Jeremy Lin.
Hoo-boy, the kid can ball, can't he. His aggression with the ball and his basketball IQ make him a quite dangerous point guard. He plays the game like a streetball kid given a chance, and bless him for that. I've been following the Knicks since I was 11 or 12 years old, and we've had some good -- great -- ballplayers. The last time we've had a player that HAD to be defended above the free throw line? Derek Harper. Lin can hurt you in many ways, from his ability to get to the paint to his ability to hit a three pointer to beat the shot clock. There is ice water in his veins. He has outdueled two future Hall-of-Famers in Kobe Bryant and Dirk Nowitski. And it's only his second week as a full-time player.
His journey has made the NBA interesting this season, and thank goodness because after the lockout, the play we had seen was not worth the money. Not even close.
This kid is a huge story, and probably will be for the next couple of months because he defies several conventions in sports, at all levels. He's someone who was overlooked for any critical role, then simply retooled his game, beefed up what was good about himself and played his way, so that when he eventually got a shot, he would make it impossible to be taken off the floor. NBA scouts are now throwing their hands up in the air, wondering how in all their vaunted experience they missed a dazzling talent like this. Does race play a part in this? Yes, of course it does.
He was an idiot for saying it the way he did, but Floyd Mayweather was right. When we strip away the sour grapes from the tone in which he said it, he's absolutely right. Because of what we envision basketball to be, this kind of underdog story is SUPPOSED to happen to the poor black kid from the wrong side of the tracks. Disney has made millions off movies based on this concept (check out Glory Road). We envision basketball to be an urban game, played by kids from bad neighborhoods whose limited options are ball, rap and/or prison. And that one poor black kid who makes it, becomes a neighborhood sensation, then a college star, then an All-Star NBA player... well, that guy is Stephon Marbury when you think about it.
But for those of us who have played ball, when the kid who steps on the court who doesn't look like he's the type to play the game, be it because he's short, or fat, or wears glasses or has the wrong color skin, have we not noticed -- or given -- the "look?" The "Oh god, who let the scrub on the court and please don't let him be on my team" look. I know people who have gotten that look. My nephew, because he's a 5'7" Puerto Rican kid, even though he's one of the best athletes I've ever known; a former co-worker of mine, a 5'5" Asian kid who would absolutely gotten the look if he played where I grew up, and would have torched the people who gave him that look for a triple-double; a slightly pudgy white guy I used to work with who was deadly from 15 feet out.
That look is what scouts gave Jeremy Lin. Because he's an Asian kid with options.
You don't expect him to be this phenomenal talent. He went to Harvard. He grew up NOT in the 'hood. His is not the typical NBA journey as it is envisioned or glorified. And bless him for that. He defies the conventions of the sport, and it is to my hope that he continues to do so.
The thing that makes Mr. Lin most special, though, is the fact that he grasps the concept that so many professional athletes don't. He gets paid very handsomely to play a game. And he's having fun. That fun is contagious, because it makes the people playing with him have fun. And that makes the people watching THEM have fun. And in a microscope like New York, the end result of that is people sitting courtside wearing homemade Lin masks.
This is the kind of underdog story we need; the story of the kid who is even less likely to make it than the poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks, who through sheer determination, hard work, and yes, a little faith (even though I'm not a man of faith, I can appreciate whatever it was that made him persevere.) made us all stand up an take notice. Talented and humble, every day he steps on the court, he shatters a new stereotype, and another barrier to success.
Oh, and a side stat: The Knicks are undefeated in games in which Jeremy Lin has a dunk.
Hoo-boy, the kid can ball, can't he. His aggression with the ball and his basketball IQ make him a quite dangerous point guard. He plays the game like a streetball kid given a chance, and bless him for that. I've been following the Knicks since I was 11 or 12 years old, and we've had some good -- great -- ballplayers. The last time we've had a player that HAD to be defended above the free throw line? Derek Harper. Lin can hurt you in many ways, from his ability to get to the paint to his ability to hit a three pointer to beat the shot clock. There is ice water in his veins. He has outdueled two future Hall-of-Famers in Kobe Bryant and Dirk Nowitski. And it's only his second week as a full-time player.
His journey has made the NBA interesting this season, and thank goodness because after the lockout, the play we had seen was not worth the money. Not even close.
This kid is a huge story, and probably will be for the next couple of months because he defies several conventions in sports, at all levels. He's someone who was overlooked for any critical role, then simply retooled his game, beefed up what was good about himself and played his way, so that when he eventually got a shot, he would make it impossible to be taken off the floor. NBA scouts are now throwing their hands up in the air, wondering how in all their vaunted experience they missed a dazzling talent like this. Does race play a part in this? Yes, of course it does.
He was an idiot for saying it the way he did, but Floyd Mayweather was right. When we strip away the sour grapes from the tone in which he said it, he's absolutely right. Because of what we envision basketball to be, this kind of underdog story is SUPPOSED to happen to the poor black kid from the wrong side of the tracks. Disney has made millions off movies based on this concept (check out Glory Road). We envision basketball to be an urban game, played by kids from bad neighborhoods whose limited options are ball, rap and/or prison. And that one poor black kid who makes it, becomes a neighborhood sensation, then a college star, then an All-Star NBA player... well, that guy is Stephon Marbury when you think about it.
But for those of us who have played ball, when the kid who steps on the court who doesn't look like he's the type to play the game, be it because he's short, or fat, or wears glasses or has the wrong color skin, have we not noticed -- or given -- the "look?" The "Oh god, who let the scrub on the court and please don't let him be on my team" look. I know people who have gotten that look. My nephew, because he's a 5'7" Puerto Rican kid, even though he's one of the best athletes I've ever known; a former co-worker of mine, a 5'5" Asian kid who would absolutely gotten the look if he played where I grew up, and would have torched the people who gave him that look for a triple-double; a slightly pudgy white guy I used to work with who was deadly from 15 feet out.
That look is what scouts gave Jeremy Lin. Because he's an Asian kid with options.
You don't expect him to be this phenomenal talent. He went to Harvard. He grew up NOT in the 'hood. His is not the typical NBA journey as it is envisioned or glorified. And bless him for that. He defies the conventions of the sport, and it is to my hope that he continues to do so.
The thing that makes Mr. Lin most special, though, is the fact that he grasps the concept that so many professional athletes don't. He gets paid very handsomely to play a game. And he's having fun. That fun is contagious, because it makes the people playing with him have fun. And that makes the people watching THEM have fun. And in a microscope like New York, the end result of that is people sitting courtside wearing homemade Lin masks.
This is the kind of underdog story we need; the story of the kid who is even less likely to make it than the poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks, who through sheer determination, hard work, and yes, a little faith (even though I'm not a man of faith, I can appreciate whatever it was that made him persevere.) made us all stand up an take notice. Talented and humble, every day he steps on the court, he shatters a new stereotype, and another barrier to success.
Oh, and a side stat: The Knicks are undefeated in games in which Jeremy Lin has a dunk.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
The Sad Irony of Whitney Houston
Whitney Houston died today at age 48.
And as it was with Michael Jackson, Gary Coleman, Don Cornelius, and any of the other stars who died in the recent past, we gloss over her troubles in polite conversation and choose to remember her as the radiantly beautiful and brilliantly talented superstar she was. And rightly so. She was the elegant and regal talent for a much longer span than she was the obviously drugged-out caricature of herself. And the entertainment world, the world in general loses a light.
I do find it very interesting, sadly ironic, that the woman who sang of the virtues of learning to love yourself self-destructed so spectacularly and publicly over the last 10 to 12 years of her life. Whitney Houston became the poster child for the evils of drug addiction and fallen stars. She went from this:
to this:
Fans will blame Bobby Brown as being the chief negative influence in her life, but that doesn't really matter, does it. We Mourn Whitney Houston for the talent that she was, not the bad decisions that robbed her of it.
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