Mrs. Robinson Went To China

Of course I’m talking about President Obama’s mother-in-law, Mrs. Marian Robinson.  

It was just last week Mrs. Robinson returned from a one-week visit to China.

She had accompanied daughter, Michelle Obama, our First Lady, along with granddaughters Sasha and Malia (the President and Mrs. Obama's daughters) on their trip promoting education.  

Me on the Great Wall - February 2002

In 2002, I traveled to Beijing, Xi’an, and Guilin, China.  This month, it was a thrill to see media coverage of Mrs. Robinson visiting many of the sites I toured on my dream-of-a-lifetime trip.  Keeping up with them via news, TV, Internet, and Twitter I re-lived my amazing time in China. (Oh how I searched for a photo I could use of Mrs. Robinson on her trip.)

News columnists reported the family of our President was well received by the Chinese government and the general population.  I don’t know if it is a correct designation to call them emissaries, but I appreciated them as wonderful emissaries of the United States of America.

And, I say Marian Robinson is a grandmother whose presence, energy, and demeanor quietly influence not only young people in her family, but surely those in our nation, and children worldwide.  To this grandmother, she is a parenting role model worthy of tribute.  What a joy it has been to observe history in the making by an exemplary grandmother, a contemporary of mine, and, yes, of my African heritage.

On this last day of Woman’s History Month 2014, I applaud with great pride, our nations ‘First Grandmother’, Mrs. Marian Robinson, a living national treasure.

Loved-Listed-Loved Again

These days, HGTV nourishes hopes, dreams, needs, anxieties, and passions about home buying.

Forty years ago, this year, I bought my home. 

It had to be done.  While confidently attached to a career opportunity in St. Louis, Missouri my employer said “we want you in New York City”.   It was a good thing, a promotion to Corporate, a career dream achieved.

I had to relocate, find a home in another community, move far away from friends and family.

I was thrilled.  I was scared.

The challenge was mine.  Newly teenaged daughter and nearly teen son were counting on me.  They would leave the home they had known since they were babies.

 

 Several years before becoming their old neighborhood

Excerpt from "Black Star Girl"  . . . ‘In Richmond Heights, our modest brick ranch with white picket-fenced yard was put on the market – a For Sale sign on the front lawn. ‘  

‘I made several trips to New Jersey to look for a new house. Other locations had been considered, New York, any of the five boroughs, even Connecticut.  New Jersey won when I learned Route 80 west from New Jersey was essentially a direct shot to my family home on the Pennsylvania/Ohio state line.’ 

The property selected was, as I write in ”Black Star Girl”,  ‘a well-maintained two story older building’.  I was impressed with features, new for us.  There was a larger kitchen, fabulous garage and master bedroom with en suite bathroom.  I’ve now learned, through online data, the house was built in 1910.

My daughter reminds me of how she cried and cried seeing the picture of what would be their new home.  It was so different.  My answer was “it’s a nice house, you’ll love it”.   They did. 

The seller was a gracious woman.   Many years later I met her daughter.  A letter came asking to visit the home she had loved since childhood - if she and her husband were in the area.  That happened and we are friends, linked through ‘our’ house’, and Social Media.  I love that.  I love the house.

                       _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _

 My award winning memoir, "Black Star Girl" is available through major book sellers.  Also purchase online through both Amazon and Barnes & Noble.  It is e-book available for most e-readers at a fabulous price..  Find Black History woven into an inspiring life story.  

"We Wuz Robbed"

Lee Daniels’ The Butler should have been swamped with award nominations.  The movie was a wonderfully told story.  It was informative and entertaining.  It was classy and emotional, yet boldly miserable depicting life experienced  

by America’s citizens in this nation from mid-twentieth century almost until the turn into this new century.

It seems every widely known critiquing group, such as Golden Globes, Critic’s Choice, Screen Actor’s Guild, the Oscar folk, and People’s Choice essentially ignored the outstanding merits of Mr. Daniels’ important movie.

This land of ours is so big, so diverse, and so mighty fruitful that community despair in any corner of its wide expanse might be only a snippet of news, easily pushed aside.  That, I’m certain, for many in America is how the Civil Rights Movement is known, not much more than a headline.   Lee Daniels’ The Butler brought the human condition of that time to those who only knew, really knew, the outcome.  Opportunity for equality, denied for many generations in America, now exists.

Seeing layer upon layer of the Civil Rights story out there in a movie, in theatres everywhere was spiritually gratifying.  

Waiting to hear the movie applauded through the award nomination process then experiencing the practically total disregard for its excellence was shocking and heartbreaking.  I wanted to rant and rave about the injustice.  I couldn’t.

The passage of time finds me emotionally stable, able to simply document for posterity, “We Wuz Robbed”.

                          _   _   _   _

So many actors warranted recognition.  But, it was a tearfully sad shock that Forest Whitaker and Oprah Winfrey were not nominated for their outstanding depictions of the butler and his wife. Their work from early in the characters' lives into debilitated senior citizen years, through one emotional minefield after another, was superb. 

Also quite impressive were Mariah Carey, Vanessa Redgrave, John Cusack, Lenny Kravitz, Terrance Howard, Jane Fonda, and Jim Gleason.

January 20th, 2014 - Remembering Him

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

“He wasn’t elected to office,

Not appointed to serve.

The man stood up,

Spoke,

Planned,

Marched for freedom,

Our guide.

That man,

 A young man,

Was shot down,

And died.

What he did,

What he said,

Inspired

Peaceful protest

For human rights,

Then legally denied.

Minds closed – opened.

Paths narrow – widened,

Doors shut – opened.

America could be beautiful

For all."

                            -MLStith

We honor him with a Federal Holiday,

annually, the third Monday in January.

Tomorrow his work and his sacrifice, 

with gratitude, will have my attention.

And, How Was Your Day?

Dastardly disappointing, going to the cupboard finding the cupboard is bare.  Well, it might as well be, if what you need to fix a dish you’re craving is not there!  Stella wanted Tuna Noodle Salad. She had several cans of tuna.          She had a large jar of mayonnaise.  She had oodles of dry noodles.  She put the water on to boil.  Happily she proceeded to make tuna-noodle salad.  As usual, not certain of all the ingredients necessary for her tuna noodle salad, once the water began to boil, Stella gave her brain a task.  “Think!” she mused.   “Let’s see”, responded her silently churning mind, “what else do you need for a tasty high protein salad to comfort your next feeding frenzy?”  Sweet pickle relish?  Got it, on the pantry shelf.  Apple cider vinegar?  Saw it, on another shelf wedged in a storage basket with other bottles of vinegar - distilled white, balsamic, rice vinegar and red wine vinegar.  

            Hmmm, what about eggs?  In the refrigerator, a large egg carton against the wall, third rack, so for sure got eggs!  Got everything!          

           When the noodles were cooked, not quite enough, from the kitchen sink Stella comfortably filled a glass saucepan with water and set the pot of water on the burner, flame turned low to begin hard boiling the eggs. 

          She nonchalantly pulled the egg box from the fridge.  Lifting the lid, she delightfully discovered eleven lovely white eggs tucked into their individual nests.  She needed two for her salad.  That was all.  

          Not seeing a crack on a single one of the picture perfect eggs, Stella plucked one from the carton to drop into the still cool water.   Letting it gingerly slip from her fingers, she reached for the second lucky egg…but wait…the first one was bobbing in the water.  Oops!  It was floating, like a cork!   Out it came.  In went a new ‘first’ egg.  It bobbed too!  One after another, nine more times, each egg floated, proving it had met its expiration date – all were rotten.

Rotten eggs ruined Stella’s day.     Happy New Year   

Sunday Morning Lessons

        It was Sunday, she told me, and waking up that morning, or even the night before when she lay down, she worried over the fact that she had a life-consuming dream to write a book.  It wasn’t happening.  There was something missing, or perhaps something present, keeping her from realizing that objective. What could it be?    Racking her brain through the night and into the morning finally the word ‘courage’ beamed into her mind.  “I need courage.  I’m afraid.  Yes, it’s lack of courage that keeps me from working toward fulfilling my dream!”    She accepted the dredged up revelation and vowed to bury her fears in positivity - to be constant in her writing effort no matter her lack of self-confidence.
      Then an hour later, she was sitting in the pew at Galilee, and lo and behold Rev. Martin was in the pulpit preaching these words, “Have your dreams but they are likely to remain only dreams if you do not have . . . FAITH.   "Yes!"                                                         __    __    __    __    __    __    __

         

The next week, again Sunday morning, she returned to the house after the mornings walk with Pugslee, her bulldog. Instead of the pet following her down the driveway, where she would put his bagged business in the trashcan, he ambled up the steps onto the porch.  As she came alongside he stood there at the wrought iron railing peering down at her.  For a moment, she says they were looking directly into each other’s eyes through the black railing.  Pugslee’s solemn big brown eyes in his uniquely beautiful face touched her heart. 

      “Stay”, she said to her four-legged friend, “I’ll be back. God willing we will get to look into each other’s face again in a few minutes. God willing”, she repeated. At the same time, her thoughts darkened, considered the possibility she could have a stroke or heart attack and never know his face again, or him hers.  She says she shook off the negativity, quickly reminding herself  “you are aware now, not dead right now.  Enjoy this and each moment.”

      Two hours later, she was in the pew at Galilee listening to Rev. Martin’s morning sermon, “And Yet Are We Alive”.  She froze as she heard her Pastor, “We are alive, because of God’s mercy. We can look into each other’s face today because of His grace.”

WOW! For the second consecutive week, a current heartfelt personal conflict was explored in the Sunday sermon, strengthening her through a spiritual perspective. 

       I’m thinking it would be a good thing for her to be in church every Sunday.