Seemingly Random...But Not Really

I am taking classes through a MOOC, Coursera.org, to be exact.  I have become a liberal arts student, a lover of thinking, pondering, and evaluating with over 30,000 other students connected through the power of the internet.

This "semester" I am taking History of the Slave South and How to Change the World.

Initially, I thought these courses had nothing in common save the fact they were offered for free (or $49 for the Wesleyan one if one wants a 'verified' certificate) and were both from Ivy League Universities (University of Pennsylvania and Wesleyan).  Then, as I often do, thinking about the connections, realized they are not so uncommon to each other.

One class, so far, is giving a deep and thorough of the origins of the slave trade and the fact that the first indentured servants in the Americas were white, male, young, unskilled, Englishmen who essentially sold their labor for passage from England to the Virginia colony.  In 1618, the establishment of that place as an investment for the wealthy, landed gentry in England and the planter class in the Americas, set so many things in motion that we are still dealing with today.  The first Africans did not come there until much later and not as chattel slaves, but in essentially the same conditions as their English counterparts.  The had families, were able to work off their indenture, purchase land, and have servants (they were not called slaves) to work their property.  They paid taxes, married, and had children.

This gave me pause on the connection and place we are in lecture in my other class.

Poverty is a ravaging thing, extreme poverty is impossible to phantom sitting here in my warm townhouse.  Living on less than $2 per day is a reality for over half the people on the planet.

A challenge we have this week in class is to think about what we can do, not just to make ourselves feel good that we gave, but to make a real difference, to do better.  We are also challenged to know that we don't have all the answers, that the local people in these underdeveloped, deep poverty countries, actually know what they need and how to make it work.

So how do the two come together?

In the United States, the pundits often put the face of poverty as a black or brown face.  The reality is that there are more poor whites in this country that are needlessly suffering because of the mean-spirited actions of the 'landed gentry' of our century.  That made me think about this place of my birth overall.

1662 was the year things changed when essentially, because of the question of Englishmen and African women and their offspring, note, not slaves, that the Virginia legislature codified a thing called race and instituted heridetary servitude.  Up to that point, it was not uncommon to have mixed culture (English and African), especially since the balance was skewed with more young English males in indentured service than young English females.

This turned the tide of events drastically.

Fast forward to now, the past still reverberates.

The landed gentry were wanted to curry favor with the English crown and saw themselves as little monarchy.  The servant class in the Americas was just like the servant class in England.

What changed and set the tone for the country was the colorization of service, slavery, and poverty.  They, overnight, in the span of 50 years, were not allowed to be persons, husbands were not allowed to have voice with their own wives or children.  The bodies of African women and their offspring became the perpetual property of Englishmen.

This is still the case today, in many of these poor developed countries, the bodies of women is where the extreme poverty is lived out.  Close to half those in extreme poverty are children.  Extreme poverty invites violence against women and enslavement of women for the basic necessities of life.

These things are connected and as I sit here pondering the lecture and my place in the world, I am pondering what I can do to make a difference.

Happy Birthday, Son!

Today is my second oldest son's birthday.  

He is spiritual and lyrical, thoughtful and wise.  I have loved and admired him from the first moment he entered my world.  He was bubbly and had these eyes that would just dance and make you stop to notice that he was in the room.  His personality is equally as electric and he draws a crowd.  He writes, sings, raps, draws, and is self-made.

My son and I have had quite a journey through life, he is essentially the oldest, his big brother died on his seven month birthday, so this one, my second born, is the one that I learned the most.  Through grit, trial and error, lots of mistakes, he knows I love him with my deepest heart.  He was the one who was so protective and felt a sense of responsibility, even as a five year old.

The day would not be right if I could not pause to reflect on his journey and applaud him for his zest for living, his determination to keep going, and his surety in his purpose.

Marcy Lotto, your biggest fan gives you a birthday shout out, celebrate like only you can.

Pause and Ponder For A Moment

I was sitting at my desk, thinking, as I always do, about life and my connections in it.  When I thought about how we are all sharing time and space in this universe and what I do here, affects you there, I paused.

This earth, this planet that we share belongs to all of us, that "haves" and the "have-nots."  It is a truth, whether that truth is accepted by all 7+ billion people inhabiting it or not.

In that truth, we affect each other.  We, here in the West, with our seemingly insatiable appetite for new and shining things, completely affect the lives of those in the East, the keepers of many of those natural resources we cherish. In the East, when we read or hear about unclean water or a young girl's life traded away, it affects me here when I look into the eyes of my own.

Pause with me for a moment and think about that.

The diamonds on my hand, the gold, the minerals and metals in my phone, these did not come from my own hands, but the blood, sweat, tears, and labor of another.  I owe them my full acceptance of this gift of their life and also my voice, my writing, my advocacy.  I owe them to not be careless with my resources, to recycle, to upcycle my clothes, to not be cavalier with what is in the nearest mall.  Bangladesh because Americans want cheap, South Africa because Europeans want diamonds.

I am only one person, as are you, but you can make a difference, just as I can, even if it is just in my sphere.

If humanity stops and sees each other as beautiful, spiritual resources that enhance the lives of each other, we may be a step closer to the peace many of us crave.

Ponder that thought over chai tea and thank the hands the picked the leaves.

Boring Is Good

We live in the mundane.

The everyday ordinary.

Boring.

Sameness of life.

At times.

Sipping coffee or tea, eating a banana, reading a book, loving our families.  Most of life is lived in moment-to-moment boring sameness that is much more fulfilling and exhilarating than the most thrill-filled roller coaster ride.

Life is a marathon, one that if one truly admits, will find one with hair of snow, wrinkles etched across the face of time, joints that creak in the winter, and maybe a gait that is not as swift.  Years float by and one realizes that the gift of living, the legacy of living is earned in those moments when you are boiling water in the tea kettle and watching your daughter make markers before going to school.

It is ok to be quiet and appreciate the familiar of your sitting room where every book on the shelf has it's own home.  To know that your husband makes great spaghetti and  you know more about fresh food shopping than he does.  That  being a full-time caregiver and mom, chief mom, chief home officer, is one of the greatest investments of time you ever made.  That familiar rhythm of life where one can set their watch by how much is actually accomplished between 6am and 8am when your castle is your office.

The silences of the winter are great times to pause and reflect on those ordinary things that can often be missed.  How extraordinary it is to sip a cup of tea and feel the sun streaming through the balcony, teasing of summer's dreams to chase away the cold.

Boring, sameness, ordinary, life, and that is pretty good.

Pondering The What Ifs

This is the first day I've been in my home office in weeks.

Holiday break is officially over, my youngest son is back in college, unpacking his dorm as I write.  The girls are back in school, husband is back to the university, the holiday decorations are long packed away, the house reordered for life after holiday, and the snow is melting.

It is a Friday and a perfect moment, in this second Friday of the new year, to stop and ponder the What-Ifs.

My thoughts on the What-Ifs are likely triggered by officially entering 2014 and my Jubilee Year.  Reaching an almost 5th decade and looking back, we sometimes take a moment to daydream.

If I hadn't listened to my then-fiancé and taken the post graduate opportunity in Minnesota, I would probably be stressed and overworked, not the mother of two little girls, probably not married, and definitely not sitting in my home office writing on a Friday.  I would have fully absorbed the lifestyle and demands of that high level salary that was being offered as we turned the calendar page to another century and decade.  I had a hard earned MBA and really, the option to go anywhere in the country.

If I hadn't left my corporate position when I did, a decade ago, I would have still had my children at home but would have stressed so much during my youngest daughter's rare illness.  I left when I was pregnant with her, assuming my departure from the corporate life would be just a year until she was born and with the same wonderful woman who cared for her older sister.  Her rare illness had other options and while she is now in recession, I believe a lot of that is because I was accessible and available.

If I had still been in my corporate life, I never would have had the opportunity to see the other side, to connect with the wonderful women of Mocha Moms, Inc.  I also never would have been able to lend my talent and expertise to so many non-profits and community organizations.  My world expanded instead of decreased.

If I had still worked, we probably would never have moved across state and never would have sold the house at a loss, that I do ponder as I sit in this townhouse, half the size of my 5 bedroom home.  What I traded in acres and room, I gained in access and opportunity to explore my craft and be present in the lives of my family.

If I hadn't moved across state, I never would have been as deeply involved in my new community, never would have joined a writing group, never would have mentored so many young people, never would have started a non-profit, never would have ushered my son through his performing arts classes to a full scholarship, and never would have written my children's book that is currently being edited.  Whew.

If I hadn't put that last box of my corporate belongings in my green van and driven away, I never would have had the opportunity to become an adjunct professor and teach marketing and management.  I think about the projects and learning my students engaged in because I was their professor.

If I hadn't taught at three universities, I never would have considered pursuing the PhD and never would have entered my vitae to be invited to the PhD Conference. If that hadn't happened, I never would have been in Chicago a year ago with other like minded people of color considering academia as a career move.  I never would have met the future sisters in the academy and never would have congratulated one of us who was enrolled in her PhD program nine months later.

If I hadn't moved here and finally had my daughter in remission and all the kids in school full time, never would have taken the poetry and historical fiction classes I was able to take through the MOOC platform.  If I hadn't done that, I never would have "met" the young writer whose book I reviewed, never would have gained a community of writers and poets, and never would have known about the literary journal where I submitted my poetry.  My world expanded.

If I hadn't left my corporate life, I never would be sitting here writing my 500th entry in this blog, never would have started doing book reviews, never would have written so much poetry, and never would have had my articles and commentary published.

If I hadn't been so involved in the community, I never would have met so many wonderful people and through that, never would have researched and spoke on the topic of private prisons.

If I hadn't taken a chance and remarried, I certainly wouldn't have had my two and only lovely daughters, wouldn't have that husband who gives his last dime to make sure his family has what he needs, and likely wouldn't have traveled to some of the places we did dare to venture in the past decade.

Life is full of choices and those choices produce outcomes, some good, some bad, all uniquely our's.  We all have a set of "what ifs" and can take a moment to appreciate the journey we have taken as opposed to mourning the things we left behind.  Sure, I would have a big title and lots of money by now, but I wouldn't have the richness of watching my daughter's practice in the middle of the afternoon, spending the entire holiday break with the only concern being if I should bake cookies or make soup with the kids in their pajamas.  I appreciate how much my world has expanded and the people that have entered my life tent because my what ifs included making a very different choice.

Take a moment to ponder your what ifs and if they are not what you want, ponder another one, like I am, "what if I find an iMac on ebay and illustrate my book myself instead of trying to hire one with my coffee money and what if I then self-published that book and used my connections to get it in the local bookstore and what if that opened up an opportunity for me to create it as a series and then and then and then." Sometimes dreaming in the what-ifs is pretty cool.

Perfect thing for a first Friday.

What if...

Learning in the Joujou

It is no secret that the artic blast, Polar Vortex, frigid temperatures have landed many of us inside for an extention of the holiday break.

My family is smack dab in the middle of the country, in the St. Louis region, the place where just last week it was like spring.

Changes all around.

And cold hungry people.

Joujou is a traditional soup made on Haitian Independence Day to celebrate freedom from the oppressive French regime that enslaved the island.  The first slave revolt happened in this island nation and I'm proud that my heritage began in the Caribbean.

That said, this year was my first time making it by myself.

I pulled on the warm clothes and headed to the store on New Year's Day, with my college son as my escort, to grab the ingredients needed.  We had spent the night before fellowshipping at my sister-in-law's mansion and a trip to the store was on no one's mind when we made it home past 3am.

We gathered together the fresh ingredients, carefully selecting the right squash, thinking how many hours I had left in the day to make it legitimate.

When we came home, I immediately started the peeling, chopping, slicing, and dicing necessary for this labor intensive soup.

There were some lessons I learned in it and in the week since I made it.

• Love, life, like good soup, takes the right set of ingredients.  

• There is some labor involved to make that final perfect bowl, just like things we want to achieve.

• Second day soup is even sweeter with the memories of the love that made it.

• Fresher is always better, like giving oneself time to come up with fresh ideas for an old product

• Vegetables are always good for you, fresher are even better, just makes the heart stand up and sing

• Making something with one's hands always results in the appreciation of at least one person

• Celebrating one's accomplishments, one's jubilee, is always in order, cold or no cold

• Life is worth living, fully and completely, and without stress, just warmth of a good bowl of soup

My kids will go back-to-school tomorrow and life in 2014 will essentially start, holiday officially over.

I'm not sure what the new year will fully bring my way, but I know that in the patience it took to make joujou, and then to make homemade soup two more times during the cold freeze, I've learned that I am more than ready to take on the challenge.

I can only hope the same for all of you!

Love and Life In The Snow

snow, snow, snow, what a white-out to have on this first Sunday of 2014.  the little girl in me wants to go out and play, the woman in me is snuggling up in a blanket and sipping tea.

we were prepping for the kids to go back to school and thought the snow would be a dusting.  there is close to a half foot on my balcony that my baby girl measured.  she and the rest of us are hoping for a snow day, an extension of holiday break.

it is pretty, though, like love and life.

one may not be able to stop it when it comes, it is coming, now, what will we do with it?