Thoughts and Actions

I usually don’t talk about myself, but I will say I’m well experienced in the area of thought. I have all the nice little scholastic accolades and the degrees and all that. Y’all have seen me talk about Mensa, and hopefully some of these here entries also show that I’m pretty good at this thought thing (whether you all agree with what I say is another matter altogether).

Here’s one thing I’ve noticed: thought without action means pretty much nothing.

Best Movie Ever?

I try my best to not get my hopes up when it comes to movies. I find it to be the best way to preserve my movie-watching experiences.

There are few things worse than paying 5-10 dollars for a movie ticket and then finding out that the movie is horrible, or even “less than expected”. I have a pretty good record on picking movies, so I don’t go through this often. The times I do get caught up seem to involve my people (Death At A Funeral, most of TP’s recent efforts, even Safe House to a certain extent), but that’s another matter.

I think it’s even more coincidence than comparative analysis that the movies I have lowered expectations for seem to be great.

Campaign Financing: An Alternate POV

I’m hardly an expert on federal politics. The mass majority of my “nuts and bolts” knowledge is on the state level. That said, I know the importance of campaign finances and spending.

How can I not? The president sends me emails about it every day. There is also the fact that I was in a doctoral program and spent much of my first year studying ads, but I digress.

Happy Birthday, Granny

Contrary to what most may believe, the majority of these things are not personal.

This one is.

Today would have been my paternal grandmother’s 100^th birthday. It’s not the easiest thing to talk about, but as many in my family know…talking about Granny since she passed never has been. Matter of fact, I’m going to put the over/under of “times I tear up writing this” at 3.5 - and I may only end up taking the under because I’m writing this at work. Anyway, it’s supposed to be that way. I’m supposed to feel like this. I’m supposed to feel terrible that I’m reduced to writing this note as opposed to being at home with my family. I’m supposed to feel bad that I can’t go to the northwest corner of 19^th and 31^st to put flowers on her grave.

Why am I supposed to feel this way? The reason is simple: I lost more than a grandmother on May 25, 1996. I lost something else too on that day - and so did many other people - but I didn’t realize it until later. First, a little bit on how losing a grandmother was more than enough.

I’m not going to say my grandmother was a perfect person. She certainly wasn’t the grandmother from one of these TV shows (okay, so she somewhat resembled Sophia from ‘The Golden Girls’) who did nothing but bake apple pies and never had a mean bone in her body. She would get with you if she needed to. Wouldn’t think twice about it, either. And woe be unto you if you had it coming from her, whether verbal or physical.

Here’s the thing, though: through all the whuppings - not spankings, whuppings- that she handed out, everyone loved her. And when I say everyone, I mean everyone. Inside or outside my family, she may be one of a handful of people that I’ve never heard anyone say anything bad about. Like I said before, she wasn’t that always-smiling stereotypical grandmother…but it didn’t matter. Everyone loved Granny, and everyone respected Granny.

I haven’t seen Soul Food in a long time, but if I remember the gist of the movie it mirrors my view of my family’s life. The other thing that Granny provided - and that we lost after she passed - was her ability to hold our family together. As most people reading this know, I have a rather large extended family. Group dynamics and simple odds dictate that one large group will eventually turn into multiple smaller groups. Granny kept that from happening. Looking back, I’m not sure how she did it. It’s not like she demanded that we have huge family gatherings every holiday, but we did. She didn’t say to go to this person’s house or that person’s house, but we did. We just found a way to stay together while she was with us…and then things changed.

In full disclosure, I may be magnifying this a bit because Granny’s passing coincided with the time I left for FAMU. Even then, things didn’t quite feel the same when I came home. The family gatherings were smaller. Some people didn’t come around as much. Some relatives only visited with each other. Things just didn’t seem the same. We were a lot more segmented. This has gotten closer to how it used to be, but it’s still not the same. Now it seems that some relatives have either given up or been ex-communicated from their seats at the proverbial table because of past actions or current habits.

In a family, everyone is obviously not going to agree with everything that everyone else does. I don’t agree with a lot of things my family members have done, and I’m sure that quite a few of them don’t agree with a lot of things I’ve done. However, I can’t think of one relative I have who I wouldn’t invite to a gathering and I’d like to think that no one would dissociate with me in such a manner - or at least not be upset if I showed up somewhere with some notice. Nowhere in any definition of ‘family’ have I seen that a single accord in action and belief is a prerequisite. I’ve also never seen where inviting someone to your home is a tacit statement that you condone every single one of their life choices (if that were the case, I’d be welcome in a lot fewer homes than I am now).

That’s what Granny got. She might not have agreed with everything you did…and there was a pretty good chance that she’d voice any disagreement she had…but she didn’t shut you out. That wasn’t in her nature. You’d get talked about like a dog - and if Granny talked about you that way, you most likely deserved it - but she was always happy to have you in her life, the same way everyone was (and still is) happy to have her in theirs.

As is often the case with the younger populace, I failed to appreciate everything that Granny had to offer. I’m not talking about the dollar or two that she gave me for my birthday or Christmas: I cherished those much more than the larger monetary gifts I got from others simply because they were from her. I failed to appreciate her wisdom, her experience, her loving heart, her ability to keep the family together…until it was too late. When I got to high school and especially when I started driving, my parents would ask me to go to her house…but I didn’t go nearly often enough. Sixteen years later, I still haven’t forgiven myself for those decisions. I’m not sure I ever will.

Maybe that guilt has something to do with why I still have a TV in my apartment that hasn’t worked all that well for a year and a half (it was given to me after she passed). Maybe it’s the appreciation that I have now that leaves me almost sick with myself for being able to do nothing more than write a lousy note to commemorate what would have been her 100^th birthday. Maybe that’s why I hold on so close to the memories that I do have. Maybe that’s why I’m on occurrence #6 - first full paragraph, in case anyone forgot. Maybe it’s a big part of the reason why I want to move back home, and why money matters less with each passing day. Maybe that’s why I tell everyone I can to spend every minute possible with their grandparents and older relatives, to seize the opportunities that I didn’t.

Or maybe that last paragraph has nothing to do with guilt. Maybe I’m just someone who loves and misses his grandmother. Maybe I wish I could hear her talk about working in a pizza parlor while hating pizza. Maybe I wish I could hear her call one of my cousins by a name that no one else ever dared use. Maybe I miss the way she always made me feel better while I was sick. Maybe I miss the mango tree in her yard. Maybe I miss Libra. Maybe I just miss having the chance to say…

…happy birthday, Granny.