The Profile

It was a late afternoon in early December, 2006.  Autumn's last gasp.

Leafless trees along with lawns long past their prime offered little wonder.  It was as good a time as any for the two men to take a walk.

They were far from home, yet Drexel Hill would be home for the next week.  Jet lag gnawed at them. The brisk air clipped any memory they had of  a tropical climate.  Gloves on, hoods up, scarves tucked in, they went out into the chilly afternoon and kept a pace strong enough to warm up.

As they walked along the even grid of short blocks they talked of sports and their excitement over seeing an Eagles home game at the Linc in Philly.  Typical guy talk.  Few, if any, other folks were out.

They didn't notice the police car as it approached from behind.  Only when it stopped alongside them, window rolled down, were they alerted.  The officer asked where they were from, where they were headed, and if they had ID. 

The two men walking in Drexel Hill were my brother and his 22 year-old son.  My brother produced his driver's license showing the officers his Hawaiian home address.  Still puzzled by what initiated the police interest, he simply answered the questions saying they were in town visiting family.

The officer said that a resident called the police when she saw two dark skinned men wearing  hoodies walking past her home.  My brother's skin tone reflects his Italian heritage and the fact that he's lived in Hawaii since 1978.  My nephew's deep skin color reflects his mostly Hawaiian heritage.

The exchange with the police was polite, brief.  Yet, the discomfort for my brother was the fact that his son had to experience this moment.  That walking in his grandparents'   neighborhood minding his own business was cause for a visit from police. That dark skin and hoodies made the pair suspicious.

 Seven years ago the incident was briefly discussed and dropped.  We see my Hawaiian family too infrequently for this to alter our precious time together.  The events in Sanford, Florida however brought back the memory of that profiling.  Granted, on a "life altering" continuum, the moment in Drexel Hill is a speck of water compared to the torrential downpour of horror that took place between George Zimmerman and Trayvon Martin.

Yet it cast a sliver of light on what those with dark skin experience in America.

 

Levar Burton sat on a CNN panel earlier this month for a special one hour report titled "The N-Word."  Here is the actor's frank answer to anchor Don Lemon's question regarding if he had ever been followed:

"Listen, I am going to be honest with you.  This is a practice I engage in every time I am stopped by law enforcement and I taught this to my son who is now 33 as part of my duty as a father to ensure that he knows the kind of world in which he is growing up. So when I get stopped by the police I take my hat off and my sunglasses off.  I put them on the passenger side."  The actor then turns his body to demonstrate: "I roll down my window and take my hands and stick them outside the window and on the door of the driver's side because I want that officer to be as relaxed as he can be when he approaches my vehicle.  And I do that because I live in America."

I find this matter-of-fact commentary chilling.  Burton's primary default with police isn't to rest on his notoriety as a respected, award winning actor.   His default is to put the officer at ease because he knows his skin color is already cause for tension.

I've heard many versions of what is often referred to as "The Talk" when mothers and fathers talk primarily to their dark skinned sons about the real world of profiling.  It is distressing to think how dangerous a simple walk or drive home can be for some Americans.

Here is the link to the CNN special containing Levar Burton's comments - minute marker 5:40 to 6:25.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ims2qlfIjEU

Paula, Paula, Paula

As sponsors drop/suspend relations with Paula Deen like a steaming hot hush puppy, I wonder why she keeps making missteps.

My favorite recent Deen-ism summed it up when she spoke on the Today Show:  "I is what I is."  This 'regular folk' talk sure sells a ton of products but this time it just seems to add more cement to the coffin that is her vision of herself. 

Whoever Paula is, it is currently not working on her chosen medium - television. 

A mea culpa that does not address the possibility that she may hold/have held a smidge of racism in her heart is a butter-less dessert.  I would have liked to hear her express a newfound understanding  that her deposition answers were objectionable.  And that using offensive language, no matter how long ago, is still offensive. If she could have spoken only about how the backlash has raised her awareness, I would have listened more.

But she insisted on using the utensils that brought her success: the sassy, sweet, unprejudiced, "Ginnie" (her grandma name pronounced with a hard G) loved by all.  She thought by pouring more molasses over her explanation it would make her more beloved.  And why not?  This is the recipe she has used to formulate an impressive culinary empire. 

Paula the chef did not confer with Paula the business woman (as she did when she announced in 2012 she had type 2 diabetes and simultaneously became the spokesperson for a diabetes drug.)

I don't care about how she was raised, how she raised her kids, who her African American friends are or how she comforts them. I don't care what offensive language she has witnessed in her kitchens if she stayed silent until now.  Her silence showed tolerance.  It was the playground defense: "I said it but they said it too!"

I do care that she show up like an adult and simply say "I am sorry."  Period.

Pleading with a biblical reference to "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone" makes no sense.  In trying to say she is just like everyone else, she separates herself from her apology.  The Southern celebrity thought sweet would trump sensible. 

Sensible isn't sexy but it is easier to swallow than a five pound bag of sugary words.

The Pig Speaketh

Well, sometimes I think the pig speaketh. 

He really just holds the sign on my kitchen counter which "speakeths" whatever I choose.  His droll look tells me he silently endures being the vehicle to display some occasion.  Lately, there's been a busload of occasions to mark.

I know this occasional game.  The excitement of a celebration pulling in and the merciless exit that always follows. 

Birthdays, first and last days of school, holidays, a college student coming home,  a dance performance coming up or just a weather report - the pig marks the moment.  And he does so via an impressive Twitter reduction - instead of 140 characters the pig's board space holds no more than 8 characters.  As far as social networking goes, he is way ahead of his time.

The hog is the new breed of 21st century techno-minimalism.  (Hmmm...perhaps that is a bit overstated.)

On the understated side, sometimes there's artwork. Well, okay, it is more like a caveman drawing.  It's always a challenge the pig and I happily take on. 

Christmas Eve: Seven Fish

There have been some favorites over the years. On Christmas Eve, when we prepare a seven fish meal, everyone gets involved because few fish recipes can be prepped ahead of time. (The pig particularly enjoys seeing his sea-bound brethren as a meal centerpiece.)  His sign displays the Roman numeral VII and a simple fish drawing.

Christmas Day will find the letter "L" crossed out: No-L aka Noel.

Summer has a sun rising on the horizon and Halloween is either "BOO!" or a pumpkin.  Not very original but heartfelt.

Lately the sign theme has been things ending - a college graduate and a high school graduate have summoned an array of "this is the last time for (fill in the blank)."  The pig has been busy. 

It is times like these that I appreciate the pig's facial expression.  It belies any emotion I am trying to express.  The pig keeps it real with his look of aplomb.  He is unaffected. Unflustered.  Unruffled.

The pig is an unwitting teacher of zen.

This weekend marks my younger graduate's last performances with her dance studio.  She is moving on to a BFA Dance program in college, so there will be more studio and stage time in her future.  Yet, leaving her current studio, where she has clocked a boatload of hours and nurtured a heart full of friendships, stings for now.

What, I ask my porcine friend, can I write/draw to capture this moment?  The hog is mute.

It's a lesson the pig repeatedly teaches: sometimes when words fail, our hearts succeed. 

I draw a dancing heart.

Mother's Day Exhale

Mother's Day can have the forced feel of New Year's Eve.  We're compelled to do something - after all, everyone started with having a mother.

I like the intention of Mother's Day but it can come with so much expectation.  Advertisers make sure we are bombarded with messages about how to thank our moms.  According to them, buying stuff is the answer.

I am a mother.  I have a mother.  We are clear about loving one another.  We agree. We disagree.  We like being together and we tire of each other.  We are nondescript in the grand scheme of mother/daughter relationships and I revel in the everyday-ness of us.  Setting aside one day for saying I love you just seems superfluous.

More importantly I think on friends whose mothers are gone, or suffer illnesses, or those who struggle to know/understand their mom. There are friends who have a tough time with their kids and those whose kids don't care. And yes there are friends whose child has died. What does this day mean to these moms?  Does it just press harder on them?  What good comes from that?

I guess what I am trying to say that if we listen to Hallmark , there is no room for a less than wildly perfect relationship on Mother's Day.  Let's dial it back a bit and recognize that this day is not rainbows and unicorns for many children and mothers. And that's okay. But let's be mindful of it.

Motherhood is so many things.  But it is not the only thing for women. 

Instead of overly glorifying mothers, how about we celebrate all women - those with or without children.  Let's have a Women's Day.  Let's really be a sisterhood and be thankful for each other.

Sports Talk

The title alone tells me this will be a very short post.

I am a sports appreciator.  Team stats, season tickets, pieces of sports trivia have no traction in my daily life.  As I've mentioned in a previous post, I do love attending most sporting events and am truly in the moment.  And when the game ends, well, that's it.

There's no ethics code or high water mark that I'm following about athlete millionaires, billionaire owners, and $5 ballpark sodas.  I am simply unmoved by the minutiae of sports.

I am, however, curious about what gets sports folk riled and the current NFL draft is a doozie.  It seems like a gladiator movie without the blood.  The only things injured are athletes' egos if they are left out of the selection process in Round 1.  But fear not!  Rounds 2 and 3 etc. are just around the bend.

I feel for some of these young men who have been pumped up by coaches, agents, and scouts supposedly 'in the know' to believe they will be a first round pick.  And then they are not.  It's a return to the schoolyard complete with angst; 'coaches' pick who they want on their teams one by one - and inevitably the cheese stands alone (Manti T'eo). 

The late night talk show hosts all mentioned the impending draft in their monologues.  Jay Leno hit the mark noting, "It's gotta be a tricky night for Manti T'eo, huh? When that phone rings is he really being drafted or is it just another scam?"

The fact that the draft is held at Radio City Music Hall (for 8 years!) and is televised really gets my attention.  What's the draw? There's no game. No points are scored.  Players are merely being chosen by professional teams and this warrants prime time attention?  I understand that it is a very, very big deal to the athletes and their families.  How is it a big deal to everyone else?

The local FoxNews station did a funny bit by placing reporters with fans outside the venue asking them how they felt about certain athletes up for grabs - only they used fake names and stats.  Well, what sports fan can resist commenting on any athlete, real or bogus? Apparently not many.  Like fireflies drawn to the light fans gave strong opinions about why these phantom players had a chance.  Some even included stats! 

I say Round 1 of the draft goes to the reporters.

Well, at least admission is free.  That makes everyone a winner.

Here's the link to my last dip into the sports pool: http://asubjectforconsideration.blogspot.com/2011/11/nature-of-sports-dreams.html

The Door

In six days there will be no more wondering.

The tables will dramatically turn, and applicants will morph into decision makers.  It is the sweet/sour spot for many high school seniors.  The college door will either be open or shut - no more "Messing with Mr. In-Between."

As I watched Tina Fey's new movie Admission I was simultaneously chuckling and aching for  all college applicants.  The search can be exhausting (and expensive).
 

Image courtesy of koko tewan
www.FreeDigitalPhotos.net   

The application process has the look of computer circuitry to me where seemingly endless wired pathways connect to achieve a singular outcome; in this case acceptance to a school.


And if today's college search appears as the intricate guts of a computer,  my long ago quest looked more like the cardboard box in which the computer is shipped.   So much simpler.

It wasn't necessarily better, but simpler?  Yes.

In her rich memoir, My Beloved World, Sonia Sotomayor vividly details her life growing up in a rough Bronx neighborhood including her education and employment up to her Supreme Court nomination.  She joined the girls' Forensics Club in high school which was coached by an upperclassman, Ken Moy.  Ken urged Sonia to debate using her hands less and listening more so she could hear the vulnerability in her opponents' arguments.  How could he know these seedling ideas would root so deeply in the future Justice's life? 

Ken, whose parents ran a Chinese hand laundry in East Harlem and whose father was "trouble three ways - heroin, gambling, and a violent temper" was accepted to Princeton.  It was Ken, who called Sonia when he was a freshman there and  uttered the words that impacted her college choices saying "Try for the Ivy League."

Sonia's first view of an Ivy League school was from a movie theater seat when she saw the film Love Story.  She describes how the setting was other worldly to the high school senior: "Apart from Camden, New Jersey and the alternate reality of Puerto Rico, I had never traveled far from the Bronx  and I had certainly never seen anything like this."  (Ironically some of the film's outdoor university scenes were filmed at Fordham which is located in the Bronx.)

Her high school guidance counselor suggested Catholic colleges, but Sonya replied "I want(ed) to apply to Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Columbia and Stanford."   Sonia followed the application steps like every other student.  When she received a postcard from Princeton with the box of "likely" checked she asked her counselor about it.  The astonished woman's reply was, "There's a very good chance you'll get in."

Some of Sonia's high school successes included a top ten class ranking, achievement on the Forensics team and in student government.  She worked part-time during school and full time each summer. 

In her memoir, Sonia recalls that a few days after she received the postcard, she walked past the school nurse, who asked in an accusatory tone, "Can you explain to me how you got a 'likely' and the two top-ranking girls in the school only got a 'possible'?"

And there it is - as true 41 years ago as it is today - the question of what factors make a college applicant 'worthy' of access? 

Sonia's access resulted in a graduating summa cum laude from Princeton, selected to Phi Beta Kappa, and earning the University's Pyne Honor Prize, a singular honor awarded to a senior who has most clearly manifested excellent scholarship, strength of character and effective leadership.

A NYTimes article titled "Better Colleges Failing to Lure Poorer Strivers" by David Leonhardt cites a recent study by two longtime education researchers (Caroline Hoxby of Stanford and Christopher Avery of Harvard) that shows a significant percentage of low-income students with top test scores and grades continue to not apply to the nation's best colleges.  While these top schools cast a wide net in some major cities and their surrounding suburbs, the study suggests that low-income students with very high test scores and grades who live between the nation's coasts are ignored. 
   http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/17/education/scholarly-poor-often-overlook-better-colleges.html?pagewanted=all

In plain numbers, of the 238 selected 'best' colleges listed, only 34 percent of low income high-achievers attend.  Among students in the highest income quartile that figure was 78 percent.

"Many top low-income students instead attend community colleges or four-year institutions closer to their homes," the Times article notes.  Even in the all access Internet age, top low-income students who have little to no interaction or exposure to someone from one of these schools ignore them in their college search.

I understand how this happens but not the why.  It seems dated in this abundant information age.  What is clear is that the issues these students face in their everyday lives weigh heavy in how they ignore top college options even though they excel in school.  Why are they not being reached?  How is this possible?

Interestingly, the Supreme Court will decide in June on a University of Texas case looking to restrict race based affirmative action as one criterion in college selections.  I look forward to hearing the court's responses, especially that of Justice Sotomayor.  (By the way, I recommend her spirited memoir.)

It's not only a matter of the door opening for students. As suggested in the Hoxby/Avery study, students first need to know where to look beyond their front doors.

Link to the Hoxby/Avery study from the  Brookings Papers on Economic Activity:
http://www.brookings.edu/about/projects/bpea/latest-conference/2013-spring-selective-colleges-income-diversity-hoxby

Link to the NYTimes article on the University of Texas affirmative action case:
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/11/us/a-changed-court-revisits-affirmative-action-in-college-admissions.html?pagewanted=all

Where The Boys Are

The driving question being pondered worldwide now awaits an answer from 115 cardinals in the Vatican's Sistine Chapel.  Who will be the next pope?

FreeDigitalPhotos.net

My question is this: where are the women?

No kidding. 

Christ chose 12 apostles.  All men. 

Where is it written that this decision was intended to be an ironclad, unbreakable rule of "men only" rule? Evermore?  The Bible? A tradition of male leadership is one thing.  When does tradition cement into law? 

Clearly this interpretation suits men.

How is it women have been deemed unworthy, unlikely, uninvited to lead for over 2,000 years?  No female priests - no female bishops or cardinals - no female pope. 

I am a lover of tradition -but not at the expense of every other option. 

Among other things I am a Roman Catholic with 16+ years of catholic education.  I embrace the many gorgeous mystical beliefs this theology brings.  I wonder how half of the over one billion worldwide followers are dismissed as secondary when it comes to leading the flock?

I am certain that Christ's message of love is the most important.  I understand Peter was chosen as the first pope and I do not presume to know what Christ's thoughts were on succession.  The rigidity of selecting subsequent male leaders seems more a product of cultural mores of the time than of spiritual awareness. 

Is it probable that Christ had no interest in women leading his church ever?  There is no spiritual basis for the formulaic 'men lead, women follow.' 

It does not ring of grace.  This rings of men making decisions in Christ's name. 

The old TV show titled "Father Knows Best" comes to mind as I watch coverage of the cardinals' conclave.

Two genders.  Only one gets to lead in this church.  Hard to imagine this is Christ's way - the way of light, love, compassion.  It's too one sided, too short sighted, too uneven.  Very man-made.

While white smoke will answer the question of "Who's Next?" the smoke I see hides the fire of
man-made inequality.

The 3/13/13 New York TimesCast looks at what Catholics worldwide want from their church. 

http://www.nytimes.com/video/2013/03/12/world/100000002113508/catholics-speak-modernization.html#100000002113508

Postscript  In a "60 Minutes" piece titled "The American Nuns" that aired on 3/17/13, Bob Simon gets an answer to the question of women as priests and church leaders. http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=50143033n