I paid attention yesterday. Roger Ebert, fellow Chicagoan, fellow writer, movie buff extraordinaire and all around good guy was on. The shock of seeing the photo of him jawless, literally, took a moment for me to process, and considering his inability to actually speak left me speechless, but, naturally hearing that he was using cool technology to actually "talk" to people made me glad his "voice" was still out there.
I remember way back in the day, when I was a kid and Roger and Gene Siskel were just two movie critics with the two major local papers in Chicago with this cute little show, "Sneak Peeks", on WTTW 11. It came on late in the evening on Thursdays as I recall, and I would fall asleep next to my father as they argued about technical stuff and not so technical stuff, screenplays and actors. It was the local show to watch at the time.
When they went big time on us (as all great voices in the world do), we were happy for them. I wondered if the show would change, the men would change, the world would change because of the way they saw cinema. It all did. If Roger and Gene didn't like it, it was a flop. If the thumbs went up, it was #1 at the boxoffice that weekend.
After Gene's death in 1999, I was convinced Roger would fade into obscurity, but was glad he didn't. Although, like Oprah, I stopped watching all the time (I was never very good at sharing the local favs with the world), I enjoyed watching him with lovely Chaz on a red carptet somewhere.
So what, Roger can't fuss like the grumpy, old curmungeon he really truly needs us to believe he is; so what if his vocal cords are gone and he now sounds like a computer. His "voice", his amazing VOICE is alive and well, and he will continue to see the world and write about it as only he can.
Get well soon Roger, I love you!
Blacks in Britain by 300AD
Feb 28, 2010 12:00 AM
By Reuters
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Tests on the skeleton of a rich fourth-century Roman woman found in Britain reveal she was of black African ancestry.
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Experts said the discovery proved the island's multicultural origins were much earlier than thought.
Archaeologists from the University of Reading re-examined the remains of the "Ivory Bangle Lady", unearthed in a stone coffin in York in 1901.
Using new forensic techniques that included analysing her facial features, measuring her skull and evaluating what she ate, they were able to say she had both "black" and "white" ancestry and was of high social standing.
The team concluded she was most likely of North African descent.
"Multicultural Britain is not just a phenomenon of more modern times," said a senior lecturer at the university, Dr Hella Eckardt who led the research.
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After centuries of seeing the world through the eyes of people who never actually went anywhere, but assumed things were just the way they needed for them to be, I've noticed Europeans and European Americans are beginning to embrace the realities of the African influence on the world. Little stories like the one above amuse me.
"Guess what gang? We found black people in Britain!" Duh.Yeah, stupid. All the people in Britain were at one time, black.
Yes, nice people, today I randomly think (rant) about evolution and how people are just... slow.
Palenotologists and anthropologists have, for quite some time now known that the oldest member of what is know known as the human race, was found in Africa. They announced this and the immediate response was, prove it? Which they did. quietly, concisely and without error. Thoughts on the matter have been going downhill ever since.
Historical logic states that humans are a curious sort and with that said, are very likely to move around in search of what is around them. In addition, depending on the environment around them, they may find it necessary to move to simply survive. Anthropology shows this happened more than 10,000 years ago.
"Lucy's" family grew and spread out, north, south, east and west. The family, over the eons, changed, adapting to their new environments, the need and use of melanin in skin changed, the waviness of hair to protect the head evolved. The family started to change.
So, by the year 300AD, a Roman woman of African descent (genetically) wouldn't seem such a strange thing. Or would it?
Probably not to 4th Century Romans. Certainly to 21st Century Global snobs.
It was at the end of the Roman Empire that things got "weird". Before that time, people weren't distinguished by the color of their skin, but by the culture of their people. The notion of racism really didn't exist. Folk didn't like you because "your people slaughted my people, and as soon as we get ourselves together, we're going to return the favor." It was all so very polite and respectful, and bloody. Oh how times have changed.
Whenever the shock of discovering black people have some purpose in the world comes up, I am reminded of the Iranian Hostage Crisis. If you recall, the Iranians kidnnapped a group of Americans. They first released the women as "they have no purpose and are worth nothing to us" (I'll rant about that notion at another time) and then, to the shock of the world, the black men in the group. American media went nuts. Without being vulgar, they basically asked, "why do the niggas get to leave?" Some insisted it was because, like the women, the blacks were worthless to the Iranians. The Iranians cleared that up really fast. They released the black men beacuse they were "our brothers, and we have no quarrel with them."
If you hadn't seen and heard it for yourself, you would probably, at this point, find that statement hilarious. The response was just that, hilarious. Suddenly, white folk in America had to see blacks from a global point of view (and didn't want to, naturally) and black folk in America had to catch their collective breath at the notion that someone out there actually loved us. It was priceless.
That was 30 years ago. Memories are short, naturally. Truth of that magnitude is hard to swallow. Gag reflexes were strong and many didn't like the taste.
So, in the interim, the little truths about black folk, who we are, where we come from, how we've evolved, where we travelled to and what we've done for all these years, must be feed slowly, deliberately. No more shoving it down the throats of the majority (at least in this country); they can't digest it. Spoonfeeding, the babies' tummies are still developing a taste for reality.
I love science and history, don't you?
If you are a secret follower of this blog, you know I have two children. I've written upon occasion about my daughter, who is now a junior in college (in case you care). I've never really said much about my son however. Lots of reasons: I keep forgetting he's in the house, he isn't as high maintenance as his sister was in high school, I really haven't had much to say about him, until today.
He's going to Japan in about 35 days. We're all very excited about this.
Just a little background info. My second born child is 18, male, and a senior in high school. He has been accepted to a local art school where he'll be studying animation. He wants to work for Pixar... or put them out of business (that's a quote). For the past 6 years, he's been studying all things Japanese: the language, the customs, the culture, the people, the politics. He's just might apply for citizenship if we don't be careful. Well, the one thing he's always wanted to do was visit the country. He's finally getting his chance.
It only cost me a hell of a lot of money and a great googob of energy, but, he's going, along with his Japanese teacher (whose apparently his second mother) and 5 other students from his school. The reality of this trip hit me a couple of days ago when the passport finally arrived.
Ma, my passport is here. Look.I look (I know what a passport is, but part of being a mother is pretending to be dumber than a bag of rocks on cue)
Nice, put it with your other papers.I watch him as he grins and shows the picture to the half dozing cat purring fitfully under my arm and he leaves the room. My baby is all grown up and going to Japan. Hope he comes back. Hope he brings me something better than a damned tee shirt.
As with our daughter, we worked hard to guide and support the dreams of "the boy". Again, he has been a joy to raise: low maintenance, few behavioral issues, generally easy to deal with on the social level. Hell, he might even graduate with his class (ha, he better)
He's chosen compatible friends, stayed away from the temptations of the hood, including drugs, gangs and as he puts it, smelly skanks. He will be a talented artist and animator one day. He loves his mother, respects his father and shows just the right amount of tolerance for his big sister.
So, as the day of emancipation draws need, you'll hear more about the phantom son of mine...I'm sure his sister will let him know I wrote this, and he'll comment on the invasion of his privacy and all that crap. Oh well, I'm still the mama, deal with it son.
muah.
I made the mistake of telling someone I was thinking about taking a day off. I made this wild statement way back in January. I haven't done it yet. I ran into the person I told the other day. Yes, she asked if I'd taken my day off. I had to tell the truth, the woman has lie radar.
What is it about you short people? Yall work too hard.
So, as I stood there defending height challenged people and making my excuses for not taking a day off, it occured to me that maybe, just maybe, she had a point. Not about the short thing, but, that I could benefit from a day off. Every Saturday for the last 2 months has been filled with some thing to do or pretend to do, or I was comotose from the week before. The next couple of weekends will be the same.
I was brought up by a workaholic, I suppose some of it rubbed off on me. I can't help it; there's always something else that needs to be done, considered, looked into, finished up. Just before I wrote this, I was on the phone with someone who told me how I should seriously consider teaching at the college level; right after I get my Masters Degree. He understands me. Never stop moving; moss might start growing, and we can't have that.
Back to my angel... she's right. I need a day off. A day to just do nothing. A mental health day, or better yet, a weekend. I'm overdue, yes. I used to take mental health weekends all the time; just to sleep and stare out of a hotel window and maybe write in one of my notebooks for a few hours.
The angel in my midst has delivered the message. Its time to stop and take a few minutes for me. Let me add that to my list of things to do. Ha!
priceless!
thanks M....
the question has been batted around this month... "Is Black History Month Still Revelant?"
I always ask, relevant to whom? still waiting on a response to that.
Seriously... who was black history month created for, and is it still relevant to those people? I did a little research, checking biographies of Mr. Woodson, the founder of the weekly observance that eventually became Black History Month. All I can find is that he felt it was important that "black studies" should be taught in schools and colleges. What high schools? What colleges?
Now, so you know, the people asking this poignant question are black. This in itself, fascinates me. Assuming that Woodson's focus group was blacks, what would make black folks honestly believe black history month has become irrelevant.... unless of course, they don't actually know any black history. Anything is possible.
On the other hand, there are non black people of various sorts who "tolerate" this esteemed month of regiritation of all things King, X,Tubman, Douglass. I had a white student of mine, seriously ask me... what's so damned important about Black History Month? (yes, she cursed... yes, I reprimanded her). I told her simply, BHM is important because it is part of the history of this country, same as all the other "histories" of this country.
Its important to understand that nothing happens in a vacuum. Perhaps, that's why, in the minds of some, BHM has become irrelevant. They can no longer see it as part of the big picture. Few see how Harriet Tubman's work with the Underground Railroad was just part of her glorious life... because of her lurking around behind Confederate lines during the Civil War, she was able to be a spy, one of the few women that were able to help the Union Army. No vacuum there.
Few get how Martin Luther King resisted the desire to become the spokesman of his people, but had preachers who came before him (including the one that stood in the pulpit at Dexter Avenue just before him) helped him see how his words could bring about change.
There are so many stories... of how the little people, us... who will never have our names in histories books, had, have and will change history in the small things we do daily. One day a child I've taught might find a cure for a disease that has eluded doctors for decades. That would be ME... making BHM relevant to me.
Which begs the question... how are you making BHM relevant? What have you done, do, or will do in the future to make history come alive? What will you say to change the history of this country, this world?
Is Black Hsitory Month still relevant? Only if you think you are relevant...
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