Should Two Roosters Be Able To Cluck Each Other?

Okay. I have serious dilemma. I have come to an impasse regarding an extremely important decision in my life. Rarely am I completely torn, but this is one of those rare times. So, I'll treat this situation like I have done most of the important decisions in my life: I'll write about it. Usually, once I start writing about things I gain some clarity. Sometimes the clarity comes about in the midst of me writing and before I put the final period in place, and on other occasions, I need time to reflect on the things I committed to paper that were stuck somewhere in my confused or afraid subconscious.

So...the problem.

Should I stop eating at Chick-fil-A?

Now, some people may scoff at my quandary and feel it warrants little contemplation. You may chalk it up to a simple dietary decision.

I can already hear my vegan and vegetarian loved ones' comments on this. They're probably shipping me some tofu and hummus, and emailing me their best tofurkey recipe. Thanks.

But this is serious.

I looooove Chick-fil-A.

I am not a heavy partaker of fast food at all. I can't recall the last Big Mac or Whopper I enjoyed; it had to be in my teens. I have even weened myself off of McDonald's fries. (Even when they are fresh, hot, and perfectly salted.) I am an overall healthy eater. I've even learned to reduce my portion size. Now, I'm only slightly gluttonous.

However, a #7 with extra-large waffle fries and a lemonade with little ice is a sin that I proudly confess to. But the recent controversy regarding my favorite chicken spot has caused me to put a pause on all of that. I've passed by a few times, my taste buds crying out for those potatoes dipped in barbecue sauce, but I kept driving.

But should I really stop eating there because they have donated food and/or funds to organizations that lobby against gay marriage? Hmmm.

Well, friends have compared it to patronizing a company that supports the KKK. Of course I wouldn't buy a soy caramel macchiato from Starbucks if they provided free coffee at a David Duke rally, so shouldn't I feel the same way about Chick-fil-A?

Should I? Many people who support the rights that gays have to get married and be as miserable as heterosexuals are proponents of all rights and freedoms for all people. So, doesn't that apply to religious beliefs? And if I am free to have my personal religious beliefs. can I not be an entrepreneur as well? And if I am a religious entrepreneur, should I not be able to espouse my beliefs and run my business at the same time, as long as I don't break any laws?

The argument on gay marriage is not simply one of politics, but simple humanity.

Dr. King said, "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." And I understand that. My beliefs about gay marriage are clear: we should all have the right to fall in love, get married, become disenchanted, and get divorced. But does that have to get in the way of me enjoying a tasty meal?

It's okay that I patronize a company that may support an organization that has some beliefs that vary from my own, isn't it? I am an advocate of fathers being significant part of children's lives.

Chick-fil-A sponsors a program with that exact purpose.

Hmmm...I'm still confused.

Does everything in the world have to become politicized? Can Chick-fil-A just be a spot that makes a damn good chicken and sandwich and not the Don Imus?

Okay, I think that's it. I think I'll go and get some Chick-fil-A today, tomorrow, or the next day. And I'll eat it while making a donation to the ACLU.

What's Really Going On?

With Black History Month right around the corner, I felt obligated to pay homage to and examine the mighty words of my father, Marvin Gaye. Well, Nona and Frankie Gaye, if you're reading this, don't be shocked. Chances are that Marvin is not actually my father; a brotha can dream, can't he? But I do have an undeniable connection to him, his music, and his spirit. And while I can't sing, he's sorta my musical daddy. A day does not go by that I fail to listen to something Marvin created.

In Tupac's, Keep Your Head Up, he mused, "I remember Marvin Gaye used to sing to me. He had me feeling like black was the thing to be."

That's how I felt growing up. But not only black, I felt that it was cool to be dark, creative, sensitive, sensual, conscious, spiritually conflicted, and so much more. From Sexual Healing to God is Love, Pops showed the world that depth can come on many levels and from the same spirit. And if you dig deep in the archives, you will see that he could be as metaphorically nasty as 2 Live Crew and as socially conscious as BONO.

The first verse of the title song on arguably the greatest album of all-time is absolutely iconic.

Mother, mother There's too many of you crying. Brother, brother, brother There's far too many of you dying. You know we've got to find a way To bring some loving here today.

This verse, inspired by police brutality and the horrors of the Vietnam War, could have been written today as an indictment of the violence in impoverished parts of the country, the lives loss in America's overseas conflicts, or the current unrest in Egypt. The song is laden anti-war and pacifist sentiments. Paraphrasing MLK, he let us know that "Only love can conquer hate."

What's Going On has my vote to replace our national anthem. I know I relate to it a lot more than the talk of bombs bursting in air, and what the hell is a rampart? What good is it to have a black president if he can't make some impactful and soulful changes? Let's Go, Barack!

The second song on that revolutionary album, What's Happening, Brother?, is like a diary of the millions of people suffering from the current economic situation. I could hear my uncle, Kevin, bemoaning about the difficulties of finding work and how the world seems to be passing him by.

Below is a recording of live performances of those two songs. Apart from the beauty of the songs and Marvin's flawless and empassioned delivery, the thing that stood out for me was Happiness. From the smiling, excited kids in the crowd, to casual person in the street, there seemed to be a certain level of happiness. Even in times that seemed harsh and draining, you can still smile. You can have a cookout with your friends in the park and dance to your favorite song. You can walk with your new lover or old lover and feel each other's heartbeat through your hands. You can push your child to new heights on a swing and in life.

So, the next time someone asks you, "What's going on?" or "What's happening, Brother(Sister)?" smile at them. You can tell them about the trials of your day and the trevails you're sure to face, but in the midst of it all, flash that smile like my daddy.

More Than Dreams

Every year when January 15th comes around, we turn our attention towards the greatness of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Dr. King is one of most influential people in American and world history. So, why is his legacy often relegated to one day and one moment?

Everyone recognizes the power and brilliance in Dr. King's speech during the March on Washington. We know that he had dreams of "that this nation would stand up to its creed" and that his "four little children will live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character."

Those will forever be some of the most important words ever spoken. However, Dr. King had so much more to say about so many different things. Let's take a look.

• "In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."
  

As citizens of humanity, it is imperative that we stand up for what is inherently right and stand against what we know to be wrong. Standing by nodding or shaking your head will benefit no one, not even you.

• "Life's most persistent and urgent question is, 'What are you doing for others?"

I continue to work at this one. But I do realize how important service is. It doesn't have to be something major or something public, just something significant for someone else.

• "Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscious stupidity."

Damn! We see examples of this on all levels, from the blinded students in high school classrooms to those who take their ignorance to violent extremes.

• "Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power. We have guided missiles and misguided men."

This was true then and is true today. And I fear that as technology reaches new heights and the depravity of man reaches new lows, there is an inevitability for some higher spiritual force to correct that imbalance.

• "It may be true that the law cannot make a man love, but it can keep him from lynching me, and I think that's pretty important."

Yes. Pretty damned important, indeed.

Go ahead and live that dream that Mahalia urged Martin to speak on. But take these with you as well.

Can't Touch This!!!

This blog began as the customary look at the New Year. I started typing about resolutions and how they fill up the gyms for a few months or weeks. I typed about the concepts of new beginnings, fresh starts, and clean slates. There were examples of my never-fulfilled and near-reached resolutions. It was going to be rather interesting; maybe I'll get to it next week or month.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the end of the blog. I went to the grocery store. While I was in the produce section, I had an encounter with a random older gentleman. As I was examining bananas, he started talking to me. He began opining about the poor quality of bananas and how they tasted differently than bananas in other countries, especially in the Caribbean. His conversation was innocent enough; truth be told, I blocked out about 78 percent of what he was saying. But he found a way to gain my attention.

He touched me!

As he got deeper and deeper into his banana versus plantain dissertation, he started touching me. First, it was my elbow: a simple gesture seemingly intended to reel me into the conversation. Then, it escalated. Somehow, in some swift move resembling a teenage guy yawning and stretching to place his arm behind his "unsuspecting" date, he quickly moved his hand to my shoulder as he smiled and blabbered on about nothing at all.

Now, I'm a considerably friendly guy. I'm not the one to meet total strangers and greet them with a full-on embrace. (My boy, Marlin, might disagree.) But I'm at least cordial. But I've realized that I have a "thing" about touching. Each time this stranger touched me, my skin crawled. My natural reaction was to move my arm, as to suggest, "Dude, get your hand off of me!" But that didn't work. He felt entirely comfortable violating my personal space. So, eventually, I had to make it more obvious.

He had taken his hand off for a second, but then attempted to give it what he assumed was its rightful place. As he reached for my upper arm, it was like a scene from a movie. His hand moved in slow motion as I simultaneously leaned back and put my hands up in a position similar to one I'd learned in Tae Kwon Do class.

"Yo, I can hear you without you touching me," I stated. His face dropped and luckily, so did his hand.

"Oh," was all he said before he walked away.

He seemed so enthusiastic about the fruit conversation, but he dropped it all simply because I asked him not to touch me. Why was the touching so important?

Maybe he was trying to "kino escalate".

If you don't know, kino escalation is the art of initiating physical touch: starting with with small, innocent gestures, and steadily moving into more intimate situations.

Think:

1. a guy meets a girl in the club and starts talking to her.
2. as they are talking, he touches her elbow during the conversation.
3. as she seems more comfortable, he eases into touching the back of her arm or her shoulder.
4. and if things go as planned, he's kino escalated himself into whatever his horny little heart desires.

Well, that's all according to this guy:

His name is Mystery, and apparently he's an expert in the art of picking up women. So, was old dude in the grocery store trying to pick me up? I don't know. I was looking kinda cool that day. Maybe it was more innocent than that.

We touch people every single day. When we meet strangers, what's the first thing we do? Shake hands. Now, we have no idea what that person was doing with those hands before we saw them. Think about what you do with your hands when no one is looking. Now, would you want to someone who was just doing what you just thought about? I think not.

But touching is such a natural part of our society. In certain cultures, men greet each other with kisses on the cheeks and sometimes lips. In other cultures, individuality and independence is more highly regarded, and personal space is placed at a premium.

A touch can mean so much, yet so many different things. The gentle touch of a mother's hand across the forehead or cheek of her child is entirely different than the sensual touch of a lover massaging work-weary muscles. A simple hand on the shoulder of a friend during a moment of sorrow can go as far as a father's swift hand of correction placed on the backside of a misguided child.

It's hard for me to imagine a life devoid of another's touch. No more of my niece's kisses to the cheek or slaps to the cheek that get increasingly harder. No more embracing my grandmother as if she was my child. No more of the...ummm..."touches" that the adult me has come to greatly appreciate.

However, I can go without the waiter touching my shoulder as he places the bill on the table. I don't need the dude in the gym to shake my hand, "dap" me up, fist bump me, or give me a half-hug every time he sees me. The minister in church slapping "the claw" on my forehead as he prays for me seems a little unnecessary. And those strangers who want to reach out and put their hands in my hair...back the hell up!

Maybe my feeling towards touching is some metaphor for my fear of intimacy. Maybe me not wanting people touching me is code for me not wanting anyone to get cclose to me, emotionally. Or, maybe I just don't people's filthy hands on me.

Somehow, though, touching each other seems to be justified. I guess touching is our link to humanity. When we touch or are touched, we know we're alive. It gives us a connectivity that our other senses can't. Maybe one day I'll let down my guard and allow people into that invisible space that I hold dear. But until then, unless I know you and invite you, then take this as a friendly request.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=otCpCn0l4Wo

It's Beginning to Feel A Lot Like...

There are some very distinct things that make it feel like Christmas to me. One, is The Temptations' rendition of Silent Night. There are a lot of holiday songs out there, but this one is at the top of my list. I recall riding in the car with my grandma. She would always drive with the radio turned down so low that I had to press my ear close to the speaker so I could hear what song was playing. But if it was December and I yelled out, "Grandma, your song on," she would immediately turn the radio on full blast so she wouldn't miss that opening "Woooohooohooo." Hearing that song always seemed to make her smile. I love that memory. That's Christmas.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vFc7STuQF0U

Another is the wonderment of the Christmas movies. Now, we all have our favorites, and there are a lot to choose from. You may like the sentimentality of A Miracle on 34th St, or the hilarity of A Christmas Story. But my favorite has to be my favorite Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer. I think it's the most complete of all the Christmas movies. There's a rich and moving love story, a Rudy-esque underdog story, a tattered father-son relationship story; there's the independence-seeking dentist stuck in elfdom. It has everything. There's even a hot soundtrack! How didn't that win an Oscar?

Movies notwithstanding, like most kids, the biggest thing for me was the gifts. Each year was different. Some years, I would try to stay up all night so I could hear Santa Claus come in. Other years I would go to sleep extremely early so Christmas can get here faster. And it didn't really matter what I got. Of course, the more gifts the better. Some years were better than others. And there were times when Moms couldn't afford to get me the same things that the parents were getting my friends down the street. The youthful me learned to appreciate everything I got and to not compare my situation with anyone else's. It took a couple Christmas day smacks to completely sell me on that theory, but I got it. As I got older, the whole gift thing began to seem less significant. Maybe because I knew there was no Santa. Maybe because my sister came along and I was no longer the top priority for the family. But, mostly, it was because I was maturing. I began to understand that Christmas shouldn't be all about the gifts. I was fourteen.

Sooooooo, someone please tell me why the average American will spend somewhere around $1,000 this year on Christmas gifts. Now, this is the same America that has an unemployment rate hovering around 10 percent. This is the same America that is on pace for 1 million foreclosures by year's end.

I'm sure those three wise men weren't neglecting to pay their credit card bills so they can pick up that frankincense and myrrh for the baby Jesus. And conversely, I'm sure Jesus, Mary, nor Joseph looked at the wise men, sucked their teeth, and said, "Oh. Is this it? Umm...thanks. Thanks a lot."

We should change the name of this time of year from Christmas Season to Go Out and Spend Way Too Much Money On Things People Really Don't Need and You Really Can't Afford, But You Buy Anyway For No Apparent Reason Season.

So many people stress themselves out buying gifts they can't afford, often for people who don't deserve a gift in the first place. Parents feel inadequate. Children feel unloved. Relationships deteriorate. Families bicker and brawl. Over what? Christmas gifts.

I see people "making" themselves buy gifts all the time. No one should ever have to talk themselves into buying a gift for someone. If you can't afford it; don't get it. If you really don't like that person enough to buy them a gift; don't buy it. If you don't know the person enough to figure out if they'll like the gift or not, then why the hell are you stressing over buying them a gift anyway? If anything, get them a gift card and keep it moving.

One thing I've realized over the years is that a gift does not say "I love you." As I've gotten older, my family rarely gets me anything for Christmas. And I'm pretty sure they still love me.

Let's get back to those feelings that Christmas use to give us.
Back to the feelings of hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows on 80 degree days.
Back to riding your new bicycle for hours, hoping the thugs down the street wouldn't steal it from you on this first day.
Back to being happy with a football or a cassette tape or a Michael Jackson t-shirt.
Back to playing with your cousin's toys as if they were your own until he got mad and you got into a fight for a few minutes, then your uncle broke it up and you were back friends again.

This Christmas, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, or whatever, enjoy your loved ones, appreciate your blessings, and drink some hot chocolate.

And yeah, if you can't find the Temptations, then listen to this little gem. It's at the top of the list, too.

I'm Not a Hater, But...

Okay. Let me start this off by making one thing perfectly clear: I AM NOT A HATER! People use that term quite loosely these days. Anybody that isn't in love with what someone else does=HATER.

Note the following "hater" scenarios:
#1

Friend: Hey, D. I just spent $200 dollars on these vintage canvas Chuck Taylor Converse sneakers. Whatcha think?

Me: Two-hundred dollars? They look like regular twenty dollar Converses to me.

Friend: Aww, man. You're just a hater!

#2

Cousin: Yo, did you see that new Jackie Chan and Jet Li movie? I loved it; it was great!

Me: Naa, I like movies with more dialogue and storyline, and I can't understand a word either one of those dudes are saying.

Cousin: What? Man, why you hatin' on Jackie and Jet? I bet they'll kick your ass!

Me: You're right. And I'm sure I can beat them in a debate.

#3

Friend: Yo, see shorty over there?

Me: Yeah, that's Sheila.

Friend: I hit that last night!

Me: Word? You might wanna go get yourself checked out; the word is that she might be infected.

Friend: Man, you probably tried to talk to her. Stop being a hater!

Just because you don't like something doesn't make you a hater. Am I an onion-hater or a mayo-hater? I just don't like them. Actually, I do hate onions. But I digress.

I said all that to say this: Who the hell made Steve Harvey a relationship guru?

Please, someone tell me how he has risen to the level of expert on all things love-related? I read his first book, Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man. Okay, I read the first chapter, the table of contents, and a few other paragraphs. But that was enough to get the gist. I wasn't incredibly impressed. It's not like some of what he said doesn't make sense; that's just it, it makes a lot of sense: common sense. I guess people just have a need to hear things they already know. Maybe it's just me, but I wouldn't rush to buy a book that told me a bunch of reasons why I shouldn't walk into oncoming traffic.

But his book became a best-seller and he became an authority on love. Women started taking the words from his book as the GOSPEL TRUTH. You would have thought that God was sitting at a small table in Barnes and Noble drinking lattes and signing copies of HIS (or HER) book.

Now, Steve admits that he is not an expert on love, but that he is an expert on men. Therefore, in his book, he speaks for ALL men and gives women the decoded version of what mean think about relationships, love, etc. So, naturally, because he speaks for ALL men and women want to know what ALL men feel, they read what he has to say. Especially since it's usually difficult to get it from the man they are actually dealing with.

But, hold up! In my dealings with women, I often tend to generalize according to my past relationships with women, including the women in my family. But when I do, I always get, "Mmmph...I am not every other woman! I am my own person. I have my own unique genetic code. Check my deoxyribonucleic acid!"

So, if I can't generalize, and sometimes my generalized comments are dead on, how can Steve Harvey generalize and you swear that it applies directly to me? Hmmmm. Check my DNA!

You know what? Maybe I am hating. Maybe Steve Harvey's position as one of the kings of comedy makes him an authority on things like this. I heard Cedric the Entertainer was writing a diet book, and D.L. Hughley was writing a book about how much he loves white people, especially white Republicans. And I'm sure there will be a posthumous release of a book on public speaking by the late, great Bernie Mac.

After the success of his first book, Harvey has a new book, Straight, No Chaser: How to Find, Keep, and Understand a Man. And I'm sure that a comedian with several marriages and divorces under his belt is the perfect person to help women with this.

I could put my feminist hat on and say that these books are just another example of the misogynistic, ultra-male perspective being showered down on women telling them how and who to be. But I won't go there.

But I will say this, these books tell women how to act and think in order to get a man. The women I know would cringe at the thought of a man telling them how to act or think, but every man doesn't host a morning radio show.

I think I should I write a relationship book. After all, I'm a man and I know some other men. Plus, I've dated women and I've known some other women. What else do I need?

My book would actually only be a relationship haiku:

You must know yourself.

If not, find yourself.

Always love yourself.

Common sense, right?

If you don't think so, I won't call you a hater.

Time Flies

Okay, I'm off of my soapbox for a moment. I'm simply going to talk about the one thing in the world that makes me smile ALL the time. The one thing in my life that seems to have no flaws. The one thing that I want to bottle up in this very moment in time and not allow to go anywhere or change in any way.

My family.

I don't mean the hundreds of unnamed or forgotten people that you just happened to be connected to in some random manner. Nor do I mean that folks that you only see at weddings, funerals, and family reunions. Nor am I talking about that not-so distant relative whose house you hate going to because you're scared to sit on the couch or eat any food that you're offered due to all of the roaches you see crawling around.

No, I'm talking about the four most important people in my life. My four ladies.

Of course I'm talking about my niece, Na'Zyia Kamarria Williams. If you know me, you know that I'm in love with this little girl. But I'm also talking about my sister, mother, and grandmother.

They mean so much to me that I have their initials, A.T.T.N., engraved on the ankh that lays on my chest, close to my heart. (Insert AWWWWs here.)

This past week, two of my ladies experienced birthdays. My niece turned four years old and my grandmother reached an amazing seventy-one years.

Their birthdays made me think, made me reflect. I tend to do that. Let's start with Na'Zyia.

The crazy thing is that I remember when my sister, Na'Zyia's mom, was just four years old. Hell, I remember when she was born, ending my wonderful reign as an only child.

The day I found out that she was pregnant was surreal. This same little girl whose hair I'd plaited and diaper I changed was now going to have a baby. I had the typical father-figure/big brother reaction. It was some sort of mixture of anger with disappointment, more disappointment. When I use to bounce her on my knee chanting "jimmee jimme jaa mama", I had so many plans for her. (That actually was initially "Joe Namath and John Matusak", but she heard differently and requested it often.) She was going to be a world-renowned doctor/lawyer/architect/singer/dancer/world-changer. Now she's busy doing her damndest just being a good citizen of the world and a great mother. Applause, applause!

It's amazing to see my niece at four. I'm searching for the PAUSE button. It seems like just last week that I was seeing her for the first time. And it seems like just yesterday that I was encouraging her to take her first steps, while she was more inclined to stay entrenched in some surfer-like position, afraid of what might come with that next step. Now, the fear is mine. I worry about what might come with that next step. Just as fast as these four years arrived, I know that equally fast will arrive the big girl bicycle days, followed by the first crush days and the...let me stop. I'm getting light headed.





I try hard to play a significant part in her life. I don't want to miss out on 'those' moments, those special moments that no picture or facebook post could ever truly capture. I don't want time to fly away on me.

But time has seem to fly away. My grandmother is a fine example. Like I said, she just turned seventy-one. Now, I don't know what your grandma's seventy-one looks like, but my grandma's looks like weekly dollar store and Walgreens shopping coupled with arthritis and religious Wheel of Fortune watching.

My grandma and I are extremely close. I am the first of her 35, 42 (I don't know, I lost count) grandchildren. In fact, I consider myself her seventh child, especially, given the fact that my uncle is only a few years older than I am. Growing up, my grandma was my rock, my friend. When Mama was working multiple jobs to make "IT" happen, I was being spoiled with Mahalia Jackson serenades and sweet potato pie spoon-licking.






When there was no one else for me to talk to, there was my writing and my grandma.

But seventy-one. Damn!

The Grandma I grew up with was never going to be seventy-one. She was always going to be that "Dang, that's your grandma? She looks my mama's age" grandma.

While she's far from incapacitated, she has slowed down a bit. I don't envision her hopping on the back of motorcycles anymore. It seems like just yesterday when she was. She's always been a hilarious, compassionate, and caring person. She taught me how to laugh at myself and others, and the importance of being "good".She has not only been in my entire life, she has been a significant factor in creating the man I am today. (Thank or blame her.)

I got really sentimental in what I wrote in her birthday card, and, of course, she cried. Again, PAUSE button, please.

But in life there is no PAUSE button. If only it was that easy. Forget the Staples EASY button, give me a DVR remote for life. So, I can pause and replay those moments that I never want to leave.

But that doesn't exist. Time DOES fly and we can do nothing to stop it. We can only maximize those moments we're given. So, I say, take a moment to press that imaginary pause button today. If you have someone(s) special in your life, take a moment to bask in the now with them. There will never be another right now.

Be like me: hug them, kiss them, pinch their cheeks. My grandma loves it! Listen to their stories that they are so passionate about but make no sense to you at all, and love it! There's going to come a time when you'll long to hear about unicorns and tea parties.

No matter your religious or spiritual beliefs, you have to agree that LIFE is a precious gift. I may not know why we're here, but I do know that we must maximize the time we're given.

My niece is my princess, and my grandma is my queen. If someone finds a way to make time stop, leave a comment on this page. I need them with me, always. (Resume the AWWWWWs.)