April 03, 2007
Speedo
WARNING: I AIN'T HAPPY (a esta momento)
the above title comes from a song of yesteryear...more familiar to the real family senior citizens (ray and kit) than to ME! on the serious side, i cite it because just over the weekend, i sketched out a part of the next bow tie which (in continued seriousness) is a retraction of my earlier putdown of jesse jackson as irrelevant. and i did that solely based on jesse's endorsement of obama. and the attachment to this memo notwithstanding, i maintain my "reversed/reconsidered" position of the good reverend. but i didn't even get a chance to finish and send it to you when, whamo, the speed with which "negroes" operate beat me to the written word punch. so, low and behold, here comes earl the mammy mouth.
i don't recall being this pissed since the michael richard madness. it may sound like a stretch to you but i am honestly convinced that "negro" is a not very funny pathology. rather it's a very real thriving and unstudied DISEASE. and i don't suggest this simply as a putdown of people with whom i am in disagreement. (i am sure some folks draw all manner of unflattering conclusions about me.)
backing up a bit: my last county job was working in DAPO, the drug and alcohol program office. as you may recall, my job was to find housing for recovering women who had children. and you may also remember me saying that it was the most challenging (make that impossible!!) job i ever held. to begin with, women (by just being women) have a hard time in this american life; women who raise children alone have a harder time; recovering women are viewed as dregs or "fallen" or "sinful" or whatever; and recovering women who have the nerve (the AUDACITY!) to have children.......well, you get my point. that gig was a real education for me. at the time i also learned about the whole world of recovery. the 12 steps of AA was the mantra of the most of the sober living facilities i visited. in that connection i heard the part about admitting that one was subject to a force over which one had no control (drugs and booze!!) and about seekiing the help of a higher power...etc.
well, believe me, "negro" is a socially and historically-induced "force," and the victims (just like the victims of alcoholism) can't do anything about it because -- as is so true of folks with other diseases - they won't/don't admit that they have it in the first place!! i realize that in most instances, it seems like an innocent -- as in "no big deal" -- simple, surface disagreement or even upbeat argument. disagreements and arguments are not allien to humankind. but when the shit of the human mind reeks, there is a huge problem if one acts as though the aroma is blase.
when i see my buddy, harold hambrick , and ask how's he's doing -- since we don't hook up as often as before -- he says, "it's on automatic" which i eventually came to understand he meant "i'm doing as well as i was when we last saw each other". well, i think negro disease puts certain folks into a mindset that has an automatic response even before a question is posed. and that (sad and sick) response is a put down of that which has value, merit, integrity, benefit BECAUSE the "messenger" or the "bringer" has a black face. so we get stuff like....is he/she black enough? does he/she have sufficient length, breadth, depth? will white, asian, mexican people feel o.k.? does she/he have sufficient experience? education? "who be he mama? who wuz she daddy?" i am becoming increasingly convinced that the ONLY one who can EVER meet the grade for a negro is...you got it: ANOTHER AIR-HEADED negro.
finally, negros are loose-lipped (as in undisciplined, as opposed to "chopper size") terrorosts. they are dutifully, trustworthy weapons of mutual, mammy-made destruction........yet with as much right to live as any and everyone esle. THEY JUST NEED TO SHUT THE HELL UP.........at least until after the election.
peace and lotta love,
me...
and yes, i do indeed feel better.
Posted by mbowen at 06:28 AM | Comments (0)
January 16, 2007
Bow Tie Nine
My earliest “exposure” was listening to the music which came out of Uncle Bunny’s [aka Thomas Prudence Blackwell] large radio. Brand name: unknown. Fidelity: excellent. That marvelous appliance was conspicuously placed in an impossible to miss spot in the living room of their 3rd floor Dixwell Avenue, New Haven apartment he shared for many years with his beloved Mary Saxon or Aunt Mae. Sitting in the living room was a Sunday after-church family ritual of sorts. Whoever entered therein listened dutifully…hoping something (anything!) would suddenly pop up (from anywhere!) and thus rescue the captive (captured!) family members from these terrible sounds emanating from the museum piece radio. That never happened. So, although there was not much foot-tapping, there was endless and painful listening. I never raised the question; but I always asked (myself) how anyone who did not live in Virginia could listen to – to say nothing of enjoy – music that emanated from that part of the country. All of that and more was part of a special decade we nostalgically recall as the 1950s. Four decades later, I got the answer without the benefit of a formal lesson.
Fast forward to Inglewood, California: Gloria’s “play uncle” BJ, was a master craftsman. Some might use the more convenient designation, handy man, but that would be inaccurate and an almost mean spirited putdown. To be handy is to know how to do a particular job in a manner that is just good enough. Adequate is a better expression. Handy also tends to be quick. As in quick and dirty. BJ took his time, measured, cut, aligned, etc., with anything but all deliberate speed. And while he worked, there were two other things he did without fail or hesitation or apology: 1) BJ cursed profusely and 2) he listened to Country and Western Music. I had actually long forgotten the “hillbilly” designation that Uncle Bunny used. We whispered a more telling definition: “twas shit-kickin’ music!
Try as I might, the names of the many songs I (again, unavoidably) listened to while either helping or watching him work around Gloria’s house rest securely just beyond the limits of my memory. However, all is not lost! Two songs do stand out in my mind. The first is Kenny Rogers’ “You Gotta Know When to Hold ‘Em” and, although I don’t know who the artist was/is, I also remember, “All My Exes (as in “X” and “O”) Live in Texas.”
Before getting to the fun part, let me share my new attraction to Country and Western Music. In some ways, my thoughts fold into a bigger pattern of what I’ll simply call Me and Music…s. What I label “sociologically speaking – a method of looking at certain life phenomena that I am working hard at abandoning – I will use Content Analysis. I’ll simply take the titles and/or lyrics (trusting that they have been accurately written here) and share their personal appeal as honestly as possible. My hope is that the method used notwithstanding, this doesn’t come across as too serious or laboured.
So, backing up a little bit, let’s look at my “inaugural/rite of passage” pieces. I was single at the time and found this particular reference to one’s exes (as in ex-spouse) amusing. I had no reason to want my “ex to be in Tex…” but I could easily imagine the plight of a dude who had what I’ll call “the dubious benefit of the marital plural”, i.e., having more than one “ex.” Anyway, there’s a line in the song tells us that because all his exes live in Texas, that’s why he lives in Tennessee! The peace of mind that, in some cases, only piles of miles can bring about.
As for the Rogers piece, there is practical advice and more worldly wisdom in the observation that one’s gotta know when to hold or fold cards. I know nothing about poker – or any card game for that matter with the exception of “war” and solitaire – other than what I have observed. There are indeed times when disappointed players look at their respective hands, shake their heads wearily and “fold.” Then, of course, they sometimes smile optimistically and “hold.” The same choice-making applies to walking away and/running as in the line, “You gotta know when to walk away, know when to run.” Further, not counting “your money” while sitting at the table makes real good sense. Why? First, because one might readily be relieved of one’s money by either another player or a quick-on-the-draw spectator. But not having such an unwelcome eventuality in mind, Rogers simply suggests, “There’ll be time enough for counting when the game is done.” There will be ample time and opportunity for that or some other activity later. Sage advice if ever there was any. Maybe even an unintentional touch of Ecclesiastes.
And now for the more contemporary stuff: As is often the case with me, I am not very exacting about dates; but I do pretty well at recalling distinct states of my mind or how I felt. A healthy pile of months ago – now there’s a solid reference point if ever there was one -- I suddenly found myself disgusted with much of the music I had been listening to on the car and home radio. I will never abandon my love for jazz; but I was tired of some of the redundancy I was hearing at the time. In addition, another mainstay, so called “classical” music lacked the wild and woolly big monster symphonic sound I loved as a child. [More on that later.] Endless dial flipping – I think it’s called surfing – got to be tiresome whilst waiting for the broadcast pattern to bring comfort or enjoyment. I wanted to make that an aural change. And, there along the dial’s right to left, left to right route I chanced upon two heretofore unknown stations: KZLA (93.9) and KFRG (95.1). Shortly after that I knew that I was at least temporarily hooked because I punched the numbers in with the car radio’s pre-set gizmo button whatever whatchamacallit.
What I immediately noticed was how intently I listened to the lyrics, how they usually told a story in some kind of order. As in having a beginning, middle and end. That shouldn’t be worthy of note except that too many of the songs I had been listening to not only lacked “order” but mastered the familiar “art” of both not making sense coupled with a measured stab at being as legally offensive as (FCC-regulated) permissible…to me anyway. Listening to Country and Western, I often smiled, sometimes laughed out loud and, when the good ole boy spirit hit me, I jotted the words down while waiting at a red light. New music is being composed and played even as I make these reflections; but here’s a sampling of some of what I like…and why.
Posted by mbowen at 08:08 AM | Comments (0)
January 14, 2007
Bow Tie Seven
Today’s Bow Tie was supposed to be about Country and Western music. But that will keep until another time…most likely later in the week. I decided, instead, to write about a man named Akanti. Although I had seen him many times, I had never stopped to talk to him. This morning (Sunday) was different. Akanti is a homeless man who lives on the east side of the La Brea Avenue sidewalk between Rodeo Road and Exposition Blvd. He has been in that spot at least 6 months. Most of the time he simply stands in place. Like other urban “fixtures” (human and otherwise) after a while, one stops noticing. But the weather these past few days has been unseasonably cold. The thermometer inside the Avalanche registered 31 degrees at around 7 am. One cannot help but imagine what it’s like to sleep outside in these conditions.
For the past week or so, I decided to give away my sleeping bag. It’ll be summer before I camp out again and I have been thinking about getting a new bag. At first, I was going to drop it off with someone in Skid Row…no questions asked other than “Can you use a sleeping bag?” And then I thought about taking it to the women’s center since the women who come to the day center live on the street or in one of the missions. This morning, however, I thought about the man on La Brea whose name I didn’t know at the time. All I knew for sure was that it was cold and that it was surely even colder between midnight and 5 am.
There is no parking (at any time) on the side where he stays so I drove to Jefferson Blvd., turned around and parked on the west side of La Brea. Traffic was still light and I scooted across with the bag in tow. I simply said, “Hi. Do you want this sleeping bag?” The response was interesting. He said other people had offered him bags but he didn’t need one. He pointed to a single blanket and said he was O.K. at night…although last night was cold. He then pointed to a large plastic bottle of distilled water and told me that it had frozen overnight. In fact, he had at least 10 plastic bottles neatly lined along the sidewalk out of the way of passersby. I extended my hand and told him my name; and he told me his. His teeth were uneven and as brown as the nearby telephone pole. But his eyes sparkled and his speech was clear and distinct. He spoke without pause or apology and had the presence of a man who is educated. I asked him if there was anything I could get for him and he said no. At one point he mentioned cheese and I offered to get some for him. His response was that later in the day he would go to Albertson’s (a large supermarket ½ block away) and buy some. That statement alone told me much. My parting remark was that I will come by again and see him. And when I do, I’ll simply ask how he’s doing and give him cash.
Posted by mbowen at 08:02 AM | Comments (0)
January 12, 2007
Bow Tie Six
ote: Some of the topics to be explored in The Bow Tie will be continued over a period of time. This keeps me from getting bored and maybe others as well.
I want to start with Homelessness. There is something about the very word “homeless” that is most disconcerting. It separates itself out from other words in a way that is strangely unique. For a moment, let’s take a look at this labeling game; and I don’t mean the sickening yet persistent epithet madness game. We usually identify people by geography, race, ethnicity, religion, neighborhood gang, educational or social status, political party and, of course, sexual preference/affiliation. But, think about it, each one of these categories – if we call them that – have to do with what an individual or group has as opposed to the absence of something. So to say homeless means, quite apparently, that a given human being is without a place to live. What a disaster!
Although there may well have been some, I don’t remember any homeless people when growing up in New Haven. Oh, there was a smattering of people (men) we called “bums” who we’d see sleeping or at least dozing in any one of Dixwell Avenue’s alleys. But the assumption was that was the spot they had chosen for sleeping and not where they actually lived!
As I hope to do with other Bow Tie offerings, I want to include the personal dimension. What seems like ages ago I worked among the – for lack of a better term – housed homeless. Sure, that’s a contradiction; but their so-called dwellings were Skid Row flop houses (aka SRO). Small and dank. There was really no social work done with the rag tag group of aimless men, all of whom had stories to tell, each story with its own varying degree of believability. But that was all those of us assigned to Single Men Intake were expected to do. Just check on their eligibility for General Relief by verifying the non-existence of income and personally visit their humble abode to make sure they lived (ha!) where they said they lived. So, Skid Row Los Angeles was my first County Social Worker beat. My jaunts to that part of town after other assignments were irregular. I would simply drive through on my way to some other place or just to break the monotony of moving about what a local paper calls This Considerable Town.
Roughly 10 years ago, I was at a meeting at St. John’s. As often happens with church meetings, there was food left over. And as is too often the case, cleaning up meant throwing away those pesky leftovers. Someone wisely asked, however, if anyone wanted the extra trays. Without knowing why, I said I’d take them. On the spur of the moment I decided to take the trays “someplace in Skid Row” with no specific destination in mind. I loaded ‘em up and drove the few miles to The Row. I parked on a block (I later learned it was Winston Street) that was filled with cardboard dwellings, rectangular edifices that were containers for large refrigerators or water heaters in their former lives. After parking I and went to the back of the weather beaten Ram Charger. No one paid any attention. When I (ill advisedly) announced that I had food to give away the sidewalk suddenly came alive. There was a quick and unorganized rush to the raised door. Then came a unexpectedly and booming voice that said, “You guys know better than that! You know that Mama eats first!” (Wow! Was that the voice of God barking a reminder in this all but forgotten part of town?) The “crowd” sheepishly moved back to its previously unseen spots and I saw a diminutive Black woman sitting on what was perhaps a milk crate. She said nothing but, accompanied by an escort (who was probably the source of the verbal boom) came to the back of the truck and helped herself to the food. It was not until she was though and safely perched on her plastic seat that the other – now just as hungry but more orderly than before, came and took what was left. I came away with the positive thought that although Skid Row may not been the shining example of “manners,” there was certainly a well understood code for what goes and what doesn’t.
Then the tape rolls ahead to my academic work at Antioch which began in 1992. To date I have put together a series of workshops and courses that require going to Skid Row to bring home to students the reality of living on the streets. There was the Youth in Los Angeles workshop, for example, that included a visit to the Union Rescue Mission, one of a number of missions downtown which “specializes” in programs for families. It was a real eye-opener to find families “on the street” right outside an organization in business to get them inside!
Of course, all of this city’s homeless folks are not confined to the downtown area. A course I designed titled, The City: Myth, Madness and Maturity required students to interview a homeless person preferably in their own neighborhood and then write a 5 page paper on the experience. It was (and is) important that the plight of the homeless be realized in a more personal way. Reading about what it is like to have the sky as one’s “shelter” and eye balling someone who is in such a predicament is quite different. Articles and studies on homelessness abound. As important as that kind of data might be, it can serve as an unintentional barrier or balm for human disconnect. I have purposely tried to guard against suggesting to students that they will study homelessness and, have instead, fostered the notion of learning, the difference being what happens when we talk and listen to another human being. Without going into all the particulars here I should mention the perspective I share about giving money to homeless people. I simply suggest that they do what they feel comfortable doing. If there is an unavoidable judgment made that “They will only use it for drugs,” then the student should not feel obligated to fork over some loose or not so loose change. But since that is not always the case, parting with a few coins or dollars does no harm whatsoever. Some students have, in fact, developed interesting personal relationships with homeless people…an unexpected but invaluable outcome that I will revisit in the future when I will write about a true oasis in Skid Row Los Angeles: The Downtown Women’s Center.
Posted by mbowen at 01:01 PM | Comments (0)
December 08, 2006
Bow Tie 3
Well folks, it’s H.T. (Holiday Time). And if nothing else, Holiday Time means putting aside all craziness and complaints and bad (real bad) feelings, anger, resentments and all that jazz…and try real hard to enjoy this mish mash we call LIFE as a most chaotic year winds down. The life we live is much shorter than we realize at any given time and infinitely more promising and wonderful than we allow it to be. With that in mid, I’ll hold off on my usual pattern of fault-finding and finger-pointing and say without the slightest reservation that I sincerely want you and those you like, care about, casually consider and, most of all, those you LOVE to have a joyous and fulfilling Holiday Season. And this, by the way, extends beyond the traditional (one day) Merry Christmas and its linked (January 1st) Happy New Year which we forget about immediately after the parades and football games are over. Let’s try something different and let the Season start today and ease off around this same time in January of 2007. I know that’s a stretch, but we have nothing to lose other than our cynicism, resentments, anger and sour puss attitudes. If we try it, we might even like it. So…The Bow Tie will take a break from its planned agenda and its author/editor will write in absentia, meaning only that I’ll still be watching, participating in and writing about this world of which we are all a part; but I won’t burden YOU with those reflections during the interim of celebration. In the meantime, enjoy, stay healthy, do what you need to do to be happy. And don’t simply count your infinite blessings. Take time to thank The One from whom those blessing came and continue to come.
Posted by mbowen at 04:24 PM | Comments (0)
December 01, 2006
Bow Tie One
Well folks, as a now deceased favorite comic of mine– by the name of Jackie Gleason – used to say, “And away we go!” In a way, what you have before your curious eyes is a restart of an effort I thought about putting together some time ago. And no small amount of time was spent simply trying to figure out how to download attractive bow ties from the internet. I ended up with (as we used to say) a whole slew of them. Next hurdle was picking one out that would be used as a logo. Anyway, the effort never got past the picking out a tie stage, and I subsequently put it to rest. To the extent that the dead shall indeed be raised, I re-decided (huh?) to re-launch.
What I originally had in mind was a family newsletter with “offices” on both the chilly (in terms of weather not personality disorders!) East Coast and the continent’s other odd end, more commonly referred to as the West Coast. [Fear not, I love ‘em both!] Drumming up interest, however, was a consummation devoutly to be wished. ..a line that’s not my own. Believing in the adage of doing oneself what cannot find co-conspirators to assist with, I just made up my wandering mind to put it together single-handedly. My plan is to keep the subject matter light...for the most part. That will be a real effort ‘cause there is so dog gone much that outright irritates and angers me. But I think that newspapers, magazines, journals, etc. do a much better job than I could even dream of doing…keeping us over-informed about what’s wrong with the world. The challenge is to explore what’s right. Ah, there’s the rub!
So, I plan to look at some of the joys and fun and interesting things that: a) cross my mind, b) are part of my actual experience or c) I’ve read about. One MAJOR inclusion will be photos. I could actually make The Bow Tie a 100% photographic adventure and NEVER get finished. I have literally hundred of photos. Some are “classic”, some (here comes the “j” word) pure junk. But I’ll let whoever ends up as reader/viewer decide on that.
~
Lemme start here with something recent: Grandparents Day at Poly School in Pasadena. Bryan and Kay’s crew (i.e., children for the uninitiated) attend the school. I had really forgotten what it was like to sit (quietly!) in the midst of munchkins. The role of grandparents (among other things) is to say something! But in this case it was the teacher who did the talking. For the most part it was letting the younguns know what they were supposed to be doing as all of them proudly displayed the work they had done over the course of the school session. Oddly (?) there were no disciplinary issues. A revolutionary classroom reality! What I found especially rewarding was the amount of pride the kids showed as they hauled out papers or books or projects. It was a rich and vibrant feeling one got just from being on the campus. As one might imagine, the yard, as big as a football field, was a very noisy place. The healthy sound of children at school, having fun! Imagine that. And me…not wanting to be transported back into the familiar good old days, but find temporary solace in simply remembering them. It was time well spent. No. Make that time well invested. Thanks Pasadena chickadees.
Posted by mbowen at 02:16 PM | Comments (0)
November 12, 2006
BFO
my my, how times...they do change.
not long ago, it was BFO (meaning "better find osama")
and now i enthusiastically declare myself a BFO (meaning 'bowen for obama")
my my, how the times they do indeed change.
Posted by mbowen at 02:19 PM | Comments (0)
November 01, 2006
Post Halloween Insight
every time i yack too much via email or directly, someone either sends me
something or says something to me totally unrelated which REMINDS me of
how blessed i am. it's a comforting "message" in ways the initiator
couldn't possibly imagine. the following came from a member of st. john's
who is one of the church's most outspoken, adamant, loud and yet
compassionate members. hope you enjoy same. (mr. b)
-----------------------------------------------
Being a Christian is like being a pumpkin. God lifts you up, takes you in,
and washes all the dirt off of you. He opens you up, touches you deep
inside and scoops out all the yucky stuff --including the seeds of doubt,
hate, greed, etc. Then He carves you a new smiling face and puts His light
inside you to shine for all the world to see.
This was passed on to me from another pumpkin. Now, it is your turn to
pass it to a pumpkin.
I liked this enough to send it to all the pumpkins in my patch.
Happy Fall ! !
(heleanor webb)
Posted by mbowen at 02:22 PM | Comments (0)
September 21, 2005
Katrina The Great
Katrina the Great
In the midst of everything else that’s being said and done about Katrina,
I am quite sure no one else (i.e., besides me) has jumped to the unlikely
conclusion that hurricane Katrina was “great.” But since I couldn’t
possibly read all of the post-storm commentary, there may well be someone
out there who likewise took this rather peculiar leap. I say that Katrina
was great by inserting a line of demarcation between that which is great
and that which is good. Something great (i.e., human or non-human
phenomenon) can be both great and good, but this connection holds no
certainly, no automatic linkage. Greatness likewise assumes no negative
quality although this, too, can be an adjunct. Rather I conclude that
Katrina was great because of the storm’s far-reaching impact coupled with
its capacity to affect all manner of human thoughts, reflections, regrets,
insinuations, accusations, courage, anticipations, frustrations, nobility,
cowardice, exploitation, sacrifice and caring. Right off the bat it
should be obvious that this list: a) includes contradictions and b) is
anything but exhaustive.
Everyday some new wrinkle is revealed, some new corner of the human
inclination to do something related to Katrina that is exceptionally
positive or unbelievably stupid. Only greatness can prompt such a
instantaneous spectrum of behaviour. Just last night (Monday, 9-19-05) I
listened to 3 hours of the concert from Lincoln Center, aptly and cleverly
called (something like) Concert for the Higher Ground. Laurence Fishburne
waxed poetic with glimpses of New Orleans’ history of harbouring
everything from an auction bloc for imported Africans (aka slaves) to this
country’s first opera house with its segregated (of course) section for
slaves in attendance. Scholars, artisans and rogues (viz., New Orleans as
the original home of the American Mafia). The concert music was broadly
based and overall of an excellent quality. Soul and relevance-searching
Bill Cosby rambled endlessly with a directionless tribute to “the people”
-- the irony being these same “people” were the subject of his widely
touted under class indictment. Shakespeare tells us that “Conscience doth
make cowards of us all.” How true.
Thankfully, a sane, sensible and seriously people-attuned Harry Belafonte
provided a more pointed insight coupled with a $200,00 donation from the
Vanguard Foundation of which he and Danny glover are an important part.
As if I didn’t already have a full plate with less than half-finished
projects and half-baked plans, I find myself (additionally) trying to put
spiritual, emotional, psychological and yes, practical “arms” around
Katrina and find myself failing on all counts. But the beauty of the
storm’s greatness is that Katrina defies that kind of encirclement. In
the literal scientific sense, the storm could not be controlled. The
power was beyond human means to be controlled. And, at this moment, the
so called aftermath is much more than ordinary math. That, too, is
characteristic of greatness. I am thus left with the partial satisfaction
of sharing this with you and…sending another $50.00 to the Episcopal
Relief and Development Fund. That’s hardly an “answer” but it’ll carry me
over until Katrina starts unsettling me again.
Posted by mbowen at 07:23 AM | Comments (0)
September 15, 2005
Cornel West on Katrina
Cornel West on Katrina
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Cornel West, co-chair of The Tikkun Community and professor of African
American Studies, recently spoke out about the larger meaning of Katrina
from the standpoint of African Americans.
Katrina
Summarizing an interview with Professor Cornel West
It takes something as big as Hurricane Katrina and the misery we saw among
the poor black people of New Orleans to get America to focus on race and
poverty. It happens about once every 30 or 40 years.
What we saw unfold in the days after the hurricane was the most naked
manifestation of conservative social policy towards the poor, where the
message for decades has been: 'You are on your own'. Well, they really
were on their own for five days in that Superdome, and it was Darwinism in
action - the survival of the fittest.
People said: 'It looks like something out of the Third World.' Well, New
Orleans was Third World long before the hurricane.
It's not just Katrina, it's povertina. People were quick to call them
refugees because they looked as if they were from another country. They
are. Exiles in America. Their humanity had been rendered invisible so they
were never given high priority when the well-to-do got out and the
helicopters came for the few. Almost everyone stuck on rooftops, in the
shelters, and dying by the side of the road was poor black.
In the end George Bush has to take responsibility. When [the rapper] Kanye
West said the President does not care about black people, he was right,
although the effects of his policies are different from what goes on in
his soul. You have to distinguish between a racist intent and the racist
consequences of his policies.
Bush is still a 'frat boy', making jokes and trying to please everyone
while the Neanderthals behind him push him more to the right.
Poverty has increased for the last four or five years.
A million more Americans became poor last year, even as the super-wealthy
became much richer. So where is the trickle-down, the equality of
opportunity? Healthcare and education and the social safety net being
ripped away - and that flawed structure was nowhere more evident than in a
place such as New Orleans, 68 per cent black. The average adult income in
some parishes of the city is under $8,000 (£4,350) a year. The average
national income is $33,000, though for African- Americans it is about
$24,000. It has one of the highest city murder rates in the US. From slave
ships to the Superdome was not that big a journey.
New Orleans has always been a city that lived on the edge. The white blues
man himself, Tennessee Williams, had it down in A Streetcar Named Desire -
with Elysian Fields and cemeteries and the quest for paradise. When you
live so close to death, behind the levees, you live more intensely,
sexually, gastronomically, psychologically. Louis Armstrong came out of
that unbelievable cultural breakthrough unprecedented in the history of
American civilization. The rural blues, the urban jazz. It is the
tragi-comic lyricism that gives you the courage to get through the darkest
storm.
Charlie Parker would have killed somebody if he had not blown his horn.
The history of black people in America is one of unbelievable resilience
in the face of crushing white supremacist powers.
This kind of dignity in your struggle cuts both ways, though, because it
does not mobilize a collective uprising against the elites. That was the
Black Panther movement. You probably need both. There would have been no
Panthers without jazz. If I had been of Martin Luther King's generation I
would never have gone to Harvard or Princeton.
They shot brother Martin dead like a dog in 1968 when the mobilization of
the black poor was just getting started. At least one of his surviving
legacies was the quadrupling in the size of the black middle class. But
Oprah [Winfrey] the billionaire and the black judges and chief executives
and movie stars do not mean equality, or even equality of opportunity yet.
Black faces in high places does not mean racism is over.
Condoleezza Rice has sold her soul.
Now the black bourgeoisie have an even heavier obligation to fight for the
33 per cent of black children living in poverty - and to alleviate the
spiritual crisis of hopelessness among young black men.
Bush talks about God, but he has forgotten the point of prophetic
Christianity is compassion and justice for those who have least. Hip-hop
has the anger that comes out of post-industrial, free-market America, but
it lacks the progressiveness that produces organizations that will
threaten the status quo. There has not been a giant since King, someone
prepared to die and create an insurgency where many are prepared to die to
upset the corporate elite. The Democrats are spineless.
There is the danger of nihilism and in the Superdome around the fourth
day, there it was - husbands held at gunpoint while their wives were
raped, someone stomped to death, people throwing themselves off the
mezzanine floor, dozens of bodies.
It was a war of all against all - 'you're on your own' - in the center of
the American empire. But now that the aid is pouring in, vital as it is,
do not confuse charity with justice. I'm not asking for a revolution, I am
asking for reform. A Marshall Plan for the South could be the first step.
· Dr Cornel West is professor of African American studies and~ at
Princeton University. His great grandfather was a slave. He is a rap
artist and appeared as Counsellor West in Matrix Reloaded and Matrix
Revolutions.
Interview by Joanna Walters, in Princeton, New Jersey
Posted by mbowen at 11:38 PM | Comments (0)
Foreign Countries
Foreign countries have responded generously to Hurricane Katrina. Donor
nations and their contribution:
Country Support
Afghanistan $100,000
Armenia $100,000
Australia $7.6 million
Azerbaijan $500,000
Bahamas $50,000
Bahrain $5 million
Bangladesh $1 million
Belgium Medical/logistics teams
Canada 2 helicopters, 32-person rescue team, evacuation flights, medical
supplies
China $5.1 million cash and relief supplies
Djibouti $50,000
Finland Search-and-rescue team; 3 logistics specialists
France Tents, tarps, MREs, water treatment supplies, cleaning equipment
Gabon $500,000
Georgia $50,000
Germany MREs, high speed pumps, forensic experts
Greece 2 cruise ships
India $5 million
Iraq $1,000,000 cash
Ireland $1,000,000 cash
Country Support
Israel Tents, first-aid kits, baby formula
Italy Generators, water pumps/purifiers, tents, med supplies
Japan $200,000 cash and $844,000 in relief supplies, $1.5 million in
private donations.
Kuwait $400 million in oil, $100 million cash
Maldives $25,000 cash
Mexico Transport vehicles, 1 helicopter, ambulance and medical teams.
Mongolia $50,000 cash
Nepal $25,000 cash
New Zealand $1.4 million cash, search and rescue teams
Nigeria $1 million cash
Norway $1.54 million in relief supplies
Qatar $100 million cash
Republic of Korea $30 million cash and in-kind donations
Saudi Arabia $5 million from Aramco, $250,000 from Agfund
Singapore 3 helicopters
Sri Lanka $25,000 cash
Taiwan $2 million cash, medical supplies
Thailand Forensic experts, blankets and food
UAE $100 million cash
UK MREs
Venezuela Up to $1 million
Source: State Department
Posted by mbowen at 06:39 PM | Comments (0)
September 11, 2005
New And Old Nine Eleven
Posted by mbowen at 04:54 PM | Comments (0)
September 09, 2005
Visiting the Dream Center
i stopped at target late this afternoon and picked up quite a load of diapers, baby powder and baby oil. since it was right in the middle of rush hour, i took surface streets to the center. it's still abuzz with activity. they have more than enough clothing for adults. the need is baby things: clothes, wipes, diapers, powder, etc. the lady told me there are 200 families being housed. the radio says 100. anyway, i asked what one can do to meet the folks. she gave a big smile and said, "come to church." what i learned is that the newly arrived will attend service with the host folks of dream center. services are thursday evenings at 7pm and sunday at 10am. location: angelus temple in echo park. you may recall that's the headquarters for the foursquare international church founded by amee semple mac pherson............
from there i went to lacma and caught part of a free friday night jazz set. nice change of pace. then to popeye's at la brea and jeffereson and then to the pad.
now, tis time for some shakespearean reading and then, early zonk tiempo.
Posted by mbowen at 10:00 PM | Comments (0)
September 03, 2005
Katrina Update
for all intents and purposes, the guys at this morning's men's club
meeting all wanted to talk about hurricane relief. we voted to send $2000
-- most likely through the Episcopal relief and development fund. we'll
also make an effort to gather clothing items during the coming week. i'll
make an announcement during tomorrow's service challenging other parish
organizations to do something as well.
i mentioned that i would be going to smart and final this afternoon to get
some diapers and other goods. one member (who is on less than a fixed
retirement income) gave me $10.00 cash and another wrote a check to me for
$100.00. from church i went to the KRST unity center at 78th place and
western and introduced myself to the women in charge. they told me a
truck had left earlier in the day to pick up stuff from some other sites.
another truck will be back early in the week for another pick up. if i
don't get back there today, i'll certainly do so tomorrow.
will keep u posted.
(talked to sylvia this morning.)
[i heard that cuba has offered to send medical
personnel...........hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm]
Posted by mbowen at 01:59 PM | Comments (0)
September 01, 2005
Katrina…It’s a Black Thing
For more reasons than I will explore here, I hate the fact that this country is fighting a losing war in Iraq. America never should have mounted the invasion (Yes…Bush lied then and now his mendacity of yesterday is overshadowed only by his contemporary utter stupidity. That’s another story for another time.) One of the things I have reflected on over these seemingly endless months of military misadventures is what it must be like to live in a place like Baghdad, a city under siege. And when the tsunami hit Indonesia I wondered about the power and unforgiving “nature of nature.” Now, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and parts of Florida are experiencing unprecedented disaster as a direct result of Hurricane Katrina. (On an irrelevant, I have only met 2 females with that name. Both were very gentle women to a fault. So much for a name.) Although I have backed away from much of my 60s and 70s thinking about race in general and Black people in particular, I have never moved away from my horror over the ever-downward spiralling nature of poverty as a tenacious reality and destitute human beings…of every color and kind.
Because my television viewing is less than minimal (if that’s possible) I initially received what I learned about the storm via radio, the newspaper and the internet. All the time I knew that the stores about misery, dislocation, isolation, etc. were unquestionably the stories of Black people. One reporter said that being in New Orleans was like being in a Third World country! How ironically and unintentionally accurate. Looking at photos of people wading through varying levels of water was exactly like seeing pictures of African villages. Sparse belonging, empty expressions, confusion…hopefulness, anticipation all combined.
When I first heard about the looting, my reaction was automatic and typically American: “Oh, that’s terrible!” And I remain convinced that looting ain’t cool, but “terrible?” Once again it daughter Debbie to the rescue. Without extending a stamp of approval, she queried, “What would we do [under those circumstances]?” No money, no credit card, no food. Oh, I certainly know what the moralists would intone about right being right and wrong being wrong no matter what. But when those proclamations are touted one is probably warm, well fed and most likely gainfully employed. One is not scrambling around in the midst of unprecedented chaos. Again, another story. BUT…shooting at helicopters deployed to rescue people from the Astrodome? That’s not revolutionary or frustration-initiated or evening an score from historical misuse, abuse or slavery. That is just plain STUPID. (Yes, Mr. President, you do indeed have Black counterparts! Even if humans aren’t created equal, they get that way after a while.)
But there’s another dimension here. It has to do with something I’ve been thinking about recently having to do with Black male leadership. Or Black men in general. The facts speak for themselves so I note simply: P. Diddy now simply (a fitting word) wants to be know as Diddy; Jesse is in Venezuela noting that the President should condemn (ever-foolish) Pat Robertson; local Nation of Islam leader Tony Muhammad tells an L.A. cop, “Make me!” and although we still don’t have all of the so-called fact, got his butt whipped; and Ludacris continues “Pimpin’ All Over the World.” Whew! Yielding to a tendency to ask the wrong question, I ask, where are the outcries to do something positive?…like mount a campaign to send money or organize a caravan or send food or clothing to those whose total existence has been uprooted by mindless Katrina? All storms are that way. Why no Black politicians, religious leaders, civic mouthpieces, ad nauseum taking the lead, filling the void? Where is the real leadership when it is so desperately needed? The answer is an easy one: Waiting on the sidelines for white folks to mess up! Waiting for white folks to “Make me!”
I always entertain the prospect that there is something wrong with my own picture – the one that I see or the one that I draw; that I am missing something or, seeing all that needs to be seen, that I place an emphasis where it doesn’t belong. Could be. In the meantime I pray for those who are in those unbelievably water-logged places. Yes, and I likewise pray for the shooters and the looters too albeit that the shooters should be jailed with all deliberate haste.
Finally, I still my own restless soul at times like this by doing another thing I have no reluctance to do: SEND MONEY! I’ve written checks for the Episcopal Relief and Development Fund and the Red Cross. And when I do a closer-to home family financial thing, I’ll gulp down a Colt 45!
Life is unpredictable, often (as now) tragic; but ever…good.
Cheers, beers, fewer fears (Guess who’s still in charge?)
Posted by mbowen at 11:18 AM | Comments (0)
July 12, 2005
Old Habits
it's a truism: old habits are hard to break. and GOOD old habits are impossible to break...and, for this reason, should not be broken. last night i had intended to take biko 2 c "rize" at the bridge theater. got to the window and we learned that the projector had broken down (or was it simply broken?) so....the movie was canceled. we drifted instead over to borders bookstore. driven by some bookish demon of yesteryear i went to the info counter and asked the dude where the works of billy boy could be found. billy boy is my reference to (the man himself) William Shakespeare.
i had supposedly "loaned" my monster copy (which doc dave gave me years ago) to neal during a time when neal needed something to do and read..........scattered correspondence over the year has gone unanswered so i have had it in the back (or is it front?) of my mind for a long time to get another complete collection. the one on the borders shelf with the fancy brown leather binding cost $100. that in and of itself wasn't prohibitive. but (as uncle ray already knows) the eyesight ain't quite as sharp as the years pile up. so, i now give appropriate attention to print SIZE [size does matter!] these days.
the larger print issue by another publisher (arden) was $49. that made more $$ and practical (because of print size) sense to me. but the edges were slightly frayed. nuthin' serious but obvious to eagle-eye me. after some brief negotiating with the store manager, a 10% "ding" discount was agreed to. walking to the checkout counter, i asked the dude who had assisted me if my insistence had made me a "ding bat." he simply smiled. wise man!!
anyway, after my morning routine of reading today's forward day-by-day passage and the upbeat los angeles times (ha!) i..........you guessed it, started the introduction of my new 1300+ page monstrosity: the arden complete collected works of William Shakespeare! just the intro is bringing back those grand (truly grand) and glorious days of "doing the plays" and memorizing the countless passages as junior and senior high school REQUIREMENTS which we took in stride. wow!!
it's an occasional delight to reflect on days long gone. it's a mindblower to "go back" via the literature.
a kid in a candy or, these days video store has lots of fun. an adult in a bookstore or library knows the ecstasy of the WORD!!
film at 11 (NOT!!)
Posted by mbowen at 08:48 PM | Comments (0)
March 14, 2005
Follow your Dream - Follow your Madness
am resolved to the reality that i send out so much email JUNK, that
nobody remembers what i shell out. so be it.
ALL THE SAME, somebody may recall that some time ago i floated the notion
of condi running for president in 2008. well, on this past weekend's talk
shows, guess what she was asked?????????
yup. and, as might well be expected, she said "NO!"
no matter what one thinks about her (and EVERYBODY has an opinion about
her), you'd be hard-pressed NOT to agree that ALL politicians say they
aren't interested in future possibilities. and, later, when they change
their minds (ha!) nobody foolishly says, "remember when.......?)
so, i'm saying if not president then most assuredly VICE PRESIDENT. and
nutty as California remains, watch out for Arnold. republicans are funny
as hell; but they aren't stupid! democrats are very bright, humorless and
(these days) pathologically despondent. tsk tsk.
[note: hillary is a non-entity. she is appropriately busy taking care of
bill's heart!!]
.......on my way rejoicing.......
Posted by mbowen at 11:55 PM | Comments (0)