Honor, Respect & Promise

Most media outlets picked up on NBA player, Kevin Durant's 25-minute MVP award acceptance speech much of which turned into a salute to the sacrifices made by his 'Mom'. Obviously, Durant's accolades are special for a special talent but his humility and praise for his mother were more important to him in the moment. Good for a son and good for a mother.


The thought occurs to me that most every individual should take note this Mother's Day Sunday and steal Durant's script; one need not be a super star to pause and give thanks to the lady (mother) who did the most for you in life's journey. My maternal grandmother, Mammy was always preaching that Bible verse Ephesians 6:2: "Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. Honor your father and mother (which is the first commandment with a promise) so that it may be well with you, and that you may live long on the earth."


Truth be told, I cannot count the times each day that I 'think:' 'Oh, I need to telephone Mom.' She died a year and a half ago. I wonder if I will die before that 'urge' to call her dies.


I find myself constantly preaching at my grandkids to 'respect and honor' their parents, especially their mothers because I believe our mothers are mankind's greatest gift. Mammy's message sunk-in with me; I think this is NOT the case with my grandchildren...perhaps I am just a poor preacher.


I will take special note of my wife's motherhood sacrifices this Sunday and then pick a private moment to give my thanks to the Lord for my mother... as I allow my thoughts to 'fly across the years' and recall those childhood memories.


Thanks, Mammy.

A Lifetime Scar

I recall my 'grade school' report card was a bi-fold, salmon colored card. The front of the card had official looking headings, which indicated the school district and various administrators.  On the back of the card there was four lines upon which a parent or guardian was required to affix a signature thus indicating they had 'read' the child's progress report for each quarter. Of course, the 'inside' two pages disclosed what it was all about; how is the kid doing in school effort and grades. On the inside right-hand side was a listing of subjects with the teacher's grade alongside. Whoa is me if you received an "F'" in a subject...THAT grade would appear in bright RED ink! You could usually tell who got one or more of those dreadful RED F's because that student quickly tucked the report card inside a book or folder. In recent years, I read where some coalition (committee) of parents, psychologists and students decided the 'red' colored 'F' was too harsh for a youngster's psyche therefore many school district across the Nation stopped giving  'colored' grades and some school districts even dropped the 'F' letter as a grade. I suppose this approach makes kids and parents feel better about underachieving.


 I don't recall ever being that upset with the grades given on the right hand side but I am still angry about one particular 'check-mark' that my teachers gave appearing (every quarter) on the left hand side. THAT check mark is still stuck in my craw. Student Does NOT use time to good advantages.  I had that 'check mark' every quarter the entire eight year journey through elementary school; does not use time to good advantage. This grading experience is likely the reason for me developing irrational conspiracies beliefs. I truly believe that all my grade school teachers got together and agreed to check 'Melvin's 'lazy-box.'


Today, I am a retired old fella and who cannot embrace these relaxing years because I suspect my neighbors are talking about me not staying busy enough. You would think in this day and age,  I could bring litigation against somebody or at the very least get on The Dr. Phil Show to share my story and perhaps have Phil foot-the-cost for rehab-therapy.

It Just Happened

I have always enjoyed warm weather. Actually, I enjoy 'hot' weather. I suppose growing up in the Mississippi river town, East St. Louis in pre-air conditioned 1940's / '50's and playing my sandlot baseball games what else would you do but love the moments in the humid-scorching sun.


Yesterday, I found myself sweating in the 80-plus degree temperatures in Decatur and doing what I do best, getting dirty in God's earth planting my vegetable garden. After about four hours tilling, digging, planting, staking and watering, I thought it would do my heart some good to engage my normal 40-minute walk. Returning from the walk, I sat down on the patio and attempting to ignore the aggravating arthritic lower back pain and general stiffness. My body fatigue was greater than usual and I have come to expect such moments in these advanced years. Does not take much physical exertion now days for me to 'hit-the-wall.' What I did not anticipate was an emotional experience that would come quickly and uninvited.


I shall preface this sharing with my own theory and leave you, the reader, to accept or reject the premise. I believe the combination of old-age sentimentality, physical aches and a song came together for a 'perfect storm.'  Here's what happened:
I sat down at the patio table and indulge my one daily beer. Sweat was running from my brow. The CD player switched songs and suddenly the lyrics of the 1950-something song, 'Oh, My Papa' sung by Eddie Fisher blared over the outside speakers. As I listened to the words, I could feel my eyes beginning to swell with warm-tears and it seemed too easy to let my emotional guard down. The tears had their way as they mixed with perspiration to flow down my face.
No one was nearby to see me and until I 'clicked' the publish button on my computer this morning...no one knew of the old man's moment. It's okay and I'm okay. You may wish to put this ONE in your memory-recall file.

You Are The GREATEST

As with many things, hindsight is 20-20; I suppose I could say that I saw it coming but that would be a stretch. Okay, I recall my Washington Park (East St. Louis) elementary teacher giving-out those green, red and gold stars to we rag-tag second graders back in 1946, but who-da thunk it would be a forerunner to today's out-of-control pseudo extrinsic awards giveaways??? Before I delve into this aspect of awards motivation, let's connect the stickers!


My youth experience was two motivation-rails: First, I could always count on my mother for those warm cozy hugs and my father's 'one-sentence charges.' Dad would tell me at the start of a school year, "Boy, pay attention to your teacher and don't cause me to miss work and have to go to the school house."  "If a job is worth doing it's worth doing well."  "Yours is not to reason why yours is but to do or die." "Any thing after mid-night is shallow hours; be home before that." Dad was not big on 'atta boy' praise but he was easy to read when he was pleased and not pleased; therein was enough motivation for me and my younger brother, Tom; you simply wanted to please your parents.


Over the many years teaching, coaching and parenting/grand-parenting, I believe it is fair to say that I have observed youth and 'what' appears to motivate their behavior. We adults have 'conditioned' the youngsters; they need recognition and rewards. We give all kinds of trophies, medals and certificates. In academics, activities and sports; from pre-school through college, we come to expect some award for 'just doing it.' That's right, I DID say college. Just recently, I had a college age grandkid tell me that in one of his college courses, a student can receive extra-credit points, called, 'professional points' if they don't use their cell phone but pay attention to the professor during class. Why back in Ms. Spaheart's Charles L. Manner's third grade class, I probably would have never gotten a paddle-swat for talking in class had the teacher offered 'professional credit-points for 'doing-the-right-thing!'


One other thought: Can you football fans imagine the  Chicago 'Bears' great linebacker, Dick Butkus needing 'stickers' on his helmet.




Thanks for reading my blog without receiving a smiley face.

Ugly Within Us All

Racism: The belief that race accounts for differences in character or ability and that a particular race is superior to others.


Recently, Donald Sterling, LA 'Clippers' NBA basketball team owner asked his girlfriend/confidant/employee (not sure of her status); "Don't bring your 'Black' friends to my (LA Clippers') games." His request is an obvious act of discrimination based upon his racist-bigoted-prejudices.


Several years ago, Larry Bird (White basketball player) led the Boston 'Celtics' versus the Detroit 'Pistons' team led by (Black basketball players) Isiah Thomas and Dennis Rodman. After a tough defeat suffered by Detroit in game six of the NBA Finals, Rodman said, "If Bird was a Black player, he would just be another good guy." The inference suggesting that Bird's  reputation as a great basketball player was perpetuated by the 'white media.' Thomas publicly agreed with Rodman's racist statement.


It is apparent to me that the ONE thing 'whites' and 'blacks; do share in common is our ability to ignore that part of MLK's dream of  one day having folks judged by the content of character and ability without interjecting our deep-seeded ethnocentric attitudes, which too often surface with ugly racist statements.  Shame on us!

Another North / South Thing

Since the year 1982, there have been nearly fifty 'botched' prison executions in the United States. These execution 'misfires' include every thing from lengthy convulsions of inmates strapped to gurneys to burning flesh before the body succumbs. Personally, I am not an advocate for capital punishment but I respect the States' Rights of 32 American States to have capital punishment. Of course, a quick look at States having and NOT having capital punishment reveals similar lines familiar to Civil War' maps. I suppose that my anti-capital punishment attitude is prompted by the constant Biblical cautionary notes about embracing revenge and taking another life.


My greater anger about capital punishment is the inability of these 'southern thinkers' (States) to terminate a man's life in some human manner, if that logic makes any sense at all!! That said, instead of placing capital punishment convicts on death row for years and years causing great anxiety and tremendous costs, why not sentence those offenders to live in the streets of New Orleans, Detroit or St. Louis, which are the top three homicide cities in America. In light of the NRA having its way with gun control laws in American it would seem that the chances are better for a 'civil' execution occurring in the gang-infested neighborhoods of our country as opposed to a federal prison.

Trusting Old Folks?

My wife and I were recently babysitting some Barrington, Illinois grandkids. Barrington would be in the Chicago Northwest Suburbs. Actually, we were really babysitting one of seven children all of whom were begotten by our oldest daughter and our first son in-law. The six older kids are most capable handling their business. The eldest of their children is 'out' on her own, teaching while two other kids are attending college and three are still on various steps of the public school escalator. I truly believe my wife and I are recruited for this job to cook meals, serve as taxi and provide hoorays.


I am somewhat surprised that we were asked to do this baby-watching thing again. The last time we assumed the Barrington  responsibility, we 'lost' the then 2 year old... relax, we found her; actually, she 'suddenly showed-up.' What happened that eventful day unfolded this way: The older siblings left for school one morning and my wife and I had been preoccupied when we look at one another and simultaneously asked, "Where's Ashlyn?" We  then hit the panic button when realizing that one door to the 22-room home was open. We both ran wildly about the large  home with a five car garage and lower-level swimming pool.  I must also tell you that there is a lake within 100 yards...talk about a mental-paralysis moment!!


After about 8-to-10 minutes scurrying from room-to-room, I told my wife, "Telephone the police." Two police officers showed up promptly and the inside search continued with one officer while the second officer began an outside 'look.' My wife was beside herself and I was certain I would have a stroke at any moment!


After about 18 minutes of the futile exercise, Ashlyn appeared at the top of a long winding staircase where she smiled and waved at her grandparents and officer below. She had been hiding from us; unwilling to answer and obviously enjoying her relocating from room-to-room during the little hide and seek game. I note this visit we had three different older siblings assigned to stay home-from-school to help entertain the three-year old; actually, I think each older kid was told to 'keep and eye on the old folks.'


 I am convinced, when grandparents hit their mid-seventies, it's a crap shoot for  their children to ask them to babysit!! I shall graciously embrace and accept that babysitting job 'rejection' day.