Month: August 2017

I read Dick Gregory’s book “Nigger” (yes, that’s what it’s called) when I was in 7th grade. It was deep, funny and filled with so much wisdom that I actually wrote down parts I wanted to remember in a spiral notebook. The notebook is long gone, but I still remember many of Mr. Gregory’s lessons and comments from the book.

The Dedication read: “To Mama: Wherever you are, from now on whenever you hear anyone say the word ‘Nigger,’ you’ll know they’re advertising my book.”

“If I pick up this book and call it a bicycle, is the book crazy? No, I am. So if someone calls you out of your name, they’re ignorant, not you.”

I had many opportunities over the years to spend time with Mr. Gregory and we always had some interesting conversations. He was unfailingly friendly, approachable, insightful, funny and committed – even if he sometimes went around the bend with some of his more bizarre conspiracy theories.

For example, when I was a student at Tuskegee Institute, Mr. Gregory gave a lecture to the student body and made some allegations I thought were a little weird. Afterward, I went up to him to ask him about it and we got into a good-natured back and forth. Because people were waiting to talk to him, he told me to call him at his hotel later to continue the conversation. And sure enough, 90 minutes later, I found myself in the second floor phone booth of Adams Hall women dorm arguing with Dick Gregory about whether the CIA had killed John Lennon.

Dick Gregory was a good man, a passionate activist, a tireless advocate and a keen-eyed, sharp-witted observer of human nature and the society we inhabit. I’m sad to learn of his passing, but grateful that I had the chance to engage with him. I just wish I’d told him how much I’d learned from him when it really mattered.

So, Mr. Gregory, wherever you are, please know that you were an inspiration and a teacher to me. And now you probably know which one of us was right about John Lennon.

 

 

“History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.” – Dr. Martin Luther King

Continue reading “Message to Friends Who Voted for Trump But Believe They Aren’t Bigots”

I landed the starring role in the McGuffey Center Pre-School Easter Pageant. I was to be Peter Cottontail, hoppin’ down the bunny trail, the bunny trail lined with my classmates holding their Easter baskets for me to plop eggs and candy in along the way.

I was going to be an awesome Peter Cottontail. I had ears and whiskers and, of course, a tail o’cotton.

Primed for my big night, but maybe a little too primed. There I was, dressed for my big debut when Grammy noticed that I looked a little flushed. You had to have eagle eyes to notice a four-year-old black kid is flushed – first of all, her face is pretty far away from yours when you’re 6 and half feet tall (or at least that’s how tall Grammy seemed back then) and besides, how can you tell I was flushed under all that brown skin?

Anyway, a couple of Grammy’s many eyes noticed that I was flushed and her cool hands confirmed it. So before I could say “THANKS, Easter Bunny!” my ears, whiskers and tail got snatched off, and adhered to my understudy and my basket of treats also disappeared. She then took my place at the head of the bunny trail, and I was mingled in with the other children patiently waiting her largesse.

Of course, it made no sense that, if I was too sick to be Peter Cottontail, why wasn’t I too sick to stand in the line of children? That actually seemed to be MORE dangerous to me and the others. What if I passed out and knocked everyone else down like dominoes? What if I was contagious and gave all the other children whatever it was that I had? It just didn’t make any sense.

But it didn’t matter. Life is sometimes really unfair.

And then Grammy got me home and inflicted the Vicks VapoRub torture. 

If you’ve never been subjected to VVR torture, thank God. Really. It’s like waterboarding, but with ointment instead of water. They should have sent Grammy and her supply of Vicks VapoRub to Guantanamo and she would have had folks talking within minutes. 

In case any of our intelligence community is reading this, here are the instructions for the VVR torture – I mean, Vicks VapoRub Extraordinary Interrogation Method:

1. Put the subject in her bed and turn out most of the lights, leaving just enough light to be able to see what you’re doing. (Grammy could see in the dark, so she didn’t need much light).

2. Fill up a vaporizer, plug it in and set it aside for a moment. We’ll come back to that later.

3. Open an industrial-sized jar of Vicks VapoRub, reach in with your fingertips and scoop out a small glob and then shove it up both the subject’s nostrils.* Dig it in deep to make sure that you plug up all of her nasal passages and sinuses. Smear any residue that doesn’t fit in her nose all over the space between her nose and upper lip.

4. Dip your hand in the jar again, but this time, scoop out a huge glob of ointment. I mean HUGE. Smear it all over her neck and chest so that it’s about an inch thick.

5. Take the diaper and tie it around the subject’s neck like a bib and mash it down so that it starts to soak up the inch-thick layer of Vicks you just applied.

6. Reach into the jar again and scoop out another huge glob of Vicks and rub it all over the top of the diaper so that both sides are now soaked with ointment.

7. Sit the subject upright. Reach into the jar again and scoop out another huge glob of Vicks and rub it all over her back.

8. Replace the subject’s flannel pajama top, buttoning it tight so that the vapors from the ointment on her neck, chest and back create a menthol sauna-like effect all over her torso.

9. Reach back into the jar and scoop out another huge glob of ointment. Smear it on both of the subject’s feet. Cover her feet with heavy wool socks. Or, better yet, if you have pajama bottoms with feet in them, put her in those so that the ointment fumes can move up her ankles and legs.

10. Reach back into the jar and scoop out another huge glob of ointment (if you’re doing this right, you may have already used up the jar. If so, just open up another one – you should always keep a ready supply), tell your subject to open up her mouth, plop in the glob and tell her to swallow. *

11. Confirm that the subject is fully immersed, inside and out, with as much Vicks VapoRub as her poor little body can absorb.

12. Reach into the jar one last time, scoop out a huge glob of Vicks and drop it in the steaming vaporizer so that her room can be infused with the stuff, just in case the Vicks in her nose, mouth, and throat, on her face, all over her chest, back and feet somehow fails to seep into every single orifice and pore of her body.

13. Kiss her on the forehead and say, sweetly “Now, be quiet and go to sleep, baby.” 

14. Turn out the light and close the door, leaving the subject in complete darkness and silence, eyes watering, holding her breath, now looking REALLY flushed, but determined never ever ever to get sick again.