Cornelius...

I miss your smiling hazel eyes tenderly acknowledging my existence. My heart would skip a beat when our eyes met with adolescent bashfulness. Both of us gangley versions of our future selves. You with smooth almond skin that tanned to my complexion, wavy brown hair with summered blond streaks. I enjoyed chasing you to punch you for tugging my brown braids, and other such childish silliness.

Still really miss our discussions, planning sessions, trips to the library for our next acquisitions, and sketching our version of the good life. Science, History, Geography, Geology, Travel and our plans to go to University in Hawaii to be around people who looked more like us so we could blend in and not stick out like sore thumbs. You were a gentleman and a scholar beyond your 16 years. Most of our walks to the library included picking mulberries when in season and resting  under the trees with closed eyes so your head wouldn't ache from too much sun. Only later learning it wasn't the sun that was causing your headaches. For the next year and a half there were medical tests, hospitalizations, operations and rehabilitation which seemed to leave you worse off.  We shared an unspoken knowing that your time was short even if our parents weren't letting on. I tear up to this day as I recall when the sparkle in your beautiful hazel eyes dimmed,  even though your welcoming smile remained.

Our special closeness hasn't been replicated, those teen years were tender and sweet yet tinged with the bitterness of loss and life. You sharing the illness portion of your journey helped me handle the death of my favorite Grandmother to cancer. You taught me the value of sharing one's inner most thoughts and dreams with someone special and I still cherish our special love.

It's Been A While...

My pre-9/11 churn is another stamp on the passport to my inner journey back to the essence of me... still "a stranger in a strange land". I'm multi-cultural, multi-ethnic POC (person of color) with a prismatically global view of the world.

My prism is "colored" by:

• Dad's Native American family, traditions and experiences colored his Dutch roots in these United States,
• Mom's immigration from Costa Rica complete with her Afro-Caribbean-Latina heritage intact,
• Benedictine Monks who converted my Dad from Protestant religion, before they could marry; guaranteeing Catholicism as the family religion. The monks' accents blended well with the Ukranian, Jamaican, Filipino, Italian, Portuguese, French, Cantonese,  and "American" ones of parishoners. Thereby sealing my global view of the world, human-kind and religion at it's best,
• Irish Catholic Monsignor who let my parents know "your $5000 building fund contribution is peanuts" AFTER both my parents were hospitalized for life threatening injuries from a car accident. Injuries with life long effects physically and a couple years impact financially on the family business,
• International neighbors during childhood and University...their experiences in their home countries and treatment here in the USA. I saw my neighbor's Nazi internment camp tattoo and her tears as she gave me piano lessons explaining them. Only to see them on another, the book store clerk at University. 
• My Dad's family history has military roots dating back to pre-colonial America with relatives buried in The Old Tennent Graveyard in New Jersey. He and Mom are interred in a U. S. Military Cemetery. They believed in America warts and all. 

I share this information to illuminate my internal churn about the 9/11 and remembrances...

As a POC, Dad served in the SEGREGATED military in World War II, fighting for others' freedoms he nor Americans of color were afforded. I was at University before I figured out why we always had a picnic basket for each family road trip - no guarantee we'd be served at restaurants. I have childhood memories of Spring Hope, North Carolina standing in line waiting and waiting to purchase an ice cream cone while white kids were served before me. YES in the good old USA!

The 9/11 attack was a painful national tragedy. However, the same HATE and arrogance that powered those airplanes is ingrained in our own national fabric. To use the tragedy as a mechanism to rally and  push forth the war-mongering agenda is disgusting. I take no pride in being an American when the 1st, 2nd responders and demolition teams are FIGHTING for health coverage for 9/11 related health problems OR the shoddy treatment of our military veterans and their families.

I may not totally agree with the Occupy Wall Street Movement, yet I agree  the USA has to change the current version of the American Dream.

Psst...Post-racial America is  figment of someone's imagination...not mine. 

Gratitude EACH Day

I hope today is a day of gratitude, beauty and love NOT one of manipulative consumerism. Enjoy this video WHENEVER you need to be reminded.

http://www.ted.com/talks/louie_schwartzberg_nature_beauty_gratitude.html

Live...Love..Learn,
Hugs,
Lyn