Graduation Eve

Cap and Gown pick-up? Check!

Tomorrow is the day. At least it is supposed to be. As the ceremony is scheduled for outside and it is supposed to rain all day, graduation day may actually be Friday. They will once again try for outdoors then, but, since it is supposed to rain then, too, it might be moved to the auditorium instead. We'll be nice and dry, but the powers that be only give each graduate two tickets then instead of four. My son has two biological parents, two step-parents and three siblings. How that will work I have no idea...

I'm not stressing, though. I'll see him flip his tassel. cheer a little and cry a lot. It will be what it will be.

But no rain would be nice, though...

The First "Last"

This is the picture I took of my son this morning - his last day of high school. Kinda teared up a bit...

Tonight is his last high school performance ever. He's choreographing and performing in two dances. Pretty sure I will be bawling by the end of the second one...

Kind of a bitter-sweet time, here. Part of me is happy he's graduating and moving on to bigger and better things. Part of me misses the ages and stages we've experienced as he traveled from diapers to tying his own shoes, to dating and teen angst to licensed driver and soon-to-be college freshman.

Friday is his senior prom. OMG, I better run out and get some more tissues...

And So It Begins...

Yesterday, my son's updated Facebook status announced that his high school graduation was exactly one month away. Between now and then, graduation photos have to be purchased, announcements need to be mailed, the class yearbook has to be picked up, prom tickets have to be bought and the class ring ordered. Of course it will all get done, but that's just the stuff that PRECEDES the big day. There's still a whole host of other stuff to do between then and his "moving into the dorm" exodus.

Not really one to procrastinate, when I found a hanging laundry basket and a shower caddy today while browsing through one of my favorite area stores, I figured it might be a good time to get started. I must admit that I got a little choked up in the towel aisle because I remembered standing in the same store looking for a colorful Disney towel when he was taking swim lessons for the first time. Hard to believe that was about 15 years ago.

So now my son has a couple of things for college - including enough deodorant to choke a horse and a few towels bath towels. Other toiletries, sundries and necessaries will probably be picked up as I see them on display (and preferably on sale, if you know what I mean)...

I have a feeling that packing his stuff into the car and moving it into his dorm will either be the one of the easiest or the absolute hardest things I'll ever have to do.

Putting the Union Ave Y on Blast

For those of you who don't know, I have been studying karate for the past six years. Although I put up my dukes regularly in training and when I compete in tournaments, two weeks ago, I had my first physical confrontation ever - and it happened at my work place.

Because my son's college tuition deposit to whichever institution of higher education he chooses will be due in four short months, I've taken a few side gigs to help squirrel away a couple of extra dollars to pad the 529 account that took a bit of a hit when the economy dipped. My morning job is a before-school program for parents whose work hours start before their children's school days do. For two hours each weekday, I play board games, draw and read to/with a few kids before their school days begins. Our time together ends when I drive them from the activity center we meet in to their bus stop.

Two Tuesdays ago, my own son missed his school bus. Dropping him off at the high school made me 10 minutes late getting to the activity center. When I arrived, a very angry parent who almost never drops his kids off at all or that early was waiting. The two kids - ages 8 and 5 - were just inside the door while dad was outside with a cell phone stuck to his ear. I pulled up to the door and waved to him before lowering my window and apologizing for being late. Before I could even tell him why, he started screaming at me, called me a bitch and told me that since he paid a lot of effin' money for the program - and hence, paid my salary - I should effin' get there on time. He then walked over to my car, stuck his finger in my driver's side window to wave it in my face and continue to berate me for jacking up his day - all while his children watched from about 10 feet away. I asked him if he would please move away so I could back my car into a parking space, but he refused and actually moved to the back door of my vehicle, stuck his foot under the rear tire and dared me to move. Yeah - exactly...

It occurred to me that I had three choices at that point: run over his foot, get out of the car to try out a self-defense combo I learned the night before or chill and figure out how to get this idiot away from me as fast as possible. I put my window up, locked my car doors and reached for my phone. Calling my boss was my plan, but, probably thinking I was either calling 911 or getting out of my car to move him out of the way when he heard the locks click, Angry Dad motioned to his children, got in his car and drove off. I was so upset, I was literally shaking.

After I calmed down and called my boss to let her know what happened, I contacted my karate sensei. He assured me that I did the right thing by avoiding a conflict and advised me to let it go and move on. Like me, Angry Dad had choices - and he chose to walk away. Had he taken a different route, I knew what to do to defend myself my sensei said.

The defensive art that it is, karate has a famous saying about there never being a "first strike." I totally believe in that, but I hafta tell you that I felt very vulnerable sitting there waiting for Psycho Dad to either stop the foolishness or make a definitive move. I did feel threatened, but there wasn't really anything I could do about it - and I also felt how easy it is for a "situation" to spiral out of control. Everything happened so fast! I just keep thinking now how easily it would have been for him to reach into the car to grab, hit or even spit on me and I get chills.

As soon as I left, I went right to the Y and spoke to my boss' boss so he could hear what happened directly from the source. The executive director assured me that employee safety was a priority was paramount and that someone would be speaking to Angry Dad as soon as possible. That was on Tuesday. On Friday, the executive director met with my boss and me to tell me that when confronted about his behavior, Angry Dad threatened to take his children out of the program, which would mean the program would not net enough income to stay open. To keep that from happening, the agency decided to move me to a before-school program location that was further away which I can't do, so I'm out until a closer spot opens up. That was almost two weeks ago and I'm still waiting, although I did report the incident to the police a few days later.

I'm writing about it here because of another adage: about being part of the problem if one is not part of the solution. This situation really transcends my personal safety; it's also about the well-being of the next employee that has to deal with the same irate morning program parent or any one who thinks yelling, cursing or blocking a path of escape is totally acceptable way to deal with life. In other words, it's not just about this woman, but about all women; not just about this person who was bullied, but about all people who are; not just about the ugliness directed at me, but about the nastiness directed at anyone. So, in addition to the police report I've filed, I'm filing an official grievance and may even take it further if a resolution that only reprimands me and not Angry Dad is not found soon. Letting this get swept under the carpet would be totally contrary to everything I try to teach my martial arts students and to what my instructors have tried to teach me.

And no, I no longer have any desire to work for an agency that puts the monetary above the well-being of its employees, but if I don't speak up, who will?

Stepping off my soap box now...

Felicia Does Heavy Metal

As a die-hard Rhythm & Blues/ jazz fan, it might shock you to know that I was once an avid AC/DC fan. "Back in Black" is still on my all-time favorite Top 10 list and I still know every word to the title song and "You Shook Me All Night Long." Never saw them on stage (the last non-R&B concert I went to was last August), but I kinda thought my semi-hard rocking days were behind me once I hit the big 4-0 (save for a little listening on my iPod while on the treadmill).

So guess where I went a couple of Saturdays ago? To The Loft in Poughkeepsie, a spot on Crannell Street (just around the corner from The Chance). Unbeknownst to me, The Loft is a popular venue for heavy metal bands, so of course I thought nothing of it when Will, one of my karate training partners, asked if I wanted to come and check out his band. I'd missed their last concert - the one that my other training partners and my sensei caught - at Webster Hall in NYC. They all raved about the performance and how much fun they had, so I vowed I'd catch the next one.

The only other thing my karate buds told me was that Will was an amazing guitarist. A bit shy and reserved in the dojo, they said he was a totally different person on stage. So I bought two tickets for the "Left in Ruins" show on January 22 and made a "date night" with my honey, who has never listened to anything remotely resembling heavy metal in his life (that's his hand in the pic above, holding the ticket stubs). He prefers hip-hop and R&B.

I guess we looked a little out of our element in the jeans and sweaters we wore amid the folks with lots of tattoos, body piercings and chains hanging out near the entrance. The guy taking the tickets took one look an us and gently asked "Umm...you here for the METAL show?" Yep - I guess we were!

Will's band, No Remission, was just setting up when we walked in. He greeted me warmly and thanked me for coming before giving a nod to his three band-mates, stepping up to the mike and screaming "What the f*ck is up, Poughkeepsie?!?" Definitely a totally different person than training partner Will.

The music was actually pretty good - even when I stood next to a very large speaker to get this photo:


Will's lead voice and guitar were nice to listen to (I really did like "Redemption"). I was kinda getting into the performance - y'know, tapping my foot and moving my head a bit - until the mosh pit near the stage got a bit close (one poor guy almost got pushed out the door and down the stairs). Soon after, another guy started moving his head in time to the music (I'm talking his chin hit his chest and the back of his head practically touched between his shoulder blades on every beat) and continued through the rest of the performance. He seriously put me and most of the other foot tappers to shame.

When the band was done, the thunderous applause prompted the promoter to ask them to add an encore song to the set. But by then, my honey was getting kinda antsy (he later said he thought his eardrums might be bleeding) so I waved to Will and the band before dipping out.

I made a video of them when I was standing next to the speaker, but I guess I was too close because the sound quality is not so great. But you can listen to them here. Hope you enjoy it as much as we did :-)

Komen Sucks...

Been writing that a lot lately - mostly in response to other folks' links about Susan G. Komen for the cure (that's their official name) and their battle to trademark the "for the cure" part of their moniker. (read more about that here). Seems to me like they've totally lost focus about what the fight to eradicate breast cancer is all about.

For the record, I've never been a big fan of Komen. I applaud them for bringing breast cancer to the top of the cancer pile, but the fight doesn't end with awareness and pink ribbons. They raise gobs of money via their races, walks and product donations, but still, 40,000 women died last year from breast cancer. Each October, it gets harder and harder to walk through the store without getting pretty ticked off about all the pink ribbons on things like cookies, batteries, pens and clothing. Companies, it seems, have figured out that if they slap a pink ribbon on their label and mention in teeny five-point type that a "portion" of their proceeds from the product's sale will go to Komen, they will make a mint. They make a million, donate $10K to Komen who lumps it into their generic "research and education" pile and no one is the wiser, right?

But what the heck research is Komen funding? Treatment for women who have been diagnosed or ways to end BC forever? Both are important, but they are two totally different things. Spend more funding dollars on research for the cure and nobody would even need treatment.

Blogger Anna Rachnel breaks down how the money is spent in her recent "Komen by the Numbers" post. A former public accountant before being diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer, she crunches the numbers and gives a very clear picture on how little of Komen's funds - less than 25 percent - have actually ended up in that "research" pile since the organization was founded in 1982. Shocking, to say the least, but not surprising.

My fear has always been that Komen would become THE face of BC fund-raising and other organizations like the National Breast Cancer Coalition, the American Cancer Society and the National Cancer Institute would get pushed aside and their donations dwindle down to nothing. If Komen's trademark attempts are successful, I could totally see that happening.

Know that there are lots of survivors, their relatives and relatives of lost warriors who are not at all happy with how you do what you do, Komen. Know that we're watching you and blogging about your shenanigans as well. You really ought to be ashamed of what you're doing, but I suspect you aren't.

In that case, you really do rot.

Lifted from my New Blog...

It's been a crappy week. I started a new blog to help make myself feel better. Here is the entry I just posted there:

My grandmother passed away this morning. She was 90, suffering from dementia and her health had declined rapidly in the last few months. She lived in a nursing home in the Bronx and when I got the call, I wrestled with whether or not I could possibly make it down to the nursing home and back before the craziness that is rush hour in New York City on New Year's Eve hit. After meeting with the funeral director, it won't happen and I feel incredibly guilty about it. Then I found this which made me feel a little better:

"Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending."
~ Carl Bard

Best wishes for a happy, healthy and prosperous 2011 :-)

Kwanzaa Time

While many are winding down from the hustle and bustle of Christmas, some of us are preparing for another celebration: Kwanzaa. Although it has been appearing more and more on calendars these last few years, many people still don't quite know what the celebration is about.

Kwanzaa is a cultural - not a religious - celebration started in 1966 by California State University professor Dr. Maulana Karenga as a way to combat the negativity and dissension caused in the African American community as a result of the Watts riots. The word Kwanzaa is from the Swahili phrase "matunda ya kwanza" which means "first fruits of the harvest." Dr. Karenga added the last "a" to distinguish it from the African custom that celebrates the time before the beginning of the dry season. It was meant to be a way for Americans of African descent to create our own customs while learning a little about African customs as well. And like the harvest festival, Kwanzaa was designed to be a time to celebrate.

Kwanzaa begins the day after Christmas each year and lasts for seven days, ending on January 1. Each night, a red, black or green candle is lit and a different principle is emphasized. Today is Umoja, which means unity. It applies to our families, our communities, our nation and our world. Tonight, we will light a black candle in our kinara (wooden candle holder). Tomorrow is Kujichagulia, which means self-determination - the right to decide who we are, what we will become and what we will create for ourselves. Tomorrow night, we will light a red candle.

The third Kwanzaa principle is Ujima, which means collective work and responsibility. This means we should build and nurture our communities and work together to solve common difficulties. On the third night, we light a green candle.

The fourth principle is Ujamaa or cooperative economics. The principle encompasses the need to maintain our own stores, businesses and organizations by shopping in our neighborhood groceries and utilizing our area agencies. On the fourth night, we light another red candle.

The fifth Kwanzaa principle is Nia, which means purpose. Taking care of ourselves, those around us and our communities can help fulfill the purpose of making our world as great as it can be. On the fifth night, we light the second green candle.

The sixth principle is Kuumba or creativity. As the emphasis for the celebration has little to do with commercialism, hand-made or educational gifts are exchanged - many of which are made during the sixth day of Kwanzaa. On the sixth night, we light the final red candle.

The final principle is Imani, which means faith. To me, it translates to mean that heart-felt knowledge that things will work out exactly the way they are meant to. It also means acknowledging the faith of our ancestors and having faith in those who will follow us along the path. On the last night, we light the final green candle.

This year on New Year's Day, my family will host our second Kwanzaa karamu, or feast. Family and friends will gather to eat, talk, sing, dance and laugh. We will pour a libation to honor those who have passed on and enjoy each other's company. Many on our guest list have never even heard of Kwanzaa before, much less actually celebrated it. It will be a very memorable time, I'm sure.

To learn more about Kwanzaa, click here. Harambe! (let's all pull together) - and Happy Kwanzaa!

Black Friday Electronic Deals

It's been a while since I suited up and headed out in the pre-dawn hours on the day after Thanksgiving to Christmas shop, but in these tough economic times, saving a buck or two is uber important.

I found some great info on the electronic deals on tap for Black Friday via a "Consumer Reports" blog and thought I'd share my find with you here.
Happy shopping!

As Election Day Approacheth...

Not sure about you, but I'm a little afraid to turn on the TV or visit my own mailbox these days. The political ads are taking over...

In the tri-state area, there are not only ads about the two gubernatorial candidates but about the US senate and various state representative races. We also have NJ and Connecticut ads, too. Almost every other TV commercial and/or piece of mail that arrives is about why we should or shouldn't vote a particular way. It's quite overwhelming...

But it doesn't end there. Between the political analysts who have already got the US House won by the Republicans and the pundits spouting off about what the American people want, I'm seriously about ready to scream.

My 17-yr-old son seems to be feeling the pressure, too. He asked me today if once he turns 18 next year, he will HAVE TO vote - meaning will anyone really force him to head to the polling place and make some choices. It's just too confusing, he said. Hard to know what anyone will do once they get into office, true, but once I reminded him that he's only two generations removed from living in an era where folks who looked like he does were denied the right to register, he resigned himself to vote as soon as he's able to do so.

So, whether you plan on marking your paper ballot for the donkeys or the elephants, do get out and cast your ballot. Don't prove the pundits, radicals and nay-sayers talking about low turnout - particularly among African-Americans - right. Use your voice on Tuesday - or you'll have no right to complain on Wednesday.

The Call That Probably Shouldn't Have Been Made

Remember back in October 1991, when Supreme Court Justice nominee Clarence Thomas was on blast via congressional hearings for alleged sexual harassment in the workplace? One of his accusers, Anita Hill, gave some very descriptive and vivid testimony about things Thomas said and did when he was her supervisor at the U.S. Department of Education and the Equal Employment Opportunities Commission years before. The hearings ended, Thomas was confirmed by a vote of 52-48 and Anita Hill faded into obscurity to all but her Brandeis University law students. But, thankfully, the conversation - and eventual litigation - about workplace sexual harassment had begun.

Cut to October 2010, when Thomas' wife, Virginia, called Hill and left a voicemail requesting an apology. Hill kept the message for two weeks (because she said she initially thought it was a joke) before calling campus police who eventually called the FBI to report it. Hill said there would be no apology coming because as she put it "I testified truthfully about my experience and I stand by that testimony."

My advice to Ginni: Just. Let. It. Go.

Believe what you want to believe about your hubby. Think Anita Hill is the worse thing since the Bubonic Plague - who cares? But seriously - it's been 19 years already. It's time to move on.

And really - on what planet is it OK to call up someone that you passed on life's vector almost two decades ago to have them offer restitution for what happened way back then? Did you discuss it with your husband or act on your own? What would you have done if Anita would have actually answered?

Pinch yourself already. It wasn't a dream and it's time to wake the heck up.