The Presidential State of the Union Address 2010

This should be an interesting speech.

A Phoenix Rising... From the Ashes

My wife and I talked over lunch about the Presidential Inauguration Ceremony and its effects on us personally and on societies local and global.  What she said struck me so powerfully that I had to quote her:

"This is the opposite--this is the antithesis--of 9/11.  What I mean is that what I felt that morning, the thought that history was changing, that American history would be marked pre-9/11 and post-9/11; and that the way the world and all Americans see this country would shift in some amazing--and even scary--ways.  This day is the opposite of that, in a way.  It's...like a phoenix rising from the ashes."

I formally invite DJ Jay Smooth to expound on the thought (and no, I don't agree with each of his points, but the overwhelming theme is on target):

Why I'm Happy, Why I'm Not Satisfied

We have permission to be happy while maintaining our practical perspective.  America has signed a treaty with her children, a promise to learn from the cornucopia of our past blunders by walking in Dr. Martin Luther King's--and, for that matter, my mother's--dream to live as humanly and as humanely as we REALLY can in our country's grand area.  Our problems are far from over in many ways, but we--America--are walking our talk again.

Let freedom ring.  Keep walking your talk.  Love somebody just because God loves him or her as much as He loves you.  Talk about tough topics with people--instead of setting people up to look like racists because they don't understand your perspective or your culture.  Open your mind enough to see another human's perspective, and you might change your mind about a few things.  The work IS a part of the dream, believe it or not...

God bless you.  Vaya con Dios.  Salaam 'Alaykum (السلام عليكم).

If I have misspelled or misused the beautiful words of your parent language, forgive me and correct me.  It's my pleasure to learn.  That, as it turns out, is another part of THE DREAM.

And The Winner Is...

No contest.

WE...WON.

WE won.

America won.

I wish I could write more, but tears are blurring the screen.

There, I can speak now.

I called my mother after the anchorman for ABC News waited 10 seconds before calling the election won--by Barack Obama. My mother, little woman full of love and power, spoke in tear-hushed tones, her tears striving against her normal poise and reserve. When she spoke these words, I wept:

I never thought it would happen--not in MY LIFETIME. I think about the marches, the hurt and pain...

Her tears fell hard as boulders rolling off alpine heights.

My mother was a young girl, a budding teenager, when Jim Crow still hung his hat in northern Louisiana. Despite criticism and hatred, ridicule and death threats, she stood her ground. She stood her ground with her peers who believed as she did... and despite her peers who were too afraid. When hate stroked the back of her neck and excuses whispered poison in her ear, she ignored that foul duo etched in faces pink with fear and rage, the faces of her White neighbors. She stood her ground when teachers told her that "her little group of troublemakers" were destined to die for "nothing."

"Nothing." My chance to be a productive part of this country--nothing. My opportunity to live wherever I could afford to live in my homeland--nothing. Thank God that "nothing" was just big enough of a dream to keep my mother and all of her fellow believers marching and sitting in and singing and learning law and teaching youth and feeding communities and... the list goes on. My mother still hesitates to tell the roughest stories, the hardest news, of those times in "the movement," and I try hard not to disrespect her need for silence in those moments. Tonight, my mother cried because her lessons to me about the equality of humanity and the hope of being American without a hyphen were a little bit closer to reality.

She didn't lie to me when she hoped aloud.

Some people will say that a Black man in the office of President will be vindication for the civil rights movement and for our ancestors who were once enslaved. Maybe, maybe not. I believe what my mother believes: I believe that America is my country and your country, too. The chance to do my personal best is all I have ever believed this country owes me. Standing tall, ten toes flat, is every American's right. My vote counted this time; my feet stood firm, toes spread and flat. Every citizen should have that testimony regardless of voting choice. A man with a great mind and strong spirit had the chance to run for the highest office in my country's government and won--fair and square.

Yes, I feel vindicated. A citizen had the chance to reach for greatness after preparing himself accordingly, and that citizen won his prize. Every American should feel some relief even for a single minute.

God bless America. God bless our President.

God bless our times.

The Debate a/k/a They Paid the Ref!

This one is making my fists itch.

God help me, McCain is starting to tick me off.

Brokaw is playing the dirty referee position like a criminal pro.

I CAN'T WAIT to vote this year!

Qualifications Required: Class, Substance, and a Nice Left Hook

The shadowboxing session is officially over, and the fight is ON. Thanks to software issues, I missed most of the video from the Democratic National Convention, including this wonderful memory on video. Push for the top, Obama. I feel happy to vote again.

We Still Have a Duty

During the last local election here in San Diego, I broke the cardinal rule of the Harris-Wilson-Maine-Morgan family:

Vote, lest ye deny your duty.

Sadly, I had little choice; EACH of the candidates for city government posts placed a brother's "spidey-sense" on high-alert vibrate. How sad this truth is, and how shameful it leaves me even now, that I felt powerless to choose someone who could best lead this city. Voting, at its very kernel, is meant to EMPOWER people, yet I felt civilly limp, impotent, and Viagra-less. That feeling was worse than any childhood nightmare.

I pray that I never feel that way ever again. The current President of the United States was able to get into power a second time thanks to voter apathy and a purchased vote, and the nation has been living with the constant abuse of our collective hope and intelligence since the first day of his second administration. Election time is coming 'round again soon, and I pray that the candidates who follow "Tricky Dubby" show more poise and civil respect than Bush has during his entire presidency. I am non-partisan, but I support Barack Obama for president because I feel he is what he displays. I don't agree with his every policy position, but I see a man who understands the need to renew the soil of American hope and and to restore global confidence in the United States again.

In the only words Jesse Jackson speaks that actually stand for something, "keep hope alive."

The opinions expressed on this blog are just that--opinions--and are the sole proprietary thought of the writer. If you happen to agree, please accept a soul shake; if not, so what?

Watch for the Hook

I was once called racist for stating that the greatest benefactors of the fight for civil rights for every US citizen and affirmative action were foreigners and Caucasian women. Well, census data confirmed the thought three (count it off 1-2-3!!!) times within the last 20 years. Walking through blogs that inspire me (or, at least, inflame me), I noticed this post at The Root. I grew up in northern Louisiana, a place that has a long and storied history of racism and color-struck mentality, and have an INCREDIBLY thick emotional skin, but I have my limit.

This artist reached my limit.

Controversy sells in media-minded America, but respect and dignity still remain chief among human qualities. Keith Adkins, the blog contributor who posted the story, spoke volumes with his feeling that "non-Black artists have a heyday playing around in Black...[and] like to get down and dirty and obscene when it comes to how they examine this country (or media's) interpretation of Black culture and how its marganilized and dehumanized; [we're] always fair game for something."

Have some character for Christmas, Yazmany Arboleda. Brown and black are more closely related than some historians want to admit despite medical and anthropological evidence that opposes their politics. Skeeting on your cousin to make your neighbor laugh and pay you is one mile down the road from genocide. Social critique isn't posting a gigantic likeness of a Black man's penis next to a presidential candidate's likeness; disrespect is. Thanks to this artist, my worst nightmare has come to life: I agreed with an federal agency's decision to shut down an artist's speech.

Thanks, Yazmany. Much obliged.

The Nominee

OBAMA!

My Hope Has not Faded

I wanted to talk about this speech and my thoughts on it, but I AM STILL AWESTRUCK. My cynicism about political candidates has taken a backseat to my hope for the first time in 17 voting years. I am looking forward to watching this presidential hopeful's inauguration.

Words still mean something. They can change hearts today as easily as God used them to create the universe. I refuse to give away my hope. My hope is not for sale, for lease, or for rent. I apply it as I deem its placement proper and just. My hope today is that this author/parent/senator/speaker/speechwriter will one day serve as leader of my nation. I support Barack Obama for President.