These Scattered Thoughts...!

     Do you measure the level of emotional commitment one invests in a close relationship by how long one is willing to maintain it even as it turns dishonest or disrespectful?  Or do you measure that level via the sometimes-visible intensity its interaction projects to the viewing public?  Weighed equally, what’s visibly viewed and mentally digested without knowledge of true feeling is a decision made most neglectful!  Can one tell, of another, only by outward sign and no honest insight, if a projected smile hides a sad, silent heart?

     Protecting the sanctity and honor of a promise made of love is like getting a tattoo; a ‘forever’ proposition and the pride of the village idiot, for sure!  At the highest levels, awhirl with those we projected should represent us, our leaders, lawmakers and iconic caricatures toss us, along with promise, out the door!

     Reminiscing of days gone by; twenty-four hours took too long and the last hour of work was like torture, especially on Fridays.  “Last call for alcohol” meant it was time to guzzle down the drink in hand and order one more for the road!  Why does that sound so stupid to me?  Now...I want each day to last an extra hour or two; I’d work weekends to extend the joy of living and if it would bring back all of the victims of accidents due to excessive drinking, I’d not have another drop!

     It is always good not to forget that everyone has a personal emotional armor they develop and harden to protect them from trying, stress-filled situations!  Just as you steer clear of negative situations and vibrations, also does another.  Too many of us have to remember; not enough of us opt not to forget.  Understand that if you have to remember, you have already forgotten.  Make the knowledge of understanding and accepting others become something you know, foremost!

     A relative’s farewell is never more than bittersweet!  The emotional onslaught of so final a finale as being forced to say good-bye for the last time.  To what degree removed…the sadness; a parent or child, a brother or sister, an aunt, uncle or a cousin?  No spouse!  What of the farewell; naught but a friend?  Rest now!

    

Profile: A.C.T.O.P…is A Certain Type of Person!

What triggers, within an individual who wishes for the demise or dismissal of another?  Throughout the history of humankind, certain characteristics in the personality of ACTOP portend the likelihood that he or she will be of that ilk.  Who would want to watch, with glee, someone else, not succeed?  What lies in the heart of any of mankind, to wish a bad outcome? 

     Jealousy, envy, fear and the ever-present hypocrisy most often top the list of personality traits one can subscribe to ACTOP as he or she is likely to exhibit any or all of these traits at some point and time in the subtle divulgence of his or her disposition and development for desiring cursed outcome toward happenstance of another. 

     Jealousy; the cornerstone of the make-up of ACTOP who views the success of another through a fracturing emotional prism, is seeing the ‘Successful’s’ ill-perceived luck, advantage or heredity as the foundation of that success.  It often masks the reality of ACTOP’s sub-conscious awareness; a recognition on an intellectual level that unfavorably evaluates ACTOP’s preparation and effort! He or she didn’t capitalize on an opportunity to strike while the iron was hot and it is known.  The unspoken but internally acknowledged fact that the success of the person is simply that there is someone who is better-suited or more qualified than you.

     Envy, the emotion masked by the wry smile, manifesting itself only in the company of ACTOP who shares the emotion; all with the same deep-seated anxiety that festers just below the surface of that smile.  It says so much while uttering no sound! “I wish I could do that.  I wish I could do what he does, have what she has; be who they are!  Alas, I don’t have the skill, the know-how or the daring and I envy the possession of those skills.  How does one gain them?” 

     Fear, while often found to be the trait best hidden in ACTOP, eventually, will rear its ugly head once it becomes identified as the result of that sad failing; the principal factor to ACTOP’s inability to succeed and achieve to a higher capacity! 

     Then hypocrisy, finally; the finality of the mindset of ACTOP who says, out loud, to anyone who will listen, “I really don’t care!”

     A certain type of person fits the detailed profile, presented, and several of them are vying for political office on city, state and federal levels in the upcoming months and years.  There may not be a profile of the ideal candidate for any and all positions of power, forthcoming, nationwide but I know we have to, first, get gone with the individuals that fit this one…and there are a few!

When Words Cannot Express the Depths of My Appreciation…I Try!

Her hands!  The soothing, satisfying touch that made all things better; all hurts and pains recede.  To describe what it felt like to be touched by her hands.  Warm, soft, caresses that applied lotion, powder and Love!  She brushed my hair after adding a bit of hair ointment to soften the pull; it made me feel so good.  And she told me I was her handsome, wonderful son!  I will always love you, mom!

Her smile!  She lit up my world with it, accompanied by a quick wink; we shared a secret bond, our birthdays just a day apart.  I was her Virgo man and we understood each other with no words spoken.  I lived to see that smile; still do!  Smile again, mother!

Her voice spoke to me, at times, well above my years with a tone and timber, soft and modulated; sing-song and with truth.  I know of no lie ever uttered by that voice.  Her command of the language of a mother, filled with love, guidance and concern that I should hear and understand each syllable uttered; she had nothing but my best interests in her heart.  You are amazing, Ma!

Her body…my shield!  She stood in defense of me against any and all who, ill-advised, would think to do me harm.  Sometimes, even myself!  “You’ll have to go through me to do it!”  What courage on display with the intent, only to protect me.  What would I do without you, my warrior Queen!

Wisdom, worn quietly, of experiences I could only fathom.  A child of segregation and hatred remembered but not allowed to fester and ruin her greater belief that something, someone more powerful than any man, ruled and would have the final say!  I feel you, Lady!

What can I say of the heart of a being so touched with goodness that, even her anger was a caress?  She chastised me and all I could do was acquiesce; beg her forgiveness because the last thing I’d ever wanted to do was disappoint her!  Thank you so much, Momma! 

My life because of you, was, is and will always be triumphant!

Happy Mother’s Day from your son, Anthony Paul!

Is Anyone Listening...?

You tell me; I’ll tell you…

What is it like to compete

with advantages so complete

that you simply just have to show up

to be awarded the golden cup?

For me, you know what its like?

It’s like trying to ride a bike;

uphill on tires sans spokes

and a chain that’s rusted and broke!

What is it like to be blessed

an audience, the leader’s behest? 

Your presence, the primaries reason;

the party, the height of the season!

For me, likely, ne’er that scene!

More aptly, some foolish dream. 

Cold water usurping my slumber

and dark, the cloud I’d be under.

What feeling please tell ‘bout inclusion;

your smile is no mere illusion. 

For me, naught but a frown. 

My spirit’s not lifted, but down.

What is it, to really belong;

they regale you with loud sweet song? 

For me, all I hear; a groan

or bad news over the phone.

What is it like to be taught

the world is your oyster; wars fought?

And, in spite of our fathers who died

for me, never the winning side!

… The Poor, feeling in our America!

Coping Skills...!

Thrusting and parrying, measuring the length.

Violent or peaceful, depending on the game!

Withdrawal or attack, considering the strength;

Passive or aggressive; it’s resistance just the same.

Prejudice or alliance, decisions we have faced.

Immediately or never is the time to make a change.

Acceptance, rejection; it’s all a matter of taste.

Cleave to the familiar or cower from the strange.

Shouts and whispers around the conference table.

Smiling or pouting, whichever wins the most!

Tantrums or self-control; either, when you’re able.

Weaknesses and strengths all of us can boast.

Within or external; conflicts seen and felt;

Whether a dreamed fantasy or frightful realism.

Internally or outwardly, with which will things be dealt?

Coping with life using all of our mechanisms!

Pre-determined Destiny...!

Father, was that you reflected in your son’s eyes

or was his vision chemically impaired?

Were his failings directly related to your demise?

Was he acting as you would never have dared?

Mother, did you hear your daughter crying;

fearful of facing her womanhood alone?

Should she have withstood the heat of assuming?

As a young lady is often prone?

Father, was your image commonplace

and your vocal directive a resounding warning?

Did your fairy princess, attired in ribbons and lace

Cower at your parental scorning?

Mother, did you show your son that you are a lady

or clarify for him, his masculinity?

Did you capitulate that all women are not shady?

Tell him there is beauty, too, in his inner femininity?

Parents!  Are your children emotionally set;

outside influences defined and categorized?

By them, will this global society’s challenges be met?

Is their destiny not to be recognized?

Who Speaks for Me...?

From varied cities and hamlets they come

Suggesting that they will get things done

And make the necessary change

The absurdity of which is not just strange

But even more a profound untruth

Their sudden amnesia compelling proof

Intent seemed pure at its outset

Until they played and laid a bet

That change a cost they gladly paid

And now a player the game they played

Their place they had to pay a toll

Now both feet in too deep a hole

Alliance formed and lines decided

Of ease is this the vets they chided

Just go along the process reigns

And smile the riches a member gains

Fear not the lobby they all will call

And reap the riches they share with all

You are a player just do the bidding

Duplicity culpability is to well hidden

Your graft a drop piddling the amount

Small out of pants no off-shore account

A vote a waste a toll a time

You have no say in truth you mime

The deal long set the formality

A minion you stark reality

Behind the curtain quiet and cool

The puppet master you elected fool

A Habit-forming History...!

My wife and I confirm that history is habit-forming!  Sometimes it's poignant and as funny as hell, too!  She is from a small family and I have a big…no, I have a huge one!  Her immediate family consists of her parents, her brother and herself while mine includes my parents, my two brothers, my seven sisters and me!  Four, seated around the dinner table at her home compared to twelve rubbing shoulders and clearing space for elbows around mine!  That is the history and that has formed the habits!

See, my wife eats with an ease developed from a history of never feeling threatened about whether or not she would get enough, get the best part, or not get any! 

Me?  Well let me just say that with my father who, by virtue of his role (father and co-maker of all of us), station (head of household, breadwinner and protector) and stature (ramrod straight-backed, no-nonsense, senior NCO in the U.S. Army and veteran of 3 wars), automatically garnered a fair share of the groceries from my mother.  My mother; his wife, who dutifully and honorable doled out the lion’s share of dinner to him whether or not he requested it while also insuring she had enough to sustain herself before ever divvying out the balance to the offspring, then shared out the balance according, almost, to birth order compared to appetite. 

Imagine the portion of the eighth child (me), a walking, talking, eating machine who never thought that he was being fed to the levels prescribed by medicine, psychology or his bottomless pit of a stomach. Yes, back then, I ate like each meal was to be my last and I needed to eat it before someone older, bigger and stronger, snatched it from me and devoured it before my teary-eyed gaze. 

My mother, the magician, could prepare a meal for twelve as easily as if she were cooking for two.  She could conduct a symphony atop the stove with all burners adjusted to perfect temperatures for the contents of the pot above each while roasting, baking and broiling assorted stuff in the oven, below.  She always has been and continues to be amazing! 

A true fact that I relate to anyone who will listen is the skill my mother possessed as it pertains to the division of a single chicken; the structure of which suggests a breast, split in two, two thighs, two legs and two wings to total eight portions, if you don’t consider the bony back a piece!  Hint: they don’t sell backs at KFC. 

Ah, but they do at Christine’s (my mother) Kitchen!  And a wing has two parts, also.  And a breast, in half, can be again, halved!  Yes, thirteen pieces of chicken from a single yard bird.  I’m just glad I have seven sisters and not seven brothers.  I probably would have starved before I was six!

To my point of this writing; my wife suggests I can eat chicken and reconstruct the skeleton for scientific use when I am finished as there is nothing left except bones.  I tell her that my eating chicken is a habit born of history!  Whatever piece of chicken I was fortunate enough to receive at the dinner table of my father, was tasty, very much appreciated and consumed to the bone; as was any left on anyone else’s plate after they thought that they had had enough and was finished eating!  I am not, nor ever have I been, in the habit of leaving meat on bones!  When chicken is served at our house, now, my wife eats what she will and then passes the remainder to me for clean-up; I do my thing!  My wife has gotten used to my habit!  

Sometimes, Love Takes Time...!

Year One –

I saw her!

She was really young

and cute as could be!  She

...touched me!

Chills!  

I said. “Hey, you want to play?”

She said, “No”, at first.

Then she reversed; 

...we conversed.

Year Three –

Saw her quite a lot;

...at the office or

at our secret spot.

I played the peacock game… 

Preening!

Year Seven –

I wanted to change her name...

Call her mine!

all of her...even her mind. 

Divine!

And all of this would be;

...in good time.

Year Ten –

It’s been a while!

We love with style.

She’s now my Missus; we share

more than just kisses!

We live and love, together!

Forever!

A Physical Fit...!

     My wife and I get up at 5:30 a.m. on alternate mornings and go to the downtown YMCA to work out on the bevy of exercise machines they line up against the perimeter walls of the joint!  We are never alone and often have to relocate away from our favorite machines as someone has gotten to them before us.  Not to worry, they have plenty more to use and abuse my sleepy body.  Today was no different than any other day, there; I just wanted to pat myself on the back for getting up and going! 

     No, the real point of this writing is to expound on the conversation that we had while driving home, sweaty and chilly from working out on those torturous, robotic monsters call Elliptical machines.  See, our exchange, while initiated because of our efforts to maintain some semblance of a healthy regimen and lifestyle, quickly evolved into a discussion about the seasons, air quality and the lack there of, as well as, a recollection that going to the gym for exercise was an undertaking that, in days past, wasn’t even necessary. 

     Now understand; my wife has allergies that it could take me a while to list.  She is not especially athletic nor is she hell-bent on maintaining a ridiculously rigid lifestyle of abstinence from some of the good stuff like a mixed drink, something sweet after dinner or a meal with a higher calorie count. And me, I am even less so inclined than her! 

     I played high school and college football back in my day and jumped out of perfectly functioning aircraft as an airborne soldier some twenty-odd years ago. I have put a whole lot of miles on my feet, knees and hips so I know what being totally committed to a good health and physical fitness regimen is all about.  But I digress! 

     We started talking about how everything, anymore, is done inside and not outside, like it was for us growing up.  Children don’t play outside!  No one trusts enough to let the children rip and run, unsupervised, throughout the community, these days.  I can remember, when I was a kid, that I could get up on a weekend or summer day and eat breakfast, do the few chores I had been assigned to do and then go outside and roam the neighborhood and larger community until I exhausted myself.  I could forego going home for lunch or a snack and be gone from my parents’ house, all day, with the least concern about personal safety, being attacked or falling prey to human predators.  Neighborhoods weren’t fenced-in, walled-up or arm-guarded.  Exercise was something you did during gym class, at school, but your good health and physical fitness was due to the fact that you played outside; running, wrestling, playing every sort of ball game and obstacle-jumping game you could conjure up. 

     Games like Chase, Tag, Capture-the-Flag, Red Rover, Crack-the-Whip and Hide-and-go-Seek, all day and evening; sometimes into the early night, were how kids stayed fit.  Girls played Jump rope, Two Square, Hopscotch and Tetherball and still managed to stay prissy and not sweat.  The second-fasted runner in my neighborhood was a girl…I kid you not!

     Now, it’s video games, text-messaging, computer games and tweeting.  Sure, there are some physical activities that youngsters are involved in these days, but have you heard what it costs to belong to a Soccer League team, a Gymnastics or Cheer group, a Pop Warner football team or one of those AAU Summer Basketball leagues?  Since when should it cost a parent hundreds of dollars to enable a child to be in good health?  And then, there are those who think that recess and P.E. should be dropped from the schools’ curriculum.  Is there any wonder why we, as a nation, are rated as obese?  Wow!

Someone, Help Me Understand...! Part II

I don’t care where you are from; what continent or country.  I don’t care what color you are; from the blackest black to the palest white and all the rainbow of hues in between.  I don’t care if you love everyone or don’t like anyone; worship fervently, daily or barely think to pray to anyone or anything at any time.  Please ask yourself, regardless whether you really believe what you believe about your god or have no belief in any god; should it be so: you are supposed to have a feeling of incessant hate or blatant disregard for someone whose belief is different than yours as a prerequisite for good living now and entry into and existence in a better afterlife, later?  That is, sadly, what is preached, practiced or perpetrated against any and all fellow man if his faith or thinking is different.  And that is at a minimum!  Let us not ignore what some are physically willing and able to say or do in the name of what is believed to be that which a practiced faith commands one to say and do.  Then, “We hold these truths to be self-evident…that all men are created equal.” Those words and these; …”conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.”…what do they really mean?  Given that, through science, we have found that we have almost interchangeable parts, how can anyone really believe that we aren’t all created by the same Supreme power?  And if you don’t believe that we are all created by the same Supremacy, then how many gods must there be out there with the power to create a world?  How many are there with the power to create, not just a race of people, but a multi-racial, multi-cultural, multi-lingual humanity; all with SOME belief system that commands that they answer to a higher power?  What doctrine has such power enough to seduce the believer into discounting blood relatives, former friends or neighbors, such that they are deemed no longer worthy of acquaintance because of a learned doctrine of faith?  It is magical to have that kind of power.  So, should one believe that various magical gods created us all and are now, what…vying for our souls?  Does that mean that renouncing one god and singing praises to another will save our world?  Please, help me understand!

Someone, Help Me Understand...! Part I

     While deeply engaged in living, and trying to understand death and dying, immortality, a God, faith, religion, people, things, ways and whys about all that is life these days, I reflect back on years past.  Then, I just stop…and vacantly stare.  I’m hoping, praying; feeling that I am just past midway in my life’s cycle.  My father is an 86-year-old man and if I am blessed to live that long, I still have 34 years, at least, and anticipating more.  I’m old enough to realize that the days of my most fascinating youth during the Sixties and Seventies, the days of that generation who almost changed America and came really close to changing the world, are truly historical.  I am the tail end of the Baby Boomers and the beginning of something I can’t quite clearly describe!

     I have watched the metamorphosis of a world society that, at that time, seemed to be on the verge of making another huge step toward further enlightenment.  Then JFK, Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, and Robert Kennedy were all killed.  Anwar Sadat and Indira Ghandi were assassinated.  Thoughtful world leaders, to whom we would have sworn allegiance said, “Not me” and that left the door open for those who would assume the leadership role by fear and intimidation.  Hate-mongers, under the guise of good, assumed control and we have not recovered, still! 

     In the name of nationalism and religion, nations have killed, no, slaughtered innocent people; sometimes their own.  China, Russia and South America have killed.  Afghanistan and Pakistan have killed.  Saddam had killed so many that it was difficult to keep an accurate account.  Recently, Libya, Yemen, Egypt and Iran have killed.  Under the banner of humanitarian intervention, America has even killed.  Not to mention, the world has taken turns killing Africa!  It seems that everyone’s god has demanded that they war against people of a different god.  Then a thought that almost frightened me in its simplicity, occurred.  How many gods are there? 

Is this what being 'Technologically Advanced' garners...?

We have become, in this nation, a society subject to the unfettered exploitation of individual, emotional expression!  Conducting oneself with manners, etiquette and respect is becoming a lost behavior.  Restraint, constraint and social protocol have taken a backward step and have, now, allowed boorish behavior, disrespectful speech and interaction and, finally, verbal and physical, violent rebuttal to become the behavior of the masses. 

     Technology is making it easy to forget our humanity.  Months back, I read Eugeny Morozov’s column titled ‘The Internet’s False Promises’, interested to see if he was going to make mention of my point of contention regarding the internet and the impact this technical advance has had on our personal lives.  He didn’t go into detail but, peripherally, he identified one of my critiques of our dynamic information highway, especially regarding the easy access to information; it is not always used to serve the best interests of society but, oftentimes, those most callous.

     Plain citizens, community activists and elected officials are shouting out of turn in public forums totally forgoing social convention and training attributed to good manners.  No, now, those that dream of celebrity or those with public aspirations hope that someone captures them on video and sends it to You Tube.  If the responses measure favorably, the footage is used on their political campaign website or facebook page!

     Extremists hide behind the mask of anonymity that the internet allows and gleefully spit ethnic, religious and racial epithets, indiscriminately and with the comfort of non-disclosure.  With the technical availability of ‘up close and personal’, real-time, private and sometimes tragic, everyday interaction between folks captured with the click of a camera button or the on switch of a recorder, it is like we have become actors of life instead of people living our lives.  With the life-like realism of a combat zone, the seamy side of the street or an urban jungle as the background scenario for all of the adult video games, do we wonder how we have come to accept a violent culture? 

     We have become divisive and vindictive and anxious to show our willingness to be confrontational rather than congenial.  With such easy access to our personal lives and information, we have created a doubtful, distrustful, disturbed underclass…the middle-class that has always been the base of this nation!  We don’t trust anyone to do the RIGHT thing, anymore and constantly, calculatedly await the moment when we can capture our own ‘gotcha’ moment and parlay it into instant riches. 

     Violent outcomes to seemingly innocuous, initial engagements don’t even shock us anymore and the reality of a close call only registers on the radar screen if it is a matter of national security.  Then something like Austin, Texas happens and we are reminded of within as well as without.

     Passionate expression took the life of a young lady from University of Virginia, allegedly at the hands of a former boyfriend who apparently lost all rational thought and slammed her head against the wall, repeatedly.  Where and when did he become hardwired to resolve a situation, as bad as it could have been, by slamming a smaller, physically- mismatched, young woman against a wall?  The adult video games on the market that have so de-sensitized the act of physical violence as to label it a fun, fast-paced, leisure time activity to engage in with other on-line combatants, worldwide, and not have to leave your home to meet new friends could be a negative influence.  A young girl in Florida was punched, kicked and stomped into a coma over a text message, at the same school where, previously, a young man was sprayed with lighter fluid and set on fire over a video game. 

     How can teenaged children become that violent at any age, let alone as young as they are at twelve to fourteen, to zone out to the extent that they can set another child on fire and watch him cry out, in torturous pain, without a hint of remorse?  How, again, could a bigger boy jump on, punch, kick and stomp on a smaller, fairer, young lady, regardless of the personal tragedy he was coping with, and think that his behavior was suitable?  Watch some of the amateur video on the world-wide-web and realize where the seed may be being planted; watch some of the reality TV programs and you will find a likely culprit for presenting and exploiting that type of behavior. 

     The benefit of our technological advances can not be discounted, by any means.  A teacher in Houston was fired after compelling evidence of her physical abuse toward a thirteen-year-old was captured on cell-phone video.  According to what I’ve heard and read, corporal punishment has never been meted out in the manner that teacher abused that child.  Proof captured with technological advance!  But, the masks that the same technological advance provides allows us to be less likely to truly engage with one another and can contribute to our future demise…humanity must engage to remain humane.  

     In a strange irony, television programming of generations past was designed to provide us an escape after a long day of keeping our noses to the grindstone.  Now, reality TV and the advances of the Internet present critical information and a raw dissection of society’s everyday lives with all of the good and bad; the ugly and uncensored, captured to entertain us by allowing us a view into someone else’s real or imagined misery…like we should be entertained!  So then...let the people say!

The Family Reunion...A Melancholy Time!

During the third weekend of July, every other year, (this year) my family extended, will gather together for a weekend of celebrating the legacy of our forbearers and the new additions to our family!  We have a fantastic time planning it; forming committees, sub-committees, focus groups, coordinators, sponsors and contact persons!  We have a bank account created especially for the collection and safekeeping of dues and expense funds.  We make calls or send out e-mails and texts with information updates.  We mail fliers and letters to accommodate the communication abilities of all of our family members as everyone is not necessarily participating in the latest technological advances…found that some prefer it that way, also!

It is a glorious undertaking and we have been having it since I can remember!  Back in 1979, after a long hiatus, my mother, her sister and their spouses, along with some of their first cousins re-established the gathering; something that they used to do back in the day.  It seems that it was easier back then because everyone lived in a lot closer proximity; if not in the same community, at least, in the same town or county. By the time my mother and my aunt re-established the event, all of the related families had spread out to all reaches of the nation and, in fact, the world.  A family whose legacy includes several generations of individuals who served in the Armed Forces throughout the years made traveling to the event a reality that had to be taken into account. 

We have all, on one occasion or other, missed the event due to more pressing commitments like fighting in wars, career obligations, family issues or shallow pockets but for the most part, the principle actors seem to make it; they being the first generation Elders.  They always seem to make the sojourn and grace us with their presence and remind us what the event is all about.  Unfortunately, the family tree of participants’ narrows as Elders meet our maker and distant cousins, several times removed, don’t keep close contact as did the early generations.  The grandchildren of 1^st and 2^nd cousins hardly know each other, let alone stay in contact.  Sadly, I admit this; it is life and we can’t dwell on it too negatively. 

I will attest to the feeling of melancholy as I grow into that middle age where I am old enough to have grandchildren; not that I am anxious over not having any yet.  I think that it is more the fact that I am easily reminded of when I was of the age of a young parent and watching my children interacting with their older relatives was a satisfying feeling.  I was ensuring that the bridge was being crossed and the gap was being filled; them knowing their extended family.  The reunion was an event that would live with them for the rest of their lives.  I knew how I felt being around all of my relatives and my sons’ fondest recollections seem to be of those instances when they had the opportunities to be around theirs. 

Over the years we’ve had to realize and accept some drastic changes in the extended family dynamic such that our gathering has dwindled down give or take, to115 people instead of the 250 in attendance at the 1979 affair.  Now, not withstanding my 1^st cousin, his wife, son and sister; the children and grandchild of my mother’s brother, the reunion is made up of my parents’ prodigious brood of ten children and their spouses/significant others, thirty-nine grandchildren with assorted husbands, wives or significant others and about forty-some great-grandchildren!  The reunion is a wonderful event that allows us to reconnect, again, and, as my father says, put eyes on each other as we don’t know if we can promise that we’ll do so again, soon or ever.  That is the often sad, unspoken, reality of family reunions; could be the last time!  We don’t know…!   

Another Hero Gone...!

A man can be cursed or blessed with the blood that flows in his veins!  I have been blessed, now, for all of my life as the blood of several generations of Laws men is in me!  Today, my daddy’s brother, my Uncle Oscar died and I can’t think of another man, after my father, who meant more to me.  My uncle had a smile that he could put on you that made you think that the sun wasn’t doing it’s best to light up your world, by comparison.  He made me feel like I was the most important person in his world whenever he saw me and that feeling was equal to the sweetest pie, the coolest water, the shadiest place! It was fantastic, indeed!  When I visited him, throughout my life and his, we had special signals; the wink of an eye, a nod of the head, a clucking noise that said, Nephew…Uncle, I love you like you can’t imagine…but we could, ‘because I loved that man like he was my father.  He and my Old Man looked so much alike that I could believe that they were twins, when I was young.  The laughed alike, walked alike, talked alike!  My Pops used to comment that I was hard-headed just like my Uncle Oscar and he disciplined me like their father, my grandfather, did my uncle because we had that same untamed streak in us.  My uncle got a lot of whippings when his was growing up and so did I.  I wore that fact like a badge of honor because it was something that bound me to him, forever.  We prescribed to the notion that we were as tough as nails and could take whatever our fathers could dish out and we didn’t shy away from that distinction. 

My uncle was preceded in death by his own two sons and at both of my cousins’ funerals, he presented a stone-faced, hard-core man who accepted such instances with a stoic, matter-of-fact reality that belied his torn heart.  I will not try to maintain that persona as I write this ode to another of my fallen heroes.  I want the world to know that I sit at this computer, my current post, with tears streaming down my face, and a pain in my heart that is close to overwhelming, to say to you that I am, a part, damaged goods, because another one of my teachers, another one of my mentors, another one of my heroes has died!  Uncle Oscar, I will miss you, filled with an emptiness that my feelings won’t ever try to hide!  Lovin’ you, forever!  Your nephew.

Understanding a Profound Dynamic...

If one were to attempt to suggest that the advances of the recent past 50 years; the changes in the attitudes of both Blacks and Whites, the economic and educational opportunities that, it has been suggested, serve all of our citizenry, the function of our economic model and the written, but not felt, constitutional rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, would act as a magic wand and remove all of the fears, distrust, hate, victimization, blatant and covert racism that has been continually visited upon the Black people of this nation, one would be suggesting an illusion.

Why do so many ‘intelligent, educated, entitled’ people want to sound off about black parents needing to prescribe to a list of behaviors that will make their child’s chances at getting a good, fair education more viable? And are doing so, so willingly, without drilling down to the real ‘cause and effect’ of what Blacks have yet to overcome, even in 2011? Why is there an expectation that a change can occur with the snap of one’s fingers or the wave of a magic wand or, wait…the news of some startling statistics that we act like we didn’t know? 

Some perspective, please:

- Slavery from 1620 to 1862…242 years; some white people still carry that hate and disdain in their hearts, toward Blacks, and their behavior attests to it.  Did you not hear the question that o’reilly (I refuse to capitalize his name) asked our esteemed president; “Why do people HATE you?  They HATE you!”  In what other instance have you ever heard that type of vitriolic speech directed at the President of our country during an interview by a, ‘supposed’ newsman?

- Southern Confederacy from 1861 – 1865…4 years of a behavior subscribed as a noble act of states’ sovereignty; a behavior that holds as its foundation, the enslavement of a race of people and it continues to be celebrated as proud Southern Heritage and Blacks are just supposed to ‘let it go’!

- The Holocaust from 1933 to 1945…12 years; always remembered and the perpetrators of those horrific acts were hunted across the world and eradicated.

- Jim Crow laws and practices…1863 to 1965…142 years; in truth some southern counties still get away with it even though all of those ‘Civil, Voters’ and Human Rights’ acts were enacted.

- Overt discrimination in hiring, education, incarceration, property ownership, business opportunity, law enforcement, treatment by the judicial system and respect, all based on color…1620 to now…392 years; yet we are encouraged to forget all of that and, miraculously, know how to work within the boundaries of our society with nothing to lift the burden of shame, mistrust, disbelief and ignorance that all of the years of atrocious treatment, heaped on Blacks as a people, has inflicted!

We’ve been wound so tight by what we have had to endure that we don’t even know which string to pull to unravel all of the damage we’ve incurred!  And a school system that doesn’t even want to teach its country’s real history is supposed to elevate us?  So what do you trust, who can you trust, when should you trust…all of this lip service or history?

Is teaching noble...revisited!

I had the fortunate opportunity to be a guest columnist for the Dallas Morning News' "Community Voices" from November 2009 through October of 2010 and my first article, presented below, offers up a reminder of what is happening, here in Texas, because we've removed the emphasis of being well-educated and well-trained out of the hands of those that care and put it in the hands of those that don't!  Texas is laying off teachers, the trainers of the next generation, as if educating our children is the least of our concerns and worries.  Does this undertaking send chills down the spine of anyone else?

     My great-grandfather, Eugene Dix was born into slavery in 1855.  Some years later he attended Tuskegee Institute and studied under Booker T. Washington.  Impressed by the man, my great-grandfather endeavored to have that same positive impact on subsequent generations as an educator, himself.   He met his bride, my great-grandmother Catherine, while working for the Census Bureau in Alabama.  They began their family and Eugene chose teaching as his profession.  Several years and five children later, Catherine told Eugene that he would have to choose another profession as being a teacher was not allowing him to earn enough money to support the family.  A relative in Texas suggested that sharecropping was a viable option so Eugene and Catherine moved the family to Bryan, Texas.  Eugene anticipated returning to his career as a teacher once he was able to earn enough supplemental income as a sharecropper.  His dream of being a teacher was put on hold.  He became a successful farmer and landowner accumulating over 130 acres of land that he cultivated and leased out to other sharecroppers. 

     Definitions listed for the word noble included virtuous; morally good, superior in character and exalted.  Do you remember when that was how teachers were regularly described?  There was nobility assigned to being entrusted with guiding the next generation of adults in obtaining the knowledge needed to become productive, law-abiding citizens able to contribute to this great nation.  Remember, that was why so many opted to become teachers.  Sorrowfully, it is a calling that many have answered only to be unpleasantly surprised to learn that their noble contribution is not so highly valued.  As such, how many great teachers do you think decided to abandon the profession because we don’t compensate them like we appreciate their efforts?

     Why don’t we reward these noble guardians of the minds of our youth?  Why don’t we place them on that pedestal and pay them for doing this great service for the continued prosperity of our country?  Why don’t we pay them a salary commiserate to the daunting task that we expect them to accomplish?  We continually read and hear about the latest statistics that place us well below other industrialized nations in preparing our youth to compete in the world market.  There is a disconnect in the cause and effect of our dismissal of the importance of education and how it manifests itself in the chasm between the skilled and unskilled labor forces in the United States.

     In his book, Anti-intellectualism in American Life, Richard Hofstadter said, “The teacher is, or can be, the first more or less full-time, professional representative of the life of the mind who enters into the experience of most children. The feelings the child entertains toward the teacher are focal points in the formation of his early, rudimentary notions about learning.  The teacher is not merely an instructor but a potential personal model and a living clue to the attitudes that prevail in the adult world.”  In his book, Hofstadter also noted that detractors to the argument of the importance of teachers suggested that characteristically, as Myron Lieberman remarks, teachers are recruited “from the top of the lower half of the population.”  He said, “The upper and upper-middle class persons almost universally reject teaching as a profession.”  This seems the prevailing attitude, still, for almost the past 60 years.  American teachers earned a per capita income far below that of teachers in European democracies.   Teachers’ salaries, also, compare less favorably among professions in the United States.  Truthfully, shouldn’t we want to generously compensate our educators considering the kind of influence they can have on our children? 

     Obviously, the disparity in behavior and performance expectations versus monetary compensation for teachers has been a bone of contention for generations.  There is little doubt that teaching is a noble profession.  However, for far too long the rate of compensation being paid to teachers has been ignoble!  Thankfully, monetary compensation is not the driving force behind the choice to be a teacher. 

     Although my great-grandfather never got to fulfill his dream and return to being a teacher, he did leave a lasting legacy of educators who do fulfill that dream.  He had a son that was a teacher, a granddaughter who married a teacher, a great-granddaughter who is a teacher and a great-great-granddaughter who is a teacher.  Teaching is still noble and it will be so, forever more!

Mid-life Crisis...only if you let it be!

I took advantage of an opportunity to have a sincere discussion about mid-life crisis with two dear friends of mine and while we had different ways of expressing various baseline common denominators for each of our opinions on the subject, I think that what we all were trying to say can be woven into the same blanket of thought regarding aging. 

A point of view reflecting on the passage of time, and evidently, activity, presented as an explanation for behavior labeled as mid-life critical suggested that a crisis has occurred if the individual, having reached a later time in his adult life, believes that the important years of his youth have been wasted spent living for others and that that mindset must now be exorcised by some exercise of practicality; i.e., undoing or correcting behaviors that manifest those years perceived as being misspent.  With time seemingly running out, a, sort-of, panic ensues and an ‘Undertaking’ is initiated; a total makeover that will remedy the crisis and set the course for a new path for a new person.  The behavior always seems strange to everyone not inside the mind of the individual experiencing the mid-life critical moment and that’s why it, at least, seems like, to everybody who knows him, he’s having a crisis!

Another point of view that, again, reflects on the passage of time but from a more pragmatic point of view, suggests that, if, at a certain stage in your career as a money-making, bring-home-the-bacon, provider of creature comforts and sustenance for yourself and/or family, you become disenchanted with your path; your level of success or lack of same and resort to extreme chance or choice to change your fortune, it is probably safe to assume that you have been living, working and playing in an arena that you do not like and you’ve been doing something that you don’t have a comfortable command over.  Not to mention, you feel you’re earning way too little in the area of monetary compensation for your effort!  Now, the question you have to contemplate is do you have enough time to steer onto another path and realize satisfaction on all levels such that you feel fulfilled!  That internal struggle that you will wage within yourself may be viewed, by those on the outside looking in, as a crisis of a sort! 

Then, the point of view that was least discussed but, I think, most contemplated when assessed from a realistic, matter-of-fact, point of view was the ‘What if…’ point of view.  What if, just what if…your path is your path and you’ve just not finished walking it?  What if…all that you have lived and experienced; all that you have done and not done is not to be reviewed and assigned as successes or failures but more simply, just your life, lived.  What if…you are who and where you are with the experiences that you’ve lived and didn’t live and have yet to live; the money that you’ve earned and didn’t earn and have yet to earn; the places that you’ve been and not been; will and won’t visit.  What if…you are the things that you’ve done and not done but will do!  It’s true, that’s who you are!  If viewed in the proper perspective, reaching a particular time in your life, any stage in your career, any point in your development, should be easy to accept and celebrate, as what you’ve yet to do, is something you still get to do…if that is what you want to do!  And, all that you missed and won’t ever be able to do because the subject of the doing is dead or gone isn’t a loss.  It just wasn’t your path to take or experience to have!  As it stands, you are the sum total of the days, one after the other, that YOU experienced as they happened, up to this exact moment!  At most any age after the age of realization, the only crisis one experiences is thinking that between your birth and death, a certainty is assigned to your life and, for some reason, it’s not happening with any certainty!  So then…let the people say!       



Salad...The Savior from Leftovers

I can’t recall, growing up, an instance when there were any leftovers from the evening’s meal as I shared a dinner table with 11 other people up until I was 10 years old, and of course after that, anything left over, my little brother and I disposed of before it could ever earn that title.  Raising my sons; cooking for them, I don’t recall there ever being much food left over, either.  They were healthy eaters and if you know them, you know that!  Later, when I found myself living alone and then, with my wife, I started to see a lot of leftover food in my/our refrigerator and it bothered me.  Having been raised with enough but never any great surplus, I had a difficult time seeing food not consumed in a timely manner; like right now. It got to the point where my woman/wife (we lived together before we were married) and I were throwing away more food than we were eating, due to the ’Leftover’ syndrome that had invaded our world.  I wanted to determine what caused the consistent pattern of having leftovers that went to waste and then it hit me…I was cooking for two but preparing enough for more because it was ingrained in me from that time when I was young and, again, when I cooked for my kids.  I’d never adapted any of my habits or recipes to accommodate a changing time and new stage of my life when I didn’t have to cook so much.  Early on, I thought that I’d be able to manage and just learn to eat lots of leftovers; save time from cooking, daily and proactively have a delicious, nutritious meal waiting for me and my wife.  Alas, she’s not keen on leftovers, too often, and only certain things like spaghetti, pot roast or, maybe, pizza, at that!  I make spaghetti about once a month, pot roast maybe about once every two months and she’s the one that makes the pizza.  We don’t have that stuff often enough to get tired of it after one day so the second day isn’t that bad.  The basic evening meals are the ones that I have to be careful where portions are concerned as food prepared the basic way is hard to have to eat, twice in a row!  Stuff like fish and chips, macaroni and cheese and meatloaf, green beans, potatoes and pork chops, beans and weenies, rice, mixed veggies and chicken; those quick, easy, evening-meal-specials that are efficient and sufficient but dull if indulged in, twice in a row.  We tried to vary the combinations but once you get a knack for certain foods going with others, it’s hard to switch stuff around and even then, there are still only so many combos that can be done before you’re completely fagged out by any configuration of them.

…AND THEN…along came the rebirth of salad and the million things that you can do with it!   

I used to think that salad was just a side-dish but not anymore.  There are enough vegetables that you can even eat raw, as to make a different meal everyday!  Do you know how many different kinds of lettuce there are?  I can’t even name them all!  Iceberg and Romaine lettuce and Spinach are my favorites but there are twice as many more that I so seldom use, that I can’t name them, off the top of my head.  Add to the leafy greens, all of the red, green, orange, yellow, purple, white and brown, raw vegetables in the joint and you got meals by the thousands. Consider the produce area in your neighborhood grocery store as your own personal laboratory and you will discover that a new meal, every day, is easy to accomplish if you let raw or cooked vegetables be the focal point of your meal.  I used to think that meat had to be the central point of your dinner but now I know; it’s the Produce that produces!  So then…let the people say!  What are your favorite meals and how do you incorporate produce into the mix?  Tonight we’re having Wok-fried Chicken Salad and the only thing that’s cooked is the chicken!

Is this absurdity or what…?

I read in the newspaper, the other day, that a large segment of the companies hiring new employees is using whether or not the potential hires smoke (a nasty habit to this former smoker) as a part of the interview process and deeming ‘smokers’ as unqualified for the positions being filled.  So then, even knowing that the reasons for not hiring ‘smokers’ to positions that are being filled are plausibly sound ones (less health-risk employees, less time missed, not as much production lost from sneaky smoke breaks) for not hiring an individual that smokes, doesn’t that put that segment of companies, which have adopted said hiring guidelines, in direct opposition to another segment of American industry that supports Tobacco-growing and cigarette-manufacturing and other agricultural industries; the farmers, agriculture machinery production, marketing agencies and the federal and state agencies that govern and oversee that aspect of our country’s domestic production?  Wait, isn’t this one of the industries that is keeping the Insurance business in business?  You know, that business and industry that has raised the premium prices for healthcare coverage for people who have been slaves to the cigarette-craving that the tobacco manufacturers have chemically created with their production, since they began manufacturing them; and, who are having a difficult time finding a job, anyway.  Why don’t we just outlaw tobacco production and sales, subsidize the former tobacco growers while they transition to another, more useful and healthy, product and not use a legal but unhealthy habit as a weapon against folks trying to find a job?   So then, what do the people have to say?  

Outstanding Necessary Steps

Mark Lombard is my next door neighbor and he does some really cool stuff throughout the neighborhood, city, county and North Texas area, as his civic duty!  He undertook a project of a rather significant scope as he endeavored to enrich folks’ lives.  Upon presenting me with a rough draft of an essay he asked me to write, I would like to offer up the story I told on his behalf, for your perusal and comment on the subject(s).  

Outstanding Necessary Steps

As is the case with all efforts, acts and accomplishments, the impetus for each is that first necessary step!  An infant will eventually learn to walk and that first, necessary step will be documented and celebrated; recalled with excitement and the joyous sense of accomplishment that is associated with successful development.  The ‘For Love and Art’ project is an effort born from an idea that Mark Lombard had while dedicating some of his time, talent and love working as a hospice volunteer, here in the North Texas area.

According to the latest US Census report, there are between 8 million and 9.5 million people who are currently unable to travel outside of their assisted healthcare and/or assisted living facilities due to medical constraints and/or physical disabilities.  The vast majority of these individuals live in institutions, hospitals or hospices which, while functional and efficient, offer minimal physical beauty or appeal other than that of the other patients, the staff and the frequent or ill-frequent visitor.  Oftentimes, that is not enough uplifting visual stimulation to offset the mental or emotional depression associated with realizing one’s limited modality or mortality.

Mark met Miss Billie in a local Assisted Care/Retirement facility near Dallas, Texas and immediately nurtured a dynamic friendship with her as they shared a love for classical works of art, a love of artistic expression and the joy of visiting art museums. During visits with Miss Billie, they would spend hours discussing compelling works of art, as well as, their favorite painters. You see, Miss Billie loved art!  She said, “I like to draw things; pretty things, pretty clothes.  I love trees and flowers and things that a lot of people don’t think about or pay much attention to.  Art has always been a hobby of mine.”  However, 92 year-old Miss Billie had succumbed to her years and was unable to move about.  Now, with limited mobility, the world of art had been almost lost to her and, as such, so had the beauty and joy that art provided.  Miss Billie figured that she had not been to a museum in about 20 years.  Likewise, Mark loved art!  He had longed to be a docent at an art museum and provide insight and expert commentary to visiting museum patrons.  Alas, unfortunately, Mark’s professional path did not include a career as an employee of any museum.

Given that Miss Billie had, over the years, lost strength in her legs, Mark hoped to use her love of art as motivation for her to exercise and regain some of her strength and mobility so that one day they would be able to visit some of the local art museums, allowing her to once again surround herself with the physical manifestations of that which she so dearly enjoyed; the magical mystical works of art in which she so willingly loved to immerse herself.  “Come on, Miss Billie.  Try it, just one more time.  I know you can do it!  Don’t fret, I’m right here and I won’t let you fall.  We need to get those legs strong and working again so that we can visit the art museum together like we’ve been day-dreaming about.”  Mark lovingly prodded Miss Billie to take one more step.  They were working every day so that they could, possibly, visit the art museums they often talked about.  Eventually, it became the accepted reality that Miss Billie wasn’t going to regain enough strength in her legs to make the sojourn to the art museums, thus the need for and birth of Mark’s project, ‘For Love and Art’.

Mark had an idea that since Miss Billie couldn’t be taken to the museum, he would bring the museum to her!  His initial effort, his first step, was to collect souvenir post cards depicting classic works of art from the various museums that he visited and take them with him when he visited Miss Billie.  The joy on her face as they lovingly viewed the post cards compelled Mark to somehow, some way, take another step.  Mark recalled, “The look on Miss Billie’s face as we perused the post cards seemed to transport her back to a time when she was not confined by her current condition; a time when she was young and care-free and filled with joy!”  Her joy became his joy and their love and appreciation for one another deepened.

The souvenir post cards soon became an accepted expense as they became one of the focal points of Mark’s visits and his relationship with Miss Billie.  Her expectation of seeing new, different art depictions on the post cards created the need for another step; the step of fine-tuning his idea of bringing museum art to the residents of the various care facilities who had limited mobility.  Mark visited the Amon Carter Museum of American Art in neighboring Fort Worth.  There, he engaged Katherine Moloney, the Teaching Resources Coordinator and asked for her advice regarding how best to bring the museum’s works of art to patrons who were not mobile enough to visit.  During Mark’s conversation with Ms. Moloney, the concept of putting the museum’s digital images of the world’s masterpieces on a digital photo album and taking them out to those with limited or no mobility was conceived. “They’re easy to use, portable, have a large screen and a huge memory capacity for uploading a large number of images.  They look just like a photo album and we have existing programs for patrons with Alzheimer’s disease and syndrome, as well as, other cognitive disabilities.  However, we’ve never used them in any capacity, outside the museum.” She said.  Further, Ms. Moloney stated, “People shouldn’t be denied the opportunity to enjoy works of art simply because of their physical state in life.”

Mark realized that he might be on to something profound so, with his next step, he proceeded to contact museums in and around the DFW area and the country!  Mark collected the digital images of the various museums’ masterpieces and loaded them onto a digital photo album that he, himself, purchased and the ‘For Love and Art’ project was created.  In the next 60 days, Mark secured permission from nine of the top museums in the country to use their digital artwork images for his project.  Thus far, the list of museums that so generously provided the digital images of their masterpieces for use in Mark’s project includes:

The Amon Carter Museum of American Art

The Art Institute of Chicago

The Dallas Museum of Art

The J. Paul Getty Museum

The Kimbell Art Museum

The Meadows Museum at Southern Methodist University

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

The National Gallery of Art

The Phillips Collection

Each of the previously listed museums understood the value of this endeavor and graciously agreed to share their images for the ‘For Love and Art’ project and Mark is grateful!

The next step in Mark’s development of the ‘For Love and Art’ project was marrying it to the Touching Our World Foundation, a non-profit organization that sponsors Community Service projects, led by Executive Director, Paula Reed.  Ms. Reed immediately recognized Mark’s passion and commitment to service and this commitment fit ideally with the vision of the Touching Our World Foundation.  Mark’s project was officially adopted and this provided the project with resources and its 503 (c) (3) status, allowing for tax-deductible donation eligibility.

Mark continued visiting Miss Billie at the Assisted Care/Retirement facility, sharing his love, time and postcard art with her.  He would occasionally whisper in her ear that he had a surprise for her, teasing her and elevating her level of excitement about his special effort on her behalf.  They both looked forward to his surprise as he worked toward the fruition of his project.

Mark’s next step was reaching out to Judith Pickering, the Hospice Volunteer Coordinator for the Community Hospice of Texas.  He shared his vision for the ‘For Love and Art’ project with her and asked for her assistance.  Ms. Pickering said, “I see the digital art book as a means to reach out to patients of myriad circumstances to whom we provide assistance.  It can serve as a life review; a therapeutic means to get our patients to talk about their life, share memories and come to closure with their eventual final chapter.  In addition, the visual stimulation gives them joy in the immediate moment.”  Inspired by the vision of the project, Ms. Pickering brought together a group of hospice volunteer coordinators to participate in the project.

The day arrived that Mark divulged his surprise to Miss Billie.  Together, they viewed the bright, clear, digital images of some of the world’s masterpiece artworks on the electronic photo album.  Miss Billie’s eyes lit up and a beautiful smile became the focal point of her facial expression as she viewed William Merritt Chase’s ‘Idle Hours’, the painting depicting women lounging on the shores of Long Island during a picnic.  In that moment, Miss Billie was no longer an elderly woman of 92 years but a young woman, again.  Yes, in that instant Miss Billie was back in Georgia, having a picnic on the shores of a lake with her siblings.  And, in that moment, any thoughts about the temerity of his efforts left Mark.  This was an undertaking worth all of his time, his efforts and his love!

During the last week of October, 2010, the ‘For Love and Art’ project was introduced to the public.  The event was sponsored and held at the Dallas Museum of Art and Miss Billie was present, up front and center stage for the entirety of the presentation.  She listened intently as Mark provided an overview of the project and how it came to be.  She listened as he dedicated the project to her allowing that she was his inspiration.  Miss Billie was touched by the love shown to her from everyone who attended the ceremony, including the Keynote speakers, Zig Ziglar and his daughter, Julie.  Later, that same day, 12 local hospices were given their own digital art books to share with their patients. 

The passion for helping others and a love of art intersected when Mark Lombard and Miss Billie met and we all will be better for it.  If only for a few minutes in the life of a hospice patient; if only for a moment in the fleeting life of any of us, our hearts can be filled with joy at recounting a time when we were young and if perusing the digital images uploaded onto just one of these electronic devices positively impacts the emotional disposition of just one person, we should tip our cap to Mark Lombard for this beautiful undertaking!

It is estimated that just one of these digital art books will be viewed by 1200 individuals during its lifetime.  Thus far, 12 of them have been created and distributed so 14,440 lives will be positively impacted and given the estimation that the population of persons with limited or no mobility will double in the next two decades, there will be a need for many more.  Currently, because of the positive emotional impact of the day when the ‘For Love and Art’ project made its public debut, a large group of powerful people in Dallas have committed to taking Mark’s project to the next level.  As our population of baby boomers, the largest segment of our population that are patrons of the arts, begin to reach retirement age of 65, the demand for these digital art books will increase, dramatically. ‘For Love and Art’ endeavors that any- and everyone with limited mobility be allowed the chance to share the experience of viewing all of the world’s art masterpieces, should they so choose.

Miss Billie got her chance to visit the art museum when ‘For Love and Art’ made its public debut and we salute Mark for making that desire her reality, as well.  This project was necessary and from the first necessary step to this place, this project walks, no, runs because of him.  I coin a phrase when I suggest to Mark that he has taken some necessary steps that have been ‘Outstanding’!