Category: Special Events

 The biggest fantasy is

Some man would be a mind reader

Knowing instinctively what to say

To make me want him

In an instant

He’d just size me up

Know how to connect to me

Doesn’t that sound marvelous

Someone crossing your path

Just knowing how to be attractive

Or at the very least

Not a turn off

There are such men like that

We call them con artists

 

I have a friend

Let’s call her Lulu

She’s not a con artist

But whenever she wants

To declare the end of a relationship

Like a period

Punctuating the situation

She dyes her hair—at either end

Not sure if she flips a coin

Heads or coochie

But one or the other

Gets dyed some unnatural color

Commemorating the moment

Another part of her breakup ritual

Is swearing off sex

And welcoming celibacy

Like a beacon

Signaling sexual frustration

That unnaturally dyed hair

Ensnares the next

Future ex

Within her sensuous wake

All without talking dirty

 

Here’s a limerick:

Is it a good time for a kiss

She mentally asks her secret wish

If they don’t go to her head

They’ll travel down South instead

Like horny little fish

 

Now back to me:

I’m conflicted

What turns me on

Isn’t dirty talk

It’s intelligent talk

From a non-condescending man

Who listens

Very few men can actually pull

All three of those things off

Instead

There are many third-rate Romeos

With lots of words, dirty and all

Completely exhausting the limits

Of their vocabulary

Regurgitating clichés

Jokes and current sayings

 

Here’s a haiku:

Sweet-sounding words ooze

Warmly from his gorgeous lips

Like diarrhea

 

True inner conflict

Is being constipated

You aren’t funny, sexy, or intelligent

You’re miserable as hell

And full of shit

 

I want Love to be some tangible place

I can go to a map of the cosmos

Put my finger on it

 

Lovingly caress it

Become enveloped into a daydream

Save up enough goodwill

Good karma to take me there

Like the Staple singers sang about

 

I want the 12 coordinates of Heaven

Sought out and discovered by

Mathematicians, physicists and religions

Intersecting in undeniable existence

Proven by the yet-to-be-discovered new number

Unlike any other number

In existence

 

Here’s a play on an old nursery rhyme:

I have read

Now you’re less blue

Laughter is sweet

I bid you adieu

 

 

 

For the third time in two months and since moving to Austin in 2009, Mother Nature snowed.  Par for the course in Austin, lots of ice rained down. I stayed in my apartment the entire day. I had a mental list of things to do, including working out in the morning and “going to work” in the afternoon, which was made possible since I telecommute.

The next day, I gathered my yoga gear, carefully maneuvered down the icy stairs and discovered a quarter inch of ice on my windshield.  My usual ice scrapers were an old plastic badge from my teaching days and a sturdier plastic flour spatula that I kept in the glove compartment. Yet, those things weren’t cracking the ice. To answer the obvious, YES, I’d turned on the defroster. The rear windshield defroster worked faster since the heating elements were embedded in the windshield itself, but that front windshield…

I also turned on my chemistry brain. I knew that isopropyl (rubbing) alcohol would’ve done the trick, but I only had hydrogen peroxide. One thought kept haunting me while I tried to make that flour spatula work.  As the minutes ticked by, I feared being late for yoga class; so I broke down and grabbed the vodka from my freezer.

Since vodka remains liquid in the freezer, it defrosts an icy windshield.  That’s all the chemistry anyone needs to know in this situation.

If I would have planned better, I would have poured the vodka onto a cloth, then applied it to the windshield.  Instead, I drizzled it on top of the windshield and scraped with a metal spatula.

After all that effort, I managed to get a peephole through the ice shield.  I figured the cops would stop me since I had to hunch over with my chin about an inch above the steering wheel in order to see.  I rooted every time the windshield wipers cleared a little more melted ice away.

By the time I pulled into the parking garage adjacent to the yoga studio, I was sitting upright like a normal driver, which was superb since the laws of civilization falter in parking lots/garages.

I hate arriving late to places, especially yoga, but I’d called ahead, so the instructor expected me. As luck would have it, I wore the brightest, loudest yoga pants I owned. A design called “disco dots.” Zero subtlety and absolutely no sneaking into that class already in progress. I set my mat up in the front row and joined in as if I’d been on time. Namaste!

Months ago, Mayor Adler formed a task force in order to address institutional racism. This was far overdue, especially after stories started circulating years ago about how Blacks were leaving Austin, which was the reverse trend, compared to  other growing cities around the US. Normally, Austin is revered as the Live Music Capital of the World; so this embarrassment had to be eventually addressed.

Fortunately, I found out about this meeting a few days before it took place last Sunday afternoon at a nearby historically Black university, Huston-Tillotson. In addition to Mayor Steve Adler, the other panelists included Huston-Tillotson President, Colette Pierce Burnette, AISD Superintendent, Paul Cruz, City of Austin Diversity Officer, Brian Oaks and moderating the discussion was Austin American-Statesman Senior Editorial Writer, Alberta Phillips.

Given my proximity to the university, I’d allowed enough time to get there, but had no idea I’d have to park so far away and walk across an unpaved parking lot in the blazing sun and across the campus, which I’d had the foresight to locate on a campus map prior to leaving home. I joked to myself that this was my mini-freedom march, which I wouldn’t dare say out loud because people before me have actually risked their lives to march for freedom, the recognition of which humbled me and chased away any complaints I may have had about the parking situation.

Since this task force meeting was in collaboration with the League of Women Voters (LWV), there were plenty of signs guiding the way to the chapel where the meeting was held. Indicative of the LWV, a check-in table and refreshment table awaited those of us who’d trekked to be in attendance. I’ve attended LWV meetings before and have always enjoyed how organized, respectful, and informative they were. This meeting was no exception.

Despite being a few minutes late, I found a seat near the front among the large audience. I’d missed most of the student speakers, but caught LWV President Cinde Weatherby’s overview of the league’s activities. I especially appreciated that she gave us a brief history of LWV, acknowledging that  the group originally concerned itself with white women’s vote when it was formed in 1919. I loved that mention since it set the tone for why we’d all gathered there in the first place: to unpeel the layers back from institutions and organizations and reveal how people of color have been marginalized from full participation. She also made the appeal to everyone who wanted to get voter information should text 42828. Plus, anyone who wanted to become a Volunteer Deputy Registrar (VDR) should speak with a LWV member after the meeting.

Mayor Adler shared with us the he’d received many calls after forming this task force, saying that they thought it was a good idea. In the same breath, they asked, “Could you call it something else?” To which he said that they had just proved his point.

Here are my takeaways from the discussion that ensued, which I wrote down on my ever present notepad:

1. AISD has 60% poverty students and pays the most into recapture as far as tax money is concerned.
2. AISD is closing “Black schools” on the east side of Austin while building “White schools” on the west side of Austin.
3. In 1928, Austin divided the city and invested differently into the east and west sides of town–a legacy that still manifests itself today.
4. Officer Oaks stated that the city shouldn’t show up with all the answers, but should have conversations with the community because the people closest to the problem are also the closest to the solution. Suggested three things: 1) normalize racial equity; 2) organize around equity with the community actively involved; 3) operationalize equity by taking positive action.
5. President Burnette stated that the fact that we’re having this conversation is the direct result of the task force. Systems don’t change until people do. When leadership changes, then change can take place. Then she gave some examples to identify if someone is part of the problem: a) you don’t call out a racist joke; b) you look around and remain silent about the lack of diversity in the staff; c) you feel that bad things always happen in another part of town and doesn’t affect you.
6. Mayor Adler pointed out that homelessness should be dealt with through intervention programs rather than jail.
7. Superintendent Cruz said that the first step has to be training leaders to tackle institutional racism since they have to change the way things are done.
8. Moderator Phillips stated that Obama was who America wanted to be, but Trump is  who America is.
9. AISD’s suspension policy changed because students of color were being suspended a lot for minor things.
10. All panelist agreed that students of color should receive reparations in some shape or form.
11. We need a root-cause analysis about housing to see which solutions to implement (co-op, intergenerational housing, and so on).
12. There needs to be accountability around the percentage of housing that’s affordable within new development. In reality, less is set aside and often there’s complicated and prohibitive bureaucracy involved to discourage participation.
13. Gentrification improves property, raises property value and displaces low economic status people, but who’s responsible for these displaced people?
14. Gentrification also involves the environment since investment in property mostly serves people with money, but property where poor people live must also have positive investment.

So my celebration began the day before my actual birthday. I normally work from home, but once a month, we all gather into the office to work, receiving additional training. This in-office training was special since our team leader had baked two birthday cakes: a chocolate one for me and a traditional Italian family recipe for a coworker.

As if that wasn’t enough, she’d also brought us a gift bag. I figured my gift bag was mainly to conceal the boxed Malbec inside. I had a lackluster sales day, but a wonderful start to my celebration.

For my actual birthday, I slept in, took the 10AM Bikram class, then ate at a nearby restaurant to re-tox. One of my good friends met me there.

For the first time, I tried their toasted coconut margarita. It was tasty, but would’ve been better with actual coconut cream.

As part of my birthday treat, the restaurant gifted me “good karma guacamole,” made fresh right at the table.

Then I ordered two tacos: steak and bacon-wrapped shrimp–all meats that I don’t normally eat.

The restaurant also gave me a complimentary dessert: an ancho brownie sundae.  Unfortunately, my friend has gluten sensitivity; so I stuffed most of that delicious brownie into my gut.

I returned to work on Friday, but it was the second Friday in the week and lovely.  I took my usual Friday afterwork swim.

After a Saturday afternoon Bikram class, I met another friend at the same conveniently located restaurant. This time, we caught the tail end of their ever-so-delicious buffet and reconnected. The best thing about meeting one friend at a time for lunch is brainstorming and venting many ideas in a short space of time.

Sunday, which was Mom’s 77th birthday, I hosted the Austin Writers Roulette, which is always a creative and worthy way to round out the weekend, much less my birthday. Our theme was “Ol’ School Soul Food.” I recounted all the delicious foods from my childhood, including the butter!

I’d had such a stressful week that the warnings about Hurricane Harvey washed over me. Despite the evacuation images I saw on TV and the scrolling flash flood warnings at the bottom of news broadcasts, I’d burned the candle at both ends, scrambling to work on too many projects at once. I’d temporarily forgotten how close I lived to the impending disaster.

By Thursday, reality had finally sunk in that a natural disaster neared my doorstep.  Coupling that with my inner turmoil, my nightly prayer included a plea for God to dissipate that hurricane. I repeated that same plea on Friday night. Yet Hurricane Harvey kept thrashing the coastal communities along the Gulf of Mexico.

During my weekly Saturday morning call to Mom, who lived in NC with Dad, she confessed the irrational belief that since Dad’s Uncle Harvey was a gentleman, she didn’t think Hurricane Harvey would do much harm.  We both laughed at the silliness of it. Plus, I’d been wishfully thinking the same thing.

Yet, my experience with Harvey began with a cooling relief of the triple-degree weather, starting around Wednesday. Then a constant rain on Friday night and into Saturday, which continued on Sunday, causing flash floods around town. I’d ventured to one or two places during the day, but absolutely stayed home at night.

One of the silver linings to being near an impending natural disaster was hearing from long-lost relatives and friends. A few just texted me to confirm that I was OK. One friend who I hardly ever hear from except around Christmas, called and we gave each other updates, but it could’ve been just yesterday when we last spoke.

Another friend had invited me to watch the Game of Thrones season finale at her house, but as a consolation prize, we actually TALKED on the phone. How retro in this day and age of social media and texting!

Nothing close to the widespread devastation of Houston occurred in Austin. Besides the flash floods, which dried up after a few days, I recently noticed cars lining up at a gas station. At some stations, they’d run out of the cheap gas and prices sharply rose due to a shortage and Labor Day weekend.

Just a few weeks prior to this hurricane, The States had reacted against white supremacist violence Charlotte. In contrast, we here in Texas show the true spirit of being Americans by helping one another during these struggling times. Amidst all the talk of removing Confederate statutes, some have suggested replacing them with the contemporary heroes who have helped Hurricane Harvey survivors.

I’m not sure about any of that, but I’m so happy that far more of us believe and act upon cooperating and helping one another rather than acting out in hate and violence.

Since both my money and paid time off aligned this summer, I attended a reunion on my father’s side of the family.  I hadn’t seen them in nearly ten years. 

I’ve only consistently reunited with my immediate family who were in attendance, but it was strange to see them since it was not Christmas.

I’d decided to attend at the last minute, which is why I’m the only one without a family reunion T-shirt.

I made sure to take my father’s picture with his two sisters. I didn’t know if we were going to take any formal group pictures and wanted to get as many as I could.

When I look at long-established married couples like my parents and one of my sisters and her husband, they seem like generations from a by-gone era.

One of my cousin’s wife had her first novel for sale. Reminded me of the time back in 2011 when I took my first novel to the reunion on my mother’s side of the family. Much later after the fact, I discovered that one of my uncles didn’t like the fact that I’d sold my book at the reunion.

Soon after most of us had finished eating, we made the tremendous effort to get everyone on stage to take a group picture.

Then, we took cohort pictures, starting with the 70+ age group.

Next, the 60s group took their picture.

The 50s group started making too much noise, led by one of my sisters, as they made their way to the stage.

For some inexplicable reason, once my group, the 40s, made our way to the stage, only two of us were present in the room; so we had a good time, like the childhood friends we’d been growing up.

Throughout our photo shoot, we kept yelling for another cousin who we knew was in our age group, but was probably outside smoking.

We made the most out of “waiting” for him.

Finally, three other cousins joined us.

The 20s group were far too cool to show out, not having to prove their vitality, but rather show they were no longer children.

Then the teenage and younger group all sat in front of the stage. They should have been the most energetic, but they were pretty subdued as well.

Then, to put the puzzle pieces together in yet another fashion, we took “immediate” family pictures. So, here are the immediate descendants of my parents, starting with our “getting ready shot.”

Followed by the “we got our shit together” shot.

Here are the descendants of my Uncle Earl and Aunt Florence.

Next up, Aunt Carmenta’s descendants.

Here is Aunt Roventa’s family.

And I can never have too many pictures with my sisters with some cousins thrown in.

Here’s perhaps the most sacred picture of them all: the surviving children of Mama Rose Peatross Roberson.

I’d looked forward to my nephew’s cooking since he’s a vegetarian. He first made boiled Brussel sprouts and broccoli, seasoned with salt, pepper and a pat of butter. That was delicious, but his baked chickpeas was the truly exciting dish, seasoned with a fresh ground dry spice mix.

He brushed the canned chickpeas with olive oil.

Baked them for nearly an hour.

Then coated them with the spices he ground by hand.

Saturday morning, we hiked the Slaughter Creek Trail, which was one big, level circle, dotted with informative placards along the way.

There wasn’t much tree cover along most of the way, but we enjoyed the little shade we had.

We were the only ones hiking; so we got this picture, thanks to some people who had taken a break from biking along the trail in the opposite direction of those of us who’d chosen to walk.

Once we regrouped at home, I took CJ to the Carver Museum to see the outdoor Emancipation installation and the permanent indoor Juneteenth installation.

On another fine afternoon, we went to Zilker Park, so he could do some parkour exercises on the rock.

He did a little bit, but not too much to justify another shower since we’d already done Bikram yoga.

We took a mini tour of Austin proper, which included posing with one of the most famous graffiti in the city.  We’d patiently waited for a turn until the group who were next didn’t have their act together. I pushed CJ into position to take our own pictures instead.

Next stop: my favorite costume shop. Even CJ had to admit that he’d never seen such a spectacular display of costumes and accessories all under one roof.

Then we visited Graffiti Park, which was far more overrun with plants than the last time I’d visited earlier this year. I let him explore a little on his own since he wore closed-toed shoes, and I had on sandals.

When we visited the State Capitol, I asked him to stand in front of Miriam Ferguson’s portrait. Not merely controversial because she was the first female Texas governor, but also her husband, a former Texas governor himself, was no longer eligible to run again due to his illegal activities. His political enemies feared she was his proxy.

I’m not sure if the memorial stood on a spot where a confederate statue once stood, but I loved seeing it in front of the state capitol, which was built by slave labor. 

My big treat was seeing the African American Emancipation Memorial.

After Bikram class, we ate at one of my favorite retox restaurants next door.

Next on the daily workout list: capoeira! I made sure in advance that my “cousin” taught that night. He took us through one of his famous, grueling warm ups before we ever got to the actual capoeira training part. Gave me a beautiful reminder of why I stayed in such terrific shape when I was training.  (I need to pick up my personal work out game when I’m in the fitness room.)

Even though CJ didn’t get a chance to spar, at least he had an opportunity to do kick and dodge drills with someone much faster than his aunt.

For our last dinner together in Austin, we ate at a nearby vegan restaurant. Neither one of us were adventurous enough to sample the vegan cheese plate. He’d tried some distasteful vegan cheese in the past and I heeded his caution. 

For dessert, we shared a buttermylk pie with raspberry sauce. Now, when I say “shared,” I mean he grudgingly took one bite at my insistence and I ate the rest. 

Afterwards, we took an evening stroll along the Lady Bird Lake trail, starting at the Stevie Ray Vaughn statue.

We smelled Congress Street bridge a few feet before we got to it. Silly me thought a 16-year old boy would find the largest urban colony of bats in North America cool. Ha! As soon as he told me that he’s seen lots of bats before in Batman movies, I ridiculed him for nearly the rest of the trip over his lack of enthusiasm, regarding 1.3 million Mexican free tailed bats.

He told me that one day, I’d realize that he’s cool. I responded, “Yes, because in a few years, you’ll actually BE cool.” Hopefully, our brief time together on this visit, with all of our wonderful one-on-one conversations, added to that!