2021: Another Year in Review

 

2021: Another Year in Review

Once again, the Lord found it fit for all of us to see the end of the calendar year, and for that, we all absolutely need to be grateful. From the wildest sequence of a beginning to hysteria some of everywhere to what is prayerfully a relatively peaceful end to this revolution around the sun, this has been a year for both recovering from the cluster that 2020 was and the sanctification of my family’s own privacy. 2021 has also been a case study of my own quest to live authentically as I mind my own Black-ass business staying above the fray and away from anyone who may try to drag me down his or her rabbit hole.



JANUARY

Just six days into the year, a bunch of sore losers (I’m gonna call them that) who have never had to deal with real Ls in their mediocre lives mobbed into Chocolate City and acted a plumb donkey. January 6, 2021 will forever live in infamy as the day democracy nearly perished: If you recall reading Not My Fight about Y’All Qaeda, Team Meal Six, Vanilla ISIS, HezBubba or whichever tongue-in-cheek description I used of those citizens nationwide in addition to the ones with similar sentiments who remained home, the date represented a time to sit back and laugh to keep from crying. As the Saltine Siege came not to protest rather to destroy a nation built on laws apparently for everyone else excluding them solely because Black people showed up for the man who I later termed as Moneybagg Joe, their acolytes were in statehouses nationwide with control of congressional redistricting maps simultaneously attempting to take the nation back to a less than ideal period of time for anyone not a heterosexual WASP male. It was then I took these few words to a whole new level: Today is a great day for minding my own Black-ass business.



What does that mean, Brother?



It means that I and my family deserve the absolute God-given birthright to live our lives truthfully with nary a whit of what anyone says or does, and we are going to do just that. In the meantime, mind your business.

FEBRUARY

With some serious prodding from my own brother, cousin, homies, and kinfolk, I did reprise Black History Month with 28 new facts plus a few new ones. At this point I would expect that learning of our achievements and how we have overcome would be welcomed and openly encouraged but a new Black boogeyman meant to scare wypipo (the spelling is intended – if you’re offended, then you’re exactly who I am talking about), and some tap-dancing Black folks came in the form of Critical Race Theory. First of all, CRT is not taught on any K-12 level whatsoever – it is a law school study that examines the impact of systemic racism throughout American history from 1619 to the present date. The closest most of us get to it is the Pyrrhic victories from the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s without discussing the modern-day blowback such as the rise of private schools and seg academies; how the trident of the legal system found ways to blunt progress and the subsequent rise of the Religious Right; the manner of how tax dollars are spent in our communities; and so forth. You’re going to want to this TED talk next to a rack of beef back ribs smoking at 225 degrees in my backyard.



Arkansas caught quite a dumping of snow that Little Miss Sunshine had not seen since she was three days old – and ironically, that snowstorm hit the day after her sixth birthday and the photo shoot. Shout out to Denise for her excellent work that day with the props, outfit changes, and making us comfortable watching Caeli’s star shine brighter that day.



MARCH

In the first (and hopefully only) trip to the ER, Caeli dislocated her left middle toe in a freak accident. Fortunately for us, she recovered in time to sit in a car for a fourteen-hour road trip to spring break vacation in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Not knowing how close I was to barbecue legend Rodney Scott’s family restaurant in Hemingway, I found it appalling that I did not eat an ounce of barbecue that week courtesy of all of the other attractions in the area such as Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum and apparently, more golf courses and restaurants than one could shake a stick at. The beach was cool [literally – the high most days was in the low 70s]; our hotel had an indoor pool and saunas that more than made up for the still-cold Atlantic Ocean water. Pro tip: Get your car’s maintenance done before heading out of town. Although the team at Sparks Toyota was efficient and friendly enough to the extent, I considered bringing back a black Camry TRD home, no one expects an $80 punch in the gut for an oil change that required a 24-hour appointment from what supposedly was the only dealer within a hundred miles.



The classic FJ and A70 Supra on the showroom floor were pretty neat to walk around as well.



As for Rodney, his flagship restaurant in Charleston is a few hours down the road along two-lane highways, and that was not in the cards on this adventure. In addition, I found the town my ancestors migrated from after Reconstruction: Edgefield, SC. Across the Savannah River (and a slew of highway construction on Interstate 20) from Augusta, GA, Edgefield, and Anderson counties are where 5,000 newly freed Black people were exiled in 1876 over unpaid wages. Guess where we landed? Along the Arkansas River, Cadron and Palarm creeks in present-day Conway, Faulkner, and Pulaski counties.

APRIL

After nearly a year of virtual worship from home, I found myself back in the church for in-person service. I had mostly been around the building leading the food pantry ministry and doing the needed things around the Mount as one would expect deacons to do such as yard and van upkeep, cleaning the building not limited to the sanctuary and restrooms, and much of the expected duties yet my heavily bearded (and morbidly obese) face was MIA come Sunday morning at 11 am.

I also began my diet. Disgusted with my appearance, I finally said screw it and did something about it: I weighed 295 lbs. with aching bones, a beer belly, and overmedicated from both high blood pressure and diabetes prescriptions with the knowledge that I was digging my own early grave with a fork, to paraphrase former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee. In addition to my way better half Chastity, I also have to thank not only my family doctor but also the dietician who finally made me get on track and do something about it. I’m not quite where I want to be on the scale, but I am definitely better today than I was when the lifelong journey began. Also, shout out to the in-laws for the constant cracks at my weight: Fat can be lost while ratchetness is less elusive by choice and conduct.



I forgot something really important: We began a garden.

MAY

We came.

We saw.

We conquered kindergarten.

Caeli graduated from her initial go-round through public school with style!



I also ran a monthlong promotion through Dub Shack BBQ in honor of 501 Day for the area code which any bottles of barbecue sauce were sold at the low price of $5.01; it accidentally extended through the summer because I forgot to reset pricing to the normal $10 per bottle. In case you forgot the flavors, they are: The O.G.; The Ancestors; Dang! Oh, Mango; Peachin’ Ain’t Easy; Pop Da Cherry; and Get Honey. The holiday blend Dem Berries is a November/December edition only; however, if you ask nicely and wave $10 toward me, you can have a truly unique experience. Speaking of barbecue, I took on a teaching role with a number of recipes created as I stepped back from peddling box lunches from the house for an exceedingly cheap price. One thing that will not change: Every day is a GREAT day for Dub Shack BBQ!

I quit drinking alcohol Memorial Day. That’s the sentence.

JUNE

The US government made Juneteenth a federal holiday which was not exactly what Black people were looking for. Symbolism is cool to the unaware or those who think we should be satisfied with the leftover crumbs from the bipartisan efforts of delay if not outright deny Black progress; consequently, when we let off the gas last year when we had the world’s attention, the backlash was fast and furious. I’m also not enthralled with the idea of raisin potato salad and what was lowkey our Independence Day being tried on and treated like a fashion trend before discarded like Ed Hardy t-shirts and grown men wearing bedazzled jeans with more rips than actual denim material. Anyway, the family kicked it!



As far as AD&AD, I hunkered down deeper into my own thoughts and quit sharing to both blue platforms as I found myself working out every morning, blogging and editing every few days, and having second thoughts about things unrelated to the constant quest of minding my own Black-ass business and protecting my family’s privacy at all costs.

JULY

Our little athlete began playing softball with the Bryant Storm! As we familiarized ourselves with the game, we let gymnastics go by the wayside all the while juggled swim lessons, play dates, and a new pet. While I won’t speak much of the little guy, he has no impact on the sauce business whatsoever. Thanks to all the people we’ve gotten to know and enjoy throughout the season as not only each girl improved weekly as well as our lefthanded catcher giving opposing teams the blues.



Look out, it's the Bryant Storm!

In a post that I’ll likely never share publicly, I began to have doubts about my own spiritual journey pertaining to the local house of worship regarding the events transpired over the past seventeen months during the pandemic. During those deep dives, I began to wonder what kind of plan God has in store for me and my family (no, I haven’t been called into the preaching side of ministry – the diaconate more than suffices that role of service); why am I still in a place where I had become unhappy as my own relationship with Christ had slowly devolved into what seemingly become a rote-and-routine bout of outward piety disguised as religion; and what do the solutions to both of my major issues look like. I attempted to converse with the other deacons only to find myself akin to a dog chasing his tail until he tires, and though no fault of the other five men, it was then that spiritual free agency would become an eventual state for me.

AUGUST

Although we did it a few days late and just before the school year began, Chastity and I celebrated ten years of marriage at Fort Morgan! Can you believe she has put up with me for this long? Aside from having to dodge jellyfish in the Gulf of Mexico as well as creep through Gulf Shores traffic and miss out on the dolphin rides, this was a much-needed week away from the Natural State. In love, we successfully minded our own Black-ass business.



Not everything has been peaches and cream: For those of you who know how much of an eyesore my old storage building was, I kind of hired out a guy to help take it down – he got to keep the building, foundation, and all in exchange – and we tangled with some yellowjackets. I caught the brunt of their ire with multiple stings on my bottom lip, chest, and leg while he had one fly in his boots. It took a few days to finish the job yet the pain last for nearly a week.



Yellowjackets (not the ones from Mtn. View, Wynne or Sheridan) 5, Ced 0

August also began the Tailgating for Everyone barbecue series which coincided with Henderson State football with my favorite recipe: smoked cream cheese. If you haven’t tried it, then what are you waiting on?



SEPTEMBER

With softball season in full tilt and the losses mounting, we were only concerned that Caeli was having fun and getting better weekly. I have to give it to Rob for being able to manage coaching eleven four-to-six-year-old girls as he somehow kept their attention for an hour at a time. Of course, snacks after each practice and game were the way to maintain focus. With her grandparents in the bleachers, #9 played hard and had fun – the girl has a rocket for an arm and wings for feet!



In the meantime, I chugged along through the Tailgating for Everyone series making friends and neighbors alike hungry each Thursday or Friday depending on the actual cook with the following Saturday morning post with items that could be found fairly easily and cheaply. I mean, who are we trying to impress with wagyu brisket or bison hot dogs at a freaking tailgate party?

More importantly, my nephew Aston began his Christian journey – and guess who gave him communion? Me! His baby sister Emori was born only a few weeks later and so far, she’s a happy baby.

OCTOBER

Nine years to the date after joining Mount Zion, I left the church for the spiritual free agency I was talking about a few months. I am eternally indebted to the congregation for not only allowing us to become an integral part of the service and seeing it in me to become a deacon but also having a leadership team that although they didn’t always see eye to eye or understand the intent behind some decisions – the real reason why I left is that after the extensive prayers and vacillating back and forth between my head and my heart for several months, I acknowledged my season had come to an end. God has a way of making us uncomfortable in places we aren’t supposed to be to the point we either get up and move on His will or endure a whooping that could have been very easily avoided. I won’t entirely share our criteria for the next physical house of worship we call home, so wherever we land, I pray that it is somewhere we can further grow to be more consistently Christlike in action versus inundated in the rote and routine of religion regarding the physical optics and what that bank balance looks like.



For some people this is the case

Something else also happened: We went to our first UAPB football game as a family. Read how I said UAPB not the Razorbacks game. I had watched the Hogs play at War Memorial years ago (they lost both games) and the Golden Lions, once – at their homecoming weekend my freshman year at HSU. That was also a loss but the biggest win that weekend in 1997 was the K-Ci and JoJo concert that everyone stayed around for. About the game: For most Arkansans, this was their first HBCU experience, and despite the final score, it was a fun time.



Now…who are you rooting for? U! A! P! B!



After a winless campaign (really, we were 1-7 but the umpire was a tool), Caeli joined a new softball team called Bat Intentions. I don’t really know the coaches or parents yet as another teammate lives in our neighborhood unbeknownst to us but what is certain is they breathe the sport. Their commitment to winning is second to none which ironically is where the girls finished in their first tournament she played in as a member. Spring ball is forthcoming, but for now, let us focus on basketball and being the very best student she can be.



After a short free agency period, meet Bat Intentions

In addition, I was honored to interview noted author, attorney, and barbecue aficionado Adrian Miller for a panel during the Central Arkansas Library Systems' Six Bridges Book Festival about his latest book Black Smoke. While it should be excused that I was a complete fan boy during my session, I admit it was extremely enjoyable. Shout out to Amy for making this possible; the link is also included to this session 👉🏿 https://youtu.be/HADnjge-gBw



NOVEMBER

We began to end our year as city farmers by picking the yields of our labor. All of the mornings and evenings of watering tomatoes, peppers, strawberries, squash, okra, cucumbers, green beans, mint, lemongrass, and yes, watermelon paid off in a bumper crop! I smelled like the garden for the next couple of days. In the offseason, we shall work on our plans for next spring and perhaps expand a bit.



Chastity had an enjoyable birthday – more so since she forgot I took the day off from work.



Around us, Thanksgiving was really easy to plan for; regarding the execution, my only request was not to have any leftover dinner come December. Mission accomplished: I ate the last of the turkey slices on the 30th.

DECEMBER

As 2021 is mostly in the rearview, it has been a year of revelation and resolve.



What do I mean?

This year has revealed a lot in the characters of people and systems alike; as we continue to study Ephesians 6:10-17, let us remain mindful that this is a temporary stop on our way to eternity. It does not mean lay there as a wet rug or punching bag and take whatever comes to us since not everything that is good to us IS good for us. Some of us have employers who did too much with the verbal shows of adulation for their workforces in the beginning of the pandemic but now decline to prove their appreciation for those who stuck it out: Make them pay by taking our talents elsewhere to an environment that appreciates us. Some of us are peeping the fact that the Black Lives Matter movement seemingly became Black Dollars Matter once the powers-that-be realized that we were beginning to find our own footing in creating and expanding our personal definition of Black liberation. (For those of you who had the black boxes and profile changes up in 2020 only to come up MIA when the smoke clears, we see you.) Still, some of us are so wedded to the foolishness that if/when we do wake up, it may be too late.



For me, 2021 has been a year of resolve. Not only did I turn 43 earlier this month but also, I have lost forty pounds since April by only making slight alterations to my diet: mostly water and black coffee, walking for at least half an hour most days, and incorporating more fruits and vegetables into my diet. I am not where I want to be – I now have a blueprint to follow regarding my own health that can get me there with consistency.

We’ve spent the year minding our Black business, and I’m pretty sure that I am going to carry that idea into 2022 Lord willing and He says the same.

Anyway, thanks for riding with a brother.

God bless, I’m out.