Saturday, September 7, 2019

I Am My Ancestors' Greatest Dream Come True

So...

You mean to tell me that someone down your ancestry line survived being chained to other human bodies for several months in the bottom of a disease-infested ship during the Middle Passage, lost their language, customs and traditions, picked up the English language as best they could while working free of charge from sunup to sundown as they watched babies sold from out of their arms and women raped by ruthless slave owners.

Took names with no last names, no birth certificates, no heritage of any kind, braved the Underground Railroad, survived the Civil War to enter into sharecropping...

Learned to read and write out of sheer will and determination, faced the burning crosses of the KKK, everted their eyes at the black bodies swinging from ropes hung on trees...

Fought in World Wars as soldiers to return to America as boys, marched in Birmingham, hosed in Selma, jailed in Wilmington, assassinated in Memphis, segregated in the South, ghettoed in the North, ignored in history books, stereotyped in Hollywood...

and in spite of it all someone in your family line endured every era to make sure you would get here and you receive one rejection, face one obstacle, lose one friend, get overlooked, and you want to quit? How dare you entertain the very thought of quitting. People you will never know survived from generation to generation so you could succeed. Don’t you dare let them down!


Tuesday, June 18, 2019

This Could Be the End

Look here, y’all:  I haven’t felt like much of this blogging business for months.

Not days. Not weeks. MONTHS.

In the pursuit of excellence in all areas, I’ve become a master of mediocrity – and accepted it. Perhaps I need to get out of my own head more often and reflect upon the landscape surrounding (and/or created) by yours truly apart from the social media footprint that I have come to loathe recently. Being the smartest guy in the room doesn’t mean much of anything if 1)no one is there to challenge your strengths to improve you, and 2)I’ve found myself regretting a number of things I have said over the years, and sometimes the Memories function in Facebook reminds me of such cringeworthy posts from an earlier period of my life. Thankfully, I forgot my original Black Planet account information and the subsequent password although it is likely you’d still be able to find a picture of me sitting on the porch at my college apartment apparently dressed like I had left either church or a pledge meeting in a blue sweater vest, gold necktie, and plaid pants. [Once upon a time, plaid Hilfiger slacks were a thing:  I don’t think I can find a pair in my 2019 size like I could in 1999 me].

Why am I not blogging much these days? Keep reading to find out the answers.

First and foremost, I haven’t even thought about the Dad Chronicles in the past year and it was time to prioritize my family’s privacy over what curious eyes would like to read, share, discuss, and so forth. Meeting each self-imposed Monday deadline became more difficult as the time passed, and I found myself with more new content of stories of new parenthood that required three or four days of the writing process excluding the inevitable editing day(s) which could range from two hours to two days, depending on subject matter. There are some things I haven’t tried yet such as combing Caeli’s hair, so there is always room for more adventures. Also, thanks to my wife for keeping Little Miss Sunshine from looking like the “black child who has lived around white people too long” meme with hair all over the place, extra-ashy, and not matching, or worse, wearing fugly t-shirts of graphics long past their expiration dates.

I’m not saying she has found my old No Fear t-shirts though…

The next reason is I work too damn much. Between the main grind and the side hustle, jotting down a few notes in a pad or Evernote may or may not always happen regardless of how much time I choose to dedicate to the literary meal ticket I expected for myself many years ago. I like having the main job and barbecue is really a stress-relieving passion, but there comes a time when doing 80+ hour workweeks for months becomes detrimental to general health and sanity not to mention a strain to our marriage. As much as I know my cook times for briskets, pork shoulders and butts, ribs, etc. that stuff still takes time to become Dub Shack BBQ-quality! A pop-up could occur sometime this year under a few unlisted conditions; we shall see.

Third comes from being so perpetually gassed thereby I haven’t been able to give my best at any one area – and the congregation of Mount Zion Baptist Church can tell that better than anyone else not living in my house. Some folks benefit from seeing a familiar face while others are pleased with an offering check every other Sunday – and this does not exclude the new members’ classes I used to teach nor the food pantry ministry dates and potential opportunities for donations as forecasting has proven to be one of our biggest challenges each quarter. In a world which merely showing up at least 48 of the 52 Sundays is no longer a reality for a significant number of us, I have recently taken issue with some of the traditional dogma within our churches. However, I’m not entirely inclined to speak of it in this forum; confidentiality is the 800-lb. elephant in the room that sometimes gets abused for self-promotion or to absolve the transgressions of an individual who has made it his or her business to point fingers at everyone else while pretending the closet has no dust nor skeletons. Please believe that I am a defender of the Christian faith – I am reserving the right to criticism even as some leaders use the religion to better position themselves in white supremacy, their own financial gain, and paternalism versus truly following what thus saith the Lord.

We know Jesus overthrew the tables in the temple but too often misunderstand the Scripture as it is twisted to fit a certain agenda. I’m not limiting myself to only the New Testament plus Malachi 3:8 but certainly that would be a start in quelling the confusion; as a further reference to where I am going, read 1 Corinthians 9:1-18 for the logic behind the phrase “taking care of the man of God” that so many pastors invoke today. This does not state the pastor should take a vow of poverty (this day and age, it would be quite noble) rather his necessities are taken care of; as far as lifestyle and ensuing habits, that is a matter between him and God. In that text, Paul states that he could ask for income, yet he also acknowledges he does not necessarily need it due to his occupation as a tent-maker.

The people looking for physical proof of authenticity [read:  paperwork instead of spiritual power and usability] are the ones who most often miss the boat and fail to recognize God’s evidence even when it is IN OUR FACES. As a matter of fact, it can be said that we do not even have the sense, spiritual or otherwise, to know whom God’s men are! Just because some of us look good in black suits, white shirts, and some pocket-square-and-tie combo does not mean we are the ones designated for the tasks at hand.

Whoops, I digressed from the main point of why I stopped blogging. My bad.

Truth of the matter for why I haven’t blogged much this year:  I’ve run low on unique content. You’d think that over the course of 6.5 years that I would have a buffer in place for undeveloped topics and ideas except that is not the case. We can go on and on about my disdain for the American political system (and law enforcement, to an extent), but making a note of the inequities of systems that unfortunately for a certain demographic is working as intended is exhausting.

I can also carry on raising my #BlackLivesMatter banner alone in all facets of life, yet I feel many citizens have treated this hill as a fad until things go sideways.

I could’ve continued with the Dad Chronicles but at some point you’ll know more about my private life than I do, inadequacies, graying nappy hairs, slowing steps, and all without mentioning the reality of providing a decent, God-fearing life for my family in a world that demands looking for only Number One instead of making hay for the less privileged among us.

As I resume blogging for at least this one post, I hope it provides the chance to rediscover a working schedule to introduce new content whether it is palatable to the masses. Without throwing away my original disclaimer, I am back to presenting material in all sorts of gray and showing there are more ways than one to skin a cat.



Ain't No 401K in Hustlin'

One of the major reasons I began AD&AD several years ago was to pass the time at work as well as to get some thoughts off my chest in longform because no one is really interested in reading essays in the social media world. I know I haven’t written much lately and that is largely attributed to working more than the intended schedule but I have also decided to sanctify my family’s privacy this year. For business inquiries, I’ve had to do a better job of sourcing out proteins since the double-edged blessing of the US government artificially lowering pork prices comes with a curse of lowered quality standards which some food processing plants are taking full advantage of:  This is also why it is so important to know where our cows, pigs, chickens, turkeys, etc. come from and how they are raised before they are slaughtered and portioned for our events. As much as I’d like to sell barbecue lunches and the occasional catered event throughout the year (the sauces are still a work-in-progress), it would mean nothing if Dub Shack BBQ was associated with trash that got folks sick if I don’t take care of the details.

Contrary to popular belief, there really is no 401K in hustling:  The reward comes from years of shaking the bushes and refining the craft to something that comes highly recommended. Speaking of which, you really need to sample The Ancestors barbecue sauce; although my paternal ancestors rep Upstate South Carolina and western North Carolina, they brought the mustard-based style several hundred miles west to the Natural State. Also, it’s pretty awesome on pork!

Yesterday, my daughter wailed for several minutes as I backed out of the driveway for another twelve-hour night shift at the plant. It is honestly getting more difficult to acquiesce to the hustlin’ part of life when Little Miss Sunshine only wants someone to play with – in this case, Daddy. I want to give our only child the things I didn’t have growing up such as Power Wheels cars, multiple pairs of Air Jordan sneakers, family vacations to the beach, etc. yet she doesn’t care about that as much as going to the “playground”, aka the swing set in the backyard.

So…why do I still hustle so hard? It’s a twofold answer for me; let me explain.
The simple answer is I like having the financial means to do whatever I want without looking over my shoulder but that becomes a bit dishonest to defend what has become lifestyle creep. Growing up, I had an acute idea of the struggle and internally immersed myself with the true costs of life – for example, if I wanted a taco, I had to figure out how long I had to work to be able to pay for it without missing a beat. In 1995 dollars, the 79-cent crunchy taco took about twelve minutes to earn – minimum wage was $4.25/hour. Once I figured out that algorithm, I ended up applying it to most of my money decisions and picked up quite the reputation as a cheapskate. Truth of the matter is, being rich does not mean keeping up with the Joneses as capitalism imprints into our psyches; for me, it is having the mindset to prepare for a moment when emergencies happen without taking out some exorbitant loan and catching the subsequent lecture.

The other reason is because of how I’ve ended up working over the years:  In twenty-five years in the workforce, only ten months has been spent in a regular environment. I have neither the social graces nor the tongue to deal with office politics, rush hour traffic, or the potential ostracism due to a manager being intimidated by what I know thereby killing my growth in favor of his six-figure bonus. In other words, working twice as hard for half the respect and a fraction of the pay has been the bulwark of my evenings and nights on the clock, and for barbecue, a labor of love that is slowly becoming profitable. Reread the prior sentence to understand why I have never really been able to monetize my own value to my advantage.

Hustling is something that we are supposed to do to get us from one season to the next, not define our paths and ambitions. Yet it takes knowing when to step away from the grind of life to truly appreciate where we have been and what is ahead for us.


Turn Up For Juneteenth


Question:  What is Juneteenth?

Answer:  Juneteenth is an American holiday that commemorates the June 19, 1865 announcement of the abolition of slavery in the state of Texas – after the remaining slaves in the former Confederate States of America were emancipated. Its name is a portmanteau of “June” and “nineteenth”, hence the date of its celebration. This is also known as Black Independence Day, Emancipation Day, and Freedom Day.

Q:  What do we do on this date?

A:  In some locales, a public reading of the Emancipation Proclamation and the singing of such great canonical classics as “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” and “Lift Every Voice and Sing” and the readings of such notables as Stamps’ very own Maya Angelou and Ralph Bunche, for whom Gravel Hill (the only place in Saline County Black people could live historically) is renamed. Of course, we have our celebrations – brothers in our Obama t-shirts smoking, eating, and peddling turkey legs, street fairs, parades, and so forth.

Q:  Why do we have to celebrate Juneteenth? Don’t they have enough holidays already?

A:  I’ve been asked this one. Juneteenth is not a national holiday – or in much of the country save Texas and a few others, a state holiday since the death of Jim Crow. To even insinuate that “they” have enough holidays already smacks of a condescending racism disguised as paternalism, plain and simple. Black people created Memorial Day only for it to be appropriated for those we gave their all during international conflicts only to be subjugated as subhuman upon returning to domestic soil.

During the American Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on September 22, 1862 with an effective date of January 1, 1863 declaring all enslaved persons in the Confederate States of America in rebellion and not in Union hands were to be freed. This excluded the five border states – Kentucky, Maryland, Delaware, Missouri, and the counties which broke away from Virginia to form West Virginia – as well as the Union-occupied state of Tennessee; lower Louisiana; and southeast Virginia. This does not absolve the Northern states for they considered freedmen second-class citizens. Since Texas was more isolated geographically [keep in mind there was no highway system to speak of in the 1860s] and it was not a battleground state, planters and slaveholders brought their people into the Lone Star State to evade the fighting thereby increasing the state’s population significantly.

Lincoln’s prime objective was not to free the slaves as much as it was to preserve the Union at all costs. This is a #littleknownblackhistoryfact we all must acknowledge and use as a buffer for the common GOP talking point that their party’s standard bearer freed the slaves not as a benevolent gesture as much in keeping the United States united. Had he had his way, America would have been an all-white entity not unlike Scandinavia as all remaining black slaves and freedmen would have been deported to the home continent without a trace of self-identity.  

Two years later on April 9, 1865, the news of Robert E. Lee’s surrender at Appomattox finally trickled down to Texas, and the Army of the Trans-Mississippi did not surrender until June 2. On June 18, Union Army General Gordon Granger arrived at Galveston Island with 2,000 federal troops to occupy Texas on behalf of the federal government. The following day, Granger read aloud the contents of “General Order No. 3” announcing the total emancipation of those held as slaves.

They were free to go but were advised to keep quiet and continue working locally – for wages this time.

One caveat came of this as it became a precursor to the Black Codes enacted throughout the South:  They will not be allowed to collect at military posts and that they will not be supported in idleness either there or elsewhere. Does that sound familiar?

Although this date is sometimes referred to the “traditional end of slavery in Texas” it was given legal status in a series of Texas Supreme Court decisions between 1868 and 1874.

Q: Who celebrates Juneteenth?

A: Beyond the obvious Black people everywhere native and expatriates alike, Texas has made it a partial staffing holiday in 1980 naming it “Emancipation Day in Texas”. However, state government offices will continue to function albeit in a skeleton-crew capacity. Elsewhere, Juneteenth is a ceremonial observance with only Hawaii, Montana, North and South Dakota not recognizing the date. 
*Nationally, President Joe Biden made Juneteenth a federal holiday during his lone term in office.

The first known celebration occurred in the 1870s when a group of former slaves pooled $800 together through local churches to purchase ten acres of land to create Emancipation Park in Houston to host future Juneteenth celebrations.

Q: Should it be a national holiday?

A: Of course! Black history is American history; we did build this place for largely free .99, you know.

Due to the fact that not everyone wakes up at the same time and many are still content with being quiet June 19 only to act a plumb donkey fifteen days later on July 4 – which our ancestors were still working when the United States of America came to be way back in 1776.





Tuesday, March 5, 2019

How Are The Children?

Read below and then respond back and answer the question...

Among the most accomplished and fabled tribes of Africa, no tribe was considered to have warriors more fearsome or more intelligent than the mighty Masai. It is perhaps surprising, then, to learn the traditional greeting that passed between Masai warriors: "Kasserian Ingera," one would always say to another. It means, "And how are the children?"

It is still the traditional greeting among the Masai, acknowledging the high value that the Masai always place on their children's well-being. Even warriors with no children of their own would always give the traditional answer, "All the children are well." Meaning, of course, that peace and safety prevail, that the priorities of protecting the young, the powerless, are in place. That Masai society has not forgotten its reason for being, its proper functions and responsibilities. "All the children are well" means that life is good. It means that the daily struggles for existence do not preclude proper caring for their young.

I wonder how it might affect our consciousness of our own children's welfare if in our culture we took to greeting each other with this daily question: "And how are the children?" I wonder if we heard that question and passed it along to each other a dozen times a day, if it would begin to make a difference in the reality of how children are thought of or cared about in our own country.

I wonder if every adult among us, parent and non-parent alike, felt an equal weight for the daily care and protection of all the children in our community, in our town, in our state, in our country... I wonder if we could truly say without any hesitation, "The children are well, yes, all the children are well."

What would it be like... if the minister began every worship service by answering the question, "And how are the children?" If every town leader had to answer the question at the beginning of every meeting: "And how are the children? Are they all well?" Wouldn't it be interesting to hear their answers? What would it be like? I wonder..

Now take that same thought and think...how about the teachers?

Monday, March 4, 2019

King Economics


 Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.” -MLK

The most revolutionary thing Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. did in his lifetime was connect the dots between poverty and racism, and began a plan to eradicate the twin evils via the Poor People’s Movement. It took many years to get to that point, and for what the media and schools have miseducated us of the greatest man of Alpha Phi Alpha (founders excluded), he was way more than a dreamer. Integration was the first step of a long game that still has not finished its course; what good would it do to a man for him to gain the whole world in profit only to lose his soul? Or in real time, what good is being able to sit in a restaurant for a meal if you couldn’t afford to eat there?  What we don’t see is something that becomes an exercise in faith that we don’t always heed to. For example, King envisioned an America that saw its citizens not by skin color but by the content of their character; unfortunately, those few words have been reduced to the only talking points our nationalist associates invoke when they are chided for their own prejudices. They want to whitewash him as merely a dreamer with a palatable platform instead of a reformer that identified the ways to break the chains that held down black America.

How was his economic policy shaped, and how was it pursued? Matter of fact, how does that chase impact us today in 2019? Keep reading the four points below to get an idea.

A.      Be persistent and never give up.
Too often, we give up after a few “noes” and that includes the writer penning these few words. Many great things were not accomplished at the first shot, or even overnight.
B.      Make your message clear.
You cannot grow your organization/idea/ministry without a clear definition and purpose. Anything worth doing must have a meaning and a purpose – and it is not always to make money. If any part of the message is muddy, getting people to believe and/or endorse your movement/product/service just became infinitely more difficult.
C.      Don’t be afraid of a challenge.
The Civil Rights Movement initially didn’t have the full backing of the community due to not only the obvious bigots who wanted someone (colored) to shit on but also the white moderates who tepidly agreed with King yet were unwilling to cede their privileged existences of a lily-white world. There is also something to be said of the Negro who benefited from white supremacy through tokenism which I won’t use this space for. Even as the laws of the land were (and to some extent, still) slanted against us which led to many nights in jail, bombings, cross burnings, and anonymous hate letters calling for his suicide, King continually engaged in Christian nonviolence to further articulate his point of American injustice.
D.      Engage the community.
Over the course of time and how politically and tech-savvy King was, the American population eventually came around to the impact of the black dollar most notably in Montgomery, Alabama. Everyone is familiar with the bus boycott that lasted 385 days; less is told of the economic damage made to the smaller businesses that were the recipients of those same segregated dollars. One takeaway is to always be ready to evolve as a business or get left behind. 

If all we know about MLK and economics are the sit-ins and the Montgomery Bus boycotts, then we’ve fully whitewashed the man and his mission. 


In a capitalist society which nothing is too sacred for profit - and last year’s Ram truck ad during the Super Bowl serves as proof, King lays down the groundwork for a universal basic income and perhaps could have been considered an early proponent for work requirements to receive federal aid. Imagine that:  Had the Poor People’s March occurred before the assassin’s bullet that took him to eternity, who knows what the power structure of this nation would have looked like today. Before Bernie Sanders, AOC, or any of the rising stars within the Democratic Party and Silicon Valley began championing this idea, it was presented in Where Do We Go from Here:  Chaos or Community? way back in 1967 as a viable option; believe it or not, even conservative thinkers such as Charles Murray once advocated eliminating the entire welfare state by handing every grown American a full $10,000 – but I don’t think he had anyone in mind beyond those of a paler hue.


One long view of how King’s economic policy would have been sustainable is by taking the time to invest not only in the material things and what can make us a boatload of money quickly but also in the people at large through formal education, on-the-job-training, certifications, etc. Give people a viable skill that they can utilize to provide for their families and in addition pool those same funds into the communities in which they reside to create a viable future and continuous growth. Sounds idealistic? In the grand history of America, the quickest way to accelerate such change has been for small towns and cities, suburbs, and bedroom communities to offer land giveaways and low taxes to entice a populace weary of ‘forced’ equality through the tail end of the interstate highway system originally created during the Eisenhower Administration and accelerated through the end of King’s lifetime. Case in point:  Whole highways destroyed burgeoning black communities, and those who were able to sell only received pennies on the dollar. See Interstate 630 in Little Rock as proof.
In addition, when businesses dried up in the cities and closed only to reopen to the suburbs and smaller towns in the name of lower taxes, we all know there was also a racial component to this – it’s called white flight. Explain how else every city in the Greater Little Rock area has grown at the expense of the Rock, and the explosion of northwest Arkansas as the population of southern and eastern cities such as Pine Bluff, Camden, and Forrest City contracts annually with each community hamstrung by past economic drivers transitioning from industry towns to ones more service-oriented – a set of end users providing a service for another set of end-users.

Truly, is this reinvestment in the community which people are employed, or is it a place to (temporarily) set up shop to milk a native population’s educational background, work experiences, etc. down to the last remaining drop from its udder and cut loose as if it had never existed, as we’ve seen in so many textile towns throughout the South and more recently, across the Rust Belt when auto manufacturers chunk up the deuces to communities in favor of cheaper labor costs and the subsequent profits elsewhere?
During the twenty-eight days of Black History Month, our leaders have a tendency of using empty words of all boats rising to make us feel better of our situations without delving into policies that become real solutions all of us can see daily. I come here with these words:  THAT AIN’T GONNA WORK. This generation is going to have to be the one that breaks the chains of self-pity and begging for table scraps that the dog doesn’t even want; what will we have to say to our children in defense of our stilted position in the next twenty years if we’re hellbent on keeping up with the Joneses – or Kardashians? Even so, why do politicians feel that to get us on their sides that one token appearance in the churches (and selected ones, at that) are all that is deemed necessary for our satisfaction? Why do our pastors (not all, but some) sense their platforms are more for their own prominence leaving their own congregations broken and hopeless as the taillights of any real progressive movements that collectively raises us beyond one or two prayers of elevation, a la materialistically winning season? Defined, what King’s economic vision globally was engaging the people where we really were to rise and become the leaders we were always destined to metamorphize into instead of a society of many disgruntled employees and a few success stories at the top.








Monday, December 31, 2018

Ho. Ho. Ho.


Ho, Ho, Ho.

I worked Christmas Eve and Christmas Day – and it didn’t kill me.

Working in the waste management industry, I’ve learned to deal with the ways our schedules change from one year to the next, and as we pray for a calendar year which we get every holiday off without having to use PTO, I must be considerate that someone is going to have to lie on the grenade and get what may be the easiest twelve hours’ work for the quarter at the price of missing out on what his family is doing. I fully empathize with nurses, medical personnel, maintenance crews, law enforcement officers, security guards, Waffle House and Chinese restaurant employees, the awesome people who toil at gas stations and Walgreens for the last-minute battery runs, and the Wal-Mart associates who finally get their day off from work only to suffer with 364 days of the worst of us in the customer service return lines. PS:  If you’re also working on Christmas Day and I didn’t shout out your line of work, charge it to my mind. On the contrary, NBA players dream of working on this day to debut their new shoes and special holiday jerseys, so they are living one aspect of their dreams and hard work over the years. Still, having millions in the bank does not prevent the personal feelings of having to leave the comforts of home to entertain an arena of around 20,000 paying customers in addition to a nation of fans whom have come to view them as mindless gladiators blessed with an innate ability to dribble, shoot, pass, score, and/or defend an orange basketball 94 feet from one end of the court to the other end.

For the first time ever, I did work Christmas Eve night. Having Boyz II Men and The Temptations croon “Let It Snow” and “Silent Night” repeatedly on Spotify, respectively, did not alleviate the sucky part of being away from the family; matter of fact, it exacerbated the pain that much more. (Lord willing and He says the same, this will be the final Christmas holiday I spend away from home.) Working Christmas Day night is a different animal; I’ve been doing this for the majority of the past eleven years that I have been back in the South. In this case it is overtime that pays for next month’s bills and even becomes an added part of the rainy-day fund those financial advisors tell us all about in every other email or news cycle.

One may wonder how I’ve gotten screwed with working these types of irregular jobs over the years. Easy:  I greatly appreciate autonomy, especially when it pays the bills well enough. There is a certain peace of mind that comes with being able to control my own destiny with some constraints, and the current job’s schedule is wonderful WHEN it works. Without the night shift, I probably wouldn’t have had the moxie to get into the barbecue life as intensely as I have the past few years nor the ability to create relevant content for A Dollar and A Dream for the past six years and counting. If you think about it, the only nonteaching day role I’ve had ever was a scheduler position at the now-closed school bus plant back home – and even then, that was fifteen years ago when I had no grey hairs and a compact car that continuously broke down.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

I made it through both nights, and it didn’t kill me.

Tell someone who did work either of the two days thank you for his/her service to the larger community and put some respect on their names as they (like me) drew the short straw to sit on the timeclock.