Tuesday, January 20, 2009

A Day of Joy and Celebration... Now, "ALL HANDS ON DECK!"

Blog Post – January 20, 2009

A Day of Joy and Celebration… Now “ALL HANDS ON DECK!”

As I spent the day watching tie Presidential Inauguration and all the accompanying ceremonies, I could only experience a level of pride and accomplishment that is unparalleled with anything in my lifetime.

My mind was flooded with the thousands of times when the color of my skin was the barrier, whether overt or covert, to living out the creed of the Declaration of Independence, and the promises of the Constitution of the United States. Multiply that singular person’s experiences by that of the millions of African Americans both living and dead, and you might begin to get a sense of the enormous leap forward our country has made.

In no way do I intend to imply today’s swearing in of the 44th President of the United States of American was something we as people of color alone accomplished. Nothing could be further from the truth. It was an accomplishment of what I’m choosing to call the “Rainbow People,” people of every race, color, ethnic origin, gender, nationality, religion… in fact, the melting pot that is America made their voices heard in sufficient numbers to produce this most historic event since our country’s inception!

I confess in advance that there are not enough words to capture all the things that happened prior to today so that today could be a reality. I suggest that each person who played a role, no matter how large or small, has a story that will live with them to the grave – and one of which they too, are immensely proud! For most, if not all, I think it was the first time in a very long time (and for some, the FIRST time) there was an opportunity to actively participate in charting the course of our country’s future.

To the millions of my volunteer partners, whether convention delegates, they worked the campaign phones, knocked on doors, sent e-mails, did the mailings, contributed money, sent out mailings, worked the polls on election day, along with the actors and entertainers, elected officials at every level, the various fund-raisers and the staff who worked tirelessly day and night, for months and years, I offer my deepest gratitude, honor and respect.

Again, I will refer mainly to my personal experiences during the campaign, since those are the only ones I can authentically attest to.

There were the bus rides, provided by Congressman Danny K. Davis, for volunteers to campaign in Indianapolis, Indiana, a previously “Red State,” and the hard work of knocking on doors and passing out literature. I noticed the enormous disparity between the modern, well-kept urban residences of the mostly white and well-off downtown area and the outskirt neighborhoods, occupied my almost entirely low and middle-income African Americans. Of particular note was the fact that on almost EVERY block, 50% or more of the houses were boarded up and abandoned. These were not the run-down, slum type of residences which are too often associated with urban blight.

These were the homes of working families, who no doubt lost their jobs, and therefore their ability to pay their mortgages. And, since the nation’s workforce has been hit so hard with unemployment, and the financial industry’s ability/willingness to give home loans greatly diminished, there were no buyers for those foreclosed homes.

It was also evident that the remainder of those who were holding on by their fingernails financially, in spite of the current hardship, could sense the possibility of a future that offered them a chance to recover and surpass the ills of the past if then Senator Obama was elected President.

Of course, we weren’t always greeted with sympathetic cheers of encouragement. There were those who, for whatever reason, were either afraid of what an Obama Presidency represented or were blinded by their racial hatred and ignorance, over the fact that a black man had the audacity to run for the highest office in the land, AND, actually had the chance to win.
I know that the overwhelming majority of those reading this are either liberal or moderate in their political views, and nearly all of my friends and associates were and are Obama supporters, so this next section is not directed toward them.

Rather, I want to address those who identify themselves as “Conservative Republicans.” For far too long, the lust for power and control, whether in government or industry, at the expense of those already less fortunate.

I don’t have an issue with conservatism, OR Republicans. It’s only when their interests exclude and deny the privileges of citizenship they enjoy (and often feel solely entitled to) to the rest of us that I take issue.

Specifically, the rights to a decent education, where kids don’t have to worry about being killed on the way to or IN school, and where the teachers of inner-city schools are the best qualified and not just the ones who were brave enough to venture into what are often as dangerous as some combat zones. And where graduation rates are 100% vs. 45-50% and sometimes lower in some Chicago neighborhoods.

Where our national expenditures for education, health-care, tending to the needs of our elderly, providing for our veterans are seen as just as important, if not more so, as our monetary commitment to armament and war! $20 Billion Dollars a month for an unnecessary war is both inexcusable and criminal!

Where the disparity between the number of African Americans and Latinos incarcerated far in excess of their respective percentage of the overall population is ended, and justice is actually administered fairly, and where we people of color aren’t automatically assumed to be the predominant criminal element of our society, and where the laws are enforced fairly. That accused swindler, Bernard Madoff, who allegedly “made-off” with $50 Billion Dollars of his investors’ money, has been under “house arrest” – at his $7 Million Dollar Manhattan Condo is just the latest blatant example of the disparity to which I allude.

Doing the “right thing” is not a Democratic or Republican possession. Not Liberal or Conservative. Integrity does not belong to any one race, nationality, religion, political party, economic class or age group.

It didn’t take the Supreme Court to announce the winner of THIS Presidential Election – the voices of the people spoke loudly enough that none of the hard-core right-wing tactics of the past were sufficient to prevent what is surely the best thing to happen to our nation in a very long time.

I have my own view of what should happen to those who violated the Constitution, trashed the Bill of Rights and encroached our personal privacy in the name of “Homeland Security,” but I’ll leave history and the courts to make the final determination.

Instead, I appeal to those who might fall into any of the categories mentioned above. To quote a popular folk song, “The times, they are a-changin…” And we are NOT going backward. So rather than clinging to your archaic, hate-filled view of America and how you might think that it’s a “white’s-only” club, I say, get over it!

The same people who excel in every arena where given a chance, whether baseball, football, tennis, golf, and most recently, speed skating in athletics, to the arts, where Sidney Poitier is no longer the ONLY African American Academy Award winner, to the corporate board rooms of Time-Warner/AOL and American Express who have had African American CEOs, from Crispus Attucks to the Tuskegee Airmen to General Colin Powell in the military and now, the President of the United States, will continue to do their best in the interests of our nation. And no amount of racial supremacy rhetoric can take that away.

Try to find and focus on those things we ALL have in common, allowing for the fact that we have been and always WILL be, a nation that respects freedom of choice within the Rule of Law.

We are, as President Obama said on numerous occasions, not Red States and Blue States, but the United States of America, and we have the rare opportunity to leave an indelible mark for good on the pages of history – let’s not let the past diminish the possibilities of the future. (End of rant… for now.)

For my fellow warriors in Transformation (and you know who you are), I strongly recommend easing up on down-playing “change” and “hope” in our courses and seminars. It IS after all those very themes that spoke to a sufficient number of Americans, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, and citizens of all ages that caused the historic election of President Barack Obama.

Yes, the distinction is valid in certain contexts, however, to ignore (and imply the uselessness of) the listening of millions of people of all the groups I mentioned earlier, would be an argument with reality in addition to a huge business mistake. As an African American “graduate”, I have for almost 3 decades, had to justify why for most of that time, there was NO African American Course Leader, and then later, only ONE. I’m well acquainted with the level of training required and the huge commitment to ensuring the quality of delivery of our programs, courses and seminars. That not-withstanding, it’s time to produce a BREAKTHROUGH in this area. Now that even “Rednecks for Obama” have joined the 21st Century and set aside their biases of the past and accepted the notion that a black man can run the most powerful country in the world, surely you can find one or two more African Americans to lead our courses.

Anyone reading this who knows me and has worked with me knows, there are few things more dear to my heart than Transformation and the enormous difference it has made for me and millions of others-whether directly or indirectly, and I have put my money and my body where my mouth has been, including my 23 ½ years as a Course Supervisor (if you don’t know what a Course Supervisor is, this part isn’t for YOU!).

Lastly, for now anyway, we are at a unique point in time – one where there is sufficient unity and momentum to produce unprecedented breakthroughs for ourselves and generations to come. It won’t however, happen magically. It will take all of us who share the commitment to a world that works for everyone, with no one and nothing left out. YOU can make the difference, with your family, in your job/profession, in your community, wherever you are, and whoever you come in contact with, YOU can be a catalyst for causing the future that many of us voted for and dreamed of.

If you see racial, gender or sexual orientation intolerance/injustice, speak up! If you hear your friends, family, co-workers telling racially demeaning jokes, call them on it.

If the only place you see/talk to people who don’t look like YOU is in your workplace, take some action to alter that. If you attend an all-white church, or live in an all-white neighborhood (no matter HOW you justify it), do something about it. The young people of our nation and around the world will greatly appreciate it.

The pundits and other commentators have already started opining about President Obama’s speech, and offering predictions about what lies ahead. Just don’t forget that YOU have a say in how it goes!

To quote sociologist Margaret Meade, “… never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”

In other words, “ALL HANDS ON DECK!”

(Visit my blog: http://theworldisgettingbetter.blogspot.com)

Friday, January 16, 2009

Count Your Blessings - Past, Present and Future!

January 16, 2009


On Thursday, January 15th, 155 passengers and crew boarded a U.S. Airways flight from New York’s LaGuardia Airport for Charlotte, North Carolina. Nothing unusual about that. Prior to take-off, the flight attendants went through their usual routine of giving the safety instructions. Seat belts, location of the exits and life vests in case of a water landing…

Since I fly quite often, I’m willing to bet (due to my personal observations) that the passengers on that flight engaged in all the other activities they found more important than listening to the safety instructions. Reading, talking to their seatmate, going to sleep, to name just a few. And of course, they didn’t take the safety card out of the seat pocket in front of them per instructions.

And the people seated near the exits gave the perfunctory agreement to opening the doors in case of an emergency, blah, blah, blah!

Little did those passengers know that several minutes after takeoff, they would need to ACT on those very safety instructions they had just ignored. According to recent news reports, the pilot radioed to Air Traffic Control that both engines had been struck by birds and the plane had lost all power. A crash landing, on water, was imminent.

All of a sudden, the location of the emergency exits was pretty important, and the pressure on those passengers sitting near the exits surely must have quickly mounted!

To the credit of the pilot, who did a masterful job of landing the aircraft in the Hudson River, in one peace, and the professionalism of the crew (which actually do much more than push the beverage cart up and down the aisle and remind you to fasten your seat-belt and put your seat and tray tables in the upright and locked position, all 155 passengers and crew were safely rescued, and none suffered serious injury. One passenger, who ended up in the 42-degree water, was given the shirt off the pilot’s back to assist him in keeping warm.

Whether you are a travel junkie like me, or just an occasional flyer, ask yourself, how many times do YOU busy yourself with YOUR agenda items as the flight attendants are going over the safety instructions? And this level of not being “present” isn’t limited to our airplane behavior.

When you get into your automobile (which is actually a 2,000 lb weapon when you’re NOT present), cross a street, have a conversation with a family member, friend or co-worker, just how present ARE you?

Unfortunately, anything short of an airplane crash, serious auto accident or other REAL life threatening event keeps us operating under the illusion that there will be a “tomorrow” when we’ll get to do all those things we put off doing today!

Having had way more than my share of life threatening situations, I can assure you, the survivors of that US Air flight won’t be experiencing boredom any time soon. And it’s highly unlikely they will be putting things off for later, or “some day.”

The good news is you don’t have to personally experience an aircraft crash or total your car to get the benefits of such an event. You can learn and benefit from the experiences of others – should you CHOOSE!

I have deep appreciation for the pilots and crews who nearly every day, take on the massive job of transporting hundreds of thousands of passengers daily to their respective destinations, and getting them there safely.

Next time you’re disembarking an aircraft, take a moment to thank the pilot and crew for getting you there safely. They are ALL unsung heroes/heroines.

Since I’m a private pilot, I never take take-offs and landings for granted. Each time it turns out is a blessing.

Take a moment to examine where YOU are taking things for granted, and if so moved, do something about it.

P.S.

Less than a week until the Inauguration!

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

The rEvolution Continues...

Blog Post: Jan 7, 2009

The rEvolution Continues:

January 1, 1863 was the date of the signing of Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation! It would be useful and informative to Google and print out a copy.

The new year has begun and by now, most of the New Year’s resolutions have been broken already.

Also, much of the Election Day fever/fervor has died down. There is some level of excitement regarding the upcoming inauguration, but only a very small percentage of the tens of millions of Obama supporters who voted and worked for his election will be attending. I strongly considered attending, but the thought of being among 3 million plus attendees in Washington, DC just wasn’t that appealing. So, I’ll be watching on TV like most of you.

Shortly after election day, I was told by several different friends that I looked like I’d lost weight. I assured them I hadn’t, at least not according to my scale. However, on further reflection, I could see that there was an “unburdening” of sorts, and following are some of the “weights” I shed:

What first came to mind was the fact that my mom, who died at age 91, did not live long enough to see an African American elected President of the United States. She had endured many of the indignities over the years, by virtue of simply being black in America. In addition to years of not being allowed to eat in a public restaurant, or check into a hotel, and all the jobs that were denied due to her race, the one that stands out was her recounting of the fact that the high school she attended (Englewood High School in Chicago) which had a long-standing policy of honoring the senior valedictorian by letting them play the school organ at graduation, denied her the privilege, in spite of the fact that she attained the highest grade point average in the school’s history, was a classically-trained musician – in addition to being the valedictorian!

(Note: She was somewhat vindicated when, 60 years later, she was able to play that same organ at the graduation of one of her piano student’s.)

I thought too, of my dad, who was raised in the rural South, only had an eighth grade education, and spent his life doing menial jobs and making the best of it. One of those jobs was being the chauffer to tobacco tycoon, R.J. Reynolds. He told me many stories of the kinds of embarrassing, ass-kissing situations he had to endure – and how he survived when there was NO Civil Rights Act, NO Voting Rights Act (it was against the law for him to vote – until he was 53 years old!).

He too died before being able to celebrate the election of an African American to the highest office of the land.

My grandparents on both sides, and my great grandparents, who lived through slavery (as both slaves AND slave-owners), couldn’t have imagined in their wildest dreams, what took place on November 5, 2008.

Then, there were my personal experiences… leaving my highly-integrated neighborhood to attend kindergarten in the highly-racially segregated “other-side-of-the-tracks” neighborhood and called “Nigger” for the first time. (I later discovered it wouldn’t be the last.)

Later moving to the Chatham neighborhood in Chicago, where the street Cottage Grove was the racial dividing line. I had to cross that line daily to go to school (7th and 8th grades), and I had to run home every day to keep from being beaten up by the white kids who made it clear I and my “kind” were not welcome. That attitude was also reflected in the teaching staff of the school.

Just two blocks East of Cottage Grove was one of the most luxurious parks in the Chicago Park District system at the time. A large swimming pool, tennis courts, several baseball diamonds, a running track and large field house – all of which were off limits to black kids, so we played in vacant lots and on the street.

The summer I graduated from elementary school, a group of us who had formed a bike club of sorts and lived West of Cottage Grove, decided we were going to integrate the park. There were about 30 of us, and on a Saturday afternoon that summer, we ventured across the dividing line. There was such an outrage from the neighbors that we were chased back across Cottage Grove, and the mob had reached hundreds of fever-pitched, highly-irate “good people” who just didn’t want any “darkies” in their territory, that the State Police were called in.

Several of my group were unsuccessful at getting back across Cottage Grove before being caught and beaten by the angry mob. Luckily, I wasn’t one of them.

I had thought that the days of terror were over once I graduated from elementary school. Until, that is, when I got to the high school I had chosen to attend. I deliberately didn’t go to the local high school because it was just 1 block away from the elementary school (and neighborhood) I so desperately wanted to get away from.

The high school was at the time, one of the best in the city – a large vocational school that had once been a training facility for the Navy. Student population – 5,000 plus. The number of black students – about 200. And even though it, too was East of Cottage (by more blocks than I could successfully run), I had originally concluded that because it was much further South, it wouldn’t be like my grammar school experience. Such is the thinking of a 14 year old.

I soon learned that my earlier school experiences paled in comparison with what lie ahead over the next 4 years.

At the end of the school day, there were dozens of buses lined up to take students westward bound… back to the safe-haven West of Cottage Grove. In the span of about 10 minutes, those buses were boarded and on their way. To miss those buses meant a certain brutal beating at the hands of the bigger, stronger white kids who viewed us as intruders.

Also, going to the bathrooms at school was a health risk, because it was known as the “beating ground” for black kids (at least the boys – I didn’t hear of similar treatment being meted out to the few girls who attended). So, that meant don’t drink a lot of liquids before school or at school, because I was going to have to hold it until I got home.

I didn’t know that first semester that I was going to remain the same height and weight (4’ 10” and 97 lbs) until my senior year. This meant that pretty much everyone was bigger than me. And for some reason, they grew especially “big” at that school. Football Hall of Famer and Chicago Bear Linebacker, Dick Butkus attended this school, and the average weight of our team’s front line was around 275 lbs. A 178 lb difference that was a clear indication that I wasn’t cut out to play football.

To top things off, the principal’s name was “Jim Crowe.” REALLY!

There were separate school stores – 3 for the white kids, and 1 where black kids could go without being attacked. I unwittingly went into one of the “wrong” stores the first week of school to purchase my gym clothes and drafting equipment. Both items were towards the back of the store. I and my friend from elementary school, Dennis, made it to the back of the store and purchased our items without incident.

Getting out was another story. First of all, the pathway to the door had disappeared, and in its place was a gauntlet of angry white faces through which we had to pass in order to get back to the “outside world.” It took what seemed like forever to get through the punches, kicks and spittle of my fellow students before reaching the street. My smaller size meant there wasn’t as much surface area to punch and kick as my friend Dennis. He got the worst of the beatings that day.

The last day of school of each semester was guaranteed to be extra violent, as the white kids thought they could be especially awful towards us with impunity, and history bore that out.

By the time I reached 18, the violence had diminished quite a bit, partly because there was quite an increase in the number of black students.

(Note: I deliberately left out what I experienced during my participation in the Civil Rights Movement, as enough of those events/activities were captured by various news media. Suffice it to say that I thought the passage of the Civil Rights Act would have eradicated the evils of racism. How wrong [and naïve] I was.)

The next round of experiences as a black man in America came when I was drafted into the U.S. Army. The year, 1965. I was just completing my sophomore year in college and planning to transfer to a 4 year university. I quit my two part-time jobs, was given a going away party by my friends, and prepared to go, when I got a certified letter from the Selective Service, informing me that my induction “had been indefinitely postponed.” When I contacted them to inquire as to what exactly that meant, they told me it simply meant, “indefinitely!” So, I went back to work and continued the application process to 4-year universities.

A couple of weeks later, I got yet another letter from the draft board, and this time, there was NO “indefinite postponement.”

My best buddy picked me up at 4am to drive me to the induction center, as I was told to report at 5am. After taking numerous tests, bending and coughing, and needlessly being moved from one room to another, only to sit and wait until time to move to yet another room, we were finally ushered into a larger room where we took the oath. “…to protect and defend the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, so help us God!”

By midnight we were finally ready to be transported to O’Hare Airport – the military side, for a flight to some remote airfield in Mississippi. It was pouring rain through the entire 3 hr flight – on a propeller plane, that dipped and swayed the whole time. It was more volatile than ANY roller coaster.

Once we landed, we were instructed to board military buses that would take us the rest of the way to our destination – Fort Polk, Louisiana. It was another 2 hours or so before we finally arrived. As we disembarked, there were several very large, stocky Drill Instructors yelling instructions us. The essence of the yelling was that our civilian life was over, and our asses now belonged to them!

(If you’re wondering what this has to do with the election and the “unburdening,” stay tuned…)

This was the height of the Vietnam build-up, and we were in an extended basic training – 16 weeks instead of 8. Thirteen weeks into the training, after thinking I’d seen the full expanse of racial discrimination, we were given a 3-day pass. The ONLY place to go that was within range was Leesville, Louisiana. (Also known as “diseaseville.”) A very small town, where the sheriff sat on the porch of the jail, wearing mirrored sun glasses and a hay seed in his mouth – with his shotgun on his lap, shouted to us (I and 3 other black G.I.s) that we’d better high-tail it to the other side of town (across the tracks – literally) if we wanted to stay out of trouble.

Although I was wearing the uniform of the United States Army, I was denied entry to one of the bars because they “didn’t serve niggers.” And right there, on main street, were the signs over the drinking fountains, “white,” and “colored.” I chalked it up to the ink still being wet on the Civil Rights Act and/or, the news might not have filtered down yet. I and my comrades left and proceeded to the “other side of town.” A series of shacks where we could buy 3.2 beer and really bad whiskey that came in bottles with no label. It was like walking back in time several decades.

Once again, I figured it was just one of the many prices I had to pay as an African in America.

The final straws of racial indignities began when, as a member of Army Special Forces, I arrived in Vietnam – for a war that I didn’t support, was called nigger by Vietnamese villagers – the very people I was supposed to be there to protect/defend.

The ultimate straw – the one that “broke the camel’s back,” and had me both elect to do a second tour in Vietnam – and then, NEVER return to the United States, was when news of Dr. King’s assassination reached us – 4 days before my 1st tour of duty was to end, and the “good-ole-boys” in the company of my base camp celebrated, by flying the confederate flag over the base headquarters. It took all the discipline and non-violent protest training from my past to not act on my desire to set fire to and blow up the camp.

I did eventually return to the U.S., and made my best efforts at reintegrating myself into civilian life.

There were the jobs I was denied for bogus reasons, including the one with a major publishing company that actually told me that the reason I wasn’t being promoted to Regional Manager of the Southeastern Region was because no one white would do what I told them to do!

There were all the times I was profiled by the police – simply for being black, including the time I was installing a stereo in my car, and the police assumed I was stealing, so they handcuffed me and had me stand behind the car while they checked the registration. There was no apology or “have a nice day.” They just removed the cuffs and left. I considered myself lucky, as Chicago is notorious for police misconduct. (The city has paid out close to $250 Million in settlements to victims of police misconduct in 2008 alone!) It also included the time I was followed for several blocks by a police cruiser with 2 white officers inside. I wasn’t speeding, there was nothing wrong with my vehicle, but they stopped me anyway. When I asked them why I was being stopped, they told me they didn’t have to tell me. Then, they asked, “did I want to go to court, or what?” That’s Chicago code for, cough up some bribe money. When I told them I didn’t have any money – I had just spent it on the pizza in the back seat, they opened the back door, took the pizza and told me to get on my way.

Or the time I had stayed at the bowling alley later than the last bus left the area going back to my neighborhood. So, I decided to hitch-hike. A young white man asked where I was going and when I told him, he agreed to give me a ride.

We hadn’t gone more than a couple of blocks before an unmarked police car stopped us. It was the dead of winter, but the officer wouldn’t let me put my gloves on, and instructed me to place my hands on the roof of the car. He wanted to know why I was in the car with this white man? I told him I was hitching a ride home from the bowling alley because I had missed the last bus. He didn’t believe me – OR the driver, and with his gun drawn on me the whole time, accused me of trying to kidnap the driver. It wasn’t until we went back to the bowling alley and confirmed that in fact, I had just left there, and in fact, was president of the bowling league that had been bowling there steadily for the past few years, that the cop let me go.

As I stood in Grant Park, after spending election day doing the final canvassing in Whiting, Indiana (a town that denied our college bowling banquet in 1964 when they found out there would be blacks coming to the restaurant), listening to now President-Elect Barack Obama, make his victory speech, all of those racial wounds from the past healed in an instant.

As I looked into the eyes of the other election day celebrants and obvious Obama supporters, I could see that nearly all of the whites had the same look of relief and healing. For them, I presumed having to bear the burden of being descendents of the perpetrators of slavery and all the subsequent injustices. And, for those who weren’t direct descendents, at least were beneficiaries of the privileges that accrued by virtue of being white.

So, what lies ahead? Will our new President and his cabinet be able to pull this country out of the huge mess we’re in? Will the race haters diminish their activities long enough for us to fulfill on the original intent of the Declaration of Independence – “all men (people) created equal?”

Stay tuned…