Whizzing Bullets

Five people were murdered in Newark over the Memorial Day weekend! The sound of bullets whizzing by, sirens screaming, and red lights flashing in the night all herald in summer 2011 with an ominous message to the inhabitants of Newark. I live in Newark, and have for the last thirty-eight years. I have survived by calling out to the angels of God to walk with me through turbulent times. The rustling of angel wings allows me to surrender fear and replace it with power…the power of words and action.
Newark has been good to me because this is where I learned to live with God and allowed Him to guide and direct my path and direct it He did around whizzing bullets, over blood splashed in the stairwells of my high rise, and poverty. He directed me right back to school… first Essex County College, then Rutgers Newark. As a writer, a poet, and a pianist my artistic soul has absorbed all the nuances and shades of poverty. I had the dubious pleasure of living below the poverty line for a period of time and then once I became a teacher I was able to “pull myself up by the bootstraps” and began to enjoy such luxuries as traveling, buying a home and a new car, and now that I’m retired I manage to stay one check ahead of foreclosure, repossession of transportation, and a steady diet of beans and rice. The American dream can be quite slippery.
The summer blues begins…pow, pow, pow! The dominant seventh flies high above the flat five, weaving in and out creating blue tones that interpret the moans and groans of heartache and tears falling freely onto mounds of soil surrounding new graves that will permanently bury hopes, dreams, and aspirations. The curtain of death has fallen and summer 2011 looms on the horizon.

Washing Brains

I read an article in the paper about a lady starving her children literally to death…one of them died before authorities took charge. The paper said she was brainwashed by some strange religious leader and part of his cult.
Brain washed? Hmmm…that’s a strange term that means what? Is it that someone cuts your head open, takes your brain out, bleaches it, and then washes it in a detergent of choice. After which it’s placed back in the head to soak in a different type soil. Brain washed like I said is a strange term. How does a seemingly devoted mother go from one extreme to the other? From lovingly feeding you children and taking care of them to starving them to the point that their bones become brittle and break in their bodies.
What type of person is susceptible to this strange event? Could it be said that many people today are brainwashed by a money mad culture that bails out Wall Street who has been ripping off people forever by selling the “pie in the sky dream” to the common man who can barely eek out a living. Ten banks control 77% of the wealth…this screams for a redistribution of capital where more money could be vested in youth that are traveling on the school to prison line.
People shout “no redistribution of wealth” and don’t have a clue as to what it means. A brain wash job has been done on the American public who think that it’s alright that 3% of the population control 90% of the wealth and that the wealthy shouldn’t be taxed at a higher rate. Talk about brainwash…wow!

In the Twilight of Time

The sun hovers at the horizon announcing it’s supremacy by lighting the sky with its brilliance splashing multiple shades of orange across the vastness of space before descending down into the twilight of time. There was a time in this country when black people were slaves. There was a time in this country when black bodies hung from trees called “strange fruit” by renowned singer Billie Holiday. There was a time in this country when black people could not vote. There a time in this country when it was against the law for black people to be taught to read. There was a time in this country when many schools were segregated.
Blood has been shed over time in the name of justice and a little over 50 years ago much blood was shed during the non violent demonstrations of the Civil Rights Movement which were seeking to win the right to vote for many black people, seeking to desegregate schools, seeking to eat where you wanted to eat, seeking to be treated equally in the job market, seeking to sit in a seat of your choice on public transportation, simply seeking to feel like a respected human being. Time has passed yet in some ways conditions remain the same. Conditions created by impoverished circumstances passed through time and flourishing in the now.
Many young people living at poverty level are hoodwinked by the glamour of sports and flashy sneakers that can make you jump right into the NBA; and then of course there’s the music industry where you can rap your way into a garden filled with money trees. Many young minds are blinded by the "benjamins" and unable to envision where a good education might take them. Indifference now is the name of the education game.

Me and Poverty

Me and Poverty

I live in Newark, NJ. I worked for the Newark Public School system for over thirty years, first as a sub then as a teacher for 23 years. I retired 2010. After retiring I graduated from the International Institute for Restorative Practices and received a Master’s of Science Degree in Restorative Practices. I currently volunteer at my old school working with parents sharing what I have learned. I’m very concerned about the fate of many of the inner city students especially the males. Current statistics state that 1 out of 9 black males ages 20-34 are currently in jail. There is a phenomenon called the “school to prison line” and the current structure of the public school system factors many students right into this handy societal niche. Innovative thinking is what is needed to turn the tide of self destruction that plagues so many young people.

Poverty is no joke. It breeds the sub culture of no return…the bling bling of false illusions and smoking guns that negate life and glamorize death promoting emotions run amuck in search of a nonexistent respect. Young minds numbed by the incessant chatters of the media about war, terrorism on the rise, mass murders within our shores attempt to escape the inexplicable now and bum rush into a feigned adulthood based on misconceptions.

I was a middle class brat raised in the Bay Area, Oakland, Berkeley, and San Francisco…lived in all three of these cities. I had no understanding of what poverty really was. My great grandfather was a teacher during the Reconstruction Era and eventually. He became a professor at Prairie View College. His children received their college degrees, his children’s children, and then my generation as well.

 Relocated to the East Coast when I was 19 and ended up I meeting poverty in my late twenties. My husband and I were burned out in Harlem and relocated to Newark. His grandmother got us an apartment in the infamous high rise projects of Newark. The high rise projects no longer exist in Newark but the mark they left on me is permanently imbedded in my psyche. So off to Newark we moved with our baby son onto Mercer Street perpendicular to Howard Street made famous by Newark writer Nathan Heard. I became intimate with the blues…the Mercer Street blues.

                                                                (To be continued…)

Money Doesn't Care

Dr. King was a giant of a man and not afraid to take a stand against injustice. In 1968 the year Dr. King was assassinated he was planning a Poor People’s March to Washington D.C. to stage a “tent-in” and planned to camp out for as long as it took to bring attention to the fact that there needed to be a redistribution of wealth in America. This country is not broke. The problem is that 3% of the population controls 90% of the wealth in this nation.
It’s amazing how the wool has been pulled over the American Public’s eyes and we tend to operate in la la land with poor people always looking for the pie in the sky, and the so called middle class thinking that they are all that plus a bag of chips because they have a mortgage, a car payment, kids in private school, and a job they could lose in the twinkling of an eye or even one good illness that disables them. Then their insurance company starts hemming and hawing about coverage. The median income of American households is about $50,000 per year. This figure is mighty close to the poverty line which is at about $23,000 for a family of four. Where oh where has all the money gone? Oh I know into 3% of the populations pockets.
Please somebody tell me why the wealthy should not be taxed. Money is not concerned about public schools because money is an inanimate object controlled by people. So in reality to rich people it really doesn’t matter because somebody has to be at the bottom of the economic ladder.