Never again...

This week I went to the second funeral of a child in the last three years. It never gets any easier and it always is gut wrenching. I never want to have to do that again, but then again, who in their right mind would actually want to do that sort of thing?

The first funeral I went to was in 2006 and it was for my 18 month old niece, Kayla, who was born with a heart defect that the doctors didn't catch until she was nine months old. I have no idea how that's possible, but it happened. There's no worse feeling in the world than watching someone so small and who you thought was so perfect gradually fade away, despite all of your hopes, dreams and prayers that they'll somehow pull through so you can watch them grow up. It wasn't to be with Kayla and my family and all we can do now is remember the best 18 months of our collective lives and try to forget the worst 9 months that followed her death. Depending on who in my family you actually ask, that period of time might now be stretched to 40 months. There's something to be said for false hope and there's nothing to be said for extreme pain, paralysis and devastation that comes from feeling the worst thing you've ever felt in your life. I've lost relatives before, and as cold as it may come off, I wasn't very close to those relatives and their deaths were more of a relief than anything because they died after prolonged illnesses. With Kayla it was different. You see someone so perfect and innocent who simply wants to live and have a chance to learn to talk and walk and develop into a person, but they get snatched away from you. On the other hand, you have other completely healthy children in horrible situations that don't get to feel any of the love that I felt for my niece. It'll drive you crazy if you think about it and it'll make you angry if you witness it. One thing I can say for Kayla is that her life, however short was filled with all the joy and love that one could give. I know that much...

Which brings us to the funeral I just attended two days ago. One of my best friends lost his 5 year old son, who was born with so many maladies that they boy couldn't communicate, walk, talk or stand. And yet he was loved. However, where Kayla's life was filled with love, joy, pain and ultimate sadness, Jordan's life, while filled with the love of his family had a fraction of that peace. Maybe it was because of the stress of having an ill child. Maybe it was because his parents were just not meant to be together, or maybe it was what would be referred to by pseudo philosophers as a cruel joke, but watching my friend be belittled during the funeral of his first son was the ultimate insult.

Let me explain, my friend was no angel and I for one advised him against getting married, but held out hope that maybe all he needed was a strong level of commitment to put him on the straight and narrow. Didn't happen. Didn't even last six months before he was back to his old ways. However, the pregnancy of his wife held out hope for that ever-elusive level of maturity, and then the trouble really started. I guess the stress and pain of having an ill child in an already strained relationship tests the endurance of even the most strong willed person and if you're already in a serious conflict, it's even more impossible to navigate. Needless to say, a few false start divorces, more infidelity, two pregnancies (one of the wife and another of the girlfriend) and an eventual revenge divorce filing, followed by a financially and emotionally destructive actual preceeding and you finally get a measure of peace...and then this.

Fast forward to the funeral that my friend paid for, but was held at the ex-con ex-mother-in-law's church and you get countless tributes to the angelic mother and not a mention of the father, who worked himself almost to death so his son could have the best care he could get under the circumstances. Suddenly, you get a man already crushed by the death of his son also taken to the brink of self destruction by a public slap in the face as he tries to honor his son's memory.

Like I said earlier, I've seen both sides of the coin and neither is to my liking. One thing I do know is that I never want to see either sides ever again...

Can we get a little sanity now?

My day yesterday started strangely enough with me witnessing the second resignation in a little over a year of the mayor of Memphis and then I find out Michael Jackson died. Died? Yes. Died.

The more I thought about it, the more it started to hit me. I went from disbelief, to morbid amusement to preoccupation to finally resignation. As I watched the non-stop tributes on no less than 3 of the 8 video channels on Comcast, I began to understand how the candlelight vigil people felt. I didn't run out and fly to L.A., but I did feel that sense of loss. If nothing else, Michael Jackson once again caused MTV to play videos, something that hasn't happened in who knows how long.

I grew up catching up on his childhood music, then trying to emulate a lot of those dance moves from the Thriller days. I remember pushing my pre-teenage voice to that upper register until it started to get deeper, oh when I was around 11. So much for that.

I had the glove, wanted the jackets, mastered "the kick" and knew the Thriller video dance moves to the point where I could have been one of the zombie extras. Michael Jackson was my childhood. My love of all things Michael Jackson would soon come to an end after I discovered two things: hip hop and girls. Suddenly the glove and dance moves were replaced by me copying the dress and attitude of Run DMC, LL Cool J and eventually NWA.

However, I kept that secret love of the music I grew up on and the latter releases like Bad and Dangerous had a few songs that caught my attention. Even as he did whatever it is he did to himself that alienated him from people like me who not only shared a first name, but skin tone with him, there was always a soft spot in my heart for him and his music.

I think the funniest thing I realized yesterday when I found out he had died was that I have never actually bought a Michael Jackson album. When I was growing up, they were always in the house, so I never had to. When I moved out of my parents' house, Thriller made its way into one of the boxes. Now multiple songs have found their way onto my computer and I'll rediscover them like I have rediscovered other music that has had an impact on my life like the aforementioned Run DMC, LL Cool J, Stevie Wonder and Otis Redding (who my mother introduced me to at age 13). As I listen to the songs that have become a part of my consciousness to the point where I instantly remember the words, it makes me wonder why I left them in the first place.

As we wait for more information to leak about what really happened, we'll also hear more and more people speculate about the hows and whys of his death and the joy that he brought to so many people will take a back seat to the theories and speculation.

It's funny because if you truly listen to the lyrics of some of his songs, they really are simple, which tells you about the power of simplicity.
"I'm starting with the man in the mirror. I'm asking him to change his ways. And no message could have been any clearer. If you wanna make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and then make that change..."

One thing I can guarantee, there will never be another Michael Jackson. In today's world, there couldn't be another Michael Jackson. I feel sorry for people who will not know what it's like to witness history being made and changed like I got the opportunity to do with Michael Jackson.

Thanks, Michael...

Is cesspool too strong a word?

I don’t hate it here. I can say that much. What I can’t say is that I like it, or that I would want to stay here.
When did the feelings start? They’ve always been there. I know this was the last place I thought I’d end up, but now that I’m here, I find it grating on me, wearing me down to the point where I have horrible thoughts that no person in a place with any peace should feel. I walk my dog in the mornings or afternoons and am usually greeted by that same pathetic excuse for a person, longingly wishing I’d entertain the notion of giving, yes, that’s right GIVING him the money that I eat shit to earn Monday through Friday.
I used to be such a nice guy. I used to be the guy who said he would never look down on another human being, much less have contempt for one. But that just isn’t the case anymore. Maybe because I’ve been close to there and didn’t completely go there. Maybe it’s because I just really value what I have now and can’t see myself giving it away for nothing. That’s not very Christ-like in the eyes of the church, but what would pass for Christ-like these days?
I see a city that would like nothing more than to wallow in the bile of self-pity or self sabotage more often than not, rather than actually look inward and change for the better. When you see something constantly drag itself down and bask in the depths of apathy, how long is it before you find yourself right there alongside it, apathetic with the best, or rather, worst of them?
When I first got here, it was, “I’ll give it a try for six months”. That turned into nine months, which turned into a year, which turned into two years and I look up to find it has been seven years. It’s at the point now where nothing I see surprises me anymore. Murders? Please don’t let the perps be black (yeah, right). Corruption in local government? They’d sell their souls for a bucket of chicken and some perfectly chilled, sweetened iced tea. Uneducated kids? The mayor and city council thought it would be a good idea to CUT education. WHO THE FUCK CUTS EDUCATION?
While we’re at it, who the fuck shuts down good ideas because they didn’t think of them, or even worse, someone who “ain’t from around here” thought of them? At what point do you stop being surprised or appalled by what you see and either start embracing it? What’s worse? Embracing it or not caring at all. It makes you wonder what the people who still care see that’s worth caring about. What happens when they decide it just isn’t worth it and either move away (lucky bastards), or worse, join in on the insanity.
I was talking to a city official today and he said “everybody’s going crazy. I don’t know why, but they are”.
All I could say was, “how can you tell?” He laughed...