Delicate Dealings

Last night I learned a valuable lesson about sharing things about people. The lesson can be summed up in Kurt Kobain's quote, We have no right to express an opinion until we know all of the answers. My approach to expressing my opinion about something dealing with a family member ended up causing alarm and anger and led to a deep offense. My motive and intent were questioned and ultimately were dismissed to smeer tactics. If I had known then what I know now, I may have remained silent. In retrospect, however, it is probably a good thing that I now know that there was an unknown issue from before that had gone unspoken. It also opened up other conversation that led to a better understanding of a current situation. I am grateful for the lesson but deeply saddened by the outcome and the potential loss of a great relationship. Word to the wise: Always be aware of the risk involved with sharing your opinions with others about things that are dear to them. Assess that risk before opening your mouth.

Saving a Child or Ruining a Nation?

Today this is sitting on my chest so intensely that I had to share My coworker and his wife have been in the process of adopting two Ugandan children over the last year. Last month he went for a hearing in Uganda, the almost last step before the children came home with them only to be denied adoption of the two children after being there for less than 2 days. They were crestfallen and immediately filed an appeal for their case to be heard before a different judge. The judge ruled against the adoption and, per my coworker, has a reputation for blocking adoptions of any Ugandan children to foreigners, only granting the right of adoption to domestic parents. The shared rationale for his decision was that America had enough problems as it is for its citizens to venture across the ocean to adopt children. They also share that children being adopted by foreign parents was adding to the demise of Uganda as a nation. Coworkers reaction was one of disbelief, a huffing "How dare he deny these children the right to loving homes," and general distaste for his remarks about his feelings about foreign adoption. With the responses came a brief narrative of the story of one of the children indicating that the infant had been left on the jungle floor alone and had been found. Her reaction was "Why would a judge allow a child who had been abandoned to remain unadopted based on a nationality glitch?" As I sit here, I'm looking at this is two different lights. My first thought in response to my coworkers remarks is that there are millions of orphan children right here in the U.S. that are overlooked just as easily as they feel these Ugandan children have been. How much thought do we give to these children who's faces are not plastered on a commercial but equally as in need. My second thought is, if what they say is true about the rationale behind the judges decision, that in fact, the slow siphon of Ugandan children out of Uganda by foreigners is in fact adding to the demise of the nation, what indications in his society would lead him to that statement of opinion. I don't have any knowledge about the adoption process. I do, however, have a handful of childhood friends who I grew up with that were foster children, a few of them actually being adopted, but most not ever experiencing that. We had three foster homes on my street and my first best friend Tamekia and her brother Anthony were placed at my neighbor, Mrs. Howards house because their mother left for the store and never returned. I'd like to hear your thoughts on this.

Digging In My Roots Again

This afternoon I returned home and felt inclined to spend time "digging in my roots", researching Joe Goodley on my family tree. I positioned myself on my bed, pulled out my family binder and logged onto ancestry.com. Hoping to make some progress in my search for who this man is/was, I clicked the green leaf next to his name and it led me to 5 hints the program suggested. Four of the five were not helpful, referencing Joe Goodley's in other states too far from his last known whereabouts to be relevant. The last tab I checked on was ironically the first tab listed. It was a link to another family tree named the Watts Family Tree and the information on their tree matched exactly to my own. A stream of excitement rushed through my veins. In my binder, I have the funeral programs for my great grandfather Will Goodman Sr and great grandmother Willie Mae Goodman. With the information on the program, I updated the death dates on my family tree. Within 20 minutes of my update, I had 3 more hints and the program offered a few more lines to connect my dots. What prompted this afternoon exploration is that I have been feeling impressed upon to be able to tell my personal story within the context of the places, people, and times that made me who I am. The notes that I have taken over the years and the diary entries from interviews with family members has made this journey one in education, understanding, hope, and inspiration. This search has brought into my path so many stories and other things that I never anticipated that started while doing a class assignment April 6, 1995. One unexpected thing I found in my binder is a series of letters I typed to my sister in 2000 telling her about me and my life and giving her advice based on my experiences. In a letter written September 15, 2000, I wrote to her about the Black College Campus tour and the wellness forum where Sistah Souljah was keynote. In true Sistah Souljah fashion, she ignited in me with 9 tips that are relevant even today. I now share them with you. 1. Don't waste time 2. Use time to do reading outside of the sylabus 3. Develop sisterhood 4. Take every negative experience and turn it into a postivie one. 5. Keep strong friendships 6. Create businesses 7. Remember politics 7. Develop family and community 8. Get respect and love for yourself As an aside, I encourage you to find a way to document the times of your life. Whether everyday, once a week or month, or just on the days that mean the most to you, find a way to mark the date, time, and place so you can be reminded of your own journey, see how far you have come, understand who you were then and how you became who you are now. Leave crumbs along the path, so, if one day you must return, you can find your way back.

37 Days and Counting: Our Children

This morning I watched about a dozen children emerge from everywhere when the yellow flashing lights came on, the mechanical stop sign swung out when the accordian door opened to welcome them onto the "big cheese". Some scurried out of idling vehicles into line, others walked leisurely from several yards away along the side as if the bus didn't have time frame in which to deliver them. I almost missed watching the moblizing of our future wrapped up in the routine of leaving home, eating cereal, but a gentle nudge appealed to my childlike sense of wonder and as I waited for the bus to pass, I reveled in watching these children, seeing personalities and life approaches in the way they boarded. It reminded me of the Birmingham Change Fund, of the work that these talented individuals are doing collectively to leave an indellible print of the positive trajectory of education in the Birmingham City Schools. It shamed me into being more creative about how I can contribute to a process we are in the middle of despite my tight time and obligation constraints. Surely there is a way.

Most importantly it reminded me to pay attention to each moment, to seek earnestly the opportunities of today, to search them out, lie in wait of anticipation, so I may maximize the day I have before me. It reminds me of the miracles Jesus performed in opening blind eyes. Lord, open my blind eyes. Let me see what's right in front of me. To see the potential in today. This is my Thursday morning prayer.