Culinary Clasher

So when I was knee high to a grasshopper my Granddaddy told me that I would never ever get a husband if I never knew how to cook. My grandfather was an old school Christian Texan who loved his meat and potatoes…so he knew a little something about food. And because I was raised right and had respect for my elders I didn’t suck my teeth or pop my neck at his words I just said “yes granddaddy” and kept it moving into the living room while he cooked dinner for the family.

I gotta tell ya’ll, its hard for an only child to get into cooking when everyone in said child’s family loves to cook. My grandfather, both grandmothers, my mother and even my own father enjoy crafting culinary delights. And so if you don’t have to learn something then you don’t learn anything. My first culinary disaster occurred when I made corn dogs for dinner. I would say that I was about 10 years old, a latchkey kid who wanted to help out the household by preparing a meal for my parental units. So without a recipe but armed with creativity and good intentions I made corn dogs how anyone without a clue would. I boiled several hotdogs and then placed them on top of a can of corn that I had poured into a pan…the microwave did the rest. I don’t even think I added salt or pepper…maybe just ketchup. Yiiikes! I know! Oh how my parents humored me and then we had pizza. Tee hee. And even through separation and divorce, I think my parents mutually decided that my next culinary experiences would be outside of their households…

So let’s fast forward 9 years to my college days! Picture this, the year was 2001 in the new dormitory the university had built. Claiming that I could do more than cook the rice, ramen and make the Kool-Aid (after awhile my friends had type cast my cooking skills) I told my friends that I could fry the chicken for the evening meal. Can I say that I could have too if someone had just told me that it is possible to get a pan too hot, and you often need more than a dollop of oil too do chicken right. Yes, yes, yes! The Lord does watch over babies and fools alike. So when I threw the chicken into the very hot pan there was a lot of smoke and me coughing. Amazingly, the smoke detector never sounded, which as I think back with my adult mind was a problem. After I let out a few Oh $&*%! I turned the stove off, put the pan in the sink and briskly walked back down the hall to my suite as if nothing happened. So while in the suite my friend (who at the time I felt had a nose of a bloodhound-though the hallway was very smoky) asked if something was burning. She quickly going into momma bear mode, walked down to the kitchen and came back to ask me what the hell happened? Oooops! My bad. But she should have knew better to leave me in the kitchen alone to prepare the fried chicken. You gotta have skill! And hello, I had only mastered rice and Kool-Aid. To this day it’s one of the stories that comes up when we think back on the good ole days of our college years. Ain’t that right Courvoisier?

And from that culinary battle I have lived off the kindness of my cooking friends and family, the whore that is McDonald’s, bowls of cereal, and just getting by on the basic microwaveable meals. But now that I’m nearing thirty and feeling like a real adult (read I got a mortgage to pay) I am familiarizing myself with the kitchen. I mean after all it was a selling point when I purchased my condo, I might as well use it right? Right. So I did what I didn’t do when I was 10 or 19 and I bought a cookbook. Cook This Not That. My coworker actually put me on to it. And I must say that I have been having some positive cooking experiences here lately, my coworker as well! Now I would be lying if I didn’t also admit that I’ve had a few set backs, but none have devastated me to the point of not returning to the kitchen the next day… I just go on to Popeye’s a get me a two piece with some red beans and rice! And I must say that as a chick who lived off of crap and cereal for years it feels good to be paying for and preparing my own meals.

And I can’t tell ya’ll how enriching it has been to talk to my dad about the wonderfulness that is McCormick’s Montreal Steak Seasoning. Or get my mom’s recipe for spaghetti. Or call up my grandma for advice on how to make my greens taste better… And it gets better when I get to have my mom calling and asking me what I am having for dinner!

That’s what I call a culinary victory.

See You In Seven

A Golden Rule

So it’s a new year (yay!) but I still work the same ole job with the same ole work drama (boo-but grateful). I sit in my cube wondering how people can work for the same company for 30 plus years because I don’t think I have the endurance or the patience to make it that long. We are sending these people off with cakes and retirement balloons-but really we should be erecting statues honoring the fact that these people haven’t inflicted bodily harm in all their years of working!

Sorry folks this is going to be another work inspired post! Lucky you…

So yeah one of the areas that I need to work on is patience. I feel like I just need to grow there because not everyone has an Amaretto state of mind and I need to really accept and understand that. Oh but why do people drive you to cuss them out and/or kill them just for the stupid things they say or do?* At one point I was going to state the it’s older white people who drive one (specifically me) to brink but really in 2010 I am going to let my negro dialect go…and just say all people can pluck the last nerve.

So let me share how I have already been plucked and we are only 12 days into the new year! Last week my immediate supervisor was going to use the word “Irregardless” in correspondence to someone outside of our department to which I told him not to use it because that wasn’t a word. Well don’t you know that this man looked up irregardless in Webster’s dictionary and called me later in the day to tell me that it was in fact a word and I could look it up online. Then he went on to tell me that there are other “ir” words like “irregular”. Sigh. Are you serious?! I wasn’t disputing the existence of “ir” words but irregardless wasn’t a word that I thought was recognized. Never attempt to tell an older white man (oops I wasn’t suppose to be making this about race). So never attempt to tell this particular man he was wrong because he will fight to the death to prove himself correct! Nevermind that within Webster’s own definition of the word they state to use “regardless” instead. He didn’t see or acknowledge that part of the definition, just like Columbus didn’t see the communities of Native Americans on the land that he just discovered.

I grew in patience that day because he’s still living and breathing, I still have my job and as you can see I did as instructed and looked up the definition of irregardless online!

But then today a coworker tried to tell me that they weren’t using their government issued travel card to obtain cash advances. Did this coworker not understand that part of my job requires that I look at their statements so I can see everything that they are and are not doing? Their response was that they accidentally used their government card, because they thought it was their own. Sigh. When will people get original?! I guess because I am young and black then my birthday must have been January 11th 2010. But again, I guess this person didn’t know that I can see each time they used their card for personal hotel stays or for when they took cash advances for $200 from their neighborhood Wawa dating back to September. But really you want me to believe that this was a one time error? I know that times are hard, but don’t be insulting to my intelligence. You have been caught stealing and it’s because of me that your manager doesn’t know about it. I feel like someone should be licking my boots...or giving me a gift card to Target or something!

Sigh…and I wonder if someone would be as lenient with me as I was with them. I doubt it.

Despite the two notable bumps in the road to Amaretto Jenkins being and becoming a better person (because trust me their have been other incidents in this year) I’m still going to try to live by doing unto others as I would have them do unto me. Even when I don’t feel like people deserve my kindness, I know someone has felt the same way about me.

See You In Seven

*Because I am not a bitter or crazy black woman I don't actually think about doing these things to others. And if I do it's all internal discourse...because unlike some black professional women-my coworkers love me!

Throwback Tuesday part I

My apologies ya'll, its another crazy day in la officina and I am trying to fight off the cold my coworker brought up in here-why don't people just stay home when they are sick? I think me myself personally will be leaving working early myself! So I am going to have to give ya'll another Amaretto throwback. I wrote this over two years ago and I think the sentiment still rings true, where is the time going?

See You In Seven
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Holding Back the Years

I can’t believe that it’s already November. What happened to those seemingly endless summer days of childhood? Seriously, what happened to this past summer? As the calendar keeps advancing I keep pushing deadlines for personal goals farther back. As Stormy said, 30 is the new 20 right? So having it all together which includes-career, doting husband, 2.5 kids, house (maybe in a gated community) and all around fabulousness-can wait until I’m forty, because I don’t think I’ll have it all within the next four years. And while I don’t want, nor plan to wait that long, I do wish I could hold time back a bit.

A couple weeks ago I ran into a dude I went to high school with. He was neither friend nor foe so I was going to act like I didn’t see him. But he decided to say hello and so we got to talking, well gossiping about our former classmates. He told me about so and so who lost their mind in college drinking and “experimenting.” And about such and such who quit her job because she’s engaged to some rich guy. And he, himself was expecting his first child with a girlfriend. So many changes have occurred for some people yet sometimes I feel like I’m in the exact same place I was nearly ten years ago.

These type of conversations get one to being introspective and I began to think about young Amaretto and the person she was. Back in the day, it was so important to get my crush to notice me. So I would plan to accidentally bump into him in the hallway. There was always a plan to smoke and drink at someone’s house when their parents were away. And Friday and Saturday nights were spent cruising the streets in a friend’s broke down car-sanging along with the radio. Good times! But along with the trivial there were plans for what my adult self would do…

I guess this is what getting older is like. Planning, living, revising, reminiscing, wondering, and letting go. This song has been speaking to me lately. It was hot when I was like four and the video’s fashions are quite hilarious. But this British group, Simply Red must have known that folks would be able to relate to the feeling and fear of wasting our limited time…

Don’t get me wrong, I am looking forward to my future and keeping my past where it belongs- behind me. It’s just sometimes I think about young Amaretto who really thought I would have it all together by thirty. Such a lofty, and maybe slight crazy, goal-but even still, I don’t want to fail us. Occasionally I wish time would slow up, but since that’s not going to happen I’ll keep striving during these years to make young Amaretto’s dreams my reality.

They Say...

In 2001, everyone’s favorite sista girl Jill Scott was nominated for a Best New Artist grammy for her debut album, 'Who Is Jill Scott?' She lost to a white woman named Shelby Lynne whose album was titled, ‘I Am Shelby Lynne.’ God’s sense of humor? Mayhap.

Anyway. Critics noted that Shelby shouldn’t have even been in the new artist category since this was like her third album, and the fact that she was just beginning to receive acclaim shouldn’t have been a factor. But that is neither here nor there because she won. And I being a true Jill Scott fan wondered who was this white chick and how could her CD have possible been better than Ms. Jilly from Philly. I was intrigued. I mean the titles were so similar and yet different. One a question. One a declarative sentence. Both suggesting that their music would give you a hint into who they were as artists and women.

So. Being the type of person I am I went out and bought ‘I Am Shelby Lynne.’ And it totally rocked. Here was a white woman, singing a little bit country, rock, bluegrass and soul. Talking about heartbreak, love, and men. Sound familiar? Asking questions like: Did you miss me? Saying things like: I thought it would be easier after you were gone. And your lies won’t leave me alone. I ended up playing Shelby as much as I played Jill. And in the end I had to admit that her 10 track CD was a little tighter, a little neater than Ms. Scott’s.

So what is the point of all this? I’m not sure. Maybe that sometimes you have to find out things for yourself. Try new shyt. I know curiosity killed the cat – but they have 9 lives right? Tee hee. Even though what I did was something so easy – listening to a different kind of music, artist, etc – too often people are afraid or just unwilling to go around themselves and what they think they know, done heard or read in a book. Don’t want to try it for themselves. Can’t envision thinking and living outside the box.

And I’m not talking about anything detrimental or dangerous or illegal like smoking crack. Although you know if you wanna try crack, go ahead, it's your world! I’m talking about that seemingly simple shyt that might expand your horizons, but you’ve been reluctant to try. That ain’t gonna hurt nobody, we just dancing y'all, stuff – going to a concert of an artist you don’t know, trying a new food (at least taking 2 no thank you bites), throwing a dart on the map and then traveling to that place, learning a language, making a new friend, putting both feet in and being in love - head over heels, all consuming love.

Fcuk what they say. The critics. The naysayers. The people who done it already. Whether or not they liked it. Or that they said it wasn’t worth your time. Or that it didn’t work for them. Or that they told you it wasn't going to last. What the hell do they know? You’re a different person, right? With a whole set of your own experiences, feelings, and ideas, right? Cause I've lived by the rules they set. And been miserable. Taken jobs that everyone thought would be perfect for me and learned the hard way that they weren't. Been told that he's my type of man and we'd be good together. And realized - hmm not so much.

Now I'm not saying I live my life at 100% fcuk what they say level - mama has to keep a job cause I gots bills to pay. But in the day to day of the life that's my own, I do what I want and leave the rest. Try new shyt. And make a concerted effort to enjoy it. To find something good about it - even if I'll never do it again. Hear what they say. And then see for myself. Cause you never know. You might be pleasantly surprised. You just might like it...

That's my time y'all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

Growing Pains

So how do you determine adulthood? Like being all the way grown? I know according to the law, 18 years old = grown. But we all know that’s a lie, that’s a lie, that’s a lie. Sometimes I think I’m only quasi grown. This is mainly due to the fact that I’m not a home owner. For some reason, I think that once you got your own shyt, yo’ name on a deed, a piece of something that you gotta pay on every month so you can keep it, well then you grown. Like for real. And even though I work 40 hours, contribute to a retirement fund, pay my own bills, gotta fix my own car when it breaks down, I wonder if I’m really grown…

That is until I got on facebook tonight before I started writing this post and saw that our department’s intern (a Howard University student) is at an open mic in Hampton, Virginia. A four hour drive – for those of you who don’t know… And I’m wondering is her ass gon’ make it to work tomorrow morning? Cause we need her there. She has shyt to do. And that’s when I realized...

Damn it, I’m grown. Cause I wish I could hop in a car, with a devil may care attitude, and head down the highway, somewhere, anywhere, and not worry that I have sooo much work on my desk. And not have to weigh the pros and cons of if this is a good enough reason to use my leave. Cause you know that leave is sacred. Can’t go wasting it on some bullshyt. And even as I sit here with a cold, desperately wanting to call out sick, the grown woman in me is all, “Nah girl, you can’t let the ‘team’ down. You know y’all have a HUGE project coming up.” Dang this grownness! When did I start caring about a “team?” Who am I?

I mean here I am seriously planning a vacation in July. Eagerly anticipating those few glorious days of foolishness and debauchery. Like for real looking forward to it, crossing off the days on the wall like I'm in prison and shyt... And while I definitely don’t want to go backwards, it’s fun to remember a life with little responsibility.

When you could just call your supervisor and be like, “I ain’t coming in today.” And not have to give a for real explanation. Shyt. Sometimes you didn’t even bother calling cause you didn’t even need that damn job anyway. Or having someone call you and say, “What you doing?” And you say, “Nothing.” And they say, “Let’s ride.” And y’all get in a car (or for y’all ballers with a trust fund– a plane) and go. And you don't have to answer to anybody. Don't have to worry that you need to go to work, so you can make money to pay for x,y, and z. Haven't started worrying about saving money for: when you're old, or for a down payment on a car or a house or a new laptop cause your 'e' and 'r' kys ae missing... Tee hee. Just living in the moment, like it's gonna be this way forever. Ahhh the foolishness of youth...

I know a woman who always says, “you know sometimes you can grow old and not grow up. And that’s a shame.” Ain’t that the right. And so as I make better decisions in the present because I know they will directly affect my future, I recognize that I'm growing up. But there’s a little, tiny, part of me that’s slightly envious of my intern. But I know she better show up to work tomorrow or her ass is grass. But if she doesn’t. I’ll totally understand. And smile a little on the inside.

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

Proud Family

When I was a young Amaretto, it used to annoy me when upon seeing family-n-friends back home they would comment on how much I had grown. As if that were not the natural order of things, most folks I know don’t have a Benjamin Button approach to life. But as a 12 year-old with big red plastic glasses and a brace face (no Invisalign back then-we’re talking about the shiny silver) I wasn’t trying to hear how much different I looked from the last time they saw me… But what I understand now, and totally didn’t get then, is that it is truly amazing to watch babies become people, complete with personalities, accomplishments and a new view on the ways of this here world.

Now that I am all up in this adulthood thing I have had to check myself a lot because that gosh darn individual I thought I was all those years ago is beginning to sound more and more like a momma. And not just any momma…but my momma, who is proud of anything I do. I guess there is nothing new under the sun. This weekend I bore witness to my 16 year old cousin presenting her award winning speech on the viability of the NAACP in front of an entire church congregation. Several of the people who heard the words that my cousin wrote recalled a time with the NAACP was the only organization speaking on behalf of the souls of black folks in this country. And it wasn’t what my cousin said that made my heart swell with pride and caused a tear to fall, it was the fact that I was there when she was born. I remember when she was the funny looking beady bead and bald head baby-and now she models. It’s hard to understand when all this growing up occurred, driving, looking at colleges, having a broken heart, but it’s what happens…and even though its commonplace it’s still amazing to me.

So yeah, just like how my mom reports every little thing I do to her friends…because every little thing I do is magic, I’m sending my friends updates on what’s going on in the life of my little cousins. And I am sure they could care less. Sorry ya’ll. But what I get now is that, unlike my cousins, I can remember way back when they were nothing (so to speak). And I can’t help but feel proud that the world can marvel at a finished product that I have watched grow up.

See You In Seven

saturday school

a few weeks ago I was chatting with rum punch about what it was like growing up in the south and how I wondered if my as yet unborn youngins would have the same experience. heck will my as yet unmet huzband have the same experience. having attended THE hbcu for black women, i've learned that black folks come in all kinds of varieties depending on where they or they people hail from: west indian, african, west coast, and the urrreaaa. and while at a majority white grad school, i encountered time and again black folks who had no idea about my experience growing up in the south. no clue about what it meant for me to know only that my peoples came from st. helena's island south cakalak and be unable to trace my heritage no further back.

so then i got to thinkin' dammit i want my kids to KNOW! cause what if i settle back in the northeast with my future family and my kids don't grow up in the south. or what if my husband doesn't share my story altho he might be "black" like me. what if he's second generation real african american or what if he's british black or grew up in laid back cali. how will i make sure that my kids will laugh when auntie rum punch wants to tell them about the world and the way things RRRRRRR.....dit dit dit dit!

every saturday morning i'm wakin' my kids up bright and early for a lil lesson.

The Arts
Pedagogy of the oppressed
the autobiography of malcolm x
the 23rd psalm and reciting it before school every morning
Attending a Black college homecoming (preferably the Marching 100)
Harold Melvin and the Bluenotes
The Elements
Learning the bus stop
Sparkle
The wiz
Five heartbeats
Boys in the hood
Amistad
Rosewood
School daze
Different world
Cosby show
Roots
Queen
the color purple

Life Skills Training
Cornrows with beads on the end
killing a flying cockroaches
Vacation bible school
Easter speeches
Walking in the mlk parade
Seeing a Klan robe up close and personal
Getting baptized in that secret compartment under the pulpit
Learning how put the needle on the record player
How to identify the nearest exit in .3 seconds when folks start runnin
how to play spades and how not to renig
Watchnight and candlelight communion
Singing in the junior choir with them hot robes
Going to Sunday school
Staying at Grandmama house for at least a weekend with no cable and no air conditioning
How to open and eat blue crabs with no utensils and no help from ya mama nem
Knowing what "mamanem" means
How to hit the floor when folks start shooting

Field Trips
Martin Luther the King Junior historic site
Bainbridge Georgia
Memphis tenn
st Helena's island
Family reunions

Cooking Class
Fish fry
oyster roast
low country boil
making a thrill
waffle house after the club


for my folks who were raised in the south or spent some quality time there, what would you add?

There's Something About Firstloves...

There are three songs that without a doubt will make me think of my ex. They are: Total’s, Kissing You; 112’s, Cupid and Lauryn Hill’s, The Sweetest Thing. Yes, all songs circa 1996-7. Because this ex who always pops into my mind when I hear these songs, as it has become the unofficial soundtrack of our relationship, was my first real boyfriend, my first love.

We attended the same church. He was the son of a preacher man who loved to walk on the wild side. Yes, he was a “bad boy.” I mean as bad as you can get growing up in the suburbs. He had flirted with me numerous times, but I had paid him no mind. I was at the end of my freshman year, he is junior year, so he seemed sooo old to me. But he was oh so fine. And all the girls loved him. For realz. You remember how it was back then. Anyway. One Friday we got to talking while at a youth function at the church. As we left, I making my way home, he on his way to the go-go club because for him the night was still young, he said to me, “is your number in the church directory?” “Yes,” I said. “I’ma call you.” I didn’t believe him. That was Friday. He called me that Sunday. My older cousin who lived with us answered the phone. “You wanna speak to who,” she asked quizzically. I knew instantly that it was him. We spoke on the phone that Sunday night about who knows what – school, parents, why the sky is blue. And we kept right on talking, for the next few days, months, a year. And somewhere in there we were official boyfriend and girlfriend. And I was in love. And damn I still remember this twelve years later. Ask anyone, Rum Punch don’t remember nathin.

But with him I remember conversations until dawn. Dates to the movies and “fancy” chain restaurants. Sneaking around to see him because I knew my mom would think that he was too old for me. Reading my writing to him. Kissing him in his car. Cutting school and waiting for him to pick me up because he had a half day schedule. Accusations of cheating and silent treatment. A sweet birthday card he gave me that I have now lost. Dreams of being together forever and ever and ever. Him telling me that he loved me. Me saying it back. Him breaking my heart. Me being crushed. But always enthralled with him.

Over the years we would lose touch with one another, see each other again, and fall right back into each other’s arms. I knew that it would never work. He was not right for me. We belonged to two entirely different worlds. I could never come down to his and he wouldn’t dare come up to mine. But I couldn’t quite shake him because whenever he looked at me, really looked at me with that come hither look in his eyes, I would melt and become 15 years old all over again. And maybe he too was transported back to that time we had been together, so many years ago.

Even as I had other boyfriends, suitors, lovers, there was always something about him. I was still connected to him. And I feel that in some way I always will be. Maybe it’s because at 15, love was just a word and that yummy/soft feeling you got when that person was around you. It was pure. Simple. Not what it becomes as you get older. Tainted. Filled with conditions. Suspicious. Scary. Uncertain. Difficult. Weighed down with baggage. Brewing with needs, expectations and hopes. The definition expands and contracts, depending on who you ask, how you feel, where you been, where you trying to go, what kinda love you want, thus making things more and more complicated.

But, shit at fifteen, it was easy. That boy, who is now a man, was delicious and dangerous. Being with him was fulfilling and free. It was beautiful and plain. It was a girl giving her heart away for the first time, without knowing all the consequences that come with that. The price that has to be paid. The lessons that have to be learned. A girl with her heart in her hand, her hand extended to him, happily/foolishly/effortlessly giving it to him. Expecting and needing little in return. And oh so content with what she received. Ahhh to first loves!

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

My Vows to Myself

Y'all Show Your Love as 5 and a Possible Present: Courvoisier

Courvousier: Straight from the islands, I am a married lady living in the United States. I strive for knowledge, innovation and perfection in this world; though I’m keenly aware no one is perfect…not even me. I enjoy the simple and exquisite things in life. I believe every life has a purpose and I am eager to fulfill mine.

“And what is the purpose of life? It is the freedom of life, the liberation of life from all things, the liberation which comes when you have gone through all experiences and are, therefore, beyond all experience… welcome to your heart every experience, however unpleasant, however delightful, so as to make your life full as the rain-drop.” – Jiddhu Krishnamurti

Given some recent events that have occurred in my life, I have been pondering many of the life rules that I subconsciously made for myself. Here are few (not listed in any particular order):

You have to own a house.
You have to have a steady paying job.
You have to graduate from college.
You have to have kids.
You have to get married.
You have to look nice.
Etc., Etc., Etc

And being the Type-A personality that I am, I always take those rules a few steps further.

How?
Why?
When?

When I was younger, I recall having really good answers to these questions. Now that I am older, those answers don’t seem so great anymore. I find myself readdressing those rules and trying to justify those answers I thought were so great. And I can’t justify them at all anymore.

For those of you who don’t know me I have achieved all of these "rules" except for having kids. So this is not a case of me giving up on these goals for what ever reason, just because. I guess at this point in my life I feel like I have been there done that. Now what? Still young and in my twenties...what do I do next? So I started making life choices (note: these are no longer rules).

Here they are:

I will no longer make life rules that restrain me from living.

I will focus on the aspects of my life that make me happy/content.

I will believe that life is not work to buy-and-compete; work is to honestly obtain money to finance worthwhile enriching experiences.

And lastly, I will love myself regardless of what I have or have not achieved and/or obtained.

No longer am I going to get caught up in what I think I should be working towards and what I should have at a certain age. And encourage you all to do the same.

These are the vows I'm making to myself.

Much Luv :)

Courvoisier

The Makings of You

There's a time in your life when you find who you are
That's the golden time of day.

-Golden Time of Day, Maze featuring Frankie Beverly

Is this not one of the most beautiful ideas revealed in song? In life? Frankie n'em hit the nail on the head with this line right c’here. Even though as people we all grow and change, there comes a time when you have to set some standards, principles, convictions, truths about and for yourself. You have to know who you are and where you stand. Now let's not play ourselves, it takes some people longer than others to get there but hopefully everyone will…cause once you do, it's a beautiful thing, but it certainly is a process.

There are two people in my family, my great aunt’s husband and my maternal grandfather, who I never met but have heard about, and hearing stories about them has made them legends of sorts in my eyes. Both men passed away before I was born. But whenever someone speaks about them, it's always with a quiet reverence and genuine admiration, like they left more than an impact but an imprint on my family’s soul.

It's interesting to hear what people have to say about someone, and not while their eulogy is being given at the funeral, but after that, years later, decades later even, when people remember the sums that made that person whole. It really says something that everyone has the same view of that person, without having to consult others for agreement, because that person left each individual with the same impression. And that's a powerful thing. Ain't it?

I'm not saying that either of these men walked through life, thinking "let me be this way so people have something good to say when I'm gone." But instead it seems that they knew what kind of men or more so people they wanted to be and they lived their lives accordingly. From what I understand they were hard working men, doting husbands, loving fathers, helpful neighbors, daily Bible & Upper Room reading men, humble men, fair men, men who never raised their voices, wise men who spoke in plain and common sense language that had the power to instill lessons. From these seemingly mundane, everyday activities of working, raising a family, being a husband, character emerged, principles were revealed, and values were affirmed. And the people around them noticed and remembered. Now, I don't know what experiences helped shaped their final decision of how they wanted to live life, but I think that at some point, they had to have looked at life and said, this is how I'm going to navigate it, and this is the kind of person I'm going to be while doing it.

And that's a hard thing. To become a consistent person. To know yourself at your core and then to live your life in such a way that it’s revealed in the seemingly insignificant moments that in actuality string life together. That’s a beautiful thing. But it can take some work getting there. It can take some growing up, some exiting from a state of denial into one of acceptance about one’s flaws and imperfections, some true self examination of where you've been and where you want to go. I’m sure at one point or another; a lot of us have had to stop to ask ourselves: Who am I? What kind of person do I want to become? How do I get there? The hope is that you find the answers along the journey, hopefully in time, to enjoy the sunshine.

That's my time y'all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

Wanna Come Out to Play?

Watching the telly a couple Saturdays ago I was troubled by a commercial I saw urging children to go outside and play. This WHAT THE HELL moment continued as the commercial instructed children to come to their website for suggestions on what to do outside if they needed an idea. I mean it truly is sad that things have gotten to this point that children are left to Google how to play with each other. I never thought I’d see the day when kids would need to look at an internet printout on how to play hide-n-seek; but then I also never thought I would pay more than a dollar for bottle water or see a black man become president…oh wait, that latter hasn’t happened yet, my bad. But you see where I’m going right? Some of the things we see today were once inconceivable notions we laughed at because they were so unlikely.

I wonder what this next generation is gonna do as they get older. I’m sure every generation wonders about the up and coming one. But I think about my own interactions with folks I’ve met on this life journey who I was able to befriend with similar childhood stories of playing until the street lights came on. Bonds formed as we swapped tales of playing house and doctor or a very naughty edition of hide-n-go get it. What will the next ones bond over, the extent of their Wii injuries?

I can’t imagine a childhood in front of a television or a computer. Now I will admit that there were times when my parents had to urge me to go outside. There were times when once outside I’d want to come home, to maybe pee or eat and I found the door locked (gives parents a knowing look). But for the most part I had the best time running with the neighborhood kids or even playing by myself in the backyard with my dog. I can’t imagine my memories of neighborhood bicycle races or tag tournaments being replaced by just passing a controller to a friend. I can’t imagine replacing the story about the time I put my head through a patio railing, got suck and my friends rushing to get my dad to come get me out with butter and a prayer-with one about making it to the highest level in a game.

I know most people are concerned with childhood obesity. Like Billy C’s foundation that is a part of the Alliance for a Healthier Generation that prompted Nickelodeon to shut down for three hours in the past couple of years with the hopes that kids would brave that new world on the other side of their doors. Crazy I know. But I will also say that after the three hour play date the kids can come back inside and watch a program that outlined what other kids had done during that three hours. Progress? I’m shaking my head no. And I guess the real source of my disbelief and outrage is that these kids have no imaginations because we’ve given them virtual realities in hi-def.

I will admit that graphics are much more awesome than when I was coming up. And I won’t get into how excited I was about getting a Sega Genesis! Sonic and Tails anyone? But ain’t it sad when a child can’t see a hairbrush become a microphone or a chair to become a rocket? I’m concerned that the inquiring minds of children are accepting things at face value and not question the possibilities of anything else. Isn’t it tragic these youngins don’t want to explore what’s beyond their neighborhoods…well heck, their own houses?

For me childhood and imagination went hand in hand, like peanut butter and jam, or biscuits and ham. Sorry, I was having a Doctor Seuss rhyming moment, apologizes to all. But Adulthood doesn’t allow the time to pick up a quick game of Mother May I or play around the hood until your mother calls you to come in. Adulthood can be harsh enough without having some of the joys of childhood to think back on. I can imagine a lot of things, but I can’t imagine not having those memories.

See You In Seven.

Holding Back the Years

I can’t believe that it’s already November. What happened to those seemingly endless summer days of childhood? Seriously, what happened to this past summer? As the calendar keeps advancing I keep pushing deadlines for personal goals farther back. As Stormy said, 30 is the new 20 right? So having it all together which includes-career, doting husband, 2.5 kids, house (maybe in a gated community) and all around fabulousness-can wait until I’m forty, because I don’t think I’ll have it all within the next four years. And while I don’t want, nor plan to wait that long, I do wish I could hold time back a bit.

A couple weeks ago I ran into a dude I went to high school with. He was neither friend nor foe so I was going to act like I didn’t see him. But he decided to say hello and so we got to talking, well gossiping about our former classmates. He told me about so and so who lost their mind in college drinking and “experimenting.” And about such and such who quit her job because she’s engaged to some rich guy. And he, himself was expecting his first child with a girlfriend. So many changes have occurred for some people yet sometimes I feel like I’m in the exact same place I was nearly ten years ago.

These type of conversations get one to being introspective and I began to think about young Amaretto and the person she was. Back in the day, it was so important to get my crush to notice me. So I would plan to accidentally bump into him in the hallway. There was always a plan to smoke and drink at someone’s house when their parents were away. And Friday and Saturday nights were spent cruising the streets in a friend’s broke down car-sanging along with the radio. Good times! But along with the trivial there were plans for what my adult self would do…

I guess this is what getting older is like. Planning, living, revising, reminiscing, wondering, and letting go. This song has been speaking to me lately. It was hot when I was like four and the video’s fashions are quite hilarious. But this British group, Simply Red must have known that folks would be able to relate to the feeling and fear of wasting our limited time…

Don’t get me wrong, I am looking forward to my future and keeping my past where it belongs- behind me. It’s just sometimes I think about young Amaretto who really thought I would have it all together by thirty. Such a lofty, and maybe slight crazy, goal-but even still, I don’t want to fail us. Occasionally I wish time would slow up, but since that’s not going to happen I’ll keep striving during these years to make young Amaretto’s dreams my reality.

See You in Seven