I stood there for a while waiting for his buddies to show up, hoping I'd get to see them transform.



Eventually some more did arrive, but still, none of them transformed.


Vote by 8/31/09!!!


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Set in the present-day Democratic Republic of the Congo, Ruined follows a young woman's nightmarish path to Mama Nadi, a savvy businesswoman who—in the midst of a complex civil war— both protects and profits from the women whose bodies have become battlegrounds. At once heartbreaking and captivating, Ruined pays homage to the courageous and resilient women who must piece themselves together after the ruin.

Source: Theatre In Chicago

I had the absolute pleasure of seeing this wonderful play last night as the guest one of my former acting teachers (and now friend) from Harlem School of the Arts. Aside from the amazing Pulitzer Prize winning playwright, Lynn Nottage's emotionally wrenching and almost impossibly layered and textured work, and the amazing multifaceted performances put on by all the actors - I was especially tickled because I met nearly all of the cast a week earlier at my friend's home. It was an intimate little gathering where they dined, chatted casually and played...Taboo.

Ruined is an amazing play complete with some of the best actors I've seen. And as someone who's seen many plays on Broadway (numbering in the double-digits), I was knocked off my feet by this slick, Off-Broadway production.

Ruined's Condola Rashad (Sophie) & Quincy Tyler Bernstine (Salima)

If you're into the theatre, this is one you don't want to miss. It's curtain closes on September 6th of this year. There's still time for those of you who are in New York City or intend to visit in the coming days. Purchase your tickets for Ruined here and be a witness to something very beautiful.

Peace...





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...what would you do?

I don't know what I'd do after I calmed down, but upon seeing my child's tears inflicted by an adult I'd probably ask someone I know to keep me restrained to a chair with duct tape and a piece placed over my mouth to keep me from going off half cocked. I'd also ask them to shoot my wife with a tranquilizer dart, strength set to elephant.

But seriously, beyond the reporting, the political weigh-ins, the personal beliefs, what is or is not true, etc., etc., this child had no control over what the adults were doing or any say in his summer plans. He simply thought he was going for a swim and now he has the words of those adults he overheard and the memory of his tears to carry FOREVER.

The little boy in this clip may wake up one day and realize he's over it. As a man, he may even forgive them for their ignorance. But he'll never forget. No different than my not being able to forget being around his age in Chicago on 95th street, coming from Jewel's (a grocery store) when a white T-top Firebird Trans Am (with a black and gold Firebird decal on the hood) pulled up alongside us while my father was driving his silver Buick Skylark with its God-awful burgundy interior. The two women inside gleefully shouted the "n-word" at us for the length of the block before speeding through the intersection when the light turned red. And why?

Because my father took too long to make a left turn. Really?

I'll never forget sinking into the backseat of the car, or how my heart was racing or how I looked up through the bottom of my window at the women with their stringy unnatural blond hair, complete with black roots, flying in the wind, without a care in the world. I'll never forget that it was a Sunday and we had just come from church before going grocery shopping. I also remember wanting my father to run them off the road. Damn the car. But I was a kid back then, and even then I knew why he wouldn't...or couldn't.

When kids say hateful things to one another, kids know in the back of their minds that other kid is trying to hurt them, so they take it in stride (or not) and hurt back. But when coming from an adult, a child believes the adult truly believes what they're saying and believes it about them. Those beliefs become scars. Then it is the child's burden for an untold amount of time.

Our children, no matter the race or class, are our most vulnerable citizens. We have to do better by them. Even the ones we don't own.

Next week I promise to attempt to return to my humorous self. It's just been one of those weeks. Last week was one of those weeks, too.

Hmmm...



Click the button and stay for a while.

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Remember this?



Remember him?

Remember the time?

Ahh...Da Bulls.

Happy Hump Day. Whatever your struggle may be...keep tryin'.

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I HATE playgrounds primarily because growing up in Chicago at my parents' house I had a backyard with six trees and a deck that could hold about eight people. All I had to do was walk out of my house and I could play tether ball (yes, tether ball), run soccer drills using the trees as defenders on the opposing team, sprint back and forth up and down the length of the yard, play T-ball with a wiffle ball so it didn't go into anyone else's yard. I even had a badminton net strung up between two trees. I'm not that upset that I sucked at badminton. I didn't need a park --- a place we went to for barbecues or some kid's birthday party and the playground was where I went for recess during the week when I was in school. Taking my kids to the park/playground for them to play and stretch their legs is a constant reminder that I live in a temporary dwelling, don't have the space for them to just walk out of their door to go play on their land, and as a middle-class New Yorker, I'm currently priced out of anything suitable for my family. But they're kids. Thankfully, they don't care one way or another. For now.

Problem Number 2: During the week, playgrounds are run by mothers and nannies. Often on my days off and on days when I get home early from work I take my girl to one of a few playgrounds in the area to run off some of her steam. When I enter the playground I'm on display in one of two ways: I'm looked at like the Catch of the Day and 9 times out of 10 I have no desire to be at the end of any of these admirers' fishing lines; or I'm viewed with disdain by the women who've claimed a public, asphalted patch of earth (or mulch or athletic turf) with dirty swings and slides as their territory. Why are you here? Their looks say. Don't you have a job? Where is your wife? (I always make sure to wear my ring when I'm there) Is that even your daughter? (Several shades of complexion separate us, but she looks just like me and calls me, "Daddy" every chance she gets, so yes, she is) I think I make things worse when I run around with babygirl, hoist her on my shoulders so she can ride piggyback, play follow the leader and toss her 35-pound frame high into the air above my head and catch her easily. I don't just tell her to go play, I play with her. Please don't be jealous. Yes, ladies, I have a relationship with my daughter (and my son) that involves more than simply picking her up from daycare or slotting out some time for her on the weekends.

What would solve my dilemma would be to be able to give my kids what I had and that much more. With a high credit score and money in the bank buying a house is just a matter of finding the right one for the right price in the right city/state (a completely overwhelming, arduous and sometimes infuriating process). But it is happening this year. But giving my daughter and whatever little friends she'll accumulate over time, the means to have a ball in her (my) backyard? That would be a dream come true. A Kid's Creation Three Ring Adventure Playground Set would be the manifestation of this dream. Made of quality, real materials, this is something you can put in your backyard that will stand the test of time, the elements and a gaggle of destructive children. My buddies over at Dad-Blogs.com have worked hard to make this possible for one lucky mom and/or dad. I hope I end up being the one. This way my kids can have what I did and that much more. Then, I'll be able to check one more thing off my I-Am-A-Half-Decent-Father-After-All list. And as a handy person I'd enjoy the challenge of putting it all together and refusing everyone's help.

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It is 4 o'clock in the afternoon and the other two posts I put up today haven't garnered a single comment. Every post I've put up since January 28th has gotten AT LEAST 1 comment. Is this ego?

Yes.

So here goes:



Someone I knew from 2nd grade posted this on Facebook. I'm the dude in the top left hand corner. This was the year before the coke-bottle glasses were bolted to my face. I could see back then so I'm not sure what happened over the course of 12 months.

It was my last year of nerdlessness(?) .


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It was impossible to not write about the campaign and election of Barack Obama as our 44th President. No matter how hard I tried. I do try to stay away from politics as it has become quite the circus (maybe it always has been). But...

When I was at Cornell and I mentioned I was from Chicago people always made reference to the crime and the corruption of the Al Capone days. To this day people always say/ask, "Chicago. Bang bang?" I laugh and tell them that was back in the 30's. Well, if you count a handful highly publicized scandals involving some governors, legislators and this guy below, maybe they knew something I didn't.



Why in the world did this poor, old man allow himself to be thrown under the bus like this? He's had a 30-year career of service. Do you think anyone is going to remember him for that now?



My dad is Burris' age and every time I watch him speak I shake my head for his generation. And is that the ghost of Harold Washington sitting next to him at Blago's impeachment trial?



The "Real" Roland should have run the other way when Blago stepped to him. Unless he got a note from the doctor saying he had 30 days to live he could've figured out a way to throw his hat in the ring after they threw that clown out. I don't care what the issues are back home, I don't care about Senator Reid's power plays, the undercurrent of racism everywhere in Chicago and Illinois, the fact that every African American who wanted to be considered for Obama's vacated seat was said to be passed over. Maybe something's wrong with me because I say, "Pass me over!" Who needs the drama? I'm just waiting for the press conference where he strokes out on national television from the stress.

Sorry, but Burris should've NEVER accepted the appointment. Now he's a punching bag for every enemy Blago has ever had on both sides of the aisle. Damn an agenda, he's gonna spend the next two years defending his credibility, or the next 30 days depending on how much public opinion turns against him.

It just ain't right.

Blago's got one hell of a punch. The punch that just won't stop punching.