Rosa Parks

My life has been in a topsy turvy whirl again these last two weeks. Therefore, I have been out of the loop. I hope I have come to the end and can get back to normal starting now.

Ok. Everyone has done their spill on the loss of Rosa Parks and its affect on the American society. Yes, I, like everyone else, feel as if something has come to an end. It’s that “something” that bothers me the most.

For the last week I’ve asked myself two questions about Rosa Parks. Did we lose a heroine, a martyr? No matter how much Mrs. Parks may fit each category, they just didn’t sound right. Then it hit me. Mrs. Parks’ death was a look into the future. What I mean by that is, if there are no more Mother Teresas, no more Pearl S. Bucks, and no more Indira Gandhis, then Mrs. Parks is the last one. Her passing might be the door closing to equality and humanity. She, like those before her, was possessed of one uncommon characteristic, they all were humanitarians.

Mrs. Parks spent her last 50 years standing firm on her belief that everyone deserves equity. It wasn’t about sitting on the bus. It was about justice. Like Pearl S. Buck’s concern for children worldwide, Mother Teresa’s devotion to benevolence, or Indira Gandhi fight for political independence, Rosa Parks sat down so that we all could enter anyplace, eat anywhere, live any where, ride any mode of transportation, travel anywhere in the country, and yes, sit anywhere we choose.

There are many who did the kind of work the aforementioned women did. But behind the thought of each one is the word “mother.” Mrs. Parks was a mother. She cared not about your gender, race, or, creed, her concern was justice, the justice any mother would feel for her children.

Yet, one door has closed. But let us hope it closes so that we will open a new one. If we want to remember Rosa Parks and all the other liberators, let us not look at her passing as the end, but a new beginning. Let us finish what she and the others started. Equity for all!

Trials and Misfortune

Today is the first time that I have had in the last two and one half weeks to get back to my blog. My last communication involved me explaining the misfortune that had befallen my family. Well, it didn’t stop there. In exactly one week, I got another phone call. My mother was at her doctor’s office and was instructed to go straight to the hospital. The unsightly bump on her shoulder was a blood clot. It was the size of a small length of rope you would use to tie down your boat, if you had one. Not a pretty picture for a 70-year-old woman. So off I went to assist her in her malady.

This was another example of trial and misfortune for me to endure. One of my first thoughts was, Is God testing me? At the time, I was in the middle of playing catch up. With a writing assignment, a presentation for school, and some workshops coming up, my hands were full. I began to wonder if I should just quit. Quit everything. Why should I bother continuing to grow in mind, body, and spirit? The world was not only collapsing around me but my mere existence was facing what looked to be insurmountable. Talk about testing one’s constitution. The loss of steady income and death wasn’t enough? Apparently not.

Something else I noticed was the day these terrible things happened on. Tuesdays. My son’s last day of work was on a Tuesday. A week later on a Tuesday my nephew was murdered. Then suddenly on a Tuesday, two weeks after that, my mother was seriously ill. I am starting to wonder if I should avoid all Tuesdays. You know, pad lock all the doors, shutter the windows, unplug the phones, disconnect my computer, and hide under the bed sheets until every Tuesday pass. Maybe, just maybe, I won’t get one of those phone calls.

I know it sounds really silly. But imagine if you were going through what I have already gone through. Enough is enough. I want my normal life back. The one like everyone else has, where you quiet the alarm, get dressed, check the time, and then get to work. So what if I work from home. I follow a regular schedule too. Is it asking too much to feel like you deserve some peace?

So here I am, sitting at my computer trying, once again, to get back to normal and it’s Sweetest Day. I attempt to make contact with friends to wish them well. It had been quite a while since I last held a conversation with anyone. Everybody is busy. No time to talk or shoot the breeze for a few minutes. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. If I don’t call, I am chastised. If I do call, they can’t be bothered. You can’t say I didn’t try. The phone calls were to help me feel as if I was back in control again. Doing the same old things I always do. I guess this is another trial I am put through, a way to test my strength against the odds. I will continue to hang onto my sanity when it looks as if nothing is going my way.

I do have one thing to be glad about. Roses. Pink ones. My son bought them to me and that lifted my spirit. If no one else has time for me, that’s all right, because my son thinks of me. It may take a while but I know sooner or later, I’ll get over Tuesdays. Sooner or later, things will be normal and seem boring to me. Believe me when I tell you, when it happens, I won’t be complaining. I have been to the other side and it isn’t any sunnier there either.