There’s a saying, ‘If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck and quack likes a duck, then it’s probably is a duck.’ I live by that mantra, kinda. So when I saw the yahoo news about a baby born in British Columbia that was not assigned a sex at the parents’ wishes, I thought, “How could that be?” I showed the story to my 10-year old and he asked, “Can’t they tell if it has a pee pee or not?” (Hmm…maybe he read the book above). My response was, “Maybe there’s nothing there.” You see, I was a bit naive, I wasn’t thinking inside the box. Read story here.
You can’t blame me for being naive when all my life and my parents’ lives and my parents’ parents’ lives, there have always been a male and a female. Pardon my ignorant simplicity, blame it on my upbringing. I am really not used to this grey undetermined area. In my simple mindedness, I thought that It wasn’t up to parents to choose what gender they wanted their kid to be, or raise them as fence-straddlers until they decided their sexual orientation. Reminds you of The Bachelor, doesn’t it?
Why oh why do we let this madness happen? Why do we cave in to every inane whim by a faction of our society with too much time on their hands? Dismantling everything once held sacred, now this. A parent can now choose whether or not their kid, who was born with male parts, lives like a boy, a girl or sex unassigned. SEX UNASSIGNED? No, no, it was assigned but you just don’t want to accept it. It’s like accepting your parking spot that your work assigned to you because you thought that it was too far of a walk to the front door. I pity the kid…
The parents of the above organism, wants it to grow up and gravitate to its own natural sexual orientation. Like choosing if it wants to pee standing up or sitting down, briefs or G-strings, be a wife or a husband, join a girls’ sports league or a boys’ etc after first experimenting with them. They also do not want the poor kid to be labelled. Newsflash! It’s not labelling. If it looks like a…nevermind, the world is so messed up that one little unassigned-sex kid won’t even cause a ripple.
Just my take…
Yesterday I watched the news about a city man who had his personalized Star Trek-themed licence plate recalled because ‘Manitoba Public Insurance received a complaint.’ Yes, all it takes is one solitary complaint. Even over a 2-year old licence plate that is obviously, in a blatant way, not intended to be offensive in the least.
Now as a black man, I do understand and know offensive, (Trust me, I have seen and heard my share of thinly-veiled offense). and I’m happy to know that you Caucasians are looking out for us minorities, but sometimes you over-do it and I’m left embarrassed. I feel as though you are helicopter parenting me. My co-workers sometimes say they are ‘working like a slave’. Should I file a complaint? What if another caucasian hears it and feel offended? Well that’s just wrong. Why should YOU feel offended if I am not offended? I do understand the plight of the Aboriginals who were forced to assimilate and give up their culture but do you think they cringe every time they come across the word while reading a book? Should it be banned then? Should Star Trek also be banned? See? There’s no end to it if we go down this road. We are cutting off the nose to spite the face.
In this situation, I would recommend a meeting with an aboriginal group and the licence plate owner. Hear how each party feels about the situation and take it from there.
My two older boys claim the don’t love each other. In fact, the word hate is used. Whenever I catch them hugging or playing together I would say ‘Look at you! You do love each other! They would promptly back away and give each other space. So what I learn here is, if you leave some things alone, they would be forgotten but if you keep digging things up and looking under rocks for allusions, you re-open wounds. Words have multiple meanings and memories for many of us. Some good and some bad. Don’t cut the nose to spite the face.
Just My Take
So I have been diagnosed as a cynic. Well it’s not a legit diagnosis done by a qualified doctor or anything like that. In fact, it’s not even a medical condition. It’s a self diagnosis borne out of the realization I am a person who takes everything with a grain of salt. Everything! Ever seen those people who reach for the salt as soon as their food is brought to them, without even doing a taste test? Well that’s me. Except for the food part.
What am I cynical about? Every darn thing! See above. Take for example the good old tried and true recommendation that one should hide underneath a door frame during a hurricane. Do I believe that? Nope. I saw photos of Haiti after it was hit by an earthquake. Not once did I see a doorway just standing there, in the middle of the carnage. Not one doorway! Indonesia, no intact and untouched doorway there either. In fact, in all of the photos of earthquake devastation, I have yet to see proof that this works. That’s not the only example of my cynicism though. There’s more. A lot more.
I am also a cynic of political promises. Do you really think I believe one word uttered by those smiling, well-dressed politicians? No way Jose! Why do I vote for them? I do because I am tired of listening to the ‘If you don’t vote you blah blah blah’. Newsflash! They are all the same. And if you don’t believe that, show me solid proof that they aren’t. I didn’t think so. Just like that phantom doorway…
You are probably thinking that I have to be positive about something right? Maybe world peace. Lmao! World Peace? Isn’t that an oxymoron? I do pray for world peace but I know that this would never be achieved. Not while humans walk the earth. End to racism? Sure, when pigs fly. While humans of different color, class or creed share the planet, never happen.
So you get the picture, I am as cynic as they come. Are you one too? Or do you share and like Facebook posts that promise blessings and winnings if you like or share?
I join the masses in praying for the stuff that I am cynical because cynic or not, you never know, and I have had misplaced cynicism before. I do, however, cover the spread. I pray harder for patience to deal with the undesired stuff that comes to me. Understanding to discern why it is happening and strength to deal with it. I also pray for a small portion of the faith that Job exhibited in the Bible. Without it, all is lost, cynical or not.
On Friday November 13th, I sat down to watch a FIFA World Cup qualifying game between my birth country, St. Vincent and the United States. To me and the other people who proudly call this little island home, it was epic. (Unfortunately, the cowardly attacks in Paris hours before kick-off lessened its significance).
This had the makings of a David and Goliath-type battle except for the fact that David would be the victor, St. Vincent had no chance. None whatsoever. It was our first time playing the US team and being on center stage. I was quite happy and satisfied with this accomplishment alone but still harbored a tiny ‘what if’ thought.
St. Vincent stunned the United States by scoring in the first 5 minutes. They were stunned and I was ecstatic! My ‘what if’ thought suddenly grew one size bigger. Unfortunately it was not to be. The Davids in the yellow jerseys without name bands, had apparently given their Goliath all they had in that first 5 minutes and now had assumed their rightful and expected position. As the game progressed, my ‘what if’ shrank smaller and smaller. By half time, I was just watching out of sheer allegiance. The outcome was not in doubt.
One overly-biased, at least in my opinion and I’m entitled to have one, US commentator surgically and negatively dissected not only the Vincy team but the island as well. He did not allow their listeners to forget the fact that here was an underdog team that didn’t deserve to be playing on the same field as the USMNT and stated that the US men’s team was made up of professionals who made a living playing soccer while the Vincentians were part-time players and in some cases, unemployed. (Such glowing commentary!). St. Vincent was describe as a poor country with a high rate of homelessness and unemployment. (Unlike the good old US of A). No attempt was made to promote this gem of the Antilles. At least I didn’t hear any. No mention that many movies, including Pirates of The Caribbean were filmed there. How about it being one of the few true unspoiled locations with exceptional diving locales? On the Grenadine island of Mustique, stars and royalties including Mick Jagger and Princess Margaret, have summer getaway homes there. Too bad this Yankee didn’t know this. Or maybe chose not to mention it.
The commentator was right on one thing, we are small. With a population of just over 100,000, getting to a qualifying World Cup match is reason for a nation-wide celebration. (Heck, the entire island celebrate our students’ successes!) Vincentians both at home and abroad were ecstatic and showed it on various social media. That’s how we are. We are small but we are proud. We celebrate our little accomplishments. That first goal was the goal heard around the world. The US coming back to score 6 is forgotten. Oalex Anderson’s sweet goal is what we will remember.
Hold on! Make that two things that the commentator was right on. Our players really are part-timers and are all 100% Vincies. We do not have the financial means to support a full-time team so the players are gainfully employed. We also cannot afford to import international players from different countries like some teams we know. So when we celebrate, we truly and honestly celebrate a team that is 100% Vincy. The return match is set for next year on Vincy soil. The USMNT will have a chance to experience warm Vincy hospitality. They would see that we are not all that bad. Go Vincy Heat!
Note: Some commenters assured me that the commentator did indeed mention that Pirates of The Caribbean was filmed in St. Vincent and that Jagger has a home there. I never heard it. If indeed he did, that two seconds would not erase his pompous attitude.
Again, it’s just…MY TAKE!
Interpret this any way you want but many of us, make that too many of us, are not touching our wives or husbands enough or at all. There, I said it. You are guilty and I am guilty too. It’s not that we don’t love them, it’s just that this rat race that we are caught up in leaves little time for us to stop and acknowledge them. Rushing around in the morning preparing for work, we bump into them and instead of capitalizing on that touch, we say excuse me and move on. A routine peck on the cheek to say goodbye while our minds are already at work. Unfortunately, it sometimes take a catastrophic occurrence to yank us back to reality. Our spouse is ill or goes missing after a walk to the the store or killed. Then it dawns on us that we should have touched them more. Move I Love You’s, more hugs, more meaningful goodbye kisses.
Thankfully, my wife and I are cognizant of the frailty of life and try to spend quality time together both in and out of bed. We often acknowledge each others presence in the same room by a touch or a playful punch or kick. Even with this, there are stretches where we still get caught up in the race. Some days we do the perfunctory kisses and avoid each other while in the same room but mentally engrossed in something farther away.
Last Friday, as I went into the kitchen to prepare my lunch for work, I found my wife also in the process of doing same. As she leaned into the refrigerator, I noticed how beautiful she looked in her work clothes and without conscious thought, touched her. Not a perfunctory touch. I rubbed her back, arms and shoulders. In that touch, I told her things I may have missed telling her because I was too busy. In the touch, I said how happy I was that I found her and thanks for the things she does for me and for being the best mother and wife. The touch spoke volumes while my voice was mute.
That night as we lay in bed, my wife told me that my morning touch made her day. It made mine too. Now it’s your turn. Re-discover your spouse before it’s too late. Don’t be caught up in the rat race. In the end, it means squat. Not good with words? Say it with touch, it’s a universal language, even the deaf can understand it.
Sometimes we are so hard on those who are tasked with the unpleasant job of making our lives hard. The guy sitting in the parked car taking photos of us as we speed past, disobeying the posted speed limit, the repossession agent or repo man taking our 60″ flat screen television that we ‘forgot’ to make the monthly payments on, that a**hole boss who picks on us when just because we take too long on our breaks or even the math teacher who dares to tell us that our Ivy league kid is failing math. We hate them and sometimes take out our frustrations on them, but they are only doing their jobs. Yes, even that poor lonely sap sitting in the speed trap car.
If we stopped and think about it, none of these people started their day thinking, “I am going to be an a**hole today.” No, they are like you and me. Just earning a dollar doing what they are paid to do. If we get mad, then they are doing a darn good job and deserve a raise. How about the the defense lawyer fighting for the rapist who cruelly and viciously violated our young daughter? Well he too is just doing what he’s paid to do. We really don’t hate on them much though, do we? Maybe we should.
But then again, that’s just MY TAKE
I find that I generally have low expectations of people. This way when they over-excel and prove me wrong, I am pleasantly surprised and thankful that there are good people out there. And I like surprises! Personal experiences have taught me not to expect too much of anyone. In fact, they taught me to be downright distrusting until trustworthiness is proven. But don’t worry, it’s not you, it’s me and my trust issues. And also, MY TAKE
Many lives were lost last week. Some died peacefully of natural causes, others accidentally and some due to various illnesses. It’s just the natural cycle. We live, we die. But what about those who die as victims of madmen or men who in their warped minds, murder in the name of their Gods? Or in the name of Justice? Or revenge? Or their own idiotic and personal agenda? It’s still a death.
The news was saturated during the week with discussions and updates on the attack in Paris that left about 20 people dead. It was appalling. It was Paris. Yes, that Paris. How could this happen? Were they real terrorists or just wannabes hiding behind their madness by claiming to be? Who cares? People died. But yet, they were still just deaths, like all the others who died that week. God Bless Their Souls.
Also last week, Boko Aram, now that’s a real Islamist terrorist, conducted a massacre in a Nigerian city that may have taken the lives of as many as 2000 civilians! Did you hear that? Two Thousand Civilians! Most likely you didn’t hear about this one because it wasn’t Paris and it was old news. You can still read it here. They kill each other in those parts anyways, they are like savages, who cares? I do. The death toll dwarfed Paris’ but still it wasn’t on the same scale. Paris vs Nigeria? No contest.
A death is a death no matter where, how and when. How could they have missed reporting this mass murder? Two thousand versus twenty, including the killers. Remember, a death is a death…
Note: Thoughts and prayers to the victims of this madness that is sweeping the globe. God Bless Us All.