what does a black man have to do to get pumpkin pie?

these times come and go, but right now, i really miss my grandfather. my own father died before i born, so my grandparents raised me while my mother worked. and once my grandmother passed away in 1989, it was just me and papa for 10 years. that's a lot of quality time. i suppose i rarely miss him more than during thanksgiving. that's when he would make pumpkin pie. it wasn't any overdone affair made with a few cups of sugar here and a couple pounds of butter there. he just used to recipe on the back of the libby's can, and actually omitted a few ingredients. whatever he did, it yielded this light orange-colored confection that i looked forward to year after year.

the last thanksgiving before he passed away, i was bugging him to show me exactly how he made the pie. however, when he called me to watch him do it, i was off in the family room playing with cousins and didn't want to stop to pay attention. it's one of the things i've kicked myself the hardest for since he's been gone. i knew how much i loved him, and i knew that if he didn't mean the world to me, he was pretty dang close. yet, i still couldn't quite get it together to appreciate him the way he deserved.

probably the chief of all offenses was the thanksgiving that i asked him to cook. and then i think i either forgot that he did, or just was having too grand a time elsewhere to come home and eat it. when i did get home later in the day, he was telling me all about the dressing he'd made. he was so proud of it because he tried out a new recipe using apple juice instead and wanted to see what i thought. i had just eaten when i got there, so that was one strike against me and then i tasted the dressing and though it was good, it didn't compare to my mother's recipe and i wasn't hungry besides. i didn't spit it in the trash and shout "ptui", but whatever quietly unthrilled reaction i gave probably wounded him just as bad.

my grandfather didn't show a lot of emotion, but that didn't mean he didn't feel any. my biggest and most often recurring regret in these last 6 years (and my how time flies) is that i didn't -- or somehow couldn't properly -- express that i appreciated him and everything he did. i still carry that with me and i could break down and cry if i think about it too long because i never wanted to hurt him, but i just didn't have a grip on how spoiled and fickle a child i was.

all the same, i know that if papa was still here today, he wouldn't hold it against me. i guess when you get to be over 80 years old, you just don't care to hold on to things like that. and for me, he let a lot of things go, i'm sure. and yet with that assurance in my heart, it still bothers me. because it's one thing i wish i could go back and re-do. i wanted him to know how much he meant to me, and i'm sure he had a clue. i just hate leaving guess-work when it comes to that stuff.

it really doesn't matter though. nothing that's happened has much bearing on the present or the future. except that i have yet to get pumpkin pie to taste like i remember it. you know, african-american families swear up and down by sweet potatoe pie. you talk to them about pumpkin, and you're likely to get cussed out. but to me, the traditional aspect of the holiday isn't complete without it. so i've made two already. the pumpkin was on the shelf for awhile, so it had a darker appearance to it. and i don't think i put in enough evaporated milk, so it was way too thick and sweet. i'm trying again tonight though. before i put it in the oven an hour or so ago, it looked like the right color and i made sure i tasted a bit of the mix before i poured it in the pie shells. i think it'll be ok.

i'm sure everything will be ok.

death of a salesman

willy lomax spent his entire life chanting his mantra of how good it is for a salesman to be "well-liked". and then he died a failure of a salesman and nobody liked him. nobody. first of all, willy was either delusional or a pathological liar, because he was not a good salesman and even stevie wonder could see that. and second, while willy sang the praises of being well-liked, he sure didn't consider how much it costs to try and please everybody. it would have been fine if he could have parlayed all of his pandering and boot-licking into sales. but this bastard had nothing to show at the end of the day except a monument to how pathetic he was.

i don't wanna die like that. i like for people to like me. i like for people to smile when they see me. but some people are just too expensive. they require too much to be pleased. and once i deem that making a person happy doesn't fit in my budget, i just shut down shop altogether and i might give them the finger. after that point, pretty much don't nobody get nothin'. and i means it like i said it.

today, i just don't have enough "resource" to please everybody. maybe it's just me. maybe i've been sending out "hostile vibes" and people around me are reacting to a message i didn't know i was sending, but it surely feels like its without probable cause. so until such time as i figure out what's going on, i'm gonna register a provisional "screw them, i'm taking my toys and going home. i didn't want to be their friend anyway." how 'bout that.

i guess that does sound pretty hostile.



aww, shut up.

you ain't got to lie, em

this sunday, a girl slunk in quietly through the backdoor of the church while worship was going on. she stood just out of sight listening to the music. she was pale and waifish, and she looked like she didn't think she belonged where she was. i wasn't sure if she was a transient off the street or someone's invited guest, but she looked lost. so i walked over and welcomed her saying "you don't have to stand here in the back. you can go grab a seat if you want!"

she asked me to repeat what i said before she motioned me to come outside because she couldn't hear me over the music. i repeated, and she just kinda smiled and laughed it off or said thanks. i don't remember which. but apparently, she was more interested in getting some attention because as soon as a quiet opportunity presented itself, she began telling me her life story. i kinda did want to go back inside and worship with the rest of the family, but i had to check myself on a writ of that mary-and-martha principle where Jesus deemed it more important for mary to spend time with him than for her to help martha with the housework (luke 10:38-42).

so i sat and i listened. fortunately, she didn't take too terribly long getting down to the dirt. she had squeezed through the bars to escape the church next door because she didn't like them and they didn't understand her. she was from phoenix, but had to come to live here in los angeles with her grandparents. her home in phoenix was overrun with drug addicts (many of which she said she'd invited into the home). {ok, i'm still listening.}

i asked how old she was. she said she was 14. i told her it was quite alright for her to visit the church, but she really should let her grandparents know where she was. she said, "oh, oh, i have that completely under control. i have a whole plan worked out." {story somewhat checks out... that sounds like the type of dumb thing a barely-teenager would say when faced with a question of accountability}

we were outside at the back corner of the church, but fortunately there were plenty cars coming into the church parking lot. just in case she was runnin' some kind of game, or intended to wild out on me, i wanted to have plenty of witnesses close by. so i continued to listen as she told me she had done a lot of bad things, and began to tear up. {ok, no judgment here... keep going} and then she says "i've had nine children and i'm working on number ten right now." {brakes screech and the cars in my train of thought sequentially slam into each other's back}

ok, whoa. uh-uhn. i can count dagnabit. i was like "ok, but that's impossible." she counters, "but i started having sex really early and i had a whole buncha one-night-stands. they all got me pregnant." all of 'em? really? that's gotta be some pretty mathematically precise planning. sounding dubious without my face betraying the contempt rising with me, i maintained "that's still impossible. you know, you kinda need nine months between each one." or at least some extremely fertile equipment to work with. {my expression begs her to level with me}

"ok, i'm actually 20. i don't know why i lie so much, i lie to all my friends. i don't know why." {i just smile and give her the don't-know-what-to-tell-ya look.} "well, that works a little better for me." she adds, "ok, really. my real age is 18. honest." {a little less smile... still don't know what to tell her} at this point, i'm more than put off. at the start of the conversation she told me her name was emily. normally i try not to reveal people's names on the internet, but the odds are, her name probably isn't emily.

so i'm thinking to myself i'm a complete stranger. you don't know me, you've never seen me, i've never seen you, and we may never see each other again. what do you have to lose by telling the truth? why do you feel you have to lie? i really needed an answer to the question, so i decided to come up with a placeholder one in my mind until God reveals otherwise. one thing's for sure, that i wouldn't bank on the truth of anything this girl just said. that may have been just want she wanted. she may or may not be pregnant. she may or may not have had up to nine or more children. she could feasibly be anywhere from 12-years-old to 21-years-old. she may or may not have been a victim of child abuse. but one thing was definitely real... the criss-crossed obviously self-inflicted cuts all up and down the inside of her legs and thighs which she gladly hiked up her capri pants to show.

i asked her if she'd be comfortable with me getting someone to pray with her. but then i thought better of it, visualized her bolting before i got the chance to return with the assistant pastor, and decided to just man up and rock the intercessory myself. i prayed a plain english prayer with my eyes open.

"aren't you supposed to close your eyes when you pray?" she warned. "no, not really. God hears everything sweetie," i informed and proceeded to pray saying with tongue-in-cheek, "Father, you know her name and how old she really is. i can't do all the things for her that i wish i could, so i call on You. i ask You to speak to her in a way that only she can understand and then let her know that it's You..."

i can't depend on the verity of any of what i allowed to glaze my ears, but one thing is positive. this girl needs help. i think she just wanted someone to vent to, and then in an attempt to have her remarks stricken from the record, she quickly kicks dirt over her droppings with a smoke screen of factors that don't quite add up. i think she may have gotten exactly what she wanted. she got somebody to open up to, and then she got to close them back again when she was done. i'm actually quite fine with it. i probably wouldn't have someone like that as a close friend, but i believe that God can do something amazing in her life.

the tide turning

nevermind my actual age, i can act like a crotchety old man nonetheless. i've been known to be averse to change, set in my ways as if i've been here longer than i actually have. sometimes it's a good thing and they call it steadfast. sometimes it's a bad thing and they call it stubborn. doesn't really matter in this case, because the change i'm resisting is the changing of the seasons themselves. i'm not ready for summer to go away.

in truth, i'm actually just gunshy. last winter here was very cold, gray and rainy, much unbecoming of any territory carrying the moniker of "the sunshine state". it wasn't that it was anywhere near comparable to a new york winter, but even for california, it just seemed to last so long. the weather was gloomy and storming well into what should have been a green blossoming spring. so vowed then to appreciate every summer day i could from the double-digits to the triples.

and i did so, but it still doesn't seem enough. though my anti-morning biorhythms welcome the daylight savings change with open arms, i'm not looking forward to seeing the dusky alpenglow coat our valley skyline at 5:30pm. it just seems wrong. lol

“God created changing seasons not in vain / the beauty of the weather's here for some distraction from our pain / let a warm summer night romance you / let a winter snowfall entrace you / you don't have to pay nothin' / to take in the view” - amel larrieux, “weather”

of course, i know though. i don't have a choice. winter hasn't once arrived late yet. i'm sure it won't be making an exception for li'l old me. at least i have the consolation that our days are still hovering around the high 80's here. so as we orbit daily farther and farther away from our source of light and heat, i'll just have to cozy up with my space heater and invest in some sweaters and jackets to replace the printed tees that i have grown to love so much as of late.

and there is a consolation prize though. today in the grocery store, i saw that they were stocking holiday egg nog. and then bill wither's “lovely day” started playing in my head... and the world was all-right with me. i long professed autumn to be my favorite season, but that was when i had holidays with my grandfather and his pumpkin pie recipe and fallen leaves from our maple tree to look forward to. i saw a pile of maple leaves in someone else's yard here in l.a., and it made me feel so fine.

my friend fatima was over this saturday. we went to breakfast and then did some design work together. we're from the old school, so since it was saturday morning i was watching looney tunes on dvd while working. she hit my own sentiment on the nose when she pointed out “you know, i like this. sittin' here with the heater on, watchin' cartoons... just makes me feel safe.” yeah. that's it. that's what it does. it makes me feel safe. so does lulling myself to sleep with hot tea in a mug while watching taxi.

i'm not so unraveled by my memories of the past as i was before. God has kept his promise. he has not left me comfortless. he has come to me. and along with him, he has brought hope, love, companionship, purpose, looney tunes, tea, and taxi. he's a good god.

in the throes of withdrawal

I have a conundrum going on. I am admittedly one of those individuals who has allowed my constant hankering for approval and affirmation to shape my motivation. Sometimes it's people's approval that is the only significant gratification for some of the things I work so hard doing. The problem arises when I set up this pattern and then something happens that cuts the person's motivation out from beneath me. I can't move.

Last week through a series of unforeseen events, I failed to deliver on an assignment for a class that was notably important to me. The professor was more than disappointed and let the entire class know it in a quietly controlled scolding that lasted about 5-10 minutes by itself. And at the end was the payoff... the workload was doubled and reassigned to me and anyone else in the category of those who failed to deliver.

The redoubled workload was actually the least of all stings (I understand it's just being used to reinforce for future reference how unacceptable it is not to deliver to a client). However it was more of a "hit me where it hurts" to have missed out on the "stamp of approval" that was a vital part of my productivity cycle. Without that portion, my already wounded drive to succeed actually dwindled more... and faster. It made it a drudgery of drudgeries to even begin completing the new assignment given.

Worse than that was a couple weeks ago when I got to the due date for that month-long project I worked on and due to that weekend rub with my family, had nothing to turn in on the due date. I was as close to mortified as one could get. It could have gone without saying that public rebuke was acutely embarassing in front of my design peers. And so now this compounds it all in more ways than one. I feel inept... disqualified... like I might as well give up and go do something else that I can succeed at with less effort. Really. This isn't easy for me.

Sidebar: I think I recently tried to explain to my mother how much of a difference her approval or disapproval makes in my life. I might as well have said it to a brick wall because she hardly even acknowledged it as viable.

So if I follow the trend as I've seen it happen before and predict it could happen again, then I will, if I complete this task at all, completely in a lackluster manner. After all, the prize I was actually seeking was not a grade (I have traditionally not given a rat's @** about grades as a gauge for achievement). What I wanted the most was the affirmation from my circle that I'm on top of my game. At this point, that seem like that would either be unattainable or require a last minute brilliant leap out of the gutter (which is something I really don't feel I'm up to right now).

I'm not quite a fool though. I know that what I do right now decides whether I ultimately become a tragic has-been clothed in a burlap sack of a sad story or something else. I don't really have a good picture of what my "something else" option looks like, but I'll take it. Anything's better than turning into a sad-dramatic burnout. I'd dare say it's one of my worst fears.

So this is what I'm going to do. On the heels of some advice from a friend of mine, I'm going to see if I can use this situation as a prime opportunity to shake this cold turkey. I make no promises about the longevity of this decision, but I'm going to try it. I've got nothing to lose, and I know that underneath it all, I'm primed to shine. Polishing myself up from this point on is going to be the task. So if you're listening and have two hands that you can put together for me, pray.

infinite possibilities

sometimes God has to wow us to remind us that he is who he says he is. not that it's his obligation, it's just that otherwise, we tend to forget. and right easily. but when you hold a belief in your mind that something can't be done, something is impossible, and the God takes that opportunity and flies in the face of it, it gives birth to faith. it proves to us that our simply believing something is impossible does not thereby make it impossible.

not only that, but when God does the unexpected and shatters the perimeters of what we think he is able to do (or even think he's likely to do), you begin to think... or shall i say -- i begin to think: “hmmm. that was pretty dang impressive. what else can you do?” (as if God's power is a sideshow for my amusement's sake).

i think He's empowered by our curiosity about Him. He can do amazing things when he's able to get our attention. it starts a dialogue of sorts where you go from doubting to being curious, to asking questions, to getting answers (he provides them in the most peculiarly yet recognizable ways)... to believing, to communing, to becoming more like Him and only desiring to spread his truth around the earth.

i recently told a friend of mine (who astutely perceived my aversion to authority), “i don't do well with [people telling me what] I can't.” completely on the opposite side, God tells us what we can do. people get this weird idea that the Bible is full of rows and columns of “you can't” that tie you into a straitjacket faith. yes, there are some guidelines on what not to do “if you want to be happy for the rest of your life,” but even those “i can'ts” don't bother me when i measure them up against the “cans”. the “i can do all things through Christ who strenghtens me”. the “with man it is impossible, but with God all things are possible”. the “all things are lawful, but not all things are expedient”.

i wouldn't term him as an irresponsible permissive parent, but instead one who knows the value and purpose of freedom. one who gives allowance weekly with a smile and encourages the child to manage it wisely, helps the child make better decisions, and has compassion enough to pick the child up when he falls. i tell you, it's win-win. it's a good system, if you learn how to work it. working it begins with faith, and for me, my faith began as a series of questions. i know personally that God answers these questions that may or may not be spoken. sometimes the answer comes in pieces, but i know it comes. and for the freedom that comes with it, i must say, it is by all means worth the wait.