Last week a male college student at Rutgers University was caught having sex with another male student in his dorm room. His roommate and a friend recorded the event and broadcast it to a number of other friends on the internet. Apparently the freshman who was ‘caught’ on tape was so distraught that he took his own life by jumping off the George Washington Bridge which connects New Jersey and New York City.
Both the roommate and the friend were arrested. The family of the deceased grieves.
Many politicians, celebrities, and just regular folks are searching for answers to this tragedy. The media is re-reporting the event every hour because the story has ‘legs’. Of all the 33,000 suicide deaths that occur each year, this one is ‘special’ (or at least that is what we are being led to believe).
Politicians want us to believe that if we just had tougher laws against ‘bullying’ this would not have happened. Some outspoken celebrities scream that ‘this just has to stop here’ and we need to take a stand against those who would bully gays and others as well. Others cry out that we have to be Nice-er and more Civil and more Compassionate.
Lest I am accused of being ‘insensitive’ please let me state that I know 1st hand what the death of a child is all about. And I know 1st hand what bullying is all about.
If bullying is not part of our nature, it is definitely a part of our culture and has been for a very long time. Some would try to put this all in a neat package and call it ‘bullying against gays’. The truth is that bullying crosses all lines- too tall, too short, too fat, too skinny, too ugly, too black, too white, too yellow, too foreign, too Christian, too Jewish, too any-other-religion, too old, too young, too poor, too slow, and on and on and on.
There are bullies at school, online, at work, in the military, in government, in sports, in many families, at the store and just about everywhere else. Not only are bullies found in every layer of society, they are SUPPORTED by our culture. Just look at what is passed off as ‘entertainment’. Bullies learn about ‘PUT DOWN’ humor on TV, the movies, the internet and in many homes.
‘PUT DOWN’ humor is voiced by the bully to puff him or her self up.
‘Strong and Tough’ are looked on as desirable qualities for many jobs and in sports. But it is a fine line that crosses over to bullying.
The 2 that filmed the liaisons were arrested. They are freshman in college as well. They probably thought it was the funniest thing to catch someone in a compromising position--- THEY’VE SEEN IT A MILLION TIMES BEFORE. Oh My Goodness, some of our current stars got ‘discovered’ when PORN videos of them were released online.
I am not defending their immoral act of secretly filming someone but it’s not hard to figure out that a deep sense of morality is not part of their current makeup. Maybe they’ll learn that junior year. I doubt it though, ‘higher education’ usually teaches ethics and morals that are completely subjective.
Since bullies make up a significant percentage of the world, their eradication is not very likely. In fact, eliminating them is pretty much impossible (and you know how I hate to use THAT word). Dominant personalities and the extremely insecure can easily cross over to the dark side.
The solution to bullying can be found. It can start at home—if there is one. The home is where we are bound together in relationship. No relationship, no real family. It’s where boys learn to be real men and girls learn to be real women. It’s where we should feel safe and supported. It’s where we should develop our moral code.
Without real family, both bullying and the fear of bullies most likely will thrive. So being ‘connected’ for people of all ages is vital. With a bit of imagination, we all can become part of a group that could serve as a substitute or at least take up the slack for a dysfunctional family.
Suicide as an answer to anything is truly sad. I lost my best friend in the world to suicide a few years ago. As always when we look back, there were signs. I wasn’t educated enough to recognize what was happening. So many factors go into ‘why’ a person would end their own lives but suffice to say ‘one event’ did not cause it. There are always mitigating circumstances that take a person to that place of no answers and no solutions to their problems.
We were visiting my son at college last week and he invited us to attend church with him on Sunday. We met a 19 year old girl who had seen and heard enough about teen suicide. Her name is Alexa Kylen. She took action. Her website is Please Live - http://pleaselive.org/.
Alexa did her homework. SHE HAS ANSWERS for those who are suicidal and the rest of us as well. She’s helping save lives. Sadly, most of the world will never hear about Please Live. Alexa’s work is rarely publicized in the major media outlets or even taught in families, schools or churches.
As a society we need to value human life during all its stages. And we must continually communicate to those around us the VALUE of 1 LIFE- theirs!
And we as parents and young adults might want to seriously consider the effects of our ‘entertainment culture’ not only on society, but on OUR families and loved ones. Getting pounded with messages and images that demean humanity surely cannot be good for children and probably not for the rest us either.
I’ll be praying for all involved in the Rutgers tragedy. Be encouraged. Bye4now…
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Is cancer EVER good?
Not from my perspective. Can good things come out of the experience? I think so but WOW you really have to look for the GOOD THINGS.
Lin, my wife of 30 years, was diagnosed with cancer on April 28th of this year. We are told its very early stage and very treatable. No one in her family ever had cancer.
Our daughter was getting married on May 22nd so we decided not to announce it to the world. It would only take away from the great celebration. So we prepared for the wedding and the start of chemotherapy and radiation that would commence on Monday May 24th.
Even though it seems that just about every family in
Thank God we know some knowledgeable folks in the medical field. They helped us navigate but it still was not easy. Get the right cancer Doctor, hope the protocol works the way it should, have a port implanted in your chest, hope the chemotherapy people are experienced and NICE, hope you get the right radiation Doctor, hope the radiation staff has good aim, load up on prescriptions for pain-for nausea-for sleep-for your skin (‘see which one works best’-shrug :(), make 6 weeks of daily appointments in advance, postpone some appointments when your body just can take the ‘cure’ anymore, and through it all keep the ‘WANT TO LIVE’ alive.
Our 1st visit to the
What the hell was my wife doing here? We’re flippin’ Health Nuts! We buy natural, healthy foods and have a big vegetable garden in the summer. We take supplements- anti-oxidants even. No artificial flavors or colors, no preservatives, no sugar, no chemicals- we try to do it right (except when we don’t :( ). We lead active lives- vigorous activity. Getting plenty of fresh air and keeping a positive attitude round out how we live.
Okay maybe we get stressed out from time to time and maybe we worry a bit but is cancer the punishment for struggling when life is a bit un-manageable?
Maybe Lin got cancer because we grew up in a toxic area of the country or because we didn’t have any real ventilation in the bar we had back in the 80’s or because of acid rain that falls on us from Pittsburgh or because she stands too close to the microwave or from breathing too many exhaust fumes during traffic jams going into New York City or down the Jersey shore- I don’t know! Who does?
We had bought into the promises of having a Healthy Lifestyle. ‘Add more years to your life and more life to your years.’ Is Jack LaLanne-the Godfather of Fitness- a fraud? Jack’s brother lived to be 97 and I don’t know if he ate ‘right’ or even exercised. Do we really need a freakin’ juicer if cancer comes anyway?
I realize that no one gets off this planet alive (except for a few space cadets:)) but life is more than a bit unpredictable.
So after 2 full weeks of 24-hour IV chemotherapy, 30 radiation sessions (4 more to go), going bald, and losing over 20 pounds from a normal of 117, here then are the most positive things I can think of….
-Our children overcame the shock and ‘stepped up’ big-time. Lin and I are so proud to have children who (at least during crisis) actually ‘get it’. Krissy cleaned, cooked, shopped, ran errands and sat with her Mom on the nights she couldn’t sleep because of the pain.
-When he was in town, Buddy contributed like no other time in his life- yard work, house work, wedding prep, and he was a prayer warrior.
-And our newlywed made extra visits home and encouraged her Mom (and me!) daily with prayers and conversations.
-Lin’s friends that she dances with at Church were like the Marines. They were the first to find out and they volunteered and prayed and encouraged and visited.
-After the 1st month when Lin was really in rough shape, some other folks from Church found out and it was like the Army, Navy and Air Force combined- the Driving Force was Lynn Beattie. Fantastic meals every other day, rides to her treatments, more prayers and even visits from our Senior Pastors- Dr. David and Marlinda Ireland- which encouraged Lin greatly.
-Lin learned how to ‘receive’. Her life has been dominated by her ‘giving’. From caring for me and our children to long term care of some family members to her career as a nurse, she was never the one getting care. Methinks we all need to experience both.
-And we got to have visitors without having to have the house ‘perfect’- everything dusted, vacuumed, mowed, cleaned, polished, etc…. Lin was so sick she didn’t care. I hope she noticed that the folks coming to see her CAME TO SEE HER and not to give our home a ‘white glove test’.
Great News came last week when she was examined by the Oncologist and he declared her cancer-free and that a biopsy in 2 months would prove it.
Thanks to everyone for all the love and support.
We even had 2 very accomplished, very professional people put it all on the line. Each had been reading about the ‘medicinal’ uses of marijuana for people undergoing cancer treatment. They became convinced that it could alleviate Lin’s nausea, pain and lack of appetite. Well the conversations became hysterical as they found ‘suppliers’ and offered to have the stuff delivered. One of them is quoted as saying to her husband, ‘I don’t #%&(@&#%)@ care if it’s illegal and that I can lose my career if I get caught. It’s for Lin and if it will help I’m gonna do it anyway!’. (Don’t try to guess who this was because I’ll NEVER tell!).
I realize that not every person and family has a happy ending to their cancer ordeal. My only answer and hope lies in the Eternal.
And by the way, dealing with Health Insurance is a nightmare that takes away from a patient’s ability to heal. If you ever get sick, have someone else deal with the bills until you are fully recovered.
PS- the pic on the Left is Before, the pic on the Right is Now--- After pic will be posted in a few months :D
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Immigration Status
I was attending a family event in East Rutherford, New Jersey a couple of weeks ago. Lin and I had Babci (my 88 year old Polish mother-in-law) with us. We drove past the regional high school and up on the big sign it read ‘Student of the Month- Julia Dombrowski’.
Well Julia is Babci’s granddaughter and Lin’s niece. It’s a fantastic honor to be ‘Student of the Month’. Of course, my little brain couldn’t just leave it there. You see years before, Babci had been the Matron at the very same school- basically being the cleaning lady and helping to keep general order amongst the girls at the school.
And Babci never had the opportunity to even attend high school.
And this got me thinking about all the Immigration battles going on today in the U.S.A.
Babci’s older sister and brother were born in Poland. The family emigrated to the United States, entering through Ellis Island with the hope of a better future. Babci was born in a little shack on a farm up by Pine Island, New York. Her Mom went back out into the field to finish working within a few hours of giving birth.
When Babci was 7, the family moved to Jersey City, New Jersey where 5 more siblings were born. The family of 8 lived in a small 4-room apartment Downtown. No car, no air conditioning, no TV, coal heat that they had to manage, 2 party phone- shared with another family, no bathtub- they used a washtub for cleaning clothes and for bathing, and they shared a bathroom with another family.
Because of their tough financial situation, Babci left school after the 8th grade to go to work. By law, she attended ‘continuation school’ until the age of 16. She worked at various jobs- assembly line work at a mirror factory, cleaning and doing the laundry for a 3 story building owned by a druggist… for $7 a week, and for RCA. Falling in love before World War 2, she was married to another immigrant- Henry Dombrowski- during a furlough he had from the US Army. We called him Dziadzi (Polish grandfather).
After the war, they lived in an apartment back in Jersey City. Scrimping and saving working at different jobs, they were able to put a small down payment on a house in Rutherford, New Jersey. Still without their 1st car yet, Dziadzi landed a job with the railroad. And Babci settled in to raising 4 children. She also found time to work a few jobs as well- the aforementioned job as a Matron, cleaning office buildings and working in the mailroom at Fairleigh Dickinson University.
Her youngest son Hank is Student of the Month Julia Dombrowski’s dad. Hank’s formal education stopped after high school but he was always willing to work. He has a great job as a foreman with Public Service Electric & Gas. He also has run a successful Christmas Tree business for the last 20 years.
And so it was. Dream of coming to America for an opportunity to work and build a better life. Working hard and sacrificing for your family. Serving your new country. And then reaping the benefits of living and working in the USA- a home of your own, a job with health and retirement benefits or a chance to own and run your own business, a safe place to live.
AFTER you helped make the United States a better place, you reap the benefits.
It seems that nowadays, the reason many come to America is to benefit from our Social Welfare system- food stamps, free education, welfare, free health-care, etc. In many cases the mentality seems to be ‘what can I get for free or without working?’ New communities have formed that try to imitate what their ‘country of origin’ was like. There is no desire to assimilate into our society but rather to ‘use’ our system.
Babci and Dziadzi and their parents had to learn the language spoken in the land of opportunity. They knew it would be foolish to expect their new country to change languages. The new immigrants studied and practiced to be able to communicate with their new neighbors.
But our government has failed us. For too long it ignored immigration laws and allowed people to enter our country illegally. Not only is this a disservice to American citizens but also to everyone who has followed the law to live here. The ‘illegals’ also suffer in that they cannot speak the language, understand the culture and truly become part of our ‘communities’.
What good has it done to ‘legalize’ another language? It only further ostracizes people who really need to learn a new way of life and not be trapped in their old cultures that failed them. Don’t get me wrong, cultural traditions are fine. It’s when people try to ‘change’ the land of opportunity to something else- something that failed back in their home countries- that I grieve.
It’s like the programs to raise self-esteem in schools. Everyone is a winner. Everyone is special. Everyone is smart. The missing ingredient in these well-intentioned recipes is W-O-R-K! Sadly, hard work has been glossed over.
We presented 2 assemblies this week in a very poor community in New Jersey. The majority of the children were either homeless or lived in low rent motels for 9 months out of the year. We were brought in by the Big Brothers Big Sisters organization. The shows rocked. The principal and teachers were excited. The kids were pumped up.
So what happens to these ‘children of illegals’ once they get to high school? Well, they’ve been getting free breakfast and lunch, government paid for housing, free education, free medical….
I had a chance to speak with one of the high school counselors. She said that it’s extremely frustrating because the kids EXPECT everything to be handed to them. It’s how they have been raised.
Something ain’t right folks and it’s not the kid’s fault.
Someone needs to put ‘Term Limits’ on our politicians. If limits are good enough for the President they should be good enough for our Senators and Congressman. Being a politician should not be a career choice but a time of service to this great country.
It’s going to have to be some sort of viral, grassroots movement because we all know that politicians are not going to vote themselves out of office.
Thanks to Babci and Dziadzi for all they have done to make this country better!!!! And congratulations on the successes of their children and grandchildren, as well.
As my friend David DeNotaris always says, “Make it a Great Day”...bye4now...
Your friend (iC),
Russell Jones
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
My Special Needs Child
Do you have a ‘classified’ or ‘special needs’ or ‘learning disabled’ child? This is a true story of what happened with our daughter and how we dealt with it. Please note that I realize that everyone’s situation is different as is the way they choose to address it.
My wife Lin really, really wanted to have children back around 1982. I couldn’t quite understand why since she already had ME. But she convinced me it might be a worthwhile pursuit and I kind of bought into the idea-- and by February 1985 there was one ‘in the oven’.
So preparation was made for the big day. The doctor said we should expect our little cherub on November 22, 1985. I was enrolled in natural childbirth classes with my wife (of course it was obligatory for me to ask the instructor ‘If it’s Natural Childbirth, why do we have to take a class?’).
Well, I never did complete the course because lo and behold our brand spankin’ new baby girl decided that 9 months was way too long to stay all cooped up. She entered the free world on September 22—a full 8 weeks early.
I guess there are reasons why 9 months is the suggested time for incubation because they had to keep our little girl there for an extra 2 weeks before she could come home. She was called a ‘Preemie’. But they finally let her out and we all began to settle in. And the last 24 years have been amazing.
Our little Jayne Lin seemed happy and healthy. She landed a job acting in a commercial when she was 4. It was awesome shooting all over Manhattan in New York City.
She went to school and in 1st grade we got ‘the call’. The school had tested and evaluated our daughter and had determined that she was to be ‘classified’. We were told that meant she would be put in ‘special classes’. My wife and I freaked out. ‘Not OUR daughter. Oh no. There must be some mistake. She’s normal. Whoever came to this decision must be an idiot!’
Even though I’m certified to teach in the great state of New Jersey, I wasn’t really sure about ‘classified’, ‘special education’, ‘learning disabilities’, etc. So I checked with a close family member who is an educational professional and she said ‘I know Jayne Lin and she is NOT a special needs kid. Don’t go along with the school on this’.
Well thanks for the advice but now what do we do? We talked it over with the school and with each other. The school was not changing their assessment. But we had our doubts especially since she was our child. I mean after Lin and I looked in the mirror and saw how perfect we were (it amazes me how we as parents think our children should be perfect when we’re all pretty much not), how could our little blonde beauty be less than perfect as well?
Maybe Mom and Dad had fallen short in preparing our girl for the rigors of 1st grade? We decided to do a bit of evaluating of our own. The summer between 1st and 2nd grade we encouraged Jayne Lin to enter a reading contest at the library. She read 113 books in 8 weeks and won the contest. Yes you read that right- 113 books. That didn’t seem to be very ‘learning disabled’ to me. Maybe the local public library was a better ‘fit’ for our daughter than the local public school.
We knew some people who knew some people whose children went to a small Christian school about 20 miles from home. Although we were attempting to live off my training business with Lin being a full-time Mom, we decided to give it a try. Jayne Lin got out of our mini-van the 1st day of school and immediately received a hug from her teacher. It was a good start and she thrived academically.
In fact, by age 12 our 7th grader made a special presentation at Montclair State University on ‘What It Takes to Become a Champion… not only in Sports but in Life’. She addressed a graduate class on Applied Sport Psychology and concluded with a question & answer session.
In 5th grade she had discovered basketball and was the best player on the worst team in the league—the team scored maybe 30 points ALL SEASON. Jayne told me she wanted to be a player. Oh no, I’m thinking to myself- small hands, no hops and not very fast getting up and down the court.
I counseled with a real coach about Jayne Lin’s physical limitations particularly for basketball. ‘No problem’, he said as long as she has heart and passion and the willingness to work hard. Pure ‘shooters’ are lacking in basketball because of all the time and hard work to become a good one.
And that’s what she did. Shoot and then shoot some more. Mom, Dad, little sister and little brother became permanent rebounders in ALL types of weather. I remember a late night shooting session in the driveway in the snow because J felt she needed the extra work.
Along with being an honor student, basketball opened up many doors for #33 to walk through, opportunities abounded. She played year round on travel teams, AAU teams, summer leagues, 3 on 3 tournaments, and shooting contests.
She started lifting weights when she was 12. She slept with a basketball (Pete Maravich, the basketball legend had done it as well). She travelled everywhere with a basketball.
By the end of 9th grade a very high profile private school accepted her to bolster their basketball program but they only took her because she had more than qualified academically. Her 1st week in the 10th grade writing class the teacher tore up her paper because it was way below the school’s standards (even though she was an honor student the year before in our local high school). The demands were high at the new school but she succeeded. By the end of high school she had a pretty decent resume-
Honor Student, Community Service Award (highest level), Christian Drama School, Youth Group, Fellowship of Christian Athletes, 4 years AAU, bench press (free weight)- 150 lbs., squat (free weight)- 250lbs.
Two times New Jersey Star Ledger “Most Unheralded 1st Team”, Two Time 1st Team All-Conference
Her shooting demonstrations included making 18 foul shots in a row- eyes closed, and 100 out of 108 3-point shots made in 10 minutes.
After changing colleges, she took a job as a coach and was the Youngest High School Varsity Girl’s Basketball Head Coach in the State (some think the country) when she had just turned 20 years old.
Hired 3 weeks before start of the season, she started with 13 girls in the entire program- none close to blue chip/ most with zero to bare minimum experience. The team was serving a suspension from its league and was not eligible for county tourney play. They lost their leading scorer 3 games into the season when she cut practice, went snowboarding, ran into a tree and cracked her cheekbone. They had to finish a Christmas tournament game ‘Hoosiers’ style with only 4 players because 1 had fouled out and 4 were nailed to the bench for breaking team rules. With very limited access to her Home gym, many practices were in a local park on a running track. No licensed driver was available for the School Van so Coach Jayne had to borrow her mother’s mini-van to transport players and beg parents to help. After practices and/or games coach had to drive 2-3 kids home. And after the 1st week in February all games had to be away because the Home gym only had 1 basket available. AND AFTER ALL THAT, the team won enough to qualify for the State Tournament.
She left coaching to get back on the court. Jayne Lin played 2 years of college ball (with a few highlights), waitressed on the weekends and graduated last spring Magna Cum Laude with a degree in English.
Oh and she sang the National Anthem acapella before numerous games and then played.
And she has played basketball in Africa, Italy and Spain with a women’s team. It was during the Africa trip a few years back that she met her future husband (May 22, 2010). While she can shoot way better than him, he is a tremendous rebounder. A match made in basketball heaven :D.
So the Preemie baby who they wanted to classify has done okay so far. Other than some attacks of TKS (Teenage Knucklehead Syndrome), she has performed at a high level with some of the best and brightest while holding true to her values and beliefs. Although her room and inside her car can be disastrous, Lin and I think she might do better with her own place (with Mike).
Reflecting back in why the educators wanted to ‘classify’ our daughter, it could have been any number of things- bad educators, bad school environment, bad parents, immaturity… It really doesn’t matter even if she had gone into the ‘special classes’. I think every kid has it in them to do something fantastic- no matter what the test scores say.
Mom and Dad just have to stay calm, love on their children and stay the course doing as much of the right things as possible… AND GOOD THINGS WILL HAPPEN!
As my friend David DeNotaris always says, “Make it a Great Day”...bye4now...
Your friend (iC),
Russell Jones
My wife Lin really, really wanted to have children back around 1982. I couldn’t quite understand why since she already had ME. But she convinced me it might be a worthwhile pursuit and I kind of bought into the idea-- and by February 1985 there was one ‘in the oven’.
So preparation was made for the big day. The doctor said we should expect our little cherub on November 22, 1985. I was enrolled in natural childbirth classes with my wife (of course it was obligatory for me to ask the instructor ‘If it’s Natural Childbirth, why do we have to take a class?’).
Well, I never did complete the course because lo and behold our brand spankin’ new baby girl decided that 9 months was way too long to stay all cooped up. She entered the free world on September 22—a full 8 weeks early.
I guess there are reasons why 9 months is the suggested time for incubation because they had to keep our little girl there for an extra 2 weeks before she could come home. She was called a ‘Preemie’. But they finally let her out and we all began to settle in. And the last 24 years have been amazing.
Our little Jayne Lin seemed happy and healthy. She landed a job acting in a commercial when she was 4. It was awesome shooting all over Manhattan in New York City.
She went to school and in 1st grade we got ‘the call’. The school had tested and evaluated our daughter and had determined that she was to be ‘classified’. We were told that meant she would be put in ‘special classes’. My wife and I freaked out. ‘Not OUR daughter. Oh no. There must be some mistake. She’s normal. Whoever came to this decision must be an idiot!’
Even though I’m certified to teach in the great state of New Jersey, I wasn’t really sure about ‘classified’, ‘special education’, ‘learning disabilities’, etc. So I checked with a close family member who is an educational professional and she said ‘I know Jayne Lin and she is NOT a special needs kid. Don’t go along with the school on this’.
Well thanks for the advice but now what do we do? We talked it over with the school and with each other. The school was not changing their assessment. But we had our doubts especially since she was our child. I mean after Lin and I looked in the mirror and saw how perfect we were (it amazes me how we as parents think our children should be perfect when we’re all pretty much not), how could our little blonde beauty be less than perfect as well?
Maybe Mom and Dad had fallen short in preparing our girl for the rigors of 1st grade? We decided to do a bit of evaluating of our own. The summer between 1st and 2nd grade we encouraged Jayne Lin to enter a reading contest at the library. She read 113 books in 8 weeks and won the contest. Yes you read that right- 113 books. That didn’t seem to be very ‘learning disabled’ to me. Maybe the local public library was a better ‘fit’ for our daughter than the local public school.
We knew some people who knew some people whose children went to a small Christian school about 20 miles from home. Although we were attempting to live off my training business with Lin being a full-time Mom, we decided to give it a try. Jayne Lin got out of our mini-van the 1st day of school and immediately received a hug from her teacher. It was a good start and she thrived academically.
In fact, by age 12 our 7th grader made a special presentation at Montclair State University on ‘What It Takes to Become a Champion… not only in Sports but in Life’. She addressed a graduate class on Applied Sport Psychology and concluded with a question & answer session.
In 5th grade she had discovered basketball and was the best player on the worst team in the league—the team scored maybe 30 points ALL SEASON. Jayne told me she wanted to be a player. Oh no, I’m thinking to myself- small hands, no hops and not very fast getting up and down the court.
I counseled with a real coach about Jayne Lin’s physical limitations particularly for basketball. ‘No problem’, he said as long as she has heart and passion and the willingness to work hard. Pure ‘shooters’ are lacking in basketball because of all the time and hard work to become a good one.
And that’s what she did. Shoot and then shoot some more. Mom, Dad, little sister and little brother became permanent rebounders in ALL types of weather. I remember a late night shooting session in the driveway in the snow because J felt she needed the extra work.
Along with being an honor student, basketball opened up many doors for #33 to walk through, opportunities abounded. She played year round on travel teams, AAU teams, summer leagues, 3 on 3 tournaments, and shooting contests.
She started lifting weights when she was 12. She slept with a basketball (Pete Maravich, the basketball legend had done it as well). She travelled everywhere with a basketball.
By the end of 9th grade a very high profile private school accepted her to bolster their basketball program but they only took her because she had more than qualified academically. Her 1st week in the 10th grade writing class the teacher tore up her paper because it was way below the school’s standards (even though she was an honor student the year before in our local high school). The demands were high at the new school but she succeeded. By the end of high school she had a pretty decent resume-
Honor Student, Community Service Award (highest level), Christian Drama School, Youth Group, Fellowship of Christian Athletes, 4 years AAU, bench press (free weight)- 150 lbs., squat (free weight)- 250lbs.
Two times New Jersey Star Ledger “Most Unheralded 1st Team”, Two Time 1st Team All-Conference
Her shooting demonstrations included making 18 foul shots in a row- eyes closed, and 100 out of 108 3-point shots made in 10 minutes.
After changing colleges, she took a job as a coach and was the Youngest High School Varsity Girl’s Basketball Head Coach in the State (some think the country) when she had just turned 20 years old.
Hired 3 weeks before start of the season, she started with 13 girls in the entire program- none close to blue chip/ most with zero to bare minimum experience. The team was serving a suspension from its league and was not eligible for county tourney play. They lost their leading scorer 3 games into the season when she cut practice, went snowboarding, ran into a tree and cracked her cheekbone. They had to finish a Christmas tournament game ‘Hoosiers’ style with only 4 players because 1 had fouled out and 4 were nailed to the bench for breaking team rules. With very limited access to her Home gym, many practices were in a local park on a running track. No licensed driver was available for the School Van so Coach Jayne had to borrow her mother’s mini-van to transport players and beg parents to help. After practices and/or games coach had to drive 2-3 kids home. And after the 1st week in February all games had to be away because the Home gym only had 1 basket available. AND AFTER ALL THAT, the team won enough to qualify for the State Tournament.
She left coaching to get back on the court. Jayne Lin played 2 years of college ball (with a few highlights), waitressed on the weekends and graduated last spring Magna Cum Laude with a degree in English.
Oh and she sang the National Anthem acapella before numerous games and then played.
And she has played basketball in Africa, Italy and Spain with a women’s team. It was during the Africa trip a few years back that she met her future husband (May 22, 2010). While she can shoot way better than him, he is a tremendous rebounder. A match made in basketball heaven :D.
So the Preemie baby who they wanted to classify has done okay so far. Other than some attacks of TKS (Teenage Knucklehead Syndrome), she has performed at a high level with some of the best and brightest while holding true to her values and beliefs. Although her room and inside her car can be disastrous, Lin and I think she might do better with her own place (with Mike).
Reflecting back in why the educators wanted to ‘classify’ our daughter, it could have been any number of things- bad educators, bad school environment, bad parents, immaturity… It really doesn’t matter even if she had gone into the ‘special classes’. I think every kid has it in them to do something fantastic- no matter what the test scores say.
Mom and Dad just have to stay calm, love on their children and stay the course doing as much of the right things as possible… AND GOOD THINGS WILL HAPPEN!
As my friend David DeNotaris always says, “Make it a Great Day”...bye4now...
Your friend (iC),
Russell Jones
Friday, March 12, 2010
My Great-Grandfather
How old were you the 1st time you realized that you had life ‘figured out’? 12? A little bit later? Maybe it was when you had some success at school or when you performed a brilliant task at home or dazzled your friends with a keen insight or just maybe it was when you observed one of life’s ‘losers’ and got puffed up knowing that at least you were smarter or better than that pitiful soul.
As a kid growing up back in the 1950’s, I had many opportunities to visit with my Great Grandparents. They lived in Piermont, New York right on the Hudson River about 30 miles north of New York City. I can remember good times fishing and swimming in the Hudson.
And always hanging in the kitchen was a wrought iron piece that said- ‘VE GET TOO SOON OLDT UNDT TOO LATE SCHMART’. And there was an image of a wise older man giving some sage advice to a young man. The young man actually appeared Happy to receive what he was being told.
Unlike your family, mine has many ‘characters’ and sordid tales that have tried to follow me down through history. Great Grandpa Visser was a Dutchman who came to the States as a young man.
He had a brilliant mind for numbers and could calculate huge equations in his head. He worked in the New York and New Jersey shipyards as an engineer and planner. In today’s world he would be considered a professional in high demand.
Great Grandpa also helped Great Grandma with her business as well. She ran a bar in Nyack, New York which was 3 miles from home. After work in the shipyards, he would drive up to the family business and help until closing time. The big tree stood witness to how many rough nights at the bar Great Grandpa had. If he had had too much to drink, he would run his car into the tree.
Early the next morning, you could hear a banging sound outside. It was Great Grandpa doing some body work on his car. If you’ve ever seen cars from the 1940’s like in the gangster movies (yes that’s right before there were ‘gangstas’ there were gangsters), they had big old metal fenders. All you had to do was turn the wheel and get in there with a ball peen hammer and bang out the dent. Then it was off to work (no body shop required).
During prohibition the bar turned into a speakeasy. Since liquor was illegal, my Great Grandparents would negotiate deals to purchase ‘Bathtub Gin’ (It was the North’s version of Moonshine) from a supplier in Hoboken, New Jersey. Since being caught with the stuff going across state lines could bring imprisonment, they decided to let Great Grandma drive the 30 miles alone with a load of Bathtub Gin under the floorboards.
After they had sold the bar and retired from the shipyard, they both lived well into their 80’s. But Great Grandpa was an alcoholic and it really was a shame from my perspective. Here was a brilliant man who was unable to function with a shot and a beer every 3 or 4 hours. He was banned by Great Grandma from drinking in the house. So he had a little corner set up in the basement with a small table, 2 chairs and an ice box.
Periodically whenever we would be visiting, Great Grandpa would disappear for a while. I followed him once as he went down to his corner. He would sit with his little dog- Dutchy (of course), a White Owl Invincible cigar, a bottle of Stegmaier beer and a shot of Seagrams whiskey. He would tell me stories and how proud he was of everything I was doing.
And then he gave me a ‘slug’ (no not a crawly thing and no he didn’t hit me). He’d give me a slug of beer. I was maybe 9 years old. It tasted terrible. But it’s amazing how our taste buds can adapt and by the time I was 12 it tasted pretty good. Just in time for the older guys in the neighborhood to get us our own beer. So it wasn’t just a ‘slug’ anymore. But that’s a story for another day.
The truth is that Great Grandpa was self-medicating. The alcohol was used to take away the pain- physical, mental, emotional, spiritual. Oh please don’t judge my Great Grandpa. He didn’t have access to everything we have today. The doctors didn’t write prescriptions like today. Back then it was usually penicillin or take some aspirin.
Today not only can you get drugs for anything that ails you but you can get drugs to counteract the side effects of the original drugs and then more drugs to counteract the side effects of the drugs you’re taking to counteract the side effects of the original drugs.
As a formally trained Social Studies teacher, it amuses me to hear the call for higher math and science scores. The essence of ‘VE GET TOO SOON OLDT UNDT TOO LATE SCHMART’ is the oft quoted maxim- ‘Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it’. Unfortunately it seems the course of human nature to repeat mistakes again and again.
While we’re trying to raise the next generation, Dads and Moms, Grandpas and Grandmas, Teachers, Coaches, and all types of Leaders need to be reminded that the kids are not the only ones who need to get SCHMARTER. One of the greatest lessons from parenting is that if you don’t start out HUMBLE from the day your baby is born, YOU WILL BE HUMBLED!
By the way, I’ve been told since I was young that my nationalities are Irish, English, German and Greek. Hmmm… no mention of Dutch. Could there be family ‘skeletons’ that I don’t know about? Not that it really matters- I’m living in the Precious Present and looking toward a Fantastic Future. The Past is just a place to go to see what does and does not work.
All the best… bye4now…
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Raising Perfect Kids ROFLOL!
I really enjoy when someone comes up to my wife or me and tell us how great (incredible, awesome, respectful, mature, caring, etc.) our children are. Even now as they get older (39), 24, 20 and 19, folks just seem to love our kids.
Of course, I’d have to be a bloomin’ idiot to believe them especially since I’ve LIVED with my kids. That in itself, gives me a more guarded estimation of their alleged ‘special-ness’.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that each of them is not loved and appreciated BUT how they got to what the rest of the world sees has been an interesting ‘experiment’ to say the least. I say ‘experiment’ because I’m not arrogant enough to take credit for anything my children have accomplished.
My wife and I attempted to apply all of the principles of sound parenting but the ‘end product’ is always a surprise. And our abundance of or lack of ‘faith’ determined how stressed out we are during the parenting ‘experiment’.
So here then is an essay my son wrote in 2008 in response to the assignment-- ‘Discuss a situation that posed a significant challenge for you, how you handled the situation and what you learned’.
Challenges make me stronger. This is something I learned early on in life. Not just physical strength but mental, emotional and spiritual strength is developed as well. The stronger are better equipped for the storms of life and I guess you could say for the rigors of college. Thinking back on my life so far, there have been defining moments that have sculpted me into the stronger man I am today. Different challenges develop different strengths. A tough sports practice made me stronger physically; a tough exam made me tougher mentally; a loss of a friend made me emotionally stronger and a test of faith made my spirit stronger. I’ll tell you about a challenge that made me stronger in many ways and made me a better man, made me a more honest man.
My father is a respectful man; who happens to be very creative and strict, just not traditional creativity or strictness. Let’s just say he creates interesting punishments for whatever I do wrong. Several summers ago my father was given the opportunity to use this creativity in discipline towards me. I told a lie. I might not have thought it was a big lie, but honesty is something very important to my family. So the consequences were to be severe. The lie was found out by my father one evening. I was sent to bed immediately and told that any plans I had for the next day were officially cancelled. Little did I know that the next day would shape up to perhaps the biggest nightmare and also a true blessing in disguise.
I was woken up at 8 a.m. the following morning which was outrageously early for the summer time. I was told to go jump in the pool as a substitute for a shower. When I got back inside the house, I was ordered to my room again, where I found a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of water. Shortly after finishing breakfast, I found myself in my backyard with my father, a shovel and a pickaxe. My father had consulted with some friends the night before on how to punish me and had decided on hard labor. Inspired by the recent blockbuster movie HOLES, he thought that having me dig a 5x5 hole in the back yard would be the perfect punishment. Five feet deep, five feet wide, all the way around. I thought to myself that this would be a relatively easy punishment and that I would be done and free by lunchtime. Oh, I was so wrong.
My town should have been named Boulder; it was named Rockaway instead, still a very appropriate name. There is a very deep truth in that name. No matter what you do, the rocks always get in the way. As I began to dig, I quickly realized how many rocks were actually there. Now with nothing but the sound of flying dirt and the occasional clank of my shovel on a rock, I had relative quiet. This task gave me an extended time of solitude to reflect on what I had done. I finally realized after several hours of moping that I had done wrong, and I had to own up to it. I had to pay the consequences.
After hours of endless digging and apparently getting nowhere, I had a quick lunch break, oatmeal again, and I was back at it. Now digging, unlike many people think, is an education all in itself. You learn a lot when digging. You learn the easiest movements to conserve your energy; you learn the angles of how to pry; you learn how to use your entire body. You also learn how to use your mind, how to analyze. Trust me when you’re digging for hours, you don’t want to take one extra swing of that pick or make one extra scoop with that shovel. Every movement is a necessity, not one calorie is wasted with an errant jerk, pull, or swing.
As I dragged myself through that day, deeper and wider into that crusty soil, I encountered the hardest part of my work. Every scoop I had to throw the dirt higher, every stone lifted out had to be lifted to a new height. I suddenly realized something; digging was exactly like life. The deeper you get in a hole, the harder it all gets. The deeper you get in a lie, the harder it all gets. You have to remember that lie, so you can formulate new lies to make the pieces of the puzzle fit together so you’re not found out. I realized being honest would just make my life simpler and easier in general.
I dug for the rest of that day, had a quick oatmeal dinner and was back in that hellish hole. I ended up finishing the job at around ten o’clock at night with the assistance of a spotlight. My lesson had been learned. And I was stronger from it. I had pushed the limits physically, mentally and emotionally. I learned many lessons that day but the most important was that honesty makes life much easier. Challenges have made me stronger. – Russ ‘Buddy’ Jones
Now before you call the Division of Youth and Family Services to report my parental ‘cruelty’ please take note- I put ample Protein Powder in each serving of Oatmeal and I never actually hit him with the shovel or pick axe AND you can’t take him from me- he already left (well he’s away at college). :D
As my friend David DeNotaris always says, “Make it a Great Day”...bye4now...
Your friend (iC),
Russell Jones
Of course, I’d have to be a bloomin’ idiot to believe them especially since I’ve LIVED with my kids. That in itself, gives me a more guarded estimation of their alleged ‘special-ness’.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that each of them is not loved and appreciated BUT how they got to what the rest of the world sees has been an interesting ‘experiment’ to say the least. I say ‘experiment’ because I’m not arrogant enough to take credit for anything my children have accomplished.
My wife and I attempted to apply all of the principles of sound parenting but the ‘end product’ is always a surprise. And our abundance of or lack of ‘faith’ determined how stressed out we are during the parenting ‘experiment’.
So here then is an essay my son wrote in 2008 in response to the assignment-- ‘Discuss a situation that posed a significant challenge for you, how you handled the situation and what you learned’.
Challenges make me stronger. This is something I learned early on in life. Not just physical strength but mental, emotional and spiritual strength is developed as well. The stronger are better equipped for the storms of life and I guess you could say for the rigors of college. Thinking back on my life so far, there have been defining moments that have sculpted me into the stronger man I am today. Different challenges develop different strengths. A tough sports practice made me stronger physically; a tough exam made me tougher mentally; a loss of a friend made me emotionally stronger and a test of faith made my spirit stronger. I’ll tell you about a challenge that made me stronger in many ways and made me a better man, made me a more honest man.
My father is a respectful man; who happens to be very creative and strict, just not traditional creativity or strictness. Let’s just say he creates interesting punishments for whatever I do wrong. Several summers ago my father was given the opportunity to use this creativity in discipline towards me. I told a lie. I might not have thought it was a big lie, but honesty is something very important to my family. So the consequences were to be severe. The lie was found out by my father one evening. I was sent to bed immediately and told that any plans I had for the next day were officially cancelled. Little did I know that the next day would shape up to perhaps the biggest nightmare and also a true blessing in disguise.
I was woken up at 8 a.m. the following morning which was outrageously early for the summer time. I was told to go jump in the pool as a substitute for a shower. When I got back inside the house, I was ordered to my room again, where I found a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of water. Shortly after finishing breakfast, I found myself in my backyard with my father, a shovel and a pickaxe. My father had consulted with some friends the night before on how to punish me and had decided on hard labor. Inspired by the recent blockbuster movie HOLES, he thought that having me dig a 5x5 hole in the back yard would be the perfect punishment. Five feet deep, five feet wide, all the way around. I thought to myself that this would be a relatively easy punishment and that I would be done and free by lunchtime. Oh, I was so wrong.
My town should have been named Boulder; it was named Rockaway instead, still a very appropriate name. There is a very deep truth in that name. No matter what you do, the rocks always get in the way. As I began to dig, I quickly realized how many rocks were actually there. Now with nothing but the sound of flying dirt and the occasional clank of my shovel on a rock, I had relative quiet. This task gave me an extended time of solitude to reflect on what I had done. I finally realized after several hours of moping that I had done wrong, and I had to own up to it. I had to pay the consequences.
After hours of endless digging and apparently getting nowhere, I had a quick lunch break, oatmeal again, and I was back at it. Now digging, unlike many people think, is an education all in itself. You learn a lot when digging. You learn the easiest movements to conserve your energy; you learn the angles of how to pry; you learn how to use your entire body. You also learn how to use your mind, how to analyze. Trust me when you’re digging for hours, you don’t want to take one extra swing of that pick or make one extra scoop with that shovel. Every movement is a necessity, not one calorie is wasted with an errant jerk, pull, or swing.
As I dragged myself through that day, deeper and wider into that crusty soil, I encountered the hardest part of my work. Every scoop I had to throw the dirt higher, every stone lifted out had to be lifted to a new height. I suddenly realized something; digging was exactly like life. The deeper you get in a hole, the harder it all gets. The deeper you get in a lie, the harder it all gets. You have to remember that lie, so you can formulate new lies to make the pieces of the puzzle fit together so you’re not found out. I realized being honest would just make my life simpler and easier in general.
I dug for the rest of that day, had a quick oatmeal dinner and was back in that hellish hole. I ended up finishing the job at around ten o’clock at night with the assistance of a spotlight. My lesson had been learned. And I was stronger from it. I had pushed the limits physically, mentally and emotionally. I learned many lessons that day but the most important was that honesty makes life much easier. Challenges have made me stronger. – Russ ‘Buddy’ Jones
Now before you call the Division of Youth and Family Services to report my parental ‘cruelty’ please take note- I put ample Protein Powder in each serving of Oatmeal and I never actually hit him with the shovel or pick axe AND you can’t take him from me- he already left (well he’s away at college). :D
As my friend David DeNotaris always says, “Make it a Great Day”...bye4now...
Your friend (iC),
Russell Jones
Monday, January 18, 2010
Colored People?
Martin Luther King, Jr.'s Birthday
I’m proposing a new amendment to the Constitution that would make it illegal to use a color to describe a human being. White, Black, Yellow and Red are banned in particular but it’s only fair to ban all the colors. The Shades of Melanin Amendment would also ban using ‘country of origin’ and ‘continent of origin’ to describe people as well. The exception would be for folks ‘just off the boat’ and blue bloods (since they have a deep need to be set apart). Police will be allowed to ‘Profile’ bad people no matter their continent, country, religion, clothes styles, hair styles, where they live or who they hang out with.
In all of my 56+ years on this planet, the most ignorant thing I have ever heard is one person describing another by color alone. I still have not seen a White Man. All the albinos I’ve met have a pinkish glow in places (Pink is banned). All the supposed Black Men I’ve met always shake my hand with palms that would be accurately described as bronze or brown (Bronze and Brown are also banned but I’m not really sure if bronze is a color or a precious metal.)
In fact describing my two daughters with a color presents a major problem. Even though they look a tad pale during the winter months, by late spring they are usually bronze verging on brown. So if the typical fool met one of my daughters in January they would say ‘Oh, what an attractive White girl’. Meeting her on the 4th of July the description would be ‘Oh, she was a Bronze beauty’.
Other than appreciating his work as an actor, I know nothing about Morgan Freeman. He is ‘right on’ in this recent article titled ‘He’s No Fan of Black History Month’.
Morgan Freeman says the concept of a month dedicated to black history is ‘ridiculous’.
‘You’re going to relegate my history to a month?’ the 68 year-old actor asked in a recent interview. ‘I don’t want a Black History Month. Black history is American history.’
Black History Month has its roots in Carter G. Woodson’s Negro History Week, which he designated in 1926 as the second week in February to mark the birthdays of Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln. Woodson said he hoped the week could someday be eliminated- when black history would become fundamental to American history.
Freeman notes that there is no ‘white history month,’ and says that the only way to get rid of racism is to ‘stop talking about it’. ‘I am going to stop calling you a white man and I’m going to ask you to stop calling me a black man’.
Thanks Mr. Freeman. I will be asking you to become part of the committee to draft the Shades of Melanin Amendment as well as be a spokesperson.
About 10 years ago my kids played a song me for me that should be designated the ‘No Colors to Describe Other Folks’ anthem. I still hear it from time to time.
Pardon me, your epidermis is showing, sir
I couldn’t help but note your shade of melanin
I tip my hat to the colorful arrangement
Cause I see the beauty in the tones of our skin.
We’ve gotta come together
And thank the maker of us all.
(chorus)
We’re colored people, and we live in a tainted place
We’re colored people, and they call us the human race
We’ve got a history so full of mistakes
And we are colored people who depend on a holy grace.
A piece of canvas is only the beginning for
It takes on character with every loving stroke
This thing of beauty is the passion of an artist’s heart
By God’s design, we are a skin kaleidoscope.
We’ve gotta come together,
Aren’t we all human after all?
(full lyrics below)
This race stuff has bothered me since high school. I went to school in Jersey City, NJ. During the 1960’s the Black/White Us/Them hate was intense. I found myself in fights with kids I didn’t even know. They wanted to kill me and I wanted to kill them. Why? Had they insulted my Momma? No. Had they messed with my sister or my girlfriend? No. Had they robbed me? No. Did I do something to them that would incite their anger? NO.
It was about what had happened between light skinned morons and dark skinned people who had been enslaved for generations before I was born. But the line had been drawn in the sand. Somehow a large number of light skinned people felt threatened when slaves were set free. Maybe next year I’ll expound on those reasons.
Conversely, a large number of dark skinned people were threatened even after laws had changed. We can get into more detail in the future. But what we had and also what wound up with was a Big Mess, which continues today.
Because of the color of my Mommy and Daddy, that kid I was fighting in Jersey City hated me. It didn’t matter if I was a good person or not. And so it is- groups judging other groups for probably the least accurate of reasons--- One that predicts nothing of importance but serves to further deepen the chasm between many wonderful people.
When I size up a person, it’s a about the depth of their character. When I describe a person it will go something like this- ‘A bright articulate businessman who has been married for 23 years and has 3 extraordinary children. He’s about 5’9” tall, medium build, early 50’s, dark eyes, warm smile, dark hair with some salt mixed in and a light complexion’. Now you know something about the guy I met for coffee today and you also learned something about me.
I’m going to ask you to do 2 things. The first is to work on Reconciliation. Walk up to someone whose skin tone is opposite of yours and say something like this- ‘Hi, my name is Russell and I would like to repent and ask your forgiveness for anything my ancestors might have done to your ancestors. I want to be part of the solution and not continue this senseless division. Let’s move on together.’ Then shake the persons hand or give them a hug.
Next, I want you to get out and support the Shades of Melanin Amendment and have a fantastic MLK Birthday Bash (but don’t describe Dr. King by using a banned color).
Russell Jones
973.983.9607
http://www.powerworkshop.org/
http://powerworkshop.blogspot.com/
Colored People
Pardon me, your epidermis is showing, sir
I couldn’t help but note your shade of melanin
I tip my hat to the colorful arrangement
Cause I see the beauty in the tones of our skin.
We’ve gotta come together
And thank the maker of us all.
(chorus)
We’re colored people, and we live in a tainted place
We’re colored people, and they call us the human race
We’ve got a history so full of mistakes
And we are colored people who depend on a holy grace.
A piece of canvas is only the beginning for
It takes on character with every loving stroke
This thing of beauty is the passion of an artist’s heart
By God’s design, we are a skin kaleidoscope.
We’ve gotta come together,
Aren’t we all human after all?
I’m proposing a new amendment to the Constitution that would make it illegal to use a color to describe a human being. White, Black, Yellow and Red are banned in particular but it’s only fair to ban all the colors. The Shades of Melanin Amendment would also ban using ‘country of origin’ and ‘continent of origin’ to describe people as well. The exception would be for folks ‘just off the boat’ and blue bloods (since they have a deep need to be set apart). Police will be allowed to ‘Profile’ bad people no matter their continent, country, religion, clothes styles, hair styles, where they live or who they hang out with.
In all of my 56+ years on this planet, the most ignorant thing I have ever heard is one person describing another by color alone. I still have not seen a White Man. All the albinos I’ve met have a pinkish glow in places (Pink is banned). All the supposed Black Men I’ve met always shake my hand with palms that would be accurately described as bronze or brown (Bronze and Brown are also banned but I’m not really sure if bronze is a color or a precious metal.)
In fact describing my two daughters with a color presents a major problem. Even though they look a tad pale during the winter months, by late spring they are usually bronze verging on brown. So if the typical fool met one of my daughters in January they would say ‘Oh, what an attractive White girl’. Meeting her on the 4th of July the description would be ‘Oh, she was a Bronze beauty’.
Other than appreciating his work as an actor, I know nothing about Morgan Freeman. He is ‘right on’ in this recent article titled ‘He’s No Fan of Black History Month’.
Morgan Freeman says the concept of a month dedicated to black history is ‘ridiculous’.
‘You’re going to relegate my history to a month?’ the 68 year-old actor asked in a recent interview. ‘I don’t want a Black History Month. Black history is American history.’
Black History Month has its roots in Carter G. Woodson’s Negro History Week, which he designated in 1926 as the second week in February to mark the birthdays of Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln. Woodson said he hoped the week could someday be eliminated- when black history would become fundamental to American history.
Freeman notes that there is no ‘white history month,’ and says that the only way to get rid of racism is to ‘stop talking about it’. ‘I am going to stop calling you a white man and I’m going to ask you to stop calling me a black man’.
Thanks Mr. Freeman. I will be asking you to become part of the committee to draft the Shades of Melanin Amendment as well as be a spokesperson.
About 10 years ago my kids played a song me for me that should be designated the ‘No Colors to Describe Other Folks’ anthem. I still hear it from time to time.
Pardon me, your epidermis is showing, sir
I couldn’t help but note your shade of melanin
I tip my hat to the colorful arrangement
Cause I see the beauty in the tones of our skin.
We’ve gotta come together
And thank the maker of us all.
(chorus)
We’re colored people, and we live in a tainted place
We’re colored people, and they call us the human race
We’ve got a history so full of mistakes
And we are colored people who depend on a holy grace.
A piece of canvas is only the beginning for
It takes on character with every loving stroke
This thing of beauty is the passion of an artist’s heart
By God’s design, we are a skin kaleidoscope.
We’ve gotta come together,
Aren’t we all human after all?
(full lyrics below)
This race stuff has bothered me since high school. I went to school in Jersey City, NJ. During the 1960’s the Black/White Us/Them hate was intense. I found myself in fights with kids I didn’t even know. They wanted to kill me and I wanted to kill them. Why? Had they insulted my Momma? No. Had they messed with my sister or my girlfriend? No. Had they robbed me? No. Did I do something to them that would incite their anger? NO.
It was about what had happened between light skinned morons and dark skinned people who had been enslaved for generations before I was born. But the line had been drawn in the sand. Somehow a large number of light skinned people felt threatened when slaves were set free. Maybe next year I’ll expound on those reasons.
Conversely, a large number of dark skinned people were threatened even after laws had changed. We can get into more detail in the future. But what we had and also what wound up with was a Big Mess, which continues today.
Because of the color of my Mommy and Daddy, that kid I was fighting in Jersey City hated me. It didn’t matter if I was a good person or not. And so it is- groups judging other groups for probably the least accurate of reasons--- One that predicts nothing of importance but serves to further deepen the chasm between many wonderful people.
When I size up a person, it’s a about the depth of their character. When I describe a person it will go something like this- ‘A bright articulate businessman who has been married for 23 years and has 3 extraordinary children. He’s about 5’9” tall, medium build, early 50’s, dark eyes, warm smile, dark hair with some salt mixed in and a light complexion’. Now you know something about the guy I met for coffee today and you also learned something about me.
I’m going to ask you to do 2 things. The first is to work on Reconciliation. Walk up to someone whose skin tone is opposite of yours and say something like this- ‘Hi, my name is Russell and I would like to repent and ask your forgiveness for anything my ancestors might have done to your ancestors. I want to be part of the solution and not continue this senseless division. Let’s move on together.’ Then shake the persons hand or give them a hug.
Next, I want you to get out and support the Shades of Melanin Amendment and have a fantastic MLK Birthday Bash (but don’t describe Dr. King by using a banned color).
Russell Jones
973.983.9607
http://www.powerworkshop.org/
http://powerworkshop.blogspot.com/
Colored People
Pardon me, your epidermis is showing, sir
I couldn’t help but note your shade of melanin
I tip my hat to the colorful arrangement
Cause I see the beauty in the tones of our skin.
We’ve gotta come together
And thank the maker of us all.
(chorus)
We’re colored people, and we live in a tainted place
We’re colored people, and they call us the human race
We’ve got a history so full of mistakes
And we are colored people who depend on a holy grace.
A piece of canvas is only the beginning for
It takes on character with every loving stroke
This thing of beauty is the passion of an artist’s heart
By God’s design, we are a skin kaleidoscope.
We’ve gotta come together,
Aren’t we all human after all?
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Stir My Soul!
Why is it so hard to stay Focused on things we are Passionate about? I believe we are all given Vision as part of our humanity. We ALL have seen a compelling picture of a better tomorrow.
We get distracted so easily. So if you’re too busy or pre-occupied, WHO is going to fulfill that Vision you’ve seen? If not YOU, WHO will step up and live out this thing called COMPASSION?
We shake our heads when we reflect on the condition of this world- global terrorism, religious extremism, nuclear tension, HIV & AIDS, political corruption, pollution, natural disasters, ethnic tensions, hunger and illiteracy. (You can include ‘global warming’ but it’s freezing here in New Jersey).
Oh but what can I do about this stuff? I’m worried about paying for medical insurance and getting my retirement plan in place. My children and grandchildren take up so much time. I’m so distracted by all of the ‘opportunities’ that come my way. It’s hard work figuring out everyone’s ‘dramas’ going on around me. Gotta plan the next vacation and home improvement and party and how many inches my new flat screen will be.
Oh my God, this world is a flippin’ mess and I’m trying to ‘get mine’! I want my kids to be Compassionate and Caring and Loving and Honest and Unselfish but I can’t quite get there myself (if ya know what I mean).
The book ‘Compassion Fatigue’ quotes an often repeated statement- ‘In the news business, 1 dead fireman in Brooklyn is worth 5 English bobbies, who are worth 50 Arabs, who are worth 500 Africans.’ Our compassion for others seems to be directly correlated to whether people are close to us socially, emotionally, culturally, ethnically, economically or geographically.
One of my sons was killed in a car crash in 1987. It was a horrific time in my life. Everything was turned upside down. The pain penetrated the deepest places of my soul. I physically and emotionally grieved for a full year. For years I would cry every time the news of a child dying came to my attention.
But now? Now when I hear of another family’s tragedy I mutter ‘that’s sad’ to myself and move on. And when I hear that 26,575 children died today of largely preventable causes related to their poverty, I just shrug. But another 26,575 children will die tomorrow and the next day and the next. I guess I got a real bad case of Compassion Fatigue.
So okay I get the message- now what am I going to do? I got distracted from my Vision a few years ago by an opportunity and by family stuff. But now I’ve been called out by my Soul and I was reminded of something I wrote 13 years ago.
“It was January 17, 1997 and my wife, Lin, and I had been presenting our motivational school assemblies for the last three and a half years. It had been a typical day. We were in an elementary school in South Jersey. After two assemblies, which included feats of strength and inspirational stories, we had visited classrooms. During these class visits, we pump up reading and answer questions.
After visiting our last class and loading our equipment, we were just about ready to walk out when a group of students asked us for autographs. We are always honored by these requests. It was dismissal time and the group around us got larger and larger. Teachers were trying to drag kids away to get them to their buses. The whole scene was wild and we stayed until the last child had an autograph.
We had signed autographs many times before and since that day. The thing that dawned on us as we drove away brought tears to our eyes. Before that day, none of those kids had ever seen or heard of us before. After only a few hours, we had become heroes. If we had announced that there was a bus outside school and that anyone who wanted to could come home and live with us, I'll bet that the bus would be full.
Why? Not because we’re great. These kids were hungry for encouragement. We let every child know that they are special and unique and we believe it. We let them know that they have a special gift and we believe it. We let love come through us. We also let them know that it takes work to achieve great things. The major problem lies in the home environment. Lin and I adjusted our commitment to include not only kids but parents as well. Our hope is that every child would want to stay with their own family and maybe just come to visit ours.”
So I’m committing to being a huge source of encouragement to every young person I come across until the day I die. I know now how to avoid the traps that would try to derail my Vision. I will learn how to reject rejection and do my best to build a more Compassionate World.
What about you? Are you part of the solution? Are you comfortable with your level of contribution to a better tomorrow for those other than your immediate family? Are we actually searching for the TRUTH? or are we trying to make up our own?
If you are old and tired, or lazy, or in need of motivation, Dr. David has a solution. Just cry out ‘God!!!! Fire me up again!!!’
As my friend David DeNotaris always says, “Make it a Great Day”...bye4now...
Your friend (iC),
Russell Jones
We get distracted so easily. So if you’re too busy or pre-occupied, WHO is going to fulfill that Vision you’ve seen? If not YOU, WHO will step up and live out this thing called COMPASSION?
We shake our heads when we reflect on the condition of this world- global terrorism, religious extremism, nuclear tension, HIV & AIDS, political corruption, pollution, natural disasters, ethnic tensions, hunger and illiteracy. (You can include ‘global warming’ but it’s freezing here in New Jersey).
Oh but what can I do about this stuff? I’m worried about paying for medical insurance and getting my retirement plan in place. My children and grandchildren take up so much time. I’m so distracted by all of the ‘opportunities’ that come my way. It’s hard work figuring out everyone’s ‘dramas’ going on around me. Gotta plan the next vacation and home improvement and party and how many inches my new flat screen will be.
Oh my God, this world is a flippin’ mess and I’m trying to ‘get mine’! I want my kids to be Compassionate and Caring and Loving and Honest and Unselfish but I can’t quite get there myself (if ya know what I mean).
The book ‘Compassion Fatigue’ quotes an often repeated statement- ‘In the news business, 1 dead fireman in Brooklyn is worth 5 English bobbies, who are worth 50 Arabs, who are worth 500 Africans.’ Our compassion for others seems to be directly correlated to whether people are close to us socially, emotionally, culturally, ethnically, economically or geographically.
One of my sons was killed in a car crash in 1987. It was a horrific time in my life. Everything was turned upside down. The pain penetrated the deepest places of my soul. I physically and emotionally grieved for a full year. For years I would cry every time the news of a child dying came to my attention.
But now? Now when I hear of another family’s tragedy I mutter ‘that’s sad’ to myself and move on. And when I hear that 26,575 children died today of largely preventable causes related to their poverty, I just shrug. But another 26,575 children will die tomorrow and the next day and the next. I guess I got a real bad case of Compassion Fatigue.
So okay I get the message- now what am I going to do? I got distracted from my Vision a few years ago by an opportunity and by family stuff. But now I’ve been called out by my Soul and I was reminded of something I wrote 13 years ago.
“It was January 17, 1997 and my wife, Lin, and I had been presenting our motivational school assemblies for the last three and a half years. It had been a typical day. We were in an elementary school in South Jersey. After two assemblies, which included feats of strength and inspirational stories, we had visited classrooms. During these class visits, we pump up reading and answer questions.
After visiting our last class and loading our equipment, we were just about ready to walk out when a group of students asked us for autographs. We are always honored by these requests. It was dismissal time and the group around us got larger and larger. Teachers were trying to drag kids away to get them to their buses. The whole scene was wild and we stayed until the last child had an autograph.
We had signed autographs many times before and since that day. The thing that dawned on us as we drove away brought tears to our eyes. Before that day, none of those kids had ever seen or heard of us before. After only a few hours, we had become heroes. If we had announced that there was a bus outside school and that anyone who wanted to could come home and live with us, I'll bet that the bus would be full.
Why? Not because we’re great. These kids were hungry for encouragement. We let every child know that they are special and unique and we believe it. We let them know that they have a special gift and we believe it. We let love come through us. We also let them know that it takes work to achieve great things. The major problem lies in the home environment. Lin and I adjusted our commitment to include not only kids but parents as well. Our hope is that every child would want to stay with their own family and maybe just come to visit ours.”
So I’m committing to being a huge source of encouragement to every young person I come across until the day I die. I know now how to avoid the traps that would try to derail my Vision. I will learn how to reject rejection and do my best to build a more Compassionate World.
What about you? Are you part of the solution? Are you comfortable with your level of contribution to a better tomorrow for those other than your immediate family? Are we actually searching for the TRUTH? or are we trying to make up our own?
If you are old and tired, or lazy, or in need of motivation, Dr. David has a solution. Just cry out ‘God!!!! Fire me up again!!!’
As my friend David DeNotaris always says, “Make it a Great Day”...bye4now...
Your friend (iC),
Russell Jones
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