I was walking past my local drugstore, on my way to the Post Office. It is a route I take often. Since I joined Netflix, it is a route I take more often. As I walked past the drugstore - which I love, not only because it is open 24 hours a day but because the people who work there are so friendly and you can find almost anything there - something caught my eye and made me pause. I took a couple of steps back and then moved closer to the window. I couldn't believe my eyes you see. The new must-have Christmas gift in the window?
Oh... and he had a friend
And the label on the box? "Gangsta Babies". Gangsta written like graffiti and babies was like building blocks. Now... why would this be a great gift for a kid? First, those are some scary looking babies. Second, gangsta? Third, babies? Fourth - together?
Oh but that wasn't all. How could it be? A couple of days later, I am rushing to work, past the drugstore, so that I can drop off mail before heading into the office, and I see that a label has been added above the Gangsta Baby.
"Pookie"
It's the most wonderful time of the year!!
I wish you a holiday season full of wonder! lots of love and happiness too.
In the state of California is the town of Rough and Ready, population 1,500. It is actually named after the 12th president of the United States. I know what you're going to say - Pandave, I have never heard of President Rough and Ready. Well, that's only because his campaign manager said the name might not be so good on a campaign poster so he went with the more run of the mill Zachary Taylor.
However, despite being named for a President, the town of Rough and Ready decided, in early 1950 (a little more than a year after becoming a town,) that it wanted to have nothing more to do with the United States of America. Instead the residents of this town, surrounded by the United States of America, decided they wanted their own nation - The Republic of Rough and Ready.
People were excited, articles of secession were drawn up and a huge celebration party was planned. Oh it was going to be grand but then the party planners hit a brick wall. Alcoholic beverages were to be ordered from the neighbouring state of Nevada but Nevada beverage sellers declared that they would not sell drinks to non-Americans.
The Republic of Rough and Ready faced a very difficult decision - alcohol or freedom. The members of the Town of Rough and Ready made a decision, by popular vote, before secession papers even reached the capital.
So George Dubya Bush went to bid farewell to Iraq over the weekend. All was going really well, there were smiles and waves and friendly handshakes. Finally, there was a press conference where papers were ceremoniously signed and more handshakes were exchanged. Then Dubya and Al-Maliki stood at a podium to exchange compliments. Suddenly a young journalist, probably feeling that the event was too serious, jumped up and started up a game of, I'm thinking, dodgeball. He yanked his shoe off, shouting farewell to Dubya and some other words that might be considered insults if this were not a game (you know you have to trash-talk the competition in a game). He took aim and threw the shoe. Dubya must have been a dodgeball champion in school because he ducked and the shoe whizzed by him without even clipping a hair. Ah but most shoes come in pairs. The journalist had a second chance. More trash talk ensued as he pulled at the second shoe and hurled it. Al-Maliki, feeling a little left out of the game, tried to intercept the shoe. Perhaps he thought he had a better chance of hitting Dubya with it from close range - we'll never know as he could not catch it. But dodgeball Dubya deftly ducked and avoided the second shoe as well. And then, from behind, a Secret Service Agent, mistaking the dodgeball for American football, tackled the journalist, bringing the game to a quick end before Dubya could pick up the shoes and try to see if his aim was better than the journalist. Ah but it was fun while it lasted. I wonder what they'll play in Afghanistan? Pin the tail on the donkey?
today is a windy day. really windy. they say 40 miles per hour winds which means nothing to me since i grew up on kilometres and it was never really that windy where i lived. but this is what i do know - tall buildings sway in the wind. like trees. and i now work on the 28th floor of one such tall building. in the corner. so i get to hear thw walls creaking while i drink ginger tea for motion sickness.
at the beginning of last year, i wasn't feeling too well and so i went to see my doctor. she told me that there wasn't too much to worry about and gave me a shot to make me feel better or, at the very least, not feel any worse. but i got worse, quite a bit worse. so i called her office and her nurse told me to be patient, it would pass. instead i reached a point where i contemplated jumping out of my 8th floor office's window. so, i called and insisted on seeing the doctor. she apologised for the nurse, gave me some pills and another shot. but nothing seemed to be working. i was miserable, i was listless and i was confused. if i was feeling worse every day and the doctor said she could see nothing, what did that mean? i spoke with a friend of mine and she recommended that i see her doctor. this doctor, my friend said, was excellent. what did i have to lose? even though this doctor did not accept my insurance, i made the appointment. i was desperate.
one morning in early july, i went to see the new doctor. after writing a cheque for an obscene amount of money, i had my vitals checked and then sat down to wait for the doctor. she came in, sat down and asked me what was wrong. and i burst into tears. she had a box of tissues on her desk - i'm guessing that i am not the first to weep in that there room. and she was so patient and understanding. and she told me that, just from what i said, my doctor was probably wrong about my not having to worry about anything. we then went into an exam room where she poked and prodded me and said yes, houston, we have a problem. or something to that effect. but just to be sure i went over into another room for an ultrasound. then it was back to the doctor's office.
i needed surgery, she said. my symptoms would only get worse until this happened. "but you don't take my insurance," was the first thing i said. she said something about a payment plan but i wasn't buying it. i remembered how expensive having my wisdom teeth taken out, years ago, had been. i couldn't imagine how 3 days in hospital could be manageable without insurance. now i had two things to stress about - my health and not being able to pay for it. i left my new doctor's office, went back to work, packed my things and went straight home. i crawled into bed and slept. it was all a bit much for me. then my good friend, rifa, called me and asked me to go and watch a show at Prospect Park in brooklyn. bobby blue bland was performing and it was going to be great. i hadn't seen rifa in ages and so we made plans for friday evening. we got there to discover that bobby blue bland was ill and, instead, odetta, also referred to as "the voice of the civil rights movement", would perform. and what a performance. by the end of the evening, i was smiling and no longer wanted to curl up and sleep until it all went away. odetta was amazing and i was so glad i had decided to come out and watch her.
and, as they say, all's well that ends well. providence worked in my favour - my company changed to an insurance plan that was accepted by my new doctor - and three month's later i went under the knife.
but last wednesday, i heard the sad news that the incredible odetta had passed away. she had hoped to sing at barack obama's inauguration but, sadly, her heart did not hold out. i feel very honoured that she did hold on long enough to shine her powerful light on my life.
today is 1 december, world aids day. you wouldn't think it to look around here. we have just come off a turkey and ham binge, followed by a post-turkey comatose state. in addition to that, we had people waking up before the sun to save dollars on holiday gifts. some of those people managed to trample a poor man, killing him, and two men, apparently arguing over a bratz doll (or something) shot each other. while some were shopping and some were eating, tragedies were unfolding around the world. it just seems like a bit much to have to remember that it has been over twenty years and people are still dying - quite unnecessarily in a lot of cases now. children are being orphaned - which is great for those on the third-world-child-as-accessory market but kinda sucks for pretty much everyone else. on the other hand, people are still working hard to find a cure and bring an end to this.
imagine - the day this will be like small pox; something we read about in the books.
in the meantime, wear a red ribbon, spread some love and some knowledge and Hopey World Aids Day!
