WONDER WHAT HEMMINGWAY WOULD MAKE OF THE TIMES

This time is different.  It certainly feels different.

Personally, several “allies” have reached out to me and offered their condolences and apologies for the systemic issues that have been highlighted in the killings of Ahmed Aubrey, George Lloyd, and Breona Taylor (and her boyfriend) recently.  I spoke sincerely with each one (including my  once and current partner) and I was left feeling better about myself and the world.  That is my OBJECTIVE perspective.  PERSONALLY… Well, this IS a journal about my wanderings in this “whatever” that we call reality, so let’s get to it!

Of COURSE, the George Lloyd incident, like with the Ahmed Aubrey incident, landed in my wheelhouse.  If I could see myself as Aubrey, you HAVE to know that I, too, am George Lloyd in a way that is way more direct and personal than claiming to “be” him in a spiritual way.  In fact, visiting my “old” new girlfriend, I had a moment at the gas station across the street from her apartment complex that could have easily lent itself to the possibility of a similar incident here in Omaha.

I had only finished working (at the Papillion Landing Rec Center) and had rode about 6 miles from work to the gas station. Processing my surroundings as I adjusted to a new and unfamiliar route, I had not eaten or had anything to drink for most of the day.  In fact, that is what drove me to stop at the gas station.  A piece of candy and a non-carbonated drink was on my mind and then the fog would be lifted.  Only I had not finished my transaction.

My bank card was due a replacement, which I did not know that at the time.  Because of my stupor, I was unresponsive to the cashier and there was a line forming behind me.  When I finally understood that my card was declining, the guy who was behind me had simply paid for my purchase.  I thanked him and took my leave.  It was not until I had sat down and had a drink or two of the sweet tea and a piece of the candy I bought from the gas station that I was able to understand what had just taken place.  The similarity was close… of course this was in Omaha and not Minneapolis, but I don’t know how different Omaha IS from Minneapolis.  My partner has already expressed her concern for me, this coming right after the Aubrey incident.  Now here I was, zoning out at a convenience store that may be similar to the one that George Lloyd was in… hell, I don’t know.  Yet, as Louis CK once opined, “...but MMMAAAYYBBEEE…”, which is the position I would have been in.  At least as far as the narrative would have gone… “he should not have been trying to pass an invalid debit card off when trying to make a purchase”.

So, yeah.  There has been that.  Still have not had the courage to go back out and run since Ahmed was shot and now I do wonder when I will go to the next quick stop for a snack.  These are among the considerations that you have to make when you are African-American, and in the Lloyd case, it does not matter if your path crosses that of a member of another minority.  YOU, the African American, in this country because your ancestors were STOLEN from their homeland… you are always and still, THE OTHER.

As I mentioned at the start, the conversations and ACTIONS of others in my circle are what gives me hope that this time, this will be different.  I can only hope that the impact within the African-American community can not only be strong, but long-lasting.  We should be ACCORDED respect… it is not something that should be asked for, as a member of society and as a human being.  The look of indifference on Officer Chavous' face as he consciously choked the life out of George Lloyd is haunting.  But it is also the look of indifference that many White Americans have of African-Americans.  Though every group can speak of their own slights within American society, African-Americans, have grievances that shadows the country like no other (yeah, I know about the Native Americans… this is NOT that story).

When I think about the last time there was a social uproar like this, the Rodney King riots, there was more distance from the act itself… the riots were in response to the officers getting away  with little damage, not the beating.  This time, the reaction went hand in hand with the incident of grievance.  That this was seen by everyone who had eyes to see it for what it was, the snuffing out of a life, has kept the dialogue up in the social consciousness for a longer time.

I am not sure if this means that there will be changes to policing, insofar as how they deal with the various communities that they serve.  To me, “to serve and protect” has always meant that the ones who were “served and protected” were the white, elite classes of people.  It has never meant what it is widely assumed to mean, to serve and protect the public at large.  KRS-One once made a rap about “the sound of the police” and in his lyrics he blurred the word “overseer” into “officer”, hinting that officers of the law are more the enforcer of rules provided by the plantation owner, not the people.  The only line of demarcation that exists in mankind is the line between the have and have nots.  It is on the level of institution, not individual, that needs to be shaken.

MEANWHILE, IN OTHER NEWS

Yes, Kitty and I are a couple again.  Even though I did have a brief interaction with another person, Kitty and I have always had open lines of communication and I believe that the both of us have grown over the past year.  We have talked about some of what was not constructive in our relationship and I have been assured that we will be able to talk through everything between us as we move ahead.

I have always been leery of the “chip off the old block” stuff.  There are so many qualities and reasons for behaviour that I have felt that it was lazy to attribute things to your parents.  Statements like, “You are just like your father/mother…” seem to lack imagination, and the vague notion that you are not yourself but owe your character to a force outside of yourself would devalue the notion of free will (which, I do not believe in!).  While I know that my other daughters have heard the “you are just like…” statement made after doing or saying something that their Mom thinks I would have said, KT, is sooo much like me that it stills my heart.

The last couple of years we have spent HOURS on the phone talking about life, her ups and downs, and of course… BOYS!  I am very flattered that she considers me a best friend and confidant, and I do try to excise detail from conversations with her Mom about our conversations, so that she can feel secure in sharing with me.  When her Mom pushes for more information, I usually fall back on, “you know that I don’t remember more than that!”, which in itself is a “true half-truth” statement.  If anything, I hope that she gets a chance to visit when the restrictions are lifted and she can spend a couple of weeks with me.

I am about to begin the book, “Can’t Hurt Me”, by David Goggins.  He is a guy who went through three elite military programs run by the Air Force, Army, and Navy.  It talks about his journey from a place of aimlessness to where he is able to compete in ultramarathons and other feats of toughness for charity and the simple sense of personal accomplishment.  One of the reasons that I am back to journaling, is that I need personal accountability that comes with regular journaling.  Which brings me to the next step on my journey… REGULAR JOURNALING.

The drama of the everyday, “the trifles of life”, is not what I want to talk about.  Instead, I want to write and talk about how I can be better at my Rock Steady franchise, be a better person and set goals to achieve.  I wonder how many people who started reading my journal really thought that the guy with traumatic brain injury was REALLY going to move to Omaha and thrive..?  Doesn’t matter, because I ALWAYS BELIEVED in me!