My Notes...My Life...

Some say that my life is full of interesting stories. I don't know if that's true but I certainly want to make sure that if so, I share them. While you read my journey through life, I hope to make you laugh, cry and possibly see things a little...

[mynotesmylife]

The Real Meaning of Skee Wee

I never claimed to have gone through more trials and rough patches in my life than anyone else but the past few months have been tough.  Without going into any details, my emotions and soul have been going through (and are still going through) a serious beat down.  I was raised in the church and so yes, I know that God will make a way…in his own time and that everything happens for a reason but the natural part of me is, quite frankly, tired of life’s beat down.

One day, a particularly bad day actually, when I had just come from a meeting at work, a sorority sister of mine sent me a text message.  She knew of the stresses that I had been going through and knew that all the while, I was still trying to support my mentees emotionally.  She knew I was stressed.  But her one text (several months ago) made all the difference in the world.  She said, “Your mother would be so proud of you. Things will work out. Skee Wee, Soror.  Skee Wee.”

I stared at that text message for a long time.  I saved it and used it to keep myself motivated.  For some, the high pitch, long drawn out call of “Skee Wee” is just something cute to do.  Something that identifies me and the over 280,000 Alpha Kappa Alpha women but, after I read that text message from my sorority sister, I felt in my heart it meant so much more.  “Skee Wee” is a special language of its own with life in it that far surpasses the rules of the standard structure of English.  And why would it not?  Alpha Kappa Alpha women never do anything “standard”. The usage of Skee Wee is no different.

“Skee Wee” is translatable.  It can mean “Yaaaassssss!  You are looking sharp, my sister” or it could mean, “You speak the truth, my Sister”.  Or it could mean, like from my text message, “I am here for you, my sister”.  No matter how you translate it, it is an affirmation that no matter where you are in the world, no matter how much drama, stress or how many trials you are going through, you are loved and behind you…beside you, there are hundreds of thousands of women with you.  It is more than just a sound….it is a calling of pink and green troops to send strength and love your way.

I know my sorority sister who wrote the text message so many months ago had no idea how much her words affected me but they have and I want to pay it forward:

To the Soror who is struggling at work…SKEE WEE!

To the Soror who is fighting a health issue…SKEE WEE!

To the Soror who is trying to figure out whether her relationship will last…SKEE WEE!

To the Soror who is pushing herself through school to improve herself…SKEE WEE!

It is with all the love and strength I have in my body to any of my Sorors going through something and needing encouragement…Skee Wee, my Sorors. Skee Wee!

*Note:  If you know of a Soror who could be encouraged by this message, please forward this to her.

[mynotesmylife]

There is Healing in a Walk

Everyone goes through a rough patch in their lives every now and then.  I am going through mine right now.  I don’t tell you this for you to feel bad, or to make you call or to make you feel guilty.  I tell you this because it is important for you to know that even the happiest of people have a mountain to climb every now and then.  

This Sunday morning, I woke up to silence. Not a scary silence.  A calm silence.  It was so calm that for some reason, I turned my cell phone off, didn’t turn on the television or listen to music.  I just sat with myself.  I did laundry in silence.  I worked on a project in silence.  And then…I needed to walk.  Now those of you who know me pretty well, KNOW that I don’t walk. I mean, I walk short distances but I am NOT a walker.  My mother was, my brother is and my nephew is.  But me….NO.  So when the notion to walk hit me. I did so without a thought. I had no destination.  I just walked.  

For a while, the sun was beaming down on me.  I got thirsty but I didn’t stop at the store.  I got tired but I didn’t stop.  I took my phone and turned on a sermon by T.D. Jakes where he said:

“I know I didn’t give you enough for what I called you to do.  I know your gonna go through a period that you are spinning out of your stuff trying to help somebody else.  I know that you are gonna give courage when you need to be encouraged.  I already know you’re gonna be operating in the red.  I know you feel tired cause you’re giving more than what you expected.  I know you’re out of budget and out of energy and out of emotion.  I know that you are suffering from compassion fatigue.  You’ve helped everybody and I know you’re wondering ‘when is somebody gonna help me’. But the lord said everything that I ever gave to you, you thought it was your harvest but you were wrong.  It was your seed. He said now…I’m getting ready to bring you your harvest.”

As an instinct, I looked up because at this point, God and I were having a heart to heart conversation and I wanted him to know I heard him. And I kept walking…

You know, I never understood why my mom walked so much. I didn’t think she was one of those folks that just did it to be healthy. I walked with her when I was younger and I found it uneventful because she didn’t really do much talking.  Only when I would ask her a question would she say something.

As I walked to today…my hearing became clear but my vision was tunnel. I thought of what I am going through.  I thought of how I could get through it.  As I passed by people I thought of them as my obstacles and I moved around them swiftly.  Walking….keeping focus…concentrating. When I got home I collapsed on the bed and wept.  I was weary from my walk but he kept me strong. I wept because I knew, even if I didn’t know how, he would get me through my rough patch.

And I am grateful for what it is that I don’t see yet…

[mynotesmylife]

We Are Right Here With You, Dae’Anna Castile

I can’t get caught up in the extremes of my feelings right now.  

Not because I am not FURIOUS and HURT by the happenings of the past week.  But because in the middle of all this uncertainty, all this pain, all this fear, all this anger felt by my people in the last few days sits a little 4 year-old girl who, in a split second, had her entire life changed by seeing something that no little girl should have to see.  In that split second, she became parentified by having to console her own mother with the words, “It’s ok. I am right here with you.”

There were and have been so many reports and live news coverages but that little girl is the only thing I hone in on right now because of the strength in her little body. The strength that came from her high pitch voice that life hadn’t changed the pitch of…until last week.

I want to put my arms around her and tell her that everything will be ok.  I want to assure her that she is safe and that the violence in this world towards her is not real and that she can do and be anything she wants to be. I want her to get rid of the bad dreams she is going to have for most of her life because of this incident. I want to convince her that all police aren’t bad and take away that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach I know she will have when she sees police throughout her life.  I want her to not let righteous anger rule her life.

I want her to be happy despite the pain she has been exposed to.

I want her to see through the lens of love despite the hate she has been exposed to.

I want her to be compassionate despite the apathy that she has been exposed to.

I want her to come together with others despite the division that she has been exposed to.

I want her to stay innocent despite the reality that she has been exposed to.

But I can’t do that because the innocent veil has been lifted. 

But what I can do, Dae’Anna, is to say to you exactly what you said to your mom, “It’s ok. I am right here with you.” Though you don’t know me…I am here with you and I will show you that no matter what the world looks like right now, it’s gonna be alright because you have me and millions of others who want you to be able to grow up happy, healthy and strong. We want you to have a strong sense of self and we want you to take what has happened to you at the age of four and turn it into something positive that will change the lives of your people. Like so many of those before you, Little Castile, we want you to be greater, stronger, better, happier, prouder, wiser than those around you.  We know you can do this.  You know why?

Because we are right here with you.

[mynotesmylife]

Always Remember...

When my Mom died, there was one thing that I asked of God.  I said, “Lord, please don’t ever let me forget anything.” I had been through so much in my life and witnessed so much strength and wisdom through her that I knew somehow over the years I would need to pull from that strength to get me through the rest of my life without her. What I didn’t anticipate was that remembering would always hurt…like it does today.

Today is my Mom’s birthday and no matter how strong I am, no matter how much I smile and make others smile, no matter how much I know that I will get through this day…I remember and it hurts.

Grief is a trip.

I remember my Mom told me once when I was younger that she missed her mother every year and that you never get over the pain of losing a mother, you just learn to live with it. I am glad I remembered that because it gets me through days like today.

But it still doesn’t keep remembering from hurting. The only thing I know to do to help ease this sadness is to help someone else in the “Motherless Child Club”.  So to all of those out there that miss your Mom everyday.  The ones who find it tough to push through things without their favorite cheerleader.  To the ones who see their mother’s in themselves when they look in the mirror and wish for just one more hug, one more kiss, one more silly argument….

Remember she STILL loves you.

Remember she is proud of you ALWAYS.

Just Remember…

[mynotesmylife]

Some Thoughts on Father's Day

I never know how to feel on Father’s Day.  My father is alive and well, but as with most of my life, there are people, things, oceans between us.  Some things have been put there accidentally, some on purpose but on Father’s Day, I am caught between the emotions of joy in having my father still with me and sadness in that he was in only a short part of my life growing up.

My mother taught me a great lesson once, “Parents are people, Ky'a”, she would say, “And sometimes they make mistakes and don’t always know what to do.”  I carried this lesson with me throughout my life when I would periodically question why my father wasn’t with me.  Their divorce was not my issue, but no matter what, she taught me he was still my father and that he loved me.  She reiterated that message, “Your father loves you” all my life.

As I got older, and began having relationships of my own, I found that I managed to learn a few things from my father at an early age that I grew to look for in the men I dated.  They had to know how to cook (My father is an EXCELLENT cook!), to fix things (Yep…he was a pretty handy mechanic) and they had to love to learn (Apparently this is a Jackson trait).  I also learned from watching my father interact with my mother that I  wanted someone who showed public displays of affection (he used to always have his hand on her leg whenever he drove), someone who knew how to give compliments (He said she had legs better than Lieutenant Uhura on Star Trek!) and someone with compassion (he made sure my mom had time away from the kids when she was tired).  I saw these things before I was nine years old and they stuck with me.  

But what also stuck with me was the sinking feeling that even with all those good things came abandonment and somehow in my relationships there was a very small childhood memory that one minute a person could be there and then the next…gone.

My father and I are a lot alike.  I found this out as I got older.  Not just because my mother would say, “You’re just like your father!” when she and I would disagree (LOL) but because we talk.  Through researching my family I have learned more about my father than I could have ever imagined I would and even though we don’t always agree, he helps me to understand the other half of my personality.  I began to learn what made him “tick” and in turn, learned what parts of me I didn’t know.  I got my learning curiosity, my dry wit, bad eyesight (Thanks Dad! LOL), my love of cooking, and my temperament from him. All of these things (whether good or bad), I love about myself.

Although I spent a large number of years without my father, I know I would not be the person I am today without him and the lessons he taught me. Lessons like working hard for the things that you want, knowing the value of education and knowing your own strength.  I know that we can’t make up for lost time but we learn more and more about each other every day and that is pretty cool if you ask me.  My mother was a HUGE cheerleader for father’s…even my own, so I didn’t want to go through this Father’s Day without saying…

“Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Sorry you couldn’t have crabs on your day today but perhaps you will jump on your motorcycle, take a nice ride and relax with the wind in your face. But please make sure you had a cup of coffee first!  You know how grumpy you are with no coffee! LOL”

[mynotesmylife]

A Tale of Two Sisters

Everyone who knows me knows I don’t like to share my friends.  Yes I know…it’s a sickness (LOL) but I like to hold them close.  Since I have very few very close friends, I REALLY hold on to them! It’s not that I am selfish, it’s just that they are rare and anyone who goes through the trenches with you, who sees what you see, who feels what you feel as intensely as you feel is someone who is, in my opinion, special.  So, I hold them as close as I can so I can hear their heartbeat and know what makes them happy, sad and when they are content. From the sound their voice I can hear when they need to talk through things and from their silence, I know they are okay or either working through things.  It’s not creepy.  It’s what I call true friendship.

I woke up today with this on my mind because today is my dear friend Rashima’s birthday.  I couldn’t think of a better way to express the beauty of friendship than by putting pen to paper (or rather fingers to laptop!).

Today would have been a great day to hang out with her.  To share stories (both old and new), to laugh until our stomachs hurt, to debate who will win the Army/Navy game (I am a Navy brat, she is Army all the way!), to compare roles as big sisters and to tease each other about whose sorority is the best (I am an AKA, she is a Delta).  Although I won’t get the chance to do that, I decided to do something special for her birthday.  I decided to share her.  Today when she is supposed to be celebrating her…but I know she will be spreading herself between children (Shout out to Sarah and Jessica!), her husband (Hey there Robert!), her sisters (love you Kenya and Susan….notice how I said “Susan”? LOL), her church family, her extended family, her sorority sisters, etc.  I know her heart will be on soldiers and their sacrifices to this country.  I know she will be praying for literally everyone.  I know this because we are friends. Because although we grew in different directions as young people, I kept her close to my heart.  

Always.

So to all the people who get to be in her presence today.  To all the people who she has touched and to all the people who have yet to meet this fabulous woman who I consider my sister…today I will share… 

…and you are very welcome.

Happy birthday, Rashima!  In the middle of this day…know you are loved.

Ky'a

[mynotesmylife]

Forget My Mule...I Want My Family Remembered!

I must preface this entry with the following statement, “I believe all people should know their history and should be proud of the contributions that their families gave to this country.” With that said, I think it absolutely SUCKS that after 16 years of searching, there are still ancestors I will never know because they were never considered human!  I mean, think of it, trying to find your ancestors existence by checking birth, marriage and death records on to find that the “standard form” of record keeping didn’t apply to your ancestor...oh no! You had to find your ancestor on the tax or property list!  I tell you, when I saw one of my ancestors (in Delaware, no less!) on a tax list along with the cattle, it just did something to me I can’t explain.

You know what else gets my genealogical goat? The fact that I watch “Who Do You Think You Are?” and these stars (who could actually PAY these professional genealogists, get FREE research done on their families. Can I just tell you how frustrating it is to know that there are one or two professionals out there who could have helped me years ago to find the information that took me YEARS to piece together? I love the hunt of information but GEEZ!  

And one more thing...I have been on a quest to prove that I had a family relative fight in the Revolutionary War for years and keep getting stuck.  I have made at least two trips to Washington, DC to the DAR library to comb through books and books just to find an ounce of proof and Mr. Scott Foley (of “Scandal” fame) just walks in and gets handed his proof!!!  Grrrrr!! Grant it, more people will want to see him get to his roots than me but come on!  It is HARD to prove Revolutionary War connects for Black people!

We all know that slavery was NOT cool and we all know that we cannot change the past but listen, it is so much more than that for me and my family research.  Some of my ancestors aren’t even listed by name and with no name, it is hard to prove their existence which means, it is hard to prove the journey to ME!  Our names weren’t listed or changed, we weren’t able to marry legally, we didn’t even get the decency, in some instances, to have a real burial.  ALL the things that would prove existence....snatched away. It makes me sad but...

...I WILL find more of my ancestors.  I WILL make sure that the records I find are somehow archived and kept for the generations after me.  I WILL find that ancestor connected to the Revolutionary War and I WILL join the DAR so that my ancestors will be remembered FOREVER. No matter how long it takes.

My rant is done...I just needed to vent. Now it’s time or me to get back to work!

[mynotesmylife]

My Letter to Stevie Wonder in the Wake of Prince’s Death.

Dear Stevie (Please do not consider the use of your first name as disrespect.  I do indeed consider you family, so I hope you allow me this leeway),

Upon the news of the death of Prince, although I am very sad to hear that this musical genius is gone, I find that my thoughts are on you.  I must tell you that this personal letter is far from a person who is your fan. I need you to understand that my soul was led to write this letter to you.  You see Stevie, I had to write this letter because after the sinking feeling I had when I heard the news that Prince died, my heart and soul told me that even if you never see this letter, that I had to make sure that you knew before you left this earth that your music has travelled with me throughout all the milestones in my life.  And not just my life, but my mother’s life as well.  She passed away in 2006 from complications of Multiple Sclerosis (she was blinded from it as well).  

My family (my brother, mother and I) had your music to wrap around us when the heat and lights weren’t on, it fed our souls when the food was limited, it gave us hope when we would have to stand at the bus stop all hours of the night when we had no car.  Your music allowed my brother and I to connect with my mother when she didn’t know the words to say.  Whether she was singing “I Don’t Know I Love You” to my brother and I before we went to bed, or “Golden Lady” while washing my hair when I was a child, or “You Haven’t Done Nothing” when her heart was hurting during her divorce, you, Stevie have come along with me on my life’s journey.  And when my mom passed away, your music not only consoled me but during times when I miss my mom the most (and I have to tell you, that is most times!), I can turn your music on and remember…  remember love, remember faith, remember her…

So Stevie…when Prince died, I hurt, yes a lot. I know I would never get the chance to tell HIM how much he meant to me.  Sadly, it is too late.  But when I fell asleep last night, I was led to tell you this….

If no one ever tells you this…thank you.  Thank you for your protesting, thank you for your music, thank you for your time, and for your gifts to the world.  Thank you for fighting when I know not being able to see might have made you tired.  Thank you for all of the traveling when you were tired, sick and just wanted to relax at home.  Thank you for playing “one more song” when the fans at your concerts couldn’t get enough.  Thank you for pushing back the pain when your mother passed away to heal our souls when your tears wanted to flow.  Thank you for being one of the few artists who brings all together all ages and ethnicities at your concerts and creating an environment where we are all truly equal. Thank you for just being you.

I didn’t want this to sound morbid, but I didn’t want you to leave this world one day without hearing from a person whose existence was shaped by what your gift has created. I do not have any children, but I will make this promise to you…as long as I continue to mentor young people and share my opinions throughout my life, I will make sure that everyone knows just how special you are to me.

With all my heart,

Ky’a

3 O��]

[mynotesmylife]

The Irony of MLK Day & Sanitation

This morning I had the pleasure of working side-by-side with my sorority sisters of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc., Rho Theta Omega Chapter to do community service at Girard College. I woke up very excited for a different opportunity to give back on a day that is used to honor an intelligent, compassionate and giving (Alpha) man who dedicated his life to service and civil rights.  On my way to the community service project, I made a stop at the local Dunkin’ Donuts  to grab a coffee since I needed to wake up AND I needed the coffee to warm me up since I had decided to walk to location.  

Coffee in hand, I made my way through the neighborhood, listening to Mary J.’s “Love Is All We Need” (How completely appropriate!).  As I walked through the little city streets, I couldn’t help but notice that even though today is (and has been!) and official holiday for some time, several people decided to put their trash out.  Hmmm....my trash day is on Mondays so people must have forgotten.  Not sure how that could be since we’ve been celebrating it as an official federal holiday since 1983!  But everyone forgets a holiday every now and then, right?

The fact that people tend to forget MLK Day is a federal holiday didn’t get my goat today.  What I find absolutely ironic is that, while walking through streets littered with trash, it occurred to me that the last time we saw MLK alive was when he was supporting the Memphis Sanitation Workers Strike.  Ironic that on the day we honor the man who believed in civil rights for all...our streets are full of refuse and recycling.  I am not saying that sanitation workers shouldn’t have the day off...I just thought that if there would be one day that the streets should be clean, THIS DAY would be it.  

Today IS a holiday.  An OFFICIAL one.  A FEDERAL one.  Perhaps if everyone remembered that...there would be no need for me to step over trash on this day anymore...

[mynotesmylife]

A Letter to Fashion Fair Cosmetics

Dear Fashion Fair,

From the time I can remember when my mother used your make-up products (they came in dark green containers back then!), I have appreciated the fact that YOU appreciated the beauty of Black women’s complexions. When other women were wearing make-up that gave their skin either an orangey tint…or worse, a color two shades lighter than their own hues, I relished in the fact that you Fashion Fair, had just the right brown to make my mother even more beautiful than I knew she was!

So it was my memories, Fashion Fair, that directed me to your counter when I began to seriously consider wearing make up as an adult. To my surprise, I found your counter behind Elizabeth Arden, MAC and several other brands of the day. I could have gone to them, Fashion Fair, but I didn’t because I knew that YOU would take care of me. That YOU, along with the memories of my mother in the mirror, would make me beautiful. The woman at the counter greeted me with a smile and when I told her about the green containers, she chuckled and said, “Oh I remember that! That was YEARS AGO!” I told her that I wanted to learn how to wear the right make up and that I knew and trusted Fashion Fair to make me as beautiful as my mom. The lady at the counter was gracious and patient as she began to teach me about colors that would go well on my face. She made my face up and I the result was, quite frankly “beautiful”. Not too much, not too little. Just enough to enhance my natural beauty. When I looked in the mirror I saw myself and my mom. The sales lady didn’t try to up sell me. She just said, “When you’re ready to purchase some products, come back and ask for me.” And I did….until the nice lady retired.

Which leads to me to the point of writing this letter to you, Fashion Fair. I went back to the same counter the other day to purchase my foundation and the new sales lady (Not quite as seasoned as my friend who retired), told me she didn’t have the foundation of my skin tone (Tan Bronze). She didn’t have it, no other Macy’s store had it and when she went to the Fashion Fair website, they didn’t have it! What!? Are you kidding me!? How is that possible? The woman behind the counter then asked, “Do you want to try another brand like Elizabeth Arden?” WHAT!? No, new Fashion Fair lady!!! I want MY brand! The kind that made my mom beautiful! The kind that has a ton of browns to choose from! The kind that used to come in the green container! The new sales lady looked at me and said she couldn’t help me then and walked away.

Fashion Fair…you are like family to me. Please figure out a way to let one of your best customers feel love and beauty again. Sadly….I had to go to the MAC counter for foundation and although the guy was nice…It just didn’t feel like home…

[mynotesmylife]

[mynotesmylife]

My 2015 Life Lessons That Have Nothing to do With Oprah's Master Class! :)

This has been a year full of lessons for me. I have learned that I need to value myself more, that I don't have to always have the answers to EVERYTHING and that I need to listen to my body when it is CLEARLY trying to get my attention. I've learned that even people with the best intentions may not know what to do or say when I need them ...and that's okay. I have learned that some of the biggest blessings come in the smallest packages and to appreciate even the tiniest of blessings (hot water in my shower every morning, lights that come on when I flip the switch and the fact that I can actually open my eyes and SEE when I wake up in the morning!) I have gained new perspective on what I can and cannot do physically (no more carrying five groceries bags in each hand anymore!) and I have learned to be okay with that. It doesn't make me helpless...it just means I need a little help. I have learned that I don't have to apologize for being, well....ME (the sometimes impatient, sarcastic, introverted me). That part of me works hand-in-hand with the compassionate, giving, and witty me. But most of all....I have learned that I need to use just as much energy taking care and loving myself as I do for everyone else. You'd think that for a retired caregiver (I was a caregiver for my mom for over 20 years...she's only been gone for 9 years) it would be easy but it is not (It actually takes me several days to even be comfortable with taking a day off from work! LOLOL). So in 2016, I am going to make myself "uncomfortable". To think of myself when my knee-jerk is to take care of everyone BUT me! This may make some people uncomfortable but those who love me will know just how hard this goal will be for me and will try their best to encourage me. Those who cannot, will just be...well...uncomfortable. It's ok...I still love you! LOLOL 2016, I pray will find me more relaxed, healthier and happier. Reaching goals that I never thought I could. And find me just as grateful (if not more!) of family, friends, yes, even hot water (when you've gone without hot water at a time in your life you can't help yourself! LOL) So here's to 2016 (glasses clink here). The year where I find myself and get to shine just a little bit brighter (ya'll might wanna cover your eyes now)!

[hiraesth]

[mynotesmylife]

I finally found a word that describes my mother!

[mynotesmylife]

Cheyney, Cheyney...Alma Mater

You know...people need to learn to listen to lyrics more.  I mean REALLY listen!  I was having a conversation about music nowadays (look at me sounding like an “old head”!) and talking about how people don’t really listen to the words they are singing.  I am convinced that all people care about is the beat of the song or how popular the song is as opposed to what the song is saying.  Good music is the kind of music that speaks to the mind and the heart and sticks with you long after the first time you heard it.

Take the Cheyney University Alma Mater, for example.  Now I know it’s not R&B or Gospel or Pop but hear me out.  Myself, along with hundreds of thousands of students attended Cheyney and, believe it or not, were REQUIRED to learn the Alma Mater.  Oh we fought it, believe you me!  But somewhere...in the middle of rolling our eyes and sucking out teeth, the words became a part of who we were. But when we graduated, it seemed that the words we sang were just words.  The message got lost somewhere between moving on with our families, our careers, our lives.  And now...the meaning of the words we yelled out loud (or mumbled if we didn’t remember them!) are slowly fading away as is the reputation of Cheyney University.  When you sing...

“Cheyney, Cheyney, Alma Mater Thou whose light can never fail. With a deep and true devotion We, thy sons and daughters, hail,” ...do you ask yourself “Where is my Cheyney light?” The devotion was more than true...it was deep.  So deep that every graduate of Cheyney hail to it.  Do you remember your first love?  Remember how deep it was and how much it hurt when you lost it?  These lyrics speak of that deep devotion for Cheyney.  

Hear the pledge thy children offer Strong of hand and clear of brain, When thou callest, Alma Mater, Never shalt thou call in vain. ...do you remember the pledge of always being there for Cheyney?  When you were young and sharp of mind you said you would be there whenever Cheyney called.  And when the call was put out...not just for parties, or reunions, or sporting events...you would be there.  You promised.  With your mind, your mouth and your heart...you promised.

Thou has taught us not to falter, To be loyal, brave and true, Striving upward by thy spirit, In whatever we may do; ...do you know that the ancestors of Cheyney look down on you and celebrate your successes as if it were their own?  They put blood, sweat, tears, and hard work into making sure that we had a venue to be successful.  To be what they could not.

And at last, when we have triumphed Down the long life battle-line, All the honor and the glory, Alma Mater, shall be thine.

...do you know how to be grateful? Cheyney is, good or bad, a huge part of who we are as successful individuals. We have had friendships/relationships, experiences, classes and professors that, at some point or another, shaped a part of who we are today.

Cheyney’s alma mater is a song that we should never just know the lyrics to...it is a song that reminds us of history, carries us through trials, heals us through pain and lifts us in sadness.  It is a song we CANNOT afford to ignore because when we learned it, we made a pledge we should never break.

Cheyney is hurting...Cheyney is suffering...will you heed the call?

[mynotesmylife]

Coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous.

Albert Einstein

[mynotesmylife]

Dreaming of good vibes from the President and My Mom

I had to get up and write this down so I would never forget it.  They say that dreams are subconscious ways of your mind telling you your worries and thoughts.  I am not so sure what this dream was tying to tell me but I know the message is loud and clear.  

Most people who know me know that my mom had Multiple sclerosis and that she was confined to a wheelchair (she would hate that I termed it that way but let's use the term for this story only once, okay?). Anyway, I dreamt that my mom and I were at a presidential event.  Nothing fancy but there were several people there as you would imagine and of course, they sat all the people in wheelchairs together on the side.  Because of where we were sitting, it was difficult to reach the president when he began shaking hands with people and before we knew it, he wished away somewhere else before we could get to him.  I was very disappointed because I knew my mom wanted the opportunity to meet the first Black president but in flash, I knew that would not happen.

Since my mom had been sitting for a really long time and I was pretty sure her legs were stiffening being in the same position, I asked one of the security detail if he could allow us to got to an area away front the crowd and then show us the exit.  As I am asking her if she's okay and fixing the legs lifts on the wheelchair I say to her, "Mommy I am sorry you didn't get a chance to meet him.  I know it was important to you."

She says to me, "Don't worry Ky'a.  You did your best.  Besides, we were here and had a good time anyway.  I am just worried about how we're going to get these bags home. You going to be okay carrying all of it?"

"Yes I think so.  I may need you to put a bag or two on your lap, okay?"

"Okay.  I'm ready", she says and holds her arms out to take a bag or two.

As were about to leave, the security officer who was standing there the whole time (apparently to make sure we didn't go any place we weren't supposed to says, "Ma'am, I need to take you through this door.". We followed (of course he didn't help with the bags which really ticked me off) and through the door was a room with other people standing around.  I explained we were looking for the exit because my mom was really tired and as I said this the room began to empty.  As soon as the people left, the president walked in towards us.

I stared because I didn't believe it was him and needed to size up who this impostor was and my mom, who was blind, was wondering why The room had gotten so quiet.

"Ky'a, are we leaving?"

The president said to her, "Not without me getting the chance to meet you, Ms. Jackson" and he put his hand on her shoulder.  Apparently someone clued him in on the fact that she couldn't see.

"Baby, it is so good to meet you too.  You doing alright?" my mom asked like she forgot she was talking to THE president.  Typical mommy to asked him if he's alright like if he said "No" she would fix it.  LOL

"Yes ma'am.  I am hanging in there.  I just wanted to let you know that you and your daughter are examples of good in this world.  People need people like you."

Someone motioned to the president that he had to go and apparently my mom heard it (she had ear like a hawk!) so said as she stood up a little wobbly out of the wheelchair, "Your gonna be alright too, Baby.  Don't worry about those crazy people out there.  You hang  in there."

"I sure will, Ms. Jackson.  You take care." And as soon as he said that, he was gone.

I am not a Barack Obama worshipper. (I am however a HUGE fan of Michelle! LOL) Nor am I a heavy duty lover of politics.  I follow it periodically and get objective briefings from my brother throughout the year.  I have never been to an Obama event and have never raised money for him.  I am not raising money for him now.  Because of this, I found it VERY odd to have a dream with him and my mom in it. (I don't dream of her often at all.)

I do not know what my psyche is trying to tell me.  Perhaps I needed a little encouragement from both him and her.  I'm not sure.  Whatever the dream was for, it woke me up with a smile this morning and that is a good thing.  :)

[mynotesmylife]

Me, Mrs. Max and the Special $100

I hated my last years of high school. Not because of the typical reasons....social awkwardness, identity development issues or grades.  More so because I had a tremendous amount of responsibility, money was tight in my house and because I missed the old high school I was taken out of after my freshman year.  At my old high school there were teachers there that I KNEW loved me like their own children and pushed me to excel despite the limited resources they were working with at the time.  The adjustment was hard and I found myself, although I was very involved in a variety of school activities, very lonely.

As the years went on, although I still found it difficult to socialize with students who, in my mind didn't appreciate all the resources they had, I did manage to attach myself to several "alternative learning" teachers.  These were the teachers who worked with students who needed a little more attention in the classroom.  Although I was in regular classes and a few college prep courses and did not have these teachers myself, I found their dedication astounding and quite frankly, admirable.  I had known teachers like this in my old high school in Camden but I never thought I would find them here.  They had a level of compassion for their students that was immeasurable.  Little did I know that the compassion wasn't just limited to the students they taught.  It was for me too.

The prom was coming up and of course, because I knew my family had very limited funds, I knew there was no way I could go.  However, one of the teachers at the school, Mrs. Max - a pint size dynamo with brains and attitude to match, insisted that we go look at dresses.  I remember looking at dresses with her and seeing a dress I loved.  Somewhere in the conversation she stated that the dress was $100 and that I could probably get my Dad to help get the dress.  Unfortunately, that did not happen and telling Mrs. Max that I wouldn't be able to go to the prom because I couldn't get the dress was not as painful as disappointing her.  We did not speak of the dress again until one day, Mrs. Max, told me we were going back to the dress shop.  I asked her why we were going when I couldn't afford the dress.  In my old brain, I don't remember her paying me any attention and just driving as though I had said nothing.  When we got to the store, Mrs. Max gave me the $100 to buy the dress and quite frankly, I didn't know what to say.  I think though, in the middle of my confusion and happiness, she said something like, "Now you can go to your prom."

I remembered this story as I checked my mail today and received a card from Mrs. Max.  It was a congratulatory card to me for graduating from graduate school.  When I opened the card there was a check for $100 and, I have to admit, it made me cry.  I am not sure she remember the story of the prom dress.  I did...and I immediately flashed back to that day when she made one of the biggest days of my life possible.  You didn't have to do what you did so many years ago and you still didn't have to send a graduation gift but today, if I have never said it before...I thank you so VERY much.  At 42 years old you are still taking care of me and that makes me feel like one very special lady.  

Thanks Mrs. Max for all your love, support and encouragement.  I think I will take this check, put it in the bank, and go get myself another dress.  :)