Eye of the Beholder

When I was a kid, it always puzzled me when my mom insisted on going pretty much everywhere with my dad. My uncles would hang out together; they would even go to Honduras solo, but my mom wasn't having it. When I was about 10, I remember asking her why she was so clingy. (Of course I didn't phrase it that way -- I valued my teeth too much to get them knocked out for being "disrespectful.") Her response was something to the effect that good men are scarce and women would kill to have my father.

I have to admit that I looked at her sideways. I was odd as a kid (oh, who am I kidding? I'm a bit odd now!), so I never had that "I adore my daddy" phase. Whereas most little girls saw their dads as gorgeous superheroes, I just saw my dad for what he was -- a hardworking, but cranky, aging, and not-so-goodlooking man with alcoholic tendencies. And in my 10-year-old mind, I could not for the life of me fathom why anyone else would want him. Hell, I didn't know why my own mother wanted him.

I am 38 years old; my parents are still together; and even though my father is almost 70 years old, my mother still accompanies him everywhere he goes. Ask her today why she does that and she will give you the same response she gave what feels like a million years ago: good men are at a premium and there are women out there who would kill to have a good husband.

The other day, I had to attend a Young Lawyers event as the representative from another section of the New York State Bar Association. As I walked out the door, Big Bren called out after me, "don't flirt with anybody!" Then he proceeded to text me several times during the event just to see how I was doing. Honestly, I don't think any young boys fresh out of law school were checking for me, and while my wrinkles and back fat are not getting any more endearing with age, it was kind of cool to know that Big Bren still thinks I'm desireable enough to be protective of.

Quantum Leap

When I was younger, one of my favorite shows was Quantum Leap. The protagonist had created a time machine and he could leap from time to time fixing problems in people's lives. These weren't minor issues; these were events that would derail that person's life and altar the course of his/her future. The only caveat was that he could not do it in his own form. So, his soul -- I don't remember how they explained it, but that's what I understood it to be -- would displace the soul in that person's body. In the meantime, the other "soul" had to sit in a "waiting room" somewhere while he "fixed" the problem.

There are times in my life where I wish I could be that displaced soul -- just chillin' somewhere while someone else handles the crap. There are situations that I find myself repeatedly in that I don't want to experience again but do not know how to get out of. There are circumstances that I wish I could fast-forward through; where my very skin tightens up and my heart starts to pound. Events that bring you to your very knees; where no matter what choice you decide to make, it feels like the wrong one.

My sister would say to take a deep breath, let go and let God. But sometimes, it feels like God is just not moving fast enough ....

Please step into this box over here ...

I was on a website today and ran into a comment by someone who referred to Blacks and Hispanics as People of More Melanin (POMM). And I actually like it. I have been uneasy with color classifications for many years and with my son being who he is, I am reluctant to call people "Black" or "White" anymore (not to mention that his father's family has such an assortment of colors that they can't really be classified). When absolutely necessary to speak about someone's color, I've been resorting to calling people as I saw them: "brown" and "light brown" and "beige" (desperate times, people).

Thoughts? Ingenious or just another useless classification?