Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Oh all right. This goes with the last post. There'll be hell to pay. Which will be so ironic that it'll be funny, so that's OK, too.

For starters, there is a word for someone who recommends a particular video or whatever and won't post the thing itself. But it isn't a nice word and since it doesn't define me entirely, perhaps I ain't that thing.

But still. What's weird - plenty - but I'll try to be specific.

Weird: my enthusiastic yet usually inward disdain for bunches of people gathered to believe, praise, etc. Because childhood attendance at segregated houses of worship.


At the tender age of ten, I walked out on a sermon. I had spent the night with my best friend and church was part of the deal. I actually walked miles to my grandparents' house from the church just because that smiling, creepy pastor said that black people should worship with other black people and white people should worship with other white people. I really thought I was making a very big statement. Little Miss Freedom Rider or some such. Later, I realized that they probably just thought I went to the restroom. Kids, huh? But church. I think of who's not invited to the party. Look. I know that all white people aren't 'that way' but ones who gather in hands-up bunches seem to be. Maybe I need to ask forgiveness for my assumptions. Maybe change them. Eeeeek.

What's supposed to be the Only Thing there is: how to we treat one another with the highest loving regard and, who knows, maybe even take planet earth out of the chokehold we've got her in, as her gasping cries reverberate in this part of the galaxy and beyond.

This video stops before that thing I just wrote. And I'm asking that you'd treat this like a buffet: take that stuff you want and leave the rest. There is more than gravy here. I have a vegan buddy who gags at the sight of meat. He just does. Always has. His Mama said he 'got born that way'. But the vegetables were so good at this little diner back in Georgia that he started going every day for lunch even though it meant seeing the body parts and gravy and such at other tables.

And one day he told me this, "I listened to people talk about things that I don't talk about much. Things I don't have to listen to. My family's really screwed up and no one talks to each other. For years. But there people would disagree with each other and then say, 'Pass the gravy'. Then I knew what was wrong with my family. We had no gravy to pass.'" I didn't have the heart to tell him it wasn't about the meat or gravy. But as I write this, I'm not even convinced.

I think I'm passing gravy by adding this link. You don't have to like it, but for God's sake, please don't stop coming over.


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