June, a beautiful month with a new holiday, an official start to summer, weddings, great music in recognition of African American Music Month—it was supposed to be uneventful and almost boring. Instead, it’s been tumultuous, hot, iffy, unsettling, and scary.
There ought to be a law against Internet headlines that deliberately distract and purposely encourage me to waste valuable time. Yes, I’m free to click away but for some reason, I fall for the okey-doke every time.
I will be in front of my television when the January 6 hearings begin, and I intend to stay until they end so I k, now for myself “who knew what and when.” I watched in horror as groups—I’m not calling them insurrectionists, —converged on “sacred space” with what I call less-than-honorable intentions.
If I had a magic wand, I’d wave it and keep our children safe. Then, I’d fill every heart with good will until hatred was no more. If only life were that simple.
I thought I had everything figured out, but obviously not. As soon as I breathed a sigh of relief, there’s a school shooting, a supermarket or church massacre, an insurrection, or an assault on everything we know and hold dear. As a civilized people, what are we doing wrong?
I am not a scary person, nor do I live in fear, however, let me go on the record with this statement: Elon Musk having ownership and unfettered access to Twitter or anything else that size, scares me to death.
Mother’s Day this year is special—I’ve been somebody’s mother for 49 years and three days, and I still have my mother. Making that statement brings a smile to my face and great joy to my heart.
I love April for a million reasons—the showers bring May flowers, spring gets sprung, it’s time to put the pantyhose away and bring out the sandals—ok, so I wasn’t wearing the pantyhose anyway—but as April moves quickly to a close, please allow me to campaign on behalf of National Donate Life Month.
For Christians, Holy Week, the seven days before Easter, is a time for serious reflection, contemplation, for being still, and grappling with the full meaning of what is about to transpire. For those who don’t celebrate Easter, it’s just another week and nothing to get worked up about.
Every time I think I know what I’m thinking about the now infamous Oscar slap last week, something else comes along and I get a different perspective to consider. In case you’ve been living under a rock for the past week, the Academy Award for Best actor went to Will Smith minutes after he walked on stage and smacked comedian Chris Rock in the face.
