Bucket List #32- Learning to Make Bread and Other Lessons to Apply to Life.

It is said that every culture has its own version of bread; leavened, unleavened, flat, fried, etc. Yesterday I learned how to bake Horiatiko Psomi Bread or Greek Country Bread.

I always thought the handmade breads would be cool to try but was always a bit intimidated by them. They seemed to be so precise, so demanding that I did not know if it would be worth it.

Yesterday I received my first lesson in Bread Making 101. The process was lengthy at nearly five hours but the results were amazing.

I found out that bread really isn’t all that difficult to make, but there are a lot of steps and a lot of waiting. I also found that bread making is kind of a metaphor for life. Maybe that is one of the reasons for its popularity worldwide.  Anyway…..

Top 10 lessons learned to apply to life:

1.       It’s gonna get messy, so you better clean it up along the way.

2.      It’s gonna get sticky, but if you expect it to you’ll be ok.

3.      The recipe always calls for a specific things, but sometimes you gotta play it by ear.

4.      Just because you think something should happen right now, something’s are just worth waiting for.

5.      Waiting around for what you really want can be tedious.

6.      When things are hot, you just gotta go for it.

7.      Sometimes too hot can be a bad thing, but this generally only applies to oven temperatures and days spent in Mobile Alabama.

8.      Just because something looks hard on the outside does not mean that inside it isn’t soft and wonderful.

9.      Sometimes it comes out great and sometimes....not so great; either way you gotta own the results.

10. It's always more fun when you're surrounded by people that you love.

10-A. A nice bottle or two of red wine almost always makes things just a bit better.

 The Result

Why I hate Black History Month

Driving to work this morning a radio DJ started to play “Midnight Train To Georgia” by Gladys Knight and the Pips. I got immediately excited because the song is simply one of my favorite songs ever and in fact as a child, I wanted to be a Pip. Suddenly my excitement became anger as the DJ said, and I quote: “In honor of Black History Month, Ms. Gladys Knight. 

Forgive my language but WHAT THE FUCK?

So, in his mind he was contributing to the big socio-racial conversation by whipping out an old MOTOWN record?

Really?

It dawned on me that for many, that was what this month was supposed to be, a celebration of the people who are popular and accessible. Celebrating the ones “we know” and not worrying about digging too deep and getting the whole story. It confirmed in my mind the Black History Month has missed its mark.

February is Black History Month. In theory, it is an annual celebration of achievements by black Americans and a time for recognizing the role of African Americans in U.S. history. The event grew out of “Negro History Week,” the brainchild of noted historian Carter Woodson and other prominent African Americans.

I say in theory because sadly, this month of recognition has always seemed to miss the mark for me. Maybe it stems from the fact that in my skewed logic having to designate an official month to recognize anything diminishes that things importance. Put another way, making an “official” holiday or month means that whatever the subject is does not stand on its own merits and needs to be applauded to be recognized.

I find it sad that in 2012 we must be reminded to stop and think about the contributions made by an entire racial group. I find it even sadder that when we do recognize them we only hover around the people of that race that are easy to recognize; entertainers, actors, the most well-known leaders, etc.

I mean….. I get it.

Yes, Martin Luther King Jr. was a tremendous leader and had a deep impact on our world.

Yes, Louie Armstrong could play the shit out of that cornet.

Yes, Denzel Washington’s, Kareem Abdul Jabbar’ and Jackie Robinson’s stories are all far more accessible and easier to embrace than many others who have made far more impactful contributions.

We need to celebrate those contributions, but we need to talk about Madam Walker, Sojourner Truth and W.E.B. Du Bois even more.  Fredrick Douglass had more impact of our society in one week than Usher has had in his whole life. George Washington Carver changed his world far more than 50 Cent will and in much more positive ways.

So, if we are going to focus on a race (and we should) then lets dig a bit deeper and assure that we see the full value of their contributions. Let see if we can’t get past the concept of Black History “Month” and realize that we all have played a part and the WE would not be US without the contributions of EVERYONE.

I hope that someday we can celebrate an OUR History Month where it won't matter who did what or what color that their skin was. I hope that someday that it becomes irrelevant that the person was black, white or magenta.

And when we do get there, I will celebrate….. quite possibly with some Gladys Knight played really loud.

My Mom would have been Damn Proud!

I remember my first day at Ball State like it was yesterday. My Mom dropped me off at my new dorm and a few minutes later a blond headed guy in camouflage pants burst into my room with a water machine gun and said “Beers in my room 7pm” and walked out. I thought to myself that I was indeed in new territory.

The big blond kid, as it turns out would be Troy Hammon. Troy would turn into a friend, then a fraternity brother and despite his obvious issues is now a successful teacher with a wife and some great kids. But the point is, the first person I met on campus would be connected to Phi Sigma Kappa at a later date.

Phi Sigma Kappa would be a reoccurring theme throughout my first few months at Ball State. This was mostly due to the fact that my dorm was loaded with them. They seemed to be cool enough guys and often Mark Anderson would buy pizza and talk about the house. Mark was a good guy that was built like a statue of Buddha. He would harass me about coming to the Phi Sig house. To be completely honest I really did not think of myself as the “Frat Boy” type.

The combination of not thinking that I was frat material and being dirt poor kind of confirmed in my mind that I would not be joining Phi Sig. But in Mark’s mind, I was joining and that was all there was to it.

After being asked and asked, I took a trip over to the house to meet the guys and attend a party. I remember walking into this ass ugly green farm house with this big front porch. I met a few of the guys and once again, they seemed cool enough.

I was standing on the big white front porch when two guys came out; one big hulking guy and one who was rail thin. The big guy introduced himself as “Sinker” and said “don’t ask it’s a long story”. The thin guy smoked like a chimney and shook a lot. He was to be called “Harry”. Standing there talking to the mountainous “Sinker” and the ever shaking “Harry”, somehow I decided that this was the place for me.

I was a mutt and they were indeed mutts as well and I figured that if they fit in….how bad could it be.  

The next day I called my Mom and told her that I wanted to be a fraternity man. My mom blew a gasket, and gave me a dissertation regarding money and “buying friends” and beer and….. it just went on and on. So, I knew that if I was going to join, it would have to be secret and I would have to pay for it myself, which is what I did, only telling her that I had joined months later. I know that had I not met Mark, Jeff (Sinker) and Greg (Harry) I would not have even been interested in joining (I guess that we can all blame them).  Ha

Mom eventually got her mind right and began to hate the idea just a little bit less. Over the years I remained a Phi Sig at Ball State, Mom would stop by the house and shake her head at the poor conditions and ask why I would want to live in a place like this. She did seem to start to ease up on the negativity when I was elected President.  

Overtime, I don’t think she was convinced but she fought about it less. She even seemed to be proud to wear her “Phi Sig Mom” sweatshirt to work. I am guessing that it was her way of bragging a bit to her co-workers.

Over the years my involvement with Phi Sig has ebbed and flowed with marriage, moving and divorce.  But, about a year ago, I was going through a bad period and several of my brothers were helping me through it and mom finally understood a bit better. She even went as far as saying “It is great that you guys are still there for each other.” And even threw in a “I really didn’t get it.” I was shocked that it was audibly mumbled. Crazy talk from the a woman that had fought tooth and nail to keep me from joining in the first place.

Sadly, the day she really would have truly “got it” was last Thursday. It was the day of her funeral and 1/3 of the people in attendance were my brothers from Ball State as well as brothers from Stetson and Valdosta State. Those same “bought” friends from 1986 were standing beside me as the day lingered on and a few helped me carry her to her final resting place.

I hope there is a heaven and that people do look down. If they do,  I know she now “Gets it” and would be Damn Proud!