Right place wrong time same story as ever before,
Misty rain coats my brand new hoodie,
Lights flood the field Friday night football,
Toddler in tow pre-teen walking talking with friends,
My high schooler sitting with the band all suited up.
Drumbeats sound much the same as before,
But now they know now they have been told,
Not gonna stress about that for now too much,
Too much on my heaping plate,
Gotta gain strength and momentum for the next wave.
There is disagreement about the cadence,
Music director trying to get technical on me,
That’s alright that’s o.k. keep playing and see,
See what happens when Nokomis decides to call in AIM,
Gonna have some real redskins in your house.
Its on you you been told don’t blame me,
Someone’s gonna have to show you how its done,
Don’t give me no crap about studying us back-in-the-day,
We been studying you from the very first,
Hairy light stinking strangers out of the east.
You play your role I’ll play mine its understood,
Gonna take some time gonna be a process,
So I’ll ride this wave tuck my knees wave my arms,
Do what I must to stay afloat to stay above the water,
Gonna keep on keeping on keep on living and enjoying.
This place gets so packed so many kids so many people,
Good kinda energy reminds me of my youth,
I’m sitting here breathing it all in and enjoying,
Possibilities so many possibilities and we’re all here,
Having fun poking fun watching the football game.
9.23.2006
9.22.2006
damaged goods
damaged goods rotting on the tarmac,
plane bound for Bangkok despite a military coup,
no blood spilled in the transfer of power,
no delay to the big falang’s holiday in the sun.
left behind yet again-no rapture, no judgment,
left to fend for ourselves however we can.
caught up in the euphoria of adventure,
yet again the children are forgotten.
I should not miss what I never had,
their physical distance mirrors the emotional,
their lack of concern should be no surprise.
damaged and rotting kicked about and misplaced,
you left us alone—with family, but we were nothing to them.
Eurasian bastards that bore the brunt of their mother’s shame,
we were living monuments to your fall from grace.
used abused and ridiculed we had no one to turn to,
those we trusted took advantage of our situation.
we were only babies and could not fend for ourselves,
I have been blaming myself this whole time for being powerless,
for being damaged—not worthy of love or anything else.
damaged goods rotting and stinking up your middle class home,
not worthy of respect, kindness or any human emotion.
It was my fault, my fault, only five years old,
But it was all my fault . . .
everyone told me I had no father-I didn’t until I was five,
they told me my mother didn’t even love me—
did she? Why didn’t she live with me?
even worse was what happened when I met father,
starting living with my mother—
the beatings the yelling the walking on eggshells,
and she never stopped it never told him to stop.
I deserved it though—I didn’t deserve anything else,
Just rotten stinking garbage taking up valuable space,
damaged goods that someone forgot to discard.
I deserved it I was to blame I brought it on myself—
I should have been stronger I should have behaved better,
I should not have been so useless so deserving of scorn.
I am done with all of this, you are both dead to me,
not that you had been anything but—
you were both a dream and an illusion that could never be.
you abandoned your children and lived lives devoid of love,
I owe you the priceless debt of life,
but you are not my parents and never were.
you can take all your blame ridicule shame regret,
all your useless damaged selves back to Thailand,
and leave me the hell alone.
plane bound for Bangkok despite a military coup,
no blood spilled in the transfer of power,
no delay to the big falang’s holiday in the sun.
left behind yet again-no rapture, no judgment,
left to fend for ourselves however we can.
caught up in the euphoria of adventure,
yet again the children are forgotten.
I should not miss what I never had,
their physical distance mirrors the emotional,
their lack of concern should be no surprise.
damaged and rotting kicked about and misplaced,
you left us alone—with family, but we were nothing to them.
Eurasian bastards that bore the brunt of their mother’s shame,
we were living monuments to your fall from grace.
used abused and ridiculed we had no one to turn to,
those we trusted took advantage of our situation.
we were only babies and could not fend for ourselves,
I have been blaming myself this whole time for being powerless,
for being damaged—not worthy of love or anything else.
damaged goods rotting and stinking up your middle class home,
not worthy of respect, kindness or any human emotion.
It was my fault, my fault, only five years old,
But it was all my fault . . .
everyone told me I had no father-I didn’t until I was five,
they told me my mother didn’t even love me—
did she? Why didn’t she live with me?
even worse was what happened when I met father,
starting living with my mother—
the beatings the yelling the walking on eggshells,
and she never stopped it never told him to stop.
I deserved it though—I didn’t deserve anything else,
Just rotten stinking garbage taking up valuable space,
damaged goods that someone forgot to discard.
I deserved it I was to blame I brought it on myself—
I should have been stronger I should have behaved better,
I should not have been so useless so deserving of scorn.
I am done with all of this, you are both dead to me,
not that you had been anything but—
you were both a dream and an illusion that could never be.
you abandoned your children and lived lives devoid of love,
I owe you the priceless debt of life,
but you are not my parents and never were.
you can take all your blame ridicule shame regret,
all your useless damaged selves back to Thailand,
and leave me the hell alone.
9.21.2006
a dream i dreamt
I dreamt that I was dreaming a dream
About you, me, and everyone we knew
All the same as here in this plane
But yet different somehow.
I dreamt about the children but they were older
And I was still skateboarding,
Looking for my gear before heading out,
I stopped to tell E that I loved him.
But he was so much older than he is now,
Maybe twelve years older and much taller than me-
On his way to high school I suppose.
The older kids came home later,
Dropping in to visit their baby brother, mom, and dad.
In twelve years, I will be just shy of 50,
You still in your mid-forties,
Lots of life beyond that I hope,
But I looked and felt old,
But yet satisfied somehow.
It’s been fifteen years since we first met,
So hard to believe—
So much has passed from then to now.
Some good things have happened in between,
Some other things I would sooner forget I suppose.
We have changed as individuals, as a couple;
But that has to be expected I suppose.
I find myself wondering and questioning,
But I realize that life is just like that sometimes—
Paradigms, viewpoints, perspectives have all shifted,
Life has not turned out quite the way I had imagined.
I am not the person that I had imagined.
There is the rub—how do I relate to life now?
I have blamed it solely on the outer universe,
But it is the inner universe that I am angry about.
That is the journey that lies ahead for us both,
Coming to terms with what is and what we had wished was,
But I can tell you nothing of what I will discover inside—
That is all foreign territory to me.
So what shall we find, how will we respond?
I suppose we will know in fifteen more years—
Whatever we find, I hope you are there to share with me.
Shiloh was in my dream as well—
Smiling and doting on her kids as usual,
Not sure what message that was supposed to convey.
I thought about it for a moment as I sat in the car,
Mind cluttered with wants and needs,
Suddenly something sliced through the haze,
The trees in front of me came suddenly alive.
Crystal clear sight of nothing special—
Just trees, but it was miraculous all the same.
Cutting through the haze and living in the moment,
Paying attention to the life that is right before me,
Has always been a struggle.
Living as I did as a child,
fantasy saved me from facing reality—
it was a way of protecting myself.
I cling to that way of relating to the world,
Afraid to face the everyday with a clear and open mind—
Co-workers, mortgages, bills, any and every conflict
all chase me back inside my shell.
I only recently started paying attention to the weather,
Cognizant for the first time because of skateboarding-
A young man’s game perhaps, but liberating all the same.
Atop the board on an ten foot wall,
You need to be paying attention—
Failing to do so can result in serious damage.
My joints and muscles are all aching,
But I feel good for the first time in a long time.
The concrete occasionally jumps up to bite me,
to remind me to pay attention—
a gentle reminder to let me know that I am alive.
About you, me, and everyone we knew
All the same as here in this plane
But yet different somehow.
I dreamt about the children but they were older
And I was still skateboarding,
Looking for my gear before heading out,
I stopped to tell E that I loved him.
But he was so much older than he is now,
Maybe twelve years older and much taller than me-
On his way to high school I suppose.
The older kids came home later,
Dropping in to visit their baby brother, mom, and dad.
In twelve years, I will be just shy of 50,
You still in your mid-forties,
Lots of life beyond that I hope,
But I looked and felt old,
But yet satisfied somehow.
It’s been fifteen years since we first met,
So hard to believe—
So much has passed from then to now.
Some good things have happened in between,
Some other things I would sooner forget I suppose.
We have changed as individuals, as a couple;
But that has to be expected I suppose.
I find myself wondering and questioning,
But I realize that life is just like that sometimes—
Paradigms, viewpoints, perspectives have all shifted,
Life has not turned out quite the way I had imagined.
I am not the person that I had imagined.
There is the rub—how do I relate to life now?
I have blamed it solely on the outer universe,
But it is the inner universe that I am angry about.
That is the journey that lies ahead for us both,
Coming to terms with what is and what we had wished was,
But I can tell you nothing of what I will discover inside—
That is all foreign territory to me.
So what shall we find, how will we respond?
I suppose we will know in fifteen more years—
Whatever we find, I hope you are there to share with me.
Shiloh was in my dream as well—
Smiling and doting on her kids as usual,
Not sure what message that was supposed to convey.
I thought about it for a moment as I sat in the car,
Mind cluttered with wants and needs,
Suddenly something sliced through the haze,
The trees in front of me came suddenly alive.
Crystal clear sight of nothing special—
Just trees, but it was miraculous all the same.
Cutting through the haze and living in the moment,
Paying attention to the life that is right before me,
Has always been a struggle.
Living as I did as a child,
fantasy saved me from facing reality—
it was a way of protecting myself.
I cling to that way of relating to the world,
Afraid to face the everyday with a clear and open mind—
Co-workers, mortgages, bills, any and every conflict
all chase me back inside my shell.
I only recently started paying attention to the weather,
Cognizant for the first time because of skateboarding-
A young man’s game perhaps, but liberating all the same.
Atop the board on an ten foot wall,
You need to be paying attention—
Failing to do so can result in serious damage.
My joints and muscles are all aching,
But I feel good for the first time in a long time.
The concrete occasionally jumps up to bite me,
to remind me to pay attention—
a gentle reminder to let me know that I am alive.
9.19.2006
sanity assassins
Rainy cold dreary September day—
I told my daughter it was gonna rain yesterday, but she didn’t believe me.
Just something about the wind, something in the air yesterday,
Humid and windy--but I could just feel the onset of rain.
I imagine our ancestors had a name for it,
As they did for so many things that we have forgotten.
Summer’s last gasp as autumn leeches into the air,
Cold rain showers sent to pummel our spirits,
And prepare us for the long frozen nights of winter.
I had to cut and run, not willing to shoulder the blame,
Not believing that my superiors would do what needed to be done.
They reward bad behavior and mediocrity,
No reason to rise above when everyone else is sinking.
Everyone thinks I am just showing off, just being nitpicky,
But what is it that they are doing here?
No one owes them a livelihood, owes them anything,
But their sense of entitlement is so apparent,
And they bide their time and pay their dues.
Some day one of them is gonna run this place,
God forbid but someone might just screw up
And put one of them in a position of power.
The payment will be refused and returned,
According to the lady at CountryBlight,
But that was over a week ago.
I can’t send them what I don’t have,
Although they have it/had it just last week,
And perhaps it is now in the mail.
They hit me with fees and fines,
But I have to just sit and wait,
Because my check’s in the mail.
I’ll turn right back around,
Send it right back to them,
But they’ll keep calling,
Keep right on reporting me to the credit bureaus,
All the while the check’s in the mail somewhere.
I told my daughter it was gonna rain yesterday, but she didn’t believe me.
Just something about the wind, something in the air yesterday,
Humid and windy--but I could just feel the onset of rain.
I imagine our ancestors had a name for it,
As they did for so many things that we have forgotten.
Summer’s last gasp as autumn leeches into the air,
Cold rain showers sent to pummel our spirits,
And prepare us for the long frozen nights of winter.
I had to cut and run, not willing to shoulder the blame,
Not believing that my superiors would do what needed to be done.
They reward bad behavior and mediocrity,
No reason to rise above when everyone else is sinking.
Everyone thinks I am just showing off, just being nitpicky,
But what is it that they are doing here?
No one owes them a livelihood, owes them anything,
But their sense of entitlement is so apparent,
And they bide their time and pay their dues.
Some day one of them is gonna run this place,
God forbid but someone might just screw up
And put one of them in a position of power.
The payment will be refused and returned,
According to the lady at CountryBlight,
But that was over a week ago.
I can’t send them what I don’t have,
Although they have it/had it just last week,
And perhaps it is now in the mail.
They hit me with fees and fines,
But I have to just sit and wait,
Because my check’s in the mail.
I’ll turn right back around,
Send it right back to them,
But they’ll keep calling,
Keep right on reporting me to the credit bureaus,
All the while the check’s in the mail somewhere.
9.11.2006
joy in suffering
This game called life-
sandwiched between the extremes of birth and death,
so full of joy but yet so painful at times.
Anxiety and worry overwhelm me now,
Home and security threatened—
The almighty dollar rules this life.
To live and be happy,
Was everything to me,
But happiness has proved to be elusive.
Fleeting moments here and there,
Followed by chasms of struggle and grief,
Eons of regret and longing.
What do I want?
Do I even know?
And who is this I that wants or knows?
There are few answers,
Just more questions—
Vicious circle spins round and round.
I buy and buy,
Accumulate so many needless things,
To stave off the day of reckoning.
I buy into the lie,
The illusion that possessions,
Will somehow shield me from reality.
I accepted the terms and conditions,
Sealed the deal,
Oblivious to the damage and consequences.
Reckless heedless youth,
Plummeting toward disaster,
Awakening at the point of impact.
So much blame,
So much second-guessing,
So little action.
The time is now,
As it always has been,
Only this single constant moment.
Life begins and ends at this moment,
Is lived out in terror and misery,
Or in happiness and joy.
In the final analysis,
What is all for,
Of what use is any of this?
The living to keep living,
And the dead to remind us that life is fleeting,
But yet we take such joy in suffering.
sandwiched between the extremes of birth and death,
so full of joy but yet so painful at times.
Anxiety and worry overwhelm me now,
Home and security threatened—
The almighty dollar rules this life.
To live and be happy,
Was everything to me,
But happiness has proved to be elusive.
Fleeting moments here and there,
Followed by chasms of struggle and grief,
Eons of regret and longing.
What do I want?
Do I even know?
And who is this I that wants or knows?
There are few answers,
Just more questions—
Vicious circle spins round and round.
I buy and buy,
Accumulate so many needless things,
To stave off the day of reckoning.
I buy into the lie,
The illusion that possessions,
Will somehow shield me from reality.
I accepted the terms and conditions,
Sealed the deal,
Oblivious to the damage and consequences.
Reckless heedless youth,
Plummeting toward disaster,
Awakening at the point of impact.
So much blame,
So much second-guessing,
So little action.
The time is now,
As it always has been,
Only this single constant moment.
Life begins and ends at this moment,
Is lived out in terror and misery,
Or in happiness and joy.
In the final analysis,
What is all for,
Of what use is any of this?
The living to keep living,
And the dead to remind us that life is fleeting,
But yet we take such joy in suffering.
9.06.2006
sk8story
so i go to the skatepark-- decide i'm gonna DROP IN to the EGG BOWL, i.e. pool--- i chicken out. it's five feet deep in the shallow end and the deep end is about 10 feet deep.
to DROP IN, you place the TAIL on the COPING, or the metal edging, and slam the NOSE onto the TRANNY as you start to go down.
the TRANNY is steep--no joke. . . i keep slamming every time i've ever tried to DROP IN before-- my wrists start throbbing just looking at the thing. i always FACE PLANT--go face first into the FLAT just beyond the TRANNY (transition). I catch myself with my hand, but all that weight comes down right on my wrists, which are already messed up from Carpal Tunnel.
i decide to just push from the shallow into the deep end--sans DROP IN--and do some simple CARVES on the wall, maybe three feet off the FLAT.
i got bored of that pretty quick, so hop out of the bowl and i ride down one of the steeper BANKS (6 feet) and hit the three foot PYRAMID in the FLAT and then ride up the opposite wall (also about 6 feet), which has COPING.
i touch the COPING-- i get the board half way up--the classic ROCK-N-ROLL position, but i lose it right there and have to BAIL. i try three or four more time, same thing-- i'm riding up the wall--feels like i'm floating when i hit it-- the board stalls half way on the COPING every time, but i'm stoked that i can even reach the COPING at all.
next i try DROPPING IN on the MINI RAMP, which is all of three feet high. i know this is totally lame-- it's this dinky little thing that goes out onto a long FLAT, but i'm obviously not ready for the six-footer into the EGG BOWL. i struggle with the MINI DROP for awhile before i finally start getting it-- it's still so darn steep, so fast. i have no problems with banks, but there really is no comparison, even if the stupid thing is only a few feet high.
next i try the concrete BOX--which is about 9 inches high, two feet wide and four feet long; and it has a metal edge. i OLLIE my board up to the edge and do a BOARD SLIDE for a split second before landing on my butt-- the metal is fast--howaaa. gotta be ready to ride that sucker, for sure. i try a couple more times, falling on my backside again, and catching myself with . . . you guessed it . . . my hand. Oouuchhh.
i BAIL big time on my last attempt--i'm not even committed to riding the OLLIE all the way out so i accidentally do a POP SHUV-IT-- the board goes airborne, but it also does a 180-degree turn before it hits the metal edge. too bad i can't land it--not yet at least. my shirt is drenched by this point-- all in all a good little lunch break.
to DROP IN, you place the TAIL on the COPING, or the metal edging, and slam the NOSE onto the TRANNY as you start to go down.
the TRANNY is steep--no joke. . . i keep slamming every time i've ever tried to DROP IN before-- my wrists start throbbing just looking at the thing. i always FACE PLANT--go face first into the FLAT just beyond the TRANNY (transition). I catch myself with my hand, but all that weight comes down right on my wrists, which are already messed up from Carpal Tunnel.
i decide to just push from the shallow into the deep end--sans DROP IN--and do some simple CARVES on the wall, maybe three feet off the FLAT.
i got bored of that pretty quick, so hop out of the bowl and i ride down one of the steeper BANKS (6 feet) and hit the three foot PYRAMID in the FLAT and then ride up the opposite wall (also about 6 feet), which has COPING.
i touch the COPING-- i get the board half way up--the classic ROCK-N-ROLL position, but i lose it right there and have to BAIL. i try three or four more time, same thing-- i'm riding up the wall--feels like i'm floating when i hit it-- the board stalls half way on the COPING every time, but i'm stoked that i can even reach the COPING at all.
next i try DROPPING IN on the MINI RAMP, which is all of three feet high. i know this is totally lame-- it's this dinky little thing that goes out onto a long FLAT, but i'm obviously not ready for the six-footer into the EGG BOWL. i struggle with the MINI DROP for awhile before i finally start getting it-- it's still so darn steep, so fast. i have no problems with banks, but there really is no comparison, even if the stupid thing is only a few feet high.
next i try the concrete BOX--which is about 9 inches high, two feet wide and four feet long; and it has a metal edge. i OLLIE my board up to the edge and do a BOARD SLIDE for a split second before landing on my butt-- the metal is fast--howaaa. gotta be ready to ride that sucker, for sure. i try a couple more times, falling on my backside again, and catching myself with . . . you guessed it . . . my hand. Oouuchhh.
i BAIL big time on my last attempt--i'm not even committed to riding the OLLIE all the way out so i accidentally do a POP SHUV-IT-- the board goes airborne, but it also does a 180-degree turn before it hits the metal edge. too bad i can't land it--not yet at least. my shirt is drenched by this point-- all in all a good little lunch break.
9.04.2006
petstory
I was never a big pet person--take em or leave em; but:
when we were living on my wife's reserve in Canada (Wikwemikong), we inherited a german shepard/labrador mix named Waub. Like all dogs on the rez, he came and went when he wanted-- no leash, etc . . .
my wife was preganant with our daughter and she gets a crazy craving for some chocolate and a Coke--insists I go to town to get one. It's 10 km to town (6.2 miles for the metrically-challenged)-- we lived off on the family farm, in the middle of nowhere, neaeest neighbors are about half a mile down the road, so I start riding this mountain bike someone left propped against the barn.
the dog comes trotting out of the woods as i start down the road-- wants to go with me-- i yell at him and throw rocks at him to make him go home-- he refuses so I just start pedaling, ignoring the stupid mutt.
all along the path, every time I come to a driveway, all these mangy unleashed Rez dogs come tearing after me-- Waub takes on all the dogs, keeping them away from me-- he does this the whole 10km to town and the whole 10km back. Damn dog saved my butt.
some idiot ran him over after we moved back to the states and broke his back--one of the neighbors shot him dead on the road "to put him out of his misery." lucky i wasn't still living there, might've done the same to the neighbor . . .
another time;
i fall asleep on the couch and my daughter gets her finger stuck in the VCR-- i hop up, try to get her finger out-- our cat, Littlefoot, apparently thinks I'm hurting her, so the damn things starts pouncing on my back, hissing the whole time--
I'm trying to calm my daughter down, get her finger out of the VCR while the damn cat is attacking me--
the cat has always insisted on sleeping with "the baby"-- it would always curl up at my daughter's feet, but started sleeping at my 4-year-old's feet soon after we brought him home from the hospital.
she used to get right up in our face whenever the babies cried, meowing loudly, as if to say, "hey, do something, dammit!"
when we were living on my wife's reserve in Canada (Wikwemikong), we inherited a german shepard/labrador mix named Waub. Like all dogs on the rez, he came and went when he wanted-- no leash, etc . . .
my wife was preganant with our daughter and she gets a crazy craving for some chocolate and a Coke--insists I go to town to get one. It's 10 km to town (6.2 miles for the metrically-challenged)-- we lived off on the family farm, in the middle of nowhere, neaeest neighbors are about half a mile down the road, so I start riding this mountain bike someone left propped against the barn.
the dog comes trotting out of the woods as i start down the road-- wants to go with me-- i yell at him and throw rocks at him to make him go home-- he refuses so I just start pedaling, ignoring the stupid mutt.
all along the path, every time I come to a driveway, all these mangy unleashed Rez dogs come tearing after me-- Waub takes on all the dogs, keeping them away from me-- he does this the whole 10km to town and the whole 10km back. Damn dog saved my butt.
some idiot ran him over after we moved back to the states and broke his back--one of the neighbors shot him dead on the road "to put him out of his misery." lucky i wasn't still living there, might've done the same to the neighbor . . .
another time;
i fall asleep on the couch and my daughter gets her finger stuck in the VCR-- i hop up, try to get her finger out-- our cat, Littlefoot, apparently thinks I'm hurting her, so the damn things starts pouncing on my back, hissing the whole time--
I'm trying to calm my daughter down, get her finger out of the VCR while the damn cat is attacking me--
the cat has always insisted on sleeping with "the baby"-- it would always curl up at my daughter's feet, but started sleeping at my 4-year-old's feet soon after we brought him home from the hospital.
she used to get right up in our face whenever the babies cried, meowing loudly, as if to say, "hey, do something, dammit!"
9.03.2006
jg-dibakkin
JG-dibakiin--you out there somewheres? Surfing? I need to get you and Morg working on some kind of intro for the marching band-- couldn't we use a snippet of an Inter-tribal song or a Crow Hop or something? Something like Black Lodge's "Jitterbug" song--that speeds up from start to finish. We could even give them a word song-- have them repeat the name of the school or something. I'll try you on your land line, but gimme a call.
summer's end
Gotta get me some wristguards—keep falling and landing hands first. Just a natural instinct, trying to save my face, but I’m gonna end up breaking my darn wrist. Saw a ref doing that in the Northern Illinois v. Ohio State football game—they carted him off the field and I told my son, “shoulda been wearing his wrist guards.”
I spent about an hour-and-a-half skating at the park yesterday, another hour the day before. I didn’t realize how tiring it is to carve, since you’re pumping (or trying to pump in my case) in order to get up on the wall. Z and I went down to Mason, the park’s a little smaller than Lansing, but it’s got lots of curves and isn’t quite as deep.
We were doing drop-ins from about three feet, then gliding across the flat which is about eight feet—after that you pump onto the wall, right into a tight little corner. You have to pump again when you hit the opposite wall, then aim the board back onto the flat. I kick a couple of times on the flat, pump up into the opposite corner, and do the same thing all over again. I got up to three or four feet on the first, but struggle to reach three feet on any of the subsequent corners/walls.
Just not enough speed or momentum to carry me any higher, so I dropped in on the six foot ramp (also sans coping). The flat is only about four feet or so—you hit the wall going pretty fast and I turn the board into the corner and ride it out. I felt like I was pretty high, but it was still only about four feet, just faster.
We all need to learn to drop in, off the coping, but that’s a big undertaking for us at this point. I’ve wiped out every time I’ve ever tried dropping in—even at only three feet and have hurt myself pretty bad in the process. There’s just nothing else that will give us the speed or momentum to hit the opposing wall hard enough to reach the coping. I’d like to start doing some axle grinds and 50/50’s at some point, so Nan and I will make a concentrated effort to get the drop-in down.
I’ll give Z man a little breathing room—push him harder next spring or summer, about the same time we’ll let E start to ride as well. We met a four-year old at the park who had pretty good legs, but the kid is about to turn five in another month. So he’s 10 or 11 months older than E, even though E’s about three inches taller than him.
The leaves are beginning to gather and the cool morning air lasts longer and longer into the day. Darkness welcomes me as I awaken from my restless night’s sleep. Our days of skating are numbered and soon the snow will cover our favorite bowls and ramps. We’ll have to settle for some indoor skating when we can or appease our carving jones by going skiing or snowboarding.
I spent about an hour-and-a-half skating at the park yesterday, another hour the day before. I didn’t realize how tiring it is to carve, since you’re pumping (or trying to pump in my case) in order to get up on the wall. Z and I went down to Mason, the park’s a little smaller than Lansing, but it’s got lots of curves and isn’t quite as deep.
We were doing drop-ins from about three feet, then gliding across the flat which is about eight feet—after that you pump onto the wall, right into a tight little corner. You have to pump again when you hit the opposite wall, then aim the board back onto the flat. I kick a couple of times on the flat, pump up into the opposite corner, and do the same thing all over again. I got up to three or four feet on the first, but struggle to reach three feet on any of the subsequent corners/walls.
Just not enough speed or momentum to carry me any higher, so I dropped in on the six foot ramp (also sans coping). The flat is only about four feet or so—you hit the wall going pretty fast and I turn the board into the corner and ride it out. I felt like I was pretty high, but it was still only about four feet, just faster.
We all need to learn to drop in, off the coping, but that’s a big undertaking for us at this point. I’ve wiped out every time I’ve ever tried dropping in—even at only three feet and have hurt myself pretty bad in the process. There’s just nothing else that will give us the speed or momentum to hit the opposing wall hard enough to reach the coping. I’d like to start doing some axle grinds and 50/50’s at some point, so Nan and I will make a concentrated effort to get the drop-in down.
I’ll give Z man a little breathing room—push him harder next spring or summer, about the same time we’ll let E start to ride as well. We met a four-year old at the park who had pretty good legs, but the kid is about to turn five in another month. So he’s 10 or 11 months older than E, even though E’s about three inches taller than him.
The leaves are beginning to gather and the cool morning air lasts longer and longer into the day. Darkness welcomes me as I awaken from my restless night’s sleep. Our days of skating are numbered and soon the snow will cover our favorite bowls and ramps. We’ll have to settle for some indoor skating when we can or appease our carving jones by going skiing or snowboarding.
ixnay
The school refused to make any changes regarding the tom-tom intro the marching band does, so I informed the director that Z would no longer take part in said activity. B left a couple of messages for the director and principal and a few hours later, the principal called back to let us know that they would discontinue the “tradition” following Thursday’s performance.
I don’t know what B said to them, but I’m glad they had a change of heart. I hate confrontation or controversy, but this hit too close to home, I just wasn’t willing to compromise on this. I can ignore the Washington Redskins or the Florida State Seminoles and the rest of that because it doesn’t impact me directly—but since my son is a member of the marching band—this was something that he would have done a half dozen or so times during the football season.
His self-respect is too important to just allow this type of display. Even if the school “has been doing it for forty years.” A lot has changed in the past forty years. We used to have separate bathrooms/drinking fountains for Blacks and Whites. Blacks used to have to sit at the back of the bus. Blacks weren’t allowed to sit at the counter in restaurants. In some areas near reservations—it was legal for them to prohibit Indians from entering their establishments—“No dogs or Indians allowed.”
We weren’t allowed to practice our own religion until 1976.
This country, founded by people who were trying to escape religious persecution, didn’t give us the same right until two hundred years after its founding. Because we didn’t matter. We were viewed as being subhuman.
The insistence on their ownership of our culture, our beliefs, our history—stands as a reminder. It reminds me that in some circles, I still don’t matter. My beliefs, culture, ideals, etc . . . are not owned by me—they are held by the dominant culture in an effort to control who and what we are. Black Americans were able to take back their culture, to define for themselves who they are as a people. No more actors in black face—no more Sambo, no more “yes, massa.” At lease not overtly.
So we won a small victory the other day. Just one more battle in the on-going war for the souls of our children and our children’s children and seven generations into the future.
Chi miigwetch Chi Manidoo for the strength to persevere against impossible odds. Chi miigwetch for my life, my children, and all that is important and sacred to us. May we strive to maintain a warrior spirit for ourselves, our families and our peoples.
I don’t know what B said to them, but I’m glad they had a change of heart. I hate confrontation or controversy, but this hit too close to home, I just wasn’t willing to compromise on this. I can ignore the Washington Redskins or the Florida State Seminoles and the rest of that because it doesn’t impact me directly—but since my son is a member of the marching band—this was something that he would have done a half dozen or so times during the football season.
His self-respect is too important to just allow this type of display. Even if the school “has been doing it for forty years.” A lot has changed in the past forty years. We used to have separate bathrooms/drinking fountains for Blacks and Whites. Blacks used to have to sit at the back of the bus. Blacks weren’t allowed to sit at the counter in restaurants. In some areas near reservations—it was legal for them to prohibit Indians from entering their establishments—“No dogs or Indians allowed.”
We weren’t allowed to practice our own religion until 1976.
This country, founded by people who were trying to escape religious persecution, didn’t give us the same right until two hundred years after its founding. Because we didn’t matter. We were viewed as being subhuman.
The insistence on their ownership of our culture, our beliefs, our history—stands as a reminder. It reminds me that in some circles, I still don’t matter. My beliefs, culture, ideals, etc . . . are not owned by me—they are held by the dominant culture in an effort to control who and what we are. Black Americans were able to take back their culture, to define for themselves who they are as a people. No more actors in black face—no more Sambo, no more “yes, massa.” At lease not overtly.
So we won a small victory the other day. Just one more battle in the on-going war for the souls of our children and our children’s children and seven generations into the future.
Chi miigwetch Chi Manidoo for the strength to persevere against impossible odds. Chi miigwetch for my life, my children, and all that is important and sacred to us. May we strive to maintain a warrior spirit for ourselves, our families and our peoples.
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