Tuesday, February 14, 2023

Godiva Chocolates

Godiva Chocolates makes something like eighty percent of their sales around valentines day.

I used to know someone.  Everyone thought she was almost always happy and always laughing.  That wasn't real, though.  Her smile was very convincing, but she was almost always unhappy, afraid, and worried about her future.  Not everyone knew what was going on inside her, but she trusted me.  Her smile meant more than gold to me, when I could get it.

Every few weeks, I would overnight a small box of assorted Godiva white chocolates to Memphis because Godiva White Chocolates were sometimes the only thing that made her feel better, even though it never lasted.  

Love doesn't always bring happiness.  I tried with all my strength to lift the darkness that surrounded her life, but all I could manage was an hour or two of sunlight.  Sometimes a few days, then the darkness always came back.  I failed.  Eventually, the darkness became all she had in life.  I shouldn't feel responsible for not fixing that, but I do.  I always will.  Knowing I wasn't responsible doesn't take the ache away. I was the owl man.

"Will chocolate make it better? Just for today?"

"What kind?"

"What kind do you like?"

"You know what kind I like," She said.

"Sleep now.  When you wake up tomorrow, a man will bring you chocolates.  I love you--you know."  

"I know you do."  She said.

"I wish it helped more.  I wish something would help more."

"I know you do." She said.

"My love can't make you well, but maybe it'll make you smile for a day.  I'll keep trying."

"I know you will."  She said.

I didn't keep trying, though.  In time, I gave up on her too.  Sometimes, loving someone that sad can pull the life out of you.  When I look back on it, she was probably pushing me away.  She knew that she was so sad herself that she could never love me back, and in her own way, she didn't want to see me hurt too.  

She smiled and ate her chocolates, and I kissed her head and held her hand.  My love couldn't make her well, but it could make her smile.  I'll take what I can get.

Lost Love

Sometimes, when we have a bad breakup, we feel like we were never loved at all.  Because something wasn't ever-lasting, we tend to believe there was something false or defective about it in the first place.  Maybe it was never real at all.  That's an illusion, though.  A false assumption.

No matter how it ended, there were still nights of flaming passion.  There were still mornings when you saw her eyes before you saw the sun.  There were still days when you went to work, and all she really wanted in the world was for you to have a good day.  There were still days so bad when the only thing in the world that would make you feel better was her voice.  None of those things were false; they just weren't permanent.  Being locked in a moment of time doesn't make things any less real.  In some ways, it makes them so much more real.  

Where I am now, every day I see people coming to visit the person they've loved for the past sixty years and spend time while their lover forgets who they are.   Their love lasts, but their names are forgotten.  Some come to hold hands with the woman who bore them three children while she struggles to breathe, knowing her last day won't be long.

God injected us into the fabric of eternity.  The love of a thousand years lasts but the briefest moment.  It's not your failure when things end because all things end; you will too.  In the span of eternity, a moment is an hour is a decade, is a century, is a millennium.  The love of just one moment lasts beyond the life of our sun; neither will last--in time.  


Monday, February 13, 2023

Fountainhead

This morning, I had a breakfast meeting with John Maxwell.  John has some interesting projects in mind; hopefully, I'll be able to report more there soon.  He has an interest in allowing Millsaps to archive his manuscripts at our Library.  I'm trying to work with our Library to facilitate that.  Besides working to install a new president, Millsaps is also working to install a new librarian, so nothing happens quickly.  He also has at least two new plays in the works.

I learned Sunday that Galloway is interested in reviving its drama ministry.  John's a member at Galloway and certainly could be a valuable resource there.  After hearing this, I went and eyeballed the space and some of the equipment myself.  The good news is that the lighting equipment is in pretty good shape; the bad news is nobody uses those kinds of lights anymore.  I'm not even sure we can get lamps for some of the fixtures.  Whatever happens, we'll figure it out.  Hopefully more to report on that soon.

Since I mostly use Ubers, I arranged to arrive early, and I'm really glad I did because I got to spend about twenty minutes with one of my favorite people in the world, Bob Adams.  A Millsaps 1959 alumni, Bob is one of Mississippi's most significant architects, particularly with regard to anything involving the restoration and rehabilitation of historic and architecturally significant structures in Mississippi. 

Besides Millsaps, I mostly know Bob from my years with the Jackson Zoo.  We both took turns on the JZP Board and the Friends of the Jackson Zoo Board.  As an architect, Bob is responsible for the Annie Laurie Herin Education Center, the Elephant House Cafe, and the Discovery Children's Zoo.  As a board member, Bob was responsible for the African Rainforest and Savanah Exhibits and many others.  Like myself, Bob also had the experience of dressing as Santa and riding Marre the African Elephant into Christmas At The Zoo to greet the visitors.  

In Jackson, Bob is known for adopting and renovating historically and architecturally significant buildings.  For me, calling a structure "architecturally significant" is a pretty high bar.  Architecture is important to me.  One of Bob's purchases is the Grayhound Bus station on Lamar Street.  The Bus Staton is done in the Art Deco Streamline style, which is very rare in Mississippi.  It represents some of the most interesting uses of architectural glass I've ever seen.  For many years, this building served as Bob's office; I'm happy to report that it has been purchased by a gentleman who intends to make a restaurant out of it.  That's actually very interesting because the Lunch Counter inside this bus station has a very significant role in America's Civil Rights history.  I don't think I can say who bought it yet, but he's one of Mississippi's best chefs, and I've eaten with him before.

Like myself, Bob has physical balance issues these days, so he has moved to a new home, leaving his old home for sale.  Saying Bob's old home is for sale is a big deal because Bob's old home is Fountainhead, one of the most important houses, not only in Mississippi but in the South East.  Designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and built in 1950, Bob purchased Fountainhead in 1979 and spent several years restoring it to Wright's original vision.  

There will be no open viewing for Fountainhead.  If you are genuinely interested in this property, your agent can arrange a viewing.  The last time Bob had an open house for Fountainhead, over six hundred people came.   The Zillow listing is here:  It shows as off-market, but that's incorrect.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/306-Glenway-Dr-Jackson-MS-39216/3031559_zpid/

Again, I cannot express what a big deal this is.  Hopefully, some young family will fall in love with the house and continue the tradition of keeping it as well as Bob did.

As much as I enjoyed seeing Bob, we did discuss something pretty painful for both of us.  Conservatively, I've invested a few thousand hours at the Jackson Zoo, Bob, maybe three or four times that.  In the next ten to fifteen years, Jackson will have to make the painful decision to pull the plug on the Jackson Zoo.  Without a deeply serious re-investment in West Jackson, I don't see how it can be avoided.  There's a group now trying to do for West Jackson what the residents of Fondren did.  Unless they are successful, I don't see any other fate for my beloved Jackson Zoo.  I don't think I'm adequately expressing how difficult this is for me, but the fate of the animal collection comes first, and unless we can seriously change the course of progress here, I don't see any other way.

Life gives, and life takes away.  Having to have conversations about the Zoo are painful, but I got to spend time with two of my most favorite people in Mississippi, John Maxwell and Bob Adams.  I also got to spend a minute or two with Joel Howell, who is one of the people responsible for creating the new Millsaps Theater space.

There's a really cool article about Bob on the MBench Website.  It doesn't include a byline (which it SHOULD) but I think I recognize the style.  I'll ask her.  By the way, Bob asked if I knew the whereabouts of Barbara Barrett, who was the director of the Zoo most of the years when we were active, and I had to say I didn't know.  If you do, please let me or Bob know.  I want Barbara to run for Governor or something.  She's that capable.  

https://www.mbench.org/s/1438/18bp/interior.aspx?pgid=504&gid=1&cid=895



Saturday, February 11, 2023

Words For Race

The preferred word to describe people of African descent has changed several times since I was born.  How we, as a culture, perceive and treat people of African descent has changed several times since I was born.  I was blessed to live in interesting times.

Currently, I mostly use the term African to describe people of the African Diaspora.  For one thing, it's the most accurate.  My genes are from Scotland.  I am Scottish.  Their genes are from Africa.  They are African.  To be entirely honest, I'd much rather break it down to what part of Africa they come from, but for people living in the US, what goes on inside the great continent of Africa is a complete mystery.  Were they asked to name countries or cities in Africa, they'd be at a loss.  I'll be completely honest with you, most of what I know about Africa started with my interest in Tarzan, a character created by a man who had never been to Africa himself.  I've informed myself since then, but that's how it started.

Using the word "African" also describes the elephant in the room itself, the place called Africa, ironically also where elephants come from.  The idea of colonization and colonizing that created these bad ideas and bad feelings about race that we live with began with colonization, and no place on earth was more poorly treated and received less in return than Africa.  The cradle of mankind has not been treated too kindly by the people who migrated out of there.

What might currently be the preferred term for people who are African is "Black."  While historically often used, it came into preference in the seventies and probably became a favorite from the use of the phrase "Black Power," which spoke to the ideas of upward social movement, self-determination, and solidarity that were popular then.  A short and square word, Black ends with an aggressive K sound.  I get why it's liked.

My problem with Black is that it was originally used to exaggerate the otherness of African people and suggest that they are somehow the opposite of Europeans, who were described as "White."  We are good; they are bad.  We are enlightened; they are in the dark.  We are civilized; they are slaves.  We are men; you are animals.  All of these ideas were real and common for a very long time.  I genuinely dislike the use of "White" as well.  Leave white to the White Walkers.  It also squashes all the cultural and ethnic, and genetic diversity of Europe into one big pot.  I don't like being lumped together with the English, much less the Finns, the French, or the Flemish.

Both of my preferred words to describe Africans are no longer in favor.  They're no longer in favor because they were used so long to condescend, and there came a time when African people began to demand we stop condescending to them.  Besides all the crap we were already doing to them, that became an insult.  I get that.

For me, "Negro" is a beautiful word.  For one thing, its origin is probably French or Spanish or both.  It has a musical shape and sound to it, like a viola.  "Which wine would you like, Madam?"  "What is your best bottle of Negro, Garcon?"  Besides being condescending, Negro fell out of favor because it degrades into something horrible.  First "Negro", then "Neegra," then, you-know-what is next.  

Some writers type it easily.  I do not.  Even when my fingers are making words spoken by a character or relaying what someone I actually saw actually said, it's uncomfortable.  If I'm honest, it's not because I'm enlightened or nice or anything admirable.  My grandmother taught me to never use that word because it made me sound ignorant, and she said it with a face that made it seem so much worse than just ignorant.  Evelyn Flowers was most of the time as gentile as a flower, but she could be as harsh and aggressive and unmoving as a lion on some things, and me being "ignorant" was one of the things.

Colored is my favorite.  Who wouldn't want to be colored?  If your choice was to have color or to have none, you'd choose color.  "Colored lady" or "Colored gentleman," or even "Colored baby" are some of my favorite phrases.  They express a friendliness, both on the parts of the speaker and of the person they are describing.  If you're white and from the South, and I use the phrase "colored lady" it's most likely going to invoke memories of someone who loved you and was kind to you.  

The system of having African "aunties" or maids in white families was itself problematic, as described by Kathryn Stockett was very real, but she also did a great job of describing the sometimes cruel problems that came from it.  "Colored" is archaic, and it's problematic, so even though it's my favorite term, I really only use it when I'm making a point, or speaking for a character.

Ultimately, white men like me do not make this decision, and that's the way it should be.  I may be made of words, but these are real people with real lives, and I respect that.  The preferred word will probably change again in time, but "African" will always be accurate.  

Don't call me white, though; I am a Highlander.


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