Round and Round We Go...

                                                                                                                

One of my good friends (Hey Rebecca!) sent me an article this morning about the George Floyd murder case. In this article, Civil Attorney Benjamin Crump was talking about how the State of Minnesota needs to charge Officer Derek Chauvin, the officer accused of murdering George Floyd, with First Degree Murder. Dude...are you serious??? Why is HE the spokesperson for ALL of these cases? You mean to tell me he's licensed in ALL of these states? In my opinion, since he’s a civil lawyer, he definitely shouldn’t be commenting on criminal matters. It simply confuses the two sectors, which leads to a lot of misinformation out there. WE NEED STRAIGHT FACTS...NOT OPINIONS...NOT SPECULATION! There's NO OTHER brilliant black lawyer that can take on these cases? He irritates my spirit like Jesse Jackson Sr. Even if the two men knew each other (from working at a restaurant/nightclub), you still have to prove that Officer Chauvin planned it. This is EXTREMELY difficult to do. He would most likely be acquitted; just like George Zimmerman, the cop that killed Mike Brown in Ferguson, MO, etc. At most, the charge should be 2nd Degree Murder. A relatively competent lawyer would argue that yes, Chavin killed George Floyd, but he didn't plan on doing it. I think he's a piece of shit, but you can't prove it. 3rd Degree or Manslaughter is the right charge. It's fucked up, but they need to make an example out of him. It's 2nd degree at the most; but you could argue that yes, he killed him, but he didn't plan it. I think he's a piece of shit, but you can't prove it. 3rd Degree or Manslaughter is the right charge, right now.

We as the people have to have a structured plan to make LASTING change. They things that we constantly do to solve the situations are obviously not enough. It’s like putting a band-aid on a gun wound. The entire situation is fucked up, but they need to make an example out of him. We would go for that charge, then Floyd's family should go after him and the police department because he has a history of this type of behavior. Then the people need to get legislators in office that will change laws; commit this shit again, and you're gonna be fired, we're gonna take these settlements out of your pension and jail time is mandatory. Hold these clowns accountable; if they knew they were facing jail time and losing that pension, I promise some shit will change.

People are rioting because they feel like they have no choice and this is the only way they can make their voices heard. But with rioting, you look like the criminal; you have to keep the focus on the police officer. It's easy to blame the public when they're stealing furniture on live TV like they were last night. I understand where they are coming from, but you have to get gutter like the system. You have to know the system so that it can be changed. That's why I said whatever protests they do have to be strategized. If there's no plan, this shit will happen again. I'm not saying lay down and take this shit either; I don't agree with the non-violence approach, but you have to be strategic.

Every time this happens, I think about law school; my brother Gary and I talk about it all the time. I think we'd be dope as hell at it...but that time and price tag...nope. LOL. All these businesses that support the police unions and businesses that treat people like shit. Boycott them and support a black business instead. See...money is green and it talks to EVERYONE, regardless of race. If they miss that, they'll do what it takes to keep you. I've been doing this for the past 3-4 years and I haven't missed a beat. You have to make them respect you as a person and they have to know without a shadow of a doubt that you will walk if they don't treat you right. Which is a shame; you should treat folks with respect regardless of skin color, religion, etc. Even then, it’s not enough. Some people just don’t care. One day, people will learn to get up from the table and create their own.

I used to say shit like “We aren't our ancestors,” and my dad was replied one-time “Daughter, that shit is so disrespectful.” He said that our ancestors were beaten, killed, spit on, and they organized. They took action and saw it through. He was like y'all just complain on social media. Y'all are reaping the benefits of the shit that they went through to get to this point. So yes, you aren't your ancestors. They were bout it… The non-violent aspect is what's publicized because if we knew how people did fight and strategized...we would get riled up and take action. That's why we don't hear about the HUNDREDS of slave rebellions that happened. We only hear about two: Nat Turner and Denmark Vesey. We need to learn from our past and make changes...or history will repeat itself...again and again...

• Amadou Diallo
• Eric Garner
• Sean Bell
• Oscar Grant
• Mike Brown
• Rekia Boyd
• Aiyana Jones
• Sandra Bland
• John Crawford III
• Tamir Rice
• Breonna Taylor
• and so many more...

For All We Know…

There’s a saying that there’s no rest for the weary; and I truly felt the weight of the world on my shoulders for a little over a month. After my father’s burial on April 17^th, my brothers and I hosted a small get-together for his mother, brothers and sisters as a thank you for being there for us during this time. Towards the end of the night, my uncle Verzell asked me when was the last time I got some sleep; I told him that I truly haven’t had any sleep in weeks, but I felt like I was gonna finally be able to get some. I slept damn near the entire day away. I took some calls from friends and family, then I went right back to sleep. I woke up that next day; but it wasn’t a restful slumber; I woke up feeling guilty. Guilty that I was still here and my father wasn’t. My post may go all over the place, and it’s long (sorry), but there is a point to it (I hope).

My pops was my champion. He wasn’t a perfect guy, but I truly believe that he was chosen to be my father for a reason. I felt like I understood him and he understood me. The one thing that he did that drove us crazy was that he talked to EVERYONE. He was a true extrovert. We could literally be in the airport and he would strike up a conversation with everyone; from the TSA to the pilot to the custodian. He was the smartest man I knew. He could give the history and context behind just about any subject; talking to him was like hearing a lecture from that super cool professor that you had in college. I've actually had him come to my classes and games I coached and he would speak to my kids to encourage them; he would tell them that they were his grandkids. We shared a love of sports, movies, music and books. The last thing that he gave me was a book about Sidney Poitier; I asked why did he give this to me and he replied, “You’re trying to do your thing as a screenwriter; what better person to learn from? He’s a legend in the industry! Get you some old school knowledge; none of this shit is new, so you need to learn from the people who went through it first.” He ALWAYS encouraged us; my brothers and I were raised to believe that we could achieve anything that we set out to do. 

The last part of my father’s life journey started on March 6th. He fell out and hit his head while at work and was rushed to the hospital by ambulance. I got a text message from my cousin and left immediately after I got off work. I was scared, but optimistic – we’d already been through this before (my pops had some strokes before) – and I felt in my heart that he’d be fine. My brother Dean and I got to the hospital and besides limited mobility on his right side and some slurred speech, he seemed fine. He was so happy to see me and Dean. We tried to keep him laughing to take his mind off of what was going on. They eventually airlifted him to Northwestern for treatment. I stayed with him until the helicopter got there. I saw the helicopter when it lifted off with him and I cried in the parking lot. I met Dean there and we both waited for our youngest brother Gary to get off the road from a track meet. They did surgery that night, removing the rest of the blood clot from his brain; once he was out of recovery and in his room, we all went home. That was the beginning of Team No Sleep.

His recovery in Northwestern was uneventful. I would go to work and made sure that I left on time so that I could get to the hospital (those that know me know that I’ll stay at work until about 5:30pm everyday to get work done). I tried to make sure that I came everyday. I felt that my dad’s recovery would be smoother if he had visitors to keep him company. I only missed 2 days; I went to a basketball game that I already bought tickets for and one day I had a dental appointment and I was just tired. I never slept; never missed a day at work – I just kept pushing. My father’s recovery was obsessively on my mind. I constantly did research on what therapy could be done. I constantly spoke to family, updating them on his progress. I handled his financial affairs; spoke to doctors, just to let them know that he was somebody and we didn’t want subpar treatment. I brought him books to read and made sure to keep him updated on his beloved Thornton Wildcats basketball team (his alma mater). He was in good spirits and seemed to make enough progress to be sent to rehab. He actually wanted to go to the Shirley Ryan Lab, which wasn’t too far from the hospital. We preferred the Ingalls Rehab because it was closer to everyone and people wouldn’t have to pay for parking. My homeroom knew he was sick and they prayed for him (my kids rock, BTW).

The day (March 13) he was transferred to Ingalls Rehab was the day that we started hearing more rumblings about COVID-19. People were buying up all the toilet paper and paper towels like crazy. The rehab facility told my brother what was needed and I agreed to go pick those things up. After leaving the store, I got to visit my Pops at Ingalls. He was alert and cracking jokes and eating food. He looked fine; his only request was that I bring him some snacks when I came to visit him the next day. When I left, I told him that I’ll see him tomorrow; he replied “Daughter, I love you. Enjoy yourself.” I got a little bit of sleep that night. I thought everything was all good.

Around 8:30am that next morning, I got a call from the hospital. I was told that they found my father non-responsive and that I needed to get there right away. I swear I drove damn near 100 mph to make it to the hospital. After I walked in, my aunt told me that it most likely wasn’t looking good and I immediately tuned her out; Dad didn’t allow negative talking or thinking. One of his sayings was “Nothing beats a failure but a try.” I went to see him and in my eyes, he just seemed delirious; people were calling his name, but he wasn’t responding. I was calling him; I grabbed his hand but when he looked at me, it was like he never met me before; he didn’t recognize me - his oldest child. That hurt my soul. To see someone who was so cerebral and intentional in his thinking; so charismatic and intelligent that has lost his power to just be.  Knowing that he may not know what's going on is scary and excruciatingly painful. I eventually had to leave out because I just couldn't take it; my dad didn't know me. 

I told myself that his brain just needs sometime to heal; it’ll recover. If anyone can recover, it’s him. Eventually after running various tests, it was determined that he had another stroke, and this one was was massive enough to where he had no brain function on the left side and very little on the right. The doctors spoke to us and told us that there was very little that they could do; would we be interested in signing a DNR order? This alarmed us; he was reacting to stimuli; just not voices, and all bodily functions were operating well without any assistance. He didn't need any machines to help him, except a catheter. I remember having the conversation with my brothers and we decided: if it were one of us, Dad would exhaust EVERY option to save us. From that point on, we were going to do the same. At the same time, I felt so stuck:  I'm used to being a fixer, and the worst feeling for a fixer is not being able to fix the problem. This was completely out of my realm and it hurt. 

That Monday, the hospital shut down to having visitors because of COVID-19. Not being able to see him was the worst. I remember thinking, what if he comes out of this and no one is there that

he knows? More importantly, HOW ARE THEY TREATING HIM? You don’t know and that’s the worst part. The hospital called multiple times a day and tried to persuade us to give permission for a DNR order; we declined every time. It got so bad; one doctor explained to me that they weren’t under obligation to treat him because they would be doing harm to him; his quality of life is non-existent. I walked in a few days later to hear that same doctor yelling at my mom for not giving permission for a DNR. She was beyond exhausted and stressed to the limit as well. She gave me the phone to speak to him and needless to say, after we were done speaking, he never called us again. My grandmother spoke to a chaplain and that chaplain asked her what was the point of keeping him alive? (WTF?) From that point on, our family had one objective – to get him out of Ingalls asap. From March 14 – April 2; he was there with no one to see him. They made an exception for my mom the day he had surgery to insert a feeding tube through his stomach. We also found out that he had bedsores; Ingalls just let him lay there. They did the absolute bare minimum. I think about the pain that he felt and that we weren’t there to advocate for him. We didn’t even know he had bedsores until he was moved to the long-term care facility. I had to check the hell out of a nurse there on his first day. (There's a lot more to this; I just don't have the energy to go through it.)

I was so happy that he was out of Ingalls; hell, I know my entire family was glad. My mom and my Grandmother went to see him at the long-term care facility. Due to COVID-19, you can’t go into the building to visit; you have to call when you get there so they can open the blinds and you can see the patient that way. They called his name and knocked on the window; he turned his head towards them. That gave us the hope that we wanted...the hope that we needed. I started making arrangements to get his room together – putting in a radio so he could listen to his favorite tunes, a digital photo album so he could see his family when we weren’t there. Gary said that him being in the nursing home was probably the best thing; it would give him a chance to recover in peace; I agreed. The last time I saw my father alive was Sunday, April 5^th. I went over to the nursing home and got to see him through the window. He looked the same, except he needed a haircut. I knocked on the window and waved to him. He looked at me and his eyes grew big - he seemed to recognize me. All I could do was smile; I was so excited because he looked so much better than he did when he was in Ingalls. I told him that I loved him and I saw his eyes move; it was like he was trying to speak to me but he couldn’t. I made plans to come back as soon as possible so I could see him again. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen; around 5:30am on Wednesday, April 8^th, he was rushed to the hospital because he was having trouble breathing.  They immediately diagnosed him with COVID-19; he passed away later that afternoon. I know that death doesn't discriminate...but I know my dad deserved better.

It’s a hard pill to swallow and honestly, I still don’t know how to deal with it - but I'm trying so hard just to make it through each day without breaking down.  I’ve lost family and friends before and I went through the grieving process; but this is something entirely different.  I don’t make major life decisions without speaking to my Dad first. Whenever I make a decision, I try to weigh all the options like he taught me; I find myself weighing the different options regarding him: What did I miss? Why didn’t I catch that second stroke? Should I have had him placed in my house to recover and had home care instead of having him placed in the nursing home? Should we have kept him up north for rehab instead of having him come out south to Ingalls? What was my dad thinking in those last few days? He was alone, and I hope he knows it was because we couldn't be there, not because we didn't want to. Was it truly humane to keep him alive even though he was diagnosed as having little to no brain function? I don’t know the answers to these questions and honestly, I lose sleep everyday because I try to answer them. But I know that I’ll never know the answer. What I take solace in is that before he had the strokes, he was doing things that he enjoyed; he got to see the Thornton Wildcats Basketball team win a playoff game – he got to see a lot of his high school buddies that night (maybe that was his way of saying goodbye to some people). I brought him some food (Dad was a foodie) that I cooked and he called me later to give me a compliment (and some pointers). He was in good spirits the last time that I saw him before the second stroke, and he looked as if he knew me the last time I saw him alive. I just want him to know that I loved him dearly, and I hope that I made him proud, because I was truly proud to call him Dad.

Dean Alyn James I
May 10, 1957 - April 8, 2020
#enjoyyourself

Playlist:  "For All We Know" - Donnie Hathaway

Generational Curses: What Becomes of the Broken Hearted

I haven’t blogged in YEARS...it has truly a while and I did miss it. But as usual, life gets in the way. I hope not to take such a huge break anymore. This topic really touched my heart and I have to get it out of my head. Tonight.

Mental health has a huge stigma. It’s not cool to be depressed or crazy. It’s so taboo and `i think it’s a huge disservice for people that are out here suffering. They can’t get the help they need because of the negative stigma. So...let’s get started. Let me start off by saying that this is my experience and my experience only. In other words, these are the thoughts of Shondra and Shondra alone…

My family has a history of mental illness; on my mom’s side and I think on my dad’s side too. My maternal grandmother suffered from schizophrenia and manic depression. I have a few uncles that are schizophrenic as well. On my dad’s side, I had a cousin that committed suicide. It was something that wasn’t ever really discussed. In my opinion their illnesses were/are seen as an inconvenience. I remember when my brothers and cousins were younger how we used to laugh when we would see my grandmother talking to herself. We used to do it all the time. I remember talking to her and listening to how she grew up in the 1940s. She was fixated on collecting watches and drinking Pepsi. She taught me how to knit and crochet. She drifted in and out of episodes but the one thing that I loved was her off-kilter sense of humor. We watched old movies and ate sweets...I got to see her as a person and not her illness. I didn’t know how much it affected me until I saw one of my cousins making fun of her. I threatened her so fast, my only instinct was to protect my grandmother, to give her the dignity and respect that she deserved.

I don’t remember much about my cousin’s suicide. I heard that he hung himself and he was depressed. All of my memories of him were positive. He was always smiling, cracking jokes and just an all-around positive guy. Not much else was said afterwards.

I think that not seeing the human side of mental illness makes it so scary.

A person just doesn’t know if they are depressed. You can’t diagnose yourself. But when you have a family history of mental illness, “crazy” isn’t something that you want to be. You tend to overthink everything. Is talking to yourself really talking to yourself? Are you seeing shit that isn’t really there? It’s rough trying to keep everything in perspective. To open yourself up to talk to someone is hard too. Trusting your thoughts with someone is personal...hell, it’s damn near intimate and sharing the your thoughts leaves you open. To criticism, to help, or possibly to nothing at all. And it’s scary. So most times, you’d rather say nothing at all.

I never thought I could be depressed. I think that people focus so much on the outside that no one thinks to focus on what’s going on inside. All my life, I’ve been encouraged to “do the right things”. Go to school, get good grades, get the degree, don’t make any babies, get the good job, etc. I’ve done all that...and then some. And I still wasn’t happy. I would ask myself all the time. What do you need to be happy? And why wasn’t I happy when I’ve done everything to be happy? I can only imagine what someone is clinically depressed is going through. As hard as you try, you can’t pray that shit away, and to tell someone to do that is fucking ridiculous.

Lately, I’ve seen that a few celebrities have committed suicide. People say it’s the easy way out and to say that limits their experience. I don’t think suicide is the easy way out. I think it may be the hardest thing someone could ever do. To be in so much pain that the only thing that you can do is to leave this earth...it’s hard. I know because I thought about it myself. I don’t know why I did. But I DO understand. I learned that nothing on this earth can matter if your soul isn’t at peace. Money, cars houses...nothing will ever matter because it’s not enough. It will never be enough. Unless you get help. I’ve made the conscious decision not to judge.

I thought about getting help, but I’m not ready. My moods just pass through. It was really bad when I got sick with kidney stones and then diabetes. I didn’t care. I was in denial, and now I’m at the point where I want to live and be happy. It’s a hard journey and I’m not advocating what I’ve done for anyone else to do. That’s your personal journey. I can only talk about mine. I’m just thankful that I DO have something to live for, because for a while, I didn’t think I did. Today, it’s my nieces, Morgan and Mackenzie. I love those little girls as if they were my own. I see their joy in living and I appreciate it so much. I get to see them explore new things and discover the world and it makes me so happy just to be a part of their lives. I feel have to stay around just so I can make sure they’re doing well. I want them to be the carefree girls who epitomize black girl magic and can be whatever they want to be. They have so much spirit – I swear it’s contagious. I love them so much and I can’t imagine my life without them. I want to live because I feel...no...I believe that I can’t lose. I have something to fight for, so many things to accomplish and I can’t leave just yet.

Again, I can’t speak for everyone else – you have to do what’s best for you. But what I want you to know is that your journey is your journey. Everybody is different and what works for one person may not work for another. If you need help, please get it, and if anyone tries to make you feel bad or ashamed about how you feel, please show them the nearest exit out of your life. You have a right to be...to exist...to live. I can’t tell you it will get better. But finding someone that is trained to help you can possibly put you in the right position. Be kind to people because you never know what internal battles they are facing. Peace. I wish you the best.

Ok...I know that I haven't written in months.  School has been thoroughly kicking my butt...LOL!  I finished student teaching and I'm now in the last semester before I graduate with my Masters in Elementary Education.  I'm especially proud because I went into this with a specific goal and I'm SOOOOO close to achieving it. 

That being said...once I'm done, I'll have the time to really focus posting here and re-designing the entire blog.  I have a lot of topics that I'll cover too.  So, stay tuned...

10 Things I Need to Get Off My Chest...

These prices are coming soon to a gas station near you!

Well, well, well...it's been awhile!  I need to vent for a minute...Here goes!

1.  It's apparent that a lot of people in the USA never paid attention to their Civics & Government classes.  When a person is is born to a American citizen, even if that American Citizen is in another country at the time of the infant's birth...guess what?  That child is an American citizen.  My point?  Get off Barack Obama...his mother was an American citizen...his mom could've given birth to him on the moon...and he'd still be...AN AMERICAN CITIZEN!  So find something else to occupy your time.

2.  In the news, there's been coverage about a serial killer in New York City.  I guess my question is why are you divulging all of the information on the news?  Doesn't that give the serial killer a heads-up as to what law enforcement is about to do next? Which defeats the purpose of trying to catch a criminal...They'll never catch him/her at this rate...

3.  I miss college basketball...March Madness was awesome this year.  NBA Basketball just doesn't move me like that anymore.

4.  We need more new shows that are scripted...and get rid of some of this "reality TV".  Let put some of those hard working writers, producers and crew back to work.

5.  Back to Obama.  This may be wrong, but I want him to POP OFF so hard on these Republicans...and then lean back and say in his calm voice, "Cause I'm the MuthaF-ckin President!" He gets the job done, but I don't think I've ever seen this much drama between the President and Congress.

6.  Parents...take a sincere interest in your kids' education.  That's all I have the strength to go into today.

7.  I'm about to be a size 8 by the end of the summer because I'm about to buy a bike because the gas is too damn high!

8.  Back to the Republicans: You clown BHO because of his ideas...but what are you bringing to the table.  Your goal is to make the country better, not grandstanding.  Democrats...I've got something for you too.  Get a some damn balls!

9.  We're all grown here.  Stop making stupid excuses.  You are responsible for you.  It's called accountability.

10.  Conversate is not a word (it's converse).  Orientated isn't a word either (it's oriented).  Stop using them so you'll sound more educated.

Feel free to add to the list! That's all...carry on!   ;)