CARRYING HATRED WOULD ONLY IMPRISON MYSELF

Today, forty-three years ago I was planning to get my driver license. It was Tuesday night and I couldn't wait until Thursday. It's an excitement that most of us experience. The privilege to drive makes us feel grown-up.

On Wednesday those plans were put on hold indefinitely and to this day, I have absolutely no memory of my drivers test or getting my license.

We always caught one school bus to go to school and another to return because we went to work at my parents grocery store after school.

April 9, 1970. We got off the bus and walked a block to the store. We typically walked but on this day it was far from usual. Vehicles lined both sides of the busy highway that my parents store was on. We could see that the parking lot was full of vehicles as well. As we approached, people that I don't know began to shield my twin brother and me from the horror that existed there.

I'm not even sure who told me nor how I was told that both of my parents had been shot and that my father was definitely dead and that my mother may be dead also. I do remember weeping and pounding a metal Wonder Bread sign with my fists.

A man whose name I don't remember (if I ever knew it) came to me and my brother and asked if he could take us home. On the way up Wilkes Rd we stopped a school bus which our younger brother and sister were on. They were frightened and confused. No matter how grown up our coming birthday made us feel, we were kids so I'm sure that the way we told our younger siblings (Cathy and Ricky) wasn't delivered appropriately.

The man who took us home wore glasses. As he drove to the front of our house he removed them as he took a handkerchief from his pocket. He cried as he told us that he was my father's friend and that he loved him and my mother. In my grief and confusion, I don't know if I ever saw that man again and certainly never thanked him for his sincere kindness.

This was an incredibly horrifying day for us. To add to the horror, we learned that it was our grandfather who had shot my father in the back and killed him. Then attempted to kill my mother by shooting her. He shot at my cousin, Betty Brewington as she appealed to him to stop. He then walked home, leaving his car in front of my parents store. He was arrested a short while later.

The following hours are a bit of a blur with some memories of my brother and I going to Jodi and Lisa Hiltner's house then talking to my mother as she asked us to be strong. I remember sitting in my parents big Buick listening to Loretta Lynn singing "Why Did God Take My Daddy". Mostly, I remember being confused. Really, really confused.

I think that I saw my grandfather only twice after that. Once from a distance in court and once prior to that at Dorthia Dix Hospital where he was placed for mental evaluation prior to his trial. My siblings and I went there to visit him although I am not sure why we did. I remember very well him peering through the security glass in the door before he entered the room. He was clearly troubled. He quickly learned that the visit wasn't an expression of love when my sisters rattled him with the question "Why?" He kept repeating to himself "Oh me. Oh my." He then turned to me in perhaps a solicitation of friendship or understanding. "Boy, do you want to shake your grand-daddy's hand?" I remained silent as I looked away, refusing to shake his hand.

As years went by I remember trying to hate my grandfather, Paul Brewington. Hate should have came easy since he murdered my father and attempted to murder my mother and since we were really never close to begin with.

As I've matured I've realized that while I didn't love Paul Brewington, I didn't hate him either. I just kind of divorced myself from him. I've never actually forgiven him for what he did but my ability to not harbor hatred gave me a freedom that has probably served me well over time.

I was at work when I learned that Paul Brewington had died in prison. I didn't feel any sorrow. I am pleased that I didn't feel any glee. It was sort of like reading the obituary of someone I didn't know. These probably weren't the emotions that would please God but it's the best that I could offer.

Why would a man murder his own son? How could a man murder his own son? One day, he seemed like anyone else. He owned property. He was a landlord to a lot of the people living in the community. Sometimes a bit onery but certainly not one we'd typically expect to go on a shooting spree.

I hope that sometime before I stand before God that I will be able to forgive Paul Brewington, not just for what he did to my parents but for what he did to my siblings and me, for what he did to my Grandmother, my aunts, uncles, cousins and to the man who gave my brother and me a ride home that April 9th. I hope to be able to forgive him for what he did to himself as well. I'm certain that his soul yearns for my forgiveness as he paces in pergatory chanting "Oh me. Oh my." I pray that I will be strong enough to set it free.

CELEBRATE YOURSELF THIS MLK DAY

He inspired us as a nation and a world but we were the ones that changed the world 

 

 

I've heard so many criticisms of the Martin Luther King Holiday. "It's a black holiday." "They've got their own holiday." You've heard them and you may have been one who has criticized the holiday.

 

St Patrick's Day is evidence that we don't mind celebrating culture and ethnicity even when it may be a culture or ethnic group that we aren't part of. But if you think the King Holiday is all about ethnicity you are dead wrong. The movement which led to this celebration was prompted by racial injustice but where it has led us to is far beyond race. It certainly has much to do with culture. The culture in which we participate is far better today than it once was.

 

I am certain that every one of us has benefited from the consequences of Martin Luther King's efforts. There are many things that may not have happened if not for passage of the Civil Rights Bill. At least some of my own benefits were rooted from racial injustice. I will tell you about it now.

 

When I was four or five years old my older brother would catch a school bus well before daylight. The school bus was an orange panel truck (prelude to suv). It was very early but he had a ways to go to get to school. You see, there was no high school in Cumberland County for Native Americans so he went to school at the Eastern Carolina Indian School deep into Sampson County.

 

Before going there he went to Cade Hill School for Indians. Cade Hill was a one room wooden structure on a rutted dirt road near the Cape Fear River. It had a wood stove for heat, an out-house for restroom and an outside well. I went past there just a few weeks ago to show it to my daughter but it had been torn down. Some of the brick that the structure rested on are all that remain.

 

I've heard my brother, older sisters and cousins laugh about when they would go to the movies. They would all put their hands together to determine whose skin was the lightest. The fairest pigmented person would be responsible for buying the movie tickets to prevent being told they were unwelcome in the main lobby or main auditorium. Otherwise they would have to sit in the balcony. All African-Americans were required to sit in the balcony but as Indians, it was difficult to determine where you fit in society. The place you felt welcome one day may have felt entirely different the next day.

 

As I came along things were changing fast, much of it due to Martin Luther King, Jr's movement. Laws had changed but attitudes remained stubborn. I had no problem getting into the theatre's main auditorium but my twin brother and I were watched closely when we would go the theatre alone, even being reprimanded once when we got excited when the Indians in the westen movie won a battle.

 

There were several tobacco markets near our house and in the suummer when tobbaco would come to market we would get excited because it created a lot of activity in an otherwise boring neighborhood. Trucks would line up for blocks to carry their tobacco into the market. That freshly roasted tobacco smelled mighty good inside those big hot tin buildings.

 

Some of us kids went there one day with a mission to see if we could get into the restrooms labeled "White Only". There was one right next to it labeled "Colored". We would get very close when the old sleeping guy with a tobbaco stick would hit the tin wall with the stick and we'd run like hell. He was having fun just like we were. We did get into the "White Only" restroom eventually only to realize there was no difference. It smelled the same. Piss on the floor, Poop in the unflushed toilet. No soap. No hot water and no towels. I don't know what I was expecting. Something palatial I guess.

 

My brother and I went to  a party that we were invited to in Welmar near the Bordeaux community. The moment we stepped foot into the house, the parents told everyone there that they had to leave. You would have thought we had pee'd in the punch bowl or somthing. Other teenagers weren't happy that our presence crashed the party. That can make it difficult for a young teenager to make friends. It could destroy self esteem and kindle hatred. 

 

There was the time I went to a friend's house with him to retrive something from his room. Instead of following him through the house, I waited just inside the front door. His father was watching television. I spoke to him "How are you doing sir". He grumbled something that I couldn't understand so I asked "I beg your pardon" to which he clearly replied "There's the door nigger, now hit it" as he came towards me with his pocket knife. He didn't have to tell me twice (well, actually he did). I hit the door running like George Custer should have.

 

I went to the Peddler Steak House on the night of my High School gradutation with a pretty young lady that I was fond of. We were harrassed by people that were perhaps old enough to be our parents because they could tell that she was white and I wasn't. The lady at the front desk was in an awkward position as she attempted to get them to be nice. She also had to be careful not to offend them because the color of thier skin gave them a status that I couldn't possibly have. And as far as that young white girl with me, a tan skinned Indian, she must be some kind of whore or something.

 

Those were stinging occurances that I will not forget but because of the Civil Rights Bill and more importantly because of the ethics instilled by my parents I have enjoyed a life where my opportunities were as abnundant and anyone else's with the same education and character. You see, once people were required by law to treat all people equally they eventually learned that they were much happier themselves. They learned that that I was no different than they were. I have character flaws but so did they and in many ways my good character exceeded theirs.

 

I learned that much would be better if I didn't harbor ill feelings about what happened in the past. I knew that what I acchieved in life was up to me. And the girl from graduation night; her parents didn't feel good about that relationship either. They sent her to Florida to live with family. In time we married anyway with the family's blessings. Her family has become my family because we all judge each other for "who" we are characteristically not ethinically or financially. I love them back for the same reasons.

 

Yes, Martin Luther King, Jr's work changed things for me and it changed things for others that may have seen me differently decades ago.

 

Because of his work we all benefited. Credit can not be awarded nor denied based on zip codes. Womens rights won a huge victory with passage of civil rights. Equal opportunity and equal pay still have a ways to go but have improved light years. We are a very different America and world today.  

 

It will take a few generatins to repair the damage done by over two centuries of civil injustice but we have changed so much for the better in just a few decades. We've experienced set backs and will likely experience more but we have to reach down within ourselves to resist bigotry and injustice as we embrace equality and civility.

Emma Lazarus saluted the United States' diversity, equality and our compassionate embrace of those who have been persecuted when she wrote "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free". She would have celebrated Martin Luther King's mission.

 

Martin Luther King, Jr certainly inspired much change in the United States of America which consequently inspired much of the world but this year as we celebrate him, let's celebrate ourselves for the trials we've overcome and the metaphorical chains that we've broken.

 

 

 



GOD IS IN OUR SCHOOLS

To deny this is to doubt Gods presence. It also admits your own failure as a parent. If you create an atmosphere within your home that embraces your faith that is precisely what your child will carry to school each day. Your child has every right to pray at school. No one can stop them.

We have a complicated task in the United States. One which allows me to practice whichever faith I choose or to practice no faith at all. I choose Christianity. I hope that you will too but I will respect your right as a US citizen to practice any faith you wish so long as it doesn't infringe on others rights.

A school is a place for education. Within the school are many people of different faiths. I don't want a math teacher in a public school praying for my child or teaching religion to my child. That teachers faith may totally contradict our familys faith.

If I insist that public prayer take place in public schools, then I must accept that the prayer may conflict with my beliefs.

It is the separation of church and state that protects my right to be Christian.

SO, YOU THINK YOU'RE MAD ABOUT FOOD STAMPS

If you only knew the truth

 

 

I hear so many people fussing about food stamps and their distaste for those who use them. They post on Facebook "I sure wish I had an I Phone like the lady using the food stamps." This is really just their drama about something they think their fed up with.

 

Food Stamps aren't paper stamps any longer and one would have to get pretty nosey to actually know that someone was using them in most supermarket settings. They are digital now and look like a credit card. In most settings the card swipes on the same PIN pad that you and I swipe our debit card on.

 

Nonetheless, you're pissed. You've either seen it first hand or heard about someone buying buying candy, chewing gum or other junk food with food stamps then buying lottery tickets, beer, cigarettes and other stuff with cash. You've got a right to be pissed. But you're probably pissed at the wrong person. If you knew the truth you'd be spitting bullets.

 

There have been various food stamp programs in history. Every one of them has had good purpose to some degree but even the program's purpose isn't what it's sold as. The programs have all been attached to a farm bill of some sort and has always been a program of the United States Department of Agriculture, whose mission is to promote U.S. agriculture, thus in the early days only nutritious products that were produced in the United States were eligible to be part of the program.

 

The program first began in 1939 and ended in 1943. A huge 30 million people received stamps then. As a percentage of population that would be much, much higher than the approximately 53 million recipients today. Those were some tough times back then but the great depression had ended and World War II had begun. The war depleted a lot of resources but it also created a lot of jobs, so I am not clear as to why there were so many people on food stamps then.

 

President Kennedy reintroduced the program as a pilot in 1961. That pilot ended in 1964.

 

The program again returned in the 1970s. In 1979 there were 20 million recipients.

 

The Food Stamp Program or SNAP (supplemental nutritional assistance program) has always been sold to promote U.S. Agriculture while promoting good nutrition amongst our impoverished citizens. Sounds well and good but it has gotten ugly and ugly for the wrong reasons.

 

The lady that you're bitching about didn't change the rules nor did she request changes. Big business got involved. Big business has lots of politicians in its pocket. The program turned into a money grab for big corporations. The impoverished were merely the mule to move the money from government to corporate farms, supermarket chains, food canneries, food processors, soft drink companies, confectioners and corn producers.

 

On the good side of this scenario it creates jobs. On the bad side the whole thing is a failure because it doesn't promote U.S. agriculture and it actually promotes poor nutrition as it perpetuates poverty. It doesn't have to be this way but it is.

We are all on food stamps to some degree. We may work at a place that makes money from them in some way. Our 401-K investments may be in these corporations that are essentially on welfare by making money directly or indirectly from the program. Not all bad but certainly not good.

 

There are huge numbers of food stamp recipients that should not qualify for the program. While tough measures should be taken to determine qualifying participants it is more important that we get control of the qualifying products because qualifying the wrong products helps to perpetuate poverty and poor health. It also encourages bogus personal qualification.

 

As we become angry at the mule that moves our money to the big corporations what's really happening? The program is supposed to provide supplemental nutritional assistance. What in hell is nutritional about a pack of chewing gum, a donut or the other garbage they buy with their card. Even those who attempt to purchase nutritious food by reading the facts chart on the label have a difficult time because the charts are written to deceive. A dill pickle in a pouch has 24% of our daily allowance of sodium. That's high as hell, but when we examine it carefully we learn that we are supposed to share it with 8 people. The damned thing is intended to be consumed by one person but manipulating the facts makes it appear bad not horrible. It actually has 216% of your daily allowance of sodium.

 

Much of the stuff purchased with food stamps is loaded with sugar, corn syrup and high fructose corn syrup. There are also enormous levels of sodium and carbohydrates. Do you see where this is headed? We are paying to support the worst nutrition imaginable.

 

The food we pay for will most definitely lead to poor health. Go ahead, Draw the link line from Food stamp program to Medicaid Program. Now, who do you think is going to pay for the poor health? We are.

 

Who influenced this? Do you have any idea how powerful the Corn Lobby is? Why do you think HFCS is in practically everything we eat? The corn lobby convinced our legislators that the introduction of high fructose corn syrup to our food makes it healthier. That same lobby has gotten it approved to now change the ethanol in gasoline from E-10 to E-15 even though the auto manufacturers say that it will void your warranty (I'll save that rant for another time).

 

By the year 2037, a staggering 40% of the U.S. population will be diabetic. This ain't no joke y'all. The big corporations don't care. There's a pharmaceutical corporation who will have their hand in our pockets then treating the problems that we paid to create.

 

Perhaps the lady in front of you at the market should take responsibility. I won't argue with you there but I will create a picture for you: You have a 22 year old single mother of three. Daddy is junkie most days and on a good day he doesn't hold a job. Mom didn't finish school. She's the second or third generation of single parents so her mother didn't finish school either. This family has a long history of making poor decisions. So, we load up a food stamp card with hundreds of dollars on it and expect her to begin making good decisions now? Who's the fool here?

 

This program should provide good nutritional education. It should be nearly impossible to buy anything but wholesome US produced foods that are high in protien and low in fats. Providing common sense assistance will eventually lead to a better life style, better health and a better culture.

 

The food stamp program is great for some people but it could be good for every citizen in this country if it were used properly. To do that we have to get corporations out of its mission. We, as good compassionate citizens should be pleased that the program exists but we should insist on very strict product eligibility.

 

What can we do? We can write our congressional leaders. Their phone numbers, addresses and email aren't difficult to get. Insist that he/she take a stand to make the food stamp program the really great program that it could and should be by assuring its provision of good nutrition to qualifying individuals.



THANKS TO OUR MILITARY VETERANS

 

Sunday November 11, 2012

 

 

WARRIOR

 

This is the best time of day - the dawn

The final cleansing breath unsullied yet

By acrid fume or death's cacaphony

The rank refuse of unchained ambition

But pray, deny me not but know me now

Your faithful retainer stands resolute

To serve his liege lord without recompense

Perchance to fail and perish namelessly

No flag-draped bier or muffled drum to set

The cadence of the final dressed parade

But it was not always thus-remember?

Once you worshipped me and named me a god

In many tongues and made offering lest

I exact too terrible a tribute

 

Take heed for I am weary, ancient

And decrepit now and my time grows short

There are no honorable frays to join

 

Only mean death dealt out in dibs and dabs

Or horror unleashed from across oceans

Assail me not with noble policy

For I care not at all for platitude

And surrender such tedious detail

To greater minds than mine and nimbler tongues

Singular in their purpose and resolve

And presuming to speak for every man

 

Oh, for another time, a distant field

And there's a mortal warriors lonely grave

But duty charges me remain until

The end of last battle of the last war

Until that 'morrow render unto me

That which is mine, my stipend well deserved

The fairest flower of your progeny

Your sons, your daughters, your hopes and your dreams

The cruel consequence of your deceit

 

Steve Earl                            



 

 

 

 

 



IT FEELS LIKE CHRISTMAS EVE

November 5, 2012 7:00pm


On Election Eve, if has a Christmas Eve kind of feel. We've spent so much time discussing it, fighting about it, convincing others and following the polls... Is there anyone that I've overlooked? What will be under my tree when I wake up on Wednesday? I know I'm getting a bicycle but will it be the one I wanted. I like the bike I have but and would like some new accessories for it but if if I get the new one I will suck it up and act happy, Either way, I plan to celebrate this holiday.


I GOT THE BIKE I WANTED

November 7, 2012 6:00am

I woke up with tears of joy! I ran through the house dancing and shouting until the tears ran down my leg. At my age I should be careful how I celebrate.


YOUR GUY WON

November 7, 2012

I had one of my Facebook friends that I debate politics with send me the message: "Your guy won. Congratulations." It feels good to have friends like Julie, who doesn't take this stuff so personal.

CONGRATULATIONS

November 6, 2012 8pm

 Pat McCrory has apparently won the governors race. This comes as little surprise. He has maintained double digit lead in the polls since day one. He ran a very friendly campaign for most parts. I liked that. I hope that he governs with that same tone.

Walter Daltonn never stood a chance. He is to be commended for taking it on. I think he is a very qualified man that had to step up at the last minute as challenger in a race that was already over.

I watched these two men debate. I'm satisfied that both are qualified. While Mr Dalton was my choice I am prepared to call Mr McCrory Governor.