Friends and Overgrown Children Who Don’t Know How to be Civil

I was in her apartment. It was a two bedroom, one bath, concrete hovel. It was navy housing. The war was going on and I loved to smoke pot and listen to Cat Stevens. I was in the company, of a stranger, strange neighbor.

She shared with me that her parents were in the KKK. She was so proud, of her father in his robes, when she would attend rallies with them. She told me about the philosophies, of the KKK. They wanted to keep the white race white.

She boasted that her boyfriend, of the time, was a leader, during the 1964 St. Augustine Rallies. She claimed they fed a black man, to the hogs. She laughed.

I was silent. I loved Cat Stevens. I was twelve.

I went to visit a relative, who worked in the Georgia education system. She was so proud of her job. She told me how stupid the black children were. They just had to deal with them, but it was so difficult and a waste a time. My backbone straightened and I came down upon her with an intellectual vengeance. I showed her who was stupid.

I walked out, went home and rarely ever visited again. I was 36..

I had a friend that I admired. She was an artist and a middle school teacher. I went to her class, to see the students work. She let me know, which work, was from black children. She said they had zero creativity.

I could no longer be her friend. I was 40

I was close to an older woman, who told me her Daddy owned nigger town. She made the claim, that black people could only go so far in education. They couldn’t cut it. They would quit and give up. And she abhorred Venus Williams. She believed that Venus had destroyed women’s tennis. She was a highly respected and affluent member, of the Jacksonville community.

I stayed by her side, until her death. I was continually shocked at her class consciousness and racism. I am in my sixties.

I still like Cat Stevens

Racism, friends and family, and overgrown children who don’t know how to be civil.

Yes, for God’s sake, don’t ever speak up. Don’t loose it. Hold it inside. Sing a song. Look the other way. Take it on the chin. Pull yourselves up by the bootstraps. Dodge the bullet. Don’t throw water on the burning cross, that would be too uncivil.

Am I Civil – sometimes.

Am I Confused – hell no!

Courthouse Conundrum

I saw a post on Facebook, concerning a protest. It was a rally, planned for today, to solicit, once again, the removal of a Confederate soldier from it’s high perch, in Hemming Park. It’s centered in, the ever angry and racist city, of Jacksonville, Florida. My hometown.

It’s a city, with a large black population. People who were brought here from Senegal, Africa, to be slaves. They are mostly all hemm-ed up, in a part of town, the North West Quadrant.

If you didn’t intentionally, or accidentally drive through there, you would never know it existed. – It’s shocking.

Last year, the muses inspired me, to go down there and do some photography. It never happened.

I had planned to attend the rally today. However, things changed. The Confederate soldier was removed, from the park. Now that some time has passed, I suspect, to keep it safe, for a future re-positioning. But let’s hope not. Maybe, it will be put in a museum.

Today, the rally is going to be in front of the Jax Courthouse. They are protesting police violence.

My still small voice, said, Don’t go. So, I’m not going.

I will be in my house, in my chair, breathing and meditating.

The rally is at three. I will be present, I will have my eyes closed and I will be One with the Universe.

That is what I should do –

Be still and Know

My Island My Playground

there will be peace

I’ve done something unusual today. I am on my porch writing. I am in my daughter’s alcove. It’s where she comes outside to smoke, on her too brief, visits with me. It’s on the street side of my home, where I have two, white rockers, in between a round table, covered with a nice table cloth from a second hand shop, around the corner.

It’s almost becoming too light, for me, to feel at ease, out here, in my bathrobe. In my too thick, soft, warm and embracing coat of comfort ~

2 the easing or alleviation of a person’s feelings of grief or distress: a few words of comfort | they should take comfort that help is available. • [in singular] a person or thing that helps to alleviate a difficult situation: his friendship was a great comfort. 3 US dialect a warm quilt. 

The wind blows hard through the tree, across the street. It makes the rushing sound of impending rain. Rain that will pass us by, today, The bird, that sang alone, is now in concert, with others near by and blocks down the road.

The first car passed at 5:26. They were in a hurry.

I took the picture above, in yesterday’s evening. Around the bend were hoards of people. Everyone enjoying themselves. Children swimming, on the edge of the dangerous currents, of the Nassau River. Not a care in the world.

Back to my right, are fishermen. Some good and others, not so good.

We had to leave when the fish started biting, due to one of the many laws and regulations, here on Amelia Island. You cannot be on the beach, after sundown.

I took all of the comfort that I could out get, in my afternoon hours, walking with my feet in the sand. Smiling at all of the people; Latin, Asian, People of Color and Anglos. We were of different cultures. We were all mixto, and no problemo.

But not far down the road in Jacksonville, there is protest and riots, in the streets. They are working towards compromise, but I can’t help but feel, that the white people want the black people back in their cage.

I am a wild thing.

I live on this Island, that is over run. It is being inhabited by greed. The greedy ~

greed·y| ˈɡrēdē | adjective (greedier, greediest) having or showing an intense and selfish desire for something, especially wealth or power: greedy thieves who plundered a defense contractor. • having an excessive desire or appetite for food. ~

Everyone wants their slice, but the pie is only so big.

So, the Island has become pie in the sky.

I sit on my porch and enjoy the breeze, momentarily, unhindered by the stench of the mill. I enjoy nature and I wait on it’s Mother.

She will have the final say so.

There will be peace.

There is peace.

Be Still and Know ~