School Daze: Public or Private for Obamas?

Here's yet another reason why I connect with our President-Elect.

I'm in the same jam as far as picking the next school route for my child.

Or, more accurately, weighing in on the decision my wife will ultimately make.

Decisions like this can cost you sleep.


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The choice between public or private schooling causes intown Atlanta parents agony to no end. We all wish the unspeakable for ourselves: enough wealth to swap the question aside entirely and just navigate the political landmines en route to enrollment in one of the private academies. There are several within the city limits. And their fees for kindergarten students now rival what it cost me for my freshman year at Vanderbilt 25 years ago.

As of now, that rules this household out. But stay tuned ladies and germs: Poppa's got a maniacal scholarship plan in the works.

But back to "the conundrum". I've enjoyed reading the admittedly late take on the issue posted on theroot.com. And I commend the way the Obama's adressed the matter yet again on "60 Minutes".

Do "we" who have overcome the failings of the urban public school systems somehow owe them for what they got right? Do we have to give back by sacrificing our kids' future? Are we absolutely obligated to roll up our sleeves and delve into educational systems that by all indications seem like lost causes?

If black middle class parents abandon the public schools now, will any generation ever benefit from them again?

I'm just asking...

Does Barack Obama play golf?

I'm frankly still feeling too wiped out from all the election hysteria that culminated two nights ago to go through Google to find out what else the President-elect and I might have in common; hobby-wise.


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But I will; and if the golf industry sees any chance to make his connection to the game a win-win in terms of publicity, it'll soon be known anyway.

For some reason, I keep envisioning Barack and Tiger Woods in a dream pairing; playing privately at Woods' Isleworth compound. Imagine the conversation, the laughs, the bets, the precious pauses.

To lighten things up on this blog, for a change, let's focus on golf. Black men who play golf. How black men play golf differently, if at all. What draws more and more black men to the fairways?

More importantly: what's the best way to get more of our black children into the game? My son is 5, so I can't get him into the First Tee program for another two years. I've tried, without pushing, to get him used to swinging clubs. But it's hard to hold his attention for more than 20 minutes.

Any suggestions?

OBAMA'S GRANDMOTHER DIES: 'Tomorrow' ain't promised

No matter what, Wednesday will be "a great wakin' up morning in America".

We may have Barack Obama as our next President. Or we may not.

That all depends on how the actual voter turn-out turns out.

Whatever the final count(s) reached in this election, if you can say you voted you can claim credit for real change.

If the numbers of "change" advocates at the polls is anywhere close to what's expected, this nation will forever be transformed.

And we'll have Mrs. Dunham to thank for raising a grandson with the spine of steel needed to help change the course of history.


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He's the dearly departed's precious gift to all of us whoever felt powerless to make a difference.

How do we repay pillars like her, who thought they'd go to their glory convinced that no black man would ever rise high enough to come close to becoming Commander in Chief. Much less winning.

If you can't carry someone sick or shut-in to the vote, at least reach out and keep them posted about the turnout and returns. Take pictures to show them later on.

But not much later. Share this lasting moment with them while you still can.

We Wear the Mask: Ode to Dunbar

The most fervent Barack Obama supporter I know literally shoved a rubber mask of the Senator from Illinois into my arms yesterday at our kids' playground.

His rationale for bestowing it upon me: it felt rather 'suffocating'.

Given this cat's fanaticism for the front-running Presidential candidate, I'd have expected him to at least hold onto the novelty item for posterity's sake. And since I've slacked on the donation tip to the campaign, the urge to return it to him tugs at me.

But first I'll wear it and try not to hyper-ventilate for a few obligatory snapshots during the apres trick-or-treat shin dig we're hosting for close friends and their chittlins.

I suspect I won't be the only one who wraps the Obama mask on and mugs for the camera. Our anticipation's running high, after all. And we're mixing Bloody Marys in equal proportion to the Gel-O worm cups for dessert.

Except for that one guy who flaunts his Obama-mania on his "statement" shirt sleeves, this will be a gathering of folks who keep their true election night longings to themselves.

For better or worse, for the most part, we're not the types that will make wig-pullin' cameos on Action News the morning after. In professional settings, we'll contain our glee if he wins. At home with our kids, we'll fake brave faces if he loses.

Which brings me back to words written a century ago by Paul Laurence Dunbar; the son of an escaped slave who changed a chunk of his world's mindset from his home base in the 'swing state' of Ohio.


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With all credit due (Citadel Press, 1993), Dunbar wrote:

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, _
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

(Go buy your own copy for the stirring, still-relevant remarks between THAT and this...)

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!

Thanks, eternally PLB.

This won't be the last Halloween I think of you.

For additional perspectives, view this post I found on theroot.com...
http://www.theroot.com/id/48627

Shame on us, Tysheema

Stevie Wonder ought to write a song or, better yet, a symphony about this Brown woman from the northeast suburbs of Atlanta who, reportedly, tried to abandon her son at a Nevada hospital, and wash her hands of him.

How sad a state have we reached when a 12-year-old black boy's mother claims she has no other choice but to drive him 1,000 miles away, and then burn rubber, for his own good? Doesn't this dilemma speak volumes about how detached we've become from the touchstones of "village" existence when any male child can be cast off so early in life?


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Other than being the son of an unwed mother amid conditions that contribute in precious few ways to his potential success as a productive member of society, what could a boy like that have done so wrong (or been incapable of stopping himself from doing)?

This isn't to cast total blame here on any mother who falls so harshly on the fringe of frustration. Nor can we deny how hip-hop media has coaxed our youth down a path of abject poverty of the spirit and disconnect from right vs. wrong principles.

But if an incident like this doesn't prompt more concerned black men to actively attempt to teach by example, the future may as well be marked "delete".

'cuda_don't_preach

I have no interest in seeing any more high-priced pictures of the knocked-up daughter of the Repblicans' VP nominee.


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Until last week, I had never heard of the Republicans' VP nominee.
Her household's a virtual breeding ground, from what I've gleened. And yet she favors abstinence lessons in public schools.
Hello? Public school monitors? Has that abstinence thing ever worked?
Me and Barracuda are about the same age. Too young, to me, to contemplate or activate grandma/pa mode.
Strangely, I envy the predicament. Yes, the whole world knows your child defied you in the most blatant way. Still, you'll have the energy and the assets to indulge that new little baby like there's no tomorrow.
As disconnected as most families are these days, the VP's lot is unfortunately common.
Let's just not allow the situation we're all tuned-in to, without really wanting to, to foster the notion among our young girls and boys that if it's OK in THAT family, it's OK in ours too.
Right?

Sarah_Palin:_Grandma Moses?

Fate didn't conspire to make me a white woman born of relative privilege in Alaska 44 years ago. So I can't imagine, really, what it's like to walk in the Republicans' Vice Presidential nominee's snowshoes right now, in the late hours after it's been revealed that her abstinence preachings weren't enough to keep her teenage daughter from getting knocked up.

But I did grow up in what's considered the Great White north _ where the snow fell heavy for months at a time and Journey's "Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin' " fueled many teenage urges.

I get where Palin's coming from when she tries to pass her daughter's pre-marital pregnancy off as something that happens to even the best of families. She may miraculously succeed in parting the water's that conservative blowhards flood the airwaves with. The sea of unwanted pregenancies in America isn't just a muddy one.

I'd no doubt be devastated if a teenage son of mine came home with the news that he'd irresponsibly helped conceive a child out of wedlock. The fault for adding to any other family's burden in this heavyweight fight called life would fall, somewhat, on me. Any son of mine should know better.

Palin and I are just about the same age; yet she falls far closer to the grandbaby's daddy drama than I ever expect to see. Some of us benefit from holding off on marriage and having kids. No matter how wisely we manage the early and middle stages of our careers, we're not all fully prepared to even approach the challenges of parenthood until we're nearly 40.

There's a delicate balance between talking about our kids, talking to them, talking for them and talking passed them.

I'm no more qualified to be Vice President of the United States than candidate Palin is, but I'm sure going to take note of her missteps.