When your best friend looks just like you

It has been my experience over a lifetime of chaos that ones own desperation leads to contempt by everyone around you.  People don't like seeing someone whom they respect or call a friend fall apart, lose their shit, or in any way be vulnerable.  And so they choose to loath them and their actions. 

I have lost my shit a couple of times over the years and have witnessed other's shit being lost many a time.  The resulting reaction from people is to distance themselves from the shit and the person losing it at all costs. 

They show compassion at first so they don't look bad and then fade away so the shit doesn't stick to them. Sometimes they bad mouth and or belittle the good name of the person who lost their shit and pretend they knew it was coming or never liked or trusted them anyway. 

Sometimes, and this is my favorite, they support the shit loser, pretending to not care that they too may get shit on themselves, that others may think they are losing their shit too or that they are too stupid to not get involved.  The martyr shit loser supporter is the most interesting to me because they risk so much for so little because their support is all show.  

Of course, there are the attention whores and save the world types who support the shit loser for personal gain, one must not forget that group.  But that is not my focus here. My focus is the regular guy or gal who just doesn't know what to do when someone loses their shit.  

It is hard watching anyone fall apart. But when strong people fall apart people become scared. Their world is a little less stable when dad, who never even cried in front of them, has a nervous break down or a co-worker who was seen as the champion for the underdog just leaves their job. This implies that the person that everyone thinks has it all together is sometimes the most afraid, the most unsure, the most vulnerable and that knowledge shakes their world. 

When steady people fall apart we don't know what to do.

What we must realize is that our reaction to their demise is a mirror into our own soul.  We should use that revelation to be honest with ourselves; use it to be a better friend, co-worker , family member; use your observations to draw from when you find yourself in a pile of your own shit. Because it WILL happen. Shit always happens. 

When this crisis happens to you, and it will, look around and see who your real friends are. Look past the do-gooders and the ones who turn and run, and see if anyone is still standing there reaching out to hold your hand. If there is someone you are very lucky. If not, there is no reason to panic because, hopefully, you will be able to look in the mirror, at that point in your life, and realize that your best friend and person you can count on the most in this life is looking right back at you.

Losing your shit is cathartic and when you look back at the experience you may want to embrace it. You waded through the darkness alone and made it to the other side, finding out along the way that your best friend is you!

The president

This presidential election is one filled with rancor and dissent. The problem is people are voting for the PERSON not what they will fight for or against. 

The president has power but the real power lies in the process. When congress submits a bill to the president what will he or she do? Will they fight for or against that bill before it even gets to their desk?

We all need to wonder what programs each candidate will fight for,  who are their friends in Washington and how well they understand the political process.

I keep hearing about someone being a career politician and somehow that is bad. Would you hire a cashier to fix your plumbing?  Don't you search for the most experienced car repair person you can find?  So why do we not want a politician who has made a career of it?

The political process is not straightforward despite what you learn in civics in high school.  It is deformed and convoluted at best.  You had better be able to work the system if you want to get anything done.  You had better be able to bend the rules when necessary cuz everyone else is...then be able to rise above after the consequences.

We really need to fight for the candidates that will fight for the laws and bills and programs that we believe in.  Not the person.

The president is more than a person. The president is a representation of all of the people who live in the USA, a representative to the world that says,  I am America! I am what America stands for. The person needs to stop being a person and be the President. A person who is put in power by the people and for the people.

So if you don't like Trump the man or Clinton the woman put that aside and look at what issues they are willing to get behind. THEN you will know who to vote for.

Then you will know who you want the world to see as the personification of America.

2nd cop should grow a set

There is man walking to a burrito joint on his lunch break. He is detained by police because he fits a description of a man who broke into an old woman's house. Except upon closer inspection he has a different hat and a different coat. He is black and a man.

The first cop is running the show and the second cop is kind of apologetic, yet does nothing to help the man being detained. Here is what Professor Locke posted:

"This is what I wore to work today.

On my way to get a burrito before work, I was detained by the police.

I noticed the police car in the public lot behind Centre Street. As I was walking away from my car, the cruiser followed me. I walked down Centre Street and was about to cross over to the burrito place and the officer got out of the car.

“Hey my man,” he said.

He unsnapped the holster of his gun.

I took my hands out of my pockets.

“Yes?” I said.

“Where you coming from?”

“Home.”

Where’s home?”

“Dedham.”

How’d you get here?”

“I drove.”

He was next to me now. Two other police cars pulled up. I was standing in from of the bank across the street from the burrito place. I was going to get lunch before I taught my 1:30 class. There were cops all around me.

I said nothing. I looked at the officer who addressed me. He was white, stocky, bearded.

“You weren’t over there, were you?” He pointed down Centre Street toward Hyde Square.

“No. I came from Dedham.”

“What’s your address?”

I told him.

“We had someone matching your description just try to break into a woman’s house.”

A second police officer stood next to me; white, tall, bearded. Two police cruisers passed and would continue to circle the block for the 35 minutes I was standing across the street from the burrito place.

“You fit the description,” the officer said. “Black male, knit hat, puffy coat. Do you have identification.”

“It’s in my wallet. May I reach into my pocket and get my wallet?”

“Yeah.”

I handed him my license. I told him it did not have my current address. He walked over to a police car. The other cop, taller, wearing sunglasses, told me that I fit the description of someone who broke into a woman’s house. Right down to the knit cap.

Barbara Sullivan made a knit cap for me. She knitted it in pinks and browns and blues and oranges and lime green. No one has a hat like this. It doesn’t fit any description that anyone would have. I looked at the second cop. I clasped my hands in front of me to stop them from shaking.

“For the record,” I said to the second cop, “I’m not a criminal. I’m a college professor.” I was wearing my faculty ID around my neck, clearly visible with my photo.

“You fit the description so we just have to check it out.” The first cop returned and handed me my license.

“We have the victim and we need her to take a look at you to see if you are the person.”

It was at this moment that I knew that I was probably going to die. I am not being dramatic when I say this. I was not going to get into a police car. I was not going to present myself to some victim. I was not going let someone tell the cops that I was not guilty when I already told them that I had nothing to do with any robbery. I was not going to let them take me anywhere because if they did, the chance I was going to be accused of something I did not do rose exponentially. I knew this in my heart. I was not going anywhere with these cops and I was not going to let some white woman decide whether or not I was a criminal, especially after I told them that I was not a criminal. This meant that I was going to resist arrest. This meant that I was not going to let the police put their hands on me.

If you are wondering why people don’t go with the police, I hope this explains it for you.

Something weird happens when you are on the street being detained by the police. People look at you like you are a criminal. The police are detaining you so clearly you must have done something, otherwise they wouldn’t have you. No one made eye contact with me. I was hoping that someone I knew would walk down the street or come out of one of the shops or get off the 39 bus or come out of JP Licks and say to these cops, “That’s Steve Locke. What the FUCK are you detaining him for?”

The cops decided that they would bring the victim to come view me on the street. The asked me to wait. I said nothing. I stood still.

“Thanks for cooperating,” the second cop said. “This is probably nothing, but it’s our job and you do fit the description. 5′ 11″, black male. One-hundred-and-sixty pounds, but you’re a little more than that. Knit hat.”

A little more than 160. Thanks for that, I thought.

An older white woman walked behind me and up to the second cop. She turned and looked at me and then back at him. “You guys sure are busy today.”

I noticed a black woman further down the block. She was small and concerned. She was watching what was going on. I focused on her red coat. I slowed my breathing. I looked at her from time to time.

I thought: Don’t leave, sister. Please don’t leave.

The first cop said, “Where do you teach?”

“Massachusetts College of Art and Design.” I tugged at the lanyard that had my ID.

“How long you been teaching there?”

“Thirteen years.”

We stood in silence for about 10 more minutes.

An unmarked police car pulled up. The first cop went over to talk to the driver. The driver kept looking at me as the cop spoke to him. I looked directly at the driver. He got out of the car.

“I’m Detective Cardoza. I appreciate your cooperation.”

I said nothing.

“I’m sure these officers told you what is going on?”

“They did.”

“Where are you coming from?”

“From my home in Dedham.”

“How did you get here?”

“I drove.”

“Where is your car?”

“It’s in the lot behind Bukhara.” I pointed up Centre Street.

“Okay,” the detective said. “We’re going to let you go. Do you have a car key you can show me?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to reach into my pocket and pull out my car key.”

“Okay.”

I showed him the key to my car.

The cops thanked me for my cooperation. I nodded and turned to go.

“Sorry for screwing up your lunch break,” the second cop said.

I walked back toward my car, away from the burrito place. I saw the woman in red.

“Thank you,” I said to her. “Thank you for staying.”

“Are you ok?” She said. Her small beautiful face was lined with concern.

“Not really. I’m really shook up. And I have to get to work.”

“I knew something was wrong. I was watching the whole thing. The way they are treating us now, you have to watch them. ”

“I’m so grateful you were there. I kept thinking to myself, ‘Don’t leave, sister.’ May I give you a hug?”

“Yes,” she said. She held me as I shook. “Are you sure you are ok?”

“No I’m not. I’m going to have a good cry in my car. I have to go teach.”

“You’re at MassArt. My friend is at MassArt.”

“What’s your name?” She told me. I realized we were Facebook friends. I told her this.

“I’ll check in with you on Facebook,” she said.

I put my head down and walked to my car.



My colleague was in our shared office and she was able to calm me down. I had about 45 minutes until my class began and I had to teach. I forgot the lesson I had planned. I forget the schedule. I couldn’t think about how to do my job. I thought about the fact my word counted for nothing, they didn’t believe that I wasn’t a criminal. They had to find out. My word was not enough for them. My ID was not enough for them. My handmade one-of-a-kind knit hat was an object of suspicion. My Ralph Lauren quilted blazer was only a “puffy coat.” That white woman could just walk up to a cop and talk about me like I was an object for regard. I wanted to go back and spit in their faces. The cops were probably deeply satisfied with how they handled the interaction, how they didn’t escalate the situation, how they were respectful and polite.

I imagined sitting in the back of a police car while a white woman decides if I am a criminal or not. If I looked guilty being detained by the cops imagine how vile I become sitting in a cruiser? I knew I could not let that happen to me. I knew if that were to happen, I would be dead.

Nothing I am, nothing I do, nothing I have means anything because I fit the description.

I had to confess to my students that I was a bit out of it today and I asked them to bear with me. I had to teach.

After class I was supposed to go to the openings for First Friday. I went home."

~Steve Locke

This makes me mad as hell!! 

I am white as white can be, just for full disclosure here.I couldn't be more privileged ..came from the right side of the tracks. ..and Christian and not Catholic ( when I was young Catholicism was an -ism too), college educated, as was my dad who was born in 1916, a rare event for that time, and all my siblings. I am also straight, married with children and own my own home. So, my only identity of non power is being a woman. A women who grew up before woman were allowed to have power. Just for full disclosure.

i cannot believe the culture in our police departments has not changed over the last 75 years since the original civil rights movement.

Why did the 2nd cop not tell the first cop to knock it off? It took a detective showing up to diffuse the situation for the first cop to back off. So someone with power, more power than first cop, kept first cop from hurting Professor Locke physically or arresting him with no cause.

Bullying has been a wonderful campaign for our youth. Children across America are sticking up for peers who are not empowered and helping them when confronted with such behavior. We need a similar program for our Police Departments and it should be called, "Second cop should grow a set".

Losing one's job over such situations might be a deterant but could cause anamosity amongst police. The real fix is making it taboo within the cop culture to not stick up for citizens when your partner is a bully. Of course, first cop's partner is probably afraid of him too. But 2nd cop needs to grow a set.

People should picket their police stations and have signs that say "2nd cop should grow a set!! " It sounds ridiculously simple but its how our society works. ..tee shirts with " 2nd cop should grow a set" ...bumper stickers."2nd cop should grow a set" ...ad campaigns where someone is stopped and the second cop literally grows a set and you see his pants getting bigger the more he sticks up for the citizen. I am not trivializing this for you.  Ok that last ad campaign idea was slightly trivial but I am serious about the general idea.

It's how things change. Our world changes initially through catch phrases and peer pressure and small things people can do. A kind of intimidation, if you will. Then laws change and culture changes. We have dropped the ball since the marches of Martin Luther King Jr. and his dream. 

"I have a dream." Talk about a catch phrase and marketing campaign that made an impact that lasted lifetimes!

Well, I HAVE A DREAM, too. My dream is for 2nd cop to grow a set! 

Please join in my dream by sharing this idea and picketing and making and wearing t-shirts...make some noise!! We all need to grow a set!

(3) 2nd Cop Should Grow a Set

Go suck an egg dear

I find myself amazed at the progression women go through over the course of a lifetime. We start out as young women obsessed with finding a mate, a soul mate, someone to spend out lives with, make our lives with...and then when we are in our fifties we say, "What the hell was I thinkin'? "

Well, maybe not that bad, but the more women I talk to or hear talk who are in their fifties the more I hear them say, "When my husband dies I will never marry again."

The "who needs a man" attitude crosses, cultures, races, religions, stations in life; just about everything. Now I do know a few 50 something women who still spend their time trying to find a man to take care of them. They post silly pictures of themselves looking sexy. They get face lifts and tummy tucks all to try to get a man. But the majority of women say, who needs that!

Then there are the women just starting out. They are frustrated with finding a good man. They date and primp and online date trying to find someone to make a life with, to share their life with. Some do find that person. Some just find themselves.

Despite all of the fifty something gals not wanting another man in their lives, they are perfectly happy with the life they made with the man they spent their lives with. When asked, they wouldn't change a thing. But living for a time where the only dishes they need to wash are their own, the only permission they need to get is given by them, the only decision they need to ponder is one they alone care to decide is a time they long for and never got as young women.

The new group of young women are waiting for the man search. They have time alone at the beginning of their lives, unlike our generation who were consider spinsters by 25, they take the time for careers and things they want to do. So maybe when they are 50 and life throws them a curve they will want a second chance with a man, who knows. But those of us who have had a man for the last 35 or 40 or more years and have created a wonderful, blessed life with them are looking for a different ending to our years here. We want to figure out who we are, alone. Not that we want to be alone. We just want to figure things out on our own without someone else's opinion influencing us, regardless of the intent, or input, however well intentioned.

If we want to jump in the car and go fishing, great. If we want to spend time shopping after work, who cares. If we want to turn to someone and laugh at a joke on a show....oh yea, no one will be there. But if we want to go out to dinner we can, but we won't have anyone to have a conversation with.

I guess there are pros and cons to living with someone and living without someone.I guess it is a blessing if you get that choice in your lifetime. The grass is sometimes greener on the other side, sometimes it's a swamp...looks nice and green from far away but you sink up to your thighs once you step in it.

Life is a series of lessons about give and take. And while I will not want another mate after my current one because we had a great life and that is enough for me...I do understand the need for finding yourself. I also understand the need for sharing yourself. So, where ever you are in your journey just know that you are still whoever you are whether you have a spouse or don't. Only you can define happiness. Only you can give away the power to make you upset or happy. So, define what you are looking for. Give yourself space.

Space to grow, whether you are young or old. Space to find out who you are, whether young or old. And most importantly space to be happy and flexible with what life throws your way. You never know what's around the next corner of your life. Be happy with what you have. But remember you come into this world alone and go out alone. The people we choose to put into our lives are there for a reason...remember that reason and your old man may not look so bad and that empty chair may not look so bad either.

As long as you're happy, someone sitting next to you or not is a moot point. It's all about your attitude and being content with your choices. So, old or young, man or no man, that should be our goal, ladies, to be content with ourselves so life can be whatever YOU make it. Then if a man comes along to share things with you ...great! If not, that's great too!! But the life belongs to you and you alone. Sharing it is an option. So, stop at the store if you want older ladies...if he crabs tell him to suck an egg. If you are young and looking for someone please know your life is yours and you can share it with whomever you please. It doesn't have to be a spouse or it can be a spouse...

But please remember this...if you find a spouse,  they may do something in your future that drives you nuts and may cause you to go crazy. If they do... just remember this wisdom from some old broads you don't even know...  Say, " If you don't like it you can go suck an egg dear!" Kiss him on the forehead, remembering why you love him and go upstairs and watch Real Housewives of the Future. It works every time.

The most searched topic in 2016..how do I reduce stress

People ask me how I stay so calm and that they have never seen me angry. Well,  anger is such a wasted emotion I have spent years trying to avoid it. 
Believe me I get angry,  ask my family.  But all it does is make me feel badly.  So, i meditate, I walk away, i put my head down and keep my mouth shut. No ego.

Kids should be seen and heard

I vow to spend the year disputing how great it used to be, to dispute how people were such better parents back in the day because they made their children fear them and excluded them from the family by putting them at children's tables and sending   them to play outside until the street lights came home.  We were seen and not heard.  Which is not a good thing. It is important for children to feel empowered and heard by their parents. I am tired of this idealized version of the old days when children respected adults...we did not respect them, we feared them. Women were role models for slavery.  Children were abused and had no one and no where to turn.  The only people with a voice back then were white male Christians who had a good job. 
So,  the old days are just that old!  There is a reason that people who were raised back then did NOT raise their children that way. 
The good NEW days are what we should be focused on.  If your children are disrespectful it is probably because you do not respect them, you probably do not model respect of others to them and YOU, their parent, need to research ways to change that. 
If you are looking for the good old days there was no such thing.
It's a myth perpetrated by people who don't want to change for the better.
So start sharing positive parenting tips that support creative,  politically aware , vocal,  respectful children. 
Change is good and for a reason. Embrace it.
These are the good new days.

GOD AND MY TOYOTA TUNDRA SAVED US

This guy survived a tornado in Texas and says, "God and my Toyota Tundra saved us. "

What a nice guy,  since TOYOTA has had so many recalls and  bad press, to give them their next ad campaign. 

Drive a Toyota, God does!!

This guy is very brave as well.

I lived in Texas and have relatives who live there, to admit that you drive a non-American made vehicle is practically suicide! So for him to give credit to a Toyota for saving his ass from a TORNADO, MY GOD,  this man is brave!!

He blamed being stuck in the tornado on the local radio station for warning people too much about tornados and said the warnings should have said that there was a tornado out side of Bass Pro Shop, where he was.  Had they done that he would have stayed in the store.

Well,  sir,  you should sue!! Those warnings were the reason your beloved Toyota Tundra, that God sent to save you,  is in the junk yard. ..call the lawyer today! 

And God bless TOYOTA