I bought myself a New Year's gift just 5 minutes ago. Suffice to say it's pretty symbolic... From Tristan Prettyman's blog, where I discovered this gem:
"If you want to stoke out a lovely lady in your life, these are made of fully recycled material, making them super chic and eco friendly. I’ve been working with Zee Berry & Alex and Ani over the last 6 months designing this set of bangles that we named: The Good Path. This set was inspired by the tattoo I got in Bali last year, written in Balinese it reads: “Find and follow the good path”. There are 5 bangles total. 1 gold bangle with an emerald charm, and 1 silver bangle with the “Path of Life” charm, along with 1 plain gold bangle, and 2 plain silver bangles. The great thing about these bangles is they look great worn separately or stacked all together. The Path of Life charm is emblematic of life’s zenith and nadir moments, this charm illustrates life’s twists, turns and unexpected winds, all the while complimenting the beauty in its pattern. Wear this charm to proudly celebrate your own willingness and strength in traveling towards life’s fruitful moments. The emerald charm, besides for being my birthstone(May), has been known to calm a troubled mind bringing the wearer reason and wisdom. A sacred stone of the goddess Venus, emerald is thought to preserve love and is a symbol of hope. I couldn’t be more stoked on how they turned out :)" Can't wait for it to arrive! You can be my twin and get one, too: http://www.zeeberry.com/alex-and-ani-jewelry/alex-and-ani-the-good-path-tristan-prettyman love and light, trish
0 Comments
![]() My darling city, We first met when I was 15 years old and vacationing in Northern California with my family. If it helps jog your memory, I had a painfully short haircut that looked almost mullet-esque if I didn't blow dry it properly. Truly cringe worthy. If I can find a photo to show you...well...no promises.... Since that summer I have secretly plotted and planned for ways to somehow get back to you. It took me a few years, but finally I made it. And now that I'm here I just wanted you to know I couldn't be any happier. I just wanted you to know how much I really love you. I love your food. Seriously, if it weren't for your hills and my desire to walk everywhere because I think you're so pretty I would be a thousand pounds. To my favorite sushi, Peruvian, seafood, Italian, taco, pizza, tavern, vegetarian, vegan, cupcake, cream puff (yep, a store of just cream puffs) and Indian joints...I'm sending you so much love and good thoughts for years of continued amazeballs cooking. My dun-laps disease and I thank you. Times a million. Speaking of food, I love walking out of the grocery store in my neighborhood and immediately seeing dozens of beautiful sailboats resting in one of your marinas. That sight will never get old. And if it ever does...I know it will be time to move. I love that I was recently walking to a friends house wearing headphones and apparently was unknowingly singing out loud...very loudly...and instead of getting odd stares I had a group of people shout "when does your album come out?!" and high five me while I, super embarrassed, awkwardly giggled. I love the way my feet don't touch the floor of the bus if I sit in one of the very front seats; how it makes me feel like a little kid playing "grown up" on the way to work. I love how the rain calms you. How folks don't rush around in a panic, afraid to get wet...they simply go about their business with a calmer and quieter disposition. How 2 little girls joined me in puddle splashing outside our building yesterday because really, what's the sense in owning fabulous new Hunter boots if you can't use them for a bit of rain splashing every now and again? And then when the sun comes out how you come alive with runners, bikers, strollers, roller skaters/bladers, dogs, fast and slow walkers. How people eat up every moment of your sunshine, cherishing being outside. I loved driving over the Golden Gate Bridge that one night, windows down so the cold, crisp breeze and smell of salt water swirled inside my little car, heat blasting on our feet and Ryan Adams' cover of Wonderwall setting the most perfect and beautiful mood. I loved when that baby sea lion hopped up on shore only a few feet in front of us. He was the size of a small dog and it took all my strength not to pounce on and Lenny him against his will. It was so unexpected and amazing to see such a little creature playing in the sand and exploring the shore line for what seemed like the first time. I love your Ferry Building Farmer's Market. Am obsessed with it, actually. The fresh, local, sustainable products it serves...the samples...the views...the hustle bustle of shoppers. I could spend hours there selecting the best fruits, veggies and meats only to want to come back the next day and do it all over again. I love that in one year you have given me some of the best friends I've ever had. That you and the Universe have been holding these little gems in your back pocket all along, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to play their cards and brighten my life right when I needed it most. I've especially loved dancing with them down your streets at night, tipsy on cocktails, laughing like fools, not caring who sees us. And dancing with them in our apartments. And in restaurants. And bars. And shops. And on the beach. And in parks. I love that they will dance with me pretty much anywhere if it feels right (and it always seems to feel right). I'm doing my best to cherish you daily...hopefully you can sense that. I have big plans for me and you, San Francisco. Every day I love you a little bit more and based on how well you've treated me these past 16 months, I'm thinking you might be crushing on me as well.... In Gratitude, Trish ![]() Tomorrow one of my very dear friends is moving to Australia. While I'm genuinely so excited for her (and also insanely jealous...damn that accent is sexy...), I admittedly am a little bummed at the idea of her leaving. OK OK...I'm a lotta bit bummed. Nicole, aka Noodle, moved to SF just a few weeks after me from Pennsylvania and quickly became my fellow California adventurer/explorer. The photo above was our first picture taken together...not too shabby, right? The months that followed proved to be full of fun and laughter and heart to hearts, which is exactly what I needed to ease myself back into sunny California livin. The timing was pretty perfect (thanks, Universe!). I remember the night that I got the courage to finally fill her in on the true current state of my private life. Opening up to people about the last few years has proven to be very difficult for me. Words can't really express how grateful and relieved I was at her reaction to my sudden onset of tears and burst of emotions; she laughed, said "holy crap, OK, hold on", grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge, and cried with me. She listened, asked appropriate and gentle questions, and then said the 2 most magical words; "No judgement." To me, this is the mark of a true friend. As if I wasn't already friendship falling in love with her, it was then that I was completely sold. She'd be my friend for life, whether she liked it or not :) So my little Noodle, I am deeply grateful for this whirlwind year of friendship. I am grateful for our morning walks along the bay, the Finer Things Club meetings full of wine and cheese and talk about nothing truly "Fine", the hours clocked watching reality TV, the sleepovers where I'd threaten to make out with you when Brian was at work, basing our decisions on whether or not our "Kardashian friends" would wear/say/do them, the plethora of mini road trips exploring NorCal, me freezing to death in your apartment year round, you trying to convince me that pregnancy and babies are awesome (false, you'll never win that), the giggles, the tears and the giggling so hard it turned to tears. I am grateful for your kindness, patience, honesty, silly spirit and zest for life. You are a classic old soul wrapped up in a youthful and playful disposition...can a friend get any better than that? I wish you the best of luck on this great adventure you're taking, I know you're going to have the best time ever! I am truly going to miss you. Also, I'll be using all of your fabulous expressions while you're gone. And probably not giving you credit. See you soon (down under?), babe :) love and light, trish/patsey/trash/crotch/wretch Last night some friends and I decided it'd be fun to hit the local bars in celebration of the holidays, and it turned out to be quite the Phillies filled evening! First up; Pat Burrell. Pat the Bat Burrell has quite the reputation as a smug and cocky ladies man who says ridiculous things and yet still gets laid on the regular...and I promise you, last night he did not disappoint. Conversation #1: Pat: Excuse me ladies, I just want to put these empties on the bar... Jenny: You just spilled on me. Pat: Oh I'm sorry. I like your friend. (points directly in my face) Jenny: I'm her pimp. Pat: I don't like girls who have pimps. Pat walks away. End Act One. Conversation #2: Tricia is making her way to the bathroom when she gets pulled over by Pat... Pat: Where you goin? Trish: Bathroom, I gotta pee. Pat: Can you put your arm around me, too? (he had his arm around me) Trish: Um, sure? (I put my arm around him and he introduces me to his friends) Pat: You're really good looking. Trish: Thanks! I'm a Phillies fan you know. I liked you better on the Phils. Pat: Ugh I love Philly. But what would happen if Chase Utley were to walk in right now? Trish: What? Pat, do you have a complex about Chase Utley? A little jealous? He's not really my type...too cute and friendly to animals. (note: I was being sarcastic. Sarcasm was completely missed.) Pat (dead serious): I know. People are dying and they care about dogs... Trish (laughing): Right, totally...well I'm gonna hit up the bathroom now! Pat: 1 or 2? .......pause...... Trish (still laughing): Um...1. I have to pee. Pat: Nice, come back to me, OK? End of Act Two. Yes, Pat Burrell asked me if I was going to 1 or 2. Conversation #3: This one is admittedly a little fuzzy as I had a few more drinks in between but the highlights include: 1. Pat interrupting my sentences to tell me I'm pretty. Thank you, Patrick. This is clearly not your first rodeo. 2. Pat telling me he's 34, divorced and doesn't have kids but that's the whole reason he got married in the first place...to have kids. But apparently the wifey wanted to adopt and he did not. Major bummer. 3. Me telling him "well, there's no script to life" and him saying "So true" and then hugging me. And then suddenly Chase Utley walks by and Brian and I have 30 seconds to snag a photo. Guess Pat does not have a complex after all and Chase literally did walk into the bar. For the record, he's a complete babe in person. And upon leaving the bar Pat politely came up to shake my hand and say 'nice to meet you'.
What a great way to start my West Coast Christmas!! love, light and philly lovin, trish Mini Disclaimer: I know my talking and thinking about God may make some of you a little uncomfy (it honestly makes me feel pretty vulnerable just *saying* God on this site), but I hope with time it will be understood that I'm not picky about where folks find God, if they are even on such a path. I hope it will also be understood that when I speak about God I'm not speaking about religion. Mostly I'm just talking about the biggest form of love in the Universe. We cool with this? Nice. Moving on...
If you've ever struggled with your weight (hello, who honestly hasn't) I'd highly recommend doing some reading that includes a closer look at the emotional and spiritual sides of why exactly we eat how we eat. It's been so eye opening for me, personally, and I'll definitely do a post on my favorite finds so far... ...but until then, this article is an easy place to start. And an excerpt for those who like a little summary: "Painful experiences are not meant to linger. They are meant to teach us what they need to teach us, and then dissolve into the realm of soft-focus memory. Even bitterness in our past can transform into peaceful acceptance. With your system of psychological-waste removal on the blink, however, you’ve subconsciously tried to get rid of these thoughts and feelings by eating them. If I can’t process my sadness, perhaps I can eat my sadness. If I can’t process my anger, perhaps I can eat my anger. In the absence of an exit valve for what could be seen as your psychological sewage, your unprocessed thoughts and feelings have embedded themselves in your flesh—literally. They are the materialization of dense, unprocessed energy that had nowhere else to go. You are carrying your burdens around—not only with you but on you... ...In order for your healing to be real and deep, you must be willing to be real and deep with the issues you address. No one else needs to know what is revealed to you, unless you choose to share the information with a trusted other. This journey is a sacred one, in which you travel with God through the secrets of your heart." -marianne williamson In Gratitude, Trish "wonderful night to be alive, baby...."
Been looping this at my desk all day. Makes me crave Christmas in New York big time. Thankfully I got to take a few loops around the Union Square ice skating rink this week to make me feel a tiny bit like I was back home on the good ol' east coast. It was so beautifully decorated for the holiday! Sunday night was cookie baking night with two lovely SF ladies, both of whom were drunkenly entered into my phone with the last name of "Lover" when I met them...on separate occasions. Apparently when I drink and meet cool girls, I'm filled with love. I whipped out the ol' 5th grade recipe booklet for a quick, yummy cookie recipe that's different than the traditional varities; Pudding Cookies! Thanks to Janice for being such a great sport about modeling the baking process :) Le Recipe: 1 cup of Bisquick 1 Pkg Instant Pudding 1/4 cup Vegetable Oil 1 Egg 1. Mix all ingredients in medium bowl until a ball is formed 2. In bowl, divide ball into 4 pieces. 3. From each quarter make 6 balls the size of a quarter. 4. Place on ungreased cookie sheet 2 inches apart. 5. Rub bottom of small glass with butter and dip into sugar. Press ball flat with glass (don't squish!) 6. Bake 8 minutes at 350 And voila! :) light and love and sweet holiday treats,
trish Every year at Christmas time a local shopping center in NJ called Princeton Market Faire (shout out to all the Lawrenceville kids) placed a large tree in the center court with a donation bin by its side. On the tree hung paper ornaments with the holiday wishes of local underprivileged children. The idea here was that shoppers could take an ornament, purchase the desired gift, then return it wrapped and labeled with said ornament to the tree as an anonymous donation. The tags held no names; only sex, age and requested gift.
My mom, sister and I participated in this tradition together for years. We’d typically go with the intention of selecting 2 ornaments, but to be honest I don’t remember ever coming home with less than 4…my mom just has a really big heart that way. Most of the ornaments held similar wishes; Barbies, toy trucks, video games, books, whatever that years “it” gift was, etc etc. but every once and awhile you’d select an ornament that would hit you a little deeper. Most of the wishes for children under the age of 1 consisted of necessities; diapers, formula, onesies, bottles, etc. While this actually makes sense (I feel like most 1 year olds end up more engaged in the boxes their gifts came in than the actual gifts themselves) it still was difficult to see basic needs listed as gifts…to see simple baby care products deemed ‘special’ enough to be considered Christmas wish worthy. During our annual Christmas trip to the mall when I was 16 I selected an ornament from the donation tree that in some ways has haunted me every holiday season since then. And I don’t say haunted in a creepy, scary or dark way; I say it simply because 10 years later it still manages to put a lump in my throat when I think about it. My ornament read; Male, 16, Toothbrush. I stepped back from the tree. I must have just read this one wrong, let me take another glance… Male, 16, Toothbrush. The following reality checks looped through my mind… For one, I had recently been told that my request for a cell phone was not going to be granted. Thus, I’d been moping around the house for days, wondering why my parents hated me so much as to deprive me of this need. And yes, at 16, I truly felt it was a need and that my parents hated me. I’d had 12 teeth pulled as a kid. I’d also had braces. I owned multiple toothbrushes and tubes of toothpaste and if I ever needed more, a simple addition to my mom’s grocery list would garner me one within a few days. If I were having a dental issue, we’d go to the dentist to be healed, no questions asked. There I would receive free toothbrushes. And sometimes a toy. The children these donations were going to be aiding were from local families. This meant that, as I attended a public high school, this 16-year-old male could be someone from my class. This one really shook me. I might have awkwardly walked the hallways on a daily basis hoping to fit in with what I was wearing, who I hung out with, what I looked like…but I never, ever, walked the halls wondering how I could brush my teeth at night. Could it be that someone I knew had these concerns? Because this young man had the courage to ask for something so basic during an opportunity to be more frivolous, my family became consumed with the idea that he deserved much more. That night when we got home my mom worked her magic; calling the organization in charge to try and find out a little more information on the boy. Because the donations were all anonymous (naturally for the safety of the child), it proved to be a difficult challenge. Finally, the woman on the other line relented just enough information to satisfy my mom…and back to the malls we went! We purchased pretty much every brand of toothbrush on the shelves…and every brand of toothpaste…and every brand of floss. Then we went to the Gap, and based on the general sizing information mom weaseled from the agency, selected sweatshirts and hats and gloves and scarves fitting for a 16 year old boy. We were limited to our purchasing only because the agency had strict guidelines on providing for the children (understood, there have to be boundaries and we were lucky they were letting us go this far) but I think if my mom had it her way she would’ve bought that boy the whole store, plus a pony. Sometimes I wonder what Male, 16, Toothbrush thought of our gifts. I worry that maybe he felt we were being show-offy or frivolous or over eager to please. I hope not. I hope he knew, even just a little, how much he touched us and how to this day we send him good thoughts at Christmas. I wonder what his life is like, 10 years later. I wonder if he created an ornament today, what his wish would be. Currently I own multiple toothbrushes. I have a dentist, an oral surgeon and a periodontist caring for my teeth and gums; all of which are almost 100% covered by my insurance. I’m actually getting a little choked up typing this (as I said, I’m a bit haunted still). I lead a beyond blessed life. So this Christmas I am thankful. This Christmas I take a moment to put things into perspective a bit…not judge my pain, or myself as I do believe that if you feel it then it is real and it has value. Pain comes in all shapes and sizes, after all. But just put things into perspective a bit, like how I often find myself saying “some people have real problems” whenever I hit a hiccup in life. This Christmas I can’t make it home to be with my family and my plans are still a bit up in the air. I am faced with the very real possibility that I will be alone. But I’m actually OK with this. When I wake up in my warm and cozy apartment, located in my most favorite US city; when I place the traditional sticky buns into the oven and open gifts with my sister and parents via the miracle that is video chat I will be reminded of how fortunate my life is by letting myself feel their love from 3,000 miles away. By cherishing what I do have in life. By giving thanks to everything from the hot water in my shower to The Grinch playing on my TV to the 500th pair of socks I’m sure to unwrap. And maybe also by repeating, whenever I hit a hiccup; Male, 16, Toothbrush. Happy Christmas, trish A quick disclaimer: I've been a big fan of metaphysical author/lecturer/teacher Louise Hay for several years now. If my posts regarding her or any other metaphysical and spiritual type teachings come across as "too hokie" for your liking, I hope we can at least agree to disagree. While I highly respect the world of medicine and all of the amazing advancements in science, I've come to also appreciate the power of positive thinking and aspects of metaphysical healing. It's become a strong belief of mine that hand-in-hand with science the two styles of gaining and keeping good health are most effective. And that's all I'll say about that...moving forward, prepare to be hoki-fied :)
I've been struggling with 2 health problems for the past week; first it was strep throat (which thankfully healed quickly on antibiotics) and now it's my wisdom teeth. I have an appointment for the 3rd week of January to get these suckers out but they've decided to all of a sudden start severely hurting me and my gums. I truly feel like a baby who is teething; I can't chew, it was painful to swallow at first, I've been running a low fever for several days, and I just want to lay in bed all day and wish my Momma were here :( I'm so lucky to have a job where it's acceptable to take a few days off to heal...really I don't know how I'd be doing if I were forced to sit in an office with this pain! Sending a boat load of gratitude to the Weebly crew for being so understanding.... Anyways...now that my strep is basically healed, I've been focusing on my wisdom teeth and caring for my gums. It's been a slower moving process than even my oral surgeon expected, so as I lay in bed this morning trying to figure out what else I could do to speed up the healing it finally hit me...Louise! If antibiotics, medical mouth wash, and pain killers weren't zapping the ouchies away then maybe I was completely missing the point of the discomfort. So, I reached for my handy You Can Heal Your Life and flipped to see if there was anything regarding impacted wisdom teeth. Sure enough; Probable Cause of Wisdom Teeth, impacted; "Not giving yourself mental space to create a firm foundation." New Thought Pattern: "I open my consciousness to the expansion of life. There is plenty of space for me to grow and to change." Ah, yes. This makes perfect sense to me. Maybe not so much to you :)...but it really hit home for me and the changes happening in my life...some of which I simply have not been giving myself enough breathing space over. I've been cluttering my head with swirly thoughts for months; what if's, how come's, why not's...instead of just giving my poor soul some *space*. I've been running a mile a minute trying to implement positive change all around me instead of just taking it a day at a time and letting positive change come to me. I've trapped myself in a box of 'this is exactly what needs to happen for everything to be OK' instead of freeing myself to actually BE OK. How silly it now seems. There is plenty of space for me to grow and to change. I can literally feel the tension in my jaw lessen each time I repeat this. Now back to the pills and the ice cream :) love and light, trish Last month my dad decided it'd be fun to come out and visit his oldest daughter for a weekend ("I miss ya, kid!")...and I can't tell you how much his trip meant to me. The Universe sent us a true gift by making the weather 75 degrees and sunny the whole time. Not too shabby for early November! San Francisco is truly at its finest on sunny days and I was thrilled it put on its best show for Mark Diggy! There are so many things I love about my dad, but a favorite is that he probably is one of the best examples of how to live life in the moment that I have. I only regret not really realizing this about him until somewhat recently. The man just has a delicate way of being very present while subtly absorbing the pleasures around him. And sometimes, not so subtly absorbing the pleasures. These moments are my favorite. When we walked into a true Italian market on Chestnut Street for lunch, Lucca Deli, my dad suddenly froze in the doorway. He then proceeded to extend his arms to the side (blocking anyone from entering or exiting the deli), take a huge deep breath and exclaimed for the whole shop to hear "Oh kid, do you smell that?! Ahhh...I could stand here all day and smell that!". I must have been inside this market a hundred times since moving to SF and not once had bothered to take in the amazing scent of true Italian food the way my dad just did. Baseball has always been kind of a 'thing' for my dad and me. I was raised attending and watching Yankee games with him so it was great that he found a flyer for a tour of AT&T Park we could do together. It ended up being a really great tour and the best part was I could tell how much he was enjoying it... Baseball is certainly his most beloved sport. It was such a big part of his life growing up (his stories are so classic, like scenes right out of The Sandlot) and it's kind of fitting to his general vibe as person; the pace, the history, the culture. My dad, the American classic. Even in my most simple memories of my dad, I can sense how gentle his soul is. I remember after our nightly baths my sister and I would take turns having our hair blow dried by Pop. One of us would sit at my moms wicker vanity holding a mirror while the other lounged in her nightgown reading books on their bed. I can remember how gently he ran the brush through our hair so as not to cause us any pain if he hit a snaggle. I remember him letting us dress him up (make up and all!), how patiently he would play board games for hours with my sister, and how he religiously drove us to our Saturday dance classes for years; sharing a sandwich and the comic section of his newspaper with one of us while the other attended class. I remember the sled rides at the retention basin, the chocolate chip pancake Sunday breakfasts, and the flowers when we were home sick from school. But outside of all the specific simple memories, I remember kindness. My dad is the epitome of kindness. He rarely, if ever, raises his voice at another person...even in a moment where voice raising may be deemed justified. He is incredibly generous, patient and fun. My dad is a wonderful example of so many things, but one thing I truly realized this past SF trip... He expresses gratitude for life by being present; he lives a full life by being grateful.
Always grateful. Love you, Dad. -t Happy Friday! I stumbled upon this article a few days ago and think it's pretty interesting...if you have a free moment, definitely check it out; http://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/why_gratitude_is_good/ And if you don't want to read the whole article, maybe just take a peek at my favorite part: "1. Gratitude allows us to celebrate the present. It magnifies positive emotions. Research on emotion shows that positive emotions ware off quickly. Our emotional systems like newness. They like novelty. They like change. We adapt to positive life circumstances so that before too long, the new car, the new spouse, the new house—they don’t feel so new and exciting anymore. But gratitude makes us appreciate the value of something, and when we appreciate the value of something, we extract more benefits from it; we’re less likely to take it for granted. In effect, I think gratitude allows us to participate more in life. We notice the positives more, and that magnifies the pleasures you get from life. Instead of adapting to goodness, we celebrate goodness. We spend so much time watching things—movies, computer screens, sports—but with gratitude we become greater participants in our lives as opposed to spectators." It's like it was written just for me :) In Gratitude, Trish grown up girl
lost little lady(such a grown up girl) a secret keeping smile; pains neatly tucked behind a shade of white and glossy pink help me, she’d laugh hurting little darling(such a grown up girl) a mystery holding gaze; sorrows carefully kept behind shadowed lids and painted lashes save me, she’d blink aching little honey(such a grown up girl) an inviting charm of movement; struggles gently placed behind twinkling jewels and manicured fingers find me, she’d wave dive deep little sweetheart(such a grown up girl) breathe shallow, swim hard; find peace in the silence, feel empty in its depth. long strides to cover her tracks, swayed hips to distract any doubts. sweet confidence portrayed in licking her lips, bitter loss conveyed through baring her skin. making sure they believe it, knowing that you don’t. hoping to fill the void by holding them, knowing that you won’t. scared little lady(such a grown up girl) troubles hidden in busy hands, busy words; moved further into life, no closer to the surface. a curious little crush, brightening the day; lightening the swim. eyes squinted unsure of the sparkle no chance, she decides please yes, she prays be careful little child(such a grown up girl) dance gently around new truths, breathe slow, swim wary; you’ve played this before. but… a kind, gentle touch, those calm, patient words. no little love here, no little girls now. swim up little one(such a grown up girl) so quickly exposed, uncertain of shame. shaking hands, fluttering heart just nerves, she explains butterflies, she knows no certainties set, no guarantees made, but the warmth of the sun has broken the surface, and the decisions are yours as you lift your face to greet it. so breathe deep little precious, fill your lungs, fill your soul. the future is best left just there; here is where you are. here is where you are loving. you’re doing just fine. for such a grown up girl love and light, trish ![]() It's the 55th anniversary of the day Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat today... Doesn't that sentence sound so ridiculous? Just 55 years ago...the current age of my Dad, who still seems so young to me...we told people where they could sit on a bus solely based on the color of their skin. And when they didn't oblige, we arrested them. Or beat them. Or even killed them. I try to picture myself hoping on the 30 Muni in San Francisco (not so lovingly nicknamed 'the dirty 30'), headed to work and minding my own business (probably making music videos in my head to my iPod playlist)....and then being told to suddenly move because someone of another race (a perceived 'superior' race) wants my seat. Wait...what? I don't even know what I'd do. I can't imagine how that would make a person feel. It baffles me to the point of almost having to laugh while SMH (shakin ma head). That's how ridiculous it sounds. I took an African American history/literature class at Penn State as a senior that, while I admittedly signed up for it just to fulfill a final humanities credit, ended up becoming one of my favorite courses in college. My professor, whose name I'm ashamed to say has completely slipped my mind (but I will be furiously googling for in the next hour), stood in front of the 100+ person class one October morning and visibly fought back tears. "I'm sorry if I seem out of sorts today, " he said, "I lost someone very close to me and to be honest, I'm having difficulties focusing." He paused to collect himself, then continued with "I'm sure all of you know who Rosa Parks is and what her single act of courage did to spark a great movement 50 years ago. A very, very important movement. While I recognize the historical icon she has become because of this great act...while I am so grateful for it...she was actually much more to me, personally. You see, Rosa Parks was my mentor. Not metaphorically speaking, but physically she has been my mentor all my life. She has been like a grandmother to me since I was a boy in Detroit. And she died today, young people {he liked referring to us as young people}. She died today and I am very, very sad." You hear so much about these every day activists in terms of being historical icons that sometimes I think it's easy to forget they weren't all that different from you and me. They had children and held jobs. They loved and learned and lived the ups and downs of human existence. And they mentored troubled youths in Detroit, who later went on to be wonderful professors of history and literature at, in my humble Nittany Lion opinion, a great University. This is important for me personally to remember. So keeping this anniversary in mind I have to take a step back for a moment to hop up onto my tiny soapbox to ask; when, as a nation, will we collectively realize that what we're doing to the LGBT community in terms of a lack of equal rights is truly no different than bus-dividing segregation? That the way we are so terribly unkind to each other because of such remedial differences in who we are, what we look like or who we love is no different than telling a person where they can sit on a public mode of transportation? This is the part I struggle with the most; the unkindness. You wanna have different beliefs than me? No worries, I'm all about learning and growing and challenging one another. I'm not so naiive as to think I will hold the same world views as every person I meet in my life time. But why the unkindness? Why disregard the fact that in the end, we're not actually all that different. That while people are certainly complicated, a little kindness can go a long way in evening the playing field? I'm not sure I'll ever understand that aspect. And frankly, the laws we pass pertaining to civil rights of LGBT communities are unkind. I mean seriously...if God, the Universe, Allah, Buddah, Jesus, or Grilled Cheezus wanted us to all be the same, then why were we created so differently? Do I have to just hope my children will someday SMH at this time in history the way we look at separate water fountains as too absurd for words? Do we really need to wait 55 years? Thanks for being a bad ass, Rosa. love and light, trish |
Archives
May 2024
|