In My Write Mind
After the past few months, after days where America has endured so much loss, you just need to vent a little. After losing two of this nation's strongest voices, you need to talk to no one in particular, say some things that may have been sticking in your craw; make a few statements that otherwise wouldn't come to the surface.
Sometimes...after losing two strong public figures, you just gotta write.
Even if it's wrong.
So, with that in mind, I sit here today in front of my PC, reading blogs and newspapers online. I sit here in mourning over the loss of loquacious attorney Johnnie Cochran, not so long after the loss of one of my heroes, Ossie Davis. I sit here in awe of their accomplishments; I sit here in their shadows while striving to make a positive change in the same world they just left.
I sit here with a smile, reading about how Mr. Cochran made his first noise in the 1960s in Los Angeles, how O.J. may have been the most famous case, but his legendary litigation legacy was made over an illustrious career. I sit here reading article upon article about how Mr. Davis was involved with so many issues of the times, not afraid to get arrested for the cause...but doing so quietly, without much fanfare.
I sit here reading about these things. Then I pick up the paper. And I stop smiling altogether. Now I sit here upset, reading about the Reverend Jes.se Jacks.on taking up the "cause" of Terri Shiavo's parents. He says he met with them for mercy's sake. Me? I think it may be for that...and for Jesse's sake, too.
I sit here with my mouth agape as I read about the Reverend A.l Sharpt.on--in his own words, no less--taking up the cause along with the New York Jets football team for a new stadium on New York City's west side. He says he was advocating for the communities of color who would benefit from the jobs that the new complex would bring about. That's good stuff. Great stuff, actually. Except the proposed building on this stadium reeks of political odor, thus weakening his stance by weaving it in with the voices of other greedy statesmen who could care less about those same communities.
Then I go to E-Bay, start doing a search for a gift that will hopefully keep on giving. I look for the trinket, the reminder, the proverbial string around the finger, that will help these gentlemen remember that, as public and prominent figures in their communities, their first responsibility is to right the wrongs, and not necessarily be in front of the cameras while doing so.
I search, to try and make a bid on that one band that could possibly force them to pause--relax, relate, release--and then march forward for justice, Roger, Rerun and the rest of the rights of America.
And there it is...I find it. The perfect symbol that will do the job. In the color of their choice. The bracelet that will change the way our public figures handle themselves from here on out--one that reads WWJOD, which stands for "What Would Johnnie or Ossie Do?"
I click on "Buy It" and cross my fingers, hoping they do, too.
scribbled by Will at 3/30/2005 02:46:00 PM
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I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear. (Joan Didion)
The Write One
Will. Lefty. Since Summer 1971. Over the next six months, I'll be saying some hellos, some goodbyes. Living, laughing, growing. Don't.miss.a.word.
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