Remembering a beautiful life

She and her best friend used to race home from school to see who could get the first kiss of my chubby cheeks when I was a baby. She still had that same enthusiasm and eagerness to kiss my daughter. Whenever I payed my mother a visit, my mother would call and tell her to come over. She did, with the quickness just to hold and kiss and play with my baby. On Friday, September 18th around 11:30 p.m. she called my mother and they talked. My mother told her that she had spent the evening with my daughter. Aunt Jan wanted to see her too and that whatever she had to do, do it because she really wanted to see my daughter.

Around midnight, a drunk driver ran head on into the vehicle she was riding in, killing her instantly(wow, it's hard for me to write this). A wife, a mother of two, an aunt, a sister, a friend, a cousin, a well known musician - was taken away from us.

Later that morning, I arrived from New York, my husband knew but he never let on. I got a call from my cousins, one of whom was my aunt's oldest daughter, they never let on. I finally called my mom and asked if she had spoken to the cousin. She said, "no." Then I said she didn't sound too good. My mom asked, "She didn't tell you?" I asked, "Tell me what."

Whenever my mom starts off with, "Oh my God," then I know something terrible has just happened. Then she told me. It felt like someone had just knocked the wind out of me. After I let the words sink in "JAN...KILLED" a pain so deep erupted and I screamed out in anger, hurt, and confusion. How could a life so beautiful end so tragic?

She has always been the backbone of the family. I always joke and tell her that she should have went to law school because she was versed on legal issues. She always knew how to read through the fine print. If there were ever any issues in the family everyone went to her and by God she got on it and wasn't satisfied until it was done.

She was a talented musician and singer as well, serving as Minister of Music and even composing some of the songs for her church. During our family reunions she played the keyboard and always led the praise and worship hour. Who would've thought this year would be her last because this year unlike before, the holy spirit was present at our family reunion and the recreation house turned into a church sanctuary. It was a little emotional because we had just buried my Aunt Emma in May. So this was the first family reunion without her. When Aunt Betty got "happy," there wasn't a dry eye in the place.

Later during the family reunion, Aunt Jan entertained us with a bluesy rendition of "Stormy Monday. " She sang her heart out so we started throwing money at her feet. I'm so glad her husband was there to video the moment as he's done on many occasions. I think part of the reason why he did so were to capture moments that included my mother, who was dealing with lymphoma at the time. As strange as this may sound no one thought Jan would die before my mom.

And so the family is still in shock, and when it seems things don't get any worst they do when more members our family are killed in a terrible accident involving a driver who ran a red light. The death angel took not one but four members of our family over the course of the weekend. There's only so much the heart can take, right now all we can do is ask God to give us the peace He'd promised, the kind of peace that surpasses all understanding. I'm also thanking God in advance for his angels of protection over my family and everyone's family.

I can't get angry with the drunk driver who took away such a beautiful life. Aunt Jan had so much to offer, she still had a lot of living to do. She had two daughters; one who is about to graduate from college and the other who is about to graduate from high school. She was planning a party for them and she was excited as well as emotional about the upcoming chapters in their lives. My heart aches when I think of her husband and daughters. My only peace is in the biblical verse: Earth has no sorrow that heaven can't heal. As time goes on my prayer is that they will eventually heal. I pray that God gives them all the strength. And I pray that the girls go on to become the women their mother would be proud of. I also pray that Robert, her husband, finds the peace that God promised him. I pray for my entire family. Rest in peace, my dear sweet Jan. The angels in heaven are rejoicing!

Another snippet from "Spring Cleaning"

Sit time between flights make me more tired than the hours I spend on the plane. I utilize this time to have lunch in the food court for a change. Lucky is next to me with his nose in a box of Popeye’s Chicken while Eddie is across from us nibbling on a six- inch sub with a bag of chips.

“Word on the low is.” Lucky begins, “Roxy is about to lose custody of her daughter.”

I’m not a fan of gossip but for some strange reason my ears perk up whenever her name is involved. It has a lot to do with I don’t have a life and she seems to have too much going on in hers. Every week it’s something different. One week she’s not getting along with the nanny, the next week she and her rapper boyfriend are fighting. On an earlier flight, she got confrontational with a passenger over a wrong drink order. Tomorrow she may get off the trip just to show us that she doesn’t need the job or the money. I just look at her and think Lord, why her? She never seems content. If I were in her position I would utilize my time and money wisely. There are times when the crew has gone out for dinner and she orders the most expensive thing on the menu. She takes two bites out of it and she’s done.

Poor baby. Your daddy’s rich and your mama’s a hot mess. I’ve always wanted a child or two and here she is with a daughter and she runs away from her every chance she gets.

“To whom, Mad Lew?” Eddie asks. He’s thinking like me. Mad Lew didn’t want that child anymore than Roxy.

“Mad Lew’s mother wants it. You know what that’s all about.” Lucky dips his chicken strip in a round container of spicy mustard.

“To keep from paying Roxy child support.” I add.

“You know he pays her $20,000 a month?” Lucky fans himself, “Honey when she told me that my jaw dropped.”

“That’s $240,000 a year.” Eddie says.

“Lord forgive me for saying this but for that amount of money I wish I could birth a crumb snatcher.” Lucky looks at me, “You feel me, Boo?”

“No. You are by yourself on that.”

His smile disappears and he rolls his eyes at me, “Anyway, that heifer got Walter Nunnley paying her membership dues in the President’s club.”

Eddie frowns, “You’re supposed to be her friend, why are you telling us her business?”

“Amen.” I second.

Eddie taps my hand. “Ronnie, does he tell you my business?”

“I always put him in check.” I wink.

“Don’t even try it.” Lucky rolls his eyes at me again.

“So what, you and Roxy hanging tight now?” Eddie asks.

“I’m not supposed to be telling all her business.” He turns his back towards me and rolls his eyes at Eddie.

“Suit yourself.” Eddie chuckles.

Once I’m on the plane, it’s still a half an hour before boarding. We’re on a 757 with twenty-four first class seats so I find a seat in the very last row. Somewhere between a light and a deep sleep I wake up to the sounds of Roxy’s voice yelling into her cell phone.

“You knew my status when you got with me.” Apparently she doesn’t see me. What does she mean by status? Financial status? Relationship status? Her status of the War in Iraq?

“You know what Kenny, kiss my ass.” She yells into the phone, “And if you think you’re getting custody of Marlow kiss my ass again.” She slaps her phone shut and I hear it being thrown into her purse. She walks the first-class aisle in a huff and still don’t see me slump against the seat. I hear Lucky come on board and stow his bags in the mid-cabin closet, if he walks into first-class he surely wouldn’t miss me.

“What’s wrong with you?” I hear him ask Roxy.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” It sounds like she’s standing in front of the mirror powdering her nose. “When are you going to New Orleans?”

He answers, “This weekend, why?”

“I need a witch doctor or something. You know any?”

“Do I look like the type of person who know people like that?”

“You want me to lie?”

“Boo, I don’t know what you’ve heard but I don’t know witchdoctors.”

“What about your mother, your grandmother?”

“What are you trying to do?”

“I’ll tell you about it later.” She says just minutes before Whitney and Victor arrived. I remain slumped in the first-class seat until I feel someone tapping my feet. I pretend as if I’m asleep and start wiping my eyes.

I Can feel the Music!

Growing up, music was always playing in my house. Even at night when we went to bed, the radio played because a quiet house always seemed eery. Magic 102 has been around a long time and I still remember some of the DJ's (Captain Jack - Don't Do It Like That Baby!) was his hook, Zoe Bonet did the quiet storm at night, and Uncle Funky held it down in the morning. I've always been a fan of good R & B songs, especially those with good lyrics and an infectious rhythm. Remember this: Love and Happiness...Something that'll make you do right....Will Make you do wrong. Then you'd hear that gospel-inspired moan followed by the five foot stomps and the bluesy guitar. Listen to it and I dare you to remain still.

I grew up in the 80's and 90's when rap and hip hop first emerged on the scene. I'm not really a fan of the genre. I've never been one who memorized rap lines, phrases or hooks, but I can tell you all the lyrics to Stevie Wonder's songs. I have 60 of his songs on my ipod. Stevie will always have a special place in my heart. When I was two, my dad purchased the "Songs In the Key of Life" album and played it daily. Daddy's favorites were, "I wish": Looking back on when I was a little nappy headed boy...He liked, "Isn't she Lovely," he always dedicated that one to me. But the one song that always stood out and is my favorite one on the album to this day, "Pastime Paradise." The cellos, the violins, percussions, the voices of the choir, blend them all together and it was a masterpiece of a sound, an audible musical canvass beautiful from the time it opens with the simple, steady beat of a hand held wood block and climaxes with a thrash of a tam tam drum. The lyrics are haunting: Been spending spend most their lives living in a pastime paradise.

I finally got the chance to meet him after one of his concerts. Just for me, he played and sang another one of my favorite songs that he didn't include in the concert and believe me I was on cloud nine the rest of the week.

When it comes to music I don't just limit myself to R&B. My dad had an extensive jazz collection and at a young age I was able to appreciate Billie Holiday, John Coltrane, and the Jazz Crusaders. My mom loved gospel so it played all day on Sundays. To this day, she still tunes in every Sunday morning to the local station that plays gospel from 6 am to 10 am.

If I had to make a list of my favorite artists I would definitely put Stevie Wonder at the top, followed by Prince. I finally got the chance to see him and the Revolution perform live in New Orleans and I must say for a 50 year-old man he was very energetic. He's also on my list of people I want to meet before I die. He obviously strikes me as someone who is extremely deep and I can only imagine what a conversation with him is like. I wouldn't be surprised if he wrote everything down on paper and passed it over to you. He's just weird like that. Imagine us:

Me: Hi

Him: (writing on a piece of paper) How R U?

Jill Scott is another one of my favorites, I have a pretty extensive collection of her songs, too. I've seen her perform live, the sister is baaad. Her poetry comes alive. Anthony Hamilton is another one of my favorites but I haven't seen him perform in person. I rented a performance of his via netflix and was blown away by it. Next time he's in town, I'll be there front row and center.

There are others on my list: Anita Baker, Erykah Badu, Chaka Khan (whom I met, she's a sweetie) and Maze (seen them many times). I wished I could've gotten the opportunity to see the Jacksons perform, maybe one day I can catch a Janet concert. In the meantime, I'm gonna sit and chill and let the shuffle button play on my itunes. Check out my list of artists: Sly and the Family Stone, Booker T and the MG's, Alicia Keyes, Yolanda Adams, Zapp, Heatwave, Whitney Houston, R. Kelly, the Isley Brothers....

When You've Been Blessed You Progress...NOT...

All my life I've seen this particular person deal with issues and win! She used prayer and meditation as her secret weapons. But as the saying goes, time brings about a change. Assuming it's a change for the better. When you've been blessed you progress not regress. This particular person has regressed. She's moved a devil back into her house. I mean literally. She's moved a real-life lying, scheisty, alcholic, devil BACK into HER house.

This devil came into her life just like it came into the lives other women through carpentry work. This devil has the same M.O. if you are a single woman and you need major repairs to your home this devil will fix it up as good as new. The work usually ends sometimes late into the night and instead of this devil packing it's materials and heading home...it crashes on the couch. Eventually the devil ends up in your bed. Next thing you know it's moved into your house. Next thing you know it becomes a stick of gum on the bottom of your shoe.

This devil is toxic. The two previous women who moved this devil into their homes suddenly became ill with cancer. One of them died. The other one forced him out at gun point. (Her health improved tremendously afterwards). This devil lived with this particular person for nearly five years. She claimed this devil as a roommate. He paid the bills whenever he got money from his jobs. He took care of the dogs, cleaned the house. He even went to church on occasion to earn his keep. Then the horns emerged.

One day I got a call from this particular person I could tell by her voice she was stressing out. "Come help me get his stuff out of my house." Without hesitation I drove myself and my 11 month-old daughter through a monstrous thunderstorm to help this person. In a matter of minutes we had all the devil's things packed on the front porch. This particular person who had depended on the devil to keep her bills paid and current was on the verge of getting her lights and water turned off. I paid her outstanding bills and put a little extra into her account. Soon after putting him out her health improved. She would get a thousand dollars here and a thousand there from her friends to help her out with the bills. I believed God showed her that she didn't need the devil, all she had to do was trust in Him and he'd take care of her. She read the bible, she knew this to be true.

Two weeks ago my daughter and I go to visit this particular person with the intention of spending the weekend to celebrate the good news of her being healed from cancer. We were spending the night and going to church with her the following day. All of a sudden, I hear keys unlocking the door and in comes the devil. I couldn't mask the shock expression on my face. I asked him, "Have you moved back in?" He snapped, "I never moved out!" I looked at this particular person, seething, fuming, "Is that true?" I asked. She glared at me and told me to mind my own business. I said, "When you called me to help you get his things out you involved me in your business. Why in the hell did you waste my time?" She said on the verge of tears that her bills started mounting up and that the devil gave her money.

Wow, was all I could say, I guess the money I was giving her wasn't sufficient. I was hurt but more than that I was angry. The devil had a reputation in the town for being a notorious liar and a con-artist. He would tell people he'd do jobs for them, take their money and never show up for the work site. He was even on probation for it. Worst than that he was drinking. That night when he walked in, the house reeked like a distillery. I packed my things, grabbed my daughter and I left. I refused to be in the same house with him.

Two days later I vented my frustrations to this particular person and told her how disappointed I was in her. "God has been good to you, he's given you a new lease on life and you insult Him." She knew the bible, at least I thought she knew the part where, "God will supply all your needs according to His riches..." Her faith had definitely turned into fear. I'm still upset but she's made up her mind, she's going to keep the devil in her home. I told her, "When you get tired of him and believe me you will, don't call me." And that was the end of our conversation.

Imagine a Not-So-Typical Black Community

Imagine a black neighborhood where all of the businesses are black owned. That used to be the case some years ago. I'm writing this because in every black neighborhood in America you're guaranteed to find three things: A nail shop, a liquor store, and a check cashing place. Nine times out of ten, the nail shops are owned by Vietnamese or Koreans. The Liquor stores are owned by Pakistanis or someone of Middle Eastern origins and the check cashing places are owned by someone other than a black person. The majority of black owned businesses in black neighborhoods are beauty shops, barber shops and fried food joints.

There is an old abandoned building that used to be Kroger just sitting in my neighborhood wasting away. In my dream world, I'm wishing I could turn it into a farmer's market. I would have free range chicken eggs, home grown fruits and vegetables, good quality meats like the kind you get from your grandparents' farm - I would have a cafe set up where my people could nosh on tufu spaghetti with unprocessed tomato sauce, they could drink real peanut butter and banana smoothies. The people who worked there would have pleasant attitudes and some of them would even show up early for work.

Imagine a black community where there are quality schools. Where prayer and bible study are requirements. Self-Respect 101 would be a requirement and Love and Respect for thy neighborhood will be an everlasting motto.

My point is this...At some point when do you come to the realization that you are your greatest asset. That God, your community, and your health are essential to your survival.

Family Reunion Fun

What do you get when you mix hickory smoked barbecue and country, salt-of-the earth, people? A recipe that is my family reunion. Every August since 2004 my family gets together and celebrate with a little church, a little history, and a whole lot of food. We sooo look forward to laughing and joking, playing exciting games, throwing down on my grandma's hickory smoked barbecue ribs, chicken and brisket. Later in the evening, my uncle and my cousins entertain us with live music.

The Merchant, Peterson, and English family reunions originally started with my Great Grandmother, Irene Peterson Merchant. Her birthday was August 2, and she wanted to celebrate her birthday with her family and her husband's family back in the late 70's. My great grandparents lived on a farm in Huntsville, Texas. The best family reunions took place right there in the backyard underneath a shady, huge oak tree. The reunions would last from noon until midnight sometimes.

"Mama" as we often called my Great grandmother, baked homemade pineapple cakes, German chocolate cakes, and made the best red kool-aid in the world. She called it "polly-pop," and it was loaded with pineapple juice. Come to think of it, "Mama" cooked all the food for the reunions that had as many as a hundred and fifty present. Sadly, "Mama" passed away in January, 1986. The 1986 reunion wasn't quite the same. The one following it in 1987 occurred right there in my great Aunts living-room, it was that small.

It wasn't until early 2004 that the grandkids got together and reignited the flame that "Mama" started nearly 30 years earlier. We added more activities and every year we pay tribute to our loved ones who have passed on. We celebrate by having church and then we end the evening with the live band throwing down on everything from Archie Bell and Drell's, "Tighten Up," to the "Cupid Shuffle." My husband loves the band, he usually gets a front seat to video the action with his camera.

I really hope we can continue the tradition so our children and their children can come together. It is always a really good thing.

My Mile High Tales In this Big World

I'm in first class taking food orders and drinks and I see the name, "Mary Wilson," before I make eye contact with this person I say, "wow, you have the same name as Mary Wilson from the Supremes." I look up and see that it is indeed the legendary singer sitting pretty and elegantly dressed in black on her way home to Las Vegas.

Another time I'm standing at the bottom of the jetway awaiting a seat on the plane and at the top of the jetway I see the silhouette of a coke bottle figure, slightly bow-legged, and a little pigeon-toed heading my way. She gets closer and I see that it's Ms. Bey, the bootylicious queen herself clad in black spandex wearing the cutest gladiator sandals en route to New Orleans to perform at the Essence festival.

At the height of their career, KCi and JoJo sipped Courvoisier on a flight from Midland to Houston. The 90's group, "Sugar Ray," were on their way to El Paso when one of it's members decides to join the mile high club with a girl he just met on the flight.

Mike Tyson must've ate a whole cabbage because he had the whole first class lavoratory stinking like it. Although I've never attended her personally, I hear Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee can get a little stinky herself. I believed she was banned for a short time after flight attendants complained of her harassing them with her haughty demands.

Jazz vocalist, Al Jarreau has to be one of the sweetest guys. He and I talked about his upcoming show and he was gracious enough to autograph a CD for my father. Jermaine Jackson was cool even though he sat in a center seat in coach and had what seemed to be a million kids traveling with him.

Broadway actress, Bernadette Peters was sweet. Cornell West was engaged in a book about Antigone. Basketball Star Rashard Lewis and his homeboys must've partied all night because they slept the entire four-hour flight. But the most poignant and proudest moment to date for me when was I sat with George Mitchell, one of the original Tuskegee Airmen. He had just gotten an award for his bravery and he was on his way home to San Diego. Mr. Mitchell was 83 years young, soft spoken, and a very proud dad. He carried a little brag book with him and inside were old pictures of himself and other airman from their WWII days. There was a picture of his wife, who was now deceased and a picture of his son, Tony award wining actor, Brian Stokes Mitchell. I could tell he was a very proud dad.

Celebrities, politicians, athletes, I've come across them all and I am remembered of the day I sat and talked to former NAACP Ceo, Kweisi Mfume. He had just left the funeral for James L. Byrd in Jasper, Texas. We talked about my travels and his travels and I told him that since I was a kid I had always dreamed of traveling the world. He said calmly, "It's a big world." To that I replied, "Yes, it is."