MOVING ON.....2024

A Note From The Author: Jacqueline E. Hughes

I am so happy to welcome in the new year, 2024!!! My Blog is changing-up a bit....mainly because I am evolving. Travel will always take precedence in my life and, my journeys will be shared with you. This 2024 version will offer a variety of new stories and personal ideas, as well. This is all about having fun and enjoying this Beautiful Journey called......Life!!!

Thursday, May 20, 2021

FROM MONET TO GARDENERS EVERYWHERE: CAPTURING THE DEVELOPMENT OF EXPRESSIVE ART



A series of essays….




SO DELIGHTFUL TO THE EYE — A LARGE BOWL
OF DELICATE, COLORFUL CALLA LILIES!


….as seen through my eyes!





By: Jacqueline E Hughes


I love it when the evening sunlight spreads itself so generously across the golf course behind our cottage. The Master Pastry Chef has outdone Herself as she generously smooths lemon buttercream along the gentle hills and slopes of the eighth fairway and splashes the trees and newly formed leaves with glittering fragments of gold leaf. Tree trunks are illuminated with pure light as the sun slowly sets in the western sky and I wonder if the playfulness of the sun and clouds will offer a sideshow of plum and salmon ribbons of color bursting through the diminishing blue sky. I can only sit here and hope to witness more of God’s magic as evening flows into night shadows.





THE EVENING SUNLIGHT LIBERALLY
FLOWS ACROSS THE EIGHTH FAIRWAY!



Our little cottage remains a constant work in progress, inside and out. We always knew this would be the case going into this rather large project almost six years ago while still living and working in Orlando. How can one fail to nurture and love something as giving as the roof and four walls that protect you from the elements and coddles you in such an indulgent way? Whatever work we do on our little cottage, the joy of living here comes back to us ten times over.




RHODODENDRON AND LAVENDER 
FILL THE SMALL FRONT YARD.



Yesterday, before sitting at our back deck to relax and observe the highlighting of the eighth fairway, we spent the day in Claude Monet mode, manipulating light and shadow to portray landscapes in a groundbreaking manner; arbiters of our personal works of art. Instead of depicting water lilies resting on a serene pond and Japanese footbridges, we filled cornflower blue and terra cotta pots with calla lilly pastels, the rich greens of rosemary and sage, and marigolds popping with the brightness of tangerine orange and sunshine yellow.


As a young man, Monet always enjoyed the outdoors. He had spent his entire youth moving from town to town along the river Seine. But wherever he lived, he planted flowers. He justified his obsessive garden-making on the grounds that flowers gave him a subject to paint while he was indoors. We learned about this specific point on our visit to the artist’s garden and home in Giverny, France, located fifty miles northwest of Paris, a few years ago. We were fortunate to have walked along the famous gravel paths, drifted under the arbors clad in a profusion of color and fragrant scents that arched just above our heads, and take note of the giant water lilies thriving among the gentle ripples of Giverny’s famous pond. Yes, we strolled across the Japanese footbridge and marveled at being able to walk in Monet’s footsteps and actually experienced the spiritual presence of this brilliant man.





SEVERAL PICTURES FROM OUR VISIT TO
GIVERNY— DAN IS WEARING A HAT
STANDING ON THE JAPANESE FOOTBRIDGE.



Dan has captured the essence of Giverny by painting from the pictures we’d taken while exploring those hallowed grounds. Just like the budding artists who moved to Giverny to learn from the master himself, Monet’s gift of individualizing the beauty that surrounded him continues to influence many of us who paint and enjoy gardening, today.


Our Monet moment yesterday consisted of combining swatches of color from the living plants we’d found most pleasing to our own eyes and transferring these plants in groups or stand-alone vignettes within the flower beds and pots. It was pleasing to discover how masterful, if only by the sheer joy of the work, a gardener utilizes shapes and color just as Monet had enjoyed doing so many years before. Gardening feeds the soul, encourages personal artistic expression, and stimulates, through our physical labor, the production of endorphins that help us diminish the perception of stress and pain.





THE BIG, BLUE POT THAT
LIVES ON OUR BACK DECK


FLOWERS AND HERBS—
OUR ATTEMPT AT KEEPING THEM
FROM BEING NIBBLED ON!



As the onset of the glorious sunset was tempting me with lemon buttercream and the sparkle of golden trees, I knew I was absolutely exhausted from the day’s labor. Grabbing an ice cold can of cherry and lime flavored La Croix sparkling water from the refrigerator, it was time to step out on the back deck, find a comfy seat, and observe the beauty that surrounded me. This is, truly, a magical time of the day!


Tomorrow we will tackle a few more studies in color and balance around the yard, revel in the fact that our fourteen-year-old granddaughter will be getting her first Pfizer inoculation, and eventually become exhausted, once again, while loving every moment of it. As each day, week, and month goes by, you will find us sitting on the back deck and marveling at the beauty all around us, including our own works of art, all while attempting to never take any of it for granted as long as our time here exists. Color us—happy!



Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photos Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved









 


Thursday, May 13, 2021

HAVE YOU EVER…?




A series of essays….




“LET THE SUN SHINE, LET THE SUNSHINE IN”


….as seen through my eyes!




By: Jacqueline E Hughes



A spider’s web, much to my surprise, wrapped itself around my shoulders this morning as I stepped out on the back deck to capture the early morning light filtering through the adolescent leaves of our maples, sassafras, and oaks. Thinking of how our spirits can be lifted by the mere sight of sunlight penetrating the objects surrounding us and that we often take little heed of during grey, gloomy weather, I snapped several pictures before reentering the house through our knotty alder French doors.


Have you ever wondered about the nocturnal activity that surrounds you while you’re sleeping all snuggled within the soft folds of bed linens and surreal dreams of past, present, and future? As plantings cool down from the heat of the day only to be served up as delicious and colorful salad for the herds of deer roaming the landscaped lawns in the safety and comfort of night shadows. The artistic spider weaves its smooth, glossy, and intricate tapestry of threads stretching from one ceramic pot to another; one deck chair back to the built-in bench our grandchildren love to sit and play on. Walking through that delicate tapestry was like entering a new dimension in time and space; a porthole by which one transitions from the darkness of night into the morning’s light!


Have you ever looked into the depths of a child’s eyes (your own grandchild’s eyes) and felt you could dive into them as if they were the bottomless pools of untapped knowledge, unchartered hope, and limitless love you had been seeking all of your life?


Have you ever questioned yourself for any reason? From: “Should I have purchased that dress in navy blue instead of red?” To: “Would working for the renowned law firm in downtown Orlando be more prudent and fulfilling than working for an established builder in Celebration?” We make our choices along the way and to second guess them after the fact would be an imprudent thing to do. Acceptance of our personal selections in life and working hard to make them fit us comfortably has been the joy of living in a ‘free country’ awash with personal opportunities and benefits. What if the ideals behind the words free, opportunities, and benefits were stripped away from us due to the color of our skin? What if we were all made to wear navy blue instead of being able to opt for the color red?


Have you ever thought about losing your freedom and the individual rights we share as citizens of this country? Have you ever wondered about the wisdom of old men and women with shocks of white and dyed hair that harbor the need for corruption and greed? I know that change can be counteracted by more change and good shall rise from the depths of evil and that it requires patience and lots of hard work to make that happen. Retaining our democracy is so worth all we have to give to make that happen!




THE SUN RISES OVER THE BUILT-IN
BENCH OUR GRANDCHILDREN LOVE


Have you ever woken up in a place that was not your own bedroom and wondered where in the world you were? For over four, long years we questioned our grasp of normalcy which shifted from stability to trying to understand the jealous negativism surrounding a man whom we wanted to believe signed up to lead us into a brighter future. As he still, even after losing the election of 2020, pounds his lies into vulnerable people hoping to prove what most of us do not understand, I know that his was not the world I’d signed up for or expected for myself and my children. His blatant disregard for life and the pursuit of happiness never represented the cozy bedroom I fell asleep in the night before.


Have you ever felt less threatened and more loved than ever since the establishment of the Biden/Harris administration? My heart is more at peace now than it has been for years. Knowing that good change is happening with so much more to come brings such deep joy to all of us who helped make this change happen in November of 2020. We cannot afford to have this precious right to vote taken away from any single one of us by ignorant people who embrace and value white supremacy as a privilege they fully believe is theirs to flaunt as the truth.


I keep my camera on the oak library table that stands tall against the wall nearest the set of French doors in the dining room. It’s convenient to snag it on my way out the door on an early morning photo shoot. My evening adventures are slightly less conducive to walking through spider’s webs, fortunately. However, when the warm light of a firefly is enclosed within laced fingers and emits a surreal glow like minute rays of green-tinted moonlight, do we not wonder in amazement at how special our life truly is?


Later in the day, when I slowly turn around and look up into the sun that gently peeks out over our roofline, I think how it resembles a magnificent, sparkling palm tree. It’s fronds seem to be protecting our house as if they were gigantic, gossamer arms spun by a giant counterpart of the spider that had impressed me earlier in the morning. My heart is full; my world appeased.


Have you ever felt so loved that you just know that everything is going to be okay? That it would be worth while giving ourselves and the future another chance at getting it right?




“SO LET THE SUN SHINE IN, FACE IT
WITH A GRIN, SMILERS NEVER LOSE
AND FROWNERS NEVER WIN.”



Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photos © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Thursday, May 6, 2021

INSPIRATION

 

A series of essays….



THE STUNNING BLUE HYDRANGEA THAT SAT ON
OUR LANAI IN ORLANDO, FLORIDA. 
“HURT YOUR EYES BEAUTIFUL!”


….as seen through my eyes!




By: Jacqueline E Hughes



What does it take to inspire us; to inspire the inner child, artist, teacher, along with our intricate hopes and extraordinary dreams? The excitement of having our mind, emotions, and imagination ramped up to a high degree of feeling and activity is one of the main reasons books are written, music is composed, and grand ideas become working, functioning chapters in the long and illustrious history of the world. We move forward because we become inspired. But, the question remains—what inspires us?


What draws us closer to the flame and ready to burst with an adrenaline-filled explosion of energy and ideas? Our desire to grow and nurture a brand new branch onto the tree of learning for others to see, grasp, and enjoy for many years to come is a prime example of what can and does inspire us to create; especially believing that our creativity may, in turn, inspire others! 


Being inspired can take your breath away, knock you off your feet, and animate your entire being with high spiritedness and genuine euphoria while encouraging happiness and elation. To be inspired can relate to both a mental and physical transformation where the state of mind reaches a high level of motivation and the body reacts in a highly stimulated manner. Our elation may last throughout the duration of a particular cause, or reach out to us within a snippet of time initiating an adrenaline rush beyond fear and risk and offer the sensation of pleasure and, ultimately, much required peace of both mind and body.




OUR ‘SIMPLI-SAFE’ HOME,
INSPIRATION FROM THE INSIDE OUT…


Being motivated can be one of the most acceptable reasons for becoming inspired or engaged. It is the carrot and stick that dangles before our eyes, the persuasiveness of a friend in need of assistance, the prod or push needed to complete a project started years before, and the reason we march for a particular cause that settles deep within our chest and connects with our soul. We march for a cause, what we believe to be the truth, and are inspired by our leaders, educators, and fellow believers who keep us motivated along the way. 


Let’s not forget that money can be a great motivator, also, and can launch a thousand ships and even more careers. Financial gain inspires us to spend more, as well as be able to save more, thus helping to reassure us that our mature years may be comfortable and financially safe. Remembering that money can’t buy us lasting love or happiness and that we will always require sound reasoning and common sense no matter what our bank account looks like — life, death, paying taxes, and our health become the great equalizers. They serve to counterbalance opposing forces and bond us together as equal partners in this game of life.




SPRING COLOR AND WARMTH
OUTSIDE THE FRONT WINDOW


Inspiration unfolds before our eyes like a colorful spring flower that pops through the earth’s crust to joyfully encounter warmth, moisture, and the magical distribution of its pollen by generous bees who help maintain its existence for generations to follow. Much like a walk through an art museum may inspire a child to begin painting or an adult to continue painting by looking at others’ work, we are provided stimulus via examples that promote the cleverness hidden deep inside us. 


The educator is motivated by the success stories of his former students. An inventor is inspired by the direct needs of others and the environment’s requirement of an immediate upgrade. Vaccines are produced through the intense research of scientists who are inspired by the genuine necessities of humankind around the world. And, good change is achieved through the concentrated effort of everyone who cares enough to make it happen.


Finally, I believe that we are inspired by love itself. Love, simply addressed as unconditional and universal; the love for your fellow man, children, God, beauty in all of its forms, and nature. This love includes self love regardless of any flaws while embracing these flaws with a simple act of acceptance. This unselfish, sacrificing love flows with the intention of giving rather than receiving. We are inspired by this love to embrace the potential of complete joy and happiness by the observance of all that is good and powerful around us. Love is the inspiration we require. Love truly does make the world go round through its unique sense of balance and the knowledge that many ordinary events could not happen without it.



Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photos Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved














Wednesday, April 28, 2021

MAY DAY AND BLUE HYDRANGEA BLOSSOMS

 


A series of essays....



CEREMONIES, RITUALS, AND MEMORIES SHARED WITH LOVE
HELP US APPRECIATE THE DEEP FOUNDATIONS THAT 
STABILIZE US THROUGHOUT OUR LIFETIME

....as seen through my eyes!




By: Jacqueline E Hughes


Walking with my head held high and pure joy in my heart, my black Buster Brown ‘Mary Jane’ shoes tapped a rhythm down the long, tiled hallway. Obediently, I made my way to Sister Rose Marie’s small office at the back of the school. The little, round package of tin foil gently rested in my small hands. It’s wrapping, done up very neatly by my mother minutes before, was to be delivered to Sister and opened prior to the actual ceremony that was scheduled for ten o’clock that morning.


I hadn’t been in this new school for more than a few months, considering my dad’s employment sent us packing to a different town at least once a year. Fortunately, my older brother and I seemed to be adjusting quite well to this current environment and range of new faces and personalities that designated yet another change in our young lives. At least I was always making new friends each stop along my ‘skipping stones’ journey through parochial elementary school and life in general!




MEMORIES: BUSTER BROWN ‘MARY JANE’ SHOES


St. Peter’s Parish in Fort Wayne, Indiana celebrated Mary, Jesus’ mother, throughout the month of May as most Catholic Churches and families do. This celebration serves as a reminder of the Blessed Virgin Mary’s importance in the life of the Church and in our own lives, as well. Usually, a May Altar is erected along with a statue of Mary and a colorful array of flowers and lit candles and may stand throughout the month of May. A May Crowning is often held presenting Mary with a crown made of fresh blossoms in her honor while denoting the beginning of spring with all of its colorful bounty.


Finally arriving at my destination, Sister Rose Marie greeted me with a genuine smile and gently released me from the precious cargo I’d been carrying since my father dropped me off at the front of the school on his way to work. St. Peter’s was only a few city blocks from our home and my older brother and I would normally walk to class together each day in the rain, sunshine, or snowfall. But, this was the first day of May. This was a very special day in so many ways. This was a ride to school kind of day!


Upon settling into our rental home on Lafayette Street near the Ivan Lebamoff Reservoir Park two months earlier, we found St. Peter’s Parish to be very welcoming and it was easy for me to settle into a happy routine of school life, as well as home life. Maybe it was the juxtaposition of springtime and another long-distance move that helped to ease any doubts I may have had about being able to fit in with the kids in my new class. With the love and guidance of Sister Rose Marie as my teacher, I was able to seamlessly acquire ‘acceptance status’ within my new second grade class in only a few weeks.


By the time my class began discussing our May Day plans of where the altar was to be set-up, the songs we would sing together in honor of the Blessed Virgin, and who would be chosen to crown Mary on this special day, I expected that this newbie would be forgotten among the shadows cast by the brooms and mops located in the classroom’s back closet.




FRIENDSHIP HAS NO COLOR, GENDER
OR HIDDEN AGENDA


When Sister Rose Marie announced that we would all be voting that afternoon for the girl or boy who would crown Mary on May Day, my enthusiasm reached out to Josephine, Cathy, Linda, and Elizabeth. These girls were beautiful, so friendly, and fast becoming my partners in recess activities and future sleepovers at my house. It was exceedingly difficult for me to decide for whom I should cast my vote because many of the boys generously reached out for my friendship, too, helping to teach all of us that friendship has no color, gender, or hidden agenda.


Around a half an hour before the final bell was to ring out our departure for the day, we were asked to jot a name down on a small slip of paper, fold it in half, and place it in a well worn, felt hat being passed down each aisle. To give our suspense even more potency, we were told we would find out the results after mass in the morning. 


The following afternoon, I can’t even remember feeling the pavement beneath my feet or the slight drizzle that misted my entire body on the walk home from school. I scrambled through the backdoor shedding coat and book bag while desperately calling out for my mother. After all—she truly had the most important job of all in the next few days. My mother was to make the small, circular crown of fresh and colorful blossoms that I was to place on the top of the statue of the Blessed Virgin for the May Crowning celebration in my classroom!


I, the new kid, was selected by her new friends to take on one of the most celebrated honors I could have ever imagined in the eyes of the Church at that particular time of my life. 


My mother’s talents rose to this immensely important occasion. After constructing a small circle of thin wire with several lengths twisted together for stability, she wove absorbent material throughout the twisted wire frame. Carefully pulling apart strands of blue hydrangea, her favorite flower, she used silver tweezers to arrange the delicate blooms in and around the petite structure until the wire and paper were completely camouflaged in a soft blue haze of tiny blossoms. And for the pièce de résistance, she finished the project by inserting three, long strands of narrow satin ribbon, the colors of cotton candy, at the back of the crown. These were to flow down the back of Mary’s veiled head and soften the blue folds of her immovable clothing. This crown was perfect. My mother was perfect.


Presenting Mary with a handmade crown of blossoms at the May Crowning was an honor and a privilege for me. My heart told me not to feel such joy because of the pride I’d felt at placing my own mother’s crown on Mary’s head, but because Mary is a Mother—your mother, my mother, and everyone’s mother and she cares for us day in and day out without fail.


Happy May Day. Happy Mother’s Day. Happy time of growth, rebirth, and springtime in all its glory!






Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved


















Thursday, April 15, 2021

CONFRONTING THE BRUTAL REALITY...

 


A series of essays....



THE CRUELTY OF YESTERDAY BLEEDS 
INTO THE PRESENT DAY

                             Courtesy of History.com


....as seen through my eyes!




By: Jacqueline E Hughes



A System of Western Imperialism From the Genocide of Indigenous American Peoples To African Slavery To the Present Day



The man, a college graduate, currently serving his country in active duty is afraid to get out of his car. Because of his combat training, he realizes he could be under attack by a hostile enemy. He seeks bright lights to stop his vehicle under, rolls down his window, and is reluctant (refuses) to exit his recently purchased SUV—for fear of his life. He is gravely harassed and, as he looks down  the barrel of the gun pointed between his eyes, he knows that one false move could be his last move in this lifetime. Suddenly, he is wiping the dripping pepper spray from his face. Later, we can see it dripping down his chin onto the fatigues that identify his military status. Even under fear for his life and while having none of his questions taken seriously or answered, he had the wherewithal to record the life threatening incident using his own cell phone planted on the dash of his vehicle prior to his assault.




A young father drives through a residential area with the mother of his two-year-old child in the passenger seat of the white Buick. With flashing lights strobing within the rearview mirror and sirens pounding in their ears, he stops the vehicle along the side of the road and exits it as he is told to do. Whom he perceives as the enemy has them surrounded by now. With physical pat downs and verbal threats, the fear ebbs and flows throughout the young man’s body with the final blow of being shackled with his hands behind his back. All of the horrors he had been told about, all of the reprehensible indignities his Momma and Daddy trained him to handle and endure in his lifetime, floods his brain in those few moments. The genuine possibility of becoming a statistic becomes more pronounced with each deep breath he takes. The adrenaline rush overpowers his perception of time and fear as he launches himself back into the veiled safety of the car, his frightened partner at his side. For this one human emotion, the fear for the safety of your own life, the man is shot. As he sets the car in motion and attempts to rid himself of the pain, history, and his own anxieties, his last breath comes several blocks away and the white Buick becomes is final retreat.




A shiver runs down his spine. Fear of not being obeyed comes in rivulets of sweat along the length of his body and his greasy hold on the leather handle of the bullwhip slips and slides as his body shakes out of his own frustration and genuine feelings of superiority. He yells and shouts his orders and finds it incomprehensible that they are not readily adhered to by his property who stare at him with their own eyes of deep wonderment and fear. He will make them understand. He will make them obey even if it takes a few examples of showing them who’s boss by the process of beating them—. Mustn’t eliminate them. They are expensive property he knows he can’t afford to lose.


                              *****************************


Survival Rules If Stopped By Police Taught To All Black Children


Keep your mouth closed; Be respectful; Do not argue; Keep your hands in plain sight at all times; No sudden movements; Do not run, even if you are afraid; Do not resist arrest; Stay calm and remain in control; Watch your words, body language, and emotions.


Before you can escape injustice, you have to survive injustice.


                             ******************************


Usually, and in the case of the victims in the three true stories narrated above, their darker skin color dictates how they are treated and/or abused.


The feeling of power, the belief that certain people are better than others even though they breathe, bleed, and burn the same as everyone else, is heightened by the legal weapons and laws that people choose to hide behind; how some people choose to lord their organized power over others. An adrenaline rush of power has infected the very institution that was created to serve and protect all who walk the streets of this country we call home. 


Even the ‘good’ cops are subjected to the misguided and uninformed abuse of those who care nothing about right or wrong, fiction or reality. The storming of the Capitol Building this past January is proof that the respect for fellow human beings can be completely disregarded when the frenzy of a deluded crowd loses control and attacks the authority of the law.


The slave owner, as does the ‘bad’ cop of today’s world, share this in common: The most important point being the feeling that with either whip or gun in hand, they can emotionally reign over the weaker, far less superior masses they deem unequal to their own all mighty status in life. Projecting fear instead of displaying compassion for those who must abide by the law, our world continues to spin like an uncontrollable top poised between peace and war—for eternity.


Does a bullwhip or a gun and badge alone create this feeling of superiority? Does the sanctity of the institution of slave owners and law enforcement officers elevate the God given rights of one group of people over another? History concludes that this behavior of superiority has been an integral layer of most societies since recorded time. Sadly, that realization alone should serve as a reminder that changing this statistic will be deeply challenging. 


Please don’t misunderstand me as I reflect upon our current law enforcement system. In general, I believe that most of the outstanding, motivated men and women enter this profession with good intentions. And, unlike the slave owner who purchases labor in order to run his plantation and create profit without regard to the common necessities of those who labor for him, I feel our police officers generally hold the best interests of the people they serve in mind. Like most groups, politicians included, some officers have been tainted by the power vested in them.


This adverse pattern of policing in this country must be stopped and then—it must be changed.


A definite shift in priorities happens when a person who has been schooled by generations before him to believe that the color of his skin dictates how much power he has over a person with skin different (darker) than his own. That person may grow-up to become the leader of the free world and taunt, display, or give rise to others who harbor identical feelings and now feel free to openly assert their claims in life. 


The general push to eradicate any positive influences brought about by people of color within our society by the last administration, served to strengthen the belief that Blacks, all immigrants, Indigenous American peoples (in depth story for another time), and all who consciously choose to, finally, flip history around, will always be inferior to people with white skin. Period. 


                            ******************************


John Howard Griffin was a white journalist from Texas who was incessantly curious about what it would be like to be a Black man. He wrote about racial inequality in the Deep South of 1959 in order to see life from the other side of the color line. Darkening his skin through a course of drugs, skin creams, and sunlamp treatments, he shaved his head and spent weeks traveling as a Black man in order to experience the plight of African Americans in the South.


His 1961 publication of his experiences appeared in his best selling novel entitled Black Like Me where he described in detail the problems an African American encountered in the segregated Deep South. Traveling by bus and/or hitchhiking, he describes meeting the needs for food, shelter, toilet, and other sanitary facilities. The hatred he often felt from white Southerners haunted his daily life. However, he was pleased to point out anecdotes about white Southerners who were friendly and helpful.


After the publication of his book, he and his family received death threats, his likeness was hung in effigy, and they moved to Mexico for several months before returning to reside in Texas, once again. Despite lecturing and writing on race relations and social justice, he continued to contribute to racial understanding. In 1975, Griffin was severely beaten by the Ku Klux Klan. He survived.


John Howard Griffin allowed himself, a white man, to experience a version of what it would be like to be Black. However, no one knows better, firsthand, about the fears, loss of hope, and emotional toll of being Black than a person who is born Black. 


                            ******************************


Several years ago, I recall how the perception of adopting Black children into a predominately White home was deemed unacceptable by Black Society. I couldn’t understand their reasoning at the time. When dealing with there own lives, Black people’s lives are precarious in the first place. Disallowing their right to grow-up within the basics of their own culture, history, and familiar sense of being grounded may deprive them of even more.


This reaction to Whites adopting Black children stems from the belief that these children will never be able to fully comprehend who they are or where they come from. Their adoptive White parents, even with extensive research and good intentions, will only be able to offer them a skewed look at life and may not be able to completely prepare them for the world’s reaction to their own skin color as they are growing-up or when they eventually leave their protective nests. 


Left in a state of limbo and inappropriately trained to cope with life’s realities, these adopted Black children may not be introduced to the applicable survival rules and prominent lessons while they remain young and vulnerable. 


                           ******************************


Under cross-examination, Dr. Martin J. Tobin, a pulmonologist and critical care physician, said, “Mr. (George) Floyd died from a low level of oxygen, and this caused the damage to his brain that we see. The low level of oxygen was caused by ‘shallow breathing’ and Mr. Floyd’s prone position and his being handcuffed, and Mr. Chauvin’s knee on his neck and back contributed to the shallow breathing.”


As the trial of ex-police officer, Dereck Chauvin, continues on the death of a Black man, George Floyd, my hands immediately folded into fists of rage and disgust when Dr. Tobin uttered these words to the court, “This tells you he (George Floyd) has used up his resources and is literally trying to breathe with his fingers and knuckles.” This was in reference to Mr. Floyd pushing in on the back tire of the squad car he was pinned up against during the final moments of his life. 


As the video illustrated this last action by George Floyd, Dr. Tobin said, “He’s using his fingers and his knuckles against the tire and street to try and crank-up the right side of his chest. This is his only way to try and get air into the right lung.”


                            ******************************


May I repeat: Before you can escape injustice, you have to survive injustice.


For far too long, too many people have lived under the heavy weight of this simple but poignant statement and mantra. It is time for CHANGE to happen—NOW!





TWENTY-YEAR-OLD MAN, DAUNTE WRIGHT, WHOSE
LIFE WAS TAKEN AWAY 
BY MINNEAPOLIS-AREA POLICE


                          Courtesy change.org




Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved