Sipping the last sip of my morning coffee at a quarter to five. This is Ithaca life. A nice life. No motorcycles roaring down the road. No sirens waking me at all hours of the night. No discourteous neighbors letting the door slam or having loud conversations outside my door. The birds that woke me in August have gone south for the winter. My move north seems almost apropos. Going against the tide, against the grain, against the masses. The chilly air warms my soul. Even today, the only sounds I heard were that of the sanitation workers, picking up the remains of Thanksgiving. I love Ithaca's silence, because it allows me to think deeply. No worries about being disturbed and no self induced distractions. I miss my kids, their laughs, but more so their stories. I missed those who know me so well, ages 5-11, even better than those I call friends. The six year old who knows my sarcasm all too well, yet people I know for 27 years are perplexed by it. The five year old who tells his teacher's aide that his favorite day is Monday, because he gets to see Jon Hopper, yet my truest friends I see rarely, if ever. The little kid who appears to be unable to focus on his tennis swing, yet gets better with each passing week, while those who sit next to me at the bar, seem unable to understand my thoughts. The brothers who view me differently, one as fun loving and the other as a disciplinarian, fully realizing that I treat them in accordance to their behavior, yet my Facebook acquaintances can't fathom my reactions to their taunts or my nods to their acceptance. People will never understand why I've suffered to stay with those kids. Being a parent isn't the same. I get to watch these kids grow on their own. Sure I'd like to think I play a small part, but the disconnect in our reality is healthy. Unlike the one I've come to see between those I call, hesitantly, friends.
This was a post I wrote on Facebook after surprisingly not seeing any moaning about the Documentary by Jose Antonio Vargas, titled White People Dayyum! I just scrolled my timeline and not a single white person got their feelings hurt by White People. I unfortunately haven't seen it, but the number of fake accounts that popped up on twitter, tells me it was a damn good show. Here's the thing. If someone of color aka non-white says "White Privilege," are you offended? If you said yes, then you are exhibiting white privilege. It has nothing to do with how hard you work or study, how you stayed out of trouble, because here's the thing, that is entirely the point. Somewhere out there, there are 100 Black, Spanish, Native American, Arab, Asian, who worked and studied as hard as you and never got in trouble, but they don't have what you "earned" or achieved. Stop looking at the one person you know who isn't white that achieved as your benchmark. Loo
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