Keeping Rolling Rolling Rolling Rolling

Last night I watched Furious Seven with the missus; the latest (and probably final) installment in the modern The Fast and The Furious franchise, staring Vin Diesel and the late Paul Walker. Number seven was as good as number one, but different. I think I missed, or passed, on five and six.

Going back through the Furious adventures (via a nice tribute at the end of the film), I thought back through all the years of this blog and all its adventures, and how life has thrown one curve after another. Such is the ride that is life.

I've experienced blow-outs, burn-outs, crashes, citations, cruises, tuning, boosts, sideswipes, sabotage, losses, victories, and even switched cars a few times. I'm sure you have had your share of some of those too.

I'll be moving from the city this blog was birthed, in a couple of months. As part of this move, I'll be keeping some things, donating some things, recycling some things, and tossing out some things. I'm donating Epotlounge to you, with no more tuning (i.e. new posts). It's been maxed out. :). Thank you all for riding with me over these past seven years. Keep rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling!

What Would You Grab In a Fire?

I was lucky. The apartment building where my children were born in had smoke detectors so sensitive that we all got to practice fire drills often over the first months living there.

Typically, it was just someone leaving food on the stove too long.

We got so good, that when the real fire came a year later, practice made perfect.

We had already agreed with the kids on a rally point; where to go once you're out of the house and where everyone meets.

So, what did we take?

1. Keys
2. Wallet / Purse
3. Mobile Phone
4. Office laptop bag
5. Document bag (with IDs)

Truth is, one through three is really the best you can hope for, without practice. One through three are typically together if not on your person, which helps.

Four and five, everyone knew to grab based on our practices, if they hadn't been grabbed already. Also, five can fit into four, and four can be carried over the shoulder and across the chest, leaving hands free.

Designate a household fire marshal, who is the last to leave and makes sure everyone is out, and makes sure everyone is at the rally point. By my rough estimate from our practices, every adult had no more than 30 seconds, and every child no more than one minute. Add all the minutes, and that's how long from the time the alarm blares, until everyone must be out of the house; maximum. Once that time it reached, the fire marshal moves anyone remaining out of the house and leaves for the rally point.

There are sites and pamphlets on fire safety, but my impression is that if they are ever read, their contents are seldom practiced.

Again, do practice, and make sure your kids know the drill. Every alarm is different, and you never know which one will be the one. You may have more, or less time than you think. It's all theory until the $#!+ hits the fan. Then, it's what you practiced that counts.

image from commons.wikimedia.org

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

I performed an unintentional exercise in mortality awareness last week. What you see is all that will remain of me in the end, from a biological standpoint.

I was underwhelmed to say the least. All that hassle and this will be all that's left. Then I smiled, realizing that at least I'm recyclable. Plus, it's a healthy dose of humility. A reminder not to take myself too seriously.

Regardless of what you believe in, do remember to enjoy the journey, stop to reflect on your trip, and checkout the scenery.

When you stop looking for some thing...

...is usually when it finds you.






image from itisdschools.org

A Tale of Two Policings

It was the better of pullovers, it was the worse of pullovers. Rewind to the early 1990s and my first car. A Boston cop pulled me over on the corner of Newbury Street and Mass. Ave. It was a summer afternoon and the city was bustling with traffic, construction, and people. He came over, politely greeted me, and asked if I knew why I was pulled over. I told him, no.

He told me my inspection sticker was expired. Something in my eyes must have asked, and how is that a moving violation, because he briefly explained that driving without a valid inspection sticker was not only a violation (moving or otherwise), but (very important if you're a broke a$$ student) also a three-point surchargeable event (read: you just made your insurance company richer).

I told him I planned to get it done the end of the week when I took my car in for service. He went back to his cruiser. About five minutes later, on his way back he yelled that he was going to let me go with a warning. When he was about halfway over, his radio went off with some new business. He quickly brought over the citation, and told me to get it taken care of as soon as possible. He ran back to his cruiser. As he stepped in, he smiled at me, and told me to have a nice day. He then got in, busted a u-turn, and was out.

Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, thirty seconds from home in Cambridge, I got pulled over. Damn! I thought. Friday couldn't come quick enough. The cop came over right by my inspection sticker and asked if I knew why I was pulled over. I told him, yes, my inspection sticker. I got pulled over for it yesterday. I showed him my Boston citation, still in the car, and told him I was planning to get it taken care of tomorrow (Friday). That's no excuse he told me abruptly. He walked back to his cruiser. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes passed. I could feel the dread well up within me. I was on the most quiet stretch of my street and no one was around but me and this cop.

It doesn't take this long to write a ticket I thought. I wished he could just give it to me so at least I could be on my way, as mom was expecting me. Now I was late. Finally twenty minutes had passed and he was walking back. I was ready for me ticket. However, he didn't give me a ticket. He gave me an inspection test.

Press you horn he told me.
What? I responded.
Press your horn! I did.
Right signal.
I did.
Left signal.
I did.

He then stepped to the rear of my car. At this point, I got scared that this could be one of those things I saw on the news. Nobody was around, and this could go all wrong.

Press your brakes, he barked from the rear.
I did.
Again.
I did. I looked to my mom's complex, thinking, she's going to kill me for being late.

Then I saw a tall black, statue of a man at the top stair of my friend's townhouse. I could only see his silhouette, but the muscular stance was unmistakable. My friend's dad stood watching. He knew my car, by at least how much time his son spent working on it, and he was watching hard. Thank you Jesus, I thought. At least if $#!+ went down, there would be a witness. Or at least someone to tell my mom.

The cop came back towards the front of the car, looked through the rear windows, and to the under-body of the car. Now thirty minutes into the stop, he give me the $50 ticket and left. I waited until the cop was well out of site, before I exhaled and drove into my complex. My friend's dad intercepted me before I reached the parking lot.

Everything okay? He asked me in his Trinidadian accent. I saw, he said knowingly.
Yes sir, I told him. Inspection sticker.
He grunted, looked down and nodded. It's okay. Go on, he said, gesturing in the direction of my mom's place.

image from dreamtimes.com

What are you #Thanksgiving?

• I woke up this morning and everything that's me works; mileage notwithstanding 
• There's probably still more food than I can eat for breakfast in the fridge
• Heat's working
• Working today, with the option to do it remotely
• The missus secured the bedroom so I could sleep in, until (wait for it) almost 8 a.m.
• Got to wish pops happy birthday 
• And of course, much more, including clean underwear ;)

On This #911anniversary...

Remember to be grateful.
Remember to love someone.
Remember to forgive someone.
Remember what's important.
Remember what probably shouldn't wait until tomorrow.
Remember what to hold on to.
Remember what to let go of.
Remember you may be where you are for a good reason.
Remember right now.

Hope For A Better Tomorrow

myfreewallpapers.net

We all know in the news there is always more bad news than good. However, it has been more grim than usual this summer. IS[IS|IL|whatever], Ferguson, Boko Haram, Ebola, Gaza, Ukraine, etc.

It is really easier than usual to just say $cr@w it and stay in bed, or worse, run down into the panic room. To be sure, there are serious issues of global proportion out there, and sometime they hit home in ways we never see coming.

There are also those issues that are local and even personal. It is not too hard to give up.

A youth pastor I know revealed that one of the biggest complaints teenagers confided about the adults in their lives, is that they've got a bleak outlook on the future. Their point was that why should they even bother looking towards adulthood when the adults closest to them are all doom and gloom.

My kids are all still in their single digits, and I still see all the joy and hope in their eyes as they enjoy this life. We must give their generation something worth looking forward to.

World War E

npr.org

E is for everything. Everything changes when someone you love or are close to, has a furious and potentially fatal illness. Don't kid yourself; it can happen to you. Like the lottery that is life, your number just may not have come up yet. Take nothing for granted.

E is for education. AIDS in the 1980s killed more people than it should have because of a lot of ignorance and prejudice driven fears. Don't be afraid to ask, if you don't know or are not sure about the state of your health. Don't take unnecessary risks with yourself or others. If you have a "friend" who you think may be infected, be a friend and get them the information they need, or at least point them in the right direction as best as you can.

E is for everybody. Everybody knows they need to clean their hands when they are dirty. However, we all need reminding of the best technique and it's importance.

E is for ego. I don't care how famous or/and rich you are (you know who you are). Go get checked if you know you've been compromised. There is no shame in doing the right thing for yourself and others. You'll get more support than you think. Plus it tends to set a positive example.

E is for empathy. Let's show some more. You or I may need some tomorrow.

Two Questions For #YesAllWomen

Ask at least three men you know well, who have and do treat you with respect, the following questions:

1. How did you learn to treat women the way you do today?
2. Who were your teachers?

"Everybody Hurts...

...sometimes. So hold on." - R. E. M. 

For you...wherever you are...whatever you're going through.

The Young Man On The Train

I guess there was a reason I caught the train I did tonight. When I got on, I noticed a young man, not more than 18 or 19, sitting across from me with his head down to his knees groaning. I thought at first maybe he just had a bit of too much something. By the next stop, it was clear. He was crying. No...He was sobbing.

The young woman to his left, my right, pretended he didn't exist. She was very uncomfortable. We all were, initially. The young man sat up. His inexperienced face was red and filled with despair. His fingers swiping his mobile phone, checking something, and not seeing it, returned to sobbing. One man moved away. The sister to his right, my left, took out one of her earphones (yes, he was sobbing that loudly). She asked him if he was okay. He said he was okay, and tried to man-up a bit. All the while, I'm really studying him now. I'm trying to figure out why he's crying. The young man asked her what stop we were at. She told him. She asked him if he new where he was going. He said he didn't.

He was dressed pretty well for was appeared to be a later-year, high school student. Based on his hair style and attire, and his comfort and easy in them, I would guess he was not from the city. He asked politely, and responded in kind. Nothing on him, including his school backpack was obviously, commercially branded. I decided I couldn't get off the train without connecting with him somehow. My stop was next, and my initial reticence was gone. When he lifted his head again, I let our eyes meet. I tried to convey that it was okay, whatever he was going through. Sometimes, a man for one reason or another needs to let it all out. Sometimes it won't be convenient. Better a cry on the train now, than taking out one's aggression on others later. He dropped his head again.

What could be that bad, I thought? Did he commit a crime? Did he get in a fight (I saw a dime-sized gash in the based of his palm)? It's a girl, I said to myself. It's gotta be a girl. It didn't matter. I started to say a prayer for him.

As the train slowed to my stop, with everyone now realizing this young man had something going on and watching, I got up. I stepped to the young man sitting across from me. His head down again between his knees; hand clasped behind his head.

"Hey," I said, then patted him softly on the shoulder. He rose slowly, and then looked up into my eyes. I told him, "Whatever it is, it's gonna be okay. You just hang in there. I'll be praying for you okay?" He said, okay, and then, thank you.

With My Vuvuzela, I Salute You Mandela

last.fm

Three years after watching on TV, Mandela lift the FIFA World Cup trophy in South Africa, I blew into my vuvuzela today for the first time. One short blast inside the house to represent his perseverance while imprisoned. One long blare outside, on my veranda into the night sky, to represent the freedom his release gave so many.

Zumbi dos Palmares - A Symbol of Freedom

Wikipedia

Every once in a while someone will ask me, "Why did you name your company Zumbi Mobile Solution?" or "What's a Zumbi?" I try not to chuckle at the latter, as it's a good, important, and honest question. Zumbi dos Palmares was a born-free, Afro-Brazilian freedom fighter.

I discovered Zumbi in 2000 during my first trip to Brazil. When Brazilians wanted to find out about more about me, they asked my birth-date. When I would respond, the reaction was always the same; pleasant surprise. After the fifth person's reaction, I decided to ask what the deal was with that date. "You don't know?" she said. "Every Brazilian knows this." I explained that I wasn't Brazilian.

I found out that slavery in Brazil was officially ended on my birth-date. My visit also coincided with 500 years since Brazil was discovered, so a few carnival themes included songs or references to Zumbi.

So what does Zumbi have to do with Zumbi Mobile Solutions? The freedom and peace of mind technology can provide the human race, by solving the problems of our times, and particular those that adversely affect the African diaspora.

"November 20 is celebrated, chiefly in Brazil, as a day of Afro-Brazilian consciousness. The day has special meaning for those Brazilians of African descent who honor Zumbi as a hero, freedom fighter, and symbol of freedom. Zumbi has become a hero of the twentieth-century Afro-Brazilian political movement, as well as a national hero in Brazil." - Wikipedia

PS. After four trips to Brasília, I still haven't found that bust of Zumbi. Perhaps next time. Eu quero ver...

A Definition of a Veteran

Borrowed from Mount Rushmore for the dedication

Someone who writes a check to the US government, payable for up to his or her life. I heard this last Sunday from Brigadier General Paul G. Smith, Assistant Adjutant General of the Massachusetts Army National Guard, at the dedication of the Medford, Massachusetts Veterans' Honor Roll Park. The ceremony was to add to the Honor Roll, the names of all Medford residents who served in Operation Desert Storm, Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom.

While I wasn't deployed in any of those conflicts, I remember vividly (then) General Colin Powell announcing the start of Operation Desert Storm, only a few days before my graduation from Basic Training. Gen. Smith made it a point to acknowledge all veterans, including those in attendance. I was taken aback by the overwhelming public attendance and support. Please remember to thank a veteran and offer your support however you can. The smallest gesture can have such an impact.

For Men Only: How To Never Lose Another Umbrella

Wait.

Make sure your lady is OUT of the room.

Or better yet, out of the house. Are you all set? Good. I'll make it short, 

in case she sneaks back in, because you were so eager to get her out, that you

 overdid it by giving her your credit card and car keys. Here it is... Get a pink umbrella. Get

 a tote-sized, bright, monochrome pink (that's pink only, for you art majors) umbrella. I've 

had  mine for seven years, or something. Ain't no shame fellas. Ain't no shame. I've left it at work, 

on the bus, in restaurants, at Fenway Park, at my mama house...and it's always gotten back to 

me , before I've gotten too far. Once you get yours... Men will be too embarrassed to steal it. 

Women 

will want 

to see 

the look of 

horror on your 

face when they 

return it and 

then compliment 

you about being 

secure in your 

manhood.

Kids won't 

want it, 

because kids 

don't want 

what they 

already have 

or that you're 

too eager to 

give to them, 

such as chores, 

consequences, 

advice, and 

Amoxicillin.

And after all 

this time, I've 

finally figured 

out to fix my 

umbrella when 

the canopy 

separates 

from the tips.

If you want 

to know how, 

let me know

...if you dare. :)

Telling Kids The Truth

Arthur Fordham c1902

So a few nights ago I'm reading Little Red Riding Hood to my kids; one in a line of many, many earlier versions. I get to that part where the wolf eats grandma....when my four-year-old son, still learning to read, interrupts, "don't you mean she hid in the closet?" I'm dumbfounded for a second, and then I remember vaguely that later versions of this famed story involve grandma and a closet.

I could do what most American parents I know would like do, and move the story right along for the sake of my audience and be mortified that such a politically-incorrect version of the book made its way into our sacred library. God knows I was tempted. Especially since my three-year-old nephew was also present. However, I've made it a policy to tell my kids the truth in a manner they will comprehend so matter how risqué the question.

"Noooo," I finally replied. "The wolf ate grandma." My index finger tracing below the words. My daughter, an excellent reader, nodded in agreement. When he protested that the version he knew about from TV involved a closet, I went on to explain that in the original version, the wolf actually ate grandma. I then explained to the kids, in their language, that sometimes there are different versions of a story to match the changing times in the world and how people feel about things.

Parenting in America today, and life in general, isn't like what it was when the original Little Red Riding Hood was printed. So there's this valid tendency to want to protect our children at all costs.
I believe we can do this by telling our children the truth, at a level and manner that they can comprehend, even if not fully. It's a muscle we as parents and all who care for and love children, have to exercise for it to become part of our conditioning. I wasn't so smooth my first time with my pal Curious George, but I had to start somewhere too.

I'm glad for my choice because next, the wolf (I totally forgot) eats Little Red too! Finally, the woodsman kills the wolf (oh dear) with his ax, freeing both grandma and Little Red (whew). I could hear my parental alarms blaring as I read, but I kept repeating to myself, you and millions of children once read (or were read) the same story, and the world didn't end.

Better a truth that fosters a difficult but necessary conversation, and path to a critical understanding of the world, than a lie that slowly but eventually erodes trust.

Navigating The Storms of Life

More raw sermon notes, from the iPod:

Family Matter 2013: Storms

A storm can be to your benefit.
Press into the storm.
We lose sight that The Lord is with us through the storm. 

"Now it came to pass on a certain day, that he went into a ship with his disciples: and he said unto them,  Let us go over unto the other side of the lake.  And they launched forth. But as they sailed he fell asleep: and there came down a storm of wind on the lake; and they were filled with water, and were in jeopardy. And they came to him, and awoke him, saying, Master, master, we perish. Then he arose, and rebuked the wind and the raging of the water: and they ceased, and there was a calm. And he said unto them,  Where is your faith?  And they being afraid wondered, saying one to another, What manner of man is this! for he commandeth even the winds and water, and they obey him." (Luke 
8:22-25 KJV)

God wants us to exercise our faith with the storms that come. 

1. Do not be intimidated by the storm, use the storm to your advantage. Ask the Lord what He wants you to do now. The storm is a test. Go where God wants you to go despite the storm. There will always be storms. Let God figure out how He is going to resolve the storm, because the resolution is beyond our comprehension. 

2. Give up controlling the situation to God. Focus on what you do know, not what you don't know. Keep your spirit strong. 

3. It's the word of God that gives us peace. Get into the presence of God.

4. Don't be bitter. Encourage people in the storm. 

5. Persist and persevere for you have a destiny. God says, "I have given you everything, you will overcome." Storms do not last forever. There is a due time and an appointed season to reap. 

6. Don't forget the storms you've already been through.

Occupy Brazil?

I have been ruminating over the protests in Brazil over the last week or so, not sure what exactly to write. I watched Bebeto play at the older-than-me Maracanã stadium in 2000, and saw the massive renovation of Mineirão stadium in 2012. I been to Rio, São Paulo, Salvador, Belo Horizonte, and Brasília across the years, and have experienced Brazil and Brazilians change over that time. I've seen the rich, the middle, and the poor, up close. Like in a lot of places, things over time have become better for some, not so much for a bunch of others. Still, I'm surprised it took this long for such a public outcry. I guess like my dad always said growing up; when you've had enough you say when.

 

Lyrics in English courtesy of Crimson.

Memorial Day - What Am I Supposed To Remember?

That question is from a movie I watched today called, Memorial Day, starring James Cromwell. On Memorial Day in the United States, we remember those who have given the ultimate sacrifice of their lives in military service.

Calendar-wise, it marks the unofficial start of Summer, and so a lot of folks go to the beach, have barbecues, and so on. Many attend parades to honor those fallen veterans, and others pay their respects at cemeteries and veteran monuments all over the country. Some try to do all of the above.

When I was a kid, I fell more into the beach and barbecue camp. Once I became a veteran, I found myself more and more asking myself, "what am I supposed to remember?" It never came in those words, but those words best capture the sentiment. I've never seen real combat. No one I knew personally (that I'm aware of) ever died in combat. Still, as someone who has served, all soldiers, past, present and future, are my comrades. I don't have to have known them personally, or even tangentially. All that is required is that they took the same oath I did.

I'm not much for parades, so I found myself at Oak Grove Cemetery paying my respects to some one hundred or so World War I veterans from Medford, Massachusetts. My habit as of the last few years is to see if I recognize a last name. It's a small world, so maybe I know one of their descendants. I think I might have today. Even if I didn't, so what?

After watching the movie, I too found myself looking at the "souvenirs" (for lack of a better word) of my time in the military, and more importantly the stories behind them.

While not all Americans are veterans, every American who isn't, knows, is related to, has seen, or is somehow connected to a veteran. These non-veterans may have never though to ask, "what am I supposed to remember?" If they are haven't, one day I pray they will.