All Aboard the Sooooul Train!

When I began watching Soul Train I thought it was the coolest and the hippest show on television. Don Cornelius was one of the smoothest cats around with his rich velvety baritone voice. Of course the afro hairstyle he wore when the show debuted was just fly, and I was partial to this hairstyle anyway because for years I myself had worn one. I fashioned myself after one of my 70's era heroes...or should I say "sheroes"...Ms. Angela Davis. I was a fist pumping, afro wearing, "Power to the People" kind of a girl, whose everyday language was peppered with such colorful phrases as "solid", "cool cat", "hippest dude", and of course the most popular one that is still used today..."Right On!"

While I watched the different singing groups do their thing on Soul Train, and the Soul Train Dancers get their groove on, I got into the spirit of things by mimicing the dances and lip-syncing along with the singers with my trusty hairbrush for a makeshift microphone. I sang along with Gladys Knight & The Pips, Peaches & Herb, The Four Tops, Aretha Franklin and The Delfonics, and got all dreamy-eyed, hot and bothered by the rich soulfulness of Barry White just to name a few. 

I don't think there was a Black American group out there that did not perform on Soul Train at least once in their careers. It was a fabulous showcase for new artists and a marvelous venue for those that were established in the world of music and entertainment. It was not the easiest thing to do for a Black man to make his way in the entertainment world during the 1970's. But Don Cornelius did, and he made a success out of his show and left his mark after years of providing us with quality and fun and what will forever be one of the best musical variety shows on television.

This was not meant to be an ode to Don Cornelius, but just a simple remembrance of something that brought me joy and happiness for an hour on Saturdays amid my otherwise dull, lackluster and boring existence. Dancing can unlease a myriad of emotions in us, not the least of which is a freeing sort of sensuality. Dancing is a great tension reliever, and a creative means of communication. Whether it was the Hustle or  something made up from a mixture of older dances like The Jerk, The Swim, The Horse, or The Running Man (progressive eras in dance) just being able to cut loose to the beat and work up a sweat freed the mind and relaxed the body.

The Soul Train line lives on afterdecades of popularity at wedding receptions, cabarets, and other parties. The Soul Train line will get everybody out on the dance floor and no partner is required. I believe it will be immortal and will never lose its appeal or its effectiveness at bringing out the part animal in all of us. Nothing can compare to the rush of heading down the line showing off your moves and keeping perfect timing to the rhythm and the beat. I feel like I can get up and bust a move right now!

So the next time you're dreading that same old routine of vacuuming and dusting, just put on some Frankie Beverly & Maze, or some O'Jays and get your groove on! Put down that broom and fancy yourself strutting down the soul train line and then clap your hands, snap your fingers and stomp your feet. Let's get it o with Love...Peace...and Sooooul!

Ladies, Start Your Engines!

Whew! There's nothing like pure unadulterated excitement! Adrenaline pumping, heart racing, feet moving so fast they don't seem to touch the ground and feeling so good you want to shout it from the rooftops. Well, that's exactly how the four of us felt as we practically ran giggling and breathless through the airport to our gate, to wait for boarding our plane. Although we had plenty of time before our flight was scheduled to take off, we hurried along just for the fun of it.

Our very long awaited and very much needed vacation had arrived. You already know about most of the drama and the sadness and heartache we'd all gone through late last year and earlier this year, so when it came time for us to sit down and discuss our yearly sister sojourn, it was a welcome relief.

I wasn't too sure that we'd even be planning a trip this summer. After we had almost lost Helena, and Claudette had finally gotten involved in a committed relationship, I wouldn't have been surprised if nobody went but me and Bonnie, or nobody went at all. Imagine my happiness when everybody showed up at my house right on time, on the evening we had scheduled almost a year ago.

 Now, it was tradition for us to take a week's holiday together; we'd done so for a number of years. And it was a part of that tradition that we put on the calendar the date we'd convene to plan the next trip. We'd done just that on our last night in Paradise Island, Bahamas last year, each one of us adding it to our electronic calendars. Reminders were set so we wouldn't forget and when my reminder alerted me two days ago, I wasn't sure how to proceed.

I had the responsibility of hosting the rap session at my house, and so I went ahead and made preparations. In the past, there was never any need to question whether or not the ladies would show. We took for granted that we would, we'd plan and execute and it would always turn out fantastic. So at about six o'clock on that evening of our scheduled meeting, all of the food was prepared and laid out on the screened in back porch. The weather had been so agreeable, that I thought we'd enjoy the outside from the inside! I had set the sound system on a loop to play some old school R&B music, with the volume just right for listening and conducive to our conversation.

I had just put the finishing touches to the fruit and vegetable platter when my doorbell rang in a very insistent and prolonged way. Calling out that I was coming, I hurried from my kitchen through the foyer to the front door. As I reached for the door handle to open the door, I heard the unmistakable voice of my friend Bonnie. She was practically yelling "Open this here door diva!" So I threw open the door to them,and there they were...my three closet friends smiling from ear to ear, looking fabulous in their spring attire and standing together arms linked. I could tell simply by looking at these divas that we were in for a fabulous evening of  laughter, good food and drink.

It was hard to believe that we got anything serious done because we were in such a silly mood, but we selected our vacation spot, and elected Claudette as our travel coordinator. She would make all of the arrangements and take care of all of the bookings and let us know our share of the expenses. She really got into the role of travel agent, making sure we all had our passports in order. Having already decided ahead of time that we would reserve a villa type house, we knew that we would also have to share the costs of food, drinks and other necessary amenities.

Fortunately for us that was no problem. We all had funds available to cover our costs without breaking our personal banks. Being able to go on shopping and sightseeing excursions was a must, but we were comfortably off financially so our vacations didn't cause a ripple in our finances. Several years after our first trip, we each started a vacation club account just for our yearly holiday. We have been so blessed to be able to afford our sisterhood trip every year.

And so that brings us to the here and now. Here we were about to embark on our journey, where we would abandon any and all cares to the wind, and for the next week the agenda would consist of fabulous fun, tall drinks with little umbrellas in them, decadent food, luxurious spa treatments, shameful shopping and dabbling a little in the nightlife.

We had reached the gate for our airline and since we had all had electronic boarding passes, we decided to stop in at a bar and have a "departure celebratory drink". That was Helena's idea and honestly, these gals could find any reason in the world to have a drink! But what the heck, right? We had earned the right to celebrate and let loose. Looking forward to our time together in sunny Jamaica, we lifted our glasses in salute to each other. One by one, we toasted ourselves, and when it came my turn naturally I wanted to say something profound. So, I held my glass up high and tossed my head and said "To us; full speed ahead. Ladies, start your engines!"

I'm Dancing as Fast as I Can...

Sometimes the world spins out of its orbit, teeters on its axis and everything is out of control. Up is down, down is up, round is square; light becomes dark…well you get my drift. The world and all that comprises it is fragile enough anyway so it is very easy sometimes for me to get turned upside down. Chasing the darkness away and holding onto the light is almost a daily battle; trying to rock steady and hold my course.

I am a very happy, positive and forward thinking person. I rely on my spiritual awareness and maturity to guide me in all that I do. I believe in miracles, the power of healing and in the Almighty God. Yet, there is something that is barely there but is there, and it seems to lie in wait to make an unwelcome appearance; thus altering my world and making it problematic. The triggers are not always the same, but the effects from the invasive thoughts assembled in the frontal lobes of my brain are.

Like I said earlier, I am a perfectly everyday girl. I am practical, intelligent, enlightened and funny. I don’t have nightmares and I pride myself on my ability to remain calm and assured most of the time. So what is up with this entity that hides behind the goodness and tries to manipulate it into something that is not “goodness?” It has no name, no identity and no mercy.

Staying on top of situations, issues, bearing the burdens of others, being counselor and confidant can become overwhelming. It can get out of control and when it does; my life accelerates into warp drive. It becomes a challenge to focus on who needs what from me. And what have I said to whom? Everyone’s voice melts into one loud cacophony, as identities are lost or misplaced. It is comparable to being pushed into the water from a high distance unawares.

How can I keep up with the renegade suckers who insist on bombarding me with their persistent niggling annoyances? Well, what I have learned from some very reliable sources is that these bold, arrogant thought monsters are the very artistic work of the Devil Himself…or what Christians refer to as “The Enemy”. He works the hardest and the most persuasive on those who DON’T belong to him. For those who belong to God, he tries his hardest to convince us that something is wrong in our lives, and that we are not normal and our emotions are questionable.  He wants us to think that since nothing is working out for us anyway, we may as well admit defeat and cross over to his side.

We have to stand firm and on solid ground, fully anchored and grounded in the word of God, relying on his promises and not the deceitful voice of Satan. He’s powerful, but God is ALL POWERFUL. Listen to his voice and not that of Beelzebub. Do not be deceived! Dance as fast as you can to keep moving, keep being proactive by having an active prayer life, and an intimate relationship with God. Don’t become slack or let your guard down…a crack in a door is an invitation for the enemy to just walk right in and make himself at home! And once he’s there…he makes himself right at home in your mind, in your heart and in your soul.

Only an active intimate fellowship with God... that is kept alive by constant prayer and faith based belief will overcome and conquer this enemy. Without this full armor, we are defeated and will be dancing for the enemy. If you don’t know him, learn about him and get to know him. Invite him into your life and then give that life to him. Do it today; do it now…before the music stops.

Can't Buy Me Love...Helena's Story

C

an’t buy me love, love, everybody tells me so. Can’t buy me love ..no..no..no..no..no!*  One of the clearest revelations that Helena Clayton had while being confined to her hospital bed was that her husband Stanford had spent the better part of their married life trying to buy her and to keep her bought. She didn’t even have to search the recesses of her mind to arrive at this. Suddenly it just appeared to her as clear as glass that he had constantly paid her off in material possessions, cash, trinkets and gifts and all the while she was either totally clueless or very adept at mastering the art of repression.

The burning question she was now faced with was could she have known all along that the married love she thought they had shared was based on a monetary foundation? And fresh on the heels of that was an even worse possibility; could she have known and chosen to ignore it, opting for the dollar signs and what money could buy?

Arranged marriages and contract alliances don’t even try to disguise the fact that money pays a huge part in their lives together. But for couples who supposedly marry for love and mutual honor and respect are not supposed to put dollar signs in the forefront of their lives. As she recalled the times from their courtship and engagement and their early years as a married couple, she didn’t remember anything significant that may have alerted her to consider trouble ahead because of money, and she didn’t remember Stanford doing anything out of the ordinary. He came from a wealthy family and was used to living a life of privilege.

She was from a middle class family and her parents provided the basic comforts of life for her and her siblings, and although they had many extras such as dance and piano lessons for the girls, and sports for the boys, it was known that there was a budget that must be kept so that their lifestyle could be maintained. Helena and her sisters Rosalind (Rosie Gal”) and Amy Anne along with her brothers Michael Thomas (“Pooch”) and Alexander Joseph (“JoJo”) appreciated the few luxuries her parents could afford and none of then ever took anything for granted. They may not have belonged to the upper crust of society like the Claytons, but her Mom and Dad were honest salt of the earth people who did their best for them and loved each other without indiscretion and were still Mr.& Mrs. Thomas Joseph Yancey for nearly sixty years.

Her daughter had delivered the message from Stanford about him being sorry and all. The thing is Helena could believe it. She felt the ring of truth to his appeal. And she had faced the cold, awful, damning truth about herself; that she was ultimately responsible for what had happened. She had pushed the envelope over the edge by first of all having the affair with Griffin, while knowing that he and Stanford were “acquainted”, and worst of all by admitting to sleeping with another man. She had played with fire by dangling the affair in front of her friends…her very best friends who had given her unfailing support always and even in this terrible mess had proven to still love her without interruption.

She had not only thrown all caution to the wind and danced with danger by not trying to be discreet so the rage that her husband had felt and its subsequent effects came as no surprise to her, but that didn’t mean she condoned violence and the physical injury he had caused her, but it did mean she could understand his hurt and his pain because she was the inflictor. She had every intention of forgiving him and dropping all charges against him in court and going back home if he wanted her.

If he had tried to buy her love, wasn’t she just as wrong if she willingly allowed him to continue doing it? Shouldn’t she have talked to him about it and let him know that the money and privilege was nowhere near as important to her as he was? Instead she had let him think for years that without the huge house and all of its appointments, the new cars, the unsupervised spending on shopping trips, luxury vacations and the prestige of being Mrs. Stanford Clayton were the basis for her living. She fell in love with him right after they first met and has loved him ever since.

Her affair happened because she was an attention hog. It had to always be about her, and because her hard-working husband was working 60 hours a week and maybe hadn’t paid as much attention to her as a result, she fell prey (willingly) to a man who paid her a few compliments and noticed her designer outfits and her $100 hairdos. Yes, it’s true what they say about hindsight. There was a lot of hard work ahead if she and her husband could agree to salvage the shreds of their marriage and start over again building them up, and this time money would not play as important a part as it always had.

The sun would shine again in her life and of that she was as sure as she was of who she is: Helena Charlene Yancey Clayton. She was actually excited about becoming a new woman, a better person who would then be ready to be a better wife and friend to her husband. Thank God for grace and mercy and forgiveness, and she would make the first move. She would call her home and speak to her husband and she would be comforted by the familiar sound of his voice. Some things would never change…and for that she was grateful.

*Excerpt from “Can’t Buy Me Love by “The Beatles”.

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Snapshots and Memories

How many of us are still holding on to old photographs of past loves and mementoes from old love affairs and relationships? Probably more of us than we want to admit. I used to have a collection that I kept in a shoebox and a couple of small photo albums with photos of me and an old boyfriend that were at least twenty years old. Why was I holding on to these pictures? Really…as for the small albums with this particular person in them with me I just didn’t know why. I mean, it’s not like we parted on good terms or anything, and there was nothing I could think of that was even remotely pleasant to think about or long for. Finally I did trash them but the real reason why I did will be revealed in the next few paragraphs.

The gentleman that I was involved with next was the one in the shoe box photographs. We had a long term relationship that was extremely exciting for its duration, pleasant to recall, and ended on friendly terms. It took a little longer to rid myself of the shoebox than it did the albums. And by the time we both realized that our time together had run its course, the memories of the things we did together and the fun we had shared had diminished to a fuzzy mist on the horizon of my mind.

The true reason I had tossed the albums was because I had started going through a major change in my life and my lifestyle. I had wanted to become a better person and I desired a deeper spiritual walk with God. I knew that in order to walk upright in his sight I had to be willing to let go of the carnality in my life, and I had to remove all of the reminders of that carnal life. Hence the significance of throwing out the photographs was a symbol of the throwing out of the attachments to my old self.

The soul searching cleansing of the relationship with the shoebox gentleman was a bit more extreme and it took a little longer to complete. Like it took about five years to finish letting go of all the pictures I had accumulated along with some of the gifts. The very first revelation that I had about changing my lifestyle came about four years before I started separating from him physically and mentally. I remember being inspired to give away the stuff he had bought for me over time and when I made up my mind to get rid of it I started out pretty big. My grand gesture of self-discovery and re-engineering began with the give away of a beautiful full length lambskin leather coat. I figured that the bigger the sacrifice the bigger the reward.

Now this was years before I discovered that there are no good works I could ever do to gain a heavenly reward. God does not hand out “great job” or “good work” certificates and stickers for what we call doing good things. We cannot earn his love or his favor…it is freely given through salvation and the redemptive powers of his grace. So, I could have kept the coat and all of the others things I subsequently got rid of and had I known the value of a true relationship with God it wouldn’t have mattered.

Nevertheless, it’s all over now. All of the snapshots are gone and all of the memories have faded into once in a while recollections. Mostly I just think about how different I am now from then and how those experiences taught me valuable life lessons, and that’s what I think about when and if I allow myself to recall any of those years in those relationships.

Growing up can happen at any age and it’s not merely for the progressive ages from birth to adulthood. Life recycles itself and we are constantly learning, reaching and growing and never get too old to benefit from the recycling. As long as I remain in motion and not become stagnant, look forward and not backwards (except for retrospect) and focus on being in the present with a hope for the future I will gain more than we ever lost from the tossing away of old snapshots.

Broken Promises...Broken Vows

The four of us have been as close as sisters for most of our adult lives. We have shared heartbreaks, heartaches, and cried together so many times I would never be able to count. We have shared our family troubles, our individual joys, our collective laughter and overall good times with each other. In other words, we have been down in the valleys and up on the mountain tops holding hands, praying or celebrating and not one single time has any of us had to be alone whether in sorrow or in joy. That is why three of us from our sisterhood are feeling side-swiped, confused and hurt...so very hurt over what we have just discovered about our dear friend Helena Clayton.

We knew about the extramarital affair she had been involved in for a while now. She never did try to hide it from us. She told us about how this man she had met had expressed interest in her and she was going to take him up on his offer to have lunch. After a few causal lunches with him, she admitted to us that he had told her that he wanted to become more intimate and that he was falling in love with her. I guess it could have been sheer excitement, the thrill of an adventure or just a death wish on her part that made her agree to cheat on her husband. She was falling hard for this man named Griffin McCoy.

It certainly was not because she was a neglected wife; real or imagined because anyone who personally knew Stanford Clayton knew of his unwavering devotion and his deep love for his beautiful wife. And he loved her just because she was who she was to him and not because she was an exceptionally beautiful and sexy woman. Now that I take stock of this situation, for the very first time in the history of our friendship, I am beginning to realize that Helena had a whole other side to her personality, and I'd wager that neither Claudette or Bonnie had a clue existed.

Stanford had snapped when he came face to face with the bitter truth about where his wife was spending her afternoons, and recently a couple of entire weekends. He had been duped not only by the woman he was married to...supposedly for life but also by a man he had called friend. True, Helena was really unaware that her husband and her lover knew each other.

 He never let on that he knew Stanford beyond speaking with him when he was at the Audi dealership (of which he was part owner) shopping for Helena's new car that he bought as a surprise birthday gift last year, when in fact he had played golf with this man and had attended several professional basketball games later that year at his invitation. When Stanford and Griffin found out they both had the same favorite NBA team, they became fast friends as a love of sports will do for most men.

Helena suffered several lacerations and bruises, a concussion and a broken arm and collarbone; souvenirs from the violent outburst and subsequent fight between her and Stanford. He has been arrested and is now out on bail pending a court appearance. Their children and grandchildren are devastated, embarrassed and hurt, as well as bewildered. They cannot imagine why their beloved Mother would cheapen herself and stoop to an affair while being married to the most wonderful man on the planet.

And worse they are still trying to wrap their head around the fact that their Father...a man who was always like a solid rock for the family, had never laid a hand on any of them growing up, and rarely raised his voice at anyone could become this angry monster who in a fit of rage nearly killed his wife.

When he realized what he had done, Stanford called 911 and reported the whole thing himself. He didn't resist arrest when the officers took him away. Fortunately for him, his attorney was already at the jailhouse and saw them bring him in, and it was not on a weekend so Stanford was able to arrange bail expeditiously. His attorney and long-time friend called Claudette because he knew that out of the four of us, Claudette and Helena are the closest.

We have been to see our sister in the hospital and have done our best to be cheerful and supportive of her at this time. We still love her no matter what. That's the depth of our friendship for each other, and when she is released she is going to stay with Claudette for a few days until all of this sorry mess can be addressed.
Til death do us part. How many couples repeat these words to each other in sincerity and in what we know at the time to be an unfailing love?

These words are meant to refer to natural causes in the life cycle, or circumstances that are acts of God. How many couples are faced with the realization that sometimes it can come from their own hand or the hand of the one they love? Love is a many resplendent thing but when it takes a wrong turn on an off ramp of lies and deceit it can be a very, very dangerous...thing.