Duck, Duck, (Jim) Crow

I don’t watch A&E’s “Duck Dynasty.” Frankly, I avoid most, if not all, “reality” shows. When I heard that Duck Commander Company founder Phil Robertson made disparaging comments against the LGBT community an interview with GQ magazine, I shook my head at his uninformed outspokenness. But when he said that African-Americans were happy before the Civil Rights era, I took offense and felt that I had to take Robertson to task.

“The blacks worked for the farmers. I hoed cotton with them,” Robertson told GQ. “I’m with the blacks, because we’re white trash. We’re going across the field…. They’re singing and happy. I never heard one of them, one black person, say, ‘I tell you what: These doggone white people’—not a word!… Pre-entitlement, pre-welfare, you say: Were they happy? They were godly; they were happy; no one was singing the blues.”

The A&E cable network suspended Phil Robertson “indefinitely.” While he is on suspension, I suggest that Mr. Robertson take some time to research the effects of Jim Crow laws on African-Americans and the United States as a whole.

Mr. Robertson can start by reading The Warmth of Other Suns by Pulitzer Prize winner Isabel Wilkerson. The book chronicles the Great Migration of blacks from southern to northern and western states. Most African-Americans living in the oppressive Jim Crow South left to find better jobs and build new lives. Even during the period from 1915 to 1970, they found covert, institutionalized racism in jobs and housing.

If reading is too time-consuming or even difficult for Mr. Robertson, then I suggest talking to people who lived through the Jim Crow era. My 88-year-old father, for example, fled his boyhood home of Gould, Arkansas, in his late teens to escape the mental and physical oppression of the Deep South. He traveled to California, served in the Navy during World War II, and worked in Northern California for most of his life, retiring in his late 80s. He can share his experiences, as can his younger brother, whom I’ll call “Uncle G.” Uncle G, a retired real estate agent, saw his best friend lynched by a white mob when they were boys. He shared this story with me as part of a family history project. He was clearly traumatized by the memory.

So, I ask that Mr. Robertson take the time to educate himself before spewing uninformed comments from his mouth and shooting A&E’s cash cow “Duck Dynasty” in the foot.

Writing Diva

Back to Life

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TB54dZkzZOY

Exactly 20 years ago today, I died.

Not of embarrassment, but of complications from double pneumonia.

For less than a minute, I suffered cardiac arrest, and my medical team from John Muir Medical Center in Walnut Creek performed CPR and shocked me back to life. During this life-saving effort, I "dreamed" that I was floating above my body, feeling peaceful. I don't think it was a dream, though.

Backing up three weeks: I had worked on a three-day series of articles for the San Ramon Valley Times on "AIDS in the San Ramon Valley." The reports were among the best I had ever done. But the work took its toll on my body: I came down with the flu.

After a week of coughing and not taking full breaths, I consulted my physician, who diagnosed me with pneumonia. I asked him, "Shouldn't I be in a hospital?" Instead, he prescribed antibiotics and sent me home.

Bad decision.

I went home to Sacramento to allow my parents to care for me, and my physician called me back for another exam. By the time my parents and I arrived in Walnut Creek, I was short of breath, and my heart was beating erratically. My physician finally had me admitted on July 31 to John Muir Medical Center, where my attending physician was a cardiac surgeon I had interviewed for a news story.

After my family left my hospital room, I realized the difference between me and my parents and siblings was that I could not leave the hospital without risking my life.

The next day I underwent a procedure that involved putting a scope down my trachea to view my lungs. I woke up in the intensive care unit with a breathing tube and a feeding tube down my throat. My first thought was the equivalent of "WTF?"

Although I couldn't speak, I could write, barely. I motioned for the nurse to bring me a pen and pad of paper. I wrote, "Me die?" She responded that the medical team was doing what it could to keep my alive.

During my morphine-induced state, I saw an Episcopal minister pray over me. I thought, indignant, "I'm not dying yet!" I was tested for hantavirus, which I didn't have. I was awakened by nurses to cough.

What does dying feel like? As if your soul is a candle, and its flame is flickering to just a glowing ember before finally going out.

Three days after my near-death experience, I left the ICU and returned to a regular hospital room. I learned from a nurse about my almost meeting my Maker. I was stunned. My siblings told me that the night before my near death, Dad was crying and praying nonstop. I have never seen my father cry. Still haven't.

I spent 16 days in the hospital, 8 of them in ICU. I was out of work for a total of seven weeks. I didn't regain my full speaking voice until two months after I left the hospital.

Often I wondered why I lived when others have died in similar circumstances. It may be that I still have a purpose in life I have to fulfill before I die for the last time.

Writing Diva

Hot Fun in the Summertime

There are times when a single life can be fun. A hot summer Friday night was a great example.

Last Friday I was coming off a long, stressful work week. I wrote on my Facebook page, "I'm in dire need of getting my groove on." I had planned exactly that: I was going to a "Meetup" with some acquaintances to see the R&B/dance band the Time Bandits in Andrews Park in Vacaville. The gig was part of a summer series of "Creekwalk" concerts.

I met several members of the Meetup group seated in their camp chairs under the shade of a sycamore tree about 75 feet from the Creekwalk stage. The Time Bandits from nearby Fairfield were playing some infectious soul and dance music ranging from the 1960s to present day. I strutted and bumped to songs ranging from Kelly Clarkson's "Walk Away" to The Temptations' "I Can't Get Next to You." I think I fulfilled my daily dose of cardio in front of that stage.

The only guy in the group, whom I'll call "Gary," arrived with his camp chair. We met each other in late December during a meetup at a downtown Vacaville karaoke bar. The last time I saw Gary was in January at a dinner for another group. I found him to be a laid-back, solid person. He's probably 5'9", slim, and shaved bald. We greeted each other before he set up his chair next to mine.

The group members would chat among themselves despite the deafening music. I asked Gary why he wasn't dancing yet.

"I don't feel comfortable dancing with people I don't know," he replied.

"You know me," I thought but kept to myself.

Gary finally got up the nerve to get on the dance floor and ask a woman to dance. I shrugged and enjoyed the evening from my camp chair. There had to be at least a thousand people there of myriad races and ages, from a 7-month-old girl smiling in the arms of her dancing mother to a grizzled war veteran rolling in his wheelchair with his date. The heat subsided as the delta breeze picked up slightly. Everyone was friendly and encouraging of each other.

Later, the band started playing "My Girl." Gary stood and extended his hand to me. "Would you like to dance?" he asked.

I took his hand, stood, and said, "Sure."

We danced to song with a crowd of maybe 200 people under a waning moon.

After the dance, Gary thanked me and left shortly thereafter. I left a short time thereafter.

The evening gave me a sense of joy. And neither the arthritis in my right foot nor the plantar fasciitis in my left bothered me, even when I was boogieing.

So, if you see me with what I call "happy cheeks," you know why.

Writing Diva

Nelson Mandela: Bittersweet Birthday

Today, anti-apartheid leader and former South African President Nelson Mandela is marking his 95^th birthday in a hospital bed in Pretoria.

Although his doctors say his health is steadily improving from a lung infection, at the risk of sounding pessimistic, I sense this may be the last birthday that he and his family celebrate.

The Nobel Peace Prize winner spent 27 years in prison after being convicted of sabotage and conspiracy to overthrow the government. Following a successful international lobbying campaign, Mandela was released in 1990. Shortly thereafter, he embarked on a world tour, which included a visit to U.S. cities, including Oakland, California.

As a reporter for the Fairfield-Suisun City Daily Republic, I covered his final stop of his U.S. tour at the Oakland Coliseum. I pestered my city editor, saying that this was a once-in-a-lifetime event and that all San Francisco Bay Area media needed to cover this, especially since I knew several Solano County residents who would attend Mandela’s visit. My city editor relented.

When I arrived at the Coliseum on Saturday, June 30, 1990, I was surrounded by 58,000 people and media crews from throughout California and other countries. I worked the stands and interviewed two Vallejo residents and Seretha Jefferson of Fairfield, who wore a broad-brimmed straw hat and flowery dress to see Mandela. Once on the ground, Mandela appeared onstage, as music played and the chorus sang: “Freeeee Nelson Mandela!”

I admit at that point I lost all objectivity and danced and cheered on the field. Epic journalism fail.

Quoting The New York Times story of his Oakland visit, “the deputy president of the African National Congress smiled broadly and told the crowd, ‘Despite my 71 years, at the end of this visit I feel like a young man of 35. I feel like an old battery that has been recharged. And if I feel so young, it is the people of the United States of America that are responsible for this.’”

My story ran in the Daily Republic on page 1 as a sidebar to Associated Press coverage on Mandela’s visit. I was humbled to have been half a football field from greatness.

My prayers are with Mr. Mandela, his family, his friends, and his country.

Writing Diva

Back Away from Quvenzhane!

I will be brief. A post from The Onion's Twitter account referred to 9-year-old best actress nominee Quvenzhane Wallis as the unspeakable "c-word."

I will not reprint the post or link to it. That post, along with Academy Awards host Seth MacFarlane's tasteless joke about her during the awards ceremony, made me want to write.

Leave Ms. Wallis alone! Even if she is a best actress nominee for "Beasts of the Southern Wild," she is a child. Also, as an Oscar nominee and the tenth African-American actress nominated for a leading role, this poised, beautiful, intelligent young lady deserves greater respect than she received last night. And that silly reporter from the Associated Press who would not pronounce her name correctly and referred to her as "Annie" (For her upcoming role in the Broadway play) should be disciplined.

Although the Academy Awards is a melting pot and has been for the past few years, some reporters and even a certain Oscar host have yet to enter the 21st century. As Oscar-nominated screenwriter and director Spike Lee would say, "Wake up!"

Writing Diva

How to Woo a Writing Diva

Happy Valentine’s Day, readers! If you have a significant other, I hope you’re spending a relaxing, splendid day (or evening) with your sweetie. If you’re single, I hope you treat yourselves well this day and all year long.

Although I’m sitting out this Valentine’s Day, listening to Jermaine Stewart’s dance song “We Don’t Have to Take Your Clothes Off” on my way to work reminded me what it takes to woo me. I am a cerebral, sometimes snarky being with a tender heart that needs to be protected at all times. If I were dating someone, the best way to my heart on this day is a love letter.

I do not respond well to a box of chocolates, especially because I’m allergic to chocolate, especially the dark kind. Although I would not look down my nose at a one-carat diamond ring or pendant, a love letter would do in a pinch. ;-)

If my guy were to send me an e-mail love letter or card, I would look at him as if he were freshly made poop and walk away. When it comes to love letters, I’m old-fashioned – I like handwritten letters on stationery. Period.

A man I had dated in the late 1980s (Yes, readers, I’m that old.) wrote me 15 love letters. I still have them in storage. To me, love letters are the most tangible evidence that someone loved me.

A few suggestions:

• Do not type a love letter using a typewriter or word processor on 20-pound white paper. How clinical! Write using print or cursive letters in dark ink.
• Use stationery.
• Although I’m an editor, I will overlook spelling, grammar, and usage errors in love letters. I figure if my man is making the effort to write, I can compliment his content.
• Try to avoid explicit sexual references. If I want to read porn, I know where I can find it. I want to know what’s in the heart, not the loins.

Yes, I’m well aware that some men aren’t into reading, much less writing. But a love letter is what works for me. Find out what works for your heart this day and every day.

Writing Diva

2012 Oscar Nominations -- Not Much Risktaking

Another year, another set of Academy Award nominations.

Best Picture: This year there are nine contenders, including front-runners “Lincoln,” “Zero Dark Thirty,” “Life of Pi,” and “Silver Linings Playbook.” Other nods went to “Django Unchained,” “Les Miserables,” and “Argo.” A surprise in this category is the inclusion of “Amour,” which is Austria’s entry for best foreign language film (nominated). To my recollection, the last time a film was nominated for best picture and best foreign language film was 2001’s “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,” one of my favorite films, directed by Academy Award-winner Ang Lee, who is also up for best director for “Life of Pi.”

My only complaints: The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences can nominate up to 10 films. I don’t understand why it didn’t make room for “Skyfall,” which received critical acclaim as well as made big box office. Perhaps it’s because it’s a James Bond film, and the Academy isn’t ready to embrace it as a top pick. In my most recent post, I wrote that the director and writers took their reboot of “Bond, James Bond” seriously, giving this franchise a much-needed shot in the arm. Sigh.

Also, I may be the only moviegoer saying this, but I didn’t get “Beasts of the Southern Wild.” I didn’t know if it was about surviving on a remote Louisiana island after hurricane Katrina or about a daughter learning to survive after her father takes ill, or about a fantasy mirroring the 6-year-old girl’s reality. I wished it had settled on one theme and went with it.

Best Actor: One might as well engrave the Oscar statuette and give it to Daniel Day-Lewis for his much-lauded portrayal of “Lincoln.” If he wins, he will be the only actor to win three times in the leading actor category and join a handful of actors who have three Oscars, including Jack Nicholson, Walter Brennan, Ingrid Bergman, and, just last year, Meryl Streep. Only Katharine Hepburn earned four acting Oscars, all in the lead category.

As for the other nominees – Bradley Cooper, Joaquin Phoenix, Hugh Jackman, and Denzel Washington – I would hope any of them would have a decent shot. I know Denzel already has two Oscars, but a third wouldn’t hurt. (Just saying!) I’m glad Hugh Jackman finally got an Oscar nod. My complaint: Why is Joaquin Phoenix even nominated when he said publicly he hates the Oscar promotion process? The Academy should have given Phoenix’s spot to John Hawkes for his portrayal of a polio patient in an iron lung who wants to lose his virginity in “The Sessions.”

Best Actress: Repeat after me: kwuh-VEN-jah-nay. This is how Quvenzhané Wallis pronounces her first name. The 9-year-old is the youngest ever nominated for the best actress Oscar. On the other end of the age spectrum, “Amour’s” nominee Emmanuelle Riva, the oldest nominated for best actress, will turn 86 when the Academy Awards air on February 24 on the ABC television network. But I think it will be a battle of the J’s – Jessica Chastain for her role as Maya in “Zero Dark Thirty” and Jennifer Lawrence as a troubled widow in “Silver Linings Playbook.” I believe Naomi Watts is the dark horse for her portrayal of a mother surviving the real-life tsunami in Thailand in “The Impossible.”

Best Supporting Actor: Emma Stone, who announced the Oscar nominations this morning with Oscar host Seth MacFarlane, summed it up nicely: All the nominees are previous Oscar winners. They are Tommy Lee Jones for “Lincoln,” Christoph Waltz for “Django Unchained,” Robert De Niro for “Silver Linings Playbook,” Alan Arkin for “Argo,” and Philip Seymour Hoffman for “The Master.”

Complaints: Hey, Academy, where’s the love for Leonardo Di Caprio for “Django”? Or John Goodman, one of the hardest working actors in Hollywood, for either “Flight” or “Argo”? Or even Javier Bardem for his tortured villain in “Skyfall”? How does one root for any of the nominated actors when each has at least one Oscar? (OK, Bardem has an Oscar for “No Country for Old Men.”)

Best Supporting Actress: The big surprise was Jacki Weaver for playing the mother in “Silver Linings Playbook.” I think it will be a knockdown fight between two-time Oscar winner Sally Field for her portrayal of Mary Todd Lincoln in “Lincoln” and Anne Hathaway for her role as Fantine in “Les Miz.” Amy Adams (“The Master”) and Helen Hunt (“The Sessions”) may end up as also-rans.

Best Director: Note to the Academy: No Ben Affleck for “Argo”?! No Kathryn Bigelow for “Zero Dark Thirty”?! Are you freakin’ kidding me?!

Steven Spielberg may take his third Oscar for “Lincoln,” unless David O. Russell is swept on a wave of popularity for “Silver Linings Playbook.” I think Michael Haneke will have to be satisfied with best foreign language film for “Amour.” I don’t think it’s Ang Lee’s year for “Life of Pi” because it’s a crowded directoral field. And, frankly, Benh Zeitlin, director of “Beasts,” is too young and inexperienced to even be in this category. He took a place that should have been for either Affleck or Bigelow.

Best Song: Just give it to Adele and Paul Epworth for the title song from “Skyfall” and call it a night.

Best Animated Feature: Too much of a horse race between “Frankenweenie,” “Brave,” and “ParaNorman” to call it. I think “Wreck-It Ralph” and “The Pirates: Band of Misfits” are bringing up the rear.

OK, I’m all typed out. Thanks for reading.

Writing Diva

Skyfall: A Possible Oscar Dark Horse

I finally got to see the latest James Bond film "Skyfall," although it's been out since mid-November. But with less than two weeks until the Oscar nominations are announced, I would not be surprised if it garnered a nod in the best picture category, among others nods. In my humble opinion, this isn't just the best Bond film of the franchise; it's one of the best films of 2012.

What I liked about this film is that the makers eschewed the camp of previous Bond outings and took this seriously. I wasn't sure what to expect from Oscar-winning director Sam Mendes ("American Beauty," "Revolutionary Road"), but I also saw his crime thriller "The Road to Perdition," in which Craig played a pivotal role. The action sequence in the beginning of "Skyfall" didn't disappoint. Just as Mendes can handle suburban angst, he pulled off an action movie that examined themes of aging and duty to country at the expense of its soldiers of espionage.

Bond (Daniel Craig) and his spy partner (Naomie Harris) fail to retrieve a list of undercover agents from an assassin, causing British government to question the judgment of the leader of MI-6, M (Oscar-winner Dame Judi Dench, who should be nominated for best supporting actress). It turns out that a spy from her past, Raoul Silva (fellow Oscar-winner Javier Bardem, who should also get a best supporting actor nod), is behind the bombing of MI-6 headquarters and the outing of the undercover agents. Bond, who went through a life-changing ordeal after a judgment call by M, has to not only retrieve the information, but save M's life.

Craig continues to explore the darkness that haunts an aging Bond. In one scene where Bond comes to terms with the fast-changing world, he meets Q (Ben Whislaw), a twenty-something-year-old computer geek. I also want to commend Albert Finney's cameo as a groundskeeper from Bond's childhood.

Even with its requisite shootouts and explosions, "Skyfall" is also a thriller that delves more into its characters than previous Bond movies. It's a fitting way to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Bond franchise. Even the opening sequence, with the title song performed by Adele and written by her and her regular cowriter Paul Epworth, was well done. If the song doesn't win best song at the Oscars, I will be quite disappointed.

I recommend this film highly, giving it an A-.

Writing Diva

For 2013, Less Is More

I'm a big believer in resolutions. This year, 2013, is no different. However, the way I write this year's resolutions will differ from years past.

The theme for 2013 is "Less Is More." For example:

• I will eat less candy and more fruit to satisfy my sweet tooth.
• I will sit less at my desk at work and walk more during my lunch hour and weekends.
• I will do less sleeping and more Pilates, weight lifting, and ballroom dancing.
• I will be less snarky and more compassionate. (Even if that means I keep my mouth shut more.)
• I will watch less less television and read and write more.
• I will buy less "stuff" and invest and save more.
• If I have to buy things or services, I will spend less and find more values.
• I will spend less time on Facebook and Twitter and more time connecting with family and friends face to face.
• I will procrastinate less and spend more time cleaning and managing my finances.

I will print this and place this list in front of my computer in my home office to see how I'm doing. I will also post a progress report July 1. Wish me luck!

Writing Diva