Where the Heck is my Flying Car?!?

There were supposed to be flying cars.

There were supposed to be bustling cities on the Moon.

And other cool stuff like that.

For those of us of the “boomer” generation, the world of the 21^st century was supposed to be a wonderful full of things that we could indeed imagine (heck we had 2001: A Space Odyssey and The Jetsons…we knew what was coming up by the time we reached a year with a number like 2009.)

But here we are…2009, almost a tenth of the way through the 21^st century…and we ain’t not got no flying cars! What’s up with that?

What we do have are wars and the portents of wars in far-flung corners of our world. What we do have are bleak financial clouds roiling from one end of the planet to the next. What we do have are people who seem bound and determined to hold fast to that which separates us…borders, languages, slights both perceived and imagined…instead of celebrate that which makes us all part of the same terrestrial family (which, of course, is nearly everything that is really important in our existence as living beings in the grand scheme of the boundless and wondrous universe.)

That said, what we also have is a world that glides gracefully through the cosmos as surely as it as for eons…what we have is the ability to embrace hope, to celebrate love, to dream of peace…what we have is everything that makes us magically, infuriatingly, incredibly, undeniably human. What we have is the wisdom of the past, the surety of the present, and the amazing possibilities of the future.

We still have the voice of the people making their desires known. We still have the laughter of children and the sighs of lovers and the soul-affirming majesty of music created and art of all kinds shared. We still have time to dream and hope…to laugh and to cry…to make love and to make peace. We still have time to…be.

It’s 2009…and, all things considered, I think we’re getting the best part of the deal.

I still want my flying car though...

A Moment in Time

There are moments that history cannot…that history will not…deny; moments that are seared into our collective consciousness as citizens of America, as citizens of the world, as citizens of a universe wherein all things are possible.

The election of Senator Barack Obama as the 44^th President of the United States is such a moment.

It doesn’t matter if we supported him or if we didn’t, the power of the moment is, to my mind anyway, undeniable.

We know the story of his roots in Kansas and Kenya and Hawaii…the story of him being half black and half white, half African and half American…the story has resonance and the election…a moment that historians to come will point to as a significant point in the history of this country…has amazing resonance as well.

I have no idea how the Obama administration will rise or fall but however things unfold the power and significance of the moment will remain undiminished (it is, I will admit, a moment I had not really dared to dream would occur in my lifetime.)

There are moments…and this moment is heartening (and now it’s up to the next President and his administration to take that moment and move forward with it.)

The "N-Word"

Thanks to a half-wit reality TV star, the “n-word” debate flared up again a while last week. It is a debate that will continue, off and on, for a good long while it seems. The “n-word” (what a precious euphemism that is) has a power and a history that cannot be denied…and should not be forgotten.

It is a word that flows freely (in one form or another) from the lips of both some redneck racists and some black rappers (an odd point of connection if you think about it)…from the pens and mouths of pundits and comedians …and from a certain “bounty hunter” who had no idea that applying the word as a venomous epithet to refer to his son’s black girlfriend would be taped and sold to a tabloid and released to the world. It is a part of the American culture and it never fails to assault the ears and wound the hearts of anyone who understand the ugly legacy of the word.

It’s quite a powerful word indeed.

Like Richard Pryor in his later days (he used the “n-word” with relish for years before having an epiphany about it during a trip to Africa) I have always eschewed the use of the word…this doesn’t make me noble or anything like that, I just never cared for the ugly word and I could never bring myself to believe that co-opting it somehow empowered it (as some black people claim.) But I know that it’s not going away anytime soon.

Duane “Dog the Bounty Hunter” Chapman is doing his mea culpa/rehab tour (following the footsteps of other celebrities caught out throwing slurs…yes I’m looking at you, Michael Richards and Isaiah Washington…who knew their was rehab for being a prejudiced knucklehead? You learn something new every day…) and he will probably get his show back soon (A&E put it on hiatus they didn’t cancel it outright) and life will go on. And the word…the “n-word”…will go on as well. More’s the pity for that.

The Fires This Time

Things are nowhere near to "normal" in greater San Diego County...fires are still blazing in various parts of the areas (new ones are still cropping up even as I write this)...looters and scammers (supposedly representing charities or cleaning services) are starting to crop up here and there...and hundreds of thousands of people are displaced because of evacuations and/or because their houses are destroyed...but things are slowly but surely heading towards "normal" as the air attack beats back the fires and some people are allowed to go home.

The skies are still hazy with smoke but there are expansive patches of blue fighting to reclaim the sky.

The fires this time are being beaten back and the aftermath is starting to begin.

Perseverance furthers.

Smoke in the Night

We are miles away from the flames but the smell of smoke permeates the air and there is an ominous haze that is evident even in the nighttime hours. There is an eerie orange glow on the far eastern horizon. And ash, cool and black and gray, is falling on my neighborhood. My eyes are burning and my animals are anxious and out in the night brave men and women are putting their lives on the line to try to tame a fierce force of nature.

There are two uncontrolled wildfires…fed and swept inexorably along by the hot Santa Ana winds that sometime sweep in from the desert and bake and blow through Southern California…burning in San Diego County tonight. They started this morning and this afternoon and there is no end in sight. At least one person has already died…more than a dozen people have been burned (including four firefighters) and are in hospital…thousands of acres have already burned…homes are lost…

And the smoke…and the acrid, pungent, forbidding smell…hang ominously over the entire city blown west towards the sea by the aforementioned winds.

Four years ago, a monstrous fire brought havoc and destruction and death to our area and, of course we have not forgotten those days.

And so we watch the skies…we are far away but not so far away that we can not feel vulnerable…and listen to the winds…which have not, as they more often do, abated with the coming of night…and we pray for those in the capricious paths of the flames and for those who struggling to save lives and struggling to bring the rampaging flames to bay.

A Zombie Johnnie Cochran (a Talking with Bob interlude)

I was hanging out with my friend Bob; Bob was, unsurprisingly, grumbling as he read the newspaper.

At one point Bob sighed heavily. “O.J. Simpson is back in the news again,” he said testily, “why can’t that guy go away and leave us alone?”

“O.J. just needs some crack legal help,” I said. “He needs to hook up with Johnnie Cochran again…that’ll do the trick.”

Bob sighed again, more heavily than before. “Michael, you do know that Johnnie Cochran is dead, don’t you?”

I took no umbrage because I knew that on some level Bob thought I was an idiot and we’d long ago made our peace with that. “Yes, Bob, I know that. But I was thinking that O.J. should go find himself a good voodoo woman and have Johnnie brought back for one more hurrah!”

“So you’re saying that Simpson should get a zombie Johnnie Cochran to come back from the dead to defend him?”

“Exactly!” I replied excitedly. “That would be so cool!”

Bob rolled his eyes and went back to the paper. “I don’t know what the problem is with people in so-called “professional” sports. You got that idiot baseball player who hurt his own stupid self because he let somebody get him riled up beyond control. You got that bicycle guy who lost his title because of ‘performance enhancing’ drugs. And don’t get me started on…Michael…Vick…” Bob’s words trailed off as he looked over and saw me staring off with goofy grin on my face. “And you’re not listening to me at all, are you?”

I shook off the reverie. I knew that the truth wasn’t the answer Bob wanted to hear but I decided to go with it anyway. “Um, no I’m not. Sorry, Bob.”

Bob cocked an eyebrow. “You’re still thinking about a zombie Johnnie Cochran, aren’t you?”

I smiled, almost laughed, and nodded. “Yes! I’m mean, come on, you have to admit that it would be something cool to see!” Can’t you just see zombie Johnnie Cochran in court, skin rotting away under a sharp $3,000 suit?” I shifted into a spooky voice. “If it rains you must feed me more brains...”

I thought I saw Bob stifle a smile. “You need help, Michael,” he said as soberly as he could. “Besides zombies don’t talk that fast.”

“Zombie Johnnie Cochran would be as glib as ever,” I opined confidently. “…until the jury delivers, I needs me more livers…”

“Stop it,” Bob protested, though I could tell he was desperately trying not to laugh.

“…when the feasting starts, I’ll have three human hearts…”

“I’m not listening to you anymore…”