MILLENNIAL MADNESS
We seem to go through media dry spells. There are times when all we hear and read about is the dawning of the next millennium, i.e., the year 2000. The concerns range from the electronically serious - viz., how will the marvelous computers around the globe be reprogrammed to reflect the change to the social - where the biggest and best New Year’s Eve party will be held on Dec. 31, 1999.
People being the creatures of habit that we all are, I am comfortable in speculating that the “change” will be no more significant that it was when this year rolled in or 5 or 8 or 19 years ago. The numbers here are strictly coincidental. And most of us would be pretty hard pressed to recall either where we were, what we were doing or what we promised - ourselves or others - to do differently during the new year. And that’s really quite OK. In fact, it is ever so normal. The intended diet became too much of a departure from the customary heapings of calorie-rich foods and that exercise plan proved to be entirely too ambitious. What could we possibly have been thinking about.

I lean toward the serious party planning because any excuse for a bash is a good excuse! If there are those [as indeed there are] whose focus is on being a kinder, gentler person (i.e., a better person) then not only is that a noble goal, but there is hardly any reason to wait for 2 years. The desire could well be jump started and one could start right now...with the completion of this DOWN FRONT! Heck. Why wait?
In fact, by the time 2000 rolls around, one will have been into a modest groove; and there won’t be the pressure of trying to be a part of the sure-to-be-disappointed mad rush of well articulated and certain to be broken new year (2000 AD) resolutions. It’’s a different twist, but worth a try anyway.
DAYS AND TIMES OF ATONEMENT
The good minister jumped out into the limelight once again. It was my own humble fault that it wasn’t until the last minute that I even heard about what his plans were. The call was for a day -make that another day - of atonement. A time to reflect, to look inward, to be spiritually “sorry”, and to (hopefully) promise to do better.

When one considers the “state” of contemporary American society, the notion of atonement is anything but foreign. To be sure, it is certainly needed. But for me, the question is a combined one of who calls it and when...since the “why” is pretty much understood.

My inclination is to be suspect. I’ve been wrong before and these observations may do little more than add to the “mistakes score sheet.” From a religious (make that Christian) perspective, issues of atonement, redemption, sin and forgiveness are not at all foreign. In various forms and formats these “issues” represent the essence of weekly services. So, for the Minister to declare (when he is prepared to do so) a Day of Atonement (again!) is as already suggested, suspect.

I recently read a review of a book which included a piece of wisdom I wish I had copied. It had to do with an author making the mistake of substituting himself for the reality he was addressing. The very thought is strange and yet understandable. It occurs to me that anyone who does this is guilty of nothing more serious than taking him or herself too serious! I think this is what the Minister has a tendency to do. There is no question whatsoever that the Million Man March was and will forever remain significant, important, historical and a host of other synonyms. That historic march was Minister Farrakhan’s high water mark. He cannot “top” it. Moreover, he should not try..but we know that he will.

It’s risky business to say what women ought to do. They are their own best spokespeople. But DOWN FRONT! has no paying advertisers or subscribers so...let it be said here (in concert with other voices, I am sure), the recent Million Women March in Philadelphia was - from what I have heard and read - a different kind of gathering. History will inform us as to whether or not the two major events were complimentary. I am inclined not to search out contrasts or comparisons, but rather say the men did what they felt compelled to do and the women did the same. I am not even concerned about the likelihood of a women’s gathering if the men had not convened 2 years prior. What matters is that for a special weekend, Philadelphia was transformed.

The women had a domestic agenda, a sisterhood (spiritual ingathering/coming together) and a (watch out!) political agenda. That say a whole lot about the continuing wisdom, insight and general absence of fear of Black women. I said “general.” They have no general fear of “the system” nor of the future. Sadly and ironically, they all too often have specific fear of Black sons, husbands and lovers (sometimes referred to as “lover boys).
One can only speculate as to the prospects of a great calling together of the men and the women and the children. Maybe the already launched, nationally recognized Black Family Celebration under the auspices of the National Council of Negro Women fits the bill.

What ultimately matters, through, is neither proclamations of atonement nor well-earned massive feel good/love infused ingatherings, but a positive spirit activated via building newer and stronger Black Institutions that will stand the test of ever-eroding time.

WHAT’S ‘MOUNTAIN’ GOT TO DO WITH IT?
First and foremost, the answer to the above posed question is, “Everything.” But that is not of much help to the reader, so I’ve got to do much better than that!

It is either a natural accompaniment of age or reading or talking to the right people or serious reflection or all of this and more that one (finally) comes to realize that what we generally call life is not a forever thing. But, after getting over the shock of that realization, we make the necessary adjustment. And part of that is an attachment (however tenuous or temporary that might be) to something of permanence. For some it’s the dry and deserted desert; others totally freak out behind the ocean. There is not much (of an aesthetic nature) one can appreciate about the air other than the wonders of flight or - using an urban context - breathing clean (i.e.,’, non-polluted) air. So that gives us water, air. In any normal sense, fire cannot be added. The lovers of fire confined to those who are cold, children who delightfully gather around campfires, Klansmen and Klanswomen and arsonists.

And then there were - or rather are -mountains. I don’t think it is necessary to take the Freudian route and isolate my attraction to them. What I know with certainty I have always stood in awe of their immutability, graceful dominance and stoic silence. How peculiar that we talk about “moving mountains” all the while knowing that we really can’t. At least not the big ones.

I remember growing up in close proximity to West Rock. Yep. That was a big one with an important place in the history of New Haven. But at the time I cared less about historical significance than I did about the sheer joy of getting to the top and looking “all over the place.” I had little concern about fatigue or getting home too late or falling from one of the ledges. All I knew was that there was (as well here remains) a fascination with the “towering experience” and sense of accomplishment felt after getting to the top. Once there, it was a strange combination of (after moving dangerously close to the edge) the unobstructed view...all the way to East Rock. And well to the right - I had no inclining whether my head was pivoting to the west or east or south...and it didn’t matter. Distant sights to be seen. That’s what mattered.

The many years latter I re-experienced the wonder of heights both during and after my treks to the top of Mount Whitney. Now that was infinitely more arduous than anything posed by West Rock. And it is/was not something might do every few weeks! But the magic was there all the same despite the fatigue and countless aches.
(...to be continued)

SEX 101, 102...GRADUATION
The song starts like this, “With my eyes wide open, I’m dreaming. And there’s another line - in the same song which goes, “Pinch me to prove I’m awake.” I just heard on the radio that prestigious Yale University (oh, how well I remember!) will, next year adopt a formal policy that says sexual relations between faculty and students is forbidden. And although I am not addressing Affirmative Action here, I read, just 2 days ago, what a continuing miserable job competitively prestigious Harvard is doing hiring Black faculty. The numbers (call ‘em goals or quotas...they’re still telling numbers) quite vividly speak much louder than any feeble explanation. Reference: current Journal of Black Higher Education. (Another topic for another time.)

But what’s going on at the academy that professors aren’t busy enough being professors and want to be just one of the regular guys? What really gases me about this is that I have seen little grounds to make any comparison’s between Yale and Antioch. The two schools were in such different ball parks that it would really be a s-t-r-e-t-c-h to find much in common other than both places expect their student bodies to read books and come to class. But because of either its feminist influence, its being well tuned to certain aspects of the sometimes crazy times or sheer luck, Antioch is on the “right” side in the widely discussed issue of “dual relationships.” Simply stated an instructor cannot(!) relate to a student as instructor and cross what is obviously not universally recognized as a line to “develop a sexual relationship.” Don’t cha just love that way of putting it?

What’s with these ivy laden numb skulls? College life is difficult enough as it is preparing exams or taking them; reading books or writing them; giving lectures or trying to stay awake listening to them. More than enough activity to keep the ball (no pun intended) in one’s own academic court...than to complicate it with a sexual liaison with with a student! Not only might it be an untenable distraction; but more than that, IT’S UNETHICAL!!

Yup. I’m from the old school. I can remember a time when the very thought of a doctor or psychiatrist having an affair - there’s those words again - with a client was unheard of. But so were a lot of other things that are part of ordinary American life, I suppose. So, for Yale to just be getting around to this matter may in 1997 reality be a simply realization of the liberated universe or university. Whatever. One might only wonder just what it is the student is being graded for(??)

But I have to step back and ask myself why I would dare get bent out of shape over such a matter of Ivy League reckless adults being reckless adults. One should look lower on the educational exploitation food chain and get truly startled to learn of the elementary school teacher who finds herself pregnant as a result of a liaison - should one dare call it that! - with a (drum roll and pause and the gasp!!) 6th grader. It was Shakespeare who said (of a situation very much unlike this one) “What fools we mortals be.” No shit, Sherlock!

“EVE’S BAYOU”
We’ve gotta resist the urge to do away with sometimes hard to define habits that - for a variety of reasons - serve us well. I am no less bombarded with advertising and constant propaganda than the next person. That, despite my turning down or off radio and television commercials. I know well in advance that “I ain’t buyin.’” All the same there are those rare and welcome times when someone says something in a special way and that little bell inside goes either ding ...or maybe it’s dong! Either way, I decide then and there that, “I’ll bite.”

It was about 2 months ago when I heard a man being interviewed on radio. I don’t remember his name any more than I remember the program. All the same he referred to “Eve’s Bayou” in a way that “made me know I “had” to see it. I did.

If you haven’t seen it, do so. For what it’s worth (and, in this instance I think it’s worth much) there are no white folks in the flick. That all by itself is as rare as it is significant. Black people have a story about a slice of life to tell that addresses itself to Black people with a story to hear. That same story neither negates nor confronts white existence. The latter (again, in this instance) simply is not relevant!

It’s a good story with clear character definition. Lynn Whitfield is eternally wispy to look at, but the part she play recedes into the shadow of her sister-in-law, Mozelle. The 10 year older who plays Eve is cinematic magic all by herself. Bright, sensitive, alert...and a good actress all at the same time. Her older teenage sister struggles with her “becoming a woman” self with coy deviousness. It’s well handled, but has terrible family consequences. Yep it’s a good story.

I was uncomfortable with the “did he or didn’t he” ending but that doesn’t take away from the solid script and crisp cinematography. And, after all, even the Editor of DOWN FRONT! can’t have everything. It’s worth the almost sinful price theaters charge these days - even with popcorn and (don’t you dare!) a hot dog and soda. Writer-director Kasi Lemmons is most deserving of all the accolades that come her way. I suspect what she’d appreciate is YOU getting a ticket.

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