Mr. State Street Old Navy Dude

Dear Mr. State Street Old Navy Dude –

I do not know you…..But I do not like you very much.

I don't smoke. I'm not a drinker. And I'm not gay. As a matter of fact, I am in deed a card carryin' Christian. But you make me feel like I'm going to hell anyway. If I avoid you, I can only imagine how smokers, drinkers and homosexuals feel.

Notice how nobody ever takes one of your flyers?
 
Notice how people are trying to figure out if they can actually get into Old Navy from the OTHER side of the street?

Yea….not sure what your definition of success is, Mr. State Street Old Navy Dude, but I would re-think it.

Most people who are wrong actually know they are wrong…..for the most part. What they don't know is how to get out of it. If they could just "stop it" I'm sure they would. There are some people who sign on the dotted line to get a crazy package, but not that many. Most folks are just doing what they know….doing the best they can with what they got. Most folks are just stuck.

You should pray for them Mr. State Street Old Navy Dude…… and tell them God loves them, if you're really trying to be about your Father's business. Last time I checked, it was JESUS + NOTHING that gets you into Heaven. Not not having a pack of Kools….

Part of me wants to question the sins you got hidden in your closet Mr. State Street Old Navy Dude, since you're so adamant about other people's, but I'm not gon' do that. That's between you and Jesus. But if I could ask you anything, it would be…..

Why Old Navy!?!?!? Did you do some type of market research? Of all the bar, clubs, XXX stores and college campuses, you picked Old Navy the heathen hotspot??

Maybe it's not your message Mr. State Street Old Navy Dude….maybe it's location location location!

I'm just sayin'….

~Me-Shell-A

To My “Dreams”

"Dream" means different things to different people. Am I supposed to write to that thing that happens when I sleep and barely remember when I wake up? Not sure if I would be able to make sense of that. Especially the one with the fireball chasing me. Dream Me is surprisingly athletic though!! Leaping tall buildings, tuckin' and rollin' through the streets, ducking behind anything that keeps me away from Mr. Fireball. Yea….Dream Me is straight out of a video game!! It's pretty sweet….except for the huge gianormous fireball.

Do I write to my childhood aspirations? I wanted to be a princess and a seamstress and a teacher and Janet Jackson.

One of those is definitely NOT going to happen.

I hate to admit it, but somewhere along the way…..I kinda lost you. At one point, I used to believe I could have it ALL.  I want(ed) to be the biggest music executive in the industry. The next Quincy Jones….the next Puffy! Why? Just because I wanted to.

I love(d) you Music. I remember the days when I would sit in front of Momma's stereo for hours on end listening to you. That stereo was huge! It had a radio, a record player AND an eight track tape player!! Then I discovered Video Soul with Donnie Simpson…..I'd never seen a black man with green eyes before. All the stars and celebrities would sit on his couch and talk about you. You got me in trouble though Music! Momma wanted to watch the news….I wanted to hear more about you. I said the wrong thing….trying to be close to you. I got a whoopin'…..but I still loved you. My piano lessons made us that much more closer. You were flowing from my heart and my head and my fingers, and not too shabbily if I do say so myself!!! And when I got to Chicago….they had this station called "The Box"!!!! OMG!!! Nanna wouldn't give me money to order more of you….but I watched you day in and day out nonetheless.

I had BIG plans for you Music. Notebooks and notebooks of celebrity sketches and business plans and business logos……all before I was 17! The vision was plain upon the tables…literally! Anybody coulda ran with it…..

Unfortunately, life got in between us my friend. Nanna didn't want me to leave Chicago for college. DePaul only sweetened the deal by giving me a full ride. I wanted to go somewhere where I could really study you. Talking to the "wrong" people began to squash the dream. "They" told me to be stable. "They" figured out that I was good with numbers, thus "you should be an accountant" was pumped into my spirit. And here I am…..desperately trying to get out of the box others have created for me. I keep trying to tell the world I'm an artist in my heart! Definitely not a bean counter. But nobody hears me.

*sigh*

I'll admit that I didn't put up much of a fight, but you didn't help much either. I lost my passion and so did you! You changed on me Music. You went from being about the soul to being all about the Benjamins…..and that wasn't cool. Now I just listen to the radio or watch videos in disgust, and I wonder what happened to my friend…the one I wanted to make a life with.

Anyway....I miss you.  I hope you come back to me...

Love,

~Me-Shell-A

A Man of Many Talents

Dear Cedric,

This letter reminds me of us growing up and ALLLLLLLL
the letters I used to write you. And you didn't write me back! Punk! I was pouring out my little heart……slavin' over extra chores for stamps……waiting ever so patiently for the mail like a lost puppy for nothing!!

Until you discovered the word processor that is!! You were too excited to write me then!! 'Cause like every OTHER man I know….you don't write! And most of 'em don't read either! So Sad!

Ok….I'm lying! But you know my letters outnumbered yours!

Anywho….. I don't really have nothing to say….nothing you don't already know.

You already know you're like my most favoritest person in the world and you've ALWAYS been MY Big Brother!! But I think the world should know you….and all of your many talents! In addition to being a super talented drafter, you're also:

• A practicing physician – Like that time I fell off my bike and skidded down the street! You put Vaseline on everything!! Even that little piece of flesh dangling from my chin!!! Very minimal scarring. I'm pretty sure I needed stitches….but I'm kinda glad you DIDN'T find your mom's needle and thread! 
• A practicing psychiatrist – For some reason, skidding down the street causes major laughter from your peers. All I need to hear was "Don't cry! Don't cry! Don't Cry….They're dumb!" to snap my self esteem right back into place. Yes, you were trying to save your own butt too, 'cause my tears equaled a butt whoopin' for you, but who doesn't need to hear that, even as an adult?!?! Next time you're upset at something or someone…..don't take Prozac!!! Just tell that person or that thing – "YOU'RE DUMB!!" and keep it moving.
  
• Football Coach – I know you and your friends just needed an extra person……but I think I had a very promising career as the first female quarterback in the history of the game. Until I got boobs…..
  
• A musical GENIUS – Every now and then I still catch myself singing one of your greatest hits like I'm Just Shaking This House and You Make Me Mad Like a Bumblebee. Classics.
  
• A Mad Scientist – How many police radio dispatches did we intercept with our butter knives and clothespins??? How many ants and leaves did we burn up with our magnifying glass? And my personal favorite: "If we light this firecracker….and put it in the tailpipe of Barbie's car, will it move?" It did move!!! From pink to black...
  

Awwww……don't try these things at home kids! We were trained professionals!!

And borderline arsonists……but that's neither here, nor there! =)

I love you!

~Me-Shell-A

P.S. - Don't think that first and last trip to Chicago counted for anything!!!!!! Extenuating circumstances…..You still need to come visit me!!!!

Drawing a Blank

Dear Dad,  

Part of me doesn't even want to take the time to write this. But everybody's got two parents…..even me.

I've tried to imagine what I would say to you if we were in the same room together. I wanna ask you questions about my momma....because you obviously knew a side of her that, as far as I know, no one else did. But for the most part....I just draw a blank.  I wish this blog had sound so I could record the sound of crickets chirping. 'Cause that's how I feel when I think about you.  The words "Dad" or "Father" sound foreign coming out of my mouth or from my pen or on my screen.  And sperm donor sounds way too harsh. 

I'm not mad....I'm not sad.  It's just that I have no idea who you are.  I KNOW who you are.....I just don't know who you are as a person and as a man. Heck, I don't even know what you look like! 

I could, and rightfully so, go off about how you should have been there for me and my mom. Or, how my non-relationship with you affects my other relationships with men and even how I view God. 

Yea...it's that deep.  

But, when you know better, you do better!  And one monkey don't stop no show! I can honestly say that I have been surrounded with so much love and affection and GOOD INFORMATION, that I really don't feel like I missed anything by you not being there. I don't mean it in a malicious way....but the truth is the truth.

Can you say the same thing though? Have you missed not knowing me? Do you regret not having hand in my life?

Anyway, I don't think either one of us is truly compelled to get the answers.  So, I just pray that this letter finds you living well.


Your daughter,

~Me-Shell-A

How Do You Like Me Now?

Dear Momma,

It's been a really, REALLY long time since I sat down and thought about you. It's been 20+ years since you "left". I still remember the morning that the hospital called the house. In a perfect world, I probably shouldn't have been the one to answer the phone. But if the world was really perfect, none of us would have to deal with sickness, death, loss, or grief. Your sister was at work, being the superwoman that she was.

"This is Dr. So-And-So….I'm calling to inform you that Ms. Jefferson has expired."

"Uhhh….would you like to talk to my aunt….she's at work…I can give you the number."

I didn't get it. I was 10. In my world, milk expired….not people.

So I went to the bathroom and back to sleep. I think I had an inkling…but still, I didn't really know. About 30 minutes later, Lee was home and my world had changed.

It took me a while to forgive you. When I say "left", that's what I meant. For the longest time, I felt like you left me. You were all I had. It was just me and you. Yazoo was all I knew and all I needed to know. You didn't tell anybody that you were sick or how sick you were. And by anybody, I really mean me. Occasionally I would have a talk with my 10 year old self and say, "Really…how much could she have told you that you would have really understood?"

And truth be told, I still struggle. Why bother to love people at all if they are just going to leave you in some, way, shape, form or fashion?? Moms, friends, boyfriends….what's the point? Adult Me knows that love is something that can't be helped, no matter how hard you fight it. Some people got over the wall before I consciously decided to take it down.

Anyway, I thought about this letter for a couple of days and all the things I could say before I started to write it. Adult Me has gained new information about you and the beginnings of my life over the last year or so, and what I really wanna know is: Are YOU happy with Adult Me? You sacrificed a lot for me to be here. You purposely decided to not have me grow up in Mississippi. Are things going according to plan? Are you happy with the way your sister took care of me and raised me? Did you expect something different? Did you want the college and career thing for me? "Cause if so, I'm on track! Did you want me to have a family and show my kids pictures of grandma? 'Cause that plan's going a little slow!

I can't speak for you a 100%, but I think you'd be pretty proud! You're sister was an awesome woman and she did a good job. That must mean you were pretty smart too, since you sent me to live with her. And now that Adult Me has seen what's happened to Yazoo City…..let's just say I got out while the gettin' was good!

I think the next 20 years are gonna be even more awesome than the last. I hope you're watching.

I Love You!


~Me-Shell-A

 






 

 

 

Your beginnings will seem humble, so prosperous will your future be. (Job 8:7 NIV)