His Name is Michael Jackson

How disrespectful of the media to refer to Michael Jackson as "Jacko" as if he is a clown - a spectacle. It is common for the mainstream media to belittle and demean people of color, especially those who have fame, wealth and power. Every opportunity is taken to not just ruin their name and reputation, but to strip them of any wealth they've accumulated. I personally don't know of any white entertainer who was ever given a clownish or demeaning name regardless of what atrocities they've committed. We've had governors and people in the banking and other commercial industries who have walked away with billions of dollars of taxpayers', employees' and citizens' money only to receive a slap on the wrist and to be reinstated in a new prestigious position somewhere else.

Michael Jackson is the greatest entertainer who has ever lived. Some people may refer to him as a James Brown/Jackie Wilson wannabe, but I feel that's foolish also. He is Michael Jackson and stands on his own acclaim. He is loved the world over, even in America, despite the constant negative American press. Thriller sold over 750 million copies. No other artist in the music industry has ever matched this figure. And, this title has been held by Michael for almost three decades.

Show me footage of any other entertainer who has people (in many countries and of many different cultures) fainting by the dozens just by their mere presence and performance. There is no one in this world, nor has there been - in the entertainment industry - who could even match the power and the magnetism of Michael Jackson.

There is such a fear and a disgust of a Black man having so much power over people, that everything and anything is done to demean, degrade and defile such a person. If he was white, he would be put on a pedestal like the Beatles, like Madonna - only he has real talent. it sickens me how nonwhites are treated in this society and I will continue to speak out about it and against it and continue to pray that it changes.

Crossing Over

People don't understand what I'm doing. At my age, to be pursuing a dream is considered to be folly by many. Dreams are for the young and only the young. My Mother, who loves me dearly, thinks I'm crazy.



But, then there are others who get excited when I tell them what I spend every spare moment doing. They are my secret, silent cheerleaders. I can see it in their eyes when I tell them about my pursuits. Not something they would dare to try themselves because their lives are gripped in fear. Fear of losing, fear of changing, fear of sacrifice. But, I can sense that I am an inspiration to them and the more I grow, the more excited they become and the more they think - "hey, maybe it's not too late for me either." I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is what they are thinking.


But the sacrifice that I make affects my family. My cherished, aging dog who is now 17, who's hind legs sometimes give out as she's descending the stairs causing her to slide, bump and fall most of the way, wants my presence and the comfort of "her protector." Her old body is full of arthritis and bumps and knots that a person would have surgically removed. Her eyes, now gray with cataracts, no longer see well. If you call her, she can't hear you and when resting, she enters a dead sleep that an opening door, a car pulling up, or calling her name won't awaken. In her prime, no one could step on our property without her letting us know. She would intently watch a playful joust with my kids and their friends with her ears up and senses primed - just in case she had to jump in to protect. Her senses greatly weakened, she now needs extra care, attention and love. She's protected, guarded and defended my family her entire life and deserves the things she is looking for from me, but I can't give it to her. I'm in and out of the house, spending no real time there. A "hello" from me, a pat on the head and I'm gone. Sacrifice. Those around me suffer from my lack of presence in the house...


Making a permanent crossover into the artist world has required me to give up many things in my life. Financial comfort, family time, time with my precious animals. I've had one bra for the last three years. There are no shopping trips to buy new clothes, new shoes - cute little tops hanging on sales racks which would normally become the prize of a "hunt," will stay there and become some other woman's trophy. It's okay though. I have to let these things be "okay."


When you choose to look at the world through an artist's eyes, values change, focus changes, perspective changes and love deepens. Rewarding myself on payday at the store is no longer interesting. Rewarding myself by learning more and developing a deeper understanding and feelings in the music is all I ask. This reward is endless. It's like looking up at the sky and understanding God's endless bounty. The deeper you go, the more you realize there is even deeper to go.


I've always believed as Buddhist teachings teach that all things - all life is connected. Native Americans understand also that the spiritual world and the physical world are connected and interwoven. Theoretically, I've always understood these things and accept these beliefs. However, the more the artist in me emerges, the more I sense and understand with my life about these things.

The new york post is a racist publication!!!!

I ask that you write them and oppose this blatant racism. We cannot stand for it. We cannot ignore it. We cannot accept it. We cannot allow it to be.


My letter to the editor of the new york post:






I am absolutely appalled at the racist cartoon that the new york post published. We are sick and tired of the blatant racist ignorance that is constantly perpetuated against African Americans in this society.



You make a comparison between President Barack Obama and a chimpanzee - a dead one at that who had just been shot by white officers. It's despicable, deplorable and shameful. And now matter how the post tries to play it off or cover it up, the racist message is clear and everyone sees through the attempted cover up.



The cartoonist and all of the people on your staff who authorized the publication of this cartoon should be arrested for even remotely suggesting or implying an assasination of President Barack Obama.



The NY Post has shown its true colors by letting the world know where it stands.

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I ask that you write them and oppose this blatant racism. We cannot stand for it. We cannot ignore it. We cannot accept it. We cannot allow it to be.

Here is the link where you can contact the racist bastards:
http://www.nypost.com/postopinion/letters/letters_editor.htm

Dance For Life!

I started exercising regularly January 1, 2009. It feels good. The body is regaining its flexibility and its agility and I am starting to feel like my old self. I've missed a day or two here and there, but for the most part have managed to keep my resolution. I find I miss it when I don't make this special time for movement and dancing. That 30 minutes a day has become sacred time for me. As I said, it feels good.

I am always grateful for the little things because the little things become big things. I dance because it is a joy and it puts me in tune with essential, healthy vibrations.

So, if you're not moving - what are you waiting for?

If you knew

If you knew you had very little time left on the Earth, how would you spend it?
What would you do?
How would you live your life?
What would you change?
How would you be different?
Would you be different?

We take time for granted because we can do something tomorrow. What if tomorrow doesn't come? Will you have regrets?

Live life backwards.
Write your obituary.
What would it say about you?
Your acomplishments?
Your deeds?
The impressions and impact you had on others?
Did you leave any love behind you?

Happy Birthday Rod!

My little brother - Rod. It's November 17th, the day that he would have turned a year older.

I'm not good with remembering dates - birthdays and such. And, I don't celebrate the traditional holidays - Christmas, Thanksgiving...

But, anyway, November 17th is my brother's day. He would be a year older today. He always found a way to include me in his birthday. I would get a phone call and he'd say "We turned another year older Sis." I never asked him why he would always say "we" when my birthday is in May. But I would always respond with, "Yep, we turned another year older Rod." It was an annual ritual.

This being the second year without that phone call makes me miss it even more. But, I feel him around me at times and especially today I got that message from him loud and clear. "We turned another year older Sis."

Even as I look at his picture that is on my desk, he's smiling and I see a radiance in his face. Other people look at the picture and they see the face of a drawn, scant human being. Though his 6" 2", 240 lb powerful body had been ravaged by AIDS, all I can see is a wonderful smile and a radiance and glow that is unmeasured.

So, little brother, yes indeed, we turned another year older! I love you Rod. Happy Birthday!

Your Big Sister,
Dee Dee

"All the things that we seek to have in ourselves we can find by bringing light to others."

Whenever I see the Salvation Army person out there in the cold ringing that bell, I stop and I shake their hand and say thank you. I try to bring them a cup of hot coffee, tea, or in today's case, a candy bar. I told the woman that it wouldn't keep her warm, but it was something sweet to snack on.

Her face was worn and weathered, as if life aged her far beyond her years. It's the look I've seen many times before. The body of a person who has abused drugs for years and years - thin, frail, drawn skin, no teeth or missing teeth. You neglect your body and everything else for the sake of that drug. People like that, who have turned the corner and are fighting everyday to stay clean, earn my utmost respect. Because I know for a fact that it's not easy. I bow to them, I honor them. They are you, they are me. There is no separating us all from each other.

So in honor and respect of my brothers and sisters who are out there ringing that bell for the Salvation Army, I say thank you, thank you, thank you. They are doing far more for the rest of us than we will ever know.