nary a whisper....

This post isn't being done to make anyone feel guilty. A master manipulator, I am not.

This is more of a 'thank you', to some folks for not recognizing something that means a little bit to me. It shouldn't to you, because if it did, well, that would be creepy.

November 7th came and went this year, no phone calls, no cards, no updates on my facebook page. Maybe you didn't know, maybe you didn't care. I tend to think that you didn't know, and if you did, you wouldn't know what to say. That's like 99.9% of the people I'm talking about in regards to this subject.

What the heck was that date? Well, for most, it was a Sunday, daylight savings time, time to get up and go to church, go to work, fix their kids breakfast, fix themselves breakfast, look at the honey-do list, go grocery shopping, or who knows what else.

For me, I knew what the day was, kinda. November 7, 2008 was the day my Pops passed. Ironically, or-better yet, comically, I thought it was November 8. Until I talked to my Ma. She wasn't doing so well. I was, really. Mostly because I thought it was November 8th, and not the 7th, but the other reason being I had kind of blocked it out. Not because it was a bad memory or anything like that. Face facts, someone you love dying isn't going to be a pleasant memory. I guess for the most part I'm past the pain, the guilt and the anger. I just miss the old guy. Heck, he wasn't even that old, but he was a little bit old in the noggin'. I prefer to call him an old soul. I know he passed that on to me.

So really, thank you for not calling, emailing, texting, or IMing me to make sure I'm doing okay. I'm truly fine. Yes, it sucks that he's gone, but he's not forgotten and my memories will always be there, so long as I have a memory...or people can read this goofy blog, and then tell me what I wrote. I leave you with a Pops memory, with a promise to get back to writing more...

On race relations-
When I was 5, before my baby brother was born, Pops sat me on the stoop, and asked me what I thought about black people. I didn't know any black people, I told him. Yes, I in fact, did know some black people, but I didn't look at them that way (again, I'm 5 here people). The old guy grinned at me and told me to remember this no matter what happens for as long as I'm around, picked me up, sat me on his lap, and taught me the words to 'Ebony and Ivory'.

You may think it's corny, but I'd like to think it stuck.

----------------
Now playing: Paul McCartney & Stevie Wonder - Ebony and Ivory
via FoxyTunes