Can We?

"I had a friend once say to me: 'The one thing I understand about being black is that I will never understand it.'" 

-my dear friend, Dakarai Aarons

* * *

Hoops and hollers. Hands raised to the ceiling and above. A jubilant scene at Boston's J.A. Stats at 11:39 a.m. this morning testified that Barack Obama has indeed accomplished something significant in his first moments as U.S. President. In 38 words, uttered previously by 42* white men, President Obama signaled to an America within this great nation that the color of your skin is no longer an insurmountable obstacle to reaching any height. The spectacle I witnessed this morning was mainly created by my African-American coworkers whose collective story can only be read (not sensed, tasted, or smelled) in history books. I don't question their tears of joy, nor do I envy them. I simply intend to live in a nation where everyone feels empowered and encouraged to Do more. I sincerely hope that President Obama has inspired more Americans to Do just that today, and continues to in the months ahead.

That said, I usually roll my eyes when someone "the first ___ to ever be ___." And I'm glad Obama never leaned on his own race during his campaign up through today's inauguration speech. But I believe that if today's event has any positive and lasting effects on the psyche and morale of our nation's traditionally disenfranchised populations, Obama's race would undoubtedly have played a role. That said, I also believe Obama's performance as President and Commander-in-Chief will help dictate how "lasting" any effects may be.

I'd like to share one comment I received on November 5th, from my friend John in El Paso:

"[A friend of mine] once told me that she spoke at a local middle school [in El Paso, TX]. She went around and asked kids what they wanted to be when they grew up. The vast majority had no aspirations to anything else than getting some kind of a job. This doesn't seem to be a big deal to most, they shrug it off as a minority laziness issue. It's not. It is being socially institutionalized. These kids see their family and can't expect anything better for themselves, they have given up before they start. They don't know that they can dream and make it a reality. Whites can not see this from the outside, and minorities don't see it from the inside."

-John T.

If today's events help perpetuate positive change in that department... we'll all be better for it.

One final note... was I the only one who thought Rev. Rick Warren announced Obama's daughters like he was the MC of a sexy dance competition? No? Okay, just checking...

Let's put 100 days on the clock... Obamas ready? America ready?...

*Grover Cleveland was President #22 and #24. Fun fact.

Drive In, Drive Out

After 2.5 years of blogging, I'm officially taking a break.

I simply have nothing new to say. At least not to the masses. So... thanks for reading. It's meant a lot. Call my cell any time for exclusive personal updates.

Adios,

Rube

Fantastick News

I miss singing.

This is not news. The news is that I've found an outlet for the summer. I'm performing in the Westborough Players' Club's musical production of "The Fantasticks" on July 31-August 3.

"The Fantasticks" is Romeo and Juliet with a twist. The lovers' fathers want them to fall in love and fake a feud--and a kidnapping--so that they will. But the lovers learn of their fathers' ploy, so it goes with all theatrical deceptions. So the lovers split off to experience the world beyond, with the assistance of the play's narrator and mysterious bandit "El Gallo" (Me). Will they reignite their love or discover it was contrived and, thus, worthless? Come find out.

I cordially invite you all to come see the show. I'm excited to rejoin two of my former stagemates, Jon Eldridge and Brian Higgins, and perform one last 'Borough show before shipping up to Boston.

One final fun note: our director, Pat Stevens was the voice of Velma on "The Scooby-Doo Show" for 40 episodes (1976-1979). So if that question pops up at trivia night, you can Wow your friends.

*

Looks like my streak of days without wearing make-up will end at 368. Can anyone tell me what the over-under was on that?

Rube

Perfect

The reason I haven't written in a while is because "oh nothin, same ol, how bout you" isn't my idea of a rousing entry. But amidst adapting to the new boss, fruitless apartment searching, and fruitless jdate surfing (a blog I've tried and failed to write several times), there are two sweet moments I've soaked in of late. One is my sister's graduation (the subject of my previous entry, below). The other happened just 6 hours later...

A golf ball sat at the bottom of the 10th cup at the Highfields Golf & Country Club in Grafton, MA. I was standing in the rough... on a hill... 105 yards away. This was no ace, not even a birdie... "just" a par save (which--if you don't golf--means I was royally f-ing up this hole prior to the aforementioned shot of my life). A younger Jayme would have certainly lamented: "That's an eagle shot if I didn't screw up my drive." He would eventually pat himself on the back for overcoming thick grass and a headwind. But on this day, after a single Mickelson-esk leap, I stood there for a solid minute (it's cool, there was no one with or behind me) and calmly absorbed this perfect Now. I didn't overcome the wind, the rough, nothing... I existed with it all. Pros know how to place the ball on the right slope of the green. Even plenty of amateurs can spin the ball back or sideways. Frankly, folks, I ain't that good. But on Saturday, May 17, 2008, I co-achieved perfection in a single shot.

I'm still striving for that hole-in-one. And when I get it, I'll strive for another. It's not about obtaining (the mantra of my former self), but creating--again and again. One of my two sports heroes, Nolan Ryan didn't set out to toss a record 7 no-hitters. He took the mound each day to co-create the most perfect Now he could. He just did it 7 times... with a lot of talent, 8 teammates, and a little luck each time.

One final thought: This is my 13th year playing golf. My longest hole-out prior to this day was from 30 feet. And I never owned a sand wedge until 2 hours before my 55-degree Nike hit that shot. If that's a not a reminder that passion only goes so far without the right tools... I don't know what is.

Rube