Mildred & Peter

     The gifted Harlem Renaissance writer, Zora Neale Hurston once remarked that the worst thing is to have a story and not be able to tell it.

     Peter Breyer, a health care professional and son of German immigrants has a story to tell and he came to the Write Stuff Conference in Allentown, PA on a recent Saturday, looking for help to get that story into the hands of readers.   Peter's wife, Mildred, shared this with me after I spotted her reading in the conference hotel lobby and out of curiosity interrupted to find out what was on her Kindle. The Dovekeepers, she told me and in no time we were talking about her husband and his story. "You see, Peter spent most of his life thinking he was an only child."
     But then one day, out-of-the blue, Peter's sense of family and of himself changed.  Dramatically.  He was not an only child.  He had a sister.  His father's daughter with his first wife. By the time Peter's mother, his father's second wife, broke the silence about the other child, Alzheimers had begun stealing her memory. She could give him no details, only the suggestion of a name.  But that was enough to send Peter searching for his sister and digging into the past of  his long-deceased father.
     "Peter always felt that there was something standing between him and his father," Mildred continued, describing the gulf that closed for Peter as new revelations led him to a deeper understanding of  his  father's struggles and estrangements amid the horrors of Nazi Germany.  Peter worked on his story for years.  He visited aged immigrant friends of both his parents.  He tried  anything that might let him feel what life was like for his father during and after the war.  He took a crash course in German  so that in case he ever found his sister he could speak to her in that language.
    I imagine  Mildred knows Peter's story in every detail.  She has probably heard every word of it many times, through every draft of the writing.   "This happens every time, I talk about it," she said and  brushed tears away as she recalled one of her husband's visits to his father's grave-site.  Peter has turned his story into a book.  "And he came to this conference to see if he could interest an agent in it," Mildred said.  I asked if she was  also a writer.   No, she was quick to answer, only Peter is.
     When he joined  Mildred and me right after his agent interview, we exchanged contact information. I was still thinking about the New Jersey couple a few days later when I found in my mailbox a copy of Peter's book:  My Sister  A Journey to Myself.
     The Zora Neale Hurston quote begins the preface to Peter's book.  If as Hurston says, not being able to tell our story is the worst thing, then maybe the best thing as writers  is to be blessed with our own  Mildred (or Milton),  someone who has our back, who not only listens to the words but hears what we may be desperately struggling to say, someone who is honest yet mindful, never hurtful in critiquing our efforts.  Someone who will share our journey no matter how many writers' conferences and agent meetings it takes.
     With  luck and plenty of perseverance, Peter will find the right agent and his book will find its readers.  His story of a secret sibling certainly sparked my imagination as a writer and a reader.  It had me turning over in my mind  that  tantalizing two-word question that can get any writer's juices flowing:  "What if?....".

Rethinking Role Model

Melba Tolliver: Life lessons from LeBron

By Melba Tolliver 

More Sharing Services

1

Published: June 22, 2013 - 09:30 PM

The Miami Heat's LeBron James (6) takes a break against the San Antonio Spurs during the second half in Game 7 of the NBA basketball championship, Thursday, June 20, 2013, in Miami. (AP Photo/Lynne Sladky)

View Larger Version >>

Say “role model” and the mind’s eye pictures a young person looking to be like an older person at the top of their game. I held this conventional view before I fell into role model reversal mode thanks to basketball phenom LeBron James. His MVP performance against Tim Duncan’s San Antonio Spurs in the NBA Finals completed my conversion. And at age 75, old enough to be James’ great-granny, I’m wanting to emulate him.

So what is it about this 28-year-old that wins my admiration? For starters, his passion, perseverance and practice. After he and his Miami Heat took a 113-77 shellacking by the Spurs, did LeBron make excuses for a poor performance? No, he laced up those sneakers and worked on his jumper.

I’m old enough and experienced enough to know the trio of Ps is fundamental to success whether trying to make it in basketball or broadcasting, the field I backed into decades before LeBron was born.

Like LeBron, I grew up in Akron. Unlike him, nobody called me names when I left town after high school in 1956 to study nursing at New York City’s Bellevue Hospital. Twenty years later, the ABC News brass, faced with a walkout by on-air folks drafted me, then a secretary, to pinch hit for a striking anchorwoman. And ta-dah — I became the accidental anchorwoman, and had a 30-year career, first as a general assignment reporter, morning show host along the way and, finally, anchorwoman, again, for real.

For too long in my broadcasting career, I resisted practice; watching films of myself (yep, we shot 16mm film back then) or reading scripts in front of a mirror was for egomanics, not reporters. Or so I thought. It took a while to accept the performance (read: show biz) aspects of TV reporting.

“I’ve been shooting layups since I was 8 years old,” LeBron has said more than once in those post-game press conferences after one of his sterling performances. We’re lucky, if like him, we discover our passion early. In my case, I never dreamed as a little black girl that my interest in people and wanting to hear their stories evidenced a passion for reporting.

I’ve learned on my own and LeBron shows it to be true: Passion, perseverance and practice are pieces of the whole. Building muscle in one strengthens the others.

Then there is LeBron’s team play. Again I learn from him. He distributes the ball to his teammates despite the chorus of critics who praise his “unselfish” play if the Heat win and fault him as “not aggressive enough” if they lose. Meanwhile, a confident LeBron keeps on passing to D Wade, Ray Allen and the rest. Me, I’d be tempted to tell the Monday morning quarterbacks to “bug off” or worse. Now, when habitual naysayers offer unsolicited advice, I’m trying to stop and think: “What would LeBron do?”

Given James’ youth and the constant scrutiny of him and his game, I marvel at his composure and tough skin.

He certainly needed both to withstand the barrage of invective and name-calling — some of it incited by the media — and the threats from fans who gleefully set his No. 23 jerseys on fire in 2009 after he announced The Decision. You would have thought that by exercising his free-agent option and taking his talents to South Beach, LeBron not only left the Cavaliers, but joined the Taliban.

It takes courage to think independently, to stand up to the world. Of course, it helps to have the support of people who see something special in you and nurture it through our adolescence. It’s that village people speak of, what LeBron had in his grandmother’s home and among the folks who looked out for him in and outside the classrooms and gym of St. Vincent-St. Mary High School.

In this age of rushing on to the next big thing, I’m impressed when LeBron talks about being present in the present. D Wade, too, in his turn at the podium after the Finals victory elaborated on this bit of wisdom: All we ever have is this moment, free of the glory (or the anguish) of the past or the future.

Before and after the champagne dousings, LeBron spoke proudly of his journey, “I’m from Akron, Ohio, and I’m not even supposed to be here,” reminding me that where you come from — single parent, low-income household, tough part of town — the physical place counts. But there’s also the space cleared by people who came before. Remembering includes replenishing those roots, building a gym or hosting a bike-a-thon, doing whatever we’re able, when and where we can, smoothing the way for those who follow us — both literally and figuratively.

So, thanks, LeBron, for showing me you don’t have to be perfect or old to be a role model.

Tolliver is a writer living in Bangor, Pa. She can be reached through her website:www.melbatolliver.com. She blogs at http://melbatolliver.blogspot.com.

Stepping Into A New Role

0

comments

Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group offers support, networking to local writers

Fiction writer and GLVWG member Phil Giunta, left, discusses writing with Webmaster Bart Palamaro, President Melba Tolliver and other members July 20 at a brunch hosted by Friends of the Bangor Library at Bangor Public Library. (Express-Times Photo | Stephen Flood)

Print

By Jenelle Janci 
on July 27, 2013 at 6:06 AM, updated July 29, 2013 at 3:33 PM

Email

Above the desk of Melba Tolliver, president of Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group, a mantra is displayed: “The first draft is only the beginning.”
Tolliver’s choice of home office decoration is a reflection of her group’s purpose. GLVWG acts as a support network and provides resources such as lectures, workshops and critique groups to writers of all levels. The group began in 1993, with only five writers meeting in a living room. GLVWG now has 161 members.
Tolliver, who became president in June, worked as a broadcast journalist for nearly 30 years, having worked at WABC-TV, WNBC-TV, News 12 Long Island. After permanently living in Lower Mount Bethel Township for nearly a decade, she says her friend, the late playwright and author Bill Marley, convinced her to check out GLVWG’s annual Write Stuff Conference.
“I was so enthralled by it, that I started my blog and my first post was about (The Write Stuff Conference),” Tolliver says.
The Write Stuff Conference, held every March, is GLVWG’s biggest event of the year. It features specialized workshops, speakers and networking opportunities. Tolliver says many GLVWG members have connected with their agents and editors at the conference.
Now the group’s leader, Tolliver hopes to give a new life to the nonprofit organization.
“I would like to see the group be very bold in what we do,” she says. “I’d like us (the board members) as a core group to really be thinking in terms of doing things not because this is the way we always did it, but how can we really refresh and renew what we’re doing and our mission, and get the membership really excited about it.”
GLVWG, pronounced “gliv-wig” by its members, hosts a monthly Writers Cafe event open to the public at Barnes and Noble in Bethlehem Township’s Southmont Center. The writer’s cafe, hosted by GLVWG’s webmaster Bart Palamaro, is a one-hour talk followed by the opportunity for attendees to share and receive feedback on their work.
“It’s a range of people, people who have been published and people who are just starting out and everything in between at the cafes,” Tolliver says. The genres covered by the group’s members vary, including young adult, paranormal, romance, children’s books, memoir and fan fiction.
John Evans, published author, former Lopatcong Township teacher and former GLVWG president, says he loves attending the Writers Cafe events.
“I find it more beneficial to me sometimes than the actual meetings because it’s a free-flowing dialogue about writing,” he says.
While it can be intimidating for some writers to open themselves to criticism, Tolliver says attitude is key.
“Just remember you’re unique,” Tolliver says. “Nobody can speak with your voice, nobody can tell your experience your way. No matter what you write, you’re the only one who can really write that. You have to have that kind of confidence.”
However, Evans says writers shouldn’t share their work with expectations of only praise.
“When you realize why that's not why you present your work to a bunch of writers -- not for their approval, but for their critiques -- you realize they’re actually doing you a huge favor,” he says.
When Evans first joined GLVWG, he says he was facing repeated rejection from publishers about his non-fiction on Mark Twain. When a fellow member suggested he start pitching it to academic publishers, he says his luck began to change.
“That was just one instance where people knew more than I did, and it helped out in so many different ways,” he says.
Tolliver herself finds benefit in GLVWG’s critique groups. She’s shared excerpts from her upcoming memoir, “Accidental Anchorwoman” and connected with members who provide her feedback. Tolliver says the support offered by GLVWG extends into hard times, showing a tri-board display she and member Monica Dietrich made in honor of Marley when he passed. She says the support GLVWG offers goes beyond a pat on the back when things go right.
“When we say we’re a support group for writers, it’s not just saying in an email, ‘Oh, I just got a contract at XYZ’ and for us to say, ‘Oh awesome, great for you, keep on.’ That’s not the only kind of support. We can support each other just by sharing what the writing life is like.”
The organization is always expanding with writers looking for these types of support. Megan McKnight, of Plainfield Township, says she joined the group last January before even attending a meeting to secure membership before the Write Stuff conference.
“I think without joining, it would still be a far-out distant dream of getting published,” McKnight says. “I think it's going to help me on my way.”
At 26, McKnight is notably younger than many of her fellow GLVWG members. However, she finds benefit in this.
“I feel like they’ve been in my shoes before and they can offer advice and support on how to get a good start.”
Evans, who faced difficulties getting published himself, says GLVWG is the perfect place to do this.
“The path to publication is filled with stumbling rocks,” he says. “(GLVWG) is a way of shortcutting all those potential setbacks you may face.”
For more information, visit glvwg.org.

WE ARE ALL HISTORY

Barbara Rick, me, and Deborah Santana
photo courtesy of Out of the Blue Films, Inc.

A recent screening of two beautiful and heartwarming documentaries  got me thinking that history is made by everyday people and not just the boldface names whose stories get re-told--and rightfully so--- during the various history month celebrations.    By everyday people I mean folks who tie their passions to positive action and make things happen just because that's who they are, what they do, every day. Barbara Rick and Deborah Santana are two such  women, making history if not headlines.  Barbara is the award-winning filmmaker and Deborah the executive producer of Girls of Daraja and School of My Dreams. They document what can happen when grownups put their heads together and find resources to provide free secondary schooling for girls who would otherwise be left out, given little or no chance to fulfill their enormous potential.  The girls are Kenyan, they come from two dozen different tribes to board and learn at Daraja Academy. Barbara and Deborah allow us to look into the eyes, the smiling, sometimes serious faces of the young girls, hear them speak,  and imagine lawyers, doctors, teachers, prime ministers, maybe the successor to Kenya's Wangari Maathi, 2004 Nobel Peace Prize winner and environmental activist....you get the picture.  Or you will when you see these films. Catch them if you can.  More screenings are scheduled for NYC and around the country.  I saw them as part of Michelle Materre's Creatively Speaking film series at MIST Harlem. Materre is another history-maker. That story for another time.

http://www.Daraja-Academy.org
http://outofthebluefilms.com    

History On Stage and Off

 

                 The 3R's---Race, Radicalism and Romance.  It's all there in Dr. DuBois and Miss Ovington. 
I watched this two character drama at the Castillo Theatre in Manhattan on Sunday on the cusp of Black History and Women's History Months.  A black man, educator, human rights activist. And a white woman, Unitarian, granddaughter of abolitionists.  The setting is the office of The Crisis magazine, publication of the NAACP which DuBois and Ovington helped found. The year is 1915.
            Like two boxers, using words not fists, they jab and counter-punch, engage in two fights in one arena.  They are political radicals, partners fighting for equal rights for all. It is the second more complex fight that puts them at odds. DuBois created The Crisis and insists that he alone should run it, or he will resign.  Ovington, ardent admirer of DuBois, understands his resistance---a black man unwilling to answer to white superiors---yet she argues for compromise.  Heat smolders between the two firebrands, but never goes beyond mild flirting. DuBois remains at The Crisis, for now.

           Director, Gabrielle L. Kurlander and veteran Broadway actors, Peter jay Fernandez and Kathleen Chalfant make the most of playwright Clare Coss's innovative work.

      Laura Blackburne, former NYS Supreme Court judge and The Crisis current publisher joined Woodie King, Jr, Black History Month Play Festival producer in a post-performance discussion.

  Agnes Green, of WCBS Newradio 88, back in the day, and in the audience on Sunday, reminded me of some work we did together.  Serving on the New York Association of Black Journalists (NYABJ) Media Watch Committee, with ABC News' Eric Tait, we created a local media bias survey that saw some light at Medgar Evers College in Brooklyn.  Maybe 1993? or '94?  There must be a report buried in a file somewhere.

The Gift of Time

     It took my friend and fellow writer, Bill Marley, 17 years to write 21 Yerger Street, his first novel. Hearing that made me think about the gift of time.

     And it made me pause when reading a profile of Junot Diaz, and learning that after his debut story collection, Diaz didn't produce another book for a dozen years.  That book, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, was his Pulitzer prize-winning first novel.  Then there is journalist, Isabel Wilkerson, one of my heroes.  The Warmth of Other Suns is her non-fiction masterwork.  Last summer Wilkerson told a sold out audience at the Schomburg Library in Harlem, "If my book had been a person, it would have been a teenager by the time it reached readers."
     It's inspiring to know these authors kept going as time came and went.  For me, their books, each in its own way, shed more light on the struggle to fit in in America, to find one's place in the world.
    Wilkerson's book is a brilliant account of The Great Migration from 1915 to 1970 when six million black Southerners fled a crushing Jim Crow caste system, seeking better lives "up north."
   Diaz's hero, Oscar, is a Dominican Republic-born, nerdy fat kid and writer wannabe, burdened with a curse, searching for love and stumbling through life in, among other places, Paterson, New Jersey.
    Bill Marley's white teen-aged protagonist lives in Depression-era Mississippi where he watches the people next door and learns things that rock his world, things that would shock his upright unsuspecting family.
    I've heard all three authors in public readings of their work.  Bill Marley sat down with me for an interview about his writing life.
    Marley started writing his novel in the first of four summer novel-writing workshops at the University of Iowa.  "It was a writing community, more bookstores than TV antennas," he says.

       
   We are  in the Innavore art gallery space on the ground floor of Marley's home in Pennsylvania.  And as he recalls those Iowa days, his face softens, his eyes light up and he is transported back to where the long gestation of his book began.
   Marley describes how each summer he climbed into his car, loaded a books-on-tape version of Hero of a Thousand Faces, narrated by Joseph Campbell himself, into his cassette player and headed west.  One thousand, one hundred and thirty miles later he arrived in Iowa City.  "It was heaven, just great," Marley says of the idyllic hours spent in a community of writers---novices as well as seasoned authors---working on craft and learning from one another's work.  "I would still be there if it was still going," he says.  But times changed and the Elderhostel program that sponsored the workshops fell by the wayside.
     Gone was Marley's writing family, his circle of careful listeners.  And though Marley was sad and disappointed, he was grateful to walk away from the last workshop with two good things: A completed first draft of his budding novel and  "a note from the instructor wishing me well."
     Back home, Marley tucked the draft---and the note---away.  "I put it in a drawer and it sat there while I was working on plays."  Marley was an established playwright and lyricist back east, and a cabaret performer who founded his own theatre, Hauska House, In Pennsylvania's Pocono mountain resort area.
     Performing kept Marley busy while the first draft of his novel slumbered on, until a friend invited him to join the Greater Lehigh Valley Writer's Group, and that stirred something in him.  "The guilt trip that the novel was still there in my computer."  Marley accepted his friend's invitation, started meeting regularly with a critique group and slowly breathed new life into his novel.
     Two main characters draw readers into 21 Yerger Street.   One of them is 14 year old Tom, curious, watchful and naive.  Like Tom, Marley grew up in Mississippi and when I ask if his debut novel is autobiographical he replies, not missing a beat, "Very definitely.  You write what you know and I know my childhood.  The difference is the story is all fiction, but the young boy is through my eyes."  In other words all the goings on at 21 Yerger Street once the new tenants move in is completely made up.  Though, again like Tom,  Marley did live next door to a house that stood empty for awhile.  "So I peopled it," he says, grinning with the pride and satisfaction of a true fiction writer.  The neighbors Marley gives to Tom expose the boy to worlds deeply foreign to his genteel middle class upbringing.  By story's end Tom is changed, wise beyond his 14 years and knowing secrets he may never share.
     When I compliment Marley on the cinematic quality of his storytelling, especially a scene in the end, he says, "I just imagined I was there and what I would see."
     Marley self-published his novel and in September he held a proof copy of it in his hands for the first time.  "I really was just 'Wow!' God this is beautiful."
     In time, everything changes, even publishing.  What was once traditional in the book industry is being undone and rearranged by technology and the explosion of social media.  Who dreamed 17 years ago that indie publishing would demand respect?  That writers like Marley would get new opportunities to put their work before readers?  That in a world flooded with "content" authors would be challenged to put on the hats of marketers and entrepreneurs in order make themselves known?
     Marley says the e-book and print version sales of 21 Yerger Street are going well, locally. And though his first royalty check might just about cover the cost of a modest dinner out, Marley's hopes are high that there will be many more readers and more royalties.


www.bywilliammarley.com  
www.amazon.com  for both print and e-books
and e-books on all platforms


 

Lipstick on the Queen (repost from2009)

                                                                        

Was this a faux pas or simply the friendly gesture of one young woman toward a much older one?

I'm talking about America's First Lady, Michelle Obama, putting an arm around the back of Britain's Queen Elizabeth . It happened when eager photographers snapped the two women together at a reception after the Obama's visit with the British monarch and her husband. The couple's Buckingham Castle stop was on President Obama's G20 economic summit itinerary.

To hear CNN and other news media tell it tonight, Michelle Obama committed a newsworthy no-no by laying an arm and hand on the queenly back. It's considered out of line for a mere mortal to touch the occupant of the British throne, no matter how well-meaning the gesture. Never mind that the 6-foot Mrs. Obama could have been feeling a bit of compassion for the tiny Highness. Think about it. The Queen's been stuck in the same job for almost 60 years, has to wear white gloves most of the time and constantly carry a pocketbook (what could she possibly have in it?) even while meeting people in her own castle! Worse than all that, the Queen looks to have become the incredile shrinking woman. Although, next to the Obama's, both of the royals look...well, Lilliputian.

Which just goes to show that nature runs its course no matter what titles we humans bestow on one another. Queen, King, first lady, or president---we all grow old and shrink over time. Underneath all the titles, the pomp and circumstance, we are all only human, subject to human frailty.

In 1965, Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip paid a visit to Trinidad, a former colony. It just so happened that I was there, too, on my honeymoon in Port-of-Spain. Because my then-husband's aunt held a high post in the Trinidadian equivalent of the US Veteran's Administration, he and I got to stand among the veterans to be reviewed by the royals in a local park.

As the designated hour arrived, several dozen neatly uniformed schoolchildren standing just outside the park and holding miniature flags of both countries began waving them. In the waiting crowd a wave of sound built to a roar that continued to swell as the royal entourage approached in their gleaming black Rolls Royces, pulled up and came to a stop. Out stepped, what I could only guess were the Queen's ladies-in-waiting and her consort's aides, and the monarchs themselve. Inside the park, the Queen, trailed by Prince Phillip passed slowly down the line of elderly WW11 veterans. The old gents bowed as the royals passed. But I, ever the curious reporter, decided at the last minute to continue unbowed in order to get a close up look at a real queen. What I remember most about her, was the downy fuzz of hair on her forearms, her pale complexion, her immaculate white gloves, a pocketbook hanging from one royal wrist, and her smile, especially her smile. I will always remember her smile because there on one of her front teeth was a very noticeable smear of bright red lipstick!
That dab of wandered off lipstick showed me that all of us, even queens with ladies-in-waiting, will have our off days.

You Have No Idea

 

    You Have No Idea, is a book just out by Vanessa Williams and her mother, Helen Williams. It sent me to my archives for this piece I wrote for Right On/CLASS magazine about Vanessa's first official appearance as Miss America, 1984. Vanessa, just twenty years old at the time, told me that determination was what she most admired about herself.  No doubt that's what drove her to keep going when an early nude photo of her surfaced and she lost her crown in the ensuing scandal.  The character trait she drew on when dealing  with other personal and professional ups and downs over the years. 

    Much has changed in the culture since Vanessa Williams' win in 1984. But determination may be something we need now more than ever. What do you think?

Story, Story, Story

It’s all about the story. That’s the message I heard repeated like a mantra at BookExpoAmerica (BEA) and Blogworld & New Media Expo NY, the huge happening for all things book-related held May
24-26 at New York’s Javits Center.
Publishers, book sellers, authors and some top notch workshop leaders (an estimated 20,000 total attendees) had a lot to say. Michael Margolis broke the storytelling message down most convincingly. His presentation on how to recognize and tell your own story in a way that makes you known and gives value to the reader was full of good info for creating your author, blogger or website bio. http://www.getstoried.com/ and Michael@getstoried.com
I needed no convincing about the importance of story. Back in the day, when Eyewitness News changed the face and presentation of local television news nationwide, I was a general assignment reporter and anchor and had the chance to experience the power of persuasive storytelling first hand. The concept was revolutionary for the news biz then and still resonates despite people who confuse the concept of first hand storytelling with “happy talk” tv news.
When not talking story, folks weighed in on the explosive growth of e-book sales and e-book reading devices. Or debated the pros (mostly) and cons (not many) of social media, a subject about which everybody I met had an opinion. Gary Vaynerchuk, author of The Thank You Economy, takes exception to the term “social media.” More than media, he says that term attempts to describe a cultural shift in the way we use the Internet. http://www.garyvaynerchuk.com/
Malloy book publisher’s exhibit caught my eye http://www.malloy.com/ and Stephanie Barker steph_barker@malloy.com was quick with answers to my questions about self-publishing and books-on-demand.
Thanks to Sandra Lee Schubert http://www.wildwomannetwork.com/, blog radio host, social media strategist and a friend who goes way back with me, I made the most of my time. A veteran of past BEA conferences , she guided me through the myriad of exhibits and workshops, so many they made my head spin.
Finally, think on this: there are 18 million creative writers today who want to reach 65 million consumers who spend five hours a week reading in a rapidly shifting storytelling environment.

Remembering Gordon

I’m thinking about Gordon Parks a lot lately because his birthday just passed at the end of November. He would have been 98. Another reason he’s been on my mind, I just recently spent three nights in a row in bed with his novel “The Sun Stalker.”

“The Sun Stalker” is so good, the story held me in its grip both as a reader and a writer. The main character is JMW Turner, the British landscape painter (1775-1851) whose achievements in art have been compared to Shakespeare’s in the realm of literature. It is simply breathtaking to witness how he renders the glare of the sun over land and water, and captures atmosphere and light in his seascapes and in his historical and mythological subjects. Turner was also a prolific artist, producing more than 20,000 paintings and drawings in his 60-year career.

Gordon Parks, possibly the most famous of Life magazine photographers, once told me that Turner had been an important influence in his own work. Turner was also an inspiration to the Scottish poet, Harry Craig, who said he once saw a Parks photograph in an exhibition that immediately reminded him of Turner’s painting, A Storm at Sea.

Together, the photographer and the poet tried to interest Hollywood in a movie about Turner’s life and work. But they got nowhere. One producer even nixed the idea, mistaking Turner the painter, with Nat Turner, leader of a slave rebellion and subject of a novel by William Styron. Before his death, poet Craig made Gordon promise to keep pursuing their movie idea. Though the movie never materialized, the idea morphed into Gordon’s novel.

In his handling of “The Sun Stalker”, Gordon is a cinematic story teller. He sometimes cuts from one scene to another in the way a movie director might film them. And no wonder. Gordon Parks was a filmmaker in addition to his many other talents: poet, composer, musician, memoirist, documentary maker.

Gordon, a black American man, was born into a harsh life on the Kansas prairie just 12 years into the 20th century, and details of his life are well known. By contrast, details of Turner’s real life remain mostly a mystery beyond the fact that he was the son of a London wigmaker. Despite their differences, the two artists had in common their rich imaginations and their keen observations of the telling details.

That Gordon could so fully imagine the trials and triumphs of a painting prodigy, make believable the people, places and events he might have experienced, and transport the readers to that other time and place and hold them there reveals a fabulous story teller at work. It’s what I think we all hope for as writers and readers. I know I do. I’m so grateful to Gordon Parks for leaving the legacy of his inspiring words and pictures.

The Race

I don’t know anyone whose life hasn’t been touched by breast cancer---either up close or at a distance. And, whether we recognize it or not, we are all in the struggle to come up with a cure.

I say this because we sometimes take actions unconsciously---not thinking about the consequences.

For instance, when we buy certain products, everything from greeting cards to cars to yogurt, part of the purchase price may be going to help fund breast cancer research, education and support services. We may be donating without even realizing it, not doing so consciously and deliberately.

I have lost people who were the closest to me---relatives and friends-- to breast cancer. And I have some who are breast cancer survivors. With the disease striking so close to me, I grow fearful every year as the date approaches for my annual mammogram and breast exam. There have been times when I let the date pass, postpone it ‘til I can’t ignore the voice asking me about my fear and assuring me that I can face it down.

I’m lucky and I know it. I have seen the same wise and wonderful radiologist, Dr. Gail Phillips, for the last 15 years or so. We met when I worked for News 12 Long Island at a time when activists in the area were searching for clues to why breast cancer incidence seemed unusually high in their communities.

Dr. Phillips goes over my x-rays with me, calmly pointing out the tiny calcifications present in my breast tissue. She explains why some look suspicious and others don’t. When she thought biopsies were called for, I had them. About three times. Each time they have come back negative. Dr. Phillips is as relieved as I am when after she reviews my mammogram, she can say, “OK, Melba, everything’s fine.” I return to the changing room grateful, grateful, grateful.

So, I’m thinking that when the Komen NYC Race for the Cure sets off in Central Park on Sunday, September 12, I will consciously, deliberately make my gratitude manifest. Give some bucks and put on my walking shoes. (I’m not a runner).

REGISTER AT KOMENNYC.ORG/RACE

STRINGS ATTACHED

Last Friday, August 27, was one of those “You should have been there” evenings. There was Trenton, NJ. Not a place I especially associate with extraordinary violinists or out-of-this-world modern dance. Just goes to show how wrong some assumptions can be.

The occasion was a fundraising held in the War Memorial/Patriots Theater, an architecturally stately building that surely has its own story to tell. On this night, a ballroom full of peaceful patriots turned out to give financial and moral support to The Conservancy (NJ). The Conservancy (NJ)is both a place and a dream. It is becoming a center where young people and artists come together for learning and teaching. Think of art in the broadest sense of the word and you’ll be in tune with Sterick and Jacqui Ivey. They are the driving force in resurrecting the historic Trenton Conservatory of Music--where young Jacqui Ivey took piano lessons-- as The Conservancy (NJ). They envision a place where children engage in all sorts of artistic expressions from cooking to drumming. "There’s a lot of talent in Trenton” she says. Given the current cutbacks in public school art programs, Jacqui Ivey feels the need is urgent, and she is determined to nourish young talent while promoting local artists and arts events in the process.

The benefit performances were stunning, with The Wesley Drears Duo, Dancespora and the Scott Tixier Group taking turns on stage. Scott, just 24 yrs old, is an amazing jazz violinist (with a ‘fro that won’t quit). A native of France who now calls Brooklyn home, Tixier is winning kudos within New York’s jazz musician community.
His energy and virtuosity got me thinking about the late Noel Pointer,the brilliant jazz violinist,record producer and social activist who I admired and once interviewed. Pointer, also a Brooklynite, died of a stroke in '94 just before he would have turned 40. As an activist, he led fellow artists in raising public awareness around the controversial dismantling of the African Burial Grounds in lower Manhattan. His legacy also includes a foundation and a music school. Empowering Children One Note At A Time was the mission of Noel Pointer. I am inspired and feel the thread of our human connectedness when I see people like Scott Tixier and Eric Thomas, a Trenton elementary school teacher,---and others--joining with the Iveys in that same spirit and commitment.Check out the web info on Scott Tixier and Noel Pointer. And learn more about the Iveys work: www.theconservatorynj.com
href="http://www.theconservatorynj.com/">http://www.theconservatorynj.com/) .

For The Record

Stuff happens on the Internet sometimes that makes me wonder. Case in point: A photo of me turned up in someone’s blog post and beneath the picture is this line: “1971 Nightly News.” Problem is that image (which I was never crazy about because it looks like I borrowed my hairstyle from Albert Einstein or Don King) was shot last year, not 29-years ago as that line suggests. Also, Nightly News is the title of NBC’s network news program. I was never associated with it though I did work at WNBC-TV, the local station, for 5 years. There is a difference.
(You’ll find a link to the blog in question at the end of this.)

That said, I appreciate the blogger’s mention of me. But I disagree with the commentary describing the back-and-forth about natural versus permed or weaved hair as a debate. In my opinion it’s not a debate at all. More like people in media looking to stir up controversy on a slow news day, aided and abetted by fearful folks who think their way is the only way. And when you throw in Chris Rock and his movie, you’ve got distraction posing as a documentary fronted by a comedian who seemed to be in over his head trying to be funny (or is it serious?) about black women and their hair.

Real dialogue, on the other hand, is what occurred at last year’s Heads Up! A Soulful Celebration of Our HAIRitage. This program at Brooklyn’s Kumble Theatre was an invitation to “talk, laugh and be fearlessly tender-headed.” It featured an academic, a filmmaker, and an environmentalist joined by writers, hair care entrepreneurs, musicians and performers who engaged in a grown-up, thoughtful and multi-layered look at issues, implications and assumptions related to our hair. No name calling. No finger pointing. No taking sides about whose hair is better than anyone else’s. A standing-room-only audience walked away with plenty of food for thought.

In her commentary, the blogger asks, “What has hair to do with advancing our people or solving any of the societal ills black people are facing today?” I think whenever our hair prompts dialogue that gives us insights into these conditions, it’s a good thing. Whenever discussions about our hair opens doors for developing strategies to resist self-limiting ideas, it’s a good thing. Whenever reasoning about our hair helps us dismantle the insidious notion that being black is some kind of disability, rather than a gift, it’s a good thing.

So, I say let enlightened discussions continue. We’ll be doing our part on September 29th 2010 when we present the next edition of Heads Up! A Soulful Celebration of Our HAIRitage.

Stay tuned.

http://essence.com/hair/commentary_1/commentary_hair_politics_natural_vs_permed_php

The Decision

Ohioans love their sports. I know because I grew up in Akron, Ohio where the zeal for basketball and football was almost a religion---and still is. Where sports at all levels---high school, college and the pros ---attract high energy fans
.
Sell-out crowds used to jam South High School’s gym (my alma mater), and Central Hower High’s, too, in basketball season. Those same folks could be counted on to fill Akron’s Rubber Bowl for football games. And it was a source of pride in Akron that the Cleveland Browns football team ---and their future Hall-of-Famer, Jim Brown--- sometimes used our stadium as their practice field.

Those were the days when Akron owned the title “Rubber Capital of the World. “ That reputation died a while back. But my hometown is still where the Soap Box Derby is run, going back to 1935.

And baseball? Back in the day, my family rooted for the Cleveland Indians and as a kid I got to watch Satchel Page, Larry Doby, Lou Boudreau and other legends in action. We went nuts when Cleveland won the World Series in ‘48.

So why am I reminiscing about the good old glory days of Akron and Cleveland sports? All these thoughts came flooding back as I followed reports about The Decision, that cliffhanger starring Lebron James.

The news in a nutshell: Lebron, basketball super-star who was born, raised and grew his basketball greatness in Akron, chose to exercise his free-agent option and exchange his Cleveland Cavaliers uniform for one from the Miami Heat. It’s worth mentioning here that long before the Cavs drafted Lebron right out of high school, Gus Johnson and Nate Thurman---both of them Akronites, had already preceded him into the National Basketball Association and made their homies proud.

Considering Lebron’s roots , I wasn’t surprised that he broke a lot of hearts when he announced he was hitting the highway and taking his talents to South Beach.

And I shouldn’t have been surprised that The Decision generated so much hoopla, hyperbole and yes, hypocrisy. But from the reaction, you’d have thought Lebron was ditching America to go join the Taliban in Afghanistan.

For years, sportswriters couldn't heap enough praise on Lebron, starting while he was still in high school. Basketball fans far and wide compared him to Michael and Kobe. After the Cavs drafted him, giant size Lebron billboards sprouted around Cleveland’s Q arena and local fans gobbled up seasons tickets to watch him. Anybody selling anything Cavaliers-related loved them some Lebron.

But once The Chosen One made his choice, those folks turned on him. Some of the hotheads even set their Lebron number 23 jerseys on fire, motivated perhaps by a nasty open letter from the Cavs owner in which he called Lebron everything but a child of God.


In what looked to me like a rationalization of their irrational reactions, some of Lebron’s critics said it wasn’t his departure that turned them off, but his “process” and The Decision, ESPN’s ridiculously hyped-to-the heavens television show that turned them off. They claimed that breaking the news in a cable tv "special" televised live to an audience of 10 million viewers was nothing more than a sorry display of Lebron’s massive ego.

By most assessments, The Decision was hands down the most lame tv show in history. I agree. But why blame Lebron for ESPN's ineptitude? The cable network produced and aired the show, not Lebron. It’s not his fault that ESPN padded the first half of the "special"with 4 sportscasters sitting around asking each other "What do you think Lebron's gonna do?" As if at least one of them hadn't already had that question answered by one of his "sources".


Sure, Lebron agreed to do the show, but the guy was only using and being used by the same media folks that built the pedestal he’s now standing on. They had more than a hand in making him the over-the-top super-celebrity that he has become. A mega celeb who can keep people talking and wondering "What do you think Lebron's gonna do?" for the better part of the last NBA season.


Sports columnists, experts and commentators on radio and tv fed off of Lebron speculation for months leading up to The Decision. The hype leached into most of medialand, even reaching supposedly serious news pograms.

Now, many of these same folks are among the name-callers and the critics who talk about hype and the media as if they themselves are not part of the celebrity-making process, the ones that helped turn a kid with a talent for basketball into the greatest thing since sliced bread. The media, the NBA, the marketers, the Cavaliers owners and organization---and not least of all, the fans----crowned King James---and now they're pissed because he's acting the part and speaking of himself in the third person.


The fans and the Cavs organization now damming Lebron ought to be thankful. He did, after all, give the Cavs 7 good years, led them to the NBA finals in 2007, to the best record in the league in the last 2 years, into the playoffs 5 times, to say nothing of putting Cleveland and Akron in the spotlight and back on the sportsworld map.


As for The Decision to change employers, according to Labor Department statistics, Americans aged 18 to 38 will change jobs 10 times in a lifetime. That gives Lebron 9 more times to move his talents to another workplace. It’s time to cut the guy some slack.

Michael, Madoff and Palin

I've wanted to write something about covering Michael Jackson and the Jacksons at Madison Square Garden many years ago. But I couldn't recall the exact concert dates. So, I put off posting anything, Then I remembered I had a T-shirt from the event stored away in one of the dozens of boxes in my garage. And lo and behold! there it was, in the box neatly labeled T-shirts, and looking brand new. Guess I never even wore the thing. But at least it confirms that I didn't imagine covering that concert for WNBC-TV on either the 18th or 19th of August in 1981.

What I remember most vividly about that night was spotting Katherine Hepburn in the MSG audience. She was seated a few rows away from me with her grandniece, and when the concert opened with the wall of sound, the fantastic lights and pyrotechnics, the Jacksons all rhinestoned-up, sliding and gliding and bumping and grinding to "Can You Feel It?", Ms. Hepburn looked startled and rushed to put her hands over her ears.

From New York, the Jackson tour went on to Boston. Thanks to a friend who was one of Jackson's managers and arranged my interview, I got to see the concert a second time. Both times--- when I was granted a backstage "audience" with Michael at MSG and when I witnessed the Jackson arrival at the arena in Boston--- what left a lasting impression on me was how my friend and everyone connected with the Jacksons tip-toed around Michael. Whatever he said, was the final word. Whatever he wanted, was granted. All the adults seemed cowed by the kid.

In short, it seemed even to me---an outsider--- that nobody said "no" to Michael. Nobody who wanted to keep their job or stay in his good graces. Michael seemed to have learned early on that his talent was power and with that power he could bend people to his will.

I think it's not too big a stretch to say that what was true of the King of Pop, could also be said of Bernard Madoff, the King of Ponzi Schemes and of Sarah Palin, the Alaska Distractor.

Like Michael, the quintessential performer, Madoff and Palin have displayed blinding performance skills in their respective fields of finance and politics. Madoff convinced his investors that he was the master of money, that he could make big bucks for them even when just about everyone else was losing theirs. And Palin, well, she could deliver a speech--written by somebody else and read off Tele-Prompt-R---better than all the high profile Republican presidential wannabes combined, and could draw crowds that cast candidate John McCain in the role of second banana on his own ticket.

Now Michael is dead. Madoff is behind bars for 150 years. And Palin, though she has left the building and gotten rid of the governor title, is still on the loose. Still looking for the best way to leverage the extraordinary magnetism she is said to exert on some people.

I think it can also be said that Michael, Madoff and Palin are/were extraordinary in a couple of other ways First there were the numbers each could command. There was Michael rocking the music world with Thriller, his 110-million ( or is it 90 million?) best seller album plus all his other albums and hit singles. Then Madoff , said to have guaranteed 13 to 20% annual returns to his investors. One of whom, in a telling quote, said people invested in Madoff, not with him. And Palin ,warm up act and main attraction for stadium-filling fans in the tens of thousands who tended to drift off whenever she turned the mike over to the man responsible for luring her into the GOP spotlight.

And for the news and entertainment media, where numbers rule, these three--in life, in death, in handcuffs---were like manna from ratings and sales heaven. How to explain the over-the-top coverage of these folks? Well, blame it on their ability to attract the numbers. Or as Rachel Maddow put it one evening on her MSNBC show, "The reason she (Palin) is so newsworthy is because she is so popular."

Aah yes. Popularity. Like so much in this life, popularity in moderation feels good. Extreme popularity, on the other hand, can kill you. Or land you in jail. Or have you believing you are all that even when the hard evidence clearly says you are not.