Black and Blue

“Too often we judge other groups by their worst examples, while judging ourselves by our best intentions.”

Well said, even if his dancing was a bit odd.  I’m not prone to being a Bush apologist, but he nailed this one.  With regard to his awkward gyrations, we should all know by now, that he is kind of goofy.  For the record, no one would be making a point of this had it been Obama at a Black charismatic venue.   Have you ever seen one of these funerals, or should I say celebrations?  Perhaps Bush was just channeling that part of the interfaith experience.  It does appear that he got the current President swaying too.  Although, perhaps that was the “crack the whip” effect you may remember from recess.  I’m still going with goofy as the operative word for his behavior even though I applaud him for being genuine.

It is not as simple as “Back the Blue” or “Black Lives Matter”.  In every walk of life, there are terribly misguided individuals either acting alone or through similarly deluded groups, who, by their actions, tarnish the image or perception of the particular profession, religion or race vis a vis culture, to which we either place them, or to which they purport to belong.   Surely judging others using such a broad brush is narrow minded and the root of negative stereotypes.   Or as the old saying goes “Don’t let one bad apple spoil the whole bunch”.  I would also suggest that the whole bunch, as described by certain stereotypes and slogans, should not spoil a good apple.  From a race perspective, lest we forget, Homo sapiens are the only bunch left on this sphere.

This is not to say, however, that your experience shouldn’t guide you, especially when there are safety concerns.  It is easy to say, for example, let all of the Syrian refugees into the United States because we don’t want to judge all Muslims as radical jihadists.   There is a very real conundrum and balance between preserving our liberty and keeping us safe.  To express this in everyday terms, I use the following example.  I will usually stop to help someone on the side of the road if it is apparent they really need it, being the “Intuitive Judger” I am.  This is obviously less acute since the onset of mobile phones.   I once went out of my way to take a man from Richardson to South Oak Cliff.  Before I let him get in my car, I asked him if he had any weapons on his person.  He acted offended.  Because I’m black, he asked.  I just ignored him and asked whether, or not, he wanted a ride.  I have probably taken too many chances by doing this kind of thing.   I surely don’t want my kids or my wife doing the same.     

I do want to make a point regarding judging others that I believe a lot of folks miss.  I have heard and read that we are not to judge the behavior of others.  This could not be farther from the truth in my book.  We do and should judge actions of others as well as taking the appropriate measures when those actions infringe on others’ rights.  What we mustn’t do, is judge what is in their heart and soul.  That is up to God.  Once in Sunday School, we were discussing a situation where a woman was on death row and had a spiritual epiphany, accepting Jesus Christ.   There were several Christians lobbying for her pardon.  Most of the class thought likewise.  As I’m apt, I expressed my dissenting view, being that it was awesome she had accepted Christ and that her sins may be forgiven, but that did not absolve her debt to society.  One fellow came unglued and told me that was not “Christ-like”.  I was a bit taken aback, but countered by referring to how Jesus treated the criminal on the cross next to him.  The man was not spared suffering on the cross, yet was promised a place in God’s house.  Let’s face it, we’re all likely to suffer and we’re all going to die.

The movie A Time to Kill, starring Samuel L. Jackson and Matthew McConaughey was a good, yet very disturbing film.  Samuel L. Jackson’s character murders the perpetrators who brutally raped and killed his daughter.   No father could deny such rage in similar circumstances.  I completely understand and can even see myself possibly reacting this way.  As disturbing as the rape and murder scene was, what bothered me most was that the court allowed Jackson’s character to walk free.  In my mind, he was guilty of breaking the law, even if his actions were understandable.

Speaking of walking free, it should be noted that negligence is usually not intentional, yet a crime nevertheless.   No one at my company would be able to keep their job or security clearance if they had done anything close to Hillary Clinton’s blunder.  Apparently the nondisclosure statement we all sign is meaningless.  Is this legal precedent now?   There must be 3 Americas.  Those caught in the cycle of poverty, the privileged, and the extremely privileged.  I guess it was just a right wing conspiracy.  This whole ordeal reminds me of the stupid incidental contact rule in the NFL.  “Well, Troy, that was a good no-call since there was no intent.”  Huh?   So I guess there should be a manslaughter pass interference penalty which is fewer yards than the “I meant to paralyze that mother before the ball got there” penalty.   By the way, the NBA is also pretty ridiculous (well, for many reasons, as an entire post could be dedicated to this topic) when the referees try to determine whether it is a flagrant foul, and if it is, whether it is of the flagrant 1 or the flagrant 2 variety. 

Since I’ve started down the sports trail, maybe a recent baseball example will help show how incredibly  righteous we are when taking sides.  I haven’t written about my Texas Rangers in some time.  A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since they broke my heart in 2011.  Earlier this spring they made news due to their take no prisoners, frontier justice approach to responding to perceived disrespect shown them during last fall’s game 5 of the American League Divisional round of the MLB playoffs.   Toronto Blue Jay Jose Bautista flipped the bat towards the Ranger dugout after hitting a homerun during that fateful game.  I was also kind of ticked about it, but mostly because we had blown that game and two other chances to close the series in Texas.  What made this especially difficult to swallow was that replay was used by MLB to highlight and advertise the rest of last season and the beginning of this season.  I guess the Rangers were tired of seeing it as well, as they exacted their revenge in a typical show of unwritten baseball etiquette (stupid by-the-way; now I’ve denigrated all of the professional leagues of my favorite sports) as they plunked Bautista during the last 2016 regular season game with the Blue Jays in Arlington.   What happened next went beyond typical payback.  Bautista, still angry that he was hit, made a late and illegal slide into second baseman, Rougned Odor, who was obviously ready for such an attempt.  As they squared off, Odor landed a right to Bautista’s face, nearly knocking him off his feet.  As the dust cleared and the game ended, all anyone could talk about, was how awesome it was that little Rougned and the Rangers took care of business, of course because “Joey Bats” and the Blue Jays deserved it. 

Without question, Bautista is an ass.  There are even those in the Blue Jays camp who will attest to such.  And as much as I enjoyed seeing him get his butt kicked, it started to really bother me that it was my team that dealt him the blow.  I am still very much in the minority amongst my friends and Ranger faithful when I say this was wrong.  We’ve made a hero out of Odor, not for his play, but his punch.  He is an outstanding player.   I have heard that he has admitted to perhaps being wrong.  I am glad he has reflected on his actions.  The reaction of fans to these kinds of things is not unlike how various segments of the population react to more important societal issues.  We immediately take sides and try to justify our emotional response.  Moreover, few actually take the time to understand the facts, but would rather buy into slogans and rhetoric.

I’ve done my fair share of reflection during the past several years regarding increased tensions between and among races, cultures, politics and authorities.  I recently tried to remember all of the times I have been stopped by and/or had dealings with the police.  It was rather like CBS’s The Big Bang Theory when Sheldon does the math regarding how many men Penny had been with.   As Penny, I was shocked, realizing that I’d been stopped near 25 times and had received some 8-10 tickets, mostly for speeding.  Although most were not contentious,  I did encounter harsh and unprofessional behavior on a few occasions.   I have been berated and ridiculed, baited and profiled.   

About 20 or so years ago, I was stopped by the Arizona Highway Patrol near Marana.  I was returning from a Raytheon business meeting in Tucson.  I had flown into Phoenix and borrowed my parents’ car, something I had done a few times as it was cheaper to fly to Phoenix and charge mileage than to fly to Tucson.  Of course, the real benefit was getting to see Mom and Dad.   I was dressed in slacks and a white shirt while sporting a shorter, more professional hairstyle at the time.  I was also driving a Cadillac.  I mention these things because I was once profiled by a Jarrell, Texas local when driving my 1984 Z28, wearing what is now referred to as a “wife beater” (T-shirt without sleeves) and my Austin-era mop as my coif of choice.   After I challenged the Jarrell officer’s claim that he had captured me weaving on video, he apologized and admitted to stopping me only because of potential drug running that had been rampant in the area.  My car and I apparently fit the profile.  It was not the time or place to make any further stink, and I still felt bad for that town as they were still recovering from the devastation of an F-5 tornado.

Getting back to the Arizona incident, the first thing the State Trooper told me was that it was a felony to go more than 10mph over the posted speed limit of 75mph and that he was taking me to jail.  I told him that I didn’t realize that I was going that fast and that I wasn’t used to the smooth acceleration of the Cadillac.  After many derogatory comments towards me, where he was clearly trying to bait me into saying something disrespectful, he told me that I didn’t seem very upset about going to jail.  I just kind of shrugged my shoulders and indicated that I was just really tired.  He handed me a ticket and told me that if he ever caught me in Arizona again, the only thing between me and a jail cell was the hood of his car.  I just stood there dumbfounded and read the ticket which showed 82mph.  My dad was so angry, but we never did anything about it, probably because I was leaving to go back to Texas the next day.  He had been unsuccessful in complaining about a Trooper that treated him badly in the sixties.

A more recent incident was a few years ago in Melissa, Texas.  We had started the process to buy Bobbi a Honda CRV.  We had the car to try it out for a few days before we decided.  As I had not driven it yet, I literally put the wheels into motion to pick up Danny from Bonham where he had been playing bass that Sunday morning.   As I came off the freeway onto the long sweeping exit ramp, I was met by Melissa’s best.  I was speeding, yet another victim of the municipal money-making scheme at work.  This one is almost as good as the speed trap in Globe, Arizona.

Since we didn’t own the car yet, I had to provide all the paperwork.  As I was gathering it from the glovebox, I joked that I wasn’t sure this car could go that fast.  The cop acted confused about the circumstances and I again mused that if I were stealing a car, it wouldn’t be a CRV.  Not even a hint of a smile.  He was a very stern young man.  He then noticed a blade of grass on my shorts and started asking me questions about what I had been doing.  I could not believe he thought it was marijuana and I laughed saying I had been mowing the yard.  Again, not amused, he mentioned that it smelled like coffee in the car.  I picked up my cup and said “you mean this?”  I guess he thought I was trying to throw off the drug-sniffing dogs by disguising the smell of the cocaine I was transporting in my stolen CRV.  I was obviously irritated to have gotten a ticket and to have been treated in such a way, but more astounded by what was either a poor attempt to hassle me, or a display of complete ignorance and naivety.

The aforementioned 1984 Z28, now the property of my nephew Josh, has a storied history.  It has been stolen and recovered twice.  The wheels have also been stolen.  The first time it was borrowed without my permission, the Mesquite, Texas police caught the guys pretty quickly.  I asked how they knew it was stolen before I’d even reported it.  They told me, they noticed the car playing “cat and mouse” with another car.  I didn’t, and still don’t, know what that really means.  Then one of the cops took me aside and told me the real reason the guys were stopped.  They were “Niggers in the wrong part of town.”  Okay then.  I was completely shocked while at the same time glad about getting my car back.  Wow!

I also had a friend who was a cop.  To my surprise, as we spent time during his early years on the force, some of his comments and actions exposed him as a bigot.  Somewhat odd, since he was also a minority.  I don’t know him to have used his authority as a police officer to this end, but strongly suspect it was probable as much controversy followed him throughout his career as Police Chief.   

It may sound as though I am building a case against law enforcement officers.  No!  I am just recounting some of my personal experience.  I guess I should have included some positive ones, like the guy who let me off, and gave me his condolences, because I was getting married the next day.  Once, a Dallas policewoman went beyond the call of duty, and perhaps protocol, by trusting me to literally ride shotgun as we chased down some guys who were hitting golf balls into our condo pool area.  It was a bit strange that her shotgun was on the floor between my legs.   The Dallas detectives that retrieved my car the second time it was stolen, were awesome.  They had also been the ones to arrest David Crosby at a local club for illegal possession of a firearm.  Despite the bad press McKinney Police have gotten, I could not be more impressed with my interactions, the speeding ticket (52mph in a 45mph zone) notwithstanding.  The officer who worked with my son Trey to retrieve his stolen iPhone was exemplary.  They also came to the house to interview my kids when neighbors reported vandalism and saw teens running away towards our backyard.  This was also performed with the utmost respect for the boys.  These don’t seem like big things, yet professionalism shines through during all activities. 

To be honest, I’ve been told by more than a few, that my outward demeanor often does not match my true feelings.  I can be a magnet for controversy.  My buddy Jack once said, “JD, shit just follows you”.  Friends Dennis, Mark and Jenny have noticed that I can piss off people, without saying anything, only by the way I carry myself.  They also know I’ve done as much with my words.  Another friend, Tom, used to tell me that during financial presentations, I sometimes had the “what the hell are you talking about” look.  So if these things are true, maybe I’m not the only one like this.  Hum?   This should be a lesson for me and those in positions of authority.  I realize the majority of law enforcement officers are highly trained, qualified and possess the proper attitude to serve society.  However, there is no doubt that some do not possess the correct attributes.  Inasmuch as I continue to respect authority, I take issue with the “Back the Blue” slogan.  Even though it has been around for a long time, “Back the Blue” sounds like you don’t believe “Black Lives Matter”, especially in view of the recent strife we’ve seen.  It sounds like taking sides.  In the same manner, the oft misunderstood “Black Lives Matter” mantra sounds like it is in opposition to “Back the Blue”.  I am not backing the militant faction behind “Black Lives Matter” nor am I backing negligent and corrupt policemen. 

I have watched the videos of the Minnesota and Baton Rouge shootings.  Based on what I’d heard, I expected to see clear evidence of police negligence.   I honestly couldn’t tell much from either one of them.  I know there are a lot of folks who swear they can, and they’ve already positioned themselves.  I do know there shouldn’t be 13 dead human beings, regardless of which bunch they belong.  I also know that these, and all the other similar tragedies that have befallen our nation, are separate and distinct episodes that need to be examined and treated as such.   

I am sure there are some common undercurrents to some of these events.  I believe respect for property and authority is learned in the home.  I was taught to be respectful of others, particularly of adults and authority figures.  Since my parents were all of these, I was frankly a bit afraid of disappointing them.  I know a lot of my fellow classmates probably felt similarly about my dad and his staff at Tempe High School.  Could it be that we’ve lost a bit of this formative respect for respect, so to speak?  I don’t mean that this is a one-way street.  We need mutual respect for human life and dignity.  Of course, it all starts with self-respect which has its roots in how we were treated as kids.  Some folks just have never been taught by any example, or rather have been taught by poor example.

When I say self-respect, I do not mean pride.   I believe that misplaced pride may be at the root of much racial tension.  Proverbs 16-18 warns us that pride comes before fall.  Without doubt, being proud sometimes gets in the way of relationships, including our spiritual ones.   We must admit that we need God in order to fully experience the depths of faith.   Likewise, we must allow ourselves to need each other, to be a community.  As we grow older, this becomes less of an act of goodwill and more of a necessity.  Some would rather die, than become dependent.

I was reading someone’s Facebook post the other day about Linda Ronstadt and how she was proud to be Mexican.  Assuming that she is a United States citizen, as I think she was born in Tucson, I believe what the person meant was that she was proud of her Mexican heritage.  I know this sounds harsh, but why is she proud?  She had nothing to do with it.  What if my ancestors were slave owners or my forefathers Nazis?   I’d be neither proud nor connected in any way other than genetics.  It may be that I am splitting hairs, but better phrasing would be to say that Linda acknowledges and/or embraces her heritage.

To name a few, we have Black Pride, Celtic Pride, Proud to be Texan, Gay Pride, and so on.   While this seems innocuous on the surface, this is how people start taking sides, by defining themselves as members of such groups.  And it is not just self-defining, as others in their attempts to be politically correct, get it terribly wrong.  This reminds me of the bumbling Michael Scott character from NBC’s The Office as he confronts Oscar, “your gayness does not define you. Your Mexican-ness is what defines you to me.”  Even Michael is a stereotype.   My goodness, there is so much more to a person than their skin pigmentation, culture and sexual orientation.   So be an individual, the ultimate minority.  Resist being defined by slogans and cultural perceptions.  Don’t be spoiled by the whole bunch.