Under Da Hood!

As most have you have guessed by reading the title, this post is about the death of Trayvon Martin and the circumstances surrounding it.  

Honestly, I’ve been pretty quiet regarding the whole event and the circumstances surrounding it.  I wanted to gather as many facts as I could before reaching my opinion.  I’ve read many articles both from the left and right.  Both conservatives and liberals and the one question that no one seems to want to answer is:

What is suspicious?

I don’t care about race at this point because it seems most people who are vehemently upset are blaming this tragedy on race which I find interesting since the shooter, George Zimmerman, is partially Hispanic.  But the question remains:

What is suspicious?

I don’t care that Mr. Zimmerman ignored the 911 responder’s recommendation of not following Trayvon, because if Mr. Zimmerman felt his community was in danger, then it was his right to follow him.  But the question remains:

What is suspicious?

I don’t care if Mr. Zimmerman suffered injuries during his confrontation with Trayvon, because the question remains:

What is suspicious?

I don’t care that Mr. Zimmerman has a history of violence towards both citizens and law enforcement, because the question remains:

What is suspicious?

I don’t care that Trayvon’s tweets were posted, because the question remains:

What is suspicious?

I don’t care about the fact that Trayvon was suspended, because the question remains:

What is suspicious?

What I do care about is another child has been taken from this world… violently.  What I care about is someone’s son is going “home” way too soon.  What I care about is the fact that this event eerily reminds me of Emmitt Till.  Which also tells me this may be the quiet before the storm.  And the reason behind this madness?  Because Trayvon looked suspicious.  So once again I ask:  What is suspicious?  

The media powers wants us to choose sides, so we continue to bicker among ourselves while the elephant in the room still isn’t addressed.  The politicians want us to bicker and riot to help sell more fear while picking our pockets clean.  All the while none of them want to answer the question:

What is suspicious?

Is suspicious a perception based on what we are fed mentally to the point that we find ourselves fearful of this image?  I’ll give you an example and some of you may have heard me tell this story and for that, bear with me and for those who haven’t… pay attention.

I was on a flight a few years back from Chicago to D.C.  I was seated in the next to the last row of the plane.  Just before we were scheduled to depart another passenger joined the flight, a man in his mid 40’s of Middle Eastern decent.  He hurriedly walked down the aisle and took a seat directly behind me sitting in the last row.

As the engines started, this man began reading a prayer from the Quran - loudly.  I mean so loudly that it could be heard above the plane’s engines.  Sitting in the aisle, I found myself getting pissed.  Not scared, but extremely pissed, because I knew this man was about to prevent me from seeing my wife and kids ever again.  I looked across the aisle at the older gentlemen wearing leather pants and a white t-shirt and we silently made the agreement that when this guy starts his craziness we were going to put him down… permanently.  

So we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally we reached D.C. and of course nothing occurred.  I felt horrible.  I had clearly judged this man unfairly due to my perception of his race and religion!  I had to do something.  I mustered up the courage and strength which had been sapped waiting for this man to start his mess on the plane.  

As I approached him, I found that my mouth was getting dry and my heart start to race. I tapped him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me sir.”  He turned towards me and responded.

“Yes?”

“I owe you an apology.” I said, “When I heard you reading your prayer from the Quran, I immediately assumed you were a terrorist and was ready to do you harm.  I misjudged you and for that I wholeheartedly apologize.”

He looked at me for a brief moment and then nodded and smiled as if to say “it’s ok, I understand.” And then shook my hand while giving me a politically correct acknowledgement and walked away.

But that’s the problem, it wasn’t “ok”.  What I did was wrong.  Granted, I think I did something most of us wouldn’t do and that was confronting my failure and apologizing for it.  But nevertheless, the mindset was wrong.  Regardless of what my past or history dictates, to broadly judge one person based on race due to the perceptions of others is simply ignorant and can lead to horrible tragedies like the one that has befallen the Martin and Zimmerman family.

Now you all know me, I not one to simply spout issues and place blame.  I am one who if I have the choice and opportunity, will provide answers (something most Op-Ed, politicians, and hate mongers avoid).  And my answer to this issue is simply this.  If we as a people, can stop believing the hype and the propaganda about each other as a group label and start taking people as individuals, we finally start to move out of the stagnant state of hatred, prejudice, racism, discrimination and fear we currently live in (and if you don’t think these are not only still around but prevalent, just check out Mr. Santorum’s slip up regarding our current President).  Believing these misconceptions has and always will lead us to a point of no return, straining this already tenuous bind.

So I leave you with this.  After now seeing the situation I was in, should I have jumped the man sitting behind me and strangled him to death before he could have hatched his jihadist plan?  And if so, should I have gone to jail for it?  Just sayin’. =/\=

-Mr. Hood

So my 40th birthday has come and gone and I’ve been asked prior too its arrival:

“Oh man, 40!  How’s that going for you?”

To me, as I’ve stated in other posts… it’s just a number.  My philosophy on life hasn’t changed, my values haven’t changed, my attitude towards politics hasn’t changed, my body (which has obtained a tad more grey) still hasn’t changed… much, my desires haven’t changed, my motivation and dedication to my craft hasn’t changed.  The only thing that has changed is the number of cycles I’ve been on this planet.  Ok, maybe my bullshit meter has gotten smaller and my tolerance for stupidity and ignorance has dropped a few more points (at this rate by the time I hit 90, I’ll be officially Stinkmeaner - minus the “N” word!), but other than that… I’m still the lovable, harsh, questioning, romantic, opinionated, driven (maybe even more so now) S.O.B, I was 25 years ago.  

So, to all those who cared enough to wish me a happy birthday.. Thank you!  And for those who believe I will be slowing down and become more cautious, think again.  ”The Best is Yet to Come”! =/\=

- “Mr. Hood”

*WARNING - THIS IS A WALL OF TEXT.  IF YOU HAVE THE ATTENTION SPAN OF A COCKER SPANIEL AND CANNOT SURVIVE 10-15 MINUTES OF READING, PLEASE CLICK HERE.*

In my life, there are few I can truly say without a doubt I wish I had the opportunity to speak to, interact with, learn from.  I’ve told many friends how amazing it would be to get a piano lesson from Harry Connick, Jr. or Ellis Marsalis, a programming lesson from Steve Wozniak, sing with Boyz II Men, discuss the human condition with Avery Brooks and Paul Mooney, sit down and talk politics and the responsibility of a politician from… well, let’s not go overboard. 

But anyway, there was one man who I wanted to get 1 hour of his time and during this summer, I thought I was damn close (thanks for your help Mark).  I wanted him to sit and talk with my son and I.  I wanted my son to see him face to face, witness the messily quaffed salt and pepper hair, examine the lines in his face and eyes behind the thick lenses, hear the age in his voice, see the spots on his hand and the gnarled knuckles.  I wanted to hear him reinforce to my son what was truly important in becoming a man… a good man.  The importance of education first and athletics second (which many programs tout but few actually reinforce).  To understand you must “Believe deep down in your heart you are destined to do great things.”  If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m talking about Joseph Vincent Paterno… JoePa.

If we are lucky, we will get a chance to meet someone iconic (not a celebrity), not just to view but interact with.  Someone that will make us stop and look at life a little skewed in a good way while giving us insight into something we would have never seen ourselves or reinforce we are on the right track in regards to our priorities.  Someone who’s very presence makes us better.  Not wealthier, or more famous but simply better.  I’ve been fortunate to actually meet a few people (Avery Brooks being one of them and thank you tremendously for the time) that made me re-examine how I see the world and how the world sees me.  But Joe Paterno was a person I couldn’t wait to meet even if it was only for 15 minutes.

I’m sure Joe Paterno was no saint and the tragedy that has consumed the University is a testament to that.  I know he had his issues like the rest of us, but in comparison to the countless lives he’s influenced, I gladly take the frayed edges of his tapestry over many others.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not canonizing him as many have done with others like Lennon, Jackson, and past Presidents.  Actually, this amazing article pretty much sums up how I feel about Joe Paterno (Thanks Amanda for the find!)  But with all that being said, the man was an icon and regardless what media outlets state about his flaws and shortcomings, the impact he’s had on not only college football (which in my opinion is simply a footnote on this man’s life) but the countless men and women he’s taught and inspired on what it means to be a Penn Stater, a citizen of Pennsylvania, a citizen of this country and the responsibility therein is simply epic.  

I’ve seen many other “leaders” who talk the talk but when it comes to walking it, appears to consistently fall short, even those who have learned from great men.  But here was a simple man who consistently (regardless what some bitter ex-VP states) showed us the right way to do things, showed us what loyalty means and with a well-known stubbornness did what he thought was best for the people he led.  All the while putting the needs of those he led before his own.  Sometimes it meant the wrong decision and as what you would expect from a great leader, he took the blame, even if he wasn’t truly at fault.

As I get older, I find myself expecting more and more from the people who consider themselves leaders and Joe Paterno was not excluded.  As I watched year after year the college football coaching carousel that ensued across the country because universities valued winning over the successful and educated student-athlete (just listen to some post-game interviews and you’ll get a glimpse at what I’m talking about), I waited for Joe Paterno to fail.  As coaches’ personal lives and their indiscretions came to light year after year, I waited for Joe Paterno to fail.  As universities churned out one pro after another regardless whether they graduated or not, I waited for Joe Paterno to fail.  I didn’t want him to fail, but I expected the “need to win” pressure to fall him and this would satiate the “haters” and prove he was human and to make us feel a little better about ourselves.  But it never happened.  Of course he had issues with players and yes, he wanted to protect and discipline them in the way he thought best (whether it was right or wrong by our standards).  But other than Larry Johnson (who I still believe was pissed because he wasn’t nominated for the Heisman) how many PSU players gone pro really have made sports news in a negative way? At the collegiate level?  Now take those athletes and chart it over a 46 year career.  Do the math… don’t worry, I’ll wait.  Seems pretty impressive to me.

I won’t talk about his winning percentage or bowl appearances because to me in the grand scheme of things, these things are unimportant.  What fascinates me is the number of “father-son” pairs he coached - 26.  That’s right, 26 fathers felt their sons needed Joe Paterno as part of their development into a man.  Fathers who didn’t think Joe was too old or couldn’t relate to their sons because times had changed and he was out of touch.  Not because he didn’t understand the new concept of discipline or standards (which really aren’t knew, we’ve just bastardized them all to hell).  That to me (being a father of a very cool 10 year old son) speaks volumes.  That’s a level of trust and respect you can’t understand unless you’re a parent… especially a father.

There is no way I could write this post without mentioning Sandusky.  Just typing that brings an image of the buck-toothed man who alleged (see how I did that?  used the word alleged since I don’t KNOW all the facts) did one of the most despicable acts known to the human race and if he is guilty, the needle would be too kind.  Emotionally, it drains me for reasons some of you couldn’t even begin to understand.  But I then think of Joe Paterno and I find myself feeling a sense of pity and anger.  Not because of the situation he was thrown into, but because we quickly (and charged with emotions) tried and convicted him through public opinion using the media hurricane without even knowing what truly happened with no one other than a couple of former players came to his defense.  As for the media it doesn’t really surprise me, it’s all about marketing dollars and ratings, but for the players who went on national television denouncing and vilifying him, seemed to simply cower under public opinion and not stand up for what they believed in.  I only say this now, because these same athletes speak of “legacy” and “dying of a broken heart” as if they were watching him get hit by a train when all in all they were ones tying him to the tracks.  Then there was the statement he made about “wishing he would have done more.”  I agree 100% and I know the feeling.  I’ve been faced with events that has inspired me into wishing I could have done more.  Where I could put on my cape and rescue the people who were in harm’s way.  I understand some people may think it was meant in a different way, but looking at his body of work off the field, I can’t see it meaning any other way.  

Lastly, Joe Paterno (as I stated before) was no saint and I believe he deserved better in his final days than what we gave him.  May you find peace in death, that we robbed you in life Joe!  In the end HE WAS…  PENN STATE.   =/\=

-Hood

I’ve finally decided to publish one of these personal posts.  As you can see, this is the 42nd entry regarding this moment.  Now, some of you have been fortunate to hear the aural version of And since this is your first time reading one of these, there is some things you must understand first.

• 1.  My kids, are my heart and they are the devil at the same time.
• 2.  My kids are well behaved (in public) and complete morons in private.
• 3.  My kids are afraid of me (which I’m ok with since I’m their parent first, where the “friend” part is optional) but not so much that they are my wife’s informants.
• 4.  There is a bond between mothers and children that is a natural development (adopted children excluded).  I can only theorize this because the women has the initial contact with the child from inception to birth and many months (if not years if you are reading Game of Thrones) after.  While a father’s relationship is based more on interactions, similar to having a pet (yeah I said it).
• 5.  There are small pockets of time when they realize I actually have some experience in being a human being and know what I’m talking about.

Anyway, one of these moments occurred last night when I was sitting in my man cave trying to fight off the cold I was fortunate to receive from one of my staff, when I could hear my son coming up the stairs sniffling and whimpering.

I waited.  I’m a big believer in little someone find themselves and peace in turmoil before I feel I need to get involved.  

He went into his room and slammed his door.  Annoyed, I gave a minute to calm down and then walked in.

“You ok?” I asked peaking my head into his door.

“Can I talk to you dad?” he replied.

“Yeah, of course.” I replied.

Now as a father most of you know there is no guide, no rulebook, regardless of how many books and articles written by Bill Cosby, or any or yahoo who thinks they know how to parent.  You can only hope the topic you are being approached for is nothing so heavy or obscure that you can’t give words of wisdom that will forever shape the mind of your child.  So when I hear these words (which is few and far between) I immediately go into search mode of my history to pull up every relevant 10 year old issue I had. 

So let’s see issues regarding males, age 10:

SEARCHING…

GIRLS

SEARCHING…

FRIENDS

SEARCHING…

SCHOOL

SEARCHING…

SPORTS

SEARCH COMPLETE.  Please narrow parameters for more definable results.

“What’s the problem?”

My son hung his head and whispered through tears, “I don’t think I want to play floor hockey anymore because we keep losing.”

QUERY REDEFINED - SPORTS

SEARCHING…

CLOSEST RELEVANCE - BASEBALL STORY.

I sat on my son’s bed and beckoned him to sit next to me.  Now to give you some back story, my son has played many different sports with his favorite being football.  Now he has not had the experience of being on a losing team in the past 4 years, so winning to him is what should always happen.  With that stated, this was a new experience for him and one he didn’t like so he wanted to quit.  I then told him the story of my transition from little league to junior league baseball and how I wasn’t really that good.  I mean I enjoyed playing, but I just didn’t have the skill set other kids my age had or the training I guess, but I stuck with it until I realized that I would be hurting the team more than helping it and explaining that to my coach was one of the hardest things I ever had to do.

“Son, do you want to quit because you don’t think you’re good at hockey or do you want to quit because you are losing?”

“I don’t know, I think it’s because we never win.”

“Then it looks like you have a choice, as your father I will tell you that you’ve made a commitment and you are obligated to see it through regardless of the outcome.  Your mother and I appreciate the fact that you are frustrated with losing, but I see this as an opportunity to learn from experience.  Figure out what you don’t like about losing and do everything in your power to make sure you don’t feel like this again.  I feel bad for you being sired (and yes I used the word “sired”) by two extremely competitive people, but those are the breaks and you will just have to figure out how you’re going to deal with it.” 

He looked at me and smirked, “But what if I am doing everything I can and the team still sucks?”

I smiled back and said, “Evidently, if your team still “sucks”, then you haven’t done everything.”  

I then began to point out the numerous people in history who didn’t quit because they were “self-obligated” to remain in the fight.  How the world (for better or worse) wouldn’t be what it is now if we had people who just quit because things weren’t going their way.  

“You’re right dad.  I’m going to finish the season.”

I then patted him on his head and expressed to him that staying with a team that wasn’t successful meant that he took his first step towards honor and integrity and for that he made me proud.  I got up from his bed with my cold and walked out of the room, closing the door behind me.  Before the door was completely shut, I heard, “Thanks dad.”  

I simply replied, “It’s what I do.” 

=/\=

-Hood

I know today a lot of people are celebrating the 90th birthday of Betty White.  Hell, anyone who can make the statement, “Why do people say “grow some balls”?  Balls are weak and sensitive!  If you really wanna get tough, grow a vagina!  Those things take a pounding!” should definitely be celebrated.  But for me, today is about celebrating the birth of a special man who revolutionized how we saw sport figures and how every inner city, section 8 housing, striped sock wearing kid wanted to be him way before anyone with the Michael came along whether it be Jackson, Jordan or Tyson.  The true legend.  Muhammad Ali.

As a boy, I remember running around the “projects” with my friends Cedric, Robbie, Scrap Iron (yes, that is what we called him and I didn’t find out his real name was Robert until 2 years later when he got in trouble for something and his mother called him by his first name), Choo-Choo (yes, that’s real too and I still don’t know Choo-choo’s real name) and we would have “slap boxing” matches.  Needless to say, all of us thought we were Muhammad Ali and we all did our best to emulate him.  

Now I never got to see Ali in his glory, when some would consider him loud, obnoxious, and uppity (yeah I said it).  I missed the spirited patriot, the one who recognized wrongs in our society and blatantly pointed them out to the point that you had no choice but to listen and re-examine your thinking (man, we could use someone like that now).  The Ali I grew up with was post Vietnam, post Foreman, post Frazier, and pre Holmes.  I grew up with his cartoon, his action figure (yes action figure ladies, not doll…hmm I think I have a post in there somewhere) and remember being upset to the point of tears when he finally lost to Larry Holmes.

When I started to approach manhood, Mike Tyson was taking the boxing world by storm.  He was fast, powerful, brutal and precise in his style and naturally with that the comparison to Ali came.  I was always impressed seeing Mike Tyson fight and initially felt Tyson would simply man-handle Ali (mind you, I had only witnessed the fights as a boy and then seeing him lose to Holmes).  This opinion would quickly change thanks to ESPN Classics and the Ali marathon.

I was blown away at his grace and speed, his flawless jab, and amazing power.  He wasn’t a fighter… brawler, he was a boxer in ever since of the word. He strategized, he was a thinking man in what some would consider a thoughtless game.  I knew then he was the champion of champions and there would be no one in my lifetime that would be better.  

As a young man, I started to do more research about my heritage and who I was expected to be.  The Stey-Nevant library was my best friend during these times and one of the most influential books, I ever read was the autobiography of Malcolm X by Alex Haley.  It didn’t turn me militant, it did put me in a mode understanding the subtlety of the privileged and how no matter how hard I worked, I would always be a step behind (and trust me, that is something that most you will never change regardless how many acres or mules or affirmative action laws are put in place… there always be a step between them and us) but also in that reading I started to understand what Jesse Jackson meant by “I Am Somebody!” Nothing impacted me more than after doing more research on Alex Haley and his relationship with Malcolm X that I found that through all this stood Ali.  He lived through the assassinations of Kennedy, X, King, and Kennedy.  He has witnessed the shift in Civil Rights.  The invent of terrorism to American citizens.  All the while not shying away from what he believed in and using his celebrated sports platform as the pulpit to his agenda (damn we need someone like that now).  My hero.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand this man was probably no saint and I never asked for him to be one.  But he was using common language to common people who had realized from him that it was ok to loud, it was ok to angry, it was ok to stand against your government, in other words… it was ok to be an American even though at the time we as a people weren’t consider to be truly American by America.  I truly can’t imagine what it was like back then (back then?  it was less than 50 years ago which I found out last night, isn’t a long time at all).  To have a willingness to sacrifice on a daily basis all you tirelessly worked for on a daily basis so people would think less “crazy”.  That takes something I don’t know I have and pray I never find out.   Hell, it drives me crazy trying to get people to understand the inequalities that still exist today and the way we are doing things are not only making things worse but in a way we may never come back from.  But anyway, I digress.

It wasn’t until July 19th, 1996 when I was celebrating with my father and friends my last evening as a single man.  Actually it was somewhat helpful since my first couple of months in central PA was “interesting” to say the least and I needed some reassuring that moving to this area and staying here was in my best interests.  During this “bachelor party” of sorts, my friends, father and myself were sitting at the bar that had a big screen TV (which was rare during this time) and on it was the opening ceremonies of the Summer Olympics.  And there on the big screen with the Olympic torch in one hand and the other hand shaking as if it was fighting the Parkinson’s that had inflicted his whole body on its own stood my hero.  Old, slow, and almost broken.  A twinge of embarrassment and sadness found its way into my soul.  Here was (in my 24 year old mindset) a great man who now appeared to outlive his usefulness and the Olympic committee was throwing him a bone.  I turned back to the bar where I was then soon inundated by drinks of all sorts to the point that when I finished them, I had to be pulled from my barstool and flung over my friends shoulder and carried to my room… literally.

Since then there has been movies and reruns of his fights and interviews with his rivals and trainers and historians.  Some paint him as the legend, some paint him as the man.  There have been “champions” with multiple belts and after fight interviews that were less interesting than the back of a box of Corn Flakes.  In the ring, his record stands for itself and in my opinion can never really be touched because during the time he fought there was always an additional opponent he would face - the mental and societal, much like Joe Louis who’s life tale is epic, awesome and tragic to point it could be Shakespearian.  Out of the ring, he was the perfect entertainer (thanks in part to ABC and Howard Cosell).  He knew how to make you laugh, make you scared, and make you think.  Hell, his sound bites are still played for motivation and commercial purposes.  

Years have passed now and I’m quickly approaching 40 and find myself comparing what others have done at this age and what I’ve accomplished so far; not to see where I fall short mind you (my ego won’t allow it), but just to see what I can do next and get inspiration to continue this pilgrimage called life .  And I know when I’m blessed to hit 70, I will look at Muhammad Ali and his life and think regardless of how he dies, he will forever live as “The Greatest” and this is one “slap-boxer” who will never forget what he’s done.  Happy Birthday!  =/\=

-Hood

I was actually going to go into a long post about Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  But I think the words of Benny Russell, played by Avery Brooks in Star Trek Deep Space Nine sums up my feelings perfectly.

“I am the dreamer, and the dream.”

‘Nuff said.  =/\=

-Hood

So here it is, the first post of the New (and final according to the Myan Calendar) Year.  Most of you know I do my best to stay out of politics.  I believe our current government is doing the best it can with the limited resources it has available.  But I do believe a change in leadership is warranted.  Hence the title.

I understand Mel Gibson has dual citizenship with Ireland and the U.S. but I think this is an advantage.  I believe this would solidify the work our current ambassador to this super power, Dan Rooney has worked so hard to achieve.  Mr. Gibson’s charisma and papable foreign policy knowledge would help the U.S. become again the super power it once was.  I honestly think he would be able to be as effective as another former actor turned politician who put this country back on the path to greatness - Ronald Reagan.

As for integrity, Mr. Gibson has shown us numerous times through his professional and personal life his values and morals.  From great films like “Braveheart” and “What Women Want” to this poignant and intimate discussion with his wife about the appropriate attire in public, we all know where he stands (if you would like to hear this conversation, please feel free to click here).  This is the type of leadership that should be in the White House helping those in Congress who feel the same way but don’t have the stones to put it out there like Mel.

So I announce today, I will be starting a grassroots campaign to help Mel Gibson get elected into the office he deserves.  I appreciate your support.

-“False”Hood

So here I sit on Christmas eve feeling a little left out, wondering when the “Christmas” spirit will visit me.  This got me to thinking about the whole concept of Christmas and how it fits “underdahood”.

A couple of nights ago a good friend of mine and I got into a discussion regarding the whole political correct thing about stating “Happy Holidays” versus “Merry Christmas” and the “Keep Christ in Christmas” and “Jesus is the reason for the season” movements.  I prefer the former only because I only celebrate Christmas in the traditional sense… wait for it… (and those ellipses are just for you Dar in a Box.)

ON CHRISTMAS.

Not November 28th, December 5th or even December 22nd.  I mean I truly respect Christmas and what it stands for but honestly, how many of you would think I was a douche canoe (thanks Christina) for celebrating my birthday or anyone’s birthday for that matter for an entire month plus prior to the actual date?  I mean I know if I had a co-worker that a month prior to his/her birthday would constantly remind me that his/her birthday was coming and we should celebrate, I would most likely want to add them to the “List” even if they weren’t a celebrity.  But I digress…

On the way home from the discussion, it got me thinking about what she had said about how the break we have is due to Christmas and it should be respected and the more I thought about it the more I realized she was right… in a sense.

As much as being politically correct is well, politically correct, at times we can forget why we being politically correct is important.  I say “Happy Holidays” to those I meet and do not presume to know enough  personally to denote their religious beliefs.  And when I strayed from this tenet for one moment on December 3rd while waiting for my wife to finish her spa treatment, a little girl sat down next to me.  Now I enjoy kids.  I love their innocence, their curiosity, their resilience and I’m jealous of how quickly they can live in the moment.

Well this little curly blond haired, blue-eyed girl who could have been no more than 4 years old looked at me.  Now this isn’t the first time I’ve had a young child stare at me… especially one of a different race.  But this young girl wasn’t perplexed by my skin color but by the fact that I was sitting in a salon/spa and I had no hair so she quickly asked, “Where is your hair, did the lady cut it all off?’

Now the joker that I am, I figured I would tell her the same story I told my niece and nephew when they were that age.  I explained to the young lady that when I was her age I was a very bad boy… (not too far from the truth) and Santa found out and he given me a choice, to either give up my hair for the rest of my life and still receive presents or keep my hair and receive coal for Christmas for the rest of my life.  She then looked at me perplexed and then to her father.  He then looked at me with a sense of smugness and clearly stated to me even though his next statement was clearly to his daughter, “It’s ok honey, even though you don’t know Santa Claus.”

I was embarrassed (which takes a lot), here me assuming this young brilliant child was intimately familiar with the concept of Santa Claus and Christmas along with the tradition of gift giving and she had no clue.  Initially I was stunned and then I thought more about it and realized that I shouldn’t be shocked or surprised.  The country I live in allows for difference and as citizens, embrace them (or supposed to).  

With that last statement, I’ve realized that we as a people have demoted this special time of introspection and compassion to our fellow man (yeah that’s not politically correct but I couldn’t really come up with a more appropriate statement) to a level of political debate and debauchery of who’s right and who’s wrong. Which totally goes against every religion I’ve researched and studied.

My friends who follow different walks of faith all have the same thing in common. Love.  Not of themselves but for others and that’s what it’s all about… seriously.  Not gifts, not politically correct statements, not holiday shopping, or even Christmas dinners, but simply love of one another… and with that statement, I guess I’ve always had the Christmas spirit in a sense, I just didn’t realize it until now.  Which should be every Christians tenet (yeah, I’m calling you out) regardless of your denomination.  In other words, if you are a true Christian I’m thinking the movement should be more on the lines of “Keep Christ in every day”.

So in conclusion, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all my friends and family.  May you all find peace, joy, and love… not just over the next couple of days, but always. =/\=

-Hood 

As I sip my morning coffee and look at the eerily quiet building across my office, my thoughts go back to last night and how different the scene must have been.  The HUB-Robeson building (HUB for short) is exactly that, the HUB of Penn State residing right next to Old Main.  At any giving point during the day the scene is chaotic and choked with students, but today the scene is far from the normal hustle and bustle of the college. It is more like what is witnessed during winter break but with it no sense of reprieve.  Yes, today feels different.  It feels like something was sucked out of the very essence of the campus, leaving a void but I can’t seem to put my finger on it.  I know it’s not about the President resigning or about the dismissal of Coach Paterno, but something bigger than that.  Before I go any further let me express that I am neither condemning or condoning any action or lack thereof regarding any Penn State employee or Board member.  

I watched the news as the gathering throng began its decent on downtown State College last night and a decent part of me was upset, angry even.  Not because of the response, but because I realized that somewhere along the way during this hurricane of news entertainment, we (Penn State fans, students, employees, and alumni) seemed to have forgotten who is actually charged with this heinous crime.  We became so wrapped up in the daily drama of the mythology of “JoePa” that we forgot it wasn’t Joe Paterno who actually committed this atrocity but a former colleague of his and maybe that’s our fault.  We are educated and intelligent people (some Ohio State/Pittsburgh fans may think differently, but I swear it’s true).  We should be able to see past the smoke and mirrors and realize where the true issue lies and go from there.  Behavior like this doesn’t cut it:

or this:

or especially this:

I have my opinions on this whole matter (and for personal reasons, I won’t go into detail) and my wife knows them now all too well.  But this post isn’t about that… it’s simply about us, the PSU community and whatever perception the nation or world has of us now and last night’s affair was something that both shocked and disappointed me.  

We are resilient.  We are passionate.  We are fallible.  We are determined.  We are not defined by an individual.  We are better than this.  WE ARE… PENN STATE.

=/\=

Hood