Author: Stan Brooks, PhD

I thought I would add some words to this previous post that might provoke some thought.

Today, one of the stories in my newsfeed was about a Congressman in Wyoming who tweeted a racist meme after the first black Sheriff was elected. In his alleged tweet, he asked the same question used in a satirical line from the movie Blazing Saddles. The famous line, “Where the white women at?”

The Congressman apologized in true style. “It” was a stupid thing I did. A moment of indiscretion. And one of my favorites, “ I don’t have a racist bone in my body.”That’s really a good one since the only intelligent thing my bones do well besides hold up my frame, is predict changes in the weather. 😊

The central puzzlement for me is this; to suggest that one does not have a single racist bone doesn’t help me understand why a person without racist bones say and do racist things. Perhaps, it’s not the bones that at are issue here. 😳

Let me suggest that long before bones started racist behavior, the brain was being programmed to be racist. The brain, being very clever ( after all it is the brain 😉), most likely did not want to own the blame for racism, so it transferred its racist duties to the bones. The idea that bones might be or not might be racist is quite challenging for me. But here is a thought.

It is not what goes into a man that defiles him, it is what comes out. I don’t think the previous statement was specifically referring to urine or excrement. Rather, I believe the author intended to remind us that our words and actions reveal who we are. Who we are then, is the sum of all the thing’s we’ve learned, what we have chosen to retain, and how we consciously or subconsciously use our cognition to weaponize our words and actions for and against others.

You see, only what’s inside of us can come out. I don’t think racist bones control our words and actions. No brow beating will change the Congressman. He will have to seek an epiphany.

S. M.Brooks, PhD

A while ago, I visited a church I previously attended regularly, and one of the parishioners walked up to me to apologize. Here is how her apology went:

I noticed when you come to church you avoid me, she said. She continued to say; I want to see Jesus. If there is anything I have done to you, please forgive me.

Continue reading “When Apologies go Wrong”

“It seems to me that in the orbit of our world you are the North Pole, I the South–so much in balance, in agreement–and yet… the whole world lies between.” 

– Thomas Wolfe, You Can’t Go Home Again

Wolfe uses known entities to describe two opposing worldviews, but more importantly, he emphasizes the great division between these two opposites. If we applied this idea to our lives, then we might conclude there is an open space between our entry to this world and our exit. I like to call that space our dash.

While attending a funeral, the preacher mentioned the date the person was born and the date deceased. Between those two dates was a dash, and that dash represented the life of the dead. All his hopes, dreams, accomplishments, fears, love, and happiness summed up in that dash. For some, that dash is short, long, very long, jagged, smooth, bandy, thick, or thin. Have you thought about your dash lately?

Continue reading “What lies between your Dash?”

I have feet. I walk. I am free.

Several years ago, I semi-retired, hoping to travel and practice my photography. To keep down my expenses, I took advantage of one of the military privileges when possible. I flew space available on military aircraft. While the only cost was a bit of time, the type of aircraft and seat availability varied widely depending on the type of aircraft. Sometimes, I was privileged to fly on a small, general’s jet, plush and well-appointed with all the modern conveniences, flying nearly empty, like an air taxi service, to collect a General Officer to take him to his destination. But on other occasions, I found myself on much less comfortable flights.

Continue reading “I Walk”

Harlem by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore?
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over?
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

Continue reading “A Dream Deferred”

During Black History Month, we pay tribute to many of the usual pioneers. During this period, we pay special attention to their contributions to history and their roles in the struggle. For example, we will remember Dr. King, who reinforced the power of civil disobedience and peaceful non-compliance. Despite the hurdles he faced, we were able to witness and live out the manifestation of his dream in the presidency of Barack Obama and our accomplishments.

Continue reading “Black Heroes and Remarkable People”

“Everyone is trying to accomplish something big, not realizing that life is made up of little things.”

Frank A. Clark

Frank makes a great observation in this quote. How easy it is to aspire to greatness and forget that something seemingly small to just one person might mean the difference in a significant way to that person. For example, I once watched a Tyler Perry movie with a character who was a homeless female janitor struggling to feed her daughter and herself while working in this conglomerate. Hardly anyone noticed her; however, her paths crossed with the owner of the company, a wealthy but personally miserable man. Because of her simple unassuming probing to get him to question his life, he was able to reflect on his own life and values and seek a world of happiness. He could have ignored her and listened to the advice of world-class councilors and life coaches to help him figure out what he already knew, that he was unhappy and neglected the simpler things in life.

Continue reading “The Little Things Matter”

PURPOSE: to show the importance of passing on heritage, knowledge to the next generation for them to have a solid foundation on which to build.

Recently I visited the church I attended as a boy growing up in Barbados. It is a concrete brick church on a hill, on a busy little village street with lush green native foliage and lots of rocks scattered around the church. Behind the church was a huge mango tree arrayed in blossoms, as well as one of the most towering bamboo trees around. The church was painted in a two-tone green color with a variety of palm trees decorating the side of the building. Whenever I visited Barbados, I made the trek to this church to reconnect with the people who were my childhood friends, colleagues, neighbors, and family. But two things usually capture my attention: first, the building itself and what it represents, and secondly, the people, how they have changed, but yet remained the same.

Continue reading “Build It Well”