November 27, 2003

People don't often remember the day before a major event in their lives. How many people remember what they did the day before Kennedy was shot, or on September 10, 2001? At the time, it was just another day. For some reason, I do remember what I did on November 27, 2003.

It was Thanksgiving, a holiday I don't care much for, partly because I'm a vegetarian and partly because food doesn't play as big a role in my life as so many Americans. I lived on Claremont Avenue at the time, in Oakland, a few blocks south of Berkeley.

I had found a pick-up soccer game in Walnut Creek (about 15 miles from where I lived) and I headed there for the first (and last) time late that morning. I played for an hour or two, had a good time, and then came back home.

I was having Thanksgiving dinner at the house of a relative of my aunt's, in San Jose. I had agreed to make a vegetable medley, which included cactus that I got from the Berkeley Bowl. It was the first time I had ever made anything with cactus. I also made some of my (semi-famous) pumpkin bread to take to the house.

I had been given strict instructions; the woman (for some reason I can't remember he name) whose house I was going to, had a scent disorder. She was hyper-sensitive to any kind of non-natural smell. I was told to not use any non-natural deodorant, soap, shampoo, or be around any kind of smoke, leading up to going to her house.

I decided to shower shortly before the 1-hour drive to San Jose. I didn't have any natural deodorant, so I just hoped I didn't sweat much on the drive down, but, of course, thinking about not sweating, made me sweat.

I got to her house, greeted my aunt, uncle, cousin, and the hostess, met her dogs which she had taught to do tricks, and settled in. Other guests came, primarily friends from the hostess' scent disorder support group.

I left the dinner late that evening and drove home.

I was supposed to call someone I had never met the next day, and I went to bed not knowing if I should bother, because I wasn't sure it would be worth my time. The semester was finishing up at UC Berkeley, and I had a lot of work to do over the long weekend.

In the end, it's a good thing I called that person the next morning, otherwise, I would have never met Lauren; on November 28, 2003.

Twins

I went to Emily's job morning. She works as the director of a childcare facility, on the grounds of a hospital. I walked from room to room, looking at all the different kids, broken into age-group rooms; I was asked if I was "the illustrator" by a kid (Jamaar, Emily's husband was scheduled to come in and teach the kids art today); I was kissed on the cheek by a newly adopted Russian boy, who seems to want to kiss every adult he comes into contact with.

I can't tell you how many of Emily's co-workers said "wow, you look like twins", or something to that effect, in the 20 minutes I was there. I admit, Emily and I are from a very different gene pool than the bulk of the world population - having a white father and a Ghanaian mother is not the most common group of people you see around, but I don't think we look like twins. I'm 5 years older than her, but we've been told we look like twins since I was at least 16. How can a 16 year old and 11 year old look like twins?

My usual response to the twins comment, which I also said this morning, is "I guess I look young for my age".

We definitely look like siblings, and maybe when you only know one sibling, then see the other, the resemblance is so mind-blowing that you feel the need to say "wow, you look like twins", but come on, twins? really? What do you think?

The trip to Towson

I started my trip to Towson with a ride to the airport from Lauren. The ride was mostly uneventful. We talked about Obama's win and how it would mean more if he was a descendant of slaves, and not among, what I like to call the "new blacks" (descendants of blacks who came to the U.S. by choice), but that's another blog in and of itself, so I will write about that another time.

I got through security quickly, as usual. It's weird to me; before 9/11 I was always stopped at security because, I guess a guy with dreadlocks looks dangerous. I don't remember a trip I made, in adulthood, before September 2001, when I didn't get patted down. Since then, not once have I been asked to step aside. I guess when people screen by name, mine doesn't scream out terrorist.

I sat in the lounge area while the Virgin America workers arranged a penalty kick game (they had a small goal and a soccer ball, so I guess they do this a lot) for passengers. A couple people won a free adult beverage voucher. I didn't partake in the game. The players were obviously not soccer players, and I didn't want to emberass anyone (other passengers by scoring the penalties, or myself for not).

We boarded, with the techno music and purple lighting that Virgin America has (if you've never flown with them, you should, for that experience alone), and we were off. We got to Dulles at 5:30 AM.

I'm not a morning person. At least, not a 5:30 in the morning person. I got no sleep on the flight, then had to figure out how to get from Northern Virginia to Towson, Maryland, a distance of about 75 miles, using public transportation.

First, the bus. I missed it by 10 minutes, and had to wait another 30 for the next one. It was raining and dark, and I had to listen to two college guys talk to each other in that way college guys talk to each other, that I have always found kind of annoying (even when I was a college guy).

The bus came, and there was a rush to get on it. Mostly airport workers leaving their overnight shifts - it took 15 minutes just to get on the bus after it had arrived. We were on the bus for 1/2 an hour then had a stop. More people got on, it was standing room only at this point. I can't imagine a bus that full in the Bay Area, at 7 in the morning.

We eventually got to L'Enfant Plaza, where I boarded the subway to Greenbelt. At Greenbelt, another bus, to BWI. For the first 15 minutes of the ride, I felt like I was in Europe, or the Midwest: it was so green, with meadows, cows, silos. All of this with the background of the Fall foliage made it an experience I've never had in Maryland. Maryland, to me, has always been suburbia and Baltimore, so it was odd.

We got to BWI and I ran toward the light rail sitting there only to get to the train and not see where to get tickets. I got off. It rolled away. I saw the ticket booth, inside the airport. 30 minutes to kill.

I got on the light rail that left BWI at 9:43. The Baltimore light rail has a very different feel than the one I ride in the South Bay. For one, it doesn't feel very light. It just seemed heavy for some reason; it moved very slowly between stops, and just kind of dragged. The trip to Lutherville took well over an hour and I kept trying to keep myself awake for the trip.

After de-training, I boarded the 8 bus, to Towson. The driver must have been in a hurry, because he lurched the bus forward as I was trying to pay. Coins went everywhere, and I was put into a sour mood. As he dropped me off at the stop, he was so in a hurry that he didn't pick up a guy that was waiting for the bus.

With that, I walked to my mom's job, got a key to the house, and walked to my parents' house. I stepped into the house at about 11:15. From the moment I got off the plane at Dulles, to me stepping into the house, almost 6 hours had elapsed - longer than the flight from San Francisco to Dulles.

Obama wins the election

A year and a half ago, a student of mine, Alex, was talking politics with me before class. The primary season was in it's infancy and he asked me what I thought of Barack Obama's chances. My response: "America is not ready for a black president".

At the time, and even as recently as 2 months ago, I didn't think the country was ready.

The Bay Area, in my opinion, lives in a kind of liberal vacuum, where too many people think everyone thinks like them. It's kind of a liberal closed-mindedness that occasionally drives me crazy. In 2004, a student came into my office, distraught that Kerry had lost; "Everyone I know voted for him, how could he have lost." I thought that was a somewhat bizarre, and closed-minded, thing to say.

Living in Michigan, I experienced racism, and to a lesser degree, I experienced racism living in Baltimore. I've been called a nigger to my face, been told that I would be unwelcome (and would run the threat of being attacked) in the town of a "friend", who then proceeded to invite me to his house for Thanksgiving - I declined. My experiences are what led to my response to Alex's question a year and a half ago.

How could America be ready for a black president when college educated Michiganders talk to their peers that way? How could America be ready for a black president with the events like Katrina, the Jena 6, and other events still happen in the supposed land of the free?

I voted for Obama and relate to him in a way many don't; we both have one white parent and one African parent. We are both African-Americans in its truest definition.

I still have this fear though, that the country might not be ready. I hope that I have been proven wrong.