You see, I am in awe of the loyal audience His Majesty Misery commands. With scepter in hand, he anoints them. “More, more,” they cry—and he delivers the deeds they crave.
He leaves his mark on every agency that once represented human decency—of which he has none. He paints his world gold, a shining testament to his endless hunger. His appetite for loyalty drives him into a darkness only he truly knows—one he’s known since birth.
But it’s his followers who haunt my thoughts.
Do they share his darkness? Every day, I wrestle with the question: how can a system twist human kindness into a bastion of hate—hate that consumes color, poverty, and gender? This hate has closed the arms of the woman who once welcomed and stirred the melting pot. I know the pot never simmered to completion—but the stove is ignited now, and the fire is raging like never before.
Rain or shine, this fire will burn through His Misery’s bombastic celebration. It will burn through every false cry of “USA! USA!” It will echo the movement in Les Misérables, the revolution against the Monarchy of King Louis-Phillipe—His Misery’s favorite musical. Viva la résistance!
And this time, on June 14th, my breath will be bated.
#nokings #humankindness #resistance #loveislove
,
TRUTH
Spicy was never meant to be neutral in the face of injustice. As fireworks prepare to light the sky in honor of a twisted vision of patriotism, we take our holy breaths, we speak truth, and we resist. Because the real revolution begins not in the streets—but in the soul.
“…the book title and its content are intended to be a whisper, reminding us that by connecting with our spiritual self, we can center through anything and that we are forever within the bubble of God’s protection.”
Finally, we were ready to hit the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA), and I was thrilled to plan the visit with my cousin, MaryAnn de la Cerna. Once again, we braved the rain—because fair warning: Mr. K. and Idon’t seem to bring the sunshine. It snowed in Paris and rained in New York! What?!
Upon entering the renowned MoMA, we were warmly greeted by a guide who advised us to head straight to the sixth floor to view the Jack Whitten exhibit. As we read his bio outside the gallery, we had to pause—he was a Black artist from Bessemer, Alabama, waiting for us? We were beyond excited.
Whitten’s exhibit was stunning. His use of varied media and inspiration from jazz and the Civil Rights Movement took our breath away. These weren’t portraits but deeply layered contemporary works. Some pieces were painted with afro combs, nodding powerfully to the era. He even designed his own instrument to shape and texture the dimensions of his pieces. There were sculptures, too—some inspired by the Civil Rights Movement and the events in Birmingham.
We were captivated for two hours. Then, it was time to meet MaryAnn downstairs.
Slideshow of some of Whitten’s pieces. For full details on Jack Whitten’s exhibit, click Indelible,
Mr. K. wiih Whitten’s bio
Afro pics
box sculpture with scene from BirminghamShadow
Insrument created by Whitten
Oneos his captions depicting his inspiration
My Cousin? MaryAnn de la Cerna
Let me tell you a story.
While visiting my father in the hospital in Chicago, I answered a phone call from a woman with a lovely voice who introduced herself as his cousin. I’d never met her before, which is no surprise; I know very little about my dad’s folks. She told me her last name: de la Cerna. I said, “The only de LaCerna I know is MaryAnn, a classmate of mine.”
She responded, “I’m her mother!”
Y’all—I was shook! MaryAnn and I attended St. Thomas Apostle High School together. We smiled at each other (and sometimes frowned!) but had no idea we were cousins.
Since that day, MaryAnn and I have stayed in touch through emails, phone calls, and even handwritten postcards—she’s a pen-to-paper kind of person. I’d tried to meet her during past trips to New York, but the stars never aligned—until now.
Mr. K. and I made our way to the museum bookstore to meet her, but I didn’t see her anywhere. I called her—and she was literally sitting on the bench right next to where I was standing. She had a hat on and wasn’t wearing the glasses I remembered from high school!
After a joyful hug and introductions (it had been 1968 since we last laid eyes on each other), we headed to a cozy Italian restaurant she knew well. Mr. K. and I sipped martinis; we all shared a fresh salad and devoured copious amounts of pizza. The visit was glorious.
Afterward, MaryAnn, the consummate New Yorker, was ready to take us to Times Square. Mr. K. and I? We were like, “Uber, Uber…take us home!” 😄
BTW, You can catch MaryAnn in Garden Spices. Y’all know I had to get her to submit one of her essays. What?!
MaryAnn and moi
Reed’s Visit
Curry at Pa Pa Thai
The next day, we got ready for a visit from Mr. K’s son, Reed, who had flown in from Paris to see friends in New York. My dear friends Pat and Thomas hosted him at their home in Harlem. We grabbed coats and umbrellas (yes—it was still raining) and walked to a nearby PaPaThai restaurant.
We shared great food and even better stories. Can I just say—it’s such a blessing to be with family. Reed, with his quiet charm (remember Paris?), made a lasting impression on Pat and Thomas. They ended the visit by inviting him to stay with them anytime he returned to the city.
While we were ready to walk home and wind down, Reed—true to his NY-savvy self—was off to the Village to meet more friends.
Our Concert with “DJ” Thomas
Only a quarter ofThomas’ collection
That night wrapped with a private concert from DJ Thomas himself. His music collection is massive, and we got down to Luther, The Temptations, The O’Jays, The Gap Band—you name it. Add in a few libations, some dancing, and a film, and we were satisfied.
I even stayed awake for the movie G20. What?!
Joy Juice
Here’s what I know: Every one of my trips includes at least one museum visit. I find them fascinating—like walking through a portal to emotion, history, and imagination. But discovering a family connection? That’s beyond any exhibit. Finding MaryAnn, my cousin, and sharing a day with her—that was a moment of grace.
My extended family is scattered across the U.S. and the Caribbean. I don’t know them all, but now I know her. And that’s a treasure.
So, if you have extended family you haven’t connected with—do it. Call them. Text. Write. Visit. Don’t take it for granted. Roots matter. Of course, we are all rooted in our friendships; that’s family, too!
“Grandchildren are the crown of the elderly, and the glory of children is their parents.” — Proverbs 17:6
“A family is like a forest. When you are outside, it is dense. When you are inside, you see that each tree has its place.” — African Proverb
“…the book title and its content are intended to be a whisper, reminding us that by connecting with our spiritual self, we can center through anything and that we are forever within the bubble of God’s protection.”
I live in Florence, AL, but I am originally from Chicago, “Second City.” I love my Southside roots and still sample all the city’s culture and style. While Chi has my heart, my soul pumps when I visit New York. While writing this, I realized the difference between the two – it’s me.
I’m no longer the young woman living on the Northside, walking to work on the Magnificent Mile, singing at the Free Theater, or eating Japanese food with Chris Kobayashi in my building of young hopefuls. Taking a bus, subway, or cab, staying out into the wee hours?No more. However, even at 75, New York invites this lifestyle and more. Don’t get me wrong; my knees hurt in New York, like in Chicago, but I still managed to do what makes me love the Big Apple. What?!
Getting Our Feet Wet
Schomberg’s Socially relevant artwork from A to Z
I told y’all about Gypsy in my last post. The next day, my friend Pat, Mr. K, and I went to the Schomberg Center for Research of Black Culture housed in a Harlem library. We viewed a small exhibit by young folks, including all socially relevant artwork, curated alphabetically. While some work was humorous (Take a look at Z!) all was impressive, but the day was early. Where to now? We were guided by a vintage New Yorker, Kathy Roberson, who knew all the free haunts. She sent us to the National Jazz Museum, hoping the early-day concert would be brewing. And boy, was it!
It was. on like a pot of neckbones! This small, colorful venue housed wonderful art, and we caught the last half hour of a jazz trio with a drummer that kept us enthralled. After leaving the concert room, we explored the exhibit area with everything from a cardboard standup of Dizzy Gillespie to one of Duke Ellington’s pianos. My hunger for jazz was satisfied, but now it was time to eat.
Dizzy Gillespie standupArtwork in theater Duke Ellington’s piano
Trek to Soul Food Paradise – Sylvia’s
Despite the mild rain, we walked to see what cuisine piqued our interest. We passed an Ethiopian place, a Thai, and an Italian, and finally, Pat suggested we travel for fish. We were game until we ran into the legendary Sylvia’s, the Soul Food restaurant. While we wanted fish, we had to go in and at least have drinks at Sylvia’s. Upon our entry, the cashier and hostess, Sylvia’s granddaughter, were warm and welcoming. After being ushered to our table, we were like, “We eatin’ right here!”
We had a great time with our waitress, carefully placing our order. Mr. K. and Pat had libations (Mr. K. had the nerve to order Long Island Iced Tea, and y’all know he had to share his ministry, Khan Academy. What?!). We ordered baked turkey wings with garlic potatoes, greens, and yams, and Pat ordered the mac’n’cheese. We had cobbler for dessert. When I tell you that food was on point? I never tasted cornbread like those muffins; they were delicious, even to Southern palettes. What?!
Y’all know we like to talk. So when we met Sylvia’s granddaughter, we got the complete lowdown on Sylvia and the family’s participation in making the restaurant what it is today. She recalled days in her childhood when the entire family was called upon for restaurant duties – folding napkins, prepping food, etc. Afterward, we met the owner, Sylvia’s son,Kenneth Woods, and it felt so good to be in this Black historical eatery.
When we made it home, rather than hitting another club, we opted to relax and get ready for the next New York adventure. Can we say MOMA? (The Museum of Modern Art) What?!STAY TUNED…
History is so important. We grab it wherever we can, sometimes even in a restaurant. New York and cities all over the world include sites and centers that continue to recognize the past. These stories continue to be important in shifting the future.
Some, like the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture,are being threatened, but we continue to recognize what the exhibits celebrate by living in our greatness. We create our own history, and whether or not we have a museum, our descendants carry our legacy. Our history is us, our stories, and we ain’t going nowhere!
“9 for we were born but yesterday and know so little; our days here on earth are as transient as shadows. 10 But the wisdom of the past will teach you. ..” – Job
“Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” George Santayana
“Until the lion tells the story, the hunter will always be the hero.” – African proverb
“…the book title and its content are intended to be a whisper, reminding us that by connecting with our spiritual self, we can center through anything and that we are forever within the bubble of God’s protection.”
Mr. K. and I took a bite out of The Big Apple, (New York City) and it served us well. It all started with Audra McDonald. I have been a fan of hers for a long time – her singing, her acting. I missed her in A Raisin in the Sun, Ragtime, and her one-woman show about Billie Holiday. When I read she was starring in Gypsy, I said, “This is it! I’m gonna catch her as Mama Rose!” But first, I had to catch up with one of my besties, Pat Lewis, and her husband, Thomas, my forever hosts when I visit New York. Mr. K. mentioned hotels, and I was like, “No way!” New York finds me in Harlem in the comfortable abode of my Sis and Bro. I had to catch up with them because Pat is a singer and actress, and Thomas is a musician. They’re busy, but never too busy for me.
Fear of Flying…These Days
Finally, after settling on a date, Mr. K. and I planned our trip to NY. Then, the Trump plane disasters commenced, and we were like, “Are we gonna do it…are we really gonna do it?” (I couldn’t resist Kendrick, Y’all). I was praying and seriously meditating, deciding whether or not to fly. Then, I remembered my white light of protection and said, God’s got this. We goin’!
I was in wheelchair style from my first flight from Muscle Shoals to Charlotte, NC. My helper was like a NASCAR driver navigating the Charlotte airport to get me to my connecting flight with Mr. K. Then, off we went to LaGuardia Airport, which was new and shiny, I might add. We were met by Pat and Thomas, and then we whisked off to Harlem, where Pat, originally from Birmingham, AL, cooked her famous fried chicken for me. What?!
Images: Pat on the left with the Crystals and Thomas after a concert
Pat, Thomas, Mr. K. and I
Gypsy!
“Let me entertain you!” Y’all, I had forgotten how awful the “entertain you” performances were in the film, Gypsy, and Baby June’s tune was just as nauseating and funny in the play. However, all the kids in the castwere skilled professionals that held their own with the star, Audra McDonald.
Ain’t nothin’ like a stage mama in Vaudeville, and Mama Rose is the prototype for Baby June and Louise, her daughters. Pushing June as her star and Louise as…well, as anything she could possibly do, Rose was relentless. She brought in a variety of new acts, including boys and girls as backups, and even a cow, all performing to “Let Me Entertain You.” The most memorable was the USA scene, ending with giant eagle and copious flags. It was horrendously funny..
On The View, MacDonald noted that for her production, they did not change a single word of the script, and she pointed out that the casting was intentionally addressing the issue of colorism. Baby June, the star, had light skin, while her sister, Louise, was dark skinned. And in the days of Vaudeville, light-skinned Blacks usually received starring roles in Black productions. Mama Rose loved them both, but June was the bread and butter, and since June was as talented as Rose thought herself to be, June was the favorite. Rose was uncompromising about making it with her girls. She had no time for her suitor, turned fianceé and manager, Herbie, who adored her; not if marrying him meant giving up the business. I’m not going to issue a spoiler alert, but I gotta’ go here.
Audra McDonald has seven (7) Tony Awards. She chose to work on her 8th in this performance. Her voice mesmerized us, but what she did with her closing solo—the “Look at Me” number, Rose’s Turn —had me crying, and you could hear a pin drop in the audience until the end of the song. The audience erupted in applause and the standing ovationcould not wait for the finalbows of the cast.
I was thrilled with the entire musical, from the plot to the performances. I must say that the vintage movie had a lot to do with why I vowed never to be a stage mom. But oh, what I would give to have a modicum of Audra McDonald’s talent. What?!
Wow, it’s wonderful to be blessed enough to travel. Gaining new perspectives is a gift. Understanding that people move differently all over the world is a reason to celebrate the Creator. Adapting to different cultures speaks to my soul and fills my spirit with joy.
New York is an abundance of culture in a melting pot, moving with a swiftness and offering delights from every ethnicity. Thank you, Father/Mother, for the ability to be open and receptive to your offerings.
Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Romans 12:16
“A person is a person because of other people.” African proverb
“…the book title and its content are intended to be a whisper, reminding us that by connecting with our spiritual self, we can center through anything and that we are forever within the bubble of God’s protection.”
See? How can I boycott Amazon when I need to shop for my clacking fan. I wanna do the “Boots on the Ground ” line dance, and I need oneof them fans! And what about my elastic-plastic covers for my containers, my wedding gift for __, etc. etc. I got a card that takes 3-5% off each time I make a purchase. They got MY Kendrick Lamar on one of their commercials. They can’t be that bad…What?!
Why Y’all boycotting?
‘You mean Amazon’s CEO, Jeff Bozo Bezos, is a supporter of the new administration? Is that why he was front and center with all the other social media moguls at the inauguration?
“Rather than have individual groups build programs, we are focusing on programs with proven outcomes — and we also aim to foster a more truly inclusive culture,” said the note written by Candi Castleberry, Amazon’s VP of inclusive experiences and technology. First reported in Bloomberg.
And then, you mean to tell me that in February 2025, DEI was nowhere to be seen in Amazon’s Annual Report? Amazon no longer has DEI initiatives? (but Kendrick Lamar…)
What I don’t understand is what Amazon’s workers are complaining about. They have decent pay and good benefits. Why are they complaining about unsafe work conditions, a surveillance system that tracks their production, and no union presence?
Tongue (out) of (my) cheek, the reality is that Amazon deserves to be boycotted. Like all the other mega-companies that so happily benefit from consumerism, it deserves to feel the pinch of its customers fighting back against its policies. And this time, it ain’t just Black folks; it’s an equal opportunity effort – a “grassroots movement.”. Will we make an impact? The boycott raises the roof a bit and brings awareness to the practices of the brash, big boys of business. (Jasmine Crockett-type aliteration). What?!
I’m all in for the boycotts– Target next, and then, WALMART. It’s the least we can do to rage against the system. I ‘ll be dancing with my Dollar Tree fan and closing my purse to the giants. I HAD TO COME OUT OF MY EASY CHAIR AND GO TO A STORE, but it was worth it.. What?!
#resist #boycott
Joy Juice
We remember the days when carpools drove women to work, and many walked rather than use the buses for transportation. The Montgomery Bus Boycott was a mighty movement. And here we are in 2025 boycotting businesses that divest from diversity and equity programs. It feels like we are in a holding pattern of doom, but holding back your $$ is making a mighty move.
While moving, it’s important to hold the vision for what we want to see in this country. Sometimes, we need help. If you don’t have a church, find an org., a group, like-minded folks who reflect what you want to see in the world, and affirm what you want. Use your words – powerful.
“If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”. – African Proverb
Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. – Proverbs 31:8
“Regard your neighbor’s gain as your gain, and your neighbor’s loss as your own loss”. Tao Te Ching
“…the book title and its content are intended to be a whisper, reminding us that by connecting with our spiritual self, we can center through anything and that we are forever within the bubble of God’s protection.”
Image: Grandson Christian Bennett, with me on the night Kendrick Lamar shook America.
Y’all, Sunday night was a sight to behold, and my grandson, Christian Bennett, was here with me to witness it. I know it’s Black History Month, but I celebrate my blackness 365 days a year, and Sunday night affirmed why. I witnessed the halftime Super Bowl performance of Kendrick Lamar, an omniscient rapper who gave us a symbolic narrative for the “game” of being Black in America. After experiencing the noise of a Super Bowl party, my grandson escaped to my house to watch the performance with me, his Black elder.
Although these 74-year-old ears could not understand the words, I was mesmerized by Lamar’s rapping skills. The effect of the energy Lamar created had Christian moving out of his seat and me dancing to “They not like us,” the punchline of his Grammy-winning song. (No, I wasn’t Crip Walking like Serena Williams). Lamar’s reputation preceding the performance, the geometrically lighted stage, and Samuel L. Jackson’s (Uncle Sam’s) invitation to play the “game” had me researching social media to fully comprehend what I saw.
I defer to this YouTube post by Bobby Foster to break down every element of Lamar’s poignant performance. However, what brought me to this post was my senses stirred through Lamar. I feel Black America has been under assault for as long as this country has been in existence, especially now. Because we have been systemically divided through so much trauma, we have fallen to mental assault. No true history is taught, critical thinking is diminished, and we wade through muddy waters to find our way to the true heroes of our story – us! We are who we have been waiting for, and performances like Lamar’s clear our vision.
The Super Bowl performances of not only Kendrick Lamar, but Samuel L. Jackson, Jalen Hurts and Coach Autumn Lockwood, Ledisi, and Jon Batiste remind me that no matter what America does to us, we don’t merely survive; we rise, and all the colors of the world rise through us. This truth is magnified by true history, literature, music, and many inventions we enjoy. The universe is infused with/by us. We cannot be diminished; through every breath we take, we are Blackety, Black,Black, and the universe breathes with us. What?!!
Joy Juice
The music we dance to takes us to a new level of understanding. We are truth in spiritual light, not to be diminished. The youth found a way to cut through every age-group to clean our glasses off and ears out and remind us there are new ways of speaking. I am listening.
“I got loyalty, royalty inside my DNA” – Kendrick Lamar
“Garap lo tbia gadbia mou sajati.” — Wolof Proverb, West Africa The split tree still grows.
The human spirit is the lamp of the Lord.” – Proverbs 20:27
“…the book title and its content are intended to be a whisper, reminding us that by connecting with our spiritual self, we can center through anything and that we are forever within the bubble of God’s protection.”
At first, we were waiting to see what the 47th President would do. We adopted Whoopi Goldberg’s stance, “I’m (waiting and) eating my popcorn.” Now, we gotta prepare ourselves for the breaking news from this administration, grabbing whatever we can to brace ourselves. ‘Cause this sh_t shift ain’t no joke.
Here’s the thing. Whatever we see as lunacy and atrocious actions, we must keep our eye on the ball; it bounces to the tune of smoke and mirrors. What?!
Years ago, I read from the Kabbalah that whenever we move in reaction, we are in error, and negative results ensue. Proaction is the positive response to every peril. Recently, a friend pointed out to me that everything this new US Administration does is to get a reaction from us. We stay in a reactive mode of breaking news. In the meantime, menacing back-door shenanigans are happening, and money/power mongers are forging paths to acquire mo’money/power, mo’ money/power, mo’money/power.
Here’s the thing. This is what grifters do; they subvert focus to come in for the kill. So, how do we keep from playing their game?
My daughter, Camille Bennett, says she’s quietly keeping her ears to the ground. She’s listening for the real deal and in strategy modality. How do I do this? As a social media maven, I drive several groups. When I hear some news, I share it with a Yikes!!! I now know I have been in reaction mode, which works against listening and affirming my vision. Y’all, I’m changing up.
Here’s the thing. I do not believe in putting my head in the sand. I want to remain aware of what’s going on in the country my ancestors built. And I like reporting on social media. (Y’all always send me stuff to post). However, I intend to find something to say that’s proactive for every Yikes I post. It’s about energy and staying true to my vision. This action also helps me to settle down from my internal rant, to see clearly, and to be solution-oriented.
This isn’t easy for me; it requires practice, like any skill, to take mindful action. My practice includes morning saging, prayer, and meditation to get my head on straight.
I realize we all feel somewhat paralyzed during these times, but I ran into a piece by Robert Reich, (Thanks, Janis Merrill-Gipson). Click on the link and find fruitful actions we can take in . What You Can Do. These actions help us simmer down enough to clear our minds to see the big picture.
Here’s the thing. Y’all be patient with me. You know what they say about good intentions, but”( pro)action)” is the magic word, and if 45 can grift, I can work my magic. What?!
Joy Juice
I believe that activism wears different hats. Most of the artists and writers in my magazine, Garden Spices, are activists – some with feet on the ground, some with their pens, paints, and clay, and some hold the consciousness. Here’s the thing. We all do our best to enable this inevitable shift to unfold peacefully. We no longer react; we stay true and act out our visions. Ase’. #proactive #awreness #mindfulness #loveand peace
“…the book title and its content are intended to be a whisper, reminding us that by connecting with our spiritual self, we can center through anything and that we are forever within the bubble of God’s protection.”
Image of Mr. K. and me in front of a poster for the Legends musical. (Reed treated us). They were French actors killingBlack American songs from the 1940s to 2024 There was only one American actor, the rest French, and they could really sing in English! It was on point, from the arrangements to the lighting and the band. And yes, we were up dancing! (The French girl beside me and I had a routine). What?!
Y’all, I been gathering images for you and discovered that Google Photos did some great reels of er’thing, sites, food, and fun. So…enjoy us lighting up Paris!
On our second day in Paris, we visited the fabulous Galleries Lafayette and dined in one of the small restaurants tucked away in the corner of all the cheeses, wines, chocolates – to die for. We met a nice French woman who guided our menu choices and told us a bit about her background. I discovered it’s not unusual to see an individual dining alone with a full meal, including wine. (We saw a guy wearing a Chicago jacket, and I had to do a shout-out, “Hey, I’m from Chicago!” The other diners laughed. (I bet Mr. K. was like…I can’t take her anywhere. What?!)
This video shows some of our Black Tour with Ricki Stevenson. The Black Tour was extremely educational and highlighted the many accomplishments of Black French and how they impacted the world – DuSable, Dumas,Solitude, Baker, etc. Y’all, we started with breakfast at 10 AM, walked, went up and down stairs, and rode the subway and bus, all while being schooled by our guide about the wonders of Black French history.
I was intrigued by the story about Isis, the Goddess of Water. Paris was named after Isis, whose spirit protects Black folks and all of Paris. (The irony is that that terrorist group, Isis, terrorized Paris in future years).
I needed Isis and all my Ancestors (Y’all know I have French ancestry) to help my aching knees after the 10AM-3PM tour on cobblestone and STAIRS! After climbing the stairs in the Louvre and our tour, my knees were like, “Honey, you will be home for the next day!” And I was. (Y’all, Mr. K. didn’t miss a beat! He is five years my senior, and he was helping me)!
Not much to say about the splendor and beauty of the Louvre except c’est magnifique! Wait! I do want to mention the Egyptian exhibit. You will note that in the reel, Mr. K. and I are leaning into a display of sculptures WITH NOSES. The rest of the ancient sculptures have noses chiseled off. Why do you think? No links here. I would like to hear your opinions.
Of course, we had to get in some jazz. We were right in front of the musicians, loving everyminute.
I was out of commission for one day only during our two-week visit to Paris, and we left no stone unturned. I must leave you with my lasting impressions.
Paris style was blurred by the cold weather. Scarves, coats, and gym shoes were in vogue during the winter. But when I glimpsed a stylish Parisian, he/she was cover-ready.
French folks walk fast and look straight ahead, but they are charming when they engage with you.
Women walked and dined alone, day or night. No fear.
No guns.
Good food with no additives tastes better.
I will learn conversational French. Oh yes, I intend to visit again. What?!
“…the book title and its content are intended to be a whisper, reminding us that by connecting with our spiritual self, we can center through anything and that we are forever within the bubble of God’s protection.”
Where do I start? The people, always the people. For me, people provide immersion into the culture of any country.Several posts will dive into my first visit to Paris (It was Mr. K.’s fourth visit) and the people who made us feel the soul of this magical city.
PART 1.
It’s a Family Affair
We’re here!! After providing an Uber pickup, Mr. K’s son, Reed, greeted us at Apartments du Louvre, the 4 Rue Etienne Marcel location (there are several), our home, for a two-week stay in the City of Lights. Reed has lived in Paris for almost 9 years, and I was primed by his dad and mom for how accommodating he would be.
We loved our apartment. We had full amenities and were close to so many sites in Paris. Reed’s greeting began a remarkable vacation guided by him and hosted by his wife, her family, and their friends.
Our doors at Apartment du Louvres, 4 Etienne Marcel
We were treated to a casual dining experience filled with delicious food, wine, and lively conversation. A French dinner is at least 4 courses, including appetizers with fruit, cheeses with fresh bread, entrees, and dessert, all with copious amounts of wine and coffee. (I tried to get with expresso, but I had to succumb to Americana) What?!
The breathtaking view from the apartment showcased the illuminated Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe, mesmerizing me. What?!
Oh, the eclair for dessert!!!View or Arc
We were also invited to Houdan, a small quaint suburb of Paris. We posed before their dungeon, the site chosen for a fete at the Para Olympics.What?! We also stopped at the boulangerie for the delicious bread we would consume at lunch.. Our co-host and his sister were originally from Guadaloupe, so we had a Guadaloupean meal with couscous.Delicious!
Salmon, greens, and breadThe DungeonRainbow from a view
Indeed, the global culture is alive and well in Paris, and Reed’s family enabled me to experience its texture of diversity and warm hospitality.marguax and the boys.
“…the book title and its content are intended to be a whisper, reminding us that by connecting with our spiritual self, we can center through anything and that we are forever within the bubble of God’s protection.”
…a memory of Nikki Giovanni. Mine is from 1973 in an Oral Interpretation class at the University of AL. Randy Marsh was my professor, and I was Slick Vick, the Chicago Chick introducing my class to revolutionary poetry. I interpreted several of Giovanni’s poems, but I remember one most: Dreams.
It invoked a dream I once had to be a singer, except Giovanni coveted the Raelets’ “”dr o wn d in my youn tears.” Unlike Langston Hughes’ Dream Deferred, Giovanni’s poem was a call to conjure up the vital badass powerful Black woman, the “baaaaaby nightandday baaaaaby nightandday.” And so, I did.
That assignment found me belting like the Raeletts. ( I had practiced my intonations with the Black students at UA.) And I ended my performance, as she did, with the understanding that I could be just as powerful as a “sweet inspiration.”
I was born in the congo I walked to the fertile crescent and built the sphinx I designed a pyramid so tough that a star that only glows every one hundred years falls into the center giving divine perfect light I am bad
And this was only the first verse!
But how many Giovanni verses did my daughter, Camille Bennett, interpret as she won a National Championship in Poetry in Oral Interpretation for the University of Alabama. She became Nikki-Rosa, just as we all became purveyors of Giovanni’s masterful poetry illustrating Black folks – our secrets and power.
Cool, explosive, curious, introspective, whimsical, and profound,Nikki Giovanni interpreted our angst, soul, and splendor through her words. And I am grateful to have finally met her right here in Alabama and to tell her what she meant to the Black community and to me.
Spicy... 
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