I am so proud of myself. I just completed formatting a new website for Garden Spices Magazine, and I’m about to embark upon creating another one for my daughter’s business. So, would you tell me why I can’t text to save my life? Grammarly and text-correct sing a song with me daily. I know you notice my posts; if I manage to make it through without a typo, I do a quiet cheer. And why am I forgetting which day it is? I’m missing an important event because I forgot I have another important event. If we have an engagement, call and confirm I know about it. And one more thing…why can’t I remember words? My friends and I speak in code. We have to fill in words for each other. What?! And Why?!! Tomorrow, I’ll turn 73! (I was my mom’s Mother’s Day present).
Yes, I need your help; I need you to continue the love and support you have shown me. I know I give y’all a lot of content to browse and Like, but you have hung tough with me. Thank you. And now…I can’t say any more because I am falling asleep in front of the computer. Mr. K. is on his way from South Carolina, and my eyes can barely stay open. I need HELP!!!
It all started with sweet potato pie. I have known my sista’ friend, Pat Lewis, since college. During one of our frequent phone conversations, she told me she made her mama’s sweetpotato pie and that it was all she could do to keep from eating the whole thing. Although Pat resides in New York and sings with the 50’s revival group, The Crystals, she is a Bama girl, born and raised in Birmingham, AL. It was there that Ms. Margaret Pritchett, Pat’s mother, made sweet potato pie. Pat, consistently over her mom’s shoulder, took heed from her mother’s words. “Keep it light.” Ms. Margaret is no longer with us, but her pie’s sweetness and “light touch” generate a warm and fuzzy feeling. But, then, our talk of such things was on, like a pot of neck bones!What?!
Pat recounted how her mother used to flip the sheets over to freshen them, and I quipped, “So did my mother! On Saturday mornings, she would come into my room and flip the sheets with me in them, laughing.” It was the best feeling ever, so I gave my kidsthe same thrill. Then, there were the mama rub-downs.
The Crystals! My friend Pat is on the left.
My mom, affectionately called “Amon,” is no longer in this realm, but her spirit lingers through rub-down memories. When besieged by a cold, Amon used to gently come into my bedroom and rub my chest with Ben Gay and swipe under my nose with Vicks Vapor Rub. Then, she would take a piece of flannel and pin it to my undershirt. I swear, I can still feel it. For Pat, Ms. Magaret used to rub her legs and feet with tallow, a cream she would make of beef fat. “Whew, that stuff really smelled,” but it was a healing remedy. She also remembers her mom rising at 4 am to go to work. She did not see Ms. Margaret until she returned shortly after Pat and her sister, Maxine, came home from school. Yes, to cook the way she did – scrumptiously.
My mother left for work early too, but not before I would sit on her bed and watch her dress for work, put on pancake makeup (the only makeup for Black women then), and finish with her glorious lipstick. She looked so fine. “Mother only wore lipstick,” Pat recalled about Ms. Margaret, but “she was beautiful.” (I can attest to that).
Walking home from work, Amon could barely make it to the corner of our street before my brother, Bernie, and I would run to meet her. She never really wanted to work; we were her joy. Daddy never got home till after 7 pm, so it was Amon until then, taking us roller skating, to the rodeo, park, library, dance class, music lessons, and downtown to the museums on Saturday.
Pat and I went on and on; Pat in New York, me, in Florence, AL. With each remembrance, my smile deepened, and I’m willing to bet Pat was smiling too. When done with our phone call, I thanked Pat for launching our memories. Warm and fuzzy.
I would love to hear a childhood memory of yours. Believe me, it feels so good. What!!
Margaret Pritchett (Mother) and Irene Basley (Amon) our loving mothers.
Both Pat and I were groomed in Church and knew/know the activation of God working in our life. Unfortunately, childhood is not all fairy tales. Sometimes we have to search for childhood memories we can cherish. I have sympathy for so many folks that have horrid childhood memories. However, I still encourage all to find the sweetness, the warm and fuzzy feelings experienced when anyone – a parent, teacher, family member, or friend, reached out to you as a vessel of the love that is inherently yours.
These memories can help us navigate these times. These times call for finding your light, holding on to hope, and faith that God is working.
For by grace, you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. Ephesians 2:8-10
Love is like a baby: it needs to be treated tenderly. – African Proverb
“…the book title and its content are intended to be a whisper, reminding us that by taking the time to connect with our spiritual self, we can center through anything and that we are forever within the bubble of God’s protection.”
This morning, I browsed a travel video by SugarPearl’s Carla Renae, a contributor for Garden Spices Magazine. Her video was resplendent with vibrant images of Morocco and Abuja, Nigeria– the food, sites, and an African wedding – all punctuated by her beauty. Through browsing these images, I realized…y’all, I’m not too good at travel blogging about places and things. It’s the people who leave me reeling. What?!
Part 2
Get on the Boat!
Last we met in Part 1, my girls and I were ready to board the Grand Princess Cruise Ship. Y’all know we wheelchaired from where we boarded all the way to our cabins, tipping all the way. (An aside: You gon’ do plenty of tipping, so bring fives and ones. )I tell you, wheeling is worth it. No stops at Customs, just traveling straight through. What?!
The ship was neither the most contemporary nor the largest, but it was comfortable for this venture. My roommate, Indria, and I were pleased with our cabin. We were upgraded and had a nice balcony. We barely deposited our luggage before we hit the ship’s dining room. We were famished. In cruise style, the dining room buffet had anything your heart desired for traditional and vegetarian fare, but their vegan menu was limited, and Indria is vegan. We greeted a few of our group, but we were so tired; we filled up and were ready to pass out, especially after our night in Puerto Rico. (Read Part 1). We knew we would see the group in its entirety at dinner.
Dining, Dancing, and Declining
It’s amazing how many people I had never come across during my tenure in Chicago. Yes, Chicago is a large city, but you gotta know how we socialized as teens. We had clubs; the clubs had parties, and we were bound to run into many folks at the many gatherings.
This gathering allowed me to meet folks I missed during my teens. We discovered we all belonged to teen clubs; we all went to downtown parties and events, and we all recounted adventures from when we were wild and crazy. What?!
Funny Stories: One person was at a concert at Grant Park in Chicago with her friends, and she had a drink that must have been potent, because when she woke up, she was the only one left in Grant Park! (Some friends, huh.) Another friend knew folks driving back to California who ended up circling Washington Park for three days.
Is it something about Chi Town’s parks? What?!
Of course, I’m telling y’all the benign stories, but it was so nice to meet and dine with various attendees. Most of us were from Chicago, but we lived all over the country. We had a standing reservation at Botticelli’s and enjoyed the conversation more than the food. And we loved getting on the waiters’ nerves. “May I have soft rolls instead of hard? Do you have vanilla vegan ice cream instead of chocolate? Where’s my salad?” After dining, we convened for shows and events, both collectively and individually.
Our first show featured the amazingTerran Brooks. He could really sing and provided great entertainment. Once Eddie Kendricks in the Temptations biopic and Simba in The Lion King, Brooks truly has star quality, and we got to see it.
As a group, we also saw the Grand Princess Dancers perform a tribute to R&B. Now, I don’t want to offend anyone, but we were like, “Y’all couldn’t find one Black dancer or singer?” Let’s just say that Rollin’ on the River waters were rough.What?!
Dancing
Y’all, at least a few nights found us dancing to a DJ spinning music. We had to get him straight, too. He was playing Motown, but not the dance music. Once we put a bug in his ear, we got that floor jumping. On one song, a girl in a wheelchair was rolled by her husband down the middle of the floor jammin’! Some of us didn’t want to dance, but by the time We Are Family started, everyone was on the floor. But there was one or two of us who danced every song, but only one of the two was limping with bad knees the next morning. Guess who?
Here’s the thing. A word to the wise senior… You gotta know when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em. Ain’t no way I should’ve been up every single song. Lesson learned.
Stay tuned for Part III/
By the time this song played, I was tired, but still jamming. We Are Family!
I got up this morning with the intention of giving my two cents on our topic, Comfort, and I found that two thoughts crossed my mind:
1)Two articles I formatted yesterday for Garden Spices (GS) and
2)My spicy…a garden spices blog.
The two articles in this current issue of GS, Comfort vs. Complacency, by Dr. Robert V. Gerard, and Comfort and the Cost of Staying Still, by Professor RJ Starr, hit me upside my head to the degree where this morning I found myself reading Iyanla Vanzant’s new book, Spiritual Hygiene, in hopes of discovering when and where my newfound level of complacency vs. comfort started. (Was this sentence long enough?) I realize that I bought my own advice – that because of the impact of Project 2025, I needed to settle in and reset, a comfort zone just for me.
Not that the advice was so bad, but it’s my zone that makes me question my intentions. Sitting on my behind browsing Social Media and watching TV are both comfortable activities for me, but if that’s all I do, what does my life look like? Certainly, not my Truth. And I’m telling you I did too much of that in ’25.
I still traveled, started line dancing, attended events, and Garden Spices met all its publishing deadlines, but there was a spiritual void in me that entertainment could not fill. I am a minister, and although my knees and feet act up, I can still show out in doing service, other than posting and writing. Iyanla mentioned in her book a declaration about her “throne.”
Beyond the Christian tradition, I learned of the throne through Huna Hawaiian spirituality. Coming into alignment through the conscious, unconscious, and subconscious mind, the throne represents spiritual awareness. The two articles and Iyanla brought me to a place of mindfulness about my throne. Y’all, that’s where I’m sitting right now with TV off, and spirit-guided hands, I’m in a new zone declaring my spirit needs more to soar.
Spicy…, my blog is a part of my new zone. Rifling through my archives, I realize this complacency of 2025 is not my first rodeo; I rode this horse pretty well in times past. However, there was a time when I wrote at least once a month. Y’all, I’ve been on a wonderful cruise in November, celebrating fabulous 75-year-olds, and haven’t written about it yet. And do you think I made one piece of jewelry for VBGold Creations? What?!
I thank GS and Iyanla for the wakeup call. I’ll meet y’all soon in my next post about the cruise, and I have already set up two service providers and connected with my bead source for jewelry-making. I’m on the throne, open to receiving my guidance.
“…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.”
We came by new knees and hips, by walkers and canes, by glittering gym shoes, swagging attire, every hairstyle known to man, some blinging, and all swinging at our Celebration Caribbean Cruise. The stars – everyone born in 1950. What?!
Part I: The First Leg, San Juan, PR
Planning
It took Travel Agent, Maggie Longley of All Seasons Cruises & Tours, to organize and gather us by mail, Zoom, and numerous reminders. Oretha was the Chicago connection, but our personal travel advisor, Nedra Shelton, kept my posse, Janice Bell, Pat Kline, Indria Perrrilloux, and me in the loop. Her constant cry was “Don’t y’all read?!!!” We splendidly ignored her and kept bugging her for the information we needed throughout the cruise, including booking our one-night hotel accommodations. (Thank you, Nedra, for your generosity).
The cruise was setting sail from San Juan, PR. Most folks flew in from Chicago, but I traveled from Huntsville, AL, and Indria from Las Vegas, NV.
Airport Wheeling
Y’all, if walking challenges you in any way, or if you have a short time to make a connecting flight in a large airport, do not hesitate to ask the airline for a wheelchair. The wheelchair porters make their living wheeling you through the airport, providing the utmost comfort and efficiency. Tipping is not mandatory, but again, this is a good part of the wheelchair porters’ job. I suggest tipping at least $5.00.
You have to walk the outside expanse of this airport for the transportation pickup area.
Warning:In PR, you have two porters to tip for wheelchair service – one to baggage claim and the other for taking your bag off the turnstile. What?!! Also, once you pick up your bag, you gotta walk a country mile to the pick-up stand for your transportation. Needless to say, we could not wait to get to our hotel in Old San Juan.
Old San Juan
English: Buildings in downtown San Juan, Puerto Rico. Date 23 February 2016, 19:35:54 Source Own work Author Bjoertvedt
Old San Juan was lovely and quaint, with pastel shops lining the streets. We made it to Novona Studios, our small, lovely hotel in downtown Old San Juan, where the owner greeted us and told us we were on the third floor.
Guess what? No elevators!
Warning:When booking a studio or villa, always check for essentials. Some of us ain’t built to do stairs anymore, especially with luggage.
By God’s grace and some x#!##!!!, we made it to our rooms. Indria (my roomie) arrived after us, so we had to make the trek again with her luggage. Y’all!…!
FYI:She had individual fabric packing cubes in her luggage, which made carrying and arranging her belongings easy at the hotel and on the cruise. (Y’all know I’m gon’ find some for my next trip.)
Slideshow of Norvona Studios
outside studios
The infamous steps
Rooms
Roof
We finally settled into our rooms.
Let’s Eat!
Y’all know that by this time, Pat, Nedra, and I were famished, so we set off to find a place to eat. (Indria is vegan and had to order in.) We found a local spot almost across the street from our hotel. Ajo del Paíswas right on time for what we wanted. Not fancy, real local and a server to die for. What?!
We were really hungry, so I didn’t take any pictures of our food: (Sorry, not sorry). Our server helped us navigate the menu, and we settled on Conch Fritters, a shrimp dish, and chicken with vegetables. We all had margaritas, and our server gave us a sample of a Latin liqueur.
The food was delicious, and we had a great entry into an Old San Juan dining experience.
AJ’sL-R: Pat,he server , me waving, and Nedra.
Statins Ain’t for Me
We got back to the hotel and readied for well-deserved sleep. Indria and I were knocked out when, all of a sudden, my left leg cramped… then my right leg cramped. Poor Indria had to try to help me, but I had to moan and move the cramps away. Y’all, them cramps came back every ten minutes. (At one point, I was so out of it, I got up and started to dress, thinking it was morning. Wishful thinking; it was only about 2 AM! Indria was like, WHAT?) Every time I’d try to sleep, the cramping started. Indria and I surmised it was the statin I had recently started taking; I finally had to place a chair and pillow on a chair in front of the bed. Legs raised, I finally got to sleep until…
…Drag Racing
I want to know how cars could drag race down a narrow street. Kids were screaming and cars were racing, Vrooming” loudly all night! The funny thing is, Pat and Nedra were on the same side as us, and they slept so soundly they didn’t hear anything!
The racing and my cramps made things oddly exciting during our night in Old San Juan, but we were glad to call an Uber and get our bags to the street to travel to the boat. Oh, and I stopped taking the statin.
Narrow street!!
A Few Things:
Every Senior group traveler needs a Nedra Shelton . Someone with a clear head who can read and check details and talk about you when you don’t take care of your business. Check.
Every Senior traveler needs a Pat Kline. You need popcorn or sandwiches? She travels with it. A nail file, lipstick, scissors, she’s got it. My girl has any and everthing you forgot to bring. AND when you need someone to grab some young men off the street to lug your luggage down 3 flights of stairs, , whether or not they speak English, Pat’s your girl. Check.
Every Senior traveler needs an Indria Sita Khan Perrilloux. When you can’t understand your tour guide, Indria interprets what he’s saying and has you rolling with laughter. all through the cruise. Check
Every Senior traveler needs a JB. We need some exotic style to shake us up, and JB is your girl. Check
I can dance.What?!
On the serious side, even though I travel at least twice a year, I am finding I need to focus a bit more to organize, get myself on the road, and stay safe and mobile during my trips. I ain’t saying I can’t do it, but I give myself more gracefor preparation and execution.
I got this, and so do you!
featured image: Indria, Nedra, and I (St. Thomas Apostle grad pic.), JB. Pat is on image at the restaurant.
Stay tuned for Part II – The 75 and Alive Celebration Cruise
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“…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.”
Ok! I have already told y’all how important I think it is to protect my sanity. Meet the Press, The View, and your posts give me the news. I can’t sit languishing in the national news for breakthrough reports. We are so inundated with the craziness of brewing fascism that I must vet my sources and keep my head out of the sand just enough to stay aware of current events. However, lately I have succumbed to a dangerous escape – social media. What?!
When I say social media, I mean all of it – Facebook, Instagram, YouTube X, Pinterest, LinkedIn, with ChatGPT as my chaser. I feel it is my spiritual duty to warn you –
DON’T GET CAUGHT UP!
Whatever you do, don’t get caught up in the real/reel world. Before you know it, hours have passed, and you have been usurped by content-creating, commercial-capturing couples, crimefighters, comedians, and crooners. And yes, they are captivating, and some are hilarious. What?!
Talk about funny…Camille Bennett is doing TLC’s “What About Your Friends” at Kasmine’s 90’s party (She’s gonna kill me, but that’s social media for ya).
WARNING:
Social media can also be particularly dangerous for us seniors, as well as other age groups.
Most of the ads serve as vehicles for content creators to generate income. You click and buy; they get paid. And today, Oprah ain’t Oprah – it’s a bot! What this means for us is that every time you see something for enhanced beauty, a plant that has exceptional growth, or a comfortable, low-cost bra for huge boobs, etc., check reviews for the products. Don’t believe every ad you see. Vet! Vet! Vet! (Ask me how I know).
Be cautious of the news and entertainment content you see on YouTube and social media platforms. I watched the narration of the debate between Jasmine Crockett and Candace Owens. The visual showed only their picture. It was so juicy, I decided to watch the actual debate, except there wasn’t one. The narrated bot voice was the story, and the story was a lie. Be careful to vet all news sources.
What Gets to Me
I’m enticed by the creativity of the videos and podcasts, and while they serve as a diversion from the craziness of these days, they also keep me tied to the reels, instead of reality. What?!
Notice, I haven’t been posting lately? I’ve been too busy emoting over videos. My actor/producer friend encouraged me to start podcasting. I’ve been so busy “researching” (that’s what I call it) that I haven’t invested in starting my channel. What should I do?
Here comes the ask
Should I talk about getting older, rant about things that work my last nerve, and forewarn you about impending diseases? Or should I find the humor in painful politics and soften the blow with spiritual offerings?
Hey…..I already do this in my blog! posts So, I’m ending with my “commercial:”
Y’ALL TURN OFF THE REELS AND READ MY BLOG POSTS!!
(please)
Joy Juice
One reason I am captivated by the social content is the humor – I’m cracking up and amazed by how these folks come up with their material. Introducing spicy…a blog, I say, “Sometimes, you just gotta laugh,” and we do. However, as much as I seek to be entertained, I remain purposeful and intentional and understand the importance of conscious action. Every day at 1PM, I join many others in centering and praying for the planet. I invite y’all to join me, but y’all can still laugh from time to time.
“…a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, – Ecclesiastes 3:4
“…laughter supports us on the eightfold path, teaching equanimity, compassion, patience, kindness (Metta) and supporting us along the difficult path.” – Buddhist teaching
“A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.” – 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’m currently watching a documentary about Black Gospel music on TCM, “How They GotOver.” This film evoked memories of my Sunday mornings, watching Jubilee Showcase with my mom and grandmother. The film is in black and white, and I thought “I been Black a long time.”What?!
The Dixie Hummingbirds, the Blind Boys of Alabama, the Barrett Sisters, the Hutchinson Sunbeams (also known as the Emotions), the Norfleet Brothers, and the Staple Singers, as well as The Soul Stirrers, with Sam Cooke, all traveled the church circuit to sing harmonies unheard of today.
A story…
During his days as a chauffeur, my brother had the honor of driving Little Richard. Back then, we had CDs. Little Richard was talking with some of his entourage when my brother popped in a CD from the Blind Boys of Alabama. Little Richard cried.
This documentary highlighted the creativity and the challengesthat Gospel groups faced on the road, as well as their resolve to take their audiences on a “spiritual epiphany.” One of them recalled that success was proven by how many of their audience were “laid out” as a result of their performance. What?!
Like every other genre of music, this genre evolved from the era of slavery. It was the music we created to sustain us during our arduous work and joyful play. We even “waded in the water” in song to signal how to escape from plantations. You had groups like The Mighty Clouds of Joy that took you beyond the strife of Black people. Within their style, they screamed, “I Ain’t Got Long to Stay Here.”
Gospel groups made little money, which is why many crossed overto secular music. Many, like Sam Cooke, Aretha Franklin, and Lou Rawls, made the transition, and today, we know that almost every R&B singer began their career in the church.
Today, we watch and hear Gospel in a wide variety of venues, but I will never forget the Jubilee Showcase on Sunday mornings in Chicago before I attended church. We didn’t pass out in our family room, but we clapped and sometimes sang with the performers. You see, this gospel music infusion was before we headed out to Sunday Mass at St. Martin’s Catholic Church.
There was no explosion of soul in our pews. What?!
#music #Juneteenth #Gospel #survival #memories
Joy Juice
Music has always been a refuge for us, as a people. We continue to explore all genres of music as expressions of our affirmations. My playlist is vast, including gospel to classical. We create, therefore we are.
“…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.”
It’s Kevin Day!!! What’s so hot about seeing Kevin? He is the ultimate New York talent whose generosity greets my every visit to his city. This time, I insisted on taking him to lunch, so my friend, Pat, and I Ubered toMOM’S KITCHEN & BAR IN NYC to meet him. It was a bit chilly as we waited for our number to be called, but my reunion with Kevin and the delicious food quickly warmed us up. What?
Food and fun!
What is it about Kevin?
Kevin Michael-Kennedy
I had to think about it for a moment, but realized it’s his intensity. When he’s with you, he’s all in. He asked about my trip to Paris, and then his eyes went with me with great enthusiasm. I love questioning him about the Business, and he spills the tea on the ins and outs of navigating the entertainment waters.
Y’all, after catching up on travels, the industry, and such, Kevin excused himself. When he returned, I signaled for the check, but Kevin had already paid it! See? That’s what he do!What?!
We took a stroll to Kevin’s apartment and encountered every genre of restaurant you could ask for. A walk through Harlem is like turning the pages of a United Nations’ Guidebook – food, fashion, and folks from everywhere. We make it to our next destination, The Little Pie Company.You already know.
See? If they were anything other than miniature delicacies in crust, I’d of been OK, but noooo!! Look at what I had to deal with, but I had to do my duty and take home at least three.
Check out their website; your mouth will water, and you will see every pie known to man. We sampled many options, but I ultimately chose the samples that included apple and blackberry. But we walked out with about 6, and I had at least a forkful of them all. What?!
Performance Art Building
Manhattan Plaza Performance Art Rulding
We finally made it to Kevin’s apartment. Puleeze, just give me one month in this Manhattan Plaza residential building for Performance Art creatives! It’s in a great location, within walking distance to the heart of the city. It’s rent-controlled, and our friend, Kevin, has resided in a lovely one-bedroom apartment there for years. Kevin and Pat took me to the apartment of one of the early residents, the iconic costumer,Katherine (Kathy) Roberson.
Dolled Up
Recently, Pat has been working for Kathy in costuming and she relied on Kathys city skills to steer us in the direction of free sites in NYC. As a well-seasoned New Yorker, Kathy knows her city, and her apartment reflects her life in this Harlem apartment complex. She collects dolls.
Roberson’s home is decorated with a wide exhibition of dolls in every room, and we sat in their midst as she told me about her dance career turned costumer.Please readGallery & Studio’s comprehensive profile on Kathy Roberson. What a herstory and how impressive!
Katherine Roberson’s dolls, art, and the lobby of the famous Manhattan Plaza complex for Performance Artists.
Mr. K.’s Visit
While Pat and I were tooling around Harlem, Mr. K. and Pat’s husband, Thomas, were hunting down Mr. K.’s childhood friend. Can you imagine, he got to see his friend after 40+ years, and he lived close to where we were staying – right in the heart of Harlem.
In and Out
That evening, we came home to leftovers, pie, pictures, and goodbyes. New York, we’re out, but you stay in our souls.
Joy Juice
I told y’all this once before; get out of town! I don’t care if you go to the town next door or to Tiimbuktu, spread your wings, breathe, and affirm your life. This is the most precious time we have. We don’t know when it blows into dust, but this life, honor it for the jewel it is.
Perspective is king. It’s such a blessing to explore those that are unfamiliar to your own. Jump in a car, a bus, train, or plane and get going, and tell us about where you went. I love guest bloggers. What?!
Act like it!
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”. – Corinthians 5:17
Get movin!
Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning a lion wakes up. It knows it must outrun the slowest gazelle or it will starve to death. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a lion or gazelle. When the sun comes up, you’d better… – 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.”
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.”
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