Are You There God? It's Me, Dawn

It was 1984.

That was when I fell in love with baseball. I would actually sit in front of the television and watch an entire game. Nine innings. Usually about three hours.

I watched enough that I could tell what kind of pitches were being thrown. Breaking balls. Curve balls. Fast balls. Split fingers. I would try to call them out before the play-by-play guy did.

I grew up watching Alan Trammel, Jack Morris, Lou Whitaker, and Kirk Gibson. I grew up on the Detroit Tigers.

1984 was the year they won the World Series.

It was a special year with a special team. They were all good guys with good manager. Who wouldn't like a guy named Sparky?

I wasn't the only one fascinated with the team. That's all people talked about. I would hear my dad talking to his friends about it. My dad would ask if the Tigers could really win it all. He and his friends would then debate it all for hours. The strengths, the weaknesses, guessing at how it would all play out.

Listening to sports talk radio (because that's what we do in my family), that's all they talked about. So either in front of the TV or listening on the radio, I followed the Tigers. And I fell in love with a sport.

I know a lot of folks these days say that baseball is boring, but I disagree. I love pitchers battles. I love seeing good pitcher/hitter match-ups. I love the crazy defensive catches that rob the hitter of a home run. I love the walkoff homers. I love the different "out" calls that umpires use. I love the batter chatter.

When they won the Series, all the local television stations ran commercials that said "Bless You Boys" and still today, when I think of the Tigers, I think of that team. That's the team that started the love affair.

It's almost October, so that means it's baseball's time to shine. The playoffs are coming and I can't wait.

Before there was Cameron, Drew, and Lucy...there was Kate, Farrah, and Jaclyn.

I sure loved Charlie's Angels. I'm not old enough (praise the Lord!) to have watched it on it's first run, but I watched the show every day in reruns when I was a kid.

I was too young to realize the absurdity of wearing a full face of flawless makeup while fighting crime. Or the inaccuracy of perfectly coiffed hair while on all sorts of undercover missions. Or the insanity of chasing the bad guys in heels.

I just knew that I liked the show. And I'm not embarrassed to tell you that I'm watching it right now. And this show still rocks.

Lately I've been thinking about home. My home to be more specific.

Not here in Houston, this isn't really home, but back in Michigan...and wondering if I should go back. I actually wrote about it a while back and I've not been able to stop pondering a return.

I've always wondered why the old testament is full of lists of family members. Like Bob begat Jim. Jim begat Joe. Blah, blah. Was it all just to bore us silly? But now I see...family is important.

I'm sure most people would agree with that, but I'm here in Houston and most of my family is up north.

So if I agree that being around family is important...what am I doing here?

Can't sleep.

Mostly because I'm hype from an "encounter" with a volleyball official earlier tonight. I'm ticked that I'm letting him steal my sleep, but once my brain gets running...it's usually a marathon.

Anyhoo, I was laying there (in bed, that is) wondering.

Wondering if you've seen that man of God who volunteers at church. He may even be in a position of leadership. That man who enjoys church...enjoys good praise and worship and equally enjoys the sermon that follows.

I was wondering if you've seen that man who tithes not only because he believes in the blessings that'll follow, but because God says that he should.

I've been looking for that man of God who's not too holy to laugh at a funny joke, even though it may be a little off-color.

Where's that man who's not ashamed of who he was back in the day, because he knows that God's only letting him remember all that stuff so that he can see how far he's come?

Laying there wondering where that bold man of faith is...bold enough to throw away "the list" and recognize a good woman when he sees her.

Wondering where that man is who's crazy enough to think that I'm not that crazy.

I was wondering if you've seen that man who will help me carry my bags. Not because he doesn't think that I can handle them, but because he's a gentleman.

I've been looking for that man of God who will admit that he liked MC Hammer way back when and knows what to do when "2 Legit 2 Quit" comes on the radio.

Where's that man who's on his knees praying at the beginning of his day and has a Bible cracked open at the end?

Laying there wondering if there's a man out there praying for me...only he doesn't know that it's me yet.

Wondering. Still can't sleep. Still not settling. Still wondering.

My all-time favorite movie quote is from Animal House.

John Belushi's character is sitting in a diner booth with the preppy kids and he's stuffing his face.  Like really stuffing it...like food's falling out of his mouth.

The preppy girl says, "That boy's a P-I-G pig!" 

Hilarious!

I'm pretty sure I look at someone and think that daily.  And I'm pretty sure I chuckle every time. 

So I've learned a new language since I've been here in Texas.

Down here, when the meteorologist says, "cold front", they mean 85 degrees.  That's new to me, because up north, eighty five degrees in late September was called "Indian summer". 

But I'm learning to understand Texan.  Slowly, but surely, I'm getting Texanized.

And it's not so bad. 

Black man...what do you want with the Black woman? Do you want to love her? Or hate her? Envelope her or push her away?

Black man...when did the respect die? When did the love fade? Can we ever get it back?

Black man...it used to be that the perfect complement to a Black man was a Black woman. What happened?

Did we hurt you? Mother you? Scare you? Ridicule you? Demonize you? Or hate you?

If so, this Black woman apologizes.

Let us love you. Support you. Be there for you. Raise your children. Believe in you.

Black man...how does that sound?

I made a resolution a while back...or maybe it was just that I came to a conclusion. Whatever language I decide to use, I resolved a few years ago that I wouldn't let people steal my joy.

I've actually said those very words to people who try to rain on my parade. I'm a generally positive person. I'm a half-full rather than half-empty kinda girl.

I think because of that, some folks think that I'm a pushover, perhaps that they can treat me any kind of way. While I am quite forgiving and typically see the good in people rather than the bad, don't be confused. I have a strong personality and a strong will...you will get pushed back if you push me too hard.

Saying that though, most people who know me have never seen me push back. I wonder how much of that is due to my upbringing. Besides the fact that my family is pretty conservative, I was raised in a lily white neighborhood in which I was the only raisin in the sun.

I've always been painfully aware of the stereotypes of Blacks and took pains to distance myself from them. We're supposed to be belligerent, so I made sure that I was amiable. Our women our supposed to be hot to trot, so I broke my neck to be chaste. Blacks aren't supposed to be smart or do well on standardized tests, so obviously I was a straight A student and aced all tests. Ebonics? Please, nothing but the Queen's English here.

But in college, I stopped worrying about what others thought, because that worrying was stealing my joy.

When I pledged my sorority, all of a sudden what I'd worked so hard to become wasn't right anymore. Now I wasn't Black enough. I was too nice. People suggested I let my hair down and meet a few more guys. And for God's sake stop listening to "White music". So I was too Black for the Whites, and as dark as my skin is, I was too White for the Blacks.

I was at a crossroad and somewhere along the line, I got free. I guess we really do get better with age.

I suppose I could call myself a reformed people pleaser. It was finally okay that I liked the Isley Brothers and Pearl Jam. Carl Thomas and Jack Johnson. That I craved fried chicken and greens just as much as I enjoyed sauerkraut on my brats. That I was a geek who would rather read a good book than hit the clubs.

Years ago I decided to be happy and I thank God for the freedom that came from that resolution.

Like Jerry McGuire, I love Black people.

Except when we're on Cheaters.

Then I'm just a bit embarrassed.