Guilford Gazette Blog

Over the past months I have been scurrying around improving my skills as a new entrepreneur. In an attempt to make a newspaper viable, the publisher must adopt new areas of expertise while becoming the jack of all trades to make the venture succeed.  There are meetings to attend, network events to traverse, merchants to solicit, and subscribers to beg.

In the midst of surviving it is so easy to forget the primary mission of such a venture. Yes, a true news man wants to sell newspapers and sell advertising. That goes without saying. It is a business. But a true news man has a higher calling to inform a hungry public and care for the community he covers.

My community is Hammond High School and the neighborhoods it serves. This is the truest connection for me and for those who live in the Hammond District. Our children either attend the school or aspire to attend the school.

I have two sons. One did his time at Hammond and another who is presently experiencing the joys of his senior year. Their perspectives on school are quite different. One thing is the same for them, as it is for every school-aged kid in our area.  These students are all connected.

So what is the point of today’s blog? Our students and our PTA parents are deeply connected and rooted in the area, but most of us are not engaged. Our jobs take us to an alternate reality and our homes are the refuges that we refuse to vacate. The remote control is calling.

Our community needs us and we need our community. I do not want to forget or become lax in my commitment to support our institutions. This is the call to action for me and my readers. Volunteers are sweating bullets. They take valuable time and donate themselves to causes for the community they love. These volunteers are people of hope. Mostly, they hope people show up for their planned events.

Getting a profitable crowd is never a guarantee, but the situation is more hopeful always when the community at large is engaged. Attempting to convince the unengaged to sacrifice comfort is quite a harrowing experience.

I am starting my campaign of hope by attending the Guilford Elementary School Basket Bingo on May 11, 2013 at the Ridgely’s Run Community Center on Mission Road. The PTA decided to stop the door-to-door sales campaigns. They want their children to be in a safer position. The group is moving in a new fundraising direction. Community participation is a must. I am going to plan bingo. Perhaps I will win big. How about you? What will you do to help foster a stronger community?

- Ricardo

We are getting ever so close to Valentine’s Day.  This is the time of our annual obligatory tribute to those persons we love, especially that “significant other”.  Valentine’s Day is a special time of year and oh so potentially horrific. On Valentine’s Day your main squeeze might end up floating on cloud nine because of how you so perfectly demonstrated that outward affection that many of us refer to as love.

On the other hand, if you forget Valentine’s Day or worse, you give a thoughtless or inappropriate gift, no matter how well intentioned… well, you might end up in the proverbial dog house for quite a while.

Sometimes Valentine’s Day is more like a horror story. Chills run down the spine and beads of sweat stream down the forehead. The relationship has been rocky for some time now, so like a baseball game after eight long innings, you pray that in this ninth inning you can score with a homerun leaving the field in jubilation rather than rejection and dejection, which could lead to a defection of your loved one.

Is real love so fleeting? For some of us a relationship with a rock is better than the “love” we have with our intended. A large, heavy rock is steadfast and immovable, but human affection can be like dust in the wind. But only if we all could be more like rocks such that when the storms and floods enter our lives we would hold fast to love, continuing to nurture and respect the person for whom we first experience awe and admiration.

In the villages and subdivisions where we live, our communities cannot survive without love. Jesus said to love your neighbor the way you love yourself and then took it a step further when he instructed his followers to love their enemies.  In Howard County there is a campaign to teach civility and exhort all county residents to exhibit the principles espoused in this civility doctrine.

To love another person is not the easy thing that we see in the movies. To love another person often means bringing yourself back from the brink of defecting to another camp. It may mean tolerating unconscionable behaviors and moving to a higher plane.

The importance of this love cannot be underscored enough in this blog. That four letter word is the critical foundation of community. It starts first in the home, then it gets exported to work, school, and your religious fellowship (e.g. church, synagogue, mosque).

A loving, understanding response, in most situations, quiets and resolves pending problems much quicker than a boisterous refusal in the midst of a personal transaction. Think about the volatile situations in school, work, and community. Would we dare say that a kind, understanding response would not have resolved a gritty matter?

This Valentine’s Day is the perfect time to begin practicing perfect love.

- Ricardo Whitaker

Recently, I saw a screening of a film called The Brothers Mathias. It was a low budget, independent project completed as a requirement for graduation from college. The director of the movie is a young artist named Tim Goodell. Right now he is working locally, mostly likely somewhere in or near the town of Linthicum. His dream is to work in the movie industry. He certainly has the level of skill required to do well if he gets that lucky break.

The setting of the film is Linthicum. My guess is that this creative genius is a home grown spud. The significance of this to parents in and around Guilford is that we may have a Tim Goodell on our hands that needs to be nurtured. We may be raising geniuses. We may also be raising future trash collectors, but we really do not know.

Regardless, it is so important to nurture our children as we study them to determine how best to guide them. A kid with a really great back hand, should not only be geared up for academics, but also groomed for tennis to take advantage of whatever talent is embedded in the youngster. Your little Johnny may not become the next great superstar, but he may develop a skill and a sport that will serve to enrich his life.

The Brothers Mathias was really a fun movie to watch in a group or alone at home in front of the television. The character development was great, the acting superb, and the story as well-developed as any independent film I have ever seen.

Tim Goodell doesn’t live in Ontario, Milwaukee, or Los Angeles. He lives here in Maryland, just minutes away from Guilford. He represents our children and serves as a model to them. He is no great film director operating out of Hollywood. He is a regular guy who has untold and untapped creative potential. It is not very likely that he was able to harness his strengths without the support of a great network in his life.

Where did it begin? With his mother, a neighbor, or a teacher? Who encouraged him to pursue dreams? Maybe someone just got out of the way so that Tim could freely express himself? We don’t really know. But we know that success is not achieved in a vacuum.

Parents are on earth to nurture, teach, guide, and be available so that our charges move into adulthood meeting challenges and winning more often than suffering losses. But it is not just the parents. God has given so many gifts to so many in our community. As a community what can we do for our budding film director, car salesman, geophysicist, or tennis player? We can volunteer time, lend assistance, fund projects, or contribute in any way we feel led.

The Tim Goodells of the world need encouragement and support from home, school, and community. They need that support at the earliest possible time in life and continually through the growing years. They need support again as young adults navigating the waters of careers or advanced education. Next time you sit through a movie think about the creative minds that produced the film and then think about the network of people who might have been involved in the lives of those people as they grew to maturity. Where do we stand with our children and the children of our neighbors?

Ricardo

Today marks another year of national independence from Great Britain. We translate our national independence into freedom. No longer shall we be taxed by a foreign nation without representation in government.  And with that separation from the King of England arose so many new freedoms not previously enjoyed.

On this Independence Day, how much thought is given to our history, our national struggle, and the meaning of our personal freedoms that came as a result of a fight between a nation and a territory?

Is this holiday simply about cook outs and fireworks? What do our children really know about today? Do we share with them the history of our country and the significance of the fight for freedom? Have we taught them too appreciate what we have gained?

As each generation passes will we, as a people, continue to fight for freedom or will we go the way of other nations that got caught up in some crazy nationalistic fervor without a right perspective on liberty?

Freedom is not free.  Too often freedom is won with blood. The old news of the Revolutionary and Civil Wars should be treated as news hot off the press.  To forget our past is to throw away our future. Today is a great day to have a history minute with our children. Chat, dramatize, and quiz. Have fun with it.

When we show how our past is related to today and beyond, we teach valuable, unforgettable lessons that can have nothing but the most profound effects on our children.

Ricardo

Probably as far back as time itself, social conservatives across the globe have fought to slow the progression of music. Why convert to faster movements when a slow, safer movement will do?

In early 19th Century Europe the popular, safe dance of the time was the minuet. The intricacies of the dance required one to take lessons. We can presume  that the wealthy were better versed in this art. However, considerable scandal arose when the waltz was introduced. This was a much easier dance to learn and much more accessible to what was considered the lower classes in society.

Today we would consider the waltz as tame as a newborn puppy. If the boy next door asked your daughter out to an evening of waltzing at the community center, complete with chaperons, you would hardly have an objection. In 1816 momma might have said, “Not so fast, young lady”. According to CentralHome.com, in regard to the waltz, the London Times published the following on July 16th of that year:

As I reflect on Father’s Day this year, I think of my personal experiences as a dad. I remember those early days before my sons had very many opinions. Those had to have been the best days. Then, whatever I said was true. Bible study and prayer at night was a breeze. If I had taught them that we worshipped a four-headed deity, they would not have blinked an eye. Of course, they would have been the only kids in the neighborhood with that religious view; so eventually I would have had some explaining to do.

Of course, I did not teach them to worship a four-headed deity. I took them on an entirely different journey that required teaching on my part, and their total belief in what I taught them. Traditional religion is great, but if that religion is only a family tradition, then it really is not worth very much. A belief is best when it is personal.

I taught my children other things besides religion. I taught them moral values, respect for women, how to fight, how to ride bicycles, how to paddle a canoe, how to camp, and so much more. I taught reading, math, comprehension, history,  and philosophy. The teaching continues to this day.

The difference now, having 16 and 20 year olds, is that my children are still like sponges, but with age, they have a diminished capacity to sop up water. You see, we consider children sponges. They learn so much of what we teach them. But sponges get old and they begin to fall apart. Not so useful any more. I mean, hey, they still absorb water, but just not as much. So, with kids, it is harder to get the good stuff to soak in.

When my sponges get old, I throw them out and replace them with new ones. It seems that a child replacement program would definitely be appropriate, at times. However, there is no such program, nor would it be the right thing to do. Children, in reality, are not sponges. They are not dead sea animals, or synthetic cleaning pads. They are human beings – tender, with emotions. They experience pain and joy. And often, they spend a significant amount of time in a confused and immobile state.

What my children require of me more than anything, at this point in life, is patience. Lots of patience. They need my patience while the grades are on the roller coaster. They need my patience when their ability to follow instructions is challenged. They need my patience when they just don’t do right.

Transitioning from the early days to the latter days can be problematic. Now if dad says that we follow a four-headed deity there is no instant belief. In actuality, often when the truth is expressed, it is not believed. The disagreeable teenage look is often just a few degrees to the right or left. Never too far away.

As the children learn, so does the dad. I have learned that children are not true replicas of who we are. Expectations must be adjusted even while we hold the line on those things that are most essential. A dad is called upon to be tough, and he must make wise decisions on when to provide an emphatic no. Likewise, he must be ready to listen intently and carefully to that which may sound incomprehensible.  Sometimes the dialogue seems like nonsense.  That can be tough. But like the song says, “I never promised you a rose garden.”

So, the one thing I did not mention is the word love. The word is over-played as some kind of emotional response to outside stimuli. All aspects of patience, teaching, listening, and provisioning are love. If you can manage to put some mushy stuff in there too, all the better. But the mushy stuff by itself is not love. Today is Father’s Day. Today, like every day, my life is not about what I can get from my children, but rather how I can pour everything good about me into them so that they can mature and unselfishly serve others as I have served them. Today is Father’s Day, but so was yesterday, and also tomorrow.

Ricardo

Thump, thump, thump. The music beats.  The lyrics are coarse and pornographic. The sounds are tantalizing. They draw you in. Nothing is left to the imagination. The guy owns the girl and he calls her whatever he wants. She complies and allows her degradation. It is good.

This is the music that is coming from your son’s room. The industry calls it rap or hip hop. You might have some other names for it. You know that the driving beat is moving him along in his task. He is bobbing his head, and dancing some rap moves. A wave of the hand here, a wave of the hand there. Between beats he is folding clothes and getting things tidy – just the way you want.

You debate within yourself. It’s just music. It is contrary to my belief, but none of this is real. He just likes the beat and the sound. It is not affecting him at all.

Meanwhile, as he shuttles the clothes from the basket, to the bed, to the drawer, he hears the lyrics and lives out the music in his mind. He is the rapper. He is having that girl and she is his #*$&@. That’s how I’m gonna do it. When I’m at the club, I’m gonna be the man and the #*$&@s will be at my feet. He sees them dancing just for him. Lights flashing all around.

And when the night is done, the night begins again and carries into the day. It is soaking in, soaking. You, the parent, you decide that the battle is not worth fighting. My son is good, his grades are up and he does what I ask. It’s all good.

Your son matures physically. He looks good. Looks just like dad. The good looking guy that mom fell for is embodied in this boy. The neighborhood girl who has bought into the sexual indecency of the culture becomes the vulture and goes after your sweet kid. Only one thing. He ain’t so sweet any more. The indoctrination of the industry has seeped into his soul. This is the life, he thinks. Living is all about giving into pleasure.

Mom, I got an itch. Baby, what you mean you got an itch? You been playing with poison ivy? No, Mom. I just got an itch. Can you set up an appointment? Where’s the itch? Let me see. Mom, I can’t show you the itch.

The boy’s mind is playing tricks on him. There ain’t no itch. He’s got a case of  “I’m worried”. That kind of worry concentrates on the offending part causing psychological trauma until the doc relieves the mind. Poof! The itch is gone. Next time not so lucky, maybe.

It’s only music. He can handle it. Seep, seep, seep into the mind – one lyric, one beat at a time. Nine months later, you got grand kids and child support payments, and the kid ain’t even yours!

Ricardo

“He is not responsible for his actions, he is only a child.”

“Well, you know, she’s a teenager. You know how it was when you were a teenager.”

“He didn’t know what he was doing. He was drunk. He can’t be held liable if he is drunk.”

“Officer, the brakes quit on me. I mashed down on the pedal and nothing happened. Then, that’s when I rear-ended you.”

One excuse after another. That is how many of us live today. If we are not excusing ourselves, then we are excusing someone else.

Back when my son was four or five years old, my family was invited to a cookout with other families from the church. So there we were with these folks of similar interests, yet we were so very different as families go (in some respects).

My son was playing with other children his age. They all ran around the outside, cutting through the garden of our hostess. It was a nice garden. Having a mom and grandmother that loved gardening, I knew that rule number one was that you don’t trample upon the flower beds.

I called to my son to stop running through the garden. He heard me and slowed down. Next time around, there he was doing the very thing that I had told him not to do. Well, my words had no effect on the little critter, so I stopped him. The experience was not particularly pleasant for the lad. When dad says stop, he means stop.

Shortly thereafter, I received a small lecture from one of the parents, who was of the firm belief that I should have ignored the infraction because all of the other children were running, so my son only got caught up in the moment. Basically, she was saying that my son was not responsible for his actions.

To that response I say “bull hockey”.  I do not know what bull hockey is, but it sounds like the perfect expletive for this dissertation.

When will we hold our children responsible for their actions? Is it when they are six years old or is it when they are 16 years old? Perhaps we should allow them to explore their worlds without parental intervention at all. That must be the answer. Let them figure out what is good and bad for them.

I will not get into the details of my family here, although my life is no big secret. It’s just that there is a time and place for everything.

I will say this: My personal experiences and my personal observations of other families indicate to me that a child that is held responsible turns out to be a much better adult than the one who has complete freedom. Our nation is one of laws and regulations. A child who learns that rules do not matter may eventually face the law. That is to say, he faces the police officer, the sheriff, and the judge.

“Train up a child in the way that he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” That quote can be found in Proverbs 22:6. There must be some truth to that saying. Since the time that a portion of our society decided to modify child training techniques, it seems that much trouble has abounded.

I look at city schools. What a mess. If anyone believes that Baltimore, DC, and Prince Georges County schools are not in constant triage mode, please send me a note. I will recommend a prescription for your malady.

I tell you, the teachers and administrators in Baltimore, DC, and PG are as capable as any in this state. The problem lies at home. The problem lies with unstructured lives, the absence of penalties, and a lack of discipline. Of course, there are exceptions and there are difficult family situations that create almost impossible odds for kids. But, with those exceptions often we still see a lack of responsibility somewhere. Perhaps the tough situation is due to an absentee father or mother, or a single parent situation that was created by design. In that case, one or more of the parents created a mess – whether intentional or unintentional.

As we hold teachers and administrators responsible, we should also hold ourselves and our children responsible on a consistent basis. Only then can we solve many of the social problems we face today.

Ricardo

“Summertime and the living is easy. Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high.” Nice lyrics by George Gershwin. Reminiscing here about a time when that lyrical description is what summer meant to me. Nothing to do all day.  I loved those times. Wasting away watching Fred and Wilmer Flinstone, playing tag for hours on end, and a game or two of kick ball.

No fish or cotton where I am from, but living was easy. Now fast-forward to 2012. I hear the needle of a record scratching. In my head I hear “stop that noise”. Summer is no longer easy for the kids of the academically initiated parents. The future career competition for little Jack and Jill will be fierce in 2032 when little Jack and Jill are all grown up.

My Facebook affiliations indicate to me that many kids are getting  just one day to sleep in – and that’s it. Time to review math and comprehension skills. Hours are planned for the library and other centers of learning.

Jack and Jill are in elementary school, but they have already begun the process of securing scholarships, fellowships, internships, and any other kind of ship that will set their sails towards economic independence. They are studying to win in a competitive world.

John and Cindy will spend the summer figuring out how to forget everything that was learned over the past nine months. When President George Bush created “No Child Left Behind”, well, John and Cindy just weren’t paying attention. They got left behind despite the best efforts of our Government.

How did that happen? All of that money down the drain. Well, the G-Man did not reach out to the parents. Mom and dad set the education agenda – not School Board A or Principal Z.

There is no doubt. Unless John and Cindy are naturally exceptional in their love and pursuit of things academic, they will be left with the lower paying  jobs and living paycheck to paycheck while Jack and Jill, with the encouragement of super motivated parents, head to the front of the class, and the top of the corporate ladder.

The challenge is on – not for the Government, but for the adults in our community that decided to be parents. Where will our children be in 20 years? Where will they be?

Ricardo

Once again, my mind takes me back to childhood. I am not quite sure what memorized phrases we recite to our children these days, but back in time, a child could scarcely get through the week without hearing a quotable.

In reference to a person who talked of spirtual things to a point that the hearer might become sick with nausea, you might over hear an adult say that the overbearing person was “heavenly minded, but no earthly good.”

That annoying, spiritual drone was considered an empty talker – one who would speak of spiritual matters, but hardly ever seemed to demonstrate any godly characteristics, or perhaps one who really did have a love affair with God, but was quite lazy in every other respect of life.

Certainly, such people exist in modern times as well. It may appear on the surface that such a person is indeed “no earthly good.” It may seem that you receive nothing worth while from this apparent empty talker. On most days, this may be the case entirely. There was a song published some years ago with the lyric, “It takes every kind of people to make the world go round.”

Sometimes in life we experience people who serve no good purpose here on earth. Well, it looks that way on the surface. I reject that theory completely. Each person has a unique mission. The person who babbles on about Jesus may be the very person who imprints some spiritual truth upon our minds that helps us in life later.

There are others on earth, who are so overwhelmingly dependent –  either emotionally or physically (or both) that we might wonder about that person’s purpose. That person may be in your life to teach you grace, patience, and humility. Oh, and let’s add charity, which is love.

If our minds are open, there is absolutely no end to what we can learn. None of us is better than the empty talker, the drone, or the dependent fellow. God has knit together a network of people who are no doubt interdependent. Can you imagine what would happen if we all were able to shut down our prejudices and gain the perspective of the creator. Wow! This life would be, well, it would be like heaven! Hmmm! Okay, so that was an un-real nirvana statement, but it was nice to go there for moment.

The most we can do while we travel this planet, is to learn good things, and then practice what we learn as often as we can. We would be at least a smidgen better for it, and the real heaven would be a little happier at the result.

Ricardo