A Brown Girl Gets Some Love!

OPENING COMMERCIAL: THE REAL CANDY GIRLS: 1st Place Latoya 2nd Place Farissa These die hard New Edition fans battled it out with NE trivia. All the candy girls later celebrated with retro New Editions videos provided by Big Nate! Now for our featured presentation.

WOW! That's the closest written expression I could type about the most exciting party I ever hosted. Warm Coffee With a Smile 80s Style beat out Coffee Will Make You Bounce (my birthday party). I Didn't think it could be done. Friends and family made it happen. I even had a surprise guests (Uncle Tyrone and Cousin Karen)

I am truly blessed to have friends and family who care and love me. I miss my mom deeply, but I tell you, her spirit was in all of you who knew her. Thanks for taking care of her baby. Extra special shouts to Candy, my mom's best friend, for making it to the BIG W, despite prior obligations. From Milah (17 year friendship) to Lawrence my most recent friend), you made my home warm with love. Big Ups to the baddest teachers in the world (shouts to my former and current co-workers---I don't want to miss anyone). Huge hugs to GI and GE setting it out in Charles County for a few hours. My Jefferson, Banneker, Hampton, and NGS family---you are my homies for life.

My Uncle Pebbles Aunt Cindy get a big hand clap (missed it in my verbal thanks---charge it to my head and not my heart). They were the first family members I saw from my 13 hour drive from Florida. You've fed me, clothed me, you were the first to come to my book signing last year, sold my first books, let me borrow your children to move, let me cry in the wee hours of the morning---I could go on, but I don't want to forget anything. Just know that I love you guys.

Per the evite, guests chose to have Thanksgiving in September for dinner. Minus the turkey, I decided, with the help of some family and friends, to prepare dinner. I'm usually the one with TupperWare, but thought I'd give you guys a bit of a break.Speaking of the 80s: It was my favorite decade to remember. I felt like an Old Head walking through the stores looking for things to remind us of 80s fun. I will let you guys know that the Dollar Store is your friend.

For Those of you who missed the food and fun, here's a quick recap. To see the pictures more clearly, simply double click on the images.

THE MOON BOUNCE WAS A HIT WITH THE KIDS! Check out the photos.

80s Flavor: What cha'll know about button candy, Dum Dums (now with gum in the middle), bat n balls, sugar daddies, New Edition videos (1983-Present), The Last Dragon and Coming to America Showing on the 27 inch, Atari games in the garage, bubbles, and spaids and monopoly on the patio? Congrats D and Brother Low Key for shutting it down.

MENU (I hope you enjoyed it)

Pot Roast with Carrots
Country Chicken with Gravy
Hot wings
Seafood Salad by special request (Romello)
Homemade cookies
Homemade Lemon Iced Tea (it really had ice chips in too...lol)
Brownies by BrianaString Beans by Treesa and Grandma
Koolaid by Kristen
Pasta Salad by Aunt Cindy
Meatballs by Aunt Judy
Veggie Trays Greg, Tracie and the Jackson Family
Rolls from Toy
Wine from Lawrence, David, and Toussaint

Chairs from Jay and Jay, Greg and Tracie, and Grandma and nem.
The Big Cups provided by Lil Rappin' Tee (HU '98)

BE READY FOR NEXT YEAR'S SHING DING. I'm going to need a committee to pull this one off. Stay tuned for details.

Love ya,
A. Brown Girl Named Coffee

Google Eyes

So...I'm on the computer after getting home from the city (been in Waldorf, MD since June) and I decide to google myself. The result is the picture included in this blog. This was taken on my 25th birthday. Ironically, I was just talking to the person who gave me the cd I'm holding---the soundtrack to The Wiz.


This picture also reminds me of an innocence I once knew. The quarter century mark of my life brought on realities I never knew I'd experience. The quote, "No one is exempt from trouble" rings clearer with each year since I turned 25. At any rate, I am blessed because of the journey.

Big hugs to those who continue along my travels of life. Thank you for sticking through the hard times and celebrating the good times. If I'm still caling you and IMing you at the crack of black in the morning with every emotion possible---then I'm talking to you.

Anywho...

A. Brown Girl

I Didn't Get My Groove On...but...

I had a great time on my island cruise.


JuJu and I made a vow to stay single until after the summer. We promised not to make any commitments until our obligations to the beach have been satisfied. We could not entertain love until the summer skies said goodbye. Well, I cheated. I fell in love...with the roads and the skies. I managed to slip into international waters and played along the rocks of the Bahama shores. I had to get my feet wet and let my toes tell tails of sandy dreamz.

I ate lunch in Fort Lauderdale and waited with Tamu for our escort to drive us to Miami (see my Swagger in M.I.A.). We kissed the air with our happiness as we walked along South Beach. Within 24 hours, we were in a cab with a Cuban. Life never seemed better in comparision to those whose meals are reduced to five pound bags of rice per month. Food stamps are luxuries compared to the rations of the less fortuante. Nonetheless, we enjoyed our brief history lesson in route to the Majesty of the Seas. We were off to the Bahamas for 4 days and 3 nights.

Random thoughts were caught in an early morning moment in Nassau. Enjoy my love for the island air in the Bahamas.

(Nassau, Bahamas – July 2, 2006) Talk about a world being turned three hundred sixty degrees. I visited the beautiful island of Nassau two years ago. When the ship docked on July 1st, it was like a welcome home party. I awoke to the spirits in the Bahama breeze. The waters showered me with love. The key to Nassau awaited my arrival. "What took you so long?" I could hear the coral reef shout. I got so caught up in life that I didn’t think to come back…until this year.

(Coco Cay, Bahamas – July 1, 2006) Tamu and I spent the opening of July in Coco Cay, Bahamas. It’s just a small little island Royal Caribbean capitalized on to make additional money. The straw market and beach are what reside there. I got sucked in. I couldn’t leave my vacation without getting a personalized straw bag. Met some new island gem friends and promoted the book (come on now---had to make my work international. LOL!).

After writing in the sand and collecting seashells, I came upon a family from St. Petersburg, Florida. Thirteen family members vacationed together. As God would have it, Tamu and I met two of them the night prior at Karaoke (I attempted to sing a Lauren Hill diddy---You’re just to good to be true. See the pic and imagine). Turns out, the guy was a member of a popular band in Central Florida called Bus Stop. How cool!
Just behind the Sanders/Jenkins family was a group from Columbia (I still didn’t buy that learn to speak Spanish book). So, I seized the moment to create a story and whipped out my digital recorder (BAM!) and started interviewing.

Of all the animal life I expected to see in the Bahamas (exotic fish swimming to shore, iguanas, seagulls, even a barracuda), a rooster was not on my list. I was totally freaked out. I had to take a picture for you guys. It was a bold little thing. It even flexed its feathers. I don’t know what its problem was, but I sure nuff left it be. Hmmph, I wasn’t the one who cooked its hen.

THANKS FOR MAKING ME FEEL WELCOMED, GUYS

HA! One of the last conversations I had on my cell in the states warned me against Dexter St. Jacques (Eddie Murphy Raw reference for the younglings out there). Caribbean men are something kinda fresh. The first time I ever visited the Bahamas (1991), I was told Knocked Kneed Girls are Sexy. There was even a song about it. Never heard the melody, but I internalized the message and never felt bad about my walk since then.

More than 10 years later, although I’m a little healthier (lol), the whole sexy thing stands. “OOOH, you are so beautiful. You look so sexy!” I’m cracking up on the inside because I’m sure I was one of a fistful of women who received this same greeting. A great self-esteem booster, but genuine…not until you get to know me. “I want someone to arouse my intellect as well as my loins---” then we can talk sexy. For the fun of it, I took pics with and of my favorite Caribbean men I happened upon on my journey. Shouts to Tyrone (Bahamas), Doney (Trinadad and Tobago…GO SOCCER CHAMPS), and Odalis (Dominican Republic). David Smith (Costa Rica)---he kept our stateroom clean and made our towel into a sunglass wearing elephant (oo-oop my sorors).

THE FOOD

I’ve been eating food for a very long time! I DON’T WANT ANYMORE. Yeah right! Who am I kidding. I am so inspired, here’s a poem:

Food! Food! All Around!
I tried to escape, but to my left I found
Catfish, Scallops, and Lobster Bisque
Filet Mignon, salmon as a side dish
Cheesecake, chocolate mousse, and icecream galore
Pizza at midnight, sandwiches but wait, there’s more!
BBQ ribs, Burgers, and Fries
French Toast for Breakfast what a surprise
All kinds of fruit and unlimited juice
I try to hold back, but I paid for it, whoo!
I took a nap to get ready for round four
When I awoke there was even more
Tacos and rice, shrimp on ice
I picked up one and went back twice
Food! Food! Everywhere!
Now my mini Buda, has to take the stairs.

VIVA LA IMMIGRATION!
This is my position on immigration! I love the freedom of America. I love the opportunities afforded to me. HOWEVER, we are some boring people! I’m saying, if you’re paying anywhere from $500 to over $1,000 for a vacation (not including souvenirs and such), you’d better make some noise and let that pressure out. Shake your booty or something.

KAREOKE NIGHT: We had to force the crowd to just clap. Now, I don’t think the social event was really created for the Next American Idol. Drunk folks just want to have fun while they are “Feeling Good.” For Pete’s sake, clap, cheer, throw a penny up there or something. Performing in front of a crowd is not easy.

DANCING UNDER THE STARS: I was one of few Americans in the Congo line, doing the line dances, and throwing up my hands upon request. My fellow Americans, booed up or otherwise, stood on the side lines looking. The very hot crew member with the flawless vanilla ice cream skin (see pic), said it best: You are around people who don’t know you and won’t care what you do. Those who do know you…don’t worry about them. Have some fun! SCREAAAAAAAAAM!

It’s starting to rain now. I’m going to end on that note and fill you in on my Sunday morning sunrise into Nassau and my Sunday night sunset back to the states.

Feeling Irie,
A. Brown Girl


(At Sea – July 2, 2006) Tamu and I were separated by time and space for a brief spell. We both had the same ingenious idea to get off the ship and shop the straw market. It was shortly after I said, “I shall not. I shall not be moved,” in the craft area of the New Providence dock that Mawiyah appeared. We didn’t want to explore the island alone. There is safety in numbers. So, I thank God for patience.

ATLANTIS! Ah! Everything Oprah said about it is true. Although this was my second visit to the resort, it was the first I went in the daytime. Tamu and were constantly asked, “Can I see your room key or bracelet please.” For lack of a better phrase, we were trespassing the grounds of Atlantis. We were honest with staff members who asked us. We just wanted to see some of the hot spots like the turtle pond. BEAUTIFUL! The caves with underwater treats. Imagine HUUUUUUGE fish tanks in the wall. They were massive.

Atlantis is its own city. They even had a complimentary movie theater for guest. You won’t believe what was showing during the matinee. Give up? Madea’s Family Reunion. We took a picture of the marquee. It was insane. Oooh! Ooh! Let us not forget to mention that we can confirm that Lynn Whitfield’s character in A Thin Line Between Love and Hate was not tripping over her Lilique for nothing. There is a Lilique or as Martin Lawrence’s character called it, a Malik (LOL) store inside Atlantis. Don’t go in there with your food stamps. A crystal water goblet was ONE HUNDRED THIRTY DOLLARS. There were some really nice pieces in the store. However…do I really need to finish? Okay, let’s move on.

FOR LADIES ONLY…

King Poseidon was FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE! You’ll have to see the pics to see what I mean. He was kind enough to hold still for our picture taking pleasures!

OKAY: It’s an ALL SKATE NOW (lol)!

It was time for lunch, but I was also concerned about not having made it to the beach. I couldn’t leave Nassau without getting my feet wet. That was a no no. Mawiyah was kind of enough to go along and pay for yet another taxi. I’m not a fish, but I swear with all the food I’d been eating, I was a floating sea creature (GOTTA GET RID OF THESE POUNDS…burp!). I had to swim in the ocean to connect with my mom whose remains were buried at sea just a year prior! SHOUTS OUT TO MY “PRETTY GIRL MOMMY!”

A PERSONAL MOMENT

Tamu and I ran into some familiar faces throughout our travels in Nassau. I was on a search for a friend I met two years ago. We lost touch. I’m sort of sad that we did. It was after my failed attempts to reach out to him that I realized the reason God allowed us to meet. The one thing I learned from him I never forgot.

The lead seaman asked, “How do you know someone loves you?” I was without an answer. Being a writer, I tried to come up with some clever answer that never left my mouth so I was honest and asked, “How?” His response was simple…sacrifice. With that said, not seeing him was not a lost. He left me with a world of appreciation for that small bit of advice that was given to me after he found out mom had cancer.

LET’S Go To Church

The sky has parted where in the west, the sun was setting with hues of purples and pinks. In the east, the moon was a crescent. As I look up at this very moment, I am surrounded by a backdrop of black. God’s blanket. So, I spoke to him while under his coverings.

I prayed.

I prayed and gave thanks. I gave thanks for have a discerning spirit. I don’t always heed to it, but it certainly gives me clues on what to do with my chess pieces of life. How I move them is on me. It seems God has given me more than enough pawns to protect His kingdom. I’ve had my queen taken and returned…taken and returned…taken and returned. For the return of the queen alone, I say thank you.

I prayed.

I prayed on behalf of myself and friends and family who are fighting demons daily. It is not a wonder we have so much pain in the world. God is just waiting for all of us to submit. It is freedom. God is freedom. There are circumstances we can’t solve on our own. I thank God that He’s God all by Himself and that I don’t have to do His job.

I prayed.

I prayed to be more equipped with the Word to fight the new battles that are coming my way. I have seen the demons that once attacked me and faced them with my new found strength. However, the war has been waged against those who love the Lord. As I conclude with waters crashing in the background, I charge each of you reading this traveling letter to be ready. Be ready to fight…when your day of battle comes.

Your job, is your daily assignment, but even warriors need rest. Take a vacation and renew your strength! God’s blessings to you!

Feeling Blessed,
A. Brown Girl

A. Brown Girl’s "Swagger" in M.I.A.: A 24 Hour Trip

I sure thought I’d be missing in action the moment I stepped off the plane. Miami has been one of the most talked about vacation spots among my peers---male and female. In 2002, I had a discussion with co-workers about my lack of experience with “Girl Trips,” and they cautioned me to have one before I got married. (Bruhs Joe and Regg).

Here I am, four years later celebrating Girl Trip ’06…the third since 2004. Regardless if I’m married or not, it’s necessary---a rejuvenation if you will. Now that you’ve read my soliloquies, let me get to the nitty gritty…and the bottom of my feet are quite gritty from the sand.

(Miami, Florida – June 29, 2006) The forecast called for rain throughout the country. Homes were flooded in D.C. while I packed for a twenty-four hour layover in Miami, Florida in route to a cruise to the Bahamas. My linesister, Tamu, are escaping from 9 months of labor...in the education industry. We made plans with intentions of having a hellava summer break.

“If you don’t love Miami and want to extend your stay, you’ll need to do some introspective thinking ‘cause something is wrong with you,” my Miami informant, Toussaint personified, charged. In fact, the title was totally inspired by him. THANKS!

Aside from the great weather, walking up to where the waters meet the sand was an anticlimactic experience. It is the only place I’ve visited where segregation of color does not need legislation. Sandy brown and aqua blue are simply separated until the shift of the currents bring them together. The union of water and sand is greeted with an ocean's applause. Splash! Splash! Waters crashing and drowning my thoughts Miami consumed me while doing a Freestyle on my mind (http://www.coffeedreamz.com/poetry.htm). Those waves are the hem of Jesus's garment 'cause I felt I was made whole right then and there. The water's touched me (shout out to Ideana).

Once I had my hair colored, I jokingly claimed to be Cuban. The bronze highlights were a perfect contrast to my red, cocoa skin tone. Walking down Washington Avenue, a kind man shared a smile with me. I returned the gesture but quickened my pace no sooner than he started speaking Spanish. It was time to invest in that Learn to Speak Spanish in Ten Days cd.

Since space and your time won't permit, enjoy my top ten interesting things in South Beach:

10. The man at the bus stop who insisted that Tamu was Halle Barry (On our night walk on South Beach).

9. The teenagers in front of Lincoln Theater attempting to break dance for compensation. The audience was there, but we'd rather they rehearse in their Mama's basement instead of in front of us. SHOUT OUT TO THE KIDS WHO ROCKED in the 80s and tore up the cardboard or linoleum slab with your moves!

8. The greatest invention ever is the the cyber cafe. ONE ON EACH CORNER. Thanks Peter.

7. Gino's pizza. A taste of NYC was on Washington Avenue.

6. Me holding a snake that "appeared on National Geographic," according to the owner who suggested I pay him $5 to hold his pet. I did. Hey, you only live once. I'm not going to knock the man's hustle. He's trying to stay out of 9 to 5. Who can blame him? MIAMI IS BEAUTIFUL!

5. Parking meters can now be paid with credit cards. Saw this in Ocean City and Orlando, Florida. This might be a nation-wide phenomenon. So, be on the look out.

4. The man at the bus stop continues to insist that Tamu is Halle Barry (This is on the return trip to the hotel). I'm starting to think he lives there.

3. PARENTAL ADVISORY SUGGESTED: A souvenir shop sold a 1 inch penis that can grow 600% it's size (COVERING MOUTH). I was just trying to buy a hat for the captain's dinner on the ship. Honest...and there it was on the counter.

2. McDonald's has a walk up window.

1. The same McDonald's also had two patrons, in the open, setting up shop...a hair braiding shop. The braider smiled at us as if this was something normal.

LOVING THIS CITY and I can't wait to come back.

Until July...I'm on a Miami High!

Sincerely,
A. Brown Girl

Packing Light!

by A. Brown Girl copyright (c) 2006

The buttermilk biscuits and brown sugar bacon are swimming in the orange juice that lines my tummy. Mmm Mmmm. What a way to spend my last Sunday in my cozy, two bedroom, one bath berber carpeted haven. I truly am a city girl with country roots.

Living just inches away from the Stanton Dwelling projects in D.C. (now Henson Ridge townhome community) where this knock-kneed, pigeoned-toed brown girl used to play was a great homecoming. I moved to Florida for 9 months and returned after the passing of my mom. The city has changed. The people in it...lol that's another story. Well, if you count the white man walking his dog at 6am in what used to be "THE HOOD..." then some of the people have changed.

As I prepare for my next traveling escapades, I decided to buy a house in the suburbs. I needed a place for the things I collected along the way. Sistah Badu never said it more clearly. "Pack Light!" Going on the eleventh move of my 30 years, I tried to be efficient. So, when I moved some of my things from Florida, I kept them in boxes and containers. I knew my time in the quaint apartment nestled in a secret location in S.E. Washington, D.C. was going to be short-lived. So I didn't unpack.

Even though I had an unexpected mouse to move in with the temporary furniture I bought, and a squirrel or bird (don't know which...it just kept scratching) lived just above my ceiling---later to be eaten by a litter of cats who purr through the morning, I am going to miss my neighborhood.

I say goodbye to my banking representative (shout out to Raymond) and that one employee at Safeway who didn't turn me in for accidently leaving with a bouquet of flowers (I forgot to pay...I was rushing from the teller window to head to church...LAWD FORGIVE ME). I say goodbye to the neighbor who called the cops on me because I still had out of state tags and so did everyone who visited me had tags from major drug trafficking states (NY, NJ, FL). Thank God I wasn't slanging anything but books (GEESH). BUT BEFORE I GO...here are my top ten reasons I'm going to miss living in urban America:

10. You can't get a better fish sandwich than in the hood.
9. "My people" will throw a bbq with or without a yard...side walk, in front of the apartment building, outta the back of Ray Ray's Tracker .
8. You will always have somebody to carry your groceries, cut your grass, take out your trash, or pump your gas (of course you'll need a few singles on hand).
7. You never have to wait for DVD Tuesdays for new releases.
6. There is always a dog show (mostly pits and rotties).
5. If you're in good with the neighborhood corner boys, you won't lose sleep if you find you forgot to put the club on your car.
4. You won't go hungry 'cause someone, at any given time, is selling chicken/fish dinners complete with greens, mac and cheese, potato salad and a roll (the tea is extra...$0.25 more, Shugga).
3. There's always a sale with Hustle Man .
2. The best financial advice comes from the lady using food stamps. She can stretch a stamp and make real cash off those fish dinners.
1. You will always be near someone willing to lend you a cup of sugar, flour, or a couple of slices of bread without your pride being hurt.

Southern, MD, here I come...but my heart rests in the city.

Komplex Feeds the Hungry

By Yolonda D. Coleman
Author of Sugar Rush: Love’s Liberation (www.amazon.com keyword LOVELLA)
& Content Producer for www.associatedcontent.com

The hungry aren’t always homeless. There are people in this world who are starving and never discover it until the food is brought before them. Hip Hop artist and poet Komplex or JustKom as his title release reads, fed his audience with knowledge to increase respect for God, self, and one another during the seventh annual Harlem Renaissance Festival on May 6, 2006 in Landover, MD.

93.9 felt like the temperature on the grounds of the Kentland Community Center. Instead, it was the main stage sponsored by 93.9 Kiss FM where Komplex performed Heaven In View, a tribute to a woman who suffered from HIV, the virus that causes AIDS. The audience grew in numbers when they realized as simple and calm as his name sounds, Kom did not spit simple rhymes.

While vendors sold books, cosmetics, and politics, Mr. Keep On Moving captured the attention of those who licked their fingers from afternoon snacks to participate in a series of call and response. Kom celebrated the present while paying homage to the root of his culture. With the Nu Soul band playing in the background, hands waved from side to side, heads bobbed to the heartbeat of the band, and choirs formed.

After serving poetry al a carte during his set, fans lined up to buy their copy of JustKom. For more information on Komplex, please visit www.komplexonline.com.

Benjamin Banneker High School Contest

ARE YOU A WRITER?
LET’S GET YOU PUBLISHED IN THE
ANNIVERSARY EDITION
OF

SUGAR RUSH: LOVE’S LIBERATION
By Banneker Alumna Yolonda D. Coleman (c/o 1994)

WHO: Banneker Students 2006-2007

(You’re still eligible after graduation).

WHAT:

Get published and win $100

WHEN: Email Submissions by

Saturday, June 10, 2006

WHERE: Sugar Rush: Love’s Liberation is available at Howard University Book Store ISBN: 1419603647

HOW: Read Sugar Rush: Love’s Liberation and create a character analysis and study guide for book clubs and young readers.

Send Submissions to Author Yolonda D. Coleman at coffeedreamz38@aol.com with your name, grade, and English teacher at Benjamin Banneker by Saturday, June 10, 2006.

The Winner will be announced on Coffeedreamz.com on July 4, 2006.

It's still an NE HEARTBREAK!

(Washington, D.C. 2006) --FORGET WHAT YOU HEARD...wait a minute...there is nothing that can be said that would discredit the baddest boy group of my time. New Edition remains together even when they are apart. We'll touch on that subject later.

1983 was the beginning of my love for the Boston Orchard Park basketballers turned singing group. While my mother nursed my leg from an alley accident, I heard the classic sound of percussions coming from the family boom box. I didn't know what a Candy Girl was, but I was going to be one. I knew that one day, I would grow up and be Mrs. Candy Girl DeVoe (too bad someone else is beating me to the punch). That's okay, I still love you Ronnie.

At 30, I'm living by the motto Innocence is Bliss. Even in my slumber, I remain happy. However, nothing made me happier when I saw the text message from a 516 area code (it was my line sister in NYC) reading "I bo at the new edition concert" That's fanatic language for "I'm at the New Edition concert." When you're jumping up and down, screaming out names and I LOVE YOU RALPH...all grammar goes out the window. As she had a chance to see them two days prior to the D.C. show, my bunny ears were wide awake waiting for the next text.

"THEY STILL HAVE IT."

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, they do. Precision is something they do not lack. Being able to dance and sing better than the albumns (yes, I said albumns 45s and 33s---don't play) is something worth seeing and hearing.

Because work calls, you will have to stay tuned for details: Wardrobe by both New Edition and their fans (good grief), the special surprises (stop trying to guess, I promise to tell you after I teach my chiren), and street vendors...ALL IN THE NAME OF NE...heartbreak. In the meantime, feel free to read some of my other adventures.

"ONE LOVE" (pun intended)! -A. Brown Girl, Traveling Letters From A. Brown Girl

The fight...It's a Mike Tyson Round...short

So...I'm driving passed the Metro bus stop (D.C.) and I see a brutha struggling. The fight to keep his destiny in mind without exposing himself.

My eyes struggle to make the image disappear to no avail. An advocate for the black male, I always want to be a source of support. I'm saddened by the site and I want to help.

I slow down. He's still stuggling with his right hand and pulls with his left. It's a tug of war to maintain his dignity. Red light. I stop.

After a few more attempts, the brutha decides it's best to scoff down the carry out delight (chicken and fries) than to continue the fight...to pull up his pants. Three layers later, I see his moon and I'm the one cracking up.

Still traveling,
A. Brown Girl

Come Home Brother

The Coffeedreamz Experience
Presents

Come Home Brother
Copyright 2005 © by Yolonda “Coffeedreamz” Coleman
Author of Sugar Rush: Love’s Liberation www.coffeedreamz.com



DISCLAIMER: COMMENTARY EXPRESSED IN THIS LETTER ARE IN NO WAY TO OFFEND BUT TO BRING A NEW PERSPECTIVE ON THE STATE OF AFFAIRS OF THE AFRICAN AMERICAN MAN AND WOMAN.

(Hartsfield-Jackson Airport -2005) I met a straight-laced cat while waiting in line for my breakfast at the airport in Atlanta, Georgia. My heart skipped two beats when my eyes read his black t-shirt with the words that read, Virginia is for hustlers. A thinker beyond the surface, I squinted my eye at the t-shirt wearer and tried to decipher the intent of the message.

“You have something to say?” he asked me in a serious, yet non-confrontational tone.

“Virginia is for lovers, not hustlers...unless it’s a marketing technique or you’re a hustler in that you work hard.”

“It’s controversy.”

“It’s sparks conversation,” I replied.

“Exactly!”

“A. Brown Girl.” I extended my hand.

“A. Brown Boy.”

“It’s nice to know someone thinks outside the box.”

“Is there any other way to think?” I hand him a business card. He returns the gesture. He’s in the fashion design industry. His meal ticket number is called, and I wait in line until my bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich is ready.

Proud that I could actually hold a conversation since waking up at the crack of black in the morning (4:45am), I retrieve my order and find a seat near a window. I take out my laptop to begin sharing my thoughts with the keys. Before I know it, A. Brown Boy comes over with his food.

“Why don’t you join me?” I was being facetious as he had already placed his things on the table.
We begin to talk on levels of consciousness neither of us ever expected in an airport terminal. He was Gerald A. Washington in Sugar Rush: Love’s Liberation, a WPWF (Working Professional Without a Family). He was also ambitious, doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, and is a believer in Christ. He calls himself, A Good Brother. I agreed, whole-heartedly. I looked at him with eyes of bewilderment. Where in the hell have you been and where are the others hiding?

“Can I ask you a question?” he shoots from his full lips covering the pearly whites.

“Ask away,” I said.

“Do you think we’re in trouble…I I I mean the black man and black woman?”

That was a loaded question. I was more than prepared to answer, but we both had flights to catch. The abridged response was no. I told him I considered launching a campaign called, Come Home Brother.

As progressive as we are in the twenty-first century, we still have concerns to be addressed as people of color. The Thirteenth Amendment abolished physical slavery, however, I have to agree with a term my classmate in high school dropped in the early 90s. K.O. said that we are still psychologically enslaved. The more I travel and converse with my contemporaries as well as the elders in our community, we have yet to get out of the slave mentality.

Freedom has been afforded to us but 1. we don’t take advantage of it or 2. We wait for someone to validate our ability to exist in parts of society we deem acceptable only for a certain kind of people. The latter is found in people who only travel if the job permits. They merge and connect with people who have the available funds/social standing to say, It’s okay to cross the line and enjoy the rest of the world. It saddens me that we now have to act accordingly to validate our worth to each other.

He continues, “We are so angry with each other.”

“I agree. We’re mad at the brothers for abandoning us and our children. The brothers are mad at us because they regard our aggression as unsupportive nagging.”

Sistahs, get real. We are angry. We’re still angry from all that we had to endure since we could call ourselves American. We were raped and our men weren’t able to protect us. We were used to nurse and rear other people’s children while we stood by and watched our lifelines being sold off, beaten, and killed. All the while still praying for God’s grace to continue to cover us. Our souls are still tired from the past that has never truly been reconciled. The Civil War is not over. Too many matters are left unresolved.

Bruthas, you work hard and all you want is a meal and some lovin’. Instead, you have become victims of the woman who you decide to call sister, lover, and friend. After, working, cleaning, cooking, caring for our children (whether as surrogates or biological), and still try to find time to make love to your mind, body, and soul, we’re pooped. However, we don’t have any room to show weakness to maintain the Strong Black Woman (SBW) image you’ve come to both love and hate. Don’t give up on us. Sometimes, we really just need a hug and for you to let us cry years of tears. As my friend Spiritual Brown notes, we’re challenging you not nagging you. Despite what you think, deep down inside we know your worth. Its value has just been vaulted while accruing interest. We’re slowly coming around.

Giving up on us creates a gap. In that gap are the children who suffer because they don’t know what functional relationships look like in our community. The true kings and queens of the earth have left the palace unattended and cold. Our children are lost and are left with pop culture to show them substandard versions of who they truly are: princes and princesses. There are plenty of jesters running around as false representatives of the kingdom. We haven’t mended the family within the court, but created franchised lives built on false hope that life is better without each other.


We really do love you brother. Come home brother, even if just for a minute to sort things out. The collard greens, macaroni and cheese, smoked turkey, sweet potato pie, and iced tea are on the table brothers. The aroma was created with you in mind. Let’s have a meal and fill in the gap. We can work from the inside out even if  you're outsourcing your resources. Your future depends on you.

Always,
A. Brown Girl

29 Miles to Empty in a Nice Dress

From Traveling Letters by A. Brown Girl
Copyright (c) 2005 Yolonda "Coffeedreamz" Coleman

It was summer. The heat scorched the pavement on Annapolis Road and probably dried up my gas tank since I was confident I filled it up a moon’s light ago. Keith, a former classmate, had some car trouble and needed me to give him a ride. I obliged and hooked a U to head in the opposite direction. Bing! Bing! Bing! The gas alert sang its usual song. I was unemployed at the time and had to make a decision. Food or gas? I chose the latter only because Keith needed me. So, I make a stop at the friendly neighborhood gas thief...I mean gas station to ensure a safe arrival.

I rush to put the car in park and run inside to put “twenty on it.” I had a wedgie and tried to be discreet by twisting my hips and cheeks really hard to bring relief to my backside. There were people around. I thought it would be a little rude to walk with my hand up my rear in my Sunday's best. I reached the attendant area with a huge smile because I’m wedgie free.

“Nice dress,” the gas attendant compliments me in an East Afrikan accent. “Are you married?” One eye brow rises while the other slouches down with concern. That question came out of his underarm. He anxiously awaits my answer.

“No. I’m not. Twenty on 3, please.” I commence to walk toward the door, but another question shoots me in the back of my head like a rock.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.” I’m but a second from touching the door handle.

“And you’re not married?” The audience in my head is laughing hysterically and I suddenly felt like I missed the bus because I didn’t have a husband. He then follows up with, “I can’t believe someone as beautiful as you is not married. No boyfriend?”

I was five seconds shy of twisting my neck and shaking my finger in his face. This conversation was the only thing standing in the way of him turning on pump number three. Keith was waiting, but I didn’t have any gas. The other alternative was to ride on E until I found another service station. That was not a likely option seeing that the little orange oil can had been dancing since the day before. I decided to be cool. .

“Nope.” I hurry my steps only to be shot in the back with more conversation about my current single situation.

“I don’t understand, you’re just so beautiful. Well look, I’m married,” he begins by showing me his wedding band, “but my wife’s immigration papers may take four years.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that.” My hand is on the door handle.

“Hey, wait, can you come back and speak to me after you finish pumping your gas?”

“Sir, I really have to…”

“Listen, if you give me your heart…”

WHAT? Give him my what? Is he getting ready to proposition me? I block out the full sentences he struggles through because of nervousness and the sound of breaks screeching on both sides of my brain. I do, however, manage to hear, “wife…four years…wife…you…wife…me…” The rest was blah blah blah.

In a nutshell, Mr. Attendant was asking me to have an affair with him. He was asking for my heart? It’s not like he dropped a leather brief case down full of 100s and a slimline cocktail dress with a reservation for two at the Taj Mahal (not that I'd take it 'cause that is not of God...AMEN?). Here I am in good ole PG County Maryland at a gas station talking to a man with dirty nails, a wife, and an offer to be his concubine at the expense of one of my most valuable possessions, my heart.

“Are you serious?”

“Look, let me give you my number.”

“I have to run.”

I hurry to pump my gas. I thought the twenty would fill it up. Wrong. I have to go back in. Yeah, I know you’re’asking. Why don’t you pick up Keith and get gas later? You’re right. I just thought I could make it quick with money in hand and dip (still naive at 29).

“Here, you’re going to call me, right?” Mr. Attendant drops a receipt on the counter with his name and telephone number. Ahmed Abdulrajim AkbahBin Laden.

“God isn’t going to like this. I’m sorry, but…”

“No, listen.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” I’m trying to be as nice as I can. What I want to say is, Dude, you’re crazy. Exercise self-control and wack off until your wife gets her papers. My cookies aren’t for lease.”

I drop a $5 bill on the counter and head toward the door. There is a gentleman on the other side with a plastered smile. He is chivalrous and allows me to pass through the Plexiglas first.

“Nice dress,” he comments. As I’m walking away I feel the heat on my backside. It wasn’t the sun but two sets of eyes burning through my dress, global warming had begun. An Afrikan and an American with blazing eyes on my hemisphere.

I think I’m home free until I notice Ahmed is busy with the new customer. I then hear the door swing open. Ahmed is running to catch me.

“Call me, okay,” he has made his intentions public. I get in the car. I drive off with no response. I can never go to that station again.

Time was ticking and Keith was waiting. I called his cell. When I turned the corner into the neighborhood where he was stranded, Keith had already begun his sojourn toward the main street. He answers as I drive beside him.

“Hi Keith. Sorry I took so long.”

“It’s okay, I was trying to make it to the store. Turns out I just need a battery.”

“I guess I came just in time.” We hang up our phones and I open the door to let Keith in the car. He sits in the passenger seat and reaches to hug me with the emergency break between us.

“Good to see you,” I said.

“You too, Brown.” He points. Nice dress. Sigh!

Gobble! Gobble!

Washington Metro Area--- “IIIIII FEEEEEEEEL SO ALIVE! IIIIIIIII’M Satisfie-eide-eeide! OUTSTANDING!”

Thanksgiving 2005 was the best gathering since I was knee-high to a grasshopper (my mom taught me that term). It was the first time that everyone in my family was happy and gathered on an occasion with 100 percent holiday cheer. It was something out a movie or an ABC Sunday special.

The Coleman Family brought new meaning to SOUL FOOD. We were fed spiritually, emotionally, and literally. I almost felt guilty eating all that food without a cover charge. Nevertheless, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, nieces, nephews, mothers, fathers, and children smiled with only one care in mind…that we all remained happy. Thanksgiving.