Thomas Estes introduces you to Omar

Martha note:  Hilary White Holladay, who teaches African American Literature at James Madison University, had what I thought was a great idea. She suggested that the last two Civic Soapboxes of Black History Month feature two of her students reading poems that are meaningful to them. Here is poem #2, offered to honor all the contributions of persons of color to our nation's history. 

The introduction is transcribed from a conversation I had with Thomas about his chosen poem. To listen to this conversation and to Thomas reading "Freedom Candy," click here.

My names is Thomas Estes. In my English 362 class, African American Poets, I was assigned E. Ethelbert Miller. So I was just reading it one day, and I liked it, and the next day someone said, hey, you want to read something on the air? And I said you know what? I know just what I'm going to read. I've read it all ready. And it's the perfect poem. 

I like it because in this book, How We Sleep on Nights We Don't Make Love, E. Ethelbert Miller created this character Omar. There's 6 consecutive poems about Omar. And this is the first one. And I read it. And I really liked the part where he said, "you know we should tell Mrs. Greenfield about herself  since it's Black History Month." I was like, yeah! 

I guess I was kinda like that person in school. Always  rebellious. I read this poem and felt the energy from it. 

I am close to being Omar. I laugh all the time. I could say I am Omar

E. Ethelbert Miller

Freedom Candy
        by E.Ethelbert Miller 

What kind of name is Omar
I asked this new boy at school.
You named after a candy bar or what?
You know you’re too light to be milk chocolate. 

Omar looked at me and laughed.
Since that first smile, he’s my best friend.
Maybe my best friend ever.
Folks call us the Inseperables
Like one of those old singing groups my daddy is always talking about. 

Omar’s a Muslim name, Omar tells me.
I think it sounds like a candy bar.
Like O’Henry. Baby Ruth. Mars. Or Almond Joy.
Maybe his mamma should have named him Snickers ’cause of the way he laughs. 

Omar’s name sounds like candy.
And the way he acts is sweet to me.
Every teacher except Mrs. Greenfield thinks so.
Mrs. Greenfield, she don’t like Muslims.
And the rest of us she calls natural born sinners cause of the way we talk and behave. 

Omar says, we should tell Mz. Greenfield about herself since it’s Black History Month.
So Omar stands up and says to Mrs. Greenfield,
How come you don’t lead us somewhere?
How come you’re not like Harriet Tubman?.
Why no field trips? Why no trips to the museum or zoo?
Why we never go nowhere?
Why? 

Mrs. Greenfield, she don’t say nothing.
She just looks at Omar as if he is the last Muslim on earth and is about to die.
I think about how Omar says, Muslims pray five times a day.
And how cats have nine lives.
And just maybe Omar might make it to three o’clock.
Or maybe he won’t. 

Suddenly Mrs. Greenfield has one of those fainting spells
Like old Moses Tubman.
She has to sit down behind her desk,
So she tells me to go get her some water. 

I feel free as I race down the hall,
Wondering how Omar can be sweet sometime,
And get on everyone’s nerve the next. 

My daddy once told me M & M’s melt in your mouth
And your hands.
Especially if you’re colored.
Wait until I tell Omar.

 --Thomas Estes is from Washington D.C. He’s a junior, studying English, at James Madison University.

Calling all short, short story entrants and Civic Soapboxers . . .

Since writing is inherently solitary, should we all try to get together sometime?

Here's why I'm asking this right now. . .

Frankly, those of us who work at the station were overwhelmed by the number of entries into the Scott Simon-judged short, short story contest.

As the contest organizer and manuscript handler, I happily spent this last weekend reading through the scores of submissions. I say "happily," because they were universally readable and well-written. It reinforced a belief I've long held from editing the Civic Soapbox: Writers in WMRA Land are legion.

This led to an idea. Before I broach it, however, I need to give you a little background.

Personal confession: I love to lunch. And dine, as well.

Why? Well, there's food involved; but, more importantly, I have my best and most interesting conversations over shared meals. There's something about breaking bread with other people that turns chit-chat into real conversation.

 I've had the pleasure of lunching with a lot of  you who write -- both for pleasure and for paychecks. And I've  never talked with a WMRA writer without wishing I could introduce her, or him, to the other writers in the WMRA Community.

So, here's my idea! I want to convene a WMRA writers' meal -- at a time and place most convenient to most of you. If we can't find a central place to convene, perhaps we could hold more than one.

But, first I need to know whether or not you, if you write--fiction, or non-fiction, for the Civic Soapbox or for Scott Simon, for a living or for your own amusement--would you enjoy getting together somewhere (probably after work for an early dinner) with me and other writers to eat and talk.

You can let me know if this interests you by posting a comment on this blog or on Facebook. Also, please send this blog around to anyone you think might be interested who might not see it otherwise.

I'm convinced we'd have a high old time. And, a great deal to say to each other.

Your thoughts?

Black Holes, Wyclef Jean and American Politics by Diane Farineau

 Martha note: It's Civic Soapbox Friday on the blog . . .

Cygnus X-1 is a black hole, discovered the year before I was born in 1964. Anything that goes into a black hole stays there, never to be seen again. Kind of like my daughter's closet, or our garage, or my paycheck, which totally seems to evaporate the minute it hits my checking account.

I love astronomy and began college with the intention of obtaining a physics major. Until I took a physics course and realized that I was way out of my league. I resorted to a degree in politics instead, which is a black hole of a completely different nature.

Last night my son was talking about Wyclef Jean's run for the Haitian presidency. "The thing in his favor" parroted my son "is that he isn't a politician!" "Really?” I asked, “what's so bad about being a politician?" When he couldn’t tell me, it got me thinking about what, exactly, politics really is (are?) One of Webster’s many definitions calls it "the total complex of relations between people living in a society."

So, really, on one level, we are all politicians in our own lives. Everyone has an agenda, and the ability to make decisions and affect the outcome of any situation. The ability to say “yes” or “no” gives each of us some power. My son has a political stake, for example, in family decisions. He is a one man special interest group and lobbies hard to get what he wants.

I worked in organized politics in DC, which was both exciting and exhausting. After ten years I retreated to a small corner of my home town to regroup and start a family. I have recently rediscovered the joys of political involvement at a very small, local level. In technically applying Webster’s definition, everything I do, from joining my PTA to writing a letter to my editor about a new bypass, is political.

I explained my perspective to my son. He doesn’t have to march on Washington, though I encouraged him to do so, and he doesn’t ever have to run for president of a Caribbean nation. What’s important is that he gets and stays engaged in the issues that affect his life. I want him to learn how to successfully navigate his own social solar system.

I wish more people would recognize their inner politicians and get involved in creating solutions to the problems that surround us all. Let's escape the gravitational pull of our own apathy and use our power to discuss challenges and create change. You don't have to be a rock start or an astrophysicist. You just have to have a little passion about something.

                      --Diane Farineau is a writer living in Charlottesville.

It's 7:30 in the morning . . .

. . . and I am getting ready to drive to Staunton. Big WMRA community doings (fingers crossed, pleased) hopefully in the works.

But no early morning take-off is going to stop WMRA's maniacal blogger! Just, perhaps, tempt her to blog quickly by borrowing heavily.

But first, one note of business, or "bidness," as Flannery O'Connor refers to it in Sally Fitzgerald's fine collection of her letters, The Habit of Being (which, incidentally, is the one book I'd want with me if I were stuck on a dessert island with just one book.)

Call for Essays: Please consider submitting a Civic Soapbox essay geared for the new year. What are your hopes, worries, plans for 2010? Or perhaps, what changed in your own life or your view of life in general during 2009? Serious, fun, autobiographical or contemplative; to use a famous phrase from a former president: Bring 'em on!


Now, on to the borrowing.

I found a wonderful profile of NPR's famous and fabulous Kitchen Sisters, which I enjoyed mightily and thought you might as well. To tempt you into clicking on the link and reading further, I've transcribed the first two paragraphs below. . .

Kitchen Sisters explore obscure culinary worlds in 'Hidden Kitchens' (latimes.com)
The public radio hosts seek out little-known food rituals.
By Jessica Gelt,

Food brings people together, just as much as a lack of it can tear them apart. What we cook, how we cook it and when we eat it says as much about ourselves as our body language and our choice of friends. How communities come together through food and the richness of the resulting culinary traditions is of particular interest to Davia Nelson and Nikki Silva, better known as National Public Radio's "Kitchen Sisters."

Since 2004, the women have been searching for and chronicling cooking and eating rituals in unexpected, under-the-radar places across the country. The stories began airing in 2005 as "Hidden Kitchens" on NPR's "Morning Edition" and spawned an eponymous book. Now with the winter holidays and their attendant family meals upon us, the women admit that, try as they might, they just can't get away from food. It informs nearly every project they touch.

If I've tempted you to read further, here's the link.