Turkey Times

"(I)t's not pigmentation: it's a mentality and it's either going to work for you or it's going to work against you" 
[italics added] - Pharrell Williams

On Monday night, the week of Thanksgiving 2014, America was praying to be thankful for justice in Ferguson, Missouri.  With the fair and legally rendered decision not to indict Michael Brown's killer, a police officer reacting to public nuisance, if not threat, but then tragically incited to kill in that line of duty ... justice was rendered.

Fairly.  Legally.

The Grand Jury assembled in Clayton, Missouri -- to its immense credit and credit to all law-abiding communities of St. Loius County (and everywhere, for that matter) -- was able to separate fact from folklore ... actual circumstances from a breathless and toxic (social) media-whipped frenzy ... real life from hysterics and virulent fear(mongering).

Truth from hatred ... legal from racial ... common sense, in the end, from flawed logic and threats.

Here we go again in America!  Black against ... oh.

The truth is, this issue was never "racial".  It was intrinsically a matter of law and order, as endeavored to be enforced throughout the world:  Someone was causing trouble, someone called the police, the police showed up.

That the alleged troublemaker in this case happened to be black and his killer, the police officer, white, became relevant only when Michael Brown became killed by Darren Wilson.  Officer Wilson did not put on his badge that morning looking to kill someone (of any color).  He did not fire nervously, blindly without provocation.  This was no tragic "accident".  But it was also not an intended outcome.

As supported by evidence duly considered, Officer Wilson was doing his job:  first responding to a community's call ... then sidetracked by a threat, purportedly escalating beyond "perceived".

In America, the ability to see things as they are is no more.  It has been annilihated by an overreliance on lazy voyeurism and a nasty, judgmental susceptibility to (social) media manipulation.

Too often in America -- the Ferguson Grand Jury being a recent, and fortunately high profile, exception -- guilt, liability, blame and every worst-case scenario or behavioral motive is what's presumed ... not innocence first.

No, never that.

Bill Cosby, for example ... is a rapist now.  He IS a rapist, according to the prevailing winds of America's consciousness.  And whether or not the individuals, all pointedly with "nothing to gain" (except headlines and bylines, of course, and their names online, and/or a little more fame squeezed out of quarter hours) are corroborating in "exposing" a new flavor of Cosby ... A new "truth" wills out:  "Bill Cosby" no longer associated with Fat Albert, Temple University, Philadelphia, Jell-O, Dad sweaters, the '70s, the '80s, Saturday morning cartoons or Cliff Huxtable.

No, the New Cos is a "serial rapist" in the minds of millions ... likely now to be remembered that way, and associated these days with Spanish Fly.

... And bizarrely, curry.

'Man, I don't even like curry … ‘

Today, something like this gets taken seriously, at face value, with not even one person pointing out the context ... and that maybe, just maybe, a story about female David Letterman interns being "forced" to watch Bill Cosby eat curry backstage (lol?), no one saying a word ...

just might be a put-on.

Just saying.

Of course, rape is not funny.  The allegations against Bill Cosby are serious ... and may in fact not be just another day in the bullying internet's mob mentality.

Racism is also not a joke.  Nor killing.  Nor racial (incitement to) violence ... nor the perpetuation of inequality through misinformation, opinion overriding fact and loud and "viral" calls to arms.

"A riot is the language of the unheard.  Riots are self-defeating and socially destructive." 

- Martin Luther King, Jr.

Thanks Giving, Awareness

My dad's good friend passed away this week.  After hearing about / witnessing nearly forty years of camaraderie, Schadenfreude, rivalry, jibing, belittlements, favors performed (sometimes grudgingly, other times without even asking) ... weekly breakfast and lunch rituals (my mom's frustrations at the "bromance") ... general support, bonhomie and the occasional assist with each others' families ... and at the end of the day, companionship and a comfort factor ...

My dad's friend of nearly forty years is no more.

Gordon died of a brain tumor, which overtly manifested its ugly head for the first time on November 1st, just over three weeks ago.  Apparently, he'd complained of headaches every now and then, more and more frequently ... but these were generally (too easily, conveniently) dismissed as what happens to you when you become old(er).  My own squinty vision, my dad's pained feet, my mom's knobbly knees and Gordon's headaches, all written off to inevitability.

Until this past November 1st, when my dad's friend collapsed - an aneurysm being to blame on the surface, while lurking and festering, metastasizing, below was the inoperable brain cancer which ravaged and killed him.

In just over three weeks!  You have to discover it ... Invite cure and treatment.  When "it" finds you, showing up at your doorstep, the game's usually over.

I thought of Gordon the other day, before I learned of his death (though I knew he was unwell).  Just randomly began thinking about how fast things happen ... about my own memories and knowing of him, mainly through his son, who's my age and with whom I went to school (Geoff, if I remember, was left-handed ... just like the spelling of his first name!) ... How at least he'd been released to home care and family for what would be his final days, and of course, the impact on his family.

How my dad, in his own words, doesn't "do sad" but would need to attend his best friend's funeral, before the weight of reality, new sense of mortality and feelings of loneliness set in like a northern Wisconsin winter ...

And if I were googly-eyed, I might try to suggest that it was that very moment, when I randomly and powerfully began thinking of Gordon, that his soul left his body ... and another little piece of my own life left me. 

 “Give (Thanks)”, ©Jeff Glovsky

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GLIOGENE International Brain Tumor Study