Febuary: Black History Month

Here's what I have to say about Black History Month: Carter G Woodson had a great idea several decades ago. And in the absence of a more inclusive national history, Black History Month remains pivotal. We celebrate "white" history all 12 months, so anyone complaining that there's no White History Month needs to catch a clue. Now, I believe it is important to note that much of black history involves white people, just as much of "white" history involves black people. So, there is some inherent danger in the separate notion of "black" history to the extent that it can engender the idea that black people suffered at the hands of some mysterious force and not the white people with whom they share citizenship and/or this country. But, again, in the absence of a more comprehensive history, I think it necessary to take the risk. Also, I would like to be part of a movement that has the teaching of a more comprehensive history in our schools as its goal. In fact, let me look into that and get back to you. Since I celebrate and discuss black history all year no matter the month, that's about all I'll be saying in regards to Black History Month. Anything else will be along these same lines.

Now. In other news, I just saw Lauren's kids yesterday. They're doing okay. They are scary smart. And I mean that seriously. I saw some of the work they produced in daycare and was frightened. I'm waiting for one of them to explain e=mc2 to me. The youngest, who I'll call Babygirl, sneezed in my face. Luckily, I'm pretty sure that was a regular, "clearing the system" sneeze and not a flu sneeze. The middle child, who I'll call Sasha cause I think both she and the youngest Obama daughter are clowns, did a lot of laughing and giggling. The oldest, who I'll call Smart Pants, insisted on answering "Lauren" when I asked her what my name was. Her older cousins kept telling her "No1KState," so I'm pretty sure Smart Pants kept saying "Lauren" just to be funny. I asked her, "Why are you messing with me?" She just smiled.

And me? I'm good. One of my great-aunts is making me some yum-yums! It's a baked desert with pecans. I'm not a cook, so that's all I can tell you about it. The interesting thing, though, is that she's my maternal grandmother's sister. (Well, this particular great aunt. I have several.) And it occurred to me that while my grandmother had four daughters (Living at least. We know she and Grandpa had a child before they got married who died as a baby or was stillborn. We thought it was a boy, but I saw some other info that it may have been a girl.), only one of them had a daughter by birth - and that daughter of a daughter is me. If we were Amerindians, it would be my son who would become chief. Plus, I don't know, every time I think about that, I feel some added pressure to make good on my grandmother's genes. You know? There is another daughter of a daughter, but she was adopted. And I'm the older of the two of us, anyway. But don't get it twisted, I love her like a sister. Hurt her and I'll cut you.

Lastly, let me thank my new readers. I'll do my best to give you accurate info with some great thinking behind it.