Insane Earthlings

When I was ten years old, I was filled with delicious anticipation whenever I took a little spin on my bike to the 7-11.  The pockets of my camp pants would be heavily weighted down change that I had scrounged around for. It was amazing how careless adults were with their money!  Pennies, Nickels, dimes, and an occasional Quarter or two were everywhere in our house. In junk drawers, under cushions, in little knick-knack dishes, and old beer steins. Once I was satisfied that I had found all the dough I could, I was off to purchase as much candy as my newly found treasure would buy. But, it could not be just any candy. It had to be a carefully chosen mix of good candy that also offered a high return on investment. My profit was sweetness and the goal was to buy an assortment that would last a very long time. It was the 1970s, and the candy racks were filled with varieties that have mostly disappeared from the shelves today. There was logic behind each selection I made. My pocke...

“There are places I remember  in my life, though some have changed  Some forever not for better  Some have gone and some remain.” John Lennon There are places that I remember in clear detail.  In my life, hardly any places remain as they were. However, I can call them up from the files in my brain and magically transport myself to them as they existed before. My mother re-entered the workforce when I was about ten years old. I had lots of time to explore and roam free, by myself. We lived in Charlotte on a street of small cottages between Eastover and Cotswold. These neighborhoods were divided by, Briar Creek, one of Charlotte’s main waterways. On our side of Briar Creek, there was a pocket of woods with trails, a tributary creek, four small lakes, and a real waterfall. I spent countless hours exploring every inch of these woods without supervision. I could never become bored in these woods. There were always things to do. I could build little boats made of twigs and...

I want to tell you all about my Uncle Ted or Theron C. Teagle, Sr. Many people knew him much better than I. But each of us all have our own private relationships with the people in our lives. So, each of us have as many stories of who we are, as there are people in our lives. Even those that we have only brief encounters with may develop a story of who we are if the encounter is especially unique or emotional. Uncle Ted died this past Monday at age 94. He was the widower of my late Aunt Mary Josephine, my father's sister. Together, they were Aunt Jo and Uncle Ted. Uncle Ted was the last living member of my parent's generation of our family. His passing makes the absence of my own parents seem even more distant. He was the last one to have real live memories of my father as a boy, the little brother to his girl, Mary Jo.  If we had held a contest of superlatives among the Franklin-Teagle clan, Uncle Ted would have won "best-looking" hands down. The Franklins tend to gr...

Ken and Tommy The voting room. Mom and Dad had called a family meeting. We were all expected to attend. That would be me, my sister, and my two brothers. This was in the 1970's when I was 8 or 9 years old. Our parents were not usually "family meeting" type people. For most issues there was not a reason to have meetings or even discussions. It was as if Mom and Dad were of one mind that was always on the same page. We did not typically vote on decisions effecting the family. Under normal conditions, our parents were autocrats. Benevolent, but make no mistake, they called the shots.  The uniqueness of my parents calling a family meeting is partly why the details seem so clear in my mind. Although the topic of the meeting is more likely the reason that I can recall the scene so vividly. Our family was about to vote on something that would change our lives.   For months, our family had been making plans and saving money to go on a trip to Puerto Rico. We even had one of those...

"...where butterflies perch on teeth..." Bob Dylan, Nobel Acceptance Speech   Where Butterflies Perch On Teeth    On this snow quiet morning before the new day's dawning I finally had the time to review my "watch later" list on YouTube. I wandered aimlessly through recordings of reality, videography, pixelated digitally. Clips put aside with the intention of watching when I could pay attention. On this snow quiet morning before the new day's dawning, I unexpectedly and happily found profound words captured in the sound of the voice of a prophetic poet Bob Dylan, the Nobel laureate. In his cadence, his rhythm, and rhyme he uttered words that were so sublime, they secured his literary designation, and were themselves, a revelation. On this snow quiet morning as the new day is dawning, I understand the meaning beneath  "where butterflies perch on teeth."        

November is National Native American Heritage month. By mid-November we are way past the Autumnal equinox and only a month or so away from the onset of Winter. November is also the month when Americans gather their families around a bountiful meal and re-count a false narrative about the peaceful and cooperative nature of the relationship between early English settlers and the aboriginal people of North America. It makes for a lovely and hopeful story. In fact, Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays.  I have been thinking about the Native people who lived on this land before the Europeans arrived. I wonder if there is a way to turn our traditional Thanksgiving into a day to reflect upon the genocide that resulted from the European practice of colonialism. We should honor the Tribes and Nations and the descendants of the first Americans by committing to learn more about them as a people that still live among us now. We often act as if these people just moved on and we hardly ac...

I am certainly not a criminal justice expert. But it does not take an expert to realize that we need serious criminal justice reform in this country. My education in psychology and sociology provides me with some basic knowledge about human behavior that inform my opinions on this subject. I have also been in the business of managing people in various industries in which conflict and intense situations arise. I spent two years working in the mental health field and learned the importance of recognizing potentially explosive situations and received training in how to use de-escalation tactics to resolve dangerous situations. The organization I worked for did not allow the use of physical restraints nor did they have any security staff. Although my experience is certainly not equivalent to the hostile and volatile situations that police officers are likely to encounter, I do believe that much of the practices employed by uniformed police officers exacerbate the volatility of a situat...