Day 28 - Lessons from Major Taylor

Major Taylor riding his bike

Over the last several days, I had taken a special interest in Marshall Walter "Major" Taylor, the first American world champion in cycling for the one mile back in 1899.  Not many would be familiar with his superhuman efforts during a time when African Americans suffered under Jim Crow, blantant racism, segregation, related violence and poverty.

According to many, cycling during the late 1800s and early 1900 prior to the Great Depression experienced popularity similar to baseball.  Major Taylor made more money annually than famous baseball players such as Ty Cobb of his time.

Major Taylor's success is remarkable and stands out at a time when cycling could be arguably viewed as a middle or upper middle class sport with the expensive equipment, time needed to train, and resources necessary to be successful.

Cycling has been an activity and much less a sport for me.  I shared my first experiences as a child when my mother's second husband taught me how to ride a ten speed bike when I was in the third or forth grade.  I did not have a bike of my own until the fifth or sixth grade.

My first was a yellow Huffy dirt bike, which was heavy by today's standards, used, and worn by the time it was handed down to me.  It was made of gold as far as I was concerned.

For a number of years, my bike became the main means for getting around.  I even used it to help sell cookies and magazine subscriptions door-to-door for my elementary school fundraisers.  Although it helped me get around to baseball practice and other things, it was also my escape during some difficult times in my pre-teen years.

Through high school and college, bike riding fell low on my list of priorities.  Driving a car as for many teenagers was the main mode of transportation that I aspired toward.  During my travels across the US, I ended up selling my bike for extra money to help with one of many family moves.  Cycling as I would learn to call it became a pasttime fondness.

I did not own another bike until much later during graduate school with kids and several more years under my belt.  Running seemed too hard on my knees and other exercises seemed boring and uninteresting to keep my attention. Americanized competitive yoga, pilates, and running machines were great if you had no other choice and wanted to dull your mind at the same time. My new green monster bike became my outlet in many ways as it had during my pre-teens - an outlet during stressful times that would be considered par for the course in adulthood.

These childhood memories hold a special place in my mind.  As I share cycling with my kids during rides across downtown, through the summer, and during fun rides on the East Side, they help me re-experience special moments that I had alone when I was coming up.  The talks, sharing ideas, making jokes and silly observations with my kids as we ride have been times invaluable to me. I get to know them on.

Cycling has held a special place in me.  I was glad to learn about an African American champion who I could point to beyond the glamour and glitter of the current cycling bonanza with big money, drugs, competition, and glitz that comes with it.

Unfortunately, Major Taylor died a pauper.  All the fame and money the man made did not avoid a sad ending. With all his worldwide fame, historical significance, and money he made at the time ($15 to 30K annually), Taylor would succumb to the American nightmare.

I shared his story with my kids who thought it a wonder that they never heard of him before.  As we talked about his life and accomplishments, Major Taylor became another talking point on our bike rides through East Austin.

His story reasonants with me because his success required determination, persistence in spite of obstacles that should have torn him down, and faith in something more powerful to get him through it all.  Along the way, Taylor had people who believed in him and share his vision, faith, and determination.

I won't win the kind of championships Major Taylor had.  However, in my children's eye, each day I win a small victory.  They allow me to be their champion and we share the winner's cup with hopes of bearing good fruits.  Sometimes my kids hold me up way too high where it has been hard to make mistakes and be human.

As each year passes, they have seen me more as who I am, flawed and with blemishes.  Still, they love me. They do not really understand unconditional love.  I think they reciprocate what they experience and reflect back what they receive.  They are not mirror images, but I believe you get back what you put in.

I may not bring home a championship trophy to them.  They are the only reward I need.  Their gift to me is their loving hearts, great personalities, inquisitive minds, and funny sense of humor.  With them, I fill more like a champ everyday.

When I think about the reasons for taking care of myself, eating well, exercising, reducing my stress, and making good on what my mother gave to me, my kids' faces come to mind every time.  There are other benefits for me personally that cannot be ignored.  It's also nice to arrive from work and see those faces shine up the room when they call my name, hug me tightly, and allow me to hold their hands.  Their hands remain very gentle to me. My kids are two of a hundred reasons to take care, be well, and live healthy.

These thoughts among many others have kept me on my path to exercise and be mindful of the food that I eat.  If anything, I've re-learned that determination and persistence is required to stay on track, which is no different than Major Taylor's values.  I expect to avoid his unfortunate downward spiral late in life by learning from his examples in success and failure through his life.

Below is a clip with images of Major Taylor over the years.

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Day 27 - Say Hello to My Friends In Russia

Monday was a day that I most noticed that I was coming to the end of the month.  Time seemed to have flown by so quickly.

As cute as the little girl in the photo looks, the image reminded me of all the times growing up eating sweets.  To coax me into eating my beans as a child, my mother sprinkled a teaspoon or two over my baked beans.  Cereal regardless of how much sugar was already in it had at least a bit more added for good measure. I even recall stirring sugar into water in middle school because it seemed better than water all by itself.

When some colleagues and friends asked if I would return to eating sweets again after the end of the month, I honestly was not sure.  I continued through the day wondering out loud at times whether I should or not.

When I created a list of pros and cons in my mind, I could not come up with many good reasons to return to eating sweets at all.  I did not want to create this idea in my head that sugar was like nicotine or crack cocaine for me; however, going back to how things were before seemed ridiculous to me.

I did not think going to the old ways was even an option.  But, how about maintaining a reasonable habit of eating sweets.  The problem was and continues to be that I do not have a confident sense of what "normal" really would be.

I had gone pretty much cold turkey without many side effects or withdrawal symptoms to speak of really.  I could go back and not really notice a difference - only if I ignore the obvious.

Since the beginning of the month, I had lost six pounds without exerting a huge amount of exercise.  My oral hygiene seemed to have turned around with the added benefits of flossing everyday.  Only a small hint of gingivitis was left in the back molars.

I had not seen any dramatic changes unless you count having a craving for water when thirsty instead of craving something sweet.  I went from not noticing often when I was dehydrated to noticing pretty regularly how I was feeling, being able to explain the deep desire to drink water after a half the day had gone by.

There have been some pitfalls and twists around the bend that caught me off guard.  The difficulties that I have had recently center around some loss of enthusiasm and emotional fatigue.  I found that even these situations, sugar had been my confidant supporter and gentle buttress through stressful circumstances.

As I reflect on the last twenty-seven days, I am grateful to have made it further than I had since I was a child.  I had cut down, cut out for short periods of time, or totally binged on sugar just because.  I did not want to be controlled or told what to do with my food.  I was stronger and better than that.

Not sure who or what I had been fighting against except for myself because I should have done this long ago. And, . . . I am glad that I took on this everyday in February.  It has been a nice ride through all kinds of explorations.

I am not done.  I'm going to take the next few days to consider my next steps.  I like these changes and look forward to keeping it going.  For today, the rewards outweigh by a long shot any negatives that may come.

The good thing about being an adult is that you do not have to be beholden to your childish impulses and mindless dabbling into nonsense.  I had been as innocent looking as the child in the photo, kind of vulnerable to the family, community, and habits that nurtured me. One of the habits has been a deep fixation on anything with sugar in it.

Good to wake up and see all the possibilities.  Good to not be under the thumb of cravings that seemed impossible to control or I had been unwilling to deal with.  Although I'd like to savor being innocent and ignorant to taste the blissfulness that comes with it, I'd rather replace it with the guiding wisdom that has shown me a path moving forward to live my own happiness without sugar.

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Day 26 - From East Austin With Love

Old Anderson High School (Boys & Girls Club)

Another weekend bike ride across East Austin included a trip over to old Anderson High School's football field. Today, the old building is a Boys and Girls Club location on 901 Thompson Avenue (1st picture to the left).

Shot of Austin downtown from old Anderson HS

As I rode up the incredibly steep hill on Thompson to arrive from the East Campus of Austin Community College, I worked hard with deep peddling several gears lower to make it up the hill.  I powered up the hill and passed Booker T. Washington Terraces in the nearly perfect weather conditions, sun up with a slight chill in the air.

Looking at the pictures to left, I started to wonder back to my days growing up in the day.  I tried to take from my personal experiences and imagine going to school at old Anderson High School, home of the mighty Yellow Jackets.

Weekend flag football game at Yellow Jacket Stadium

Guys play flag football at Yellow Jacket Stadium

The scene of downtown Austin was quite beautiful.  The green grasses under the Pleasant Valley Street bridge looking over Boggy Creek Greenbelt made me wonder about the day to day experiences of a regular Yellow Jacket.

I came around to watch nearly fifty or sixty men playing flag football from different teams.  Listening to the commotion and banter among the men was reminiscent of my days in college.  Small spats with referees about their calls on the play, deliberations among team members talking about their next play, and cheers about extended plays down the field made me feel at home.

I sat on my bike to side taking a few pictures.  In a moment, I started to fantasize about being a millionaire, adopting a school, and making a real difference in East Austin.  It was the kind of serial daydreaming that people often have about the East side.

I'm not sure that I could make a difference.  I do think about how to strategically be an active member of the community.  Passively, this blog serves to explore my experiences openly.  Actively, I am still considering how to be involved.  This discovery process will help me to find what is best for my talents and interests.  My first priority continues to be a good parent.  Anything additional will be something to uncover.

At times, I have complained about difficulties with maintaining goals to drink water, avoid sweets, and explore East Austin.  Reflecting on this day, I am pleased about the wonderful experiences that I've had with my kids, celebrating all the beautiful aspects of the community, and enjoying the community trying to make a real difference.

One particular community that I came across was the Major Taylor Austin Cycling Group started recently.  I learned about them at the Austin African American Community Heritage Festival.  The Major Taylor Austin Cycling Group started in 2011 to honor and extend Marshall Walter "Major" Taylor's legacy as the first American and African American champion in cycling history in 1899.

The cycling group is part of a national network of cyclist from minority communities who promote cycling as an alternative transportation, competitive sport, healthy physical activity, and build community. It seems that this is a perfect time to connect with others.

Enjoy the video below of dancing at the heritage festival in honor of Mardi Gras.

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Day 25 - Fortuitous History Rediscovered

"We won the lottery," said a man I met several months ago at an auto parts store in East Austin.

As is my personality, I have had the tendency to strike up conversations with people whether standing in line at the grocery store, at the airport while waiting for my seat, or while sitting idly at the park amongst parents watching their kids.

At the auto parts store, I spoke with a man who mentioned that he lived not too far from the store throughout his life. He talked fondly about this time growing up over the years in East Austin.

From behind prescription sun glasses, the older Latino American man stood under my hood installing a new battery into my car.  He told me the story about how he lived in East Austin, especially, during the times when it was hard.  Though he did not go into the details, the lottery winner talked about one the biggest things to happen on the East side.

Back in the 1900s, Austin was referenced to as the City of the Violet Crown. It's a reference starting in 1890, where an atmospheric phenomenon known as the Belt of Venus created at sunrise or sunset that forms a pinkish or antitwilight arch.

Belt of Venus, antitwilight arch

During Congressman Lyndon Baines Johnson's ambitious early career, he referred to the slums in the East Austin area in a radio address called the "Tarnish of the Violet Crown" on January 23, 1938.

"(T)here I found people living in such squalor that Christmas Day was to them just one more day of filth and misery.  Forty families on one lot, using one water faucet.  Living in barren one-room huts, they were deprived of the glory of sunshine in the daytime, and were so poor they could not even at night use the electricity that is to be generated by our great river (Colorado River).  Here the men and women did not play at Santa Claus.  Here the children were so much in need of the very essentials of life they scarcely missed the added pleasures of our Christian celebration."

As the result of the Housing Act of 1937, Santa Rita, Rosewood, and Chalmers Courts, the first public housing residences, were built, which were the first of their kind in the United States. Public housing remained segregated so Santa Rita was for Mexican Americans, Rosewood for African Americans, and Chalmers was reserved for White Americans.

When the man at the auto parts store said that they won the lottery, he explained that the Santa Rita Courts was a huge improvement over the housing they had prior.  The aforementioned excerpt from LBJ's radio address illustrated the deplorable conditions people lived in the East Austin slums from slum lord owners unwilling to maintain reasonable accommodations.

Although public housing (commonly known as the Projects) may be considered a sore spot for many in Austin because of drugs, crime and other difficulties, it is a huge improvement over the slum conditions of the past.

I recalled this conversation with the man at the auto parts store after attending the Austin African American Community Heritage Festival at Huston-Tillotson University.  I made the kids come on a short East Austin bike tour started at HTU.  However resistant at first to go the morning bike tour, the kids ended up having a great time riding with nearly thirty other cyclists around the East Austin area.

For me, it was a great opportunity for exercise, communion with cyclists, time with the kids, and opportunistic time to learn more about East Austin. From the bike tour, I also learned about the start of public housing in Austin, the first celebration on private lands of Juneteenth, which is the oldest celebration of slavery's end, at Emancipation Park in Austin.  There also was the existence of Gregorytown, the third freedman's community based in East Austin.

The importance of Gregorytown was that the school preceding the historic African American elementary school in East Austin named Blackshear Elementary replaced an older slum like school called Gregorytown School.  The school served African American children in surrounding community along with Olive Street School, Robertson Hill School, and the old E. H. Anderson High School.

E.H. Anderson was renamed L.C. Anderson High School for E.H. Anderson's brother and eventually moved to the last East Austin location at 900 Thompson Street, which was closed as result of court order in 1972 due to school desegregation.  Old Anderson High School's mascot was the Yellow Jackets, which is the name of the pee wee football team who practices at the current Boys and Girls Club located in the old L.C. Anderson building.

My kids enjoyed themselves riding and learning what they could.  I was way too excited after the ride since it was also an opportunity to engage so many people and learn more rich information about East Austin.

For the next blog entry, I'll talk more about Major Taylor group, another piece I learned during the tour.

As far as everything else, I did not drink my water until the end of the day.  Dehydrated, I slipped and drank a full mouth's worth of soda, root beer to be exact.  I do not feel guilty about it. Rather, I know why and how to avoid it in the future. I'm not immune to the temptations. However, after having the soda, I definitely did not enjoy it as I had in the past. It was a real disappointment actually. Drinking a tall glass of water was very rewarding.

What a change of events in one day!

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Day 24 - Wind In My Sail

Anyone living in Austin and the Central Texas area felt the gale winds blowing across.  Of course, I ignored any warnings from Thursday night's weather predictions when considering my plan for exercise on Friday morning.

The other interesting detail to mention is that Thursday was an unseasonably warm, 88 degrees, as I wore a short sleeve shirt for the second day to work for the first time since October.

This Friday morning brought a much colder morning. I bundled up in preparation for the cold winds that would chill me to the bone. However, chill was not going to be my problem.

I felt the winds blowing down my street cutting through the live oak trees and causing the wind chimes to chatter loudly.  I considered for a moment the challenge of biking against the wind and strategized to start the bike trip first against the wind when I had the most strength.

Although my muscles remained sore from the day before, I flew down the hill for at least two miles before engaging the wind.  I began feeling the lingering fatigue in my legs as I began biking east near Lady Bird Lake.  The wind came from the north sweeping across my sheltered face hiding behind a hat, two hoods from the two pullover sweat shirts, another pullover and long sleeve t-shirt for good measure.

I progressed north and immediately hit a wall after feeling thoroughly warmed up.  I peddled into the wind, which felt like charging through a quagmire of molasses and Georgia red clay.  Oh, the misery!

When confronted with difficult circumstances, it is common, actually very human, to be confronted with a series of doubtful internal mental messages.  In my head, a thousand times over, I thought about going home, turning back, retreating from this unhappy episode of biking.

My mind consumed with negativity I also thought about the good fortune of being able to hunker down, bike the good fight, and make it to the other side.  For every negative thought, it takes at least one and half or more positive thoughts to counteract the effects of jaundiced thinking.

The more I rode through the wind, the more inclined did I feel the need to prove that I could make it.  Call it persistence, hard-headed deterministic focus, or dogged optimism, I wanted to make the travail through to the end.

My greatest doubt came at the steepest hill.  Once I made it to the top, I felt a simple, premature victory as I came to an assortment of upcoming hills.  The key for me was that I made it through the first, most difficult challenge in the ride.  Although each hill exaggerated by the gale force wind topping at between 25 and 30 miles per hour posed an opportunity for success, each achievement increased my confidence even though my legs seemed to wither.

The difference for this ride was that my mind and body were in alignment.  My body has not been in shape for some time, yet I was reminded how the mind and body needed to be on the same accord to accomplish self-determined goals.

Looking at my time, it was taking me five minutes longer to make the same ride from the day prior.  I was okay with it.  Speed was not my rubric for success.  Staying on task, continuing through difficult obstacles, and experiencing a sense of reward in successfully attaining my goal were enough to satisfy me.

As I made it home relaxing the last mile down hill, I did fill full of self-satisfaction, which I generally try to avoid.  However, as I reflect, celebrating a personal achievement should not be ignored but cheered even quietly in the morning shadow of night with no one around to see.

The remainder of the day went well.  The first hill made every other event seem easy to deal with.

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Day 22 - Back in Stride Again

I've had to write this blog entry in retrospect the following day because I came home after along day very tired and went to bed immediate with no real contemplation in place.

After a few days away, I returned to exercising and biking while attempting to forge a new trail away from Lady Bird Lake.  Since blogging about historic East Austin, I decided to ride through its less familiar parts.

One of the things about getting back on track is the body's adjustment to lifting, running, pushing, pulling, or haranguing by will or force through the exercise.  If you were like me, I was a junior league, weekend warrior during my young adulthood and former high school and college athlete.

In my mind's eye, without fail, I still approach exercise as a warrior seeking the next fight . . . with myself.  I want to challenge my body and approach each event like a climb of Mt. Kilimanjaro. This is the problem . . . : My body and mind do not work together.  My mind pushes, but my body pulls.

So, as I hit each hill, my legs start pumping up the hill with my mind focused on cutting up the distance into pieces, creating mental markers, approaching each one, and doing a happy dance for each small accomplishment.  As I finished the third or forth, maybe fifth East Side hill, I noticed my legs started sending messages back to the brain relaying the note from my muscles, "What the hell are you doing?"

As if my muscles decided to have a sit in and Occupy My Legs revolution, protesting inhumane treatment,
they failed to respond to my desire to make it up the next hill.  So, I pressed on with gold plates weighing each leg down as I cycled through Mississippi mud.

For one or two miles, I struggled with my legs that seemed to have a mind of their own.  I relished the down hill rest periods allowing my legs a quiet comfort and my breathing to return to normal.  Around mile five, I was fortunate to find that a peace accord was agreed when as my legs returned.  Unfortunately, I really could not feel them past the burning sensation that shot up across the top of my thighs.

On the last leg approaching my home, I rode in determined to remind my body who was in charge. Yes, I pushed my body a bit more than I should have, but I was not going to be a prisoner to legs unwilling to cooperate.  So, I pushed it up another series of gradual hill that was about three miles nearly straight up.

I took a deep breathe, cleared my mind a bit reflecting on the mix of shotgun, modern, and classic southern homes throughout East Austin.  I thought about how gentrification has allowed the prices of property to go out of the reach of many African and Hispanic American families unable to retain their homes or more willing to sell their properties for a profit, which would be hard to avoid accepting.

I thought also about my contribution to gentrification.  I'd like to think of my role as positive gentrification, if there is such a thing.  The truth is a high concentration of poverty is not good.  Gentrification passively helps to bring a mix of incomes into one community to break up the high level of poverty.

Part of the problem is also  people of color not being able to keep their properties in light of high taxes outside their ability to afford them.  Next door to their older home is a new home twice the price with three stories, which makes their property value higher and out of their ability to pay.

Yes, old home property owners can make a profit by selling their home, but the problem is that the community of Black and Hispanic people leave their historic place after being forced to reside their decades prior.  The businesses and East Side charm is replaced with outsiders coming in changing their community without any serious consideration to the needs or wants of the current residents. The challenge is that an increasing number of the residents are not Black or Hispanic. It's another change in tides.

I desire to remain as long as it satisfies my needs. While here, I'd like to make a positive contribution and be involved with each constituency that shares in the vitality of East Austin.  I do wish more African and Hispanic Americans would seriously consider moving back or come to East Austin.  The cost may be prohibitive to many; however, if you are willing to take advantage of close proximity of downtown and an urban experience contrary to the ideal of suburban ideals, then East Austin is the place to be.

On my porch, I stood for the first time on my bike, each leg was tired.  I also felt good, a painful oh, so good feeling.  I was glad to be out there.  Walking was tentative as I weakly came to my bedroom.  For a moment, I wasn't sure if I really did win.  I did win, because I did something, got out there, and made it much further than I would have just weeks prior.  I did win.

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Day 21 - Sustainable Food as Liberation

The revolution will neither be televised nor sent through a Twitter alert or text message.

All right . . . stay with me.  I'm about to use some revoluntionary words here: Sustainable food.  It is an idea that meaning and pleasure can be found among people, land, and food.

Ok, I know this sounds kind of super radical, political, left-wing, anti-corporate, anti-establishment kind of blog entry.  Not today.  That is for another blog on another day.

As I eat my Gala apple imported from Chile, water bottled in Atlanta, and meat shipped from somewhere likely out of state, I noticed how I've become more concerned about where my food comes from.

Doing my history research about the freedman and their descendants from the Wheatsville, Clarksville, and East Austin communities, I learned that their families oftentimes without fail farmed their land for food. The food was eaten by them and any extra might be sold or bartered for something else.  Raising animals and growing your own food was a necessity.

When African Americans eventually were forcibly enticed to move to East Austin, they were able to achieve this in part due to city ordinances prohibiting growing food or raising animals on their land.  People found it increasingly more difficult to find ways to grow their own food. The power to be more self-sustaining melted away for each of us over the next several decades.

When I was building my 4' x 4' raised garden bed frames, I experienced a sense of empowerment.  Literally and metaphorically, I was grabbing back some of my power.  I also did not know what I was getting myself into.

No cause for concern. I'm a professional.  And, I did get a good nights sleep at the Holiday Express.

All joking aside, I have no idea about what I am doing.  I took a class, made some notes, built a frame to grow food, and what the hell happens next.  Not sure. Magic glitter with butterflies will start coming out from  my belly button.

I expect that I will be taking a step to empower myself to make a better connection between the land, food grown in my yard, and the time I'll need to take to manage a small garden.

I feel like this is taking the power back once stolen so I can grow my food back and tell Big Brother off.  I am continuing the legacy of my ancestors who slaved as farmers, sharecroppers, and field workers. Generations followed and eventually ran away from their agrarian roots for the skilled labor force, higher education, and other fields.  My ancestors knew better than anyone else the back breaking work involved with farming.

The difference is that I do this by free choice.  I also need to because I believe in the end it will make my family healthier.

I submit that sustainable food as liberation is another act African Americans can embrace to ensure the prosperity of the community, families, and the coming generation.  However, for this to be a success, the sustainable food movement must find a new face to champion the cause.

Sustainable food can no longer be the movement of the already over-privileged, underground, anti-establishment and anti-corporation, and fashionable impoverished mostly white, middle-class who seem to shape the direction and intellectual dialogue.

It's time to diversify and invite those who've not come to the table and collaborate.  From the left leaning philosophy that supports sustainable food, it will be important to find ways to engage communities that requires an open heart and flexibility to share ideas while learning from new stakeholders: more working class people from different cultural backgrounds.

Examples exist in East Austin already found in the Blackshear Community Garden and another dozen across the area.

Let me percolate on this sustainable food as liberation idea a bit more to see what I can come up with.

Another project to keep me moving to my goal.  No need for a countdown.  I'm liking where I am today.  I'm looking forward to tomorrow.

Day 19 - Don't Need No Teeth to Eat

If someone told me that I had been blogging everyday and writing about the small nuances of each day while swearing off sweets at the same time, I'd tell them that they were crazier than horse shit.

The day before entering my first string of entries I watched the movie Contagion where a character said blogging is just graffiti with comas and periods.   The statement could be a discouraging statement.  However, for me, graffiti is a honorable art form.  So, anything that I could do to add of the urban cyber art, I am all for it.


Sunday morning . . . I woke up from a deep slumber earlier than expected after staying up well past a reasonable time.

I felt refreshed and a bit enthusiastic.  Almost immediately I knew what was the greatest priority for me: Visiting the historical spots in East Austin with my kids. My only concern was whether the kids would be willing to appease me for a moment.

Although most occasions as a parent, I am not so much concerned about having my kids buy-in.  Let's not confuse this situation with them having a choice in the matter. Rather, I would like that they enjoyed this planned excursion instead of being a couple of grumpy bugs passively and aggressively ignoring my efforts to teach and expose them to something.

We had breakfast and made our way to a few historical spots, starting with Robertson Hill, Olive Street School, Curve, Lydia, and Waller Streets.  We followed up with Oakwood Cemetery and the Swede Hill neighborhood.  With tired feet and weighed down attention spans, I tried to ask more questions and less lecturing to them.  On occasion, I checked in with them to ensure some of what was being said stuck in their expanding brains.

By the time we finished our Black History Tour del East End, the excursion was a limited success. It was also great to see these sites during the day with full sun shining.  The early morning darkness before made it difficult to see everything well.

For some reason, I still felt like a tourist, distant and a bit removed after the tour.  It wasn't like I was going to go door to door, conduct interviews for a qualitative investigation into the cultural mores of the local townspeople.  Of course, it is possible.  I've participated in at least two or three graduate student based investigations on the East Austin community.

On a whim, I took the kids with me to Sam's BBQ.  Since I do not eat red meat, barbeque generally has not been a big priority for me. I'd seen Sam's innumerable times over the years.  Never have I had the inclination to stop and see what it was like.  Impulsively, I've gone to Pokey Joe's and had Ruby's Barbeque at department get togethers in the past .

Truthfully, I thought they were lame as hell.  Tasteless, one time the chicken was cold, and the sauce was more like spicy sweet ketchup.  And, I do not like ketchup.  So, any suggestion to drive out thirty or more minutes to Lockhardt, Lulling, or West Hell, Texas, to eat at Salt Lick was totally out of the question.

For today, Sam's seemed to be the best opportunity to experience East Austin, talk to real people, and eat some good food.  All the reviews about Sam's were positive.  All the photos I saw reminded me of any whole-in-the-wall place I'd grown up with in anywhere across the South.

The kids and I arrived and I could not remember what took me so long to visit the spot. I felt a bit embarrassed that I had not been there earlier. I tried to read the menu, but Willie Mays, Sam's BBQ owner, asked me to tell him what I wanted.  I ordered and . . . BAM!  Mr. Mays served me my whole chicken, hot, a side of potato salad, and four slices of wheat bread.

I laughed inside as my son asked me what the bread was for.  As we ate, Willie sat during a slow period to chat me up as he watched my reaction to eating his food.  The small, friendly spot reminded me of a small town genuineness not oftentimes found in a large city.  The great thing about East Austin has been the ability of people to keep to their roots as much of the city seems to change around them.

I do not want to suggest that East Austinites are stuck in the past. I'm reminded that not every part of Austin is a recovering hippie enclave or WASP retreat primarily concerned with the latest IPad innovations, downloaded apps, the latest bar tips found on Foursquare, loyalties to a local indie band, and online Facebook gossip. There is nothing wrong with these things in themselves, but there is more in the world.

It's hard to describe how it felt to go to Sam's with my kids.  My kids probably did not care.  However, I was glad to be there with them.  Maybe it felt familiar to me because it reminded me of the many times my mother took me out on "country drives" through Oakland, California, or Fort Worth, Texas, when visiting friends or family.  It was like she'd search for the smallest, rankest spot on the map, stop to smell the air, and know we'd come to the right place to break bread and dine with kings.

After finishing some chores, touring East Austin, and lounging, I accomplished my intended goal to stay on track, drank my water, stayed sufficiently distracted from eating sweets, and spent quality time with the kiddos.  Not a bad day.

Day 18 - Winter Rains on 12th & Chicon (East Austin)

Old White Swan sign

As I sit around up late at night reflecting on the day's events, I find that I was quite bored and tired.  I slept part of the day.  Not sure if it was me getting old or genuine fatigue from the work week.

I started thinking about my maternal grandfather.  My mother told me a few stories about him going out to hang with friends and listen to music off of 12th Street.

Before my mother passed, I took her around Austin in hopes that she may teach me a thing or two about her days during desegregation, the Civil Rights movement, and her short time while residing in Austin.

Mom always talked about how country parts of east, north and south Austin were in her time.  Going to 45th Street was a special place if you were crazy, since the Texas State Hospital was built there.

Today, for me, the state hospital seems a short ride down I-35 highway with a quick detour to Central Market coupled with a brisk stroll in the area park, ending with warm kolaches from the Kolache Factory.

So, I took a brief ride over to 12th and Chicon Streets to take a look at my grandfather's old stomping grounds.  I had a feeling as I peered into the eyes of the multiple vagrants meandering about that things had changed from times in the 1950s.

When I moved to Austin, I stumbled upon 'crack and ho' alley smack through 12th and Chicon.  It was a bit less intimidating than anything I came across in the Murder 5th, a horrible name describing the rough 5th Ward District in Houston, Texas, where I grew up as a small child, or the boogie down South Bronx that I favored when I worked and lived up in New York/New Jersey. Nonetheless, for Austin, 12th and Chicon had become synonymous with prostitution, crime, vagrancy, open drug use, and any under belly activity the city's conscience could imagine.

Despite its reputation, 12th and Chicon has a memorable history all its own as another hot spot for music, food, drink, and fun times for African Americans.  Both 11th and 12th Streets were lit at night by historic moonlight towers, a cost effective lighting structure, designed to light the midnight sky in Austin starting in the 1880s as an alternative to smaller and more expensive street lights. Austin is one of the few remaining cities in America that continues to use  a system of moonlight towers.

I tried to imagine my younger, cool grandfather walking by the moonlight tower's illumination to find a friend at the Legendary White Swan located near 12th and Chicon.  Down the way, there was Sam's Barbeque serving the best meats and cold drinks money could buy.  First stop, Sam's BBQ for a small bit of some brisket and some sides topped off with lemon aid to cool himself during the hot humid night.  Half a block down, there was The White Swan, a juke joint and place to see and be seen by everyone with good music and loud laughter as people walked about at night.

Now, most people would probably be scared to drive by let alone walk around the intersection. Recently, the Legendary White Swan came under new management and considerably much whiter as hipsters and the like came to see the local dive as a new hang out spot.  Liken to my grandfather, the White Swan continues to be a place to hear soul music with the addition of a variety of less well-known artists from all around.  It use to be part of the famous Chitlin' Circuit and has transformed itself into a dive part of the hipster circuit. A small cultural miracle it seems.

The funny thing about 12th Street is that it has served as the boundary between historic African American neighborhoods of Rosewood and Chestnut in East Austin.  Chicon separated these neighborhoods from the few blocks to Swede Hill. However, with segregation in full swing by the 1950s, many of the Italian, Irish, Swedish, and German residents left East Austin as part of the white flight out of East Austin and the forced relocation of most African Americans east of I-35.

I never had the pleasure of talking with my grandfather about his time in Austin or much of anything.  The sad thing about the death of older people is that their memories go with them.  I'm left to wonder and imagine what times were like for him and his young family.

The little that I've learned has to be shared with my children.  On Sunday, I'm going to have a historic tour with the kids to show them the locations and talk about the history they continue.

After some reflection, the day was not a total waste as it may have seemed.

I still passively struggle with getting my water in on the weekend as I continued to this day.  However, I made it a point to keep eating my vegetables if only as a new habit that I am learning to maintain despite my best efforts to forget.

The rain should clear up.  Looking forward to tomorrow's excursion into the past.

Sam's BBQ in East Austin

Day 16 - More Austin, East of I-35 Love

Picture of Joe Sing

Thursday morning was not the same pop up and kiss the sky kind of morning as was yesterday.

I was dragging ass like lard was a paper weight in my pants.  I heard the clock alarm go off . . .

I just looked at it, noise blaring in the morning chill.  I finally turned off both my clock alarm and the cell alarm  that followed moments later.  I could not stand it anymore.  So, I laid in my warm bed, studied the numbers on the neon green clock radio and listened to National Public Radio talk about the Republican Presidential primary and the economy.

This was not in God's plan.

I had a few days under my belt and, as tired as I felt, I still felt compelled to rise this morning.  With dry spit on my face, I sure did not give a goddamn how I looked.  I rolled out of bed in my Batman underwear, grappled with staying atop my two left feet, and somehow made it to the restroom. With the lights off, I'm pretty sure I was in the right position to unload the two quarts of water I drank the night before as I went to bed.

My eyes did not need to adjust yet as I returned to sit on the corner of my bed contemplating the apparent insanity that rose me from death's grip.  My heart was not into this morning exercise thing, but I went with what little willpower I could muster.  I listened to the Republicans hammer at each other and again at President Obama.  It was enough to peek my curiosity to listen more to the story and clothe myself in the dark.

I watched the clock strike six o'clock in the morning, which was pretty late if I was going to get a good start.  However, I had already decided that I needed to make a short stop on my walk this morning.

I could not recall one of the Asian family's  that settled in East Austin. So, I rose up and intently walked around the Cesar Chavez area near Lady Bird Lake in search of the Texas Historical Marker to jog my memory.

Many people may not think of East Austin as home to any Asian Americans, but long ago, there was a prominent Chinese immigrant who ran a laundry business on 5th Street.  In the late 1800's, Jo Feng Sheng or Joe Sing came to Austin by way of New York City and New Orleans.  A native of southern China off the South China Sea, Mr. Sing came to Austin during a time when there were only thirty Chinese people, almost all men, residing in the city.

Mr. Sing remained while many other Chinese left due to discrimination (i.e., racism and inability to own property) and difficulty finding work and opportunity.  However, he met and later married Frances Moreno (Sing), a Mexican American who subsequently lost her citizenship when she married Mr. Sing. They went on to have four children.

I thought it important to mention, even if brief, the legacy of Mr. Sing and the other Chinese immigrants who came to settle in Austin.  Although many Chinese would not come to stay in East Austin, I thought the Sing family story was an important one to share.  Sing and other prominent Asian immigrants and Asian Americans came to provide a contribution to the history and culture of Austin.


In particular, Mr. Sing's life illustrated his integration into East Austin, managed a business, and thrived in the community.  His story and that of many Asians can be easily overlooked due to the small numbers who initially resided here.

I cannot clearly articulate the importance of telling part of the Sing story.  For some reason, it felt dishonorable to leave it out.  Of course, there are plenty of stories being left out.  However, on my walk around the East Austin, the Sing family story, the house Mr. Sing's daughter bought on Willow Street, which is the one I pass on occasion during my walks, are meaningful tidbits of what I learned to be part of the East Austin identity.

There is more to learn, experience, honor, and criticize.  As I walked home, I wondered what it was like for a man during the turn of the 20th century in a foreign land, nurture a family, grow a business, and develop friendships. Mr. Sing's story and that of the thousands who have lived and worked in East Austin would probably fill volumes.  I hope my legacy in some small way honors the path these trailblazers made for us.

Today, it was not hard at all to stay on track by staying away from sweets. There were a few tempting situations.  The pound of chocolates and fruit flavored candies in my car trunk was one.  The other came from a box of post-Valentine's Day candy sitting in the office all day.  Neither of the temptations were worthy of my attention.  I did remove the candy from my trunk as soon as I realized I might be driving back home with it still in my car.  Yeah, I had to get rid of that satanic sweetness.

Water . . . check, fruit and vegetables . . .  check, glass of wine while I write this blog entry . . . double check.  Today is a good day!

Now, will someone tell those hipsters walking about my neighborhood to shut the hell up?!!! Can't they talk softly as they traispe down the street!  Day workers like me have to get up and walk in the morning. :)

Day 15 - Musings on the East Side (Austin)

As I hoped, waking in the morning came to me much easier this morning.  I popped up before the alarm went off, threw on my clothes, and out the door.

It took a while for me to settle in for my walk.  I did not feel quite as listless at the start.  However, about a mile into it, I continued to feel more energetic and aware of my surroundings.  I noticed as I paced down Comal Street through to Lady Bird Lake that I was passing through over a hundred years of East Austin history.

As many may know, East of I-35 historically has been the home of many African and Latino/Hispanic American families and communities.

There is iconic Victory Grill on 11th Street, which opened in 1945 as a spot for returning African American servicemen after World War II.  Ike and Tina Turner, James Brown, Etta James, Janis Joplin, Billie Holiday, Chuck Berry and many other notable musicians played at the Victory Grill. As a result of segregation, there were several African American schools and colleges, a "Colored branch" library (George Washington Carver Library),  and community churches.  As African Americans left to live in the suburbs over the next twenty or thirty years, the area experienced a  major decline.

There also is a strong presence of Mexican Americans in East Austin. Recently, it was estimated that well over a third of the Austin population is Hispanic/Latino.  Traditionally, Mexican Americans in East Austin worked and lived from around 7th Street down to Cesar Chavez (aka 1st Street or Water Street) through to Lady Bird Lake on the Colorado River. A number of immigrant farmers came to Austin to become skilled workers, entrepreneurs, and educators among others.  Several churches and well known families became well established including Austin's first Hispanic mayor, Gus Garcia, who came from East Austin.

Of special note is the site of the French Legation, which was completed in 1842.  The site was developed after the Republic of Texas, since winning its independence, invited ministers from foreign countries to establish legations and develop diplomatic relationships.  It was believed that the French Legation was part of a larger plot to annex large portions of the Republic of Texas to become a colony of France.  The French Legation sits on twenty-one acres looking over downtown Austin just east of I-35.

So, within a five to seven mile walk, I was able to experience a wide swath of Austin's rich cultural history.  At present, East Austin is experiencing a wave of gentrification as individuals and families come in to purchase properties throughout the community.  There is an artist and musician community that resides, works, and plays on the East Side as well. This all makes for an interesting experience.

I'm proud to say that my mother's family also resided and went to college in East Austin years ago.  My children go to the neighborhood school and I really feel at home as I walk through my community.  Austin continues to be a huge adjustment for me from my time in Atlanta, New York, Massachusetts, and California.  It has grown on me and I'll see where I am in the next several years.  For now, Austin is the place for me.

I ended my walk with several sprints up a hill.  I'll feel the muscle pain tomorrow or at least on the following day.  I stayed on top of my water, enjoyed some relatively good food.  Still, no sweets. It sounds corny, but I'm feeling good in my neighborhood.

Day 14 - Lovely Day of Amore

Happy to report that I did get up this Tuesday morning at 5:30 a.m.to exercise. By it self, I felt a sense of reward for following through. Yes, a little pat on the back is a good thing although short lived.

I already had my clothes, shoes, and other items ready to go near my bed.  I did not waste time foraging through my room looking for excuses not to exercise.

Over the weekend, I had cleaned up my bedroom so I could move about easily.  This morning was far warmer than the day before as well. These preparatory activities really made it difficult to be lazy, ignore the alarm, or be a flake.  I had no excuses or at least far fewer excuses.

I learned from the night before that there was going to be a dense fog advisory in the morning.  Oh, was the fog thick, but it was calming for some reason.  As I passed the eighteen acre Texas State Cemetery with headstones of dead confederate soldiers, I noticed that I could not see the red signal lights around 300 yards in front me.  Of course, the sun hadn't risen and no one else seemed to utter a sound. The dogs bark fell silent and birds remained still.

As I walked, I could only hear my heart beat, my footsteps and an occasional car or Metro bus pass by.  Passing into darkest on the street along the cemetery, the street lights were out and the fog made all else mostly translucent allowing a certain peace of mind to come over me.

Often times, cemeteries are feared for their ghostly features, respected for their sacredness, and avoided because they remind us of the intimidating welcome of death we each must encounter.  On this day, I sorted through the fog of night into the cemetery and felt calm, an ease of mind and body, while alone and each sound of my footstep faded in my mind.

I stood for a moment, which ended up being more than twenty.  In those moments, I was reminded of what joy and peace I received from my early morning exercises. I smiled and continued to finish my walk/run.

Through the day, I responded to difficulties and stayed on track with my water food, and stayed away from sweets successfully.  By the end of the day, I found that the day passed without incident.  I found myself more willing to share with friends and family my regular accomplishments and challenges.

I look forward the next day.

Day 13 - Motivation to Action

In my plans to get fit and start the process of recovering from a sweets fixation, I've concluded exercise would be a critical part of the process.  After the weekend, I started the new exercise plan fine a bit underwhelmed with nothing very inspiring. No fireworks and I did not feel the way I expected.

When I rose Monday morning, I created, while not lucid from lack of sleep, every excuse to not get up in the morning. It was 5:30 a.m., but I was up until one in the morning and did about all the little things possible to sabotage my best laid plans.

My worst enemy is oftentimes me.  I have all of intellectual reasons to get started.  I have the know-how, past experience, and ability to get the ball running.  I also have become skilled at finding ways to get in my own way.

Sometimes I wonder how I've been able to get this far with so many self-imposed obstacles. Over the next day, I'll be spending as much time on getting out of my way and staying with my plan of action.

I know this is part of the process of creating personal change.  The prior knowledge has not interrupted the feelings of frustration and disappointment.  It's the same frustration projected at others when they do not follow through or are big flakes.

I have to also remember to have self-compassion and forgiveness without being too permissive or develop a sense of entitlement otherwise I will not be able to make the changes desired.  The self-compassion and a gentle kick in the ass is a fine balance to maintain.

As I write about these subtle changes, thoughts, and feelings, it does get me moving and grooving.  So, as much of an obstacle that I can be, I can also be a radical activist to create change.  I am excited about that part of me.  I'll also need to be tolerant of that other part of me that is not so inspiring and glamorous.

Day 10 - Movie with Denzel (Safe House)

Of note for the tenth day toward confectioner's freedom, I saw a relatively good movie at the theater.  For the first time in years, I went and saw a movie on opening night.

As usual, I was running late for the movie and walked in confronted with the age-old habit of buying the highly overpriced yet anticipated  old lady candy found in Twizzlers, an industrial size, behemoth popcorn, and the economy size Slush or Icee. As a precaution against overeating the bad stuff, I sometimes hold on the "butter" aka artificially flavored, partially hydrogenated vegetable oil.  Oh, so deeeeelicious.

The desire the purchase and consume satan's rapture was automatic.  So, I ran or walked intently away from the confectioner's dungeon of delights and wonders straight to the movie.

Although the movie was good, I was quite tired from lack of sleep the previous night. Fatigue is another condition that has led to overeating and binge eating on sweets.

Plus, I noticed very late in the day that I had not stayed on top of my water consumption for the day.  I was way behind as evidenced by the golden colored water sitting at the bottom of the commode.  My urine was darker than the straw or light color urine I had become accustomed to over the last several days of staying hydrated with more water.

So, as I stayed away from the confectioner's tempting poisons, the lure was compounded by fatigue and dehydration, which usually is a deadly combination - the one, two knockout punch.

During the movie, I could feel my dry throat and taste buds exploding inside for damn near anything sweetly refined.  A great distraction was the movie, Safe House, with Denzel Washington to  the rescue. Save me Denzel!!!

Anyway, the movie had plenty of action, some slow points, but in the end, it made me forget about the junk food.

When I arrived home, big glasses of water welcomed me as I caught up on some sleep and made peace with the sleep angels. There is a good in the world.

And, go see Denzel.  Great fighting scenes, car chases, and a bit of a thriller.  Denzel acted everyone else under the table; unfortunately, the movie was beneath his skill level.  The other actors, particularly his co-star, Ryan Reynolds, is still working on getting his big boy pants on.  Reynolds tried really hard I imagine, but Denzel was clearly doing charity work and helping out Reynolds' career.

Day 9 - Wellness Life Coach

I finally spoke with the Wellness Life Coach.

I did not think it would make a whole bunch of difference talking to the Wellness Coach.  Although I have had a career recommending life coaches, therapists, physicians, community resources, government assistance, and hook ups among other things, the idea of trusting some stranger to build accountability seemed a bit weird.

I had to remove the old skool ideas of coaching.  I can't say I felt motivated by the life coach, but it helped to talk through what I was going to do.  After the talk, identifying clearly what concrete steps I would make seemed powerful in itself.

As I thought about my plans and sorted through what steps to take, I felt affirmed that I knew what to do next. For the rest of the day, I mused about what the coming weeks might be able to unfold.

For the coming month, I will focus on working out at least four to five times per week, alternating with walking/running and biking along with weights and jump rope.  Not a bad plan. I won't win any marathons.  I will get started toward the goals I want to achieve.  First major goal: Lose 30 lbs.

Day 8 - Secondary Benefits

I noticed as it may be obvious that my teeth have not been bleeding as much these last several days.  I go to the dentist pretty regularly, if nothing else so I will not have to see him more often.  However, throughout my childhood and adulthood, I've had this off and on problem with bleeding gums or gingivitis, a common form of gum disease.

It may not be well known, but I learned African Americans and Mexican Americans have a disproportionate higher rate of gingivitis than other groups.  I would guess this has to do with socio-economic status, access to dental services, and, of course, diet.

Since I have been excluding sweets from my diet, my gums have not bled as severely in the last couple of days. As of today, there is no bleeding at all.  Of course, flossing and good dental hygiene help.  I do wonder how cutting back the sweets has made a difference.  It may seem obvious, but this is not something that I hear about regularly.

I grew up with family where it was very common to expect that you were going to lose many, if not all, of your teeth.  I presume pulling teeth was the cheaper option to have a bad cavity removed instead of getting a filling or repairing it.  I grew up watching young men and women with missing teeth.  In pictures, you'd see them getting older and have more missing teeth in their mouth.  These are some of the same people with other major health concerns such as heart disease, strokes, high blood pressure, and diabetes.

Growing up into young adulthood, I did not connect their health problems and dental issues.  Dental issues, I guess, was not a health issue per se.

I have two crowns on teeth I lost to poor dental hygiene and resulted in me being far more diligent about brushing and flossing because I hate the dentist.  They're nice and all.  My kids love the African American dentist they have now located in my part town - the sunny Eastside (Austin's hood).

I expect my kids will have a different experience than my older family and I experienced.  They do far better managing their teeth than I did at their age.  I also believe the connection between good dental hygiene is linked to the other positive health messages I communicate to them.

I plan on keeping the rest of my teeth.  I have a dental appointment coming up also.  I'll be a bit nervous.  But, hey, I'm not a kid and going to the dentist is not going to hurt any more.  It's a whole lot easier and cheaper taking care of my health.

Day 7 - Freedom Riders

On PBS tonight, there was a documentary covering the events related to the Freedom Riders, who traveled through the Deep South to fight against segregation in 1961. The gray shades flickering on the TV brought to life very clearly the horror from our past.

The personal stories resonated the sense of horror and deep desire to achieve success to turn the tide toward greater freedom in America.

I am reminded of the sacrifice each man and woman made across racial lines, who came from nearly every state to fight against racism in Alabama and Mississippi in 1961.  I also am rewarded with the affirmation to hear once again how people felt compelled to make a difference through action.

Today, I continued doing relatively well following my commitment to cut sweets from my diet.  I called the life coach and had to leave message to receive a return call.  I felt a bit impatient having to wait until tomorrow to hear anything back from the life coach.

The mere fact that I could sit in my office, waiting for a paid service, no different that anyone else's, paid into by the state and shared with other individuals, allowing me the convenience to wait a day for a wellness coach.  Yeah, I think I can wait.

I still feel the desire to slip and eat candy.  The good feeling is that TODAY I felt quite capable of ignoring the impulse, drinking my water or eating my fruit for a snack instead.

Day 6 - Hunger Games

The one thing going through my mind all day and went unaccomplished was the call to the life coach from the wellness program through my health insurance. As I sit hear contemplating the day, I cannot really give a good reason for not calling.  It wasn't a priority.

The first excuse was that I did not have the phone number, which led to me thinking I needed to look up the information online.  So, I pushed the chore of finding the number off until I had time to search through the Human Resources webpage.

The next excuse included my desire to have lunch, since it was already the late afternoon and I wanted to take a break from work instead.  I thought when I was done I would locate the number and call before going home.

Finally, I wanted to call after noticing that the end of the day approached quickly. I saw the remnants of my four servings of water sitting still in my recycled Powerade bottle.  I checked my email and recalled that I needed to enter grade changes for a few students. I got up immediately and planned on getting something to eat (yeah,  I still didn't eat).  On the way back, I'd go to the office across campus to completed the required paperwork.

When I returned to the office, the day was over and I was certain that the wellness program wherever it was located probably closed by then. I checked my email, responded to messages, made a few phone calls, and locked my door to go home.

Once I arrived home, I went to an early evening community presentation, ate dinner, and sat down to write this blog. Sitting here, I wondered how much time did it take to find that wellness program phone number for the life coach.

Wait for it . . . .

Approximately 40 seconds.  I opened my email, searched for Wellness Program, and there it popped up.

It is interesting the games we play with ourselves to avoid making change or steps toward making meaningful change.  I do not attempt to overestimate or underestimate the importance of talking with the life coach. Rather, I consider the power and deep psychology present in procrastination, which helps to delay important tasks to a later time.  Some say procrastination serves the person by providing a mechanism for coping with anxiety.

What am I anxious about?  Failure, not fulfilling my expectations and unsaid goals to be healthier and not continue the legacy past down the generations.  My mother, maternal and paternal grandparents all died from causes related to heart disease and/or cancer.  The goodness of their hearts did not suffice to lengthen their lives or make the quality of their last days pleasurable.  My mother died incoherent, unconscious of her circumstance, while my maternal grandfather died alone in his apartment after an apparent heart attack, and my maternal grandmother died of colon cancer in a hospital while battling advanced diabetes. My paternal grandfather died around the age of 52 related to cancer.

So, I know the burden a family can take on caring for loved ones who are gravely ill.  Some elder family died when I was too young to remember their presence.  I cannot tell you what my paternal grandfather looked like at all.  Although we could not do anything about my maternal grandmother's cancer, I could tell you stories of my grandfather's struggles with the government to provide proper medical coverage for my grandmother.  My grandfather's lasting description of President George Bush I: Pork chop.

There were hours spent at hospitals, sitting in waiting rooms to hear word, caring for proud people who spend their whole lives fighting for a better life.  My maternal grandmother, who was a school teacher, died at 63 and my maternal grandfather a WWII veteran extended his life to 77.  My mother also accomplished much in her short life, when she died at age 62.

I had accepted my mother's early death as a reflection of Black folks plight.  However, in a move to better appreciate and understand my family heritage and the legacy bestowed to me, I started plotting out my family tree online.  I learned going back at least  four or more generations on both sides of my family that it was not common for people to die so young. To the contrary, many people lived well into their nineties and beyond one hundred years.  The new information saddened me. It also invited me to fulfill my legacy.

I'm calling the life coach first thing in the morning.  I have the number and hope in hand.  It's hard to imagine being anxious about living up to what was given to me freely. The games continue.

Day 5 - Food & the Super Bowl

Day 5 - Ok!  Why does it seem just when you are ready to start  anew, because the previous day did not go as planned, the day you want to regroup and refresh ends up on a holiday or special event?

Satan!  You diabolical, sneaky pork chop!  I curse you!

On Saturday, I complained and whined about the fat, salt, and sugar trifecta and the all powerful god of desire for them.  As my old pastor use to say, "You gotta name it and claim it!"

All right. I named them the Trifecta.

What I did not do is plan for the Super Bowl.  I had not really thought about what to do and how to prepare, which was problem number one.  Then, on the radio, I heard about the millions of hot wings that were to be consumed during the Super Bowl.  The chili cook offs, pizza, and all the delicious fixins.  Maybe it should have been a warning.  It was an invitation.

What the hell was a brother gonna do?  I have an idea.  But, this is what happened.

I went to pick up 40 teriyaki wings from my spot in East Austin.  My son and I were pretty hungry, especially since he finished a hard fought basketball game in a losing endeavor against an evenly matched team.  He also had a friend coming over to hang out.  Since I already had hot wings on the mind, I suggested them along with the fries and a very nutritious side of carrots and celery sticks with ranch dressing.

Yeah, I know.  Carrot and celery sticks were no where enough.  But, I told myself that I would get a nice salad to go with it.  Unfortunately, I started with the wings instead of the salad.  I loaded up on the wings and a handful of fries dipped in some left over queso I made with homemade salsa.  I could not let the queso go to waste, right?

When it was all said and done, it was about two o'clock in the afternoon and the game had not even started.  I was busted and promised myself that I'd eat that salad, leafy green, fibrous food to help the wings go down.

The salad never came, and! . . . I did eat the carrots and celery without the ranch dressing.

I couldn't eat much more for the rest of day.  After the Super Bowl, which was kind of exciting with the last minute touch down by the New York Giants, I watched a movie and contemplated my next move.  I drank the rest of my water for the day.  When I had a hunkering from something sweet, I had a piece of fruit, which seemed to do the trick.

So, today is the day.  I'm going to call that life coach I stood up months ago to help get on track as well.

Thank God for health benefits!

Day 4 - Fat, Sugar, and Salt, Oh, My!

It's only been the fourth day.  As I cut out sweets and cut down on the junk that comes with it, I am experiencing a powerful god in three persons: fat, salt, and sugar.

I am not trying to disrespect the Trinitarians found in Christianity or the concept of Trimurti in Hinduism. However, it seems perfectly descriptive of what the makers of  fast and junk foods alike attempt to inject in everything they create.

As I attempt to avoid and cut out sweets, I find my desire to eat fatty and salty foods increases.  I'm not sure if it is any more than before or maybe I am more acutely aware of it in the absence of high sugar intake.

Think of any of your favorite, guilty pleasures related to food.  I can almost guarantee whatever your top ten foods are they probably include more than half or all high quantities of fat, salt, and/or sugar.  I'm not mad at you.  It is part of our shared biology.

I know that I'm no better than that dim witted Pavlovian dog salivating after a treat. Our brains get activated and stimulated by catchy phrases and music, bright colors, and a charismatic spokesperson for the thousands of products found in any store, restaurant, food truck and dispensing machine around every corner, found in nearly every kitchen, tucked away in our schools and colleges, and paraded across TVs and during movie previews - not to mention throughout the internet.

Even in the no carb, no fat, no trans fat, low sodium, and sugar free foods include a contrary intention to maximize the cooresponding aspect. For example, seek out the nutritional information of any of your top five healthier treats with any of the aforementioned nutritional phrases.  You may already be a savvy consumer and aware of this, but I am continually left with my mouth wide open in response to how they replace the sugar and fat with higher amounts of salt.  As they cut the fat, they instead up the sugar.  All of this food engineering is done to add flavor and respond to most consumers want to eat healthier while maintaining good taste.

Think about ten or twenty year ago and consider those foods that were part of the wave of diet foods.  They tasted pretty much like shit, cardboard, and tasteless waste. They simply did not appeal to our biological response to any one of the fat, sugar, and salt trifecta. Currently, food companies seemed to have perfected  the trifecta science to allow us to find these "diet" foods tastier and perceive them as healthier, better than other junk foods.

Today, I found myself talking and damn near dreaming of salt and fat foods during the day.  Add to the fold a weekend fraught with a bit more unplanned time.  Although I've stayed with drinking my water, I did not get started until around late morning.  Instead of having a taste for something sweet, I wanted to have water since I could feel my throat getting dry.  I ate plenty of fruit and vegetables, but it was not during typical times of eating.  Even after eating a highly nutritious dinner, I desired a bit more fat and salt.

It did not take much time to find a food that would satisfy me even though I had dinner and a full stomach.

Yes, it was Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) to the rescue.  I could have helped it, but I did not want to find a reason.

So, I drove the five minutes it took to purchase a four piece dark meat, thighs and legs, meal with sweet corn and slaw.  After the second piece of chicken, I think I found myself coming out of the food coma.  All was not clear until I finished the amazingly small pieces of non-organic chicken pieces and began feeding the bones to my two labs.

I noticed I was a bit annoyed with myself, but I slowly began to laugh about it all.  I tricked myself and allowed myself to be vulnerable during the predictably unorganized weekend.  The wonderful thing about it all is that I feel good about my plan to deal with this glorious fat, salt, and sugar dilemma.

I won't cut fat and salt.  However, I will keep watch on those foods with high fat and salt.  Generally, I do a pretty good job of managing it. Actually, no I don't. So, I will need to take care and be mindful. I also need to avoid the fast foods and junk.  I'll make certain to have a balanced amount of fat and find foods that provide the fat and salt needed along with the other nutrients.

The trifecta is quite powerful.  I also know there are plenty of other options available to manage its influence on my life.