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.

----------------------

Make a comment or give feedback below. Share Brother From Another Planet blog with friends or Enter your email in one easy step with button from the right column.

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!

Make a comment or give feedback below. Share Brother From Another Planet blog with friends or Enter your email in one easy step with button from the right column.

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.