Mayan Winds: Premium Coffee on a mission.

Heres the documentary for Mayan Winds that I've been working on....

Paying Forward

(picture is of the legendary Kaspers hot dog stand in North Oakland)

So last Saturday I was running errands and ended up at the "rich" grocery store in my neighborhood in Antelope, Ca. In my neighborhood there are two grocery stores. The more expensive one, the Bel-Air market, typically has a couple Mercedes, a Lexus or two, and a few BMW's parked in front of it. the typical customer is older and affluent and one who prioritizes their time and convenience over price, and though normally that wasn't me, on this day it was.

As I pulled into the parking lot I heard what sounded like an angry man yelling at someone. As I walked towards the store, I noticed a heavy set black dude with two little boys on either side of him. The boys looked like they could have been twins, and were likely 2-3 year of age. As I got closer, their dad and I made eye contact, and he walked up and offered a friendly, albeit flustered greeting. He told me that he was "just out here trying to get some diapers for [his] son, and these people [kept] treating [him] like he had shit on him." "They should be glad..." he continued, "...I could be out here bustin' people over the head, but I'm tryin' to do it right. I'm out here trying to get something for my kids and this lady just said I was pathetic."

Being from Oakland, I had grown up with beggars and panhandlers of all varieties; From the honest looking "I just ran out of gas and I'm dead broke" guy, who could have just as easily been me, to the professional homeless dude, who pan handled as a job. Oakland trains you to 1) have a stock answer, to 2) make a decision to help or not quickly, and 3) to keep it moving. But I wasn't in Oakland. I extended my hand to dap the dude, who couldn't have been more than maybe 22 years old. looking at his clothes and his kid's clothes I could tell that pan handling wasn't his way of life. Given the angry yelling I heard while parking, I could also tell that this dude wasn't familiar with this area.

I explained to the young cat first, if he HAD to ask for money it was better to do it across the street at the Winco (my regular supermarket), where people were much more down to earth and therefore more likely to help. To his comment regarding the "bustin" of heads, I suggested he keep his voice down and change his tone because "these folks don't play. they will call the ones (police) quick on you...." I explained to him that I was from Oakland and that I had learned that "fuckin' with rich white folks who will DEFINITELY call the police on you, isn't the best move when you are with your kids."

A bit calmer now, the dude replied that he too was from the town and when I asked where he said "the north.... 61rst and Shattuck." I had come into contact with a handful of Oakland transplants in my time here but the North Oakland variety is rare. I told him that "I could see [he] wasn't used to this area or used to begging for [his seeds] (children), and the fact that he was from my part of town alone had inspired me to give [him] a 20$ when I came out the store." I sped through my shopping (staying too long in that supermarket will hit your wallet hard) and emerged from the store to find the dude across the parking lot talking to someone at their car. Extending my hand like another dap I pressed the 20$ bill into his hand in a way that hid the fact that I was giving him money (As a boy I learned that if a friend asks for help you don't make a show of helping.)

With that I got in the car and as I drove off, said a small prayer. I'm not the most religious cat (i don't generally trust organized religion,) but I do believe in God and praying. I asked that God put it in that dude's heart to help someone else if he finds himself in my role in a similar circumstance. I thought of what might have happened if his frustration and anger with being ridiculed in front of his children (for trying to provide for his children) had continued to escalate. The thought of dude getting cuffed in front of his little boys wasn't something I would have wanted to see.

In talking with a few of my friends from Oakland, their unspoken reaction to my tale, was suspicion of the young dudes motives. Were I not the protagonist in the story, I might have had the same reaction. But I saw dude's eyes and I saw his kids eyes. I saw the surprise when I actually kept my word and dropped the money on him like we were long time friends. If he was hustling he was damned good at it. But if he wasn't I really had to wonder if God had not given me a chance to bless someone - a test, and if I had passed.

In a world hostile to little girls...

In a world hostile to little girls

I found myself raising 3.

I found happiness in their softness

I found challenge in their intellect-

Vigor in their perspective.

New perspective on life.

I found Life and art;

art and love.

 

I found public announcements of their arrival discomforting.

I found suspicious faces everywhere.

I found alarming unencumbered glances at the playground.

I found motive and cause for potential retributions

I found fear of loss untold

Loss of all sense of control

Faith in the strength of my soul

Life making me old.

 

I found hope.

I found dreams of potential pursuits

I found joy.

Joy of family;

Of seeing my face in theirs;

My mistakes in theirs;

My traits in theirs.

 

In a world hostile to little girls

I found myself raising 3.

Heart open wide

praying for the best,

fearing for the worst.

Doing my best, always

candid in my worst.

My breath since their birth

Lifting my own worth.

Mine till the end of time,

My own earth.

Casey's on the way

The actual due date is march 17, but I've been hoping she'd come before St. Paties. I guess after years of ignoring it, I'll finally be celebrating the Irish festivities. I named her Casey not long after determining that she was a girl. Since she's our third, we wanted to see if I had bucked the daughter trend. With Naiya and Janae, we waited till delivery day to determine pink or blue, but with Casey, the decision to peek was an easy one.

I guess part of that ease stems from the fact that we haven't had a baby around the house in 10 years. My oldest is 14 and in high school, and as with the others (and most things my wife and I jump into) the event wasn't planned, but pleasantly received. We are older now, and honestly, we've done the surprise thing - all it does is make shopping harder. After finding out we began the process of selecting a name.

Naiya and Keinya (my wife) sifted through many a book throughout the first and second trimesters. Keinya named Naiya months before her birth, and I named Janae when I saw her face. They pitched name after name at me, but I knew it would feel right when I heard the right name. One day while driving I thought of my own name, and how my parents came about labeling me for life. I have an uncle Randy on both Mom and Dads sides, so that was easy. Mom wanted it to be Randolph because that sounded more official. The Michael also came from Mom, but the Casey, that was all Dad's. He got the name from the poem Casey at the bat (which ironically enough was one of my favorite cartoons as a kid.) I thought about the fact that Dad would never get to meet this child, about how I would love to connect this new person to the wisest man I've ever known. Then it occurred to me. What about the other middle name? the one that's on the ID, but most of my friends don't know? When I said it out loud it felt right. I called the wife and it was done. I give her Casey, Keinya gave her own middle name Shanee, and she is of course a Johnson.

Casey will have a different set of parents than Naiya and Janae. we are older, grayer, wiser, and not nearly as nimble. It's strange not being the young pregnant couple. Im sure it'll also be strange to not be the young parents at the school plays. Strange days man...strange days.

I pray I will be vibrant, and vigilant, active, and attentive with Casey as I have been with her older sisters. I pray that I will be able to prepare her to fulfill the full extent of God's plan for her in this world. I hope she doesn't continually wear my old ass out. More than anything, I just hope she's healthy, whole, hearty, and here sometime real soon.

muse poem #1

I'm

smelling, touching, chasing, jonesing, tasting,

air left in her wake.

I'm

inhaling, seizing, absorbing, believing, gasping breathing

the promise of aches

I'm

seeking, needing, reaching, grasping praying fasting

In the direction of fate

I'm

leaping laughing teaching asking speaking

to each miracle we make.

Inspiration

She is a fickle lover
You must grab her while her attention’s light is upon you,
or she will certainly move on.
Delay and you will lose her affections;
force her near and she will defy you every time.
She will dance in your dreams at her whim,
leaving you lusting for her very essence
once she has gone.
Heart hollowing in her absence,
her presence inspires greatness.
So pursue her with resolve and patience,
Learn her season and mood.
Divine gift of reverence,
for the artists soul, food.