Wanna See Something Really Scary?

I will never forget, when I was about nineteen, my mother said, “tomatoes don’t taste like tomatoes anymore.” I was perplexed by this comment. If tomatoes didn’t taste like tomatoes, then what did they taste like? To which my mother answered, “they don’t really have any taste.”

Sadly, it would be several years before I fully understood the impact of my mother’s comment. The truth was, even though I had been on the planet for nearly two decades, I had never really tasted a tomato and therefore I had no idea what it was my mother remembered. In fact, my most poignant tomato story was roughly five years ago at an Italian restaurant in West L.A. The owner came to our table and lectured us on the many varieties of tomatoes – different colors, flavors and sweetnesses. He spoke of his personal gardens and clarified that he grew all of the tomatoes on the menu.

Fast-forwarding to this past August, I flew to L.A. for just under two weeks. Shortly before my departure, one of my aunts had paid me a visit from Trinidad. She was traveling around the U.S. for the entire summer visiting both family and friends. Just before her Atlanta arrival, she had been in Maryland visiting another set of relatives who happen to have an organic garden. Our Maryland cousins sent my aunt with several bags of produce. I was pleased to see among other things tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots and yellow squash. Although we tried, we were unable to eat everything before the both of us departed. As I locked up my house, I didn’t realize the experiment that was about to take place. In addition to the organic vegetables in my refrigerator, there were also what are now known as “conventional vegetables.” These where purchases I had made at the grocery store even before my aunt’s arrival. Conventional vegetables are not organic and are sometimes dyed, waxed and/or irradiated to preserve freshness. Most of the large grocery store chains are filled with conventional vegetables although they are catching on and now have organic corners where organic produce is displayed.

On day 12, when I returned from L.A., I opened my refrigerator and was stunned by what I saw. There were two organic cucumbers and one organic yellow squash. The organic cucumbers had shriveled to one-third of their original size and they were covered in mold. It appeared as if they had festering sores as liquid oozed from them. And the organic yellow squash was not much better. But it was fascinating to compare these pieces to the conventional yellow squash that looked as if I had just bought it a few days before. It was still a shiny, rich, yellow color and it appeared to be exactly the same size that it was when I left. And don’t forget I had bought it even before my aunt’s arrival. It had surely been in my refrigerator for more than three weeks. In my haste to clean out my refrigerator, I dashed the rotten organic vegetables in the trash. Again, I apologize for not photographing them first to share how marked a difference there was with you.

But here’s the problem I have with how things turned out. Remember whether it’s for decomposition or digestion, bacteria is what causes food to break down. Conventional produce has been tinkered with in many different ways to prevent it from breaking down. Even after weeks in the refrigerator, conventional produce will look brand new. And the chains of distribution that we use like this because it gives them extra time to get the produce on the shelves. In fact, millions of dollars are spent on pesticides and genetic engineering as well as on irradiation, waxing and dyes. But I still ask a question I find quite logical. If all of this processing prevents it from breaking down in the environment, does it also prevent the bacterial breakdown necessary for digestion? Think of that as food for thought.

Given what I know now I try to buy exclusively organic produce, but this is not always possible as conventional produce still represents the majority of what’s in the marketplace.

In the spirit of the Halloween season, I say to you “Caveat Emptor” or buyer beware. Just as we disguise ourselves as something we are not, foods are being presented to us that are not quite what they seem. A few weeks ago, I arrived in a store that normally carries organic avocados, but this day there were only conventional ones. The avocado pictured is a conventional one that seemed to be ripening quite well, but when I cut it open, it appeared to be rotting from the inside out. With conventional avocados I have found this phenomenon on several occasions, which is why I try to avoid them. Perhaps it relates to the same root cause of why conventional tomatoes have no taste. In any event, it is only recently that I have begun to understand the value of fresh, organic food in terms of the taste and the energy that it supplies. And I hope none of your produce purchases are Jack O’lanterns when you bring them home.

Will The Real Nene Leakes Please Stand Up

Most everyone is familiar with “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” by Robert Louis Stevenson. In Stevenson’s story, Dr. Jekyll is a kinder, mild-mannered character who actually transforms from use of a laboratory elixir into his darker alter-ego, Mr. Hyde. The story truly explores good and evil as aspects of human nature. And even though the book is now over 120 years old, its title is still used to describe instances of extreme mood swings. The reason I believe this story has resonated so strongly is because it continues to describe the struggle within all of us -- the struggle of our spirits against our egos.

Our spiritual sides are where good can be found. It is because of our spirits that we seek to offer love and compassion. And our spiritual compasses point us in the direction of what is right and good. And within all of us resides an ego from which our selfishness arises. It is because of our egos that we seek to withhold from others and to hoard for ourselves. And for most of us, the battle between ego and spirit is constant and unrelenting, which brings me to the topic of today’s post. Is there a Mr. Hyde in all of us?

Last week, I watched the season two finale of the Real Housewives of Atlanta (RHOA). This past season brought to mind a question I had asked years ago while working on “Soul Food: the series.” It was my first time transitioning from corporate America into the world of TV production, and I was somewhat stunned by the awful examples of human behavior I was made privy to. On several occasions, I witnessed grown people throwing tantrums for the most ridiculous of things, whether it was condiments, wanted or unwanted on their sandwiches or that someone had parked in the wrong spot. I have seen or heard it all, from managers using extreme profanities to curse out their assistants and/or colleagues, to coworkers having knock down brawls over how a birthday cake was served.

One of my biggest resources while on the show was a woman in the production office at Paramount Pictures. Her duties were to support all of Paramount’s TV shows, which meant her experience was quite vast. I knew such a position was very stressful, but she always resolved issues with dignity and poise. As such I thought her wise enough to answer the following question:

“Are monster personalities attracted to the entertainment industry or are they created by it?”

She didn’t hesitate with her answer, which was “I believe people come to the industry as they are.” In other words, the seeds of awful behavior had always been there, but the ego-driven entertainment industry was fertile soil in which those seeds could grow. For many, but not all, success in the entertainment industry was the elixir that transformed them from Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde.

Nene Leakes of the RHOA caused this question to resurface in my mind. In the show’s first season, she was the personality who seemed the most real. It felt as if she spoke the truth even when that made her seem unpopular. From all accounts, she became the media favorite of the show. When the series returned for a second season, Nene had a new haircut, a new address and a new attitude. Even her walk had changed into a slick person’s stroll. She strutted around as if she were a contestant on America’s Next Top Model. It soon became clear that Mrs. Leakes had no idea what had made her popular in the show’s first season. Somehow it seemed she had caught word of who the show represented her to be and she was out there trying to live up to the persona. The Dr. Jekyll that Nene was in the first season had transformed into Mr. Hyde for the show’s return.

In the second season, she ran from episode to episode telling folks what she thought of them, but it all seemed false and somewhat contrived. Her appeal as the person who spoke the truth had vanished. And now that I reside in Atlanta, I have heard Mrs. Leakes on local radio stations where she represents herself as the “Realest Housewife of Atlanta.”

While it is disappointing to discover someone is not who you thought they were, I hold no ill-will toward people like Nene. The truth of who the real Nene is shines apparent. Nene (or Linnethia) is still that young girl who was betrayed by her mother and father who had both deceived her about the identity of her true father. To this day, Nene is searching for the validation that her parents should have given her. Hopefully, the players on these reality shows will have the opportunity to see themselves and to grow spiritually rather than egotistically. Not all of us are fortunate enough to be able to observe our own lives as if we were outsiders. But the question that we all have to ask ourselves is “What will it be today – Jekyll or Hyde?”

Invasion of the Fun Snatchers

Does anyone feel like the excitement has been taken out of things? Yesterday, I walked to my mailbox and I can’t describe the disappointment I felt when I opened it to find two stacks of mailers. It was coupons and promotions for just about everything you can imagine from carpet cleaning, window replacements, tires, pizzerias and so on. I thought of the numerous stacks of paper that go directly from my mailbox to the trashcan. This can’t be an environmentally safe practice, can it?

As I walked back to the house, I remembered my childhood. I used to truly be excited about the mail. Each time I arrived home from school, if the mail hadn’t been checked, I would race out to see what was in the box. Somehow, it felt vaguely like Christmas not knowing what was going to be delivered that day. Even if there was nothing for me, I would shuffle through each envelope, excited just to see what was there. I also remember my first pen pal, which was organized by the school I was attending at the time. Once we began corresponding, it left me with a certain anticipation. After I had mailed a letter, I would anxiously await a response, diligently checking the mail until I received one.

Today, the fun and excitement I used to feel has completely disappeared. My mailbox seems to be a marketing tool, more useful to direct mailers than it is to me. Now when I check the mail, I pray the box is empty. In a year of deliveries, probably sixty percent of it is junk -- coupons and mailers that I have never used. And when I say never, I mean exactly that. I have no memory of having ever used a coupon or a promotion that was sent to my house. Still, each week I throw out stacks and stacks of improperly used paper. In addition to the junk I receive, I probably have about thirty-five percent of my mail, which is bills or someone asking for money. And then in the remaining five percent, perhaps half is desired correspondence, just as it used to be in the good old days. I’m talking birthday cards, Christmas cards, or an occasional letter. But still, the thrill of receiving mail is gone, lost to the commercialization of direct marketing.

Last month, while in New York, some friends and I went out for a Friday night on the town. One of our stops was 230 5th Avenue, which features a rooftop bar with a fantastic view. As we arrived, there was a small line to enter. When we got to the front of the queue, the trendily dressed doorman asked if we were on *The List.* I immediately smiled because I knew what this meant. My friend Alessandro (who hails from Milan, Italy) answered “no” and confirmed that we weren’t on any list. The doorman proceeded to explain that it was customary for people who weren’t on the list to purchase a bottle of champagne for a mere $250. But because we were *nice,* we would only be asked to pay $125 for the four of us. What a bargain I thought, but not one I felt inclined to pay for.

By now, Alessandro was miffed. He had been to this bar several times and had never been asked to purchase champagne. He turned to his wife, Deborah (also Italian) and began discussing whether or not we should pay in their native tongue. The doorman’s boss, an older Mafioso looking gentleman, immediately changed his posture when he heard native Italian speakers. With a wave of his hand, we were rushed into the building with no further talk of champagne.

But for me, the fun had already been ruined. All of us would have been amenable to paying a reasonable cover charge for the privilege of buying expensive alcohol on the roof of this building. But instead a foolish game had been played. The entire conversation felt like junk mail in the box. I remembered what fun it had been in the good old days when I entered a club, but this time it was more nostalgia that I felt than anything else. I longed for the old excitement that I used to share, that anticipation of something good to come. After leaving 230 5th Avenue, all of us boogied down to the Beauty Bar [see photo] where no champagne was required. It was interesting to learn that Beauty Bar was actually a hair and nail salon by day, and a bar and dance club by night.

The time has come for a shift in focus. For centuries, the goal has been “How do we make money,” which explains why I have stacks of coupons and promotions in my mailbox, which explains why if I’m not deemed “trendy” enough, attempts are made to dupe me into buying $250 bottles of champagne. But the truth of the matter is all of it is just junk and the junk takes the fun out of it.

Power Positioning

Just over five years ago, I began attending the Self Realization Fellowship (SRF) in Hollywood, California. It is a non-denominational church that marries Eastern and Western teachings on the taming of the ego and how to obtain happiness. The deeper I delved into these studies, the more I realized what a problem we have with the types of leadership we are faced with in the world.

A fully enlightened man (or woman) has by definition tamed his or her ego. Our egos almost always [mis] lead us into selfish decision-making. In movies, we have all seen the inner thoughts of a character portrayed as a tiny devil on one shoulder, and a miniature angel on the other, each trying to convince the character in question of their point of view. This devil is most definitely the ego telling us nothing really matters unless “we’re” getting something out of it. As one of my friends used to say, “If you ain’t gettin’ yours it ain’t worth it!” This is of course the ego jockeying for position.

So here is where the problem arises. The enlightened man, devoid of a dominating ego, hungers to be of service, but has no desire to be a leader. He understands the seeds of wisdom only grow in a fertile mind. While he is eager to share in his wisdom, he has no desire to push his ideas on anyone. When the lines between right and wrong grow blurry and undefined, the enlightened man has the power in his arsenal of the most efficient spiritual compass. Even in storms of confusion and adversity, he comprehends how to locate the correct path. This, as we all know, is often not so easy.

So who then are our current world leaders? Are they enlightened men who have tamed their egos, or are they men ruled by the tiny devils whispering in their ears? When money, power and status are most important, how then can you truly be of service? How can you share in your wisdom if you have none to share?

A while ago, I read a book of case studies on serial killer profiling. Yes, it was quite morbid, but also fascinating (research for a story I was working on). There was a striking phenomenon that occurred in several of the profiles. The profiler stated that the suspects would have tried unsuccessfully to become police officers. As I read further, it was explained that some police officers chose the career in order to exercise control over others. This is precisely what serial killers seek to do. In one of the profiles, the author, who had been a profiler himself, went as far as to say the killer would be driving a Chevy Caprice because it would give him the feeling of being in a police cruiser. And strangely enough, when they finally caught the suspect, he had bought an actual police car that was retired from service. He even left the signature spotlight on it that many police cruisers have. I found it shocking to learn that such heinous criminals sought work in law enforcement. But it’s the seduction of having control over others that pushes that type of personality to do so.

I fear there is a similar dynamic in politics. Not that our leaders are serial killers, but certainly many of them are drawn into politics because of money, status and power. There is no desire in their hearts to improve the world for others. Instead, their egos push them to seek positions that offer privilege and entitlement. For a man with an ego, the perception of having power over others is seductive.

How do we proceed when this dynamic exists? Our job is to scrutinize our leaders and hold them to strict standards of service. But before we can do that, we will need our own spiritual compasses to be finely tuned. If our perceptions of right and wrong are unclear, how then can we hold our leaders to any kind of standard?

Old Age or Just Plain Old Boring???

Earlier this year, I moved from Los Angeles to Atlanta. It was not a planned move, but a series of [unfortunate] circumstances arose that simply made relocating seem sensible. The truth was I had grown up in the environs of L.A. and, quite frankly, over the last decade, I had grown bored. I questioned the sense of boredom I felt. Events and functions that had once seemed thrilling now felt dull and uninteresting. Was it me? Maybe I had grown too old to appreciate the trappings of youth. Or perhaps it was the repetition of it all (which I suppose in some way is still a symptom of old age). Because I am a creature of habit when I find a coffee shop, bar or club that I like, I immediately become a loyalist. Part of me wondered if I had simply needed a geographical change to jumpstart my excitement. In any event, after learning that Atlanta was my next stop, it seemed I was about to find out. If it was simply a change of locale that I needed, I would soon know.

Shortly after my arrival in Atlanta, I had gotten semi-settled and determined it was time to go out exploring. One week, I ventured out on a Friday to sample in Atlanta’s nightlife. The following week, I would try a Saturday to see if the experience was any different. The truth is each outing was hit-or-miss. Some nights I arrived to find ten people standing around a cavernous nightclub. And once in a while, I arrived to venues that were completely packed. And the fact of the matter was it didn’t make a difference what I found when I ventured out. My boredom remained.

As I sought answers, I wondered whether alcohol was the determining factor. It had been several years since I stopped drinking. After receiving my cancer diagnosis, it seemed like the right thing to do. It’s sad to consider, but back in the days when going out seemed the most fun, it could have been a result of the alcohol. But what does that say about me? Can my life only be viewed as exciting when seen through an alcohol-filled haze? Nowadays when I enter a bar and the majority of the crowd is tipsy or drunk, it’s more distracting than it is fun.

But there was an alternative explanation for the phenomenon of boredom I felt. Maybe it wasn’t me and the magic that had made things exciting had lost its strength. Could the answer have been that easy and L.A. and Atlanta were simply boring? Although I hadn’t planned it this way, 2009 turned out to be a travel year for me. It was almost as if I had done a survey of cities, which included, among others, London, Paris, Barcelona, Edinburgh, Salzburg and most recently New York.

After nearly a year of questioning, pondering, and gathering information, I finally had an answer to my question. It is me. I now realize what is most fun for me is the establishment of emotional connections. Before, I was afraid to connect with people, fearful that they wouldn’t appreciate the true me if I dared to reveal myself. And this is why I believe people do drugs and alcohol. Our inhibitions are lowered, yet our senses are dulled. Previously, with drugs and alcohol, my fears dissipated, but I was also comforted by the idea that those around me weren’t paying as much attention. Not when we were all intoxicated.

Fastforwarding to present day, I am blessed to have an abundance of wonderful people in my life. People who reveal themselves to me in ways they don’t often do with others. Each city I visited, I learned new and exciting things about my friends. I spent hours sitting around, eating meals, drinking teas and talking. I learned wonderful things I didn’t know about people I already knew quite well. And I reciprocated in turn, revealing things about myself.

For me, a new way of having fun has emerged. It is a method of truth and honesty in which we reveal ourselves and remain open and accepting of the truth within others. I rejoice in the reality that many of my friends understand this and that deep and lasting connections continue.

The Learning Curve...

A few weeks ago, my wireless router began acting up. During each episode, I would have to unplug it and wait a few seconds before restarting. Although the on-off procedure seemed to resolve the problem each time, I knew the router was on its last leg. About two days ago, it died. Because I had recently started with a new Internet service, I wanted to make sure it was my router before I purchased a new one. I plugged the connector cable directly into my computer, which should have supplied working service, but it didn’t. This made me suspect it wasn’t my router. Just to be sure, I decided to try tech support and see if they could talk me through it.

Now, I know profiling is not a nice thing, especially since it’s casting judgment even when there is little-to-no information available to truly judge. Nevertheless, as soon as the tech support person answered, I knew I was in trouble. The woman sounded reasonably intelligent, but I didn’t feel confident in her ability to resolve a hi-tech problem (which actually wasn’t all that hi-tech). As she began to ask questions and give answers, I immediately became convinced I was right. I have always found tech savvy people are like great films. My mom always said you can tell if a movie is going to be good in the first five minutes. The same is true when dealing with tech support. If in that first five minutes, there is not a feeling a confidence instilled, then it is probably a better idea to hang up and call back. Just like playing a slot machine, it really is the luck of the draw.

After spending roughly forty minutes on the phone with this woman, she gave up and said she would be unable to resolve my issue. She explained that a technician would have to visit the house for me to get resolution. Trying not to get too frustrated, I scheduled an appointment for the following morning. I was told the tech would arrive between 8am and noon. No sooner than I had hung up, a friend called. I explained that I had just wasted 40 minutes of my morning dealing with a tech that I had suspected couldn’t help in the first place. My friend said he had unfortunately dealt with hours of tech support and that maybe he could help with the knowledge of how his own problems had been resolved. After less than five minutes on the phone with him, I had restored my Internet service (although I still need a router to continue with wifi). And the defining moment was when my friend mentioned that Macs usually walk you through what you need to do. I launched the Mac assistant and in less than ten clicks, I was once again online.

Now, this brings me to the true purpose of today’s posting. Have we completely lost our respect for education in this country? It seems we have made education more and more expensive, but the payoff has become smaller and smaller. I was brought up to believe an education gave you an advantage over not having had one. But after graduation, I still recall recruiters having told me that people with bachelor’s degrees were getting jobs as salespeople and receptionists. It appeared many corporations regarded a four-year degree as “common.” Of course these realities make people question the value of the degree. Has America been dumbed down? My answer to that question is a resounding yes! We are a culture that rewards athletes with million dollar contracts because they can run or throw a ball. And then we have people of questionable talent, the Britney Spears and Paris Hiltons of the world, and they are placed on pedestals for what is usually unquestionably bad behavior. And while these people become icons, our teachers are left to struggle on meager salaries even though they are oftentimes the only authority figures for many of our youth.

And I won’t beat up on the tech support woman who helped me. It was clear she didn’t have training in information technologies. If that had been the case, AT&T would have had to pay a higher wage than they are probably willing to do. The woman who answered my call was given a script of scenarios and told if the customer says XYZ is the problem, take them through steps 1, 2 and 3. Probably she did exactly what she was trained to do, but without a true understanding of what I was describing, she was ultimately unable to help. It is a sad reality because what AT&T has done (as well as other corporations) is create a lose-lose situation. As a customer, I lose because I haven’t been helped and their employee was set up to fail having been placed in a position for which she is unqualified. When we, as a society, begin to value education, we will begin to re-prioritize the value of our teachers vs. how much an athlete makes for being able to throw a ball. My only question is how bad does it have to get before we do that?