Be Cool With Your School

You went to college and at the end they gave you a piece of paper that allowed you to negotiate the best available salary in your field of endeavor. If you havn't been back to your alma mater since you left, I have to ask a question - why not?????

I went to a college reunion last spring and was SHOCKED to find out that there are a lot of people who haven't been back to the schools they attended since they left.  I even listened to some very sobering stories about the experience for some people and it was not encouraging at all. If these stories hadn't been about the school I also attended, I would have asked why they decided to go there - but it was my school - and while I readily admit that it wasn't a crystal stair, I had plenty of chances to pop people right back into their place - I can't place a value on the things I learned there, made some incredible life long frends, boadened my horizons and laid the foundation for my personal mission statement.  If you didn't at least come away with that, I'm sorry, but let also encourage you - you're not dead yet and there is no time like to present to get the education you want and deserve.

But I don't care how it went down, you did leave school.  As long as you didn't leave in a straightjacket with a butterfly net over your head, I think that you should continue to contribute to your school and work with them.  You didn't steal your degree, you EARNED it!  Every letter, every hour of time, every hour of the work study program, every hour in the library, getttng tossed out at closing time - that experience is yours, and I think that you should give back, and offer your time, and participate in the programs . You didn't get walked out by a guard at 6:00 am in the morning after the end of your jail sentence, you're not a bill collector, and you didn't get catapulted out of the tower onto the street.

The students of today need your example - they need to know that one day this will all be behind them and they will be working too, and that they have to pay it forward for the next group that needs to be mentored.  They need to know that this isn't the first class of people who look like them at this school, even though they may feel that they are being treated that way.  and hey, guess what?  You're not there to seek revenge on those who may not have had your back at the time - you're there to be a mentor and a role model and exemplify dignity, especially in the face of adversity. 

I challenge you to go to some events, meet with some of your classmates - go as a group if you must, but go back to your school and help out. If you're not proud of your school, maybe the time has come to get some closure and put your feelings of hurt and anguish behind you.  If you don't deal with it - it will deal with you.

I Shall Not Pass This Way Again

"I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good thing,
therefore, that I can do or any kindness I can show to any fellow human
being let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not
pass this way again."

Stephen Grellet, 1773-1855
French-born Quaker Minister

When I think about overwhelming kindness, a hand to steady your way, and an example of what you ought to bring to the world, I think about all of my relatives and friends, but even in that bountiful assembly, my cousin Vernon would stand out. He was a king amongst men and a tremendous inspration for how to handle your business.

Original Providence Baptist Church is the family church and the one where I gerw up. The church was founded at the end of the Civil War, and the congregtion still stands.   I was in the choir, and I spent my Thursday nights and Sunday mornings there surrounded by my Wallace relatives. Barry, Rhonda, Mary, and I were in the Young Adult Choir, and we were quite a team.  Everyone in that church knew who we were because we were Wallaces.

Vernon was always there and whenever I saw him, there was always an embrace, a kind word, and endless encouragement. He always wanted to tell you and anyone around you how proud he was of you, he couldn't wait to introduce you to everyone as his cousin. It elevated you in the world, you weren't just some snot nosed kid hanging around trying to get a spare chicken dinner.  You were part of a larger organization, you had a brand and you weren't ordinary.  Vernon didn't start his business in his twenties, but he had been working toward it his whole life. Nothing made you happier than to see him realize his dream of opening the business and then taking it to Broadview a few years later.  He took the world by storm.  There's a scene in the movie "Casino" where the boss is having a "coaching session" with one of the casino workers and he tells him "Listen to me very carefully, there are three ways of doing things around here - the right way, the wrong way, and the way that I do it." Vernon handled his business, and you're not going to find another like him.

Vernon handled my grandmother's homegoing with an inordinate amount of care - we hardly waited any time at all for her to be picked up, and the process was as smooth as glass. When my step-brother was killed, great pains were taken to make sure he looked as natural as possible, even under these difficult circumstances.  He made intolerable ordeals tolerable, and even though he made it look effortless, I know that it couldn't have been.

I'm grateful to know that Vernon had just collected another tribute to his life of work and dedication.  He gave his best and he wanted the best, and deserved it. I just hope to keep the torch lit in his absence until we meet again.




Vernon Wallace, funeral director, dies at age 82

BY MAUREEN O’DONNELL modonnell@suntimes.com September 5, 2012 5:44PM

Obit photo of Vernon L. Wallace, owner of Wallace Broadview Funeral Home in Broadview, IL.

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Updated: September 6, 2012 2:30AM  Chicago Sun Times

It didn’t matter whether Vernon Wallace was planning a funeral for someone down the street or a memorial for a gospel supernova who was so famous that many of her 6,000 mourners referred to her by first name only: “Mahalia.”

Either way, he kept the proceedings punctual, smooth and, above all, dignified.

Mr. Wallace buried thousands of people, including many Chicago VIPs, in his 61-year career as a funeral director at the House of Branch and at his own business, the Wallace Broadview Funeral Home.

Mr. Wallace, 82, died Aug. 30 at Westlake Hospital in Melrose Park.

“He was one of the pioneers,” said Carol Williams, executive director of the National Funeral Directors & Morticians Association, the oldest and largest organization of African Americans in the funeral industry. Often he opened up his own parlors to new mortuary school graduates, so they could gain footing in their careers by arranging funerals.

He handled many of the details for a 1972 farewell service in Chicago for gospel legend Mahalia Jackson, who sang in world capitals and for U.S. presidents. Her rich, supple voice was not only a backdrop for church but for the civil rights movement. She performed at the funeral of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.

So many people wanted to attend her tribute, Mayor Richard J. Daley offered McCormick Place as the setting. The mourners included Aretha Franklin, Ella Fitzgerald, Sammy Davis Jr. and King’s widow, Coretta Scott King, who reported that her late husband said, “A voice like Mahalia Jackson’s doesn’t even come once in a century — it comes once in a millennium.”

“It was just a huge, tremendous crowd,” recalled Mr. Wallace’s wife of 48 years, Gladys. “He was an artist at this, and excellent. Everything had to be correct for the family.”

Mr. Wallace buried many West Side politicians and Baptist ministers. He also handled funeral arrangements for coach Luther Bedford, featured in the basketball documentary, “Hoop Dreams.”

Behind the scenes, he often did pro-bono services for crime and fire victims, said his nephew, Rory Momon. Mr. Wallace funded Momon’s education at mortuary school, and he bestowed college scholarships on other promising students.

“He said, ‘Be strong; don’t be a pushover, and always be on time’— and, ‘Hard work never hurt anybody,’ ” his nephew said.

Mr. Wallace always wore a black suit, a black-and-white tie, and a red rose stickpin, said his niece, Sharon McDonald. He was a master at keeping funeral processions on time, checking his watch and urging cars forward with a smooth-but-firm, “Move, move.”

Even after capitulating to the modernity of a telephone answering service, he still insisted on keeping a phone next to his bed to go out on calls in the middle of the night, his nephew said.

He loved to see people laughing, talking and eating. Vernon and Gladys Wallace hosted a Christmas dinner for friends and family that turned the funeral home into a festive smorgasbord of turkey, ham, roast beef, sweet potatoes, macaroni and cheese, shrimp trays, cakes and pies.

“We would clear out one of our largest chapels. We would set the table, a long table,” said his niece, Menai Edwards. “He had a Christmas tree that was all the way to the ceiling. He had all the lights around the tree and he would say his Christmas blessing.”

Mr. Wallace was introduced to the industry as a boy when he visited the West Side funeral home of an uncle, Joseph Wallace.

“He would look around, and play funeral director, and play around the caskets,” his wife said. “He wasn’t afraid.”

After Marshall High School, he attended Herzl Junior College and Worsham College of Mortuary Science. He served 14 months in the U.S. Army in Korea. He worked at the House of Branch Funeral Home until starting his own funeral home in 1988.

Mr. Wallace also is survived by his brother, Arnold, and many nieces and nephews.

A viewing is planned from noon to 4 p.m. Friday at Wallace Broadview Funeral Home, 2020 W. Roosevelt Rd., Broadview. A memorial tribute is scheduled 6 pm. to 8 p.m. Friday at Original Providence Baptist Church, 515 N. Pine. And a homegoing celebration is set for Saturday, with visitation at 9 a.m. and services at 11 a.m., at Rock of Ages Baptist Church, 1309 Madison St., Maywood. Burial is at Oakridge Glen Oaks Cemetery in Hillside.

Nice Little Girls Don't Get Into Fights

 

As a child, I wasn’t the “Mama don’t take no mess”, “Do you want some of this?” “I wish you would...” person you see before you today. I wasn’t allowed to fight, it was frowned upon, my parents felt that I should be able to reasonably discuss my concerns, or just bring them to them. That was very effective, up to a point.

I would say the first significant fight I got into in school was in sixth grade with a tall girl named Cassandra. I don’t recall why we fell out, but I do recall that she caught me on the wrong day. I usually ignored people who aggravated me, or turned them in if they were determined to bust my “butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth” imagine that I tried to cultivate as a little girl. My schoolmates had a laundry list of ready accusations against me and my friends - the usual charges were “You talk like a white girl “, “You tried to steal my boyfriend”, or the ever-present “You think you know everything!”. I don’t apologize for being Patrice Brazil. If you can’t hang, don’t hang around.

Anyway, Cassandra was about a foot taller than me and she intimidated everyone. Her taunts to others were usually met with tears. Today, I didn’t feel like being a victim to her bullying so instead of placating her, my response was along the lines of “Well, that’s a butt whooping I’m going to have to take.” She was taken aback, but not nearly as much as when we went to recess and I didn’t run for the hills as other victims of her assaults had done.

Today I was cool - I waited to see what she would do, and when she struck I did something I had never done before, I hit her back – with a ferocity that I don’t think she was ready for. We weren’t tussling on the ground or anything, but I hit her as hard as I could several times before our teacher, Ms. Crawford, pulled us apart.

I had never been in a fight so my teacher was shocked speechless momentarily. My other friends were looking at me as if I was crazy - “Are you fighting the tall girl?” I knew I was going to get in trouble, but I prepared my defense as carefully as Clarence Darrow. “She threatened me, I was just defending myself and she threw the first punch anyway. I told her I wasn’t playing with her, she didn’t listen to me.” My teacher gave us a stern lecture about tolerance, playing like nice little girls who come from decent homes, and how people who settle their differences with fists usually wind up dead.

I wouldn’t recommend it as a first choice, but it did accomplish a few things. No one ever teased me about sounding like a white girl again, looking at some snotty nosed boy they were ga-ga over, or threaten me to a fight. I wasn’t Muhammed Ali out there, I could have been clobbered. Cassandra never spoke to me again as you can well imagine, but I learned the very hard way that appeasement never works – something a very dear friend of mine reminds me of almost daily.

Violence Is Everywhere

And it hurts more when it's in your former backyard. I grew up in a nice regular neighborhood and people didn't cut up to this extent at all. I was able to play, ride my bike (granted it was stolen a time or two), play softball - basketball - run track at the stadium, even play tennis sometimes. At one point there was even a day camp at Eckersall where I learned to run track, play tennis, make sandcastles in the sand box, and discover snakes. How could all of that dissolve into this??? It's easier when the resources are depleted and not replaced - no more day camps, no more ice skating rink (even if you won't skate), no unified activity programs, no treat or treating, no crossing guards, no more in school vision tests, no more in school hearing tests, no more Officer Friendly vists, no more Fireman Friendly visits, no going home to watch Bozo's Circus during lunch time when your grandmmother or your Aunt Missy made you peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. So much is missing from what I had as a child, and I don't see Chicago moving in the right direction, as we should be doing.

19 people shot in overnight shootings across Chicago

Multiple victims

By Peter Nickeas Tribune reporter

4:06 a.m. CDT, August 24, 2012

Nineteen people were shot across the South and West sides from Thursday evening through early Friday morning -- 13 of them wounded over a 30-minute period, authorities say.

The overnight shootings peaked between 9:15 p.m. and 9:45 p.m. That's when eight people, many of them teens, were shot at 79th Street and Essex Avenue about 9:30 p.m.

Then two men were wounded in the Ida B. Wells / Darrow Homes complex at about 9:25 p.m., police said. The men, 27 and 33, were shot in the 600 block of East 37th Street and taken to the University of Chicago Hospitals, police said. The younger man was shot in the head and the other in the right arm, Gaines said.

Around the same time, two other men were wounded in the arms in a drive-by shooting in the 2900 block of West 39th Place in the Brighton Park neighborhood.

About 15 minutes later, a 24-year-old man was shot in the leg and taken to Jackson Park Hospital from the 7200 block of South Jeffery Boulevard, Gaines said. He was treated and released. The man told police he was talking on his phone when he heard a single shot and realized he was wounded.

Earlier Thursday evening, four men were wounded in a shooting in the Little Village neighborhood about 5:20 p.m. Thursday, police said.

They were walking in the 3200 block of South Kedzie Avenue when at least one person inside a vehicle with three others opened fire, police said, hitting the group. Three 19-year-olds and a 22-year-old were wounded.

Just after midnight, a 17-year-old was shot in the back and taken to Stroger Hospital in serious condition, police said. He was walking in the 7100 block of South Vincennes Avenue in the Englewood neighborhood when someone inside a passing car opened fire, police said.

Another 17-year-old was shot after 1:30 a.m. Friday in the 3500 block of West Grenshaw Street in the Homan Square neighborhood. He's in good condition at Mount Sinai Hospital. Someone walked to him and started shooting, police said.

Article from Chicago Tribune

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Safety At Playtime

Today I hung out at the Church Picnic. Our picnic is anything but a bunch of picnic tables filled with barbeque and potato salad. This picnic looked more like Funtown from back in the day. There was a moonwalk – one of those giant plastic bubbles that kids love to bounce in for hours. They had a climbing wall that reached the heavens – there were kids jumping all over that – one little girl was scarred to come down and she had to be helped by one of the guys. There was a strawberry carousel for really little kids to ride in. There was a bungee jump and little kids were all over that. There was a hay ride and there was a little trolley car that took kids around and they were waving and smiling like they were on a Miss America float – it was really fun.

On the inside the guys were showing their prowess at hitting free throws – that contest was the most popular – every little boy over the age of eight was trying to hit the backboard. The gym was lined with little kids. I was shocked that there were no little girls competing. What was really touching was that the kids were having so much fun – there was no concern that the place would be shot up, no worries about a gang fight breaking out, no care about having fun in public on the south side – all parks should be as filled with laughing little kids.

As a kid, I took living across the street from the park and the stadium for granted. I struggled to keep up with the other kids in my neighborhood – but I could play piggie and catch a softball without fear of losing my fingernails and I learned that at my park. I could hit a softball a half block , and I was able to shoot a freethrow and toss a football as well as anyone after years of practice. I played with other kids in the neighborhood, kids nowadays don't get that chance. They have to play at home and playing outside has to be coordinated. That's so sad.

Just to show that this was a party with a purpose, you could also register to vote, if you weren't already, and you could give blood to Lifesource. There were also an area to get your blood pressure checked and your glucose and cholesterol levels screened. The only thing missing was the tennis tournament – hopefully we will get back to that next year.

More Than One Way to Skin A Cat

My internet service on my laptop went completely down on or shortly after July 13, 2012. Naturally, that coincided with one of busiest weeks, and I have spent the majority of my time this week trying to straighten it out. It's sad how simple things become complicated and take forever to resolve. Unfortunately for Sprint, I did have time this week to resolve it - and now they're scrambling trying to figure out how I just saved the cost of sending my computer to Dell Tech Support in India or have a Techie come to my home at the cost of $139 an hour, orf the cost of buying a new computer. They're really hot under the collar because the Attorney General just told them that they couldn't charge me for their internet service if they were unsuccessful in getting it to work. That last part would seem pretty intuitive, but they needed a letter with Lisa Madigan's signature on it to understand, I guess.

Internet service in my area has been sketchy with Sprint. I would get onto the internet and I would get kicked off all the time. I'm paying top dollar for this internet service - it's not free, so I demand that it be reliable. Sprint Tech Support worked with me all day on July 13th and through several of my off days after that. On the 25th I couldn't get a connection at all. So I wrote to the General Counsel at Sprint. for me, Customer Service gets two strikes and after that, I gotta go to the top.

I took my computer into a Dell computer authorized repair location and they told me the problem was the Sprint software that was built into the machine. That took six hours of my day to find out. I took it to the Sprint repair office, and after the Tech on duty added software package after software package, he still came up empty three hours later. I called Dell Tech Support in India and they said I needed to have a Technician come out at a rate of $139 per visit and $50 an hour plus the cost of parts. At that point, I was ready to just get a new computer. I have everything on a detachable hard drive, so what's the point of getting this computer fixed. I only needed it for the internet connection and if that doesn't work - I need to move on, right?

So I called Sprint and told them that even though I had a 2 year contract on their wireless service, since it was embedded in the computer and that software, or the hardware (depending on who you ask) doesn't connect to the internet, I cannot be charged for the service and I cannot be charged for breaking the contract. They went crazy at the thought of that - their internet service is not cheap, because it's unlimited. The General Counsel's office calls me and I three way us to the Attorney General's office. They exchange a few pleasantries and before the call is over, I hear this pledge "Ms. Brazil, we will find a way to make sure your computer connects to the Internet and it won't cost you anything...". I gotta give credit where credit is due - the Attorney General is worth every penny that she can wrest from our state taxes. That happened this morning, haven't heard a word from Sprint since, but my account was credited for the cost of the internet service immediately.

I called AT&T this evening. They handle my cable service, and they are always trying to get me to get something else from them. So I ask and they place an internet connection card to the side for me to pick up. I plug in the card and we're off to the races. I even have state of the art 4G, something Sprint doesn't have in this area. My computer is running like a top and I'm very pleased. I never had much respect for Dell products to begin with, but for a computer to completely break down after one year -that means everyone else with this embedded service will also have a chance to get out of their contracts.

Now, I can write again....