Thanksgiving

For the first time in years, I’m actually excited about the Thanksgiving holiday. It’s been at least a decade since my family has gotten together; aunts, uncles, cousins, grandma. For many people, that can seem like a hassle, but for me, it’s a blessing. The idea makes me nostalgic, reminding me of a much simpler time, when family was more close-knit. As a kid, we would get new outfits, head over to my aunt’s or my grandma’s, gorging in a way we didn’t get to do the majority of the year, getting in trouble for stealing the meringue off of the top of the banana pudding (you know who you are).

Soul Food

In recent years, Thanksgiving has been sort of anti-climatic, whether spending it with the in-laws (who I love), friends, or just my immediate family. At one point, the idea of Thanksgiving even disgusted me, because of what it represented (you know, the beginning of the end of the demise of my native ancestors?? Yeah.). I had a hard time getting myself excited to celebrate a day that marks the genocide of other cultures…but, I digress. And then of course, there was just the subdued apathy that settles in after a while of not really going anywhere or doing anything. When my aunt let me know that she’d be hosting this year (and I’d be making the banana pudding), I was ecstatic. It has been so long since we were all in the same place for something that didn’t involve death or hospitalization, and I miss that.

Food!

We so often take the beauty of family, with its faults and sometimes irreparable fractures, for granted. We assume that the option to reconnect with someone you haven’t seen in years will always be there, but that’s not always the case. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to appreciate the wonderful, unique people I’m blessed to call my relatives. We’re all different, we all live differently, but in the end, we all love each other. Even if Thanksgiving isn’t the most P.C. day of the year, I’m going to take it for what it is and use it to my advantage. It’ll give me the opportunity to catch up on the milestones and changes I’ve missed out on. And it’s a chance, if only for the day, for my family to feel a little like I imagined it to be in my youth. And in my selfish way, that’s enough for me.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I Ain’t One of the Cosbys, I Ain’t Go to Hillman

Thursday, April 30th, 1992. A sad, sad day…well, at least for me. From the moment I began watching television, Thursday nights at 8pm were reserved for one thing, and one thing only: a new episode of The Cosby Show. The show, I believe, played an integral part in raising me: it showed me that there could be such a thing as an affluent, educated, well-adjusted Black family; that I could dream beyond the pavement of the inner city I was raised in. I became accustomed to the characters in the show, thinking of them as the people I wanted to get to know, the sort of people I wanted to be. So on that day, the day the last episode aired, I felt like I had lost more than a favorite show: I had lost a family.

The Huxtables

The Cosby Show was ground-breaking for so many reasons. For the most part, its premise wasn’t something that was prominent on prime time television at the time (or now, for that matter). It was about a professional Black couple, that honestly could have been any race, raising five “normal” children. The family dealt with everyday issues through humor, but they also tackled more serious topics, like theft (remember Rudy stealing money for that stupid light up sweater??), learning disabilities, and teen pregnancy. Let me tell you, their problems seemed sooo much easier than the crap I was dealing with. They provided us with a glimpse into what some consider theĀ  “bougie” side of American Black culture – jazz music, HBCUs, etc. (Not to mention that wonderful 80s and 90s fashion…trust me, I will rock a Cosby Coogi sweater today with no issue). There wasn’t a day that would go by that I didn’t wish I was one of the Huxtable children – it didn’t matter that they were fictitious – it just mattered that they could be real.

Infamous Cosby Sweater! Well, one of them.

Where I grew up, living in a city where the parents were lawyers and doctors was a rare occurrence – the more likely scenario was that they were unemployed, on drugs, or working menial jobs. In a place that lacked hope, the show provided me with an abundance of it. It was the first time (at a very young age) that I expressed the desire to attend college, something my older siblings nor my parents had completed. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen positive Black role models (since my elementary school had a large number of Black professionals working there), but it perpetuated the idea that they didn’t exist just in my school…they could have been anywhere.

Cliff and Claire

As I mourn the 20th anniversary of the show’s closure, I rejoice in the fact that it lives on in syndication and YouTube clips. So I leave you with this clip of the last episode, and a question: Which episode was your favorite?

Multi-Racial Misfit

  • @DopeByDesign_ Thank you again...I feel a lot better and prepared. (: 1 hour ago
  • Someone's gonna have to send my behind to bed or sumin. 13 hours ago
  • You can't teach maturity, nor can you force growth. Both come from responsibility & experience...almost impossible for either to occur w/o. 13 hours ago
  • Uh oh, it's gonna turn into late night philosophical Shonnie. I apologize in advance. -__- 13 hours ago
  • Shoulda woulda coulda...naw. Do what you should if you want and if you can. No regrets, no excuses. 13 hours ago

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