A Day in the Life of Chaos

Harry Cooper's goodbye is today.  In my office goodbyes tend to happen a lot.  There is a lot of mobility, especially among those that want to climb the ladder of promotion.  The ritual is usually the same, an obligatory awkward lunch where the office gathers and the boss says some sugar coated litany of words.  A plaque is given and the person moves on.  They clean out their desk and disappear.  You can always tell the guys that have been around,  their work area is covered with the most mementos of distant offices and past goodbyes. Honestly I am going to miss Harry a lot.  Harry is one of those people in my office that will come by and say hi.  He will sit and talk for awhile and then move on.  He doesn't want anything, he doesn't have an agenda.  He is just a nice guy and a working friend.  Harry is also black and even though he doesn't know it, has taught me a lot about race and what it is like to be a black man in the south.  You see Harry accepted me. In the

My mom would be surprised if she was alive today.  She spent a large amount of her childhood growing up in the South.  For my part, as the heir to her life experience,  I was the victim of turnip greens and salt rising bread.  I have to admit, the okra grew on me.  While she had lived in the North since graduating from college if you listened carefully you could still hear that twang in her voice.  Her parents spent their last years in Louisiana and her brother still lives in Birmingham, Alabama.  Her son was a product of the North, literally.  I grew up in Alaska probably closer to Canadian than American.  Okay, Canadian with out the socialism surrounded by guns and anti-federalism.  Come to think of it, maybe I was the only socialist non-Canadian Canadian in the state.  Well, Canada aside today I call Columbia, South Carolina my home. If my mother were alive today she would have been shocked but perhaps a little bit proud.  I am not sure why, maybe it's a Southern thing.  Wh

Life dealt me a cruel twist of fate. I hardly knew my grandfather. Probably it was for the best. He was a southern racist of the likes I am not proud. He lived his life out in Shreveport, Louisiana surrounded by the right wing refusing to admit they lost the war. When he died my mother received her share of gold Krugerrands he had sheltered in a safe deposit box. Why gold Krugerrands? Because they were from South Africa and he liked how the white government there kept the black people in their place. I am sure there were many good things about my grandfather but his racism was certainly not among them. Well, while my mother got the gold coins it was certainly not a kings ransom. She was however, quite happy to cash them in and spend them on something long forgotten. My grandfather's inheritance for me came before his death and it was quite different. I inherited my grandfathers genes. He was a brilliant geologist yet sadly, his scientific intellect did not pass m