Missed breakfast this morning, woke up to my vital test and a needle. The nurse tells me that this will be the last day that I have to get stuck twice. Great. My inner elbow looks like an indented bruise. I don’t even think the nurse has to put pressure on the needle, it just slides in the vein. My blood pressure has gone down considerably, if nobody ever told you the ghetto can kill you, let me show you my charts.
Everybody is considering the fact that this will be over soon. As stated previously in this series, I never expected to actually like anybody. I never expected to really mesh with any one. Fortunately, I make a better statesman than prophecy maker. I may never be able to explain just exactly the degree this will change my life, but I feel it deeply. We talk a lot about poverty and white privilege, and in many ways, my thoughts on that haven’t altered completely, but I realize that there is another level of surviving poverty that many Blacks haven’t embraced. Namely, stop chasing the financial carrot. Of course, that might be too much to ask. A guy can dream.
I realize how movements begin. I realize how communities form. How the alienated can form bonds, and build a space for themselves. I notice the power of being an educated black man. I feel the power of being an intelligent black man. I also see the doom we face through myopic definitions that we have borrowed from the people we claim to have so much disdain for.
As I look out one of the only windows of the floor, my view glances across the highway and into the towers. It drifts slightly higher into the night sky. I always wonder how situations like this seem to end with such great lessons.
Try not to judge so harshly those who are surviving the world we subscribe too. Try to not put the standards you have been sold and branded with so high on the list of priorities. Try to to remember those that struggle with this world in deed, and not just in speech. Thank you.