Albert Einstien once theorized that time is an
illusion. He believed that anything we’ve
ever wanted in this existence, we’ve already attained in a parallel
universe. Personally, I’d hate to think
that there is another me somewhere enjoying my freedom, while I dream of
freedom from a death row cell. Feel me? But, I would be open to the possibilities of
time travel. Wouldn’t you?
I mean, who doesn’t wonder what life would have to offer if
we could physically travel through time?
Now, I’ve voyaged memory lane quite regularly. This blog is overwhelming evidence of that,
but to actually relive the past after living the future would be an opportunity
your Mannofstat couldn’t pass up. Na
mean?
I’ve always enjoyed the sweetness and warmth that Hot
Chocolate brings, so that would be my means of travel. A couple of sips and I’d be in the kitchen of
Madame C.J. Walker, witnessing the first time she used a straightening
comb. Holla if ya hear me Sistas!
I wouldn’t want to, but I’d have to experience the
assassinations of some of this country’s greatest leaders. I would be compelled to feel the full effect
of the Civil Rights Movement and the ugliness of racism. And you know I’d definitely have to stop by
that hospital in Hawaii to see the newborn that would eventually become our 44th
president. That’s right, I said Hawaii
Mr. Trump. SMH
Watching my life from a distance, I would relive my reaction
to the death of my biological father. I’d
then take a deep swallow of Hot Chocolate to move onto happier times. It’s 1973 and I’m posted up on the corner of
Marshall and Girard. I smile as I watch
the man that raised me, “Pops,” flick it up with a 5 year old Mannofstat on
Easter Sunday. Afros, butterfly collars
and big belts. Nothing about this visual
says: “ Step-parent or Stepchild.” Ya heard?
Love you Pops.
Another sip of Hot Chocolate and I’m in upstate Pennsylvania
visiting my brother “D” at his college campus.
Walking those college dorms after homecoming football game was a
favorable experience for a 10 year old Mannofstat. It’s hard to leave this phase of my
journey. Word is bond! Holla if ya hear me D. Love you Bro.
Before I take my last sip of Hot Chocolate, I’d have to stop
by my grade school, St. Peter’s, that fateful day in 1979. The day an 11 year old Mannofstat stepped to
the girl he believed he’d be with forever.
She eventually became his wife, co-defendant and the reason your
MannofStat is currently fighting for his life.
Feel me?
Today, I realize I dedicated my love to the wrong
woman. Real talk. The law of attraction teaches: “Your life is
in your hands. No matter where you are
now, no matter what has happened in your life, you can begin to consciously
choose your thoughts and you can change your life. There is no such thing as a hopeless
situation. Every single circumstance of
your life can change!”
I can’t change my past, but I love me some Hot
Chocolate. Here and now, I’m willing to
let my Hot Chocolate take me into the future.
That’s what’s up!
One Love,
MannofStat
Copyright © 2011 by Leroy Elwood Mann
Never stop writing!
ReplyDeleteLove,
Aunt Nettie
Life is about decisions, at 11 years old do you really think that you knew who was going to be your wife? Did we ever think that we will have a black president? God is our judge and keep asking for understanding, we can never blame no one for our choices..
ReplyDeleteLove this piece, keep writing cuz and stay strong! Youmare out of my sight but have never left my mind nor my heart. I love you.
ReplyDeleteYour cousin Jessica
Aunt Nettie,
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by. Please forgive my tardiness. Your encouragement revitalizes my ink. Can't stop! Won't stop! Literary expression is in our DNA. Real talk. I love you Auntie.
Always,
Lump a.k.a MannofStat
Anonymous,
ReplyDeleteI'm always eager to address the comments of unknown participants. Your choce to express yourself on this platform is always welcome. W2TM is founded on my expression, but your comments are essential to my literary growth. So, Asante!
"Life is about decisions." I'm in total agreement Anonymous. In Sao Paulo, Brazil, Piranhas have infested a body or water common to swimmers. Several attacks have occurred. One man claims to have lost a toe.
The riverbans are colored with blood. Officials have gone as far as posting signs that say: "Attention Swimmers! Area at risk of Piranha attacks!" Yet people are still getting in the water. Who knew?
Maybe that's just the way people are wired Anonymous. Some decisions we make won't always support reational thinking. I know I wouldn't get back in that water. Would you?
If you noticed my tone in this particular post indicates that the only event I would consider changing is the day I met my codefendant in 1979. You asked: "At 11 years old do you really think that you knew who was going to be your wife?
Well, did Bobby Fischer know he'd become a child prodigy when he initiallly began to play chess? I would say no, but he still knew he wanted to play chess. Feel me?
I wanted to be in love. Sue me. I have no problem holding myself accountable for my decision in 1979 and I don't blame anyone for my choice to love. Ya heard?
Holla if ya hear me,
MannofStat.
I am a supported employment counselor/instructor for a large behavioral health agency in philly.20 years.I Supervise Forensic Clients/consumers in a Building Maintenance program. To qualify for funding consumers must have a diagnosed mental illness-and felony conviction.Like a re-entry program for felons with a m?i cond.I am also married to Cyn(your ex and we have 2 kids.I find your comment about the wrong woman love dedication to be offensive, and i find you to be selfish.No child wants their mother to be associated with your "situation". In all my years I have never heard one of my Homicide students speak about - what they thought their Victim might be doing, or looking foward to doing,in the present day.Felons like you do not understant the trauma that the surviving members of Murder victims go through.It is unbearable.Do you think your victim would have liked to enjoy one last cup of "HOT Chocolate"-just to relax herself as she confronted her final moments on this earth. Or to enjoy/share a cup with her husband,as they chilled, snugged up together after a long work shift.Your comments,your blog for that matter-shows no Empathy for this Victim,none at all.It takes years of therapy for family members to deal with the way their loved ones left this earth.Some, if not many, never recover. For the :Sistas responding to your blog-the victim was a proud Black Woman, how could u ? As for my wife(who should be re-named Semiramis) and her connection to you, I am so ashamed of her.she can drink all the Hot Chocolate she wants, but our sons, AS A TRIBUTE TO THE LIFE THAT YOU (NIMROD)TOOK , will never drink Hot Chocolate again-as long as I am alive...But I will have one last cup of Hot Chocolate, FOR THE SISTAS WHO ARE NO LONGER HERE. ... May your branch fall off Nimrod's tree ...asap.
ReplyDeleteLet's just start off by saying that the following comments are mine and mine alone. I'm not writing to defend my uncle because he can do that on his own. But I feel that I need to take a different objective here. Not only am I going to speak on the part of a family member but I will also speak on the part of "surviving (family) member of a murder victim". I really don't care how many classes you have taught. You will never be able to relate to what I've experienced as a result of my father being gunned down in the streets of Philadelphia unless you've experienced it yourself. It does not take years of therapy as you say to deal with the way that my loved one left this earth. It's just something that people have to deal with on their own time. It happens and you move on because you want to think that it is something that they would want you to do. You want to sit here and condemn my uncle while making your wife come off smelling of roses. Your wife ain't all that sweet and innocent, dude. Really??? While you're ashamed of the connection that your wife had with my uncle I am pissed that my family ever had any connection to that woman. But everyone make mistakes and unfortunately he's paying for his. I hope that you are enjoying all the Hot Chocolate that you are having with her. I just hope that you don't land in the same situation one day as my uncle. I guess then we'll really see who's the Nimrod (A slow-witted person).
ReplyDeleteIn my opinion you can’t judge because you don’t know him. You only know of what that woman has told you about him. Being an educated man you should know that there are always two sides to a story. Before you start huffing and puffing and sticking your chest out to defend that woman you should really familiarize yourself with the details. But I guess it’s really true that love makes you blind and stupid. And for that comment about as long as you’re alive that really don’t mean much more than a cup of ….hmmm let’s see…hot chocolate.
Anonymous Husband,
ReplyDeleteYou are confused. The victim in this case was not a "proud Black Woman." Although she may have been a proud woman, she was definitely not a black one. Are you sure you have the right story? The right victim? The right blog? Of all the 86 posts on this blog, this is the one that got your dander up? SMH. I'm confused.
Are you ashamed of your wife's association or her actions? As far as her being "renamed Semiramis," remember the legend of Semiramis was more myth than reality and much of it was unfavorable to her. You appear to be a bit bitter and have gone out of your way to vilify the author of this blog.
If you recall correctly, the story of Nimrod and Semiramis is plagued with inconsistencies, historical inaccuracies, filled with fantasy and the sources are unreliable at best and completely fabricated in many instances. You should be less concerned about the hot chocolate your children may consume and more concerned about the Kool-Aid you drank.
I just been reading some of these blogs and Im truely hurt from what Im reading, Its sad cause I know Cynthia and Cindy and Leroy, I pray that life will heal all wounds, for God is my father and its no greater Judge than him, yes I have the pleasure of growing up with them and what hurt was caused ask him for forgiveness, Gregory Harris a childhood friend
ReplyDelete