Pages

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Goodbye Oprah

They call it television history. The end of an era. As cheesy as it sounds, I will miss Oprah. The show was one of those staples, like coming home from school and always having a snack waiting for you. No matter what kind of day you had, it was nice to count on someone always there, talking about something you may or may not find interesting but nevertheless always familiar. And familiar is comforting. It bears repeating that she was like a good friend who everybody goes to for advice because she seems to know what she's doing. You felt like you could walk up to her on the street and say, "So I was thinking about what you said the other day..."  Of course, you can't, mostly because her bodyguards would beat you down to the street. She's Oprah. In the past few years it seemed that she'd become a caricature of herself, believing in her own "persona." Sometimes she made me mad and I will confess to at least one hotly fired off e-mail to the show to complain that she'd lost touch with her audience; that she believed all the press about how she was above reproach. The show with Lisa Marie Presley, for example, irritated me when it seemed to me that all the questions were elitist and pompous: "So...ain't it great to be able to not have to worry about money?" I'm paraphrasing, of course, but I thought that she'd forgotten who her audience was (or at least, started as): housewives and exhausted moms who clip coupons to get by. Fortunately, there were few shows that showed that side of Oprah. The compassionate and sometimes self-effacing side of her is probably what touched most people. I loved watching her and Gayle on the road and Oprah trying to pump gas, something she admitted she hasn't done in 20 years. Television magic! Her generosity, not just of material things like cars, houses, full scholarships...but also her generosity of spirit, her willingness to share ugly personal things with the viewers and open to take in the ugly sides of others with little or no judgment. Those things were also appealing to me even though cynically, I always suspected that it was easy to be compassionate and generous when you had the world on a string and no worries yourself. I read an article recently about the "Gospel of Oprah," and how her flock of viewers interacted with her in the same way that a religious leader reels in the faithful of her constituents. I think there's some truth to that statement, even though I'm offended that I was preached to without even knowing it. She was always conscious of not revealing too much of her strong faith in God in her "message," even though it was obvious that it was a compelling force in her life. I respected that, her respect for not wanting to impose her own religious beliefs on me. But maybe it went through anyway. Normally, I'd be pissed, but somehow, it seems okay because it's Oprah. I put off watching her last show for a few days because I was convinced it would be too sad. And it was. And I got teary a few times. She talked about thanking the audience for the privilege of being able to come into their homes all these years. For being faithful and to remember to live each day being true to yourself and your calling. Sounds like a sermon to me. The transparent curtain of religious restraint came down altogether, though, as she talked about Jesus and I think her last words on the stage were, "Praise be to God." Again, that's okay. If I were her, I'd be on my knees weeping and thanking God and everyone else for the miraculously successful run I'd just ended too. Goodbye, Oprah, I'll miss you and...you're welcome.

Friday, May 13, 2011

Lucky 13

Friday the 13th? Yeah, so what?
I crossed my hoomin's path 36 times today. My work is done.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Ota Benga

Ota Benga 1883-1916, an African Congolese pygmy
There's been some buzz lately about a book called, Ota Benga: The Pygmy at the Zoo by Harvey Blume and Philips Verner Bradford. It's a fascinating story, one that I've never heard of, about an African pygmy tribesman who was captured in 1904 by a North Carolina adventurer, Samuel Verner Bradford (grandfather of one of the authors) and purchased for some salt and yards of cloth.  His hunting group had been butchered along with his wife and children. Ota was displayed in the Bronx NY Zoo as an exhibit.  The plaque on the cage read: The African Pygmy, 'Ota Benga.' Age, 23 years. Height, 4 feet 11 inches. Weight 103 pounds. Brought from the Kasai River, Congo Free State, South Central Africa, by Dr. Samuel P. Verner. Exhibited each afternoon during September." The cage was strewn with bones and grasses and Ota was expected to squat and weave things and occasionally pick up a bow and arrow and shoot it. Eventually, an orangutan was put in the cage with him and he carried it around like a child to the delight of zoo visitors. The zoo director saw nothing ethically wrong with displaying a human being in a zoo with animals and at the St. Louis fair, Ota was a popular attraction along with other human "oddities of nature" from the Philippines, Japan and South America. The one dissenting voice came from the Reverend James H. Gordon, of the Colored Baptists Ministers' Conference whose objection was to the blatant racism but also more theological in nature. He was afraid that showing a black human with apes would give people ideas of Darwinism and detract from his Christian message. The Bronx Zoo director, clueless as to the negative attention, insisted that "(Benga)...has one of the best rooms in the primate house." Ota was allowed more freedom but eventually, because of some violent episodes, he was released to Rev. Gordon's Howard Colored Orphan Asylum in Brooklyn.  Here, he learned to write a little, along with children a third his age.  He was able to work a few jobs and often paid bus fare with a wild bird egg or a rabbit. On March 20, 1916, Ota Benga, once a proud pygmy warrior, went behind his small house and shot himself through the heart. It's no wonder that this is not a well known story. It's certainly one that is easily shoved under the carpet or stored in the dusty closet of human nature. Still, while I really don't need any more affirmation regarding what some humans are capable of doing to each other and other living creatures, I'm anxious to read this book. Bitter, much? Sometimes it seems so.

Wonders Why No One Takes Him Seriously

I hope now that a certificate of live birth has been produced by the state of Hawaii, we can put to rest all of the ridiculous (in my opinion) speculation. It was beginning to sound like veiled racism: he looks different, therefore he must be born elsewhere. In my humble opinion, it's the worst kind of prejudice without actually using that word. Most informed folks recognize it for the ignorant comment that it was and the stupid, bigoted people spreading rumors that the president is from Kenya....well, they're the same tiresome people who (after 50 years) continue to ask me if I'm an American. I won't show you my birth certificate but I will show you an ancient Chinese hand gesture. Not really Chinese, but how would they know?