My Own Happenings as Distractions From a Mighty Storm

by Ernie McCray

Sometimes I
feel like
I’m being gangsta slapped,
living in some form of the abstract,
at the mercy
of an orange-faced-long-tie-wearing
maniac,
who is beyond
normal definitions of
being out of whack,
spinning out of control
like a swirling tornado
descending,
destroying and sucking
the spirit
out of everything
in his windy path
as though he is
the only thing
on this green earth
happening –

So
I choose to concede
that there are, indeed,
other things happening
besides this man’s
acts of lunacy,
my life, itself, singly, in actuality,
a virtual variety
of happenings,
happenings that
blow rejuvenating
countering winds
against the storm’s
monstrous winds,
like:

Recently I
saw a dude
make a basketball play
that’s too pretty
to describe
with any words
I know to say.
I mean I was too speechless
to say “Wow”
as all I could do
was wonder how
he did
or could do
whatever the hell
it was I had seen him do.

And a storm
had no place
in my mind
in those moments
or two.

And some dark skinned
lovely soulful thespians
danced and spoke words
on a stage,
before me one night,
of suicide
being considered
“when the rainbow is enuf,”
and all the struggles
of my people came to mind,
and, in another moment, lately,
I was holding a plaque
representing an honor of a lifetime,
taking a picture
with a political hero of mine.

And the storm recedes
somewhat steadily
as I let the happenings
do their thing,
let them bring whatever they have
to bring,
both the mundane
and the sublime,
not caring whether it’s
listening to
the vibrating humming
of an MRI machine
that’s detecting signs
of decline
at the T10 and T9
sections of my 80 year old spine;

or whether it’s speaking to
a turned on college class
or sharing stories
of our country’s past
with some grade schoolers
that made them cry
and made them laugh
and better understand
the meaning of second class
citizenship en masse;

or whether it’s shouting with glee
at the news|
the Lady Wildcats
had won the WNIT
or beaming with pride
for what my son
has done
for the community;

or seeing my Nissan stuck
in a parking space
and having a friend squeeze in
and back it out
as my frowning face
segues
into a smiling face
or having
to beg my dog-in-law
to stop humping my leg
only to have her, instead,
commence to licking my face
or getting
ticked off by a meeting,
that, when it comes
to achieving,
came up with a total lack thereof
or hearing what I most wanted to hear
from two people I dearly love…

But, yes,
it’s all just a momentary recess
from the madness,
as the tornado like winds
from the West Wing
of the white House
still blow incessantly
and remain, to our grief,
a major happening.

But I’m thinking
that maybe
occasionally
pausing and reflecting
on our own happenings
lessens the storm’s velocity,
making it easier
for us to breathe
and entertain a time
down the line
when it might eventually
cease blowing permanently.

And that would be,
to put it mildly,
the “Happening of the Century!”

I can just see
the dancing in the streets!