When I was a kid, I wasn’t allowed to have a Barbie. She had a disproportionate, over-sexualized body, and she wasn’t welcome at our house. My mom always said I could have a Barbie when I was 12; we both knew I wouldn’t want one anymore by then.
I played with my friends’ Barbies whenever I had the chance, bringing over my brother’s GI Joe doll to act as a rugged stand-in for Ken in our make-believe play.
At my grandma’s house, there was a collection of old Barbies that fascinated me in a way the ones my friends had did not.
Today is Tuesday, June 19, Juneteenth, also known as Freedom Day.
I found Just Mercy: The Story of Justice and Redemption, by Bryan Stevenson, on another blog that features books, and I agree with most of what was said. I got the book on inter-library loan and finished it in just a few days.
While the book gets compared to To Kill a Mockingbird, I would note that while that book is a work of fiction, the stories in Just Mercy are about real people whose lives were destroyed by a broken justice system – some of the prisoners mentioned never receive justice.
It was eye-opening to me to re-discover the history of racism in the South (including convict leasing) that I didn’t know the depth of. It sent me back to the Chaplain’s post on race. While we had talked here and there about different issues, that post was the first time I had the open window to a full perspective on his take on current events and race in America.
Getting a better understanding of the continuing race issues in our country was tough. I had to take a break from reading a couple of times. The book focuses on the Deep South, but laces in stories from all over the United States, a grim reminder that injustice for Blacks and the poor are not limited to one area of the U.S.
I felt indignant as I read. I hated the thought that one of my kids could be put in the position that the prisoners in the book found themselves in. I felt for the mothers and grandmothers who in desperation approached the author, a lawyer, for help for their children and grandchildren. I felt for the young people who had been wronged.
My first thought was, what can I do? I still don’t have a good answer for that. It’s so frustrating to know where to begin to bring change when the status quo is so deeply institutionalized. Yet the book made it very clear that even when the way forward seems obvious, our legal system is so convoluted that years can pass before meaningful change is made. By then, it can be too late for those who need it most.
We are paying so much, as a nation – in emotional currency and in actual dollars, to support a system that is destroying us. It destroys trust in the establishment; it destroys lives.
It was good to read about the work that is being done for justice, but it was difficult to know the cost which is being paid by those who are still waiting for reckoning.
For years, I got my hair cut at Walmart. I was too cheap to pay anyone more than $20 (with tax and tip) for a cut. Between small kids and my inability to justify self-care to myself, I didn’t get my hair trimmed often enough. When I did make the trip, it was typically an act of desperation.
When you don’t pay for a good haircut, you don’t get a good haircut. I would walk away with something that was only a shadow of what I really wanted – I went hoping for something low maintenance, fun, a little edgy. And finally, I got sick of going to the hairdresser only to come home feeling frustrated by the results.
So I started using our buzzer to cut my own hair.
If you missed them, here are Parts I and II of the saga. To recap, we moved into our house in 2008, and were inspired from the get-go by our tiny but lovely kitchen from our first apartment as a married couple when we lived briefly on Long Island.
Little by little, I pulled the kitchen apart and put it back together again, with help from my family. And I painted. Again. And again. And again.
At this point, the kitchen wasn’t getting a lot better without tearing everything out and starting over, but I kept pushing. I trimmed my open shelving out with 1x pieces of wood I had lying around to prevent dishes from being pulled out accidentally, and to make the edges look beefier. I made matching curtains for all the windows using fabric from Joel Dewberry’s Heirloom line called Opal in Dandelion. It’s no longer in stock, but I mention it because the fabric matches the kitchen perfectly, and I like all the words: Heirloom, Opal, Dandelion. 
Our house got featured on Design Mom in March of 2014, which was fun, and helped me up my photography game. But I have trouble leaving well enough alone.
A year ago today, we welcomed a silly, sweet boy with a chill disposition into our family.
When I started looking at photos, I was overwhelmed by the love we all feel for our rainbow baby. 
During this difficult year, Seven has been a ray of sunshine in the dark night. 
He isn’t interested in following anyone else’s program, but he is content to make his own way without creating a lot of waves. 
As the past few weeks have gone by and he’s sprouted teeth and started to stand on his own, we’ve gotten a glimpse of what’s to come – when we have to say goodbye to our baby and hello to a little toddler. 
I know that no matter how big he gets, he will still be everyone’s Little Brother and my baby. 
He’s got so many people to watch over him, defend him, and tell him what to do. 
Hopefully that won’t put a cramp in his style.
Something tells me it won’t.
