The diverse community that I longed for was evolving right before my eyes. What used to be a bicultural community is growing into a global society. See http://theinterculturalpost.blogspot.com for the complete post.

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(Continued from Part 1) As I registered for graduate school, the diversity that UAB had attracted caught my attention. Students and scholars from around the world converged on a daily basis on the Southside alongside Blacks and Whites whose families had lived here for over a century. One of the most memorable moments was when students from Bombay, Japan, South Africa, and a few Middle Eastern countries asked if we could go to a soul food restaurant… See http://theinterculturalpost.blogspot.com for complete story.

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In the interim between college and career, I was looking for an escape from an infrequent lecture by Granddaddy. He asked, “Do you realize Atlanta and Charlotte had to start from somewhere–Use your talent to build Birmingham.” One of my cousins rescued me. She had read that Birmingham was hosting a music festival similar to Summerfest in Milwaukee. We were able to raise
$ 5.00 each for weekend passes to the first annual City Stages. It was surreal. I couldn’t remember another occasion in Birmingham where so many people of different races, creeds, colors and musical tastes were in the same two square blocks. How could I leave for the east coast with all this excitement in Birmingham? (For the entire post, visit http://theinterculturalpost.blogspot.com)

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I can’t remember his name. We just thought he was a fun playmate. A three legged dog entertained us as we began our new lives. It had been a long year. The military transferred us to St Louis. We purchased a house got new orders and had to move to California instead. My dad was to be stationed at the Presidio. We were disappointed; we were looking forward to living in our own house. The details in between seem a little fuzzy. I think my mom packed us up and sent us to Chicago while she packed up our apartment.

We moved into a hotel across the street from Hamilton Air Force Base in Novato, CA. We had moved in the middle of the school year. This is not odd for military families. We were prepared to move and serve at will. Although I am not sure how long we were living in the hotel, I don’t think we had planned to have a long term stay. We were waiting for our house on base. Even when the house was ready, the Teamsters were on strike. We ended up moving into an empty house with boxes for furniture.

The family that owned the hotel helped us to make a home away from home. Of course my brother’s creative mind also helped. We found a playmate. He was a dog that was missing a leg. I don’t remember his name, but he entertained us and helped us to prepare for our new home. I missed him when we finally moved into our home.

From: http://80salumna.wordpress.com/2009/04/15/the-three-legged-dog/

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We had already spent a day in the Wine country. We went to as many tastings as possible. I actually found a wine that was sweet enough for me. Of course it was a dessert wine. I didn’t care. I was going to drink it whenever I wanted to.

It had been a perfect trip. As usual, Fred, travel agent extraordinaire had planned a reasonable trip. We were en route to Hawaii. We could save hundreds of dollars by laying over in San Francisco. This would add the opportunity to visit with friends and family on the way. My dad’s youngest sister, his mother and one of my college friends lived in the Bay area.

We decided to go to the Wine country. Since my mother was looking for a tablecloth or something of that nature she asked us to go to Chinatown too. I was looking forward to eating Dim Sam. I also wanted to try a new tea.

The tea shop was quaint. I couldn’t read anything in the shop, nor could I speak the language. All I knew was my love for tea. I was one when we left Asia so I don’t think the love for tea developed back then. My dad used to drink tea before he made the coffee switch. Perhaps it was the visits to Chinatown and the Japan Center. Who knows?

No matter what city I am in, if there is a tea shop, I am there. I love all types of tea. There were some people sitting at the counter sipping tea. I decided to join them. The shop owner brought several teas for us to taste. There was a tea that I will never forget. A few seconds after drinking the tea, there was a sensation like a sweet, flowery burst of perfume in your mouth. I was in heaven.

Eventually, the shop owner wrapped up the tea. He said, “Mr. (Can’t remember the man’s name) would like to thank you for sharing his tea.” The man and his family looked at me and gave me a reverse whatssup. You know when someone kinda leans their head back to say whassup? Theirs was the opposite and quickly bowed their heads. They left with their tea in tow. I was a bit confused. I think instead of sampling tea for sale, I was drinking a tea that a man had purchased and was enjoying it with his family.

Instead of saying, “Don’t you see I am sitting here with my family enjoying tea until you brought your ignorant butt up here and started drinking with us.” He allowed me to save face and just gave me a cup. When I asked to purchase the tea with the powerful aftertaste, I found out that an ounce which is smaller than a box of Bigelow teas from the grocery store was worth about $ 120.00 in the early ’90’s. Needless to say, I left Chinatown with only the memory of the heavenly tea.

From: http://80salumna.wordpress.com

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I think that people misunderstand a TCK’s chameleon-like qualities–the ability to be many things to many people. I also think that even within the President’s party, his colleagues are unfamiliar with consensus building. He is not just a scholar who read the memoirs of Abraham Lincoln. Could his relationship building skills be a reflection of one who lived in societies where collectivism and consensus building were valued? I am only remotely familiar with cultures of Polynesia and Indonesia, but anyone who worked as a community organizer in the Black community would have applied these skills.

Do you think that the critics believe that these skills are a sign of weakness? One CNN comentator would prefer a U.S. president give an image of strength and confidence.

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Sometimes when we moved to a new city, there were several weeks or even months between school terms. We would spend a month in Birmingham, AL and/or Chicago with the grandparents. Our mom was usually doing the things that military wives do. She was setting up house, making sure we were in school, registering us for ballet and karate….My brother and I usually roamed the streets checkin’ out the neighborhood. We often made friends who were also new to the base or kids whose friends had moved away so they were looking for new ones.

Being black had its own set of pressures, but add being military brats. It was great to build allies before people started picking on us. People would soon find out that my brother was a skilled martial artist and I was his apprentice. It really wasn’t a good idea to go there with us.

My brother preferred to use humor to help us through our adjustment period. When people asked who we were, my brother would say, “I am Rodney Allen Rippy and this is my sister.” At the time we were living in California. Jack in the Box was really big. As a matter of fact, it was the only fast food restaurant within 20 – 30 minutes of where we lived. Rodney Allen Rippy was the kid in the commercials.

If that didn’t entertain us, we sold autographs while our father was playing on the tennis courts across from our house. We could convince kids that he was Arthur Ash.

http://80salumna.wordpress.com/2009/04/05/rodney-allen-ripey-and-his-sister/

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