brushfire"This, yes, this, it was always like this." -Stanley Koehler
REFLECTIONS OF AN EMPTY NESTER
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When my son was a senior in high school, he and a friend made a movie for Film Lit class. They enlisted several buddies to help with filming and took off in our 1996 red Volvo — purchased to survive three teenage drivers — one Saturday afternoon. They were gone for hours. I didn’t give it much thought other than to revel in the fact they were putting so much time and energy into a school project. I was hoping their tour de force would result in a good grade. Whenever he returns home, my son has a habit of shedding his belongings in the front hallway — his backpack, lacrosse bag, shoes, jacket. On this particular Saturday, I came downstairs to find an arsenal — and I mean this literally — of guns on the floor by the banister. I called his name up the stairs. “Where did all these guns come from?” I shouted. “They were for our movie!” he shouted back. “I borrowed them from my friends.” For the most part they were toys, but toys designed to look like assault weapons. And there was a BB gun or two. The closest thing we had to a gun in our house was a plastic water pistol. Later my husband and I watched the movie, a gangster-inspired film noir called “Dirty Money.” There’s a scene when the Volvo pulls up in the parking lot of a bank. Four boys — two in hoodies and two wearing baseball caps — pile out of the car carrying assault-style weapons. Heads ducked, they run toward the bank. Shots ring out. Did I mention my son and his friends are white? At this point, you’re probably thinking: what’s the big deal? Nothing happened. And you’d be right. Each boy came home to his family safe and sound and slept in his own bed that night. Not one of them gave a single thought to what could have happened. And neither did I, really, except in an abstract way. You also might be thinking — because this occurred to me, too — that what they did was pretty stupid. And you might wonder about parents who had no clue what their teenage sons were up to. You’d be right about that, too. But they were at that age when you try to give them a little freedom and independence to show you trust them. And yet, they do stupid things. You just hope whatever they do — drink, smoke pot, drive too fast, have sex, film a movie, shoot a toy gun, play loud rap music, drive away from a party with friends, reach for their wallet when an officer tells them not to — doesn’t cost them their life. And honestly, anyone observing the scene in the parking lot that day would have noticed one of the boys was holding a camera while the others were holding — and shooting — guns. No one would have felt the need to call the police and report having seen boys (well, men, really — they were full-grown 17- and 18-year-olds) with guns in the parking lot of a bank, would they? It would be obvious this was just kids goofing around, right? But what if the boys were black? And what if someone did call? And what if the police officers arriving at the scene, seeing black men in hoodies with guns, feared for their lives? What if? If you haven’t wondered until now how this scene might have played out differently for boys who didn’t look like my son and his friends, you haven’t been paying attention. This appeared in Grosse Pointe in Living Color.
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Recently I had the privilege of meeting and hearing the stories of two men who chose different paths in life, but share a common mission. They are both committed to helping young men find direction in their lives. Former Detroit Police Chief and Deputy Mayor Isaiah “Ike” McKinnon spoke to a group of teachers and administrators about schools, society and social justice. One of the first black officers to join Detroit’s police department in 1965, McKinnon recalled how a brutal encounter with white police officers when he was 14 drove him to pursue a career in law enforcement. “If you can turn your life around, you not only change your own life, you can change the lives of others,” McKinnon said. Odis Bellinger, executive director of Building Better Men, said, “I knew at 12 years old I was going to do something, but I didn’t know what.” B2M is a community-based male mentoring and leadership program established in 1991. This spring Bellinger brought the program to a local elementary and high school, sharing his core belief that every young male can be successful in life. He is author of “7 Steps to Promote the Success of Young African American Males” and “100 Effective Strategies for Single Mothers Raising Black Boys.” Bellinger spoke to high school students about privilege. “The reason it’s a privilege to come here is because I get to make an impact and get to come here and talk to 25 young guys who I know are going to be successful.” McKinnon talked about how during his years on the police force, he “saw so many young people, particularly young men, who had no direction. “It is particularly important to them to have a male figure in their lives,” he said. McKinnon was fortunate to have had his own father in his life and was active in raising his two sons, now 39 and 33. Bellinger, on the other hand, never knew his biological father and said this motivated him to help other young males cope with the pain of an absentee father. “Who in here has at least one male figure in your life you can talk to?” he asked the students. Every hand but one went up. “Who here believes you’re smarter than what you do every day?” This time, all the hands went up. McKinnon’s years as a police officer were inspired by his negative encounter with the law. "I wanted to make sure that those kinds of things didn't happen to any other people, whether it was black or white or whatever it might be,” he said, adding he devoted his career to trying to make sure there was justice for everyone. Bellinger’s work grew out of five years he spent as a correctional officer working with boys as young as 8 and 9 years old. His hope was to forge a different path for the young men he mentored. Both men believe in the importance of having a plan. “I had a plan when I was 40. I have a plan now that I’m 73,” McKinnon said. “What’s your blueprint?” Bellinger asked the North students. “Is your blueprint getting in trouble? Is your blueprint becoming the opposite of the honor roll? Is your blueprint not knowing what you want to do? A blueprint is a plan for your life.” Before concluding the session, Bellinger gave the students his personal cell phone number. “You can call me and talk to me. We can talk between us,” he said. McKinnon closed his talk by reflecting on a teacher’s lasting impact. “There will be people who will come to you sometime and say, thank you for impacting my life,” he said. McKinnon and Bellinger may never know what lives they’ve impacted. But as role models and mentors, they embody what educator and speaker Rita Pierson meant when she said, “Every child deserves a champion: an adult who will never give up on them, who understands the power of connection and insists they become the best they can possibly be.” This appeared in the June 1, 2017 issue of the Grosse Pointe News. |
Mary Anne BrushJournalist, fiction writer, wife and mother |