Merry Christmas Everybody!

Happy, jolly, yummy time of the year --

Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year to everybody who reads this!

Bye, Neville

J.A. lost a media icon, family man, and pretty nice guy: Neville Willoughby. Years ago, "It's the Evening People Show with Neville --" No more. Observer said it was a road accident somewhere off Farewell Ave. (That road now means suppem more than walkin' mi cousin there in de '80s to visit mi cousin's best pal, Selema.) Strange, de name of that road, & de accident that will now make it memorable for so many. Rough holiday this for de Willoughbys. Farewell, Neville.

Drive safely, everybody. It's nuts on de road, nuts in de parkin' lots at de malls -- everywhere. Let's all drive safely.

The Pursuit of Happyness

It's a pleasure to see a father showing his son a real-life example of the struggle to better himself and to be a buffer from life's harsh realities. His son will recognize the priceless benefits of that when he grows up & remembers what his dad went through." -- A review of Will Smith's new movie: The Pursuit of Happyness

Watch it
Watch it
Watch it
Watch it

It's more than worth de ticket-price.

De Carol that Brought de Pork Some Christmas

Here's Your "STUPID" Sign! (Bill Engvall, Chorus sung to"Jingle Bells")

I took my son to the mall the other day to see Santa Claus
The woman in line behind me says, "Hey is that Santa Claus up there"?
I said "no ma'm, it's a Kenny Rodgers stunt double. Here's your sign!"
The other day I bought a wreath to go on our front door
As I was walking out the store a man stopped me and said
"Hey, are you going to hang that on your door?" I said:
"No sir, it's a Christmas toilet seat cover, got the idea from Martha Stewart"
(Chorus) Here's your sign, Here's your sign, Here's your STUPID sign
You acted dumb, so have some fun and wear your STUPID sign -- Oh!
Here's your sign, Here's your sign, Here's your STUPID sign
You lost your mind, so pay the fine and wear your STUPID sign

I hung the little Christmas lights on my house, the ones that blink on & off
My neighbour comes over and says
"Bill how do you get those to blink on and off like that?"
I said "I've got my son inside plugging and unplugging it,
-- plugging and unplugging it. Here's your sign!"
I took my family to buy a Christmas tree the other night
When we walked onto the lot this guy walked up to me and says
"Hey, y'all here to buy a Christmas tree?" I said,
"No sir, my son needs to go to the bathroom and these trees looked really inviting. Here's your sign!" (rep. Chorus)
Have no fear when you're spreading cheer during Christmas time

And finally my wife and I were in a grocery store the other day
And I heard a woman ask the clerk
"Do you know what time Midnight Mass starts on Christmas Eve?"
And in the holiday spririt I walked over and said "Here's your sign!"
(She earned it on her own!) Happy holidays everybody!

Maybe Beta's not Better

What's up today?! Am findin' it dang near impossible to comment on blogs like Crankputz', Island Girl -- all de beta type blogs. We'll see . . .

Quick Review

This year's effort was nice -- more cooperation & participation this time (fewer self-proclaimed Jordans & more Pippens). Anyway, even as hubby geared up engineerin' early on, he pondered this year's music mix, but turns out we had energetic variety an' some blessed voices ministerin' to us all. What a praise & worship time! All praise & thanks to God. As de soloist sang: Whatsoever things are Godly, think on these things.

5 Things

OK, so Stunner of de irie island photos has tagged me wid de "5 Things" meme, and am in an unusually "postly" mood right this minute, so here goes:
Here are 5 things U didn't know about me, de Melody Piggy Moppet:

-- Am compulsively private, but find that it makes people more likely to pry and be curious than they would be with someone who's less private and more willin' to share -- go figure.

-- Am not a fan o' gossip, & therefore have indulged in that extremely infrequently -- only when ah got ticked off at people pryin' an' decide to turn de tables on dem. Have found that many people luv gossip, an' therefore ah don't trust dem an' ah feel comfortable havin' very few friends.

-- Am not de gregarious type. Same way mi stay pon de blog until mi get accustomed to a blogger: am most likely to blog an' back off when ah meet blogs, thus givin' de other blogger a chance to reciprocate (which is kinda de only way for dem to quietly express, "Yeah, mi waan blog wid yu," or "No, mi naw really feel your blog perspectives.") It's a simple analogy to mi everyday approach to social life. Most 'fun time' interaction is wid mi husband & child -- am devoted to them. Want to always be there for them no matter what.

-- Have always been seriously attracted to mi husband (mutual attraction -- God is good). Anyway, he's aware of this and sometimes winks at me in a very knowing way in de midst of goin' about mundane things (while he's bucklin' his belt as he gets dressed for work, or even while we're in traffic waitin' for de light to change). This amuses him, 'cause am essentially a shy person, so de effect of this always momentarily "sends" me a bit.

-- Am admittedly somewhat old fashioned -- wha yu expect, mi grow wid mi granny! So much so, that de difference between casual & formal is ponytail or bun -- or maybe blue jeans versus black jeans. Of course, bein' old fashioned and excessively domestic doesn't mean not having aspirations -- ah do often consider goin' back to school for a doctorate (nutten to do wid mi journalism or business studies, a doctorate in suppem totally different that ah won't write on de blog right now.)

Awright, Stunner, that's it. Shared as much as ah could in that 5 things topic. Now, Jdid, U've been tagged.

Not Quite Yet

In your mid-30s, people at church might start seein' U as a likely candidate to help counsel in women's ministry, so they nice U up for de women's retreat -- U can give good advice to younger sisters (late teens and twenties, who are single or just married). Not necessarily advisable.
What I've noticed:
* Some think because they're more experienced they know more about every-ting than U do. How can U help "to call any play," when they've been playin' de field an' sure they know de 'game' more than U?
* These retreats can seem like an unpleasant juvenile slumber party when U check de ratio of "younger" vs. "older."
* No matter how other counselors warn U, an' U research in advance an' feel sure de "younger" can't take U aback wid "hardcore" topics, there are always some who try to discomfit U wid graphic questions about de church's views on this or that. Maintained mi composure an' offered de followin' advice on de topic of someone wantin' to re-ignite de marital flame by doin' rectal whatever: "U just married recently, U shouldn't need to 're-ignite' nutten already, if U want to do suppem nice & spicy for your hubby, cook him suppem wid pepper in it, no need to get drastic an' start ruinin' your personal plumbin' just because of any-ting U read, saw, or heard."
* Not sure if "older" seem condescendin' to de "younger" but some "younger" can seem condescendin' when U advisin' them. U print out all kinda info from de centre for disease control & various websites (from ob-gyn to pastoral counsel site) an' is like dem nuh appreciate none o' your efforts to arrive at de sessions prepared to help dem.
* Parentin' is seen as a task that some definitely not eager to embrace.
* Some younger ladies there are really nice. They worry about "simpler" matters, stuff we've prob'ly all contemplated at some time or other, an' can relate to. E.g., a young lady was worried some folks countin' de months to know if she conceived before or after de marriage. Was quite forthright wid all o' dem. Told her how ages ago some folks said ah was just rushin' to wed so that ah could have sex -- de snide unspoken part was: "And that is if you two aren't already fornicatin'." (Sometimes older brothers & sisters in Christ put pressure on younger ones or even de newly converted -- thru gossip, etc. -- without even noticin' how they alienate people.)
* Memorable: Sister "E" and her empathetic advice to a lonely sister, to whom she's prob'ly now a mentor in general. Sister "E" says without rancour that she waits on the Lord since all will be done in His own good time. Almost in her 60s, she's got more maternal instincts than many, and cares for likkle boys an' girls like they were her own. Her advisee let others in on their discussion, which was good, considerin' de closed door nature of most o' these sessions.
* Am not yet necessarily 'fittin' de role (to counsel an' minister) to many who need it.

There but tor the Grace of God . . .

There's a woman who's been residing nearby my cousin in NY. She married a Floridian, who filed for her, so it's just a matter of time before her younger children (those still in J.A.) will migrate to live with her -- or with whomever.
She comes across as friendly and helpful, and might have no problems getting hired as a nanny, etc. When you first meet her, you'd most likely say to yourself, "She's so nice and pleasant," or as old-time people would say, "She have approach, eeh." Don't be fooled.
Her daughter who attends a traditional high school is on the verge of dropping out, and has twice attempted suicide. The woman was alerted of the situation, and has got sympathy from those around her. "What a wicked girl," she and they say. "Who goin' to look after her brothers an' sisters if she ever succeed?"
The woman confided to my cousin that she's heard that the girl's father has proven incestuous whenever he manages to show up to pay school fees and drop off maintenance money. (People residing on the same lane have seen and heard some of the antics in the overcrowded hut that is the child's home.) At least one of the other children's "fathers" has shown conspicuous interest in the girl -- if he hasn't struck by now. "That's why she want to tek off an' abandon the children," the woman complained. My cousin told her off, and hasn't seen her around since -- she fears my cousin might alert de gov't here. My cousin hardly knows de woman's proper nickname much less the woman's proper name.
Every time I hear of the hardships that people in squalid areas go through, it angers me. It angers me because it is so unnecessary. It angers me because there is always someone facilitating the oppression of precious children -- and every child is precious. When did people living in squalor cease being individual human beings and become only "they" and "them"? I say this all the time, and people might not understand how serious I am: It would be more merciful to execute them all if you as a government, as a "better-off" or a have, hate them so much that it doesn't pain you to see them being tortured, being killed slowly just one indignity at a time. If you must allow their spirits to be killed -- and this happens mostly before they're adults, then understand that you want heartless monsters around you and don't friggin' complain when dem come a yu blasted house come shot up yu bumboh!! Don't say you didn't do them anything. You did: you chose to look the other way. Imagine, some of the girl's teachers were among those "turning up nose" at the atrocity called a hairstyle that dysfunctional adults bestowed on the girl's head. (In hearing of so many similar situations, it seems the first thing the oppressors do is a hostile "cut and color" that leaves the young girls looking fit for nowhere other than a dancehall. Self-esteem gets cut along with the hair, self-consciousness creeps in, and what do some teachers do?? Look down on the student. Maybe 2 out of every 200 teachers might intervene and offer to help.)
I remember reading about the abuse in children's homes, and about how some children got there in the first place. A little boy's grandmother made money from having men violate him. His aunts had no problem with it. His mother -- a go-go in Kingston -- had been similarly abused and had started her dancing career at 13. The boy, much younger than that, had run away and was hustling in HWT, meeting men in the daytime by offering to wipe windshields and then selling himself to them for food and money after dark.
Someone said before, "You can tell a lot about a society by how it treats its children." (Suffering Haitian children are a prime example of that statement.) Are we satisfied with how J.A. treats its most vulnerable children?
Consider your life differently. Say you never had responsible parents -- say you barely knew who your parents were -- if at all you knew. Say you had no high school education. Say you had no choice in the matter of when, where, and how you gained sexual experience. Say you lived with broken people who didn't understand that exposing you (a small child) to pornographic material and graphic conversation is itself abuse. Say they were similarly broken and are driven (as they invariably compulsively are when they get no professional help, which most don't), and they need to get you out and about sexually as soon as possible to ensure that you don't deviate from the blood-thirsty mores (promiscuity, baby-fatherhood, teenage pregnancy, etc.). Say you survived by bathpan and standpipe, and could only dream of the luxury and dignity of a proper private toilet. Say you bounced from squatter land to squatter land and gunman-ridden yard to gunman-ridden yard. Say you knew the bitter indignity of night-time hunger merging into lunchtime hunger held captive in the aroma of classmates' lunches and determined to stay at school until the end of the schoolday -- as unreachable as day's end seemed. No, don't think we got all the places in high school because we were just brighter than "they" who live in "those communities" -- consider everything I've written so far. Say you managed to pass your exam for J.C. (as Lexus did), but couldn't enter the high-school because your single mother explained you were too poor to afford it (as his mother did). Wouldn't that have stomped on your aspirations -- on your spirit? Wouldn't you have had a tough time rebounding from the missed opportunities even as he rebounded? In all of this, say you knew what it was like to eke out a precarious existence on the extreme edges of society, how long could you hang on to your dignity -- to your sense of who you are as a human being? Say you had no memory of ever having been a child, but had always carried the overwhelming burden of your own care on your own little shoulders.
You grew up with adults who care about you. Many children grow up with con-people around them. I know. I've tried to help on several occasions, but found that people were using "de pickney dem" to con money out of the altruistic. Now, nobody can't tell me nutten -- helping one or two children with the guidance of my aunt is enough.
I would like my country to start seeing these children as people, and to treat them accordingly. Stop allowing them to be destroyed. It is wicked. It is heartless. And it is totally unnecessary.

This Noh Right

What seemed most noteworthy to me today was a report that someone (possibly gov't worker) had leaked Golding's tax return to The Gleaner, ostensibly to inform the public, but most likely as payback for his exposure of the questionable contribution. Woulda blogged just about that, but then ah read this.
OK, so a 7-yr-old girl was raped by five 9-yr-old boys at a primary school (Dunrobin). Five boys admitted that they dragged her from the bathroom when she was there washing her hands, and took her to an abandoned building where the assault took place. NOT ONE OF THEM WAS PUNISHED. School officials then not only proceeded to hide it, but also started smearing the girl even further by implying that she's "mental." Then they further assert that she's in the wrong school, that she should be in a 'special' school.
No, brethren, somebody head woulda haffe roll.
Some study has been done by a clinical psychologist recently which allegedly showed that many J'cans have 'low emotional intelligence' & that this was why empathy was all but extinct in some circles. Mi noh know. Maybe him right. All me know, somebody head woulda haffe roll.

Bein' Joyous at Others' Good Fortune

IMHO, this is generally not difficult: bein' joyous at others' good fortune. What if de person in question is Hitler Foley Amin? Understandably, mi opinion would change -- no joy for them. It's about justice & fairness. Ah found out someone recently tried to block mi blessings. They say "friendship" so easily, but feel no joy when their "friend" enjoys an achievement. Mi noh like smutty-mind people, yu know. Worse, de ally from church glosses over de smutty-mindedness by sayin, "It's just a Jamaican poor-people trait, a survival skill, so even after life improves the attitude still obtains." Whatever. Dem better don't come back come lean pon my fence, 'cause a macca dem woulda lean pon.

Worth Quotin'

"The truth sets you free -- it kicks your ass first, but it sets you free."

Unfathomable

"Don't come in with me, or we won't leave for the next 2 hours," mi husband says --and he's right, grocery stores (any store, really) just always kinda pulls me in. So as he bounds across de parkin' lot, an' disappears into de store, mi eyes quickly flash to de car-radio, flash back toward de store, an' there's you exitin' de store.
I'm astonished at how mi heart somersaults at the sight of you.
You're gorgeous. You have a model's marvelous bone structure. (Even as de summer departs, you could use a tan, but whatever.) You're very manly, but there's a sensitive air about you that could just melt a girl and then mutilate her if that air of sensitivity turned out to be a facade. I just can't stop starin' at you. You come closer to mi car, and I say to mi-self, "Self, you've seen him before," but I'm still starin' at your eyes, grabbin' this opportunity to fathom just what colour they actually are.
You realize that I'm starin' at you, and it seems you also realize just then that you're starin' at me -- that we're actually makin' eye contact. You smile an awkward likkle smile an' look away, feelin' de profundity of our mutual gaze, an' de incongruity of such a soft moment in a crowded, broad-daylight, supermarket parkin' lot. An instant later, you look at me again, still headin' in my direction, an' de silly, fleetin' awkwardness passes, an' wi both laugh a bit self-consciously.
I sigh, inhalin' de sight of you, de seductive height of you, de lingerin' smile that is de bright light of you.
You stop at mi car-door.
You open it, and look in.
"Yu noh see how mi head gone, Piggy?" you ask. "Mi a goh inna de store fi goh spend, but mi left mi wallet same place inna de pants wheh mi did wear goh work today. Yu ever see nutten soh? Eeh?"
"Yes," I answer, "I'd marry you again, and again, and a million times again in this lifetime -- an' not just because mi luv nyam weddin' cake eeda!"

On Doing What U Luv

Years ago, ah worked in an environment where everyone was super-stressed. Coworkers cowered in de V.P.'s presence, because he was de one who reported bi-monthly departmental exam results. (Not every employee had to sit these, but 'Jr' underwriters, etc., had to.) Others worried about failing all de likkle exams up to de 'big exam', not getting their licences, and missing out on de positions that required Series 6, etc.. De company even had supposedly state-administered counseling exams that followed in-house/online training & texts for HR. Stress. De point is, after Piggy made de switch from that to other work that made mi happier (feelin' at times like ah was chickenin' out, mind U), ah found out that even people who R still there weren't/aren't happy in that career. Gotta earn that dough. (I'm not talkin' about bein' frustrated about some aspects, but enjoyin' de overall work. e.g., Mr. Pig walked away from music production, when he was younger because, as he put it, "Wrong time!" but he enjoyed every minute while he did it. No. I'm talkin' about actually hatin' what U do while U do it.) Ah guess de true test is this: If U won de lotto tomorrow, would U do any-ting even remotely resemblin' your present occupation? (After all, wealth is freedom--in so many ways.) But health is wealth (i.e. freedom), and U've got your health, so would U make de switch now?

P.S. In unrelated news, heard that Vaz Prep's founder passed away. Condolences. Had it been Mrs. Ulett, however, many J'cans woulda been weepin' & moanin'.

Must Add: Just found out that today is Kami's Birthday! Happy Birthday, Kami!

From Today's Sermon

"Success has many fathers, but Failure is an orphan." (i.e. Everyone wants credit, but nobody wants blame.) Repentance requires acceptance of blame. Let the redeemed in the Lord say so. Have a blessed day.

Praise God!

It's great to have some serious career advancement. God is good, great, almighty!

Prodigal Piggy

That's how writing mi current post feels.
Having parked mi blog for over a year, writing on it again is a weird feeling. I'll let go of the Pig Latin that always graced every sentence on this blog. Why? Well, this blog continued to age even in my absence, though I left it on its own for so long. I've treated blogging just as inconsistently as I've treated my own dreams. Lord. Now, the blog's older and wiser, and so is the BlogPiggy. A year brings many experiences: some good--some difficult to get over. When I first started blogging, I really thought blogging came naturally to me--just dive right in! I thought I took to it like a fish to water--and what kinda crap is that analogy anyway? Fish don't take to water--water is all they'll ever know until they die--it's not like every fish starts off warming a bench at some Kinder-Prep, and then gets let go into the wild--into the ocean--at a certain age (maybe right before GSAT/Common Entrance), when the world celebrates how quickly every fish takes to its secondary environment. Reality check: waterless environments have never existed for living fish. ANYWAY, the point is, I blogged in all the ways a person shouldn't blog: I discussed my dearest prenatal plans in such detail that in any negative eventuality my disappointment could've only been as painfully detailed, had my entries continued as fervently as they'd started. On the blog, I harshly criticized what I perceived as my previous employers' unfairness, etc.. I wrote about a few of my relatives' private situations (commiserating, I thought), and refused to remove the posts, even when they became aware of it and objected. (Now, I realize that wasn't about me learning to assert myself to some relatives. That's me still being wrong, but when it done a'ready, it done a'ready.) I posted mi pic on the blog, causing an awkward situation. I then cast the blog away from me, not realizing that (for impulsive me) a blog is a boomerang--not even realizing that even then it's a boomerang that really means a lot to me. It 's a great way to celebrate what I've always appreciated, e.g., J'can poetry, like I initially planned to feature on it. Now, Miss Lou's gone, and the urge to Blog her a goodbye poem--led me to write on mi blog again--to be the stranger knocking maybe too softly on the door of his own house (which he up and left so long ago). Reading the blogs linked to mine feels like navigating an old neighborhood, and the other blogs linked to them are like new development (houses, centres, etc.) on once-familiar roads. I don't delude myself anymore that blogging comes naturally to me, and I don't delude myself that I'll "reopen" this blog and start blogging mi arse off again, but this blog has to have a post that thanks everyone who ever visited it and took the time and energy to care what Piggy felt or did at the time of any posting. Piggy's blog must also apologize for retreating into itself in rougher times. Thanks, everyone. Sorry I up and disappeared. I never said it then, but I'll always appreciate all of you for allowing me to get to know you and share your life for a while and for your getting to know me and sharing my life for a while--actually, despite my seemingly inexplicable absence, truth is, I've never felt the urge to take any of that for granted, or any of you for granted. Here's a proper goodbye: Best regards, everyone--you've all always been kind to a naive, bright-eyed, sometimes selfish, sometimes sometime-ish, hypersensitive, but always-affectionate-in-her-regard-of-you Piggy. (MB, Dr D, Scratchie, etc., welcomed me so warmly back then, that I'm 4ever glad ah ever started bloggin'.) Cheers and Ciao! I'm smiling. Why? I'm honourin' mi brief sojourn in interactive blogdom, but this blog's been closed so long that maybe nobody will ever read this post, and yet it still feels good to have written what's in mi heart. Kisses, all! Life, Love, and Happiness!!

Soul Song

Miss Lou, I Love You.
Rest peacefully--yu conscience clean, an' yu heart clean too
You must have been one of the chosen few
Who
Could say true-true
That you did every-ting you were called to do
And more.
You did the dramatic cultural wordwork of one hundred or two
You were the only Mommy that many knew
Yet has Jamaica always given you your due?

Now some criticizin' even the relocation of [Mas Eric] 'Mr. Lou'

Any-how figget 'bout that!
Not every-ting good fe eat good fe chat!

Heart full, but no eye-water
Walk good, Jamaica's Most Honorable Daughter.