Damn! Why did it have to be the brother?

I have been closely following the now tragic story of Jessie Davis. She was an expectant mother who went missing from her home in North Canton, Ohio almost two weeks ago. Yesterday, the search for Davis came to a dismal ending, as far too many of these incidences do. My heart goes out to her family and friends.

In the days leading up to her discovery, there was talk surrounding her ex-boyfriend and father of both her two year old son and the child she was carrying, Bobby Cutts, Jr. Although, the police never named him as a suspect, immediately the media and eventually Davis' family suspected that Cutts was possibly being linked to her disappearance. This caught my attention for two reasons. The first reason was that Cutts appears to be black (Davis, white). Secondly, no one ever gave a reason as to why there was suspicion surrounding Cutts.

I felt the media was trying to sensationalize this story for all it was worth. White mother missing implies black boyfriend suspect. It reeked of racial bias, and it got me up in arms! A big thumbs down to CNN! What happened to fair and balanced? Even with the public eye casting its judgment, my silent mantra was, "Please don't let it be the brother."

I have found myself singing this same tune in the past. In 2002 when the snipers were creating havoc in the D.C. area, I had several conversations with other black folk containing utterances like, "Well, the killer is definitely not black," and "'We' don't do that kind of thing (yes, we prefer much more senseless and less calculated acts of violence, but of course, I digress)." As it turned out, "we" do. More recently, before he was identified, I had hoped that the VA Tech shooter was not black, and I know I was not alone in this feeling.

It seems that people never want to claim the bad guy. This denial ranges from Muslims turning their collective backs on extremists to the father who says that the wayward child gets his shortcomings from his mother's side of the family. However, among groups which have been marginalized by mainstream society, this type of disownership can be more prominent in an attempt to fit in. I was hoping that it wasn't the black guy because of how the majority would see the situation. Undoubtedly, there will be those who will shake their heads and say that this is just another reason to keep your white daughters from dating black men (nod to OJ). Race relations in America are bad enough without a high profile racially charged murder case, but this assessment is incorrect in my opinion. The bottom line is this: tragedies sometimes happen to good people and psychopaths come in all shades. But something inside me was hoping against hope that it wasn't the brother. I know it wasn't logical. I can admit that was purely emotional, but I just didn't want this to turn out as another story of black man's life down the toilet (he flushed it himself, mind you), another black child fatherless--and motherless, for that matter.

As everyone knows by now, it appears that Cutts was involved in Davis' and her unborn child's murder. I want to be clear: if he is guilty, I hope that he is prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, for the blame lies with him. If he is not guilty, I hope that he can somehow lead a normal life with time.

Arrivederci, Tony!

I am (was?) a die-hard fan of The Sopranos. I've literally seen every episode. I remember when Tony was slimmer with more of a hairline and when Carmela was in her feathered bang period. I know of all of Tony's "capos", "gumars", and even those who ended up on the unlucky side of his 9mm (Big Pussy, Ralphie, Adrianna, et al). At one point, I'd watched so many episodes that I found myself wanting to say things like, "All due respect, T" or "Marone!"

***SPOILER WARNING***

Hence as one might imagine, I was on pins and needles awaiting tonight's series finale. Oh, how I hypothesized about its content! I had a strong feeling that he would not be killed or jailed, despite evidence to the contrary. Fans of the show would be upset to see Tony go down, for he is one of those characters you love to hate and hate to love. I also conjectured that there would be a twist of fate in the show that would leave people talking around water coolers and blogging to no end.

What I did not expect was a Spike Lee-esque weird ending cliff hanger. So many things were left unsaid, unfinished, unanswered. There has to be a movie coming! For instance, are we to believe that Pauly really had it in for T and that his superstitious nature pushed him to flip? Does Tony ever forgive Uncle June? Will Janice ever be satisfied? Most importantly, is the guy in the restaurant (who goes to the restroom) in the last scene a hitman sent to whack Tony "Godfather" style?? And what is up with the abrupt cut to black screen at the end?

I'm afraid I need some closure, David Chase. I am a fan until my last breath, but I want more. I feel that this ending was sort of a cop-out. Understandably, it must be quite a challenge to end a series like The Sopranos, and there will always be people out there ready to complain whatever the ending. However, as a self proclaimed Sopranos aficionado, I am left feeling a bit flat.

Salud!

My Favorite Poem

Mrs. Landreth was my white-haired 11th grade American Literature teacher. Most all of her students hated her because of her totalitarian manner and penchant for making her students look like idiots. Her reputation preceded her throughout the school. Tenth graders bargained with God, "Please don't let me get Mrs. Landreth next year!" Nevertheless, if you were on an upper level track, your being assigned to her class was almost a certainty.

Yes, most all students either hated or feared her, but I was one of the few who did neither. I appreciated her strict nature and structured lessons. During the weeks of grammar study, I loved diagramming even the most complicated of sentences that she would assign, as well as taking her infamous "Grammar Rule" quizzes. Even now, I contribute my avoidance of comma splices, faulty parallelism, and dangling participles to Mrs. Landreth's class.

However, what I remember most about her class was a poem by early American poet Anne Bradstreet (1612-1672). This particular poem is a love letter of sorts to her husband. Her great love for him is amplified by the metaphors that she uses, and she even challenges other women to find a better man than hers. She compares her love for him to all those who have loved before her by using "if ever", and prays that their love will endure even in the after life. Now that's being down for your man--17th century style!

In the rare chance that you are reading this, thank you Mrs. Landreth for helping me to learn how beauty can be expressed through words and what unconditional love is all about.

To My Dear and Loving Husband
by Anne Bradstreet

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay.
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persevere
That when we live no more, we may live ever.