Wednesday July 23 Free Mandela

This morning we woke up to find that we had an unwanted visitor. A guest who had somehow made his way into our apartment without our knowledge. He didn’t knock on the door. He simply came in. He is a little small for his age. Michael Jackson would’ve referred to him as Ben. I affectionately named him Roger. Yes people we have a mouse. Not a rat like Michael had but a rodent nonetheless. He wasn’t even New York size. You know rats that look like cats. He was a regular California mouse. I didn’t actually see Roger, but Jaime did and apparently he startled her. He must go. He cannot stay. It’s already crowded enough here…

Today I took a train. I literally picked a train and got on it. It didn’t matter my destination because I had an unlimited metrocard so it wasn’t going to cost me any more or less to get lost. I dared not pull out my subway map lest I look like a tourist and have someone try to jack me for my metrocard. How many of you guys are so jealous that I only have to pay $81 to ride public transportation for the month?

Eventually I ended up on 135th street home of the Schoenberg Library. It’s this beautiful historic library that chronicles the lives of African Americans. Two stops uptown on the subway was this little piece of history. This little treasure. Amidst the people, dirt and noise stood this little relic. As I walked through I was so filled with pride. It was just such an awesome feeling to be able to experience this. Now I know in LA we have the African American Museum but honestly I’ve never been. It was too far and inconvenient to drive to, but what I love about New York is that you are inundated with culture whether you like it or not in such a small contained space. It’s awesome.

So I’m walking through this museum and they have this whole photography exhibit on Nelson Mandela. This one photographer had chronicled much of Mandela’s political life. Two things were particularly interesting to me. The first was that Mandela is like a million feet tall. I mean he looks tall on television, but this dude is really tall. Second, I saw pictures of him when he wasn’t old. You know those people who have just been old your whole life? Like Morgan Freeman. Think about it. That dude is old. He was probably old before I was born. Oh and I remember when they talked about Mandela in Sarafina and he was old then. Just old and old. So it was cool to see him un-old. But through these pictures I felt like I knew this man. Though our paths will probably never cross and if they do he will be old for that moment I knew him. I felt so compelled to leave with this history that I bought two books. One was a photography book filled with pictures of old black people. It was in black and white and celebrated age. The second was a lost novel from the Harlem renaissance era, which is my favorite time period. So I grabbed my history and headed to Marshalls.

It was such a good day until I got home and heard terrible news. Ya’ll Sofia from The Golden Girls had died. I was devastated. I love that show and anytime it’s on and I’m home I will watch it. It’s like the best show ever. And Sofia was my dog. Her sarcasm reminded me of someone...I just can’t put my finger on it. I mean I know that her death doesn’t mean the end of The Golden Girls because it’s definitely in syndication but still. The crazy part is that most people don’t even know she wasn’t the oldest one on the show. I did learn a new word from this. Octogenarian. It’s someone in their eighties. Pretty cool huh? I love words.