The Pow Wow

The sun beat down like the tum-tum of the nearby drum, and as incessant, earnest and ancient.  “It’s amazing how something millions of miles away can do something like this,” Marc later said of Kim’s resultant sunburn. 

It’s amazing to me how an indigenous people can, for thousands of years, hold on to the traditions, culture and values of their ancient civilization, despite the blistering trials, changing landscape and brutal exploitation that threatened to rip it from their grasp.

The singers and drummers

I am referring to the more than forty Native American tribes who gathered this past weekend for the 33^rd Annual Thunderbird American Indian Mid-Summer Pow Wow to celebrate and share what they have preserved for generations. 

It was Sunday, the culmination of a three day intertribal festival, which included both traditional and modern food, vendor booths filled with artifacts, crafts and traditional garb, and dance competitions.  Marc, Kim and I took a scenic bus ride that led us away from the urban maze of Manhattan to the lush green of the Queens County Farm Museum in Floral Park where, in a clearing, we watched as representatives from the different tribes dance the traditional powwow dances of their people.

For the past three decades, the Thunderbird Native American Dancers has hosted the event which boasts representation from such tribes as the Cherokee, Aztec, Hopi, Navajo, and many more, arriving from all over the nation and as far away as the Caribbean. It has become New York’s largest, and longest running. The organization is well known in the New York area for offering ongoing services, such as monthly pow wows, craft and language workshops, and the Thunderbird American Indian Dancers Scholarship, to which proceeds from this event are contributed. 

Like the sun, these are a resilient and steadfast people. Their beauty and majesty brought to mind the vague memories of my great-grandmother, who was Cherokee. It made me wonder of my own heritage, as our time together had been brief.  This festival made me wish I’d had a stronger connection.  I admired the joy and enthusiasm of the young people who paraded and danced before me.  I was humbled by the pride and the determination of their guardians who teach generation after generation what had been taught to them by their guardians, and their guardians before, thus making it possible for us to share in these traditions today.

While the festivities had begun with the raising of the American flag, and a song honoring our veterans and soldiers, we were left with the profound words of the Director of the Thunderbird American Indian Dancers and the MC, Louis Mofsie (aka Green Rainbow of Hope Tribe of Arizona, and the Winnebago Tribe of Wisconsin):

“We’ve had the chance to go down to Chinatown and to see the parade and all the Chinese people in their traditional dress and the dragons and the lines … we got to go to the German festival and see them in their traditional German dress…Well, this is our festival.  This is where we get together to sing our traditional songs and to wear our traditional garb.  The only difference is we didn’t come here from another country.  This is our country, and we’ve been here for thousands of year.”

As far as I can tell, we’ll be here thousands more.

Cheers,

-Ceddy

This is how to keep a heritage alive!

Heritage of Pride: March of the Misfits!

This past week was Gay Pride Week in New York City and many other cities across the nation. It's history stretches back to that fateful night in June 1969 when a group of gays, lesbians, drag queens, and other so-called “misfits” had enough of social injustice and police brutality and decided to stand up for themselves at the Stonewall Inn on Christopher Street.

From there, has grown an annual march, and a week of education and celebration that has spread to every major city in the country, and to the world.  But, I knew nothing of the Stonewall, or of equality when I was a little boy in my small, traditional Southern town. I only knew that I was a misfit, and that misfits were easy targets.

It is not easy for a child to endure the confusing metamorphosis that is puberty. It is made even more difficult by the taunting and bullying that may accompany it. I was teased as a child. I was teased a lot. I was called “the slickster” because my hair wasn’t cool enough, and “sophisticated lady” because I was quiet and effeminate, and a slew of other derogatory terms (sissy, queer, faggot, among others) designed to tear down my self esteem and keep me in my misfit place. I was shoved, threatened, and even beaten up once or twice. There were times when it became so cruel and personal, it seemed unbearable.

I wasn’t alone. It was happening in schools all across the nation, just like mine, to children just like me.

I thought about this as I stood on Sunday, across the street from the legendary Stonewall Inn, watching the Gay Pride Parade. There was an extra electric charge in the air because just a couple of days before, New York had just become the sixth state to allow gay marriage. Couples marched with signs declaring their engagements and people dressed as brides and grooms, danced in the street and posed for photographs.It was magical.

Heritage of Pride 2011

But, what resonates with me most at these events are organizations such as Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG) who march with their signs declaring, “I Love My Gay Son/Daughter,” and the organizations who promise to look after and protect the young people, such as the It Gets Better Project and The Trevor Project.  These organizations exist because our society still has much to learn, even after all these decades.  This year, I was especially thrilled to see a group of proud children wearing t-shirts with slogans such as “Turkey Baster Baby,” marching with their misfit moms and dads.

These are the images and messages that give hope to those who are still living a life they believe will never be anything but oppressed. I love knowing that most of the people watching and marching proudly have once felt the sting of being an outsider or a misfit. There is solidarity in coming together, and in there is pride in that solidarity.

Not only are they delivering the statement that they are proud. They are sending a message to those watching that it is okay to be proud. Be proud of what makes you different, because all of us are different in some way.  Be proud of the people who have come before you, paving the way to a time that is now more accepting than their own had been. Be proud of where you’ve been, so that you may be proud of where you’re going.

Part of my personal pride lies in reality that I was able to survive that frightening period of childhood that I thought would last forever. One day, I looked in the mirror and realized that I am all the things they said I was.  My hair is slick sometimes. I am sophisticated. Sometimes, like in the show I just finished, I am a lady. So what? As I watched the colorful revelry of the Heritage of Pride parade, I thought how fortunate I am to belong to such a dynamic, versatile and resilient population. We are misfits, and we are proud.  Today, if a bully walks up to me, I’ll spit in his eye. Well, perhaps I won’t spit. That’s a bit unrefined. But, I will hit back.

Manila Luzon of Rupaul's Drag Race at Heritage of Pride 2011

Still, it saddens me that not all of the misfits are able to share in a Pride celebration. You see, there are many children who do not get to make the journey to adulthood to find that it does get better. They become victims of  our bigoted society, often at the hands of other children, like themselves. Being a certain type of person still has such a stigma in some areas that individuals are forced to either live in silence, or suffer the cruel treatment that is born of ignorance.

We should be proud of our accomplishments both socially and politically. But, we should not forget that there are still many miles to go, and so many of us to save along the way. So, whether you’re in combat boots, or running shoes, ballerina slippers or six inch sequined high heels, march on brave misfits, march on.

 Officer Livingston (NYPD) was there to serve and protect, but quickly became a crowd favorite.

Do...Re...Mi

America’s got glee, talent, idols and a special “X” factor. Everybody loves or wants to be a singing sensation. Why not? It’s fun. There seems to be an onslaught of reality contests, shows and movies geared toward music.  That’s because we’re interested again.

In the last decade, the shift in supply and demand for musical entertainment is evidenced by the popularity of such shows as Glee and American Idol.  Even those who scorn pop music have an outlet in television shows like Rock Star, and country fans can root for or aspire to become a Nashville Star.

While the popularity of karaoke declined in previous years, the recent resurgence suggests that people once again have something to sing about. Those who prefer to rock out in anonymity have the option of becoming a Guitar Hero in the privacy of their very own home arenas.

All this singing and dancing is good for us.  Scientists are studying the effect music has on mental health and immunity (http://www.sciencedaily.com/), while we are searching for ways to satisfy our inner Gleeks.  I’m not suggesting that you break into a musical number in the steam room at your gym or at the elevator at work (oh, golly gee but that would be swell), but wasn’t it a kinder, gentler world that clamored for new cinematic releases filled with stars singing and dancing through story lines?  Yes, the movie musical is also making a not so stealthy comeback with hearty receptions for films like Chicago, Rent and Hairspray.  This year, movie makers made a pointe of appealing to dance enthusiasts with Black Swan.

As we spill out of the sheet music closet and into the streets, it becomes contagious.  Groups actually do break into song in unexpected places around New York City like museums, shopping centers and even Time Square (http://www.breakintosong.com/). Maybe that steam room number isn’t such a bad idea after all.

(Promo shot for Plan 9 From Outer Space by Frank Cwiklik www.dm-theatrics.com)

When I was a little boy, I dreamed of being on Star Search.  Alas, that dream never came true.  But I still have a song in my heart and a spring in my step because I know I can be a rock star at a neighborhood karaoke bar any day of the week. I hope I see you there.

Cheers,

Ceddy



The Bright, Optimistic Young Man

There was once a bright, optimistic young man who lived a life of excitement in a grand metropolis. One morning, he stood on the vibrant platform of a subway station, awaiting the train that would speed him onward to the adventures of the day. Suddenly, as the speeding train approached, he felt himself heave forward, onto the perilous rails of the train track. He reached desperately for the friend that had been standing beside him on the platform, but to no avail.  He simply could not reach.

At the last possible moment he hoisted himself onto the platform.  “This is a dangerous situation,” he thought to himself. “I’m going to have to leave this city if I want to survive.” And he did.

One afternoon, the bright, optimistic young man was enjoying a walk through a quiet village town.  He came upon a bridge built above a rapidly rolling river. Crossing the bridge, he enjoyed the sound of the surging water. Suddenly, he lost his balance and sailed over the railing of the bridge into the water below.  As he fought against being swallowed by the waves, he reached for his friend, who still stood on the bridge above, but to no avail.  He simply could not reach.

Finally, he grabbed on to a nearby branch and pulled himself to the safety of the shore. As he struggled to regain his breath, he thought, “This situation is as dangerous as the last.  I’m going to have to leave this village if I want to survive.” And he did.

Determined to survive, the bright, optimistic young man climbed high into the serene mountains. Early in the evening, he stood on the edge of a cliff to take in the awesome view that spread before him. As suddenly as before, he lost his footing and slipped from the edge of the cliff.  He caught himself before falling to the jagged rocks below. As he hung helplessly, high above the world, he reached for the friend who had been standing on the cliff beside him, but to no avail. He simply could not reach. 

“Why doesn’t my friend reach out to me?” He thought to himself desperately.  He remembered that each time he had fallen he had pulled himself to safety while his friend stood idly by. The dazzling city, the bucolic village and the majestic mountains had not betrayed him.  They had been constant and true to their natures…but the friend had not. He realized that, each time he had fallen, he had been pushed.

You see, not all relationships and situations are beneficial to our well being. Some are destructive. We must be able to recognize when we are being taken advantage of and when we are being abused. Too often we allow this behavior to happen because we are blinded by friendship and love. We try to justify the other person’s behavior because, in our hearts, we truly believe the situation will change. In our minds, however, we know that it will not. We all have the ability to accept, to love and to forgive. We forget that we also have the ability to walk away.

Finally, the bright, optimistic young man mustered enough strength to pull himself back onto the cliff.  He dusted himself off and he walked away, leaving his friend behind. 

“I’m going to have to find some new friends if I want to survive,” he thought to himself. And he did.

Cheers,

Ceddy

Take Me To Your Leader

NASA/courtesy of nasaimages.org

I finally got around to watching Avatar and I can see what the hype was about.  James Cameron accomplished what he set out to do in terms of action, special effects and theme.  By the closing credits, I found myself entertained, exhilarated …and totally ticked off. This wasn’t just a foray into the world of science fiction and mythology. It was too accurate a portrayal of mankind’s historical tendency to destroy in the guise of progress.

Astronomers have recently announced the discovery of yet another cluster of planets orbiting a sun like star.  It is inconclusive whether or not any of these planets, including a small earth like orb, are life sustainable. The quest continues.

We are one step closer to actually making the fantasy of discovering life on other planets a reality. This may not be a good thing.  I suppose it depends on how we choose to explore the Final Frontier.  I wonder if we’ll play nice.  But, as history shows, just because we play nice doesn’t mean we don’t take a few toys that don’t belong to us at the end of the day.  After all, humankind has mistreated a few playmates right here on Third Rock.

In real life, many indigenous people did not rise to conquer as the Na'vi tribe of Avatar.  The indigenous tribes of the Americas, for example, did not welcome the new settlers, nor make a willing gift of their ancestral lands. In real life, they did not live long, and they did not prosper.  We have enslaved millions, and attempted to eradicate entire races and cultures, using religion, science and prejudice to fuel mass hysteria to legitimize and justify our behavior. At the end of the day, the actors in our science fiction fantasies have a chance to go home. The people in our history books did not.

Human beings have long had a nasty habit of discovering places that are already long inhabited and destroying others in favor of our own gain.  In our quest for greatness, we just Manifest Destiny all over the place.  Survival of the fittest long ago disintegrated into ruthless aggression and greed.  We are a smart species, and have learned appreciation of the varying cultures of our world, and to respect and treat ethically our fellow human beings.  Meanwhile, as someone recently reminded me, ongoing skirmishes and military activity across the globe indicate that we have simply learned how to mask our intentions, but the intentions remain the same. Like children, jealous of a neighbor’s toys, the ruthlessness prevails. 

But, I subscribe to optimism. It is sometimes our greatest weapon against repeating the sins of the past.  We must maintain the hope that, as we move toward exploring Terra Incognita, we boldly go as we have not gone before—with genuine peace and reverence.

How will we approach our new neighbors? Will we board the Enterprise bearing welcome baskets and home baked pies; or will they arrive first in a shiny Trojan horse filled with shiny beads, pretty blankets and promises of brotherhood.  Whose destiny will manifest first. Will life imitate art imitate life?  

Maybe Avatar is a veiled warning against repeating one’s history. Maybe it’s just entertainment. The questions linger, and we are still light years away from knowing.

Cheers,
-Ceddy

Beam Me Up...

My friend Magen and I are excited about the invention of 3D TV. Actually, I’m slightly nervous about inadvertently creating a Nightmare on Ninth Avenue by switching on a Freddy Krueger movie and Magen’s excited at the thought of how amazing 3D porn must be on 3D TV. Let’s face it, it’s probably very amazing!

Doesn’t the new invention usually trump the predecessor?  We lost interest in centerfolds when we discovered video.  We stopped stashing video when we discovered we could log on to get off.  Naturally, 3D would be the bigger, better, autostereoscopic deal. Right? Such is the evolution of technology.

Each day, ruins of ancient civilizations are newly uncovered to reveal how they lived and what tools and technology were at their disposal.  It’s a constant reminder of how we were able to drag ourselves up from our primitive beginnings to walk, to run, to drive, to fly.  From the crank of a Victrola to the download of an mp3, each new invention piggybacks off of an older, less sophisticated one.  I might not be typing this article today without the development of the typewriter in the 1800s.

CREDIT: "Alexander Graham Bell at the opening of the long-distance line from New York to Chicago," 1892. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress. Reproduction Number LC-G9-Z2-28608-B.

I’m lucky enough to have witnessed the launch of a few of our civilization’s most recent great inventions.  I was born in the 70s, raised in the 80s and entered adulthood in the 90s. Thus, I lived in a world without cell phones, DVD players and home computers. The only tablet was my Etch-A-Sketch, and I found hours of enjoyment listening to radio mix tapes on my cassette Walkman.

I fondly remember the flashing green letters against the infinite darkness of the computer screen , the exciting beep of my pager and, despite having been there from the beginning, I’m still a terrible video game player.

The twenty year old Assistant at my day job has never seen a real, live answering machine.  In her, such things may as well belong to a lost civilization, like eight track players, rotary phones and, soon to be (deep sigh of regret) books.

I fully embrace advancement. I do.  Some things, however, are irreplaceable.  Searching the World Wide Web from the palm of my hand is truly amazing. But, the crackle of a needle placed into the groove of a record, and the musty smell of pages that have been on a book shelf for far too long, make me melt.

Another unsettling realization is that while our technological advancements enhance our lives, they also increase our capacity to destroy.  The same types of inventions that allow us to reach out to one another in social camaraderie across vast distances, also make it possible to eliminate entire nations with the press of a button. We must be wise in our knowledge.  The future, if we’re careful, could be an amazing place to live.

I’m excited to see what the techno geniuses will come up with next.  I’m actually waiting for someone to fully develop Holodeck technology.  In the meantime, I’m off to find someone with a 3D TV to watch 3D porn with.

Cheers,

-Ceddy



Uniforms

A few weeks ago, while doing background work for the film Tower Heist, quite a few of us were caught in the trap of constantly forgetting that the NYPD officers in charge of crowd control were not actually officers in charge of crowd control.  They were actors.  Not only were they extras like ourselves, but admittedly, we were more dependent on them than common sense dictates.  Why would police officers have answers to questions like, “when are we breaking for lunch?”

It was the uniform.  We were subconsciously drawn to it, and we gave them more responsibility. In the spirit of make-believe, they accepted. We do this everyday.

A businessman walks into a board room wearing a business suit because that is universally recognized as professional attire.  Immediately the people around him know that he means business.  It is up to him to continue that impression once the meeting is in session.  Were he to attend in a clown suit, it would be a different type of meeting altogether. 

How we present ourselves to the world, is how we are accepted.  Let’s face it, if you dress like a slob, you will be treated like a slob. Many people subscribe to the belief that “what you see is what you get.” Like those actors, you may be mistaken for something you’re not, and assigned a role you do not wish to play.   

For all of our virtuous insistence about judging what’s inside vs. judging what’s outside, we are constantly judging books by their covers- on the subway, in the grocery store, as we’re walking down the street. We first respond to what we see.

Despite the pressure, be true to yourself. What you put on will not change who you are.  Dressing up like a lion will not make you a lion when you’re really an armadillo at heart. Wearing that tiara to Duane Reade will not make you royalty, no matter how shiny. Trust me on that one. It’s not about designer labels or sewing your paycheck to your bum. But a neat and clean appearance– whatever your personal style, will make a better impression when you present yourself to the world. If you’re an armadillo, be a well groomed armadillo.

Our police friends were acting; playing dress up. We must play dress up everyday.  We wear uniforms to work, and black tie to the opera; sweats to the gym, and jerseys to games. We dress up for occasions, and we dress down for leisure.

No matter what you wear on it, be comfortable in your own skin. That’s the most important uniform of all, because being who you are is the most important role you’ll play.

Cheers!

-Ceddy