22 Reasons.

"When I look at you I see myself. . ."

~ Lillian P. Benbow

______________________________________

One hundred and one years ago today, twenty two super courageous college women leaned in. That's exactly what they did. They looked at what was going on around them politically, socially and economically. And then they asked the hard questions.

"If not me, then who? If not now, then when?"

The year was 1913. And, I'm just saying, it wasn't exactly the easiest time for black women--or women period. We couldn't vote. Laws limited us from doing the things our hearts desired and that our talents warranted. Which, if you have knocked down a bunch of walls to even set one foot in a college, kind of stinks.

So yeah. The twenty two women who founded Delta Sigma Theta Sorority back in 1913 were what many of us would roll our eyes at and call "children." Under the legal drinking age. And pretty limited in their life experiences.

But.

They knew right from wrong. They knew oppression from expression. And so. They organized and formed what is now over 300,000 members strong. And one of their very first endeavors? A march through the middle of Washington D.C. protesting the fact that women could not vote.

image credit

Yup.

image credit

How do you think that was met? With cheers? Try again. More like venomous jeers and hocked up wads of spit. Yes. Spit. Lougies. Phlegm. At them. On them. Yes.

Now.

This is the part that always makes me shake my head in awe. I mean, I remember being twenty. And I also remember when my linesisters in my pledge class were around that age, too. And I don't think all of us put together were mature enough or bold enough to keep walking with our heads held high whilst being called "NIGRA" or "GAL" and definitely not able to hold back the can of whoop ass from the person who hocked up the disgusting pellet of bubbly slobber that just hit one of us in the face or arm.

Awww hells naw.

Imagine the courage that took. And the vision, too. To go against the grain. To walk with a purpose for something bigger than each of them individually to create something meaningful collectively. And you know what? It did. That act made a difference.

So with our twenty two unflappable and fearless Founders on my mind, I wish every single Delta woman that I know a very happy 101st anniversary. I hope you paused to reflect on how amazing their program planning was to be so young and how effective, too. We come from good stock.

Yeah.

Deanna loved Founders Day. She really, really did. Every year, she'd send me a hand made card for Founders Day. Sometimes it would have an elephant stamped on it. Other times she'd hand write the names of all twenty two Founders. And every year, like clockwork, she sent it. Because this? This was a Deanna Day. She loved our sorority and cherished any chance to celebrate it.

And so. This morning I woke up and, of course, put on my red. I opened up my ritual and read our oath. . .savoring each line. And then, I dug into my box of Deanna's Delta treasures. I settled on a small African violet floret and a button that I know was a favorite of hers. I proudly pinned it to the lapel of my white coat and wore it all day long.

I heard from sorority sisters from near and far. My phone buzzed over and over again like it always does on January 13. "Happy Founders Day!" "Remember the 22!" and even "#DST101". I cherished each and every one of them just as she would.

Okay, maybe not some of the massively massive group ones, but still. Ha. It was all good. And nice to get the love.

Mmm hmmm. 

All that Delta love got me t'thinking. Thinking about what's so cool about being a Delta and about some of my favorite Delta moments. Matter of fact, I wrote a little list about it.

Like to hear it? Here it go!

I bring you:

THE TOP TWENTY-TWO REASONS WHY IF I WASN'T A DELTA, I WOULD SURE WISH THAT I WAS. OR WERE. OH HECK! YOU GET THE PICTURE.

(Don't worry, I'll make them snappy.)

#22  We always seem to hold the best offices in most organizations. 

With Yolanda W. in med school, 1994 as student Leaders.

Not kidding. For as long as I can remember, in med school, college and beyond, the Deltas always managed to have the gavel and the purse. Read: the presidency and the treasury.

Mmm hmmm.

Just sayin'.

#21  Red is a power color.

Who doesn't feel great with a ruby lip? Or a sassy red dress? Or even some red pumps?

Chile please.

Whenever I want to feel fierce? I put on red. And when I want to feel ultra-fierce? I turn to my red patent leather pumps. They give me LIFE, chile! LIFE!

*insert finger snaps*

YAAAAAASSSS!

#20  Speaking of red being an awesome color -- ever think of asking Louboutin why he didn't choose blue or pink for his legendary shoes?

Just sayin'. Red is fierce.

"Oui oui, red is pretty much awesome. I mean, magnifique!"

And don't crack any jokes about the red being on the bottom of the shoe. You know you love 'em. And you know if you own a pair they give you LIFE!

*insert finger snaps*

Yaaaaaasssss!

Ha.

#19  Deltas are about the business. Period. End of story.

#18  Deltas hold a lot of leadership positions in our hospital. 

with Yolanda W., 2013 as faculty leaders

Hey. Students. Residents. Listen up! Let me name a few of the ones here just to make my point:

Dr. Bussey-Jones. (Gen Med-Emory)
Dr. Higgins. (Gen Med-Emory)
Dr. Flowers. (OB/GYN-Emory)
Dr. Manning. (Gen Med-Emory)
Dr. Bond. (Assoc. Dean GME-Emory)
Dr. Montgomery Rice. (Dean - Morehouse)
Dr. Wimberly. (Designated Institutional Official-Dean of GME-Morehouse)


And that's not even the FULL list. Oh, and trust. It's like that everywhere.

Mmm hmmmm. Yeah, I said it.

Ha. (My AKA friends are SO gonna kill me. . . .)

#17  We get political. 

Carol Mosely Braun.

Deltas run for political offices. And they win. Then they serve.

#16  We're run things. Like, literally.

#15  We're fun.

#14  We're the sisters to the Omegas. And a lot of us get to marry them, too.

Three Omega-Delta unions. :)

#13  We had the BEST Centennial Celebration of all of the organizations. 

#12  Wait. I meant we had the best Centennial CELEBRATIONS of all of the organizations. 

Because we had the foresight to organize an official celebratory weekend for our actual 100th anniversary in January of 2013 and then another awesome follow up at the July convention. Both of which were AWESOME.

#11  When the clock struck midnight on January 13, 2013, thousands of us from all over the world had returned to Howard University to be there. 

And all of those voices rang our over that entire campus and filled that midnight air like nothing I've ever heard before.

It still gives me chills when I think about it.

#10  Dorothy Height.

Our tenth National President. And just an amazing woman. I was awestruck when we met. That look on her face is because she was thinking, "Calm yo' azz down!"

#9  There were 12 Deltas in my medical school class. Twelve! And we were all student leaders.

#8 Our sweetheart song is awesome.

#7 The brothers love the Deltas.

#6 Some of my favorite women just happen to be Deltas. Which is quite convenient. 

#5  My linesisters from Gamma Tau Spring '92. 

What a pledge class, man. There was just a lot of talent on that line. And we are making a difference.

Oh yeah--and we KILLED it for our twentieth anniversary. KILLED it.

#4  My chapter sorors from Gamma Tau--all of them.

Gamma Tau 65th Charter Anniversary Party in Atlanta

My chapter of initiation at Tuskegee University is the Gamma Tau Chapter. And you know? It's just a great group of women. Smart, hardworking, and beautiful. I'm so proud to be from Gamma Tau.

#3  When I encounter really awesome college-educated black women--more often than not--I later learn that they are Deltas. (See #18)

So, so true.

#2  I identify with Deltas. 

I just do.

And you know? A lot of it comes down to that. I'd be totally lying if I said that my dear friends who are members of Alpha Kappa Alpha, Zeta Phi Beta, Sigma Gamma Rho, or any other sorority aren't doing very important things to impact the community and the world. Of course they are. And, of course, they too share tight bonds of sisterhood.

But honestly? A lot of us agree that there's just. . . I don't know. . . sort of a vibe with all of the organizations. It's hard to put a finger on but it's true. And I'd say that when I pledged Delta. . . .I got it right. It was a good fit for me.

#1  DEANNA!

Duh. Ha!

Seriously though. One of the greatest comforts to me after losing my sweet sissy was the fact that we shared Delta. And not only did we share it as members, we were in the same chapter together. Our time in the Stone Mountain-Lithonia Alumnae Chapter remains special in ways I can't even express. And the way those women came to our aid? Man.

After Dad cleaned out Deanna's garage, we found this gift that I'd made for Deanna several years back. I think it was her fifth anniversary in Delta. And since she was all about handmade gifts and sentiment when it came to sorority celebrations, I knew I'd need to get crafty.

And so. I bought this mirror at Michaels or Hobby Lobby or something. And I painted it red. Then I added an excerpt from one of her favorite Delta quotes.

"When I look at you, I see myself. 

If my eyes are unable to see you as my sister, 

it is because my own vision is blurred. 

And if that be so, then it is I who need you 

either because I do not understand who you are, my sister, 

or because I need you to help me understand who I am."

Lillian P. Benbow, 

Past National President

Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc.
1971-1975

And she loved it. She truly, truly loved it.

And you know what? I knew she would.

I guess that's a good place to end this. Because that quote embodies much of my relationships not only with my Delta sisters but many of my sisterfriends period.

And that? That's something worth celebrating.

***
Happy 101st Founders Day. May your hearts be filled with joy and your souls inspired by the courage and vision shown by the twenty two women who took that first step toward where we are today.

By the way: Here is the January Centennial Post. And here is the July Centennial Post. 

Thought I'd repost this from our Centennial Convention since the song from it is playing on my mental iPod. 

Centennial - A song for love from Kimberly Manning on Vimeo.

Cozu-mellow.

This picture, taken while I was walking down the street in Cozumel, is being posted expressly for my friend Sister Moon. I know for 100% certain that she will enlarge it and then look at every single nook and cranny of this photograph. Then she will laugh. Then smile. And maybe, depending upon how long she stares at it, perhaps cry a little bit, too.

But good tears, y'all. Don't worry.

Not a bad snapshot for an iPhone, eh? Hope this made you smile, Sister Moon. Wait--what am I even saying? I know it did.

***
Happy Friday.

Team S.J.G.R. Thursday Huddle: So what you gon' do?

Alright team. It's 2014. A new year and as good a time as any to get up offa that metaphorical thang and make some hard decisions about where you are and what you plan to do to be your healthiest you.

Yeah. I said it.

Been exercising? Good. What kind of exercise? Do you need to step your game up? Are you making excuses for not doing as much as you can? Well? Are you?

And what about the food? How are you doing with the fork? Have you been hitting the drive thru lines? Allowing yourself to eat a little bit of this and a little bit of that when hanging out with your friends or your boo? Allowing yourself the 500 calorie frozen drinks and french fries on the side of that sandwich?

Well? Are you?

Look. I know a lot of us have been trying to be healthier over these last few months. But I think January is a great time for us all to take an inventory of our progress and give ourselves a honest to goodness report card. And remember: It's NOT all about weight. Though weight is important. It's about cardiovascular health more than anything else and managing weight should be for that as your primary goal.

At least if you ask me.

So. Here's my report card:

Exercise? Well. I've done mostly okay. The goal was 150 minutes of cardiovascular activity per week or more. Through running I mostly get that. But not much more. And running has been it.

I need to get back to weight training. I used to do Body Pump religiously at the Y. Now I don't. Weight training makes your body stronger and also a more effective fat burner. It protects you from osteoporosis when you're older. So as far as that goes, I need to step my game up.

Food. Hmmm.

Okay, listen. I think I do well with this because I eat with awareness. I don't blindly eat anything. Unless you count candy sometimes and I have my friend Stacy H. to slap my hand when I do. Otherwise, when I do enjoy naughty treats, it isn't reckless. Which, I think, is great for weight management.

That reminds me: You need to have people who will keep you in check. I mean that.

What else? Oh. I suck at food prep. I do. I don't plan meals well. So often times I eat light things at night that aren't exactly nutritious. I need to do better with that. I do. I think my whole family would benefit from that.

So for that? I get an F. I spend too much money on last minute meals. Food prep needs to be a part of my 2014 game plan.

Health Maintenance:

I get an A here. I have seen my primary MD and gotten all of my age appropriate stuff. My cholesterol is bragworthy and my BMI is in a healthy range. I've had the cold metal crushers on my chest this year and they checked out just fine.

AND I saw the dentist, too. Because remember when we said that gingivitis is a risk factor for cardiovascular disease? Well, it is. So don't be a yuck mouth. I'm just saying.

And if anyone reading this smokes cigarettes? To that I say:

Please. Stop.

Absolutely positively NOTHING good comes from it. Don't believe me? Okay. Here is what smoking affords you:

• Greater chance of heart disease
• High blood pressure
• Strokes
• Erectile dysfunction (the equipment won't work)
• Bad breath
• Brown teeth
• Lung cancer
• More cervical cancer
• Poor circulation
• Which leads to amputations
• COPD and emphysema
• Worsening of asthma
• Bladder cancer
• Mouth cancer
• Throat cancer
• Lost money
• Wrinkles
• Looking way older than you are
• Pneumonia from standing outside of places that don't allow smoking
• Eyerolls from people who hate smokers
• Kids with ear infections
• Kids with asthma
• Kids who smoke

I'm sure there's more but that's a start.  Yeah, so if you or someone you love is doing that? Tell them right this second to CUT. IT. OUT.  Also show them a picture of their kids/grandkids/loved ones and tell them that we can guarantee that eventually something bad will happen to separate them from their loved ones if they keep smoking. Basically, smoking is a bad, bad, bad idea.

Yeah.

So. Give yourself an assessment. Then step your game up, if need be. Because you have one heart and one life. And likely a whole slew of folks who are counting on you to protect it.

Primary goal: Heart health.
Secondary goal: Looking hot.
 

Keep that in mind and don't forget to keep them in that order.

Get fit in the gym. Lose weight in the kitchen. Put down the fork and pick up the pace. Be honest with yourself and align yourself with people who will hold you accountable. And who are okay with meeting you for something OTHER than food and alcohol. Hello?

January 2014. And the realness don't stop, yo.

***
Happy Thursday.

Early morning Top Ten: Obsessions.

I'm always obsessed with my Ugg boots.

Good morning, everyone. My fingers are twitching to talk to you this morning but I don't have as much time as I'd like. The kids and I fell asleep in my bed together after reading last night. And that is where we all pretty much woke up. Normally blogging is an evening activity for me but not so much yesterday.

Right now, there's a few things that I'm sort of obsessed with. Do you ever get that way? Where you're really into something and can't stop talking about it? Man. I do. And I use the word "obsessed" in the slang way that the hip girls and high schoolers do. Not in the creepy Glenn Close way. Ha.

So yeah. There's a few things I'm obsessed with right now. And I wrote a little quick top ten about it! Like to hear it? Here it go!

I bring you:

THE TOP TEN RANDOM THINGS THAT I'VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH OVER THE LAST COUPLE OF WEEKS THAT I WONDER IF ANYONE ELSE HAS BEEN OBSESSED WITH, TOO.




#10   My Keurig One Cup Coffee Maker.

OH. EM. GEE.  My sister JoLai pretty much changed my life and rocked my world when she got me this thing. It's so fabulous. And! There's a little basket that lets you use your favorite coffee and not those oppressively expensive K-cups. So even the cheap side of me is pleased-pleased-pleased!

Obsessed with that thing. Obsessed, I tell you.

#9   My iPad mini.

Yes. It's exactly like my iPad. Only mini. And you know? I'm obsessed with it like I'd never had an iPad in my whole-whole-whole life. Which many people hadn't. So my desire for one was totally first world. But damn, I'm glad to have it. And obsessed, too.

#8   Finding another half marathon to run

I spend no less than 15 - 20 minutes each night perusing sites for a good half marathon to run in the spring. I'll be out of town for the Atlanta Publix Half in March. So to keep myself going, I'm searching one out. I've been kicking around the Birmingham Mercedes Benz Half Marathon in February. It's just that it would require me to go to Birmingham to get my number the day before and that's my mom's birthday weekend.

And I haven't been running so far lately. Oh. Did I mention that part? Ha.

#7  Reading some old school books to my kids.

I told the boys that we're going to "kick it old school."  And let me tell you--we started with the classic by Wilson Rawls "Where the Red Fern Grows."

Oh. EM. GEEE.  Isaiah and I were hysterically-hysterically-hysterically crying at the end. Did I mention hysterically? Dude. I highly recommend kicking it old school. And reading to your kids who already know how to read. One of my Grady BFFs Lesley M. is so great about that. She inspires me to keep on reading to my kids no matter how old they get.

Yep.

So now we're alternating between old books and new ones. Currently we're on a book called "Because of Mr. Terupt."  But next? Either "Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry" or "Old Yeller." Yay-yuuuh!

#6   My mood nail polish.

So I got my nails painted this dark-dark-dark burgundy. Then on my cruise, Harry says, "Hey, I've never seen you with red nails." And I looked down and they were blood red. Then that night when it was cool and air-conditioned, they were dark again. So it turns out that this polish changes.

Mmm hmmm.

So now I'm constantly sticking my fingers in ice water or showing them to Harry to let him know if I'm in the mood or not. Ha.

#5  ORANGE IS THE NEW BLACK.

I. Am. Obsessed. With. This. Show.

Take this from someone who rarely watches television. I watched the entire first season in like three days on Net Flix. I am in love with every character and their flaws and just cannot WAIT for the next season. So, so well done.

Obsessed.

#4  12 Years a Slave -- the book.

Have you read this book? It's only 99 cents on Kindle. It's written in the first person by Solomon Northup, this free man who got kidnapped to the south and put in slavery. It is riveting. Upsetting. Deep. I am obsessed with what I learned there. I am sad that this is a part of our country's history.

I've not seen the movie but I want to. I'm so behind on movies.

#3  Downton Abbey.

Even though I've already seen the entire season 4 on British bootleg (brillllll-iant!) I am obsessed with it. That show is the bomb. For reals.

#2  NOT watching Breaking Bad.

I tried. It makes me too anxious. I kept on trying over the break, I did. But the second episode of the first season nearly gave me a heart attack. I knew I wasn't cut out for something this dark. And isn't that dude the father from Malcolm in the Middle? Dude. I'll have to stick with books, Downton, and Orange is the New Black.

#1  Writing something

I don't know what. But I think I want to write something for real, true and sho' nuff publication. Yeah. Like even a book, maybe.

Gasp.

Did I say that out loud?

That's all I got. Sorry for no pictures today. I only had a few minutes to share. But I'd love to hear about your obsessions.

***
Happy Thursday. S.J.G.R. post coming later. . . .

Still there. Still here.

My cheeks were burning from the cold. I can't even call my feet "feet" because they felt more like two frozen bricks strapped to each of my ankles. At least my hands had quasi-feeling since I'd remembered the sage advice about mittens over gloves. Damn, it was cold. And all of this I had to brave for the less than six minutes it would take me to get from my car to the hospital.

What happened to me?

This is what I asked myself with a shake of my head. Sure, I'm a California native--in fact, a Southern California one, no less. But I'm also the same person who spent five full years in Cleveland, Ohio with lake effect snow and bitter, bitter cold days. Back then my skin had thickened enough to tolerate a jaunt from the parking lot in thread bare scrubs and not much else on days that were, literally, freezing. Hell, a lot of days.

But now? Pssfffuh. A decade in Atlanta returned me to my Cali girl roots. I mutter expletives when checking the mail in temperatures under forty and own more forms of hand protection for cold weather than I ever did in Cleveland. Dude. What happened to me?

I think the body is like an old house. It sort of needs to be weatherized for cold-cold weather and, like those old houses I used to live near in Cleveland, it takes time, money and energy. Really warm clothes. Long johns and wool stuff. And just a body that's had a shift in mojo to tolerate the cold-cold. For a fleeting artic-ish blast in the bible belt, that doesn't really happen since it's not worth the hassle. So our solution? We close the schools and simply freak out when the cold-cold does a drive-by shooting on us down here.

Mmm hmmm.

That said, now that I'm a cold weather wimp, my time in Cleveland still gives me the authority to talk junk when schools close here. My kids were out of school yesterday--not because of snow but because of the cold-cold. So, of course, I had my share of yeah-I-used-to-live-in-cold-ass-Cleveland jokes.

"My kids' school is closed. Not for a snow day. But for a cold day. What the heck!"

I told my students this yesterday and they laughed. "Hey, Dr. M--do kids have to make up 'cold days?'"

My response was an eyeroll and a shake of my head. Because even though I'm not weatherized anymore, my offspring need to be going to school when I have five trillion post holiday season things to do at work. Cold or not.

I'm just saying.

So anyway. Where was I? Oh. The cold morning, yes. The bright side is that I trucked it as fast as I could from the parking lot into Grady. And just as I approached the front door, I saw this Grady elder standing outside and rubbing his hands together. His leathery hands weren't covered with gloves or mittens. And I could tell from the deep valleys in his cheeks and sunbeams from the corners of his eyes that he'd been a Grady elder just as long as I'd been an adult.

I studied him as I came closer. His hat was pulled down hard over his ears and his coat collar was flipped upward. Plumes of condensation blasted out of his mouth as he blew into those cold hands while his feet lightly bounced up and down in an effort to stay warm.

My first thought: Why is he standing out here in this cold?

But then again, maybe he was weatherized. Or something.

I offered him a quick, tight-lipped smile because I sort of couldn't figure out why he'd choose to be standing outside instead of inside. It's not like he was smoking or anything. So yeah. That was kind of weird but I decided to stay in my cold-ass lane.

"Good morning, beautiful."  His voice was silky yet crackly like an old record. More proof of his Grady elder designation. I loved it immediately. 

"Morning, sir," I replied. Fluffy clouds rolled out with each of my syllables. It was yet another reminder of how cold it was out there. I furrowed my brow and went ahead and scooted into his lane. "You just like standing out here in this cold like this?" I gave my shoulders an exaggerated shiver. Then I giggled for good measure.

"I kinda like feeling the extremes sometime," he said. "Remind me that I'm alive and that I still got my wits about me."

And when he said that I paused. I turned my body to face his so that he'd know that I was letting his point marinate. With my head cocked sideways and the corner of my mouth turned upward, I responded. "Wow. That's deep."

"Yeah. I steps out in the rain sometime, too. Jest to feel it on me, know what I'm sayin'? 'Specially a good hard rain in the summer. Like how the sun is out and it's warm one minute and then just pouring down the next?"

"I know just what you mean. And you go out in it?"

"Jest for a bit. Sometime longer. It's all God's creation. So I jest like to feel it and know I'm here. In my right mind, too." He pulled his hands up in that praying motion and gave them friction in front of his mouth once more. But not before offering me a big smile.

I quickly returned the favor. Right after I did, I felt the tips of my toes aching and my fingertips starting to tingle inside of my mittens.

"Well, sir, that hawk is jumping on my neck. I'm gonna have to take your word for us both being here and scoot on inside."

We both laughed when I said that. I pushed through the revolving doors and left him right there where he was. And he didn't even budge. Just as I turned the corner, I looked back to see if he'd come inside. But he hadn't. His feet were still planted in that same place while he looked from side to side and then, every so often, skyward. 

Still there. Still here. 

Yeah.

This, my friends, is Grady. Still there. Still here. And, man, I'm glad about it.

***
Happy Wintry Wednesday.

Now playing on my mental iPod. . . .I've been enjoying this version of this classic performed by James Taylor (the original J.T.) and Natalie Cole. So silky and cozy. . . .it's one of my favorite songs for curling up on the couch with hot cocoa.

Philos? Eros? Agape? It's all love.

"You are my friend. I never knew it 'til then--my friend."

~ Patti LaBelle

Nearly every year we get away for a quick vacation over the New Year holiday. For eight plus years, my mother has magnanimously agreed to keep our children while we slip off for some adult time. And it's funny because I've always seen that time as about us. About my husband and me fanning the flames of our romance and chucking our cares aside long enough to dance to steel drums or salsa music or laugh out loud telling stories with our friends. We come back recharged, refreshed, and, in ways, renewed. Our hearts are reminded that before there was Manning, party of four, there was Kimberly--a girl and Harry--a boy.

Or rather (if you let the BHE tell it)  Kimberly--a grown-ass woman and Harry--a grown-ass man. Ha. Either way-- you get my point.

Anyway. Mom was kind enough to meet us at the house when we returned. The reunion is always delightful. Our boys always pounce on their daddy first and then follow up with kisses and hugs for me. And I never mind it one bit that it goes in that order because I think their daddy is pretty damn awesome, too.

So after Mom had taken off and everyone was settled down, Zachary and I were sprawled on the couch as we often do. We lay there chatting about this, that, and also the other. I told him about the big cruise ship that we were on and the neat places we saw. I showed him a picture of me eating a a piece of Key Lime Pie in the Florida Keys and how it somehow tasted better there. And he mostly just giggled when I said that because he thought a place being called "The Keys" was funny. He also isn't into sweets much so he didn't really care to know how tangy the zip on the end of each bite was or whether or not I savored the tiny sliver of real Key lime that came on top. Or even if it came with that sliver at all.

That would be more of an Isaiah question. He's the one with the sweet tooth and the one who'd get the significance of his mother enjoying a piece of Key Lime Pie in Key West. But I also loved that it was Zachary who'd laugh at the name "Key West" and ask if I'd brought him back a key chain. (I actually didn't, but immediately wished I had after he suggested it.)

My boys are so different. So remarkably, amazingly different. One so emotionally intelligent and tender-hearted. With a memory like a steel trap and reasoning skills that rival that of the oldest sage. Wired with his grandfather's and Auntie Deanna's analytical engineering mind and always looking to build or create something. That? That's my Isaiah.

And my baby boy? An absolute marcher to his very own drum. Confident, athletic and quick-witted. Determined, competitive, and fearless. Musical, boisterous and nearly impossible to embarrass. The one that his pre-school teacher dubbed "The Mayor" because his swagger was like that of a man who'd been elected by the people to lead. And that? That's my Zachary.

And so. Despite these stark differences, I've always been happy to see how much they're able to enjoy one another. How ready their smiles are and quick their compromises come when playing together. And just like I know their ways, I thought I knew their love. I thought I did.

But perhaps I did not. Not like I thought I did.

So that conversation I had with Zachary evolved from Key Lime Pie and fresh guacamole in Cozumel to other things. I yawned and asked him to tell me about his break. To tell me about what he did at Grandma's house and to tell me of the fun parts. And, like always, he answered his favorite reply to such a question:

"Good."

And predictable me probed him to get at least one detail. Which yielded very little. Then I moved on to asking specifically about the things my mom had told me they'd done. Like see the motion picture "Frozen" and go to New Year's Day party. And that, too, was "good." So then I asked him a very simple question. One that wasn't meant to be deep or probing or any such thing. Just a mere attempt to keep the dialogue going from more than just me.

"Zachary? What was the best part of your time at Grandma's house?"

And when I said that, his face grew unusually serious. Then the right side of his mouth started twitching downward like it always does when he's about to cry about something. So I wondered if something happened or went wrong. Which wouldn't really make sense in the context of my question or where he'd been but I admit that I wondered it anyway.

"Zachary?" I studied his face carefully. His mouth kept quivering and he tried to talk but didn't. "What is it, son?"

"Nevermind," he said with a lopsided shrug. "I just don't know what I feel inside right now."

"Is something wrong?"

He answered quickly and shook his head for emphasis. "No, ma'am."

"Then why do you look like you want to cry? What was it about your time at Grandma's house that's making you feel that way?"

And he just stared at me with this very complex expression. Like he didn't fully understand how he was feeling and wasn't even sure where to start. Or if he should at all.

"Tell me, Zachary. What is it?"

And so he did. He told me what was on his heart.

"I just. . . I just. . . didn't do anything at Grandma's. . . . anything but. . . . but just be with my brother. That's all I did at my Grandma's house. And me and my brother we just played together and just were together all the time. And it was really, really fun to do that. And . . .I just. . . I just. . . Mommy, I just. . ."

At this point he couldn't talk anymore. His mouth fell open and nothing came out. And my baby boy broke down crying. Hard. I rubbed his back and encouraged him to go on. I told him it was okay and that I really wanted to hear what he had to say. Because I did.

And so he did.

"I just. . . I just really, really, really love my brother," he eked out between sobs. "My brother. . .my brother is. . .he's just the very best person I know and I-I-I just love him so, so, so much. More than anybody else. More than anyone. And, I'm sorry Mom but even more than you and my Dad." My mouth twitched in a little smile when I heard that part but I knew not to go any further because this was a serious moment. I listened as he went on. "He's just my very best friend. And . . .we just played together at Grandma's. Like some video games and other stuff. And I just like it when I get to be. . .get to. . just be with my brother. Because . . . because. . . when I . . ."

Again his voice trailed off as he paused to cry some more. He panted for a few moments and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. I listened patiently while he finished.

"Just. . .when I. . .when I look in my brother's face. . .I just feel really, really good. Like I just feel so happy when I look in his face." When he said "really, really" and "so happy" he cried even harder. I felt my chest beginning to heave, too as he continued. "And I don't know why I'm crying. I'm not sad. I just. . .I just like to be with my brother. He's just the very best person I know and I just. . .I just love my brother so, so much."

And with that he buried his face into the crook of my arm and wept. Hard and with everything in his little soul. He sure did.

Whew.

Lord knows that he wasn't the only one shedding some tears. I didn't even know what to say. So I just hugged him tight and rocked him close to my chest. I told him over and over again how happy this made me and how glad I am that he knows how much of a blessing it is to have a brother like Isaiah. And he said he does know which only made us weep more.

And you know? My children are different. See, Isaiah would have immediately drawn the corollary to Auntie Deanna and what this meant about how I felt when she left us. He would have started a whole new, fresh set of tears triggered by a separate set of emotions. But not Zachary. All he knew in that moment was that his seven year-old heart was full to the brim. His bucket of love for his big brother was overflowing and that having this uninterrupted time with him had done him a world of good.

And that? That was okay with me. In fact it was more than okay. I loved that this moment was his. It was about him and how he felt and not anything else. And that it was about love. A love so intense that he could barely even explain or contain it. A love for his very first and very best friend--his brother.

Philos love, the Greeks called it. That special love between brothers, sisters, friends and dear ones. A love distinctly different from the romantic or Eros love that Harry and I sneak away to rekindle each year. And, by definition, of another nature than that Agape love apparently reserved by God and unattainable by others.

Or is it? They say that the Agape love is a spiritual one. Built on a love that cannot be shaken or altered by anything. One on planes higher than any worldly loves that any of us mere mortals will ever know. That is, according to the original definition.

But.

When I looked into my baby boy's eyes and listened to him speak of his love for his brother? It was more than brotherly, man. That love he spoke of was spiritual in the purest and most genuine way. And, like the Greek authors suggested of the Agape type of love, an enduring and unconditional one.  So really, I'm not sure how to define what that moment was about. But it sure seemed to be about more than something limited to brotherhood.

Sigh.

When I told my dad about this moment with Zachary it immediately made him cry. He gets to witness that sustained time between them so he knows it well. . .perhaps as well as anyone. 

Uncle Chief and Uncle Skeeter

But it also took him back to his boyhood times with his own siblings. He reflected to me about his late brother Edward (affectionately known as "Chief") and the close ties he always had with Dad's other brother, Hiawatha (known to all as "Skeeter.") And it's funny because when he told me about this, he wept in that same way Zachary did. In this tender, complex way stirred up from a love that is almost impossible to define.

"They were close like that. A different kind of close than the others. They always were. And both of them so different like Isaiah and Zachy. But close just like that," he said.  "They had this thing between them that was all their own."

And Dad spoke no words more true. My Uncle Skeeter, the extrovert with the fluffy jokes and the magnetic personality. And my Uncle Chief, the gentle, tenderhearted one--but who, like Isaiah, still knew a good joke when he heard one and who still had a good measure of mischief in him to make for some great memories.

The original "scouns"

 Dad calls it having some "scoun'" in you--short for "scoundrel." Every boy needs a little bit of scoun' in 'em, he says.

Ha.

So yes, Dad cried when we spoke of that more-than-philos love shared between those brothers. And just now, I cried when writing this down because I just remembered something. My sweet Uncle Chief was born on May 6. And so was my Isaiah.

Sigh.

So yeah. Our time away was amazing. It was so, so good. But now I know that these escapes aren't only about us and perhaps, never have been. And this year, more than ever, with my children at separate schools and evolving into different sports and distinct interests, these times serve to cultivate a love so deep, so spiritual, that it caused my baby boy to crinkle his face and cry at the thought of it.

For those brothers, the Greeks say it's Philos. For Harry and me, they'd dub it the Eros type. And swirled through them all and looming down from the heavens, perhaps, that Agape type that runs deep like still waters. But to me? Philos, Eros or Agape--it doesn't matter. Because regardless of what you call it, it's all love.

And this? This is what I live for. This, this, this.

Yeah.

***
Happy Sunday.

Now playing on my mental iPod. . . . one of the most beautiful songs of more-than-Philos love ever written and performed.

A Truly Happy New Year.

Good friends. Good food. Good fun. And, okay, some good Mexican beer, too. That's how I brought in my 2014. What about y'all?

***

Happy New Year. I've missed you but you'll be proud to hear that I unplugged with the BHE and had an exquisite holiday. Plenty more soon, okay? I was unplugged but I'm always reflecting. . .always.