July 21, 2009

So True!

Posted in Art : Beauty, Education, Poetry, Psychology, Youth tagged , , , at 11:45 am by randallbutisingh


by: Kimberly Seals Allers

Tuesday I cried watching the Michael Jackson memorial.
I cried for a little black boy who felt the world didn’t understand him.
I cried for a little black boy who spent his adulthood chasing his childhood.
And I thought about all the young black boys out there who may too feel
that the world doesn’t understand them.
The ones who feel that the world does not understand their baggy jeans,
their swagger, their music, their anger, their struggles, their fears or the chip on their shoulder.
I worry that my son, may too, one day will feel lonely in a wide, wide world.
I cried for the young children of all colors who may live their life feeling like a misfit,
feeling like no one understands their perspective, or their soul.
What a burden to carry.

As a mother, I cried for Katherine Jackson because no mother should ever bury a child. Period.
And I think about all the pain, tears and sleepless nights
that she must have endured seeing her baby boy in inner pain,
seeing him struggle with his self-esteem,
and his insecurities and to know he often felt unloved even
while the world loved him deeply.
How does it feel to think that the unconditional love we give as mothers
just isn’t enough to make our children feel whole?
I wonder if she still suffers thinking, “what more could I have done?”
Even moms of music legends aren’t immune to mommy guilt, I suppose.

When Rev. Al Sharpton (who always delivers one hell of a funeral speech)
said to Michael’s children, “Your daddy was not strange…
It was strange what your Daddy had to deal with,” I thought of all the “strange”
things of the world that my children will have to deal with. Better yet,
the things I hope they won’t ever have to deal with anymore.
And as a mother raising a young black boy,

I feel recommitted and yet a little confused as to how to make sure my son is sure enough
within himself to take on the world.
Especially a “strange” one. To love himself enough to know
that even when the world doesn’t understand you,
tries to force you into its mold or treats you unkindly,
you are still beautiful, strong and Black. How do I do that?
Today, I am taking back “childhood” as an inalienable right for every brown little one.

In a world, that makes children into booty-shaking, mini-adults long before their time,
I’m reclaiming the playful, innocent, run-around-outside,
childhood as the key ingredient in raising confident adults.
Second, I will not rest until my little black boy,
MY Michael, knows that his broad nose is beautiful,
his chocolately brown skin is beautiful, and his thick hair is beautiful.And nothing or no one can ever take that away from him.


“Now aint we bad? And ain’t we black? And ain’t we fine?”

— Maya Angelou


January 6, 2009

happy birthday from grandpa, 30th August, 1993.

Posted in Education, Friendship, Years, Youth at 11:17 pm by randallbutisingh

My dear K,

Happy Birthday!  I hope you are well and have settled in at campus.  Yesterday you were eighteen, the fine line between adolescence and adulthoood..  At this time of your life, you have taken a significant step in the pursuit of a career by entering college, an institution of higher learning.  You have been able to make this advancement through your diligence in studies, the motivation of your teachers, and through the interest and guidance of very good parents.

I am happy to be a part of the family, your grandfather, who at eighty, is your oldest living close relation..  When I first saw you as a child, you were four then, and I advanced in age.  I never thought that I could see you grown to young adulthood and launching out in the field of higher education, choosing a well respected and noble profession.  I am proud of you and happy.  I also pray that I may live to see you achieving more and more until you reach the goal you have set yourself.

It behooves you now, my son, to press forward, remembering that nothing worthwhile is got without hard work.  You must not be daunted by the magnitude of the task when you have, along with your ability, the interest, the enthusiasm and the will to motivate you.

I am happy you have a room mate approved by your mother who is a good judge of human character.  Good companionship and friendship mean so much in life.  They are means through which one can share one’s thoughts and aspirations, and by which one can give and receive encouragement.   They can play the role of substitutes for the loved ones you will miss when you ar far away from home.

It is likely that you may get homesick after a while.  I experienced what it was when I went to teach in a village away from home.  You may also miss your friends, but time, absorption in your studies and the cultivation of new friendsips and interests will mitigate the feeling you get from separation.  You will also have the opportunity of communicating with your parents by telephone, but you must write them now and again so as to give them further information of your progress and your extra curricular activities.

I can go on writing but I must close here.  I want you to know however, that wherever I may be, I have your interest at heart and will follow your progress and keep in touch with you..  So, until you hear from me again.  enjoy your studies and good associations, and remember me as always,

                Your dear grandpa.

P.S. You must have heard that your dad scored an “A” for his work during his last semester.  He was able to accomplish this in spite of his onerous duties.  What an example for anyone to emulate!   Keep up your physical exercises; good health will help you to study better.

November 9, 2008


Posted in Messages, Philosophy, Poetry, Youth tagged , , , , , , , , , at 11:53 am by randallbutisingh


YOUTH Is not a time of life, it is a state of mind.  It is not a matter of ripe cheeks, red lips, supple knees; it is a temper of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigour ot the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.  Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite of adventure over the love of ease.  This often exists in a man of fifty more that a boy of twenty.  Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years, people only grow old by deserting their ideals.  Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.

Worry, doubt, self distrust, fear and despair, these are the long, long years that bow the head and turn the growing spirit back to dust.  Whether seventy or seventeen, there is in every being’s heart the love of wonder, the sweet amazement of the stars and starlght things and thoughts, the undaunted challenge of events, the unfailing childlike appetite for what is next, and the joy and game of life.

You are as young as your faith, and old as your doubts, as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fears; as young as your hope, as old as your despair.

In the central place of your heart there is a sensitive station.  So long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, grandeur, courage and power from the earth, from men and from the infinite, so long are you young.

Author Unknown



These thoughts were taken from POEMS THAT TOUCH THE HEART, a collection of inspirational poems by A. L. Alexander, popular American radio broadcaster and posted by Randall Butisingh, 96 year young blogger.  His advice is, it is never too late to learn, and he who ceases to learn, ceases to live.  Those of you who read his Bio must have learnt… that he learnt to read the Arabic script after eighty, in order to read the Qur’an in the original, that he learnt to play the recorder at eighty nine, is at present learning Spanish.  He is now typing  reminiscences of events that occurred in his life since 1914, and if he is not called to higher service within a year, he intends to write another book.