Black History Month: Lessons of Equality Ingrained from “Coach Mac”

Education and equality were tenets of my heritage. Henry Fields, the first African-American pro basketball player in Europe, mentored me in international ball, but our friendship would never have developed without my family’s upbringing teaching tolerance.

Life may not fair, but great coaches are. My grandfather, Ralph “Coach Mac” McKinzie, taught fairness by his actions, not words, in a college coaching tenure at Eureka College and Northern Illinois University (NIU) that lasted 70 years. Just ask my dad, an All- American at NIU, who argued during a game while playing for grandpa and was benched.

During the decades before the Civil Rights Movement, when Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in professional sports in 1947, an under current of racial tension escalated. Even in the liberal North, an underlying assumption of separate but equal prevailed. In the law of the land, when it came to gender and race, nothing was equal. But in my grandpa’s eyes no man was better than another. Under Coach Mac’s creed, equality was non negotiable.

In the l940’s, an opposing school in southern Illinois refused to let Earl Dryden, NIU’S black center sleep in the dormitory.

“What do you mean, my big man has to sleep in the basement!” Grandpa said to the host.

“N***** aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

“Then damn it! Give me a cot!” Coach Mac fumed. “I’ll sleep in the basement, too.”

Former President Reagan remembered those character-building lessons instilled on the football field when he played football for Coach Mac at Eureka College 1928-1932.

“I played football with Franklin Burkhardt and we remained lifelong friends,” President Reagan recounted when he introduced his Coach Mac at the Washington D.C. Touchdown Club where my grandpa was to receive the prestigious Timmie Award for his contribution to college football.

“It wasn’t so easy for a young black man to come to college and make his way back in that day,” Reagan continued, “But Dr. Burkhardt went onto become the athletic director at Morgan State. Before Burgie died, he said something most fitting for the man I am about to introduce, ‘the man who had the most influence in my entire life was Coach Ralph McKinzie.’”

Great coaches walk the talk and invest emotionally in shaping their players’ lives. My grandpa’s heart was always in the right place. Because of his influence in my life, I think my heart is right with the world too.

Celebrating the Rosa Parks in your Neighborhood

[audio:http://pattymackz.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/07-Momma-Hold-My-Hand-11.mp3|titles=Momma Hold My Hand]I teach at an international school with students of over a hundred different nationalities where the notion of racism is non existent, so during Black History Month every February I try to help my students understand how prejudice can pass through generations even in a nation founded on democracy. Though I grew up in small town, USA, at the heels of the Civil Rights Movement, I don’t have a racist bone in my body. I credit that to the two families who taught me that everyone should be treated equal; the white one I was born to, and the black one I adopted through basketball.

Barb Smith was as much a part of the history of my community, as the brick in the foundation of Sterling High School where I lived out my hoop dreams. As an adult, I saw only her once a year at the Smith-Hereford Family July 4th Reunion where I was welcomed home like a long lost child. It was no surprise that she was the catalyst for the event that united family, friends and neighbors, from Alabama to Wallace Street to 11th. She brought people together long before that tradition began.

She never aged. When she wrapped you in a hug, though small built, you felt like you could break in half from the strength of that love. Hardworking. Resilient. Courageous. She was like the Rosa Parks of the Sauk Valley, taking a stand for human justice long before the lawmakers got around to it. At a time when Jim Crow Laws were still deeply ingrained in the social fabric, she chose to remain colorblind, ignoring the dictates of society.

Didn’t matter what side of the tracks you were born on. All people were her people. And nobody went hungry. There was always a spare rib, a plate of greens or a piece a pie left to feed another hungry child.

She had 6 children, 23 grandchildren, 37 great grand children and 8 great great grand children, but it didn’t matter if you were kin folk or not; she knew long before the rest of the country all blood is red and “we all God’s children.”

She was meek but mighty, a tiny woman with an enormous heart. And a smile so big that it could light up the universe.

Any friend of the family was a friend for life. She made everybody feel special. Whenever she knew I would be back in town, she baked me lemon pie. We had a standing joke ever since I first tasted her famous lemon meringue pie as a teen, and announced, “I never tasted no white folk pie that good.”

She laughed and her laugh was infectious. Laughter rings throughout my memory of her.

She had a faith strong enough to move mountains and a love so enduring to withstand generations of hardship and loss. Yet she lived each day as though it were a blessing and loved each soul as though he or she were heaven sent. All who knew her felt gifted.

Although I can still hear her hollering her daughter’s and my sister’s name, the year they won the state basketball championship, she was a cheerleader for all of us. I can still see her smile, feel her hug; I can still taste her love filled lemon meringue, sweet and tart, smooth and creamy.

Though she no longer walks this earth, baking pie and bringing good cheer, she winks down on us in every ray of sunshine and each twinkling star. We know without a doubt, we are better people for having known her. Every time I help a neighbor, encourage a friend, care for a loved one, every time I do the right thing, I remember Mom Smith and stand a bit taller.

in remembrance of Barbara Smith, click on this link to listen to Momma Hold My Hand

When Life Knocks You Flat, Kick Back !

“Fall seven times and stand up eight.” I live by the Japanese Proverb. I have hit the deck more than once – undercut on a rebound, flipped off a bike, smashed in a car accident. I have fought back from broken bones, shattered dreams, dashed hopes. I cried an ocean of tears over lost abilities. I have tried one remedy after another to combat chronic illness. Pain is my sidekick. Do I ever want to give up? Yep. Everyday.

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People. First off, my forefathers, from my grandfather who left the fjords, learned a new language, new trade and made a new life in the Windy City never returning to his beloved Norway. To my Scottish-American paternal grandpa who still coached college football in his 90s. To my dad, who within the span of four months endured 3 surgeries, 2 heart interventions and one hip reconstruction, without losing his sense of humor, concern for others, or fighting spirit. And especially to my mom who unwraps each day as a precious gift.

To my friends from third grade, to highschool, to college and beyond, scattered across continents and countries, including cyberspace buddies – readers, writers, bloggers – some who I’ve never met, but whose words keep me chuckling and chugging forward.

To my family, from my old sibs who understand my past to young nieces, nephews, son and daughter who connect me to the future by teaching me to text message, Twitter and Facebook.

To my hubby who has endured thirty some years of my lolly gagging, bellyaching, foot stomping, tongue lashing, story telling.

To the teammates and athletes I played beside or coached during four decades court-side. To my students, who zap energy but bring laughs with their antics. “But Mrs. M, I didn’t copy a word. I used Wikipedia.”

If you look behind my dark glasses, other than tired eyes and worry lines, you would never know what my body has endured. After three years on antibiotics living in darkness, doctors insist that I stop the meds and see if the treatment works. I feel worse than when I started. Reeling from the cost in time, money and energy, I am filled with discouragement. It’s definitely another knock down day. I want to pull the comforter over my head and check out of January. Cold days. Long nights. Holidays over and done. No hope to run, no sign of sun. No fun. Bottom line. I am still here kicking, with the ol’ ticker ticking.[cincopa AoIADfqVDEzo]

Every time I am knocked to my knees AGAIN. I pray for Strength. Courage. Faith. Hope. Then I whisper worries to the wind and shout thanks to skies. I know without doubt,

“My peeps, got my back!”

Bring it on, LIFE!

Fall down nine, stand up ten!

Want to listen to the song ? Click on the following link: Somewhere Over the Rainbow

A New Year Older, Oh La La…

OMG oh my God… a New Year means I am a year older. How did this happen ? When I look in the mirror, I am shocked by the reflection of the stranger in the glass. My nose enlarged, my chin recedes and my lips, barely visible, regress. The corners of my mouth turn down. What is that goofy mask I am wearing ? My jowls sag, my chin doubles, my eyes bag, my hair greys, my skin wrinkles. Now I understand why women undergo the knife. Forget simple face lift, I need an entire body boost. But once one starts nipping and tucking there is no end. Face peels, botox injections, cosmetic surgeries.

I am lucky that due to my medical treatment, I have a great camouflage for aging. I have to wear big bulky dark glasses that a student once told me, « Looks like a dead animal covering your face ! »

My shades conveniently hide any imperfections. Also since I see everything in dimmer mode, I assume people have trouble seeing me too. But take off the dark glasses and look out. My face has been ravaged by time….too many summer days under blazing suns life-guarding, too many hours teaching sports outdoors, too many year ignoring the natural elements and swearing off synthetic beauty products. Mary Kay be damned.

Cheer up. With age comes wisdom. Smile. Are you kidding me ? I love The Color Purple, but not for teeth. I look like I have mouth filled with blueberries. Antioxidants and antibiotics do a number on the canines.

Teeth whiteners, brighteners lighteners. Creams to regenerate, rejuvenate, to blend crows-feet, cover age spots. Make ups to hide, tint, color, and resurface the skin. Consumers spend a small fortune pursing the foundation of youth in a bottle. Cover the mirrors, succumb to the battle, embrace growing old gracefully. And take it from me, never, ever leave the house without the dark shades.

Like a lot of women, feeling slouchier, slumpier and frumpier in the new year, I rushed to the nearest department store for a little inexpensive pick me up for returning to teaching. I tried on a pair of fitted, navy blue sweats in front of the mirror in the hallway of the dressing room, glaring at my reflection when I heard a voice behind me.

« Wow, you look great – slender and long legged. That’s the build designers had in mind, when they invented that style , » the clerk said… Check out your backside !

Now I have the perfect solution to ace the aging game, forget the face off, present the backside first.

11 Things to Focus on in 2011 for a New Year Filled With Contentment

1. Health- though it may seem self centered to focus on you first, especially to super moms, before we can save the world, we need to take care of our own ticker.

2. Family – appreciate your partners and kin at all stages and ages, from toddlers to teens to great grans, from siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins, and families in all combinations, adopted, step, mixed, multi cultural, for the in-laws, and out-laws, who are with you for the long haul

3. Friends – random strangers whose lives magically intersect on crossroads of your journey and carve a niche in your heart

4. Freedom – to travel beyond one’s own backyard, to think, say and do whatever floats one’s boat

5. Faith – belief in one’s God, Great Spirit, higher power, or whatever it is that helps you endure tough times and trust better days lie ahead when all hope is lost

6. Dreams – whether it’s a new career, a trip abroad, a long awaited milestone, a joyous celebration, attainment of personal goal

7. Seasons – how can one truly appreciate the new birth of spring and splendor of summer without knowing the bleak, cold, dark days of late fall and winter

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8. Art –a beautiful melody, a powerful painting, a great game, a good read, simple pleasures in music, sports, and literature that sustain our soul

9. Purpose – work pays the rent, puts food on the table, makes ends meet, but purpose is a higher calling. It’s what we do without monetary remuneration or social recognition to make this world a better place whether it is bagging groceries at the food pantry, writing blogs, mentoring colleagues, coaching kids, consoling friends

10. Communication – from hugs to handshakes, letters to emails, postcards to phone calls, words, printed or pronounced, whatever ways we step outside ourselves to stay connected

11. Solitude – not loneliness, we all have days where we feel isolated, alone, misunderstood, but for those moments when separate self from the rat race and reflect on our inner lives. For in spite of all the people, places and experiences we encounter in a lifetime, we enter and exist earth alone. We must learn to like ourselves – sags, bags, wrinkles and all – before we can reach out to the human race.

Staying Connected at Christmas Always Worth the Trip

My sibling and I live 5,000 miles apart, away from our childhood home, yet in spite of the distance we remain close. It helped that we were a family born on wheels. In the sixties, at time when most people wouldn’t take four kids five years apart any further than the corner grocery store, my grandparents and parents loaded the station wagon with, nine bags, eight bodies and one big red ice chest and hit the road. Like the Beverly Hillbillies, we cruised the blue highways from sea to shining seas in our beat up old Rambler.

We grew up believing life was an endless road trip. Consequently we continue to spend an inordinate amount of time in our adult lives riding the rail, flying the sky, and pounding the pavement to remain connected.

Just last week over a span of 24 hours, my youngest sister, Karen, drove to my son’s college game in Minnesota, one evening, and dropped our daughter, Nathalie, off at the Minneapolis airport at 6 am the next morning. Then she drove 7 hours to Sterling to support my mom and middle sister, Sue, as my dad recovered from delicate hip reconstruction surgery in Sterling Rock Falls Hospital. Meanwhile my older brother, Doug, and sister in law, Julianne, picked up Nat at the airport in Cleveland and chauffeured her to her residency interview at Rainbow Baby and Children’s Hospital.

In the meantime, Rush Memorial called her for an interview, so my brother-in-law, Cliff in the Chicago suburbs, helped change her ticket and arranged her pick her up 0’Hare Airport. He will drive her to her appointment at Rush; she’ll take the train from there back to the airport to fly to Utah for another interview.

On December 17th, Gerald and I were supposed to fly from Geneva via Amsterdam to Minneapolis. Our son will pick us up in the car he borrows regularly from my brother-in-law Dick. Then after Nathalie arrives from Utah, we will drive back down to Sterling, via our cabin at Summit Lake, to celebrate my dad’s successful surgery.

“And that my dear,” Aunt Mary used to say, “is love in action.”

One wonders what do people do without family?

Every winter, the McKinzie clan will log miles in the air and on land, braving blizzards, airline strikes and flight delays because Christmas happens whenever, wherever and however we can get together.

Be sure to rejoice in the gift of family especially this holiday season. Safe travels to you wherever you gather. May your wheels keep spinning for another year.