The N.B. Forrest Rebel Brigade Reunion

Posted by Penny Dickerson on December 7, 2014 in Blog, Bold and Bodacious Blogs, Creative Writing, Journalism

The occasion of the Nathan B. Forrest Rebel Brigade Band Reunion was held last evening, June 21, 2014 at the Sheraton Hotel (Deer Creek) in Jacksonville, Florida @ 7:00 p.m. It was a culmination of years of murmurs, suggests, ideas, non-ideas, and finally, band members Russ Carpenter and Leonor Diaz took the helm as leaders do and said, “Let’s put on a SHOW!” But wait: Where is everybody?

So for four months, nearly everyday, the duo of “Do It” commenced to social media and other gorilla tactics to locate band members of every section (brass, percussion, woodwinds, color guard, drum majors, drum minors, mini-minors, majorettes, fans of band and, well, you get it: THE BAND!”

The big question on everyone’s mind who wanted to attend, considered, did or didn’t have a schedule conflict, or otherwise were simply unable to make it was:

Is Winford Coming?

This Winford of which I speak (sigh…)

Just know that when we were in high school and Mr. Franklin (we privately called him “Winford” for fodder) was mentioned: lighting struck, dogs ran for cover, saloon doors opened and closed in sync, and he’d appear with a megaphone and command troops in line-up for the business of band: marching, symphonic, ensemble, competition, all-county, all-state, ALL MUSIC.

THAT Winford Franklin of which I speak is pictured below:

He has aged fabulously after an illustrious career in music education in Duval County, Clay County, and North Carolina where he currently resides, but for the purpose of this occasion, he served as the consummate professional, stern, wise, no-nonsense, talented, band director who mentored and planted seeds into the lives of thousands of young musicians. For this reason and more, many trekked to Jacksonville, Florida to reunite and share preserved and coveted memories.

The Forrest High School band program from years 1970 to 1990 (give or take) was a phenomenal offering of excellence and high standards. I feel incredibly privileged and honored for the labor of love endured, the hours of practice under hot sun, marching, traveling, learning discipline, competing all over the country, and having some of the best fun I’ve ever had in my lifetime. Being a part of the Rebel Brigade molded and shaped much of who I am as an individual and professional. I feel confident that a plethora (if not all) of my bandmates from all decades whole heartedly concur. Without a leader who was essentially “a leader’s leader,” the program and it’s award-winning reputation would not have been as it were. So for this reason — again, again, and “one ‘mo gin'” — we thank you Winford Franklin, for who you were and remain in our lives. Now, YOU run a lap…with a snare drum on your head (kisses!)

It was so great seeing everyone again who did or did not make it to the Friday evening “Mixer” held in the Sheraton’s bar. Vickie Diaz served as a lovely welcome host as we each entered and were forced to wear shameless names tags that didn’t stick to our clothing (o.k….it stuck to some). We’ve all aged and without them, we would have increased the awkward staring moments of looking into each other’s eyes and saying, “Oh Yeah! It’s YOU! Ummm Umm, yeah you played saxophone right?” Followed by the corrective, “No, I’m Jackie Acierto, I was your drum major.” Our great Jackie is pictured below with her spouse.

We were greeted with flutes of champagne and light fare followed by a buffet meal and open bar that was enjoyed by all. Below, Winford Franklin chats-it-up with Mrs. Kraft (Good ‘Ole Band Parent Mrs. Kraft and Vickie Kraft) and Arlene Mills (wife of the Late Tom Mills whose obituary is at the end of this tribute).

There were plenty of opportunities for all to mingle and talk and glance at photos of memorabilia from years and years of band life.

It’s amazing that our lives have intersected from so many backgrounds and ethnicities and interests and talents. Undoubtedly, when we took to the field or stage, we were essentially “One Band, One Sound.” (I’ve been waiting years to use that cliché.”)

I’m going to cut the gab and just run a photo gallery of some of the many images captured throughout the evening. Place a “Guess Who” and/or zoom-in to see if you can read names on the name tags. We sure do age beautifully Rebel Brigade. What a beautiful group of people:

Of course there was dessert and Mr. Franklin showed footage of one of his earlier year marching bands as much of the available tapes of our decades are on VHS and had yet to be reformatted. Chuck Lorbeer sent DVD’s of 1971 to 1979, and if you’re interested in owning one, see Russ Carpenter.

Personally, I want to insert the hyperlink to The Florida Times-Union article that recently ran announcing the name change finality: the signs of Nathan B. Forrest Senior High are coming down and Westside High school is going up.

http://members.jacksonville.com/news/metro/2014-06-16/story/forrest-high-school-signs-coming-down-westside-high-school-signs-going

I posted last week on social media the following:

“I have zero regrets regarding my attendance and graduation from Nathan B. Forrest Senior High School. I was a member of an award-winning music program led by a phenomenal leader. I have never at any age or juncture in life confused negative symbolism with positive reality and pray that the attendees of Westside High School are blessed with the same quality education and experiences as I.”

This is not an endorsement of the Klan or the controversial Nathan Bedford Forrest. Despite the offerings of photographs in this blog, there were numerous African-Americans in this music program who were integral contributors and quite frankly to me, my high school was neither white nor black: it was brick.

We would be remiss if we didn’t include Tom Mills. Stephen Campbell absolutely did not mince words during his heartfelt tribute to Mr. Thomas Mills who served as band director following Mr. Franklin’s departure. I had a deep respect for Tom Mills and his family. His daughter Sue Mills drove me to Memphis, Tennessee to audition for a music scholarship, and I’m eternally grateful for the faith and belief in how much Mr. Mills believed in my talent and ability. I wholeheartedly feel that I failed him miserably. (Collegiately, I transferred from Memphis State after one semester). Mills bestowed the John Philip Sousa Award to me my senior year which remains an award I am most proud of. Staying in touch with those who positively deposited into our lives is crucial and while I regret I did not see him again prior to his demise, I thank him, I thank him, I thank him. The aforementioned is for legions of others who thank him as well. May he rest in the peace he lived in and exuded.

Thomas P.Mills

Obituary

THOMAS P. MILLS Thomas P. Mills, loving husband to wife Arlene for over 50 years, lost his battle with cancer November 15, 2007 at their Port St. Lucie home with his beloved wife at his side. He had been in home care provided by Treasure Coast Hospice for a short period of time. His life was all about music, teaching both privately and in the public school systems in Massachusetts and in Jacksonville, FL. His real love was his career as a church organist and choir director spanning more than 5 decades. While residing in Vero Beach he was involved in establishing theTreasure Coast Chapter of the American Guild of Organists, and8 Voices of Song, a vocal group in affiliation with theVero Beach Opera Guild. In Palm City Mr. Mills helped create the Academy of the Performing Artslocated at Immanuel Lutheran Church. A diverse composer, he had numerous commissions over his career. Beyond church music his writing included, children’s musicals, band and choral works and a composition to help a town celebrate its Tri-Centennial. As the music director for the Martha’s Vineyard, MA school system, he foundedThe Minnesingers, a special group of high school vocalists who succeeded in taking music to the next level. After 40 years, this group of musicians continues to share it’s musical gifts both nationally and abroad. He had such a love for gardening which helped him create beautiful landscapes everywhere he lived. His pride and joy was his tropical garden with over 150 species of different plants. He also loved woodworking, building furniture, cabinets and decorative art. Tom Mills grew up in Rensselaer, NY and graduated from New England Conservatory of Music in Boston, MA, with his Bachelors and Masters degrees in Choral and Orchestral Conducting. He also received a Bachelor of Music Education degree from Framingham State University, MA. He was preceded in death by his father Thomas B. Mills and mother, Gladys (Wainman) Mills.He is survived by his son Steve Mills and his wife Leigh of Jacksonville, FL; daughter Sue Mills-Fliss and her husband Jim of Cape Coral, FL; mother-in-law May H. Monington of Port St. Lucie, three step-grand children and one step-great-grandchild. In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to Treasure Coast Hospices, 1201 SE Indian St., Stuart, FL 34997; or Immanuel Lutheran Church, 2655 Immanuel Dr., Palm City, FL 34990 or The Treasure Coast Chapter of the American Guild of Organists, Trinity Episcopal Church, c/o Brady Johnson, 2365 Pine Avenue, Vero Beach, FL 32960. A Celebration of Life service will be held Monday, November 26th at 11:00 am at Immanuel Lutheran Church, 2655 Immanuel Drive, PalmCity, FL 33990.

Published in the TC Palm on Nov. 24, 2007

Tags: Nathan Bedford Forrest Senior High School, Rebel Brigade Marching Band, Tom Mills, Winford Franklin Permalink

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Jacksonville Film Festival 2011

Posted by Penny Dickerson on December 3, 2014 in Arts & Culture, Blog, Bold and Bodacious Blogs, Florida Courier, Journalism, Narrative News, Penny Posts, Theatre

What a wonderful weekend I had covering the Jacksonville Film Festival. In all fairness, yes, the additions of the African American films (and their producers and featured actresses) were last minute additions, but we made the best of Friday thru Sunday, and I’m grateful to the Gods of journalism that I was able to “capture” and “cover” some semblance of activity that would best promote the “contingency of color.” It would be a wonderful testament if I could offer commentary that included “color” being an irrelevant barrier in the film industry, but just as difficult as it is for women and men of color to land feature roles, it is equally a challenge for budding and/or established producers/directors/writers of independent films to garner funding for quality production and wide distribution.

I had the extraordinaire opportunity to spend quality time with Los Angeles producer Tim Alexander who is best known for his iconic-cult flick, “Diary of a Tired Black Man.” What’s ironic about meeting Tim is that months prior, I composed a blog titled, “Why it’s hard to date a black woman,” and included his film’s poster image. I’d never seen the film, but gee…I never thought I’d breathe both the writer/producer/director into my life by writing a “harmless” (cough, cough) blog. Let me just say it was a blessing in disguise, because to know Tim Alexander and understand his theatrical mission is imperative to the alternative which is simply being “put off” by his approach. The same is true for my often “rush to judge” personality as people are pleasingly surprised that I am much different than expected, once they give me a glass of Chardonnay (Just kidding…sort of). Actually, most people with a strong creative vibe and drive are an anomaly until you pull back their layers. Tim Alexander hides a very delicate and soft interior, but the journey to that revelation is no joke!

We started the evening with an interview at “Indochine” (Downtown) Jacksonville. He appeared very soft-spoken, didn’t drink alcohol, and was Thai food friendly. Loquacious? You bet. Controlling? Of course. Annoying? Nawwwww.

Tim is just Tim, and again, until you’ve broken bread (or chopsticks) with him, don’t judge the impact of an experienced black man…who just so happened to be “tired” as well. Tired of what? Well, let me just offer the following quote, which is a chauvinistic jewel, “I once dated a woman who would argue with me simply because she could breath,” Alexander said. A week later on Facebook, I told him, “You should have done something to take her breath away.” If it were a harmless tennis match, we’d be “Love-Love,” but Tim serves hard and fast and furious, so by the time we endured dinner, my interview was riddled with insults regarding my journalist style (I write freehand, tape recorders are for politicians…and their mistresses). Besides, my subjects don’t tell me what to ask, I ask what I deem necessary to what I will ultimately write, but that night, Tim was determined to monopolize my flow (I must admit he owns a “sexy sense of angry.”)

The night progressed, and Valerie Jones, Chair of Black Cinema Spotlight had publicity plans for Tim, but we had to venture to the Omni Downtown first. This would have also been a harmless event, but then: Tim Alexander met Cassandra Freeman (Thunder, Lightening Bolts, Dogs seek cover…)

Cassie, as she is affectionately called by those worthy, is a Jacksonville native, Douglas Anderson School of the Arts graduate, and emerging actress who has starred opposite Denzel Washington (“Inside Man”) and was featured during the festival as Lieutenant Rose in the stellar, independent film: “Kinyarwanda.”

Let’s just say, “Cassie did not mince words with Tim and Tim met his match.” It was film worthy and I’m certain at least ONE of them would have earned an Oscar for “Oustanding Defense of A Gender Outside A Quasi Upscale Hotel.” Who won? Well, It’s neither here nor there, because like all artists, they both took the high road, and we all moved on. Actually, they posed for a photo as though nothing had ever been blurted, I mean retorted, I mean..said. They are both smiling in the lovely image below (they both think they won!) All I can say is, “As a woman thinketh, so is she.”(A King James Version revision on my part).

So the night progressed, and Tim rode shotgun with me to our next location which is when I quietly discovered: Tim Alexander is a “narcoleptic.” That man can fall asleep ANYWHERE at the click of a traffic light change. Wow…Let me also add a litany of positive things about him before he reads this and slaughters me with feminist insults: Tim Alexander is one of the most brilliant, confident, determined, hard working men I’ve ever met. He’s a gentle soul, but a man of measure who has an exceptional sense of self. He is a devoted father to two twin sons and is engaged to a most beautiful woman named, “Nyra” who I had the pleasure of speaking to (while driving) and during the few moments Tim was awake, and whenever Tim was awake, he popped his Apple laptop open and shared photos, visions of his mastermind plan, and gazed endearingly at his lovely family.Tim Alexander is 110% devoted to creating films that speak to the more positive and relevant matters of African American families. He is a professed “Social Activist” and founder of “Learning Through Conflict” a company devoted to promoting varied media that inspires.

“When people see my films, I want them to look at themselves, not what’s on the screen,” Alexander said. “People love conflict, but I want them to see something that allows them to see things a different way.” This point of view was more than adequately demonstrated by his debut of “A Mother’s Love.” I literally cried.

It is a magnificent film that is worthy of wide-audience circulation, but preferably, being adapted by a major movie company and, well, I don’t know if that’s what Tim wants, but I do know he wants “Folks” to view it in a theatre near you. At the time of this writing, it debuted in Chicago, Illinois the weekend of December 2nd, 2011. I’ll have to give Tim a call to see how things went. (Yeah, I know…I’m behind the eight ball). By the way Tim, my B1- English IV senior class keeps asking, “Hey, when are we gonna see the rest of that film?”

Moving along with Friday evening, I accompanied Tim to a nightclub to promote his Saturday afternoon viewing which was held in Five Points. (I’m the beautiful individual in the middle of the two “tired black men.”) It wasn’t the best of crowds or opportunity for a “next day” promo, but we made the best of it…Tim made the most of it… and the owner served him some fabulous Tilapia and french fries. I would be remiss if I didn’t say I’ve never been to a West Indian owned ANYTHING that didn’t serve “Ting.” (me devastated Mon.)

I would also be remiss if I didn’t add that Hollywood stunt artist Derrick Simmons debuted his film, “Women Do It Better” and also made a special trip on Thursday prior to the film festival’s opening to Douglas Anderson School of the Arts. Students of Debbie Lee Rouse (Co-chair of the English Department) and my “Critical Theory” crew were thrilled to see his film vignettes as he has appeared in over 100 Hollywood movies for Tyler Perry (he went in the hot tub in “Diary of a Tired Black Woman), tumbled down the steps in “Precious” and was Jamie Foxxes double in “Ray.” Of course there’s more like “The Wire” (great HBO goner…) and Law and Order. I thoroughly enjoyed his film and thought it offered a rather light and humorous side to what women clearly “do better.” We do “IT” better. Now, define your it.

The Jacksonville Film festival proved to be a weekend of “potential” that would have been further enhanced had MORE (or any) African Americans actually showed up to view the films and support ALL artists, regardless of race, creed, or color. Of course African Americans do need and have the right to command more appeal because it’s harder for any Indie (Independent), much harder for an African American Indie, and practically a feat of impossibility for a female indie. But, there are trailblazers, pioneers, examples, and renegades who break through barriers and pave the way for others to follow suit.

Just let me leave you with a reflective thought (Jacksonville): If we fly notable film artists in town from Los Angeles and New York and no one shows up to support them, it looks bad (real bad). Almost as bad as I felt having to explain to Tim Alexander why The Jacksonville Landing is a bust, why our new Courthouse looks like the Parthenon, and why there is a non-moving, passenger-less “Sky Way” track that circles the perimeter of downtown, but never moves. My standard response was, “We have a new black mayor and downtown Jacksonville is getting ready to BLOW UP.” I actually believe the latter and thank my lucky stars that our Film Festival left before our coveted NFL team fired its coach and was sold to a wealthy man from Pakistan. Nevertheless and Nonetheless, we are a city rich with potential, but we need for “every human being with two legs and two eyes” to support the 2012 Jacksonville Film Festival. You never know (All ye of hopes and dreams), the next emerging film success could be you, and it would be a shame if no one ever saw or knew ~

Penny Dickerson 2011

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September 11, 2001: A ten year reflection

Posted by Penny Dickerson on September 11, 2014 in Blog, Bold and Bodacious Blogs, Creative Writing, ENC1102 Fall 2013, Journalism, Penny Posts

This is a re-posting of my 9/11 ten year anniversary blog.

There are some things worth hoarding, and this commemorative 9/11 magazine is one that I’m glad I held onto. I tend to keep things, always thinking: “I’m going to need this one day.” I never gave thought that ten years following the most horrific act of terrorism the United States of America has faced, my reflections and related images would end up in a blog.(Did blogs even exist ten years ago?)

Then again, one decade ago, no one on planet earth would have ever thought the most powerful nation in the world would fall prey to such a strategic act of terror and man-made evil. I am still waiting for Ashton Kutcher to show up and say, “You’ve been punked.”

Unfortunately, the events of September 11, 2001 were not part of a scripted television drama. The skyline of New York City that had become as familiar as Lady Liberty raising her torch in the harbor would forever be changed as though God gave someone permission to “etch-a-sketch” them right out of the sky where they reigned as respectable, architectural structures that housed the countries most important. financial centers.

Ten years ago on this day, I had just completed a temporary work assignment at the FSCJ Martin Center. Like the the rest of the world, I went about my business of busy until my phone rang and I was emotionally instructed to turn on the television. One of the World Trade centers had been bombed (so we thought). Within seconds, I witnessed an airplane (yes, a Boeing 767 great big ‘ole giant airplane) crash into Tower II. It was surreal. In some ways I feel some sort of mixed fortune for actually turning the television with the same precision the plane and tower collided, but there is no fortune in the witness, the act, the experience, the horror, the memory, or the aftermath of 9/11. My mind forwarded-fast to attempt comprehending not HOW this could happen, buy WHY. Further, if the entire world was watching, why wasn’t there some aspect of military intelligence in place to stop it? (The indepth television coverage really baffled me).

I was a TWA Flight Attendant in 1996 when Flight 800 went down enroute to Paris from New York’s JFK airport. My roommate Eric Harkness perished and all I can remember thinking is, “How can human life just “poof” and vanish?” My experience sent me straight to the reflection of training every flight attendant endures, but never thinks they will have to implement:

Instruct a panicked. load of passengers to “Stay Down” and a pilot echoing “Easy Victor” over a weakened speaker. Actually, there would be no message from the pilots as the cockpits were high jacked. Equally frightened was the community of business employees who looked out windows and saw a plane coming, or were on floors below and simply felt the Towers collapse like a malfunctioned Lego.

It was a bad, sad, day for America. The images were haunting as flames emitted from the building but for me, the most daunting images that continue to rest in my long-term memory like the worst nightmare I endured as a child are the painful photos of human beings jumping from 90 floors high like birds clothed in suits and ties to save themselves from a burning death. No one should ever have to endure such a wicked choice, and I’m not sure if they considered the consequences prior to jumping; perhaps they were split second decisions and/or they thought there was a 50/50 chance they’d live if they jumped, but if they burned?

I can’t imagine their last moments, the fear, the anxiety, the phone calls to loved ones that have been recorded and saved for perpetuity, and the mass, posted photos that desperately blanketed the city of New York like a city-wide motif that made the efforts of missing children on milk cartons appear almost irrelevant.

There was a second disturbing image that really drove home the reality of how this cowardly act transcended city blocks and miles beyond the actual World Trade Center site. Those images were the legions of EMT’s, police, fire fighters called to the scene and the multitude of city dwellers and innocent bystanders blanketed with smoke: running, dazed, and confused like a set of movie extras doused with ash for special effects.Tragedy is no respecter of persons, so I can only wonder how the rest of New York fared with respect to the everyday murders, fires, burglaries, and simple acts of misdemeanors that plague a city with five sprawling boroughs. How could there have ever been enough help for everyone when the number at ground zero was so severe?

Sooner than later and shorter than longer than he deserves on this blog post, it was revealed that Osama Bin Laden, forgive me, the LATE Osama Bin Laden was the “Terrorist Potentate.” I can’t help but admit that the entire synchronized crisis was a straight-up “We got you America” move that embarrassed, angered, and questioned the security of U.S. air space and would send our entire nation into airport paranoia for infamy.

Heroes emerged and so did multiple, live bodies lodged and crushed beneath pillars of steel and mountains of bricks, but enough bodies would never be recovered. More than 3,000 human beings of all ethnic backgrounds, class levels, and walks of life took their last gift of breath on this day for one of the world’s most unnecessary reasons: evil. In the midst of the latter, there was good. America was united in a way that remains admirable. I pray it will never take another tragedy as monumental and profound as 9/11 to teach us that fragility and vulnerability are subject to affect even the powerful and strong.

Ten years have passed and I’ve already seen the previews of one, too many television programs commemorating the effects of 9/11. For this reason, I am abstaining from television on Sunday, September 11, 2011; however, I hope every NFL game played on this day begins with a moment of silence as an ultimate show of respect.

I don’t want to relive any aspect of the terrorism or hear countless reflect by terror experts. The country is on high, security alert for a suspected terrorism attack that could quite easily be worse than its predecessor; however, if we have learned anything about the nature of terrorism in ten years, we should clearly know without question that our adversarial opponents would never strike when we’re expecting which is exactly how 9/11 occurred. While we are indeed the strongest, most powerful (and in debt) nation in the world, we’ve been given a strong dose of humility.

I often wonder why God would allow such heinous and brutal things to happen to innocent people. The results of any death or tragedy are meant to give voice and action to those of us who are living and have survived, but it clearly took something larger-than-life to get our attention and stay alert. We are strong and remain powerful despite a tragedy one decade ago that shook our core, and at the same time strengthened our resolve. We are a country blessed and may God bless the families, relatives, and loved ones of all of those who lost their lives on September 11, 2001. We continue to mourn your loss, and they will never be forgotten.

Penny Dickerson 2011

Tags: Community, Politics Permalink

Celebrating 25 years of ZORA! Festivals

Posted by Penny Dickerson on August 10, 2014 in Arts, Community, Journalism, Politics

Click link to read original EBONY.COM feature with full photo gallery

http://www.ebony.com/entertainment-culture/celebrate-25-years-of-zora-festivals-photos-250#axzz2tdz8NRCz

The ambassador to Morocco, a Florida congresswoman, two mayors, an Emmy-award winning actress, and a Tony-nominated Broadway star were among the prestigious in attendance for the silver anniversary celebration of the Zora Neale Hurston Festival of the Arts and Humanities held in Eatonville, Florida—“the oldest incorporated African-American municipality in the United States.”

A novelist, folklorist and anthropologist, Hurston is the town’s distinguished native daughter. And in her honor, a nine-day, multi-disciplinary gathering has attracted global Zoraphiles whose prodigious adoration has overwhelmingly sustained the event. “Celebrating Our Milestone: 25 years of Zora! Festivals” convened the last week of January, and included a plethora of intellectual panels bookended by poetics, comedy, drama, an outdoor street festival and an African elegance and black tie honorarium gala.

ZORA! AMOUR

Congresswoman Corrine Brown served as honorary chair, but is a longstanding festival supporter who secures sponsorship, and in 2010 ensured that Haiti was an integral theme following its devastating earthquake. Brown’s political influence is credited for the presence of Ambassador Rachad Bouhlal, of the Embassy of the Kingdom of Morocco, who shared, “A photo of Zora Neale Hurston is in the Morocco airport, which is a testament that she is loved all over the world.”

A notable Harlem Renaissance presence, Hurston embodied deserved hubris and an indomitable spirit that served as a blueprint for survival during an era that suppressed Black women’s dreams. In 2003, the United States Postal Service granted her likeness the ultimate stamp of approval, and lapel pin replicas were Congresswoman Brown’s gift to thousands of attendees.

HURSTON’S BLACK HISTORY

The exclamatory Madame Zora would have loved the revelry, beginning with a Black History Month kickoff hosted by sponsor Onyx magazine in the rotunda of Orlando’s city hall. Opera singer extraordinaire Curtis Rayam, Jr. lifted his booming voice and sang during a program that recognized contributions extended by municipal officials and representatives from the Association to Preserve the Eatonville Community, Inc., under the leadership of President Marie-José Francois, M.D. and Mayor Bruce Mount.

Orlando mayor Buddy Dyer presented keys to the city, and while the evening’s programmatic agenda was necessary, dual midnight parties awaited. Wednesday and Thursday’s Round ’Bout Midnight Spoken Word and Stand-Up Comedy set the tone for an arts awakening in Eatonville reminiscent of Hurston—an effervescent wit and storyteller said to have tickled the hiccups out of all whom embraced her.

MUCH ADO ABOUT ZORA!

Emmy-winning actress Lynn Whitfield joined actor Avery Brooks onstage Friday night for a dramatic presentation, arguably the festival’s highlight. ZORA LIVES: An Evening with Zora offered an attentive audience a stirring portrayal of Hurston (personified by Whitfield), while counterpart Brooks weaved through song and baritone delivery with masterful finesse.

The Zora! Festival Celebrates 25 Years

Zora Neale Hurston Festival 2014

Michael Dinwiddy and Elizabeth Van Dyke, each seated parallel upon a stool, conceptualized and directed the program of readings set under soft lights. Whitfield and Brooks captivated the audience with whimsy and reverence through Hurston’s literary catalogue, including Dust Tracks on a Road, Mules and Men, Their Eyes Were Watching God, and Moses, Man of the Mountain. A series of notes titled A Life of Letters offered intimate insight into the pride and pain Hurston experienced through her storied life. Despite her untimely 1969 death, for a single evening among surviving relatives and friends, Zora lived.

HIGH NOTES & HATitude!

Friday invited busloads of students and “everyday folks” to party down Kennedy Boulevard. Saturday welcomed sun, and women donned hats and attitudes for the famed HATitude Brunch in remembrance of Hurston’s ubiquitous style, featuring fur-trimmed and feathered chapeaus.

Rows of white tents saluted each side of the street, where vendors sold select must-haves and youth from Macedonia Missionary Baptist Church performed Negro Spiritual and Hymns: Down Through the Years. An international food court pleased the palettes of an amassed crowd sprawled on the festival lawn in anticipation of a sold-out concert.

Famed R&B crooner Frankie Beverly proved he’s still got that fit body and the sultry vocal goods to lead Maze through a series of funk favorites including “Joy and Pain,” “Back in Stride,” “Happy Feelin’s” and the unifying hit, “We Are One.”

Dinner and an awards ceremony closed Saturday evening with red carpet sophistication. Voice and violin was offered by former Island Records recording star Miles Jaye, while Melba Moore hit high notes and held them long with an impromptu a capella tease. Referencing early career discrimination and her discovery of the Schomburg Center for Black Culture, poet, activist and scholar Sonia Sanchez accepted the Richard A. Long Award for long-term dedication to the Zora! Festival.

What began in 1989 with a table and a dream ended on a poignant note by Elizabeth Van Dyke, who closed the evening with class:

“I love Zora. I love my people. I love African-American people, and I love N.Y. Nathiri [director of multidisciplinary programs]. We have to just keep on doing what we’re doing… keep pushing and pushing that rock up a hill.”

Penny Dickerson is a Florida-based independent journalist. Her work can be viewed at pennydickersonwrites.com.

Tags: African American Festivals, Arts, Community, Culture, Education, The Black Family, Zora Neal Hurston Permalink

State Representative Mia Jones: “Destined to Serve.”

Posted by Penny Dickerson on August 7, 2014 in Florida Courier, Newspapers

Link to Florida Courier Profile

http://flcourier.com/2012/05/10/destined-to-serve/

It was a pleasure interviewing State Representative Mia Jones who proves to be as dedicated, efficient, and down-to-earn as my words depict.

Politicians often get such a bad rap, but I can honestly say I’ve never heard a negative word spoken about Mia Jones, but then again, I try and keep “Dream Killers” out of my ears.

This interview took place in February of 2011 as part of an ongoing series of profiles on African American politicians in the state of Florida and she joins the company of “Profiles by Penny” on Congresswoman Corinne Brown and former Senator Tony Hill.

Actually, all of the interviews took place in February, including the soon to be printed profile on State Representative Reggie Fullwood; however, they’ve made it to print in strategic rotation with their government counterparts from other districts in the state.

Of course since that time, both Mia Jones and Tony Hill have been given special roles in the Administration of Jacksonville’s first black Mayor, Alvin Brown.

Thank you Mia for such a lengthy and honest view and your wilingness to allow your constituents to simply “get to know a different side of you.”

Enjoy a prosperous year and continue to make positive legislative strides for a community who graciously appreciates all that you do.

Penny Dickerson 2011

Tags: Community, Education, Politics Permalink

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“Miss Jail 2011” Pageantry trends and spin

Posted by Penny Dickerson on August 6, 2014 in Blog, Bold and Bodacious Blogs, Editorial, Editorial, Journalism, Penny Posts

http://thestir.cafemom.com/beauty_style/118575/miss_jail_beauty_pageants_are

Just when I thought I’d never hear Burt Park’s version of “There she is…walking on air she is,” a new-aged, exploitative She has stepped into stilettos and left her prison cell to run for the coveted title, “Miss Jail.” My mind flutters with a fury of thoughts running the gamut from, “How does one acquire false lashes behind bars? Is there a Loreal make-up room and Tre’ Semme hair salon likened to Project Runway? And my final itchy inquiry, what viable social platform does an ex-con covet that will advance a humanitarian cause?

In my Billy Crystal voice, “Pageantry has been veddy veddy good to me,” so don’t get my post-reign, tiara-stained views twisted, I just thought I’d never see the day. I recall pageantry being loads of fun and a respectable venue to pursue higher education via scholarship acquisition, but if you’re convicted of running drugs or kill your pimp, I mean really, fun for you behind bars should be squinting in dim light to find jagged-edged, puzzle pieces rendered unidentifiable by a rat’s vicious gnaw. Fun for you should be the day Warden Big Bertha provides a random drawing for a pack of tampons with the hygiene string still attached. THAT, my dear, is a prison privilege.

Jail, prison, lock-down, lock-up, or the hole should be a place for conscious reflect and punishment by means of denying one access to life’s divine privileges and for the female gender, lack of fashion access should top the list. Jurors across the country would be riddled with shock and appall to know their well-reasoned convictions allowed a murderer to one day strip from her over-sized prison blues and don a sequin or beaded gown with a slit up to there. I’ll bet they are also provided Nair; the mere ridicule forces poetic rhyme.

In fairness to the country in which I reside and love, this millennium trend has taken place in apparently more liberal parts of the world like Brazil and Russia where murder is really code for mean. I can hear foreign judges across the globe now: “I hereby sentence you to 15 years behind bars for drug trafficking and carrying a concealed weapon, now sashay your buxom self to prison and be the beautiful winner you are.”

There may be good intent of reforming one’s character, in addition to providing social outlets for inmates, but allowing male guards and a prison populous the opportunity to applaud, cat-call, and whistle for their designate delight just don’t seem right. Who does one complain to when a fellow contestant wardrobe shreds or sneakily puts glue inside platform shoes? Nobody. She also tied a man to a tree and shot him at point blank rage, so feel lucky!

While it wasn’t reported, I imagine the previous year’s winner’s farewell speech including trite salutations like, “I’d like to thank the victim’s family for giving me this opportunity to mock his death by promoting glamour and glitz, and to the crew in cell block 152, thank you (sniff, sniff) thank you, for pooling your commissary funds to purchase bobby pins and endless cans of Aqua Net.”

I am stymied about the mind over this comical discovery, and ask employers around the globe to look closely at resumes that may not disclose exoneration and restoration of one’s civil rights, but under accomplishments – with silicone, breast-implanted pride – includes the title, “Miss Jail.”

Undoubtedly, it would be in a 16 pt. font, bold, italicized and comic sans serif appropriate.

Penny Dickerson 2011