Voting Booth at End of Show (bottom of post)
“Being President doesn’t change who you are,
it reveals who you are.”
– First Lady Michelle Obama
Drumma Battalion made their 1st appearance in The Neighborhood in May of 2013 in a show titled A Celebration of Community and went on to appear in several shows in early 2014. It is so nice to see them going strong and to welcome them back…
from Oslo Norway, Drumma Battalion featuring RoZe with Hands Up
Imagine you are all alone, moments before you meet your maker, staring into the natural wonder of the Grand Canyon. You are given two choices. One changes nothing. And the other changes the one thing that you wanted most of all. Clock ticking, curtains moving closer, so never forget, time is not your friend. But more than anything else, close your eyes, lean back and…breathe.
I am putting ink to sheet, scribbling down words on Heroism and who I think is my hero, this could be tagged “rambles” if you choose; knowing for sure that people from all over the world are going to read these words. People of all ages, ethnic and cultural backgrounds, of different religious beliefs. Most of them, I will never get a chance to meet and a few of them I would love to meet in person, as they turn out to be my real heroes. I promise I am not writing these words to impress any individual, not with this little chance given on a platter.
As I continue to exist in a world, saddled with plenty of chaos, I would say; I have seen a fair share of individuals from the 21st century that impress with their style of activism and outspokenness; practitioners of attributes which I really admire, from the likes of; Chinua Achebe, to the likes of Kendall F. Person, J.J Omojuwa, Jason Cushman, Chimamanda Adichie, not even mentioning grand masters and legends, who did great jobs at spreading the gospel of world-peace and tranquility; grand masters like; Nelson Mandela, Maya Angelou, Mahatma Gandhi, my list would go on and on, if I choose to keep mentioning names but because it’s becoming increasingly difficult to realize that every single person we see walking past us on the street is another human, like me and you, who wants to be loved and treated as a role model; a potential Hero for a little kid somewhere, which makes us tend to care less about who stands up tall as a mentor or symbol of authority and example in our lives, unknowingly; we are nurturing a generation that is becoming immune to everything but self.
Embracing the idea of Hero, means we break walls that hide the true self that needs improvement and developments, exposing us to important people around us, who seek to see that true individual that hides behind written or spoken words. As a young man, with loads of heroes of my own and with little children looking up to me, I encourage and support the will to choose a life pattern; as what works for me may not work for another but even at that, some basics remain unchanged and unchallenged. A hero does not expose innocent souls to unnecessary information which taints their inflicted beliefs and practices from what they should know. As i sit here reminiscing on how I could become a better hero to a child somewhere in this world, I am all about confronting today’s challenges and getting armed for tomorrow’s; I just can’t help but laugh out loud at the fact that the Hero I have chosen for today, is a non-living woman, with plenty of attributes that are exemplary.
Standing 23 stories tall and weighing in at just over 200,000kg, the statue of liberty stands as a proud and poignant as ever at the entrance of the New York City harbor, with a colossal crown and gold-plated touch certainly to distinguish her as a grand matron to all the citizens of the United state; she has been a symbol of freedom, democracy and tenacity of the human spirit since her inception; she could be easily picked as a symbol that stand for ‘second chances’, as her lifeless, still eyes has welcomed those from both the farthest distance and shortest travels, this includes millions of immigrants who left troubled shores, in search of a land of opportunity, since 1889. The Statue Of Liberty, would be my hero for the day; as I feel humans have got a lot to learn from her.
Why James D. Foster is aHero
Why do I consider Jim a hero?
He and I were close during college,
then we drifted apart, as people our age typically do.
I couldn’t find him anymore.
I felt a void in my life for decades.
Why is he a hero? Because he left!
Because he went on an adventure.
With $50 in his pocket … and a dream.
And, because he survived it.
I love that he knew adversity. It’s improved his art.
I kept looking for him, needing my friend.
Well, I found him and became his fiancé.
Fast forward to today and he struggles with Avascualar Necrosis.
This does not stop him soldiering on.
I love that he was courageous enough to take that first leap,
and then a second when I offered him the opportunity
to focus solely on his writing and his drawing.
I can think of nothing more courageous
than taking a chance on your passion and talents –
then exposing yourself as you share them with the world.
Why Charles Okpere Iphy is a Hero
A dream keeps you up, makes you jittery, sometimes it separates you from people and once you can understand the need to keep that dream alive, despite the odds, you are a hero to many.
To set a goal and focus on what you want is an easy feat that is very difficult for us, especially young people who are basking in the exuberance of their youthfulness.
To want to achieve is easy, to aim to achieve is hard work and Charles has achieved to this point because he understands that dreams begets focus which begets hard work because it’s not easy to be unemployed, without aid from the government and be able to somehow, push and grind for what you believe and what you love.
I have known Charles for a while. A couple of years maybe, say over a period of nine years and I have seen growth, change and passion; Passion I didn’t know existed.
Passion changes you, it gives you a different view on life, it makes you see the need to become better than you were.
In life, basically, we are gifted by God (or by nature as some of us would like to say) with talents. It is in our power to fuel the passion for these talents and use them to the best of humanity and it is beautiful what this young man does with his gifts.
In spite of one’s immediate environment, it’s amazing how a young man’s persistence and passion has pushed him to this very point and although I still am on the lookout for your continued growth, I am especially proud of you.
Disregarding every barricade that stands in your way in order for your voice to be heard? You deserve to win Charles, for the young Nigerian and for the Nigerian dream.
James D. Foster
Why Flower Crittenden is a Hero
My hero is my little sister, Florencia Crittenden, because I learn from her what life is worth at the end of time’s day. In the workforce she brings gentle words and adds kindness to her elders. Taking care of their personal needs and assisting in maintaining their dignity. My little sister brings them flowers and serves as their confidant in hours of need, She knows them by name and asked them about their story. And she listens to them. She shares her elders with me through their stories and paints a picture with words of beauty and worth about each and every one of them.
Riled he watched from the cab of his battered Ford truck at the stop light. Neighbor kids playing rough house on Frank Shapiro’s front lawn. His oldest adorned a blue shirt, and costumed in a red towel. The younger boys, cloaked in old sheets and pillowcases, constantly adjusting the eye-holes of their makeshift hoods. Even then they still bumbled into one another, like uncoordinated circus clowns; tussling with the make-believe Superman, but he brushed them off like imaginary bullets. Carl white knuckled his steering wheel, staring at the leather bowling bag, containing his own hood and robes. Designed to instill terror into the hearts of all those scheming against his true Anglo heritage. Now reduced to what he witnessed beyond the dirty windshield . . . a child’s game. He envisioned throwing it on, grabbing his tire-iron, storming across the street, and teaching Frank’s kids a lesson none of them would ever forget. There was no time for it though, he was already running behind, and the light just turned green. Simply he just leaned on the horn to turn their attention his way, “I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE JEWS,” and drove off, watching their expressions in his rear-view mirror.
He was late, and worried about being regulated to a folding chair in the back of the meeting hall. But Carl’s concerns were dashed seeing that half of the hand-me-down pews were empty. Even for an emergency meeting at a moments notice, there should have been twice as many members in attendance. Fans blurred at the late June heat of Georgia. Carl plopped down next to Pete at the end of the third row, casually spitting chew into an empty soup can. “No one gave me the code word when I came in-”
“No point,” Pete interrupted, “this weeks code and password was on the Radio yesterday. Along with everything else we do. Did you know that Superman was created by a couple of Jews? It was all part of their grand agenda to get at our boys all along.” Spitting into the soup can, as if for punctuation, then looking around at all the familiar and sober faces of fellow Klan’s members. “There’s a mole among us. I keep expected to see Clark Kent himself, scribbling away on some notepad somewhere nearby. You’re lucky Carl, at least you have all girls.”
“Don’t kid yourself Pete, I hear it from them too.”
The Pastors expression made it obvious he expected no more to come. “Let’s be quick with it then. This following order comes all the way down from ‘Imperial Wizard’ himself. As of now, all members are to boycott all purchases of Kellogg’s Company. The sole advertisers behind the Adventures of Superman of the Mutual Radio Programming-”
“Seriously,” Carl exclaimed, “that’s the best you can come up with!? For all of us to stop eating corn flakes!? That’s it!? That’s your solution!?” All he wanted to do was punch something. And he did . . . breaking two knuckles on the pew in front of him.