My memories of Michael Jackson go all the way back to when I was a little girl. My sisters and brother and I loved the music of the Jackson Five, and I remember watching their variety show that came on Saturday nights in the 70’s. ABC is my favorite song of his from those early days when he was young and adorable.

I was so sad when I heard about his death yesterday afternoon. In fact, at first when I saw the tweets about it on twitter I didn’t think that it could possibly be true, so I kept working.

All throughout my growing up years I enjoyed Michael’s music. I danced to his music at the club and it was part of the soundtrack of my life. When Thriller came out we watched in non-stop on Mtv. I think that I largely took his gifts and his talents for granted, and because he had always been there he would continue to be there.

When he was having all of his legal troubles I was embarrassed for him and I wondered why he kept making such poor choices. He was clearly plagued by many demons and he never seemed to be happy.

His death points out the fact that we as human beings often don’t show each other how much we appreciate each other until after someone dies. He was a fabulously talented man whose talents utterly transformed the world. His death is being mourned all over the world. Yes, he was troubled, but he had a huge, generous heart and his gifts to us will be his lasting legacy.

Godspeed, Michael.

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On Sunday I celebrated my 42nd birthday. I did most of my celebrating on Saturday at the Maryland Sheep & Wool festival. I had a great time shopping and hanging out with friends old and new. I met up with a new friend, Loren, who I’ve been chatting with online on Ravlery.com for the past year. She surprised me with a lovely gift of yarn for my birthday and some chocolate covered mints.

I also received a lovely bracelet, some delicious chocolates and other special treats. After I got home on Sunday evening I hung out with my girls and had a great time. Before I went to bed I checked my Facebook profile and found that I had two pages of birthday greetings. It was fun responding to everyone.

My birthday was relaxing and enjoyable. Turning 42 isn’t so bad.

For the past few days we have been enjoying much warmer than normal temperatures here in the D.C. Metro area. On Sunday and yesterday it was above 90 degrees–quite rare for the month of April. I had to drag out the AC several weeks if not a month earlier than usual because it’s been just too hot to sleep. Today we are forecast to see a break in this pattern as we are expecting thunderstorms and rain starting this afternoon and into tomorrow, which is only forecast to reach the mid 60’s–closer to normal late-April temps.

I took full advantage of this beautiful morning and did my morning devotional outside in the park. We live just steps away from a lovely National Park, which has lush, green rolling hills and beautiful trees. I found a grassy spot at the top of a hill and sat there and read a little bit from Michael Beckwith’s new book, Spiritual Liberation, and then a bit from the Bhagavad Gita. Just last week I finished reading a verse a day from the Tao, and the Gita was the next spiritual text on my list. I meditated for awhile and then did my morning pages.

The park rangers on duty all waved friendly ‘”Hellos” and a then man showed up with his dogs that he was running off-leash on the fields. One of them was a miniature poodle who came bounding up to me and then stopped short. He checked me out, but was too shy to let me pat him. He turned on his heels and went tearing back across the field to his owner. Soon that cool breeze was beginning to die down and the sun was growing hotter and hotter, so I decided to head back home.

I am grateful for the time I was able to spend out among the trees and just enjoying this beautiful earth that we have been blessed with. I am grateful for the words of wisdom written down thousands of years ago and some more recently that shed light on the spiritual path that I have embarked upon. I am grateful for the faithfulness of Holy Spirit who has kept the promise never to leave me nor forsake me. He is teaching me and guiding me and inspiring me and comforting me as I slowly wake up from the dream.

It’s been a crazy busy week. On Monday evening I was interviewed by John Evans and Ella Curry on the Black Author’s Network on Blog Talk Radio. we discussed poetry in general, my interest in poetry and then I read some of my work. I have done public speaking, I have hosted tele-seminars and I have always felt comfortable and at ease, but for some reason I was incredibly nervous at first. I guess it was because I was not leading the discussion and I had to be ready to answer the questions intelligently on a live radio show. But Ella and John were gracious and made me feel at ease. Once I got started reading my poetry I became relaxed and calm. Unfortunately, my VoIP phone kept cutting out and I had to dial back in twice. There was a terrible thunder and lightning storm that night, and whenever there’s an electrical storm, I tend to lose DSL periodically.

Here’s a link to the recording if you want to listen to the replay: Black Author’s Network World Poetry Month

In preparation for the show I was going to publish a chapbook of my work, but I was so busy I did not have time to get that together. I did put up a separate blog devoted solely to my poetry. You are welcome to take a look, http://ebbourne.wordpress.com. I was thrilled to get a flurry of comments on that new blog after the show. This is the first time I have published a blog and gotten comments on it from the very first day it was up. You’ve gotta love wordpress.com.

The Maryland Sheep & Wool festival is coming up next weekend, which is also my birthday weekend. The girls will be going off with their father and I will be free to enjoy the festival and to hang with my girlfriends. It’s an annual happening and it’s really the highlight of my spring. (Clearly I don’t get out much) I won’t be spending a butt-load of cash this year as I have in the past. I would like to get some yarn to knit myself a skirt and maybe some nice manly-looking yarn to make something for my sweetums. A few weeks ago I finished knitting a shawl with sleeves that I started about four years ago. I will blog about it and post pictures on my knitting blog, http://knitahat.blogspot.com.

As I write this I am sitting in my ‘other office,’ my local indie coffee house. They have Reggae and salsa music playing making it difficult for me to keep my butt still in my chair and write. But I am on deadline today, so I’d better end here and get some other work done.

Spring is my favorite time of year here in Washington. I love the fact that the winters are far shorter here than they were in my native Massachusetts. My girls and I enjoy going down to the tidal basin to see the trees, and we did so this past weekend. It’s a sight that I never get tired of, but we did not stay long becuase the crowds were so big. The weather was balmy and sunny, so there was a huge crush of pedestrians pushing and shoving and taking up every spare square inch of ground. We took a few pictures and then turned around and came home. Here’s a photo that Leila took of me with my somewhat scowling expression because people kept walking in front of the camera and I had a doozy of a headache.

This year I’m once again celebrating National Poetry Month. I’ve been contributing a few poems in an online poetry group on gaia.com called, Empowered by Poetry. John D. Evans, the group’s facilitator, has put together a blog talk radio show where he will be interviewing a few of the contributing poets on the show. Well, I’m one of the poets that will be interviewed! (here’s me screeching with delight and doing the happy dance).

I’ve been writing these poems and kind of squirreling them away, but now I have this fantastic opportunity to share my work with the world. So, I have decided to collect all of my scattered poems into a book. This way, I will be able say that I am a published poet when I am on the show. How awesome is that?

So, this will be a banner national poetry month for me. While I probably won’t be writing a poem a day like I did last April, I will be celebrating in the most fantastic way ever–by getting published.

Mark you calendar for April 20th at 8pm for my appearance on the Black Author’s Network Radio Show. Visit the Black Pearls Magazine for more details about the other featured poets.

I’ve also got a new article up on the, From a Writer’s POV Network web site. Please go take a peek.

Things are hopping here. The universe is expanding and I’m taking it all in. Stay tuned for details about my first volume of poetry.

Yesterday I was talking with Afridigidiva, a friend and fellow blogger. She was adding a new section to her blog that would highlight the causes that she supports. We were chatting about our various pet causes and I was assigned the task of brainstorming some more non-profits that she can add to her page.

This got me thinking about the things that I believe in and the causes that I support. Having run a non-profit organization, and having been responsible for raising the money that would fund my salary, I am fully aware of how much help non-profits need–especially during these strange times.

My first though then was about gratitude. I have so much to be grateful for as we all do. If I were to attempt to list everything here the list would take up the rest of this page and beyond. I think that even when times are tight we all need to take a look at what we do have and remember to be grateful. We can ‘tighten our belts’ and cut down on frivolous spending, but still open our hands generously to give to those people and organizations that offer help when no one else can or will. So, I’m passing along a gift that is focused on gratitude and how opening our hearts can change our lives and our world.

Next I will share a brief list of a few of the non-profits that I admire and whose work touches and saves lives:

• American Red Cross
• Capital Area Food Bank
• Food and Friends
• Kiva
• The Heifer Project
• Newborns In Need

Now it’s your turn. Give what you can and when you can’t give a financial gift, your time is even more valuable. What are some of your favorite non-profit organizations? Share them with me in a comment and I’ll post your answers later.

Happy Spring!

A few months ago, I discovered a shortcut that shaves a good five minutes off of my drive to take Leila to school in the morning. If I cut through Fort DuPont Park, I can avoid the traffic of Minnesota Avenue and Benning Roads. An added bonus is that it’s a wooded park in the National Park system. (it would be a stat park, but alas, D.C. is not a state so. . .) It’s my beautiful oasis in the middle of the city. It’s hilly, winding path should force drivers to slow down to accommodate the 25mph speed limit, however, since it’s only really used as a shortcut, those laws are largely ignored and it’s become a bit of a raceway.

This morning as I was driving this road that I drive every weekday morning, it seemed as though everything had taken on a new glow. The grass, which had been dead and brown was now springing up a lush green. The buds on the trees are all on the verge of bursting forth with blossoms. Even the sun shining in my eyes as I crested the first hill seemed to shine a bit brighter.

“Does anybody have a pen and some paper?” I called to my girls in the back seat. “I feel a poem coming on.” Jordan said that I could use her notebook. Leila sighed and said, “Jeez, mommy! You’re so weird. You feel a poem coming on?” She shook her head in disbelief. My children just don’t understand that when inspiration hits you’ve got to capture it because it can disappear as quickly as it appeared if you don’t seize it in that moment.

After I dropped the girls off, I scribbled down a few words and then came home and wrote this poem. Happy Spring, ya’ll.

Spring: A Poem by Nobody in Particular

spring’s been here mere moments
cresting the hill at Ft. Dupont
I see the sun creeping up over the horizon
bringing spring

this magic occurs each year
but my wonder never grows old
what was brittle and dead days ago
now is verdant, lush and reaching towards heaven

its an ordinary morning
I am nobody in particular
but I have poetry inside of me
mere words
but bursting with hope and promise
not unlike this precious new season

standing in witness to this re-birthing
brings renewed hopes
this endless cycle of birth and death
will continue on
there will be good days
and dark nights
there will be trials
and rejoicing
while the dream continues
God is

but today I am simply glad
to greet this newborn season
I celebrate the joy of a new day
mindful of how fleeting the moment
the gift is cherished

Evelyn B. Bourne (c) 2009

I am writing this on my long (7 1/2 hours) train ride home from my visit to Massachusetts to attend the homegoing service for my paternal grandfather. He lived a wonderfully long, full, rich 93 years on this earth, and I feel even more blessed to have had him in my life for this long. I now know that I had a very private, selfish view of my grandfather–he was mine and I had a limited view of the grandness of who he was on this earth. I think it was mainly because I came into his life when he was an older man. I was not a witness to his larger life in the church and in the community. During his funeral when I caught a glimpse of the seemingly never-ending line of mourners who came to pay their respects, my eyes became open to the fact that he was even more wonderful a man than I had imagined.

His service was held in the sanctuary of the church that he loved and served for more than 50 years of his life through ten different pastors and many triumphs, trials and tribulations. As all of the beautiful words were spoken over his body, the feeling welled up within me that I had not known this man as they had, but I knew him in a special way that they knew not of–as my own grandpa. I remember the sparkling eyes, the crackling laughter that made hid belly shake and tears come to the corners of his eyes. The smell of tobacco mingled with old leather that emanated from him as he sat in his big chair and spoke with a pipe clenched between his teeth. I’d always get beard burn on my face when I kissed his stubbly cheek and got caught in one of his bear hugs.

Grandpa always seemed fascinated by how quickly were were growing up. On the door frame in the dining room he would keep track of our growth. When we visited, we would be required to stand against the wall and he would squint one eye and with a pen held to the top of our heads and a quick check to make sure that we weren’t on tippy toes, he would mark our new height on wall. He always seemed amazed at this evidence of time passing and it became a fun ritual.

My grandpa was a warm, smart, funny man who was a joy to be around. His tremendous faith was as a mantle about him and yet, he still had an infectious sense of humour and a very quick (and sometimes naughty) wit. At his homegoing service, my cousin Lois, who is of my dad’s generation, told of his love for offering very thorough, long-winded blessings over the food at family gatherings. Grandpa Joe could pray as if his prayers could bring Jesus back. at the time we would stand impatiently shifting our weight, hands growing a bit sweaty from holding your neighbors hands. You could sense the food getting cold and despite grandma’s not-too-subtle throat clearing, grandpa would pray on. Now when I look back on having had the honor of having been prayed over by such a man, I pray that the power of his prayers will yet linger in my life now that he is no longer with us. I pray that the blessing of having enjoyed so many years in his presence would serve as a healing and protective balm that will cover me and fortify me for what is to come in my life.

When we stood around his casket in that bright, cold morning sunshine at his burial at Mount Auburn Cemetery, I knew that he was not gone from us. He decided that it was time to lay his body down and to take his place in the arms of Jesus in heaven with the saints and all of those who have fallen asleep in Christ. I patted the shiny mahogany casket as we turned to leave so that they could tuck him into the ground for his body’s eternal rest. He loved good and well and was loved by many. What other accomplishment in life really matters?

And so I say, Godspeed, Grandpa Joe. You will always be in my heart as my beloved grandpa and a shining example of all that I ever hope to be.

On Wednesday, January 21, our new President’s first day in office, an Open House was held at the White House. I had been volunteering at the Presidential Inaugural Committee in the days leading up to the swearing-in, and I received a phone call from one of the PIC staffers inviting me to the Open House. They took all of my information including name, date of birth, social security number etc. for myself and my guest, who was my eldest daughter. We were both disappointed at not having been able to get tickets for any of the inaugural events, and this seemed to be a good substitute.

The Open House was to be held at 2pm, so we showed up at the gate to find already assembled an orderly line of about 60-80 people. I spoke to the women at the front of the line who told me that they had been there since 10am. It was about 28 degrees outside, and I felt sorry for them because they were clearly cold and exhausted. There were reporters and news cameras all around as well as some tourists who would approach us and ask what was going on. We took our place in line and one of the reporters came over and started asking me some questions quite tentatively at first. As I answered her questions she paused and said, “No one else in this line would answer any of my questions.” I thought that was strange also. She took a few notes and her photographer took a bunch of pictures of us. Then a Secret Service agent came out and told us that we would be going inside soon and that we were free to take still photos, but if we were caught videotaping we would be escorted from the building. I called my father and said, “Daddy, ask me where I am right now? He said, “At the airport waiting for me to pick you up? I said, “No, silly, I am standing in the security line waiting to get into the White House! He was thrilled for us and said to be sure to send him some pictures.”

We went through security just like in any other federal building in town, and then we simply walked into the White House. I stopped in the front reception area and snapped this picture that was just put up that morning:

We were given a lovely tour and everyone was very nice. The whole group of us took pictures, and we were all excited with the anticipation that maybe the First Lady would come down and greet us. Towards the end of the tour wee all tried to linger in the foyer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the President or the First Lady and the girls, but the agents moved us along. We could see that there was another group coming in behind us. We were given special cookies shaped like the White House and took pictures with the chefs and then we departed from the front door.

Brianna and I took pictures on the grand driveway, but it was windy and bitter cold, so we didn’t linger there long. The New York Post photographer took some shots of us as we were leaving and the people around us were looking at us and asking each other who we were. There was a bit of meager sun shining, but the sky was gray and the frigid air made us scurry along to find a coffee shop where we relived our small adventure over a cup of cocoa with whipped cream.

Later that evening on the news we saw that President Obama did come out of his office and greet the visitors in the group that came in behind us. I got an email from our New York Post reporter saying that she didn’t end up using our quotes and pictures because Obama came down just a few moments after we left, and the story ended up being about that. We were a bit bummed, but still thrilled that we were given the opportunity to visit the White House on the first day of this new Presidency. I’m certain that I’ll meet my new Washington, D.C. neighbors another time.