Good-bye, Lil D...and Greggory..Two Nephews in One Year

A handsome, sporty young man, he was. Intelligent and warm. He was my debonair nephew, my only son's cousin, the last son of Avery Sarden's aunt, Shari Sarden. He was born and raised in Detroit, knew the streets, mean and hard, like the back of his hand in the darkest night. Yet he was love and loved. His beautiful, spirited mother, Shari, raised him both alone and with the loving support of her village of a family, the Sarden Family.

He died this week, shot in the back. He was nineteen. The family knew him as Lil D. As a baby and small boy, he was short and thick, a miniature bruiser, adorable. He was huggable, lovable. He made you want to squeeze him and kiss his chubby cheeks.

As a young man, he cultivated an inimitable swag, just sugar sharp, as Southerners might say. In his world, he moved with confidence. He danced with style and grace. I will miss his easy, ready smile, his willingness to embrace friends and family.

According to Avery, Lil D had spoken of relocating to the South with his mother, after his brother's death. But for whatever reason, he remained in Detroit and the streets claimed him...as surely as night the day will wring.

Although I have known now for several hours, a large part of me cannot believe he is gone, like his older brother, Greg, who died in the service, in the U.S. Marine Corp. A gifted poet, charming, engaging, handsome, family-oriented, ambitious and fun-loving, Greggory Dowdell, Jr. was a honeysuckle breeze on a sunny Detroit day. Courageous, he served two tours in Iraq prior to his Home going and was about to serve another tour. His position, as a decorated sharp shooter, he died in a Marine-maneuver accident in California earlier this year.

My family and I traveled to Detroit to stand with the my son's Auntie Shari and the Sarden Family back around Memorial Day. Greg was about Avery's age, 22 years old. He was the first of my son's cousins to die. I remember him as a little boy, gorgeous and fast, with a brush haircut, always racing, zipping up the sidewalk beside and in front of Little Avery, when we visited. Since those glory days and divorce and the passage of time, I had only heard of Greg's magnanimous adventures from this one and that one. I was proud, despite absentia. So when he fell, I stopped the merry-go-round of my world and went to stand in a show of love and solidarity with Avery, Shanice Smith, and my grand baby, Nazir Sarden. In two cars, we traveled with Aunt Debra and Avery's cousin DeLaina Sarden, his Uncle DeLaine's daughter.

Now, with Lil D's leave-taking, I will travel North and stand with the Sarden Family, alongside Avery, Shanice and Lil Naz, as an act of love and togetherness. For when all differences and circumstances are spread across the table like empty plates after the repast, we are one. We are family, and that is what families do.

Below is a picture of Greg. I couldn't help but snap a picture of him in my private, viewing moment with him before the funeral. Although his remains looked nothing like the vibrant Greggory of my memory, one thing is for certain: the U.S. Marines gave him a hero's send-off, complete with slow, saluting marches to the coffin that lasted throughout the service, a distinguished former-Marine who delivered a memorable tribute, and the sorrowful shooting tribute at graveside. Through it all, Shari was a rock, holding up like the young queen that she is. How were we to know that she would bow under another adieu to her second and final son within a four-month period?

I thank Shari for allowing me to speak on program, sharing Greg's obituary with the gathering and reading some of his poignant poems. Near his casket were huge frames of pictures chronicling Greg's youth. I was in some of those pictures. Our paths had crossed for a time, like mine and Lil D's, and I am blessed and the richer for the crossings.

In the photo below, Lil D smiles beside his Uncle Lindsey. The smile on his face is that of a boy. His uncle was someone he admired, someone to whom he listened, even when others thought he didn't. It is all in the smile, in the eyes, two portals to the soul that never fabricate.

There is a time we must come, and a time we must go. The two are set in stone. We need not fret about them. All we are called to do is to make choices each moment of our lives between our birth and our death.

Each life is precious, no matter what the choices. Judgment is not ours to mete. Greg and Lil D are two lights in the tapestry of stars in my night...they burned brightly...in different ways...and then were summoned back into the heavens...from which they came.

God is forever at the helm of our days, so it rains inside my heart today, heavier than the rain that fell in the night, last night, when the heart-wrenching news came. But the day sparkles outside my windows this morning, and I know sorrow does not last always...

We love you always, both of you........

The Golden Goddess

October 7, 2009

He Came To Play His Part
“For the Bookmark”

When he entered this world
He came to play his part
First, sweetly claiming his mother’s heart
No thoughts to when he’d depart
For those dates:
When he came
And when he left
The angels maintained and sang the glad tidings
While he managed the rest
Filling his days with the life he loved best…

From baby to boy to young man
He was who he was
Handsome, smooth, genuine, sweet
No one else could in his shoes stand
He was the teen with the easy smile, the ready laugh, his presence a treat
Rarely blue,
Vibrant, he insisted on living up to the name he knew
Mister D,
A precious passage he traversed
From thick baby Lil D to tall, slender Mister D, a darling to the ladies…

To see him float across a dance floor
Was to bow to enchanted lore
Some have it, some don’t
He mastered it. Call it swag or cool. As a rule, he was the door to Good Times
And at our core
We know that nothing he relished was a chore
Because he lived the revelry of his nineteen years,
Dear,
To those who held him near….

Indeed, he came to play his part
Made the choices he made
For whatever reasons, his lessons were his to impart
He taught them well
In the love, camaraderie, affection and brotherhood which tells
How much he will be missed
Yes, only Spirit knows why he came
Why this year he had to go
Plus all the answers to the questions we long to know
Yet some things were between him and God
So his Mother, Grandmother and the entire family bow
To the indisputable knowing of a Higher Power
That came to comfort him in his final hour….
Claudia Sarden
October 12, 2009

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Let Not My Living Be In Vain
(for D.S.)

Let not my living be in vain
I found joy in most everything
So no, I do not complain
God is in charge of me and all things.

Tear drops can wash away your pain
Tis true, yet I don’t want you feeling blue
Go stand outside in the rain
Until my memory baptizes you.

Let not my living be in vain
Use my leaving as a reminder to live your dreams
Listen! I hear the roar of a coming train
Why not meet it with hope, faith and the joy life brings?

Don’t pine I left yesterday
Just gather ye rosebuds as ye may
Who you know came to stay?
Me…I’m too busy praisin’ the Lord I passed this way.
So don’t come or call
Tryin’ to figure out what went down
The message on my answering machine is meant for all
Find a way to love somebody and help him build on solid ground.

To my boys,
Hold yo’ head up and make peace with yourselves
And stop treatin’ one another like Tonka toys
Do something positive with yo’ time. You ain’t twelve.

To my sweet lady,
I know it seems shady
I won’t be physically there to hold you and whisper how much I care
But I love you. And remember, in Spirit, I’m always there.

I love everybody, from Mama to the last person in the back pew.
Got no judgments now, but that ain’t news.
So don’t judge how I’m speakin’
My Auntie Claudia’s tweekin’ these lines
And this is how she spits her poems most of the time.
All I want you to remember, from January to December is “Love is Divine.”
© Auntie Claudia Sarden October 12, 2009

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I Will Remember You
(For Master Derek Sarden)

I will remember you in late-summer sunsets
In the pink and grey streaks that
Paint the Detroit morning skies
With no tears to sit in my eyes
Loving you was much too much a blessing
Not to choose the happy moment of the lesson
Every second is our gift, our recollection.

I will remember you in a group of teenagers
When I see you in the slick stride
And “What you lookin’ at eyes?” when I offer a word of advice
My intent to encourage and overlook Fear’s need kindness to ice
Loving you was much too much a blessing
Not to choose the happy moment of the lesson
Every second is our gift, our recollection.

I will remember you in a stranger’s flash of a smile
When in that moment, we realize we are one in Spirit
The cherished times we safeguard in your Mama’s albums and picture frames
And the golden memories of you and your cousins immersed in backyard games
Surely loving you was much too much a blessing
Not to choose the happy moment of the lesson
Every second is a gift, our recollection.

I will remember you on your Mama’s lap
Chubby legs keeping up a rat-a-tap-tap
Greg standing beside you, a big boy, the ever-protective brother
Both of you, Mister D and Greg, loving beyond love your beautiful mother
You, who adored the uncles and delighted in the aunties, was too much a blessing
Not to choose the happy moments of the lesson
Thank you, God, for our gifts, our recollections.

I will remember you, this you’ll see
For you, now Spirit, will never be far, far away
Whenever I close my eyes, there you’ll be
Returning healthy, whole, complete, even more vivid than yesterday
It’s true. Loving you was much too much a blessing
Not to choose the happy moments of the lesson
Every second is your gift, your recollection.
© Claudia Sarden October 12, 2009

On Casting Ballots...

I am proud to be an American. Proud that I live in a country in which I can cast a ballot for the presidential candidate of my choice. Elated that I could cast that ballot early, as I couldn't wait for Election Day to support Illinois Democrat Barack Obama and running partner Delaware Senator Joseph R. Biden, Jr.

God bless the arenas of debates and election commentary and the Internet. These avenues permit you, my fellow Americans, and me to hear and read and discuss the deciding issues for ourselves. I stand staunchly with Barack Obama on the issues of Abortion, Health Care, Iraq, Economy, Taxes, Education, Housing and Immigration.

The 47-year-old loving husband and father, whose mantra of hope and change, changed the face of American politics forever. He stepped out of the Chicago, Illinois, masses, with his poised, graceful, beautiful, intelligent, charming, blockbuster of a First Lady, Michelle, to surpass the Clintons in taking a major party nomination, the first Black man to command such a prestigious position. Obama is the change this country requires to reposition itself on the home stage as well as the international one.

Former Secretary of State Colin Powell was accurate in saying, "...the approach of the Republican Party and Mr. McCain has become narrower and narrower." The Obama Administration will help widen the gap for all Americans to sit at the Welcoming Table for a share in the American Dream, for all children to receive a quality education and much-needed health care, for mothers to have the right to decide whether to abort or not, for American soldiers to return from an ambiguous war, for families to celebrate housewarmings instead of foreclosures, for immigrants and others seeking asylum to find inclusive legislature in place of bans and vetoes and go-home lobbying.

This country boasts a long history of immigrant blood, sweat and tears. How soon we forget. Why continue to legislate against those who are darker, speak Spanish or other languages, worship differently and cannot transfer their funds from Swiss bank accounts? If we all had to go back to wherever it was our ancestors came or were brought, stolen and in chains, there would be no one to legislate except Native Americans, who might be significantly challenged in doing so, considering the poverty, alcoholism, tuberculosis, and other major health issues they face on reservations today.

I commend Obama's choice for the vice presidency. Mr. Biden is said to possess a noted expertise in foreign policy and is experienced in matters of government and politics. He, too, is a loving husband and strong father, who has seen tough times in his personal life, yet he hurdled seemingly insurmountable odds to be the charismatic, 66-year-old leader that he is today. I admire Biden's humor, intelligence, experience and million-dollar smile.

Yes, I say the history-making team of Obama/Biden makes for a true example of "transformational figures," as Powell said of Obama. At this time, in this election, they are the rational, bankable choice. A ballot cast for them is the winning ticket; it is a vote for an America minus the bungled, ambushed, bushwhacked order of business of the present administration.


MERCY! Am I ever honored to be an American, to be able to say, as Kem sings, "what is on my mind." I agree Arizona Senator John McCain's campaign isn't the best for the country. At 72, he might have polished his glasses and looked around Washington, Phoenix, or somewhere and made a better decision for a running partner than a governor of a smidgen over 7,000 citizens. Or did he think he could control a smiling dynamo, whose gumption and ballistic charm and near-Jackie O hairstyle and take-no-prisoners, I mean pipelines, smile and marathon legs could steal an election? Shouldn't she be articulating sensibly on policy instead of announcing her soccer-mom status and pit bull ferocity and reaffirming her view that Obama had been "palling around with terrorists" because of his association with Bill Ayers, a 1960s-era radical. Excuse me, but did she not get the memo that some of her party playmates have a history of moonlighting and partying and palling and dining and spending with the likes of Bin Laden and his crew before the planes hit the bricks? And is she palling around with racists? Which is the lesser of the two evils?

It is written that Sarah says she believes traditional marriage is the foundation for strong families. And she supports a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage. Well, la dee dumb. Might someone articulate what sort of strength went into her government-defined and sanctioned marriage that showed her unmarried, teenage daughter the direct path to motherhood?

Republican Party leaders, do something. Lead! Strongly suggest that GOP backers spend campaign dollars on something more feasible than clothes. If reports are accurate, the cost of the Governor's designer wardrobe is stretching up towards $150,000, quite like, oops, that annoying pipeline that persists on tumbling out of a chilly deficit closet. Wouldn't those funds have been better spent on tutors to debrief the Good Glamorous Governor on national and foreign issues? And the media's new $100,000 question for the evening is, "Quite where do hockey moms shop?"

Voters, wake up! Wise up!

A ballot cast for McCain could conceivably be a ballot cast for a Palin Presidency. Those maverick eyes may be cocked for a more ambitious goal than the VP suite. Mister, beware, be leery, be anything but sleep, if a maverick wants your seat. But then, one's running partner knows her supporting role or job description, I think, though not according to a recent news report noting Palin's quote to third graders, whom she told her job would entail controlling the senate. Huh?

Voters, don't roll out of bed one morning and be looking like the surprised Alaskans somebody forgot to poll, wondering how she won those landslide elections on charm and big talk. Those marathon legs will be in expensive heels carrying out more far fetched policies and in stylish boots hunting more than bears and reindeer. Don't be fooled by the hype! For one reason, there isn't any hype. Just the fact that Condoleeza Rice, perhaps, could have been asked to bring the Governor up to snuff before the race began.

My Fellow Americans, see beyond the Color Line; you might see a rainbow. And hooray, a woman can barrel out of the masses and garner the national stage, (we know, 'cause Hillary sailed out and did just that, memorably so) but if a female candidate, same as a male contender, isn't saying ANYthing, she's a FIGURE head (oh no! Spirit, please let the next Lady Leader boldly step forward with charm, wit, intelligence, elocution, and a PLATFORM the people can understand and rally behind).

I cast my ballot not only for Obama, but also for Obama Girl! What a cute idea from a darling lovely who wears those eye-catching voter undies like only few can! Talk about braving the campaign stoop for a candidate---that little Missy will be singing and shaking and bringing in more than a few ballots for her Super Hero. Do what you do, Obama Girl!


Aaaaah! Thank God we Americans, who have eyes to see and ears to hear and minds to discern, can high jump couched media slants to race to the polls to vote for an America poised to embark on Liberation Trail and away from Tainted Legacy Row.

Now tell me, darlin', aren't you glad you're an American?

Te amo!
TheSiren