Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Trials & tribulations of motherhood


I have read countless times to keep my sense of humor when all goes wrong, especially as a parent. I think that is easier said than done.
Picture this… dragging a weary self out of bed at 5am on a drizzly Monday morning (we power-washed and stained the deck on Sunday, so the drizzle was more than a mood buster – the stain hadn’t dried yet), a baby that woke up ½ hour ahead of schedule in a big poop - this is the same child that is cutting molars and spent the morning acting like she had consumed the 2 cups of coffee that I desperately needed.

In my mad dash to get her bottles and food ready for daycare, and to get us all out of the house by 7am, I knock a full bottle of Brazilian rum out of the cabinet. I know, keeping formula, bottle bag and alcohol in the same cabinet might not be the best idea. The kitchen floor is ceramic tile, the bottle literally exploded on impact… rum and a million shards of glass everywhere. Including all over me - with only 4 minutes left until we have to be out the door. Now my husband has to take her to daycare without me, and has to deal with her newfound separation anxiety alone. I am home changing clothes (with limited choices since laundry took a back seat to the deck – and teething baby - this weekend), sopping up rum, mopping multiple times, then vacuuming over and over to get up an endless supply of slivers of glass. I miss my regular train – and the next one.

Laughing is not what I was doing, and cursing is what I was trying not to do. Though I did see the bright side, my daughter who is quite often under my feet in the kitchen was in the living room with my husband at the time. Not sure we could have explained it if she arrived at daycare stinking of rum.

- Erin

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Rhino


Obviously I have fallen behind in my projected schedule of one illustration every 2 weeks - way behind. I am getting back on track as I finished the Rhino on Sunday and have almost completed a Zebra, which I expect to post by the weekend. I am getting faster which helps since there have been too many things lately to take me away from my art... I was sick, Ava was sick, I have had more migraines than I would even like to admit (because that might mean they are back). But, there has been plenty of good stuff too ...like Ava's first birthday, and a very full social calendar.

I made my first sale on ebay - "Jaguar Emerging" sold 2 weeks ago. Currently the Rhino and Tiger Emerging are listed on ebay.

Enough writing for now - my sketchbook is calling.

"Rhino" ink on 140lb watercolor paper
2.5" x 3.5"
Copyright Erin Rogers Pickering

http://search.ebay.com/_W0QQsassZateliererin

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Don Imus sticks foot (and leg and torso) in big mouth


I do not listen to Don Imus' radio show, other than catching a few minutes of the televised version here and there. So I found it interesting, though certainly not surprising in lieu of recent events, to learn upon doing a google search that over the years Imus and characters on his radio show have:

* compared the appearance of black NBA players to apes
* called award-winning black New York Times journalist Gwen Ifill "the cleaning lady"
* referred to award-winning black New York Times journalist Bob Herbert as a "quota hire"
* referred to residents of Harlem as "molignans" (the Italian equivalent of "coons")
* referred to the black wife of former Secretary of Defense William Cohen as a "big-haired ho"
* called tennis players Venus and Serena Williams "animals"

And in a July 19, 1998 interview on "60 Minutes," Imus admitted to hiring a producer specifically "to do nigger jokes" for the show.


Somehow he managed to get away with all of this relatively unscathed. He may be the only "shock jock" with name recognition reasonably equivalent to Howard Stern, who is no friend or fan of Imus, but also no stranger to censorship. As a writer, I'm not a big fan of censorship myself. As a human being, I'm not a big fan of racist, anti-woman rhetoric. As a guy who appreciates a wide range of humor, I understand that insensitivity may not be politically correct, but it can often be damn funny and not especially mean spirited. I'm not a big fan of women's college basketball (I don't even watch the men. When it comes to sports, I typically stick to watching professionals), so perhaps I cannot speak intelligently about the Rutgers team. But if I was to make a blind guess, I'd say that probably not every one of their nappy headed players is a ho, that not every ho on the team is nappy headed, and that a pretty high percentage of them are probably neither nappy headed nor ho'ish. In fact, my research shows that the team includes includes a class valedictorian, a future lawyer and a musical prodigy.


Repercussions are coming fast and furious. Sponsors such as American Express Co., Sprint Nextel Corp., Staples Inc., Procter & Gamble Co. and General Motors Corp. have pulled ads, the televised simulcast was dropped, Imus has been suspended without pay for two weeks, he has suffered the indignity of issuing a multitude of insincere public apologies, and he has become precisely what he likes to deliver - a punch line. Yet this is not considered by some to be ample punishment. They want Don Imus to be fired. His apologies ring false to them, and the assertion that his cruelty was unintentional holds little credibility. Perhaps Mr. Imus has a point. We all know how easy it is to accidentally refer to someone as a nappy headed ho. I'm sure I've done it at least three times today. And someone who merely gets paid an enormous amount of money to speak on public airwaves can't possibly be expected to pay attention and be held accountable for every little thing he says, right?

Don Imus may be too much of a money maker to be fired by CBS for a faux pas they're surely praying will quickly go away once something even more ridiculous takes place, like Britney Spears and Paris Hilton becoming a televangelist duo. Or the resurrection of Anna Nicole Smith to proclaim that her daughter has no biological father, but was the result of an immaculate conception. And if enough outside pressure is mounted to force the network's hand, Imus will no doubt land on his feet with someone else in no time flat. He has already stated that he's sick and tired of apologizing, the one piece of honesty that I'll give him credit for. But if he expects me to believe he isn't a bigot, he may as well try to sell me the Brooklyn Bridge while he's at it. And if he expects anyone to side with his decision to make derogatory comments about a group of college girls who were fresh off the sting of defeat in the NCAA championship game, he may need to search long and hard among his most ardent supporters.

I bet he thinks that if a black comedian said something equally offensive about white people, not merely as much grief would result. And you know what? He'd be right. Is this fair? Maybe not, but plenty in life is unevenly distributed. Call it reparations or affirmative action or whatever you wish, but after being dragged from Africa, enslaved for generations, followed up by decades of separate and unequal treatment that has black people perpetually scrambling to reach equal footing in this country (great strides have surely been taken to date, but have we arrived in the Promised Land that Martin Luther King Jr. saw in his fantastical dream? Not quite), the right to tell a few jokes at the expense of the oppressor has certainly been earned. Just try not to overly paint with too broad a stroke.

Don Imus does not have any problems catching a cab or being offered a job after acing an interview, and he probably does not make little old white ladies in the elevator extremely uncomfortable simply by his proximity. He is not considered to be less intelligent or articulate or even an inferior swimmer simply based on his melanin count. So no, he has not earned the right to call someone he has never even met and whom he knows next to nothing about, someone who could be my mother, or sister, or daughter a nappy headed ho and expect to get a laugh from me.

The line between playful tease with comedic intent and a personal hang up about members of a different sex and race is not all that fine. My advice to Don Imus is this. If you're too blind to see the line and distinguish which side you're on, don't go anywhere near it.


Tuesday, April 3, 2007

Fashion Statement

WHITE
TRASH
GHETTO
THUG
PUNK

I saw this list of words on the back of a denim jacket the other day as I rode up an escalator on my commute home from work. When the wearer turned his head to say something to his friend, I took notice that he was African American. This took me by surprise because "white trash" had led me to assume otherwise. I looked at the wording on his jacket again and realized that if the words "ghetto thug" had stood on it alone, I would have assumed he was black. If punk had been the only descriptive claim, I probably would have assumed he was white. But by having all of these identifiers grouped together, it was as if he was claiming to be above and beyond racial stereotype. Taking this a little further, I understood that the labels he claimed for himself could each be seen as unattached to any particular race as well. I interpreted the statement of his jacket to mean he was proud of his background, one that he was not defining based on race or nationality or religion, but on his mindset, his attitude, his dispostion, his code of conduct. He was not a preppy, or a jock, or a computer geek, or a (insert cliche personality type here). He was a WHITE TRASH GHETTO THUG PUNK. I consider myself to be an ARTISTIC INTELLECTUAL FASHIONABLE ATHLETIC HUSBAND FATHER BOOKWORM. What does that make you assume about me? Am I white? Black? Asian? Hispanic? Try assuming nothing. Try taking me for what my mindset, attitude, disposition, and code of conduct proclaims me to be. For this is what will tell you who I truly am. This is what should determine if I'm someone you'd want to hang out with or not. This is what my jacket would say if we lived in a world that was capable of seeing beyond color to the person beneath the melanin count.





Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Writing, Tennis, & Aging like a fine wine







********************************

My fiction and sports writing are typically intended for separate audiences. But since I have a passion both for athletic games and for the telling of stories, I have found opportunity to merge them on occasion. In the past I have incorporated my appreciation of basketball and boxing as major themes in short stories. I also penned a short story that focuses on a tennis match. Who knows? Perhaps I can do for tennis what Ernest Hemingway did for bull fighting.

Three of my idols are pictured above. Hemingway's succinct pen strokes were brilliantly effective in telling his stories, much as Serena Williams' mastery with a tennis racquet puts her multiple levels beyond the reach of her peers and Roger Federer similarly defies the aging process when working the various angles of a court.

I took up the sport of tennis far too late to dare dream of elite status. Yet I stubbornly persist in trying to become as good and consistent a player as possible. My daughter has already mastered the Serena Williams grunt and fist pump so I'm hoping to be as good at coaching and inspiring as Serena's father Richard. As for me writing with the skill of Mr. Hemingway, I haven't given up on that dream yet. Unlike tennis and sports in general, entering my 40's does not place me beyond my prime and incapable of progressing to top ten territory. When it comes to writing I'd like to think that I'm just beginning to hit my stride, with plenty of literary aces left to serve.

- Roy L. Pickering Jr.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Women Versus Men Debate Settled



It has been proven beyond the shadow of doubt, at least to me, that women are way tougher and stronger than men. Throw biceps and triceps and bench press poundages out the window.  They mean next to nothing when it comes to monitoring true strength. I was given enough evidence of the superiority of women when my daughter was going through her colicky period. More often than not she would reach my breaking point as she cried uncontrollably and refused the sweet mercy of slumber. Inevitably the strain would grow too much for me to bear and I would be forced to make a hand-off. But my wife never faltered in such moments. The fact that she was able to slug through months of sleep deprivation and continue responding to Ava's call to arms provided yet more proof. Night after night my body stubbornly refused to give up its stranglehold on our bed at some ungodly hour as our daughter summoned through her baby monitor. Erin has always been able to patiently and lovingly respond. Yet in spite of all this, I still probably would have said if asked that men are inherently stronger than women, up until today when I stumbled upon a sports article online. It informed me that - [Five hours after giving birth to her first child, coach Carol Russell was back on the bench and encouraging her players in the North Central Region basketball tournament]. This would have to rank as the greatest motivational ploy of all time. Talk about not allowing your players any excuses to loaf on defense. The fairer sex continues to astound me. Who knows what wonders Ava will have in store for us in the years to come. She is baby girl, eventually to be woman, hear her roar.


Saturday, March 3, 2007

It's official - I am an eBay seller!

"Tiger Emerging" (as seen in my original post) is officially listed for sale on eBay as of today. The latest hurdle has been cleared! Each small step feels like a huge accomplishment. It's amazing what I can do when Ava naps. If you get a chance, stop by and take a peak.

  • Tiger Emerging at ebay
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