RACE IN AMERICA
When it’s not your time
Back in March, I shared a little news about an opportunity that could potentially allow me to develop a series of four workshops on racial reconciliation for the greater Orlando area. Well, as promised, the funding awards were announced yesterday. I didn’t post the news on yesterday as I needed a little time to process the news first.
Drum roll, please!
The grant application was not awarded funding.
No joke. (I say that not because the idea is unfathomable. Obviously, the idea is quite fathomable. In fact, it’s a reality. I’m merely matching the format of the earlier message here.)
There’s just a few things I’m walking away with this time around …
This simply wasn’t my time. You’d better know I’m not letting this idea go anywhere. It’ll happen. One way or another.
While this isn’t the essay I was hoping to write today, right now my thoughts are of this mind. So we’ll see what the future holds.
It looks like you guys and gals are stuck with me and my mad ramblings (crazy, not angry) about how Americans can bridge the racial divide by loving one another … not that I was ever going to bail on you. There’s too many of y’all following me now to stop writing. If there were like six or fifteen of you, I’d shut this account down in a minute and go make a living baking scones or something. Yes, black people know how to make scones. And mine rock!
But there’s 2,300+ of y’all!
I don’t know what you guys are looking for, but I’ve got to keep writing. Maybe I’ll do limericks or some iambic pentameter stuff. Idunno. Is there a top writer in limericks? Last thing I want is to horn in on someone else’s domain. You know how you writers get … (s)he’s doing my schtick!
I do know this: I can’t risk you guys showing up at my front door waving your iPhones and tablets en masse screaming, “Clay! Where are the essays? We had a deal: we follow you, you write essays. We. Want. The. Essays. Now!”
No, that scene will not play out in front of Chez Clay. I’m telling you now. There will be not one sit-in, hunger strike, march, or demonstration on this street. No, sirree. I know how y’all can get. I read your essays. Mm-hmm.
Seriously. Thanks for your continued support as evidenced in your claps, sharing your own stories and thoughts in the Comments sections of these essays (that even goes for those who don’t necessarily agree with me … as long as you take it on down to Troll-ville), following this account, and sharing these essays with your friends and family. I hope no one’s Sunday dinner has been ruined because of them. If so, be sure to read this essay before the next family gathering.
And here’s a special shout-out to all the people who made it possible for the proposal to make it to the national level. “Thank you!”
You Medium folks don’t know this, but there’s a small group of friends who were very instrumental in making it all possible. You know … the friends who freely share their experience and wisdom; the people who rein you back in, talk you off the ledge, and say, “No more Starbucks. Step away from the vente Peppermint Mocha, man. Three in one day is just too many!”
Too much information? Oh, well.
Now go love one another. Dammit.