Raison D’être | The Daily Post

On May 4, 2016May 4, 2016 By dancingpalmtreesIn Edward G. Palmer, Edward Gordon Palmer, Edward Palmer, Family History, Family Tree, Habakkuk 2:2-3, Lyrical Family Memories, Mable Elizabeth Palmer, Mable Palmer, Raison D’être, The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir -You're My Praise, The Daily Post, Uncategorized2 Comments

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/discover-challenges/raison-detre/

Raison D’être

Why do you create? Publish a post about your artistic raison d’être.

I create and in creating give Praise to the Master Creator!! All that I have and all that I am comes from God!!

I also give Thanks to my most excellent parents Edward & Mable Palmer who encouraged my creativity. Growing up during the 60s/70s I was a very active child. Actually if I was a kid now I’d probably be diagnosed with ADD or ADHD. During the PTA conferences the teachers would tell my parents that I was a very smart child but I kept finishing the lessons too early, going ahead in the books, helping the other kids in the class and reading the books in the small classroom library. My parents only heard or chose to hear the words smart and intelligent. Mom taught me to read, spell and write at an early age. I believe by the time I was three or four I was reading above and beyond grade level. By the time I was seven or eight I had created my own special alphabet/language and using construction paper and markers made a book about a character named Mr. X.

My parents encouraged me to read. Thank goodness there were no cell phones, PCs, tablets or computers back in those days. I read voraciously! I was a lean, mean reading machine!! Still am!!

My parents and my paternal Aunts all felt I had artistic capabilities. Therefore Dad lavished me with all sorts of art supplies, drawing implements, sketch pads and when I became a teenager a drawing table. The ones that angle. I also received many arts & crafts projects like Latch hook rugs and various other art kits.

Now along with my brother Stephen I create Photo Collages. Stephen and I are working on a joint collage project. Below is one I created in 2012 as a solo project.

Family Photo Collage

Then during High School I decided I wanted to be a writer specifically a poet. I created many poems. After I got out of the Army in 1981 I took video classes at a local arts center and made my first and only video poem. Somewhere either in storage or among my messy room is a VHS tape with me acting out the poem.

Fast forward into the future after my beloved Dad passed away in 1995 at age 36 I returned to college. Attending and earning my B.A. in English at Marymount Manhattan College in May 2002 at age 43. Over the course of eight years the professors at MMC worked me hard. The class work was demanding but I thrived on the challenge. My writing really began to bloom. Of course if you had to constantly write 25 page research papers on a regular basis you would either bloom or bust. I bloomed like a flower in the desert. My professors nourished me. I made the Dean’s List in 1999 and was recommended by then Dean Joan Brookshire for a special program called Women in Urban Leadership. Dean Brookshire kept telling me that I had a gift for writing. I was honored but did not take her words seriously because I was moving up the career ladder. Not until I was laid off from my great managerial job and found myself in a much lower paid and lower position as a museum guard at age 49 did once again did I not only return to my writing but found that with all my trials and tribulations my writing had matured. I suppose when you are struggling and barely getting by that gives you plenty of fodder and a new way of seeing the world.

No more fancy vacations. No more zipping around in my car. No more TV. Lost my apartment but at least I do have a place to live and my room-mate is an artist. On the surface it all seemed like a loss. But not so. I’ve gained more spiritually with each layer of material goods that has been removed. Everything happens for a reason and I believe the reason in my case was so that the following Bible Scripture Verse that the Lord gave me back in the late 1980s could come to pass.

Habakkuk 2:2-3

New King James Version (NKJV)

The Just Live by Faith

²Then the Lord answered me and said:

“Write the vision
And make it plain on tablets,
That he may run who reads it.
³For the vision is yet for an appointed time;
But at the end it will speak, and it will not lie.
Though it tarries, wait for it;
Because it will surely come,
It will not tarry.

Also my genetic gift and talents for photography has been growing by leaps and bounds. My Dad Edward G. Palmer was an amateur photographer. I still have his Kodak Koda Chrome slides from the 1950s up to the 1980s. My genre is Street Photography. Please take a look at my photography blog Roaming Urban Gypsy. https://roamingurbangypsy.com/

You’re My Praise!! You’re the Song My Heart Keeps Singing!! You’re the Reason why I’m Living!!

The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir -You’re My Praise

Even Caregivers Need Help

On March 13, 2016 By dancingpalmtreesIn DeBorah, DeBorah Ann Palmer, Mable Elizabeth Palmer, Mable Palmer, Stephen, Stephen Vincent Palmer, Uncategorized7 Comments

I don’t like to ask for help. I pride myself on being self-sufficient and when it comes to my personal needs I almost never ask for assistance. However when it comes to my brother Stephen it is essential that I ask. As I’ve gotten older there are some things that I can no longer do and driving is one of them. That saga began with a minor stroke at age 49 in 2008 and retina surgery on my left eye in Jan. 2010. My vision is 20/100 so no driving for me. I can cope with that as New York City for the most part has excellent 24/7/365 transit service except to where my brother Stephen lives. At one point there was a city bus that went out to his neighborhood but because of MTA budget cuts that bus line was eliminated. Problem.

At first a solution presented itself in the form of Stephen’s Group Home dropping him off to me in Brooklyn upon my notifying them in advance for vacations, holidays, parties and his birthday. This solution worked well until last weekend. But you posted pictures of you and Stephen having fun last weekend you say. Yes but in order for me to get Stephen from his residence to my home sadly required a big fight with the manager/supervisor of his residence.

I am an organized person. Being that it is very difficult for me to get time off from my job I send in my requests well in advance. Once I get the approval from my workplace manager I then tell my room-mate and mostly importantly the manager/supervisor of Stephen’s Group Home. I send follow-up emails. I call to confirm. Thinking everything was in place I called Stephen’s residence on the Saturday that they were supposed to bring him to me to find that none of the direct care workers had any idea that Stephen was coming for a Home Visit.

It was suggested by one of the staff that I choose another weekend!! As you can well imagine I was getting more angry and agitated by the moment. I kept calling. They hung up on me!! Finally I told them that I was coming up there! (Don’t ask how as I don’t drive.) That scared the shit out of them and the manager finally called me. Her first reaction was to yell and scream at me saying that it was my fault, that she was sick with the flu, etc…. By this time I was heated and changed into an angry Ghetto Bitch. Yes I cursed her out. Screamed and yelled back. I don’t like to be ugly but sometimes negotiation is out and force is in. Then I told her that I was going to call her boss the following Monday. That was at 10:30 am. Stephen appeared at 11:00 am.

I managed to put away my anger for the duration of Stephen’s visit but our visit was abbreviated by another staffer who kept calling me while Stephen and I were out enjoying the Brooklyn museum. This extremely rude woman continued to call me while Stephen and I worked on an art project. She insisted that their driver pick up Stephen immediately as they were short-staffed. As a result my time with Stephen was cut short.

I called the Director about this farce last Monday and my call again tomorrow to follow up on whether he intends to speak with his staff about their poor, rude and unprofessional behavior.

Here’s where the cry for help comes in.

Finally I told God that I CANNOT do this anymore by myself. I’m tired mentally, physically and emotionally. Last year after being hospitalized against my will at Kings County Hospital I was forced into going to therapy. I told the doctors there all the problems I’m having as a caregiver and asked if there was some practical way they could help me. They said No. Well at least she told the truth. After that I never went back. Why waste my time with therapists when I need to find practical ways to help Stephen.

Stephen’s 55th Birthday Celebration

Stephen’s Birthday is May 3rd and I want to plan a small Birthday Party or outing for him. Bad enough I don’t get support from my job but to be insulted by the staff of his Residence is the straw that has broken the camel’s back. I know that I’m supposed to remain positive, not say I can’t, be angry or any number of those dumb idiotic positive thinking, love, light, forgiveness bullshit I read about all the time but all those people who say those things are me. They don’t know or care to understand what I’m going through. They have no idea how difficult it is to hold down a full-time job and care for a developmentally disabled sibling with no support from my workplace or anyone else for that matter.

Some of my paternal cousins have rejected both Stephen and I because of his Autism. They even had the nerve to say to me back in 2012 that my mother did something to make Stephen “that way.” Needless to say I Do Not speak to this branch of cousins and never will. Once you start talking mean about my mother or my brother you are on my shit list for life.

I am his primary caregiver. I have now reached the point in my care-giving attempts when I need help. Real physical Hands on assistance. I need to partner with someone who has a car and can drive me to and from Stephen’s Group Home in Bellerose, Queens. I Live in Brownsville, Brooklyn. If anyone out there in the New York City area can help me please email me ASAP. Yes I will pay you for gas. Thanks.

Black HerStory Month

On March 9, 2016March 9, 2016 By dancingpalmtreesIn Ancestor, Ancestors, Ancestral Memories, Ancestry, DeBorah Ann Palmer, Eva Gordon Palmer, Eva Sophronia Gordon Palmer, Hattie Banks, Hattie Finney Banks, Helen Garcia, Helen James, Helen Palmer Garcia, Mable Elizabeth Palmer, Mable Palmer, Maternal Heritage, Maternal lineage, Matriarchy, Thelma Palmer Varner5 Comments

In the USA March is Women’s History Month. Borrowing a phrase I heard used I Declare and Decree this Black HerStory Month. Twenty-Eight or in the case of this year 29 days is not enough to celebrate the achievements of African Americans nor do we often hear about the accomplishments or even acknowledge Black Women so I Proclaim March Black HerStory Month.

First Honors and Praises to the Our Black Family Matriarchs. Our Queens! From what I’ve been told I am very Blessed and Fortunate to have family photos from my Dad’s side dating back to the 19th century. My Paternal Grandmother Eva Sophronia Gordon Palmer kept meticulous records recording the name of each ancestor on the back of the photos. The one Woman ancestor photo that does not have a name is a tintype and at some point the name either fell off or became detached.

I have only a few photos of my Maternal Women ancestors as my mother’s family did not have the money to either purchase cameras or pay to have their photos professionally taken. All have now gone onto to Glory and passed into eternity but even the 19th Century Queens who I did not get a chance to meet in person I carry not only their DNA but their strength, faith and fortitude to preserve in and over all circumstances. Ancestral Memories flow through my veins.

Aunt Carrie_George Gordon's sister — Aunt Carrie_George Gordon’s sister

Eva Sophronia Gordon Palmer -- Paternal Grandmother — Eva Sophronia Gordon Palmer — Paternal Grandmother

Maternal Grandmother Hattie Banks 12251974_Dayton Ohio

Rosalie Palmer_William Palmer's Sister — Rosalie Palmer_William Palmer’s Sister

MablePalmer — My Mom Mable Elizabeth Palmer around 1956

Aunt_ThelmaMeAunt_Helen1977 — Aunt Thelma, me, & Aunt Helen at my High School graduation in 1977

Aunt Helen_Obit(1) — Helen Louise Palmer Garcia ~~ My Dad’s Oldest Sister

Ancestor_Dad_Side — Unknown Woman Ancestor on my Dad’s side. This is a tintype and her name must have fallen off at some point.

African/Native American Queen — MMC 2002 Graduation

Two of the Sisters. My Mom Mable Elizabeth Palmer and Helen James.

Therapy

On March 4, 2016March 4, 2016 By dancingpalmtreesIn DeBorah, DeBorah Ann Palmer, Mable Elizabeth Palmer, Mable Palmer, Madea, Tyler Perry, Uncategorized

Why Therapy and Mindfulness does not work for people like me. Don’t make me angry. You won’t like me when I’m angry. Watch Out!! Imma bought pull out a can of Whoop Ass on you! Love & Light. Well Let me Light yo’ dumb ass right up!!

I’m about to whip somebodys ass 🙂

Tyler Perry’s Madea Goes to Jail – 12. “Anger Management”

https://youtu.be/AHsBK722Yqw

How to take care of a Smart-Ass the Madea Way. Problem Solved.

Tyler Perry’s Madea Goes to Jail – 15. “Call the Police”

https://youtu.be/8OXfGR4dgiY

But Let Me Assure you, Now I am Living for the Lordttt… Lordtt Jesus take me ’cause they won’t let me in the Witless Protection program!! Hallelujerrrrr!!!!

Tyler Perry’s Madea Goes to Jail – 3. “Living for the Lord”

https://youtu.be/ljhuDeuebak

Say Your Name ~~ The Daily Post

On February 8, 2016 By dancingpalmtreesIn 23andMe, Africa, African American Queen, African Goddess, African King, DeBorah, DeBorah Ann Palmer, Edward G. Palmer, Edward Gordon Palmer, Edward Palmer, Mable Elizabeth Palmer, Mable Palmer, Say Your Name, Uncategorized5 Comments

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/say-your-name/

THEDAILYPOST

Feb 8, 2016

DAILY PROMPT

Say Your Name

Write about your first name: Are you named after someone or something? Are there any stories or associations attached to it? If you had the choice, would you rename yourself?

The name Deborah is a Hebrew baby name. In Hebrew the meaning of the name Deborah is: Bee. Deborah was the Biblical prophetess who summoned Barak to battle against an army of invaders. After the battle she wrote a victory song which is part of the Book of Judges.

http://www.behindthename.com/name/deborah

You may read about the heroic exploits of DeBorah (Judges) in my previous post. The Song of Deborah is Judges Chapter 5.

The Lioness of Judah Reigns

I’m not really sure who or what my Dad had in mind when he named me. Perhaps he was a fan of Deborah Kerr who was a popular actress during the 1950s. Once he told me that he wanted to avoid the traditional Palmer female family names and name me something different, a name he thought would be unique. However when I was in the 3rd or 4th grade there were about five (5) Deborahs, Debras, Debbies in my class!! So much for unique. Like most African-Americans born during the 40s, 50s, and 60s pretty much you either had a passed down family name or a Bible name. Later in the 1970s and thereafter African and Muslim names became popular I believe in an attempt for African-Americans to reconnect to the Mother Land.

About six or seven years ago I did a Free DNA screening given by 23andMe. Here are the results copied from an old document.

Through my maternal line my ancestors were from Mozambique. I belong to the maternal haplogroup I also probably have some Nigerian ancestors. My maternal genetic

makeup is 85% Africa, 12% Europe and 3% Asia.

Our ancestry and genealogy are traced through mitochondrial DNA which

is only passed down from mother to child. This is fascinating information.

By the way the study affiliated with Dr. Henry Louis Gates was free and they

were targeting African Americans mainly to ascertain my African Americans have such high levels of high blood pressure and diabetes. I wanted to have my DNA traced for

several years and when I saw the ad in Ebony or was it Essence along with

the word Free, I immediately signed up. I was so thrilled to find out this

news. Now along with my African co-workers feel a more direct connection

to the Motherland.

Naturally, I’ll never be connected to Mother Africa the way in which my co-

workers from Nigeria, Ghana, Kenya, Cameroon, Burkina Faso, Togo, and Mali are

since they were born there and have a direction connection with the

culture, language and respective tribes, I feel now more of a blood tie. Now

I can plan for my pilgrimage to this country of my ancestors in the next 20 years.

In a way I envy my fellow bloggers who were born and raised in Africa and who had the opportunity to retain their traditional African names, perhaps some indigenous belief system, culture and language. Sadly when my ancestors were kidnapped and brought here on slave ships all of that was stolen from them. Even when I do visit Mozambique or Nigeria I will never know my tribe and cannot speak any of the tribal languages. However I do feel a very strong spiritual connection to my African ancestors especially those who came here during the Middle Passage. This may sound strange to some people but from time to time they speak to me as do some of my family members long deceased some as long ago as from the Civil War. My paternal Great, Great Grandfather William Henry Halstead served in the Civil War. Their voices rise up from ages past beckoning to me as a 21st Century Scribe to write about them so that they are not forgotten.

William H. Halstead name as inscribed on the Colored Soldiers Monument in Washington, DC

William Henry Halstead Headstone ~ Sleepy Hollow

In December of 1863 my Great Great Grandfather, William Henry Halstead, who

lived in Tarrytown, New York, traveled to New Haven, Connecticut to join the

29th Connecticut Colored Infantry. On his Volunteer Enlistment papers it notes

his occupation as a farmer. He enlisted for three years and was discharged on the

24th day of October 1865. He married and had five children. William Henry

Halstead passed away in 1888 and was buried in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in

Tarrytown, New York. His wife moved to New York City with her five children.

Her children grew up in Harlem and belonged to various organizations such as Odd

Fellows, Ladies of the Grand Army of the Republic and the Daughters of New

York.

The same goes for my Native American ancestry.

Several years I wrote a blog post about that dilemma also called “The Cruelty of Christianity” basically when the Europeans first invaded America in 1492 or thereabouts the Native Americans had the land and the Europeans had the Bible. Now the Europeans have the Land and the Native Americans have the Bible. Perhaps their revenge are the casinos and tax-free cigarettes.

https://dancingpalmtrees.com/2012/05/05/the-cruelty-of-christianity/