Mars, the 7 sisters and Orion's belt

I was walking out of my mother's house the other night, following my sister, when I noticed her looking towards the heavens. She pointed up and commented about a cluster of stars, then asked me if that was Orion's Belt.

I was not sure. I'm still not sure. Since we both like stargazing we watched the twinkling white lights for a bit.

Remembering that Orion's Belt had about 3 stars, she said we probably had found that constalation. I still was not sure, so she asked about the Seven Sisters. I was not sure if I was seeing them or not. There was a time when I instantly recognized the stars in the skies but lately, I have not had reasons to look. It is a habit I realized I lost but I think it may be time to start looking again. There is something powerful and peaceful about looking at the stars and realizing we are not so grand as the universe. Looking at all that space makes me feel small but it also diminishes my problems in life.

As we continued to look, I noticed a twinkle I am certain I've seen before. One of the stars in the sky did not twinkle white, it twinkled red. I realized the red light is most likely the planet Mars. I pointed it out to my sister. She said she had never noticed the red light before but was happy to hear that it was a planet...something she had never seen before.

That knowledge was not knowledge I obtained in my own investigations about the heavens, it came from my husband. It was something we shared...a love for the night sky and stargazing. He would point out Mars to me regularly. He would map the flight of the International Space Station and excitedly take me out into the cold, night air, anxious to see a flash of light streak across the sky. A very TINY streak of light...but in that light was the proof that man had actually placed something in outer space. It is one thing to see a launch or to see a spacecraft on the ground. It is entirely another issue to see a streak that you know was put there by man. I have to say those nights were amazing bonding moments...at least for me.

It was nice to share this with my husband but as with any relationship that is falling apart, he gradually decided to enjoy those moments alone. He gradually cut me out of his moments of fun and enjoyment. This was long before the fighting, long before the hurt feelings and long before he decided the best course of action for himself was to abandon his wife and kid.

I talked to my sister about this, she asked what anyone would ask..."Did you ever ask him why he didn't want to share that with you anymore?" "Oh, only about 1,000 times...he never gave me a clear, satisfactory answer." I have concluded that what someone told me long ago is most likely true, "He just fell out of love..."

The Feast of All Saints

I've seen bits and pieces of this film before and it has always made me want to watch more, but I hesitated. The movie "The Feast of All Saints" plays like it should be a classic novel, maybe it will be one day. It was written by Anne Rice, best known for creating the vampire named Lestat and writing "Interview with the Vampire." I never expected a white woman known for interesting vampire fiction to have such a grasp on the history of the gens de couleur libre. That translates to "the free people of color," a term that is pretty self-explanatory. The twist comes from the location of these free colored people, the good city of New Orleans.

Something many do not know is that because New Orleans was once the property of France, many French cultures still exist there today. New Orleans also had the reputation of being less harsh on slaves because, for whatever reasons, French men had fewer problems with finding beauty in darker women. This was a gift in a way and a curse in others.

These French men were also influenced by other white men in America and although the black women they loved could find themselves "kept," this choice was still basically a one of a whore. The movie explores these relationships between white men, their black mistresses, and the children of these affairs. The twist comes with the women who are still considered black but have skin so fair that many could pass for white. The white men considered it a grand prize to have a black woman who could "pass." Having her would be a better prize than having a white woman...well, at least in secret. No matter how prized she is, she was still black and therefore never respectable enough to be his wife...but his desire for her would make him do whatever he needed to "purchase" her loyalty. If she could not be bought, he may take her anyway...that's the way it worked.

The film explores how while many slaves may not have been beaten to death like in the deep south, they still lost their souls by being forced to do things to survive. The fair black women, given a taste of a good life, could not resort to washing and mending clothing and keep their high standards. Also, many had been living such a life since they were young girls, it was all they knew.

The story told in this movie is touching and annoying. It made me think of my very fair black son. In the film, the fair son was treated fantastic while his fair-skinned sister (born into slavery) was treated as a slave and remained in service until she killed herself. The boy could see the life draining from his sister but had no power to free her. The main thing put forth in this story was, no matter how fair these free people were, they were still people of color...as is my son. The movie strikes a deep cord with me because looking at my skin, I would have been desirable by many white men...not because I could pass, I can not, but the cafe au lait skin was the attraction.

When I hear people say our president is biracial (which is true) but then deny his African American heritage, it makes me angry. A film like this reminds me that white people were willing to remind us all the time that no matter how light we got, we were still black. I feel that continues to apply today, for me, my son and definitely for our President.