A DAY IN "THE LIFE OF RILEY"

After my good friend Michael K. Watts and I had the chance to catch up at my favorite watering hole Houston’s (www.hillstone.com/). With much of what Michael has been managing in his life, it was necessary that we chat and he get the opportunity to bounce some of it off of me. From the death of his grandmother to the death of a best friend’s mother and a number of other interestingly-timed losses, Michael has been a difference to everyone. Though this was a belated birthday dinner (from Michael to me), I hope my pair of listening ears were a gift to him.

In addition to the aforementioned losses that Michael has been dealing with, I also got word that another colleague lost her mother unexpectedly. I sent some words of sympathy and encouragement to her. Perhaps it can support some of you out there who may be dealing with the same. I understand the shocking loss of a mother all too well. Been in the club for 13 years, 4 months, 24 days, and counting. And truly, it's been a time without her... and still. Just recently, my loving father, whose mom (my grandmother) lived to be 95, said to me - as he was reflecting on my age (As you know, I just had a birthday) and how "his baby" (me) is "37!!!!!" As he was lightheartedly wrapping his brain around that fact, he said "... and do you know MY MOTHER lived to be 94 and saw her baby boy (dad's younger brother) turn 64!!!! Isn't that a blessing?????" Surely, on its own merit, that is a blessing. A beautiful thing, even! But my Dad (who had his mom until she was 95 and he was in his late '60s) didn't get my extra-sensitivity around that statement as I was 23 and my mom was 54 when she died. Dad didn't mean anything nefarious by it, but on the face of it, it didn't make me feel so great as I have always felt a bit MARKED for having lost my mother so young... and yet I know that there is no "good" age or time to lose a loved one - especially a mother. With that, I shared with my colleague the following entry I submitted in 2002 for a collection on "Aunts" (and subsequently included in my BLOG last year). It tells the story of losing my mom... and the sister she left behind. My hope is it lands for my friend sooner than later that she is not alone... and I (and I'm sure a number of others... regrettably) get it too:

"AUNTIE MARY LEE"

Also, as many of you know, I too lost a partner Kodjoe in March 2005. Like losing my mom, it was devastating. But at this point in my life, I made some different choices inside of my grief - including keeping certain commitments that were a stand for Kodjoe's legacy. That included an intimate evening of song I was scheduled to perform before he shockingly passed away via a heart attack (Singing is a sidelight for me). With that, I - a few days after his funeral - went about performing a sold-out show (chock full of family and friend support) at "The Duplex" in the Village in Manhattan. It was rough as I lost just about all of my rehearsal time inside the preps for funeral, etc. The night of the little cabaret, my rhythm section (along with - I'm sure - Kodjoe) carried me to have it not be a "perfect" performance, but just what it was supposed to be. It was the beginning of my healing and - not even when I was looking - love found me again (on the opening night of "Color Purple") via my Anthony with whom I'm celebrating two years of a committed relationship. So, light does show up out of darkness - even when we can't see it. With that, I offered my friend a copy of that special evening of song, which I share here with you now:

http://216.117.188.141/rileyshowforkodjoe.wmv

I performed "A Song For You" (prelude)... Luther Vandross' "Never Too Much"... Elton John's "Something About the Way You Look Tonight"... BLUES MEDLEY featuring "I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues"; "Good Morning Heartache", and "I Can't Make You Love Me"... my tribute to KODJOE: "A Song For You"/"Wind Beneath My Wings"... and "SMILE" (one of Kodjoe's favorites).

ONE MORE THING THAT COMFORTED ME DURING THAT TIME (cut and paste below). It was Yolanda Adams’ “Fragile Heart”:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JERlnYSb_ag

Yolanda Adams – “Fragile Heart”

Verse 1:

I remember the first timeYou laughed with me

I remember the promisesYou would never leave my side

Now I'm standin' with news of a tragedy

Standin' here with a fragile heart

See I never shed a tear. Stayed strong for them.

When everybody disappears, it's only you that keeps me strong

I can't imagine goin' on Without you in my life

Goin' on with a fragile heart

Chorus:

When I think about, think about life Lord I think of you

I forget about everything else

There's only you and I can't think about ever giving up

Ever giving up the fight

The only thing that matters lord is you

Verse 2:

I ain't got no time to pretend That I'm not missin' you

I know you're in good hands

The same hands that hold my heart

And I'll cherish every moment that we've spent

As a gift from God above'cause he takes care of all fragile hearts

Chorus 2:

When I think about, think about life

Lord I think of you

I forget about everything else

There's only you and I can't think about ever givin' up

Ever givin' up the fight

The only thing that matters When I'm goin' thru

I'm giving my fragile heart right back to you

Bridge:

You see my fragile heart's been broken

And you're the only one Who can put it all together again

So I'm trusting you lord to see me thru(vamp out)

Best and Love,

Patrick

On this day, I REMEMBER... and share my thoughts of 9/11 in 2001.

Dear loved ones,

Many thanks for your concern about my well-being. Physically, I'm fine, but mentally and emotionally I'm a little out of sorts. I've done a bit of an inventory to try and make sure all are well - at least in body. All the close-call testimonials from folks who would have or should have been at the World Trade Center that morning are blowing my mind, but it supports my theory that when it's your time, it really is your time. Unfortunately, it had to be the time of so many innocent people. But for those who missed it, there's got to be something more for you to do on this earth.

Also, I'm certain many of the journalists out there are beat down from fatigue and emotional drain. Hang in there.

I'm sure everyone has heard and experienced stories far worse than mine (I'm actually covering many of them), but I thought I'd take an opportunity to give you all a bitter-sweet (mostly bitter) taste of my experience this past week.

As I write this recollection, I'm now reliving (via tape) the heartache and horror of a woman and her kids who lost their husband and father, a World Trade Center (North Tower) worker from the 102nd floor. By all accounts, he perished in this disaster. I was dispatched to interview this grieving family Friday. I am now in a New York City-based editing suite producing the story that will air to the world on Tuesday. As she pushes the buttons that will turn this raw, gruesome story into a melodramatic mini-movie, my editor is in awe of what she sees on these raw tapes from my interviews with this grieving family - dreading the many hours ahead of us to complete this slightly sadistic (but necessary) task.

I tell her to imagine what it has been like for me since Wednesday - interviewing those who escaped the chaos or having to stalk family members of loved ones schlepping from emergency room to emergency room trying to find just a piece of their loved ones (this, so I could book these folks for a TV show), or crying with the firefighter Tyrone Johnson who in all of his macho splendor can't hold back the tears as he is the so-called lucky one who was not sliced in half by debris (like his fellow firefighters who he will be helping bury this week).

One story that really hit home was that of a young girl who - with her sister and another family member - did all she could to try and locate her cousin - a South Carolina native who is the only of her immediate family in New York City. This determined Queens-based cousin -- who gave my crew and me permission to follow her on this witch-hunt -- had committed to doing all she can on that day before she called her aunt down South to report the news - good, bad, or ugly. Who would do that for me if I were any closer to the death and destruction on Tuesday? These moments made me really long to be with my family.

On Thursday, I was asked to get as close to "ground zero" as possible and to have my crew try and get some shots of the debris. Aside from the asbestos concerns and my asthmatic history, I really didn't want to put myself in harm's way (not even on the heels of the major damage already being done). But I compromised and - with caution - proceeded. As my crew and I approached the borders of the scene via the Westside Highway and 14th Street, we were asked to stop around 16th street as another bomb threat (in the form of a green garbage bag) had to be investigated.  I didn't know if this was a prelude to another bomb or what was behind the caution. A part of me wanted to turn around and leave altogether, but observing the fearlessness in many of New York City's volunteers and cheerleaders made me wait as I felt this crowd of support was worth chronicling for my story. And scared or not, if it was my time, it was my time. I stayed and talked with many of the rescue workers who were on standby for their assignment. And I also talked to the "Amen corner" -  including this courageous 7-year-old little girl dressed in red, white, and blue, waving her patriotic art of construction paper, glitter, and stickers - one of which read: GOD BLESS AMERICA & THE ANGELS. The Angels were her interpretation of all the people who died in this horrific incident.

Amidst all of that craziness, I get three calls regarding this WHITNEY HOUSTON DIED FROM AN OVERDOSE OF DRUGS rumor, and I'm so trapped in trying to wrap my brain and emotion around this overwhelmingly large story, I can't even go there. I sent a prayer up to God to let WHITNEY 'rest in peace', and I moved on with trying to get the stories of the people who really had no choice. Of course, we'd find out later that the rumor - albeit believed by many - was just that, and WHITNEY was alive and well(?). At that point, I said "Well, Lord! I know you wouldn't put more on us than we could bear. But if that rumor had proven founded at that time, I don't know if we could have handled it.". I guess we would have, but my goodness.

To give you my proximity to the crime scene,  I live in Ridgefield Park, New Jersey which is a 15 minute commute (if that) to New York City on an average day. Maybe 30 minutes to financial district where the World Trade Center's twin towers (and neighboring buildings) set. With bridges and tunnels closed on Tuesday, there was pretty much no getting to the city for me. A good thing. This, until word got out that a van of explosives were found at the George Washington Bridge - no 5 minutes from my home. All those fears and reports subsided over time on Tuesday night. Still, I had been charged to be on-call for these varied assignments on Wednesday morning. It took me about two hours to get into the city as I had to take a car service to the Hoboken PATH train to get in. Though the bridge had opened up (on both sides) by Wednesday, no New Jersey car service was trying to cross it and risk getting stuck in New York. Whether I had fears or not, I was contractually obligated to go. And I did. With tears pouring down my eyes (a stream that seems endless since Tuesday), I obliged my superiors and even reached a point where I felt like this whole experience was therapeutic for me. Clearly, I would have been driving myself crazy just sitting at home watching this stuff on TV (By the way, there was nothing to stop me from being in one of these airports given my travel. I just had New York City plans for Tuesday. That's about the only reason I was home.).  And - at least - through the medium of TV, I felt like I was putting the human touch on such an unreal act. That night, I got stuck in the city as it was going to be a challenge to try and return home to Jersey - only to have to hit the pavement again on Thursday. Thank God my friends (and would-be client for a project that was scheduled and - of course cancelled - on Tuesday) were still in town. They opened their suite doors to me at the Hilton Times Square. Welcoming me with open arms (food, libations, and attitude adjustments), we had our own brand of "group therapy" which made us all feel better. No more safe (especially given the nearby evacuation of the Empire State Building and the electrical issue sparking smoke in our host hotel). But we all felt a little more comforted in each other's fears. Just the same, this Atlanta-based group hit the road on Thursday to get back to Georgia via a 12-to-15 hour drive.

I called myself de-sensitizing myself for Friday's assignment - the one I'm editing now. I knew I'd be talking to a family in grief. I knew that I'd been overwhelmed with emotion (and still) - so I'd cry my tear ducts dry en route to this central Jersey family. That way, when I start interviewing this mother and  her 12 and 14 year-old kids, I wouldn't be remotely impacted as it has become a drain to be so emotionally impacted by these sad stories. I just didn't want to feel anymore. I put on Diana Ross' "Amazing Grace" which she recorded in 1992 with The Vienna Symphony. On a good day, this classically performed tune (moans to boot) might make me cry. Also, it was one of my late mom's favorites. Then, I balanced the rest of my programming with select tear-jerkers from Mary, Mary and Yolanda Adams. Top that off with the typical call that any journalist out there might get from their editor or producer - the one that pisses you off when they ask you to make sure these grieving people give "details" or when they say "the bosses really want this piece emotional" or when they say  "i hope she cries" - and I was armored to get through this very difficult shoot. Needless to say, the kids killed my plan. They tried so hard to be strong for their mother because no teen is trying to go out like a "punk", but the oldest boy just couldn't hold back the tears as he spoke of his anger that he would never see his father again and that now he must take on the role of being the man of the house. Before we were done, the kids were handing me kleenex. Still, I can't even pretend to know their level of grief, though - having lost a parent to natural causes - there was an identification.

The old Negro adage goes: "My feets is tired, but my soul is rested.".  Quite the contrary  for me. "My feets is tired and my soul is scorned". I'm certain this Nation's soul is scorned. And all we can do right now is try to heel. The hardest part for me has been coming home at night - alone. That other cliche "I can do bad all by myself" clearly didn't account for this kind of a tragedy as there would be nothing better right now than having someone to hold or to hold me for comfort.  In lieu, I'm spending a lot of time at "Houston's". Go figure. There's something safe, sound, and reliable about my favorite restaurant. I don't feel alone. I can count on the food. And a sip of one of its tasty cocktails takes the edge off. It's the next best thing I guess.

I have to say that I've been subconsciously paralyzed to pick up the phone to respond to the many calls that have come. I'm moved, touched, blessed, and appreciative for those calls, but am just paralyzed to pick up the phone to tell you "I'm fine". I don't know why. Through the therapy of this writing, I hope to hear all your voices and see all your faces some day soon.

Be clear! Nothing I or my colleagues have endured is even remotely comparable to the heartache the victims, their families, and the rescuers are suffering. But as I've been discussing with fellow journalists on the streets -- many of whom are shocked to see me - Mr. Entertainment  - on the streets covering hard news [in Moshood no doubt], this is a story that is affecting us all and will continue to do that for years to come. It's a painful truth that we must get and try to move through.

My best wishes to you all. Please forward as I'm certain I'm gonna forget to send this to someone who is important to me.

Peace, Love, and Be Well...

Patrick
 

I feel like I need to do a CLEARING with myself and VULNERABLY I am sharing with you.

As you all know, I am inside of a LOVING, PASSIONATE, and SEXY relationship with my Anthony. So often, by design, my BLOG "A Day in the Life of Riley" chronicles our happenings when we're out and about (looking good and smelling good). Typically, its design is NOT to tell play-by-play of my LIFE nor Anthony's and my COMPLETE LIFE: the behind-the-scenes of two men adjusting to living under one roof and adjusting to all the layers, nuances, and sensitivies that are par for the course when two people come together inside of a COMMITMENT.

With that, of course, we argue and debate sometimes. Typically, we come down from the heat of it and settle effortlessly. Inside of some of this, I'm learning the degree my not desirable WAYS OF BEING (around RIGHTEOUSNESS, SUPERIORITY, CONTROL, and EGO) can show up. ALSO, in the INTIMACY of a relationship, I can be DISMISSIVE, COLD, and TESTY... and on top of that, I can have a TEMPER and can go for the JUGULAR. I am not good at nit-picking. I don't like arguing. I don't like when people's complaints target me (even if it's constructive criticism). I prefer calm and pleasant exchanges. Yet knowing that is not always the reality, the stinging Scorpio in me will almost unconsciously go for something really hurtful to retort to anyone who comes in my way, if (in my mind or heart), I feel I am being provoked or critiqued too harshly. It's a horrible thing.

And after I've said it, not only am I remorseful, but I too -- in calmer retrospection -- realize the degree to which I said what I said as "a weapon" (not so much as "truth"). And I just want that understood and I want to move on - back into the joyful and effortless.

Well, it's not always that easy, especially since I've too had a knack for putting the relationship on the table - exclaiming that 'maybe it should be over, if we're arguing this heatedly and if it's that bad!!!!!!!'-kinda' sentiments  (HYPERBOLE and DRAMA on my part... but I say it because I know it hurts and can create the horrible feeling that I've just felt for whatever reason I - in that moment - am feeling abused or abandoned or misunderstood or mis-quoted. Again, these moments don't show up all the time, but they have... and should be addressed).

I want to - firstly - APOLOGIZE to ANTHONY for my sometimes inexcusable choices to go off on him, saying ugly and horrible things that are not consistent with how I feel about him at my core. (And to anyone else out there who has felt this wrath). And I too know that I've sometimes said these things in less appropriate places than where any civil person would want to argue about something personal i.e. the street. And that is also wrong on my part. And I APOLOGIZE for not using some discretion around when my frustration exacerbates to such a myopic, no-turning-back level.

I have told Anthony these things and it may take a minute for him to get over our most recent exchange, though he's agreed to move through it as quickly as he can. And I'll be PATIENT and have asked that he give me a chance to learn from my mistakes and LOVE HIM BETTER.

Additionally, he and I have approached this as an EMPOWERED RELATIONSHIP WITH A BREAKDOWN from which we can: ACKNOWLEDGE THE BREAKDOWN... LOOK AT WHAT'S WORKING AND NOT WORKING... then, RECOMMIT TO OUR GOAL, which is to MAINTAIN AND CONTINUE TO GROW A LOVING, JOYFUL, CONNECTING, PASSIONATE, AUTHENTIC, VULNERABLE, and SEXY RELATIONSHIP.

The EVIDENCE is ENDLESS where these POWEFUL and EFFECTIVE WAYS OF BEING are showing up. Additionally, we COMMIT to CONTINUE to be MINDFUL and AWARE when those WAYS OF BEING that don't align show up... and I share that here so you - my readers - know that I AM NOT PERFECT... I DON'T ALWAYS GET IT RIGHT... I AM WORKING ON MYSELF RIGHT ALONGSIDE CALLING JOY FORTH AND LIVING THIS 'LIFE OF RILEY' that is so much a part of fun, pop culture and POSSIBILITIES... and I offer to you (and - in tandem - offer to myself), the following lyric, which CONTEXTUALIZES something from which we can all LEARN and HEAL (I LOVE YOU, ANTHONY!):

We Must Be Kind

So many things I can't control
So many hurts that happen everyday
So many heartaches that pierce the soul
So much pain that won't ever go away

How do we make it better?
How do we make it through?
What can we do
When there's nothing we can do?

We can be kind
We can take care of each other
We can remember that deep down inside
We all need the same things

And maybe we'll find
If we are there for each other
That together we'll weather
Whatever tomorrow may bring

Nobody really wants to fight
Nobody really wants to go to war
If everyone wants to make things right
What are we always fighting for?

Does nobody want to see it?
Does nobody understand?
The power to heal
Is right here in our hand

We can be kind
We can take care of each other
We can remember that deep down inside
We all need the same things

And maybe we'll find
If we are there for each other
That together we'll weather
Whatever tomorrow may bring

And it's not enough to talk about it
Not enough to sing a song
We must walk the walk about it
You and I, do or die, we've got to try to get along

We can be kind
We can take care of each other
We can remember that deep down inside
We all need the same things

And maybe we'll find
If we are there for each other
That together we'll weather
Whatever tomorrow may bring

And maybe we'll find
True peace of mind
If we always remember
We can be kind 
 

Jason and Marqise wonder why they continue to be up in "... the life of Riley...". Well, they continue to be a STAND for me in ways that I so appreciate. I'm getting ready to embark on a huge, new chapter in my life. My Anthony is coming to town and we will live together. I am as excited as I am nervous. And Jason and Marquise who have been together for more than three years understand the possibilities and pleasure that await us alongside the potential for pain... growing pains...

In that spirit, Jason reached out and wondered if we might not get together for a night of cocktails and laughter. 212 RESTAURANT & BAR on East 65th Street near Lexington (www.212restaurant.com) was the location (Jason had his birthday brunch here while I was out of town). He gathered the troops which included Marquise and Troy. Khalid joined us. And if I didn't know better, I would think that Jason planned my special guest, who dined right next to us. It was Daniel Craig, the "new" James Bond. He and his party of four were already dining when we were seated, but as he got up to leave, he looked my way. I gave him a look of knowing. He nodded, smiled, and said "Have a good night!!!".   I hadn't paid him much mind before last night, but in that passing moment, I found him quite charming. Meanwhile, we all enjoyed a wonderful meal. I had the tilapia.

From there, we hit a spot called "Club Secret" in Chelsea near the many other clubs on Club Row i.e. "Crobar", "Bed", "Marquee", etc. There, the usual suspects included Nathan Hale Williams, Sean Johnson, drag legend Flotilla Debarge (as her primary ego Kevin) and other ones to know - including stylist Philip Bloch. We all enjoyed each other's company and a night of shared stories, random sightings, and friendship. As I found myself sometimes veering away from the conversation into my head as I anticipate this next big chapter in my life, it was comforting to come back to the voices and the faces of... my friends!