A DAY IN "THE LIFE OF RILEY"

Thanksgiving is a time of abundance, togetherness, and gratitude. And this year was no exception for those blessings to show up, fully accounted for and stocked on the shelf. But like my favorite pantry staple, cranberry sauce, it was bittersweet. 

On the eve of the big day, I had a chance to do some good inside of a now two-year commitment to mentor and be a difference for LGBT youth. I was invited as a special guest to participate in the Hetrick-Martin Institute's Thanksgiving celebration, which included a big meal (sponsored by State Farm) and an open-mic set in which the students of the Harvey Milk High School expressed themselves in their own way. Hetrick-Martin Institute provides services and support for at-risk Lesbian and Gay young people. It has been in existence for over 28 years and is the oldest and probably still largest agency serving LGBT young people in the nation. Basically, we're talking about some fabulous kids who are - in many cases - fighting to get their lives back on track. I met with Executive Director David K. Mensah who says there is a growing need for this work as youth come out at ever-younger ages (than I did) and - by the time - they reach the doors of The Hetrick-Martin Institute, they may have fled families who disappove of their gender expression and may even be resorting to prostitution to survive on the streets. For some of the youth, a nutritious hot meal at HMI is their only meal of the day. The Harvey Milk High School is a New York City public school component, which services over 100 students a year (with all the core academic requirements against a flamboyant backdrop of lavendar floors and bright yellow walls). Additionally, there is the after-school program, which is open to all LGBTQ students who get the opportunity to be fed, participate in programs that promote their chosen leanings in poetry, art, fashion, runway, vogueing/ballroom, drama, photography - all in a safe and supportive environment that complimentarily connects the students to discussions around violence, race, sexual orientation, and HIV/AIDS. I looked around and saw confident, unique, and self-actualized young folks --- working the hallways and shutting the kids down with their fierceness --- and I experienced them as my heroes. Though many of them looked to me as a "gay mentor or role model", I know it took me many years beyond my teens to get honest with myself and subsequently my loved ones. But now that I'm here, I'm excited that these kids have an outlet that supports them to be their truth and I commit to be some difference to ensure that they stay safe and supported, even when their families turn them away.  Click on http://www.hmi.org/ for more information and ways that you can help.

Just before I went to visit the kids and the staff at The Harvey Milk High School, my friend Devon called me from Cleveland. He may be as big a "DREAMGIRLS" fan as I am. He reminded me that the original soundtrack from the Broadway musical had been released. And it featured four more songs on the one-disc in addition to a 2nd disc that features instrumentals of the songs and a remix of Jennifer Holliday's classic "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going". I scooped it up quickly from the Virgin Union Square before heading out to New Rochelle to spend the next couple of days with my friends Nichole and Tony Shellman at their home. "DREAMGIRLS" would score my commute out there (and back). It would  bring me joy, but also have me waxing nostalgic for the simpler time (The first time I purchased this product it was an album and I had to turn it over, after Jennifer Holliday sang "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going"). 

When I don't go home to be with my family, I stay up here and spend time with my 'chosen family', The Shellmans who always put their collective feet in the many pots to make for a taste sensation of soul food. From the fried turkey to the cornbread stuffing with sausage to the corn casserole to my favorite: cranberry jelly from a can, I ate and ate and ate as if it was my last meal. We did have a chance to work it off on Friday when we went bowling at the Harlem Lanes, which is a lovely, new getaway in the neighborhood. With ol' skool and nu skool hip hop blasting from the speakers, I averaged 120 - beating everyone except for Nichole's brother-in-law David Cole, who boasted a 140. None of the scores were all that impressive (as I can rock 200 on a good day), but it was all in fun and fellowship.

I did find myself a little blue amidst all of this connection as I began to miss my own family.  Since I moved here to the New York area, I've had to get over the blues for home many times because so many things have changed around how my family gathers for Thanksgiving. (Christmas pretty much still holds as a time we all gather in Savannah at my Dad's place). This year, Dad was with his wife's family in Macon. Then, they went on a cruise. My Atlanta-based sister and her husband went to celebrate the holiday with our Dad's side of the family in Augusta while my Savannah-based brother was home with mom's side, including his son/my nephew, who came home from his freshman year at Morehouse College.  (Ironically, I'd find out that while I was making the most of my time, bowling in Harlem, my actual blood family was gathered in Savannah, bowling as well... about 20 strong). Though I'm always grateful to have access to wonderful people I love, like the Shellmans (and enjoy the times we share), I think a tragedy around another of my chosen families made my heart flutter a bit in sadness. My dear friend Robin Stone (with whom I share a birthday) had a Thanksgiving she won't soon forget. Her husband (and also dear friend of mine) Gerald Boyd passed away on that day. Now, life as she and their young child Zachary knew it, will be different. Since I am an active member of the National Association of Black Journalists, Robin, who presided over the New York Association of Black Journalists in 1995, took me in as soon as I landed eleven years ago. She made sure I got involved, but also made sure I knew that there were people of color in the industry on whom I could rely for support and encouragement, especially given I was so far from home. Over the years, I have had the chance to share lovely times with Robin and Gerald - including a handful of generous invitations to join them on Martha's Vineyard where they would summer in a lovely home. Also, here in Manhattan, they were known for hosting lovely 'open houses' and 'book parties' for their author friends. I always considered it a total honor to be in that number. And this was all done on top of his esteemed career as the highest-ranking African American at "The New York Times". As heady as all of that was, he was nothing short of kind, connected, and warm when I would walk into their hospitality space. He would greet me with the biggest hug and send me home with the same, intimate embrace. It is that same care and compassion that he adopted for his career and for his family. In fact, he and I had a chance to talk about all of those things this New Year's Day, when I took my new boyfriend Anthony to their home for an 'open house'. I asked and he told me all about the challenges of writing his memoir, pointing out that deconstructing his childhood years has been the biggest cross to bear. He asked and I told him all about the new things in my life, including Anthony. And with a smile, he weighed in authentically. And though we didn't see each other often (maybe 3 or 4 times a year), I have a mental treasure chest of memories I will hold near and dear. Still, I miss him already. 

When I came home late Friday night (from bowling), I got an e-mail from someone I hadn't seen or spoken to in - easily - a decade. She didn't tell me who she was in the e-mail, but she called me "Pick Rick", which is a nickname that only certain people called me when I was a child. Additionally, she attached this phone picture of herself to her correspondence and gave me some more hints. I soon uncovered that it was GWEN BETHEA (though I didn't initially recognize her from the picture). She is a member of our fellow AIR FORCE FAMILY, THE BETHEAS that -- for more than 25 years -- divinely traveled alongside wherever our respective dads led us internationally throughout a big chunk of their time in the AIR FORCE. The BETHEAs were ultimately a family of 5 as we were: two married parents and three kids each (two boys and a girl per trio). One child from each family was born in America (janice/randy). One child from each family was born in Germany (herman/gwen). One child from each family was born in Japan (me/jimmy). When we moved back to the States in the mid-'70s, both families were in Georgia at the same time (rileys/valdosta... betheas/atlanta). Then, when we moved to California, my family was in San Bernadino and the Betheas were in Sacramento. Then, we moved back to Georgia (savannah) and they moved back to Georgia (atlanta/decatur). We were always no less than five hours away from each other on any given continent.  For a good twenty years (thereabout), we did all Thanksgivings together (in the respective locales). The respective mothers of the RILEY/BETHEA combo were best friends and always joyfully coordinated the meals and the logistics. And the dads handled transportation and beer. And through the ages (into adolescence), all the kids were quite close too. I recall that the BETHEAs took me in July 1983, so I could see DIANA ROSS' CENTRAL PARK CONCERT (on SHOWTIME). My family had HBO in Savannah and securing SHOWTIME wasn't a consideration. So, knowing the BETHEAs had SHOWTIME (and I had no summer plans), I cajoled my parents to let me stay in Atlanta with the BETHEAs for the month of July towards being able to see the concert. And I got more than I bargained for i.e. I got two concerts as the first day was a history-making rain-out, after a half-hour... AND I snagged a couple of Diana Ross albums i.e. Gwen's "Why Do Fools Fall In Love?" and from the BETHEA parents' impressive collection of "albums" (with which i spent lots of time inspecting and reading liner notes), the 1972 "Surrender", Ross' Ashford and Simpson-produced  follow-up to her hit solo debut). Oh, those were really great times for me. But over time, things changed dramatically.  My mom passed away in 1994, though by then, the yearly visits during Thanksgiving had subsided as the kids were now college-age and we were actually the visitors at our mother's home. The Bethea parents divorced, though we did still have chances to see them (just not on holidays). And as all the kids have become adults, we don't really stay in touch. And with that, we don't do THANKSGIVINGs together anymore. And as Gwen pointed out in her e-mail, her mother's health is waning a bit. Still,  receiving this e-mail from Gwen takes me right back to a figurative snapshot in my mind that shows two families - ten people total - in happier times: laughing, eating, playing, and just enjoying a bond that lasted a long time. Though nothing is forever, I am sure that the bond between THE BETHEAS and THE RILEYS will last for an eternity in our memories. The caption of the snapshot in my mind reads: WITH GRATITUDE, THANK YOU FOR THE BEST YEARS OF MY LIFE. (and what better time than THANKSGIVING to express that sentiment). THANKS GWEN... for jogging this memory. And at this time, let me say THANKS to all who --- even with this spray of sadness I'm feeling --- have showered me with eternal blessings and positive moments that continue to enthusiastically call joy forth in my mind, heart, and soul.

Hi folks,

As you know, I am an independent producer/talent/writer here in NYC. 

In addition to continuing with my busy workload and current independent contracts, I launched the blog, "The Life of Riley: pop culture and possibilities", a couple of weeks ago: http://thelifeofriley.squarespace.com/ .

And the response has been overwhelming. TODAY, we are featured in NEWSDAY in a column that Katti Gray wrote.   It looks at blogging through her filter, but to my estimation, celebrates "The Life of Riley" at the same time.

As I look ahead to my 36th birthday (on November 19th) and Thanksgiving, I seem to always have the media around (this month) to remind me that I am on a journey to spread authenticity, vulnerability, love, understanding, and panache to whoever chooses to listen.

For about five years now, it seems a media impression that reflects my truth pops up annually in November. A few years back, it seems a media impression that reflects my truth pops up annually - mostly in November. A few years back, you'll perhaps recall Newsday's GRATITUDE column and after that, there was a story on REALITY TV that chronicled a show I hosted for TLC a couple of years ago. And last year, I told millions on national TV 'when I knew I was gay'. And Newsday also covered a promising pilot I co-hosted a couple of years ago. 

Well, it's another year... another time to reflect... another time to be grateful... and another time to explore one of the tiers of my truth in hopes that it will touch somebody who's working through their own piece or who is open to inform and shift their thoughts and beliefs. And now, you can go to "The Life of Riley" any day you choose and hopefully be entertained and inspired.

As "The Life of Riley" goes, we will soon launch some other cool things - like podcasts, a website, and down the line, TV and magazine projects around the brand. So, stay tuned.

And please pick up Monday's NEWSDAY:

http://www.newsday.com/features/ny-etcolumn4963394nov06,0,2726033.column?coll=ny-news-columnists

I'D RATHER SEE MY FRIEND THAN HIS BLOG

BY KATTI GRAY

Out of all my most intimate friends, Patrick Riley has an unrivaled sense of color and charm. He’s a towering, lanky guy, given to gliding through the front door at a party, his right hand aloft and waving like a beauty queen’s.

“It’s a new day,” Patrick will shout above the din, making his glad presence known as he quotes Diana Ross, his favorite celebrity. A freelance television producer, Patrick has had more access to her than the average person, even got front-row seats once to her extra-lustrous concert in Greenwich, Conn. He has transmitted, via e-mail, to a chosen few of his confidanes several photos taken as the diva straightened hems and patted cheeks at one of her daughters' weddings. 

These shared chronicles from his private life do not end there. He’s transmitted pictures of his nephew’s graduation, his father’s retirement dinner, his solo singing at an assortment of out-of-town events, his interview of President Clinton, his much-older cousin working it on the dance floor at a family picnic. He writes words to accompany them all, and sometimes sends only his written musings, with no photos attached.

Not surprisingly, Patrick recently became the first among my select few intimates to start blogging, which piques my curiosity. “It’s not so different from jotting down an e-mail, as I’ve done for so many years,” Patrick said.

“Nice, looooong e-mails,” I interjected.

“Yes, nice long ones, real stream-of-consciousness,” Patrick said. “And you don’t have to be at a very high level, in terms of the writing, to do this.”

That’s for sure, I thought to myself, what with anybody who can type free to blog (though Patrick is a very able writer).

Still, neither having the time nor inclination to read most of what my e-mail inbox receives from him several times a week – if not per day – I’ve opened only a few of his missives over the years. “Dropping It Like It’s Hot,” the picture of Patrick’s dancing cousin, accompanied by a scant description, took the edge off a stressed-out workday recently. And in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, Patrick’s reflections on being single and far, far away from his kin as his adopted city burned ended up getting published in a magazine.

Though he announced the debut of “Life of Riley,” his blog, with another e-mail, I’ve yet to log into the 3-week-old venture, if it can be called that. The launch is made possible by free 60-day trial at an Internet site specializing in blog-hosting. “In case this isn’t for me,” Patrick said.

Another friend in his circle, a woman who works in advertising and marketing and came of age digitally, held on to a mountain of e-mails Patrick has sent over the years. Some inner voice told her, Tawanna “Tata” Matthews said, that Patrick had stocked enough e-mail missives to launch a blog, podcast, something techno and easily accessible that also might raise his profile. A freelancer is always beating the pavement for work.

“Twenty-four hours later, we were up and running," Patrick said. "It’s that easy. Tata reminded me that I’ve written stuff that made people laugh and made them cry, and that your blog should pretty much say who you are.”

Blogging is a tool for growing his personal brand, he said, and a place to readily deposit random musings he’d like to share but for which he’s no more formal outlet as yet.

“Me, an African-American from Savannah , Ga. , took my boyfriend home to meet my family,” said Patrick, citing an example of those slapdash musings. “That was a huge stretch for me in my struggle to be out as a gay person … I wanted them to see what love looks like on me.”

That seems, to me, a topic that merits being aired in a more reputable, established arena than the blogosphere, which is open to anyone and, for that reason, resistable. Is blogging essential? Is that what it takes to be a contender these days?

Patrick wants to hear my impressions of this latest undertaking. I’ve promised to take a look-see as soon as I’ve the time and wherewithal. But I’d much rather discuss his adventures face-to-face, than in front of an ever-consuming computer.

Katti Gray’s e-mail address is katti@kattigray.com .

I was talking on the phone to one of my nearest and dearest friends Nichole Shellman. She got a call from a co-worker of hers who told her "ED BRADLEY just died". In shock, Nichole came back to me on the other line and shared the news. I was stunned - in part because I didn't know Ed Bradley was suffering with leukemia and I just saw him the other week. I was in Downtown Manhattan's The Village going into fabulous restaurant Blue Ribbon Bakery on Downing. He had apparently just dined with some friends and was on the street corner (just across from what used to be Bar-Do). And through the window, I waved at him. He knowingly waved back as we had several opportunities over my career to acquaint. The most recent time was the most memorable and the memory I will hold most closely. Along with my colleague Michael K. Watts, I had the opportunity to co-produce the National Association of Black Journalists' Salute to Excellence Awards in Washington D.C. He not only was honored, but he enjoyed the night. R&B great Angela Bofill performed (just before suffering her stroke) and I have a wonderful snapshot in my mind of Mr. Ed Bradley holding onto her every word as she performed a short set of her quiet-storm hits. I was responsible for scripting his tribute, which was presented by "Our World"s Ed Gordon. It read as follows: 

THIS FALL, ONE OF OUR OWN MADE TELEVISION HISTORY.

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS 25 YEARS OF STELLAR BROADCASTING, ED BRADLEY IS THE FIRST FACE SEEN AFTER THE TICKING STOPWATCH ON CBS NEWS' "60 MINUTES."

BUT TO NABJ, HE HAS ALWAYS BEEN THE 'FIRST FACE.'

THE PIONEERING JOURNALIST’S 19 EMMYS ARE TESTAMENT TO HIS ABILITY TO TELL A GREAT STORY. AND FOR 25 SEASONS, WE’VE BECOME ACCUSTOMED TO THOSE SUNDAY NIGHT MASTERPIECES.

INDEED, ED BRADLEY IS A MASTER STORYTELLER.

WHILE TELEVISION MADE HIM A HOUSEHOLD NAME, RADIO WAS HIS FIRST MEDIUM OF CHOICE BACK IN THE EARLY '60S.

BUT A LEAP FROM PHILADELPHIA TO NEW YORK CITY WOULD LAND HIM AT CBS AND ON TV... AND SINCE THEN, BROADCAST NEWS HASN'T BEEN THE SAME.

ED HAS PUT HIMSELF IN HARM'S WAY TO COVER THE FRONTLINE OF THE WORLD'S WAR ZONES.

HE REPORTED FROM CBS’ SAIGON BUREAU IN 1972.

AND JUST AFTER THAT, HIS WORK WITH CAMBODIAN REFUGEES GAVE AMERICA AN UP-CLOSE AND OFTEN GRAPHIC LOOK AT THAT CRISIS.

HE WAS LATER ASSIGNED TO THE CBS NEWS WASHINGTON BUREAU, PLACING HIMSELF FRONT AND CENTER AT THE WHITE HOUSE.

BUT IT WOULD BE "60 MINUTES" THAT PROVED TO BE ED BRADLEY'S FINEST HOUR.

FROM NUCLEAR BOMBS TO TIMOTHY MCVEIGH.

FROM MUHAMMAD ALI TO BOB DYLAN.

ED BRADLEY HAS TALKED TO THEM ALL.

BUT IT WAS NOT A CONVERSATION WITH A WORLD LEADER THAT PROVED TO BE ED’S FAVORITE… IT WAS WITH THE WOMAN WHO MADE STORMY WEATHER SUNNY, LENA HORNE! 

ED BRADLEY IS HERE TO BE HONORED FOR HIS LIFETIME OF WORK. AND PART OF THAT GREATNESS IS HIS LONGEVITY. ALONG WITH THE LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARD, ED WILL TAKE HOME TWO ‘SALUTE TO EXCELLENCE AWARDS’ TONIGHT.

HE AND HIS "60 MINUTES" TEAM WON THE FEATURES-LONG FORM CATEGORY FOR THEIR STORY ON "RAY CHARLES"...

AND ALSO IN THE ENTERPRISE CATEGORY FOR THEIR EXPOSE ON "THE MURDER OF EMMETT TILL."

ED BRADLEY IS STILL PROVING THAT JOURNALISM MATTERS BY TELLING STORIES… GREAT STORIES… OUR STORIES.

FOR THESE REASONS, NABJ IS PROUD TO PRESENT THE 2005 LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARD TO ED BRADLEY.

It was a huge honor to serve NABJ and ED BRADLEY in this way. And knowing that ED BRADLEY was a pop culture guy like me (via his love of "jazz" and all things "classic") makes me smile at his take on his critically- acclaimed Lena Horne interview. He once said: “If I arrived at the pearly gates and St. Peter said, ‘What did you do to deserve entry?’ I’d just say, ‘Did you see my Lena Horne story?’” 

============

Then, just a day later, before I could even wrap my brain around the loss of Ed Bradley, I'm being driven to Philadelphia. Actually, I was already in Philadelphia and five-minutes-away from the home of Patti Labelle, who I was scheduled to interview. And my crew called to give me a heads up that she might not be in the mood because she just found out that a good friend of hers died. I'd find out very soon that it was Gerald Levert and that - at 40 - he had a heart attack. Miss Labelle and Mr. Levert have performed together many times and his father Eddie Levert of legendary O'Jays fame is her contemporary. And she celebrated Gerald during our talk and went so far as to pull out her new gospel CD, "The Gospel According to Patti Labelle", sign it for me and then she played it for me. When Track #4 came on, I told her she should dedicate that one to him. She said she would. It's a favorite gospel tune of mine called "Walk Around Heaven" that I remember from hearing my dad's old "Mighty Clouds of Joy" albums. Patti's version is wonderful and will lift Gerald up... and comfortably hold his family... during this major loss for R&B music. 

-------------------

After I left Cleveland, I went to Chicago to file a piece. While there, I uncovered several early birthday gifts. As you know, I've been talking about "DREAMGIRLS" since the launch of this blog. And I've been in love with the musical since the now-legendary hit debuted on Broadway. Of course, I was just an 11-year-old in Savannah, but I was taken by the iconography of these three, glamorous women who were all over EBONY and JET. And I just lost it, once I got a copy of the soundtrack, which I memorized from beginning to end (filling in the blanks of my mind with how I thought the parts of the musical that weren't on the soundtrack looked). While seeing any version of the stage musical that I could get my hand on (as recently as February in Philadelphia at the Prince Street Theater), I've lived through speculation in the late 1980s that perhaps Whitney Houston would play the lead role of Deena Jones, patterned after Diana Ross. I covered stories for now-defunct BET Weekend Magazine in the late '90s when Lauryn Hill's name was being bandied about to portray the lead role. But at that time, the project was yet again shelved and placed into development hell. Then, come the turn of the century, Beyonce became the name attached and perhaps that sorta' third time was the charm because she IS Deena Jones in the movie adaptation of "DREAMGIRLS" due in theaters at Christmas. After Fantasia and a slew of others auditioned to be the disgruntled-but-redeemed Effie White (the character that gets to sing the blockbuster hit "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going" and "I Am Changing"), "American Idol" finalist Jennifer Hudson's name was thrown into the mix. When I interviewed her in August at the National Association of Black Journalists convention, she said she was turned down three times before ultimately getting yet another call from the producers that she won the role. Jennifer also sang three songs for us at NABJ, including "One Night Only" and a new ditty that was written just for the film (along with three other original tunes). I joked "I need a cigarette", after we saw a 30-minute teaser of the film and after Jennifer Hudson performed. I don't smoke, but I needed something to calm my nerves. I'm just that excited about "DREAMGIRLS"!!! Fast forward three months and I happen to be in Chicago and able to accept an invitation to a preview screening of the entire film. My heart is still palpitating from the experience as I absolutely LOVED the movie. Seeing it on the big screen further enthralls me into the magic of this special musical. And I can't wait for everyone to see it. This is the movie to see with your family and friends after Christmas dinner. I sure will.

Meanwhile, while in Chicago, I stumbled into another invitation - to see an icon! I'm not necessarily a big fan, but I do LOVE and RESPECT her art and mastery of craft. I haven't really bought any of her music or gone to the theater to see any of her films, but I know all about them. In fact, going to see Miss Barbra Streisand at her sold-out, United Airlines Arena concert, reminded me - for sure - that this woman is permanently woven into our pop culture conscience. I knew every word as she effortlessly and - in perfect pitch and tone - sang her greatest hits. My friend and I sat just next to the stage in the first section. So, we saw everything from stage right (her good side! smile!). And we could see Rosie O'Donnell sitting front and center as she's been benignly stalking Barbra in most cities on this tour. In fact, Rosie is doing a documentary on her obsession with this tour and her crew interviewed me afterwards, when I walked out of the amazing performance. I gave it a thumbs up! But I also pointed out that I was a bit distracted at the larger-than-life teleprompter which was suspended from the ceiling or maybe the score-board. Its contents were more than lyrical. The teleprompter featured every word of her banter between songs, including some especially-researched Chicago stats on food, fun, and culture. Those sitting on the floor didn't have a clue as La Streisand's delivery is impeccable and she made you feel like she was "speaking" to you and not "reading". But from my vantage point, I saw her ably represent as the "showwoman" she is alongside maintaining the perfectionist that the "electronic cue card" allowed her to be. That said, no "teleprompter" could mirror or make up the beautiful sounds that came out of Barbra's voice box. She sounded smooth and silky, like butter. And when she delivered songs like "The Way We Were" and "Evergreen", there were barerly any dry eyes in the house, which was comprised of few folks who shared my hue (I counted 10. 50, if you count the folks who work there). Still, grown men were crying and they weren't all gay. We were all one that night and truly enhanced for the experience. Simon Cowell's manufactured discovery "Il Divo", quartet of international pop/opera singers, joined Streisand during her set (including performing their hits like "Unbreak My Heart" and "Unchained Melody" while she changed her gowns). I was upset when I saw that she was planning to take her solo of "Somewhere" (from "West Side Story") and share it with the group of hunky men. But the standing ovation I chose to give (along with my friends [READ: everybody in the arena]) corroborated that Streisand knows best. She didn't go political because her George Bush look-alike had another event (It was election night). She instead gave us an extra song "Stoney End", a Bones Howe composition that my diva Diana Ross also recorded in the early '70s. In fact, this song or another Bones Howe composition "Time & Love" could have been Diana's first solo single (instead of Ashford & Simpson's "Reach Out & Touch (Somebody's Hand)"). But Berry Gordy shelved all of this material for the more soulful sound.  Though I digress, this tidbit does give me an opportunity to comment on how my diva Diana Ross has been called "the black Barbra Streisand" for having delivered a successful career of recording, stage, film, and TV success. Diana nor Barbra have commented minimally (if at all) on the comparisons, but Diana did do an album of "Funny Girl" material with the Supremes. And in addition to the Bones Howe materials, Diana went on to work with Barry Gibb and brothers on her "Eaten Alive" album after Barbra had success with her "Guilty" project. And she recorded Diane Warren's "Heart (Don't Change My Mind)" on her worldwide success, 1991 "Force Behind the Power" album. Maybe I was subconsciously a Barbra Streisand fan all along (for a reason).  

Though not a fan of hers from the beginning, Natalie would soon become my best friend since 9th grade. We spent lots of time in our high school classes - talking, laughing, and supporting each other. She's been there for me through all my landmark moments as I have her. She not only introduced me as her "best friend" at our high school graduation, where I spoke, but she would continue to be just that as we both went to neighboring colleges in Atlanta i.e. Morehouse and Spelman respectively. Natalie too met her husband Dwayne in 9th grade and they would go on to be married and have two little girls who they are raising in Atlanta. And I would sing at their wedding. This past April, she and Dwayne came and spent time with my boyfriend, other friends, and me as I gave her a birthday gift of "The Color Purple" (on Broadway) and some other special features that she deserved for being such a good woman. Ironically, this week, she happened to be in Chicago as well (for her business. She is a dual-degree math and engineer major from Spelman and Georgia Tech). As a result, she and I had a small window of opportunity to catch up. So, I took her to a restaurant everyone has been raving about "Japonais", contemporary asian cuisine. And though we were both exhausted from our busy days (and week), we caught up while enjoying sushi, a tempura dish, and a 7-spice rib-eye steak (of $65 fame) that made me want to slap somebody's mama. But I don't think Lydia and Hannah, Nat's kids, would have appreciated me going there with theirs. So, instead, we ended the night with a hug and a smile for having had the chance to catch up one more time. And though the meal was on me, it too reinforced what "a gift" (perhaps "an early birthday gift") Nat continues to be to me.

Looking back on when I was a little nappy-headed boy of eight-years-old, I met a young, bespectacled kid named Reggie at Largo-Tibet Elementary School in Savannah, Georgia. He was born in Philadelphia, but bred in the Savannah. My family and I had just arrived from San Bernandino, California. My dad chose 'The Coastal Empire', his and my mom's hometown, as the place where he and my mom would continue raising us kids alongside his final two years in the Air Force as a Chief Master Sergeant. This, until he retired. Dad would complete his term at Warner Robbins Air Force Base which was about three hours from Savannah, where he'd commute every weekend. Mom would hold the fort in our new home with my two siblings and me.

As the only two 'advanced placement', Black kids in the 3rd grade, Reggie and I bonded quickly. In a sea of white faces, we knew we could look at each other for life support and encouragement. Admittedly, Reggie was the difference to have that bond hold because I was a bit withdrawn and to myself, when it came to meeting new people and studying in groups. I did come alive in the classroom and have a way about me when it came time to read or "present", but once the school bell rang to signal the end of the day, I was always happy to rush home and get my homework done, watch a little TV, eat dinner, read a book, watch more TV, and then go to bed. Reggie sometimes liked to come over and - to my young mind - that meant I had to 'entertain' and 'be on'. Truth be told, I learned through Reggie's visits what it looks like to be comfortable in your skin and to just trust that you are enough to have great results show up. Reggie has always shown up as a possibility, even when his own life's circumstances were dim and dire. I came from a household that had mom, dad, and pantries full of food and closets filled with clothing, and not always did I know that - outside of those trappings - I mattered. As I would sometimes comment on what I saw as differences between Reggie and me, my mom would say "That's a good thing because you compliment each other and can learn from those differences". Inside of that, Reggie and I continued to be "the best of friends", though he did leave our elementary school for another. We wouldn't come together as friends again until middle school as I navigated through 'being the only one' (African American) in the advanced classes for the next couple of years (Until Tonja and her family came to town from Macon in 6th grade).

From middle school through to high school, Reggie and I always maintained our closeness. Though we were maturing and developing our interests, we continued to be special friends, again, because he made sure to stay in touch and always reach out. Disparate cliques and contrasting academic trajectories didn't stop Reggie and me from having each other's back. Coupled with a growing comfort with my popularity and how that showed up socially, I began to excel more pointedly into the arts i.e. language, music, drama, media, etc. But I still maintained good grades in science and math. Reggie - on the other hand - was no wallflower and he loved language, but his expertise in advanced science and math were quite impressive. And as he bandied formulas and concepts about, I was usually looking over my head to try and uncover what exactly he was talking about. I didn't always succeed at figuring it out either.

We each graduated high school with many a distinction that reflected what we were individually about. Though I was the graduation speaker and voted "Best All Around" for ALL that I did successfully in school, I can still hear my father's amazement at how much money Reggie was getting in scholarships to go to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I, on the other hand, was getting much less from Morehouse College, though its glowing distinction for me sparkled through the prism of one of my favorite things, the media - Spike Lee's movie musical  "School Daze" and the NBC hit sitcom "A Different World" - both of which captured the entertaining yet intellectual hybrid that historically black colleges and universities (like Morehouse) can represent. And I wanted to be up in that. Moreover, the impressive repository of alums that graduated my school include Lee, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Samuel L. Jackson, Olympic track star Edwin Moses, Maynard Jackson, Dr. Louis Sullivan, etc. As I saw it, my name would one day be spoken on that impressive list.

Though Reggie was in Cambridge and I was in Atlanta, we still found time to be in touch and maintain the friendship from over the miles. I rememeber when the world-renowned Morehouse College Glee Club went on tour, including a stop in Boston and Cambridge. Reggie came to see us perform, he got to meet my college friends. It was a great reunion.

Once we both completed our under-graduate degrees, we began the serious work of making our dreams come true. For Reggie, there would be more school as "scientists" aren't built in a day. My career as a "journalist" has less academic nuance tied to it, so I managed to land an awesome first and second gig. Out of school, I was a reporter trainee for the #1 station in Atlanta. Then, when I got clear that hard news wasn't what I wanted to wake up to everyday, I was offered a position to help launch "Good Day Atlanta" at a competing station. Through that work as an associate/ features producer, I got the chance to create entertainment content for a morning show, interview a slew of celebrities and newsmakers when they came to town, and be an overall tastemaker for trends in pop culture. And because Reggie decided to further his degree at Georgia Tech (in Atlanta), we again got to reconnect. As adults, our differences were just as compartmental, but somehow we continued to meet in the middle.

One day, not too unlike the little-boy Reggie, who would come over and visit me at my home, he came by my little apartment in Buckhead and shared his vision with me. Over the years, Reggie and I had been Teen Peer Counselors and had done a lot of community outreach. He continued that in college as did I. My thought - in that I had rested and relied on so many mentors to get my career off and running - is that "One day I'll give back to some young journalist in the way that my advisers had done with me". But Reggie's philosophy was "Why not now?".

He knew how to get money from grants. He had experience with non-profit organizations. He was - as always - a visionary. Much like he was able to enroll me in hanging out a little bit longer before I retreated to my homework in 3rd grade, Reggie had convinced me that we - together - could start a summer camp for kids. We would have the program's curriculum reflect our best assets, meaning there would be lots of science and math. And for my contribution, we'd incorporate public speaking, writing, media, and creative expression. Then, much like Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney who in their '20s film classics would say "Let's put on a show in the barn!", we thought "Let's bring our friends in to support the effort from their expertise". So, Ern was a money guy. Fresh out of college, he decided to move to Atlanta for work, but this gave him another outlet to use his skills set. Nat could teach math for which she's getting two degrees around that discipline. And Tish can help run the program, given she's preparing to get her masters in Public Health Administration. Dwayne has everybody's back, so why not have him 'have the back' of the program. And on and on. Well, it was a brilliant brainchild that grew into a six-week daycamp housed at Georgia Tech and WE DID IT!!! With Reggie's magic, we got funding. I managed through my connections to get us lots of press and promotional support in the way of in-kind donations. With democracy at the fore, I recall influencing the program's name: "OPTIONS: Image of the Future". And our target student was not an at-risk youth nor an overachiever. This program was for any kid who may have some strengths in math or science, but could afford to tighten up their communication and writing skills. Or, vice versa.

And it was a summer of "infinite possibilities". To manage the two dozen students on a five-day week for six weeks was a lot of work as we were balancing this commitment with our existing work and social calendars. But we really did it. And it was a success. And it pointed out for me that we did not need to wait until we were graying or balding to be a difference for young people. Reggie taught me that.

And though we were impressed with ourselves, we chose not to rest on our laurels. We looked to the summer of 1994 as year two of our prized program for kids. Interestingly, we suffered the sophomore slump and summer: phase 2 did not fare as well. Certain funding fell through. Staffing changed as the friends in our inner-circle had new commitments for their own careers that required we outsource some of the tasks. There were growing pains with that. I had a car accident that put my burgundy mazda protege in the shop and inhibited me from being able to run the necessary errands to keep things on schedule. And then, out of nowhere, my mother died in July of 1994.

And on a high of doing and making things happen, I came crumbling down in the wake of losing her. Everyone showed up for me as they knew how to do (all in different ways), but the emotion of the loss and the stress from managing the balance of the camp, put an unprecedented strain on Reggie and me. By summer's end, we managed to close out the schedule, vow to never work together again, and - for a long time - not even speak to each other.  Reggie and Patrick had a breakdown and "OPTIONS: Image of the Future" had left the building... for good.

And for the last twelve years, Reggie and I have been living our lives on separate plains - growing respectably in our own rights. But not in touch. During that time, he got married. Though I met his wife before our falling out, I was not invited to the nuptials. (But through mutual friends, I heard about it). He's since gotten divorced and remarried. I've not met her either. He too has moved a few times since our days in Atlanta. My world began to evolve during this break as I decided to come out of the closet as a gay man. He missed the first run of that and all the fallout there. I moved to New York from Atlanta and continue to build a successful career around my branding as an independent producer/personality/writer. And somewhere in all of that, the time came when Reggie reached out and we were able to heal from the hurt, if only to open up a window for us to stay in touch. Diana Ross once sang that "HOPE is an open window".

And since we've been communicating again, I have found out that Reggie is still very much walking the walk that we presented to the students who participated in "OPTIONS: Image of the Future" over ten years ago. With his future (which is now), Reggie is Dr. Reginald Parker. He is "inventing new organic electronic materials through nanocomposites and molecular assembly". Still, over my head, but I'm certain it's something that's poised to change the world.  And I'm building a brand not too unlike the interests from my youth - including this blog which is a part of a purpose-driven campaign called "The Life of Riley: pop culture and possibilities". It's not rocket science, but feedback already is showing me that authenticity, vulnerability, love, and panache can move figurative mountains. And for all we've achieved, there's more to conquer.

Reggie's and my beginnings as children have mirrored our continuation as teenagers have mirrored our adulthood. The mirrors are just bigger. And at some point, we needed separate mirrors. And Reggie and I haven't discussed it and maintain even more differences now than before in our respective lives, but I won't be surprised if the "image" of Reggie's and my future is somehow tied in together. After all, remember what my mom said? "That's a good thing because you compliment each other and can learn from those differences." So, there are angels on our shoulders perhaps guiding that next phase.