my dad

The day after my dad passed away a newspaper reporter asked me, “What are some of the most precious memories you have of your father?” I didn’t hesitate in my response.

I said I loved his sense of adventure, how he was always excited to experience something new. I said I loved how loyal he was to his friends and how committed he was to the organizations he belonged to. He was a real go-to guy—always willing to help.

I talked about what a great multi-tasker he was. He would try to fix a leaky pipe, a flat tire and install the TV antenna, even though his skills in each of those areas was lacking. I recalled how he supported my love for athletics, taking me to see the Bill Russell Celtics, Lew Alcindor in his rookie season with the Bucks, the Big O and Wilt. And I mentioned how he always supported my athletic endeavors—even though it really wasn’t the popular thing to do at the time.

Those times, along with packing my 250 Barbie dolls in the back of the Country Squire and traveling around the country are among my fondest memories of Dad.

But, I think the most important thing I revealed was this. As a daddy’s girl, I might have had my father wrapped around my little finger, but in turn, he had me wrapped around his heart.

I owe him so much. It was he who actually jumpstarted my journalism career by ringing me at 6 in the morning to tell me he had read about a summer journalism program at Berkeley. There was a catch, however. The deadline was that day. But we all know what God can do. And lo and behold, in the days before cell phones, fax machines and the internet, I was able to get it all done.

My bylines should actually read Miki Mose Turner.

We didn’t always get along though. He didn’t appreciate me always getting on him about his arterie-clogging, high-fat diet. And I wasn’t too keen on his criticisms regarding my hair. But I can’t ever remember arguing with my dad. I knew he loved me but I didn’t know how much until other people told me. Sometimes we try and see love even when we know it’s all about feeling it.
And if I have any regrets, one is that unlike Luther, I never got the opportunity to dance with my father. God knows he tried to teach me the jitterbug, the watusi and the lindy hop. I inherited his sense of adventure, but sadly, not his sense of rhythm. We never danced because I couldn’t.

I also regret that I didn’t take up golf when he tried to teach me as a kid. I thought the game was beyond boring, I couldn’t understand the scoring and the clothes weren’t really cool. Now, I am totally addicted to the game as he once was, but I’m still such a scrub.

Today, I am both relieved and saddened that dad has passed on. I am relieved because my Bible tells me that he will suffer no more. There will be no more pain or sorrow where he is now. He will now remember the things his illness made him forget and I trust that he is thankful, regardless of the way he passed, that he was blessed with a long and fruitful life.

I am relieved because that same book tells me that where he is, the streets are paved with gold and the only tears that are shed cascade down the happy faces of the righteous who have been granted eternal life. He is now among them, on the 7th tee with his 7-iron looking to bogey the next hole.

I am also saddened because he’s not physically here to slay the dragons that I will inevitably encounter as I grow even older. That’s what daddy’s do and my dad was the best dragon-slayer on the block.

No doubt, I will weep when I recall the good times in the future. Traveling the country with my dad and putting up with his annoying CB radio when all I wanted to do was listen to my Jackson 5 8-track. And I’m sure to get misty when I recall all the times I let him down.

Thankfully, however, he knew how much I loved and adored him and vice-versa. Our bond, along with the love and support I’ve received from my family and friends, will help sustain all of us as we mourn the loss of a good, honorable, loyal, giving and caring man.

Even though he’s gone, I am still strengthened by his spirit, his courage and his faith. I hope his new and old friends up in heaven realize just how very blessed they are to have him among them.

read by me on aug. 15, 2009 at my dad's homegoing service.

the thriller

icons pass on all the time. those of us who have enjoyed length of years have seen many of them go--some, way too soon.

today, the king of pop joined that exclusive club.

michael jackson was eight months and 26 days younger than me. he belonged to me. like many girls growing up in the late '60s and early '70s, i, too, embraced the jackson 5. they were the definitive entertainers and sex symbols of our generation. and although michael was unbelievably cute and tremendously talented he wasn't my favorite. i saved all my love for marlon and was sure that we would some day marry.


that said, i have every michael jackson album ever printed. as a kid my bedroom walls were covered with pictures of him and his brothers. i saw every j5 and every jacksons tour. and i drove more than 100 miles to see mike's "bad" tour in the late '80s at rfk stadium in d.c.

every event, every experience, every memory--extraordinary.

i was sitting at home watching the cnn coverage on farrah fawcett's death when i got a call from essence.com saying that tmz was reporting that michael jackson had been taken to the hospital, a victim of cardiac arrest. i was running late for an appointment but told the girl on the phone i would make a few calls. no one responded before i had to leave but the news was confirmed on kfi-am en route to my destination.

before i had a chance to digest this news my celly literally began blowing up with friends from around the world calling and texting.

"michael?"
"is it true?"
"it's not good."

and by the time i had gotten to the "lincoln heights" set:

"girl, tmz is reporting that he's dead!!!"

surreal doesn't even begin to describe it.

like many people i found michael to be a bit odd, weird. but given all that he had purportedly gone through as a child, and as a young adult, i can understand why he wanted to hang out with chimps and why he would purposely wear pajamas to court. i realized the first time i met him it ain't easy being green.

you can't, however, take away his impact on pop culture or ignore his enormous talent. he was, as many others will say in the coming days, one of a kind.

so, those of us who were weaned on "i want you back," "abc," "the love you save," "i'll be there," "dancing machine," "maybe tomorrow," "ben," "don't stop till you get enough," "rock with you," "thriller," "billie jean," "man in the mirror" and all the other gems should just remember the young boy who once rocked our world and not the aging superstar from neverland who spent most of his adult life dancing down a rocky road.

be proud that you lived long enough to experience the magic that was michael jackson.

i know i am.

a time to smile--again

it has been a horrendously stressful week. another health scare with dad. extreme back pain. more disappointing news. so, i needed a sunny sunday. thankfully, my wish was His command.

it all started out really well. despite my vicodin hangover i made it to the 8 a.m. service at west angeles and was extremely elated that no one gave me attitude because i wasn't wearing first sunday sequins like 95 percent of the other women.

i was, however, blinded by the bling--particularly the multi-carat ice adorning the hands of pauletta washington (mrs. denzel) and cookie johnson (mrs. magic).

two hours later i headed over to the larchmont farmer's market. if i'm in l.a. there's no place i'd rather be on a sunday morning than larchmont village--mostly because it doesn't feel like l.a.

it gives me peace.

although i'm usually alone when i go to the market i'm never really alone. more often than not i'm on my iphone talking to a friend on the east coast. this morning it was marilyn monroe--yes, that's her real name. marilyn, who lives on long island, is a great listener and an even better storyteller so our conversations are always lively. plus she has this amazing ability to bring you out of the deepest funk, and can be very encouraging, too. this morning she convinced me that buying a small tin of five-cheese, high fat, severely caloric, artery-clogging mac-and-cheese would be a very, very good thing.

she was right. i bought it and served it up with the bbq tofu, baked beans and salad i had for dinner. sure, it raised my blood pressure 16 points but was well worth it.

my initial plan once i returned home was to spend a quiet afternoon reading my new books--"vegan soul kitchen" and "let's get it on"--but i got a little antsy after dinner and hit the road. i was hoping that i could convince my friend janet to play tennis.

that didn't happen.

she wanted to watch the fakers and nothing depresses me more these days than the thought of them winning another NBA title. so, i came home, drew a bath and was all set to settle down with jill nelson's sexual tome but i couldn't keep my eyes open. after taking a little disco nap in the tub i retired to the living room to watch a little tv. nothing in my 300-channel universe piqued my interest so i decided to watch an awards show.

i have never ever watched the tony awards but i was curious after reading several posts on how cool tonight's show was on facebook. and although most of the nominees and shows (save for the revivals) were unfamiliar to me, i found the vibe rather engaging. broadway is like this giant cesspool of acceptance.

bring me your blacks, your whites, your straights, your gays, your young, your old and everyone in between.

wouldn't mind going to that after-party--especially with the folks who were in that room.

like liza minnelli, damn, she's sounding just like her mom. wow, susan sarandon's gown is hella tight. neil patrick harris, the boy done good--especially on that closing number. how nice that the first winner mentioned diana sands. elton john, forever the diva. anne hathaway, stunning. james gandolfini is in a broadway show? who the hell is hallie foote and that chick who is screaming her acceptance speech? why does almost everyone accepting awards have a british accent? is there no work at the old vic? ah, tasha richardson. she was so cool.

man, i just realized that i've interviewed all of those people except the guy whose name i can't remember, the late diana sands, that hallie chick and the screamer.

anyway, i digress.

as sundays go today won't be all that memorable because other than watching the tonys i didn't do anything out of the ordinary. at church bishop blake reminded us how lucky we were to still be alive.that's true. my biggest blessing, however, is that my dad made it through.

here's hoping the sun comes out tomorrow, too.

do you hear what i hear?

as a journalist it's not often that i get an opportunity to really really listen to people. usually i'm on some sort of deadline or in a situation where i have to try and determine what makes the stranger sitting across from me tick in less than 15 minutes.

tonight, as i was sitting in the open-air bar at the laluna resort in grenada. i listened to a lot of people. first, there was the young couple from new hampshire, who were recalling their day exploring the island in their rental car. it took them two hours to get to a place that was right down the road because of one errant turn.

amusing.

then there was the couple from dallas. they were celebrating their 10th wedding anniversary. the husband travels a lot and the wife stays at home with the kids. what a treat this little honeymoon must have been for her.

nice.

then there was the couple from new york city, who claimed they didn't know how long they'd been married, nor when the honeymoon ended. but even though they were on holiday they came to the bar equipped with two iphones and a mac laptop.

alrighty then.

and lastly was a trio of female friends from new jersey, virginia and north carolina. two of them had played college hoops and one was a basketball coach. they ordered margaritas and talked sports with me for 40 minutes.

fun.

but mostly i talked to kellon carter, the bartender and one of my new good friends. at 25, kellon has already lived a full life, but is concerned that he's not as productive and ambitious as he was at 18. he's married but his wife lives in ottawa, canada with their 10-month old son. they communicate daily by web cam. kellon is the kind of guy who has so much to offer but is just a tad bit lost.

i especially loved his insight into politics, culture and religion.

i think he's going to be fine. he's smart, has a good heart and makes a mean rum punch. in grenada that's all you really need.

miki, felecia & darlene circa 1978, hampton institute

next stop heaven

i've been having trouble sleeping lately. i'm blaming it on residual jet lag, hormonal changes and general anxiety about the things in which i have no control over. so, when i can, i love to sleep late. the problem with doing so, however, is that sometimes you wake up to hours-old e-mail messages that needed immediate replies; or bad news that will ultimately ruin the few remaining hours of the day.

today was one of those days.

while i'm cognizant that i, more often than not, use this space to memorialize friends and loved ones, it has become increasingly obvious that these tributes will become a standing feature on this page . i'm at that age where the unpleasantries of life--such as death--are happening far more frequently. today's news: my friend, former roommate and consummate life adviser felecia (fu) kurtz gillis, died last saturday. a mutual friend of ours from college informed me via e-mail this morning. the subject line read: "guest book for felecia k. gillis."

i wasn't sure what to expect when i opened the message. i know what "guest books" are and have even signed a few. but, i was pretty sure it wasn't time to sign fu's. i thought maybe someone was honoring her.

sadly, i was mistaken. even though i was still in a post-tylenol pm daze, the text was very clear. fu, my friend with the gap-toothed smile and tilted eyes, was gone.

when i say that fu taught me more about love, compassion, forgiveness and men than any other human being on the planet, i'm not at all exaggerating. when we met as coeds sharing the same house at hampton institute back in the '70s, i was young impressionable and very suburban. fu, who was a year ahead of me, was a true southerner who would give you $2 if you asked for one. and, to me, was wise beyond her years. she always had all the answers to my endless stream of questions. we'd spend hours in her room just chatting about everything.

i often referred to her as my "first" girlfriend because i experienced so many firsts with her.

bored with the small selection of available and good men on a campus in which women outnumbered the fellas 8-to-1, fu and another friend escorted me on my first trip ever to a military base. they taught me how to pick up sailors on hampton boulevard in norfolk who were on their way back to the base. in exchange for a ride back to the ship we'd make them buy us dinner at denny's or sambo's. when we'd drop them off, i was often kicked to the curb because i was always far more interested in exploring the massive aircraft carriers than engaging in a one-night stand.

i also shared my first apartment with fu. she had recently graduated and was working in hampton and i decided to hang out there for the summer. we were doing the "three's company" thing with a guy named steve. it was a great summer. we hit the beach, her hometown of raleigh, n.c. and, yes, the naval base!

fu's job didn't last long and she eventually returned home. i was all caught up in the bittersweet splendor of being a college senior and we didn't stay in touch as often. In 1982, however, when i was in grad school in boston, fu was living in new york and we communicated more frequently. in 1984, at my wit's end as to what to do with the rest of my young life, i rang her and asked: "can i come stay with you in new york for two weeks so i can look for a job?" her response was an enthusiastic "why are you even asking me that? sure you can!"

then came another first.

fu already had a roommate, edith, a friend from church who had gotten evicted from her flat. i had just come from a situation with a really bad roommate, but living with the two of them was really fun. after finding a job my first week in new york, i ended up staying in fu's one-room, one-bath flat for the next six months rent-free. the only stipulation was that i had to go to church.

having been reared in the southern baptist church, that's what i knew and that's what i liked. but at that time i hadn't been a "regular" for years and certainly wasn't into this sort of new wave, born-again restrictive religion that they'd latched on to. plus, i'd never ever attended church in anything other than a church and they attended services in a brooklyn high school auditorium.

i hated everything about it. but even though it would be years before my spiritual transformation from fulltime to parttime sinner--i managed to learn a thing or two.

after six months of dodging each other in the loo and taking two-minute showers so that the next person could have some hot water to wash away the night's scum, edith and i left the nest. she moved back to brooklyn, but i moved into the next building. that's when it all changed. fu had started dating a recovering drug addict and despite my often less-than-best efforts, he and i couldn't get along. it got to the point where she had to choose and she rightfully chose the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

although fu and i stopped speaking to each other i never really felt that our friendship was over for life. our divorce was not really steeped in animosity. rather, it was all about the inability and/or unwillingness of immature people to work out viable solutions to their immature issues. once i left new york, i never attempted to reach out to fu and vice-versa. i heard through the vine that she and roy had married and that she'd moved back to raleigh. i also heard that roy had died and that she had given birth to two daughters.

in 2007, i was sent to raleigh to interview cullen jones for a show i was working on. prior to my trip i had contacted our mutual friend from college who very graciously organized a small dinner party that included other hampton alums including fu. it had been more than 20 years since i'd last seen or spoken to fu and i was understandably anxious. but when she walked into the restaurant we enjoyed a long embrace.

like me, she had locs and hadn't really aged a bit. we did the speed-date catch-up, exchanged numbers and e-mails. she told me that roy had seen me on tv one night and called her into the room. "and then he died," she said while bursting out in giggles.

i wasn't quite sure of what to make of that.

that night i e-mailed her, saying how good it was to see her. she replied the next day with a similar note. enough time had passed to eliminate the pain of what had gone down in new york, but we were also different people who had essentially grown apart. i think we both knew that we'd never become best friends again but it was comforting knowing that we were at least reconnected.

that would be the last time i'd ever see her.

about a month ago, however, i was surprised to get an e-mail from her. it was actually a form letter announcing her sister's new book. i wrote back offering my congratulations to her sister and added that i hoped things were well. she responded by asking how things were in my world. about a week later instead of writing i rang her up. it was way too much drama to record in an e-mail. you could tell it had been a long time since she'd heard my voice because when i said "hey," she asked me if i had gotten married over the weekend.

nope, that was some other friend.

for the next 20 minutes we talked at length about life. i was saddened to learn that both of her parents, whom i had been very fond of, had passed away. and we laughed about her kids and all their young adult drama. her oldest daughter had just told her she had planned on living with her boyfriend and fu was trying to wrap her head around why her baby thought it was OK to tell her that!

hysterical.

that was the last time i heard her voice.

in the next few days i will try to fully comprehend the enormity of a loss that has yet to really hit me. i won't think about all the wasted years because they really don't matter. looking back, i'm not sure there would have been many more phone calls, visits or e-mail updates regardless of what went down in new york 25 years ago. all i know now is that fu always brought out the best in me, and that we will somehow always be connected.

my true comfort, however, comes in knowing that she's in a place where she always wanted to be.

someone's watch-ing over me

my dad, in his younger years, loved to roll. and it is through his love of adventure that i developed my passion for travel.

every summer, the turner clan would stuff 75 percent of our respective closets into these red-and-black plaid canvas suitcases and hit the road in the family station wagon. each year we'd take off for a different spot. i'd be so excited i wouldn't sleep for a full two weeks before our trip. traveling meant new underwear, tennis shoes and pajamas.

if we hadn't spent so much money on new clothes we probably could have used that bank to purchase plane tickets. i'm glad, however, my parents elected to waste their hard-earned cash on stuff none of us really needed.

had i been sitting in 25a i would have never fallen in love with that fry cook in needles, calif., nor had the opportunity to get that souvenir paper placemat in gallup, n.m. had i been 30,000 feet up i wouldn't have been able to spend that glorious night with my cousins in littleton, colo. or develop my deep, abiding and lingering hate for the pennsylvania turnpike.

those and so many other moments would have been missed.

but now that i'm all grown up and traveling on my own to far more exotic locales, i find myself thinking of all those great times with dad, who is now confined to a room with one window and a nightstand with no car keys. i'm having trouble dealing with that reality so i recently took him with me to south africa.

well, a part of him. i wore his watch--a class movado that i gave him for christmas years ago.

i wore the watch when i toured robben island,
as i happily played with the children of soweto


and interviewed musicians at the cape town jazz festival.


i had it on as i took a cable car to the top of table mountain and as i strolled along boulders beach with the penguins.

and i even wore it on all those nights when i couldn't sleep because of jet lag, fatigue or because i was consumed with thoughts about how much i wish he could see what i was seeing.

on my last day in south africa, i was treated to a 75-minute full body massage at the five-star hotel i was staying in. i had dad's watch on as i entered the room where this woman, whose name i couldn't pronounce, truly made me feel relaxed and rested for the first time in eight days. i was in such a blissful state that as i rushed to the atm to fetch her tip money (i was fresh out of rand), i forgot the watch. when i returned to the spa 15 minutes later, all of the employees were pleading the 5th.

i could literally feel my heart sinking into the bowels of my stomach. it wasn't so much that it was a movado. nor was i really annoyed at the staff, even though i knew someone had stolen it. i was devastated because it was the one thing of dad's that i had with me. i couldn't leave him there.

who would watch over me?

enter judy, our rep from south african tourism. when we bumped into each other at the elevator just minutes after i had left the spa, judy asked about my massage. "you look like you have no worries," she said while pointing to my forehead. i told her it had gone well but that i was having some issues with the staff over my lost watch. in less time than it takes oprah to make another dollar, judy was on the phone to the hotel manager demanding that the watch be found.

fifteen minutes later i got a call in my room. they had "found" it.

i hadn't felt that much relief since my last "fuzzy" mammogram came up negative on the second fry.

i won't be so careless on our next trip. i'll be taking dad to grenada in three weeks. i really don't think lush resorts are actually his thing, but hopefully he'll enjoy the company.

i know he likes watching over me.

in the still of the night

last night before i closed my eyes i made a ttdl (things to do today list). it's not something i usually do, but since i've been preoccupied with so many other things that i have no control over, i needed to make sure that i did do what i had to do.

those things kept me busy all day but now as i sit alone in my living room with the television on mute, reality has stopped by to say hello. i'd really like to write about what's going on right now but i'm afaid that if i do it will become even more real and keep me up all night--again.

so, i'm going to leave it alone for now and pray that god's will be done. better yet, that i will be strong enough to accept that which is inevitable.

everything must change.

in five days i leave for my second trip to south africa in less than a year. i'm excited because i love traveling--even to places i've already seen. i'm inspired because if i can accomplish my goals over there, hopefully my words and pictures will inspire others around the globe. but i'm nervous about the things that might go down while i'm gone.

stay with me dude.