Churches must toe the line during elections

Over the last couple of months, my older sister, who lives in Ohio, has been sharing with me her pastors' comments about the election.

She and her family attend Solid Rock Church in Monroe, where the pastors, Lawrence and Darlene Bishop, have been making comments about how Christians shouldn't support a candidate who is pro-choice. And we all know which candidate is pro-choice.

The Bishops have been very careful in not mentioning names, I assume because they know that churches cannot endorse political candidates because of their tax-exempt status. The Internal Revenue Service says churches may pass out voting guides as long as they don't endorse candidates. Also, it's legal for religious groups to take positions on public-policy issues, including issues that divide candidates in an election, which is what the Bishops did, without using GOP Presidential Nominee John McCain's name.

But Sunday, the Bishops went a step further in their mission. They invited Apostle Kimberly Daniels to the church to give an anti-abortion talk. Daniels, who is the founder of Florida-based Spoken Word Ministries, which is, according to the website, "an inner-city, multi-racial church with a vision to reach the lost for Jesus Christ and to train them to do the greater works," demonstrated who she is planning to vote for by showing a slide show featuring pictures of aborted fetus'.

Daniels' message was so powerful that my sister and brother-in-law, who are lifelong Democrats, were actually considering voting for McCain. And who wouldn't after pictures of aborted fetus' are shoved in your face? That doubt in the voter's mind is what the Bishops wanted.

My sister said the Bishops, over the last couple of months, and Daniels on Sunday, have been trying to make people feel guilty for supporting Democratic Presidential Nominee Barack Obama. Their message was Christians should be pro-life. In my opinion, the two can co-exist. The beliefs co-exist in me. I am a Christian, yet I am pro-choice. I should be able to do whatever I please to my body, because it's my body.

People should be able to come to their own conclusions about which candidate they support without being threatened or told they will burn in Hell for supporting someone who, like everyone else, has the right to believe what he believes. There is more to Obama than being pro-choice, just like there is more to McCain than being pro-life. Solid Rock's approach to the election was simplified, when it should not have been. Does education, healthcare and economy not matter? I guess not, if you fall under Solid Rock's definition of a Christian.

Goodwill is on the come up

My husband and I are attending a 70s disco benefit gala Saturday and 70s attire is encouraged. I was thinking we would just stop by our local Goodwill Industries store, spend about $15 each and walk out with fly outfits.

We went to the Goodwill store Saturday and were blown away by the modern merchandise. There were no obvious 70s clothes - polyester bell bottoms, leisure suits, mini skirts with screaming patterns or tall white patent-leather boots. 

I thumbed through the dress section and saw cute clothes from J. Crew, The Limited and Express. Name brands. Stuff I would wear today. 

I walked over to my husband who was looking at the shirts. There was nothing stretchy or shiny to be found.

I overheard two teenage girls who were scanning items looking for clothes that could be used for Halloween costumes. They were also empty-handed.

The image of Goodwill has changed from hobo, 60s and 70s clothes to up-to-date, slightly used items. It's good that people who have to shop at Goodwill for clothes to wear to work and school have a nice trendy selection. 

We left without buying anything. The next day, we visited a seasonal Halloween store and bought mac daddy and mac mama outfits. 

Blacks burn, too.

That's a picture of my sunburned, peeling leg. Look at it! It's disgusting, right?!

Contrary to popular belief, blacks can sunburn and peel, too.

Earlier this month, my husband and I spent six days in Turks and Caicos in the Caribbean for our 4th wedding anniversary. We literally laid by the pool and on the beach for five of the six days. The sun in T&C is like no other I've experienced and I grew up in Memphis.

I've always liked to tan a bit because I've always thought my skin was slightly pale. I love the golden color my skin turns once the sun hits it, so I was really excited about going to the beach to lay out. My goal was to get tan!

Little did I know that black people burn in the sun, too. I noticed my white friends every summer with their red skin, tan and burned. I never thought that would happen to me. My skin didn't turn red, but by the last day while laying out at the pool, it was on fire. But I left the island with a gorgeous, golden tan.

A week later, still glowing,  my left arm started to peel. It was spotted, like a bad case of eczema. The next week, which was last week, my legs went. This morning, I saw a little dry spot on my right thigh.

I'm tan on just about every part of my body, so I'm dreading what's to come. I'm constantly putting on lotion, trying to keep my skin moisturized because I don't like to see my dry, peeling skin. I've learned a tough lesson about the sun. Blacks do burn. Blacks do peel, so stay out of the sun!

I've been bought out!

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

On Aug. 4, I signed buyout papers at New Jersey's largest newspaper. Today, I found out that I was approved to take the buyout!

I'm wondering why I don't feel sad about leaving the news business - it's been my life for the last 11 years, 13 if you include the two years I wrote for The Daily Beacon at The University of Tennessee in Knoxville. Some of my co-workers, who have been dreaming about getting the buyout for the last two months, where walking around in a daze after finding out they got it. Maybe I will feel some sort of melancholy emotion on my last day, which will probably be Dec. 10. Until then, I'm all smiles.

News will always have a special place in my heart, but I feel as if the world is my oyster right now. I have a chance to start over. I feel like a kid talking about what she wants to be when she grows up.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love event planning. My friends call me "Martha Stewart." So, maybe I will start an event and wedding-planning business.

An easy transition from journalism is public relations. I actually interviewed with a firm in NYC Tuesday and was offered the job Wednesday, but the president of the company and I just couldn't agree on the salary, so I had to turn down the offer. I was flattered I got the offer so fast and beat out three other candidates, but my skills and talents were worth more than she was paying. I haven't given up on PR, though. It was one interview. One firm. There are thousands out there.

I could also freelance full time. Oh, the thought of not having to go into an office everyday makes me smile. I could write from my couch, in my PJ's, comfy and cozy.

I'll be walking away from my newspaper with enough money to be comfortable for a while, so I can take my time and figure out what my next move will be.

The world is at my fingertips and I love it!

Where's the maverick?

Two shots of Cabo Wabo tequila sat on the coffee table in my den last night. After being slightly bored during the last presidential debate, my husband and I thought we'd make it interesting by taking a shot every time GOP Presidential Nominee John McCain said "maverick." He said it so many times during the last debate, we were sure we'd be nice and buzzed by the end of the night.

Ninety minutes later, the shots of tequila were still there. McCain never referred to himself as a "maverick." So instead, we tossed back the liquor in honor of Democratic Presidential Nominee Barack Obama.

I can't get inside McCain's head, but maybe his team told him he overdid it with the "maverick" term during the second debate. Or maybe he read the article in the New York Times that gave the history of the term "maverick," which has nothing to do with the nominee's principles.

According to The Times article, "In the 1800s, Samuel Augustus Maverick went to Texas and became known for not branding his cattle. He was more interested in keeping track of the land he owned than the livestock on it, Terrellita Maverick said; unbranded cattle, then, were called 'Maverick’s.' The name came to mean anyone who didn’t bear another’s brand."

The Mavericks of Texas, who are known for their progressive ideas, are upset that McCain refers to himself as a "maverick."

“I’m just enraged that McCain calls himself a maverick,” said Terrellita Maverick, 82, a San Antonio native told The Times. “It’s just incredible — the nerve! — to suggest that he’s not part of that Republican herd. Every time we hear it, all my children and I and all my family shrink a little and say, ‘Oh, my God, he said it again.’ ”

Maybe McCain got word from Texas to stop referring to himself as something he's not. Or maybe he just wanted a different strategy last night. Either way, my husband and I only had one shot and it really didn't count.

We should have taken a shot every time McCain said "Joe the plumber."

Maids aren't made for me

I love a clean house, but hate to clean. So, the thought of hiring a housekeeper has crossed my mind more than once. The only thing that's stopped me is while I don't like to clean, my life isn't so hectic that I don't have time to do it.

While we were in Turks and Caicos last week, we stayed at The Somerset, a lovely well-appointed resort that offers twice daily maid service. For someone who's dreamed of hiring a maid, I was so uncomfortable when she arrived and started cleaning.

My husband and I were only in the room once - the day it rained - during her visits. But sitting there watching TV as she stripped the bed, cleaned the bathrooms, loaded and started the dishwasher, swept and mopped the floors and dusted the furniture was such a strange feeling.

We've stayed in hotels and bed and breakfasts across the country and world and it's always nice to come back to a clean room. But I never picture someone actually cleaning the room. Day after day, I've just appreciated a made bed, fresh towels and a clean bathroom. But being in the room while the maid is cleaning made me feel badly for the housekeeper. Yes, I was grateful she had a job, but watching her do her job made me squirm.

I felt guilty.

Guilty that I was on vacation and she wasn't.

Guilty that I was perfectly capable of cleaning the room, but she was.

Guilty that I could afford to stay at the luxury resort, but she probably couldn't.

It made me think twice about wanting to hire a maid. I've been blessed with a good job and a nice house that I need to clean - not someone else.

It pays to be early

As someone who hates being late, I've never missed a flight in my life. 

My husband and I planned a trip to Turks and Caicos for our 4th wedding anniversary. It's a small island in the Caribbean between Haiti and Jamaica. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 1:55 p.m. Tuesday and we live about 40 minutes from the airport. We left our house a little after 11 a.m. heading to a parking lot near the airport. We leisurely drove to the lot. When we arrived at noon and started pulling out the suitcases from the trunk. I noticed the small travel bag containing all of our regular-size toiletries, the video camera and a couple of other items wasn't in the trunk. This was the only bag we were planning to check. 

We checked the backseat and realized the bag was at home.

We looked at our watches and wondered if we had time to drive home, grab the bag and drive back to the airport without missing our flight.

We decided to try it.

"You have to drive 90 all the way if we're going to do this," I said to my husband.

He didn't mind. We were in my BMW 328i - a car that's designed to be driven fast.

We made it to our exit on the New Jersey Turnpike in record time - about 15 minutes - only to hit a parking lot of traffic after we payed the toll. I started to worry. I called American Airlines to find out if our flight was on time. It was.

"Great!" I said. "When you need your flight to be late, it's not."

We had a layover in Miami. So, I asked if there was another flight to Miami that day. There wasn't.

We got through the traffic and pulled up in front of our home. I ran inside the house, snatched the bag and sprinted back. 

My husband again put the petal to the metal as we headed back to the airport. It was 12:35 p.m.

I didn't say a word during the trip.  I prayed the entire way - prayed that we would make it, that we wouldn't get a ticket and that my husband wouldn't lose control of the car after hitting 100 mph more than a few times.

If we missed the flight, it would delay our trip a day and we'd have to pay for a night at the hotel when we'd be sleeping in our own bed that night.

We got to the parking lot at 1:05 - again record time. We left the keys to the car and the parking lot employee told us the van would be back in two minutes to get us. We stepped outside to wait for the van. There was another man also waiting. My husband asked if he had been waiting long.

"About five minutes. Even though the guy inside said the van would be here in two minutes. And I'm in a rush," he said.

"We're rushing, too," I said. "What time is your flight?"

"2:15 p.m.," the man said.

"We're 1:55 p.m.," I replied, thinking what I would give for a 2:15 p.m. flight right now.

When the van pulled up. I told the driver that we were all rushing.

We got to the airport at 1:15 p.m. 

I went to a kiosk and started checking in, but got a notice that we were checking in too late and we should see an agent.  

"Ugh," I screamed.

I turned around and noticed about 10 people in line waiting to check in with the agent. 

"We have a 1:55 flight. Do you mind if we go next?" I asked. 

No one objected. Thank God.

The agent overrode the computer, but said it was too late to check any bags.

"You have to get rid of your liquids," she said.

"The bag is full of liquids," I said.

"Do you want to go or do you want your liquids," she asked.

We immediately started throwing out our full-sized liquids. Shampoo, conditioner, shaving gel, face scrub, mouse, sunblock. It was ironic since we went home to get the bag with the liquids that we ended up throwing them out.

The agent issued the tickets, I thanked the folks in line again and we ran to security.

While in line, I noticed that my husband's boarding pass had the wrong name it - Cara. 

"Just act natural. Don't say anything and maybe he won't noticed. We don't have time to go back," I said.

My husband handed the security agent his passport and boarding pass.

"I think you handed me your wife's," the agent said, after noticing a woman's name on the paper.

The agent looked at my boarding pass, looking for a man's name, and when he didn't find one, he informed my husband that he had to go back to the ticket agent.

"You go through security," my husband said. "I'll catch up with you."

"I'm not getting on the plane without you," I said.

At this point, I started freaking out all over again as I pictured the plane taking off without us. 

I was halfway through the security screening line, when I turned around to see my husband running to join me with his new ticket.

We made it through security, but weren't in the clear yet - we still had to get to the gate.

I've always thought it was kind of funny to see people running through the airport like their life depended on it. Now, it was our turn.

Thank God I had spent the last month running four miles a day to get bikini ready. It prepared me for the sprint through the airport. We were flying. People were laughing, telling us to slow down and getting out of our way. It was crazy.

We got to the gate and were met with a smiling agent who looked like she knew what we had just gone through to make to the gate. She gladly scanned our tickets and we boarded the plane.

Whew! We barely made it!