From the Archives: My Dreams Stand on Your Shoulders: A Tribute to Langston Hughes

I fell in love with you, risk taker and dream maker. At five, I didn't know I traveled in your Simple footsteps when wearing my red and white sailor suit. The Metro took me to the zoo that was located near the work site of a busboy who was discovered as a poet. It was you, injecting me with your spirit. It was you who touched my foot's sole solely to encourage my soul.

I fell in love with you when I was 12 and introduced to you by name as a voice in the Harlem Renaissance. My uncle Que and Aunt Sue gave me my first type writer, and I pecked away. You were on roster as I took my classes. I was overwhelmingly pacified by Zora when I was 13 as her Eyes Were Watching God, but even Janie's story wasn't the end of my love affair with you. I kept digging for the heart of your existence. The same family pair pushed me toward you in this arranged literary marriage with a gift to strengthen my ties to you.

I fell in love with you when I was 21 and crossed the sands of Delta. It was clear we were connected. We now had Coleman Love in common. My engagement ring of thoughts were peaked. It was at 22 Aunt Sue further invested in me and put me in a position to get closer and closer to you. I was given a hand-crafted desk so I could begin to write...like you...see my dreams unfold. It was when I volunteered with Jeree at the same hotel where you were discovered that you baptized me with your essence.

In 2001, the Dream could no longer be deferred. I married you and began to build a family of children with you with recitations of Harlem, while introducing them to Lorraine, and making songs about your friends in the 1920s. It was during this time, God sent two darlings, Rachel and Rachelle who spoke clearly of what you taught me. They told me to stop teaching and write my book. Thus, the Sugar Rush series was conceived. They spoke your truth. They are our children.

In years later, you continued to be married to my fingertips, my heart, mind, and soul. You showed up on my realtor's book shelf when I was 26. I met the Tingling-Clemmons family and saw the Big Sea in their collection. I met their son who was named after you. I cannot deny you, I will simply love all that you have been in the world and unselfishly share you. In 2019, I wrote a poem to welcome a prince who will one day be king. He has your name. You continue to live on and I can't let your memory go.

You are my literary love. You are the Director of Dreams. You are Langston Hughes, the voice, the face, the heartbeat of my fingertips.

Always and forever yours,
Yolonda

www.yolondacoleman.com

What's Inside a Krispy Kreme Box?

BB prepares to open his first Krispy Kreme box
in Gambrills, MD.

My son, BB, and I had time to spare between Sunday errands. It was hot outside, so I decided to drive further along MD-3 to see if the Hot Now sign was lit in the window of Krispy Kreme. It wasn't, but that didn't deter me. BB needed to have his first experience with doughnuts from heaven.

We walked in and saw the doughnuts swimming in oil, dipped in glaze, and riding along the conveyor belt. BB's eyes widened, and he was ready to get his own.

Next, we traveled to the doughnut showcase; BB became overwhelmed with excitement. 
"Ooooh! Doughnuts! I want that one!" He pointed to the Original Glazed doughnut. I was proud because it was the first one I ever tried when I was a child. 

"Let's get six. Three for you and three for me," I suggested. BB did not object.

Once we were seated, BB posed with our box. It was like Christmas in July; I was filled with great anticipation. He had no idea how important this rite of passage would forever change the way he selected doughnuts. He opened the box and screamed, "DOUGHNUTS!" BB picked up his doughnut, chewed, gave me a look of satisfaction, and said, "It's gooood!" He chewed some more and said, "I like that." I was not prepared for what happened next. 

BB finished his first Krispy Kreme doughnut and jumped out of his seat. His feet hit the floor, and he started to dance. He transformed into Mumble from the animated film, Happy Feet.

I asked, "Why are you dancing?"

He said, "I'm dancing like a penguin!"

"Did you like the doughnut a lot?" I probed further.

BB's mouth still contained remnants of his doughnut, so he just nodded while continuing to tap his feet to an unknown beat.

What's in a Krispy Kreme box? Joy. Unspeakable joy! 

Krispy Kreme, if you're out there reading, you're a winner in BB's world. Please check out my Instagram posts to see more of his happiness. BB's village and I agree he would make a great spokesperson for your next ad. He represents the third generation in my family to accept this honored culinary tradition of loving the goodness of a Krispy Kreme doughnut. I give this experience five out of five cups of coffee.


CLICK HERE to see BB opening his first Krispy Kreme box.

Sips with love,
Ms. Coffeedreamz #coffeedreamz38 Instagram @coffeedreamz38 Twitter @Coffeedreamz Facebook @coffeedreamz38 This post is sponsored by Felicia Watkins-White, real estate agent. (301) 535-7639 Instagram @felicia.white.1675 Facebook @felicia.white.1675

Will Travel America For Waffles

Photo courtesy of LaToya King Hedgspeth

Prologue: Grandpa Eddie exposed me to a lot of truck stop dining experiences along I-95. One place that still remains a part of my travel history is the Waffle House. I've been eating the sweet, buttery waffles since I was six years old. My order, as a child, was always a waffle accompanied by crispy bacon, and cheese eggs. I would chase it all down with a glass of orange juice--with pulp. In spite of what many critics suggest about the Waffle House's service, cleanliness, or even the quality of food, I remain faithful to my past. I will travel America for a waffle. 

Waffle House team member, Lexi,
shares a smile with Brother B. in Dumfries, VA.

The summer of 2019 promised to bring me many adventures. I had eight weeks to decide when to take a trip to the Waffle House. It is a sacred place that I sometimes enter alone. No matter the location, the Waffle House holds many memories for me--family memories in North Carolina, dates in Georgia, quick stops in Virginia, a seek and find trip in Maryland with my intern, a post birthday gathering with sister-friends, and random trips with newbies. It wasn't until 2018 I found the one I call home.

My family supports Alex (c) during 
her first Waffle House experience
in Roanoke Rapids, NC in 2016.

Dumfries, Virginia is 38.5 miles and approximately 43 minutes from my house. VA-234 North is where the cherubs escort me to a place that sells the best kept secret in the entire universe--the recipe to waffles from the Waffle House has to be in a vault. I know, there is a Top Secret Recipe website and book that has a similar recipe. I made several attempts to mimic the Waffle House waffle. The suggested recipe is good, but it does not have the same taste that has become a part of my DNA. There's something about the combination of the Waffle House waffle, the Waffle House butter, and the Waffle House syrup that does the trick. I've asked two servers in two different locations in two different states for the recipe. The training manual has to read, "If a customer asks for the recipe tell them the trick is adding half and half to the batter." If you've been reading up to this point, you already know I went to the grocery store and tried the recipe with half and half. Nope.com. Nope.org. NOPE.edu. The taste is not there. Therefore, I have standing dates with the location in Dumfries, and I don't take just anyone with me unless I know their appreciation for the greasy spoon mirrors my own.

As comedian Kevonstage notes, there are certain things you just don't expect from the Waffle House. If you're used to fine dining, keep walking. I measure my experience by the disposition of the short order cooks and servers. Also, at least one of the workers has to have a tattoo. There has to be workers who remind me of at least two cast members from Alice--a sitcom that first aired in 1976. There must be someone shouting "Waffles on two, eggs on three, and hash smothered and covered." In the words of my sister-friend MsLeona Jay, "Like no, for real..." I need to see all characters in play and hear the script. Every visit to Dumfries has given me reasons to return. 

On one particular visit, I noticed a sign on the door that read, "Service with a smile." I planned to occupy the booth I once shared with my soror, K. Wilson. Just as I was about to make myself comfortable, a family of five entered. I didn't want to be selfish; I was dining alone and decided to take one of the counter seats instead. A worker was at the register; she doubled as both a server and cashier. She smiled at me. Everything about this visit was going to be intentional; it was becoming the setting of a new blog--hence the reason you're reading about the Waffle House (smile).

"I'll be right with you," she said smiling with her eyes through her glasses.

I was starving and anxious, so I whispered, "My order is easy--the All Star with eggs and raisin toast...and orange juice."

I placed my paper and pen on the counter and then hurried to the restroom to wash my hands.
When I returned to my seat, the server and I exchanged smiles again. This time I noticed she wore braces, but she was not shy about it. I loved her confidence.

"All I heard was All Star. I didn't get how you wanted your eggs or whether you wanted grits or hash browns."

"Oh my gosh, you're so right! Scrambled with cheese...and grits, please," I chuckled with some embarrassment.

"We're going to make sure you get your orange juice," she noted and then nodded to an elderly lady near her.

Bree Bree. Her name tag read Bree Bree. I took inventory of everyone who took care of me.
Ms. Tammy filled my styrofoam cup with orange juice (not environmentally friendly, but again remember where I am). Anne was the person who wiped down my table before sitting. I was too far away from the cooks, but they hustled to get my food to me (I had three plates. If you have ever been to the Waffle House you already know...).

If I had a complaint about the day it was about my grits; they were a bit watery. Bree Bree apologized several times for it--with a glowing smile. All I could think about was my purpose for being there: THE WAFFLE.

Every time I took a bite, I took a look around. Two men were sitting comfortably in a booth catching up on their lives. One had his leg propped up on the empty side of the faux leather seat. They were not going anywhere anytime soon. A couple sat on the other side of the L-shaped counter. I had to ask the gentleman to pass me the pepper; he smiled while sliding it to me like a ball traveling down a bowling alley. Ms. Anne was in the corner dancing and cleaning off another table and pranced her way toward the man who passed me the pepper. They shared a joke while she was dancing. The woman he was with paid the bill at the cash register next to me. The family I gave the booth to was still in fellowship as they filled their bellies. The best part about all of this, in spite of the watery grits, everyone was smiling.

The family of five was Latino. The men who shared a booth were African American. The man who passed me the pepper was a white American. The Waffle House staff was a mix of both African-American and white--young and seasoned. It was in this moment that I had a revelation: Politics divide, but a good waffle will bring us all together with a smile. It was worth the 38.5 miles with traffic. I got more than a waffle. I got to see humanity brought together by a greasy spoon. I will continue to travel America for waffles. That's my story and I'm sticking with it.

I give this experience four out of five cups of coffee.

Sips with love,

Ms. Coffeedreamz #coffeedreamz38 FOLLOW ME: Instagram @coffeedreamz38 Twitter @Coffeedreamz Facebook @coffeedreamz38 This post is sponsored by Felicia Watkins-White, real estate agent. (301) 535-7639 Instagram @felicia.white.1675 Facebook @felicia.white.1675 www.feliciasellshomes.com


DID YOU KNOW:

1. Waffle House has a food truck?

2. Waffle House delivers and caters--mostly in the South.
3. Once upon a time, employees could buy a bag of batter for $20. The server in Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina told me that the summer 2016. I ALMOST applied for a job in Dumfries just to get this perk back in rotation.

Movie Talk: "Shaft!"

Richard Roundtree (L), Samuel L. Jackson (C), and Jessie T. Usher (R).
Photo from www.slashfilm.com

Disclaimer: There may be a few spoilers but details are left out.
If you read the reviews that speak negatively about the 1971 reboot of the movie Shaft, you will be disappointed and wonder who paid them to give their two cents. Let me provide you with the change. There are a few things I look for to determine a movie's likeability:

1. Is there continuity throughout the film?
2. Are there teachable literary moments I can use in the classroom?
3. Did it serve it's purpose?
4. Is there good character development?

Shaft met all four of the elements without fail. This is a "Shut yo mouf!" review of a movie well done. I'm qualified to speak on it because I am a consumer, and I paid for my ticket. So...here we go.

1. Continuity: I hate that I opted out of a film class at Hampton. Thank goodness for my line sister LaKeba Hollar. She shared what she learned in class. Every good movie has a scene that is played at the beginning and is revisited later. The opening scene is not an arbitrary action sequence. It sets the stage for a series of events that lead to a long-time rival. We all have something and someone we love. We often learn In movies with assassins that having a family is a weak point; adversaries use loved ones as pawns. At the risk of giving things away, you come to love John Shaft for playing his role as a badass detective with no boundaries to maintain the safety of his loved ones. He owns the streets for a reason. Sometimes characters don't fight against the conflict or life altering circumstances in order to protect the things they love. In this case, John Shaft's in-kind child support gifts will provide comic relief rather than passive fathering due to a break up. The ending makes all things right that were wrong in the beginning. 2. Literary Teaching Moments: There are too many to name. If you love words, there are enough puns to go around. This comedy appeals to those who like action with a well-written script, hidden meanings, and an occasional expletive. Okay...Samuel L. Jackson is in the movie. There are a lot of expletives. Just know that John Shaft is no dummy. It's clear because his son is a genius.

3. Purpose: Shaft is entertaining. The greater purpose was to demonstrate what fatherhood looks like in a non-traditional way. Shaft opens up a new line of communication between absent fathers and the sons who grow to dislike them after years of "abandonment." Shaft clearly exposes that old adage, "There is more than one side to a story." Mothers who try their best to protect their children from hurt can take away a lesson as well. I'll let you figure that out after viewing the film.

4. Character Development: Each of the main characters developed new perspectives that helped the audience grow as well. The antagonists do what they do---ANTAGONIZE. That's their job. Expect nothing less.
Shaft is worth the price of admission. I always encourage you, however, to use whatever discounts available--student, teacher, or senior discounts. I used my teacher member benefits ($8) LOOK AT GOD! I give this experience five out of five cups of coffee. Subscribe and share your thoughts in the comments after seeing the movie. I want hear from you. Sips with love,
Ms. Coffeedreamz #coffeedreamz38 Instagram @coffeedreamz38 Twitter @Coffeedreamz Facebook @coffeedreamz38 This post is sponsored by Felicia Watkins-White, real estate agent. (301) 535-7639 Instagram @felicia.white.1675 Facebook @felicia.white.1675