http://espanol.video.yahoo.com/watch/7124458/18544872

–Mace

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Millicent Jean Broadus Beloved Teacher

Dear Friends,

Sadly, we pass along the news that Milli Broadus, a beloved Potomac School teacher, passed away on September 25, 2010. She was a valued member of our community for over 25 years and a wonderful teacher to many of us.

Mr. Broadus provided Potomac with information about Mrs. Broadus’ incredible life and the upcoming memorial service on October 16.

Millicent Jean Broadus

Sadly we share the passing of our loved one on Saturday, September 25, 2010. She passed away peacefully. Devoted wife for 58 wonderful years, she is survived by her husband, Jerome and her loving children. She is also survived by her brother and two sisters, her sister-in-law, nephews and nieces, many relatives and extended family and many, many friends. She was preceded in death by her beloved parents, four brothers and one sister, three brother-in-laws and three sister-in-laws, a number of nephews and nieces and grand nephews and nieces, and a host of other relatives and friends.

Milli was born on November 16, 1930 in Terre Haute, Indiana. She was the ninth and youngest child of Reverend James and Mayme Mitcham. She attended Crispus Attucks High school in Indianapolis, Indiana, graduating as class valedictorian in 1947. That same year, Milli entered Purdue University in Lafayette, Indiana. She graduated in 1951 with a bachelor’s degree in mathematics. Milli and two roommates were the first Blacks to live in Purdue U. dormitories.

The lessons she learned in an Indiana school house became the foundation for a life defined by a highly successful career in education and a lifelong affection for mentoring and teaching children. She was a highly respected faculty member in the lower school at the Potomac School in McLean, VA. for many, many years and retired after twenty years of service. The most important thing in life was her family; she surrounded them in a warm and loving home. She enjoyed entertaining, conversation, and throwing memorable parties; celebrating holidays with grand tradition, reading, art, music, dancing, singing, volunteering and traveling the world.

A memorial service will be held at St. Matthew Presbyterian Church located at 4001 Bel Pre Road, Silver Spring, MD 20906 on the afternoon of Saturday, October 16, 2010 at 2:00 pm. After the service, friends and family are all invited for refreshments in the Commons Building. In lieu of flowers, memorial gifts in her honor may be made to The St. Matthew Presbyterian Church Endowment Fund. Money from the Endowment is used for special projects including Presbyterian Disaster Assistance, Camp Joy Scholarships, Vocational Education Funding for SMPC members and friends, and Youth Retreat Scholarships.

By Maceo Willis

WASHINGTON, DC, 1983-1984: BEAST. INMATE. MONSTER. ANIMAL. CONVICT. THUG. BALLER.

People saw all or a combination of these characters whenever they viewed the
freshman scoring and rebounding monstrosity of one Michael Graham. In all fairness, “to be
a ‘cold beast’” in local slang was a heckuva compliment. This is the same Michael Graham
who never fouled out of a Georgetown game.
A local athlete out of Washington, D.C.’s Spingarn High School. Graham made a name for
himself locally in every way but academics. Bald heads didn’t become “cool” until at least 11
years later, spawned Def Jam’s Onyx; perhaps earlier; maybe later. Conservatively, let’s
agree to ‘1996-ish.’ In the 1980s, a shaved head was primarily reserved for intimidators,
street veterans, outlaws and old people. Graham, however, was not particularly concerned
about anything away from his teammates and his role on the court.

Who was to blame for his apathy and lackluster academics? Perhaps his
elementary, middle and high schools, who must have had at least one
burned-out-but-nurturing counselor, a neighborhood-living-been-therelonger-
than-several-principals-demanding teacher.
A few theoretical scenarios come to mind.
Scenario I: Underpaid, semi-supported and overworked teachers, who
may not have wanted to confront a student, could have possibly given
him a pass. Maybe he suffered from Attention Deficit Hyperactivity
Disorder (ADHD). Perhaps he did not. What’s the difference anyway,
especially if said faculty member only spoke out to prove a weak point,
or perhaps to ‘do one’s job’? Neither side was buying that story.
Scenario II: The student-athlete may have realized (or been instructed
or enabled to believe at an early age) “the athlete part” would to push
him into a tremendously better lifestyle than the academic part. At least
faster than academics…
Scenario III: Research shows that for children
with limited supervision or no direct guardian,
life is difficult and inconsistent. You have to grow
up fast in some ways, and perhaps stall in others.
His academic shortcomings seemed to agitate
Coach Thompson significantly, potentially more for the effort than the
ability. If you add insufficient family support, limited resources, and an
athletic golden ticket, think reasonably: what would you have done or
been tempted to do? Don’t answer that aloud.

The Top 100 Georgetown Hoyas
65. Michael Graham
Hometown: Washington, DC
High School: Spingarn
Position: Forward
Height: 6-9
Weight: 210
Years on Team: 1983-84
Highlights:
All-Final Four, 1984
Big East Rookie Team, 1984

The truth is, not many D.C. insiders even know the gist
of the story, save for maybe: Michael Graham, a
guardian, MegaSuperHeroCoach John Thompson, Sr.,
another former coach, teammate, an agent, but that’s it.
That was years ago, however. Life, media, athletes,
business, and collegiate sports have changed
drastically. Cough2X–Bush-Mayo-McKnight–
Hock2Spit. My bad, dude. I might be coming down with
scomething.
As an educational aside, adult Attention Deficit
Disorder (ADD) is significantly different from youth
ADD. Both conditions affect more people than are
reported. Many people who could benefit from
preventive treatments instead walk around
scatterbrained.
Others who have ADD wonder why they have an
unusual amount of difficulty completing a project,
making a deadline, remembering names, concentrating,
etc. In 1990, 34 out 1000 school aged students had been
diagnosed with ADD, but the numbers continue to increase.
The rates of ADHD vary from as low as 2% to as high as 14% among American students. The
rates of diagnosis and treatment of ADHD are also much higher on the East Coast of the USA
than on the West Coast. Even the frequency of the diagnosis differs between male children (10%)
and female children (4%) in the United States. As of 2009, eight percent of all Major League Baseball players have been diagnosed with

ADHD, making the disease epidemic among this population. The increase coincided with the League’s 2006 ban on stimulants. What if they tested NBA players? NFL? NASCAR?

The Eighties and Nineties were a glorious
time for Metropolitan D.C.-Area Hoops.
Nearby, on the other side of town, The
‘Awesomest’ University of Maryland
Terrapin Ever — nominated “Len Bias” –
laid in wait to face the University of North
Carolina, where the UMD senior would
dominate a highly touted Carolina junior
named Michael Jordan, as no one else ever
would.
Rewind to the glorious 1982 NCAA
Basketball Championship Season, when
Michael Jordan and James Worthy
interrupted the Hoya Saxa Dynasty before
it even got started. I was in middle school.
My friend Matt had eight or nine brothers
and sisters, the older half of whom had
graduated from or were headed to
Georgetown.

Matt and ‘Em Lived on The Block, which happened to be spitting distance from my middle school
and, at most, a half-block away from Healy Hall. No one deserved Georgetown more than their
family, except for maybe Thomas Healy, S.J. Matt’s Pops was a doctor, his Momz tended house,
and the whole family always seemed friendly, engaged and unified. I enjoyed seeing nine kids
interact, eat dinner together, play basketball against each
other and all the family dynamics that accompanied it.
They were Irish Catholic, I must have supposed at the
time. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Every
recess, without fail, some of our school staff would throw
down the Creamsicle sawhorses and cones. It became a
seventh and eighth grade MTV block party.

THE HOYAS WERE GODS. “Go Hard in the Paint,” became a retaliatory, if
not unsuccessful, codependent-at-best-opponent battle cry, most experts
surmise. Whether Hoya opponents competed at McDonough Arena, The
Garden for the NIT Championship, at the Cap
Center, at home, competing in the Final Four,
or battling for the NCAA Championship. This
was way2X before a college hoops three-point
line, as you may recall. Shoot 70% in a game
and a team still won’t win. Fuggettaboutit.
No one would have believed you at the time.
Getouttahere with that garbage.
The Hoyas were a quiet, respectful and dignified team. No one had to say
anything to each other. Earn your three the real way in the 80’s could have
summed up the characteristic Georgetown defense-first mentality. That is to
say, “and one,” not to be confused with more recent street legend
tournaments or the flashy KG shoes by the same brand name. Best believe
they had offense too, but these were not Harlem Globetrotters, individual
talents, or shameless self-promoters with multiple DVD highlight reels.
At the same time, everyone in the world wanted those Nike Air Force Ones,
Blazers or Dunks in the Georgetown signature blue and gray. The ones that
had HOYAS spelled on the heel caused more than one fight and/or enabled
more than one average Joe to get a fine girl’s number. No problem.

The Enforcer Known As Michael Graham came at an opportune
time, when the Georgetown Hoyas were firmly established, yet
needy of interior protection. Their legendary mystique showed
some vulnerability against certain conference rivals. Even when
they were not at full force, however, they were still a symphonic
display of controlled energy. Opera. Among others, Reggie
Williams, Freddie Brown, Horace Broadnax, Michael Jackson,
David Wingate, Gene Smith, Eric “Sleepy” Floyd, Patrick Ewing, Sr.,
laid the Georgetown Hoya foundation of grace, pressure and
dominance.
In later years, M. Tillmon, J. Jackson, J. Williams, C. Smith,
Hibbert, Motumbo, Iverson, Mourning, Harrington, Monroe, and
many other quality centers, forwards and guards carried the
defense-first torch. Each Hoya over the years seemed to possess the
uncanny ability to balance receiving Coach Thompson’s paternal insight and scholastic, yet
personal mentorship while maintaining their own hard-nosed attitude.
Even members of Congress and local politicians had no choice but to fall in line during The Glory
Days. Failing to mention the Georgetown “SAXA” Hoyas in a speech or press conference may
deter your immediate reelection success. Oh yes, this was during the rolling 70‘s and 80‘s of The
First Marion Barry Administration. What?!
THE 1982-83 HOYAS HAD AN INCREASED SWAGGER FROM LOSING THE NCAA
CHAMPIONSHIP. Later in the 80’s, I remember visiting LA and still seeing local celebrities
sporting a grip of Hoyas athletic gear. Not one of Georgetown’s players was from the West. It
didn’t matter. For us, they were America’s Team.

THE NATIONS CAPITAL, WASHINGTON,
D.C., HAS HOUSED MANY NOTABLE
CITIZEN-HEROES. E PLURIBUS UNUM,
after all. A certain D.C. native, who had
recently returned from Belgian exile,
skyrocketed up the charts with the
comeback track called “Sexual Healing.”
I’m fairly sure that I had limited sexual
healing at age 13, except for possibly that
Vanity poster…the one with her wrapped
in pink satin sheets, just waiting, staring you down…but I digress.
I had just transferred schools and moved to a new place in D.C.
Except for my cousin at another school and my twin sister, I
knew nobody. We were the new kids on every level. One constant
helped us navigate through uncertainty and struggle: our
network of family and friends. Similarly, the Hoyas were a family
then and remain the same today.
MARVIN GAYE indeed was back to stay, or so we thought at the
time. His rhythmic melody or perhaps the latest ‘Go-Go’ version
of The Song would be playing on every other car stereo. This
occurred at a time when the only ‘bootlegs’ were on cassette.
There may have been an occasional Atari, Laserdisc or a
Betamax videotape laying around, but clearly: neither CD’s, CDR’s,
CD-RW’s, DVD’s, DVD-R’s, nor even the ‘A. Gore, Jr.-
Tennessean Internet’ (as it was originally known) had been
conceived yet.

Meanwhile, “Pass the Dutchie” reeked out from a nearby window on The
Avenue. An aging Buick shouted back Grandmaster Flash and the
Furious Five’s “The Message,” then rolled by with a Georgetown Hoyas
sticker on the rear window, bumper, front window, etc. Any street. Any
time. This was before crack and murder capital status dominated D.C.
headlines. Go-Go would continue to rule for lifetimes. R.I.P. Lil Benny.
Remember!
President Ronald Reagan was still in his first term. The Washington
Bullets were merely three years removed from their first (and only)
NBA Championship. Maybe Arenas will…never mind. Back then, Coach
Thompson’s Hoyas were the hottest team ticket in town, next to the
Super Bowl Champion Washington Redskins, featuring the lightning quick Blackwood Brothers.
THE HOTTEST VIDEO GAME WAS CALLED CONTRA; yes, it was ONLY a game… I’m sure it
was…well, almost certain, although… waitaminute! Any-hoo,
Reaganomics may have been on everyone’s lips, but the Hoyas were
on everyone’s minds. So were JYD’s Sardines, which were
accompanied by the finest Pork and Beans. I must add that eating
well–particularly late night–and generally after a full night on the
town became modus operandi. Soon, It Was Universal.
STILL, NO ONE KNEW WHAT WE KNEW THEN. Every day, we would
have a break from classes for about 25 minutes. School staff would
rope off both ends of the block and refused to allow motor traffic
through the usually busy concrete corridor known as 36th Street, NW.
Although the concrete never gave (much) during the ‘semi-tackle’
football sessions, broken ankles, loose teeth, bent braces or ruined clothes were almost expected.

At around the same time, during this priceless
recess, kids who never played off the sidewalk
began randomly joining the football games. That
was the signal. Heads began to turn. Everyone
stopped except some lucky fool who might have
broken free during the initial disruption to score
untouched, unimpeded. One of the gods was
approaching! He never rushed passed us, always
saying hello to everyone who spoke to him, like
an ambassador or a royal emissary from
overseas. They were all like that. Coach
Thompson demanded it.
EACH HOYA REPRESENTED ONE OF THOSE
MIGHTY DEMIGODS: AMEN-RA, THOR,
MERCURY, ODIN, MARS, ANUBIS, and the like.
Patrick Ewing, however, was Zeus. Everything
stopped when he passed by. The seven-footer
would walk through, over, or around our
menacing barricades.
During the fall, he would appear in a khaki
overcoat that seemed endless, but never touched
ground. Rain or shine, double-double or off night,
and even if he was hurrying to class or practice,
Pat and the rest of the team would always show
love for the kids, much like NYC’s Nas, ODB of
the Wu-Tang Clan or South Florida’s T-Double-D.

EVEN AS A QUIET FROSH, MICHAEL GRAHAM
GRABBED AUDIENCE ATTENTION LIKE A ROCK STAR.
His charisma was completely fluid, a controlled, silent,
detailed action; not the clumsy media-inspired hulkish
antics. For one year, we all flew as high or higher than his
blocks and dunks. The Hoya Collective soared higher than
his rebounds. Did you ever have the opportunity to see
him?
The following year, 1985, brought renewed academic
demands and new athletic leadership. For Graham, in
particular, it brought uncertainty and the abrupt change
of scenery to the University of the District of Columbia.
He would never return to Georgetown Basketball.
Each of these Hoya scholar-athletes were proud, not arrogant; pleasant without being sellouts,
still urban media savvy or media-sheltered, depending on your source. These were Boys to Men
personified. Legendary coaches like the recently departed Wooden shaped the best and received
due credit. John Thompson Sr., however, never got his Coach K-Dean Smith-Bobby Knight-Jim
Boeheim-Rick Pitino-Joey Meyer-Rollie Massimino-Lou Carnesecca-type props. Phi Slamma
Jamma got more hype with less continuity.
And as Michael Graham told Sports Illustrated in 2005, “I’m a Hoya for life.”
HOYA SAXA FOREVER. Yet even today, Coach Thompson (both of them), The Georgetown Hoyas,
Michael Graham, and even the rest of us mere mortals are left to wonder what could very well
have been. What Rock.

maceok123@gmail.com

http://www.hoyabasketball.com/features/top100/m_graham.htm http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attention-deficit_hyperactivity_disorder

How many hecklers, party-crashers, tea-baggers, naysayers, partisan groups, carpet baggers, etc. must we endure before we recognize the consistent, blatant display of disrespect towards the Presidential Office?

Does Obama enrage/offend/attack/fail so often, that he can be ridiculed as if he were a poor man’s Wayne Brady (on an off night, not “Is W.B. gonna have to choke a £*#%$?!”)?

Although seen as the bright, young, Nobel Peace Prize winner, and great cultural bridge-layer initially, he now borders on pariah-hood for Republicans and moderate Democrats. Has he done anything differently than he promised on his campaign? Has he about-faced? Has he invited terrorists to ‘Bring it on’? Has he even lied about WMD’s to start a global conflict?

Yet people go out of their way to let Americans know that that’s YOUR president, not ours. How about one politician’s jibe about his platform: ‘how’s that change thing working out for you (people)?’ How clever she is. Will you elect her president now? I wonder.

During the week of April 20th, a great man and grandfather to one of my best friends and a fraternity brother, passed away at 81 in Bugaloosa, LA. His name was Mr. Collins and he fought for people’s rights before it was chic or acceptable. His legacy is vast and his family is blessed to have had him as a role model and patriarch.

His Deacons for Self Defense organization preceded and inspired Huey Newton and Bobbie Seal to create another similar organization in Oakland, CA, years later. Voting Rights, Labor Issues, Civil Rights, and Property Protection were just a few of his charges. Defending his community against hate groups such as the KKK became a routine chore, but his comrades and he accepted the responsibility to their wives and families.

What are we doing TODAY?!

Heath/Snickers vs. Whatchamacallit/Twix (or _________/__________)?

Make every vote count!!

No matter! What about the addition of a pet into your household? Costs a bit less than a kid (or so I have heard); but is it worth it? It’s definitely an instant dependent.

Perhaps it’s a test run for having a real child. Perhaps not…

Time and Mello will tell.

I don’t remember if I cried when grandpa died, but Lord knows I still cry for Mini Cooper.
Not the car, the Hollywood star, the pride of Grandpa Vanhoff still visits– by the way, he was a heckuva crooner.

Remember simpler days with fried apple and grits ways. ‘Make mine without cheese’, I would say. A cream-of-wheat vs. grits debate would begin, and before anybody would win, there’d be sports on TheTV in the den; homemade pastries and ice cream would come even sooner…

“Field of Dreams” was no Hollywood play; it was Independence Day, Memorial Day, or Just Family Day and not Casey, it was Cousin Reese or JJ at the bat.
Colored League sensation Vanhoff “6-gun Cooper” slinging fastballs from the mound, and beware of right-right field– it’s a trap. (Instead of 6-gun, now he’s seven, since he’s pitching from heaven.)

Remarkable. Renaissance. Reading Beast. Sorry, Granny, I would never call you a beast. But at least the word suggests an appetite for text, because with each book your knowledge increased.

Scholar. Seamstress. Chef. Our last grandparent left… But I know you’ll never leave us in spirit. If anyone asks, I’ll shout to my last: ‘Minnie was all of us’ to whomever would hear it. And So It Is.

And now, a word from no sponsor. Return to

Day 1:

When we last left our hero:

Nooooooooooooooo! Could he have meant that… meant that… sniff. That the indigenous people will only follow the stupidest fearless GWH available and that we all should think that this is a suitable saviour? Liberation is in the hands of… not only an ex-Marine (no offense to our military, but Marines should be pissed too), but the dumbest Marine they can find? WOW.

Why did the the avatar’s features become more urban? For example, when GWH Jarhead and Aliens Lady get there, they smell funny and their avatar hair looks like braids. As things “progress” –loosely used– their hair becomes more thick, even nappy (if you will, and I know you will).

Let’s see if we can break this down simply. Now, in the middle, he looked much like Riley on the Boondocks with the cornrows, but then at the end, GWH Jarhead looked like Mr. T’s character on World of Warcraft. I wish I could make this stuff up.

How far removed can JC be from society in order to produce this hideous monstrosity? The recklessness alone would have given a person of color life with no parole. But Amurrrika, you ate it up. I vomited after 25 minutes and had to clean my plate before I could leave the table. You know what that means. Enough visuals, I digress.

Why did the names of their cities, children, animals, everything sound like broken Arabic? Yes, I am familiar with some Arabic.

Why did the only ‘human’ people compassionate enough to help the savages, end up wounded, martyred, dead or deceased (just after wounding)? Chacon, the female airship pilot, breaks away to righteousness and is rewarded with death. Message!

It ain’t over.

“Get On My Level, Especially Since Every Day Is Saturday.”

next episode coming soon.

But Luke Wilson said AT&T was better than Verizon… although I’m not sure what Luke or Owen or even Flip Wilson has to do with wireless technology. It’s faster WHEN you can get a signal. Didn’t mean to yell. Why is there a huge hole in the dead center (no pun intended) of the blue map, especially incredible when we realize that AT&T is the oldest surviving phone company in the US of A.

What happened to Bell? What happened to Bell Atlantic? PacBell? Alexander Graham? D’oh! I just remembered a long-suppressed memory: my first official cellular phone was a Nokia on My First AT&T wireless in 1995-1997 (error margin +/- one year). Ahhh yes, I remember it like it was yesterday.

Stroll down memory avenue with me. I was living in DC and it was a simpler time, way before red and blue maps. I do recall painfully that I had had enough and switched to Sprint not long afterwards. Their service and coverage was only mildly better than AT&T.

Soon thereafter, I moved from DC to LA for graduate school. During that time, I had to move to another place (they sold my previous duplex) in Koreatown. Sprint seemed to work on Pico but not on 6th & Kenmore. I would get multiple messages from calls I never heard. I had no record of incoming calls. I would get these random messages as I moved away from my neighborhood.

But I digress. Sprint had to go and I switched to T-Mobile. Customer service was top-notch and coverage was great! Four or five bars consistently and low plans and a Blackberry or some other HTC Smartphone? It’s too good to be true! You gotta love the spirit of good old fashioned American competition!

Enter 2007, my current place of employment uses Macs and wants to have effortless and efficient syncing with crisp communication. They even subsidize half the price of my iPhone and paid for the majority of the bill– which ends up being about $20/month (no error margin). Just one small catch: all iPhones must use AT&T Wireless. But I thought I could finally try this Verizon thing that everyone’s talking about…

Now here I am with rumors abounding of iPhone’s pending availability to all carriers, yadda 3X. Three years later and AT&T has just as strong of a hold on us as ever. I’ve still never had Verizon. Am I missing something? Well, at least Frank White is getting released today and things are gonna be a-changing…

By the way, there’s work for you at The Plaza Hotel if you’re interested. Just use your GPS to find it. Oh, no signal? Hello? Hello, can you hear me now?

Could anyone who has ever enjoyed some semblance of a home life could ever dream of performing one of these heinous acts? Of course I am not describing the perfect household where family members eat dinner together in formal wear, as depicted in some films or TV.

Actually, I mean the dysfunctional family that describes many of us, or at least those of us who can relate to it on some level. The drunk uncle or the cousin who has ‘issues’ that no one talks about. You know the one.

Over the last day or two, I received emails, texts and saw on CNN this morning that a person or people spread a rumor that all U.S. airlines (not just USAir) will take doctors and nurses to Haiti for free. Is America still holding a grudge? Toussaint L’Overture is buried, but not forgotten, I suppose.

Think: if one doctor or nurse called in today or rescheduled a surgery, which in turn caused someone’s illness or increased their possibility of death, then the hoaxer is somewhat liable. I applaud anyone in the medical profession who took this rumor seriously and acted immediately. I hope you know it’s not your fault.

And all the while, this reject is sitting ‘anonymously’ behind his computer screen laughing at the world, while begging to be a part of it. Someone please notice me…please.