Death, racism, and journalistic integrity

Articles like this tend to piss me off.

Why is it that a news story is only worthwhile if it's attached to a tidy little moral or if it's represented as some sort of cautionary tale? As I understand it, Happy Endings and Lessons Learned are uniquely western, particularly American, when it comes to storytelling. It irritates me a great deal.

To be specific: I'm afraid that, while my Mom's story is indeed a lurid one, there's no lesson to be learned from it. She was not an abused or battered wife. She had no way to predict what was going to happen to her on the morning of July 10th. She didn't go into the house despite her better judgement, she just went in the house.

It's getting difficult to keep mum about the details of the case, but I'm doing my best. Holding on.
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So I've been thinking lately about racism. And I've come to a very disturbing conclusion about myself.

Having lived in a racially diverse area for the past couple of years, I find myself exhibiting more racist tendencies than I did when I was living in an area with very little racial diversity.

Weird?

Why do so many minorities, particularly in Long Beach, absolutely insist on living up to their negative stereotypes? Obviously, there are enormous exceptions to every generalization. But, man... (am I allowed to say this? Is there even a way to say this?) What's with the dirtly looks, the snide eye-rolls, the overt "you want a piece of this, bitch?" attitude I get from the black and latino community every time I walk outside the building I live in? Should I carry a sign that proclaims "Yes! I'm white! My people took a gigantic crap on your people! If I could apologize for the fact that it's harder for you to get jobs, to start a business, to be respected in society... I would! I truly would! But it's not me! Sorry!"

It's a difficult frustration to voice, because even acknowledging it makes me sound like a racist. And I don't buy this "be color blind" horseshit for a minute. I'm thrilled to pieces that we're a culturally diverse nation. I'm not, however, thrilled that we're just as diverse in our flavors of hatred.

I tried to express these feelings earlier to a couple of coworkers. One of them understood, but the other played the "Personally, I tend to judge people as individuals, not as ethnic groups" card. Great. Thanks. That helps.
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So I've also been thinking about death.

Carey is very insistent on cremation for me, should it happen that I go first. I guess I have no problem with that, but it does rob me of the satisfaction of deciding what I'll have on my tombstone. It's a big decision! How can you sum up an entire person, their dreams, their triumphs, their character, their experiences, their faith... all in 10 words or less?

Well, I've given it a bit of thought, and I've decided to try to come up with my personal tombstone text, whether or not I actually get one.

Here are a few contenders:

Here lies Jeremy Bear.
Easily in the all-time top 10% of people.

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Here lies Jeremy Bear.
A guy who knew how to bust a rhyme or two.

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Here lies Jeremy Bear.
Now that he's gone, the world is completely screwed.

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Here lies Jeremy Bear.
A friend to all teens in crisis.

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Here lies Jeremy Bear.
Scored a 28 on his ACTs, which isn't bad for no studying.

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Here lies Jeremy Bear,
who would have been a terrific hero, given the opportunity.

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Here lies Jeremy Bear.
Son. Husband. Jester. Visionary.

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Here lies Jeremy Bear.
"Catch the fever!"

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or, here's my favorite:

Here lies Jeremy Bear.
For more information, visit www.JeremyBear.com