Originally posted on Facebook on Friday, August 13, 2021.

In Week 33 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Mr. John Fair and Johnny Fair of Fair Propane & Fair Oil Company.

"Is there a way we can…?"

These are my all time favorite words to hear from a client. As an I.T. professional, I deeply enjoy helping business owners leverage technology to achieve outcomes once thought only possible for large corporations.

To this day I'm not completely sure why, but Mr. Fair called and invited me to attend a meeting at the Fair Companies office in Louisville, Mississippi. They were meeting with the software vendor for their propane operations about a possible expansion into other markets. And, the question on the table was, "Is there a way we can setup offices in these new locations and have remote service reps access customer data in a central location?" The vendor quickly replied, "Not possible. You'll need a separate install for each location." And, this software wasn't cheap.

Mr. Fair, leaned back, placing an elbow in one hand while resting his finger on his mouth, tapping it slowly as he contemplated the vendor's response. He then turned ever-so slightly in my direction, indicating that he wanted my perspective. I asked the vendor questions to understand the underlying technology stack and then asked whether there was any potential licensing violation in creating "virtual desktops" to access the data. A few years prior, I had the privilege of learning about a new technology called Terminal Services while working as a high school intern at Entergy Corporation through a program for minority students called Inroads. After implementing the technology, they were able to achieve the desired outcome while also saving a significant sum. This began a relationship with the Fairs that has spanned nearly two decades.

Mr. John and Johnny Fair are business men that are constantly innovating and have established themselves as regional leaders in the petroleum industry. They dramatically grew their propane and fuel businesses while graciously bringing me along for the ride. We have since had many conversations that start with "Is there a way we can…?" and represents some of the most fun and significant moments of growth in my career.

Not only have they sought opportunities to involve me in their own businesses, but they've recommended me for opportunities with other clubs, associations and boards that they belong to. As a result, I've traveled from east coast to west coast, visiting places I may not have had opportunity to otherwise. Because of their advocacy, I was made tech lead on an ERP project managing the distribution of millions of dollars of fuel per month across multiple states. Thanks to them, if you've gassed up somewhere in the southeast, there's a chance that you've touched my work.

Over the years, our relationship has spanned well beyond I.T. projects. They've shared insights from lessons they've learned in business that's grown me not only as an I.T. pro but as a business owner as well. I've developed meaningful friendships with many of their staff. We've shared important moments of life together. We've had a lot of hard conversations together. We've prayed together. In fact, one of my most prized possessions is a letter of recommendation that Mr. Fair wrote to a church for a pastorate I was considering.

These men and their team have contributed immensely not only to the growth of my business or to me as a professional, but also to my growth as a person. I'm grateful. #52WoG

Originally posted on Facebook on Wednesday, August 4, 2021.

In Week 32 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for my Uncle John Jr.

Fishing with my dad was my happy place as a young boy.

Every Saturday, I'd ask my dad -correction, I'd beg my dad to go fishing. I remember the tingle of anticipation as we'd load the boat and hitch it to that old, green, Dodge Diplomat. It felt like traveling to a different world as we drove from the neatly coifed yards of our neighborhood in the city of Jackson, Mississippi and approached, what seemed like at the time, the vast ocean of the Ross Barnett Reservoir.

On this particular day, we're fishing with his brother and my Uncle John Jr.

Fishing with these guys is an all day (and night) affair. I remember on one occasion a friend of mine asked to go with us and broke down crying because he had had enough after 8 hours. Poor guy. This is why the grocery store was one of our first stops on a fishing trip. My dad would buy stuff like a whole loaf of bread, packs of bologna, potted meat, vienna sausages, chips, water and liver -that last one was for the fish. As I think about the way we ate on these trips, I can't help but laugh thinking about how neurotic my wife and I have been about how and what our kids eat. On these fishing trips, I'd often go between baiting my hook with a minnow and fixing a sandwich. Our idea of sanitation was running our hand through the lake water to get off fish scales and worm guts before reaching into the pack of bologna!

I remember the roar of the outboard motor and the gentle skips of the boat as we skimmed the lake. My dad had taken us out pretty far -so far that we've largely lost sight of land. We approached a small island that looks like something straight out of Huckleberry Finn. It's surrounded by lily pads. I peer over the edge of the boat and can see no sign of bottom. I turn to my Uncle John Jr. and ask, "Hey Uncle John, how deep do you think that water is?" He takes an oar and plunges it down until his forearm is submerged. He replies, "It's deep." I couldn't swim so I asked, "What would you do if you fell in that water?" He replied, "Seeing that I can't swim, I guess I'd have to drink it all, nephew!" And, with that he, I and my dad had a long, hearty laugh.

I learned yesterday, that my Uncle John Jr. has passed. But what remains with me is that every memory I have of him is warm and kind. I'm grateful. I solicit your prayers and kind regards for Uncle John Jr.'s family and loved ones. #52WoG

Originally posted on Facebook on Thursday, July 29, 2021.

In Week 31 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for little acts of consideration.

I'm a creature of habit. I eat the same thing for breakfast everyday: two slices of blackened turkey, two waffles, a boiled egg and a bowl of oatmeal topped with raspberries, blueberries and walnuts.

Our family usually does its grocery shopping on Friday but it's Wednesday and I don't have enough walnuts to make it to the end of the week. So, I put it on my list of things to pick up the next time I leave the house. But as our family gathers together for dinner later that evening, I notice in the kitchen a brand new bag of walnuts.

My wife saw I was running low and picked up the walnuts on her way home from work. It was a gesture that made me feel loved.

Love, I find, is often expressed in the extra and unnecessary -that is, not doing just enough but acting out of an overflow of care and affection; an unsolicited touch from your spouse, a surprise visit from a friend or a voluntary act of consideration from a stranger.

The seemingly little things are what often make up the most significant moments of our life. My wife's act indicated to me that she saw me, that she was paying attention to what I do and was willing to go out of her way to help me.

In a world that can be incredibly lonely and cruely selfish, her "little" act of consideration serves as a reminder I can tuck away in my heart that there is hope, there is good and there is evidence that someone, somewhere cares about me. And, it makes me want to be that for others. Thank you, Melissa Luckett. I'm grateful. #52WoG

Originally posted on Facebook on Sunday, July 25, 2021.

In Week 30 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for a moment of mercy.

I was traveling for work, on the way to my next service call when I hear the sudden blurp of a police siren and see blue lights in my rear view mirror. My mind was on where I was going so I didn't really know if I had been speeding or not. So, I let my window down and proceed to make sure both of my hands were visible and placed them on the steering wheel. The officer came to my window and said, "I've got you for an expired tag. License, please." I hand her my license and less than five minutes later she comes back and says, "Someone at Command says you're good and to let you go. Get that tag fixed and have a nice day." And as suddenly as she appeared, she left.

I deserved a ticket. I was given mercy. It made me want to do better. I believe that was the point. There's some good preaching in there. I'm grateful. #52WoG

Originally posted on Facebook on Saturday, July 17, 2021.

In Week 29 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Jackson State University and their summer program for entering high school students offered through Howard Hughes Medical Institute.

My wife and I are currently binging Bill Cosby's "A Different World" on Amazon Prime Video. The show is about the life of students at the fictional HBCU, Hillman College. A recurring theme is Hillman's purpose in providing a place of belonging, support and academic rigor for students of color. This brought to mind my experience in a summer program at a school in my home town of Jackson, Mississippi -the historically black Jackson State University.

When I was growing up, college was something that was mentioned but sparingly. As you progress through school, and if you seem to do well grade-wise, it's a subject that comes up more often but still tangentially. It was when I started middle school at Bailey Magnet that my teachers, administrators and counselors started talking about preparing for college with a sense of expectation. But, the real turning point for me was a program that my counselor, Connie Griffin, signed me up for during the summer between my 8th grade and 9th grade year. The program was called Howard Hughes Medical Institute.

I remember vividly my whole family walking me into the male dormitory on the campus of Jackson State University. I remember it smelling like Lysol and bleach that the stewards had just used to clean prior to our arrival. I remember checking in at the same time as kids who were attending the Upward Bound program. I was issued a dorm room key and a JSU meal card with my name on it. I was so excited. I would be staying on campus for weeks, just like a college student! I remember riding on the elevator where there was a solitary, exposed light bulb. Sometimes, when a group of Upward Bound kids were on the elevator –for sport, someone would reach up, partially unscrew the light bulb so that it would go out and they would then commence to throwing haymakers at everyone on the elevator -in the dark. This wild melee would continue until the elevator reached its destination, which seemed like an eternity. College lesson number 1: take the stairs.

Shenanigans aside, I met a number of wonderful, smart and talented black people during my stay. I explicitly say "black people" because in a number of spaces where access for black people is limited, there's a pervasive and pernicious notion that if you're smart, talented, present well or are well spoken, that you're somehow "different" -a unicorn. But, on Jackson State's campus, I was surrounded by them. The first one I met was my brilliant roommate, Flynn Wallace, who was already settled in the room. He had his bed made, clothes arranged and hung neatly in the closet and food stuff stacked tidily on the counter. We became fast friends. Another that comes to mind, but her name I can't recall, was a poet whose work was already being published. Having heard her work, I'm sure she's well on her way to joining the ranks of Maya Angelou.

There were a series of amazing experiences during that program but two stand out. The first being where I and my fellow camp participants were dissecting live frogs in the biology lab. We had to first anesthetize the frogs and remove a portion of its skull to expose the brain. We would then move an electronic probe to different sections of the brain to observe its effect on motor response. Well, one student had not quite fully anesthetized her frog and the lobotomized amphibian starting hopping around the lab and jumped straight into one girls chest. She bout died!

The second notable experience was with a professor named Dr. Love. Dr. Love was the only instructor that gave homework during the camp and it was substantial. She was a drill sergeant who conducted our classes as though we were already college students. More than any other instructor, she gave a number of stern, lengthy and impassioned lectures. I didn't like it at the time but what I got from her was that excellence was fully expected because we were fully capable of it.

This camp was pivotal and imparted to me three things:
1. Higher education is and should be challenging, but I can do it.
2. College is a place where I belong and can excel.
3. I am not alone.

These ideals are what sealed the deal for me and moved college from a concept to certainty. These ideals are the heritage given to the black community by historically black colleges and universities. So, especially for people of color, whether you attended a PWI or an HBCU, we all owe an enormous debt to historically black colleges and universities like Jackson State University. I'm also thankful for the vision and grossly understated influence Dr. Bill Cosby had in creating shows like the aptly named "A Different World", that offered a glimpse into a different world of possibility through television for people who might not have imagined that such wonderful options were possible for them. I'm grateful. #52WoG

Originally posted on Facebook on Saturday, July 10, 2021.

In Week 28 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for reuniting with loved ones.

The past few weeks of this summer has been such a blessing because I've been able to embrace people who are dear to me and that we've not seen for more than 13 months out of precaution for their safety and that of the community at large due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

Every hug was more tender, each laugh richer and every meal shared together more precious.

I thank God for the science that made safer reunion possible and for the men and women who dedicated themselves to the discipline -pulling off nothing less than a medical miracle, developing an effective vaccine in months, not years, for a newly emergent threat and creating the supply chain necessary to deliver it on a massive, global scale.

Thanks to these brilliant people, I was able to embrace my loved ones with the confidence of knowing that I was giving love that does no harm. I'm thankful. #52WoG

Originally posted on Facebook on Saturday, July 3, 2021.

In Week 27 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Lannie Spann McBride.

“I am a promise. I am a possibility. I am a promise with a capital ‘P’. I am a great big bundle of Po-ten-ti-ality…”

Many may know Lannie Spann McBride as an award winning singer, musician, writer and actress, but I came to know her as my music teacher at G.N. Smith Elementary school in Jackson, Mississippi. And, one of the things I remember most vividly was her kind, warm spirit as she taught our class the tune "I am a promise."

Even as I hum the tune today, an involuntary smile stretches across my face. I can still see Mrs. McBride in that music class. She would often snatch her hands away from the piano between chords and motion with both hands, drawing a big smile across her face, instructing the class to smile as we sung -all without missing a beat. She told us that smiling affected the music. But in truth, as I’m sure she knew, it affected us more. It was her influence that led to my playing piano in elementary, violin in middle school and competing in classical voice as a junior and senior in high school. Though my path would not ultimately lead to music, she forever changed the trajectory of my life. Because, she made me believe the words of that song. I'm grateful. #52WoG

Originally posted on Facebook on Sunday, June 27, 2021.

In Week 26 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for my Granddaddy James Johnson.

My grandfather James passed when I was very young but despite not having very long with him, the time I did have left wonderful memories that are impressed on my soul.

I can remember his smell -earthy; a mixture of wood, dirt and iron that was in his skin from years of working a farm. It was a smell highlighted by a pleasant smokiness; sweet with a spice that made my nose tingle -a fragrance imbued by the tobacco from an old carved wooden pipe that he often chewed or carried but was never lit, which I suspect was for my sake and done at the behest of my parents. I was little but remember that his smoking was a regular point of tension with my dad. Nevertheless, when our family would make the then weekly trek to Canton, Mississippi, they would entrust me to his care.

He was keen on taking me for rides. Sometimes it would be in his old pickup truck where he would sit me in his lap and let me "drive". As we approached a corner, he would say, "Turn. Turn." and I struggled to rotate the steering wheel even though his hands never left it. But my favorite rides would be in the horse drawn buggy. There was a small pig pen besides our grandparents house. Occasionally, Granddad would let me help slop the pigs -pouring a sour concoction of old vegetables and rotting table scraps into their troughs. Ever so often, he'd load a pig on the back of the wagon, hoist me into the seat box and drive into town. Everything about that experience was surreal; from the click-clacking of the wheels of the wagon and the hooves of the horses, to pulling into the back of Piggly Wiggly where the pig was weighed on a giant, white and bloody scale. I remember my Grandfather talking briefly with another adult. Shortly thereafter, he'd count his money in the shadow of the doorway and we'd make our way home with a brown paper bag of hog head souse.

My grandfather was not a talkative man. He said one of a few phrases;

"Whatcha got there?"
"Whatcha been doing?"
"You been good?"
"Tell Granddaddy what you want."

These and a few other memories are all I can recall. But what I remember most is how they made me feel. Being with Granddaddy James made me feel loved, wanted and adored. The short time I had with him, he deposited in me a sense of belonging and value that no one can take away. I'm grateful. #52WoG

Originally posted on Facebook on Saturday, June 19, 2021.

In Week 25 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Kim Moreland.

"We can do better than this."

I didn't know this woman from Adam's housecat but these are the words that follow a direct message to me on Facebook. The message is dated October 18, 2018. She's the owner of Moreland Inc. and was, at the time, Vice Chairman of the Oktibbeha County Republican Party. Her comment is aimed at the heart of the deep, divisive political polarization that is swelling across the country. She continues,

"It's dumb to think that people of different political parties can't work together. Sure, there are areas where people disagree but there is still plenty of common ground where we can work together. I look around Starkville and see problems we're not addressing because we won't work together. I'm tired, Paul, of being accused of hating black people simply because I'm white or that you're against me because you're black. We're smarter than this. We're better than this. We can do better than this and really put Starkville on the map if we can work together."

And from that time, I've witnessed Kim Moreland actively looking for areas of common ground and putting in the work needed to make good things happen. What impresses me most about Kim is that she doesn't busy herself with the pageantry of charity. She doesn't write a check, make a donation or volunteer simply so she can say that she's done a good deed and go back to life as usual while the rest of the world is on fire. She invests towards a specific outcome and doesn't stop working until the outcome is achieved. The work I've seen her readily give herself to, often at great expense, is making sure barriers are removed and the necessary infrastructure exists for anyone who is trying to do more with their lives.

I could talk ad nauseam about the many ways she has contributed to the betterment of our community but one in particular stands out. There had been weeks of meetings with a particular group of potential donors about the investments needed to bring the facilities at the J.L. King Center up to par for our youth development and adult education classes. The meetings had all but stalled and my appeals, as a black man to a white audience, seem to have fallen on deaf ears. But a few weeks later Kim Moreland requests an audience, and these are the words that she spoke during that meeting,

"There are not many projects that I just believe in. I get approached a lot. But the day I walked into that building and you see a 50 year old man working on getting a GED… It's something I fully believe in and we need to better support that building for the whole community."

That meeting, with the same people we'd met with before without success, yielded thousands of dollars in investment. Kim Moreland did not just give her time or money. She used her name, influence -her identity to speak on behalf of others and to bridge the divide between US and THEM so that there would just be WE.

Kim Moreland is a shining example of the hope and potential of our community. We can, in fact, do better. She's proof and I'm grateful. #52WoG

With – Friends of J L King – The J. L. King Center