As Black History Month winds down, I’m sharing a poem that I wrote two years ago for a contest at work. I won the poem-writing portion of the contest, but I don’t think they got more than a handful of entries.

Still, I think this has value. Enjoy.

Black
“Is it because I’m black??!!”
The comedian asked.
As if being “black” could be a reason
Or an excuse
To treat someone differently.

But what is, “black”?
How could a single color
Singled out from the rainbow
Tell so many
That they have no shades of grey?

Not different
From each other.
Not the same
As anyone else.
Separate and NOT equal
In the color-blind eyes of the racist.

Is Black History Month
A time to gently return
The color black to the rainbow,
So that it can join the other colors
In a celebration?
Where every color is joined together AND equal
In the color-soaked universe of our Creator God

“Is it because I’m black?”
“Yes,” the rainbow answered.
As if we could be a rainbow
Without you
Within us
To be glorious together.

(c) 2008 Tom Keefe

Communications pro Allan Jenkins, from his base in Hjelm Bay, Møn, Denmark, sends a tweet calling the Danish daily Politiken “complete wimps” for apologizing over the publication years ago of unflattering editorial cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad.

Link to story

Was it cowardice, or common sense? If an axe-wielding extremist broke into your home because you posted a comment or cartoon that might be considered “offensive,” or continued to plot ways to kill you, would you be willing to die for freedom of speech? Really?

Why then, do I hear and watch so much “humor” and “editorial comment” knocking the Christian faith, but just about zero directed at Islam? Why do people think it is acceptable, even in the workplace, to use “Jesus Christ” as a swear word, but those same people wouldn’t think of substituting “Prophet Muhammad”?

Christians don’t blow up innocent groups of people, and they don’t grab an axe to attack people who disparage their Lord, Jesus Christ.

Should they? It seems to work for Islamic extremists, at least in Denmark. Allan might think his local journalists are wimps, but maybe they are realists. And maybe we are, too.

Finally, President Obama and I agree on something. Unfortunately, my chance of seeing it happen in my home is about the same as Obama’s chance of passing his health-care reform.

In an Associated Press news article titled, “Obama: No weeknight television for Malia, Sasha,” the U.S. president says the one sure way to help kids learn is to stop them from watching television on school nights.

The story quotes Obama as saying, “The girls don’t watch TV during the week. Period.” He later adds, “Very early on, we set expectations for Malia and Sasha in terms of them taking responsibility for their own education. They got alarm clocks at age 4 to begin waking themselves up, making their own beds and getting themselves ready to get to school on time. We monitor them. But they are expected to be prepared to learn when they go to school.”

I’ve fought a losing battle for years in the Keefe household around time spent in front of the TV. Unfortunately, my wife was in the habit of using television to fall asleep at night, and that habit continues to this day. The kids watch some television “to wind down” after school, and actually spend several hours in front of the tube every day.

Most of the shows we watch add nothing to the value of our lives; they are just time-wasters. I have enough other interests and commitments to keep me from lasting long in front of the TV, and the kids are active enough in sports and church groups so that they do engage in healthy pursuits.

I just wish that they could see how much of their lives are being wasted in front of the boob tube.

According to Associated Press Economics Writer Jeannine Aversa, the Federal Reserve released a forecast on Wednesday predicting unemployment will stay high over the next two years because recession-scarred Americans are likely to stay cautious.

Coincidently, I had spoken the day before with two separate and distinct groups of job-hunters, which were clearly scared AND scarred by ongoing weak economic conditions and the related highly competitive and frustrating job market.

I’m no stranger to unemployment and a prolonged job search, having been laid off from communications positions in 1991 and 2001. The 2001 layoff was the hardest, coming just three weeks before the Sept. 11 terrorist attack on the World Trade Towers. That attack caused an already struggling economy to tailspin, and hiring froze across the board. I was sitting that morning in a coffee shop with a group of fellow unemployed professionals who had agreed to form a job/networking group. When one of the group members said, “Hey, someone just flew a plane into the World Trade Tower,” I replied, “That’s a shame, but we’ve got to focus on getting a job.” Of course, what I mistakenly perceived to be an accident caused by a poorly skilled pilot turned out to be one of the most significant events of this decade.

It also marked the beginning of a two-and-one-half-year period of under- and unemployment for me. It was a humbling experience, which continues to make me more empathetic with current people who are “in-transition.”

Like the fellow IABC/Chicago members who shared a drink with me after the lunch seminar at Maggiano’s in Chicago. (I took the afternoon as vacation time, and they had time to spend.)

Like the soon-to-graduate Loyola University students who later that evening asked me and three other professionals for advice about a communications career—and whose stiff expressions and carefully chosen words revealed their unspoken, deepest question: “Do we really have a CHANCE to get a decent job?”

At times like this, job seekers need to be heard. It sucks to finally get an interview after weeks of no nibbles, only to be discarded because someone else matches your work experience, AND has something else that the hiring manager preferred. When you are in mid- or late-career, your spouse doesn’t want to hear it. He or she wants to hear that you got the job, along with the salary and benefits that you’ve struggled without for so long.

When you are about to graduate, your parents and friends don’t want to hear that you don’t have any prospects. They want to hear that you have landed a terrific position that will allow you to move out on your own and pay back your student loans.

No, in this scary job market that scars more than it soothes, people need to have someone who has an open ear.

Someone who has been there…and knows that he might be there again one day.

Is this the future of greeting “cards”? Maybe not, but my wife, a Hallmark employee, will appreciate it.

Make a Smilebox greeting

UPDATE: A coworker told me about the “Pound for Pound” promotion that will support local food pantries. I just signed up!

While I avoid making New Years resolutions that include the words “diet,” “exercise” or “resolution,” I did decide to help organize a weight-loss challenge at work.

Maybe it was the endless commercials for the television show, “Biggest Loser.” I did stop watching them after I read about an Australian study linking television watching to an earlier than necessary death. No sense tempting fate.

Whatever the reasons, I joined 22 fellow employees who are throwing $10 into a pot that one person will earn on March 8. That person will have the greatest percentage weight loss between today and March 8.

Most of us are using the challenge as a motivational tool to eat better and exercise more. I’ll use it as an opportunity to trash talk my colleagues, now that football season is winding down and my Chicago Bears have gone into hibernation. Lately it stinks to work with Vikings and Packer fans.

First challenge: The IABC/Chicago board meeting tomorrow night at the Ben Pao restaurant. I might have to pass on the egg rolls and fortune cookies.

Any helpful ideas for losing about 25 pounds in eight weeks? Please don’t suggest that I cut off a limb or stop eating completely. I may like to trash talk my colleagues, but I hate eating my words.

I plan to spend part of my New Year’s Day watching a movie that I received as a Christmas present: “Mr. Holland’s Opus.”

As anyone in my immediate family will tell you, this is the movie that makes me cry every time, without fail. I’ve watched it often, and always lose it at one or more places within the movie.

Recently I took my family to watch the movie, “The Blind Side.” This is the movie starring Sandra Bullock as the woman who takes in a homeless black teenager. That teenager is now a professional football player.

The Blind Side also is the movie that seems destined to join Mr. Holland’s Opus as a movie that is guaranteed to start my waterworks flowing.

I’ve already added it to next year’s Christmas wish-list.

I hope to complete some minor repair work today to my family room ceiling. An overflowing second-story toilet led to me drilling holes in the family room ceiling to drain the water that had begun to impact the ceiling drywall and taped seams.

The day after the overflow, I contacted my homeowners insurance company to see about options for repairing the damage. My brief interaction with two tradesmen who came to provide repair estimates, and a third who talked with me by phone, reminded me of the sharp differences in integrity that you see within the trades. It also reminded me of a true story that involved my grandfather and the construction company for which he worked.

First, here’s a summary of my recent experiences with local tradesmen. The day after I contacted my insurance company, an employee of the insurance company called my home and spoke with my wife. The employee said that her husband was in construction, and he could come over to provide an estimate. Kim called me at work, and I agreed to ask for a half-day’s vacation so that I could be there to talk with the construction worker.

Have you ever gotten a sense that a conversation was going to become uncomfortable just before it did? That happened to me when the husband of the insurance company employee took a brief glance at my family room ceiling, and said, “What’s your deductible…$500?”

I confirmed that, and was about to say that the deductible had nothing to do with his estimate…but then, with a wink, he let me know how it had everything to do with his estimate.

“Yeah, this will be about $500,” he said, studying my face. “But there’s no need for you to have to pay the deductible. We can tell the insurance company that it’ll be $1,200, and that’ll cover my cost, your deductible and the cost of your painter.”

My son, who had joined us just after the contractor had begun his “inspection,” looked at me with a “what’s going on?” expression. I felt like telling the contractor off for suggesting that we agree on insurance fraud, but I guess I was too hardened by seeing it and hearing about it as I grew up in Chicago. I just wanted him out of my house.

As I closed the door and looked at my son, he blurted out, “What a creep!” I nodded in agreement, and silently thanked God for a son who understands the difference between right and wrong.

I then called a second contractor to talk about the ceiling repair. He was a referral from a neighbor. As I was scheduling time for him to come over to give me an estimate, this second contractor also asked about the deductible. I later told him not to bother coming.

Contrast that with a neighborhood “handy man” who was a referral from another neighbor. This person was honest and straightforward, and said that he was better at electrical work and plumbing than drywall taping and mudding. “I usually put on the first coat of mud, and then pay someone else to finish it off,” he said. He also said that the ceiling seemed to have dried quickly, with minimal damage. I wouldn’t need to have the extensive repair that the “professional” contractor recommended.

Over the past couple of days, with the help of my brother, Scott, I’ve repaired the ceiling. All that’s left to do is to sand it for the final time, and wait for the painter. As I was laying on the final coat of mud, I thought about a true story that my mom and grandmother told me about my grandfather, Clarence Fieberg. It was a story about the integrity of my grandfather and the construction company for which he worked.

I’ll tell that story in Part Two of this post. I may email it to the dishonest contractors who work around here.

I had to leave the family room just now, as Access Hollywood began its reporting of Oprah Winfrey’s BIG ANNOUNCEMENT regarding her decision to end her long-running television show.

I didn’t run out because I was overcome by emotion over losing Oprah. It was the absolutely idiotic fawning by Access Hollywood’s on-air “talent” that caused me to race to this blog. Someone at “Ground Zero” needs to tell the rest of the globe that Chicago will be okay without Oprah.

“Everyone in Chicago was in shock today” at the news that Oprah is ending her show, according to Access Hollywood. Now, I admit that I work and live in the northern suburbs of Chicago, so my home and office may not actually be considered Ground Zero to some of the entertainment reporters frantically covering Oprah’s life-changing announcement. But my personal observations indicate that, to the majority of my fellow Chicago-area residents, Oprah just isn’t really that significant.

Sure, we might wonder how much she will be throttling down the Oprah, Inc. money machine after a quarter century or so of work. But the truth is that I haven’t seen more than 10 minutes of any Oprah show in the past three to five years. I don’t have an Oprah jones.

Before you label me as one of the few around here who “don’t get it,” you need to know that while I was working, not a single coworker burst into tears or started shouting, “Oprah, Oprah…why???!!” As I drove home, not a single driver in any vehicle swerved across the median headed toward a light post or pond in a suicidal response to the reality that the Oprah Winfrey Show was coming to an end.

As I pulled into my neighborhood, not a single neighbor had started a candlelight vigil, with flowers, pictures of Oprah and cards with messages such as, “All of Chicago is in shock, Oprah, and we will NEVER be able to watch television again.”

Bye-bye, Oprah. Someone probably will let me know when your last show airs. I won’t be watching it; I have a life.

It’s easy to grumble about things we don’t like at work, but I’m happy about a couple of team-building events this week. The first was a bowling outing yesterday. Nothing like rolling a few strikes (emphasis on few) with coworkers, while enjoying food and beverages. The second is a volleyball tournament today.

Also, departments are preparing for the annual Halloween costume and department decoration contests. Winners get a pizza lunch and other prizes. My department won two years ago with a “Men-in-Black” theme.

This year, we’re not as enthused about participating, for some reason. One person wanted us to do a “super hero” theme, but I just don’t look good in tights.