L o b a B l a n c a {dot} c o m

Hmm, I just realized that I forgot to post one of my latest reads, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince for us English-speakin’ folk). I’m a bit farmisht at the moment, but I do want to mention this book, simply because it’s one of my favorite “quick reads.” I picked it up while organizing one of my bookcases and almost read the entire thing in one sitting (had to stop though; I was in the middle of cleaning).

As you can deduce, it is an incredibly fast read. It’s slightly under 100 pages long, plus it is laden with beautiful illustrations drawn by Saint-Exupéry. I contend, however, that this is not a children’s book as so many believe. It is actually quite a dark, sad tale at times, heavy with depth and complexity for what many might assume to be a rather shallow story. I’ve probably read it six times now, and each time it moves me in a different way. I suppose I’m just a girl like that.

I know that there is a movie out there based on this book. I’ve never seen it, but the little boy cast as the eponymous royal looks creepy enough on the DVD case that I think I’m going to pass on this one. However, I do remember watching a cartoon on Nickelodeon that was…shall we say, inspired by this story. I believe it was a Japanese animé, but I could be wrong. I do know that I loved that cartoon.

My latest copy of this story is the hard-back illustrated version with the translation done by Katherine Woods. I understand that a new translation has been released. I’ve also read that the new translation is not as poetic as Woods’ translation. Personally, I love a good poetry reading, so I think I shall stick with Ms. Woods’ version.

Final score: 5/5. Sometimes sentimentality trumps subjectivity, but I have adored this story since the first time I read it as a “tween” (a term I can assure you was not in use when I was actually in that age range).

When my parents moved to the Tarheel State a few years ago, they ended up with a house with a security system. My dad decided to keep the system activated. Part of the system included a little key fob, kind of like the alarm remote that comes with most cars.

One evening while my parents were sitting in their living room, watching television, there was a rather authoritative knock at their front door. My dad opened the door to a local sheriff’s deputy, who proceeded to ask my dad for photo identification indicating that he was the property’s resident and to inform my dad that he needed to check the premises.

See, it seems that while my dad was sitting in his recliner, he shifted his weight onto the alarm fob in his pocket and accidentally activated the silent alarm. Even when something like that is an accident, police are required to confirm that the people on the property when they arrive are who they say they are and that they actually belong on the property (how effective would cops be, after all, if they’d interrupted a robbery in progress but just left because the robber told them that he lived there?). It’s also SOP for the police to then confirm that the residents of the property are not being held by an actual robber and being forced to send the police away. Again, something else that makes sense.

* Not subject to change based on race, regardless of popular (or presidential) opinion.

My dad is White. I’m still positive enough to place good money on the fact that had my dad’s response been to become indignant and start talking smack about the deputy’s mother, he would have ended up cuffed and in the back of the deputy’s cruiser, not necessarily for being a rude SOB, but for preventing the deputy from doing what he was supposed to do.

And, yes, I understand the racial divide in this country. I’m actually even aware of it from the opposite side of the argument, as I grew up a minority in a predominantly Black city in a predominantly Black county. Racism just as easily flows from Black to White as it does from White to Black. I can also inform you that, yes, the word “honkey” is used outside of movies, and it is a suitable insult, both alone and when combined with other derogatory names aimed at one’s gender. So, do my experiences grant me permission to make assumptions about all Black people based on unfortunate run-ins I had while growing up? Wouldn’t that be “acting stupidly”?

I’d be interested in President Obama’s take on this question, since he deems it appropriate to provide his feedback on these matters. For the record, Mr. President, when you send my invitation to the White House, I prefer Guinness. I can even teach you how to pour a proper Black and Tan if you’d like me to. Just don’t call me honkey. I really don’t like it. Cracker, however, is acceptable, but only after the first beer.