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No More Heroes

by Jose on March 8, 2010 · 2 comments

in life

Superman Dies

Last week, the whole world found out that Guru a.k.a. Keith Elam of the world-renown hip-hop duo Gang Starr had (ostensibly) died of a recent heart attack he suffered the day before. Entertainment bloggers reported it. Wikipedia reported it. Celebrities who are usually in the know said it. Then, I typed up a dedication to the man, thinking these three had become relatively credible sources.

Ten minutes later, the news of his demise was squashed.

I was crushed. Hurt. Distraught. A bit angry, especially after my apology and subsequent redaction.

Then, happy the man was still alive.

His music is a big reason I made it through college to begin with. Songs like “Royalty” and “Moment of Truth” infused awesome street symphonies with super-tight poetry in ways no one’s mimicked since. He isn’t superlyrical or completely braggadocious, but his street tales and messages of peace and reflection carried me through some tough times and even some awesome times. I never had the fortune of picking up his albums early in my youth, but as I got older, I recognized Preemo (DJ Premier) and Guru’s melodies from a mile away.

It also made me think of the people I valued as heroes, people whose names sparked chatter in their respective fields, whose work made people quiver with excitement, whose passion put them just a notch above everyone else I looked up to. During college, I met many of these folks and gathered many more heroes along the way, learning more about myself as a person through their works and my reflections upon those. Whether it was education, activism, writing / poetry, or just life as a whole, I sought these figures actively as a source of the proverbial light.

Meeting them in limited spaces gave me and others the impression that they’re somehow on another level of “avatar” than those of us acolytes. In many ways, that still holds true: when one is still learning and finding their guide in life, one needs those role models to help guide their personas and spirits.

As I’ve gotten older, though, I’ve become acutely aware of my heroes’ faults. Starting from my extensive research of the long history of Muhammad Ali’s womanizing and Malcolm X before he became we semi-deify now, my ever-expanding knowledge began to deconstruct the images I had of them, and as I got older and saw my more current heroes more regularly, I saw the griminess, the discontent, the shiftiness, and the inexplicable. I also found myself at a loss for words at the indirectness and secret society rules many of them played by.

In a fit of poetic rage, I metaphorically killed every single one from top to bottom, in rhyme and meter. Like those movies where the one guy finds out his boss / government has been deceiving him the whole time and decides to abandon their rules and go guerrilla.

Except that Guru almost died.

And then it took me back to a discussion our African-American Studies department at Syracuse University had about leaders like MLK Jr., wondering whether his less savory acts devalued what he did as one of the greatest civil rights leaders in the world. One of the younger professors in the panel argued that, because he had these blemishes, he was more closely reached. Before, the MLK standard was so hard to reach for him but now, in a backwards sort of logic, he now felt better about getting to that level.

In my current position, I look at those who I consider role models and that I certainly consider myself a fan of, and have to remind myself that, for all their inner divinity, they are human. They’re every bit as emotional, insecure, wavering, and contradictory as I am. That’s what makes them possible.

Why not pray for peace with them while they’re still on Earth and not when they’re six feet under or ashes spread across a plot of land?

Everyone is on a path that’s asymptotic to 100%. That’s why I can’t blame them. They’re somewhere down the road from where I am.

Jose, who shouldn’t be this popular, you’re far too kind …

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MLK Day: It Doesn’t Matter With Me Now

by Jose on January 18, 2010 · 11 comments

in life

Martin Luther King Jr. Pledging Allegiance at the Lincoln Memorial

I’m not going to quit being an educator. Even when people want me to quit, even when the gossip comes raining down, even when the whole world tries to tell me that education is not particularly valuable in the American hierarchy of occupations, I know I cannot quit. I know when people ask me to stop talking about the prejudices and injustices of the day, whether subliminally or overtly, I’ve made headway into the minds and hearts of someone. I’ve agitated some conversation. I’ve made people formed in their ideals tweak their core beliefs just a little bit. While the list of people I can thank for this passion wraps around a lake or two, I always think of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Lots of people thank him. The people who are indebted to him and the people who reciprocate that legacy by paying it forward are almost immeasurable. My story here will reveal a little more than I should reveal, but I really don’t care. My truth is as close to objective as I can get it without being overtly nice and fumbling with words. I’m more concerned with accuracy than agreeability. Without this story, I wouldn’t have a blog, I wouldn’t have a job, and I wouldn’t tell you just how much courage it takes for educators to teach in the face of pseudo-accountability, economic persuasion, and intellectual invasion.

In my second year of teaching, I was teaching my 8th graders how to translate verbal expressions into mathematical equations when I hear this booming voice in the hallway. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it didn’t bode well for someone. One of my students who had gone to the bathroom came back and whispered to me in the middle of my lesson, “Mr. Vilson, they’re talking about you. It’s your bulletin board.” I turned back to the student and in my usual Vilsonness deflected it and got back to work on one of my favorite topics in math.

Later in the day, my AP at the time came in and admonished me for my bulletin board and my classroom, where at once people confused my aesthetics with my pedagogy. None of this made sense to me. City College never taught me about aesthetics as a means to get my students engaged in the actual material. I hadn’t read Lisa Delpit or Pedro Noguera yet. The intensity of such a simple item as a display for student work might have made me laugh if not for my tenuous relationship (at best) with the administration. Now, there was a “legitimate” basis for destroying the life of an untenured teacher who the children actually enjoyed learning from.

I am not without fault here. I respect that aesthetics actually help students feel like the classroom is their home, and that they’re coming into a place of learning. They can see themselves within a building that better housed factory workers than students, mimicking wide open spaces like jails would. I was still so fresh and young, I didn’t walk and talk with much confidence around administration, despite my deadpan exterior. Never did I imagine that I’d have to pause everything I was doing at the time, including my graduate coursework, to beautify my classroom. I only say this half-sarcastically.

With the immense pressure and lack of real support from administration at that point, I turned to three gentlemen who I knew might have an answer for me: Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, and John Lennon. While the latter two were certainly inspirational, MLK Jr.’s “I’ve Been To The Mountaintop” speech carried me through this depressing portion of my year. I sat there, letting these words repeat in my speakers while I reflected both in written word and in my mind:

“Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!”
- Martin Luther King Jr., “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop,” April 3rd, 1968

As I let the tears stream down my face, I decided to take action. My math coach at the time consulted me, my fellow teachers pleaded with me, and my commenters empathized with me, but none of it helped as much as the aforementioned words of MLK. So I did the best thing possible: I posted this quote and others all over my desk, front and center. My students inquired about it, and I told them the reasoning behind the quotes themselves. My lesson plans became stronger and I taught with more passion and urgency. I’d never cared so much in my life since I was almost too sure my days were numbered.

Every night, I’d talk to my avatars, hoping they’d have some answers for me. Even with some of the discipline issues I was having in my classroom, they told me to just be patient, and I’d be rewarded handsomely for these trials of my character. Now I write you with a self-efficacy that I never thought I’d have. Despite my current frustrations with the school system as a whole, I don’t fear losing what I’ve attained as a teacher or leader, as I’ve felt like I could lose it all before. I’ve known what that’s like since I started. I stay humble because I know, no matter how far up this proverbial ladder I reach, I can lose it all.

It doesn’t matter with me now.

If it’s not about helping our students, it’s not worth my time. I’ve never come within an inch of my life of dying from a sneeze. I’ve never organized huge protests all over the nation, dodging bullets and rocks in the process. I’ve never had my house burnt down (I almost did but that never came to be). Yet, I’ve officially punched my card in. I will not quit.

We will get there, even with my eyes closed.

Mr. Vilson, who will podcast this soon.

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Short Notes: Because Everybody Can Serve

by Jose on January 17, 2010 · 3 comments

in life

Coretta Scott King

A few links:

There just isn’t enough I can say about the intimacy and immediacy of the past 5-6 days. This doesn’t include work-related or home-related business of my own. The situation in Haiti has made me rethink some of the core memories I’ve had about my Haitian background (and my Dominican background as well). Even after finding out yesterday that my brother eventually found his mother and brother in Haiti were alive, I found myself re-energizing the activist in me, and that felt great. Here are a few tidbits I left on my Twitter in essay form:

It’s funny; people ask me, “Jose, why rally for Haitians when for most of your life, you were ostracized by them?” “Your whole first 1/2 of your life, you barely acknowledged that part of you except in company of other Haitians …” “You don’t speak Creole outside of a few words here and there, and your collection of Zouk is paltry at best.” If people knew these things, they’d be right to wonder why I’ve rallied behind my Ayiti-ness for the last 7-9 years. Here are at least a few reasons why I decided to stand by Haiti, even after my father made me so bitter about that experience:

  • 1) No matter how much you try to deny your culture, I believe the soul of the land always calls you back. Home is funny that way.
  • 2) My mom always told me not to be bitter about it, and grow. It took me years, but I finally understand what she means.
  • 3) I look at Haiti everytime I wash my face in the morning. There’s no escaping that. The jaw. The eyebrows. The smile. Yep.
  • 4) When I learned about Haiti’s proud history, I realized just how much of that set precedent. Independence is not free.
  • and most importantly, 5) I am not part anything. I am full Haitian as I am full Dominican. No in-between.

When I came in contact with my elder brother, and my cousins, I came with a renewed sense of my identity after knowing this. Where before I barely felt like seeing them, I’ve formed a stronger union with my immediate Vilsons. Dug deeper into histories. For that matter, despite what anyone thinks, the island’s name is Quisqueya, not Hispaniola. I am full Quisqueya. More important than the donating I did today, the food drives I’m helping to organize, etc., it’s making sure the culture lives. I still can’t speak a lick of Creole, but I can’t let that define my culture. It’s not so finite. It re-hashes pain, but I grow.

“If you want to be important—wonderful. If you want to be recognized—wonderful. If you want to be great—wonderful. But recognize that he who is greatest among you shall be your servant. That’s a new definition of greatness.” – Dr. Martin Luther King Jr

Jose, who has maybe a week more until he drops the website. Let’s do this.

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I Am A Man

by Jose on September 29, 2009 · 0 comments

in life

On Saturday, NYC Educator posted an interesting speech, and here it goes:

At first, when watching this video, I grimaced. How does a teacher get to the point where they have to use such terse language for a student who’s less than 1/2 his age? For that matter, it almost seems excessive when we hear the n-word used like a pronoun in our schools and we question the effectiveness of such a speech because the kids around him are laughing a bit.

Then again, I’ve personally had to give “that” speech every so often, once with full curses! (I acknowledge the risk of probably getting fired. It happens.) At some points, it was because the n-word was used, but other times, it came as a result of the constant of some student (usually a girl) getting a chauvinist comment thrown at them or after a physical brawl. As a male of my upbringing, it almost becomes incumbent upon me to set my students straight when it comes to certain ideas they have. Too many of my students come from an environment, whether that environment’s home or the streets they peruse, that doesn’t have a successful male willing to tell them when they’re wrong. So they act up with no remorse.

And I probably could have lost my job, but after that, I got the respect I deserved on a deeper level. On nights when I laid up in my crib on Saturday nights sobbing after watching Malcolm X, or feeling the soul rip from Martin Luther King’s chest when he spoke on his view from the mountaintop, I thought about easily seduced and devalued my boys and girls feel in this world. When watching this video, I empathized with Mr. Charlie Martin in his message, but I wondered if he followed that up with a little reflection later on for those boys who feel that they only have their sexual organs to contribute to the general society.

That’s one thing I never left out with any student if I saw any means: the love and care from which you speak. And anytime I wanted to succeed with getting that student to become a better person, I had that follow-through. After all, it’s the same technique many of these children use the n-word and devalue themselves. If they keep getting told they’re nothing but the n-word and treat themselves as such, then it’s easy for them to use it.

And that understanding is where the reprogramming begins … and it takes a certain type of speech and a certain type of person to do it. It doesn’t have to be racial, because I’ve heard this type of diatribe from many types of people. In my case, I know I’m coming in with a similar message to Mr. Martin:

I am a man. Let me show you how …

Mr. V, whose probably got a few students reading who can attest to this …

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I Shall Fear No Man (Y’all Don’t Hear Me Though)

by Jose on January 19, 2009 · 3 comments

in life

Backstage at the Democratic National Convention

Backstage at the Democratic National Convention

My favorite speech from the late Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King has been called “I’ve Been To The Mountaintop” and it ends something like this:

And then I got into Memphis. And some began to say the threats, or talk about the threats that were out. What would happen to me from some of our sick white brothers?

Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!

And so I’m happy, tonight.

I’m not worried about anything.

I’m not fearing any man!

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!!

The thoughts swirling through my head with the recent release of Notorious and the pending inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama all have a focal point of the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr. Particularly, I’m always concerned with a few parts of his legend that have turned into fable, and have almost made it impossible for the younger generations to feel empowered by the Civil Rights Movement. (Some of the inspiration for this post came at the behest of CNN’s Soledad Brown’s interview with Fred Gray, Rosa Parks’ lawyer during the pivotal bus sit-in, who is still quite sharp.)

These are a handful of things everyone can take to the younger generation in case even we forget what’s truly possible:

1) Rosa Parks was neither lazy nor stubborn. She was a protester who knew what she was doing when she sat on that bus, and she knew who had her back.

2) The movement may have had male figureheads, but the movement wouldn’t have even been possible without the women in the movement, and everyone who’s anyone knows it.

3) From some reports, MLK Jr. was actually reluctant to even get into the movement, but eventually felt it was the best thing to do.

4) Most of the movers and shakers of the movement were really young. Some of the Black Panthers were late teens or college students. The same can be said for the Brown Berets, Young Lords, Yellow Fist, etc. MLK Jr. was still a preacher at 25, but he was assassinated at 39. Malcolm X was also assassinated at 39. Rosa Parks was 35 during the infamous bus incident.

5) Despite videos and tales to the contrary, the people who marched, protested, and made noise were relatively few. Thus, it only takes a few to shake millions.

6) Unlike many rappers who have professed their suicidal thoughts to the masses, MLK Jr. didn’t say the aforementioned “Mountaintop” speech because he was somehow depressed or disillusioned with the world around him. He, like other Civil Rights leaders, actually feared for their lives because they were HELPING ADVANCE EQUALITY FOR ALL!

Now some of these facts might come off as a little morbid, but the residuals of these ideas have almost made many of our young brethren ostentatious when unnecessary but timid when it comes to civil action. Rather than actually feeling some inspiration about these awesome figures in this country’s history, many of them cower and shun those times in favor of more individualistic goals and a lavish lifestyle.

Thus, tomorrow’s inauguration is truly symbolic not simply because Barack Obama’s a Black man in the White House or because it comes at the heels of MLK Jr. Day, but also because this president’s whole campaign was about igniting the younger generation, and relying on their expertise. Maybe percentagewise, it may not have been much of a difference, but the people who took to the blogs and the streets is impressive, and maybe then, too, we’ll have a new generation who finds value in giving life and limb for a cause that benefits the greater.

Jose, who doesn’t believe in this post-racial business, you need more people …

p.s. – Dick Cheney hurting his back moving out of the office? Wow. Not that coincidental.

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Shot Rings Out In The Memphis Sky

by Jose on April 6, 2008 · 1 comment

in life

Martin Luther King Jr.

The speeches of Martin Luther King Jr. constantly remind me why we need to find peace, even to this day. Barack Obama’s latest speech on race invoked those sort of images from past civil rights leaders (and probably planned in many ways), while even Condoleeza Rice, a woman I’ve been very critical of, spoke up about issues of race in this country and how the legacy of this bias continues to divide us. People like Lou Dobbs and Jason Whitlock who say that race is no longer a conversation or is a conversation that no longer matters these days usually misspeak and confound even themselves, proving just how entrenched these biases are. We even get some people who call educated and well-versed Blacks and Latinos “articulate,” most of whom mean well, but a few of them who say that word with a bit of surprise, as if we’re part of some group of savages.

And MLK wasn’t the first to address these issues, nor the first to address racial inequalities, or the first to protest and preach non-violence ever. But he was the truest embodiment of the double consciousness that Blacks in this country, the understanding that we are all Americans, but within the United States, Blacks are second-class citizens bonded together by a common experience. Unlike his brethren in the struggle, he didn’t want to divide America, or make a separate Black nation, undeniably speaking out on issues of national concern for all. But his primary objective was to address the racial inequalities in this country. He didn’t just want us to hold hands in a circle and sing “Kumbaya”; he wanted institutional restitution and true integration.

Fast-forward to today, and while we have a day off for the man, we still go into war needlessly. We speak up about issues, but fear our government to the point where many of us won’t protest on a local, state, or national level against these injustices. We still find ourselves enamored with King, but some of us hold our bags and purses tightly to ourselves when a Black person walks by, and find every excuse in the book to not hire someone whose background is different from ours because we don’t want to sound racist. King helped the government realize that we need racial integration in this country in different institutions, but we still see the segregation in our schools, in our homes, and in many of the statistics dealing with poverty, employment, college matriculation, infant mortality, hospital quality, immigration, and the prison industrial complex.

While I do think that many underrepresented people have made huge strides in fields where we had no one to represent us, the general populace tends to fall into the trap of visual synecdoche, where one person or a small group of people represent the whole of the population from whence they came. For example, people see Jay-Z, Barack Obama, or Oprah Winfrey and think “See? Racial equality is here. No more need to discuss it.” Yet, that’s really a subtle way of saying “OK, no more. I can’t take any more of them on the screen.”

It’s disgraceful really. For all my discussions of racial inequality, I also fall somewhere in the spectrum of the racial integration arguments. I don’t believe in assimilation, but I also see the potential for much greater unity amongst everyone here. Yet, the institution set in place often hinders said progress. The subtleness of suggesting for instance that affirmative action has no place in America anymore is ludicrous since it was that set of policies that forcibly encouraged America to hire people regardless of our perceived divisions.

America, we have a long way to go. Let’s find the solutions to these inequalities and, then, let’s be the solution. Let’s make dreams into realities. 40 years ago, MLK died, calling America to task on its many indiscretions. 40 years from now, what will that generation think of how we responded?

jose, who reminisces over you, my G_d …

p.s. – Tomorrow, I’ll have a little inspirational post and answer some of your questions.

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The Dream Upgraded: Reactions

by Jose on January 22, 2008 · 10 comments

in Uncategorized

Mr. V Writing

Two school years ago or so, when Rosa Parks died, I wrote the word “nigger” in chalk, and took the time to educate my children about her importance, and what she meant to me and the rest of us. Last year, I used hip-hop to help my students understand the reasons why I don’t use it and why this country still has a long way to go before it’s truly equal. This year, my approach had to be different for numerous reasons. In this city, social studies programs throughout the school system have deteriorated into nothing more than the recognition of dates and names, but never an understanding of themes and ideas, and how those ideas have ramifications until today. Of course, it starts from the top, as I don’t believe they care enough about our educational system to make them into critical thinkers and doers, but mere employees and servants.

As far as my kids go, none of them have the sense that this country is not the way it should be, and it wasn’t so long ago that the color of one’s skin determined the quality and quantity of rights and liberties we take for granted, like public education, lavatory usage, public transportation, and employment. Granted, the government has resegregated America starting from the public schools and worked its way outwards, but that’s besides the point. The way education has gone these days, they’d be fortunate to get a social studies teacher who will challenge their ideas about how the world works, or for that matter reinforce their understanding of the lack of equity amongst schools across the nation and in their own neighborhoods.

With that said, I sent the letter out to my homeroom as well as my other class (we’ll call them the regular class). I wasn’t able to give the speech to my homeroom kids, as they’ve drawn the ire of so many of their subject teachers as well as the assistant principal, deans, and other officials in the building. (Yes, that’s my class that’s staying after school again.) I did however, keep my regular class after school for not being on their best behavior over the last few years, mainly because they’re the class that prompted the letter.

After reading the letter, I added some serious commentary about how they were so fortunate to be in the positions they’re in, and how every teacher they have really care about their education to the point where we would shake them if it meant they’d become better people. I also discussed what I’ve been through, having been called nigger, having seen people die and/or get shot at, and how I have family in jail wishing they could come back to this setting all over again. Lastly, I told them how MLK’s dream was never fulfilled because a day after he said the speech, he was assassinated, and he never got the chance to see his dream fulfilled. It’s their time now. I wasn’t there to scare them; I was there to teach them, despite what their fellow students might have said.

I was in a moment, the same moment I had when Rosa Parks died, when I listen to Jay-Z’s “Minority Report,” when I saw X, when I plod through another chapter of Jonathan Kozol’s Savage Inequalities, when I see postcards of public lynchings, when I see The US vs. John Lennon and how John was harassed for his personal beliefs, or even when I see immigrant families on the F train, picking the father up from work. I didn’t cry, but I was too damn close. And I didn’t expect to touch any of them to the point where they’d transform into great people, but I wanted to plant a seed.

Their reactions? Anywhere from wonder to utter respect. I affected the more passionate ones, and that was when I knew I had something going. I had the regular class write a response letter to me in class, and some of them weren’t in-depth, mainly because they don’t have the skills yet to think critically, and that’s fine. But the conversations became different, and the respect is definitely palpable, too. I had their respect as a teacher before, but now I have it as a person as well. I see a little change in them, and that’s good to see. Here’s hoping that I can write something more in-depth about these kids in a few years.

We’re still waiting for MLK’s dream to come true, too …

jose, who gives a headnod to Heath Ledger’s family …

p.s. – Giving speeches to kids and writing letters are high-risk behaviors if you don’t have experience with those issues. Then again, the same goes for teaching in general.

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The Dream Upgraded

by Jose on January 21, 2008 · 8 comments

in Uncategorized

Martin Luther King Jr.

 

It all started when we had our ELA tests and the kids were acting out, and really, acting out. After a while, I just got tired of their disrespect and lack of care for their own education, and showed them why their teachers fight so hard for them. Below is the letter I wrote to them on Wednesday, and if you don’t like it, well, leave a comment. It was as watered down as possible for kids who really never got a history lesson about these deep topics. The reprise comes tomorrow. Peace and happy MLK day.

Dr. Martin Luther King, whose birthday it was yesterday, once said the following:

“Well, I don’t know what will happen now; we’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life – longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And he’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over and I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not go there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land. And I’m so happy tonight; I’m not worried about anything; I’m not fearing any man!”

- April 3rd, 1968; Memphis, Tennessee

In his time, he fought for people to sit in the chairs you sit in today with the same teachers available to any other person in these United States without being called a “nigger” or any other terrible name they could come up with for people who were from a different country or a different race. In this speech, he knew people wanted to kill him because he was saying all these things and fighting for them every single day to make this happen. What people asked of him and his people, he did because he knew it would improve his community and hoods like his.

Today, I thought about how each of you, are part of his dream. That you can have a teacher like me have students like you all learning, and thinking, and growing every day. And sometimes, people in our own neighborhoods don’t want that for us. They want to stop us from succeeding. They tell us we’re not good enough for things because of where we come from. Now, instead of someone from the government calling us the n-word, we do it to each other, even though the pain is still there.

Yet, Martin Luther King Jr. walked on water. He took a good risk, even though he knew people didn’t like him and wanted him to not follow. And sometimes, when you’re doing good things, people want to shut you up too. I am here to tell you to stop and think. Think about the people that care about you. Think about your families and other adults that have helped you get this far, and also that want you to get further than where you are.

Then, act like a role model. Help make your hood, wherever you come from, better, with your actions. King wasn’t perfect, but he tried his best every day. And that’s what I ask of you. Try, every single day, and don’t stop until … well, never. I’ve been to the mountaintop too, and I want you to see what it’s like.

Signed,

mr. v

jose, who’s excited for the NY Giants for obvious reasons …

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