Fela!
July 26th, 2010
While my mom and sister were in town, we saw Fela the Musical on Broadway. While I haven’t seen more than four plays on Broadway, this was by far the best production I’ve seen. The energy level was sky high.


Take a look at the show’s opening number:
In the video below, my favorite number from the show:
Old Friends
July 26th, 2010
The best part of summer is getting together with old friends. On this rare occasion, several friends of mine from journalism school happened to be in New York for the Fourth of July.

Catching up
July 25th, 2010
Long delay between posts, I know. I’ve moved from Trenton, where I’d been a temp reporter for the AP’s statehouse bureau, to Montclair, NJ where I’m living and commuting to Parsippany, NJ for my new job at the Daily Record. There I cover Morris County for seven (soon to be eight) zoned weeklies and the paper’s daily edition.
In June, my mom and sister visited New York City for 10 days. Had a great time with them.

Other than that, not much else is new. I live in a great location — 30 minutes to the City by train and the station is right around the corner for my doorstep. Lots of fun things to do in Montclair, as well.
Stay tuned. I’ll dish on my leisure time over the last couple of months.
In transition
June 27th, 2010
Posting will be light for the next couple of weeks. Will explain more soon.
Guts
June 7th, 2010
I want to try this. I wonder how long you need to train for this…
Grann
June 6th, 2010

November 6, 1923 – April 28, 2010
The Morrison family said goodbye to Mary Lee Morrison, less than a week before my 25th birthday. I have nothing but fond memories of her. Never a dull moment when you were hanging out with Grann (short from grandma). I’ll certainly miss her smile, laugh and tenacity.
Grann, after having ordered a glass of wine during lunch on a trip to Monterey, Calif., attempted to explain her beverage choice as if to maintain a matronly, Christian-like persona in front of her grandchildren:
“Jesus turned water into wine. If it’s good enough for him, it’s good enough for me,” she said, sending my sisters, my aunt Carol and I into a roaring round of laughter.
Aunt Carol replied: “The Bible says he turned it into wine. It didn’t say he drank it.”
Grann shrugged and took a sip of her wine.
That was a good day.
–
I have to be honest, though. I don’t know very much about the history of the Morrison family. And I’m in it. While reading Grann’s funeral program, I learned things I’d only heard briefly mentioned before or not at all. I tried years ago to engage my dad about where our family is from. I’ve asked about his dad, whom I never met. He died two years prior to my birth. I’ve never gotten more than a sentence or two out of my dad about his our family. I’m told we have relatives in Chicago, Illinois where Grann was raised before she moved to Oakland, California. I was supposed to meet them at the funeral, but they never made an appearance.
There has always been an eerie silence surrounding the family lineage which both puzzles and troubles me. And not to be melodramatic, at times I feel I don’t know an important part of me. If I’ll ever reconcile that, who knows. I’m a journalist, so I can definitely find out as much I’d want to know without the help of my dad or my aunt. But when will I take the time to do it?
–
You’ve got to admit the striking resemblances in my family. Can you guess which one is my dad in the picture below? If you’ve seen pictures of me in elementary school, you’d be able to point him out no problem.

From top left, clockwise: My dad, David J. Morrison, Aunt Carol, Uncle Malcolm (deceased), Mary Lee Morrison (deceased), David H. Morrison (deceased).
The Stuyvesants
June 6th, 2010
Friends of a friend of mine released their collaborative project last week. Soundmen and graphic designers Flwrpt and Algorythm pay hommage to Brooklyn’s BedStuy community with The Stuyvesants. It’s a collection of solid instrumentals fusing together hip hop, soul, funk and other genres seamlessly. Click on the album to visit their site and download the album.
Here’s a sample from the project, titled 20 Jefferson Ave Theme.
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Aaron’s Top 5 Eddie Murphy Moments
May 20th, 2010
Eddie Murphy has long been my favorite black comedic actor — but not my favorite of all American comedic actors. I’ve put together a list of my top five Eddie moments. Agree? Disagree? Suggest other moments in the comments section.
Warning: explicit language and content in some of the clips below. UPDATE: Some of the clips have been removed from YouTube. So that means you’ll have to rent them, now doesn’t it?
5. James “Thunder” Early in Dreamgirls (2006)
*Video removed from YouTube due to copyright claim.
4. Preacher Pauly in Vampire In Brooklyn (1995)
3. Ray Gibson in Life (1999)
2. Randy Watson in Coming to America (1988)
*Video removed from YouTube due to copyright claim.
1. The Klumps in The Nutty Professor (1996)
‘Do your own thing.’
May 20th, 2010
Seniors say the damnedest things. I was reminded that during an AARP event I covered today, at which New Jersey’s governor attempted to woo seniors citizens who are concerned over his proposed plan to cut their state benefits.
“Can I tell you something personal,” asked a modestly dressed 80-year-old black woman clutching a cup of coffee and croissant she generously buttered as I grilled her about the governor’s speech.
“Sure,” I said, expecting the woman to reveal heartbreaking details about senior life on a fixed income.
“You are dressed very well and you speak very intelligently,” she said, and then paused.
Oh Lord, I thought. Is she hitting on me? No, couldn’t be.
“You should lose the hardware,” she said after what seemed like several seconds of dead air.
Lose the hardware? I looked down at my hands. I was holding a yellow notepad, a pen, my job-issued Motorola Que and my iPhone. My press pass dangled from my neck. It has metal component. Hardware?
The octogenarian pointed to my left ear.
I don’t have a Bluetooth headset. Had one magically appeared on my head? Or worst, did I have wax in my ears?
“Your earring. You shouldn’t wear it. It’s inappropriate,” she said.
I tensed up. Although no one was standing within earshot of she or I, my first emotion was that of embarrassment.
“People like us,” she began, tapping her cheek to indicate she was talking about African Americans. I nodded to signal I knew what she meant. “We shouldn’t give the larger community ways to weed us out. You stand out with the earring. It’s a distraction. And people make assumptions about young men with earrings.”
She lifted her eyebrows to imply something she was trying not to say.
Wow, I thought. This is the first time in many years I’d heard someone bring up the issue of men piercing their ears and wearing studs.
I pierced my left ear in my junior year of high school, right after I’d returned home from my first ever trip to New York City. That year I’d made up my mind to move to the East Coast upon completing college. And move, I did. The earring, back then, represented a sense of independence and of ambition that I’d somehow discovered in the Big Apple. Cheesy? Maybe not. I made it to New York.
These days I barely remember that I have my ear pierced. I rarely take the stud out, except to clean it. I’ll admit I walked away from the awkward conversation feeling a bit insecure.
She told me she’d raised four boys of her own. Two of them were college professors. The other two were engineers. I assumed she was implying that they are “where they are” in part because they don’t wear earrings, a fashion long considered feminine (even homosexual) by black (religious?) women (and men) of her dying generation.
Do people of her generation really see me that way? And at first glance?
Before I walked away, I decided not to assume the woman was homophobic, or that she was assuming I’m signaling to others my true sexual identity by wearing a quarter karat diamond stud, or that my decision to wear it would place a glass ceiling over my career trajectory.
That would just be stupid. And she seemed like a reasonably intelligent, albeit old-fashioned, woman.
Her parting words: “It’s just something to think about. You don’t have to take my advice. As they say, do your own thing.” She winked.
I smiled generously, turned on my heels and headed for the sliding doors of the Marriot in downtown Trenton.
No moral to the story. Just thought I’d share the joys of being a journalist. Thanks for reading. Comments?
Erykah
April 3rd, 2010
Badu.
Found this video from a producer who was on the online staff I led back in college. And it’s recorded in my hometown. And Dave Chapelle’s crazy behind introduced her. Nice job, Domingo.
…if you don’t have Erykah’s new album, grab that this weekend. It’ll help her with her bail money, she says. Ha!
See why, here.
