Tag: impact

Long Live The King

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I awoke yesterday morning to pouring rain pelting the house and a slew of notifications that had nothing to do with COVID, the Yankees, or politics, notifications that stabbed my soul and made me audibly gasp with sorrow.

“Actor Chadwick Boseman dies from colon cancer at age 43”

Rarely does a celebrity’s passing shatter my core, although I freely admit I cried when Carrie Fisher, Chris Farley, Robin Williams, and Tom Petty died.

This one, though. 

This one walloped my heart hard as the clouds outside my window wept all day long.  

Not T’Challa.

T’Challa, the soft-spoken king who packs as much strength and fierceness as any of his fellow Avengers.

T’Challa, the wise and noble warrior with unmatched agility and one hell of a necklace.

T’Challa, one of many legendary and inspirational characters brought to life on the screen by the extraordinarily talented Chadwick Boseman.

Chadwick Boseman grew up in South Carolina and wrote his first play when he was a junior in high school. He graduated from Howard University in 2000 with a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Directing. As a college student, actress Phylicia Rashad not only was one of Boseman’s professors but also a mentor. She secured funds for him and fellow students who had been accepted to the prestigious Oxford Mid-Summer Program of the British American Drama Academy in London. 

After earning his degree, Boseman taught drama and wrote several more plays while securing small television roles. However, in 2013 he landed his breakout role as Jackie Robinson when he was cast as the trailblazing professional baseball player in the film 42.

The roles kept on coming, and over the course of the next seven years, he would portray several other characters, most notably Thurgood Marshall and James Brown.

So, that’s Jackie Robinson, Thurgood Marshall, and James Brown.

Three strong African-American men who changed history portrayed by an African-American man who also changed history and redefined the word “hero.”

Then there’s The King.

King T’Challa, also known as Black Panther, a hero in every sense of the word whose inspiration transcends race, age, and gender.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw King T’Challa/Black Panther on screen. While I admired his dignified demeanor, his comforting accent, his care for his people, and his badass maneuvers, what made the biggest impact on me was the aura of goodness surrounding T’Challa that I could actually feel as I watched the movie, an aura undoubtedly created by Boseman through the phenomenal application of his craft. And every time I’ve seen T’Challa/Black Panther on a screen, I’ve experienced that same feeling.

And all the while, Boseman kept his diagnosis quiet. 

We’ve come to learn through his passing that, over the last four years, Boseman not only filmed ten films during and after surgeries and treatment, he visited children who were suffering from cancer while he quietly battled the disease himself.

Nobody knew.

Talk about noble.

Boseman spoke at the Howard University Commencement in 2018 at the height of his health battle. It’s an amazing speech in its own right, but as someone who has long struggled to find purpose, the speech’s closing speaks to my heart:

“…You would rather find purpose than a job or career. Purpose crosses disciplines. Purpose is an essential element of you. It is the reason you are on the planet at this particular time in history. Your very existence is wrapped up in the things you are here to fulfill. Whatever you choose for a career path, remember, the struggles along the way are only meant to shape you for your purpose. When I dared to challenge the system that would relegate us to victims and stereotypes with no clear historical backgrounds, no hopes or talents, when I questioned that method of portrayal, a different path opened up for me, the path to my destiny.“

You can read and/or view the entire speech here.

In the thousands of tributes posted within the last 36 hours, Chadwick Boseman was over and over referred to as the personification of grace and dignity.

That’s a perfect summation of this amazing human, who ironically passed away on Major League Baseball’s annual Jackie Robinson Day.

Death makes us all examine the trajectory of our own lives a little closer. When we choose to adjust our journey and live a better life as a result, that’s how we honor the legacy of those who made a difference in our lives and in our world.

I look at how Chadwick Boseman lived his life and all he accomplished despite the shitty hand that life dealt him. He never sought attention for himself but, instead, redirected the attention on others. He made people feel good about themselves and showed us what it meant to live in grace and goodness. 

Looking forward to my own future, I have no excuse for not aspiring to accomplish my goals. I will keep Chadwick Boseman’s inspirational example of dignity and perseverance close to my heart as I allow destiny to reveal the path to my purpose.

What better way to honor the legacy and the impact of a true King?

Thank you, Chapman Boseman. 

Rest in power, King.

Wakanda forever.

Wakanda forever, indeed.

Thanks for joining me on my journey. I am glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“Long Live The King” was posted on jillocone.com and on soulseaker.com on August 30, 2020. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer, who was not endorsed or compensated in any manner by any entity; views do not represent any employer. Copyright 2020, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with reposting, licensing, and publishing inquiries.

A New Hope, Indeed

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opening_crawlI’m in full preparation mode for Thursday, which includes purchasing as much Kleenex stock as possible and buying tissues by the boxful.

That evening will culminate 42 out of my 48 years here on earth, and I’m not being melodramatic in the slightest.

As a little girl in the 1970s, I wasn’t a tomboy, but I also wasn’t a “girlie girl.”

I fell in the middle, a misfit of sorts, and always sympathized with those toys relegated to the Island of Misfit Toys in the classic “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” especially the polka-dotted elephant.

Toy options for little girls like me in the 1970s included various models of Barbie dolls including Cher and Farrah Fawcett, Shrinky Dinks, Easy Bake Oven, paper dolls, Holly Hobbie, Fashion Plates, Spirograph, and baby dolls.

While the Spirograph and Shrinky Dinks were okay, the rest?

No, thank you.

My little brother, on the other hand, always received the coolest toys for Christmas and his birthday, so I played with them instead.

I spent hours creating highways out of the plastic, orange track that my brother’s die-cast cars could take back and forth to work or use to race their nemeses. I took pleasure in building cities and creatures out of his collection of hard, plastic interlocking blocks in all shades of primary colors. I could pretend and use my imagination to create stories that didn’t have females conforming to the societal stereotypes of the era when I played with toys marketed to boys.

Especially in 1977.

That’s the year when my beloved uncle and grandfather took my brother and I to the movies to see some two-hour-long space-type flick that was all the rage.

I was six years old, and I remember it.

My brother was two, and he remembers it.

The characters and vehicles and lands from this so-called “space opera” were top-billed requests on letters addressed to Santa from all over the country that year, and believe you me, I raided my brother’s treasure trove of vehicles and figures from said “space opera” every chance I got.

That blockbuster movie, known today as Star Wars: A New Hope, has coursed through my veins for 42+ years and positively impacted my life in several ways.

At first glance, many are surprised that this blonde-haired, blue-eyed beach-loving writer and educator has had Jedi dreams and a desire to join the rebel alliance surging through her blood since childhood. I am not ashamed about my love of Star Wars, which began the minute I first heard the London Symphony Orchestra blare the main title while I read the quintessential opening crawler announcing that it was a period of civil war and that “rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire.”

Star Wars was deliciously different and provided me with a new way of seeing things. It was the first time I was exposed to a strong woman who wasn’t being molded into a future wife or mother. Leia was a princess, that’s true, but she had a purpose much greater than her title. She wasn’t searching for a prince or seeking admiration. Instead, she was fighting for a cause she believed in with fierce determination and ultimate fearlessness.

Leia was my inspiration, and I adored her.

I still do, now more than ever.

Star Wars offered me new hope at an age when I so needed it.

And it wasn’t just Leia.

I loved all of the characters and their idiosyncrasies. This most interesting band of misfits and their missions transported me to exciting worlds as they defended their cause with 100% effort and dedication for what they believed was the greater good.

And Boba Fett is the baddest-ass misfit mercenary ever to travel to the Outer Rim and beyond. He’s got swagger and an aura of cunning dauntlessness, and is the coolest cat I’ve ever seen on the big screen.

Star Wars lands like Tatooine, Hoth, Bespin, Endor, and Yavin 4 were so different from the other lands of suburbanite make-believe I was exposed to as a child. Who would have ever thought that now, thanks to the magic of Disney Imagineers, I can actually board and ride the Millennium Falcon and walk through lands inspired by those in the Star Wars franchise two- score-and-two-years after seeing them on the big screen for the first time? Shameless plug here for Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge, which is out of this world, pun intended, and Shangri-La for the millions of people like me who have Star Wars in their bloodline.

Three trilogies with nine movies and two spinoffs spanning 40+ years in both space time and reality… I’ve loved every single one of them.

Let me loudly repeat that for the fanboys in the back: I unconditionally loved every single movie.

Now, the saga featuring the story of the Skywalker lineage is ending with the ninth installment, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, which premiers on Thursday night.

Sure, there will be new Star Wars series and films in the future, especially on Disney+, but THIS saga, the Skywalker three-three-three trilogies, has reached its end.

This saga’s threads spans generations and have run deep through my life tapestry inspiring me, exciting me, and providing me with a sense of acceptance and a love of story I might never have found otherwise.

More importantly, this saga has provided me with hope, time and time again, and I’m eternally grateful for its lessons.

Carrie Fisher taught me to follow my heart and age authentically, that it’s okay to be broken, and honest writing can be therapeutic. George Lucas taught me to write what my soul tells me to write in spite of the naysayers. Princess Leia taught me to be a strong and independent woman while fighting for what’s right, and also that I never have to conform to society’s norms. Han Solo taught me that scoundrels aren’t all that bad. Luke Skywalker taught me to believe in what I cannot see. Chewbacca taught me the value of friendship. C3PO taught me the importance of wisdom. Anakin Skywalker taught me the perils of giving into darkness. Darth Vader taught me that family ultimately comes first. Padme Amidala taught me to serve when I can. Lando Calrissian taught me to let bygones be bygones. The Emperor taught me the importance of balancing the dark with the light. R2D2 and BB8 taught me to keep rolling when things get difficult. Kylo Ren taught me to focus on the lesson instead of the outcome. Finn taught me that anyone can be a hero. Poe Dameron taught me the importance of teamwork but to recognize when it’s time to work alone. Rey taught me to seek my destiny and to believe in my journey, no matter where it takes me. Obi-Wan Kenobi taught me to trust the Force because it will always guide me in the right direction.

Boba Fett taught me that there’s nothing cooler than being a bad-ass misfit, and to answer requests made of me with, “As you wish.”

Finally, Yoda taught me to do instead of try, and that there’s a time for everything to end.

And, so it is.

If you see me on Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker’s opening night bawling like a baby, it most definitely isn’t only because of what happens in the storyline, not that I know anything that’s going to happen, mind you.

Those heartfelt tears will be flowing because the curtains will have closed on a very special part of my life as the double suns set for the final time while the credits scroll among the stars.

Cue the John Edwards fanfare.

The force will be with you.

Always.

cropped-img_0764 Thanks for joining me on my journey. I’m glad you’re here.

With gratitude,

Jill

“A New Hope, Indeed” was posted on jillocone.com  and on soulseaker.com on December 14, 2019. Views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the writer who was not compensated in any way by any entity. Copyright 2019, Jill Ocone. All rights reserved. Contact jillocone@gmail.com with licensing and publishing inquiries.