When Comics Become Your Scripture In Trying Times

I grew up in a household that wasn’t overly religious, I don’t think. My mother was good with her god. I’d say she was the usual god fearing Christian Black woman that had to remember she was a god fearing Christian Black woman as she prevents herself from beating someone’s ass that rightfully deserves it. That contrast about her was one of the things that I loved most. What I hated most was her taking me to church on Sundays; not because I didn’t want to go but because at the time I was running track so the week was filled with practice, then a competition on Saturday and Sunday was my only day off. I once saw her step over my older brother to wake me up for church. Me: Why doesn’t Travis have to go? He needs god way more than I do! Mom: You need to take communion. Me: I can get my own damn juice and crackers. What makes that conversation worse is that same day the preacher asks all the youth to stand up then questions what each of us wanted to do for a job in life. The usual answer of fireman, dancer, and doctor were given and when he got to me he asked, “and what would you like to do.” …to which I replied, “I’d like to sit back down.” In my defense, everyone else thought it was funny. The preacher shook his head and said, “there’s a Smart Alec in every group.” My mother looked at me with that, “Really?” and shook her head, mom-ish, in that “you think you’re sooooooooo funny” body language. I’ve always been the type of person that gets to the lesson or realization through a…