Isolating on Mt. Kilimanjaro made it easy to forget about pandemic

 Photos and article by Tony Mangia

At first, going to Tanzania during a pandemic seemed like a crazy idea, but the restlessness from months of self-isolation was numbing and the lure of conquering Mount Kilimanjaro just too strong.

The Machame Trail is one of the most popular — and shortest — of the seven main routes up Kilimanjaro. It is usually a seven-day trek with a difficulty rating of challenging, but my team (a guide, a chef and four porters) and I made the top in six.

My guide, Michael, told me mid-September was usually one of the busiest times on Kilimanjaro, but COVID had discouraged or scared away most tourists — even the adventurous ones. 

The Machame’s thirty-seven miles of up-and-down footpaths, dotted with many rock, gravel and scramble sections, are hailed as some of the most awe-inspiring trails in the world. The numerous panoramic views helped take my mind off the rugged hike while I plodded on. 

Climbing independently made it difficult to pace myself against anyone except the porters who always passed me a couple of hours after I left them breaking down the campsite — and with 25 kilos of gear on their heads, to boot. 

But the solo aspect of my journey had it benefits.

There were many moments, looking out onto the magnificent horizon alone, with the unseen mountain’s silent power always looming, which lent themselves to quiet contemplation. These special instances, concurrent with the lack of internet and television, made it easy to forget about all the troubles in the world — including COVID-19. 

A sort of social media distancing.

There were cold nights (15°F) and foggy mornings bookending the usually sunny days. I’ll never forget the invigorating scramble up The Baranco Wall — an intimidating, winding artery of slippery rocks — or crossing the moonlike Alpine Desert  and a snow-showered lunch at Lava Rock.

Staring up at the Milky Way through the chilly, nighttime air, made it was easy to wax poetic about the journey I was undertaking, but, when my hands were too cold to scribble or the dazzling view actually left me speechless, there would be a traditional celebratory dance with song by my team under the million-year gaze of Kilimanjaro the morning after my summit that paid tribute to its majesty.

My pre-dawn, moonlit start from base camp to the crest also rewarded me with a glorious sunrise breaking over the surrounding peaks before reaching the top — hypoglycemia and altitude sickness be damned.

Descending down Mweka Trail, when the six days of inspiration, seclusion and media-free introspection was nearing an end, it was easy to imagine that all of the world’s problems had vanished — coronavirus and all. 

Isolation isn't so bad … if you find the right place to do it.

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Making veterinary house calls in Tanzania with Dr. Maguo

Article and photos by Tony Mangia

Animal welfare in Tanzania seemed like a simple enough volunteer program to sign up for once I made the decision to “get away” this past fall during the pandemic, but I didn’t expect to find myself poking needles under fur and getting elbow deep in body fluids, all with the aspiration of helping keep creatures — including myself — safe in a remarkable land far away from my isolation bubble at home.

This was my eighth volunteer stint at different worldwide outposts over the past five years, but, this time, the excursion came with the threat of an invisible menace — namely COVID-19. 

Overseas volunteering is a proclivity I do twice a year for three to four weeks — with a  week or two of adventure mixed in. On this trip, I climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro before my volunteering stint began and, like almost anyone else going anywhere nowadays, it was my first time traveling during a worldwide pandemic, so there was that added sense of risk as well.

Before leaving in September, I did get a flu shot and had considered getting a rabies pre-exposure immunization, after I was told I be working closely with animals, but the injection timeline — three shots spread out over 28 days — didn’t fit my schedule or my macho sense of immortality. So that inoculation was ignored — quite irrationally.

I would be spending two weeks with the International Volunteer Headquarters program in Arusha, Tanzania. IVHQ is a reputable organization with a variety of worldwide programs based out of New Zealand — six of which I already had satisfactorily completed with them. 

There was a standard orientation and meeting with some of the volunteers in other IVHQ programs (mostly childcare) my first night at the hostel in Arusha. Not surprisingly, COVID restrictions and worries had narrowed down the usually larger number of volunteers, but there were still about a dozen twenty-somethings from different locales such as Mexico, Switzerland, England and the US already there. IVHQ took a lot of care to safeguard its enlistees from the virus, as well their all-around safety. We were in good hands.

Each day, I would be picked up outside the home where I would be residing for almost three more weeks (There would be a four-day safari in-between). I preferred paying a little extra for a private homestay in order to avoid the noisier coming-and goings of the younger volunteers inside the group dorms. As a bonus, I get to live with, and get to know a local family.

On my first day, waiting outside the gate of my temporary home, Dr. Maguo — a genial, neat-looking man in khaki pants and button-down shirt with what already seemed a permanent smile — waved me over to his jeep-SUV hybrid with the PAWS (Protection of Animal Welfare Society) logo on the doors and tire cover.

Inside the vehicle were two other freewill engineers (my personal euphemism for us volunteers) — Liam — a 20-year-old from New Hampshire and Julien — a 75-year-old Canadian from Halifax — together, a nice combination of polar-generational perspectives in the mix. 

Liam had already been in Arusha with his wife Jordan for a few weeks and the young couple planned to spend the next four months in Tanzania. Julien — a retired dentist — was, like myself, on his first day of the job.

The doctor gave us a brief background of his experience and explanation of his official duties — with a fairly impressive command of English — while we drove to our first assignment.  His ancestors came from the Chagga tribe — the second largest group in Tanzania behind the Sukuma — and he has a masters degree in zoology and a BS in environmental science (both from Atlantic International University in Honolulu) plus a doctorate in veterinary medicine. He grew up around Arusha and has been working as a veterinarian since 1990. 

I found myself addressing him as Doc in some casual settings. He didn’t seem to mind.

Doc and his wife Evelyne established Elang'ata Agro-Vet Services — legally registered by the Tanzania Government — in 1997 as a way to promote animal rights and provide for their welfare, while at the same time educate people by offering advice and free veterinary services.

Since 2010, Dr. Maguo has been working as the District Animal Welfare Inspector in Arusha. Prior to this he was the district subject matter specialist in disease control, meat hygiene and inspection, artificial insemination and small and large animal production.

To put it mildly, he was, and is, a dedicated animal specialist whose enthusiasm for his work is well … infectious.

Elang’ata Agrovet provides a number of animal welfare services and sells veterinary supplies and medicines, but the one crusade that Dr. Maguo, as founder of Arusha Society for the Protection of Animals, spends a great deal of time on is combating the scourge of rabies — known as Kichaa cha Mbwa Kinaua or “madness of dog” in its Kiswahili name —  as much as his resources allow. We just called it Kichaa for short.

Dr. Maguo has been taking on volunteers like Liam, Julien and I to help in his quest for about 10 years now. 

For the most part, like an old-fashioned country doctor, he does mostly personal house calls — only with pets and livestock. But, when Dr. Maguo does mass dog vaccinations and promotes rabies prevention in the temporary rural health centers he sets up around Arusha, it turns into an amazingly grand scene. 

Until then, we would be making the rounds with Dr. Maguo — watching and learning — during the house calls.

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Seeing Tanzania during pandemic made it more than an adventure

 Article and Photos by Tony Mangia 

There weren’t too many countries in the world accepting visitors when I made a concerted effort to escape from my COVID-19 cocoon at home this past spring. Then, after languishing on my own throughout the summer, a September window of opportunity to get away from the isolation arose, and I broke out my cobwebbed passport and made plans for Tanzania.

My previous plans for an overseas expedition in April were dashed — like so many others were — when flight limitations, the fear of contacting and, possibly, spreading COVID or finding myself stranded in a foreign quarantine ward were, for lack of a better phrase, at a fever pitch.

So, during the summer months, I watched as coronavirus cases spiked and subsided around the globe, even wondering if I would ever be able to travel overseas again without all the excess baggage a person would now need to bring along — namely COVID plus all of the concerns, and even guilt, associated with it. 

In all honesty, traveling with the pandemic scare only added to my sense of adventure and the urgency to leave.

Meanwhile, I waited patiently, somberly gazing at my computer screen, reliving photos of my past faraway journeys and researching all I could about the virus, until I contacted a doctor friend (an infectious disease specialist) who assured me it was okay to travel, but stick to the standard precautions like masks, hand-cleaning and social distancing. As simple as those well publicized safeguards were, her professional reassurance and tone went a long way in helping to make my decision. So, after months of anxious, self-imposed seclusion at home and, after Tanzania re-opened its borders, my mid-September take-off couldn’t come soon enough.

And it would be worth every bit of the precautionary frustration and health advisory red tape just to break free of my tiny quarantine bubble.

My September-October itinerary would include a two-week animal welfare volunteering stint in Arusha sandwiched between a seven-day climb up Mt. Kilimanjaro and four-day safari in Serengeti National Park.

Looking back, I don’t know what was a crazier idea — going to Tanzania and attempting a world-class climb of Mt. Kilimanjaro or just going to Tanzania during a world-wide pandemic in the first place?

But also, in retrospect, the global virus — which had basically kept us all locked up at home — was a catalyst fueling a desire to challenge myself and take more risks, especially anywhere far away.

And what better way to isolate and break the boredom of self-quarantine than making a solo climb on the deserted trails of a lone mountain? 

Talk about taking social distancing to an extreme. 

It would be my first time in Tanzania, so it goes without saying that the climb up Kilimanjaro would be a new accomplishment. I did a safari in Kenya a few years ago, but, even so, whenever you have a chance to see the wildlife of Africa up close, you do it.

And the volunteer program, well … who knew what to expect dealing with that?

I did get a seasonal flu shot in advance and, after being informed I would be physically handling many different animal breeds in the volunteer program, I considered getting a rabies pre-exposure immunization, as well. But that injection’s timeline — three shots spread out over 28 days — didn’t fit my schedule or my macho sense of immortality. So that inoculation was, quite irrationally, ignored.

So, despite that bit of recklessness, the trip was on. I packed the normal essentials plus those hard-to-find-over-there extras: headlamp, batteries and baby wipes. Then I added some new first-time carry-ons — including about a dozen face masks, rubber gloves and a half-dozen, pocket-sized bottles of hand sanitizer — to what I usually pack in my luggage.

A few maddening domestic flight changes by the airline (Departure from Dallas, then Chicago, then New York City) in the pre-flight weeks and having the overseas take-off pushed back (from Thursday to Friday) and Tanzanian airport rerouted (Dar es Salaam Airport was restricted because of COVID) to Kilimanjaro International only days before takeoff turned my whole departure into a convoluted logistical mess.  And when I finally got to the Tampa check-in starting point, an agent then asked for my “negative COVID test.” 

Of course, I hadn’t gotten one. 

Going on safari in Tanzania during the pandemic

 Photos and Article by Tony Mangia

Anticipation ran high the morning we loaded up two tan-colored, over-sized Landcruisers with gear and 11 passengers (all volunteers in Tanzania), two chefs and our guides at the start of our safari excursion to Serengeti National Park from a hostel in Arusha.

Our Tanzanian driver and guide was Ali, an amiable man with a seemingly vast knowledge of the park and the scores of wildlife we we all expected to see over the next four days.

Ali told us it was dry season on the Serengeti plains and that many of the giant herds (like wildebeest) were still making their way south from Kenya, but, outside the scarcity of some breeds, we should be able to see the Big Five — specifically lions, rhinos, elephants, leopards and water buffaloes. Ever the antagonist, I questioned why the buffalo were part of this esteemed bunch — and not cheetahs or hippos — but there they were listed along the top guns.

Our volunteer organization, IVHQ, booked our safari with Tanzanian Host Experience and introduced Ali and another guide, who went by the solo moniker, Johnson, to us two nights before the trip during an orientation on what was included (tents, sleeping bags, three meals and 1-1/2 liters of water per day), what we should bring (jackets, snacks and cameras), what facilities the campsite had (toilets and showers) and what we could expect to see (The Big Five). The cost — $700USD per person.

The pair expressed optimism about the dry-season weather and prospects for animal sightings, but apologized about the natural absence of the dramatic wildebeest migration at this time of the year. Most of the migratory herds were were still heading south from Kenya.

No apology was necessary for Mother Nature's ways.

But times were tough in Tanzania — as they were around the world — because of COVID. Financial hardships for the safari workers over the past two seasons was something they couldn't control. The virus had kept visitors away and dwindled safari tourism down to almost a fraction of what it normally is. I heard the same sad refrain while climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro two weeks earlier, when my guide, Michael, said his crew was also feeling the pinch. He told me he usually led two trek parties a month, but that my solo climb was his first in over six months.

Ali told us that this was his first safari outing since March. And being that we were headed into October, it was a sobering timetable of how long COVID is affecting different people and various economies all over the world.

We set out on our comfortable 8-hour drive from Arusha with stops to pick up snacks and see the giant crater at the Ngorongoro Conservation Area. It is heart of the Masai tribe region and gateway to the sub-Saharan plains leading to Serengeti. When Ali pointed out a small heard of wildebeest at the crater’s lake in the distance, the swell of excitement almost raised the vehicle’s retractable roof by itself. It was especially uplifting after our cruiser overheated on a steep incline and each of us passengers each donated water from our bottles.

“Our one-and-a-half liter ration of hydration just became a half,” I joked, to a couple of sighs, and before the steaming cruiser moved on.

It wasn’t long after we entered Serengeti National Park before we spotted a pride of lions and a couple of young adults sitting on a towering rock looking down over the landscape like some still shot out of The Lion King.

We were stoked for the next day to start after numerous giraffes and zebras seemed to welcome us into the park before we finally arrived at the sparsely populated campsite at dusk. The long ride was already worth it.

We had dinner — spaghetti bolognese and warmed pineapple slices slathered in Masai honey for desert — before I took a walk around the campsite under an amazingly clear sky. While lying down outside my tent to stare at the twinkling canopy of stars, the sound of hyenas making these haunting sounds — a mixture of laughing and yelping — surrounded the camp. In between upward glances at the Milky Way, I turned towards the chilling calls on all sides.  Ali warned us about the hyenas, but assured us that they were more snarl than harm and wouldn’t approach anyone, but that did little to curb my apprehension — especially when I shined my headlamp into the neighboring brush and could see all these unblinking red eyes watching me back. 

Despite Ali's Hakuna Matata (no problem) attitude, I slept with my Leatherman knife blade out on my bed anyway.

There was a 5 am breakfast of crepes and fruit before we headed out for a sunrise safari the next day.  

We raised the retractable roof and the smells and sounds of a Serengeti morning filled the vehicle as the sun came up. All twelve eyes inside our cruiser were peeled on the horizon searching for anything that moved. In the distance a hot air balloon made its way across the new sun-splashed plains before hovering above a herd of elephants.

From a distance we could see the matron of the parade move towards the balloon’s basket and wave its trunk at the humans inside. A gesture that could have meant hello as easy as go away. Either or, it made for some fantastic photos.

Later, after a picnic lunch on a dried up river bank, we got up close and personal with a pride of lions — with about a dozen cubs — lounging around, indifferent to our close proximity, and more interested in hiding from the sun under a lone umbrella-shaped tree in the middle of nowhere. We got so close to the cubs, yet felt no danger from the blasé moms, that it was almost impossible to not fantasize about jumping out of the vehicle to scratch their fuzzy ears.

We continued our safari, spotting dozens of giraffes, water buffalo, zebra, ostriches and lots of cheetahs. There was an amazing encounter with an angry elephant bull who blocked the road and swirled the end of his trunk in the dirt as warning to us as his pack crossed. 

The real action started when Ali got a call on the radio that a rhino was spotted (pretty rare during the dry season) and we bolted from a group of giraffes (becoming pretty common now) to a spot about 20 minutes away where there was already about a dozen other safari parties.

The rhino was about a half mile on a ridge and hard to see, but luckily I had my 400mm telephoto lens and was able to get a few snapshots. There are strict penalties for safari vehicles — besides humans — to venture off the dirt roads to get close to the animals, so we watched the two-horned black rhino from afar.

It was quite a scene as more vehicles showed up and, like some dust-clouded, motorized desert caravan, followed its slow movement as it grazed across the horizon. 

All that was left to see of the Big Five in their natural habitat was the elusive leopard.

Then it was off the main road, towards a large water hole filled with hippos. There was a wooden railing (To keep humans at bay) constructed alongside a small cliff about 20-feet from the water’s edge. It’s a pretty well known fact that hippos are aggressive mammals and kill more people than any other animals in Africa. Like rush hour on the NYC subways I remember, they huddled together amicably, then suddenly jostled another for more room in their cramped watery space. Come to think of it, the water hole smelled like the subway too.

After dinner — a delicious fried fish stew that we devoured like a pack of hyenas — and intermediate wi-fi connections to social media, there was a campfire and the social chatter it brings. We rehashed our day and hoped we would get to see a leopard on our way out of the park — thus completing the Big Five.

At breakfast in the mess tent, there were excited murmurs coming from some of the campers about a lion last night — that someone had heard loud growling. 

Ali confirmed the rumor as true and said a couple of curious lionesses had passed through — probably searching for their coalition. I slept right through it. He then went on to tell us about a water buffalo that was attacked and dragged through the same campsite last year by half-a-dozen lions one morning. He pointed to the spot by the kitchen where the lone beast was felled and then tugged away. When asked what the campers did, Ali laughed and said they all grabbed their cell phones to take photos. I was guessing he saved that grisly story for last day for a reason.

And I probably would have slept through that too since I found myself more astonished that morning by another wardrobe change by the young ladies in the other cruiser. While I wore the same clothes (one shirt change) for the whole trip, it seemed they had three different outfits for each day, and hundreds of selfies to prove it. I scratched my head trying to figure out where they stored more attire than a Vogue photo shoot.

Anyway, before we made our last exit from the campsite Saturday morning, I could see the campsite start to fill up with tents for the weekend. And, although I usually hate crowds, it was heartening to see other tourists and vehicles because it meant that tour workers, park rangers and the animals, respectively, could all benefit from the injection of more tourist money into the economy.

The final drive out of the park was almost as eventful as the other three days. There were more hippos, lions and elephants, before, over the radio, we heard exuberant chatter that a leopard had been spotted by another group.

Ali turned and told us to all sit tight, then made a beeline for the tree our spotted recluse was reportedly napping in. I don’t know how Ali navigated to the correct location, but, after a dusty, bumpy 30-minute ride, we got to see (with a little eye-squinting) the beautiful beast almost completely camouflaged on the thick tree branch, oblivious to the vehicles, open-mouthed people and clicking cameras below. Only a trained safari guide would have been able to spot it in a single glance from the road.

So just like that — the Big Five!

Nearing the park's eastern gate, and still in the brushy flatlands, a cheetah jumped onto the cab of the other open-roofed cruiser in front of us, on top of its occupants and in full view of us. While the speedy cat's action was more out of finding a higher vantage point to look for prey, rather than some sweet goodbye gesture, we accepted it as a parting gift.

And what a fine farewell it was.

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Did Drew Brees Have To Apologize For Having An Opinion?

By Tony Mangia

The notorious one-two punch of cancel culture and social media has once again shamed and bullied another prominent public figure onto the canvas by dismissing his first amendment rights and, at the same time, bring a good man to both knees for speaking his mind.

These technological beatdowns are all too common in our country these days and always seem to be in retaliation for anyone whom the Twitter social justice warriors deem to be in denial of one of their causes or gripes.

This time it’s family man and all-around good guy Drew Brees who has been cyber-bullied into an apology for voicing an opinion which didn’t jive with the Issue du Jour during an interview with Yahoo Finance — namely kneeling during the national anthem.

Submit or be condemned seems to be the norm nowadays.

Kneeling protests — started by former NFL player Colin Kaepernick four years ago — are once again a controversial sports talking point after the tragic, unnecessary police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis —even though no pro athletes are even suited up and may not be for a long time due to the COVID-19 lockdown.

On Wednesday, Brees, the perennially liked and respected quarterback for the New Orleans Saints — that’s until he voiced his opinion — was overwhelmed with criticism for having the audacity to say he doesn't agree with anyone kneeling during the pre-game playing of “The Star-Spangled Banner” out of respect for the servicemen and women who have sacrificed their lives for our country.

Brees said:

“I will never agree with anybody disrespecting the flag of the United States of America or our country. Let me just tell what I see or what I feel when the national anthem is played and when I look at the flag of the United States. I envision my two grandfathers, who fought for this country during World War II, one in the Army and one in the Marine Corps.

"Not just those in the military, but for that matter, those throughout the civil rights movements of the ‘60s, and all that has been endured by so many people up until this point. And is everything right with our country right now? No, it is not.

"But I think what you do by standing there and showing respect to the flag with your hand over your heart, is it shows unity. It shows that we are all in this together, we can all do better and that we are all part of the solution.”

Brees cited the military — a general reference to the men and women who have sacrificed their lives for our rights, including freedom of speech, during the Revolutionary War which our country was borne, the Civil War which helped abolish slavery, the World Wars ending genocide and every battle under our flag up until this day. He mentioned his grandfathers who served and praised the protestors of the civil rights movements who fought their own struggles as Americans as well.

The line, “I will never agree with anybody disrespecting the flag of the United States of America” from the interview is what seems to hit a sore spot with his critics. It suggests Brees considers anyone who kneels disrespectful of the flag and our country. It's hard to think a person like Brees meant it to be anything like that but, on the other side, it’s just as easy to  assume angry players are kneeling just to show contempt of all police — most of whom don’t deserve it — too.

Later, Brees apologized for his remarks by saying, "I will do better."

But how could all of the offended groups and individuals — including some teammates and fellow athletes who know Brees and played alongside him for years — twist Brees viewpoint into an anti-black sentiment and then spread it like a pandemic all over social media?

It’s easy with the power of mob mentality and a far-reaching social media following like LeBron James has.

WOW MAN!! 🤦🏾‍♂️. Is it still surprising at this point. Sure isn’t! You literally still don’t understand why Kap was kneeling on one knee?? Has absolute nothing to do with the disrespect of 🇺🇸 and our soldiers(men and women) who keep our land free. My father-in-law was one of those https://t.co/pvUWPmh4s8

— LeBron James (@KingJames) June 3, 2020

That's the same LeBron who, among numerous NBA players, threw his support behind China and tossed the freedom-fighting protestors in Hong Kong under the corporate bus.

Brees is a family man, the father of four children who was front and center helping victims of Hurricane Katrina and is a long-time and well-known charitable member of the mostly black New Orleans community. Brees has probably done more for the city than any other player on the team and deserved to be given a chance to explain his thoughts —  if they weren't  clear enough in the interview — prior to being publicly chastised and before the same people who probably accepted his charity in the past started chanting, “F—k Drew Brees“ during a protest in NOLA the other night.

Malcom Jenkins, Brees’ teammate of five years before joining the Eagles and re-signing with the Saints in March, gave an emotional and honest rebuke of Brees first amendment rights by comparing playing football to a war and battle field. 

“The same brothers you break the huddle down with every single game,” he said on a Twitter video. “Guys you bleed with, go into battle with have to go home to communities that have been decimated…”

I recorded a few videos when thinking of how to respond to Drew Brees, I don’t take any of it back-I meant what I said-I removed the 1st video because I knew it be more about the headlines. I want people to understand how those of us struggling with what’s going on feel pic.twitter.com/T054qt0YEz

— Malcolm Jenkins (@MalcolmJenkins) June 3, 2020

While Brees was recognizing the sacrifices of real service men and women as his motive to not kneel and salute the flag during the national anthem, Jenkins was using that tired, old sports war cliche comparing playing a game where 22 grown men line up to push a ball across a field to actual combat and how it seems he might not want Brees back in those million dollar pigskin trenches. Maybe there’s some deep rooted animosity there? I doubt it and haven’t heard anything to the contrary but, I have definitely never heard a word about Brees being racist before all this.

Brees’ philanthropic efforts go far beyond the ordinary man, or most NFL players for that fact.  His passion for giving back to the fans includes all races and Brees has nothing to prove otherwise. The NFL star's extracurricular actions have already spoken louder than a few misconstrued words. Being strong-armed to apologize — especially by teammates — was basically an insult to the man's character as a whole.

But a couple of black Saints players did come to Brees’ defense.

Former Saints wide receiver Joe Horn, who told The Athletic’s Jeff Duncan that Brees “has done a lot to help black families and the black community in New Orleans” but still said he needs “a chance to think about what he said and come back and make this right.”

And current Saints defensive end Marcus Davenport tweeted that although people don’t have to entirely agree with Brees, he wasn’t talking about the “current protest, the riots or anything besides HIS feelings on kneeling.”

Joe Horn: People like LeBron James criticizing Drew Brees don't know him https://t.co/CQ4GrHmnXh

— ProFootballTalk (@ProFootballTalk) June 4, 2020

It’s a topsy-turvy world we live in these days where only a week ago law-abiding citizens were arrested for opening up their gyms or cutting people’s hair to pay their bills while law-breaking punks ran free looting, rioting and running amok in our streets. And when a couple of Ivy League lawyers only get charged with causing damage by fire and explosives after handing out molotov cocktails to rioters and tossing a lit one into an occupied police cruiser, you know perspectives are askew.

Kneeling prompts a brittle and fine line between what is considered a symbol of anti-police brutality or just plain police hatred that we sadly must decipher in these times.

So, down the road, will standing with your hand over your heart during the national anthem be considered racist? Does kneeling mean you are disrespecting the police, the military or the flag? 

What about what you say or tweet?  It’s hard to tell what passes for a political “dog whistle” these days. 

There are many players and personnel who have been rightfully cut or fired for outright racist or threatening tweets or remarks but when Sacramento Kings broadcaster, Grant Napear, is canned for tweeting “all lives matter” when asked by NBA player, DeMarcus Cousins, about his opinion on the Black Lives Matter movement, it leaves you wondering where that signal starts and ends. Napear was fired after a controversy-free, 32-year career.  

Drew Brees should not be the scapegoat for all that angers many of us. He didn't condemn anyone for kneeling during the national anthem in addressing that hot button question. Brees plainly said he will stand during "The Star-Bangled Banner" to honor our military. And he deserved better than getting caught up in this whirlwind of protests, agitation and symbolistic politics.

We all do.

If you want to kneel during the national anthem, kneel. If you want to stand during the national anthem, stand.

But don't apologize for it.