Dear God, It's Me, Panama. I See Rain in the Forecast for Spelhouse Homecoming Next Weekend. Let's Talk

Dear God,

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Morris Chestnut Tells Us What Song Always Gets Him to the Dance Floor and What You Better Not Bring to a Party at His House

What up, doe!?! How you doing, Big Homie? I be reading the news, so I can tell you’re either super busy or taking naps upon naps. No shade, Big Bro. I’m just saying I noticed that chaos is abundant.

You know what, this isn’t starting out well. I really wanted to write you because next weekend, in the land of your holiness, Atlanta, Ga., is the annual homecoming celebration for two colleges: Morehouse College and Spelman College, often referred to as one beautiful entity, Spelhouse. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that in Washington, D.C., Howard University will also be doing their own grown-and-sexy version of a homecoming that weekend. I only mention this because my household is a MoreHoward one, which creates scheduling conflicts. It’s cool, though. Maybe next year we can go back to separate weekends. Ahem.

Anywho, I plan on venturing to The Land of Milk & Honey next weekend. In preparation, I’ve been checking the weather and keep noticing something disturbing. While the temperature isn’t too bad, with highs in the 60s and lows in the high 40s, it seems you’ve included rain on the menu for next weekend. To your credit, for the past several years, the weather has been exemplary. I mean, 70s and sunny. You couldn’t ask for anything better for a celebration of black education and excellence in the capital of Black America, Atlanta.

But this homecoming weekend might have weather hiccups. Granted, it’s a week away and Jim Cantore hasn’t said the trip is a bad move or anything—yet. But I wonder if we could catch some weather relief, God. We need it. I mean, have you seen what Kanye is out there doing? We neeeeeed good weather for these homecomings.

I don’t question your heavenly ways, and I realize you and Mother Nature have an agreement of sorts. I’m just saying that rain during a celebration won’t stop the show. But it might dull the show—and you can’t possibly want that. I mean, maybe you do, but I’d just like to think you wouldn’t. KnowhutImsayin?

I’m not out here hindering prayers or anything, so I’d like to think that when I pray you be like, “Yo, that’s P…what he talkin’ bout?” Maybe you’ll read this letter like Santa reads letters I still send for Christmas because I’m still waiting for my Cement Jordan 4’s, size 9.5. (They run big, I’m really a 10.)

Since you’re listening, I hope you’ll hold off on the precipitation. If you’re taking orders, I’d like to order 65-70 degrees Fahrenheit during the day, without a cloud in the sky, which is cool enough to keep drunk folks from overheating. You know drunk and hot people are the worst. If the weather has to dip into the 40s at night, well that’s cool, though again, I’d like to request mid 50s. It is autumn after all, and I respect seasons.

I very much look forward to descending upon Atlanta and celebrating with the homies all the years we devoted to the mission of Spelhouse and the bond we’ve maintained. I’d love nothing more than to do that with nice and sunny weather.

So hey God, it’s me Panama. Thanks for listening. See you in the A, where sunny weather will run the day.

—P