This morning I set out to write about why today is important to me. I grew up in Georgia, a state where despite the passage of federal civil rights legislation, public facilities remained segregated in many areas well into the 1970s.
I was going to write about the segregated schools I attended and living in the designated “white” area. I was going to write about the fact that, what is now called, the “n” word was the preferred term for African Americans and most people didn’t even flinch when it was used. I was going to write about that but then I remembered the murder of 14 year old Emmett Till in Mississippi and I became mired down in memories.
Segregation was more than different schools, water fountains, restrooms, and the balcony in the movie theater where African Americans sat. Segregation was also the Klan, house bombings and cross burnings. It was Governor Lester Maddox who kept ax handles called "Pickrick drumsticks" near his restaurant's front door to “discourage” African Americans seeking to eat there. And of course, Georgia is the birthplace of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. which brings me full circle.
Three years ago my son and his wife, my daughter and four of my young granddaughters met in Atlanta. We visited my old home and I told them about growing up in Georgia. We also visited Sweet Auburn, the black neighborhood of several blocks which includes Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birth home, the Ebenezer Baptist Church where he was a pastor, and his gravesite. I felt a mix of shame and pride for my home state.
Today we celebrate the birth of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and tomorrow we will watch as our first African American president is inaugurated. It is almost too much to take in if you were reared in the segregationist south. Almost but not quite. Today is a day of great celebration. Mark it well. Today I have renewed hope for our nation.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
For Lori and Chris
If it were up to me
I would ask death to wait
for an October Sunday
just after dusk
the seventh game of the World Series
an hour away.
I'd make iced tea the slow way,
let it brew
till it was dark
as the inside of an urn
then I'd pour it into the old mugs I love.
I'd think about the sea
sandcastles we built
how one of us cried at sunset
when waves taught us
the ache of letting go.
We'd sip tea with sugar
share a red bowl
of popcorn
and I'd be grateful for it all
our family's pain
and sweetness,
that love survived these seasons
and forgiveness eased us into second chances.
I'd ask for one last dance
the three of us close
Jackson Browne singing "The Loadout"
and I'd beg Death to take me then,
before the music ended,
and let the last touch
of my life be your breath upon me
something to keep in the shadow of souls
where you'll find me
lonely,
my arms open,
weeping your names.
I would ask death to wait
for an October Sunday
just after dusk
the seventh game of the World Series
an hour away.
I'd make iced tea the slow way,
let it brew
till it was dark
as the inside of an urn
then I'd pour it into the old mugs I love.
I'd think about the sea
sandcastles we built
how one of us cried at sunset
when waves taught us
the ache of letting go.
We'd sip tea with sugar
share a red bowl
of popcorn
and I'd be grateful for it all
our family's pain
and sweetness,
that love survived these seasons
and forgiveness eased us into second chances.
I'd ask for one last dance
the three of us close
Jackson Browne singing "The Loadout"
and I'd beg Death to take me then,
before the music ended,
and let the last touch
of my life be your breath upon me
something to keep in the shadow of souls
where you'll find me
lonely,
my arms open,
weeping your names.
Homeless.. October 8, 2008
I spread my sleeping bag in the doorway of that empty building on Bonanza and D
a young woman I'd seen in the food line
squeezed into the corner next to me
she had no jacket
no blanket
she was cold
I told her to get into my sleeping bag and warm herself
while I went to look for a cup of coffee
next night as I spread my sleeping bag
she was back
here I am
homeless
with a roommate
a young woman I'd seen in the food line
squeezed into the corner next to me
she had no jacket
no blanket
she was cold
I told her to get into my sleeping bag and warm herself
while I went to look for a cup of coffee
next night as I spread my sleeping bag
she was back
here I am
homeless
with a roommate
My birthday call... October 11, 2009
I knew when the phone rang this morning it was my son Hooch and his bevy of beauties calling to wish me Happy Birthday.
Little Mary was first.
"Happy Birthday Nana."
Of course it's a Nana's job to be a little surprised. "Why Little Mary, thank you so much! How are you?"
"I'm a little bit sick."
"I'm sorry to hear that. What's wrong?"
"Ursula screams too much and it makes me sick." I did not laugh. A squealing baby can make a big sister feel a bit queasy.
"I got a wagon as my gift for your birthday Nana."
"Will you let me ride in it when I come there?"
"Of course and I'm going to take you to Chik-Fil-A too." This child KNOWS the way to her Nana's heart.
"What are you doing for your birthday Nana?"
She knows about going to lunch but try explaining Medieval Faire to a 3 ½ year old. She understood dancing ladies though. Little Mary loves to dance and wants to be Shirley Temple when she "grows up."
I spoke to the rest of the girls (there are 4 of them) and Jill, my daughter in law, then the family sang "Happy Birthday to You" three times… each time louder and faster.
After the traditional reciting of "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere" we played a rousing game of "Older or Younger Than John McCain." You know that game, don't you?
San Francisco Bridge? Older, but just barely. Boulder Dam? Younger. The Great Wall of China? Hmmmm… I need to think about that one.
I am having a wonderful birthday. Thank you all for the wonderful gifts, cards and wishes.
Little Mary was first.
"Happy Birthday Nana."
Of course it's a Nana's job to be a little surprised. "Why Little Mary, thank you so much! How are you?"
"I'm a little bit sick."
"I'm sorry to hear that. What's wrong?"
"Ursula screams too much and it makes me sick." I did not laugh. A squealing baby can make a big sister feel a bit queasy.
"I got a wagon as my gift for your birthday Nana."
"Will you let me ride in it when I come there?"
"Of course and I'm going to take you to Chik-Fil-A too." This child KNOWS the way to her Nana's heart.
"What are you doing for your birthday Nana?"
She knows about going to lunch but try explaining Medieval Faire to a 3 ½ year old. She understood dancing ladies though. Little Mary loves to dance and wants to be Shirley Temple when she "grows up."
I spoke to the rest of the girls (there are 4 of them) and Jill, my daughter in law, then the family sang "Happy Birthday to You" three times… each time louder and faster.
After the traditional reciting of "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere" we played a rousing game of "Older or Younger Than John McCain." You know that game, don't you?
San Francisco Bridge? Older, but just barely. Boulder Dam? Younger. The Great Wall of China? Hmmmm… I need to think about that one.
I am having a wonderful birthday. Thank you all for the wonderful gifts, cards and wishes.
last night... November 5, 2008
Last night I invited friends in to eat dinner and watch the returns. We had a delicious dinner (compliments of my friends… we know I don't cook.)
We thought we were in for a long night of it so with cups of coffee and tea we settled down to watch the news. We watched in amazement as the numbers went up and up and before we knew it… it was over. I expected cheering and high fiving but there was silence and awe. We began the evening sure in the knowledge that Obama was headed for the White House but suddenly the enormity of what we had just seen hit us. It was a few minutes before any of us spoke and then there was cheering and laughter!
We watched John McCain's gracious concession speech and I truly felt sorry for Sarah Palin, who held such high hopes.
Obama's speech was sheer brilliance. He spoke to us… the people… and reminded us of where we have been and what we are capable of. We heard echoes of Dr. King in his speech when he said, "We as a people will get there." and we all took up the cry, "Yes, we can!" And, like Jesse Jackson and probably thousands in our country, some of us cried. It has been a long, hard campaign and there were times when all of us just wanted it over. But last night we witnessed a great moment in history and we were reminded that we are not a collection of red states and blue states but the United States of America and that in America, all things are truly possible.
So let me say it again! Yes, we can!
By the way... tomorrow morning my grandson Chris leaves for his second deployment to Iraq.
We thought we were in for a long night of it so with cups of coffee and tea we settled down to watch the news. We watched in amazement as the numbers went up and up and before we knew it… it was over. I expected cheering and high fiving but there was silence and awe. We began the evening sure in the knowledge that Obama was headed for the White House but suddenly the enormity of what we had just seen hit us. It was a few minutes before any of us spoke and then there was cheering and laughter!
We watched John McCain's gracious concession speech and I truly felt sorry for Sarah Palin, who held such high hopes.
Obama's speech was sheer brilliance. He spoke to us… the people… and reminded us of where we have been and what we are capable of. We heard echoes of Dr. King in his speech when he said, "We as a people will get there." and we all took up the cry, "Yes, we can!" And, like Jesse Jackson and probably thousands in our country, some of us cried. It has been a long, hard campaign and there were times when all of us just wanted it over. But last night we witnessed a great moment in history and we were reminded that we are not a collection of red states and blue states but the United States of America and that in America, all things are truly possible.
So let me say it again! Yes, we can!
By the way... tomorrow morning my grandson Chris leaves for his second deployment to Iraq.
Veteran's Day November 12, 2008
I never know how to mark Veteran's Day. It makes me sad.
I always think of my dad and a postcard he sent his dad on June 14, 1949. It reads:
Dear Dad,
Arrived Guam today stay here for a day or two then our next stop is Manila. It sure is hot here. Hope you are well and will see you before you realize I have been away. I sure miss my girls. More later. Love to all.
I think about my tiny maternal grandmother. In her kitchen window hung a service banner… red with a white field and 4 blue stars… a reminder that all 4 of her sons served on active duty during WWII. She rarely knew where they were. There were no cell phones or internet then.
I have a service banner in my kitchen window with 1 blue star. It's for my grandson Chris. He's a Riverine, serving in Iraq. There are times I gaze out my kitchen window and wonder how he feels. Is he cold? Is he tired? Did he have MRE for dinner or something good?
This morning began with a message from my friend Martika, who said in honor of Veteran's Day she was thinking of Chris.
I spent the day with two old friends who arrived from Georgia yesterday. We laughed our way through a 2 hour lunch, remembering old times and the trouble we used to get into.
After lunch we went shopping. My friend Joe and I were ooohing and ahhing our way through Pier One, touching and feeling everything when a tall blond woman approached Joe.
"Sir, are you a veteran?" she asked.
"No ma'am, I'm not."
"Well," she said, "I never know exactly what to do about Veteran's Day so I thought I would just take a chance and if you were I would tell you I appreciate you."
Joe, who has known my Chris since he was a baby said, "My friend has a grandson in Iraq."
The woman put her arms around me and said, "Will you please tell your grandson how much I appreciate him? I will pray for his safety."
There, amidst the reed diffusers and sachets, Joan and I talked about all the military who serve in various places and how we hold out hope for their safety. I told her a little about Chris and his family and his wife who misses him so much. Again, we embraced and she went her way and I mine.
Tonight I am thinking about how much I appreciate her taking time to spend a moment with me. She served to remind me that no matter what is going on we live in the best country in the world with some very kind and thoughtful people.
So this Veteran's Day is for my grandson Chris. It's also for his wife, Nicole. They also serve who only stand and wait.
I always think of my dad and a postcard he sent his dad on June 14, 1949. It reads:
Dear Dad,
Arrived Guam today stay here for a day or two then our next stop is Manila. It sure is hot here. Hope you are well and will see you before you realize I have been away. I sure miss my girls. More later. Love to all.
I think about my tiny maternal grandmother. In her kitchen window hung a service banner… red with a white field and 4 blue stars… a reminder that all 4 of her sons served on active duty during WWII. She rarely knew where they were. There were no cell phones or internet then.
I have a service banner in my kitchen window with 1 blue star. It's for my grandson Chris. He's a Riverine, serving in Iraq. There are times I gaze out my kitchen window and wonder how he feels. Is he cold? Is he tired? Did he have MRE for dinner or something good?
This morning began with a message from my friend Martika, who said in honor of Veteran's Day she was thinking of Chris.
I spent the day with two old friends who arrived from Georgia yesterday. We laughed our way through a 2 hour lunch, remembering old times and the trouble we used to get into.
After lunch we went shopping. My friend Joe and I were ooohing and ahhing our way through Pier One, touching and feeling everything when a tall blond woman approached Joe.
"Sir, are you a veteran?" she asked.
"No ma'am, I'm not."
"Well," she said, "I never know exactly what to do about Veteran's Day so I thought I would just take a chance and if you were I would tell you I appreciate you."
Joe, who has known my Chris since he was a baby said, "My friend has a grandson in Iraq."
The woman put her arms around me and said, "Will you please tell your grandson how much I appreciate him? I will pray for his safety."
There, amidst the reed diffusers and sachets, Joan and I talked about all the military who serve in various places and how we hold out hope for their safety. I told her a little about Chris and his family and his wife who misses him so much. Again, we embraced and she went her way and I mine.
Tonight I am thinking about how much I appreciate her taking time to spend a moment with me. She served to remind me that no matter what is going on we live in the best country in the world with some very kind and thoughtful people.
So this Veteran's Day is for my grandson Chris. It's also for his wife, Nicole. They also serve who only stand and wait.
for Martha… my Sunday morning muse
the church is large
the kneeler hard
and my thoughts cannot remain within cold incensed walls
they take me to Aunt Celeste's long ago table
her mother's lace tablecloth
plates of rich red food
laughter
the memory of Uncle Dom's hand passing the bread
but today the priest in white speaks of Uncle Dom's departed soul
and Aunt Celeste sits huddled in the shadow of her grown children
on the front pew
a smaller
clearer version of the woman she used to be
the others fly to my waiting mind
Aunt Einnie no longer holds a 5 o'clock martini with an elegant hand
Aunt Angie is a frail piece of cut crystal with snow white hair
Uncle Charlie's laugh shrunk with his beer belly
his old hat sits on a lonesome shelf
Aunt Eve touches our faces in love
with a paper palm that smells of times yet unknown
not as solid as they once were
waiting to be memories
the anchors to our youth
our grownups
are leaving us
the kneeler hard
and my thoughts cannot remain within cold incensed walls
they take me to Aunt Celeste's long ago table
her mother's lace tablecloth
plates of rich red food
laughter
the memory of Uncle Dom's hand passing the bread
but today the priest in white speaks of Uncle Dom's departed soul
and Aunt Celeste sits huddled in the shadow of her grown children
on the front pew
a smaller
clearer version of the woman she used to be
the others fly to my waiting mind
Aunt Einnie no longer holds a 5 o'clock martini with an elegant hand
Aunt Angie is a frail piece of cut crystal with snow white hair
Uncle Charlie's laugh shrunk with his beer belly
his old hat sits on a lonesome shelf
Aunt Eve touches our faces in love
with a paper palm that smells of times yet unknown
not as solid as they once were
waiting to be memories
the anchors to our youth
our grownups
are leaving us
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