No. 20 - where I come from

Many years ago a young boy child was born to a single mother, and into a family with two other siblings. Together they lived in the deep woods of Savannah, Georgia among the pine trees, hanging moss, and humid summer days.



The non-stop sound of courting crickets in the dead of night will forever echo in the mind of this Black man. We were surrounded by our close-nit family whose legacy was steeped in the engines of slavery from years long gone – but not forgotten.

Clumsy, inquisitive, full of youthful curiosity, yet tempered by the strong discipline of a mother who refused to let her children conform, my natural tendency – even at that young age – was to see things in ways that demanded I question everything.

We lived a simple, peaceful life. There wasn’t a lot of television watching. In fact, there were many times when we had none... television was a commodity. Figuring out my next outdoors adventure was my only daily challenge. It was my mission to discover what new, fun and exciting adventure I would uncover as I walked the dirt paths from one place to another. My older brother and sister were never far behind – or in front of – me. As the saying goes: we rolled tight, and we rolled together. We ate the big meal on Sundays, the flavor of Moms delicious cooking still upon my tongue, and loved every delight. And when we didn’t have much to eat, we still had a good time enjoying those modest meals as one family who were in it together.

I don’t recall ever feeling I missed anything. I don’t recall ever feeling the need to have all the “goodies” that so many more fortunate members of my kin and kith enjoyed. I do remember the utter amazement of being completely engrossed in whatever adventures I, and my playmates, undertook. The thrill, the delight!

The old outhouse was no more then just a part of the life that was mine. The sometime broken pump out back used to get the needed water to drink and cook with was simply a part of my world. All the fun we had at the man-made-lake, swinging off the rope and propelling ourselves into the water was glory, indeed. Ah, the simple things in life! Ah, the merriment and innocent newness I had, just enjoying the world I had been born into…

Savannah is a place where change is slow to come, and met with great resistance. It is place where, as kids, we would walk the dirt roads and woods-surrounded paths barefoot, simply loving the act of being. It was the place where sugar-water, watermelon, blackberries, and pig-shoots were common to all in the community.

It is a splendid memory, one that takes me back to feelings of all the goodness, innocence and purity of my childhood.

Upon considering these memories I can gain a clearer sense of so many truths about myself and how I observe the world I live in today. These memories help me in my considerations of the youth of our day - and the adults of our day - from a perspective that is untainted by hurt, betrayal, malice, adversity, or contempt. They represent so much more then just a vague reflection of my past.

They represent where I come from.

They represent that part of me who knew fully what I was about and what mattered in my life. They represent the start of my journey in this life towards a destiny that still awaits me, only to be achieved when I reach my final resting place. They represent the absolute and unwavering core of what is important to me.

And they are my justification for why I refuse to submit to the belief that this life and world we live in has little or no real glamour to one who believe in us. For every defining memory that I cherish was shared with loved ones.

Someone asked me why it is that I write the things I do. They had a genuine interest in knowing. Well, I write because I’m compelled to shine an illuminating light on the magnificent splendor of our community. I write because I love you, my Bothers and Sisters who read this. And I write because I will not allow us to forget where WE came from, and the greatness that remains within us all.

Where I come from is the same place where YOU come from. A place of innocence, freshness, and rich splendor, a place of curiosity and where devotion to doing good will for (and in) the community was the norm.

You see, I believe no matter what hardships or turmoil we may have ever faced – or will ever face, the glory of our splendid past is forever engrained upon the deepest and most guarded parts of our minds. And we will not give it over to anyone. I am proud of that… I am proud of you… I am proud of me…

I am proud of US.

…that is where I come from…