Margaret Walker: Stolen Moments

I want to write

I want to write
I want to write the songs of my people.
I want to hear them singing melodies in the dark.
I want to catch the last floating strains from their sob-torn

Throats.

I want to frame their dreams into words; their souls into

Notes.

I want to catch their sunshine laughter in a bowl;
Fling dark hands to a darker sky
And fill them full of stars
Then crush and mix such lights till they become
A mirrored pool of brilliance in the dawn.
By: Margaret Abigail Walker Alexander (1915-1998)

It was a beautiful spring day in 1989 on the campus of Savannah State College in Savannah, Georgia. I was an enthusiastic 22-year-old freshman. My major was English with a minor in parties and freshman girls (Yeah, I was something else back then). I was strolling the yard one fine day in April when I noticed a small crowd gathering outside of the Fine Arts Building. The program had just started and the host of the event introduced a poet and a novelist by the name of Margaret Walker. Now, I had never heard of Ms. Walker and pondered over why she was never mentioned in any of my English classes in High School? She stepped up to podium and greeted the small and eager crowd who reciprocated with smiles and applause. I smiled and clapped as well before knowing exactly who she was and what she had accomplished.

Ms. Walker began to speak and she told us all about her journey as a woman, a mother, and a writer. She spoke with grace and a beautiful smile that remained as she told her story. She also told us how she began to write at an early age and sparked the interest of a young poet named Langston Hughes. Hughes became her mentor and encouraged the young writer to continue her relationship with the pen. I was in awe of her accomplishments and especially her role as a Black woman in literature. She paved the way for so many and I had never even heard of her.

The program was soon over and the host thanked the crowd and informed us that Ms. Walker will be signing copies of her novel, Jubilee immediately after the program. I had to say hello! I quickly got a copy of the book and stood in line to get it signed. The line was moving quickly. As I got closer, I noticed that Ms. Walker had a little system: She would smile, greet, reach for the book, ask your name, sign the book and say “thank you.” Now it was my turn! Ms. Walker smiled, said hello and reached for my book. I extended my right hand to shake hers. Her smile grew wider and I said, “I really enjoyed hearing you speak today Ms. Walker. It would be a pleasure to shake your hand.” She shook my hand and said, “Thank you, what is your name son?” I told her my name and she signed my book. She gave me my book and I said, “Thank you, Ms. Walker.” She smiled and replied with, “you’re welcome.” I’ll never forget that moment. Ms. Walker would go on to live for another 9 years, but that moment will remain with me forever. Thank you Ms. Walker.

Photo Source: newsreel.org

Just A Thought

I hope that everyone had a great holiday. We still have the New Year to celebrate and I can't wait! I just wanted to reiterate what I am trying to do with this blog. I enjoy writing. I enjoy expressing my thoughts or just practicing the art of putting words together. It is my own attempt at art. Now, everyone is not going to agree with what I say in my writing or how I express myself writing and that is fine. I see objectionable material on blogs all the time and I either check it out and write my opinion (a mature opinion) or I just leave that site. Yes, I sometimes say things around family and friends that some would consider objectionable or plain offensive, but that's why I keep it among my family and friends. What I hope for from the blogging community is just constructive criticism that will either help or assist me in my endeavors. I only ask the blogging community to respect that. It's alright to leave a comment, but show some respect. By the way, I'm not going to punk out and erase any "offensive" comments because I want everyone that visits my blog to see how that person expresses themselves. Maybe they will look at as I did and say to themselves..."what in the hell was that all about?" Peace in the new year!

Poetry: First Time I Saw She: Rata

I was intoxicated in her atmosphere
Dreams can only describe her mesmeric poise and sensuous aura
Her queenly demeanor was not act, but rightfully her own
I was set adrift on a journey bliss of sable queens and Khoi San princesses
I wish that I could see her walk
for I knew that it would match her eyes that inebriated my heart and seduced my soul
Her curvaceous and ample presence reminded me of my youthful dreams
And nocturnal rendezvous

A Decent Proposal: June 3rd

Hey Baby
I was just thinking about you
On this rainy, cloudy Saturday in June
Remember when we use to race popsicle sticks
Along the curb after the rain
Folks must of thought us insane
Water flowing along this ghetto stream
As we screamed
Laughter permeating the overcast skies
Oblivious to judging eyes
I love this
I love you
Don’t rainy days make you want to…be with you?
You feel me?
I felt you on that rainy, cloudy Saturday in June
I asked you to marry me and you said soon
Come on baby
We can do this right now out here under that tree
Oya can be our witness!
She laughed and said,
Don’t you know that to be one in holy matrimony it takes three?
That’s you, the creator and me and that’s all there has to be
I smiled and said,
Hey baby, remember when we use to race popsicle sticks
Along the curb after the rain

Shake What Your Ancestors Gave ya!

This weekend, I had the pleasure of going to a bridal celebration for a South African couple in Baltimore. This is a couple that I've met only recently. They are traveling to South Africa within the next couple of weeks to have a traditional SA celebration of their union. Actually, the Bride is South African and the Groom is an African American from Baltimore (I use the term African American only to differentiate between the two because we're all just Black folks to me). They are a beautiful couple and they love each other very much. Now, whenever I go to a celebration for anyone of just about any culture, I find a way to participate in whatever is going on culturally (without being pretentious). Culturally, my experiences have ranged from Caribbean to Latino. I've only recently come into contact with people from Africa over the last couple of years. I love the similarities and I especially love the differences that they have with African Americans. South Africans love to sing, dance, kiss, and eat. They also love to talk politics no matter the educational level.

The music at the party was all South African music and a little Reggae. Yes, it would have been nice to hear a little Hip-Hop or R&B, but this particular party was strictly South African and I was cool with that. So, I watched a little and I danced a little just as I always do. The songs were in their language, but hell...I don't usually listen to the words that I'm dancing too anyway...just give me a beat. Anyway, there were other people at the party also from Baltimore. I counted three women and the mother of the groom. Unfortunately, they did not seem to enjoy themselves the entire time. They fixed their plates, found a place to sit and it was all she wrote until it was time to leave. They seemed shocked and amazed as they watch a shapely gathering of South African women turn the front living room into a dance floor. The bride sat in the middle while the women gave her praises and well wishes through song and dance. I found it to be a beautiful sight.

I felt bad that my fellow African Americans were not able or willing to open up and appreciate what was going on. Maybe they saw it as too distant from what they or their not so distant ancestors were accustomed to? Perhaps they were just observing and the experience would be different next time? Nevertheless, the South African men and women seemed oblivious as they danced well into the midnight hour. I joined in and I had a fantastic time! After all of my observing and dancing, there was one bright spot among the groom's relatives. The mother of the groom eventually got up out of her chair and began to dance! The women began to shout and clap as the weak, but determined woman rocked from side to side to the rhythm of the music. I laughed and clapped as well as I witnessed the old woman from West Baltimore revisit her African past. It was beautiful!

Note: Thhe woman that is the subject of this piece died recently. May she dance and shout in a
joyous voice for all eternity. Peace~

How High?

"I am not less poet; I am more conscious of all that I am, am not, and might become."
(Jean Toomer, Writer-1894-1967)

Jean Toomer was an American writer during the Harlem Renaissance. He would become famous for his book, Cane in 1923. It consisted of short stories and poems that was inspired by his 4 month stay as a Teacher/Principal in Sparta Georgia.

Jean Toomer was born December 26, 1894 here in Washington, DC. Although Toomer's racial mix included Dutch, Native American and a couple of other spices from the mixing bowl he was classified Black by law because that mix also included African blood. This little racial misunderstanding would bug the hell out of Toomer for the rest of his life, but that's another blog. Today I want to briefly touch on Toomers quest for higher consciousness under the teachings of philosopher, George Ivanovitch Gurdjieff (click title for more info). In 1926 he had an out of body experience on a New York City subway platform. Yeah, I know that doesn't sound too out of the ordinary for New York, but this experience gave him a sense of higher consciousness. In other words, he became acutely aware of his spirit as something completely separate from the physical. He had a sense of becoming one with his spirit while navigating through his physical body. He compared it with being his own puppeteer that was controlling his every move. He also became aware of others who were experiencing the same level of consciousness (I know that this sounds a lot like some really good "smoke" or weed but it isn't). 

He could quickly pick them out of a crowd and the two spirits would connect for that moment. He described it as a strangely wonderful feeling. This is something that is often experienced by different people on different levels, but Toomer's experience lasted 2 weeks. I challenge anyone to attempt to see themselves and others beyond the physical. I've done this on occasion and, for a moment, it makes me forget about color and ethnicity. It was weird because I began to see the body as simply a host to something that is beyond my comprehension.

Works Cited

Toomer, Jean, and Frederik L. Rusch. Jean Toomer Reader: selected unpublished writings. Oxford University Press, 1995.

Winter In DC

The statues/memorials in DC are most beautiful when it snows. There were about 3 to 5 inches last night in some areas of the DC metropolitan area (Midwest laughs). Anyway, this is one of my favorite snow scenes of the Korean War Memorial. It really makes you think of the troops and also of past conflicts. So, this snowy scene is dedicated to the veterans. I'm a Navy veteran (Doesn't that make me sound old?). **smile**

Happy Birthday Grandpa!

My grandfather's birthday was on Saturday. He has made it to the blessed age of 87. He lives in North Carolina. He is in Martin County along the Roanoke River. My family has deep roots in that part of the state and Martin County specifically that goes back 150 years. My grandfather is a great source of information and a direct link to the past. He is a joy to talk to because he has become quite the conversationalist in his older years. I have so much to thank him for. He arbitrarily talks about his youth and usually the happiest times of his life. It's funny...he doesn't talk about past loves, but of past cars. I don't care what question I asked he would always mention the car that he owned around that time. I asked him about the time that he asked for my grandmothers hand in marriage in 1945. He responded with, "I had a green 1938 Chevrolet." Well, he did mention that there was another girl that wanted him to marry her, but he wanted my grandmother especially.

He also talks about the best car that he'd ever owned. It was a 1966 Dodge. He said that he paid for it in 8 easy payments from a private owner. I think that he talks about cars so much because he wants to drive again. He hasn't been able to drive since he took a fall and broke his hip. This is very difficult for a man that has spent most of his life behind the wheel. It meant freedom to him and most importantly mobility. Grandpa Bess is truly a blessing. He taught me so much as a man. He even taught me how to tie my first neck tie. I still remember the moment as we both stood in the mirror going through the steps. I remember being so happy and proud when I finally tied it correctly. I can still see remnants of that young boy in the mirror, but he is all grown up now. He is a man now and I owe it all to grandpa.