I feel fortunate to have grown up in the days of the 80s and 90s.  Sure we didn’t have smart phones and all the bells and whistles of today; but we had hide-n-go-seek, neighborhood candy stores with penny candy (usually just somebody’s house with candy in jars on the kitchen table), dial-up internet, and real family dinners without the disconnect of social media interrupting.

The good old days

While on the subject of family, as a kid, there was nothing better for me than going over to my grandma’s house after school and spending the day with her and my Aunt Stella.  They had one TV in the entire house and there are only two things I ever remember being on: a Chicago Cubs game or, my personal favorite at the time, Duck Tales (Sadly, I still remember the theme song).  So in honor of “the old days” of the past, here is a snippet from one of the first fiction pieces I ever wrote.

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How It All Started

          “I didn’t want to kill her.  But I guess we all were really dead already.”

I didn’t get a chance to know my Grandmother very well.  The memories I have of her are priceless though.  Grandma had this big house on the other side of town that we all stayed at.  My granddaddy had built it, but he died before I was born.  We all lived there: me, Mo, Mama, and Grandma.  She didn’t live in the best of neighborhoods, but everyone in the neighborhood knew each other and got along.  We went to church every Sunday, ate dinner as a family, and supported each other in every way possible.  Me and Mo would sit around Grandma’s rocking chair and tell her stories about how we dreamed to be president or superstar athletes and actors one day.  She would just sit back, calmly rocking and say,

“Now ya’ll don’t need to be all that to be heroes, all you got to do is be strong Black mens and help out those who ain’t got the same thangs ya’ll have…remember now, all presidents and athletes ain’t been good men.”

We’d smile and assure her that we would always stay positive.  That’s what I loved about my grandma, she always had a wise thing to say and she was truly the glue that kept us all intact, real laid back, but if me or Mo got out of line she would whip our behind—then read us scripture after she was done.  That just how Grandma was, she related everything to the Word.  Her death was a blow to us all, but Mama took it the worst.  I guess she just wasn’t strong enough.  And after we lost the house and had to move out, Mo and I slowly saw our mom change as each day passed by…but she still loved us with all her heart. Since we, too, had to adapt to our new environment, Mo and I also had to make changes in order to survive.