Day: February 14, 2025

How Did I Get From There to Here?

If there were a biography about you, what would the title be?

Warning: use of the N word is used in context in this story.

I often wonder how I became the person I am.  I was born in 1950, a Baby Boomer, in the Deep South.  I was raised Southern Baptist by a very devout mother and a father who attended as often as his conscience prompted him.  The influence in our home was definitely ultra-conservative and racist. Everything was segregated.  Water fountains and business entrances were marked white and colored.  Should a black person come to our house, they knocked on the back door, 

I never knew a single black person by name till I met Rosie, a black lady who occasionally cleaned for Mother.  One day Rosie told me she had a little girl just my age, three years old,  I was enchanted, desperate to know more and perhaps play with her little girl.

Innocently, I blurted out, “Is she a nigger?” As young as I was, the hurt look on Rosie’s face showed me I’d said something horrible.

Kindly but firmly, she corrected me. “She’s the same color as me but it’s wrong to say nigger. Say colored.” Rosie was as kind as ever afterward. I was so glad she didn’t stay mad.

Not too long afterward, Rosie had no one to keep Cynthia, so she had to bring her along. I was ecstatic to get to play with her all day. I couldn’t wait to share news of my new friend the second Daddy walked in the door. Rosie had crossed the line. I never saw her or sweet little Cynthia again.

I pray we never go back to that hate-filled time.

Valentine Failure

Bud and I are not the best at commemorating special days. Despite this, we are coming up on fifty-five years so I guess things have somehow worked out.

One year, I was feeling appreciative of our relationship and bought Bud a really beautiful card. I left the card with a box of chocolates, the memento he’d really appreciate, on his bedside table where he’d see it as he came home from his nightshift.

It happened to be my day off, so I waited for his reaction. He came in carrying a bag of Valentine treats a co-worker had gifted the staff. His cheeks were puffed out with candy, so he was obviously enjoying the holiday.

In a few minutes he came back up front with his box of chocolates under his arm and settled in his recliner to enjoy the news. When I went back to check, I noticed he’d never even opened his card. I was infuriated.

“Where’s my valentine?” I demanded.

With his mouth full of candy, he replied. “I didn’t know it was Valentine’s Day.”

Amazingly, he survived.