The fight for Life

Being raised in central Florida, at an early age we became accustomed to mornings with the sweat producing heat of the rising sun as it majestically penetrated even the smallest and darkest recesses of an unlit room. Arising to morning temperatures of seventy degrees, often caused one to contemplate the day; but that was about to change for me. To me it seemed that year brought mornings and evenings that were enshrouded with a fog so thick that I could see each particle of water as it joined with millions more to produce a covering to masquerade the very essence of that which was seen as normal. A thick white fluffy moist blanket that could be felt brushing against the most innocent of faces as the wind carried it to its place of rest. During one of those mornings, I realized that alone each droplet was insignificant and so easily overlooked as it fell to its destiny but when combined with others, this mist had the potential to alter the lives of those it encountered. So much like the life issues that cloud and cover the essential character of the person we are if allowed. Oh, but when the clouds lift and the promising reality that had been buried deep in those hidden places can be seen just as it really is and whether we like it or not we can say, “This is who I am.”

To better understand how I came to be the person I am today, I had to journey back to where it all began with my life. In a small town by the name of Bartow, in central Florida during the late 1950s there was romance that was not supposed to be. A very skinny (as she was called) trombone playing ninth grade girl met one of the good looking twelfth grade and better than average football players nicknamed Red (because of his hair and complexion). Mae had a best friend who gave her a note to give to that football player and of course Mae had other ideas in mind and the note was never delivered. From this meeting the two began dating. This couple was always talked about because none of the other young ladies could figure out why the best looking guy on the team was dating the skinniest, ugliest girl at the school. But despite all of the talk and criticism the two remained loyal and in love with each other.

Tragedy struck when the young man found himself alone after his parents were killed in the same automobile accident. It is said Red’s parents went to pass a 18 wheeled phosphate carrier and met the same type truck and the two were killed. To complicate this tragedy even more, the young man found out that he had never been legally adopted by the only parents he had ever known and was forced to move out of the family home by his mother’s relatives. Having no other relatives around and no where to go, his girlfriend’s grandparents took him into their home so that he could finish school. Even under the watchful eye of her grandparents, a baby was conceived out of wedlock, which was taboo for that day and time.

Feeling the pressure of fatherhood Red was not ready to bear and the fear of losing a potential career in sports, the young man moved away to begin a life in New Jersey. For reasons that have never been fully clarified, he later came back to Florida and married the girl he left behind when she was six months along in the pregnancy. Shortly after Mae’s seventeenth birthday, in early March, the young girl went into labor. She said it was a cool Friday morning when she arrived at the colored section of the hospital. Because the hospital was so full, the young wife was placed on a stretcher in the hallway as she endured the humility of being a public display to all passersby while she struggled to bring a new life into the world. Finally, she was taken to the delivery area. Then when she thought that things could get no worse, they did. As the young girl lay in pain that she described as the worst thing she ever experienced, the babe was born in a frightful silence. The only sound heard was that of the unyielding echoes of the continuous slaps on the baby’s bottom in the repeated failed attempts to get a life response. What the young girl saw, she termed as the ugliest thing she had ever seen in her life. Mae said that it did not look like a baby, but was black and blue and even had purple colored spots over the body and worse, it never moved. The next thing she remembered was the doctor frantically calling for help then inserting a long tube down the baby’s throat. Mae trembled as she heard the machine making the wailing noise as it pulled the life preventing fluid from the lungs of the apparent stillborn. After minutes, which felt like eternity, there came the cry of life and Mae asked to hold her infant daughter for the first time. Remarkably, as the baby took each breath, the darkness faded unlike the memories that were forever etched in the young mother’s heart.

As Mae and her newborn lay on the same stretcher back in the same hallway of the hospital, so was death as it awaited another chance to steal the life of her baby. While the young mother was breastfeeding her baby, the infant began to gasp violently for breath. As Mae and her newborn lay on the same stretcher back in the same hallway of the hospital, so was death as it awaited another chance to steal the life of her baby. While the young mother was breastfeeding her baby, the infant began to gasp violently for breath. As Mae laid stunned and helpless, she watched her baby’s body convulse in an attempt to secure the breath it needed to survive, the mother began to scream for help. A nurse named Mrs. Mildred hearing the horrific plea rushed to the aid of the new mother only to see the baby’s unsuccessful fight for life. The nurse without thought, snatched up the baby, turned her upside down and with one hand firmly around the heels of the baby and the other gripping the back of the baby’s neck as if it were a puppy. Then with great force Mrs. Mildred shook the baby in a downward sweep, dislodging a ball of mucus which had clogged the baby’s air passage. Where was the father of the baby during all of this you ask? He was out in an orange grove picking fruit because he could not get a better job at the time. He had left earlier that morning to stand on the corner in the cool, foggy, spring morning to catch a bus to carry him and the rest of the crew away to make their living for the day and had no idea of the fight for life going on in the hospital.

Thanks Daddy and Mommy

Success MeDefined

Success has been defined as achieving a measured and intended outcome according to standards of society. Not, of course I’m different. My success lies in the fact that I have learned that I do not have to redefine who I am for anyone (including me) but to share who I am with the world around me. Believe it or not that includes the good and the not so good events that were an intricate part of the creation and development of me “for I was fearfully and wonderfully made” (KJV). A portion of my success lies in the lives of the two jewels I was given to nurture to their adulthood. My eldest jewel jolted me into this reality when I thought my success was in the achievement of the doctorate and being the first in my family to do so. In my mind, three degrees did not seem to suffice my quest for true success. While I was stressing on what to do and stressing everyone around me, she asked me the question that would alter my thinking of success. She said, “Momma what would having Dr. on your name do for or give you that you don’t already have? You have earned the respect of the people around you and those who come in contact with you. You know how to enjoy laughter and love and there are so many people who really love you?” Now, that question caused me to reflect and search my decision to not spend another dollar or another day of my time doing something that I knew was not in my heart of hearts to do. My success is because God first loved me, I have learned to love myself; therefore, because I love myself I can share that love with those who allow me the opportunity to be a part of their lives. The success of me getting to this point has truly been a journey and a very interesting one at that. It is so amazing how everyone has had a part in allowing my growth toward success. Thanks Yall

Moving toward Patience and Persistence - Yeah Right

I’m a little girl with a little curl right in the middle of my forehead. When I’m good, I’m very, very good but when I’m bad I’m horrid. Boy if I only knew how real this poem would become in my life in later years. Being in first grade with the best teacher in the world, there I was again being placed on a stage again before an audience of strangers to recite another poem. Well now I just found out (tonight) this poem is a part of the “Mother Goose” collection. You know I never really appreciated this poem because I thought it was not a good description of me. I wasn’t really bad and heck, I didn’t know what “horrid” meant but it had to be a bit worse than bad. Being the first born and being a girl was a very interesting I thought. It seemed that everything that involved me was everything but easy. Shucks, even my name had its own story. Anyway, during the summer prior to first grade, my mother was told by the family doctor that my younger sister and I needed to have our tonsils removed. We both had issues with colds and the like.

I remembered with the help of my mother that after being prepped, I began to cry when I saw the gurney approaching. In my mind, I thought this long skinny funny looking bed with the wobbly sounding wheels was coming to take me away from my mommy. I got upset because I was the only one being taken away. I figured my sister should have been on that thing with me. Mommy walked with me only a little way because my sister was back in the room to await her turn. My mom said when I returned groggy with the anesthesia she remembered laughing at me because she said I left laying the center of the gurney and I returned cross ways the bed.

Unlike me, my sister was carried back in the arms of one of the nurses. Then came time to learn to eat again was not to be a challenge for the girl with the big appetite. Well, I cried and whined so much trying to drink my ice cream that I was given only gelatin and I swore someone put sandspurs in it. I remember looking at my sister who was five at the time seeing were are only eighteen months apart and hearing her ask mom for a piece of the toasted ham and cheese sandwich she was trying to eat. Well I knew my sister would never be able to eat it because my sister would gag at the sight of mashed potatoes. Not only did the girl eat it after my mom expressed her concerns she ate the whole dad gum thing with ease while I was trying to choke down melted gelatin. It was those type days that I later realized my mother earned her wings as my heroine. She put with a lot from me yet she always encouraged me to press past what was difficult and focus on the one thing that would cause me to learn persistence. . Being able to eat my all time favorite, Spaghetti-Os with butter, ketchup and black pepper (mommy’s version) two weeks after the surgery was worth the wait.

Thanks Again Mom

Training Begins Early

I remember graduating from kindergarten at the tender age of five and being told that I had to recite a poem during the ceremony. Not once did my mother ask me if I thought I could do it, for that fact neither did my teacher. In my five year old mind, the fear of learning so many words was never addressed. I just thought that it had a lot of funny sounding words. As strange as it sounds, forty five years later I can still see the paper containing what I thought was the longest words in history at least my history. The poem was entitled "Future Moments".

I remember getting my hair straightened and curled in the "Candy Curls" that every girl in my class wanted (my hair was long enough to pull it off). Now they call them "spiral curls". I remember my mom adjusting and readjusting my graduation cap and making sure there was not a wrinkle to be seen in my graduation gown in the mad dash to get me to graduation with time to spare. Then came the time for me to give my speech and I was called to that huge stage that swallowed me and I recited my poem.

Future Moments ***

Oh you ask, what use can we make of moments.

I will not stay here to prove or illustrate the truth.

That as are the moments, so will be the hours, and the days which we live.

He who is able and willing to take unto himself,

Is no less able or willing to build for himself.

I curtsied as I was taught and had practiced no less than 100 times, at least I thought it was that many times. Apparently, I did a good job because my Mother and Grandmother were grinning from ear to ear and clapping loud enough to stop a train at 200 yards. Then my kindergarten teacher walked up on the stage and gave me the biggest hug a little kid could dream of especially from a teacher I thought was mean. From then on, anytime there was a need for a recitation in school or church guess who got the call. You got it my mom!!!

*** I have tried to find the author of this poem. So far I have not been successful. If someone finds it please let me know.