I grew up in a family with three generations in visiting distance. So, along with my generation, there were four living generations of my family. When all the aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. would get together, every room in the house was occupied, the porch was crowded, every tree had chairs under their shade, children were running around. Everywhere you went, there was a loud, lively conversation in progress. The smell of fried chicken, greens seasoned with fatback, cornbread and/or yeast rolls permeated the house and outside into the yard. Everyone knew everyone else. Friends were in the mix. Someone called someone and they called someone and everyone came to visit. Kool-aid, iced tea, and all kinds of pop were available. Big box fans were whirring, moving hot air from room to room. The windows were open and the doors were propped open. Someone wielded a fly swatter for the annoying flies that were attracted to the enticing aroma of the food.
No one was upset or arguing. Even the Baptists and Methodists were amicably disagreeing on some verse in the Bible. That’s a child’s memory. I’m sure there were undercurrents. Okay, today, I know there were undercurrents, but that’s where the issues remained while folk socialized.
Then, the season of dying began. Within a decade, the family had dwindled to a mere shadow of itself. It was almost like a culling. But, from my science fiction reading, a culling is a deliberate purposeful act by an outside agent. I suppose the season of dying was a natural organic event that happens in large families. Old and not so old…the ringing of the telephone at night filled me with dread. That’s when the calls came because everyone knew I’d be home at night. It got to the point where my Aunt M said the only time we saw each other was at funerals. She then suggested family reunions and she organized the first one in the late 1980’s.
I think the first one was on an 8th of August. The family picture taken at the end showed a pretty good number of us. Since then, the number of us is fewer. However, we haven’t had a family reunion in years. COVID took its toll, not in number, but in motivation. No one’s mentioned a family reunion.
A couple of friends and I have had conversations about how our families have dwindled. We all remember the house full of relatives and now we have empty chairs at the dinner table.
Yesterday, a friend said that her grandmother (deceased) had mentioned a son that had died. I offered to do some research to verify the story. I like to do research and I found the baby’s death certificate. He was a little over a month old. I told her what I had found and now she is interested in finding out more about her family.
She said she was discouraged because no one appeared to be interested. I told her I had the same reaction from my family. I keep doing it because I like to find out new things about my ancestors. I think it helps me to know me.
I heard a leaf skittering on the driveway. It’s been hot, but not dry as it rains about every other day. But this leaf had dried and fallen from its branch to the ground. That’s unusual for this time of year, but with climate change there is a new “usual”. Funny, how one can be aware of the slightest sounds and, yet, learn to ignore the revving of souped-up engines at midnight.
I saw a blurb–everyone is from Africa. Usually I ignore such all statements. But there is some truth to that statement. Homo Sapiens became in Africa, however, just as whatever it was left the ocean to become us…many left Africa to become a difference. That difference is not of Africa. The people who are in that landmass today are not only from Africa, they are of Africa. We can say we are from the ocean, but when we left we became a difference that is not of the ocean. Today, if we do not respect the ocean, it and what is of the ocean will kill and maim us.
I saw a commercial and a young man was learning the language of the country of his forebears. He had relatives still in that country and he wanted to communicate with them in their language. So, he knew where his people came from, but he was not of that place. Same with the womb, we came from the watery womb, but we, now, are not of the womb. Where we came from will always be a part of us, but because of changes, physical, mental, etc. in us, a return may not be possible and, in some cases, deadly. For me…my Ancestors were from Africa; I am not of Africa. I have visited, but I was a stranger, feeling deja vu (which surprised me).
The gaslighting conversation about I do not see color. I laugh when I hear it. The people who say it are either lying to themselves or they are delusional. Run…it’s a waste of time dealing with a liar or one who is deluded. This is the United States which was built on distinction of color. Further, if you don’t see color, exactly what are you seeing? You don’t know me, so you don’t know and certainly can’t see character. A person…like yourself? A living breathing homo sapiens sapiens? I think not. Your assumptions as you see, but do not see, and your actions based on those assumptions betray you. So, what you are saying is, in my bubble, you don’t exist. In my bubble, there is nothing to compare you to and I can’t imagine whatever this being/thing is that I am not seeing. Therefore, I can ignore your existence and your lived experience.
I read an article in the NY Times today that corroborated what I have observed. Many of my plants are in pots. I wrote the name of the plant on a plastic marker and stuck a marker in each of the pots. Some were white and some were yellow. By the end of the summer, most had disappeared. I told a friend that the birds had taken them. She was skeptical. The NY Times article stated that birds had been using man-made materials to incorporate into their nests for a long time. As a side note, I have no idea what some of the plants are. When I take a notion, I’ll do what I did when I wanted to know what the tree with the berries was. I compared a leaf to pictures I found on the Internet until I found a match. Turned out to be a mulberry tree. No berries this year. Probably because of last December’s freeze and the spring freeze. Maybe next year!
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