Teaching Daddy to Read

I love this picture. I saw it on Facebook. According to the FB caption it's "Dizzy Wright's daughter teaching him how to read"

In all honesty I have no idea who Dizzy Wright is but if he let's his daughter teach him to read he's an alright dad. I certainly remember teaching my daddy to read. I was just about the age of Dizzy's daughter. I taught him to read "The Little Red Hen". Lessons occurred everyday just before dinner, between 4:30 and 5:00. And I did a great job too because my daddy became quite fluent and was an avid reader, especially of newspapers, until his dying day.

#DadsRock  #EveryDayIsFathersDayWhenYourChildrenLoveandTrustYou

Black Family History

A friend whose blog I follow posted on her Fb page a statement which reads, in part, “If you have a blog don’t you feel obligated to do something special for Black History Month …?”

I agreed, immediately. Problem is I am brand new to this blogging thing; and I didn’t have any clever, interesting ideas like Lori who decided to weave her love of books and her love of Black hair into a literary celebration of Blackness. But when I mentioned Lori’s Black History observance to my sister she told me that she wanted to do something on the Black History within our family.

Welp, my sister doesn’t have a blog so I stole (yup I said stole) her idea. And yes, I realize that I am already a week behind, but … refer to problem noted above. So late and all, I plan to observe (the remainder of) Black History Month by celebrating family history, and I invite you to join me by celebrating the history of your family too.

 

Be advised that your family history doesn’t have to be remarkable or newsworthy. The only requirement is that it has somehow influenced or contributed to the shaping and making of you: how you parent, how you worship, your work ethic, your politics, your style, your intellect, your artistry, your career path/s, your financial literacy, your celebration rituals, your warrior spirit, your peacefulness and resolve, etc. Celebrate the history makers in your life!

I begin with a celebration of my Aunt Clara: Rev. Clara Delores (Peterson) Dockery, RN; March 4, 1929 – October 13, 2011.

My Aunt Clara graduated HS in 1946 and wanted to go to nursing school but was repeatedly denied because there were very few schools that admitted women of color. She persisted in her quest for two years before finally being admitted to the nursing program at Jewish Hospital (now the Albert Einstein Medical Center) in 1948. Her first nursing appointment was at Lankenau Hospital. My Aunt Clara was also a proud veteran of the US Armed Forces. Her nursing degree allowed her to enter the Army as a 1^st Lieutenant, and she served two tours of duty during the Korean War working both stateside and abroad. She reentered civilian life as a nurse with Burlington Co Memorial Hospital, Mt Holly, NJ. When she retired from nursing she became a minister and served on the clerical staff of the Tyree AME Church until her death.

 

That’s what Aunt Clara did, but that’s not who she was. She was funny, and loving and kind and generous to a fault. She was a devout family woman: wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunty.  She was a woman of personal resolve who found a way to respectably rise from the hardships of divorce without bitterness. She was a foster parent, a woman of community who thought it her responsibility to help raise the children in her village. She was a woman of dignity who lived out her life’s calling without fanfare. That’s who she was, and I miss her sometimes. But I don’t always miss her because sometimes I am her.

Who are the history makers in your life?

#FamilyHistoryIsBlackHistoryIfYouAreBlack

#BlackAndProudAndSayingItLoud

That Book You Can't Put Down

At church today five people gave me positive feedback on "Aunt Sadie's Angel" - five. Now that might not seem like a big deal to you; but trust me when I tell you it is a huge deal. Five unsolicited nods in a single day, from a single place is huge.

The first bit of feedback came during an exchange with a sister in the ladies' room before service who said, "I'm reading it now. So far it's really good." Then after service two of our deacons sought me out to tell me that they finished and really enjoyed it. One said"You are very talented. Do you have a sequel in mind? Because now that ..." And a third made a point of telling me that his wife is really enjoying it.

Needless to say, I am extremely excited about all of their feedback as well as the initial feedback I got from those who purchased and read it right away, my first responders. I really appreciate them having taken the time to sow into me by sharing their enthusiasm for my work. But by far the most exciting feedback came from a sister who told me that her granddaughter is reading the book. She gave it to her granddaughter as a Christmas gift, but she (the granddaughter) was not immediately interested. In fact she only started to read it because of her grandmother's prodding. But man, once she got started ...

Long story short - the granddaughter got in trouble twice (that's two times) for sneaking to read during school. Of course her parents and grandparents are none too thrilled about that but boy I certainly am! That's the kind of thing every children's author wants to hear. It was such a wonderful thing for the grandmother to share, just made my day.

I'm a librarian so I know that there's lots of quality children's literature out there: really well written with well-developed story lines. And I am admittedly a novice at this with a lot to learn, but I wanted children of faith to have an alternative to all of the dark and dystopian literature that is so readily available to them. And I wanted children (and parents) of color to have an alternative to the demonizing imagery of brown and black children held by the world. In stalk contrast “Aunt Sadie’s Angel” angelicizes (yeah I made up a word - artistic license) children of color and it reflects the light and hope that faith brings to bear upon our lives and the lives of our children. As you can imagine I am elated to know of a child who cannot put it down; and I will be just as elated to hear that you or a child in your life cannot put it down. Please read it and share it with the children in your life.

Do you remember any of the books of your childhood which you simply could not put down? We all had a book or two or three like that when we were in middle school. Mine were "A Teacup Full of Roses" "Twin Spell" and "Sorry Wrong Number". What were yours?

My Process

Aunt Sadie’s Angel

Aunt Sadie’s life is coming to an end and she has no angel, no spirit-guide to help her crossover. Rashida’s life is just beginning and her angel is overwhelmed by the demands of guarding her. In both cases the confusion can be traced to matters of race and racism

WHERE IT TAKES PLACE:

In heaven, that vast and glorious place we’ve heard so much about yet know so little of. And on earth – in all of the earth, especially wherever it is you live.

WHERE I WROTE IT:

In Philadelphia. Most of it in my mother’s North Philadelphia home where I had grown up and moved out and then moved back to save money. The rest of it in my own home where I moved once I had saved enough money to do so. In any case it’s a home-spun tale

WHY I WROTE IT:

On September 11, 2001 a war, of sorts, was waged against the United States. Thousands of innocent people lost their lives, and the dynamics of very many families were forever sorrowfully altered. The assailants were 19 men of Arab descent. Fear engulfed the nation; and people everywhere developed a hatred of Arabs.      

The fear was understandable. The hatred was not. Well maybe a hatred of those 19 men and the forces behind them was understandable. But hatred of all Arabs certainly was not. From that time forward I found myself thinking and talking and debating about ethnic stereotyping and racial profiling. I found myself thinking about the erroneous assumptions people make about all African Americans because of the misconduct of a few African Americans. I thought about the things I’ve heard over the years of my life about Native Americans, or Asians, or Africans, or Latinos. I thought about the things I’ve heard about Christians and Muslims and Jews, things about women - especially things about Black women and also things about White women. I thought of the things I’ve heard about gay people, or poor people or uneducated people, things about single parents or unwed mothers. I thought about the very many ways we classify and group people and how we allow our experiences with a few people from any one of those groups to dictate how we feel about the group in its entirety. And in each case I found myself asking – “Really, all of them? How could it possibly be all of them?”          

Over the years, as I spent time in the presence of God I saw the beauty of human diversity and the handiwork of God in people from all backgrounds and walks of life. And as I sat with God examining prejudice (both that which I encounter and that which I may exhibit) this story unfolded. I didn’t intend to share it as much as I intended to allow it to shape and inform my worldview. But in the fullness of time -