Saturday, May 25, 2013
Navigating! For Success in Life, Career and Business Pursuits: Memorial Day: Honoring The Ancestors of a Differen...
Navigating! For Success in Life, Career and Business Pursuits: Memorial Day: Honoring The Ancestors of a Differen...: “I would fight for my liberty so long as my strength lasted, and if the time came for me to go, the Lord would let them take me.” Harr...
Memorial Day: Honoring The Ancestors of a Different Battle
“I would fight for my liberty so long as my strength
lasted, and if the time came for me to go, the Lord would let them take me.”
My
maternal grandfather, Joseph (Joe) Everett Parker, Sr., honored our history and
this holiday in a different way. On Memorial
Day during the 1960s, the children of the family accompanied him on an
ancestral voyage. We went to the burial
grounds of his parents and other relatives, some who were born slaves or in the
reconstruction era. Here he honored their service. Because they had fought for racial
freedom, persevering and sacrificing in the most horrid of conditions. I call
them ‘old soldiers’ too, experienced on the battlefield of life.
The
grave sites were located way back off a rural road, some 15 miles or so from
our home in Waverly Virginia. In
preparation for the trip my grandfather loaded up his tools to attend to the
publicly neglected graves. At that time, black people could not be buried in
our town’s cemetery. So most of the graves were located out in the
"country" on traditional church grounds or old family sites.
As
rather adventurous children who loved treats, we were excited about these
outings with my grandfather for a couple of reasons. This was another chance to
be away from home while enjoying the outside. And as part of this ritual my
grandfather stopped at the local store and bought the makings for a good
sandwich; bread, baloney, mayonnaise, and grape Nehi sodas—our favorite ‘poor
folks’ snack.
Back
then the significance of this cemetery ritual was lost on our young minds. We watched my grandfather clear the weeds and
wild growth from the place where his folks lay.
Delicately, he touched the mounds of dirt with his hoe or pitchfork,
clearing the brush as he went about his task.
This was a sacred place. After the work was done, my grandfather bent
his head. He cried. He prayed.
He paid homage to the souls of our kindred spirits. In spite of his exhibits of strength and
occasional “hell raising”, my grandfather was at times a very sentimental and
emotional man. I value this understanding about my grandfather.
Joe
Parker’s sense of history and roots were firm and unknowingly he passed it down
through the generations in a special way. I remember, this is an important part
of our legacy. And I write about these unsung and enduring heroes whose acts of
bravery in the enemy’s camp for humanity have made my progress so. They won!
Excerpted
from my upcoming book, TOOLS TO
CULTIVATE THE PROMISED LAND: Working Wisdom from My Grandparent’s Garden,
October 2013
|
| With my grandfather in 1982 |
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