Wisdom Seeds (6 page)

My coming to Pittsburgh gave us the opportunity to get to know each other again. I hadn't seen or talked to my cousins since my Aunt Sharon's funeral. My dad rarely mentioned his brother, Paul, and the last I remembered they were living near the base in Quantico, Virginia.

“It was hard growing up without my mother,” Alicia said opening a bottle of nail polish. “I used to dream she was still alive.”

“It's like a part of you is missing and no matter what you do you can't get it back.” Andrea stopped doing crunches and faced me. “You're so blessed to have your mother.”

“You know, like when you went to the prom, the first time your heart was broken,” Alicia began.

“And little things like when your bras are too small, when you wanted to use tampons instead of pads, and when you have cramps. My dad didn't understand,” Andrea added.

“My mom isn't easy to talk to,” I stated flatly.

“Alicia seemed puzzled. “What do you mean? From what I remember, your mom is very nice.”

“She is very nice and I do love her.” I was searching for the right words. “We're just not close. We never really talked about stuff.”

“Why not?” Andrea wanted to know.

“I don't know. We just never did.” I could feel tears swelling in my eyes. “I was really close to my grandmother – Ida, my mother's mother.”

“There's nothing like a mother.” Alicia was fighting back her own tears. “I really miss mine.”

“My parents met at a party at Dartmouth.” Andrea intentionally shifted the conversation.

“Oh, I didn't know that.”

“She should have been a doctor,” Alicia added.

“What happened?”

“Love,” Andrea smirked. “She married my dad and left Radcliffe to go with him to Japan.”

“What did her parents say?”

“Her parents were killed in a car accident when she was a teenager. She lived with her aunt who was not happy and to this day doesn't like my dad.”

Andrea and Alicia spent their summers in Cambridge, Massachusetts with their great aunt, Virginia Baltimore. They had many good memories of their time with her even though she never liked their dad. It was just like Nana and me; Nana didn't particularly care for my dad either.

I shared with them the seeds of wisdom Nana taught me. They shared with me about dream stealers. Type I always doubts you and says your dreams are too big. Type II embraces your dreams as possible only if they become the designated partner. Type III pretends to be interested in your dreams but wants you to rely on them to make a call or provide some connection so you will always be indebted to them. Type IV is envious of your ambition and pretends to be interested in your dreams. Once you begin to have success they try to take credit for your accomplishments.

The evening was good, but it was also like a spear. I
resolved to do better at connecting with my mother. I envisioned that one day she and I would sit and talk and get to know each other, really know each other. I would be able to tell her about my fears and pains and I would ask about hers. One day, I hoped, we would share ourselves with each other.

My first day at work was exciting and intimidating. Equipped with my Bachelor of Science degree in Psychology, I thought I was ready to take on the world. My first week was a reality check that there were many things I needed to learn. The stories some of the women told were incredible. Years of abuse and neglect, poor choices, drug dealing boyfriends, herpes, venereal diseases, broken noses and ribs – and I thought I had it bad growing up with my dad. By the end of my first week nothing shocked me. Not even the multiple partnerships in which some of the women delighted in knowing their children would be siblings.

For eight weeks I was a Research Associate in the Department of Epidemiology. Our team assessed pregnancy outcomes and infant bonding with substance abusing women. The number of women who were eligible for our program was overwhelming. My job was to interview the women in the obstetrical clinic during their first trimester and offer incentives to participate in our program. A major incentive was weekly urine screens and a positive recommendation to Child Welfare for all women who abstained from using drugs during their pregnancy. We also paid five dollars for completing each questionnaire and those who completed four questionnaires were given a fifty-dollar certificate to The Kid Store and a basket filled with layette items.

My workday was exhausting and I was glad Andrea was taking classes at the University of Pittsburgh over the summer. The obstetrical clinic was on the far side of campus and each evening Andrea and I met in front of the campus library to ride home together.

Alicia usually had dinner waiting and hurried us as we came in the door. We held hands to bless our food and discussed the Daily Devotional. Andrea said it was good to discuss positive things over dinner because complaining about the day only gave you indigestion. Spending time with my cousins made me wish I had sisters. I had never thought about that before and, in fact, had often wished I were an only child.

“How's your dad?” I asked one day after dinner.

“He says he loves France. It's where he and my mother planned to live after he retired.” Alicia shrugged. “He calls for birthdays and Christmas. We haven't seen him since we graduated from Hampton.”

“I keep praying for him,” Andrea said. “He's very misguided about who Jesus is. My dad thinks everyone is like Grandpa Tim.”

“I thought my dad was the only one who didn't get along with Grandpa Tim.”

“Girl, let me tell you,” Alicia piped in with excitement. “It's a wild story, like a scene from a soap opera.”

“What?” She had my full attention.

“Well, let me start from the beginning.” Alicia sat up in her chair. Andrea sighed and began clearing the dinner dishes.

“Now this is the story my dad tells.” She rested her elbows on the table. “Your dad was the favorite grandchild and always wanted to be a preacher like our great-grandfather, William Allen. When your dad was about eight
he asked to go live with our great-grandparents and Grandpa Tim had a fit. After that, Grandpa Tim wouldn't let Grandma Rita take our dads and Uncle Matt to visit them anymore. Our great-grandfather died a year later of a massive heart attack and your dad blamed Grandpa Tim. Your dad grew up believing that our great-grandfather died of a broken heart because his only child, Grandpa Tim, was the prodigal son who had no interest in finding his way home.” Alicia sat back in her chair and took a deep breath. “Girl, ain't that a mess?”

“Yeah,” I shook my head. “I had no idea.”

“Girl, there's more.” She smiled like she was about to tell a secret and yelled into the kitchen. “Hey Annie, would you make some iced tea?” Alicia scooted her chair back a little. “Grandpa Tim hadn't spoken to his parents during the last ten years of his father's life. He never went home after he graduated from college and the next time he saw our great-grandmother was the day of great-granddad's funeral. Our great-grandmother, Louise Allen, never acknowledged Grandpa Tim except to deny his request to speak at his father's funeral. Grandpa Tim was infuriated and refused to stay for the family dinner. Great-grandmother's final words to her son were, ‘Let the children stay. They're here to mourn their loving grandfather – a good man.' Grandpa Tim turned to walk away and everyone followed except your dad. He never looked up at them, but held tightly to his grandmother's hand as he watched their feet walk away. Grandpa Tim left Emmanuel Baptist Church and returned to the Bronx fifteen years later to bury his mother.”

“Oh Alicia!” Andrea rolled her eyes before putting the glasses of iced tea on the table. “It's just family gossip.” She stood behind Alicia with her hand on her hip.

“It's not family gossip, it's the truth.” Alicia
responded, looking over her shoulder at Andrea and then turning back to face me.

“Does your dad get along with Grandpa Tim?” Since Alicia was discussing family business, I needed to know.

“I wouldn't say my dad doesn't get along with him, I would say he didn't agree with what went on.”

“It was wrong and he went along with it,” Andrea added sitting down next to me.

I was on the edge of my seat. “What happened?”

Alicia crossed her legs, letting her right foot swing. “My dad liked getting attention from the girls in the congregation and he went out with just about all of them.”

“Until this girl he really liked turned up pregnant and said my dad was the father,” Andrea finished sarcastically. “Grandpa Tim wanted my dad to marry her, but he knew the baby wasn't his. She was the one girl he didn't have sex with.”

“What? Get outta here!” My mind was working hard to process this family history.

“It was a life lesson for my dad. It wasn't the attention of all the girls he really wanted. The sad part is, it took my dad years to admit he really wanted his mother's attention. Grandma Rita was too busy being the first lady and trying to keep Grandpa Tim.” Andrea seemed sympathetic.

I sat there enthralled. This was better than a soap opera.

Alicia sipped her tea. “Girl, remember Uncle Matt?”

“Alicia!” Andrea's tone was chastising.

“This is family talk, she needs to know.” Alicia was flippant with Andrea.

“My dad says he prefers to be called Matty. He never speaks of him unless he's talking about damnation,” I stated finally having information to add.

“Girl you know he started spending his summers touring the country when he was sixteen. My dad said the following summer he stopped talking to girls and a year later he developed a lisp.” Alicia laughed and it took me a few minutes to understand the implication.

“Actually,” Andrea added, “I agree with my dad. Uncle Matt always had a lot of unresolved issues.”

“I haven't seen him since I was about seven,” I added still feeling the need to share some family history. “He came to visit us and my dad wouldn't let him play the piano in church. He never came back. I don't even see Grandpa Tim and Grandma Rita that often even though they live in New York.”

Alicia continued her saga defining our grandmother, Mrs. Rita Allen, as the best-dressed woman in the church. Grandma Rita strategically removed herself from the gossip about her husband by creating a fashion world of her own and becoming a socialite who supported every well-known community cause. Alicia said that our grandmother defined pretentious and, in her quest for fashion fame, she emotionally neglected her children.

Andrea joined in the conversation and relayed how Grandpa Tim made Matthew the minister of music when he was only fourteen-years-old. It wasn't long before music became Matthew's god. There was nothing more important to him than being able to bring people to their feet with his music. The gospel message in the music became secondary to the emotionalism. Andrea said Uncle Matt has been chasing fame and fortune for most his life. She said her dad refers to Matthew as a gifted musician who can make a piano talk.

Alicia concluded the family history lesson with how her father, Paul, swore that he would never be involved in a church again because it was just a game. Even though my
dad had tried to tell Paul about living a true Christian life, Paul sought his own success and didn't feel he needed anyone to help him. Paul was an outstanding student who became an officer in the military and had a beautiful family. Paul credited his success to being a good person and treating people with respect.

I knew my dad believed his father, Grandpa Tim, was a product of his era, the result of too much liberalism invading the church and too many hustlers hiding behind the cross. Although Grandpa Tim says he is a preacher, my dad maintains that it wasn't God who called him. To my dad, Grandpa Tim was nothing more than an embarrassment while he was growing up. I also knew my dad blamed Grandpa Tim for his brother Paul leaving the church and his brother Matthew not having a true understanding of being a Christian.

What I learned from this family history lesson was that my dad had been just as stoic with his parents as he had been with us. He spent most of his youth at the Peace, Love and Joy Fellowship trying to prove to his father, the community and himself that he would not be a part of the pseudo religious madness Grandpa Tim had created. Just like my brothers, my dad was familiar with being estranged from his family.

Each day I realized how much I missed not growing up with my cousins. We were family and we were a lot alike. Our fathers had let their anger keep us apart and we made a vow we would always be there for each other – no matter what. It felt good to know I had them to lean on. I let myself imagine a family reunion where everyone got to know each other. Pipe dreams.

The PUMP flyer was on the kitchen counter. I hadn't thought about Gregory over the past week, but the notice triggered images of those perfect white teeth set precisely in the deep chocolate of his face. And his butt, it was well sculpted like a football player. Maybe he would attend the meeting, maybe I would see him again, and maybe we could get to know each other.