The Mind
Summer
2010,
I
returned
to
my
hometown
in
Hallandale,
Florida
for
a
family
reunion.
Driving
out
of
the
airport,
I
couldn’t
resist
the
pleasure
of
enjoying
the
thick
white
clouds
floating
low
beneath
the
beautiful
blue
sky,
releasing
wonderful
memories
of
the
hours
I
spent
lying
on
my
back
on
the
porch
staring
and
watching
the
transforming
clouds
take
mystical
shapes
that
invited
me
upward.
So
much
of
the
thick
green
landscape
that
enhanced
the
scenery
is
lost
to
the
brick
and
mortar
neighborhoods
and
businesses.
The
abundance
of
stately
palm
trees
which
died
from
the
“fusarium
wilt”
disease
no
longer
lined the highways downtown and around the yards of neighboring homes.
I
remember
my
sister
telling
me
that
without
notification,
she
woke
up
early
one
morning
in
2000
to
a
loud
noise
of
workers
from
the
town
of
Miami
walking
around
on
her
property
cutting
down,
not
only,
the
palm
trees
in
front
of
her
house,
but her fruit trees in the backyard. Horrified and angry she asked, “Why are you cutting down my trees?
“Your fruit trees like more than 180,000 others have the Citrus canker disease.”
“How could you just come on my property and cut down trees without at least letting me know in advance?”
They
dismissed
my
sister
and
continued
to
finish
the
cutting.
I
didn’t
realize
until
this
trip
how
the
disease
that
attacked
Florida had caused the loss of so many gorgeous, stately palm trees that decorated the main shopping area of Hallandale.
Two
days
before
returning
to
New
York,
I
decided
to
pass
by
the
house
where
I
was
born
and
raised.
Now,
fifty-five
years
later,
the
house
has
been
stuccoed,
painted
white
with
pink
shutters.
It
no
longer
has
the
yellow
wood
frame
with
green
shutters.
The
unpainted
wooden
fence
that
surrounded
the
backyard
shielded
its
view
from
the
street.
The
missing
house
on
the
empty
lot,
next
door,
where
my
sister
used
to
live,
gave
me
a
feeling
of
loss.
My
reason
for
going
to
the
house
was
to
knock
on
the
door
and
ask
if
I
could
look
inside.
The
delicate
square
building
looked
so
small,
it
was
hard
to
believe
we
all
lived there. But, from my childhood memory it was big.
When
we
parked
in
front
of
the
house,
my
brother
Isaac
who
still
lives
in
the
same
town
said,
“I’m
sorry,
I
forgot
the
man
who
lived
here
died,
and
it’s
been
empty
for
at
least
a
year.”
Unfortunately,
I
was
locked
out.
We
walked
up
to
the
house.
The
porch
was
bare,
with
no
sign
of
life.
We
walked
around
to
the
side
of
the
house
near
the
window
and
looked
inside. Suddenly, it was as if a tape on a recorder had been reverse, stopped, and was replaying.
As
a
child,
when
I
was
locked
in
that
room
as
a
punishment,
I
would
peep
out
of
the
window
and
could
see
my
sister
Catherine,
next
door,
moving
around
back
and
forth
across
her
kitchen
window.
We
moved
towards
the
back
of
the
house,
looked
over
the
wooden
fence
that
surrounded
the
yard
and
to
my
surprise,
I
saw
Mama
bent
over
the
tin
wash
tub
scrubbing
clothes
with
her
apron
still
tied
around
her
waist;
my
brothers
George
and
Isaac
were
on
their
knees
shooting
marbles
next
to
the
chicken
coop;
my
sister
Harriet
who
is
seven
years
older
than
I,
had
long
braids
that
were
dangling
as
she
reached
in
and
out
of
the
basket
for
clothes
to
hang
on
the
line;
Jimmie,
my
third
brother,
was
pumping
a
bucket
of
water
and
then
strolling
towards
the
outhouse
unfastening
the
strap
of
his
faded
overalls;
and
Helen,
the
sister
everyone
says
I
look
like,
is
sitting
on
the
step
shelling
peas
for
dinner.
My
father,
Eli,
is
talking
to
our
neighbor
across
the
fence
while
using
his
hatchet
to
chop
a
piece
of
wood
to
build
a
stand
for
the
Christmas
tree
that
he
and
my
brothers
had
cut
down
from
the
woods
across
the
street.
It was hard to move. For a moment, I wanted to stay there and hold on to the sight of those memories.
Snatching
my
mind
away
from
the
fence,
I
turned
to
walk
around
to
the
other
side
of
the
house
and
made
a
step,
when
pain
shot
through
my
foot
and
up
my
leg.
I
lifted
my
leg.
Attached
to
the
bottom
of
my
shoe
was
a
small
piece
of
board.
Isaac
pulled
the
board,
and
we
discovered
that
a
long
nail
had
plunged
itself
through
my
shoe
and
into
my
flesh.
The
blood
dripped
slowly.
I
hopped
on
one
foot
to
the
porch
and
sat
down.
Isaac
picked
up
a
piece
of
wood
and
said,
“I
could
beat
the
spot where the nail penetrated so that it could bleed more. You know it will heal faster if the poison from the nail bleeds out.”
All
of
a
sudden,
it
was
Mama,
not
Isaac,
standing
there.
I
was
a
child
again.
She
beat
my
foot,
cleaned
it
with
alcohol,
put
on
salve,
a
piece
of
potato,
a
penny
on
top,
and
tied
my
foot
with
a
clean
white
rag.
She
said,
“Tomorrow,
the
potato
will
be green. You’ll see. The poison from the nail will be drawn right out on the potato.”
For
a
moment,
I
was
sad,
sad
because
in
the
physical
world,
mama
is
gone;
my
father
is
gone;
Jimmie
is
gone;
seven
other
older
sisters
and
brothers
are
gone;
and
so
many
other
family
members
and
friends
who
were
on
that
recording
with
me
are
gone.
Then,
I
stopped
my
thoughts
for
a
second
and
remembered
that
life
goes
on,
and
the
memories
were
only
a
small
part
and
just
the
beginning
of
the
recording.
There
was
no
reason
to
be
sad.
It
was
a
wonderful
experience
to
be
able
to
replay
those
times
and
to
see
how
far
I
have
come
and
how
much
wisdom
I
have
gained.
A
look
into
the
past
is
good,
but
I
do
not
want to bury my thoughts there.
Our
mind
is
like
the
most
updated
computer.
It
stores
a
life
time
of
information-
our
stories.
Some
are
sad,
some
funny,
some
happy,
but
they
all
are
there
waiting
for
us
to
be
still
for
a
moment,
click
on
reverse
and
move
forward.
As
a
child,
I
used
to
spend
a
lot
of
time
on
the
porch
daydreaming
about
how
I
wanted
my
life
to
be
when
I
grew
up.
Now
as
an
adult,
understanding
the
power
of
the
mind,
I
realize
that
even
then,
I
was
creating
my
future.
Looking
back,
I
know
now
that
many
of
the
things
that
I
pictured
in
my
mind
came
true.
Our
mind
is
magnificent,
we
can
use
it,
not
only,
to
review
our
history,
but
to
move
forward
and
to
create.
Our
thoughts
can
change
our
lives.
What
we
think
about
we
create.
As
2011
approaches,
I
plan more than ever to keep my thoughts focused.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
December 2010
Anything Could Happen
Have
you
ever
attended
a
concert
to
see
the
entertainer
you
love
the
most?
Did
you
experience
the
excitement,
the
joy,
the
thrill
of
being
there?
What
about
the
energy
in
the
room
that
gives
the
natural
feeling
of
being
high,
lifted
up
from
ordinary
life?
You
feel
thankful
for
being
alive
and
want
that
moment
to
last
forever.
Well,
that
was
the
experience
I
wanted
to
have
when
I
saw
Jackie Wilson in 1955.
At
that
time,
I
learned
what
Mama
was
trying
to
say
about
carpooling.
When
my
sister
Henrietta
graduated
from
9th
grade,
there
was
no
high
school
in
town
for
colored
people.
We
were
not
allowed
entrance
into
the
High
Schools
across
the
tracks
in
white
town.
So,
the
only
way
we
could
attend
a
high
school
was
to
carpool
or
pack
up
our
family,
our
belongings,
and
move
to
a
location
near
the
school.
Mama
was
adamant
about
her
girls
traveling
in
a
carpool
especially
with
boys.
Her
famous
words
were
“Anything
could
happen.
Somebody
could
take
advantage
of
you.”
So,
that’s
why
my
sister
Henrietta
never
finished
high
school.
By
the
time
I
was
ready
to
attend
high
school,
seven
years
later,
the
city
had
arranged
for
a
school
bus
to
pick
up
colored
children
to
transport
us
to
the
town
of
Dania
where
the
closest
high
school
(Attucks)
was
located.
Many
of
the
junior
high
school
students
who
graduated
with
my
sister,
as
well
as
my
classmates,
carpooled
to
Dillard
High
School
in
Fort
Lauderdale
or
Booker
T.
Washington
High
School
in
Miami.
The
students,
as
well
as
their
parents,
believed
the
school
the
county
selected
which
was
closest to our area was new and inferior to Dillard and Booker T.
Our
neighbor
around
the
corner,
Nazell,
the
girl
who
tried
to
beat
me
up,
years
earlier,
before
I
was
a
teenager,
knew
I
loved
Jackie
Wilson.
So,
she
invited
me
to
go
with
her
and
a
girlfriend
to
a
Jackie
Wilson
concert
which
was
out-
of-
town.
I
had
turned
eighteen
years
old
a
month
earlier
and
just
knew
I
was
grown.
I
accepted
Nazell’s
invitation
to
go
to
Jackie’s
concert.
My
sister
Elaine warned, “You know Nazell hangs with a wild crowd. You shouldn’t go anywhere with her.”
I
stared
at
her
with
my
hands
on
my
hips
and
an
attitude.
When
I
didn’t
say
a
word,
she
realized
I
was
going
anyway.
So,
concerned about me, she passed me a dollar bill.
“Here,
in
case
you
have
to
get
back
home
you’ll
need
to
have
money.
I
took
the
money
thinking
she
must
have
remembered
another one of Mama’s rules, “Never leave home in a car with anybody without enough money in your pocket to get back home.”
On the night of the concert, after picking me up, Nazell informed me, “I have to make a stop.”
When
three
young
men
walked
out
of
the
house
with
her,
I
didn’t
think
much
about
it.
But,
when
they
began
to
climb
into
the
car,
fear
rose
in
my
throat
and
I
felt
like
my
heart
sunk
to
my
stomach.
But,
the
way
they
took
their
seats
in
the
car,
I
realized
one
of
the
young
men
was
her
boyfriend
who
sat
in
front
and
became
the
driver.
I
was
left
in
the
back
seat
with
the
two
strangers.
I
was
shocked
because
Nazell
had
said
we
were
going
with
her
girlfriend.
All
kinds
of
thoughts
flooded
my
mind.
Is
she
setting
me
up?
Why
didn’t
she
tell
me
these
men
were
going?
I
tried
to
shrink
into
the
corner
of
the
back
seat
as
closely
as
I
could
against
the
door.
My
thoughts
went
wild
because
I
was
locked
in.
I
figured
maybe,
as
my
brother
would
say
“if
push
comes
to
shove,”
I
could
jump
out
of
the
car
when
it
slowed
down.
I
felt
like
screaming
wouldn’t
help.
Cursing
the
stranger
would
only
make
him
angry.
So,
I
tightened
my
muscles
and
prepared
to
fight
if
I
had
to.
Then,
I
got
angry
with
myself.
I
had
not
listened
to
Elaine,
and
I
knew
she
was
right
about
Nazell.
Then,
I
had
the
audacity
to
start
praying
Lord
help
me
to
be
safe,
after
being
stubborn
and
not
listening. The idea of being safe had not entered my mind until the moment the men got into the car.
At
the
next
stop,
two
girls
were
picked
up.
One
girl
sat
in
front.
The
other
girl
had
to
sit
on
the
lap
of
one
of
the
young
men.
I
wanted
to
say
I’m
not
going
put
me
out,
but
we
had
already
driven
two
towns
towards
the
location
of
the
concert
which
was
very
far
from
home,
and
I
did
not
have
a
clue
where
or
how
to
find
a
bus
to
get
back
home
from
where
we
were.
As
I
sat
silently,
Mama’s voice began repeating in my head, Anything could happen in a carpool.
We
arrived
at
the
concert
early.
Jackie
Wilson,
the
lead
singer
of
the
Dominoes,
was
one
of
Rock
and
Roll’s
(now
called
R&B)
biggest
entertainers
in
1955.
He
sang
hit
songs
like,
“Rags
To
Riches”
and
“Learning
The
Blues.”
Other
famous
entertainers
such
as
James
Brown
and
the
Flames
were
also
popular
in
1955.
James
Brown
and
The
Flames
sang
the
song
“Please,
Please,
Please”
on
stage,
at
the
Palms
Park
on
teenage
night,
before
it
was
released
in
1956.
Clyde
McPhatter’s,
“Money
Honey”
was
a
big
hit
and
Ivory
Joe
Hunter’s,
“I
Almost
Lost
My
Mind,”
kept
dancers
on
the
floor
at
parties.
Many
other
male
and
female
entertainers
were
also
popular.
I
could
still
see
my
sister
Catherine’s
face
laughing
hard
with
tears
rolling
down
her
cheeks
when
she heard that women from across the tracks were throwing their drawers on the stage to Jackie Wilson.
What
great
expectation
it
was
to
attend
that
show.
As
the
auditorium
lights
shut
down
to
pitch
dark,
the
bright
lights
surrounded
the
athletic
figure
dressed
in
a
sharkskin
black
suit
moving
towards
the
center
of
the
stage.
First,
loud
claps
filled
the
room. Then, just as quickly, silence penetrated the space while the crowd waited with anticipation.
Jackie’s
first
ballad
with
his
smooth
tenor
voice
in
its
low
and
high
octave
sent
chills
up
my
spine.
When
he
hit
the
notes
with
bebop
and
began
dancing,
the
movement
of
his
feet
was
fast
and
spectacular
as
he
kept
the
audience
mesmerized.
And,
when
he
did
the
split
with
his
buttocks
hitting
the
floor,
before
the
crowd
could
absorb
the
magnificence
of
his
drop,
he
made
a
quick,
smooth
rise
upward
on
his
strong
legs,
slid
his
feet
together
to
a
stance,
and
never
missed
a
beat.
Once
on
his
feet
again,
he
spun
around,
threw
the
mike
in
the
air,
slid
across
the
stage,
caught
it,
and
dropped
to
his
knees
while
his
shoulders
and
arm
movements
stayed in harmony with the music.
Close
to
the
stage
he
winked
and
flirted
with
the
female
audience.
The
crowd
went
ballistic;
some
rose
out
of
their
seats,
screaming,
running
up
the
aisles
towards
the
stage
as
he
crooned
and
popped
his
fingers.
That’s
when
drawers
began
to
fly,
hitting
the
stage.
What
a
show!
I
hated
for
it
to
end.
On
our
way
home,
for
a
long
time,
I
could
still
hear
the
sound
of
the
music
beating
in
my head and the rhythm vibrating under my skin, making me want to tap my feet.
Much
of
my
enjoyment
of
Jackie’s
performance
that
night
was
lost
because
I
knew
I
had
to
get
back
home,
and
I
kept
hearing
Mama’s
voice,
Anything
could
happen.
The
fear
of
what
Mama
meant
tortured
my
mind
and
made
me
wish
I
didn’t
have
to
get
back into the car to go home with Nazell.
When
we
arrived
at
my
house,
I
jumped
out
of
the
car
and
gave
a
sigh
of
relief
that
I
made
it
home
safely.
I
was
mentally
tired
from
watching
the
girl
on
the
young
man’s
lap
fight
off
the
groping.
I
knew
in
my
heart
I
was
lucky
because
the
strangest
thing
happened;
the
young
man
next
to
me
slept
all
the
way
to
the
show
and
then
again
on
the
way
back
home.
I
promised
myself,
I
would never trust Nazell again.
Thinking
back
about
that
trip,
I
realize
that
when
we
are
young
we
take
chances
that
we
know
we
should
not
take.
But,
for
some
reason,
we
take
the
chances
anyway.
Sometimes
we
are
lucky,
and
other
times
we
are
not.
I
learned
a
lesson
that
night.
Our
parents
might
annoy
us
with
their
advice
or
what
they
will
not
allow
us
to
do
when
we
are
young,
but
we
should
always
think
about what they say. They are trying to tell us what is best for us and save us from danger. They are older and wiser than we are.
I wish you a happy New Year.
December 2015
Short Stories