It’s a rainy day in Georgia…
At 11:00am EST, a prince will be laid to rest to the heavenly tune of “God’s Lullaby.”
To honor his memory, I am reblogging this amazing piece, written by my dearest cousin, and prolific writer, the late Ronald W. Brown.
For more like this, select category: “Ron’s Time Tunnel.”
Until we meet again, Rest In Peace, my love. ❤️
~LadyG
***Important Note:
Daddy and I purchased the seeds for our patio garden back in late January/ Early February of this year.
We had planned to get started with this project much sooner.
But, life happened, and one day in mid February, out of nowhere, Daddy collapsed and had to be rushed to the hospital.
As a result, he spent some time in the ICU.
But thank GOD, he was released ONE WEEK after his emergency admission date.
God was with him the entire time!
He was truly blessed and so were we!
We thank every doctor, nurse, assistant and therapist involved in his care.
Special thanks to my son and daughter who were with him when he collapsed. They took immediate—lifesaving action.
Remember, in an emergency, it is best to call 911 because they bring help; they are NOT just there for the ride!
They can make ALL the difference between living and dying!
Thank you to those first responders (Paramedics, EMTs and Firemen ) who arrived on the scene to care for my Dad.
Also, special thanks to the anonymous witness who called 911 seconds before my daughter did!
That said, after spending several weeks in physical and occupational therapy, Daddy is now recovered.
No doubt, we lost some time starting our gardening project, but his well-being was much more important to me.
AND NOW……
Enjoy the post and the video!
___________________
I think it was 2017 when I first revisited a recurring idea of setting up a patio garden.
Sadly, Covid-19 has recently come to town and highlighted, among other things, weaknesses in our food supply chain.
As a result, you can best believe that I am now moving this project to “on fire” status!
I’m dead serious!
Anyway, a critical piece to this garden project included having my daddy teach me how to set it up—mainly because that dude has a…
Mint
Jade
AND
Emerald
Green thumb mix!
His daddy taught him.
I’m a Georgia girl, so frankly, as far back as I can remember—and I am about 50 :), my dad, who is a native of Alabama, maintained a garden in our backyard.
He kept that practice up for years!
Later in life, maybe 15 years ago, he transitioned to apartment living, and continued gardening on a smaller scale.
Neighbors, who passed by his patio, would ask, “Hey man, how do you grow such beautiful greens?”
He’d just smile and offer some form of pleasant response and continue on with tending his “crops.”
And when the crops were ready to be harvested, mama made sure to cook them up just right!
Queen Diva Eva!
YAASSSS!
Now then,
Let me be frank, there is NO way in hell that my dad would consent to appearing on camera so I had to secretly record the action!
God knows if he reads this….that’s my ASS!
Oops! Did I say that?
Forgive me Daddy!
That said, I am going to post an audio of him supervising my steps toward establishing our little family garden along with a short video and some pictures.
Forever the conductor!
But he’s cool about it
Anyway…
Enough of my rambling. Check out the video.
LadyG loves YOU!
*** WARNING: This video contains strong Southern accents so may the peace of the Lord be with you if you are not used to it! A bit of translation is included 🙂
Comment on your experience with gardening, or if you’d like to leave a tip!
Check out Daddy’s railroad stories by going to category: “True Railroad Stories.”
*See pictures of one of his gardens in the first post I did about his gardening here!
So, I could have started by mentioning the fact that his name is Alphonso Thomas, but I was compelled to be a bit more “possessive” in my approach 🙂
It made you look, didn’t it?
Anyway…
I had the great honor of being invited by my cousin to witness his official induction ceremony into the Department of Air Force Senior Executive Service!
Say what?
You don’t know what the Senior Executive Service is?
No worries, I didn’t know what it was either…
However, that is no longer the case.
Apparently, it is a RARE and GREAT honor.
Now then…
I have to say that during the ceremony, I was amazed to learn of Alphonso’s many accomplishments during his service as an officer in the Air Force, and later, as a civil servant.
Suffice it to say, he has racked up quite a few outstanding achievements. Most of which, I can barely understand, but I will say that it involves missiles, bombers and some other such wizardry that my mind can’t quite comprehend.
It’s alright though…most cousins don’t really talk shop….
AND
I THANK GOD
FOR
THAT!
LOL!!
Trust me when I tell you that Alphonso has to knock it down about 20 levels whenever he talks to me.
By the way, my cousin is also well known for his skills on the saxophone!
Actually, music is his first love!
He even released an album a few years back.
No doubt there is a Youtuber out there who has posted it without his permission… and if I can find it, I’m also going to publish it without permission!
LOLOLOL!!!
Anywhats…It is important to note that Alphonso also studied at Berklee College of Music in Boston, MA!
Excuse that musical digression, but it’s hard to stay focused on one thing when it comes to this Masters degree having Electrical Engineering Saxophone player.
LOL!
So…if you landed here and you are obsessed with saxophone playing electrical engineers who are also members of the Senior Executive Service,
YOU
HIT
THE
JACKPOT
TODAY!
To that end, please check out this little video that I put together about Alphonso’s background in the military and highlights from his appointment into the Senior Executive Service.
FYI: While working on this video, I learned that if you are not familiar with a given subject matter, you will most assuredly sound ridiculous should you choose to narrate about it.
Please accept my apologies in advance!
If that statement doesn’t make any sense to you now, it will become crystal clear after you listen to me vocally labor over Alphonso’s vast bio!
LOL!
But it’s all love!
Please enjoy the video, it’s a little more than 7 mins long.
Told you I was going to lift the video below! LOL!!! It was disabled by the video owner! LOL! The owner? Yeah..right! LOL!!!!
You’ll probably have to google it 🙂
When I was a kid, the best breakfast was cooked and served by my Aunt Nell!
International House of Pancakes didn’t have ANYTHING on her!
She cooked those grits to perfection…
Her country ham and biscuits were unsurpassed…
And the fact that she let us kids drink Pepsi with our meal was freaking ingenious!
Clearly, she was a woman ahead of her time!
But, the thing that I remember most of all about breakfast with my Aunt Nell was her unrivaled ability to spin a good yarn!
I’m talking about good ole Southern Mama storytelling!
Baby, “captivating” ain’t the word for it!
From the moment Aunt Nell began to tell a tale, everybody in the room was completely mezmerized!
She’d intonate…
She’d gesticulate…
She’d immediately grab your attention and hold you in complete suspense!
A masterful comedienne, Aunt Nell’s timing was IMPECCABLE!
By the end of each story, EVERYBODY would be in tears laughing as she calmly sashayed away to tend to her dishes….completely unbothered!
In essence, she ALWAYS dropped the mic…
EVERY. SINGLE. TIME!
And, as you might have guessed, I wanted to be just like her!
And so…
A lot of the sass that you “hear” from LadyG can be directly linked to my Aunt Nell.
And, as I sit here, approaching my 50th birthday, I can’t help remembering her and everyone else who poured so much into my life; especially her husband, my Uncle Leroy!
I’ve mentioned him a few times before.
At any rate, one thing’s for sure, I’ll always think fondly of Aunt Nell, and will, no doubt, burst into ugly laughter whenever I do!
In this way, she’s just as much alive today as she was in that Alabama kitchen from 1975.
Trust me, she’s here–between every line.
RIP Aunt Nell.
Love and light LadyG
😘💋💋
The sun has one kind of glory, while the moon and stars each have another kind. And even the stars differ from each other in their glory- 1 Corinthians 15:41 (NLT)
Today was a beautiful day!
A celebration of our 50th Wedding Anniversary, and all of our children and their children converged from everywhere to spend this occasion with us.
Of course, we missed the older boys who have all grown up and moved forward on their separate journeys.
Ronnie and Eric are in the military and Angelo is teaching out of state.
We know they would have been here if they could have.
But isn’t that what the whole thing is about?
You have your babies, hope and pray over them, raise them and give them wings to fly.
Bittersweet–that’s exactly what it is.
But we wouldn’t have it any other way.
We’ve been blessed and we know it.
All of our children are healthy and have gone on to do great things.
And when we look at the grandchildren we see bits and pieces of Ma Lula, Ma Allie, Ma Hallie, Pa Babe, Alberta, Aunt Elvy and, believe it or not, those Hatfields.
Quite naturally, they favor one another physically– but their individual glory differs just like the stars that sparkle and glimmer at night.
All in all, despite the hard times and hurt feelings, we did it!
We did exactly what God wanted and His grace has been our strength to see it through.
And now…
We rest.
“Good night Leroy.”
“Good night Annie.”
And thus ended the series…but not the story. Both Ron and I will continue to weave tales about our family between the two blogs.
Thank you so much for all of your support and for reading “The Flowering Vine.”
Love and light to you all!
Lady G
😘💋
Even at the ripe old age of 55, I’ve not yet accomplished all that I hope to accomplish in life. I still have obstacles that I wish overcome and goals that I aim to attain; a mountain of education to climb; a valley of physical improvements to traverse; an ocean of spiritual maturity to cross, and although I’ve reached a chronological age somewhere past “middle”, I keep pushing; pressing my way through; forging my way on, because I know for a fact that it is never too late. I know this because I have a role model who has shown me that it is possible; that all things are possible if you just believe; believe in God and believe in yourself.
The following essay is written by “MY INSPIRATION” and Mom.
“It has been said that, ‘Freedom is an attitude of mind and heart that frees the soul to soar.’ A caged bird may be limited in where it can fly and what it can see, but it has the spirit to soar freely as it sings its sweet song. In its spirit, all physical limitations are overcome and its true nature springs forth untethered by constraints.
I graduated from T.V. McCoo High School in Eufaula, Alabama. This school was formerly known as Van Buren High School. The year was 1958; four years after “Brown versus The Board of Education”. The Supreme Court decision was popularly known as “Separate but Equal”. The System’s solution was a new, “Separate but Equal”, black high school. The school was built and completed in the middle of my Senior year. We had been set free! For me, this was a year of great revelation.
My class was the first graduating class from a school named after a black doctor. I was voted Miss Senior and rode in the town’s parade. I also performed an oration, (even though I was frightened to death). In the spring of that year, I graduated from a new high school but not without personal setbacks. My maternal grandmother’s demise was right around that time. In spite of this tragedy, this new God given opportunity had set me free. I truly believed that this new environment was going to set my spirit free to soar beyond boundaries and appearances; to step out on faith and do what God had created me to do.
My vision would one day be realized but not without trials. First, I had to have faith and believe that; “Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And all of us….seeing the Glory of The Lord…is being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.” -2 Corinthians 3:17-18. Due to financial conditions, I was unable to begin my academic flight immediately; there were detours along the way.
Within the unfolding story of my life, I created a family. So from the first flowering blossom to the last; from one side of the room to the other; from one end of the country to the opposite end, there was always God’s presence, teaching me and guiding me in the care of my family. My children grew up and created families of their own. This created the freedom for me to soar. “Finally” I thought, “I can sing and soar freely; exploring the limits of the skies of my ambitions.
For a moment, I imagined that I was a time traveler; traveling back through the centuries until I was side-by-side with Michelangelo as he turned a block of stone into something magnificent; chipping away– never giving up until a masterpiece emerged. My aspiration was to get a college education and that’s was what I was going to do, regardless of how long it took.
Upon entering college, I realized how woefully unprepared I was. I was lacking the proper educational tools, and background to compete with the younger generation. I was a generation behind; “Separate but Equal” had failed me. But like Michelangelo, I did not give up. I worked on my own stone. I worked to create something magnificent to me; my masterpiece, for God had given me the ability to create. It was not a Michelangelo, but something as simple as helping a child to learn his multiplication tables was equally awesome.
So, after many, many years and despite my lack of the proper tools; like knowing how to use a card catalogue, or how to operate a computer; I received a degree in Professional Studies and a Master’s in Education. I taught school for twenty years and have been retired for ten. I am free! I did as the caged bird had done; I broke free and I soared. I no longer allow doubts and obstructions to keep my blessings from me.
To my children and grandchildren I say, “Soar as high as you can soar. Chip away at your stone, just as Michelangelo chipped away at his; create something magnificent and then sing your sweet song.” The sky is the limit.
I thought I’d take a second to thank all of the readers who have supported “The Flowering Vine Series.”
Both Ron and I really appreciate your kind comments about our family.
I inserted this picture of our Grandparents, Leroy (Daddy) and Annie (Mother) so that you can see them as they were in later years.
This picture was taken ONE MONTH prior to our Grandfather’s death.
Here’s the story behind the photo.
Basically, my son had just been born a few months prior and something urged me to go visit my Grandparents and take pictures.
While I can’t say that I had a premonition, I can say that I clearly remember my Grandfather saying to me, as he struggled with his cane to rise from his seat, “Whew Bay, Granddaddy can’t haaaardly get around no more.”
His rich baritone voice wrapped itself so closely around my heart and I tearfully responded, “I know Granddaddy….I know.”
The next month, he was gone.
Friends, I can’t tell you how much we all miss him. He was one of the kindest people I have EVER known and he sincerely loved us all so much.
I distinctly remember how he would wait until EVERYBODY, including all of his children, their spouses and his grandchildren had eaten before he would eat.
He’d say, “Did everybody eat? Did everybody have enough?”
Then, he’d pile the leftovers along with some home grown tomatoes and peppers into his favorite bowl.
Boy let me tell you! That bowl of food looked so GOOOOOD!
God knows they don’t make them like our Granddaddy anymore.
Frankly, there is so much more that can be said about both of our Grandparents, and, as long as you’re interested, we hope to continue sharing those stories here.
Anyway, below is a family tree that includes some of the people that you all have come to know and love.
Because our story includes so much information about our biracial heritage, I decided to include a bit of a descriptor under each person’s name.
Note: The term “mixed race” applies where there is some interracial heritage but the specifics are unknown. “Recent mixed race” indicates that this person had at least one confirmed white parent.
On a related note, both Ron and I would like to offer a special thanks to two Caucasian cousins who were kind enough to share DNA and Family records in order to help us to confirm information on our Grandfather’s side. Had they not been willing to step forward a few more of these boxes would have been marked “unknown.”
Also, a BIG thanks to Ron’s Mom (Jet) and my Dad (Jim) for sharing their memories.
Now, let me stop rambling!
Here’s the Tree!
During the years that my Mom, Uncle Jim, Aunt Joyce, Aunt Dot, and Uncle Leroy grew up—as the young folks say these days— “The struggle was real!” Not that the struggle wasn’t real before the 1940’s and 50’s; oh no! I don’t think anyone would disagree with me if I said that, the 30’s, 20’s and all decades prior, were as hard as hard can get. However, I am privileged to first-hand accounts of the afore-mentioned decades from Mom and her siblings.
One aspect of those times that I love hearing about, is the tales of the traveling salesmen. I can remember a man coming to our home selling Hoover vacuum cleaners. He put on one heck of a demonstration. I was amazed by the wondrous machine that this man introduced to us that day. I guess Gramp was as amazed as I was because, if my memory serves me, she purchased that silver torpedo with the elephantine trunk that day.
That vacuum served a twofold purpose, in those days. The first being the obvious one of sucking up the dirt that I and my siblings had tracked into Gramp’s house. Its secondary purpose was as various space tools and weapons, during my imaginary journeys through the galaxy, and yes, beyond!
Also, I can remember the insurance salesman coming by Gramp’s house, or as he was commonly known, the “Insurance Man”. He came bearing a large black leather book with handles. It reminded me of a Bible in shape, color and texture, but there was nothing else Biblical about it. It was very messy and disorganized. Bits and pieces of what I assumed, were the lives of his clients, peeked out like little shy elves, trying to get a glimpse of me, while I did the same to him. Then he’d sit, carry on idle conversation, with the big book opened on his lap. He’d shuffle the papers until he found the one with the lives of my Grandparents on it, then some more pleasantries and a small transfer of money from Gramps hands to his and he was gone.
THAT WAS THE 60’S AND 70’S
During Mom and them’s formative years, things were different, but the same.
My cousin Gwin’s and my parents, lived and survived on practically little or nothing. As I stated before, times were hard!
The things they did have were bought from traveling salesmen. There weren’t any Wal-Marts, with row after row and shelf after shelf of Wranglers and what-not. There were no Footlocker’s for young feet full of fire. There was just that old traveling salesman.
According to the accounts of my Mom and others, there were several different types of door-to-door salesmen. For instance, there was the Watkins Products salesmen. His inventory of wondrous wares included, but was not limited to; liniments, hair products, and the pièce de résistance, Watkins Petro-Carbo Salve; used to heal cuts and draw out splinters.
Granddaddy Leroy and Mother bought, among other things, school clothes for their children from these salesmen. This clothing salesman hawked his habiliment from the trunk of his old DeSoto automobile. Granddaddy Leroy and Mother paid Mr. Macon (the salesman’s name) $2 per week. The salesman kept a “running tab” of what was owed him.
In relating these events, my mother expressed how excited she and her siblings would be to see and choose from crisp school dresses, and long-sleeved, striped, shirts & jeans. Mom’s favorite dress of all, from the trunk of Mr. Macon’s DeSoto, was a red, plaid one, with white lace pockets and white lace on the sleeves.
With a nostalgic tone and a wistful look flirting across her countenance, Mom told me how she was so excited and felt so pretty on the first day of school. At that time, she was in the third or fourth grade and I can tell you with a surety, founded in pictures that I’ve seen from those years, that she was an especially beautiful child. It is easy for me to imagine how beautiful she must have been in that dress, smiling a smile, a mile wide!
Besides the salesmen like Mr. Macon who ventured in vestments, there were others who sold, sundry stock like: books; Bibles, almanacs, and encyclopedias. As a matter of fact, my own father—who taught school most of the year—sold encyclopedias during the summer. He even sold himself a set of Childcraft encyclopedias, when I was about 4 or 5 years old. In my opinion, that particular purchase was the best purchase he ever made. Before I could read, I spent hours just looking at the pictures. When my father would read the captions under the pictures to me, I would remember them, and quote them back, word-for-word.
When I learned to read, nothing could come between me and the knowledge those books contained. -Ron Brown
This is a true story.
Allow me to present you with a knock-off mini “radio show” re-enactment of an event that took place at Wendy’s in Eufaula, Alabama—Summer of 1987.
The major players were:
The whole thing was poorly written, poorly voiced and produced on the fly by Lady G.
Enjoy:
Mother and The Wendy’s Drive-thru Sign: Run time: 1:48 (Not even two minutes)
ONLY THE STRONG SURVIVE
Oh, you’ve got to be a man, you’ve got to take a stand
Only the strong survive, only the strong survive
Well, you’ve got to be strong, you’d better hold on
Only the strong survive
Only the strong survive, only the strong survive
Well, you’ve got to be a man (yeah), you’ve got to take a stand (yeah)
Only the strong survive, only the strong survive
Only the strong survive, only the strong survive
Only the strong survive, only the strong survive
(JERRY BUTLER, the ICEMAN)
Summers were the worse!
Those hot, sweltering, sweating days, increased the demand for ice ten-fold! When the demand for ice increased ten-fold, Granddaddy Leroy’s workload increased ten-fold
In the 1940’s and 50’s, Granddaddy managed the “ice plant” in Eufaula, Alabama. In those days, folks stored their ice in “iceboxes”; not refrigerators–those new-fangled contraptions were only available to the rich, but the average middle-class family could probably afford the less expensive “icebox”.
As for the poor, well they generally dug a hole out in the yard; then lined the hole with sawdust; then placed the block of ice in the hole; then insulated it with more sawdust; then covered the hole until they were ready for some ice. Then, when they were ready for ice, they’d simply go out to the “ice hole”, armed with an ice pick, hatchet, or an ax, and “chip a piece off the old block”.
When that sizzling, searing, summer heat hit, people craved the cool, cold, comfort of ice. They wanted whatever storage mechanism they had on hand, to be chocked full of ICE! Hence, the “ICEMAN”.
Curiously, no “White” men worked in the ice plant. Granddaddy was the closest thing to a White man there, so I guess that qualified him to be the manager. But being “manager” did not mean his workload was any less than anyone else’s; as a matter of fact, he may have been the “hardest working man” in the ice plant. Granddaddy worked, and worked, his fingers to the bone—all 8 of them—trying to keep those ice-making machines humming.
That truck? Wow man, that truck was something to behold! I think I might have a picture of one here somewhere. Kids would see that truck coming and stop whatever they were doing to chase that truck. No, it didn’t have a cute jingle ringing out; playing a “Pied Piper-ish” tune to entice them to follow. Ha! No colorful markings to E.N.T.I.C.E, but it had chips of I.C.E.I.N.I.T. There was no ICE CREAM MAN, but there was an ICEMAN, and that was good enough on those hot, hot, summer days.
The “Truck” went around every morning. Part of Granddaddy’s job, as manager, was to hire and pay men to drive the truck around the city to sell 5, 10 and 25 cent blocks of ice. The men would carry the ice into the homes with a set of ice tongs which would hook onto each side of the ice, making it easier for the “Icemen” to handle. Leroy Jr., also known as Uncle Leroy, even worked with Granddaddy from time-to-time.
Folks would put an “ice card” in a front window of the house which would indicate what size block of ice was needed. The card had four large numbers, usually “15”, “25” and “35”, with “50” on the reverse side. By taking note of these cards, the “Iceman” could tell, at a glance, how much ice was needed to fill the ice box chamber. If a housewife wanted 25 pounds she would place the card in the window with the 25-pound number up, and the 35-pound number upside down.
For the younger siblings, having a Dad who was the manager of the ice plant had its perks. The plant was located by the railroad, alongside which they walked each day, to and from school. They would stop by the plant after school on hot days, and gather up ice chips in their hands and eat them on the way home. Who needed ice cream?
The ICEMEN who made the ice deliveries, wore capes. They were made of rubber, to protect them from the cold and wet, as they hoisted the ice blocks to their backs with the tongs and carried them into customers’ kitchens. The cape gave them the look of cape-wearing SUPERHEROES. But, Granddaddy’s children and grandchildren didn’t need to see him in a cape to know that he was a SUPERHERO; watching him fight the oppression that all Blacks faced in those days just to provide for his family, was good enough.
But alas, like all SUPERHEROS, he had his hamartia. For Superman, it was Kryptonite. For Granddaddy, it was the ammonia that was used in the ice-making process; that and the constant cold conditions, which together, caused irreversible damage to his lungs. However, despite the effects of his KRYPTONITE, he survived to a ripe old age. He SURVIVED because he was STRONG, and ONLY THE STRONG SURVIVE.
“You can’t be too careful about work. It’s the most dangerous habit known to medical science.”
― Eugene O’Neill, The Iceman Cometh
Love ya Granddaddy Leroy
Seek The Best Blog 