My two-cents worth and then some. An online journal by LP Brown.

Posts Written By L Parker Brown

Coping on The Morning After

by on ·Politics

The text tone on my phone pierced the pre-dawn silence at 6:30 this morning, jolting me from the hazy realm between slumber and wakefulness. My son’s message flashed on the screen: “Good Morning, Mom. How are you feeling?”

A sense of foreboding washed over me, reminiscent of the crimson deluge that drenched Carrie at her ill-fated prom. Experience has taught me that a phone call or text message so early in the morning could not be good news.

I texted back. “Good morning, Son. Before I decide whether to turn on the TV, tell me if it will be a good day or a bad one.”

I didn’t have to tell him the context in which I asked that question. He already knew, and he responded, “Bad.”

The night before, as election results trickled in, anxiety crept over me. Hoping for the best but fearing the worst, I switched off the television at 10:15, earlier than usual. Then, to promote restful slumber, I sipped a glass of milk, inserted my earplugs, and let an audiobook lull me into a peaceful state, distancing myself from the political tumult.

A deluge of communications from various acquaintances quickly followed my son’s text message. Phone calls, text messages, and instant messages flooded in, each bearing words of concern or support. Among these, my cousin Vanessa’s instant message stood out. Her well-intentioned and playful query, “Cuz, have the tears stopped?” inadvertently broke the emotional dam I had carefully constructed. Until that moment, I had managed to keep my emotions in check, but her words unleashed a torrent of suppressed feelings.

As more people asked about my well-being, I grappled with an intense emotional response. (For a political junkie like myself, a strong support system proves invaluable in such times.) When asked about my state of mind, I confessed to experiencing what I imagined many other upstanding, devout citizens across the nation were feeling: despair like surpassing the disappointment of watching one’s favorite team lose the Super Bowl; anguish more profound than missing a life-changing lottery jackpot by a single number; and a feeling of sorrow even more heart-wrenching than the loss of a cherished friend.

As the 2024 election approached, I believed I had steeled myself against any unfavorable result. The 2016 disappointment is still fresh in my mind. I cautiously nurtured hope for a different outcome this time while trying to maintain emotional distance. However, my attempts at detachment proved futile. The results left me not just disappointed but utterly devastated. Initially, I yearned for isolation, seeking to process the shock in solitude. I powered down my phone, and after mustering the strength to share one optimistic post on Facebook, I shut off my computer. The temptation to retreat to bed, curl up, and hide from the world for the rest of the day was overwhelming. Yet, through self-affirming thoughts, I chose resilience over despair, refusing to let negativity triumph.

While struggling with emotional turmoil, I contemplated two other coping strategies: indulge in a day-long feast of sweets and comfort foods or channel my sorrow into physical exertion. Opting for the healthier alternative, I confronted my emotions head-on through exercise.

Determined, I positioned my stationary bike, donned my earphones, and selected a playlist on my iPod. As I pedaled with fierce intensity, I became fully immersed in the rhythmic motion and pulsating music. When my phone rang intermittently, I consciously let the calls go to voicemail, recognizing the importance of prioritizing my well-being at that moment. Sometimes, one must unapologetically claim their “me time” to process and heal.

As I furiously pushed the pedals, I realized I hadn’t ridden with such intensity in ages. I imagined myself as a competitor in the Tour de France cycling race. Physical exertion, particularly cycling or other exercise, has always been my go-to method for elevating my spirit. Coupled with music and a vivid imagination, it becomes a powerful vehicle for mental escape. Before long, I caught myself singing along to the songs on my playlist. My mood was on the upswing.

An acquaintance who identifies as agnostic often draws my criticism for his persistently pessimistic outlook on life. During our conversations about the afterlife, he expresses skepticism about the existence of Heaven while asserting that “We’re already living in Hell on Earth.”

Despite my usual disagreement with his viewpoint, I occasionally contemplate its merit. Observing the pervasive evil in our world, I sometimes wonder if his claim holds some truth—that we might unknowingly be living in a form of Hell. This concept suggests that after death, we could transition to another realm, either better or worse, depending on our earthly deeds and misdeeds.

Unlike my frequent routine of switching on the television promptly at 7 AM when I wake up, after reading my son’s text this morning, I delayed until 10:30. As I finally settled in front of the screen, I clutched my most oversized mug brimming with coffee. With each sip, I attempted to submerge myself in the brew, mirroring the desperate actions of a troubled drinker seeking solace at the bottom of a bottle. The rich, dark java became my temporary escape, much like how an alcoholic might use spirits to numb their pain and quiet their inner turmoil. To lift my spirit, another cousin, Jamal, sent me a link to one of my favorite oldies by The Isley Brothers, “Fight the Power.”

Despite my usual inclination towards optimism, there are moments when sustaining a positive outlook becomes a genuine challenge. Today is one of those days. Today the world appears to be moving in slow motion as if it, too, is dumbfounded.

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Milestones and Memories: Charting a Life from Girl to Grandmother

by on ·Aging, Politics, Racism, School Days, The Way I See It

Part I

A few weeks ago, my cousin Cameron attended a rally for the Democratic presidential hopeful, Vice President Kamala Harris, during her appearance in Greenville, North Carolina. (If you missed reading Cameron’s enthusiastic commentary, scroll down to the previous post, dated October 20.)

Last Tuesday evening, former prosecutor Harris held court on the ellipse. A few short years ago, I would have gotten together with some of my buddies, and faster than you could say, “grassroots activists,” we’d have been there front and center, waving signs and hollering support till our voices gave out. But my bum knee kept me away.

My body, once as sturdy as an oak, now picks and chooses which joint wants to cry foul on any given day. Usually, it’s a knee. So, I was stuck at home while history was being made just a stone’s throw away. Of course, I watched the rally on TV, but it wasn’t the same as being there.

It’s a peculiar thing, this aging business. Sometimes, while humming Helen Ready’s hit, “I am Woman, hear me roar,” I dare myself to jog to the corner store.

Enthusiastic civic engagement and social activism moments have marked the past decades of my life. On a crisp Saturday in January 2017, my girlfriends and I joined thousands of other women participating in the Women’s March on Washington, a powerful demonstration of solidarity and advocacy for women’s rights. Just four years prior, in 2013, I was among passionate protesters decrying the acquittal of George Zimmerman in the shooting death of Trayvon Martin, an unarmed Black teenager. That same year, I joined countless other crusaders commemorating the 50th anniversary of the historic March on Washington, reflecting on the progress made and the work still ahead in the ongoing struggle for civil rights and equality. During the 1980s, I believe it was ’83, I was participating in an anti-KKK rally and jeering as the hate group brazenly marched down Pennsylvania Avenue in the Nation’s Capital.

The question “What advice would you give your seven-year-old self?” is a common thought experiment many encounter. Although I’ve never been asked this directly, I’ve often contemplated my response.

If given the chance, I would reassure my younger self, that timid, skinny little girl, not to worry about the future. I would tell her, “I understand that right now you feel misunderstood, shy, and apprehensive about the world around you. But rest assured, this won’t always be the case. As you grow older, you’ll develop a strong sense of self-confidence. You’ll learn to balance your inherent kindness with assertiveness; life’s experiences will help you build resilience. I’d reassure her that there’s nothing inherently wrong with being kind. The world could benefit from more kindness. However, there is also truth in the adage that people often mistake kindness for weakness, so serve your kindheartedness with a dose of caution.

As a young student, you sought refuge in the back of the classroom, a silent sentinel hoping to blend into the shadows. The mere thought of the teacher’s gaze falling upon you sent shivers down your spine, for attention was an unwelcome spotlight on your fragile self-esteem. You yearned for invisibility during those long school days, wishing you could disappear into the worn pages of your textbooks. Even when knowledge danced on the tip of your tongue, you refused to raise your hand, unwilling to risk giving the wrong answer.

But listen closely, Little One, for the future holds a beautiful metamorphosis. That timid caterpillar will emerge as a vibrant butterfly, spreading wings of confidence and strength. The shy girl of yesterday will blossom into a self-assured elder, her voice clear and unwavering.

In the years following high school, you’ll shed your timidity like an old skin. As you enter college, you’ll find yourself brimming with newfound confidence. Gone will be the days of seeking refuge in the back of the classroom or silently rejoicing over your alphabetically advantageous surname. Instead, you’ll stride into each lecture hall with purpose, claiming your spot in the front row without hesitation. Your hand will shoot up eagerly whenever a question is posed, fueled by a genuine desire to engage rather than a fear of being wrong. The sting of an incorrect answer will no longer wound your pride; you’ll shrug it off as a learning opportunity and press forward. This resilience will become your new norm, replacing the crushing self-doubt of your younger years with a robust sense of self-assurance and intellectual curiosity.

Part II

Through life’s journey, you’ll experience the joys of marriage and motherhood, welcoming two beautiful children into the world. Though your marriage will eventually end in divorce, you’ll find yourself fortified by the resilience passed down through generations of strong women in your family.

Your commitment to social justice will flourish as you engage in various civic activities, such as attending anti-homelessness rallies, walking for charitable causes, and volunteering to support political campaigns. While you may never achieve the same level of recognition as iconic civil rights figures, you’ll take pride in your role as a dedicated community advocate.

As the years unfold, you’ll have the privilege of crossing paths with notable figures from various fields, including the acclaimed playwright August Wilson and Award-winning photographer and filmmaker Gordon Parks. In another memorable moment, while volunteering to feed people experiencing homelessness at Mitch Snyder’s CCNV shelter on Thanksgiving Day, you’ll have the opportunity to shake hands with Martin Sheen, one of your favorite actors. He, too, will be there that day to feed the homeless.

Significant experiences and achievements in media, politics, and writing will also mark your journey. Saturday Magazine, an hour-long television program, will feature you and your children in a segment focusing on single-parent families. You’ll attend a taping of the influential Oprah Winfrey show. As your life unfolds, you’ll discover a passion for politics, steering your career toward a field where you’ll frequently interact with politicians. This path will culminate in a significant encounter with Barack Obama, the 44th President of the United States. These experiences will weave together to create a life well-lived, marked by personal growth, community engagement, and meaningful encounters.

Throughout these experiences, your love for writing will continue to grow. Your talent and perseverance will pay off as several pieces find their way into prestigious publications such as The Washington Post and The Afro-American. Pursuing your dream of becoming a journalist, you’ll seize an opportunity to write for a local weekly paper, The Metro Chronicle, where you’ll spend three years honing your skills.

Your creative journey will take an unexpected turn as you delve into the world of genealogy. This newfound interest will inspire you to author and publish a book, adding “published author” to your list of accomplishments. Your life’s journey will be a series of interconnected experiences, each building upon the last, leading to your achievements in media, politics, and writing.

You will have obstacles along the way and try to erase the bad memories of times when you were disrespected or humiliated by at least two employers. You’ll feel you have no recourse but to tolerate their mental abuse because you need your job. Little girl, if you could tell those employers now how you felt then what would you say? “$%@!#.”

Sorry, that would require a content warning on this post. Try again. “I’d ask the fifty-something-year-old executive who playfully slapped me on my butt at work one day, ‘How would you like it if someone in your daughter’s workplace did that to her? Don’t ever put your hands on me again, you old geezer.” But you were young and naïve, and that occurred decades before the “Me too” movement.

A second episode occurred a few years later at another workplace. I sometimes fantasize about what I wish I had said to the arrogant office director; I’ll call her Dr. Karen, who accused me of stealing a three-hole puncher, even though I told her that her assistant (who had already left for the day) told me she was borrowing it and taking it home to use over the weekend. I’d say to Karen, “You bigoted diva. Racism is in your DNA. You could have phoned your assistant and asked her if she had the hole puncher, but you didn’t because you were too eager to accuse the only black girl in the office of stealing it. And then, after I protested, you said that we – meaning black people – (I read very well between the lines) always want to play the victim. I wasn’t playing a victim, darn you. Without any cause or reason, you accused me of being a thief. When your assistant returned to work and produced the hole puncher, you thought it was beneath you to apologize because you never did. I should forgive and forget that incident, but acrimony remains.

Navigating life’s journey might be considerably smoother for all if we could peer into the future during our youth rather than reflect on our past experiences as elders.

But back to the present. While I couldn’t be at the ellipse in person last Tuesday, reveling and waving a sign, you can bet your bottom dollar I was there in spirit. Because self-pride and activism aren’t just about showing up physically – it’s about keeping that flame of change burning bright, no matter where you are or how creaky your joints might be. And let me tell you, my fire and desire for activism is still blazing like a bonfire on a summer night, and it probably will until it is finally extinguished.

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An ECU Alumnus’ Night to Remember

by on ·Politics

This post was written by Cameron White, Guest Author.

Attending a political rally, behind voting, is the second strongest way to show my support for a cause if you ask me. I had the honor of doing that on October 13, 2024, in Greenville, NC. As an ECU grad, I was very excited that Vice President Kamala Harris chose the location from which I graduated to campaign. So, when my cousin sent me the link to RSVP, I had to jump on it. I tried to get there early because I knew the lines would be very deep, but not too early, where I had to wait too long. I believe my timing was good as I had a bit of wait, but I got in line about an hour before the doors opened, just as I wanted.

As we packed into Minges Coliseum, you could feel everyone’s excitement about seeing VP Harris. The venue provided a secure environment for political discourse, as all attendees shared a unanimous opinion of her. From the moment the event began, a hospitable mood reminiscent of a community cookout took hold. A DJ set the tone for the afternoon, energizing the crowd.

Kandie Smith, a Senator in the 5th District, was the first speaker. Following Smith was Rachel Hunt, a hopeful for Lieutenant Governor in North Carolina. Smith and Hunt effectively primed the audience, creating an enthusiastic atmosphere for the main event. Hunt’s mention of gubernatorial candidate Mark Robinson elicited the most vocal negative response from the audience, surpassing reactions to any other Republican referenced.

The extended intermission following Representative Don Davis’s speech maintained the festive atmosphere. The crowd enthusiastically participated in popular line dances like the Cha Cha Slide and Cupid Shuffle, contrasting the ambiance one might expect at a rally for 45.

During this break, I decided to visit the restroom despite the risk of losing my seat. Fortunately, the considerate individuals seated behind me graciously saved my spot. This brief excursion led to an unexpected encounter with a fellow attendee who had just arrived for the main event. We engaged in a thoughtful conversation about our respective careers and shared our visions for the nation under the leadership of our potential future Madam President.

As the day progressed, the arena steadily filled to capacity. When Vice President Harris prepared to take the stage, Minges Coliseum was more packed than I had ever witnessed. The attendance likely surpassed any basketball game held in the venue, underscoring the event’s significance.

ECU’s Democratic Union President, Thomas Remington, a college sophomore, delivered an impressive speech. He eloquently shared his lower-middle-class upbringing and expressed enthusiasm for the potential changes Vice President Harris could bring if elected president. When Remington uttered, “It is my honor,” the crowd jumped to our feet as one, sweeping a wave of exhilaration through the stands, and we all whipped out our cameras. Vice President Harris’ appearance on stage set off a roar from the audience rivaling the deafening cheers last heard in 2002 when ECU defeated Dwyane Wade’s Marquette team. Mr. Remington experienced a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity when he embraced the sitting Vice President of the United States, a story he’ll undoubtedly recount for years.

While some critics argue that VP Harris’s speeches lack variety, her message consistently resonates with her audience. Moreover, the actions of the 45th president continue to provide her with fresh material, challenging the notion that her talking points remain static.

The event in Greenville proved to be an enlightening experience. Despite the town’s conservative reputation, being surrounded by individuals with similar political views was invigorating. The enthusiasm for a potential President Harris was particularly noteworthy and encouraging. The gathering also allowed me to become better acquainted with local Democratic candidates, such as Rachel Hunt. Putting faces and voices to names on the ballot added a personal dimension to the electoral process, enhancing my understanding of the candidates beyond party affiliation.

I don’t know if Vice President Harris had previously visited Greenville, but the event showcased the vibrant spirit of East Carolina University (ECU) and the local community. The warm reception and lively atmosphere demonstrated our ability to host memorable political gatherings, hopefully leaving a positive impression on the Vice President and her team and letting them know we know how to party.

For me, it will undoubtedly be a night to remember.

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The Great Debate: To Read or To Listen

by on ·Audiobooks, Book Lovers, Food for Thought, Opinion, The Way I See It

“When I get a little money, I buy books; if any is left, I buy food and clothes.”

I felt it in my soul the first time I read Desiderius Erasmus’ gem about blowing his cash on books before bothering with trivial matters like food and threads. Talk about a kindred spirit!

Over the years, I’ve amassed a book collection that could rival a miniature Reading Room at the Library of Congress. My home has become a sanctuary for the written word, with books finding cozy nooks in every nook and cranny.

Despite my efforts to keep every literary companion, space constraints have forced me to part ways with hundreds of my beloved volumes. It’s a bittersweet process, like saying goodbye to old friends. But fear not, for many remain scattered throughout my humble abode.

In my bookcases, they stand at attention like loyal soldiers, rows upon rows of literary treasures. Some have found refuge on closet shelves. My headboard bookshelves harbor my nighttime companions, always within arm’s reach for those late-night reading sessions. My Kindle has become a portable library, holding countless digital books that don’t take up any physical space. And let’s not overlook the audiobooks, those storytelling genies that whisper tales into my ears.

One day, I was chatting with a buddy about a book we both started, and I casually mentioned that I was halfway through “reading” it. Suddenly, my friend jumps in with a correction. “Hold up!” she says, “You’re not reading – you told me you were listening to the audiobook. That’s totally different!” This friendly exchange highlights a hot topic in the literary world: Does listening to an audiobook count as reading? Some folks insist it’s a different ballgame, while others argue it’s just another way to consume the material.

While she’s technically correct in distinguishing the two methods of information consumption, I argued that the term reading could be used interchangeably relevant to an audiobook. So went our debate about the nature of comprehension and information retention in the digital age. We even delved into the cognitive processes involved in traditional reading and audiobook listening, exploring how each method engages different brain parts while ultimately achieving the same goal: absorbing and understanding the content.

That’s right. We were diving into the age-old (okay, maybe not that old) debate of whether consuming audiobooks counts as reading. It’s a topic hotter than splattering bacon grease. (Some folks take what should be a matter of simple semantics as serious as a third-degree burn.)

Let’s break it down to elementary arithmetic:

Reading: Eyes + Book = Brain absorbing words

Listening: Ears + Audiobook = Brain absorbing words

As simple as one plus one equals two. Right?

Not adding up? Okay, I understand. Some folks are a bit slower than others. Picture this: You’re perched at your kitchen table, nose buried deep in a riveting hardcover. Your brain is fired up by expresso, and your eyeballs are bouncing from word to word and zipping through paragraphs faster than you can say caffeine overdose.

Meanwhile, your neighbor is outside jogging through the neighborhood and listening to the same story as an audiobook. Two very different scenes, but guess what? Although the information is obtained through various processes, both methods accomplish the same goal. You and your neighbor are absorbing the content in different ways.

I find it simpler to use “read” for both procedures. Life’s too short to get hung up on the nitty-gritty details of how you consumed a book. It’s like saying something is supercalifragilisticexpialidocious when you can easily say, “That’s fantastic!”

Remember VP Kamala Harris, early in her campaign, telling her numerous supporters to get out there, knock on doors, raise funds, work hard to make things happen, and do something to help me win this election? After a while, she cut to the chase and said, “You know the assignment.”

I want to mention one experience in conjunction with the great debate between paper and audio. An intriguing phenomenon sometimes occurs when I listen to audiobooks at bedtime. Sometimes, the soothing voice of the narrator lulls me to a sound sleep. Other times, as I drift off with my earbuds in place, the narrative seeps into my dreams, creating surreal experiences.

One night, recently, I was listening to Ta-Nehisi Coates’ “The Message” when I encountered a vivid example of this peculiar occurrence. In the book, Coates describes his visit to Goree Island in Senegal and his emotional experience at the infamous “Door of No Return” in the House of Slaves. Suddenly, I was transported to that location in a brief but intense dream sequence. I was in chains on Goree Island, desperately struggling against an invisible force attempting to drag me through The Door. Even in my unconscious state, I knew what was happening and what could be the outcome. As I struggled against the chains, I began screaming, “Oh, Deet!” (English translation – “Oh, hell no!”) The visceral nature of this dream jolted me awake, leaving such a lasting impression of the book’s emotional impact that I can’t forget it. Over the years, I’ve had similar experiences with other audiobooks.

Although most of the audiobooks I’ve bought have excellent narrators, the voices of some readers were downright annoying. Some had a nasal twang; others had a rail squeal that reminded me of a speeding train, and some were just gravelly. On those occasions, I often did not make it through the first chapter and never finished the book.

Once, while I was still in the workforce, I interviewed for a position advertising for a Reader at Columbia Lighthouse for the Blind. During the interview, I was handed a sheet of paper and asked to read some of the text. Since I had been a telephone operator in the private sector and as a civilian working for the Department of the Army, I knew I had a pleasant voice with pitch, tone, and diction and read the copy proficiently. Nevertheless, I didn’t get the job. I never learned why not.

That happened so long ago that I had nearly forgotten it until I began writing this post. Had I gotten the job, who knows where it may have led? Fast-forward to the future. I might have become an audiobook narrator. Narrators make pretty good money, often receiving between $100 and $350 per finished hour. They can also receive a royalty share of a few hundred dollars per sale.

So, dear readers (or should I say, dear consumers of written content in various formats), what’s your take on this literary kerfuffle (Judge Judy enjoys using that word.)? Are you Team Read, Team Listen, or Team Who-Cares-As-Long-As-You-Enjoy-The-Book? Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments below!

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When the Family Tree Rings

by on ·Family, Genealogy

I’m sitting here, fingers flying across the keyboard, deep into writing about ancestral detective work, when my phone rings.

“What’s up?” chirps the voice on the other end, “You busy?”

“I’m writing a blog post,” I said.

“What’s it about?” He asked.

“Genealogy,” I reply.

“Another one?” comes the response, dripping with enough judgment to fill a family Bible.

I’ll admit, I immediately considered channeling my inner drama queen and belting out a “BYE FELIPE!” (That’s the male version of saying, “Bye Felicia.”) and dramatically slamming down the receiver. But my professionalism, good manners, and fear of breaking my phone prevailed. So I sat listening, rolling my eyes, and tapping one foot until our conversation ended, and I got back to writing this.

My daughter, Nikki (named after the incomparable Nikki Giovanni), has caught the genealogy bug. Trust me, once bitten, it’s harder to cure than the urge to pop bubble wrap.

I remember reading Giovanni’s poem Scrapbooks in the ’70s when bell-bottoms were all the rage and disco was king. One line from that poem remains etched in my memory, “Sometimes it seems my life is a scrapbook.” I find that so relevant.

Delving into genealogy is like playing detective in your family tree; you dig with a symbolic shovel and examine findings with a magnifying glass. If you’re lucky, you will discover a treasure chest of memories, and every time you uncover a new tidbit about your ancestors, it will add another entry to your scrapbook.

Now, Nikki’s interest has been peaked, and I’m thrilled. She’s planning to take the AncestryDNA test to learn more about her deceased father’s family history, potentially connecting with unknown relatives and strengthening existing relationships. Since her father and I separated when she was an infant and eventually divorced, she and her brother had very little interaction with his side of the family. Her curiosity is heightened by the fact that foster parents raised her father, and although he knew his sister who was with another family, neither of them knew their birth parents; she’ll undoubtedly be looking for a needle in a haystack.

Thankfully, her quest to learn about her grandparents and great-grands on the maternal side of her family won’t be as challenging since I’ve played detective with our family history for years and even wrote a book about it.

As luck would have it, my cousin Velda, bless her heart, created a small but remarkable photo album a few years back showcasing our paternal lineage. This treasure trove is brimming with family snapshots – featuring my father, her father, their siblings, some spouses, and our grandparents. A brief description of the subjects thoughtfully accompanies each image. Coincidentally, some cousins on my mother’s side compiled a similar photo collection after our 2018 family reunion. These two volumes form an impressive set destined to be cherished heirlooms for generations.

Because a family tree is a wild world of roots and branches, there’s always another story to uncover, another mystery to solve (and another blog post to write).

Discovering our forebearers’ hardships and challenges can make us more empathetic and appreciative of our culture and life experiences. Look at Alex Haley. His discovery of his ancestries and the subsequent writing and publication of Roots profoundly impacted his life. In addition to bringing him tremendous success and recognition, Roots became a #1 bestseller, a widely-watched TV miniseries, and won Haley a Pulitzer Prize. His success also sparked widespread interest in genealogy and African American family history, inspiring many others, including myself, to explore our roots. Tracing lines of descent through generations using oral interviews, historical records, genetic analysis, and other sources serves as a valuable family heirloom and historical record. Alex Haley’s Roots inspired esteemed author Henry Louis Gates Jr. to learn his own ancestry. He later developed a PBS series, “Finding Your Roots.”

Nikki may never write a best seller like Haley, but I will encourage her pursuit. And one more thing about genealogy. I must tell you that my cousin, Tanya, has more enthusiasm for family history than a squirrel has for nuts. In 2014, she went on a wild ride through our family tree, mapping out every twig and leaf like she was trying to win the genealogy lottery. She didn’t just scribble our family tree on the back of a napkin. No, sirree, she went full-on digital diva and left a jaw-dropping Genealogy Report on the MyHeritage website, created by another cousin, Dwayne. Dwayne, bless his tech-savvy heart, had long ago set up the online family hub that facilitated Tanya’s project. Not only is the genealogy bug highly contagious, but in our case, it’s a family affair.

As I see it, life’s just one big scrapbook, and most of us try to make our pages uplifting and worth reading!

As Marcus Garvey said, “A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin, and culture is like a tree without roots.”

 

 

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