It was a long weekend and I was looking forward to a change of pace from my daily routine of driving up and down the state of NJ doing school walkthroughs and the usual meetings that result in more talk and little change or action. So I downloaded Phoebe Snow’s greatest hits and Gil Scott Heron’s – Pieces of a Dream album. These two gems that had recently made their transition were going to be my musical accompaniment for the ride to Brooklyn. I threw my weekend bag into the back seat and headed out on the NJ turnpike right after work on Friday. Listening to the lyrics of The Revolution will Not be Televised took me back to the early 70’s when Gil and his drummer Bob would hang out with us at Lincoln University and we would get into these deep philosophical conversations while sipping wild irish rose and enjoying the other stimulants that were the fashion of that era.
After about an hour of driving in bumper to bumper traffic with other folks probably also seeking to escape their usual routine, and sweating bullets in a car with no air conditioner - I had second thoughts about going after all. But I knew I was going to have fun seeing folks in Jersey at the Memorial Day parade. I also wanted to hang out – NYC style. There was a weekend festival at BAM and I knew I would run into some folks I hadn’t hung out with in years – clothing designers, textile and jewelry artists, painters, musicians, and fellow poets – we were an eclectic group that used to frequent cafes and poetry spots on Fulton Street.
When the view of the NYC skyline came into view my heartbeat accelerated and my energy level increased. NY has a way of doing that to folks. I always love the rush. Well, not to go into all the details – I had a blast, lots of conversation – foods I’ve been missing in Philly (west Indian patties, Sengelase - tiebou jen…and mafe. The party didn’t stop so neither did I. Therefore, I was one tired, partied out lady by Monday morning – after doing too many late nights and having a few more shots of cognac than I needed. But being the old trooper I am – I still knew I had to get up and get to Englewood, NJ (my hometown) by 10 am for the annual Memorial Day Parade. I rushed over the GW bridge, missing the parade by about 20 minutes. I was told the parade this year was only about 15 minutes long. Wow. What happened. It got me thinking.
Now Englewood is this little town 5 minutes from Manhattan –a small town with all the nuances of a small town - a place where everybody used to know each other, the house you lived in and who your people were. The Memorial Day parade used to be huge. Shoot, growing up we used to get a new “memorial Day” outfit each year. It was really just a cute little short set, but it was new and I would wear it first to the parade. My dad was a proud World War II vet who was sent to Germany at 18 years old and he always told us stories of his struggles in the segregated army overseas while there was no peace for him – a black man at home. So I grew up hearing the stories about the seriousness of this day called memorial day – a day to honor those who had gave their lives for our freedom. It seemed to me that everyone in my town and neighboring towns would march in our parade back in the day. Men in blue, nurses in white, daughters of the American revolution, marching bands, cheerleaders, boy scouts and girl scouts, elks and masonic, steel bands, dance troupes, baton twirlers, rifle squads – you name it. Now how could it be reduced to a 15 minute parade? That question lingered in my mind.
The real celebration always took place after the parade in the parking lot of the Elks and a local park. Cars would drive through the park, and churches would set up tents. Barbecue grills would be blazing and you could eat chicken, corn bread, potato salad, peach cobbler from anyone’s table – you just said who your people were and they fed you. Today, some remnants of that celebration remain – but food today is in the form of vendors who serve up measured portions for a fee and they never ask who your people are. But we still gather, and enjoy good conversation, food, drinks and catch up with folks that come home on this day just to see other folks. But, you know, today is a more serious day.America as a country is in the midst of two major wars, and has her hand in politics all over the world. In the midst of tyranny, and oppression why aren’t we coming together as a people not only to commemorate our dead who gave their lives for our countries freedom and greed – but to speak out for the rights of the poor and oppressed who join our armed forces in mass numbers today just to survive. Why aren’t we all wise enough to see that the real reason behind this war is green – while our young brothers and sisters come home in body bags? Why aren’t we having those conversations? Our folks are dying in mass numbers in Iraq and Afghanistan, while America continues to lie about the numbers; and yet there is no end in sight to this madness. If we don’t learn to care for this planet, share its resources and co-exist in peace we will all come to an end in violence.
2 comments:
I too remember the good old days of Englewood,and you are so right Helen, Palisades Ave and Mackay Park were the two places to be on Memorial day. Everyone knew each other and everyone shared whatever they had with no questions asked regardless if you were family or not. There was such a strong sense of family and community back then.
So many people are fighting a day to day struggle trying to keep their heads above water because of the unfairness in society. We are fighting just to keep the little that we have all at the expense of someone else. This is why it is so important to stay connected to the ancestors for their guidance and love. And to have a heart of gratitude for everyone that comes into our lives.
Robin...we had really great times growing up in Englewood. You are so right...the unfairness and injustices today have created two distinct groups: the haves and the have-nots. Our saving grace is our connection to our ancestors, and to the voice of spirit and the blessings of the Creator. We must stay prayed up, positive and share the love...
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