I've started reading "Once Upon a Time When We Were Colored," and man oh man the book gives me such a good feeling. It is a memoir of Clifton L. Taulbert who is from Glen Allan, Mississippi. I love the fact that he lived in a transition period...from segregation to civil rights. He goes from the 1950s to the 1980s. He reflects on how his great-grandfather would take his time to shave his head and face clean every morning, then take a hot towel and rub alcohol on his head and the grease his face and head. He details everything to a tee...the old town, the houses, people sitting on the porch chatting, quiet, loving mothers cooking in the kitchen, and teachers who barely passed 6th or 8th grade, but taught with great passion. Taulbert talks about the transition from one-room shack plantation schools, to brick schools with several rooms, high ceilings and inside bathrooms. The boys had to be trained and constantly reminded to flush the urinals. Upon eighth grade graduation, prom would be cotillion style. The girls would dress up elegantly in hand-made dresses, and boys would pin flowers on their dresses and escort them to the dance and they would dance to colored blues bands...they called it "slow dragging." Taulbert reflected on how his mother would bundle him up in hot clothes even in the warmer months and pack him a lunch full in his tin lunch pale, which the older boys would often steal. The most important to point out, as is the theme of the book...Tualbert was growing up in a time of transition where people went from calling themselves "colored" to calling themselves "black." It's interesting. (I wonder why the change in name).
However, in all of the recounted memories, I pick up a tight-knit love and great pride among coloreds. Every Saturday Taulbert sat up in great anticipation for the ride with great-grandpa, or poppa as he called him, into town to buy frozen custard and hot fresh french bread. Now, sidenote to self: that sounds a whole lot more appetizing then a 5 minute midnight ride to McDonalds. Taulbert mentions that though he would never trade this new era of "freedom" for the segregated south, he will always remember and cherish the love and pride amongst his people that was obvious, felt, and present. This book makes me wish I could go back in time for a few days...to wear a white botton up shirt, with a plaid shirt, my hair in pig tails, my face and legs greased up with a tin lunch box, white laced socks and shiny mary jane shoes. Yes, those times were different...I can tell that simply by reading. I definitely do not think that many coloreds today, or should I say blacks wake up with eager anticipation for what the day may bring and put on their clothes with a great pride and excitement. The majority of us young folks, (not all), do not have that deep love, respect, and understanding for the sacrifices our parents and grandparents have made for us even in the present. Too much freedom, too much access, and too much technology. These now generations...this is all they know. All they know is fast and easy. Do we truly have to work hard for anything anymore? I think the majority of coloreds now have a spirit feel of entitlement. That we are entitled to education and entitled to material riches. But the truth is, "don't nobody owe us nothin!" I realize that it is so important to know your past, wherever you're from and cherish it, because only then can you truly be confident in who you are. We all have rich and unique histories. Here is a quote from the book I love..."It is very difficult to master the present and make a meaningful contribution to the future, if you don't appreciate and understand the past." --Enough said
PS: This book reminds me a lot of the book "The Watsons Go to Birmingham-1963." The same pride and intricate details found.
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