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7
IT’S A CRYING SHAME…
By
Millard Lowe
Awakening from a restless night of sleep, Jay rolled over and kissed Wanda on the back of her neck. Wanda signed and snuggled closer within the ventral curvature of his warm body. Jay placed his arm around her shoulder, cuddling her even closer. She continued to sleep. Jay, laying there in silence, gave thanks to God for allowing him to see the light of another day and for blessing him to have had Wanda as his beautiful wife for the past thirty years. “Thank you Jesus,” he whispered.
Moving gently, so as not to disturb Wanda, Jay reached over to the night stand and turned off the clock’s alarm. As usual, the alarm had been set for 6 AM. Jay noticed that the time was only 5:40 AM. He smiled. No matter how late or tired he was, or how restless he might have slept, Jay always woke up around 5:30 AM. It was as if he had a built in body alarm. Or maybe God had endowed him with some kind of bird like creature of habit syndrome.
Laying there meditating, his thoughts flowed over several things. He concluded his restlessness during the night was contributed to anticipation of the events he and Wanda would be participating in as keynote speakers. These were to be two separate events. Jay would have to fly out of state to attend his. His mind suddenly focused its self on a rather eerie thought.
“Man, if someone was to ask me the exact time I fell asleep last night, I would not be able to tell them…even if my life depended on it. What a strange thing sleep is.”
He had often wondered if sleep was God’s way of indicating to the faithful, how peaceful death really is. But then he would remember those nights when he had restless, nightmarish dreams---those un-nerving dreams that you are not able to fully recall when you wake up. And what about those beautiful dreams---the ones where you are able to fly over tall buildings and trees? Where do all these dreams go when you die? Do they go with you, or do they linger in some kind of dream purgatory?
“Let me get my but up out of this bed,” Jay quietly said to himself. He softly tapped Wanda on the shoulder and whispered in her ear.
“Babe…Babe?”
“What? What?” Wanda replied
“Five minutes to six,” Jay said, “Time for us to rise and shine.”
Jay got up and went into the kitchen to have his usual morning cup of Earl Grey. Sitting at the dining room table having his tea, Jay picked up the remote and turned on the TV to catch up on the News of the day. CNN: “Ebola…Isis…Shooting Of Unarmed Black Youth By White Policeman…Abduction of University Student…Triple Murder-Suicide…White House Breached…250 Passenger Plane Missing…” And then there were the idiots’ reports: “Women Should Wait On ‘Good Karma’ For Equal Wages…Black Youths Must Be Taught How to Respond to White Policemen.”
“What is this world coming to?” Jay spoke out aloud. “Is it not enough that we have to struggle each and every day to just feed, clothe and house ourselves?” Then Jay thought silently to himself, realizing that all of this is part of surviving each and every day!
Jay had graduated high school 50 years ago. His junior high and high school combined, had only 81 students. His high school graduation class had 21 students. It had been 35 years since anyone from his high school had gone to college and earned a degree. Yet, it was considered to be one of---if not---the best Negro school in the county. Its football and basketball teams were both known as among the best in the county. Negro or White! It’s musical and marching band always ranked among the top three bands on Negro Schools’ Day at the Annual County Fair. Several students of his graduating class played both football and basketball, and were also members of the band. At least three of these students were also members of the National Honors Society. This was long before the term “multi-tasking” became popular. Negroes had to be well versed in multi-tasking just to survive from day-to-day.
Jay got accepted to five colleges. Three HBCUs and the one Negro state university. And due to his sports talents, he received a “Conditional Acceptance” from one of the six White state universities. Because of economic reasons and a sense of cultural affinity, he chose the Negro state university. Although it was now known as Booker T. Washington University, its founding name had been, State College for Negroes. It had been initially found to keep Negroes out of the White state universities; one of which was some 12 blocks east of the BTWU campus.
Jay’s first year at BTWU was one of the most challenging times in his life; although he had been an honor student in high school and had scored well on the ACT, he immediately discovered that he was ill prepared for the rigorous academic challenges of college. Yet, he had to admit that his dedicated high school teachers had done the best they could---under the then prevailing conditions. For that, he had been eternally grateful. He was determined to live up to theirs and his family’s expectations, as well as his own innate drive to be successful.
Wanda was now up and stirring about. Jay heard the toilet flush. A few minutes later, Wanda was in the kitchen pouring out a cup of coffee.
“Hmm, breakfast smells and looks delicious.”
“Thanks. I thought we should have a good breakfast at home---together---before leaving.”
“You’re a good egg, Charlie Brown. I think I’ll keep you around,” Wanda replied.
Jay looked across the table at Wanda. Even in the early morning, dressed in her robe and flannel PJs, Wanda was a beautiful, sexy creature. “The Supreme Architect of the Universe” must have broken the mould after he had created Wanda. Indeed, had Adam ventured over to the other side of the Garden and caught site of Wanda, Eve would have been a distant memory,” Jay was concluded in his mind. His eyes devouring Wanda’s beauty, Jay had to use extreme will power to control the urges rising up within him.
“You ready honey,” Wanda asked
“Oh, I stay ready Babe, but I need to touch up my speech.”
“Fool, I wasn’t talking about that,” Wanda replied.
“We still have a little,” Jay said.
Wanda leaned over and kissed Jay on the forehead and said, “Negro, Please!” She got up and went into the bedroom to get dressed. Jay, reluctantly relieved, sat there going over his speech.
Emerging from the bedroom, dressed to kill and ready for her own speaking engagement, Wanda asked Jay if he had finished the speech he had been invited to give at his undergraduate school’s Annual Founder’s Day Assembly.
“Have you decided all of what you want to say to the students? Remember, they are not little kids but are on their way to becoming college graduates---our future. They not only need to be told what is expected of them, they also need to be made aware of whose shoulders they now stand…enabling them to have arrived to where they now are. You need to let them know how it was, how it is, and how it ought to be. They need to be shown how to read between the lines to discern that in many ways, the more things have seemingly changed, the more they have really remained the same. They need to know that only the years---and the new strategies they require---have changed. They need to be made to understand that although there is a Black Family in the White House, it remains just that, the White House!”
“You know Wanda you should be giving this speech.”
“No, it’s all yours honey. They need to hear it from you. Besides, I’m addressing the African-American Women’s Forum today. And I have some things I need to put on their minds. And I won’t be jiving.
“Don’t worry, Babe. I have some things I want to put on the minds of those young sisters and brothers too. And believe me, I won’t be jiving either.”
With a couple of hours left before he needed to get to the airport, Jay continued to finalize his speech. He was to be the first non-politician---Black or White---to speak at the college’s Annual Founder’s Day Assembly.
Having graduated from BTWU more than 40 years ago, he considered it an honor to be invited to take part in the annual celebration. In his speech, he wanted to share some personal experiences as a student at BTWU, as well as his involvement in the Civil Rights Movement. He particularly wanted to share with current students, how the students in his day had closed down Lincoln Ave, which was a main street that once ran right through the middle of BTWU’s campus. Lincoln Ave divided the campus into the South and North sides. On the north side were the male and female dorms, the Student Union, the Cafeteria and the Book Store. On the south side were the Admin Building, Classrooms and the Library.
Although there was a “push button” crossing light---with a mind of its own---few drivers paid any attention to. That is, whenever it worked. This made crossing the streets a dare. Often, this dare caused students to be late for classes as well as Cafeteria serving hours. Adding insult to injury, Lincoln Ave was the speedy thoroughfare that led to the campus of the city’s major White state university.
Jay’s thoughts were interrupted by Wanda’s voice.
“Got to go honey---are you ok with getting to the airport?”
“I’m cool babe. Jamal is going to give me a ride on his way to work.”
Jay and Wanda embraced each other in a deep, passionate kiss. They always did this whenever they were parting from each other. This was to be their everlasting memory---just in case---the Creator saw fit to call one of them in before they saw each other again.
Wanda was the Keynote Speaker at this year’s African-American Women’s Association. The Mistress of Ceremonies upon completing her task, said, “Without further adieu, it is my distinctive pleasure, to present to some and introduce to others, a phenomenal woman, Dr. Wanda Sue Monroe-Shabazz.” Applauses
Wanda arose from her seat. With the poise and dignity of a Nubian Queen, she gracefully glided to the speaker’s podium. She stood there for a moment looking out over the beautiful bouquet of ebony femininity. There was not a man in the room; just beautiful black women---including the hotel staff. She began.
“To God Be the Glory. You, my beautiful Nubian Queens and Princesses, are the descendants of the true Founding Mothers of this nation. It was the white milk of their black breast that nourished not only their own slave children, but also many of the children of slave masters…children of slave masters who would grow up and rape and murder them, their children and their men.” (Applauses) “Yet, we…their heirs…are still here…‘mothering blackness’…nourishing and sustaining a nation within a nation!”
Wanda went on to describe “The State of The Nation Of Afro-American Women In America.” In closing her speech, Wanda invited all of the women to stand and join in with her in reciting Maya Angelou’s “Still I Rise”.
At the airport, one would have thought that Jay either had Ebola or was on his way to join up with Isis. To get through the security check point, you would have thought that he was going to have to strip buck naked. When his carryon luggage came through, it looked as if it had been ransacked by a thief. And it was 20 minutes later before they gave him his laptop back.
A six hour flight not only brings on hunger, but also puts the bladder to the test. Jay was grateful that he was able to be assigned an aisle seat. 15C. After about 3 hours into the flight, Jay arose to go to the toilet at the back of the plane. The eyes of the attendance crew and several passengers seemed to have gone into a “Code Red” mode.
As Jay exited the toilet to return to his seat, he noticed that the serving bar had been turned across the aisle, blocking off the front toilet that was cater-corner to the entrance of the Cockpit. It was almost fifteen minutes before the serving cart was turned back to the position which enabled it to be rolled down the aisle. During the whole time, neither the pilot nor co-pilot exited the front toilet. A funny thought ran through Jay’s mind. “Maybe, whichever one of them that had gone to the toilet had flushed himself out of the plane.”
Almost laughing aloud, Jay silently spoke to himself, “Hmm…black is now the new yellow.” Symbolically, yellow has always been the color of fear. Jay quietly screamed in his mind, “Yellow bellies…Black Power!” He let back his seat as far as it would go and drifted off to sleep.
Jay awoke just as his plane was landing. He turned on his cell phone to check the time. 5:25 PM. The flight attendant announced that luggage could be claimed at Carrousel B. Jay disembarked and proceeded to Carrousel B to collect his luggage and meet with whomever the university had sent to pick him up.
After picking up his luggage, Jay looked over at the small crowd of individuals holding up signs with the names of the passengers they had been sent to collect. He spotted two college-looking students---a male and a female---holding up a sign with the name, Green-Shabazz. Waving his free hand, he moved towards them.
“Greetings; I’m Jay Allen Green-Shabazz.”
Letting go of the handle of his attached bags, he extended his hand to shake each of theirs. The young man spoke first.
“Welcome, Mr. Green-Shabazz. I am Kwame Jefferson, President of the Student Government at BTWU. Allow me to introduce Khadisha Smith, who is our Student Government Vice-President. We are so pleased to have you. How was your flight?”
“Thank you. It was about as pleasant as a six hour flight could be,” Jay said, a slight smile struggling across his tired face. He did not consider it necessary to mention the amusing details.
It was about a thirty minute ride from the airport to the university campus. Although Jay was tired, he decided to make conversation with the students. He was eager to get an idea of how the students at BTWU, felt about the various news worthy events taking place around the world today.
“Tell me guys, what’s the big buzz on campus these days,” Jay asked.
“Well Sir, right now everything is centered on Founder’s Day activities,” Kwame replied.
“Yes.” Khadisha interjected, “We have Step Shows every night this week. That is, except Sunday night.”
“Interesting,” Jay said, looking out the window of the college van with a rather blank expression on his face. He decided to ask what he thought would be a more specific question.
“What seems to be the general feeling of the student body about what’s going on in the news these days?”
As Kwame was busy maneuvering the van into the freeway traffic, Khadisha responded to Jay’s question.
“To be honest with you Sir, the news is just too depressing to watch these days. It’s hard to concentrate on your studies when you watch the news today. It’s just a crying shame with what’s going on in the world today. Don’t you agree, Sir?”
“A crying shame indeed,” Jay answered. But it’s a shameful crime that so many of us are not trying to do anything about what’s going on; especially within our own communities.” There was a tint of irritability in Jay’s voice.
Having safely emerged into the freeway traffic, Kwame now spoke up.
“Well, some of us have sat down with some of our students from West Africa to discuss Ebola, the kidnapping of those girls by Boko Haram and tribal wars. But they seem to be as much in the dark as we are. Some of us also held a prayer vigil for the people in Oklahoma…or was it Missouri…and we also held a university wide peace prayer vigil last week. Like Khadisha said, it’s hard to concentrate on you studies when you allow your mind to be cluttered with the news today. Our priority must be on getting that degree. Then maybe we’ll be in a better position to do something. Right now, it is what it is, Sir.”
In an attempt to not be totally disgusted and remembering the plaque on his office desk at home---“There’s no place like HOPE”---Jay decided to ask one more specific question.
“Tell me, little brother and little sister, what happened to that part of Lincoln Ave that once ran through the middle of BTWU’s campus?”
“Say again Sir,” Kwame replied.
“What,” Khadisha said, turning around to face Jay. “You mean to tell me that part of Lincoln Ave once ran through the campus?”
“First time hearing that,” Kwame mumbled, clearing his throat.
The last five minutes ride to the campus was in absolute silence. The interior darkness of the van veiled the tears beginning to swell in Jay’s eyes.
When they arrived at the campus, Jay was dropped off at the Visitors’ Residence Cottage. Kwame and Khadisha said good night and informed Jay that he would have eight o’clock breakfast with them, the University President, and the Chairman of the History Department. He was informed that the program at which he was to speak would begin at 10 AM.
Inside the cottage, Jay lazily began to un-packed his carry-on luggage. After refreshing up, his intention was to make some adjustment to his speech for tomorrow. Khadisha’s words echoed throughout his mind---resonating like the offspring of the weighted tongue of a bell. “It’s just a crying shame…” Unfortunately, once rung, you cannot un-ring a bell. You can only respond to its sound. And Jay knew that he had to do just that!
“A crying shame indeed,” Jay thought. Over a thousand students had been arrested---some beaten---during the protest to closed down Lincoln Ave. The Governor had even informed the then Interim President of the University to expel those participating students whose academic performance was so poor that they were in school only by the grace of God. Those students who were academically secure were suspended for a semester if they had only participated. Those academically secure students who were deemed to be the leaders of the protest were to be suspended indefinitely, and had a restraining order place on them that prohibited them from setting foot on campus. Jay had been included in this latter group in which he and two other students were also charged with Communist activity. It took a law suit to get them back into school.
Although they went on to graduate with honors, the suspensions still remained on their undergraduate transcripts. Over the years, Jay and his compatriots always had to explain to prospective employers why they had been suspended from school.
After brushing his teeth and showering, Jay put on his PJs and sat on the bed to go over his speech. However, it had been a rather long day and the relaxing shower had made it easy for sleep to overtake him. He stretched out on the bed and drifted off to sleep with Khadisha’s words still ring in his mine, “It’s just a crying shame…”
The breakfast conversation was a classic “just passing the time” verbal exercise. The President of the University gave thanks to Jay for accepting the invitation to speak at the assembly. He admitted that he had not known of Jay personally but that two retired Professors who were still alive, had strongly recommended him. He also thanked Jay for his organization’s financial support to the university’s Scholarship Program.
At the assembly, Jay was introduced by Kwame, who read from the requested bio that Jay had forwarded. Ending the introduction, Kwame said, “My fellow students, the next voice you will hear will be that of Mr. Jay Allen Green-Shabazz, Director Emeritus of the Pan-African Political, Economical, Cultural and Educational Foundation.” This was followed by a round of applause.
Jay stood and approached the speaker’s podium. After the usual protocol salutations, he picked up his prepared speech, balled it up and threw it on the floor. The audience was stunned. It got so quiet that you could have heard a rat peeing on cotton. Due to the hue of his skin, the university president’s face turned midnight black on a moonless night. Had he been of a lighter hue, his face would have flushed rose red.
After giving the audience thirty seconds to regroup and collect themselves, Jay continued.
“My young brothers and sisters: that was my prepared speech. But as I stood here looking out over this half filled auditorium with maximum capacity of three thousand, I could not help from thinking, what a crying shame it was that on such an occasion as this, the major function of your Founder’s Day activities, there are so many empty seats. I could not help but think, it’s a crying shame that last night’s ‘Step Show’ drew an overflowing crowd…that there were many of you standing and sitting in the aisles for an hour and a half. Knowing that there would be no way that I could hold your attention for that long, I’ve decided simply to have an old fashion fireside chat with you for a few minutes.” (Applauses)
As the applauses quieted down, Jay removed the hand held mike from the podium holster and instructed Kwame to push the podium to the back of the stage. Sitting down at the edge of the stage, he continued.
“In the few minutes of attention I hope you will grant me, I would like to share some thoughts on the subject: The Re-Education of the Young Black Children of the Old Negroes Who Crossed Sturdy Black Bridges Built by Their Ancestors.
With the exception of a few throats being cleared, once again it became as quiet as a rat peeing on cotton.
Standing at the door at the back of the auditorium, were the two retired professors. As Jay began his fireside chat, one of them leaned over to the other’s ear and whispered, “Shame the Devil and tell the truth as it is.”
