Memories This is just a small design of a memoir. History in its design, drama, and comedy. It reveals who you are while dealing with life’s ironies.  Think, how would you write a book. This book has so many memories of my life. I needed to tell someone about the things I experience as an African American child Born in Washington, DC  and ended up in North Philadelphia.  How the influences in my life define who I am as a person.  This book is a promise to God that I would write and publish my book. What would I write. I was already writing poetry.  Purging my inner thoughts. 1800 Indigo House  Excerpt from a life.  A history in poetry, self-published on If you are “writer” you must ask yourself, what is my book about and what is it I want to say. Sit quietly and listen. Memories of events were rising to the top, and I started writing in lyrical poetry that stream close to my heart.


Continue reading “Memories”

Young Adult Fighters

I watch young people going to school and remember how my friends long ago laughed and joked on any given day.  Most of the people I knew wanted to hooky school to hangout in the park or over someone’s house. Yes, killing happen to young people but not to the kids who wanted their education.  We dreamed of being something great.  Although that did not happen for many of us we did not worry about someone taking a gun and shoot at us with a perfect aim. As a African American mother and a grandmother, great grandmother I am horrified by the things that young people witness. America has changed to a melting pot of murder and killing on a scale unheard of by parents. It is almost like genocide of our children. How many of those young adults killed were visionaries of our future.  My future robot is in jeopardy, taking a trip out in space for a vacation.  Young adults are planted seeds of life.  As I sit in a room of young adults wanting to be doctors and lawyers I say to myself are they going to make it? We older adults have to look at the future, not live in the past or don’t want to give up the past, because you did not live your dream. it is the new generations time to forge the future and bring us to a place of unity.

I saw the face of a young girl after she witness other students being killed it touched my heart so deeply.   Faces of our children, tears, shaking and trying to explain what they just experienced.  My heart goes out to those families who lost their child, friend, teacher, former. My heart hurts for you. I have experience lost of a child, but not like you. hearing their voices, remember the jokes or even the last time you scolded them about something that they did.  if only,  we could be given a second chance.  “If i could say abracadabra and give them back I would”.

Governments and politicians can not help us.  They sit in safe houses, house of representatives, house of congress, the white house. While we are out here in the world taking our lives in our own hands, Vote, bipartician, fake news, the truth, this is all terminology that only confuses the lay person.  None of that matters when you loose a child.  I applaud the young adults who are out here trying to have their voices heard.  I would like to be in the background to help you scream loud “I’m mad as hell, we are not going to take it anymore!”

Those who voted for the people in office,  were your children apart of those school shootings?  If not, think about this the next mental health issue that takes up an automatic gun and shoots a child it could be your school, remember it is not about us, it is about all of us.

For those young adults who looking through this window of pain how does this effect you is the question. Fight with all your might. Get out there and raise your voice, hands, signs, stomp, tribal dance, whatever it takes. “This America belongs to you.”  Dry my tears young people make them accountable, make them take action. College students remember the college protest of the 1960-and 70’s. Remember your brothers and sisters who are coming behind you, fight for them. People talk about the NRA, don’t stop there find the guns hidden, shut down those who sell guns to anyone who has a penny. I wish that every gun on the planet would disappear, to bad that won’t happen.

The House of Songster

The most beautiful house I have ever visited is the Songster House. Where Ed my husband and I spent our Christmas in December 2017. Created on the west coast of Portland, Oregon. Its charm is Japanese.  I feel the atmosphere of a family embracing everything simple in life.  Lupia practiced the skills that her mother had given her and invited us into her home. Decorative pieces made the atmosphere serene.  Fengshui ever so presented to the creative conversation by Cole, the young elite, and future political analysis.

When I visualize Lupia as a mother, I am amazed she is the little girl who visits her father when we first meet. For me, time stopped when she left.  Lupia made every effort to keep close, to not lose that connection. I understand the purpose of the daughter to stay close to the man who created her. How passionate thoughts travel through their minds. Sometimes synchronization can cause a buildup and that both parties have to express what they feel.

Lupia and Ryan having the nurturing trust for their two sons are so apparent. She is a protective parent with a resilient sense of purpose.  Oregon, a place so spiritual, its diversity is so beautiful, even those who are residences express its love in the motion of life through corridor streets.

A holiday dinner served to a United Nation of People. Rod and Naoko and their beautiful daughter Nyah were the greatest hosts, Songster Senior, the father-in-law who created, tiramisu, deep-dish apple, and banana cream pie unknowns to all, my favorite. The youngest grandson Caden who renamed himself “Cola” formed the chocolate on chocolate cake and is a basketball star, Bravo, a young man. Although they had never met me, they embraced my being.

They had a ritual for the holiday gifts that would be exchanged by family members to the children the day before the holiday. The happiness of what they received was so appreciative.  I marveled at the calm beauty of merely being with family. Something that’s not practiced in my neck of the woods. I went on the journey with a deep conversation about programming, all the while speaking of how he would not abandon his Friday night essence. I admired his veracity when it came to his creative genius. My take, never let go, it will pay off, in the end, Ed Jr.

Portland captured my heart and immediately I wanted to live and experience its essence. Writers were everywhere even when they did not admit as much. Its bookstore is ravaged by people who love the written word. They perused shelves of books and  said “read me.”  Four floors call my name. Even with a map, I did not have the chance to delve into every part of its nooks and crannies. Although I did promise, Powell I would be back and would give them more time to express its volumes.

I experience the traditions of Portland taken through neighborhoods and arrived at Peacock Lane. Children take in light of their design, a wonderland of fantasy, an agreement of happiness for those young people. Original factories and innovative structures are being restored to glory. A school blueprint for the modern student in mind. Two basketball courts, and plenty of activities to climb and swing on.

Dinner at a sushi restaurant and found my love, shrimp tempura. This gift is something I gave myself and Ed my husband who did not know how to act with happiness. Not until we returned, he realized it was something he needed. Tokiko brought Japan to America and instilled it in her children and grandchildren. She permitted me to share what she created.  I accepted, and she answered with a beautiful journey and a peaceful stay. Many blessing my sister wherever you are,

Great Expectations

 You know how when you look down into your children faces as babies and wonder how they will turn out. You would never expect them to take life and ride the waves, as a parent you are so over protective you are so afraid that they will hurt themselves. Well I would of never thought that my baby girl would be the catalyst for a true family structure. A black man, husband and father at the helm and the motivation of a brilliant wife, that taught me what a parent should do. I question my audacity to bring human life in this world to have them figure it out, yet they did it brilliantly. They raise together five beautiful young women put them through twelve years of school, and college. This story is written in the universe. All praises to the most high the creator of our universe.

Like any couple they started out rocky. That never stop them. They devised a plan. First, she went to work holding things down until the last baby was in school. Unable to find work he became a stay home dad, nurturing each and every one of them until they were in school full time. Then my son in law went on a journey to find a job, as luck would have it he ended up with a position right away. One that only yield small pay. In my daughter infinite wisdom she pointed out how his contribution to the progress of their goal was very significant. Through this strategy they purchase a home and raised their little princesses. Now that the job raising the women is coming to close, my little one reflects on her youngness and that her nest is finally empty with the last one going off to college. I am truly amazed, and proud of them and truly blessed to know them.

A Sign of Greatness

You want for your children to be the best human being that they can be. This is my first grand daughter who exceeded all my expectations and more. When you are focus you can achieve everything. I am proud of her because she did not let any obstacles make her stray from the path. She lost her love and the gift that they created only fuel her resolve to be a RN. As she said “I am a nurse now”  Now she is on her next journey right there in front of all.



In this time of brick and mortar closings and everything emerging online , I try with all my heart to get as much time as I can at my favorite book store. When borders died, I cried, it was my Friday night essence. To browse shelves of how to write, what, when where to write. Magazines on writing and reading. I introduced my two year old great grandson to books, to my favorite bookstore. The store had a kids section. He watch the kids run around read and explore books then at the end we returned home. He gazed up at me with those large brown eyes and said “grand mom I like your bookstore”. My being was full…..we go once a month.



Getting to work

Every morning I have this mantra.
“Today I am going to be late”. Instead of rushing to get dress, I take my time. Finding wears, ironing, shoe hunts, inventory awareness, showering, body suppleness, clothing adjustments, then down the steps to the door. Oh by the way get a piece of fruit to take with me. Two blocks of exercise, bus is seen, a Half a block, jogging, breath heavy , climbing and finally with no further a do, sitting. ” do I hear applause”. Then here comes the train on the other side…….