This reminds me that we must to listen to our elders and record their wisdom so we can tell our own story. If we don’t tell our story, others will and we become actors in “their” play. That often includes an abbreviated truth or a plethora of “alternative facts” which has been the case since we as a people came to these shores. We must be the authors of our own tale. 

I always told my sons to learn about your ancestors to know what you can be capable of yourself.  Know your roots and your foundation. That knowledge can be inspirational, revealing, challenging and provide encouragement! 

We have a family website. On this site, we have chronicled over 1000 relatives, their history, stories, photos, and accomplishments. We have learned a lot about what everyday people can do to make a difference in this world. Learning about our ancestors, we have discovered a wellspring of pride. 

After learning about my husband’s history starting in Kenton, Tennessee, I encouraged him to find out more. We had a “portable” Kaypro computer (the state of the art in the 1980’s) on which he created a database of the family tree. We printed it out on a dot matrix computer and pasted together the pages to make a chart of our family.  The project fell by the wayside for a few years, but I always made sure that “the guys” made the trip every Memorial Day to Kenton, Tennessee for the family tradition of visiting the gravesites of our relatives and celebrate at the family church with others in the town. This tradition still goes on today. My sons have memories of visiting the one stoplight town during which they would sometimes pick strawberries and be mistaken as workers instead of tourist. The family home is gone but memorialized through a drawing that Johnny made during one of his trips before it was demolished. 

The graveyard is located on a patch of land of a white farmer, who’s family provided a place where the “coloreds” could be buried since they could not be interred in the white cemetery.  It is located in the middle of a field, surrounded by large pecan trees. From a distance, it looks like patches of green or a very small forest I remember seeing as a child while traveling the countryside during summer vacations by car. You must travel a dirt path, down the driveway of the farm, past the farmhouse to get to the graveyard, because there is no road. For many years, my relatives tried to get the city to pave the path because if it rains, they had to carry the casket to the site because of the mud, cars could not use it. We'd get someone every year to tend the site, cut the grass and make sure that we can have a pleasant visit come next Memorial Day. The money is raised during the ceremony program that Sunday for the upkeep of the site.