Happy Birthday to Me! Happy birthday to me! Smile
Growing up my friends never understood why I would always made time for the Elders. Even as a kid I thought that if you had lived to be 60,70, 80 years old you had to have learned something. I was a sickly kid. I nearly died at age three. If I had been Catholic they would have given me the "Last Rites". I had sustained 115+ temperatures for over seven days and was hemorrhaging from every orifice in my body. The doctor's prepared my family for my imminent demise. Fortunately for me there was a triad present they had not planned on. The Creator , my Daddy and Me. My father thanked the doctors for all they had done and asked where was their chapel. When Daddy got off his knees a doctor visiting from Africa was waiting for him. He asked for and received permission to try a malaria technique to break my fever. The technique worked. For the next 7 years that I spent a spent 7-10 days every summer in the hospital being poked, leeched and examined. Finally after seven years and the doctors not being able to explain how I survived they finally said I had out grown the nephritis. (Yes, I had the same ailment that stunted Gary Coleman's growth and left my Mother's older sister sterile). The medical profession had my parents so fearful that a blow or injury could trigger the recurrence of the aliment that I wasn't even allowed to run or play until I was 10. Of course I cheated which is how I broke my front tooth and had to have it capped at 7. This accounts for why my reading speed is 4 times the norm. I was not allowed to do anything else!. I learned this tidbit in law school when a tester timed me while I was taking an exam.
I finally got a clean bill of health at age ten. Then I got Scarlet and Rheumatic fever and had to learn to walk again. Smile. My parents had a rough time with me. Of the seven kids I was the only one who got really sick.
My Granddaddy, who lived to be 96 and was retired as long as I can remember, would come and sit with me everyday at the hospital. Granddaddy was of the generation that lived through the Great Depression. Granddaddy said he told God, "If God let him live through the Depression he would never eat white potatoes again". Granddaddy kept that promise until the day he died. When Henry Ford said he would pay $5.00 to anyone who showed up, Granddaddy showed up. He came from Birmingham Alabama to Dearborn, Michigan to work. My grandmother was supposed to come later but she refused to leave the south and her family. They divorced after some years. When my Daddy moved my Grandmother to Detroit in her late eighties, Granddaddy tried to court her and win her back. Grand mama was having none of it. I don't think Granddaddy ever got over her. All seven of his wives looked like variations of Grandma.
As I said Granddaddy was from the Great Depression era. Each generation has certain things that pertain to that generation. My Granddaddy's generation wore long johns year round and had a switchblade with multiple blades. This crossed race, ethnicity and income levels. Granddaddy would come and sit with me every day I was in the hospital. He would bring a red apple and buff it on his sleeve. That apple would glow Granddaddy had polished it so. That would be the best fruit in the world. My Daddy would be at work and my Mother was at home with my younger brothers and sisters. I am the second oldest of seven kids. My Mother was a stay at home Mom until my baby brother was old enough to go to school full-time. Mommy put Turune in school in the am and had a job in the pm. We always teased her that she got a job to get a break from us. (If you went into the basement and saw the laundry piled up you would understand. We were not allowed to wear the same clothes twice without their being washed.)
My Mother was from Atlanta, Georgia. She was from old Atlanta money. Reportedly her father was the first Black man to own a service station in Atlanta. He had to use a white man as his front to own it. My mother was the youngest child and both her parents had died by the time she was nine. Her Mother from diabetes and her Father from a head injury while motorcycle stunt riding. Mommy's daddy had spoiled her rotten and My Daddy continued it. Ladies yes you are supposed to be on a pedestal so high you have nosebleed. Smile.
I am thankful I was home in Detroit for my Daddy's last walk and got to spend that time with him. We talked of many things especially about Prophet Muhammad who my Daddy knew very little about. We talked a bout Islam and why I had converted. Daddy wanted to know what was it about Islam that that attracted me to it. My Daddy had taught me that your spirituality was the way you lived daily, not something you picked up when you you went to the house of worship. My Daddy walked his talk.
As I said Granddaddy was from the Great Depression era. Each generation has certain things that pertain to that generation. My Granddaddy's generation wore long johns year round and had a switchblade with multiple blades. This crossed race, ethnicity and income levels. Granddaddy would come and sit with me every day I was in the hospital. He would bring a red apple and buff it on his sleeve. That apple would glow Granddaddy had polished it so. That would be the best fruit in the world. My Daddy would be at work and my Mother was at home with my younger brothers and sisters. I am the second oldest of seven kids. My Mother was a stay at home Mom until my baby brother was old enough to go to school full-time. Mommy put Turune in school in the am and had a job in the pm. We always teased her that she got a job to get a break from us. (If you went into the basement and saw the laundry piled up you would understand. We were not allowed to wear the same clothes twice without their being washed.)
My Mother was from Atlanta, Georgia. She was from old Atlanta money. Reportedly her father was the first Black man to own a service station in Atlanta. He had to use a white man as his front to own it. My mother was the youngest child and both her parents had died by the time she was nine. Her Mother from diabetes and her Father from a head injury while motorcycle stunt riding. Mommy's daddy had spoiled her rotten and My Daddy continued it. Ladies, yes you are supposed to be on a pedestal so high you have nosebleed. Smile.
I am thankful I was home in Detroit for my Daddy's last walk and got to spend that time with him. We talked of many things especially about Prophet Muhammad who my Daddy knew very little about. We talked a bout Islam and why I had converted. Daddy wanted to know what was it about Islam that that attracted me to it. My Daddy had taught me that your spirituality was the way you lived daily, not something you picked up when you you when to the house of worship. My Daddy walked his talk.
Let's keep this celebration going. Check back tomorrow for my next installment. As always you can click on the title to shop and use the coupon code Birthday57 to receive 57% off through March 10, 2012.
Thanks for visiting.
Michelle
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