Listen to the Voices of Memory

I was raised in Alabama.  I lived during a time when there was no gentrification.  Everyone treated each other like family.  We went outside to play.  We got dirty and we didn’t eat fast food.  We ate grits, eggs, peas, greens, cornbread, and fresh fruit from the trees in our yard.  We played Simon Says, Mother May I, Red Light/Green Light, Hide and Seek, Jacks, Marbles, Tag, Kickball, Hop Scotch, Jump Rope, Dominoes, and Checkers, and we raced against each other in the street.  There was no bottled water … we drank from the garden hose.

We watched cartoons on Saturday morning, played dodge ball and kickball in the dirt.  We rode our bikes and skates for hours without a cell phone.  We weren’t AFRAID OF ANYTHING (except the dark and our parents), not even the Police.  If someone had a fight, that’s what it was … a fist fight and you lived and moved on.  The street lights were your curfew.

School and church were mandatory.  We watched our mouths around our elders and most times didn’t even talk around them because we knew if you DISRESPECTED any grownup … we understood that we were the grass and the grownup was the lawn mower.  And we were not allowed in the room with the grown folks when they were talking.  

We ate fried fish every Friday.  The only gang in the community was your family.  We watched out for each other.  If someone got sick, the parents cooked and took food over to their house.  If you acted up you got a WHOOPING and any adult in the neighborhood had permission to chastise you.  We didn’t lock our doors and no one broke into our home.  Parents parented their children back then and we respected our parents.

‍