CLIFTON AT OLD RICHMOND

excerpt from COLORS OF MY WORLD (see Aug 31, 2010)

In the early 1980s I was involved in a Senior Citizens group in a black church community center near my home.  The discussions were about oneness and the struggles to get to that .   My children played outside with some of the children of the church.  We opened with a prayer,  had some history of a figure in black history who had made contributions to society (mostly unrecognized by the general population), some anthropological facts reinforcing our common ancestry, mentioning  a psychological   concept that might influence our reaction to others (thereby gaining better communication) and then had  an open-minded, free-form discussion.

We shared recent examples in our daily lives in which the fruits of our study were manifested.  Some of the stories shared by the elderly members of their ancestors treatment as slaves was heartbreaking.  All the members participated.  For awhile one of the members, Clifton (tall, distinguished, in his 70s) consistently  gave challenging remarks such as "she won't acknowledge she knows you if you meet her on the street".  I responded each time honestly and directly as possible but refused to argue with him.  After about eight meetings Clifton sighed sadly, got up and said he guessed he better not come anymore since he disrupted the meetings.  He really looked quite dejected).  I felt immediately the same dejection, and told him that I had not come to drive anyone away.  If I caused that then I should be the one not to come back.  He quickly said, "no, you must come back".  I responded that he must come, too.  Even of we didn't agree we both could share our ideas and still be friends.  He brightened up and became one of my dearest friends and strongest supporters when the minister or community accused me of weird things, (such as being a communist).  He is the only one who did not missed a single meeting.

He had the most glorious, deep voice and sang some beautiful spirituals.  He used to tease me and tell me I sang from my throat but should sing from my gut, deep down.  He would come to visit but would only sit on my front steps to talk.  He said my next door neighbor was a Klan member and he didn't want to give them any reason to slur my reputation.  What courage he had and such courtesy for me!