SATURDAY THOUGHTS: EVERY JANUARY AND SEPTEMBER

This photo makes me smile. 

I took it in the fellowship hall of the old Metropolitan Baptist Church. 

My friends— two great composers/musicians, good-as-gold brothers; so respectful and appreciative of each other’s talent and expertise, and equally great at cutting up. 

Lawd, the wit and laughter...Today’s Freddye’s birthday. 

He was my best friend.

I’ve been asked often, “Who told Richard about you?” 

For years I’ve never had a sure answer. People I thought were responsible always denied it. Now, I’m reading “Total Praise: The Autobiography of Richard Smallwood” and I know that day (back in 1989?) wasn’t a coincidence.

Freddye called one afternoon and said, “Let’s go eat.” When I got into the car, he said he had to pick up something from Rehoboth first. I was just going to wait in the car when we got there, but he insisted I come inside. I could hear the piano from the vestibule. I stopped at the door of the sanctuary. I was a huge fan so I knew who was playing. I froze. Freddye said, “What’s the matter?” I said “OMG. That’s Richard Smallwood.” He said, “Yeah? So? Come on!” I said, “Noooo! I’m not going in there!” Freddye laughed and said, “He’s real cool. Come on!” I was still frozen. “You know him?” Freddye said “yeah” so matter of fact like, while pushing me down the side aisle. I don’t know when Toby appeared, but the next thing I knew, I was being introduced to The Maestro. Richard looked at me and said, “I heard you have a nice voice”. Freddye and Toby were grinning and instigating, “Sing something!” I trembled through a hymn, I think, while trying not to geek out. When I finished, Richard said my voice was “pretty”. I just felt faint...

Several years passed. I answered the phone. “Hey baby. This is Richard.” The rest is history, but frankly, that one afternoon at Rehoboth, with an audience of three, was plenty.

I think of him often, but always on two days in particular. Every January 4th, and September 11th, I think of Frederick Reginald Jackson, Jr.

Nineteen years ago, I was teaching my first class of the day, at Patricia Roberts Harris Educational Center. It was an "open space" school. There were no windows, and most classrooms didn't have doors. I was so surprised and happy to see Freddye and our mutual friend, Mia Murphy, standing at the entrance to my classroom, but their faces weren't showing the usual cheer. "We came to get you.", they whispered. You have to get out of here!" As I was talking to them, a teacher, who will remain nameless, took advantage of the morning's chaos, and lined up her entire class--my second period class-- right outside of my classroom. "My planning period is coming up" she said as she rushed for the exit door. She had her coat and purse. I knew what that meant. I would have two classes on my hands. I told them to come in and find seats wherever they could, but most of the children didn't stay long. Over and over, Yvonne Sherrod’s weary voice could be heard over the PA system. “Excuse the interruption. ___________, please report to the main office prepared to go home." 

Most frantic parents, however,  didn't bother stopping by the office, and just rushed to classrooms and pods to get their children. Many zoomed by my classroom not knowing their children weren't in their homerooms, but in Art class. "Ms. Williams, that was my mother!", many shouted, and I allowed them to chase after their parents to keep them from heading all the way from Pod A to C.

With no radios or TV on, the faculty and staff had no idea what had taken place in New York, let alone Pennsylvania or Arlington. The first rumor I heard from a parent was that The Capitol had been bombed. 

I knew I couldn't leave the kids. I told them they could talk among themselves, draw or paint whatever they wanted, and use as much of the materials as they could. 

While they worked, Mia and Freddye filled me in...

Eventually, the number of kids in the room dwindled. Some, whose parents who worked in Virginia, would not be picked up right away. 

Freddye and Mia eventually left, too-- to get food for everyone. They came back, and stayed in my classroom helping me to keep the children calm until the last child's parent arrived. It was after 4 PM. 

Even though I lived within walking distance, they took me home.

Every now and then, I’ll watch the “Anthem of Praise” video. He’d helped pen the title track of the “Persuaded” project, and was there in the audience at Jericho. 

Happy Birthday, Freddye. Rest in power, my friend. 

#page344

#mysterysolved

#grateful