My father was inducted into the Navy at seventeen years old. He was definitely not “military material” so I was surprised, despite World War II and the general national patriotism, that he would have signed up that young. But my father did not enter the Navy waving a flag, he […]
My father mostly defined himself as an anarchist. Not the cliché definition of those who want chaos and violence but the idea of a freedom from hierarchy and the idea of freedom for the individual with social responsibility as a part of the construct. We needed to be brought up […]
This is the time of years when many parents and children start thinking about the possibility of summer camp. I remember my overnight summer camp experience, a Quaker camp that watered and fed the seeds of peace already planted in me. My father’s camp experience gave him his own […]
We travel our life paths, picking up experience, finding teachers and lessons everywhere. And sometimes if we have been attentive to the lessons they pay off in unexpected ways. That is part of the story of my father getting admitted to the University of Chicago after the end of […]
All of us are a product of our families and communities, and also, importantly the people we encounter throughout our lives, the ones who make us see a little more, think a little differently, demand that we stretch our awareness and grow. I have been unusually blessed in this area. […]
I was brought up knowing that my grandparents were West Indian immigrants. I knew my father was born with dual citizenship. It wasn’t until this part of our talks that I realized how it affected him. Earlier you said you didn’t really think of yourself as a child of immigrants despite […]
My father lived on 117th near Lennox, now Malcolm X Boulevard. Many of his stories were about that neighborhood which holds so much romance in the American, especially Black American, historical memory. Let’s talk about Harlem. What was it like on your block, in your corner of the ‘hood? The […]
My father was seventeen and ready to leave home. A friend was urging him to run away from parents who were loving but stern. They believed in severe corporal punishment as well as the recitation of long passages of the bible for any misdoings. It was a hot summer weekend […]
My father, Reginald W. Major, died just over three years ago. While his passing has left me, his baby girl, with a tremendous void, l recently discovered a collection of audio tapes that we recorded over period of years. This summer I have found myself able to listen to […]
