Boomer Connections This Boomer's Life

Since February is Black History month, I thought I would give you a little history about what my life was like growing up in Alabama. I will go back as far as I can remember.

My family and I lived in the projects. At the time, to me it was my home, my universe. Everyone in the projects knew each other. I had family members all around me. When most people think of housing projects they think of a run down, dilapidated set of buildings. Ours was well kept, the grounds beautiful with flowers, trees, and bushes. The buildings were sectioned off with five and ten apartment sections.   The apartments had one, two and three bedrooms and they were all one level. We had a two bedroom apartment. Mom and Dad in one room and my sisters, three of us, were in the other one. Dad worked at NASA as a maintenance engineer and Mom worked at the Huntsville Laundry as a lead presser.

We had a blue and white four-door Chevy. At this time we only had one car. There were only a few families who even had a car. Dad would use it during the week to drive to work and Mom would use it on the weekend to do the shopping and to take us to church on Sundays.

I have a lot of childhood memories of going to church. Church was a staple in our lives. One of the first things that pops into my mind about our church is that our church had only one room. The building was brick on the outside with double doors on the front. It had stained glass windows. Once you walked inside, there were folding chairs for the adults and you could see that it consisted of a piano in one corner, some small chairs for children which surrounded a potbelly stove, and a tall lady (our teacher) standing in front of us.

I have one vivid memory in particular, I was 5 years old and my teacher was teaching us a song. Many of you may remember it from your own childhood: It was called “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam”. It went something like this: Jesus wants me for a sunbeam to shine for him each day. In every way try to please him, at home, at school, at play. A sunbeam, a sunbeam, Jesus wants me for a sunbeam. A sunbeam, a sunbeam, I’ll be a sunbeam for him. Ah, the memories.

Another thing I remember about growing up in Alabama is walking to school. We did not live far from the school. As a matter of fact, it only took us about ten minutes to get there and that included playing along the way. We had to cross the street and walk two blocks to a traffic light and cross over onto the school grounds. The name of the school was West End Elementary. There were two classrooms for each grade. Inside the school were grades 1-4 and the fifth and six graders were in a trailer out in the back. Back then most of all the teachers were either someone your parents grew up with, a member of your family or they taught your parents. So you had better not act up in class or you would get a licking from the teacher and then another one from your parents when you got home. My, my have times changed!!

My first grade teacher was a neighbor of my third cousin and Mom’s second. My second grade teacher grew up with my Mom. Mrs. Robinson, my third grade teacher taught my mom. My fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Seay was my Mom’s cousin. Get this: the Principal, Mr. Rooks, was Mom’s cousin also! Well, as you can see we could not get away with anything. But as I look back it was nice having family and friends help raise you.

Being promoted to the fourth grade was one of the biggest turning points in my life. But the biggest was Mom and Dad’s purchase of a new home. They were the first in my Mom’s immediate family to own a home in Alabama. It took me more than ten minutes to walk to school after we moved. It took more like twenty minutes. That’s a long time when you haven’t been walking it before. Another major turning point came when President Kennedy was shot that same year. That was a terribly sad day in our school. All the students were sent back to their homerooms and our teachers turned on the televisions and we watched as history was unfolding. Many of the teachers were crying. On the Monday of the President’s funeral, everyone in the school was watching that long drive during the funeral procession to the church for his funeral services.

Once we left the sixth grade we changed schools. This time I was assigned to a school that was a thirty minute walk from my home. The shortest route to the new school, Council High, was to cross a railroad track. This was to be the last year I attended an all-black school.

Segregation had been going on in my life and it was not strange to me. When you are in an environment for so long, you don’t realize it is wrong until it is pointed out to you. Even then, you don’t want to accept it as being wrong. One can believe a lie for so long that you don’t recognize the truth when you are faced with it.   Mom and Dad had raised us to not discriminate against someone because of the color of their skin, so when we had to go from an all-black school to a mixed environment, it did not change my thoughts about anyone. Here I could be a “Sunbeam” and bring a smile to those with whom I came in contact.

Instead of walking for thirty minutes to school, now I only had to walk five minutes from my house to the school’s parking lot. What a change!