Making it to the Big 5-O

Thoughts on reaching 50

Obviously it starts with my mother, Ida my grandmother Estella, Grandfather John Marshall Perkins, and many of my elders who are now ancestors, too many to name, but they all made an indelible mark on my life.
Surrogate mothers

Then there are what I called surrogate mothers, Jackie in Chicago, Edna in Vegas, Helen Bailey, Piggy and Gwennie (RIP), and many others.

Following the arrow

For those who know me, I am a student of astrology. I read once it's not the Centaur, but its the arrow that gives insight to Sagittarius energy, follow the arrow as it points to the mythical center of the universe, headed for home, headed for Truth.

As such the energy of Sagittarius is one of travel higher learning and the development of your own personal moral code. With that as a backdrop it is clear to understand that only a full blooded Sagittarian mother will concoct a baptismal road trip to the Bahamas.
One of the more interesting aspects of that trip was the flight home. My mother and I were on one flight, my grandmother and others were on another. I and my mother were to fly from Nassau to Miami then from Miami to St. Louis. On the way back over the Caribbean there was a loud noise, as one of the engines on a double engine plane when dead, the pilot literally glided the plane back to Nassau. I was most shocked to land in at the same airport that I just left – at age four I knew something was amiss. My mother sat next to a pilot who calmly told her as soon as they heard the sound “that sounds like one of the engines died”. Needless to say my mother refused to take the next flight out so we waited until the next day to return. Another side bar about the trip was my grandmother who at age 64 had never flown (it’s a testament to her that she probably logged more airplane miles than I have in the last 30 years of her life). My mother got her to go, by getting her best friend Camille to go. Once we got to the Bahamas we met a guy who had a small private plane, he offered to take my mother up she said no, but my grandmother – and me flew, it was breathtaking I will find some of the photos taken from that flight and add them to my album.

In 1964 much to the chagrin of my grandmother I flew solo to Atlanta to visit Edna and her family who drove down from South Carolina to pick me up. Their daughter Lisa is the one next to me in the White house photo) my mother grumbled, “They wouldn’t have put Lisa on a plane to come up here”. The rode trip that followed was the one for the ages, and still is the longest time I have ever spent in a car, as my mother drove from St. Louis to South Carolina to get me, and then drove to New York to meet some family members. Highlight of the trip, a bleach bottle as an emergency urinal – read in to this comment what you will, but my 4 year old thought was I am supposed to put this in that? The other highlight was the magnificent beautify of the Chesapeake bay as we drove up 95 I never saw so many colorful sailboats.

Once in New York it was fun for all of us. My mother got to see Theolonius Monk in concert, we went to the Empire State Building, my grandmother went to Ellis Island, we all went to Harlem and had one of the most fascinating evenings I had ever had. Coming from a small family, an only child of an only child, the vibrancy of the family we met in Harlem was unforgettable.

There were not many other trips, skiing in Lake Geneva, in the 71, the trip to the west coast in 1969, but not trip, nor any year of my life evokes emotions, and memories like 1968.

1968
Humphrey Humphrey he’s our man Nixon belongs in the trash can. Me, Pewee and Buggy – Fall of 1968

April 4
7:10 CST, me and my best friend at the time Dineen (that’s a dude by the way) were watching the flying nun. A news bulletin “Dr. Martin Luther King has been shot in Memphis…..” fifteen minutes later the announcement came that he was dead.

June 6
2 in the morning the phone rings, Sandy (another surrogate mother) calls screaming that bobby had been shot. There was no need to ask Bobby who.
Two weeks later I am DC announcing to all that will listen, I need to go to Arlington to “bless” the Kennedy brothers. My mother took all over DC, the White House, I saluted in front of Lincoln, stood transfixed at Robert Kennedy’s Senate seat, but she did not want to go to Arlington, she thought
“Who does my son think he is – the Pope?” she had a headache all day, but to Arlington we went. A nine year old mind could not get their arms around how a flame never goes out.

Other noteworthy events was visiting Resurrection city, the last organized movement of Dr. Martin Luther King. My mother went to a night club and got an album autographed by a local prodigy named Roberta Flack.

1968 also begin my love for sports. The favored world champion St. Louis Cardinals blew a 3-1 World Series and lost the 1968 World Series to the Detroit Tigers.

To be continued