From bare springs,…day..dreams..

You have nothing to fear but fear itself! No exceptions, except when said fear is a gone past reality, that by Jesus Christs’ mercy, saves you.

The grace of this Angel unaware allows us to continue, as I have heard University of North Carolina Head Basketball Coach Mr. Roy Williams in a candid interview say, “further farther”.

Immediately my quotation voice enters this story to tell you my Mother is from North Carolina and everyone from North Carolina is a proud Tar heel, hence my reference to Coach Williams.

My Dad, the late John Gary Dewberry Sr. was from South Carolina, although I am Northern born please believe I was taught a few things about the segregation and civil rights of America. 

I know about the Carolina’s and the cotton plant and tobacco farms. In this story, bed springs over my head, visually mean Spring time is here. Normally what would be planting season doubles like a double edge sword.

What is as a harvest for some, becomes a seed planted for others, as well as myself.

Pickin! Ain’t easy.. Not lost on my cotton picking Mind’s eye.

Further farther through selective amnesia avails memories which are too convenient and pleasant, always providing an easy way out of looking under the bed.

This elusive invasion of cached thoughts continually close an open wound left blessed but emotionally unattended, adaptive to the United States and the World.

These paragraphs of psycho-therapy complete a here to-fore impossibility, formerly known as “The Never Ending Story”. The impossibility of a paradox wrapped in an emotional catch 22 is now known to me as Infinity returned.

The infinity returning as a never-ending story of a once terrifying day that I again see and feel as an 8-year-old boy hiding under my bed.

This is a tough entry point, it’s been 45 years since April 4th 1968, that was the last time I played under my bed; my safe World, my playground for toys and imagination.

Lorraine Motel Memphis, Tennessee April 3rd, 1968 L-R Great Men Hosea Williams, Jesse Jackson, Reverend Dr.Martin Luther King Jr., Reverend Ralph D. Abernathy

The bed of my past is a steel spring mattress, I was fascinated by the construction of the springs. Finding me under this bed was no surprise, knowing when I was there was a task, I was an active and happy child.

I began paying more attention to television as I got older, especially when the news programs would show reports of Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

The news programs seemed to always show past civil rights struggles, including The Montgomery, Alabama Bus Boycott and violent pictures from the now infamous

(Edmond Pettus) bridge.

RNS-ROSA-PARKS

the first black woman to be honored with a life-size statue in the Capitol.

Click the Picture for Info:

I would be drawn to the song “We shall overcome”, the name Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. , The City of Birmingham, or The State of Alabama.

When I would hear any of those words my ears perk up, they still do and always will.  My ears heard evil things like.. they are going to kill him..  In Search of they!?..  in this context.. they are White Men in power.

Although I’ve referred to him in the 3rd person, he is Martin Luther King Jr. ,  referred to in 2nd person.. I am born into this World.

Family is King, L-R Martin Luther King Jr., Yolanda, Dexter, Bernice, Coretta Scott-King, Martin Luther King III

Family is King, L-R Martin Luther King Jr., Yolanda, Dexter, Bernice, Coretta Scott-King, Martin Luther King III

click picture:

I was always mystified by this Black Man ghost named Malcolm X who was mentioned in the same breath as him, but his assassination in 1965 happened when I was 5 years old.

I unsuccessfully strain my sub-conscious for memories of that tragedy, I am that little boy (John John) saluting his Father’s casket ( Funeral procession of President John F. Kennedy 1963 ).  I am protected; shielded almost, from the cruelty of the World but the cold World of the 1960’s was changing fast and speeding towards my whole existence on the planet.

The most momentous achievement of the times escapes me, the Hallmark of the Civil Rights movement is the voting rights act.

I have no recollection of the 1965 voting rights act.

Click The Picture Of, The Kennedy’s…forget me…NOT!!

The civil right to vote in America presents challenges to Negro’s or Colored people as African-Americans were referred to in 1960’s America. My ears heard the evil words of prejudice and legalized separation. I also saw pictures of people of skin color attacked by dogs, beaten and sprayed with powerful water hoses by the fire department.

This is profound when written down.. I watched those events from a Black & White TV.. this reads like poetic spiritual coincidence, reading is fundamental, as is the subliminal ability to read between the lines is a means to survival.

I did not read but I heard the awful words uttered from the Clansmen, the Birmingham Police Chief, the Alabama Governor and other Governors and officials.

I saw Black & White TV images show me a side of America that demanded the degradation and separation of Black people from society.

Those images were very frightening, but those images were inside of the television and seemingly far away from me. Only seemingly as living in the North of America had its own dangers related to skin color.

I was  young but I began to notice my little city had as big a trouble as any city anywhere in the USA. My parents’ generation wanted much more for their children than racial oppression.

1969 Chevrolet Impala

Coming where from I’m from , a small historic town within the Pioneer Valley  Springfield, Massachusetts is best known as Boston to residence of the South.

I Dred [ Scott ] my decision to Spring ahead into this corner of my mind’s eye,  under the bed, springs over head. It’s amazing how a mind filled with bad memories of a dramatic life changing episode protects you from yourself.

I’ve concealed, under childhood wonder, a misfortune (Amos Fortune) of the reality of those times, which affect and effect my today and any day you are reading this.

photo credit - ne-wanderer.blogspot.com  African Prince, American Slave, dies a free man in Jaffrey, New Hampshire his name Amos Fortune. click picture

photo credit – ne-wanderer.blogspot.com African Prince, American Slave, dies a free man in Jaffrey, New Hampshire his name Amos Fortune. click picture

No one has ask me how do you feel about the death of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.?  The topic has not come up in conversations with family, friends or psych-babble with intellectuals. Even the fourth death within the 1960’s of  historical giant, Robert F. Kennedy leaves memories frozen.

I now; by faith..venture through the lyrical equivalent

to The Old Testament Bible verse Psalms 23: 4

yea thou I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.

Up until April, 4th 1968 I was not afraid under my bed, from over head bed springs, dreams sprang forth of being an astronaut, doctor, lawyer, chief or even President Of The United States Of America..

imagine you are  a write-in candidate for American President.

2-story house in Springfield, Massachusetts more story inside, click the picture.

On the evening of April 4th 1968, television confirmed the assassination of a great man, Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was killed in Memphis, Tennessee, things that changed on that night have changed forever the times on earth. The news hit me hard, hit everyone hard. I had never felt the kind of fear I felt on that day, I ran under my bed.

From under my bed, the World was commotion and panic. I did not want to come out but a hand reached for me and the reassuring voice of my Mother and the presence of my Dad chased my fears away.

There was incredible sadness I had many questions of why and hatred began to creep in. I learned that night I was inferior to no one Black or White, bad things happen and will happen, don’t hate, trust in the Lord.

I have forgotten to honor that moment, it was in that moment I learned not to judge people by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.

My little city was 1 of the cities that rioted on that night. I looked at the riot from the second floor porch of my home. The city has not recovered, Black America has not recovered, the trauma has been swept under the rug and it’s time to clean up and discuss this painful past.

Let’s re-commit to the promised land that him, the great man relayed to us in a vision called, I have a dream.

Black America has to come out from under the bed, the emotional scars may have covered the wounds but it’s time for “You, Me and He” to re-open and to re-apply the salve of  Love, Mercy and Grace from the Lord.

A New Day Begins

Contact – John G. Dewberry by phone 404-877-9171 or email jgdewberry@mycybermap.com  ©2013 All Rights reserved 

to reproduce this document obtain written permission

Advertisements