Whatsoever Things Are Lovely

I was born and raised in a small town that, as a whole, lacks. Long Branch always runs a little low on tolerance, despite being nicknamed "The Friendly City." Its current monarch has ruled for nearly 30 years with no thought of abdication or threat of coup. Minorities are largely contained where the working poor subsists and a shrinking middle class of every ethnicity struggles to survive, before realizing they can get more bang for the buck elsewhere. The number of families that have gone on to cities with greater ratables is staggering. Those who appear to be flourishing nicely are either connected or loyal to the throne.

As of the 2000 census, slightly above 18% of its 31,340 documented residents were African American. I expect that percentage will decrease with the upcoming census as I suspect it has with every census in my lifetime. With limited opportunity, encouragement to invest or promise of being recognized as valued community members, a great many of us relocate. We find places that allow us to accomplish lofty goals, cultivate great success and achieve earned recognition that would have escaped us within that 6.2 square miles. With an exception of the most hopeful, determined and resourceful, few of my generation remain.

Though we flee, those with fond memories of childhood and adolescence return on festive occasions to fellowship and reminisce with family and friends who stayed behind. In a town earnestly disinterested in its African American population, unaware of the culture, sociology or even circumstances that produced us, our festivities are limited. Outside of the Martin Luther King, Jr. Guild annual, week-long celebration in January, the privately-organized 2002 event, celebrating project kids who made good and a Juneteeth cultural arts celebration last year, I am hard-pressed to recall other events celebrating our community, culture or history, certainly none city-sanctioned. A community center is named for Adam "Bucky" James, but with no cornerstone or posted proclamation, its significance and the recognition of a man, dedicated to children is lost. The ranks of those who actually remember him dressing as Santa for the neighborhood dwindles daily.

I really want to know why blacks chose to live in Long Branch. Certainly, the fine institution of slavery made the decision for many, but with its abolition and the freedom to move, why did they stay? I know why mine and countless other families came during the great migration; to escape racism and take advantage of opportunities, which included work and education for their children.

Starting approximately in 1910, sharecropping communities disbanded in the south and reassembled almost identically in and near industrial cities of the North, Midwest and Western United States. The Robinson, Snell, Adams, Brown, Bell and Rawls families migrated from around Montgomery County, Georgia. From the same state came the Wrights from Lowndes, the Colberts from Wilcox and the Stathums from the Webster/Marion County area. Similarly, the Abels, Newmans, McCaskills, Shaws and Gibsons came from South Carolina; the Bynums and Everetts from North Carolina and the Blantons from Virginia. Bound by common experience and journey, these and others arrived in Long Branch with hopes and dreams, but who was already there?

I lived the majority of life in Long Branch before abandoning ship for more nurturing environs. With natural curiosity and finely tuned ears, I heard countless stories of hard times and subsequent journeys to deliverance, resulting in familiarity with much of the transplanted African American community. Then there were others as visible, yet less familiar; the Cofers, Deans, Gardners, Greenwoods, Logans, Meades, Mooneys, Puryears and Websters, pillars of the community, city natives who seemed to never live anywhere else, though certainly descendants from some earlier transplant. Lila Dean Gilliard, the actual subject of this entry, was one of them.

On Saturday past Mrs. Gilliard was laid to rest. For a great portion of my life she was present. Living near my great aunts and cousins in the Sea View Manor housing project, she raised a tribe of children. Her pigeon-toed gait, ambling toward destinations was identifiable at great distances. Though unpretentious and authentically kind to all, some chose to focus on what they perceived deficient. With prominent brow and features, suggestive of undiluted African heritage, she fell somewhere outside the accepted societal view of beauty and added insult to society's injury by not obsessing over her appearance. She often looked as though she was about to begin, was in the middle of or just completed a good days work... yet, I never knew her to be anything but sweet.

She was a devoted and protective parent, standing by her children regardless of circumstance or consequence. Certainly, as with most parents, there were disappointments, heartaches and sorrows, yet I never knew her to be anything but sweet.

People can be terribly insecure at times and very mean. In seeking acceptance from our peers we will focus on those who stand apart, magnify their differences to minimize what we see as deficient in oursleves. At times, the subject of unkind humor and comment, certainly she heard whispers and innuendo, yet I never knew her to be anything but sweet.

Mrs. Gilliard did nothing to provoke negative opinion. She was simply herself in a community where so many tried to be something else. If anyone should ever have cause to comment or remark 0n her life, I hope they will recall her sweetness, devotion and disposition which was truly remarkable... lovely things... a lovely person.

Having lost my own mother, I can relate to the loss her remaining children suffer. Their staunchest ally and champion is gone, but they are so blessed to have each other. Endurance is much more difficult for single children, like myself. I have several half-siblings. With one or the other parent in common, we share little else, even our grief. It is a lonely sadness I hope the Gilliards should never know, but without question, there will be private, individual moments of sadness. During those times, reflect on the lovely and smile.