A Memorial Day Story

This morning I was daydreaming about the fallen ones, the people that I knew from a previous generations that have passed away. Delsie, Fred, Warren, Dwight, Delores, Gayle, Al, Roberta and Clarence. There are others, but some I never did meet or was not old enough to remember. The ones that I did get to know, I am grateful and will remember them always and do what I can to pass their memory on to my children and their children. However, the ones that I knew personally I feel a encouragement to always remember their laughter, their stories, and the good things about them the best that I can.

That leads me to a fun story, that occurred sometime around Memorial Day about 30 years ago. I cannot be for certain on the dates and times, but I know it was around this time based on the timing of a few other events that I am certain about. This is a story of perseverance, respect, and a tad bit of fear. Several months before I had met my wife, Lori at school. We were both on the debate team together and we finally got to know each other when the team came over to my house for Christmas break that December. We spent a long time talking that day and shortly thereafter we became rather inseparable. We spent a lot of time together and eventually I found myself driving up to her house to pick her up for some reason. That was the day that I met her father. The meeting was very short, very little conversation and I do not think he even ventured so much as a glance my direction. As we pulled away from the house in my truck, I believe I saw the curtain slightly move askew but for all knew, Clarence Graves Jr. was still sitting in his chair watching television.

I think he was awfully suspicious of me. White boy with some strange beliefs and hanging around his baby girl (youngest in the family). I came and went several times, and in almost every case got no more than a grunt or a shrug. He would tell his daughter a reminder about being home, or checking in with him and refer to me in the third person like I was not even there. I remember one day, Lori invited me into the house and we sat next to each other on the couch. I think she reached out and held my hand and I was paralyzed with trepidation. We were talking to him about the debate tournament we were going to go on that was being held over the course of a few days. He had a hard time accepting that any red blooded young man my age would be interested in any “debates,” and that I must have some alternate plans that involved an extended stay with his daughter. Of course, Lori defended her right to do what she wanted and when she wanted because she was by far an adult, but that did not hold much sway with Clarence. He was not only over protective, he was down right militant about it.

At any rate, the relationship became somewhat cordial, with a nod now and then, and I think I even got a “waz up homie” once. I did not know what to make of that. Was I accepted now? Was I on speaking terms? Apparently not, rumors were abounding that Clarence and his mother, Roberta were having a play by play conversation going on about my comings and goings and “sniffing” around their daughter. One day, Lori took me over to her Grandmother’s house. We showed up to many very polite greetings, and some really great food. Just a side note. Lori’s mom was always very accepting of me. Constantly trying to feed me her good ol fashioned Creole cooking and lots and lots of cakes. Anyway, back to the meeting at Roberta’s house (Clarence’s mom, Lori’s paternal grandmother). The initial introductions occurred and I eventually was escorted into the front sitting room where people were to check in and pay momma her due. One of Lori’s aunt’s introduced me. She looked at me with her eyes over her reading glasses, picked up her spit cup from next to her on the credenza and relieved herself from the build up of snuff she collected. She chewed snuff, not the minty fresh stuff the weaklings use today, but the good ol’ fashion powder that you order from somewhere in the south. Her response to my greeting was, “um-hmm.” Looking me up and down as I walked past, I heard her mumble under her breath, “chump.”

Things would soften with momma over time. Eventually, I enjoyed a kiss on the cheek and a bright smile and a little joke, at my expense, as I knelt to say hi. However, Clarence would take a few more months to soften. It came on one evening. Lori had a car that had been given to her by her older sister. This was one of those early model Hyundai’s back when Korea had no business making cars. Everything that could go wrong, did. I think I replaced the alternator, water pump, spark plug wiring harness, thermostat, and a few belts during our courtship. However, one night Lori’s car broke down on the freeway or something. I came by to help and we ended up back at her house late at night, having dealt with the issues with her car. The fact that I showed up, acted somewhat responsibly and seemed to at least care for the welfare of his daughter, suddenly brought Clarence around. After we said goodnight to Lori (no good night kiss, sorry that would be way to much for Clarence to handle) he walked me out to the front porch. He invited me to sit and there we sat on the dimly lit porch. Clarence started with explaining to me how he had learned to kill a man, with as little as 4 foot piece of wire with frayed edges and sticking it down the gas pipe of their car. Was he trying to intimated me?

This led to a conversation about World War II. He was not prepared for me to be so knowledgeable about the South Pacific conflict. I had read many books, specifically about the Philippines, General MacArthur, and many of the naval battles. I ended up talking to him about his experience in the Army as an support engineer and we talked for hours. He had no less than seven amphibious landings and he was in the crowd when MacArthur “returned” by simply putting his toe on the soil and quickly retreating. Clarence talked about a few close calls that he had when his unit was almost cornered by the Japanese Navy. He described in detail some of the events that he had and how he had to learn to play politics with the soldiers and their commanders always needing support from his crew. The harrowing experiences of seeing the viscous response from Japanese soldiers as they stood their ground against all odds. Some of the things he told me that night, I will not repeat. We talked about being a black man in the Army, what Chicago was like after the war and how proud he was of his father for being successful despite all odds against him.

From that day on, Clarence and I had a relationship based on mutual respect. I knew his language a bit, and we could always have a conversation about mid-century Jazz musicians, the war, or great new business ideas. Clarence had many challenges in life, but the one thing that I attribute to him this day was his ability to get along with just about anyone, including the young scrawny kid sitting on his porch that would eventually marry his daughter.

Guy Reams