Shhh, Grown Folks Is Talking

By Jacquinita Rose

Growing up Jackie was full of questions, most of which she gained the answers to through a good dose of home-grown wisdom from the grandparents who raised her. In her down-to-earth Southern style she weaves true tales of learning how to decipher the code of "grown-folks" speech, the proper way to behave in a traditional Baptist church, as well as the pleasure of eating fresh cornbread, and so many more. These heartwarming stories reveal the meaningful experiences that shaped her life, teaching her the importance of family and the power of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jacquinita Rose
• Release date: Oct 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301239887

Jacquinita Rose

Jacquinita A. Rose (1967 - ) was born in Phoenix, AZ. She was raised in Oklahoma by her Grandparents, LeRoy & Roberta Johnson. Her first novel, Shhh, Grown Folks Is Talking, pays homage to the wisdom and guidance she received from her grandfather and grandmother. Jacquinita enjoys mathematics, science, and literature. She has taught various subjects in mathematics for more than twenty years. Her love of literature began at an early age with her first reading of Mildred D. Taylor's, Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry and Robert Frost's, The Road Not Taken. Jacquinita has many pursuits which include writing the "Great American Math Novel" and "The Great American Short Story".

Book preview

Introduction

Each of us at some point and time, questions where we came from. Which parent gave us our dashing good looks? Which parent is responsible for our attitudes? Looking in the mirror we not only question that blemish, we wonder where we came from. For some this is a passing whim, yet always in the back of our minds. We plan on eventually calling the relative who best remembers the history of every member of the family. Yet another day turns into months and then into years.

Now twenty years have come and gone. We are still looking in the same mirror. We are still looking at the same blemish. We are still wondering why. Pressed by a nagging need or profound curiosity we realize the time to discover who we are and where we came from is now.

I wanted my children to realize that I didn’t start life at 40. The knowledge of how to fairly delegate chores and video game usage did not happen by osmosis. It takes many years and mistakes to obtain an understandable balance of love and discipline. I needed to share insights with them into little girl who they called Mom and into the wisdom I gained from my Grandparents. For my sake and theirs, my children needed to hear their family history. So why not begin with me.

As a kid and preteen, I marveled at how Grandma and Grandpa, although not proper English speakers, had a way of explaining things. So, any words from their lips rang right and true. Nestled comfortably behind or beneath the sofa, I relished every word. From my world view, as a child, there existed two categories: Grandma and Grandpa and then everybody else.

In my teenage years, I sometimes thought my Grandparents transformed into the toughest people in the world. They showed no mercy. I was wrong. Each experience, good or bad, disguised newly discovered blessings. Oh, how I would love to have those chances, those moments back again.

When we can’t go back we can always remember. So, in sharing my history, I want you to experience my childhood moments of dealing with The Bully or better yet when I was sitting on the front porch with Grandpa, wading down by the creek, or perched behind the kitchen door, the sofa in the den, and so many places around my home. I was trying to quietly listen to what Grandma and Grandpa were saying.

Despite my sometimes awkward and humorous child-like attempts at deciphering and understanding them, everything my Grandparents said was important. Their powerful words of encouragement transcend time. So, I share with you the experiences of years past, including my well-organized mischief and my Grandparents’ wisdom, which were instrumental in shaping the woman you know as Mom. So sit back, relax, get still for a moment, and listen because grown folks is talking.

-Jacquinita A. Rose, Ph.D.

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Shhh, Grown Folks Is Talking

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Chapter 1: Questioning

Grandma, where did I come from? I asked staring at my arm.

What do you mean? You came from your Momma and Daddy.

But, I don’t know my Daddy. My question seemed innocent enough. But I could tell by the look on Grandma’s face that I had ventured into territory best left alone. Grandma and Grandpa’s faces would wrinkle and they would look at each in other in that knowing way and say, That’s best left alone. These four words had a profound impact on my curious and burgeoning mind.

From those words spoken by either Grandma or Grandpa I knew I was asking those questions that in spite of their appeared importance to me, no answer would be forthcoming. I also knew that if I continued on this path a scripture from the Good Book would also be forthcoming.

Jackie, Why you asking that question? The sound of my Grandma’s voice brought me back to the present. I had a tendency to drift off.

Yes, Ma’am?

Why you asking that question? Grandma softly repeated.

Because Grandma, the kids say I look different. They say my skin look like the copper wire Grandpa got in the back yard. Some of the kids called me a mutt. I just want to know. I said still looking at the color of my skin on my forearm.

Jackie, come sit down next to me, my Grandma said while softly patting the spot next to her on the bed.

Uh Oh, I thought to myself. Grandma is looking worried.

Jackie, sometimes it’s best just to be one race. It’s too hard trying to be more than one.

It is? Why can’t I just be all of them, Grandma?

With only the wisdom that a Grandma could have, Grandma sadly said, ’Cause, the world makes it hard for colored folks. ‘Specially them that’s mixed with more than one thing. You choose one race.

Which one should I choose, Grandma? Grandma and Grandpa had a way of explaining things that I marveled at. I wanted to be as smart as them. So, if they spoke it, I knew it had to be right. I knew it had to be true. From my world view, there was everybody else and then there was Grandma and Grandpa. I eagerly awaited Grandma’s response.

Jackie, choose the race that’s easy for people to see. When, the world see you they don’t see copper skin. The world say you is Black. The world don’t care about anything else than what they see. Life will be hard for you anyhow. I say you choose Black. Grandma had spoken. I was Black and that was all it was to it. As far as I was concerned, that was the end of that, at least for now.

Chapter 2: Don’t She Favor

Good Lord! Roberta, is this yo new Grandbaby from Arizona? She sho do favor, Sue.

No this is Mary’s daughter. Grandma replied.

Well, she look like yo daughter, Sue.

This was my first, although unsolicited, encounter with the phrase don’t she favor. Initially, I did not know what favoring meant. I was new to Oklahoma. I was still trying to understand the windas and yondas.

One of the esteemed members of the Ebenezer Baptist Church had now added a new word, favor to my already limited Oklahoma vocabulary. Having just recently agreed to be one race and to the best left alone, wisdom of Grandma, this favoring thing was causing me to have more questions. Why was everyone saying I favored my Aunt Sue? As usual, instead of leaving it alone, I filed it back in my memory banks to be investigated further, like the recently discovered stream behind the church building.

Knowing I should leave well-enough alone, it did not help me or Grandma when my next introduction was to a member whose hat look like she had to walk sideways to get it in the door. I eventually learned that hat and gloves where vital, crucial, and fundamental necessities for Baptist ladies’ Sunday morning attire.

As, the hat slowly moved our way, I wanted to run. But Grandma stilled my flight by holding tightly to my hand. The way Grandma was squeezing my hand I knew that my plane was grounded. I wasn’t going anywhere.

Then Grandma smiled at me with the I love you and it’s going to be alright look. I loved that look because it made me feel safe like hot chocolate on a cold Oklahoma winter’s day.

Finally, the hat made it to where we were standing just inside the door, where everyone could see us. For a second it appeared as though the hat was falling over. I wanted to holler, Timber! But I knew better.

Well, who is this, Roberta? The hat said staring at me.

This is Mary’s daughter from Arizona, my Grandma replied.

What she got in her? was the next question from the hat.

What do you mean? Grandma fired back.

Oh, I don’t know. She look like she got something in her to me, the hat screeched back."

It seemed to me that her voice got louder. That was a mistake. Because the one thing you didn’t do, at least if you had any sense, was to try and loud talk my Grandma.

My Grandma said, This child is as black as you and me! With that the conversation was over.

My Grandma who had been holding my hand a moment ago to still me from running away was now literally pulling me toward our seat. While Grandma sat talking to Jesus about hypocrites, I quietly savored the new pieces of information I had gathered from my first few encounters with church folk. I was going to have to try and see the connection between favoring and got something in her. As I had no frame of reference, I didn’t know what the words meant but I knew I would figure them out eventually.

However, I would have to wait because Grandma had finished talking to Jesus and the choir was ready to march in. Yep, I thought to myself, as the first notes rang from