Tapestry

By A. D. Sharpe

Angel has experienced a tragic life, but she now has decided to go a new path. She is seeking advice and plans a surprise visit with her Grammie Belle. She is the one surprised instead. She finds explanations for her tears and the answers to family secrets, hidden in a piece of cloth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312133709

Book preview

Tapestry

Tapestry

A. D. Sharpe

Copyright

Version 1.2

Copyright © 2014 Lulu Press

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ISBN: 978-1-312-13370-9

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Preface

I dedicate this book to my sons, grandchildren and future generations.

Introduction

As I wrote this story I come to a stark revelation - Silence is Deadly.  There are many people walking around every day enduring a cycle of unbearable pain in total silence.  They ask themselves Is this all there is?  They turn to substance abuse, promiscuity, criminal activity and suicide to ease the pain. Some think these vices are a way of temporary relief, but it isn’t. You need a permanent solution.   It is hard to trust someone and come out from the shadows of shame, but silence will not only affect you but the generations to follow.

I come to realize that we as parents set the foundation for our sons and daughters and if we do not destroy our demons they continue to live on in the next generation.  Break the silence, so that our children may have the possibilities for a different future.  We must confront the ghost of our pasts and reveal the truth of our life stories.  If we live inauthentic lives, it becomes a hiding place for a pathology which breeds pain and unhappiness.  We are not on this journey alone. Others are always affected by our life choices.

It will require soul searching, courage and unwavering honesty.  It will mean that we accept responsibility for the pain and make a decision to stop it at the source.  We must commit to search out the areas of our lives where we are deceiving ourselves and tell the truth, not the story we continue to repeat, but the whole truth. We must tell our family about our experiences and our trauma so we can finally identify it and root it out before it becomes the family normal.  Rape, incest, violence is prevalent and telling our children to be silent, You’ll get over it is setting them up for an emotional death.  They are many walking dead and only truth can bring life back to them. 

We can heal ourselves and the ones we love if we remove the disguise and tell each other I am not perfect.

Tapestry is a way of saying, I am not perfect.  I make myself vulnerable and accept your reactions to my truth.  The truth is far more freeing than living a lie, which is simply exhausting and it kills the soul.

Chapter 1

It’s moving week.  I am packing to move across country again. I don’t know when I will get back to the countryside again so I will go to my Grammie’s house and spend the day with her.  It is a great time to see her because I’m very emotional about this move almost to the point of being afraid.  I have lived in eight different states over the past 30 years and they have been wonderful adventures. This time is different. This time I don’t feel excitement or anticipation.  I am hollow and empty.  I don’t know why, but I am sad. 

Grammie Belle will be able to cheer me up so I can get the enthusiasm to make this journey to San Francisco, California.  She always has such good advice and being with her allows me to leave the world outside.

I will climb up on her lap and lay my head on her chest.  When I hear her heart beating, I will know that I am safe and I don’t need to be scared anymore.

I’m leaving at the end of the week to relocate from Ohio to San Francisco, California. I have been trying to pack my things for days.  Look at this huge pile of research materials, I am leaving behind, things that I have always depended upon, to be successful.  They bring me comfort and with them I feel secure. This next move will not be using these books, articles and graphs.  I am going there to pursue a new career as a radio talk show host. After thirty plus years as an accountant, I am making this huge transition in my career.  I am leaving the familiar and stepping out into the unknown.  This new job forces me to be someone that I don’t really know. Finance has always been familiar turf.  Now I am finally walking away.

It is bittersweet. 

I feel as if I’m leaving my best friend.

How will I exist without her? 

Don’t look at what you fear, but what you dream and it will guide you to your happiness Dad always said.

"Go after your dreams and don’t look back.  Everything in life is available to you, so live without regrets. You don’t want to grow old and left saying I should have, would have and could have done it. If so, you are wasting your life. 

Angel, these are excuses people tell themselves to justify the meaningless attempts of not really trying at all.  What you end up with, at the winter of your life, is an empty box filled with regrets and disappointments."

Daddy was always so wise about life and I miss him deeply.  He of all people knows about regrets. He and mother had dreams. They were going to travel as soon as the last child left home, but their plans were disrupted by grave sickness. Daddy was diagnosed with bone cancer and he died at the young age of fifty-seven. Daddy was my world and I absolutely adored him. I so hated to see him go. 

If he were here I could discuss this with him but the rest of my family and friends don’t understand me.

Why don’t you get a job that you like and settle in and stay there? Why are you always moving to the next opportunity?  Stay put!

But what they don’t know is that my job is not fulfilling.  I am not doing what makes me happy, so it doesn’t hurt me when I abruptly root up my life, like a bad weed, growing in the midst of a beautiful garden. I don’t get attached to the people or surroundings because I always know I’m leaving.  Come to think about it, I should fit in just fine in that concrete jungle in California.  I am as cold and lifeless as those buildings.

Chapter 2

As I turn the corner on to street where

Grammie Belle lives, my eyes span the area and a big smile appears on my face and I instinctively feel calm. 

The children are outside playing ball in the street, riding bikes, skateboards and jumping rope. Amazing, after all of this time, there still aren’t any sidewalks. I guess country living has its own charm. Grammie Belle lives in the last house on this dead end street and so it’s pretty safe for playing children. There is only room for six cars to park on this tiny street. 

Listen to that wonderful sound of laughter and those huge smiles on their faces; well it is down-right infectious.   I see the old trees that line the road, have grown.  They are so tall now and their branches are so big, they almost meet in the middle of the road. 

I am here.  Interesting! All the parking has been taken. I don’t have room to park my car in front of the house. Looks like most of the cars are parked outside Grammie Belle’s place.  I hope she doesn’t have company; I want her all to myself today.

A cold chill runs through me.  Oh my, I hope Grammie isn’t ill.  Let me run up to the house and make certain that all is well.  I’ll stop here on the corner and walk to the house. As I begin walking, I become giddy all over.  But my concern for Grammie compels me to pick up the pace and reach her front porch as quickly as possible.

She will be so surprised to see me.  She doesn’t know that I’m coming.  I can’t wait to see her face when I walk through the door.

I stop on the porch for a moment and listen. I look around and take in the serenity of country life. I can hear the birds singing their beautiful melodies. The grass is waving in the field as the soft breeze blows. It is so peaceful here. 

I grab the doorknob and lightly turn it to open the door. When I turn the knob, the door opens. 

Doesn’t anyone lock their doors around here? I say to myself.  The door hinges creak as I open it.  Well, there goes my surprise.  Goodness, I might as well start shouting from the middle of the street I’m here, I’m here. Darn noisy door. Now everyone is aware that someone is coming. 

I tiptoe in as quietly as possible.  I close the door behind me and I stop.  Wait!  I hear voices coming from the big room in the house. They are very familiar voices.  My heart leaps with joy because I know those voices.  Grammie Belle is not alone. 

I enter the room and there in the open space of the great room, are my four great-grandmothers sitting there smiling.  Tears fill my eyes as I am overcome with a flood of happiness. I am grinning from ear to ear, like an old Cheshire cat but I am not the only one feeling the effects of this joyous occasion. They are just as happy to see me, too.

I run over to each of them and give them the biggest hug and kiss.  How amazing is this?  What a beautiful sight. Where is a camera when you need it? I would love to get a shot of this moment.  This will never happen again and I should capture it.  Honestly, I have never, ever seen them together before.  In fact, I didn’t realize they even knew one another. With all of the dinners, reunions, graduations and births, not once have they all been in the same place together.

Hello Grammie Mamie and Grammie Eva as I lean over to give them both the biggest hugs and kisses ever. They are from my father’s side of the family. Mamie and Eva are my father’s grandmothers. 

I walk across the room. Hello Grammie Ada and Grammie Belle hugging them around their necks and placing a big kiss on both of their cheeks. They are my mother’s grandmothers.  Grammie Belle is really named Cora Belle, but we all call her Belle.

I thought I would be the surprise for the day but it looks like I am surprised instead.  Who would have thought?  Wonder what is the occasion?   Oh well, whatever the reason, I am so blessed to be a part of it.  This will be a visit to remember.  I love making memorable moments and this will go down as a very special day in my life.

As I look upon the faces of my four great-grandmothers, I am amazed at the history and the differences of each of these fine ladies.  They are as different as night and day.  Everything about them shows the diversity of my ancestry. I hope to have an opportunity to get to know them all much better.  Such stories they can tell me.  I am all ears to hear about their lives.

Chapter 3

Grammie Mamie is white and was born in Ohio.  She is considered the black sheep.  She is outcast by her family and ostracized by friends because she fell in love with a Negro. Yes indeed, I’m sure their marriage has a lot to do with her isolation...

I know she hoped that granddaddy’s family would be more accepting, but his family didn’t want her around, either. Her white skin and freckles were too much of a reminder of those days of slavery. She became a widow in her early thirties and no one ever speaks about how granddaddy died. I hope he wasn’t murdered because he was in love…

Grammie Eva is Cherokee and was born in Kentucky.  She married a Mullato minister and they established a church in Kansas. They raised dairy cattle and actually had a town named after them. 

Grammie Ada is half white and Cherokee and was born in Ohio. She met and married a Cherokee from Oklahoma. Ada’s grandparents hated that marriage.  That family comes from a line of very proud enlisted soldiers of the confederate army. An Indian was not accepted in this family. They fought to maintain slavery and they hate Indians more than Negroes. Ada’s mother, Bertha, married an Indian man and became an outcast and was cut off from the rest of her family. 

Ada marries this Indian and has twins, a boy and a girl. Harry and Goldie were their names and they end up living with their great-grandparents due to the fact Ada was such a free spirit and all. Although the Parks family rejected their own daughter for marrying Silas Redman, they took in the twins and raised them as their own children.

As the old saying goes, blood is thicker than water.

Grammie Belle is Mullato and was born in W. Virginia. She married a Negro man from Virginia and they settled in Ohio. Belle’s mother, Lucy, was a slave girl that escaped plantation life and her father was the white plantation owner where she ran away.  Lucy met a white farmer and they got married. It looks like my family is a hodgepodge of various backgrounds and ethnicities. We are intertwined and woven together like a piece of cloth, of many colors.  Not bound by our similarities but our differences bind us together and keep us strong. 

Chapter 4

There seems to be a feeling of great anticipation in the air and I can feel it.  Some special powers have been at work to being us all together on this chilly autumn day.  If this is coincidence, how can that be?  I will see what the spirits have conjured.

The air has become much colder since the time I came in the house.  Grammie Belle starts a roaring fire in the fireplace and boy is it very welcome at this moment. It’s not really a fireplace.  It is like a smoke hole or open hearth and very warm. The fire dances in the hearth, as if a melody is playing and the rhythm of the music has crescendos.

What are you cooking that smells so delicious Grammie Belle?

Grammie Belle walks over to the pot and lifts that lid.  The aroma floats through the air and I inhale.

I’m in heaven. We are having venison stew. I said delightfully. Gram Belle smiles and looks at me.  She always aims to please. 

I will set the dining table so we can feast on the delicacies prepared by my Grams. This table is just right for entertaining. Grandpa knew that there would be a lot of eating at this table when he built it. The matching upright chairs scattered around are comfy too but they look like they have been through a lot. Out of eight of those chairs only one chair is fit to sit in. The other seven chairs have been cursed by the Booker/Hale butt.  Let me rush over to the other side and grab that chair before it is ruined too.

Grammie Belle, can I help with anything?

Get the teapot over there on the shelf and put on the fire for some tea.  I grab the pot and fill it with water and wait for that screeching sound that the water is hot. Gathering at the dining table is special for our family. This is where all things good or bad are discussed and resolved.

Grammie Belle sets the pot of stew on the table with her famous corn bread and alongside is fry bread, made by Grammie Ada.  Gram Eva said the prayer and we begin to dig in.

Grammie Belle this is a great meal.  I feel so blessed to have all my Grams here with me.  This is better than Christmas.  I get up and hug each of them again and they smile.

I remove the dishes and place the remaining food in the fridge. Grammie Eva gets up and walks into Gram Belle’s bedroom. She returns, smiling, with an armful of cloth.  It looks like they are making a quilt.  Wow this will be great.  I can watch them put it together and see how it is done.  I never learned to quilt. My oldest sister knows how, but I lack the patience to do this.

Gram Eva holds up the various pieces of cloth and my jaw drops in shock.  This thing is hideous.  What a mess!  This cannot possibly be the quilt they are putting together. The patterns are all different and the colors don’t match. I hope they don’t ask if I like it.  What will I tell them? Grammie Eva is always so proud of her quilting skills and she rarely shows her work before completion. This is not her best work.  She is going to feel so embarrassed when they begin to critique it.

Grammie Eva is this something new you are trying out; you know, mixing the patterns and colors the way you have done? I ask.

No. I’m not certain that I understand your question child.  It looks very normal to me. She responds with curiosity in her voice. Grammie Ada grabs the corners of the quilt and holds them up.  She is smiling and beaming with such pride. 

I understand her question Eva.  She is used to seeing our quilts all look the same.  It is kind of different.

Thanks Grammie Eva for coming to my rescue, I was thinking to myself.

"Angel, this multi-patterned quilt is the workmanship of all your grandmothers.  We have generously given to the creation of this quilt in an attempt to make it unique and unlike any other quilt you will ever see again.

We have all been individually working on gathering pieces of material that are important to us and sewing those sections of the quilt up to this point."  Grammie Eva explains.

I look at the pieces of the quilt that have been sewn together and it is still strange; a mishmash of cloth that has no rhyme or reason.  I look at it again as Grammie Eva holds it up and it is kind of beautiful in a very eerie sort of way.

Gram, why doesn’t the quilt have conformity?

Whatever do you mean? Belle interjects.

Don’t you like the quilt? Gram Eva said.

Goodness Grammie Eva that is not what I am implying at all.  I’m just saying that, well you know, I mean….

I am really feeling embarrassed now. If I finish my statement, I am going to hurt their feelings.  Now what do I do? I am caught between a rock and a hard place. 

I have seen so many of your quilts and even quilts made by Grammie Belle, Grammie Mamie and Grammie Ada and they have always had consistency in the pattern, the style and colors.  This is outside the box.  Do you understand what I mean?

Well child this has been sewn by four different women Grammie Ada said.

The patterns and colors, that you see, represent the stories of our lives. Grammie Mammie interrupted again.

Wow, this is rather radical. 

It represents the lives of four women from distinctly different worlds. This is my heritage, my history and my ancestry all sewn up from some pieces of cloth.  It is not completed, but it yet tells their stories.  At first glance, all you see are the differences, different material, colors and patterns. But as you continue to gaze upon it, in a strange way, you can see that the patterns are very similar you can definitely see the connection in the various pieces cloths.

I look upon their faces. They are just as different as the pieces of cloth. Their skin, facial features, hair texture, traditions and speech are so very different. Something makes them sisters and connects them together as women.

What in the world possessed them to unite and construct this storybook of cloth? Their lives are now intertwined like the threads of this fabulous piece of cloth. This is a noble project, but what is its purpose?

I have so many questions. 

Who thought of this first?

Why?

Why did they feel so compelled?

What is to become of this piece of cloth and… and?

Chapter 5

Look at them, my two Cherokee (Tsalagi) great-grandmothers Eva Jane and Ada. Eva Jane has long silver hair now, but it was once black as coal.  Her hair is long and she rarely cuts it except on special occasions like a death in the family or very close friend.  She still braids it and wraps it around her head pins it with one of those silver barrettes to hold it in place. 

Her eyes are small and slanted and her nose pointed and hooked, like the beak of an eagle. She has very high cheekbones.  Eva and her mother were survivors of the Trail of Tears.

My other great-grandmother Ada is Cherokee too.  Ada is a beautiful woman full of life and spirit.  She has long dark brown hair and green eyes.  Her skin is fairer than Eva. She is very outgoing and a wanderer. My mother calls Grammie Ada a free spirit. Yet with all of this liberty she exudes, she is still sad in some way. She has such sad eyes.

Gram Belle has short curly hair, wide lips, and a somewhat wide nose. Her skin is darker than my other Grammies but not as dark as most descendants of Negro blood. She is very outspoken.  The saying is only death can silence the mouth of a Hale woman and even then you can still hear her voice from the grave.

Gram Mamie is the one that really stands out at this gathering. She is white and very independent. She is an entrepreneur, a business owner. There she stands with auburn hair, light hazel brown eyes and freckles scattered around her nose.  Such wisdom and courage sits in this room and I can just sit here for hours and listen to their words.

The quilt is not complete. 

Well I know they’re not going to leave this unfinished. It looks to me like it will take several months to bring this to completion.  They are only here for the day.  Are they going to sew all night?  .

Which of you are going to finish the backing and trim? 

None of us they in concert reply.

Really, who then? there was silence.  I hate when they just look at me and not say a word. Then they walk over towards me and they each hand the remaining pieces to me.

What? I disclaim. 

They want me to take on the responsibility of completing this? The answer is absolutely no. Surely they are joking.  Maybe they don’t know that I can’t sew.  I am honored and I definitely do not want to disappoint them, but there is no way I can do any justice to this project.  I will ruin it.  I must make them understand.

Why have you chosen me? I am not good at quilting Gram. My sisters can do a much better job than I. 

They all turn simultaneously and glare at me, with a look that makes me want to run for the hills.  I slowly look down at the floor and stare at the pile of material. Then I look at the pieces remaining.  This idea is ridiculous, absolutely out of the question. 

Why would you choose me?  I exclaim again.

Let Priscilla finish this task; you’re making a mistake.  I am leaving on Friday, heading to San Francisco.  I will not be here long enough to finish this. This is definitely not how I envisioned my afternoon with them to be.

Chapter 6

I never like the silence of a question not answered. Gram, I don’t understand the various patterns, colors and I have no idea how to begin.

Gram Eva looks at me with her beady eyes