Tearis

By Mary Ricks Phillips

In January of 2007, I retired from teaching in the District of Columbia Public Schools. At that time I had no idea what I was going to do with the rest of my life. My daughter-in-law, Kristen Bushnell Phillips, gave me a book on writing my life storythe book was what I was looking for. I eventually enrolled in a class in autobiographical writing at Prince Georges Community College. I learned a lot because not only was the teacher a serious writer, but there were also other people in the class who actually had careers in writing. I enjoyed sharing my stories with them. They encouraged me to continue with my writings. Here I am several years later with my finished product. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499065060

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Mary Ricks Phillips.

Library of Congress Control Number:         2014915444

ISBN:                 Hardcover                         978-1-4990-6507-7

Softcover                          978-1-4990-6508-4

eBook                              978-1-4990-6506-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 09/27/2014

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Contents

Preface

My First Memories

The Early Years

Growing Up

Alder Street

Mama

Daddy

My Teenage Years

Those College Days

Married Life

The Divorce

A Calling

Moving Forward

Lettie_V._Ricks_b%26w.jpg

For the many years of dedication and support, this book is in honor of my sister Lettie Victoria Ricks. For the love she had for me that shaped my life into who I am today, I honor her. She never let people define who she was. She was a fighter. She financed my education. Some of her last words to me were If I had the money, I would have sent you to Harvard University.

L ettie V. was the third child born to Mom and Dad. She probably came out of my mom’s womb yelling and screaming. From the time I first met her, this was the story of her life. She was such a strong-willed person. Hardly anyone could control her. My dad tried for many years. I remember the arguments that caused me to run up the street away from the house so that I could no longer hear the unsettling confrontations. She was the only one who got the raft of the strap that hung behind the kitchen door. In school, she created her share of trouble. It was always about someone who picked on her. Most people feared her. She was very strong and had a body that was mostly muscle. Lettie V. experienced a lot of pushback because of her attitude and her behavior. During my fifteenth high school reunion, our principal talked about the hard times they had controlling some students during his early tenure. He said that there was a girl who wanted to play football. He would not allow that because he thought it was ludicrous. I knew he was talking about my sister Lettie V.

She played hard and loved deeply. If she loved someone, she doted on them. I don’t know why she loved me so much. I was very thin and weak. During my childhood, I was always sick from either hay fever or asthma. My nose dripped consistently. I probably was so pitiful, she had no choice but to love and protect me. She went to work at an early age. Whenever she got paid, she would purchase something for me. I remember the Thermos lunch box she bought me that I was so proud of. One day, the bottle broke and I cried, but I did not get another one.

I loved to read, so she would buy me books. Reading was a way to escape the problems I faced in life. I hardly went outdoors because as my allergist once said, You are allergic to every tree on the planet. This was true. Also with every flower, I might add. When the fall of the year came, I would have an attack of asthma. The ragweed was my enemy that attacked me with a vengeance.

One other person she loved better than herself was our mom. Whatever my mom wanted, my sister tried to get it for her. Lettie worked in the furniture factory, making springs for mattresses. She was one of the best workers. This job involved producing with piecework. Piecework was when you got paid for all the pieces you could produce. This way you could earn a lot of money if you worked really fast. This was hard work. One day, she decided she wanted to go to business school. My mom allowed her to go to a business school in Nashville, Tennessee. She lived with a couple that encouraged her to go to the university. She left school and enrolled in Tennessee State University. She had finally found her place in life.

Although she did not personally know Wilma Rudolph, they were in attendance at Tennessee State University at the same time. She also majored in physical education. While at the university, she joined the Sigma Gamma Rho Sorority. She graduated in 1959. We traveled to Tennessee for the graduation. It was a life-changing experience for me because I had never traveled that far from home. We were all proud of the first college graduate in our immediate family.

She had earned a degree in health and physical education. That summer, she went back to work at her old job in the mattress factory. When she came home, her hands and arms were badly swollen. She never went back. One day, she was relaxing in the front yard, stretched out on a lawn bed. It was very hot. She wore a pair of tight short shorts and a skimpy top. A man drove up and parked in front of our house. I thought he was about to ask for directions. He said he was looking for Ms. Lettie Ricks. Before the man could finish his sentence, she had sprinted all the way around the house to the backyard in a split second. I had no idea why she did this. I said, This is the Ricks’s family house. He got out of the car and went to the front door. He told my mom he was looking for Lettie Ricks. The man was a principal from Darden High School in Wilson, North Carolina. He hired my sister within the hour.

She worked at Darden High School until the schools were integrated. They sent her to the previously all-white school. She worked there for many years until she retired.

Dear Joseph, Michael, and Angela,

Thank you for making me very proud of you and your accomplishments. It has not always been an easy journey. I love you dearly.

To my friends, family and mentors, thank you. Kristen, I could not have done it without you. Donnie Ree you inspired me. Jeannie, keep moving forward.

Thank you Karen Scrivo for encouraging me to move forward on this journey.

Preface

I n January of 2007, I retired from teaching in the District of Columbia Public Schools. At that time I had no idea what I was going to do with the rest of my life. My daughter-in-law, Kristen Bushnell Phillips, gave me a book on writing my life story—the book was what I was looking for. I eventually enrolled in a class in autobiographical writing at Prince George’s Community College. I learned a lot because not only was the teacher a serious writer, but there were also other people in the class who actually had careers in writing. I enjoyed sharing my stories with them. They encouraged me to continue with my writings. Here I am several years later with my finished product. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

My First Memories

O ne of my earliest memories was lying in a crib at a very early age. It was white with bars that were quite tall. A very slender, fair-complexioned man with curly black hair was standing over my crib, talking to me. He was smiling and asking me questions about how I was feeling and if I was okay. It was a joy talking to him. The conversation continued until I asked a question. He responded with an answer that didn’t quite make sense to me. I don’t remember what I asked him. Knowing me, I probably asked, Who the hell are you? The man then turned to my mom and started to laugh and talk to her. That’s when I realized he did not understand my language. I either stopped talking or just fell asleep. This mystery always confused me. Who was this man? I knew he was not my father.