Sensations of the Mind: Volume 2

By Thomassine Ringo Keels

I see mothers love of poetry, so she and her sister, Anna Bell, are called upon to do recitations. Me? I could never stop writing poetry. For no reason at all, Id write, toss it aside, and write more, feeling like I just had to get it out of my system as young as I can remember. My thanks to Mr. Everly, whose memorable poetic performances will be with me for an eternity. I can still see him moving across the small church stage, turning to the side, uttering a few lines, turning again to face his audience before uttering his last stanza, and taking his final bow to a standing applause. I loved it! To my parents, in deep appreciation, especially mother, you were always there for us. I thank you!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781496964472

Thomassine Ringo Keels

Born in Long Beach California, Thomassine is the second of the three children born to the late Thomas and Dorothy Ringo. She is the widow of Carl J. Keels and the mother of one child Ramona Keels Rowe. Thomassine, Tommie as she is affectionately called, was raised in Pleasantville, New Jersey, and educated in the Pleasantville school system and attended the New Jersey College of commerce. Having lived in various places in the United States being a military wife, they settled in Fairfield California for almost thirty years. There she was employed by Commerce Clearing House for many years, being the only one of four African American graphic designers in the country at the time. She later opened her own successful graphic design business, Delta Graphics, before returning and moving to Summerville, South Carolina. In her writings, Tommie has turned events, situations, and experiences into short stories and poems that many can relate to. She has written and self-published much of her work. A series of books under the title of Sensations of the Mind, another book called Visions in Verse, and a short story entitled Big Mable. Tommie loves the Lord and has accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as her personal savior. She enjoys Bible study, group reading, and discussion about the Word of God. She enjoyed talking to people, writing about people, and giving to people. Black history was another joy of hers, as well as researching her ancestry and making family tree.

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© 2015 Thomassine Ringo Keels. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/22/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4969-6448-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-6447-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015900628

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.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Introduction

Section One

THE DEACON AND LULA MAE

The Shack

The Deacon’s Arrival

The Sneak’n Deacon

Ushering

Rummage Sale

The Seafood Buffet

Getting Slick

Fund Raising

The Picnic

Judgmental

The Funeral

Down The Lane

A Higher Place

Section Two

GOD INSPIRED

In The House Of God

Honor And Appreciation

Beasties

Cancer

Do They Sleep?

Going Home

Still Around

Early Arrival

What Color

Crossing Over

Walking Alone

Calling Out

The Cup

Catch Of The Day

A Name

His Name

Wasting Time

Not Ready

Applaud, Applaud, Applaud

God Stopped By Today

Past Present Future

Section Three

PLACES AND THINGS

City Corner

Under The Big Top

The Big Green

The Patch-Worked Quilt

Beneath Our Feet

A Doll Named Sue

The Best Shot

My Favorite

Brain Stuff

How Come?

Fusion

Fresh Air

Neon

Only One Like It

Summer

Down There

Ever Changing

Broccoli

A Yellowstone Autumn

I Do

Beneath The Shade

The Web

Oops

Existence

Some Time Ago

Riding High

Redemption

The Sea

Overdue

The Outhouse

The Designer

Sensations Of The Mind

Cake

Green Stuff

Zits

That First New Car

Uninterrupted

Primal Beauty

The One That Got Away

The Vessel

The Dew-Drop Inn

The Cat

Fool

Inside Your Head

The Critic

The Best Revenge

To The Rescue

City Corner

Homeless

Dis N’ Dat

Center Stage

Hunters

Black Beetle

How Come

Con Men

Lawn Chairs And Lemonade

Curlie

Quick Visit

The Value Of Life

It’s Proof

All Over Again

My Place

Camping Out

Nurturing

Problem

Long Before

Holes

Vows

The Jumper

Suddenly Still

Players

They Won’t

Life’s Regressions

Its A Tie

Time

Dedic

ated

with love

to my niece,

Grace Speights,

sister-in-law and

dear friend, Ellen Venturs,

sister, Anna Bell Stevens,

and loving daughter,

Ramona Margaret Keels Rowe

Thanks for your loving support!

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Introduction

As the middle child of three girls, we grew up in a loving protective atmosphere in the home of the famous black poet, COUNTEÉ CULLEN. It was a quiet, get-a-way type of residence for the famous poet. Upon his death, his estate and holdings were auctioned to pay for his medical bills after a long illness.

It was in June of 1944, that my father, Thomas Ringo (then affectionately known to many as Chief, (mainly because he was one of the first black Chief Petty Officers in the Navy) purchased the Cullens Estate at the auction. Father dreaded the thought of us girls growing up in the city (Philadelphia), and thus settled the family down in this small affluent area, starting us off in private school after finding many of the public schools were segregated, and we had never been exposed to that.

The area was then known as the Douglas Park Area of Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey. This area was originally designed for upper classed professional blacks. The streets were renamed after black colleges and famous black people. There was, and still is a Howard Street, a Lincoln Avenue, a DuBois Avenue, a Wilberforce Avenue, a Langford Street, and a Brown Street.

This section was named Douglas Park after Frederick Douglas. Among the many plans for Douglas Park was a golf course and country club. However, the KKK, along with other factors such as a disagreement between the realtor and a lawyer, caused the project to go undeveloped. However, Douglas Park residents entertained top names of the day in their estate homes while venturing into Atlantic City for entertainment. Joe Lewis, whenever he came to Pleasantville, New Jersey, to train at the local Naomi Byrds Gym, was entertained at lavish parties in Douglas Park where he stayed.

Countee’s home, a white asbestos shingled colonial type with a formal living room with a fireplace, a drawing room with fireplace, separated with french doors, a library, a formal dinning room with bay windows, a kitchen with full pantry, a summer kitchen, a sun room, and a porch walled with french windows that wrapped from one side of the house to the other. This was just the first floor. Beautiful Czechoslovakian crystal chandeliers lit both living and dinning rooms. When the windows were opened, you could hear the crystal sing with the breeze. In fact, the fixtures hung so low, it became an annoyance to Dad, and when one of the ornate crystal bells broke and he tried to get it fixed, he was told, the only place he could get a replacement was Europe! Well, he was so incensed, he had all of them removed and modern fixtures installed. Such a value today!

Soon after we had moved in, we all remember Daddy clearing out the library, complaining about all the papers, and writings and stuff, which he thought to be junk. He stacked it all in boxes and took it out into the back yard and promptly burned it all. It wasn’t until years later he discovered he has burned many of Countee Cullens manuscripts.

Years later he said he had no idea the man was famous and all the old fixtures and furniture he discarded had any value. He was under the impression, things were to be modern and up to date. At the back of the house on a couple acres, grew a fruit orchard that was leveled in our first year of residence by a fierce hurricane that simply ripped the trees from the ground as if they were twigs of grass. Mother took us into the cellar. When we emerged, we were shocked to see the only tree remaining in the entire back yard was a tall, black walnut tree that stood nearby our kitchen window. Outside, in front of the house, stood three large maple trees, the center tree was a red leafed maple that had a glorious red color certain times of the year, it seemed to be on fire! Hedges sculpt like waves bordered one side of the lawn.

Father became a Deacon at Mt. Pleasant Baptist Church in Pleasantville, New Jersey. Mom was active in different church activities, auxiliaries and such, but her favorite was the choir. When the ladies of the church had teas on Sundays, my mother, Dorothy Elliott Ringo (who was always a great lover of poetry, music children and dolls) would take us to hear an old gentleman named Mr. Everly, who would recite poetry from memory, acting it out, moving back and forth across the stage like an old vaudevillian. I was always spellbound by his performance. Although I was a fidgety tom-boy type, always into some mischief, like teasing my baby sister, when old Mr. Everly rose and began to speak, I sat motionless, mesmerized, until he was finished, always secretly wishing he would go on forever. Then there was mother, who, with a seemingly endless collection of poetry and books, would read to us until we tired or became too fidgety. There was also Grandfather Herman Elliott in Germantown, Pennsylvania.

We would sit and listen to the stories he wove on warm summer nights while sitting beneath the stars on the Crawford Estate. We’d sit watching the night birds of prey and listen to the concert music emanating from the exclusive Senior Retirement Estate that bordered the Crawford Estate. Looking to the sky, he’d show us the Bear, the Dippers, and other constellations in the heavens as we would fuss over who was going to be next to get the grand prize of the gold ring off his cigar. It was difficult for us to concentrate once we saw him reach for that cigar. After he awarded one of us that ring, he’d blow a few smoke rings and we’d go back to concentrating on what he was saying. Watching the stars and listening, we would sometimes fall fast asleep. Grandad was a Chauffeur for the Crawford family, a real life Driving Miss Daisy situation.

How lucky we were and we didn’t know it. We thought everyone lived like that. As I grew older and became acquainted with many other people of diversified walks of life, from so many places in this fair land, I realized, thank God, my sisters and I had reasons to be thankful. We did not suffer the pain and anguish so many were going through, and father made it through the war and retired. We had the value and pleasure to just grow up in a rather normal, happy fashion. I’ve often wondered if the spirit of Countee Cullen lives in our family. I see mothers love of poetry, she and my other two sisters are often called upon to do recitations. Me, I could never stop writing poetry. From a young age, for no reason at all, I’d write, toss it aside, and write more, feeling I just had to get it out of my system. My thanks to Mr. Everly who’s memorable poetic performances will be with me for an eternity. I an still see him, moving across the small church stage, turning to the side, tossing his head in the air, uttering a few lines, turning again to face his audience before uttering his last