I've Got Something to Say: A Memoir

By Dondretta D Strong

The book is a journey of forgiveness and redemption that let you see the dysfunction that come from the life of a small town girl. She desires to live outside the boundaries of her undefined purpose. Within this she is in search of a place for self-identity. This is book one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dondretta Strong
• Release date: Dec 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781532364327

Book preview

Contents

Revision 1.1. I've Got Something to Say 6x9.

ENDORSEMENTS

Dondretta Strong writes captivating vignettes of family joys and struggles, cohesion and dysfunction, blatant discrimination and pain.  Her stories are from the perspective of herself as a young, often neglected and wrongly accused, innocent African American child growing up in rural Alabama and then transitioning to life in Urban Chicago.  Indeed, Dondretta has something to say to everyone about resilience and perseverance. 

Annette Barker, Educator

I've Got Something to Say is a heartfelt and transparent account of the life of Dondretta Strong. Strong is an apt name for this woman who shares a full and transparent view of her life's journey. From the growing pains of youth to the blossoming of godly wisdom and grace, Strong takes the reader on a journey that reaches soaring heights and navigates the deepest, darkest lows. All the while, the hand of God is clearly at work throughout, weaving the beautiful tapestry of Strong's life with others along her journey. I've Got Something to Say is a great look at what God can do with a life that is surrendered to Him.

Eboné Bell, Chicago-based writer and editor

This coming-of-age story of a young Alabama girl's migration to Chicago is everybody's story! Every person can identify with the pressures associated with navigating friendships, peer pressure, familial relationships and being misunderstood. Dondretta Strong’s story invokes the nostalgia of growing-up in an ironic world where no one fits; yet, everyone belongs. Whether by poor personal choices or circumstances beyond our control, people of all ages and backgrounds can relate to Dondretta Strong’s need for identity and community.

SyLinda Musaindapo, M.S. Ed, ABD

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Like some of you, it took several people to help bypass the hurdles you did not see coming. This book is a testament of the early years. The calamity that came with my upbringing was difficult. I didn’t know what life was until I realized it consisted of a mixture of heritage, culture, and DNA.

Creating knowledge for everyone to follow in an earthly content that involves the imperfection of the human being sharing compiled opinion from personal intellect and professional strategy. We are all on voyages seeking the right breeze to solicit our thinking; we let down our anchor only to pull it up again in a few short years. Some learning is pointed and specific to what is needed to know and other is very complex. We drive for a while and retreat to the passenger seat to get our thoughts flowing again. Sometimes amid, other times flawless before we are asked to redefine. A plurality of methods requires the recasting of a wider net.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 The Genesis

Chapter 2 A Different World

Chapter 3 Hello CHI-TOWN

Chapter 4 End of the Rope

Chapter 5 Crossing the Bridge

Chapter 6 I’m Legal

Chapter 7 The Opinion of Two

Chapter 8 Professional

Chapter 9 The Change

DEDICATION

I lovingly dedicate this book to the memory of my late stepfather and mother Walter and Minnie Gooley, and Sister Ada Price. My mother who rose to the occasion through some of the most devastating times of life, my stepfather who encouraged me to press pass obstacles and Ada, who always stands firm to exemplify determination.

I also dedicate this book to my husband, Sinatra.

C H A P T E R O N E

T H E G E N E S I S

It all started July 2, 1965. This is when God saw the need to create a unique being by the name of Dondretta DeGraffenreid in the small town of Aliceville, 30 miles southeast of Tuscaloosa, Alabama. This is where you would find the heirs of the late Aaron Harris and Roberta Ball. A town that populated near 3,000. All of my memories are surrounded by childhood episodes that stem anywhere from chores on the farm to wrestling matches with cousins. When I think of the many days of hot summers and mild winter months, I see a clear picture of what my life was like then. This is where my story begins.

Every morning during school days, I would wake up to the aroma of Momma’s cooking. Grits, sausage, bacon, homemade cheese biscuits, fat back… I couldn’t wait

to roll out of bed and step on the cold wooden floor to satisfy my growling stomach. The room would sometimes be dim, cool, and poorly lit before the sunshine appeared through the window. This never stopped me on my mission to a delicious meal Momma prepared. My youngest sister, Cicely, was always slow to move from the comfort of her covers. No matter what the meal nor the call, she would be the last to arrive. My niece Belle would come reluctantly. The three of us would sit and eat as Momma looked from a distance as we enjoyed all the way down to the last stroke of molasses. Then there came Momma’s voice, Y’all better get up from that table before you miss the bus. C’mon now! Get yo’self-dressed!

With no indoor plumbing, we fought for the wash pan. My niece, Belle, always won because she was the oldest, and then there was me, finally, Cicely. Our teeth were always white as snow, but baking soda left the mouth dry and tasteless. Well, I would also add it left you thirsty—Oh, but it did the job well. We could hear the bus before it arrived at our door. We also could hear our cousin a half a block down the dirt road yelling, Here comes the bus! The bus stopped at his house first, so this was the warning that we should make our way out the door. The three of us would charge out, slamming the screen door behind and Momma yelling back, Didn’t I tell y’all not to slam that door? Imma whip y’all butts!

Out the front door, down the dusty pathway to the bus stop, this is where we’d meet our serious cousin, the bus driver. She’d fling open the door and bark, Hurry up! Get on the bus! Before we could make our way to a seat, she would hit the gas pedal and of course we’d all go at an angle to the back of the bus and later come back to the mid-section for a seat. Every morning and afternoon, you could always find noise on the Harris Quarter bus. The noise never prevented me from daydreaming about Friday and Saturday evening. This is when I looked forward to Momma and cousin Bueller as they found their way to their favorite rocking chairs on the front porch. Cuffed in the center of their apron they had tubs of corn to be shucked. The sun would be just starting to set. My cousin and I were done with chores so we would meet up in the front yard with our mason jars lined half way with grass for the grass hoppers and fireflies we would plan to catch while Momma and cousin Essie Mae would eagerly work to get to the weekend. The next day would be Saturday, which meant a fish fry in the backyard. Momma would convince our adult cousins to head to the creek with fishing poles and rods to catch the biggest of the catfish. Hurry! she would say, I know they biting. We had a fresh rain come through late last night.

About 4pm Momma and Betty Ann, my oldest sister, has the grease heating on kitchen stove and backyard burner while one of the cousins from across the road plugs in the extension cord from the socket connected to the ceiling bulb. In the front room my niece Belle is setting up the hi-fi for Johnnie Taylor, Disco Lady, Al Green , Love and Happiness, Bobby Womack, If You Think You’re Lonely Now, BB King, Thrill is Gone, The Floaters, Float On, The Staple Singers, Let’s Do It Again, The Chi-lites, Have You Seen Her… I would be remiss