I Want My Darn Skates: Second Edition

By Samantha Lewis

"I Want My Darn Skates," tells about the life of Samantha Lewis from about the age of 9 years old throughout her life. God directs her to go back to that point in her life when she began her relationship with Jesus and was introduced to the Word of God. It was also at that point in her life when she really wanted a pair of skates that

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: May 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781648959219

Samantha Lewis

Samantha Lewis is from a poor family from Birmingham, Alabama. She went to Lewis Elementary School and Phillips High School. She did very well in school but dropped out of High School after the Eleventh Grade because she married and became pregnant. She got her GED and entered the Air Force in 1978. After completing 6½ years in the Air Force, Samantha entered a commissioning program at Samford University in Alabama. In July 1983, Samantha is divorced. In June 1987, she completed her Bachelor of Science Degree in Computer Science from The University of Alabama in Birmingham. She was next Commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the United States Air Force. After re-entering the Air Force, Samantha completed Technical Training School at Keesler AFB, Mississippi and was reassigned to Langley AFB, in Virginia. It was there, that she remarried, and during the next two years, she completed her Master's Degree in Management.

Book preview

Foreword

My relationship with Samantha Lewis began with a fast-paced five-mile walk around the community park while I was on summer break. Six months later, I find out that she is a writer and she has written a book that gives a contemporary flare to the subjects of broken family ties and growing up with sibling rivalry. Another six months go by, and I am writing a foreword to a true story that not many people are willing to share with one person, so sharing with a large audience would be completely out of the question. But Samantha’s transparency in telling a story of hope and perseverance shows why she does not allow her family struggles, crippling disappointments, or growing fears to discourage her from telling the story that ultimately sets her free from the captivity of her past.

Some time ago, one of my students asked, What makes a novel a classic? I responded to the student with what some might call an educator’s answer. However, the making of a classic novel begins and ends with a plot that engages, entertains, envelopes, and excites the readers in one generation to the readers in many generations to come. While Samantha’s plot may not be uncommon, the creative and fresh presentation allows the reader to find their own story brought to life by someone else’s pen.

Samantha has the mind of a ready writer. She takes a risk in her novel, I Want My Darn Skates, by giving the reader a fresh and unclouded view into growing up in the south in a poor and dysfunctional family whose life-shattering secrets sever all of their family ties. Growing up in the south in the sixties was hard enough, but crime, drugs, and sibling rivalry sent Lewis down a one-way street into a dark place where she finds herself lost and disconnected from reality. It is not until Samantha is broken emotionally, mentally, and physically that she realizes an earlier encounter with God, who she has forgotten, is the key to the skates that helps her escape the grip of fear, disappointment, and death.

Samantha explores several themes as she develops what is sure to be a novel that will transcend time and cause readers to reflect on the secrets of their own lives and question the importance and solidity of family and life.

—Angela Gant

Jesus Is Lord

So often I have wanted to express,

Just what knowing you has meant to me.

But somehow, words, as powerful as they are,

Just can’t express it completely.

It’s all so phenomenal how You came in and took complete control.

How You exchanged and rearranged and delivered my lost soul.

How You changed my mind, You changed my ways, You gave me a new heart.

And out of all the places You brought me through, You’re the same now as at the start.

You never lied to me.

You never misled me.

You never let me down.

And whenever I needed to talk to You,

You were so easy to be found.

You never dealt with me according to my sin.

But you dealt out of the abundance of your love.

Of course, every now and then when I was slothful,

You didn’t hesitate to give me a shove.

You’ve been closer to me than a friend,

And better to me than a brother,

You’ve provided for me like a father,

And wiped away my tears like a mother.

I don’t know exactly how you do it,

But of this one thing I am sure,

Though heaven and earth should pass away,

The grace of God shall endure.

You’ve made my giants as midgets,

And my enemies you’ve made to be at peace with me,

My idols you’ve destroyed,

For none could compete with thee.

You’ve made my crooked places straight.

You’ve opened my eyes, and I can see.

You’ve bound my strong man, spoiled his goods,

And you’ve given all he’d taken back to me.

So, Father, I say thank you,

For all you’ve done for me.

And before man, I’ll proclaim, Jesus is Lord

As long as there is breath in me.

In the

Beginning

I remember being awake one morning, feeling particularly alone. I had already gotten my husband and the children off for work and school. I was the only one home, and just like the house, my heart was empty. I wanted to go outside, but at the same time, I didn’t know if I wanted to be outside, if that makes any sense. I was crazy. None of my thoughts were clear, and they didn’t make sense. I finally made it outside, and just when I did, I fell on the porch. Bam!

When I came to, I didn’t know how long I had been out. I was sprawled out on the porch feeling groggy. My eyes were focused on the grass below. I was scared that I might fall again. I didn’t care that I had lost my composure. At that point, it meant nothing to me.

I cried out to God. Who else could I turn to? I told God about all that had gone on. I told him about my miserable family and about my horrible marriage. I told him about Rufus, Josh, and Barbara. I told him about how I let Mom fall and injure herself. I could feel the tears running down my face as I continued to cry. I told God about my seizures and losing my job. I told him about all my car accidents and about how my automobile insurance had been taken away. I told him about my driver’s license being revoked. I told God about everything that had gone on and how unfair I thought it was. I told God about everything and everyone who had hurt me. I told him the cause of my pain. I kept crying out, Help me. It was all that I could say, just, Please help me.

I was so sad that the tears wouldn’t stop. I could hear the telephone ringing inside the house, but I couldn’t stop pleading and crying. No one could help me besides Jesus—no one. That was all I could think: No one else can help me.

As I continued to tell Jesus what had happened, I could hear him speak to me.

Yes, he agreed, things are pretty bad. I knew that I could hear him speaking to me, and I realized that it was Jesus speaking to me. It was God!

Oh, I thought to myself, it really was God. Then I felt some relief. With all the sadness that I had been feeling, there was suddenly a moment of happiness. I wanted to hear him say something else to me.

Then I could hear him say, It would make a great story. At first, I had no idea what he was talking about. What would make a great story? I thought to myself. I was clueless. But then…Oh my, I thought. He was right. I knew exactly what God was talking to me about. He was speaking about all that I had gone through, everything that I was talking to him about. He said that it would make a great story. Oh my goodness was all I could say. He was right, but of course, Jesus is always right! My life would make a great story. Right away, my mind began to see all the possibilities. My heart was beating faster, but at the same time, it was calm. My mind rushed about in excitement, and I could feel hope.

I was so happy. I felt so grateful. Then the weather outside felt calm, as the sun was warm and soft on my face. But aren’t I too small for God to speak to me? I thought. Did I mean something to God? Was I important to him?

Then I could hear God say to me, If you write the story, I will bless it. I could not believe what I heard, but God’s words were implanted in my head.

You can do it, I told myself, so here is my story…

My mother was Evelyn Nixon Lewis. Before she ever married, she had her first child, a son by the name of Terrance Dunbar. Her first marriage was to Navy Nixon, by whom she bore Robert Nixon, Barbara Nixon, and Jonathon Thomas Nixon. After Navy Nixon’s death, my mother married my father, Nathaniel Lewis. Seven children were born to this union. My mother had eleven children total: Malcolm, Robert, Barbara, Jonathon, Cindi, Darlene, Valerie, Sarah, Samantha, Rufus, and Josh. And this is the story of our lives.

As a ten-year-old little girl, I remember all of us living in the heir property at 2209 Twenty-Fifth Avenue North in Birmingham, Alabama—all of us, that is, with the exception of Cindi, who had already married at the age of fifteen. My mother’s sister, Annie Lee, and her family also lived in the house until they got residence in public housing in Avondale. There were so many of us crammed into that house that I believe God called me out, and I began going to Twenty-Fifth Avenue Baptist Church just down the street. I joined the church and the children’s choir, and my life with God began. My father sang in a gentlemen’s quartette, and they would practice sometimes at the house. They were pretty good, too, I thought.

Oftentimes, my mom and dad would argue and fight. My father would hit my mom, and that would leave us children feeling bad. The last time he attempted to hit her, Robert stepped between them, and he told my dad that if he hit my mom again, he would kill him. My dad never hit my mom again. I was glad that Robert had interceded. It was not right that my dad would hit mom on so many occasions and without cause. My dad moved out after that, and they lived separately. Mom would let Rufus and Josh go around to his house, but she would never let me go around there.

As time passed, Malcolm was drafted into the Vietnam War. Robert enlisted because he did not want Jonathan to be drafted. Unfortunately, Jonathon was drafted anyway. Mom probably could have done something to prevent Jonathon from going to Vietnam, but I believe she just thought it was work. Jonathon was an artist and hadn’t been working. He could draw, and he wrote poetry. He was good friends with Cindi’s husband, Alton Thick. As a matter of fact, Jonathan was how Cindi was introduced to Alton. Jonathan had been hanging out at Cindi and Alton’s place.

Back at home, my relationship with God was growing. I memorized Psalm 23, Psalm 100, and the Lord’s Prayer:

Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.

I learned each of these as a young child, and they have been with me all my life.

At Christmastime when I was a little girl, as poor as we were, the smell of cakes and pies hung in the air. One of the things that I remember most was my anticipation of getting the pair of skates that I wanted so much. Oh, I really wanted a pair of skates for Christmas. I was about eight or nine years old, so it must have been around 1968 or so. Oh, what a joyous time it was for a poor little child like me. I knew all the children would be outside skating up and down the streets. They would weave in and out and up and down the concrete. They would crisscross and zigzag as they gave each other high fives. Some of the children would be on their bikes, but I thought the children on their skates had the most fun. Some of the children would bend all the way down and touch the ground on their skates, and the really talented children could even skate backward. Oh my goodness, that was such a gas. I felt there was nothing the children couldn’t do on their skates. Oh boy, I couldn’t wait for Christmas and that pair of skates.

But that Christmas, just like the Christmas before, all I got was an ugly old stinky doll! My younger brothers, Rufus and Josh, both got skates. They and their buddies would race each other, and whoever won would be called it. Oh, and it was the main man. Everyone wanted to be it. I knew if I had that pair of skates, I would win and get to be it. I was the oldest and fastest, and I worked the hardest. There was no doubt in my mind: I would be it. However, just as before, I got no skates. Rufus would let me borrow his skates, but only after all the fun was over, after most of the children were inside. Who wanted to skate alone? Who would I crisscross and zigzag with? Who would I race? Who would be astounded by me and envy me? I was really disappointed because of that.

My sister Valerie told me how she begged Momma for a pair of skates. She said that she begged and begged until Momma finally gave in and bought her that pair of skates. She told me how she taught herself to skate. She said that she started out on one skate, and after she got that down, she moved on to both skates. I thought that might have been a neat way for her to learn to skate, but I didn’t need to do that. I was a natural! All I needed was that pair of skates and I would be skating. The skates were all that I needed.

Well, I made up my mind right then and there, that I would clean the house and dust the furniture and just do anything to help out around the house. I would help my mom in the kitchen and do whatever it took to get me the pair of skates that I wanted so badly. Each and every day, I would help with the cleaning and folding of clothes. I would help my older sisters, Barbara and Darlene, with anything and everything so that I could get that pair of skates that I wanted. I would do anything to secure those skates for myself. So for the entire year, without missing a single day, I would help out so that I could have my request. And still, when the next Christmas came around, just as before, I got no skates, just an ugly old stinky doll. I remember even now how humiliated I felt. Why couldn’t I get that pair of skates that I wanted! I had done everything I was supposed to, everything that I could have done. No one could have asked any more of me than I had done. It wasn’t fair, and nobody cared. Absolutely nobody cared.

Anyway, it wasn’t long before Jonathon was killed in Vietnam. Malcolm had been discharged from the military at that point. The military car pulled up outside, and the man went to the door asking to speak to Mom. He went inside, and within minutes, Mom was screaming. I knew what that meant. I didn’t know who, but I knew someone was hurt or dead. Once he came out, I ran inside. Barbara was in there trying to calm Momma down, but there was no reasoning with her. The military gentleman had told Momma that Jonathon had been killed, and this was the first time our family had been touched by death.

I didn’t know where Darlene was. Sarah got on the telephone and called Cindi to tell her. Barbara and Mom were frantic, simply frantic. I had never seen them that way before. The next day, the gentleman came back and took Mom and Barbara to Pool’s Funeral Home where they picked out a casket for Jonathon. The gentleman told Momma that there was a white military officer who wanted to eulogize Jonathon, if that would be all right, and Mom said it would be fine. It was two weeks before Jonathon’s body arrived back home.

No one was able to find Malcolm anywhere, so he missed the funeral. The casket had a glass cover so you could see Jonathon’s body completely. He was still so handsome. Momma had to try seven times to see him before she could do so without fainting—seven times. The military buried him, and Mom got a $100,000 life insurance policy. We were able to move into a better house in a better part of town.

We moved to #27 Norwood Circle, Birmingham, Alabama. It must have been in 1972 or so. The house was a much nicer home. It had two levels with two bathrooms. There were four bedrooms on the main floor along with a living room and dining room. There was a large kitchen with a large deck. There was also a humongous downstairs. It was a beautiful home.

The new school where we attended was also very nice. It was Norwood Elementary School. This was the first time I attended a speech-arts class, and I needed one, too. I talked too fast, and I found out that it caused me to stutter. My teacher was Ms. Croster, and she told me to slow down. She got me into reading poetry, which slowed me down significantly. In time, I saw that my stuttering diminished. I felt like a new person, and I had discovered reading and writing poetry.

I met my first boyfriend there, too. His name was John Streeter, but everyone called him Hot Rod. His father was a DJ, so he was very well known. Hot Rod was named after his father, John Streeter Jr., so he was rather popular. It was kind of nice being affiliated with someone so popular.

I got into playing softball on a girl’s slow-pitch softball team. There was also a men’s baseball team there. Both teams were very competitive. Both my younger brothers were coming along behind me, following along in my footsteps by participating in school events and playing sports. I participated in school events and played softball, and I was good at them both.

Back at home, Sarah had gotten pregnant—number one. This was Mom’s first grandchild by Sarah. Cindi had children, but this was Mom’s first illegitimate child. Sarah was in no position to take care of a baby, so Mom took custody of the baby, which meant that he fell on me. I wasn’t too happy about that either, but Mom didn’t care about how anybody felt. You did what you were told, and you didn’t ask any questions about anything; that was that. Actually, once he got home, I kind of liked that little joker. His name was Chad. He was a smooth, caramel-colored, and he was pretty easy to get along with. Mom got him into day care, and the remainder of the time, we had to watch him.

Mom had gotten Sarah into an apartment to keep her influence away from me, but within a few months, Sarah was pregnant again—number two. At least this time we knew who the father was. It was one of the neighbors from the old neighborhood. We called him Doug. I don’t know how much he came around while Sarah was carrying the baby, but nothing ever came of the relationship. Sarah named that second child Keith, and he fell on Mom just like Chad did, which meant that he also fell on me. Sarah didn’t take care of either of them.

By this time, I had reached high school, which was an awesome time of life for me. I began taking band and learning to play the clarinet, which I loved. Mr. McAfee was my band director. He taught us how to play the various instruments and taught us how to perform in the marching band. The first year I learned how to play, and after that, I could perform.

I met Derrick McConnico during my freshman year. Derrick was also in the band; he played the baritone saxophone. Derrick and I had gotten to be dance partners. He was really a good dancer—I mean, he was a creator of dance steps. I could learn dance steps, but Derrick created dance steps. He danced in a group called Black Fire; they were African dancers. They traveled all over Alabama, dancing and performing their African dance steps.

Fortunately, we no longer got grades for conduct in high school, which meant I had it made. I made As in everything else, so I was an honor student from there on out. My grades were so good that I was taken from Phillips High School for one six-week term during my sophomore year and for two six-week terms during my junior year to go to Ramsey High School for the excellence program. That program was for students who excelled in their home schools; they went there and worked on various in-depth projects.

Derrick and I were not just dance partners, we were a dance consulting team. We made up the dance steps for the marching band. Plus, Derrick and I competed in a dance contest where, if you won, they would fly you out to California to be on Soul Train. Derrick and I won that twice. The first year we won, my mom flew out there with us. It was an awesome experience.

After my