Lessons From The Front Porch Swing

By Phyllis Parrish Alston

Selma, Alabama, native Lula "Mama" Sharpe possessed all the characteristics of a forceful Southern grandmother: undeniable charm, strong personality, ability to dish out unsolicited advice, unreserved love, remedies for ailments from broken arms to broken hearts, and a frank way of delivering the lessons she valued. Each day, weather permitting, Mama sat on her front porch swing while teaching, advising, and encouraging her two granddaughters and anyone else in the community she deemed in need of guidance. You too can learn life sustaining lessons from Mama as you read short vignettes about her life in this book aptly entitled, Lessons from the Front Porch Swing. The stories will delight you and the lessons can help you in all walks of life; at home, school, work, or play. Some of the lessons instruct you to: - Listen to Wise Counsel - Appreciate Bosom Buddies - Acknowledge Tough Stands Require Courage - Practice Self-Control - Make Life Special for Others - Never Tolerate Abuse of Any Kind - Avoid Dwelling in the Past Mama is not the only one to teach these lessons; her lessons are supported by quotes from the Bible and from famous historical figures. These lessons can benefit high school students, college students, and adults who want to improve the way they interact with their peers, parents, spouses, bosses, coworkers, and strangers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645155119

Book preview

cover.jpg

Lessons From The Front Porch Swing

Phyllis Parrish Alston

Copyright © 2019 by Phyllis Parrish Alston

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Do Unto Others as You Would Have Them Do Unto You

Please and Thank You Are Always in Order

Share the Things You Love

Make Life Special for Others

There Are Consequences for Behaviors

Thou Shall Not Steal (Leave Other Folks’ Stuff Alone)

Do Not Give People Things You Do Not Want

Listen to Wise Counsel

Keep a Joyful Heart

When People Speak Employ Wisdom

Love Your Family No Matter What

Appreciate Bosom Buddies

Don’t Just Stand There, Act

Tough Stands Require Great Courage

Sing, It Helps Every Mood

Defend Your Thoughts and Feelings

Practice Self-Control

Make New Friends (Perk)

Make New Friends (Mr. Jenkins)

Be Proud of Who You Are

Do Not Tolerate Abuse of Any Kind

Help Whenever You Can

Evil Exists. Face It. (Reverend Hughes)

Don’t Dwell in the Past

Tackle Challenges One Step at a Time

Take Care of Your Neighborhood

In All Thy Ways, Acknowledge God

Prologue

Growing Up in Selma, Alabama

Growing up in Selma, Alabama, during the 1950s and 1960s was, for me, the proverbial best and worst of times. Many people only know Selma for its Civil War or Civil Rights histories. There are icons and local historians in both camps who are more than willing to relay their narratives and their histories, though some are embellished beyond recognition by the actual events. I remember a Selma made up of black people who were courageous, trustworthy, hardworking, fun-loving, religious, and cultured. This Selma, in the midst of segregation and injustice, nurtured children and created environments that allowed people to be happy even as they fought for the right to vote and live free.

My narrative about growing up in Selma, Alabama, tells the story of a small town where the L&N ran through the middle of it, giving everyone the time of day as the wheels clamored and blocked traffic at the same time each day. My Selma story is about a segregated black community that mirrored the white community in many ways. Our high school, R. B. Hudson High, was one of the first schools in Alabama with an accredited library. Teachers were well-educated, many with master’s degrees and were committed to educating children not only with reading, writing, and arithmetic, but also with proper manners, cultural activities, and social opportunities. They encouraged students to go to college, trade school, or the military and helped with the processes. This Selma had churches housed in magnificent structures built by blacks just out of slavery. I often wondered how they got the money and marveled over their success in the midst of demoralizing segregation and horrific injustices. This 1950s and 1960s Selma had black-owned businesses: grocery stores, dry cleaners, restaurants, a credit union, and barber or beauty shops. Of course there where many funeral homes. Other black-owned businesses included flower shops, two motels, and an amusement park with a swimming pool and picnic areas.

Sororities and fraternities, social and savings clubs, masonic organizations, garden clubs, and churches provided much needed emotional and financial support for those in the community who could not manage on their own. Nearly every community had an old mother of the neighborhood who saw to it that the needs of the people in their neighborhood were met. She chastised those who were out of order and encouraged and praised those who made the least bit of positive contributions to the community or to their own personal successes. As insulated as we were due to the segregation, we also interfaced with the larger white community. Many black women worked in their homes, tended their children, cooked their meals, cleaned their houses, and listened to their sad and happy stories. Black men worked their fields, labored in their businesses, cleaned their office buildings, chauffeured their cars, maintained their lawns, and worked in their factories. Young black boys were their caddies at the local all-white country club and washed their cars to earn extra money for school and to help their families. The black community always seemed to know just what was going on in the white community because the maids and other workers always knew what Mr. and Mrs. White Person were doing—the good, the bad, and the ugly.

During this time of segregation, as much as black people felt safe in our communities, there were times of fear when we felt the intimidation of the hateful, violent Ku Klux Klan (KKK). Occasionally, the KKK rode through our communities brandishing their guns and blowing the horns on their cars and old beaten-up trucks. The cowards always wore hoods over their heads and white robes, which sometimes had a red cross. In spite of the odd outfits designed to instill fear, many white people were often known by black people who worked for them or who just knew them from their interactions. A certain set of the shoulders, tilt of the head, height, weight, walking stride, nod of the head, and other mannerisms made the Ku Kluxers recognizable even with their faces covered. The vehicles they drove that had been washed by a teenage black kid readily made the KKK members visible while they hid under robes. Everyone, black and white, showed up for work the day after a KKK ride through as though nothing happened the night before.

Late at night, always after dark, I would sit on the front porch with my maternal grandmother and watch the Ku Kluxers ride through our streets. It would be pitch black, darker than dark, because the men in the community would shoot the streetlights out so that the neighborhood would be in total darkness and the KKK members could not see any of us as we watched their hatred ride by like an Easter parade. How did we know when and where they would ride? Remember, black folks worked for the whites and many of the employers were businessmen by day and KKK under sheets at night. Black people were invisible to their employers. They heard most of their plans and all about their lives. When the black community found out that the KKK would come out, they also got busy preparing the community so that we would be safe. My grandmother would talk about their evil ways and how God would deal with them in due time. I wondered, When is due time?

Watching the KKK was not the only time I would sit on the front porch swing with my grandmother. Weather permitting, we would sit there nearly every day. She told me wonderful stories about her life and the lives of various relatives and people she grew up with. She was never afraid of anyone and stood up for what she believed. The stories she told and the life she lived are now so much a part of me that I sometimes think she lives in every fiber of my body. I can now appreciate her stories for the wit, wisdom, and love they portrayed. Today I appreciate her old-fashioned ways and find her teachings comforting and heartening. Mama’s stories and the life she led established order and decorum.

As I look at behaviors in 2017, I wish every single person I know and their children and grandchildren could have sat on a swing with my grandmother or someone like her. The life lessons learned in Mama’s swing helped me grow up self-confident in a racist, biased, and segregated world. The lessons from the swing have sustained me and helped me navigate in the workplace, in social settings and in political milieus. The lessons from the swing helped me transcend the two strikes placed on me at birth—being female and black. The stories I tell explain in some measure how my sister and I have managed to live successful lives in the midst of humiliating, degrading, and hate-filled segregation, KKK hatred, racism (both overt and covert), sexism, and the struggles that have come just by being a female citizen in the United States of America. My grandmother’s stories and her life prepared me for successful interactions with all people and for building positive relationships with people of any race, creed or belief, gender, or sexual