Jean has always believed that memory has a mischievous streak — especially the kind triggered by music. One moment she’s driving to the grocery store, minding her own business, and the next she’s dropped straight into a full moon‑drenched scene from the 1960s involving rum, steel drums, and a kiss that would age into something far more complicated than it felt at the time. What follows is her attempt to braid that long‑ago moment with the world she lives in now, and the distance between the two...AI
Music has a unique way of hooking us up with memories buried deep in years past. When a song manages to bring a vivid memory alive, you can’t help but marvel at our brain’s computer‑like ability to retrieve data our conscious self had long forgotten. That’s what happened to me on the way to the grocery store when Riley Green’s voice came over the country station singing, “...I know I can’t stand or sit, but if I was hammered, could I dance like this?...I ain’t as think as you drunk I am.”
I can count the number of times I’ve been truly drunk on the fingers of one hand. And all those times were in the last century — the 1960s, to be precise. There are different kinds of drunks, and I was a happy drunk, the kind who wanted to be on the move, dancing and singing. One particular time I was on vacation with another twenty‑something girl down in the Bahamas.
If you’ve been to the Bahamas, you might remember, as I do, the buttery‑smooth rum and the steel drums those notes rang like laughter as they tumbled through the warm air while the rum settled me into my happy place. As I remember it, it was the kind of intoxicating combination that loosened my world at the seams, making everything feel a little softer, a little friendlier — the perfect prelude to that warm, tipsy, rum‑drunk joy with a side of “I love you, man,” delivered to bartenders, strangers, and possibly a palm tree.
And to the Black taxi cab driver who delivered us back to our hotel that night. After he opened the taxi door and let us out, I gave him a long, deep kiss, much to his surprised delight and much to the disgust of my friend. Later she said she couldn’t believe I actually touched a Black man, much less kissed him shamelessly. And in a public place, no less! It was sometime after the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was signed into law and before the Civil Rights Act of 1968 was passed, better known as the Fair Housing Act. But in my friend’s world, Blacks and whites mixing was still a sin.
Try as I might, I can’t remember her name or what she looked like, but I still remember that taxi driver’s sparkling eyes and wide, toothy smile as he enjoyed my drunken state as much as I was.
It’s a sad statement about how limited my world has been that when I got home from that vacation, I’d have to fast‑forward to when I moved here, four‑and‑a‑half years ago, before I’d have real contact with Black people again. And those in my daily life, now, are all employees of my continuum care community — the wait staff, the cleaning staff, and our CEO. As a flaming liberal I, of course, loved having Obama as our president but that's not the same as actually talking with someone from another race on a daily basis.
When I see our very capable CEO at our monthly Dialogues, standing in front of my fellow residents, his skin as dark as the night, I can’t help noticing the irony: a Black man confidently leading a room full of old white people in a country where that simple image would once have been dangerous, even impossible. I sometimes wonder if he feels that history humming under the floorboards the way I do.
The universe has a way of pairing my life experiences so neatly that it often feels like a deliberate plan to call attention to something I might miss otherwise. When I got home from the grocery store with that feel‑good memory still lingering in my mind, I went to a lecture here in our all‑purpose room. It featured an Abraham Lincoln impersonator who put on a fabulous one‑man show about the Civil War.
There’s roughly a hundred years between when the Civil War was fought that ended slavery and my trip to the Bahamas, and over another half‑century between that trip and now. Still, I’ve always been proud of the fact that my generation has done so much to move race relationships forward — although I’m not sure Black people would see the progress in the same light as most whites do (not to mention the backtracking our current administration is attempting). In terms of history, it wasn’t all that long ago when a Black man would have gotten strung up to the nearest tree for kissing a white woman, even if he wasn’t the one who initiated it. Few days go by when I don’t see someone hug our CEO. I wonder what my long‑ago travel companion would think of that. Has she changed over the decades, or does she still hold onto the belief that races shouldn’t mix? Is prejudice so deeply ingrained in some of us that we can’t change?
I didn’t know where this post was going when I started, but somehow it feels like I’m at the end except for saying that sometimes a silly, rum‑drunk memory from sixty years ago can remind you how far we’ve come, how far we haven’t, and how strangely a single impulsive kiss can echo across a lifetime. And looking back now, I can finally see what I couldn’t then: the kiss was never the scandal. The scandal was the world that insisted it should be. ©
See you next Wednesday!
My sister's husband is an African American and you can't find anyone more outstanding than Herman. My middle son is married to Ningjing who came from China and my youngest son's wife is Rwandan. I went to China and Rwanda for their weddings and we had a marvelous time. My youngest son and his wife and children are in Rwanda for a month right now and my grandsons are having a fun time with their Rwandan cousins.
ReplyDeleteYou certainly have an international family. I'll bet your parties have some great food.
DeleteI agree we have come far from that. But when you look at what the Supreme Court just did to minority voting rights in Alabama, I shudder at how we are moving back. It's just frightening. I was lucky. My parents moved so I could go to an integrated junior and really integrated senior high. It was a wonderful experience and a huge eye opener at an important age, especially during the 1960s. I will always be grateful.
ReplyDeleteI had a different experience in that my neighborhood and school was all white, even in college, I didn't have any people of color as fellow students or professors. My twenty years in the floral industry was the same. My husband, however worked-side-by-side with a Black guy for a couple of years at GM. Otherwise his upbringing was the same as mine regarding race. My dad told many stories about the way Blacks were treated in southern IL when he was a boy so I got my empathy from him.
DeleteWorking in human services and education policy, I've had a very diverse work colleague experience. But, I grew up in a town that might have had two black families, and I graduated with a black woman who was adopted by a while family. My community has changed, expanded, and my neighborhood, though not my cul de sac, is diverse. Still though, segregation, while not forced, is still prevalent by neighborhoods, streets, and schools.
ReplyDeleteIt certainly is. My old neighborhood was a brand new community when we moved in 2002 and of the 50 houses none were sold to blacks. When I moved out, in 2022, there were still none living there. I could go for months not even seeing any people of color in the stores. Not true when I moved to the other end of town where I live now. At the grocery store I see people from many cultures shopping and as cashiers every time I go. I really don't think there was any Red Lining going on in my old neighborhood. Most of the families I knew where picking the area for the school system. When I sold that house the realtor said that the system was the biggest draw to the area.
DeleteBeautiful, thoughtful post as always, Jean. When I drank too much I was a happy drunk too. My dad was a mean drunk. I never understood why anyone would deliberately drink to excess if you knew it made you mean and angry. Unless it was the only way they "allowed" themselves to express those emotions??? I'll never know now and I don't think my dad ever knew why he did it either. He didn't always turn mean when drinking but enough that we tried to leave the house or otherwise disappear if he had a glass in his hand.
ReplyDeleteAnywho, I totally agree with you about what the real scandal is!
Deb
Thank you. I do think people let their inhibitions and guard down then they drink. A person who is angry about the way their life is going but they suck it up when they aren't drinking may let the anger out when they do. And the person who is afraid to show their silly side for fear of being judged and dismissed when they are not drinking will let that side of themselves out when they do. At least the latter was true of me.
DeleteGreat post. I feel like an alcoholic now. I've been drunk more than both hands in my 20s. I was stupid in my 20s.
ReplyDeleteWe're we all stupid in our 20s.
DeleteYes, Peg and Jean. The 20s in day were like the teenagers of today. Wild Oats. But seriously, I agree with your thoughts. I am a rape survivor and the worst part about it (early 70s) at the time was that they were three black men. What! I was embarrassed to say, not that I was raped, although that is true, but by 3 black men. Now the story no longer includes that they were black men, just bad men. The racism we see with this President and his cabinet will hopefully be undone by the next President. How anyone of any color could support this man is truly unbelievable to me. I guess it's just like mean girls in High School, they don't see themselves for who they truly are.
ReplyDeleteYour life experiences no doubt made you stronger, although I'm sure it wasn't easy to work through that terrible event. That you can now separate the color of your rapists from the act is an amazing testimony to your growth and moving forward.
DeleteI have never been much of drinker just saying also want to say this was great post
ReplyDeleteThank you. Once I heard that song and that memory popped in my head I knew I had to write about it.
DeleteNot many Black people in my high school (in the '80s), but I knew a couple. We had more Latinos and Asians. Now, the schools I work in are very evenly mixed. In staff and students. Things have changed somewhat, but the old prejudices remain.
ReplyDeleteIt takes a lot of years but I do think we were making great progress until Obama was elected. That's when the backlash started brewing in those who just couldn't except that Blacks could be just as smart and accomplished at the whites. And that backlash gave us Trump.
DeleteGrowing up in the north woods, I don't think I ever saw a black person until I was in high school and traveled to Detroit on a band trip. In my twenties, my then husband and I lived in Virginia, Ohio and Ontario. We were back up north when he was transferred downstate and my kids were quite young. A mailman that I thought was really nice stopped one day to play a little pickup hockey in the street with my son and his friends. "I hear you're moving downstate," he said. "You're going to have to go to school with black kids." My opinion of him was changed on the spot. And I was shocked that he would say that to an 8 year old. Luckily, my son was horrified by the guy's racism and came right in to tell me.
ReplyDeleteWow, I have no words. But then, again, knowing that counties in the north part of our state is ripe with Proud Boys I'm not really surprised.
DeleteI graduated in 1969 in a class of 1000+ students, with one black girl and one black guy. Astonishing. They were well accepted - the girl was even a cheerleader, very popular. But I shudder at how hard their experience must have been. So it delights me that as a child, when given the opportunity to choose my own toy, I chose a black baby doll. And as a 22 year old new bride who had moved to a small city, the moment I saw a woman dressed in a sari at the grocery store, I knew I had found the neighborhood where I wanted to live.
DeleteNina
I think of that too, how hard it must be to be the in a very small minority while living or working in a community of mostly whites. Thanks for sharing your experience.
DeleteTo my son's credit, there was a kid in his class up north that had a black father, and his immediate response was, "I already do." :-)
DeleteI have memories also. I grew up in Windsor, Ontario, a place that was a terminal of the Underground Railroad movement. Once the black people got across the river to what is now Windsor, they were free. And a lot of them settled in the area. My schooling, from 1947 Kindergarten to 1959 end of high school was all in integrated classrooms. And then I went to eastern Ontario for university and into a white, white world. You know, I hated it. I went to a movie with a black classmate and my best friend blew up at me. It is poison, truly, and I so love your golden moment of memory.
ReplyDeleteWindsor has a rich history. I knew about their Underground Railroad but I never thought about how that impacted the community and integrated the schools long before that happened here in the States.
DeleteI can see how you could identify big time with my memory, with your friend blowing up at you.
I went to an integrated high school and one of my favorite teachers of all time was Black. This was in the mid-50s.
ReplyDeleteIf you come back will you share what state that was in? I know you're out west now but did you grow up out there?
DeleteYour last Sentence really says it all Jean. As someone who is the product of an Interracial Intercultural Union of that long ago, in the early 1950's is when my Parents met in Europe and fell in Love, I know firsthand what the World/Society insists should be scandalous or taboo and forbidden. My Dad's CO actually tried to talk my Mom out of Marrying my Dad becoz of what he knew she'd experience in America and the segregation that existed at that time, where in some States, we had to live in Communities of Color and my Dad was in a Military Unit of all Minorities for the majority of his Career. Even here in Phoenix, it was the Year we moved here that the City wasn't segregated, most of the History isn't that far into the Past, it's quite recent. And what this Administration is trying to do to go backwards is unsettling... for Minorities, for Immigrants, for Women, for the Gay Community, for the Disabled. I enjoyed this Post, I have felt you have always been as you are now, it's not 'new' for you even if you did mostly live in a more homogenous community than I have, you see people as the Human Race and not the Social Construct of Race. I'm glad I grew up in a Military Family becoz it exposed us to so much more Culture beyond our own, and there was a wider demographic enlisted than in most Civilian life. A lot more Intercultural/Interracial Unions in the Military too, so we had more of 'our own' to connect to and befriend, back when we were often considered outcasts for the rest of Society.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for sharing your history here. It's the perfect ending (or near ending) for the comment section. And thank you for picking up on the fact that I do see people as the Human Race even though I didn't grow up in a blended society. That's my dad's influence. As he told me many stories about the segregated society that was his early experiences and how unfair he believed it to be. His parents were Italian immigrants and also not treated as well as the Whites back then.
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