How does it feel to be torn between what you imagine and what is real? How do you know when to stay or when to go? When can you discern if this is really death that we call life and who named it so?
I feel like I am more there than here. It’s not death but this treacherous journey called life that I fear.
Salvation Blvd awaits the righteous because goodbye here means welcome there where hearts beat without failure and tears.
I was once an embryo planted from the loins of one who is truly the son of father time.
I was once a fetus nourished by the milk of the antelope and the corn of the Serengeti.
I was once a boy prince in the court of Queen Africa with red Egyptian clay between ebony bronzed toes, chasing fireflies laughing at the sun.
I was once a young man, watching my mate with bright and grateful eyes as she bore and birthed the fruit of my seed.
I am now an old man loving each sunrise more, fearing each sunset less, knowing the difference between life and living, respecting the difference between death and dying, caressing eternity.
I was once an embryo planted from the loins of one who is truly the son of father time, I was once.
(‘I was once’ written by Aubrey Bruce for the late NYC trumpeter Roy Campbell Jr., Rod Woodson, Dwayne, Woodruff, Greg, Lloyd, Joe Greene. the late Dwight White, the late L.C. Greenwood, the late Willie Stargell, the late Roberto Clemente, Franco Harris, Joe Montana, Gale Sayers, and Brett Favre; the list goes on and on…)
That time of year is here again, Black History month has been shelved for another year. Jackie Robinson day and Juneteenth are just around the corner.
What is Juneteenth some of you might ask?
Well according to Wikipedia.com; “Juneteenth, also known as Juneteenth Independence Day, Freedom Day, or Emancipation Day, is a holiday in the United States that commemorates the announcement of the abolition of slavery in the U.S. state of Texas in 1865.
Traditions include public readings of the Emancipation Proclamation. Celebrations sometimes take the form of parades, rodeos, street fairs, cookouts, family reunions, park parties.
Sure we can text, tweet and facebook our butts off but ah for some reason we just keep missing the point. All of the retired and deceased athletes that were aforementioned had one thing in common; they were once all great.
We need to celebrate and elevate those who are carrying the torch, as Rev. Al Sharpton would say “rat now.”
I know that it feels wonderful, marvelous, even glorious to reflect on past triumphs but sometimes it may become slightly nauseous to feeling that salty taste in ones mouth when one is about to prematurely part ways with that magnanimous and costly steak that one consumed at Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse. See the steak doesn’t feel as tasty coming up as it did going down. So the leftovers from last month are not as tasty as a fresh pot of collard greens and even “frozen vittles” have a negative; it’s called freezer burn.
Regurgitating and reliving past events has the same effect on the collective psyche as hearing the same sermon preached over by the same preacher.
In many cases a few folk may either cease to attend church or they in the least will change where they worship. We have to quit. Sometime greatness lasts eternally only in the far recesses of our minds. All of the parties and celebrations will not bring back the ancestors. 12 years a slave? Try 500 years and counting. We were once embryo’s planted from the loins of those who were truly the sons’ of father time; we were once.
Aubrey Bruce can be reached at: firstname.lastname@example.org or 412.583.6741