Brother, Wake Up!

That feeling of something new and different about to happen crawled through my body, as mom scrammed around that morning assisting everyone in getting dressed for the first day of school. It was, also, my daddy's first day of school, as a teacher.

It was time to leave. Daddy strutted towards his brand new green Plymouth. I must mention that this was in the 70s. A green Plymouth automobile was totally cool.

Once Daddy, my brother, and I, got into the car, a new journey began for us all.

We arrived at this place that seemed somewhat like a castle to me.

Once parked, Daddy took my brother and me by the hand and lead us along the outter sidewalks.

I curiously looked around. UHM, somethings different. OH, none of the children looked like my brother or me. None of the adults looked like my daddy, either.

Wow, man. In the pre school that I attended there were only kids that looked similar to me. I felt a little weird. My brother didn't seem to notice. He just went wherever daddy pulled him.

Before long, Daddy was at the door of a classroom. There appeared in the doorway a little, wrinkly women that was just a little taller than me. She had her hair pulled back into a bun. She peered at me with twinkly blue eyes. She kinda reminded me of Mrs. Claus.

Daddy, told me that he would see me later. My new teacher then lead me into the classroom. I slid behind the desk. It was occupied with three books. My name was written across the desk in black ink on a piece of tape.
Soon, other children began to arrive. I was too scared to look back. SHE WOULD PUT ME IN FRONT, I thought, sarcastically.

Once the class was full, the teacher went to the front of the classroom to introduce herself. I looked to the right, and then to the left. Still, I saw no one that looked like me.

After, getting a little comfortable, I turned to see what was behind me. When I looked, there was this brown haired, freckled face, little boy, with green eyes. He then stuck out his tongue and made a face at me. I quickly turned around.

It was time to go out for recess. By this time, I'd met a friend named Laura. She was tiny, skinny, with platinum blond hair, and weird brown eyes. For some reason she stuck to me like glue.

On the playground, Laura and I jumped rope to Straw Berry Short Cake.
I even spotted my brother climbing up the monkey bars. In the corner of the playground, sat an adult women with coal black hair, pale skin,and rather thin legs. She was sitting in a brown, wooden chair.

I continued to jump rope until I caught a sudden movement in the corner of my eye. Oh, MY GOD! My brother was falling from the top of the monkey bars. His head bounced on each bar as he tumbled towards the concrete bottom. I could see his head bounce like a ball on the concrete surface below. I saw his lifeless little body lying there with no movement. I instinctively ran towards him. It seemed as though I was moving in slow motion. I could see that women in the corner of the playground stand, look, and then turn around to sit back down.

Once I got to my brother, I pulled him with all of my strength. It seemed as though I wasn't moving him fast enough. He was too heavy.

From out of nowhere, appeared an angel. There stood the little brown haired, freckle faced, green eyed boy from my classroom. He began to frantically tug along with me.

Somehow we got my brother to the nurses door at the front of the school.

Upon opening the door to the Nurses Station, the nurse scooped my unconscience brother up into her arms. She, repeatedly, asked for his name. I finally answered. She then had my daddy paged to the office.

I sat across the room watching a huge lump grow on my brother's forehead. He still wasn't moving. I whispered for him to wake up, but he didn't hear me, and he still didn't move. I could do nothing, but hurt inside and hope for him to wake up.

Daddy, ran through the door, peered at my brother, and instructed me to go to another room near the principal's office. I didn't want to leave my baby brother until he woke up, but I obeyed my daddy.

Well, my brother got better. I still continue to wonder why the women from the playground fail to help my brother.

As much as I could remember, there was a meeting held. I don't remember seeing that lady on the playground anymore.

The little brown haired, freckled faced boy from my classroom received an
honorary award for helping that day.

Sisters Got A Brandnew Doll

At some point in my life, I remember my daddy speaking of an experiment that went on years ago, where a black doll and a white doll was put before a Black child. The child was asked to chose a doll she'd most want to play with. The child chose the White doll. The same results happened time and time again.

Many years later, I thought about this experiment when my own daughters taught me a valuable lesson.

I'd always wondered "why?". I guess if you live long enough, you are bound to get an answer to some of the questions one asks in life.

Well, shortly after a divorce from my older daughter's father, I hit hard times. Therefore, I had to make a choice to temporarily leave my older daughter , along with her older brother, with my parents.

While with my parents, my eldest daughter was being influenced by her environment. She was attending a predominately White school, watching anchors on the news that all had White faces, and was being exposed to people who weren't accepting themselves, as they were.

During the time that my older daughter was staying with her grandparents, I was putting together my life, again. I'd soon remarried. My new husband and I decided to stay in the city of Ft. Pierce, Fl., my birth place.

While in Ft. Pierce, my younger children where being influence by their environment. They where exposed to different people and different cultures. There were Haitian children, Latino children, Jamaican children, and American born children. Not to forget, that my new husband was from Jamaica and had a father that was Chinese and a mother that was Black, but grew up on the island of Jamaica speaking Patwa ( I think that's the spelling).

Finally, it was time for my older daughter to rejoin the family.

Upon her arrival, I gave her a welcoming present, a little doll. She said thank you, but later I saw my younger daughter running across the living room with the doll. I wondered "why?".

I thought that it was a beautiful little doll. A little darker that my older daughter, but a slight resemblance.

I wanted to understand the situation. Upon opening the room door, there I saw my older daughter playing with a White, blond, blue-eyed doll, that was very thin. This doll looked nothing like her.

The following days, I made a quest to influence my older daughter by exposing dolls of different shades and colors to my older daughter. Still, she decided to only play with that one doll.

After a while my older daughter just got fed up with my tactics and stopped playing with dolls, completely.

I was beginning to understand, when the dolls that I purchased, where taken up by my younger daughter. She hopped and skipped with all of the dolls in her arms. The Latino looking one, the darker one with bright island type clothing, and the white colored one were all embraced by her. Therefore, I wasn't surprised when she sat the dolls on the floor and pretended as though they were all sisters.

After being in Ft. Pierce for a few more months . My older daughter started a new school with children of all shades and cultures. She even began trying new hairstyles, including braids. That was something she confessed that she'd never thought she'd try.

One day, during the weekend, I peeked into my older daughter's room. She was smiling, while playing with the dolls. ALL of the dolls.

I guess, if you live long enough, you are bound to get an answer.