The new book, p.3
The New Book, page 3
Mommy taught third grade at St. Simon’s School. Gus, my father, taught math at Lincoln Heights Middle School. One day, for reasons totally unknown or not remembered, I decided to meet Gus who walked up the hill every day to our home. I had a blue bike. As I started down the hill I seem to remember or thought I heard Gus say “Look at that crazy kid coming down the hill.” By that time the bike was actually riding me. I still, at 72, have scars from that.
But I survived.
I’m trying to understand my father. A part of me thinks he was mean; a part thinks he drank too much; a part just doesn’t understand. But every Saturday night about 11:00 p.m. if you asked what I was doing I was hearing my father beat my mother. The saddest sound I ever heard one night was “Gus, please don’t hit me.” It was a prayer. I had an older sister but she was always friendly. She had girlfriends that she would spend the weekend with. She would come home Sunday late and talk about what a good time she had. I am not friendly. I stayed home. Until I couldn’t stay anymore. My God-Mother, Baby West, died and left me $50. I walked to the bank in Lockland to see what I could do with it. I could take it, they said. I purchased a Butterfinger and a ticket to Knoxville. Our neighbor, Mr. Gray, who must surely have known what went on in our home, gave me a ride to the train station.
Grandmother must have known what I was trying to get away from yet we never even discussed it. I asked if I could stay with them. She and Grandpapa didn’t hesitate: Yes.
I read now about the need for Black boys to have fathers in the home and I wonder. White boys have fathers at home and they end up in the KKK. The white boys end up calling us names. Spitting at us and worse. Now the white boys are policemen shooting unarmed 14-years-olds to death. Or they are billionaires running for President. Stirring up hate. I’m not sure fathers are necessary beyond their biological function. If we are going to criminalize women for abortions shouldn’t we also criminalize the men who impregnated them?
But we have a larger question. Alex said we have Roots. He traced his back to Africa. What I really understand about my Roots is that the Black woman mated, whether willfully or not, with the life form that was on this land they were brought to. No matter its Color, Race or Religion. That life form would now like to deny its responsibility. But the Black woman loved that which she incubated. And, for the most part, brought it forth to believe in the future. Alex did a good job. He reminded us of hope. All I’m saying is that everything has Roots. Our only question is do we pull them up like weeds to be destroyed or do we nurture them to allow them to blossom. I knew Alex. He gave us, at a perilous time, reasons to go forth. He reminded us, we all have Roots. Our human, our humane, job is to entwine and enrich.
My Contract with America
(Or Is That America’s Contract on Negroes?)
You can’t lie
To a liar
Or steal from a thief
Or out run an AR-15
Nor escape from a burning Boeing
We all know Jesus won’t
Come
When you call Him
But He always comes
On time
So why can’t we wait
On the Lord
My supermarket hates me
Just because every now and then
I take something
Forgetting to pay
A light bulb here a Coca-Cola there
Sometimes lemonade for the kids
A beer for mother
I seldom take meat though sometimes
Bread
There is a lot of it anyway
And fruit will spoil
If I don’t eat it
White folks feel
The same way
So I don’t take anything
From them
I give my song
My dance
I give laughter
And show them how
To make quilts
Out of patches they throw away
I am not scared
Of them
If they would stay
On their side of the street
I would be happy
They are scared of me
They want me
To be like them
And learn to hate
And fear
And wear hoods over their faces
Or badges
Over their hearts
I want to be
Proud of me
And keep on
Walking
Down the street
Across the bridge
Sitting on my bus seat
Paid an equal pay
And keep on loving
Re: MoveOn’s Love Letter to Essential Workers
Education is a dream
Or perhaps a dream is education
But a clean building with a smiling teacher
A grocery shelf with our favorite foods
Soap lotion and Flonase too
Trash picked up and taken away
The wave of the postwoman who delivers our magazines
These are dreams too
And when we awake we must find the song
That has a happy beat
That says thanks thanks thanks for all you do
For all of us
Bebop de bop
We thank you
A lot
Vote 2024
(It Matters)
At sometime
There has to be something
Called thinking
At sometime
There has to be something
Called courage
At sometime
There has to be Black
Men who step up recognizing
They are needed
They were needed
In slavery
They were needed
to destroy segregation
They are needed
To vote for Harris
They are needed
To understand ice cubes blow west and are not for us
Vote for Harris
Find the courage
To help rid us all
Of the festering mold in the white house
Vote like your grandmother would be proud of you
Vote because you like to say: “It ain’t mine”
But if not that then another
Vote because men
Vote for the future
Vote because you are not a coward
Vote because you know we need you to
step up biden your time
because you are a citizen
Vote. We need you brother
Vote for the love we gave you last night
Vote for the best in you
Vote
Vines
My mother died
13 or 14 years
Ago
I took the flowers
Home
And put most in
Water
The gift of life
They sit by the window
In the sunnyside
Of my bedroom
And the roots
Have taken hold
Sometimes a leaf
Will yellow
And I pull it off
It is dead
And there must be
Room
For a new leaf
Things that are dead
Cannot be saved
My mother will always
Live in my heart
All nazis must be
Picked
And thrown
away
Some Christmas Questions and One Answer
Who needs to understand Billionaire is the most unnecessary thing on Earth? You Do.
Who needs to know there can be no joy nor pleasure just because there is power and money?
You Do.
Who needs to know Health is the one personal thing that doesn’t belong to you? You Do.
Who needs to insist Water should be pure: Air should be clean: animals should have parks to live and breed in? You Do.
Who needs to vote that senators and representatives can only serve as long as the president? You Do.
Who needs to understand the folk we put in office should not be paid more than the folk who put them there? You Do.
Who needs to quit being afraid of folk who have different colored skin: who worship God differently: who speak another language: love another or the same person: You Do.
Who needs to think why Prince Harry is marrying a Black woman who if he had tried to marry her a few years ago the Queen would not allow it? Edward VIII couldn’t marry a white American divorcée: Margaret couldn’t marry Peter Townsend, but Harry can do a bunch of things. What does the Queen have in mind? Maybe that Rule Britannia should be more than a song so the fifth in line marries a Black American divorcée and everyone is happy. Who needs to think how long will it be before the Crown reaches out to the Gay community? You Do.
I remember when irons got hot enough to scorch clothes, telephones were on something called a party line and there were signs that said Colored and White. Do You?
But mostly who is ready to concede when another life form visits us that we are not from the United States in North America or France in Europe or China in Asia or Ghana in Africa or any country or continent but Earth? You Do.
There is some joy and reason in the meeting of Europe and Africa that we have not explored.
Who needs to pay our teachers and graduate students so that we can explore that relationship. You Do.
It is time to move on to the twenty-first century. Who needs to be brave enough to go forward and save our Democracy? We are. Maybe.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
The Nature Conservancy
The Nature Conservancy
4245 Fairfax Drive
Suite 100
Arlington, VA 22203
7 January 2021
Dear Nature Conservatory:
I am not wealthy though I do contribute what I can to you and especially what I can for the birds. I am surprised that you and the other nature societies have not bonded together to ask the Rockefeller Center to cease cutting old tall trees down. This year, as you are aware, an Owl was nesting in the tree. Fortunately it was saved but it, like the young people on our borders trying to have a better life, cannot go home again. Even if someone was willing to return it to the place where the tree was killed the Owl would still not have a family to teach it and help it grow.
It seems with as much plastic as there is in the trash there could be made a tree as tall as Rockefeller Center would like. They could have a contest or something to help the trash go to better use and leave the birds and trees to do their job of restoring the earth.
I sincerely hope you will consider letting the trees and its family live and put the plastic to work.
Sincerely,
Nikki Giovanni
A Keynote Address
Poetry Is A Trestle. In this keynote we will explore the questions: How does poetry help us understand the development of language and the changing of language help us explore the development of history? We look to poetry for emotional and scientific newness. Poems create the idea and the necessity of a new world. From Earth’s oldest language, which we have now sent on two CDs to Mars, to our youngest, Rap, poems have evolved to hope and correct that which recognizes what does not exist but what may exist if we find new words to embrace. From Hindu to Christianity to other Gods and philosophies we look to poetry to carry us over. There is a bridge which we will walk over to tomorrow. Poetry is our trestle.
Serena
Even at my age understanding what love is, is difficult. I’m a baby sister, too, and I remember watching my big sister be able to do everything. They used to tease me: Nikki can you read? No but Gary can. Nikki can you play the piano? No but Gary can. Nikki can you dance? No but Gary can. And I was so proud that I had a big sister who could do all the important things. I wonder if Serena felt just the opposite.
I wonder if Serena sat on the side of the court and watched her big sister play tennis. I wonder if she was saying to herself I’m going to do that. Serena was the little girl watching the rabbit run down the rabbit hole. There were other sisters who she could have emulated but she chose this one. And I have to think this one chose her.
I watched the first time they played each other in a tournament. The reporter kept asking Who will win? And Venus calmly and coolly said A Williams. Venus not only won but she also showed her baby sister how to win. Don’t let them push you around. I recently watched Venus play Coco and I said to myself: Venus is teaching Coco how to win, too. Not by the score but by how you carry yourself. Having a big sister who loves you enough to be your teacher is great.
Wheaties is wonderful to have Serena on the box cover. I purchased four boxes to be framed for my granddaughter and myself and friends. I want that box cover hanging from every wall in the kitchen. But it is Venus who has really taught them all.
Sure, Serena has 23 championships and we are all so proud of her. We watched her be robbed of her 24th though that will come. Serena has shown us you can be a woman with attitude and muscles. You can learn to speak four languages. You can take the body that used to stand on an auction block and put it on the cover of Vanity Fair naked, pregnant, proud. And you can put that same body on the cover of Harper’s Bazaar wrapped in gold. You can be Sports Illustrated’s Best Dressed with your green high heels and a smirk and find someone you love to share making a baby with. Little Olympia is lucky, though, to have Aunt Venus to show her running down the rabbit hole to meet the Queen isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
We give what we can. The Hare gave her speed to help her friend the Turtle feel better about herself. The poets give our words to say what we admire. Serena gives us a new woman to say we are not afraid of our bodies or our minds. She had a big sister to say Don’t be afraid of yourself. We are all lucky for big sisters. And baby sisters who listen.
Girl Talk
(Lyrics)
We watch the fireflies
Go home to bed
The sun is setting
But the moon has not
Yet shown her hand
We sit on mother’s porch
So glad to hear the birds sing
And wait to see the lovely bats
Begin their evening wing
We smile
And hold each other’s hand
And toast our champagne glasses
We know it’s love time
Our time
Floating
I’m always interested
In my dreams
When I awake
Sometimes I’m holding
Hands with a former lover
Sometimes a future one
Usually I’m sitting
By the window
Watching the raindrops
Fall
I wish I could
Ride them back up
Bouncing on top
Twirling around
Wrapped in a bubble
Cloud
No thunder
No lightning
Just me
With you
Just floating down
A solo river
Humming a love song
dreaming
The Three Riders
It was just beginning to be dawn. The sky was turning a light blue but there seemed to be gray clouds coming. “Honey, honey, wake up,” Edna Bunny called. “There is a big storm coming. Al Roker says it will hit tomorrow. Get up. You’ve got a problem.” Bobby Bunny turned over. He kicked the quilt off and rubbed his eyes. “What do you mean?” “A big storm is coming and will hit us about tomorrow at noon. Roker says it’s coming straight up the coast.” Bobby jumped to his feet. “Oh No! If that happens I won’t be able to deliver the Easter Eggs. Oh my! What should I do?” Edna had made him a strong breakfast of grits with lots of butter, wheat toast with strawberry jam and a pot of coffee. “Eat your breakfast and think,” she advised. “Do you think it’s just water?” “No. Roker says it’s bringing snow. He’s advising everybody to get what they need to be able to stay in for a couple of days!” “Oh, Edna. I have to get out. I have Easter Eggs to hide for the children. I can’t let them down.” “Well, who do we know who can move around in snowy weather?” Bobby thought for only a minute. “Santa. Maybe he can help me.” Edna looked worried. “How will you get to the North Pole? You know they won’t answer the phone until Spring.” “I’ll have to run up. It will only take a day.” But Edna still looked worried about him being caught in the storm. “Why don’t you call Pete Pusitanile? Maybe he can help with the underground railroad.” “Great idea!” and he got on the phone right away.
Pete like most of the groundhogs was asleep but the phone rang and rang until it awoke him. Pete was a bit grumpy but Bobby explained the problem. Pete agreed. The children had to have their eggs. “Come to the big oak tree,” Pete instructed. “I’ll let you in.” Bobby wrapped up, kissed his wife, and hopped as fast as he could to the oak tree. Pete was there with a lunch bag. “My wife thought you would need something to eat. It’s a long trip. Almost a day. I’ve called ahead. All the doors will be open. Turn Left at each door. Rest about the fourth door. Eat lunch then turn Left. Watch out for roots.” Bobby hugged Pete. “Thanks, Pete. Thanks a lot.” Then off he hopped.
