Goodbye to my Cousin JOE NATHAN HORNBEAK a/k/a JOE JUNIOR HORNBEAK

By Gloria DULAN-Wilson

Gloria Dulan-Wilson

 

I was devastated to learn of the passing of my cousin JOE NATHAN HORNBEAK - OR JOE JUNIOR, as we called him when we were kids. 

 

Joe Nathan Hornbeak

 

 

The first time I saw him was when we were kids, running up and down the gully in front of my Grandparents home in the all Black town of Burneyville, Oklahoma. 

 

My Grandmom, his aunt, was Cornelia Hoenbeak Gaines - a member of the Hornbeak Clan - as was an entire branch of my Mom's family.  As his cousin, I really didn't pay Joe Junior much attention until I was about 15 years old, when I had the opportunity to watch him play basketball and literally carry the entire game. And. while I was proud of him, I probably would not have noticed him then had it not been for my friend Sylvia Carroll Perry who was visiting my grandparents with me, and immediately developed a crush on him. Until then, I really hadn't noticed how handsome my cousin had become. To me he was just tall and lanky, always cracking jokes and eating like there was no tomorrow. 

 

It would be nearly 50 years before we saw each other again - and sadly, it was at my mom, Ruby Love's funeral in April 2014. Joe Junior was as tall, handsome and lanky as ever; but this time his hair was all white, and he was a college professor at LANGSTON UNIVERSITY - Oklahoma's only HBCU - where practically every member of the DULAN Family had attended. 

 

Following the funeral, at our home, he and I began to catch up on old times, and found that we both had a love of history and were interested in sharing the rich history of our family's heritage and Blacks in Oklahoma with the world. 

 

I remember talking about my two favorite portraits of my grandparents that used to hang on the wall of Grandmom's dining room. They were of my very handsome grandfather, Enoch Gaines, and my equally beautiful grandmom, Cornelia Hornbeak Gaines.  They disappeared shortly after my granddaddy passed.  I was 13 at the time.  I told him I suspected Cousin Maudie as having stolen it - and he corroborated my suspicion. We  even talked about how to get them back.  We also bragged on Burneyville being an All Black Town, and how things were different from the rest of the cities in Oklahoma. His wife had also begun some of the research as well. We were having fun and had actually promised to cooperate in putting the threads together to trace the different family lineages. However, it was something that did not take place. 

 

In fact, a few years ago I tried to reach him at Langston, but was unable to do so because he retired shortly thereafter - so we lost touch. 

 

When my brother, Sylvester, told me that Joe Junior had passed, I felt like someone had bunched me in my heart.  Especially since I had just called Syl to inform him of my childhood friend, Tessya Smith Polk's passing. It was like being hit with a double whammy. 

 

 I keep saying we had to do better about keeping in touch with each other - and then it doesn't happen. So I want to apologize to members of the Hornbeak clan for not being more vocal or visible. I'm going to do better going forward. 

 

My younger brother, Sylvester DULAN had planned to attend Joe Junior's service and represent the family, but now will not be able to do so because of other pressing family issues.

 

So I extend my love and condolences to his widow, his children, friends, fans and the entire Hornbeak Clan. I know Joe Junior is resting in peace and power with our Ancestor/Angels. 

  

Stay Blessed 

 

 

Gloria Jeanne DULAN-Wilson

Daughter of Ruby Gaines DULAN

Proud Granddaughter of Cornelia HORNBEAK Gaines and Enoch Gaines of the Hornbeak Clan of the Cherokee Nation of Marietta, Oklahoma

Honoring my Grandmothers During Native American Heritage Month - Zady DULAN and Cornelia HORNBEAK Gaines

By Gloria DULAN-Wilson

Hello All:

With so many things going on this month, I had totally overlooked the fact that November has been designated as "Native American Heritage Month."   And, while I pay homage to them year round, I thought this would be a wonderful time to pay tribute to my maternal and paternal Grandmoms - both of whom were of Native American Heritage.

My Mom's mom, CORNELIA HORNBEAK GAINES was of the Cherokee Nation; while my Dad's mom, ZADY WASHINGTON DULAN was of the Creek Nation - both were born and raised in Oklahoma - which literally means "Land Of The Red People."

Though these two beautiful women never met, they had such a wonderful, powerful influence on me and my brothers and sisters.  Not only did they instill wonderful values and qualities in my Mom and Dad respectively, but thru direct input, when my Sister, Brothers and I had the pleasure of spending part of our summer vacation at each of their farms on an alternate basis.

 

Grandmom ZADY DULAN

While these ladies led two distinctly different lifestyles, they were, at heart, the most loving, benign, and down home creative, proud women.  Both my Dad and Mom were raised with a mix of old fashioned and culturally rich values - including respect for their elders, keeping their word, not embarrassing the family in public, honoring their ancestors, and always having something constructive to do, such as helping with the planting, gardening, cooking, harvesting, pickling, preserving, preparation of foods; and never, ever wasting anything.  It was from both my Grandmoms that I learned how to repurpose most things that others would throw out, but find a way to transform them into something beautiful or useful (a habit I still have to this day). 

Both of my Grandmoms placed a high value in land ownership,  preservation and cultivation.  Interestingly enough, both my Grandmoms carried their babies on their backs in "papoose carriers" - which were beautifully shaped birch bark wooden carriers lined with blankets, headbraces and beads attached for the babies to play with.  I actually  used to have the one my Mom's Mom had for her.  It used to hang on my wall in my  Harlem apartment.  I lost it during the move back to New York from California in 1984.  Neither my mom, nor her sisters carried any of their children on their backs because it was frowned upon.  I was the one who revived that tradition with each of my three children - a nod to both my African and Native American heritages.  

 

By the way, my Mom's mom hated being called "Native American." She preferred either Cherokee - or Indian, which she said most of her people had adjusted to the name for centuries.  IJS

They both made everything from scratch, and did everything by hand - sewing beautiful clothes, cooking sumptuous food (especially cakes and pies) from scratch; keeping a well disciplined home, and instiling the love of both tribal cultures in each of my parents.  I will always remember the summers my sister and I spent at Grandma Zady in Luther, Oklahoma - a small, all Black town near Jones, Oklahoma. We had to adjust to using the outhouse, bathing in a galvinized tub, having a pee pot under the bed if you had to go at night; chopping wood for the pot bellied stove that heated the whole cabin, brushing our teeth with baking soda, and sitting and sewing by hand because she wanted to make sure we knew how to make straight stitches.  

One of my favorite memories was when she would fix breakfast for us on that fantastic old wood burning stove - it was green and silver.  There would be stacks of pancakes, or biscuits that would float off the plate, with scrambled eggs, or eggs over easy, and bacon (yes, when I was a kid I ate bacon - stopped eating pork when I was 20 thanks to Muhammad Ali).  She had homemade butter, homemade fresh milk, fresh laid eggs, maple syrup, or Log Cabin syrup poured from a log cabin shaped can.  At dinner it would be chicken, goose, duck, ham or beef, with succotash, stewed tomatoes, or fried green tomatoes and all the fresh greens, watermelon, potatoes, tomatoes, cucumbers, etc you could ever want.  And REAL CORNBREAD - the same cornbread my cousins Gregory and Terry DULAN serve in their restaurants in California (DULAN'S KING OF SOUL FOOD and DULAN'S ON CRENSHAW).

Grandmom Zady also raised corn, and ground it herself to make cornmeal, or make fresh popping corn.

But my favorite memory was her homemade Ice cream.  My sister, Brenda, and I used to "help" her make it - just like I "helped" churn the butter.  She had an old fashioned wooden hand cranked ice cream maker.  We would take turns turning the crank while the ice and the salt did its thing to turn some fresh cream, eggs and fruit into the most fantastic ice cream on the planet! The other thing I remember was the fact that they had their own well water, with the sweetest, coldest water in Oklahoma.  She would draw the water up, put it in a galvanized pail, and take it into the house - put it into handmade clay pots to keep it clean and cold.  Oklahoma is known for its sweet water - and she and granddaddy had their own private source. 

My Grandmom Zady's birthday is December 13 (don't know the year).   She was the quietest Sagittarius I have ever known in my life.  Because of the culture of the Creek nation, women were taught to be very quiet,  so Grandmom could sit in a room full of people who could all be talking, making merry, and she would never say a word.  Maybe once in every half hour she might say something, like "Nice day, isn't it?" We'd always politely respond, "Yes, Grandmom," and then go back to doing whatever it was we were doing.  My Grandmom's quiet nature ran in the family -  my Aunt Zethel, my Dad, my sister Brenda, and my brother Warner Jr. all tend to have that quiet nature; while  my Uncle Adolf, my Aunt Alene, my Cousin LaMonte, and myself were more like my loquacious Granddaddy Silas,  would be all over the place!  You couldn't outtalk us.  The only time I remember my Grandmom Zady saying more than a few words was when she was asking me about my cooking.  Everybody in the family cooked - at least they were supposed to.  I was a pretty good cook, but couldn't bake worth beans.  All my pie crusts and biscuits came out hard as concrete.  Those were the times when I wished she would return to that quiet being.  I couldn't lie to her, so I tried to figure out ways to get around dealing with the topic.  That never worked, because those deep black eyes could see right through anything or any excuse I tried to effect. 

As quiet as she was, Grandmom Zady was a stickler for education and obedience, and you didn't dare defy her.  She had no problem in applying some physical back up to her orders.  And, of course, anything she couldn't handle, Granddaddy was there for back up.  She raised four children of her own, and ten of her  younger inlaws who were orphaned when her father in law, and later, her mother in law died within months of each other.  She was 16 when she and my grandfather married - but because of her culture, was raised from an early age to assume responsibility.  Between my grandmother and grandfather, thirteen of the twenty attended and graduated from college to become doctors, educators and one entrepreneur/millionaire (my Uncle Adolf DULAN, the youngest).  The only one who did not attend college was my dad, who was drafted during WWII, and married my mom while he was in the service. 

As the first born grandchild of the first born son of Silas and Zady DULAN, I became well aware that there was a lot expected of me.  Unfortunately, I was also a brat with brains and a lot of mouth, and a lot of rebellion, so I was constantly breaking tradition (I was also an Aries, that was as much tomboy as anything else Black then).   When I would get out of line - which was quite often - my dad would drag me over to his mom and make me stay there for punishment - which meant a round of chores - and don't you dare talk back.  Grandmom Zady's dad was a Black man whose last name was Washington.  Her brothers and sisters were raised by a beautiful Creek woman, on tribal lands in another part of the state.   I met her brother, Uncle Booker, when he was quite advanced in age - who was just as quiet as she was.  Like Grandmom, he married a woman who talked non-stop, just like my Grandfather.  They both seemed to take delight in their constant chatter.  If she had other siblings,  I never knew them - or rather, I remember very little about them, except the fact that one of her sisters used to make dolls and pipes out of corn husks and corn cobs.

Grandmom CORNELIA GAINES

My Mom's mother, Cornelia Hornbeak Gaines was held captive (they called it educated) in a missionary school.  A severe form of detribalization was perpetrated on her and her sisters and other members of the FIVE CIVILIZED TRIBES.  They literally tried to beat the culture out of her.  Oklahoma had been opened up to caucasoid invasion in 1889 - they called it The Oklahoma Run; I call it the Oklahoma RUIN) -  where they quickly tried to deprive all the Tribes of their freedom, run them off their lands, and exact laws to deprive them of their autonomy.  My grandfather, ENOCH GAINES, literally rescued my grandmother from some e-vile missionaries who were trying to cut her hair off - they claimed she was tempting the men, and therefore evil.  My grandfather, a Fine, deep dark chocolate Black man, was riding through when he came upon the struggle - two caucasoids were holding her down,  another had scissors - they had already managed to cut off a lock when he rode up, pulled his gun (which he carried til the day he died), and made them back up off her.  He pulled her up on his horse, and off they rode - true story folks!!  He literally didn't stop until they got to Burneyville, Oklahoma - an All Black Town just north of the Oklahoma/Texas Border.  My Granddaddy owned 180 acres of land that he cultivated, along with some of his relatives whom he allowed to live on the land as sharecroppers.  My understanding is though my grandmother was 7 years older than my grandfather, it didn't matter to them.  They married, had 6 beautiful children - one son, five daughters - of which my mom was the youngest and stayed together for 48 years until my Grandmom died in 1957. 

Unlike my paternal grandmother Zady,  Cornelia Gaines - also affectionately known as Aint Boosie - loved to talk, loved entertaining, loved to sing in that distinct high pitched Indian trill, and was always making or designing something.  She was an expert fisherman, could cook like anything, and made enough food to feed an army.  She was as strict as my grandmother Zady, when it came to her daughters, but was waaaay too lenient when it came to her one son - Uncle Buddy (sadly, to his detriment).  She lost her first born son during childbirth, and so wanted to make up for it by giving Uncle Buddy more privileges.

Did I mention that my Grandmom Cornelia and I were the only two ARIES on both sides of the family line?  I think that was why I was so drawn to her.  I felt she understood me more than most.  She certainly intervened enough times when I was about to get a behind whipping for getting into something I had been distinctly told not to do.  She got a kick out of seeing me follow my curiosity wherever it took me.

She had  beautiful long hair way down past her waist that she would sit and braid and unbraid then when she was thinking.  Later in life she got it cut short because she wanted to "be in style" and my grandfather nearly had a heart attack.  Three of my aunts and my sister Brenda inherited that long, flowing hair; my Mom and her sister Eula, and I inherited the African Grade - which "required" a hot comb to make it "presentable. (PS:  I'm the kid who you would have to chase down to sit still for that dreaded comb.  In 1965 I finally let my hair go natural and have kept it that way ever since).  My brothers have what is called "wavy or curly" hair that is a result of the Afro/Indian genepool. 

I totally loved going down home to visit my Grandmom.  We would leave the house at 5:00AM before the sun came up.  It was a 5 hour drive from Oklahoma City to Burneyville - through the Arbuckle Mountains, and through some relatively dangerously racist areas.  My mother used to cringe whenever we drove through certain towns - and tried to get my dad to hurry through them.  He would always want to stop in Stuckeys and get a pecan log roll, or at the Dairy Queen to get us all some ice cream -something totally not done during the bad old days; but Daddy was a quiet riot, always silently daring the caucasoids to say something to him.  They never did.

Both my grandparents owned their own land and homes - 86 acres in my Dad's family, and 180 in my Mom's.  But, unlike my dad's family home, my mom's parents had electricity, hot and cold running water, a radio, and other amenities from as far back as the early 1920s.  In fact, they were pretty much the only family - Black or white  - that had electricity, indoor plumbing, and hot and cold running water in a rural, all Black part of Oklahoma.  My Granddaddy, Enoch Gaines, built the house himself for his new wife, and for his mom, Aint Susie - a former slave.  It had a wrap around porch and a porch swing, and a lot of  big rooms with fun things to get into.  Grandmom  Cornelia had a cactus garden that you would see as soon as you came through the gate; a chinaberry tree, and several different fruit trees.  She was always making something sweet - and you could see that it had begun to cause her to gain weight - plums, pears, apples, peaches, cherries, blackberries, blueberries, boysenberries - and she would have jars set aside to send home with us. 

There was a big gulley in front of the house where we kids would play with our cousins and other neighbors from around the area.  They were always told when we were coming down home to visit, and would come over to "keep us company."   I loved that gulley!  It had a pond and a dozen places to hide. We kids would follow the path down into it, play hide and seek, cowboys and Indians; do weenie roasts, camp out - as long as we were back up before the sun went down.  It was also the place where my Granddad had his whiskey still.

I remember grandmother telling us stories from legends about her people.  There were some things she was not supposed to talk about because of detribalization brainwashing - some things she never got over.  Sometimes she would talk in a whisper as if she half expected the e-vile missionaries to show up and punish her.  I always tried to find out what it was like for her growing up.  She never ever mentioned the missionary school, though. I only found out about that during my 4th grade class when my teacher, Ms. Cannon, talked about what had happened to Blacks and Indians in Oklahoma.   In the local country church I noticed that she knew practically every song - no doubt a result of the missionary school indoctrination - and sang them with that characteristic Indian trill. 

My Grandmom was a member of the HORNBEAK CLAN - a relatively large family located throughout the Southern part of Oklahoma, just north of the Texas/Oklahoma border.  I have several relatives scattered throughout Oklahoma and the US who are likewise members of the Hornbeak Clan.  She was the youngest of the seven daughters and two sons in her family. Her father, Squire Hornbeak, lived to be 123 years old and was still lucid and active.

She could crochet, make quilts, and cook dishes that were generally thought to be part of the caucasoid cuisine.  But she also had a way of jazzing it up with Southwestern food flavors -  plenty of spices and laced with her culture - like cho-cho, a peppery hot sauce that we used on our greens.  She set such a beautiful table, and made sure everyone had more than enough to eat.  And she always had a dessert with every meal, despite the fact that everything she did was from scratch.  Whenever we visited, she and mom would head straight to the kitchen, where they would silently choreograph working together as though my mother had never left home.  It was also always marvelous to be there when all my aunts, my Grandmom and my Uncle Buddy were home for a mini-reunion - you could see that each one easily fell into the role they were raised up in.  Mother, being the baby of the family, was basically overruled by her older sisters.  She was grandmother's treasure because she was the youngest and the last to leave the nest, so they treated her like she was still a baby.  Mom was also the only one who continued to live in Oklahoma - all my aunts had either relocated to Detroit or California; so Grandmom would spend more time in Oklahoma City, visiting with us when we were not able to go down home to visit her.  I didn't realize that when you mix Black and Indian genes together, we mostly resemble our Puerto Rican brothers and sisters, until I looked at a young family portrait of my Mom and her sisters. 

I vividly remember two beautifully framed sepia pictures of Grandmom with her braids down her shoulders and Granddaddy with his hair parted to the right. They were mounted high up on the walls so little fingers like mine couldn't reach them.   I would stare at those pictures for hours and hours - especially my Granddad's.  He was so handsome when he was younger.  He had lost most of his hair, and had wrinkles in skin.  I always tried to figure out how he went from that Fine Black man on the wall, to the way he looked when he grew up.  When Grandmom died in1957, that wonderful portrait was stolen - I found out later that it was Cousin Maudie who stole it.

I was convinced that my Grandmom could do anything, and was always fascinated when she made furniture, crocheted animal shapes and doilies, made beautiful quilts, or dolls from scratch.  At the same time she was a consummate fisher woman, who could catch some of the biggest fish on the planet - especially our favorite buffalo fish.  I used to watch her gut them, dress them, fillet them and have them ready in time for dinner.  When she removed the gills, Brenda and I would jump on them and make them pop - they were full of air.  Grandmom would always remove the fish head and bury it in the garden to help fertilize the plants.  She had approximately 30 cats  that lived all over the place that would follow the fish heads, but never dig them up because she'd pour little drops of ammonia around them.  But the cats would keep rodents away, so she had the biggest, broadest collard greens, turnips, curly mustards, snap beans, onions, okra, etc.  She also had a pecan grove, a black walnut tree, plus every fruit tree known to man.  Anything she touched would grow - whether edible or just for the beauty.  Like my Grandmom, Mother would always have a garden growing in our backyard in Oklahoma City.  My Grandmom was both the family herbalist and the midwife for the communities of Burneyville, Marietta and Ardmore.  She had become well known and loved as a result of this.

My Grandmom Cornelia Gaines absolutely loved beautiful jewelry - especially turquoise and garnets.   She had bracelets, necklaces, earrings (pierced), that would just overflow the trunk she kept them in - too much for a mere jewelry case.  When I was five,  I used to push a chair up to her dresser, take several bracelets and necklaces; put them on, and parade around the house wearing them, while clunking around in my Mom's high heels, and trying to wear one of her gorgeous dresses.  Grandmom is where I got my love of costume jewelry from.  She also had a beautiful set of brandy snifters which would sit in her Whatnot Cabinet - which held such a beautiful collection of fine Blue Willow ware china, hand blown glass, and other fabulous items.  We could look at the items, but were warned to not touch them unless she was present.  (Mom got the Blue Willow ware).

I remember my Grandmom putting the mosquito net around our beds, rocking and singing us to sleep, making dresses out of flour sacks, letting us pull the grey hairs out of her head so they wouldn't come back - she would burn them so the birds wouldn't try to pluck them for their nests.  I remember her making us wear straw hats in summer to keep us from getting sunstroke, and warning us to stay away from toads because they would spit on us and give us warts; I remember her telling us to watch were we walked in the back 40 because we might step on cow puckey.  I remember that my Grandmom loved brandy - and made peach brandy using Granddaddy's whiskey still.  She would pour them into the brandy snifters.  Unlike my Uncle Buddy who would be looped at the very smell of alcohol, she could handle her liquor - which was cool since Granddaddy had two whiskey stills - one for sales and one for guests and relatives.  (Dad's family was teetotalers and only drank a slight bit of Mogen David Wine for New Years).

Unlike Grandmom, Zady, who was rather reticent,  Grandmom Cornelia was very outgoing and a big hugger - she would pick us up and rock us, let us slide down her knees, let us sit in her lap and swing us in the porch swing. She, mom and the rest of us would pop huge bags of fresh popcorn that she grew in the back of the cornfield - separate from the regular corn. 

Though it was never openly discussed, both our families took a great deal of pride in being both Black and Indian.  We would visit Anadarko, OK every year for the American Indian Exposition.  Just being there you had a great sense of belonging and community.  All the colors, the music, the dancers, beautiful doeskin beaded boots (Grandmom Cornelia made those too).  Mother had a fierce distrust of caucasoids - and would cut loose with some serious epitaphs for those who perpetrated harm, lies, trickery, deceit and evil on both Blacks and Native Americans.  She would often say of caucasoids that she didn't trust them as far as she could throw them - and that they were not to be believed under any circumstances.  So she would make sure that we spent time getting to know something about her people.  

A lot of what I learned of our heritage I learned in school - from the pushing of the tribes off their lands in Georgia, Florida, North Carolina, through the Trail of Tears; I learned about Sequoia who invented the Cherokee Alphabet, and wrote books in their original language; about all the heroic things Geronomo did, and how they locked him up in Fort Sill, Lawton Oklahoma to prevent him from liberating his people; I watched as they built Frontier City, a tribute to the caucasoid cowboys, totally ignoring the fact that Oklahoma originally belonged to, and was developed by the combined efforts of Blacks and Indians (Native Americans).  I also remember my grandmom's sister Aunt Lydie - who would try to fill me in on things most didn't know about Black Indians.  She would say that both sides - "Black and white - want you to forget who you are.  Don't ever forget.  Your ancestors - the ancient ones - are with you." Sadly, there were some members of the Five Civilized Tribe who likewise later tried to have us excised from our heritage.  So glad Lydie wasn't here to witness that. 

So, in tribute to Native American Heritage Month - I love and salute the two beautiful women of Black and Native American Heritage who gave life to the people who gave life to me:

I honor the memories and spirits of my beloved Grandmothers Zady Washington-DULAN and Cornelia HORNBEAK Gaines, and the two Fine Black Men - Silas Sylvester DULAN and Enoch Gaines -  who had the deep love and good sense to marry them.  And all the members of the Creek and Cherokee clans, and the Five Civilized Tribes and Indian Freedmen of Oklahoma.

Stay Blessed &

ECLECTICALLY BLACK 

Gloria DULAN-Wilson

In Memoriam to My Mom Ruby Love Dulan who made her Transition on April 14, 2014

By Gloria Dulan-Wilson

Hello All:

On April 14, 2014, my mother made her transition to the realm of Ancestor Angels - joining my dad, Warner Hale Dulan, Sr., her mom, Cornelia Hornbeak Gaines, her dad, Enoch Gaines, her sisters, JoAnne, Mary, Ula, and Altreca and her brother AC Gaines - as well as other members of the Hornbeak and Gaines family.  

This is in tribute to my mom who managed to live and be active, alert, and energetic until the age of 91.   This is a compilation of memories in no particular order - I'm sure my brother Syl, who was her primary caregiver, and my sister Brenda, have even more to add.   In the midst of losing so many friends during this pandemic of COVID 19, I am beginning to rewind all the things and people for whom and I am grateful - and my mother, RUBY LOVE DULAN, definitely goes to the head of the list.  

 

Mom Ruby Love Dulan in 1943 Age 20

I dug back in the archives of my writing before Facebook and Blogging, and pulled out an early piece I had written on her in her honor - when she was a young 88 years old that I'm sharing with you.  We all miss her so much.  She was definitely a beacon of love in all our lives  - her very name embodied love - which is why her middle name is LOVE:  

OWED TO RUBY LOVE

Ruby you may be the baby
That you got all the wisdom and love is no maybe

You nurtured us when we were small
You stood behind us through it all

You and Daddy were a heaven of a team
You made love and happiness more than a dream

Whenever we thought we could do things in any old way
You put us in check without delay -with dire consequences to pay

You taught us fashion, style and etiquette
You gave us a foundation we'll never forget

You taught us how to be a good mother
You passed the same wisdom to our baby brother

And when things tried to get you down
You not only got up, you actually rebound(ed)

You come from a tough genetic code
Black and Cherokee will never erode

No matter what they throw your way
You let them know you're here to stay

Mom I truly hope I have all your genes
You've shown me what eternal youth means

You don't just take things and make do
You transform them and make them new

What I've learned from you, the world is just finding out

They have yet to deal with what life is about

I just wanted to let you how much you're a treasure
How many things I recall with pleasure

And now that you're celebrating birthday 88
You're not just RUBY LOVE, YOU'RE RUBY THE GREAT
(c) 2,22,2011 PoeticLicense by Gloria Dulan-Wilson

MOMILY MEMORIES:
Mom these are just some of the things I remember from growing up with you, Brenda, Warner, Sylvester, Daddy, Grandmom Cornelia, Grandaddy Enoch, Granddaddy Silas, Grandmom Zady - and all the other wonderful Oklahoma childhood memories:

I remember you made us fresh popped popcorn in a skillet. We each had our own bag and would eat it by the fistfuls  (Eating some right now in memory of Mom)
I remember your making us oat meal from scratch and putting raisins and cinnamon and fresh butter on top, toast and eggs and bacon on the side.
I remember fresh whole wheat toast, bacon (yes I used to eat pork), plum jam, and one egg over easy for breakfast before going to school.
I remember you used to put Vaseline on our legs,  knees, elbows, arms, hands and forehead so we wouldn't be ashy going to school.
I remember putting lemon rinds on our knees and elbows so they wouldn't be rusty (a trick I taught my daughters)
I remember you reading us fairy tales before going to bed
I remember blowing a bubble gum bigger than my head, and when it popped it got in my hair and you had to cut it out
I remember Brenda and I sitting on the front porch with root beer and shaking it up so it would foam up and run over the top of the bottle on to the porch
I remember Brenda and I blowing bubbles into the milk to make it foam up and run over - we really did get into a lot of stuff, didn't we?
I remember playing dress up, and getting into your clothes, with your high heels, hats, gloves, and dresses. We used to parade around the house and pretend to be you.
I remember you trying to teach me how to draw; fortunately Brenda was really a genius - my stick figures just didn't really make it.
I remember my first pair of high heels - you bought them for me because I was in the Glee Club at Moon Jr. High; I was 13 years old, and would have been the only girl without heels.  I remember leaving for the event with a long face, and a pair of flat shoes - you surprised me with these beautiful Amalfi shoes with cuban styled heels.
I remember your making cakes, pies, cookies, muffins, biscuits, yeast rolls, and EVERYTHING from scratch (I'm a great cook, but I could never bake like you -- all my pie crusts turn out harder than the pie pan).  We never had dinner without some kind of dessert.
I remember that old scrapbook that you used to collect your favorite recipes - and your old BETTY CROCKER cookbook.
I remember you sending me to pull a switch off a tree so you could spank me for something I had done; and the warning not to come back with some dried up old twig.
I remember sitting on Grandmother Cornelia's front porch swing down home; and your catching buffalo fish so we could help clean and fry them - MMMMMM good! (and buffalo fish is still my favorite fish)
I remember wearing big straw hats in the summer time, because Grandmother Cornelia said the sun was bad for our skin;
I remember mosquito nets at night so the mosquitoes wouldn't be able to eat us up alive
I remember Grandmother Cornelia having millions of cats.
I remember great grandmother Suzie (your dad's mother) who lived in the shack (her choice) down the road; and Grandmother Cornelia taking her food to eat; she had a 3 legged cast iron pot in the front (she scared the beejeebers out of me).
I remember Grandaddy taking us into Ardmore to get soda-pops and Cracker Jacks with the real prizes in them - and everybody greeting him with respect
I remember Grandmother Corneilia's hand made birch bark furniture; cactus lining the front gate; the gully in front of the house, the china berry and horse apple trees; and all her fresh made preserves, cho-cho, pickled Okra (love it), and prickly pear preserves.
I remember that fantastic sepia picture with the oval frame of Grandaddy on the wall - he was soooooooo fine - with those sunny brown eyes, and that part in his hair (I wish I knew who stole that picture, I'd track them down and get it back).  Joe Jr. said cousin Maudie stole the picture.  She's also now in the realm of Ancestor/Angels - tell her I want it back. 
I remember Grandmother Cornelia having Brenda and I pick the grey hairs out and put them in a bowl so they wouldn't come back (old Cherokee superstition - you never throw hair away, the birds might find it, like it, and begin swooping down on you for more of your hair to build their nests).
I remember sitting and watching while Grandmother Cornelia braided her hair in two long plaits that she parted on either side of her shoulders.
I remember the hot comb and getting my hair "straightened" - of course I've been natural now for five + decades - but I admit that I hated getting my hair pressed, but I did look cute with the styles you gave me.  Of course, I remember when I became interested in boys, I suddenly changed my mind and got my hair pressed until I woke up to my own Blackness
I remember playing hop scotch on the drive way; jump rope, hide and go seek (where we counted by fives) playing jacks; and my first day of kindergarten
I remember making paper dolls and designing outfits for them; I remember keeping them in a decorated cigar box.  I also remember my extensive collection of Katy Keene and Milly the Model comic books - with the paper doll cut outs
I remember nursery school with Ms. Sonders (Sandra Lou's mom) and being scared to go there  because they used to tell us that the Big Bad Wolf would get bad kids, and I wasn't sure if I was good or bad - you reassured me that I was good, and not to worry.
I remember you making lunch for scratch for Daddy every day when he worked at Tinker Air Force Base - sometimes he would have to leave at the crack of dawn, and we didn't see him again until late that evening.
I remember sitting and watching cartoons with you on the old black and white romance movies on  TV - your favorites were Heckle and Jeckle and Woodie Woodpecker.
I remember watching silent movies with you; and all the old classic movies - to this day I'm still an old movie buff because of you.
I remember listening to such greats as Lloyd Price, Billy Eckstine, Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Dinah Washington, Billie Holiday, and so many others.
I remember you and daddy taking us to the Black owned theatres - the Jewel, the Eastside and the Aldrich, where we would go and see the movies of the day - or Black oldies like Stormy Weather, Bronze Buckaroo, Cabin in the Sky, etc.
I remember sitting on our front porch on N.E. 7th Street, and eating fresh picked cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and lettuce from your garden (that I helped plant).
I remember Ebony, Jet, Sepia, Tan, Crisis, Journal of Negro Education, and other Black magazines on our coffee table; and we had to read them
I remember Black history books, and participating in Negro History Week pageants - and having to collect stories about Black accomplishments (of course back in those days, we were "colored" or "Negroes")
I remember swinging from a rope swing on the Lucky Bean Tree in the back yard and building a tree house that actually lasted until the 90's - wow!
I remember getting to lick the bowl after you had made a cake or muffins from scratch.
I remember how good it smelled when you were making a roast or something in the kitchen.
I remember the fact that you were such a night owl that you would actually vacuum at 3 in the morning; I figure that's why I'm such a natural night owl myself.
I remember you and daddy making sure we spoke proper English; didn't split our infinitives, didn't talk flat, and didn't say "ain't". The penalties were to repeat the sentence over and over until we got it right.
I remember when you sold your part of the land Granddaddy and Grandmom left you so I could go to college.
I remember flash cards, and how we practiced until we learned our math, spelling and other lessons using them.
I remember when we used to stay with Grandaddy Silas in Luther, Oklahoma, and loving the smell of the woodburning stove, and being afraid of the outhouse (where a Black widow spider had spun a web over the seat).
I remember you used to make preserves; and that Grandmom and Grandaddy would send us up a gunny sack of pecans, that Brenda and I would almost eat in one sitting (of course a gunny sack is 100 lbs, but that's how much we love pecans).
I remember Grandmom would make us dresses out of flour sacks and send them to us - they were very pretty.
I remember Grandmom making doilies and roosters, and other stuff from crocheting; and those spectacular quilts she made at the quilting bees.
I remember Uncle Buddy, Aunt Mary, Aunt Trecia, Aunt JoAnn, and Aunt Eula - Billie Jean, Yay-Yay and Ronnie; and cousin Joe Jr. (who I had a crush on); and I remember riding on the front of Grandaddy Enoch's horse.
I remember jumping on fish gills to make them pop; and taking a magnifying glass to catch ants on fire.
I remember all those awful herb teas Grandaddy used to make to help stay well; and standing on the front porch, in the sunshine while you tried to get me to take cod liver oil (yuck) followed by an orange - the oil always came back up before I could take one bite of the orange - and you'd just make me take it again until I finally got it down (yuck again).
I remember your Singer Sewing Machine and all the wonderful outfits you made for Brenda and I. It was the machine I learned to sew on. It always fascinated me how you could transform a piece of fabric into such elegant creations - and you still have one of the most fabulous wardrobes going.
I remember how, in our home, birthdays were always celebrated.
I remember how you opened our home to all our best friends; how you tried to guide the kids in the neighborhood; how our yard was the neighborhood community yard.
I remember roasting weenies in the Back yard; camping out under home made tents;
I remember playing baseball, foot ball, acrobats, and all kinds of crazy stuff in our yard.
I remember skin-the-cat; turning flips, pole vaulting over the ropes, and making mud pies; johnson grass that was taller than we were, catching and mounting butter flies - all in our back yard.
I remember how you were always two jumps ahead of me in whatever crazy scheme I was cooking up or mischief I was getting ready to get into.
I remember Easter egg hunts in the yard; dressing up for Easter, participating in the Easter and Christmas pageants; and Father/Daughter dances.
I remember Juneteenth Picnic celebrations at Lake Olberhoster; and eating so much I got sick.
I remember only getting chicken pox in my hair so nobody knew I had it until it was almost over; and I remember having mumps only in one cheek.
I remember your sending us to the library every Saturday morning after we completed our chores; and me using my allowance to buy tons of books from Aladdin's book store - I was the resident book worm
I remember all those wonderful photos you had of you and Daddy when you were kids - you could have been a fashion model; he could have been on the cover of GQ -
I remember how beautiful you and your sisters were (and Aunt Mary and you still are).- and how each of you had married very handsome men - they really don't make them like they used to.
I remember your making my favorite German Sweet Chocolate cake every year for my birthday. No one makes it like you.
I remember Pecan Pie - peach cobbler, apple pie, cherry pie, blueberry pie, Ginger Bread hot out of the oven with fresh whipped cream, topped with peaches - right!
I remember my favorite ice cream was and is Black Walnut; followed closely by Rum Raisin, with a Chocolate a close third.
Peanutbutter Brickle from scratch, with real peanuts in it!
I remember Blackberry cobbler from scratch!! Yummmmm...!
I remember when I was in the NAACP Youth Council, and we were sitting in, you did like it but you supported us anyway. You and Dad always warned us about how vindictive rednecks were (sorry, had to go there;those were dangerous times indeed).
I remember how you kept your cool no matter what was going on - you handled it - you were unflappable; but always on point. You saw thru b.s. like nobody's business, and knew how to call a spade a spade - literally. My friends and I used to say that you put the best detective to shame.
I remember my best friend Tessa having to beg you to let me off of being grounded so I could go out after something I had done. She always promised I would be good, and never do it again - you knew better. But you let me go anyway.
I remember drawing and design houses for you from the ideas you had in your head - you truly had a knack for those kinds of things - the home you have now is proof of your insights.
I remember your wisdom in telling me to always double check what the doctors tell me, because some of them could not be trusted; a habit I have to this day. It's saved my life many times. It's a habit, thank God, you still maintain, which is why at 88 you are alive, well, kicking and more vibrant and energetic than ever. I hope I have those genes. I'm sure working on it.

Mom RUBY LOVE - I have so many memories. You know I could go on and on and on because there are so many things that I recall from childhood to now that I absolutely treasure.

So I hope this thumbnail down memories lane gives you some Idea of how much I love you and love the fact that you're my Mom.

In Memoriam to Mom RUBY LOVE
LOVE YOU MUCHLY
Stay Blessed,

From Your Number One Child
Gloria Jeanne

-->

MY MOM'S MOM - CORNELIA HORNBEAK GAINES

By Gloria Dulan-Wilson

Hello All:

I have been looking and looking for this picture of my Mom's Mom - actually, I always called her Grandmommy - who was the only other Aries in my entire family line - both sides.  She was, and still is, my inspiration.  

My Maternal Grandmother Cornelia Hornbeak Gaines

I have so many fond memories of her coming up.  She passed on to the realm of the Ancestor/Angels when I was 13.  I still wear the turqouise pinky ring which was the only piece of jewelry left of her extensive jewelry collection.  

In fact, I'm pretty sure I got my love of jewelry from the fact that she had a trunk full of jewelry on her dresser - I was constantly getting into it as a kid, and would walk around with her bracelets all the way up to my elbows, and her necklaces down to her knees.  She loved turquoise, but also had garnets, and other beautiful pieces as well. 

Her birthday was April 7, 1887 - but she was always so young to me, despite the fact that she had been subjected to missionary school when she was young - during the time when they tried to detribalize Native Americans.  Grandmom had an original  Cherokee name - but I don't know what it was. They renamed her Cornelia, however, her nickname was "Aint Boosie" because she was a midwife in the community, having delivered a great many babies in the small all Black town of Burneyville, OK.  

Grandmom was a fabulous cook, housewife, mother, designer.  She taught all her daughters to do and be the same - so I learned how to sew from both her and my mom.  

My granddad, Enoch Gaines, built her a fabulous home - the only home with electricity and indoor plumbing for a long time in that region.  He had 180 acres of land on the OKLAHOMA/Texas Border.   She and my granddaddy were married for 45 years until she passed on.  They had five girls - Eula Pearl, Altreca (Altreesa), Joanne, Mary, Ruby Love (my mom); and one son, AC aka, Uncle Buddy.  

I always loved going down home to stay with them for the summer.  She was a fantastic gardner, fisher, and just plain fun to be with.  She used to bounce us up and down on her knees; let us lick the bowl after she made the cake, and teach us how to quilt and do fun stuff.

My granddad was 7 years younger than she was, but he was the love of her life, and she was his.   We'd sit together in the big porch swing on the front porch and Grandmom would tell us all kinds of stories.

When we got a little older she'd let us braid her long hair - which was down to her waistline.  Cherokees have a tradition that if you have a grey hair and you pull it, no more grays would come to take its place.  She would have my sister Brenda and I looking for grey hair.  LOL

Grandmom would make furniture from birch trees - I used to try to do the same, but I was skinnier than most of the branches she pulled down and couldn't get them to cooperate.  She made stools, tables, chairs, and cradles.  She had a papoose carrier that she used for all of her kids - she carried them on her back when they were born.  My mother gave it to me when my first born, Kira, came along.  I have no idea where it is now.  But it was a beautiful work of art - so much so that I basically had it mounted on the wall and only took it down when I was showing off her handiwork.

She belonged to a quilting bee of local women - who would come together, swap patterns and ideas.  She also knew how to crochet - something I could never master.  I was great at knitting, but for whatever reason, crocheting just eluded me. 

Grandmom always had so many wise sayings - she used them to raise her own daughters, and tried to teach them to us.  Unfortunately, I can't remember half of them.

I do remember, though, that she had a cactus garden and she made prickly pear preserves; she canned or pickled most of the produce from her garden, and she loved to sing - or trill, which is what that high pitched warbeling most of our Indian sisters do.  Her favorite song was "You Brought Me A Might Long Way."  I can almost hear her singing it now.

Grandmom used to have us pick horseapples and fruit from the Chinaberry tree - and made all kinds of desserts for us.  She was the queen of caramel - and always used it between the layers of her cakes from scratch. 

So this is a pre-birthday homage to my wonderful Grandmother. She's on my mind now - and her spirit is with me now - so I'm writing this now to let her know that I hear her, and I love her, and she's very much in my heart.

So Happy Birthday Grandmom!  Much Love to You from your Baby Child's Firstborn, 
Gloria Jeanne


-->

MOTHER'S DAY TRIBUTE

By Gloria Dulan-Wilson

Well, this is the first Mothers' Day without my mom, Ruby Love Dulan; and I must admit that I have procrastinated in sending out my annual Happy Mothers' Day greetings to all my Sister Moms, Grandmoms, and Mothers-to-be.  

Even at my age, I feel somewhat like an orphan - since both my mom, Ruby Love and dad, Warner Hale Dulan are now part of the ancestors.  But I'm heartened by the fact that they will now be able to pick up their romance where they left off - before they had us four  - Me, Brenda, Warner and Sylvester - to come along and completely turn their lives upside down.   We were definitely a hand full.  And they hung in with each of us, through thick, thin, good, bad and indifferent!

 They were such a beautiful couple- my Mom and Dad - and each probably turned a lot of heads and caused a lot of heart throbs in their own right.

Mom Ruby Love Dulan in 1943 When she met my Dad

Dad Warner Hale Dulan in 1943 when he met my Mom

Mom and Dad at a Black Country Club in Oklahoma City, OK Can you believe she made that gown?

This is a photo of Mother and Dad that I and my sibs will always cherish - especially since I can recall the days when they used to step out regularly with their best friends - hitting all the parties and clubs in Oklahoma City - and yes, we partied hardy in OKC - long before I came to the East Coast.    And, though she denied it, I can remember that Mom and Dad would leave us with the baby sitter when it was dark, and wouldn't pick up until dawn the next morning - talking about hanging out!!! I remember watching my Mom make that evening gown on her old, original Singer Sewing Machine - she even made gloves to match!!!

Looking at these photos brings back so many wonderful memories.  I guess I kind of didn't know what to say, or how I would feel at this point.  I'm so used to giving my mom a call on Mothers' Day and chatting her up.  Sometimes I'd send her a fragrance set with either Elizabeth Taylor's fragrance, bath salts, powder and all the great stuff that goes with it; or some of the other fragrances she loved.  So this year, as I walked through Macy's, and past the perfume counters, I suddenly realized that that wasn't going to happen this year - so I quickly made my exit.  But these make me smile through the tears.

Not to sound morose - I guess it takes a period of adjustment when your mom moves forward to the status of Ancestor Angel - so I'm going to do what I try to tell all my friends to do when someone they love has left this plane of action - remember all the good things and good time we had together - and cherish them.  

At the same time, as a mom myself, I've got a beautiful daughter, Kira, and fantastic daughter-in-law, Traci, who are both great moms in their own right.  I have a great sister-in-law, Sonya, who is fantastic; I've a great sister Brenda, who is also a mom and a grandmom.   

In addition, I  have some wonderful friends and neighbors who are awesome moms: so here's much love and respect to Bobbi Humphrey, Brenda Dulan-Moore.,  Kira Dulan-Harrell, Traci Wilson, Nannette Allen, Tessya Smith-Polk, Latrice M. Walker, Dorothy Pittman-Hughes, Judy Ward & Judy Peeples,  Una Clarke, Donna Cerio, Carol Black, Mary Dulan, Sonya Dulan, Brenda Ross-Dulan, Brandice Martin, Kita Williams, Michelle Obama, Annie Gray, Carlyn Gray,  Iman Hameem,  Annette Robinson, Barbara Killens Rivera,  Lillian Smith, Brandi Dulan, LaDawn Deniece,  Norma Harrell (partner mom),  Barbara, Pat, Jackie and Lisa Potts - and so many more Sister/Moms out there for being the blessings that you are.

They say a mother's love is like no other, and I can attest to that - we are loved by our moms, and in turn  we love our children; we are nurtured by them and in turn nurture ours.  Our mothers/we are the first teachers; we are the examples - what our children learn in their formative years they learn from us - and I'm proud to say that each one of the mothers mentioned above are wonderful examples of what motherhood is all about.  But we're the spin offs of an even greater generation of mothers - I sometimes hear me and my friends say to our children "you'd better be glad I'm not your grandmother because you'd be .... " - and I'm sure we call all finish that sentence.

How many times have we observed other moms, who are not so good at disciplinary skills, and rolled our eyes in disgust as their offspring proceed to behave badly in public.  We, 'the real mothers' look at each other, with eyebrows raised, and through mental telepathy, discuss what we would do if that were our child embarrassing us in public.  And we can't wait for them to get off the bus, or the subway, or the department store so that we can verbally compare disciplinary methodologies.

Those of us who faced corporal punishment as a kid, rendered by the same hands that rocked the cradle, can make comparisons much bigger than the guys who talk about the fish that got away - how big was that switch?  what kind of tree did you have to go to to get it?  What happened if you brought one back that was too small, or too brittle?  We all know the drill - we've been the exemplars ourselves with our own children.  And as beautiful as my mom was, she packed a mean wallop when it came to making sure I understood who was the boss in the family. 

Mothers' day is May 11 - and for the first time many of us will wear a white rose to signify that our moms have gone on to join the angels.  I looked at them today and realized that this, after the homegoing service, is the final finality - the inescapable truth that I will be among that population.  

That said, these are some of the things I will cherish about all the Moms of my family - including, and especially my Mother, Ruby Love Dulan: 

First of all, I'm sure Mother's Coffee Cakes, Pineapple Upside Down Cakes, Rhubarb Pies, Pecan Pies and German Sweet Chocolate Cakes must be proliferating all over heaven by now, that is, if Daddy hasn't eaten them all first. 

Mother's Mother, Grandmom Cornelia Hornbeak Gaines

I'm sure Grandmom Cornelia Hornbeak Gaines' Caramel Cake, with honey caramel icing and plum preserves for good measure, is likewise being devoured.  

Every summer Mom would pack up the car; fix enough food for a five hour drive, and get us all up at 5:00 in the morning for a drive "down home" to Burneyville, Oklahoma, just outside Ardmore and Marietta, Oklahoma, near the Red River.  This required a drive down the twisty, windy, two lane mountain known as the Arbuckles; and through territories in Oklahoma where Black people weren't necessary welcome.  She packed the food and a "pee pot" in case we needed to use the toilet; because in segregated Oklahoma, you were not allowed to do so if you were Black. 

Dad, who had served during WWII, was always quietly challenging this; and Mother, fearful that he would be lynched or jailed by rednecks, was always trying to pursuade him not to stop at the stores on the side, but to "wait til we get to Burneyville" (a Black and Indian town).  I could sense the fear and tension in her tone, and knew it wasn't a good thing.  It was that fear that inspired me to become a member of the NAACP Youth Council at the age of 10, and begin participating in the Sit-Ins that took place in OKC to break the segregation barriers once and for all.

Of course, when we got to Grandmom's all that was forgotten.  We romped, played, fished, and got into as much mischief as possible - because we knew Grandmom was the boss down home.  Mother was the baby daughter, and she got more than her fair share of pampering.  So we lapped it up.

Daddy's Mother Zady Dulan

My Grandmom Zady's fresh biscuits floating off the plate, slathered with some of her fresh churned butter was a popular favorite.  They lived in Luther, Oklahoma - a little more than an hour and a half drive from Oklahoma City.  She didn't have electricity, or hot or cold running water.  They had a well that pumped up sweet Oklahoma water.  But that didn't stop her from baking the best deep dish peach cobbler with hand made Black Walnut ice cream. When you know how to cook, you cook - no matter what tools you had.  She had a wood burning stove, and a cellar for her preserves and canning and that was it.  But Grandmom Zady made magic in the kitchen!

Every year for Mothers' Day, at Dunbar Elementary School, we were required to make cards for our mothers and grandmothers - signifying how much we loved and appreciated them .  We came up with all kinds of gifts - Cigar Boxes converted to jewelry boxes; five gallon ice cream containers transformed into waste paper baskets; Popsicle stick picture frames.  We proudly brought them home, and they were proudly displayed for all to see and admire.  

I remember my mom teaching me how to use the sewing machine.  I first had to learn how to sew by hand, and how to embroider.  But,  I was always fascinated with the fact that she could take beautiful fabric and transform them into works of art - I wanted to learn to do the same thing.  She was always afraid that I was going to sew my hand in the machine because I always wanted to go fast.  But I managed to master the art of sewing and design thanks to Mom - and embarked on making my own unique clothes for school so I wouldn't be wearing the same thing everybody else had - typical Aries.  I was compulsive designer - Simplicity, Butterick and Vogue Patterns were my favorite- so when I got too big to get behind whippings, mother would punish me by taking away the power cord from the sewing machine so I couldn't sew.  That, and making me clean the kitchen, were the two worse things she could do to me.  I got the message - at least until next time - Out of the four of us, I'm sure I'm the one who tested her patience the most.

Me at 17 When I played Beneatha Younger in "A Raisin In the Sun" at Douglass Sr. High School in OKC -

At Douglass Sr. High School I was a Thespian, and played Beneatha Younger, in "A Raisin in The Sun."  I'm wearing a dress I made for the play.  I remember Mother making me go to bed, because I had stayed up all night making it.  The hem is done with scotch tape.  Boy was I skinny Black in the day!! About 90 pounds soaking wet. Of course this was before natural hair styles.  Still I was the one who hated sitting still for the hot comb, but permanents (actually temporaries) weren't allowed.  

I'm taking personal inventory to make sure I remember all the things my mom tried  teach me growing up:  
"As long as you're green, you'll grow; when you think you're ripe, you begin to get rotten."  "Everything you do, do with a will; those who would reach the top, first must climb the hill."  "Never leave the house without clean underwear - you never know when you might be in an accident, or have an emergency."  "When you cook dinner, the head of the household - Daddy - gets served first, because he's the breadwinner - then everybody else." (this one was because I could eat so much and never gain weight, and was always hungry - I had to be reminded to save some food for Daddy) "Never eat before saying grace." "If he tells you he loves you, watch and see what he does for you."  "Handsome is as handsome does." (This was in reference to boyfriends and husbands) "Education is a non-negotiable item." "Don't talk flat."  ...and "Behind that preposition!" (her response to the question of "where is it at?"  Which would get my mother, my grandmother, and all my aunts yelling that  phrase out in unison - I guess it was some kind of family code - speaking proper English, and being grammatically correct were absolute musts in my family on both sides - one that I carried forward with my children, and which they now carry forward with theirs).  "There's no such thing as a good excuse - the better the excuse, the worse it is." "THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS CAN'T!!"  And this above all:  "NEVER, EVER, EVER SAY ANYTHING NEGATIVE ABOUT HER MAN, WARNER HALE DULAN," I shudder to think of the consequences of anyone who was foolish enough to do so.   Mother stood 5'3" in her stocking feet - but I swear she would expand to 10 feet tall if necessary.

Those of you fortunate to still have your Moms with you, please make sure you take every opportunity to let them know how much you love and appreciate them.  Take lots and lots of pictures.  Regardless of how good or bad they look - you will cherish them always.

And for those of  you whose Moms have made their transition, whether you had your mom for a short time, or were fortunate to have had her for a lifetime, there is never a time when you don't miss her, never a time when you don't need her, and never a time when the love is not rock solid.  Just know that that DNA is still very much a part of you, spiritually and physically.   Regardless of modern's society's penchant for blaming everything that happens to us on our mothers - who, having grown up in an ever increasingly warped, desensitized society, are doing the best they can under the circumstances - we all know that none of us would be here had it not been for them.  That we were definitely wanted, or we would not be walking on this plane of action.

For the most part our mothers put us first before careers, friends, and other family members - their goal was for us to have the best, regardless of what it took; and when I was coming up, it took a lot; and when I was raising mine, it took a lot more.  Most of our moms had the back up we didn't have; but thank God for their wisdom, knowledge and understanding that helped us keep ours on the right path so that they, in turn, could likewise become wise, wonderful and nurturing parents in their own right.

And though we're scandalized by those sister moms who have not yet learned the fine art of parenting, we still pray for their enlightenment so that their offspring will be able to look back on their upbringing with fond memories, the way we can, and be able to help set their own little ones on the right track moving forward.

I remember at Mom's Homegoing ceremony, as I took a last look at her beautiful face, I made a promise to redeem myself and to do better going forward.  So I'm kicking all setbacks to the curb.  It's what she did when she lost Daddy,  the love of her life way before his time.  When she was diagnosed with illnesses that have crippled so many others.  She managed, through all her challenges, to continue to live a full life - completely in control of her faculties; sharp a wit as ever; and stared down adversity until it yielded to her terms.   She continued to shine all the way thru until she decided that she was ready to go. And then she ascended. 

My mother, Ruby Love, is an inspiration to me, my brothers and sister, our children and grandchildren - that there is no such thing as giving up - there is always a way; and never let anybody tell you what you can't do or accomplish.   She was an inspiration to our neighbors and friends who loved her as much as we did. 

Lastly, I want to salute my three, without whom I would not have had the privilege of being a mother and knowing such wonderful, beautiful, creative and talented spirits. (and all my friends who know me, know that I'm always bragging about my three - some people think I have ten - because I talk about them so much).   We've seen some great times, some rough times, laughed a lot, shared a lot, loved a lot and still love even more.  Thanks for being my kids: Kira, Rais and Adiya - Much love to you now and forever more - Momi

Kira, Rais and Adiya - I made three beautiful children - GOD IS PLEASED!!

So to all my SISTER/MOM IN NIGERIA - I AM PRAYING FOR THE SAFE RETURN OF YOUR/OUR DAUGHTERS - AND FOR JUSTICE TO BE SWIFT AND DECISIVE TO THE PERPETRATORS - and anyone else who would deign to harm innocent children. 

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL MY SISTER/ MOMS WHEREVER YOU ARE!!

Stay Blessed & 
ECLECTICALLY BLACK 
Gloria Dulan-Wilson
www.gloriadulanwilson.blogspot.com/ECLECTICALLY BLACK NEWS












-->