Tuesday, October 28, 2008

What I'm Made of: Part 2

Part 2: Into the Deep South...

From there, we moved to the deep south- Florence, Alabama, and I loved it. Frist of all, the house was by the lake. Second of all, it was the first place my sisters and I lived that had a little thing called, "central-airconditioning." I had never experienced the deep South before and in some ways, Alabama was one of my biggest influences. I'll never forget driving through a real shanty town for the first time. It's not there anymore, but for those of you that have ever experienced the silent segregation that still lived up into the late 80's, a shanty town is a sad, different world. Wooden shacks with dirt floors as far as the eye could see. Nary a tree. It was if we had driven into a third-world country. We didn't spend a long time touring Shanty town, to say the least, but many of my friends lived there.

So, it was in Alabama that I was faced, dead-on with racism. Unbeknownst to us, we had KKK members in our church. (Some wonderful people too, and good friends.) One church member told my dad that if he seated a black man then he'd regret it. I don't need to tell you my dad's response. Again, only a few church members were nasty, most were very kind. I loved my school even though I wandered the halls of my first years of highschool (8th grade was in the highschool) in total terror. Groups of black young men would single-out one white male and ambush him, for no reason, and for a good 10 seconds the would knock the crap out of him, then disperse, leaving the beaten boy on the floor. Thankfully, that never happened to me. That lasted for a year or so until the school took some drastic measures.

What saved me from racism was my black friends. When I moved there, I didn't know a thing about racism. It was never a part of my family and my hero growing up was Michael Jackson. (Thus the moon-walk performance.) My black friends explained to me that these guys were just angry and that all black people don't do that crap. From them, I learned what welfare was, and I watched in amazement as some teachers discouraged them from enrolling in college-bound courses. In one instance, one of those friends probably saved my life...

It is no exaggeration that the school where I went harbored downright criminals, white and black. In one study hall, one black young man was talking about how he was going to stab the next person that talked back to him. Long story short, somehow, my mouth somehow volunteered for his sociology experiment. It wasn't intentional, but something I said, some question... offended this character. One of my black friends interceded for me and with two words and prevented my death: "He's cool."

Many other deeply dramatic stories from this time have shaped my conscience, some to do with racism and some not, and because of them, deep south is in my blood forever.

To the Midwest...

From there, we moved to the true mid-west, Springfield, MO. Springfield is home to some of the greatest people I've ever met. Some of my most important growth came in that era and I owe much of my character to the friends and church family there. I probably had the most fun living in Springfield and I still LOVE going back. I started playing the piano there. Someday, I hope to own a little house there and spend half a year at a time there, maybe tend some sheep... (Hey, a man can dream.)

I went to a small church in Springfield and my youth group was just awesome. Never would you find such an array of characters in one place. Right now, they are scattered about and most are doing great things. One works for NASA, another is pres. of his own Engineering company, one is a successful accountant, one is a military chaplin, one is living in Boston, graduate of M.I.T. with his wife and kids and does medical research, or at least he did last time I checked. All of them encouraged the lonely preacher-boy writing this today and I owe much to their friendship.

After that I spent 10 years in the great state of Texas. Let it be said (sorry dad) that though Oklahoma and Alabama probably shaped my artistic conscience more than anything, I'd probably claim Texas as home more than any place. (NYC is gaining though...) Texas was (and still is) where I was primarily educated. It was in Texas that I met and married my amazing wife, and for that alone, it is the greatest state in the union. (Ironically, my wife was born in Oklahoma as well!) Texas was the place where I learned to love the church again and where made some more of my deepest friendships.

I never considered myself much of a role-model, but my stint in Texas helped me to learn that God uses all that you have to offer, and what you do... everything you do matters to the younger eyes watching you. I suppose a big fat "duh?" would be in order for that last statement, but this is coming from a man who still tries to see the world as a kid himself.

So there you have it folks. A brief history of me. I do love this city, but once a southerner, always a southerner. Example: You really need good walking shoes to survive in this city, however, you'd have to tear my cowboy boots from my cold dead hands.

My anscestors made it here floating on debree, we made it here in a Uhaul. Not much progress there if you've ever driven a Uhaul.

Hope you enjoyed. Any questions? What's your story? Do you go in for that sort of family history?

8 comments:

Electric Monk said...

Awesome story. It's amazing how what seem like little things come back to us later as the most defining moments of our lives. And it's always strange how, despite the influences of our genes and our parents, our environment is such a huge piece of shaping who we become.

countrygirl said...

I have enjoyed reading your blogs just as much as I enjoyed watching you grow up in Springfield..two of the friends you mentioned are siblings of mine...I even remember the family vacations that you came on and we wouldn't let you bring your guitar....anyway, your blog is a bright spot in my day..some days I laugh until the tears are rolling. Keep writing, I'll keep reading.
T

Chaotic Hammer said...

I enjoyed these posts very much. You're such a fascinating and eclectic character, and this certainly adds a few more layers of explanation as to why that's the case.

Seth Ward said...

Elec. Monk and C-hamm, thanks! I was worried that I was going to bore everyone comatose. It was written fast and a tad sloppy, but oh well...

countrygirl! How the heck are you? How's the hub and the kids?

Susanne said...

I loved these posts. I love history, and I love reading about different parts of the country. I was born and raised in North Alabama, and I'm happy to say I never knew of anyone who was in the KKK. If they were a part of that stuff, they were too embarrassed to tell anyone. It's sad to me that people have such a bad image of the Deep South. They can't seem to get the civil rights 60's images out of their heads. I know it's not a perfect world in the Deep South even now, but I've seen just as much racism in Texas (if not more) than I saw in my first 25 years of life in Alabama and Mississippi. And that hatred is sometimes directed at groups other than African Americans. It's always funny to me when I hear someone from outside the South talk about how racist southerners are and how they themselves would never be prejudiced toward any group of people. Catch the look on their faces when you ask them how many African American friends they have. Ask them how many African Americans live on their street, or in their town. Ask what percentage minorities their high school had. Chances are they have always been surrounded by people who look exactly like they do. Blacks and whites (and now hispanics, Jews, Asians, etc.) live together in the Deep South, and in my experience they get along pretty darn well. Sorry this is so long...it's just something I feel strongly about.

Seth Ward said...

Susanne, I hope I didn't paint that picture too harshly of the South. I hope I relayed that it was my black friends that helped me not be racist or develop skin-generalizations, and they were the ones who interceded on my behalf...

However, Florence and Muscle-Shoals, during the time I lived there, was the headquarters of the KKK. They were in the phone book. Yellow pages.

But racism was on both sides of the spectrum from what I experienced. Regardless of the problems, (every place has its own unique set of issues) I loved it there.

countrygirl said...

I'm great, enjoying a good life.Time is flying by, I sent my oldest off to college this year, I think I was pregnant with him when you came to GBC,he is a big guy, football player and the second one is a senior wants to do something related to film and media. Mo turned me on to your blog site, I'm really enjoying it. Spoke to your dad a few days ago, he has become I great friend of mine. Hey didn't Pitt go to Kickapoo?

Seth Ward said...

Yes, I went to Kickapoo my first year in Springfield. Honestly, I really hated Kickapoo. Zero windows. Freezing cold and humongous.

I loved Glendale. Maybe if Pitt would have went to Glendale he would still believe in God. ;-)

Give Brother Ward a big hug for me. He always did love you to death!

Glad you like my blog... an honor coming from such a creative cat such as yourself.

Wow, about the kids. Yeah, they were just little tykes. Man... oldie oldie oldie. But Neil's older Ha! Tell your mom and dad, N & T, and B I said hello for me!