Precious Memories
Dr. John Wm. Roberts, Ed.D., Contributing Writer
Cedar Falls, Iowa
In these tumultuous times, I often wonder what will happen. Divisiveness is pervasive, not only in geographic areas of the country but also within families, neighborhoods, and churches. The chorus to a song by J.B.F. Wright and Lonnie B. Combs says, “Precious mem’ries, how they linger, How they ever flood my soul; In the stillness of the midnight, Precious, sacred scenes unfold.” The song is “Precious Memories.” I am sure there are many times as we mature we look back on times when families, neighbors, and churches were all linked seamlessly.
Growing up in a neighborhood was “an entire family experience.” Every adult in the neighborhood played a part in our childhood and teenage development. There were elders to whom we could go for guidance and just a welcoming, listening ear when we thought no one was hearing what we were saying. Some would chastise us when they saw us doing things that would lead to severe consequences. I remember my mother telling each of us…”Anyone over the age of 21 has access to your behind.” We knew what that meant! If caught doing anything improper, any adult in the neighborhood could correct us, either verbally or physically. Though corporal punishment is unacceptable today, verbal admonishing can have the necessary effect. I remember one incident quite vividly. As I walked home from school, Ms. Mamie Reed called me while crooking her index finger, “Come here, boy!” Seeing her finger and the tone of her voice, I knew what was coming. “I heard you cut up in school. You know better. The next time I hear about you doing anything unrelated to school, you and I will have business.” All I could do was say, “Yes, Ms. Mamie.” When my mother came home from work, she told me what Ms. Mamie had told her and proceeded to take, in my case, the necessary corrective action.
The family/neighborhood was linked to the church. I grew up in the Smoketown neighborhood of Louisville, Kentucky, in the 1950s & 1960s. It was an area of working-class people of many ethnicities, and there were churches of different faiths; however, the families of other faiths worked together to aid the families of the neighborhood, which needed assistance. There was no distinction of ethnicity or religion. The family/neighborhood needed help either financially or socially. One specific activity the churches of Smoketown would do every summer is coordinate Vacation Bible Schools. By not overlapping dates and times, there were, during the summer months, places for the children to go during the day during the summer months. This would provide supervised religious instruction, activities, and lunch for the children of the neighborhood. The parents knew their children were supervised and secure while they were working.
As I approach the midpoint of my seventh decade of life, I reflect on these “precious memories,” hoping with a relinking of family, neighborhood, and church, the “divisiveness” that is so preeminent in our society will bring to those who follow me in age ‘precious memories’ of a world of ‘togetherness.’ In the stillness of each of our lives, the memories of days past will emerge as vivid hopes of a brighter future for families, neighborhoods, and churches.
