Reflections on Black History Month

I still remember the shame I felt in American History class, both high school and college. In high school, the textbook showed a pictures of Blacks picking cotton and the caption inferred that they were happy doing so. I've picked cotton and I knew that doing back breaking work in the blazing southern sun, without much pay, isn't something that brings much happiness.


In college, my professor referred to Blacks as "niggers" during the discussion of the Civil War and reconstruction. He said the term was historically accurate and in keeping with language used during that period.

After 16 years of formal education, I was livid to discover that 'slavery' was only one part of my story and the story of my people. Formal education had only given me part of my story. The rest I discovered later.

The complete story has yet to become part of our national consciousness. Despite Black history month, African Studies programs, the popular preception is that our story begins with slavery. Until the rest of our story is known we will continue to have debates that question our intelligence, our place in world history and our future.

A new century does call for new stories. These new stories must remind us of our African origins and world changing contributions. This new story must view slavery in the context of our complete history, pointing to our strengt, and removing the shame and misconceptions. Our slavery experience is a stepping stone to overcoming whatever challenges are before us.

We must return and fetch what was left behind.

Family Reunion Boot Camp

I attended a two day Family Reunion Boot Camp at the Georgia Music Hall of Fame. The question on everyone's mind is "How can I capture some of the family reunion business in my neck of the woods?" Unlike most attending, I'm an independent business, offering storytelling and workshop services.

While sitting, listening, I realized for the first time, I am essentially an attraction, and the marketing strategies that work for Six Flags, The Georgia Music Hall of Fame, World of Coke, all would work for me, just on a smaller scale.

So, where the story?

That is what I often fail to do, take my own advice, attend my own workshop, use the one thing I can do better than anyone else, that's to tell a story. My challenge is to remember that I am my own walking, in the flesh, marque.

What's flashing?

Most of the time, not the right message. Starting today, it changes, beginning with capturing the stories and sharing them with willing listeners. Stories are everywhere and everyone has one. I don't have to do all the telling, I can be a catalyst for someone else telling their's.

This is Wesley's Story. If you are looking for an adventure visit him at Mill Pond Kayak. He maybe contacted at info@millpondkayak.com, http://www.millpondkayak.com/.

Hi Ms. Jeannette,
Thank you for your kind note. I really enjoyed meeting and talking with you. I looked at your website and found that we have both taken a similar journey, although along different paths. I loved your following quote: “The next career would be so enjoyable I would do it free and I'd be so good people would be willing to pay.” I graduated UGA in 1983 with a B.S. in Zoology, then got sidetracked for 25 years in a manufacturing career. This past summer, after the death of one of my business partners who was also my brother-in-law, I decided to retire. I wanted to look for a part-time career that would be fun and fulfilling, while leaving me time to pursue other important things like helping my aging parents and other family members, as well as getting myself in better physical, mental, and emotional health.

I think I have found the perfect fit with this new venture. It allowed me to return to my original interest in nature and the outdoors, while getting plenty of exercise and fresh air. Stress levels are way down, and sleep is much more sound! I get to meet lots of wonderful people, including many advisors who’ve been so helpful with the business start-up. But the best part of all is when I get a group of new customers who’ve never been in a kayak, and I get to introduce them to a new and enjoyable experience. It feels like I’m sharing a really good secret with them. It is truly an activity that is suitable for all ages, but the most rewarding for me is watching young children discover something new and realize that they can have a good time without some sort of electronic device in their hands.

If you get a chance, please visit my website at www.millpondkayak.com and click the link to the blog. As a storyteller, hopefully you will enjoy reading the Christmas poem that I wrote and published in the local newspaper. I wrote it in order to encourage folks to purchase gift certificates. My 19 year-old son is in the accompanying photograph dressed as Santa.

Well, that’s my story. I hope we can meet again sometime. You seem like a very unique and interesting person whom I’d like to learn more about.

Healing Stories

Six months have gone by and still I can't wrap my mind around the 'story' of my mother's death. One minute she was here and the next she'd slipped into eternity. Driving by the nursing home last week, my neice was just sure I'd be tempted to stop. So many times I am tempted. Maybe I continue to visit the thrift shop near it because it's an attachment that remains.

My first grief support group session was today. The tears were so near the front, we danced around, getting some where, I'm sure. Talking for an hour about what doesn't hurt, finding it too hard to talk about what's really hurting.

I miss ma, that's what I called her, not mama, mom, it was always the country "ma". Sometimes, it was embrassing, yet I continued because anything less would have betrayed the many times 'ma' was all I needed to summon her help, her prayers, her smile or frown.

I know that stories are healing for others, this time, I am the one standing in need of a story and I'm waiting for someone to help me find the one that will do the trick. Isn't there a story, like a magic wand that will make it all better. I have several I've read and they are all good, they just aren't magic.

I'll keep telling stories, keep remembering and just know that one day, I can go to Milledgeville and not feel the conpulsive need to visit that little thrift shop near Green Acres Nursing home.