MasterOfAllHeSurveyz
All Star
The inverse. I love my grandmother to death but she was cruel to my grandfather and he'd take the abuse without a complaint. My grandmother could fight though. Remember Sophia in Color Purple? I'm convinced that there's no way Alice Walker hasn't come into contact with my grandmother in someway. I've even seen her lay out two men.
My grandfather was the most intelligent, loving, encouraging and confidence-building person I've ever known. If he told you could do something, you'd believe it. He abhorred anyone, especially black folks, using the word nikka. He believed with his whole heart that corporal punishment in black homes was a carryover from slavery passed down like an heirloom. If you got in trouble, his punishment was telling you that he was disappointed in your behavior in the kindest voice. You really felt like shyt afterwards because you disappointed him. His only vice was that he was an alcoholic. Not the mean, violent or irresponsible kind. He was just even "nicer". He was a smiling drunk. He'd been grinning from ear to ear. This man worked 12 hour days, as a chef, 6 days a week up until he got sick from cancer. But it seemed like he always had the time for me. He's been gone over 30 years and I still think about him every day. He was just born 100 years too early and a thousand years too late.
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This gentleman here below is the late Navy Chaplain CAPT Thomas J. McPhatter. He's a Montford Point Marine (original group of black men to become the first Marines).
After my grandmother had passed, my mother attended the annual Redstone Academy reunion for alumnus and descendants of the segregated school. Captain McPhatter, one of my grandmothers classmates, approached my mom and asked "Who are your peoples?"
My mother gave him my grandmother's maiden name.
His eyes brightened, got big as fukk and he shouted out, "Damn! Your momma sure could fight!"
My mom was hotter than fish grease on the inside.
My grandfather was the most intelligent, loving, encouraging and confidence-building person I've ever known. If he told you could do something, you'd believe it. He abhorred anyone, especially black folks, using the word nikka. He believed with his whole heart that corporal punishment in black homes was a carryover from slavery passed down like an heirloom. If you got in trouble, his punishment was telling you that he was disappointed in your behavior in the kindest voice. You really felt like shyt afterwards because you disappointed him. His only vice was that he was an alcoholic. Not the mean, violent or irresponsible kind. He was just even "nicer". He was a smiling drunk. He'd been grinning from ear to ear. This man worked 12 hour days, as a chef, 6 days a week up until he got sick from cancer. But it seemed like he always had the time for me. He's been gone over 30 years and I still think about him every day. He was just born 100 years too early and a thousand years too late.
=====
This gentleman here below is the late Navy Chaplain CAPT Thomas J. McPhatter. He's a Montford Point Marine (original group of black men to become the first Marines).
After my grandmother had passed, my mother attended the annual Redstone Academy reunion for alumnus and descendants of the segregated school. Captain McPhatter, one of my grandmothers classmates, approached my mom and asked "Who are your peoples?"
My mother gave him my grandmother's maiden name.
His eyes brightened, got big as fukk and he shouted out, "Damn! Your momma sure could fight!"
My mom was hotter than fish grease on the inside.
