Today March 31st may just be any old day to most of the world but it’s a holiday to me. On this day 87 years ago, a baby girl was born in a small town outside of Cleveland Ohio and her parents Elmon and Della (Flanagan) Jackson named her Eunice Vallee Jackson. She was inherently intelligent and extremely artistic, both qualifying her to leave OH at the age of 18 and head to Providence, RI where she was afforded the opportunity to matriculate at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD). I was always impressed that in 1948 this 18 year old colored/negro/black young lady was able to attend such a prestigious school (the QS World University Rankings by Subject ranked it as the world’s 3rd best institution for the study and practice of Art & Design in 2016). Unfortunately, she didn’t finish her college career at RISD as she became pregnant with her first child and headed back home to OH.
She would eventually raise 5 children in OH and when she was pregnant with her 6 and final child, she moved to CT. If you haven’t guessed it yet, that last child was me. Eunice was my Mother. What’s amazing is that she was a healthy balance of left and right brain and although each of my siblings are so different, I can see bits and pieces of our Mother’s DNA (intellectual, emotional and physical) in each of us.
Many unfortunate things happened in her life in OH. Her Mother died when she was 8, she was then raised by her Father and abusive Stepmother. She had polio that prevented her from playing baseball, which was her favorite sport. Also, the members of the small town church that she was raised in, ostracized and talked about her for having children out of wedlock; including some family members.
In the late 60’s, she decided that she needed to be in a positive setting and that led her to move to Hartford, CT where her younger sister Shirley and her family had planted their roots. There was one negative person that she brought from OH and one night after he punched her in the stomach while she was pregnant with me, she waited for him to get drunk and pass out (as he always did) and she gathered the kids and fled; saving her life, my life and the lives of her other kids. She never saw him again, he never laid eyes on me and she never looked back. That was the beginning of the rest of her life…
Her sister was very much established, part of the Hartford black middle class elite. Now we were definitely not middle class ourselves, but my Mother made sure that we always had what we needed and stressed the importance of education and being good people with good morals.
My earliest memories are when we lived in an apartment on Garden St. in Hartford. I can remember my Mother heating the house with the oven in the winter. Everything changed for us though, when we moved to this new housing complex on Barbour St. ~ Chappelle Gardens. I remember sleeping on the brand new rug the first night we were there, we didn’t have any furniture, I was only 3 or 4. My mother would become Chappelle’s manager and bookkeeper and that’s when she FINALLY got her footing. She was able to pour her heart into that community and I saw how she helped a countless amount of people gain and keep their housing. She also created programs through City and State funding that gave kids jobs and also provided entertainment opportunities like summer camps, to keep us off the streets. One of the things that I am most proud of is that she eventually went back to school and received a degree in Social Work from New Hampshire College… when she was in her early 50’s!
When she was 54 she had a stroke that left her paralyzed on her entire left side. That abruptly ended her working career and her ability to help others as she had been accustomed to. However, she took it in stride and never complained and was absolutely the most kind and positive person I have ever known in my life. No bias. She would live for 19 years after her initial stroke and although our roles were reversed as I became her caregiver at a very young age, I never stopped learning from her. She deposited many things in me like the importance of family, community and the ability to look deeper at things and situations and not get caught up in the glamour and glitz of shallow things. She taught me that going to church doesn’t automatically make you a good person… that being a good person makes you a good person. She taught me to be curious and respectful of other people’s culture as we were the host family for an African family that came and stayed with us. She taught me the importance of knowing our history and to also respect people of all races, religions etc.. She taught me that my word was the most important thing I had in this world and that if I didn’t value it, no one else would. Simply put, I learned that a Mother (in my case a Black Mother) is the strongest creature on this planet and understanding and appreciating that is what helps me be a good Father.
So today when Ravy woke up I told her that it was Grandma in Heaven’s Birthday! I showed her pictures, told her how wonderful she was and that she taught me so much and that it was my duty to pass that on to her. I told her that she has her middle name “Vallee”.
This is part of Ravy’s history that she needs to know and be proud of. She can overcome obstacles through resilience and if being a good person is more important than the appearance of looking good, she will be fine. She comes from good stock on both sides and she has no excuse… no pressure though! 🙂
Ronn P ~ The Happy Daddy