She said: "It was just like coming home after all these years. San Francisco had always been my spiritual home anyway, but it had been a long time since I even visited. Life just went on without me being there or even, that much, thinking about the "good old days". That was way before all of the changes: women were "chicks" and we cooked and made the babies and life possible. We took care of the babies. We were the ones that held jobs because we didn't have to shave our faces. Remember when shaving our legs was a big deal Political Statement? What a laugh! Gee, it was fun, though, to be a woman and to have that freedom and not be put away into some box that the men made for us. We felt powerful and we were powerful. Most of the crazy stuff that went on in the culture then just didn't matter that much in the long run, but the becoming of a woman, a creature built powerfully and with purpose and who spoke in her own voice, now that was worth everything!"

Stumble It!

He said: "He used to talk about how hard it was to earn a living back then and how scarce the money always was. It was hard to have a family and to travel the way they did all the time. There wasn't really any place that was home because they never stopped in any one place long enough to even, maybe, remember the names of the places they passed through. He said that the kids were the ones who were the happiest, but it was hard on them. They didn't really get much in the way of schooling and they had to work just like everyone else. He said that his father had tried many times to find work some place else, but nothing lasted for too long, so them he's have to move on to the next place, just like he'd always done. Being a musician in a big band wasn't like being in a band now. It was more like being in the circus, but instead of the freak show, there was the bandstand."

Stumble It!

He said: "We had exchanged letters back and forth to each other for years. We rarely, if ever, spoke on the phone except for a very few times like when, say, her Mother died that bleak Summer and she didn't know what to do next. We had always been close and when they moved away to go back East, it was hard on both of us. But, we stayed in touch around Holidays and Birthdays, and times like that. I think we both thought the same thing over the years, namely, that neither of us had aged at all; that we looked exactly like we did in High School and in College. The mind is funny that way. It forgets to remember and lets ourselves fool ourselves. So, when the she became ill and I felt that I had to fly out to see her, I have to admit I was a little shocked because the person I saw was not the person that I had expected to see. It was the same soul, but a different person and I was surprised. I don't know why I should have been. And the funniest thing was that I could see that she was just as surprised as I had been. The voices had stayed the same, pretty much, over time. But the packaging, what we looked like, had become different. Isn't that funny?"

Stumble It!

He said: "I never thought about money. There wasn't a lot to think about, I guess. It was always there for me. I never had to work for it exactly, or do anything to make money be there. It was always just there. Like dust, or like water. I never made or had a budget like I know people do. I never saved anything. Why would I? It would be like saving finger nail clippings. What ever I wanted, I got. I just paid the bill and left. There wasn't any magic or mystery; I didn't even think we were, you know, rich or anything. I took it all for granted, in my stride as they say. I thought it was like this for almost everyone. At least everyone we knew. At least the people we socialized with. Money was like air or like water. It is essential to life on earth. It you don't have money, I mean, gosh, I can't even imagine it. It would be so foreign. What do people do without money? And where do they go?"

Stumble It!

She said: "I could never, really, explain what happened. I can't explain it because I don't really know for myself what went wrong. It all happened so fast. It was like the flicker of an eye, and it was over. One minute we were having fun, listening to music, talking while we watched the sun slowly sink down into the earth, and the light faded and it was becoming night. We had had a few drinks, but so did everybody. We were on vacation and allowed ourselves a little of this and a little of that. Nothing like this had every happened out there. We had spent Summer evenings out there many times throughout the years and there was never any violence or anything that even approached violence. But, I guess, it only takes one time; just one moment can change everything. I didn't even hear the shot or the broken glass. The next thing I knew was he was on the floor and he was bleeding. Then he was gone. Just like that. In the flicker of an eye, he was gone. Just like that."

Stumble It!

He said: "When it falls apart in doesn't happen all together; it happens a little at a time, slowly. Things fall apart when no one notices that is what is happening. It's hard to see it crumbling. Only at the very end is it apparent that no one was paying attention, or that someone had just given up, knowing what was happening around them, but not strong enough to stop it from collapsing. Things fall apart while you are sleeping and while you are awake. You are part of what is going on around you. You are falling apart, too. But it is happening slowly; so slowly that you may not even be aware of what is happening to you until it is too late."

Stumble It!

She said: "After living in England for a few years, it was a shock to return home here. It was a shock when we came each year for a visit, but after a week or so we'd be flying back across "the puddle" and back to the house we rented in North London. The house was close to a hundred years old and in great shape. Our street was quiet. We had a small garden in back and could grow some of the things we ate. There was a flower mart a short walk away. The thing I miss the most was the quiet. We'd come home at the end of the day, and everything would be still and quiet. We rarely ate out because it was easy to cook a meal for the two of us. In the years we were there I don't think I ever "did some damage" in the shops. There wasn't really any reason to go shopping just to go shopping, if you know what I mean. I forgot, over time, what it was like to live on the East Coast of America. So, when we returned, it was a shock. We don't live in the core of the city here. If you want to go anywhere at all, you have to drive. My sister in law is always calling me to invite me to "go shopping" with her. Her hobby is shopping, I think. I don't want to be rude, but I usually try to beg off because I'm not a natural "shopper" like she is. I'm shocked at the size the meals are in the US. I can't really eat as much as they serve you in a restaurant. I'm not a good consumer, I'm afraid. There is just this amazing amount of what I think of as "useless stuff" for sale everywhere. "Useless stuff" catalogs come in the mail every day. I see "useless stuff" overflowing onto the road way on garbage day as my neibors dispose of "stuff" so that they can have room for newer "stuff". It's harmless, I guess. I don't know why I can't be a better shopper It just seems to me that, really, more isn't really better. More is just more!"

Stumble It!

He said: "I can remember very clearly our first car. I say "our" because it was meant to benefit everyone in the family: Mom, who didn't know had to drive yet, but would soon learn, and Dad, of course, whose machine it really was since he picked it out and paid for it. But it would eventually be for my older brother, Hank, since he was just coming home from the war and a car quickly became essential if you wanted to impress women. I was only 11 when the car came into our family, but I remember the excitement when Dad pulled into the drive with his Ford. It was all black and had 2 doors. The seats in the front folded back to let Hank and I get it. Mom and Dad sat up front, of course. The car had this great feature, which I think Dad paid extra for: it was an metal "stick" that stuck out of the sides of the car up front, near where the wheels were, and they made a scratching noise on the curb if you got too close. I suppose this
meant to guide you when you were parking on the street so that you didn't mess up the paint on the side of the car. Other than that, the car had no extras; no radio, no ash tray, nothing, really, but that didn't matter. It was our first car ever and America was on the move and soon everyone had a car, but we were among the first on our street and that counted for something back then. Who would have ever guessed that it would all lead to where we are now with the warming of the earth and the oil getting hard to get and the fact that many families have a car for everyone in the family; sometimes extras that no one really drives. It's so crazy now. Used to be that you used the car to get someplace far, like to the beach or a trip to Baltimore to visit Grandma. Now you need a car to do anything. People drive a mile to buy a pack of cigarettes and then drive home. It used to be that the car was a kind a freedom. Now it's a kind of jail."

Stumble It!

She said: "I am an artist. That is what I do and it could never be any other way. I describe things that are not there and define things that have no boundaries. When I am successful I create a world that has not yet existed and I populate it with dreams and with tears and with love and with memories and once this is brought to life in this world, I forget everything and start all over again. It is an endless process and when I am done here there will others who will take up the task and start all over again. It is a process that is never complete, not even in death. It is not a "calling" because it is not something that is brought to you, but, rather, something that has always been there, waiting for you to find it and to embrace it, and to then be swallowed whole."

Stumble It!

He said: "OK. This is the part that I don't understand and maybe you can straighten it out for me. We were in Selma. We were in Birmingham. We marched for voting rights. We followed the speaches of Dr. King. We crossed the picket lines. We had stones rain down on us. We had fire hoses wash us away into the gravel. We were kicked and shot at. Some died. We listen to Malcolm, we followed Huey and supported the Black Panthers. Sister Angela who is still with us, bless her, went to prison for us. Our history has been long as it has been bloody. It was a struggle. That's even what it was called: "the struggle". Now, thank god, we have a president who is old enough to remember what took place around him. who is truly an African American. Who could have thought that we would see this in our lifetime? But here is the part that causes me to wake at night with tears in my eyes: the young of our nation know nothing! The stuggles of our nation are not taught in public schools. This history, so vital to our people, is considered too new to be history and, therefore, our young people know nothing of went into the movement that lead to their being here, alive and free, today. They don't know the names and they don't know the places. They don't know how to respond to the little they hear about. They have no respect for the people who sacrificed everything, and I do mean "everything", for freedom in this country; for the simple act of being allowed dignity and respect, to be able to smile honestly and to speak truthfully and to breathe the air of equality and justice. Who will teach them? How long will they have to wait to hear our story? How long before they understand what their elders did for them? How long?"

Stumble It!