First contact: Solving my adoption puzzle

This is the very first article I ever had published. It is about my first conversation with my birth mother and a note to my adoptive parents. It took many hours of editing and re-writes to get it ready for print. I was, after all, a very inexperienced writer at the time. Twenty-nine years later, I realize the title should have been something like 'The beginning to solving my adoption puzzle,' because my story continues to unravel today. This was first published in the Baton Rouge Morning Advocate where I worked at a newsroom typist and aide and began my writing career in 1983.

 

Genius may have it's limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped

I've been missing my blogging mojo here recently. But, I'll be back. Sometimes I think we need to stop and just listen to whatever it is the universe is telling us. And, right now, my universe is telling me to slow down a bit, rest up for whatever really big is waiting for me around the corner. I can feel it. I'm going to one walk down the hall one day and run smack dab into something huge I'm supposed to be doing. It's going to take a lot of energy and is going to be incredibly exciting. I'll be rested, ready, willing and able.

As Elbert Hubbard once wrote: "Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped. I don't really know why I'm attracted to that quote right now, but there has to be a reason. I choose to think it has to with my "getting ready" mode so that I won't be handicapped with the stupidity mojo. Wish me luck.

A look back at the YMI and a shout out to a young man on a mission

I met a young black man on twitter named Timmy Smith. Found him through his twitter handle @SocialLifeAvl. He and I have become friends outside of the twitter community. In fact, Timmy has developed face-to-face personal relationships with many of his twitter friends. Timmy says whatever he feels like saying. He holds nothing back. His blog is called Social Life Times, and you can link to it here: http://www.sociallifetimes.blogspot.com/.

Timmy is on a mission. He was born in Asheville and he loves his community - all of it. Black, white, brown, red, whatever. He wants the races to come together, to make friends and better understand one another's culture. He wants everyone to start talking to each other. He believes there's a lot for us to learn. So a few months ago, he started having conversations on twitter called Drinks & Dialogue, hashtagged #dd. When I learned about them, they were taking place on Sunday evenings at 8 pm, via twitter only.

Since then, Timmy has gradually grown his dialogue from an online community to monthly meetings at various Asheville venues to taking it to the airwaves with such topics as "Why is Asheville Segregated?" It is my opinion, and that of many in Asheville, that Timmy is on to something big. He's leading the way and opening the doors for a much more understanding Asheville.

His conversations sent me back to my Out 'n About archives in hunt of a story we published 13 years ago about the history of the YMI, so here it is. I'm glad Timmy has started these discussions and he and I both enjoy looking back at some Asheville's black history. Timmy, I am oh so proud of you!

The mission of the YMI Cultural Center is to celebrate African American culture & diversity in the community. - http://www.ymicc.org/mission.html

A look back at the YMI – Out ‘n About, Feb. 21, 1997

By Alphie Hyorth

It’s a cold mid-February afternoon. Just over 100 years ago. Seventy representatives of Asheville’s Black community are at a meeting to organize the Young Men’s Institute. They discuss progress in work on the building. The lights aren’t connected yet so the meeting has to take place before sundown; it happens at 4 p.m. They set a time for another meeting of the following week to announce the names of officers and standing committees.

Both the building and the original concept of the YMI have survived to this day through what one might safely call a turbulent history. Today’s YMI Cultural Center is a coalition of African-American churches, civic groups and individuals. The building houses a museum, meeting rooms and offices. A multi-million dollar renovation project, utilizing grants and funds raised locally, was complete in the 1980s and earned statewide recognition for its excellence.

George Washington Vanderbilt would have been proud. It was Vanderbilt who put up the $32,000 for land purchase and construction back in 1892. He funneled some of the artisans from Biltmore House (still under construction at the time) to the YMI work site at the corner of Eagle and Market streets. Richard Sharp Smith, who headed up the architecture department at Biltmore House, drew the plans for the YMI building. Smith’s legacy is in the several buildings he designed downtown that went on to define Asheville’s cityscape for generations to come.

Vanderbilt formed the Young Men’s Institute at the urging of Edward Stephens and “to furnish a much needed society for the advancement of the colored men of Asheville and vicinity,” as Fenton H. Harris wrote in his 1937 Short History and Report of the Young Men’s Institute Inc.

That kind of public-spirited generosity reflected Vanderbilt’s belief that those of his immensely wealthy class must be altruistic. Up to a point anyway. Through two trustees Vanderbilt retained ownership of the building and took back whatever money came in from dues and rent to pay off what he had laid out to get it built. To further cover his investment, “All of the colored men working for the Estate were required to carry memberships with the institute and the dues for the same being taken out of their pay envelopes at the office,” Harris wrote.

The original plan, again, according to Harris, was that once Vanderbilt had been paid back for his generosity ($32,000) he would turn over the building to the community. But things did not quite work out according to plan. As construction on Biltmore House drew to an end in 1895-96, many of the Institute’s members lost their jobs and the Institute lost a ready source of income when those members could no longer afford to pay their dues. This helps to explain a story in the Feb. 13, 1896 edition of the Asheville Daily Citizen which began: “If all the colored men of Asheville showed as much appreciation of the generosity of George Vanderbilt as was shown by the ministers of their race at the Young Men’s Institute last night, then the reports would have been much more satisfactory.”

The occasion was a gathering to celebrate the third anniversary of the YMI and the reports were financial statements which were not good. Between December 1894 and Jan. 1896 the operation lost some $1,200. So Vanderbilt, who was expecting to get back the money he’d spent on the building, was actually putting more and more in as he agreed to cover shortfalls on the budget. On the other hand, the YMI continued to be a great success among the members of the community it was meant to serve. The YMI grew into what we would now call a Community Center. It was a meeting place where civic organizations had social events. It had its own kindergarten, a band and well attended Sunday afternoon performances by local singers.

To his credit, Vanderbilt continued to offer financial support until 1906 when he “decided that the Institution should be self-maintaining,” according to another newspaper story dated June 12, 1906. Vanderbilt announced he wanted to sell the building and he told the community leaders who operated the YMI that he would sell it to them for $10,000, based on a statement by W.J. Trent who ran the YMI from 1900-1911. (A newspaper report states Vanderbilt was asking $12,000 and later lowered the price to $10,000.)

Trent said Vanderbilt gave the group six months to raise the cash after which time he was going to put the building on the open market for $15,000. Time ran out on the offer May 31, 1906 and Trent wrote that the group had raised only $2,500 in contributions. At that point a group of African-American businessmen, professionals, working men and clergy who had joined together to save the institute, borrowed the other $6,500 and bought the building. They paid back the loan making payments of $1,000 a year at a six percent interest.

Over the next several decades, the YMI became the “center of social cultural, civic, commercial and religious life for Black Appalachians.” Its ground floor had space for a drug store, a lunch counter, a funeral parlor and the offices of Dr. James Byron, one of Asheville’s first African-American doctors. It housed the South Market Street branch of the YMCA. Congregations without church buildings worshipped there and the Sunday afternoon song services continued. Nationally known entertainers performed there and the city’s black public library operated at the YMI from 1926 until it was closed in 1966, two years after the Asheville-Buncombe Library System was desegregated. The YMI was recognized as the center from which a black commercial district grew on Eagle and Market streets.

The Institute fell on hard times again beginning in the 1960s and gradual deterioration forced its closing in 1976. It was again rescued by another group of local churches, residents, property owners and merchants who worked to put the property on the National Register of Historic places in 1977. In 1980, a non-profit group calling itself the YMI Cultural Center bought the property for $19,000 and began a $2 million renovation. Through diligent fund raising and with help of several grants the project was completed in 1988.

Ahh .... the excitement of the first day at the big high school

I think we're just a bit shell-shocked. Like we can't believe that this day came. That Zach is finally a freshman in high school. He has paid dearly to get here, but we're not looking back. Going forward with the proof he can do anything he sets his mind to doing. He's in for some big changes this new school year. First one being that he's going from a public/charter school of K-8th grade with a total of about 325 students to an 84-year-old public high school with a student body close to 1000, if not just a tad bit over. Asheville High is also big on 'Cougar Pride.' Don't get me wrong, there is definite emphasis on academics, but a charter school it ain't.

Yesterday was orientation for the freshmen. Parents were to join in at around 11:30 am in the cafeteria. I arrived too soon. For once in my life, I had to be on time. I thought the principal or teachers wanted to talk to us. I should have known better. Zach didn't have enough time to reorient himself with his previous schoolmates - the 'Evergreeners' as they are called. Sorry, Zach. I should have realilzed you needed more time to socialize. Please forgive me, it's my first day back at high school also. And, I went to such a small high school, that most everyone knew each other even before they got to school. Usually through church, the swimming pool, lake or some other place we'd all been tossed together.

When I walked in yesterday, Zach was talking with new schoolmates, which was way cool to see. After all, isn't part of the idea of growing up and going to high school is to expand your social horizons? The Evergreeners were huddled over in the right side of the huge cafeteria. Another thing these Evergreeners have to get used to. Charter schools don't usually have the luxury of cafeterias and Evergreen is no exception. Parents commit to making sure their child has a lunch box meal, whether that be home made or pre-packaged. The kids get used to recyclying their lunch boxes from year to year and sharing that tired ole' apple for that same ole' orange. They bring dishes from home, take them back home to wash and reuse, to wash and reuse, etc.

The Evergreeners asked Zach how he already knew some of the freshmen from other schools. He explained he'd been going to football practice for almost four weeks, he was already getting to know students in all the grades. He's already part of a team, a very important team at this school. They represent the city of Asheville in football, and while they do not possess the 'Friday Night Lights' ferver of my old Texas high schools, there is a definite 'Cougar Pride.' 

There is a lot the Evergreeners will have to get used to besides having a cafeteria where you can buy your lunch: football games (and other athletic events) to attend, arts, ceramics, culinary classes, dance, theatre, metals, drafting and so much more. (I'm actually a bit jealous of all the choices they have.) All those classes that help you figure out who you are, who you aren't, who you hope to be. The world is wide open with possibilities and dreams for these Evergreeners turned high school freshman at the big school.

The Evergreeners bring an attitude of acceptance, teamwork, closeness, an appreciation of caring for the earth and the importance of giving back to the community. They don't even mind hugging one another in public, just for the sake of hugging, or because their friend needed some support.

Like Zach, I hope they never forget where they have come from, are never afraid of hugging a friend. But, I also hope they realize that this is their year to let the butterfly within themselves reach for the tops of everything.

Oh, and I hope I can get used to not seeing my son so often. He's finally working on getting his own life now, making his own way, like he's supposed to. Like I said ... I think we're all just a bit shell-shocked.

Three children. Three weeks. Three stories of cancer. What's up?

What is up with so many young children having cancer? I've heard about 3 children in the last 3 weeks with some form of cancer, in one stage or another. Two holding on to a chance at a cure. One saying goodbye. And that's just in my small little bubble in this giant of a world.

My husband says we just hear about it more often now, due to technology and immediate information at our disposal. I don't agree. I think something else is going on. I heard about two of these children directly from people with huge - and hurting - hearts, close friends with direct knowledge of the suffering. They were helping raise money for the families. I don't know what that 'something else going on' is, but I need to start paying more attention. I think we all do.

Somebody needs to have the answers, and I think it's time to start asking more questions. Cancer is an ugly disease for any person to have withstand. But a child? That just ain't right.

Late fee contracts for doctors and football coaches

Until today, I didn't realize doctors and football coaches have so much in common. They both want you to be at their appointed designation on time, preferably a few minutes earlier. Yet, neither one of them seem to give much care as to when the session is supposed to be over.

My doctor wanted me there at 10 am today. I was. My son's football coach wanted him there at no later than 8:40 am. He was. I was supposed to be out of my appointment by 11 am. I was not. I didn't get out until 11:56 am. I was to be at the high school - at least a twenty minute drive - at noon for pickup.

However, it did not matter that I was late. I was early. By coaches' time, anyway. At 12:40 pm, I was still waiting. I'm thinking about writing up a contract for both my doctor and my son's coach that states if we are not done by agreed upon time, then they will receive and be expected to pay a $25 late fee. They penalize us if we're not on time; why shouldn't they be held to the same standards. Our time is just as valuable as theirs.

Ok, I guess it's all a fantasy. Doesn't work like that in the world of doctors and football, does it? But, it sure does sound like a good idea to me. Any takers?

I left this crappy ass summer weather back in Baton Rouge

I left this crappy ass summer weather back in Baton Rouge in 1985. So, can someone please tell me how it found me way up here in Asheville, North Carolina? Seriously. I moved to the mountains with expectations of cool summers and nasty cold winters that I don't particularly care for. And I was right.

Until about 7 years ago. Never even had any kind of AC until sometime this decade. It's a one-room unit that cools the front of the house, leaving the back rooms shut, with maybe the ceiling fan just kind of moving the hot air around just enough to make you think you're not completely in Dante's Inferno. But, it has hit me big time this summer that the Baton Rouge heat I once loved, then detested, has found me. I want it to go back the hell home. Asheville is as far north as I have ever lived. There is no southern hospitality in my household towards Summer 2010.

Right now, it is 2 pm, Friday. Clouds are thundering off in the west. Small growls at first, growing into rumbles, then on into downright thunder. The leaves are turning upside down, confirming some wet stuff is going to come pouring down as if it were being dumped directly into a gully. About a half hour from now, the sun will peak through, steam will rise from the streets, and temperatures and humidity will make my head hurt. I will soon seriously think about sticking my head in the refrigerator for at least five minutes, electric bill be damned.

I will be folding up paper towels and placing them in my armpits, held in place by my shirt, hoping they won't fall out and land in the lap of one of my editors.

Oh ... sorry ... I just flashed back to the newsroom where I began my journalistic path in Baton Rouge, the Capitol newspaper, the paper that had once followed Huey P. Long's every step. I started as a typist. It was my job to retype and correct stories sent over some huge electronic typewriter. That's right. I had to RETYPE it. No such thing as email or internet. It was all one huge word processor. AP style was burned into my brain. Then, I became a newsroom aide who got to wander all over the building, meeting and conversing with big wigs, sitting on the roof, overlooking the Mighty Mississippi for a few stolen moments, and enjoying my talks with those considered lower on the totem pole. However, they were the people who actually made sure the newspaper hit the streets before daybreak. I learned it all from the best. But, I digress.

My point is ... if this summer is not proof of global warming .... well, excuse me. I'm going to check and make sure the rain barrel is set to catch the regularly scheduled Asheville afternoon thunderstorm.

From afar that storm was beautiful ... kind of like life sometimes

I have no profound thoughts today. Or maybe I'm just feeling there's enough going on in the world that makes me want to go hide in the closet until the storm passes.

We did have one such storm today. Thunder rumbled off in the distance. A light rain began and the rain barrel was checked to make sure we would capture the water. The chimes twinkled on the front porch. Then it hit full force. Trees blowing, limbs bending, lightening strikes close enough so that Zach and I both jumped when it appeared it was in our back yard. Rain so hard, we could barely see the street. And just as soon as it had stormed in, it went into the distance. Not so scary anymore. We knew were safe. Our trees were not going to fall on the house. The car was not damaged by hail. We listened to the chimes twinkle softly again. We were thankful the rain barrel was once again full. We'll need that water in a few days.

From afar that storm was beautiful. Oh so beautiful. Kind of like life sometimes. However, I prefer to just jump in and dance. Storm and all.