Legacies Unpacked by Tennessee State University

“Trigger Warnings” Foreward

W A R N I N G Proceed with Caution… Dearest reader, I am your guide into a journey that spans as far back as 90 years, as deep as the echoes of slain civil rights leaders, as far west as the Pacific, and as tall as a "Bordeaux Highrise." Legacies Unpacked reflects a semester-long engagement for Tennessee State University students enrolled in my Writing for Publication course. Students spent several weeks interviewing women of the David Jones, Jr./Schrader Acres Assisted Living Center Community. Those discussions were synthesized and molded into poetry. Early drafts of poems were given to TSU art students, who then interpreted the work on canvas. Collectively, what we have here is the creative vision of TSU’s talented English and Art majors. Seven women – residents and volunteers – were interviewed; our review of the contemporary Ethical Will process helped to fuel those discussions. As their instructor, it was my goal to facilitate their negotiation of several dichotomies: a responsibility to the subjects and a responsibility to the readers; a commitment to Truth and a dogged pursuit of Beauty; a respect for the University and a deference to their own craft. There are too many gorgeous moments to recount, and I envy your fresh approach to our work. Love, Regret, Memory, Loss, Memory-loss, and Recovery are just some of the themes peppering the text. After much debate, we elected not to limit our pens with clichéd platitudes in describing these dynamic women: We left it all on the page. Some of the work will hurt; but much of it will heal. The culmination of this effort is a reflection of multiple collaborations. We would like to thank Dr. Mary Shelton of the Psychology Department for her review of the Ethical Will process, trigger responses, and effective interview practices. We extend our heartfelt gratitude to the Art Department, and Prof. Cynthia Gadsden for her mediation of their involvement. Special thanks to Prof. Elaine Phillips for her insights on the journal editing and publishing process. We also want to thank the Service Learning Department for sponsoring this project and exposing us to different ways of knowing. We sincerely thank the English, University Communications, and University Printing Departments for their insights and encouragement. Lastly, we want to offer our sincere gratitude to the Schrader Acres family, for letting us into their community, their home, and their lives. We are touched by your hospitality, and it is our earnest hope that our work mirrors your class and grace. In closing, it has been my honor and privilege to work with these esteemed, young professionals. They are only beginning to stretch new wings, but I confess this project has been the highlight of my tenure at TSU. One of the student poets relished that this assignment should have come with a trigger warning. That is our gift and our warning to you, dear reader. The women in these pages have already triggered a change in us; our hope is that it will do the same for you. Poetically yours, Michelle J. Pinkard, PhD

Dedication For Mattye, Barbara N., Dorothy, Melba, Easter, Barbara T., and Rhonda. We know it was more than “just a life….” Thank you.

Legacies Unpacked: The Women of Schrader Acres in Poetry Table of Contents Foreward Dedication PART ONE: Their Stories Artist rendition: Ayoka (Ayo) Ajamu …………………...…………………………………………….. 5 1. Poetry by Jennifer Shafer A. Unpacking …………………………………………………………………………………………..……….. B. Stories ……………………………………………………………………………………………………….. C. Riveted …………………………………………………………………………………….………………... D. Glory ………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

6 7 10 12

2. Poetry by Elyse Johnson Artist rendition: Jasmine Rodgers ………………………………………………………................................ 13 A. Passion ………………………………………………………………………………………………………. 14 B. Post Nursing ……………………………………………………………………………………………….... 15 C. Left ………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. 15 D. Regret ………………………………………………………………………………………………………… 16 3. Poetry by Cedric Dent, Jr. Artist Rendition: Mikayla Washington …………………………………………….……………………………… 17 A. Could've Raised Anything …………………………………………………………………………………… 18 B. Catching Rhonda ……………………………………………………………………………………….…….. 20 4. Poetry by Aaron Walker A. Mrs. Fix It ……………………………………………………………….……………………………………. 22 B. An Interview with Easter Grey ……………………………………………………………………………..… 23 5. Poetry by Kamri Jordan Artist rendition: Ayoka (Ayo) Ajamu …………………………………………………………………………. 24 A. She Took Control ………………………………………………………………………….............................. 24 B. Who Told You About Me? ……….…………………………………………………….................................. 26 C. The Red Hood ………………………………………………………………………………………………… 27 D. Sing …………………………………………………………………………………………………………… 27 6. Poetry by Aaron Walker Artist rendition: Jasmine Rodgers ………………………………………………………................................ 28 A. She Rules ……………………………………………………………………………….................................. 28 B. Keep Going ………………………………………………………………………………………………....... 29 7. Poetry by Cedric Dent, Jr. A. Life in Five ………………………………………………………………………………………………….. 30 B. Bordeaux Highrise …………………………………………………………………………………………… 31 Artist Rendition: Mikayla Washington ………………………………………………………………………. 32

PART TWO: Our Stories Contributor’s Bios, Reflections and Poetry

PART ONE:

THEIR STORIES 5

Introducing Schrader Acres Resident Mattye Cox

Unpacking By Jennifer Shafer “It was just a life” You say with a shrug, your arms folded across your tiny body. But there, just at your feet, is an overlooked timeworn suitcase its edges blurry but I can see it and I wonder if you are hiding it but your smile is open --if a little sad-and I ask for a peek. The shrug returns but your aged hands begin to pull up the weighted case. I can smell the dust and fear the case has been closed too long. You manage the locks and with a click I can hear nearly a century of piano lessons. The music is faint and tired The keys pressing down hard and a bit out of tune but your smile grows more genuine. “My mother taught music, always music in the house, she could sing, oh she could sing.” You are a daughter, she is a daughter, and her mother means the world to you. “My name is ugly, but hers, Felisha Jane, hers is a name born free” You laugh because you loved her, them, You were loved by women, good, strong women and I can see how it hurts you to know they are buried in the suitcase. You had put them there to keep them safe, to keep yourself safe because remembering is experiencing and you feel the loss keenly. They would have been proud of you I hope you see that, though I know you don’t. Your fingerprints in the dust where you should write your name, such a beautiful name, Matilda Cox.

Stories By Jennifer Shafer “It was just a life” Over and over again That is all you can think to say. Watery eyes that have blink away memories Depression War Oppression Victory Defeat Loss Love White hair, bony fingers, old hip problems And quiet But there are stories. Books you cling to, surround you, stay with you. You make me laugh --“I’m 94 years old! I use it as an excuse whenever I can”— I can see you are tired, but there is a flame still flickering And I watch as it sparks and grows. The stories begin to come The words Perhaps A little dis— jointed 7

And slow At

first

Those old legs shuffling along But then the room begins to fill Your grandmother “When she died I felt like my whole world had ended” Your mother “I wish I had recorded her singin’” Your dear childhood friend “I grew up next door to Kitty Smithson and she’s my dearest friend still today.” Your husband “He was younger than I was. I thought it was silly and that I shouldn’t marry him, but he convinced me. I don’t remember what he died of, it was so long ago, but I remember what it felt like to lose him.” Your coworkers “Someone once came by my desk and shouted out me, something mean and rude, and I was so surprised and grateful when the people in the office I worked came to my defense. People were always lookin’ out for me.” Your boss “Richard Fulton hired a black person to work for him. He hired me. So I went to Washington and when he came back to Nashville, so did I.” Your people “I was so proud when the Civil Rights Bill passed. I saw a photo of me one time on the TV. I was standing on the corner during the march on Washington. There I was.” Your nation “If my husband hadn’t died I might have stayed in Washington for the rest of my life. Avon Williams pushed me to go. I went there afraid I was going to be treated like a gopher, but it was the best experience of my life.” They stand silent behind you Nearly a century of days “I’m nothing special.” 8

And among all the amazing stories youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve told this is the one I know to be a lie, a lie I know you believe. In your humility you achieved something great: Stories worth telling.

Riveted By Jennifer Shafer “It was just a life” You say with a shrug, your arms folded across your tiny body. A lonely child A lonely wife A lonely life But your pockets are heavy. It surprises us both when you shift and the cold, hard rivets tumble out, hitting the floor with a thump. I know what those are. I know what you did and I am filled with awe. You were part of the greatest generation. (Though the world was too late to recognize) You stood in line and gave soldiers wings. You try and sweep the rivets under the chair, embarrassment pinking your cheeks. “We put down our tools the very day the war ended. We walked out and never came back. And I felt sad. I had a job that paid good money and I lost that the day the war ended.” Guilt That is what you feel. Guilt because you wanted to keep your job. But war kills boys and girls, men and women, countries. You were a black woman in the segregated South. You had a good paying job, had given up school to do your part and you were left with nothing. Nothing but the guilt and regret. 10

Then you stormed into Washington, the first black women from the segregated South to work in the House. “I didn’t want the job. I went with a chip on my shoulder. If they weren’t going to be nice to me, I wasn’t going to be nice to them.” Another laugh because they were nice. 70 years later and it still haunts you. (the guilt) I wish it didn’t Because you were just trying to survive In a nation that failed you, a nation that abandoned you. A nation you fought to make a better place, one rivet at a time.

Glory By Jennifer Shafer “It was just a life” And what can be gleaned? Rules of all color but one shines brightest its golden hue a beckon, a lesson, a way to survive, Oh Glory a way to survive. There is something of greatness in those moments of truth when being taken advantage of means you take nothing for granted. To be afraid is unquestionable To be angry is reasonable But To be peaceful is exceptional And you stood on that street Oh Glory you stood on that street, watching them march by, your history. You are history It’s cut into your skin It’s in the corner of your eye each word you read from people who can’t write who can’t see but you read each word, Oh Glory you read each hate filled word. You heard a great man speak, Speak great words. And from the silence civility took hold. It was your right. Your right to be angry. You chose, Oh Glory you chose Kindness. 12

Passion

Introducing Schrader Acres resident Melba Hamler

By Elyse Johnson Didn't say much, But when you did, It was more than enough. Short, sweet, And to the point. Miss Hamler, Former TSU student To Nurse Hamler at St.Thomas. She might not say much, But there was so much pride When nursing is brought up. The love of helping people Burned in her eyes. The passion of being able to help Others felt so good and meant So much. Nurse Hamler loves what She does.

Post Nursing By Elyse Johnson Although Nurse Hamler Does not speak much, She does speak what is on her mind. Something happened at St. Thomas That she did not agree With, so she left. She did not want To leave, but she was Very strong about what she Believed to be right. Post office was the next Job, notice I said job. It just wasn't the same She said, looking down at the Ground. Worked at The post office until she Retired. But she will Always have memories of Being Nurse Hamler.

Left By Elyse Johnson I said what I said, And that's all I'm saying. My experience is A unique one. All my life I wondered What is my passion? Never said much. Just kept quiet Until St. Thomas. St. Thomas is where I belonged. That is happiness. My experience, my happiness, Was there. Always will be there.

Regret? By Elyse Johnson Never married, No one ever caught my eye. Just focused on what Made me happy. No kids. But plenty of nieces and Nephews. Sometimes, I do Get lonely. I don't enjoy The holidays like Everyone else. I see people With their husbands, wives, And kids. And I'm here Alone. My nieces do visit me, But I wish It was more than that. Is that Regret I feel?

Introducing Schrader Acres Volunteer Rhonda Hannon-Holland

Could’ve Raised Anything By Cedric Dent, Jr. I don’t talk about myself, Jesus’s example of humility Is too profound for that, but if I have to speak of me, I have to wonder how God could use me to produce Someone like her. I couldn’t have raised an advocate for victims of Domestic violence, not when other parents like me Raise leeches and convicts. Not when the Devil Roams about like a roaring lion seeking whom he May devour. Not when convictions don’t require Crime. I love Memphis, but it’s no Heaven. I could have raised Anything. That’s why I don’t talk about my work at AT&T. All thirty-eight of those years had a higher Purpose than surviving the South Central Bell split. I look at Taneshia and realize there are bigger things Than the “Batman building.” It may not even be fair To say I raised her. At times, I can almost see myself On her knee, soaking in pieces of her, learning how to Listen. Like when I say I’m listening, and then I speak Because I believe I’ve listened, and she stops me. She says, “You’re anticipating what I’m gonna say; you don’t know What I’m gonna say. So, can you listen please?” I do Do that. It’s not just the fact that I raised her that makes me wonder. There was adversity; there was tribulation; there was Hardship. Such. Hardship. She was only ten when he Passed, and there just wasn’t a way to be ready. My college Love. I wish there had been some way to be ready, but you Don’t see aneurisms. Like a lightning strike. Once you see it, The Damage is done, and you’re just left with the pieces. Never been sick a day in his life save consequences for Putting chocolate on banana cake and refusing to quit. I remember him in Florida, me in Memphis, me borrowing Money to fly. We had the most beautiful conversation. Four Days later—coma. In my life at that point, he was a Giant, Strong tree split down the middle, burning on both sides, Scorching my hilltop. How can I talk about myself? Humility won’t hardly say The half because there was also adversity. There was also 18

Tribulation. There was also hardship. Such. Hardship. In light of that, surely you realize I could’ve raised anything. I didn’t talk about him passing for a year, and I don’t know What kind of mother I was then. Lord, I could’ve raised Anything, but I noticed her hair was shedding. And I knew I had to talk about him. For her. For me. For him. For her. She didn’t understand, and she refused to understand. She said she didn’t want me to tell her about daddy because She was already doing so much for him—excelling in classes, Behaving for her teachers, achieving, excelling, achieving. She said she was doing it for his sake so that he would be Proud of her when he saw all that she had achieved. It hurt. I could’ve raised anything. It serves no one but myself to talk about me. Humility’s one Reason, adversity another, but there are other things I have To talk about. There are times when I have to talk to get Something vitally important across. I had to do it for Taneshia Then when I explained to her where her father was and when She’d see him again, and I’ve carried the burden, the urge, The yearn ever since to do it for every young person I see. It has lasted to this day. It certainly outlasted those years at AT&T, the career move from Memphis to Nashville, those first female This-and-thats. Accolades mean nothing as far as I’m concerned Because I’m so aware of the fact that I could’ve raised anything, Yet I raised a strong, smart, articulate, Black woman. We were Lost on an eerie road, driving, so we pulled over at a gas station For directions. I wasn’t too sure about her walking into this place To talk to whoever it was, but she said, “I can talk to the President; I can talk to the man on the street.” How could I have been Responsible for that? I don’t talk about myself, so here’s what you should know— And I know I’ve been going on a minute. Put God first. Everything Else falls in line. Support other Black people, Black establishments. We need to help each other. Look at Schrader Lane, this church, This living center. Everything you see—this is all us. We can be Proud of this. It’s a reason to be who God wants you to be for Others, rather than Just being Anything. Shoot, I could’ve raised anything, but somehow some way I raised Someone greater than anything.

Catching Rhonda By Cedric Dent, Jr. Rhonda Hannon-Holland Of the five names you give me, those are The three I catch. You pitch me your life Like a screenplay, like a series, perhaps A series of fast balls, slow balls, curve Balls. I catch phrases—slogans, quotes, And faith-based catchphrases. And as You tell your story, these poignant Phrases, they leave a catch in your throat, And a catch in mine. There’s no question: you love your daughter. The more you tell, the more endearing it is To know I remind you of her at all. I begin To see where your passion for volunteering Comes from. In the volunteer state, with a History of people volunteering for the wrong Sides of the wrong fights, volunteering for the Wrong reasons, it’s reanimating to see the right Volunteer on the right side of things, and it’s Not lost on you. You love our community, Our people, our church, our school. You just Want our young to honor our old and continue Our progress by building our legacies. With all that you and your daughter have Endured, you recount and your demeanor grows Demure but not melancholy. More catchphrases: I catch wind of the death of your husband. I catch hold of the scene you show me. I catch sight of your anxious daughter, (whom I remind you of) stressing and shedding hair. She’s only ten in this scene, and I’ve never lost a parent, But you’ve correlated us, and vicariously, I feel her loss. As though she represents me. I stand in for her like An actor, speaking the lines you feed me about doing Everything just right for dad so that—when he returns— He’ll call me the one in whom he is well pleased. I can’t fill her shoes. There’s pain in those shoes. Some souls aren’t built to walk the way other souls do. You remarried. Thank God. You deserve it. You waited. You never felt right dating anyone after your college love, 20

After her father. Your daughter gave you the go-ahead When she was in grad school. Your soul deserves it. With the Lord as your shepherd, you shall not want. I know. I wish you’d say more about your career. What you mention In passing let’s me know there’s a tale of heroism behind you. You refuse to get roped into the conversation because you Don’t want to talk about accomplishments. Your humility Is a rarity—no hints. I’m caught in your phrases, caught up In your personage. I catch on to why you’re so familiar to me. I know you. You’re family. When you speak of forwarding Spiritual and inspirational texts as devotionals to your daughter, Your nieces, your nephews, I catch on. I know that aunt well. You keep us grounded, and you catch us when we fall. You’re The pillar. We all depend on you even when we don’t realize it. Love is contagious, and it’s catching when the rare someone like You, gleefully infectious, brings it to those you encounter. I know Rhonda Hannon-Holland now.

Introducing Schrader Acres Volunteer Easter Grey

Mrs. Fix It By Aaron Walker She knew roads like Langston knew rivers. Knew the wheels, the bolts, and brakes of a thing. She knew them deep. Even knew the railroads, even knew what men did. Loyal to the lift and powerful to the pump Pressed to learn beyond the convention. She could care less for the definition of a woman. If anything could be learned Anything could be done. It was all about attention too or taken care of the thing. The vehicle must be ready. The roads were ready. The present was always the right time. No need to wait on men. No need wait on death. This was life on the road. This was the profession. Not just men can be mechanics. 22

An Interview with Easter Grey By Aaron Walker "Im going to be nice" she said. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m real hard on young people. I come from Mississippi, Raised on a farm, born on Easter Sunday. They call me Easter. They taught me how to do a little bit of everything. Drive pickup trucks They would say "Easter pull up on that clutch!" Learn how to work on cars Had to pump those brakes Then all brothers went away. Went to service. Went to fight. I didn't stay too long. She told me how she moved on. That she met a man at the bus stop who talked long. Talked trash, and how she married him. She had three kids. Raised three boys one got killed. She told me my story go make you cry son. No room for lies, just real life. It was all real work.

She Took Control By Kamri Jordan I am nervous. I know nothing about her, and she knows nothing about me. But here I am, asking her to open up to me. 24

Introducing Schrader Acres Resident Barbara Thompson She greets me with a smile. All fears must flee; it’s time. “Who told you about me?” Bewilderment overcomes me, but her smile remains. She’s in charge. “I am one of the students from Tennessee State. We are doing project with residents here.” Her eyes light up; we have a connection. She describes her college years. The TSU of her day. But then, she pauses. She shows me her rings. Plain yet charming. “Do you have a large jewelry collection?’ Touching her rings, Pulling her necklace, Twisting her earrings. “No.. This is all that I need.” “You know, I was a teacher.” She’s back in control. “I cannot go downtown without People calling my name.” “Do you miss teaching?” Her eyes begin to water. Please do not cry. Please Do Not Cry. “My kids would tell their friends, My momma don't play.” She’s back, and ready to take control again. 25

Who Told You About Me? By Kamri Jordan Who told you about me? Did they tell you I am a singer, a mother,or a teacher? My singing, it'll bring tears to your eyes. People like that. Thats why they always asking me to sing. But I’m not a professional. Never wanted to be. So I may get annoyed, if you ask me to sing. Sometimes I want to be a listener, not a singer. I have two kids that like to say “My momma don’t play.” My kids had rules to follow. Chores to do. Lessons to learn. And they didn't want me to get out that piece of hickory. “My teacher don't play” Is what my students say. I cannot go downtown without someone calling my name. They come running to me, we hug laugh and talk. They never want to let me go because, you know, I was their favorite teacher. But who told you about me? Did they tell you who I am?

The Red Hood By Kamri Jordan An accessory to you, is protection to me. A shield from ugly voices. A blinder to hard eyes. It keeps away the malicious and preserves my innocence. An accessory to you, is a friend to me. She keeps me out of sadness, and comes along on my adventures. She complements me well. She makes me greater. An accessory to you, is much more to me. You look and see a Red hood I look and see an extension of me.

Sing By Kamri Jordan In times of sadness or confusion do not cry, and do not grieve. Instead, open your mouth and sing. Songs can be made of the everyday chores, the saturday adventures, or the sunday lessons. Be joyous when singing of the love of red and the importance of rings. Show softness in songs of about a motherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s love, and be concise when gloom must be expressed. But do not remain silent, it does no good. Life has given you the lyrics, so now you must open your mouth and sing.

She Rules By Aaron Walker That hat is a crown. Your smile carries majesty. Your hands know the price of ruling long ago. I can only borrow from your time, Only return it to you, You've loaned it to me. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s true place is at its throne. It is a deep history. I squint to know it, You've seen it Youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve been its queen. You rule your time.

Introducing Schrader Acres Resident Barbara Nance 28

Keep Going By Aaron Walker To her it's just nice to have company. Nice to share the day, Nice not to rule it alone. You say "The years have been good to us, But they'll be better to you." You truly believe this. It’s as if you've seen it before. "That School was the start of It." Your tone doesn't seem so ancient Your eyes hold a century’s strength. When they were young you were all about your business. "That was my major!" You exclaim. "I’d like to believe I left my mark with that." I want to know what’s the most important to you. Your reply is "For you to keep doing what you doing!" You prove the faster. Is that it? "Yes, you must keep doing what you doing." I get it better the second time. I ask about kids You have none of your own but the family knows your hands. You took care of them all. "I worked in the office of TSU's president" That was always a second home. I go back to the question. What is of most importance? "Son just keep doing what you doing."

Introducing Schrader Acres Resident Dorothy Elam

Life in Five By Cedric Dent, Jr. You can't lead me somewhere you don't Know where to go. It's better for someone To ask you up than to be up and have someone Ask you to step down. I Started from the bottom; I Know what I mean. Picture the 1960s. Deflate The dollar, reverse Black progress, remember The Cold War. I was a maid who stayed focused, Paid to make hocus pocus work for someone else. The magic I made was always for others, and when I strengthened myself, it was to strengthen them. I Pursued education and, with it, became a nurse, But I'm not Self-made. I'm a Christian. No. I'm a redeemed sinner Saved By grace. I don't claim to be wise, But I'm wise enough to know That if you want Wisdom, Read Proverbs. King Solomon. Or Ecclesiastes for that matter: "Whatever you get in joy, just Be glad you got it." What else? Do what you need to do.

Bordeaux Highrise By Cedric Dent, Jr. You speak these These proverbs Of your own volition Your own creation Your own experience They're empirical. And you impart them So quickly, so aptly, Like you've waited long To pass on this This wisdom. Where does it come from?

Dialysis Several years of 4am Of four in the morning Three out of seven days And school. This is why the forefront The forefront of your mind Is such a fount of It's a fount of wisdom Apropos of advancing Your family and self In selfless ways.

It comes from a highrise In Bordeaux You haven't been waiting. It's not an unrealized yearn To impart this This wisdom. It's the experience itself. Not just the experience you lived But the experience of having Imparted this before. Raising a daughter in the Mid-twentieth, A Bordeaux highrise. Your independence is Critical and always has been. Your daughter is the same way. You worked as a maid, A maid in another home, Outside Bordeaux, outside The highrise.

You say, "Find the studious ones, And get help on what You're slow to learn" Unprompted you say it. You know it from experience. You're not communicating Separate facts. These are Pieces Pieces of a mindset. You're Imparting a mindset to me.

So yours is an experience An experience of high rise. You pursued your education While your husband Your husband fought He fought kidney disease. 4am Four in the morning Three times a week,

His golf buddies babysat him While you went to school. At 43 Age forty-three After 4am After school After golf buddies After driving him Three times a week He died at 43. Kidney Disease. But You're a nurse. You pushed. You Achieved, and you Worked.

Two grandchildren Banker Air Force From the nurse From the maid. Great grandmother. You know all about Leadership. You say, "You can't lead me Somewhere You don't know where To go."

And when I ask about your Faith: are you a Christian? You say, "No, I'm a redeemed sinner Saved by Grace." Every answer is calculative, Thought-provoking, Poignant. I see and know One Dorothy Elam High riser of Bordeaux

Cedric Dent, Jr. English Major, Senior Cedric Dent, Jr. is an undergraduate student at Tennessee State University pursuing a Bachelor of Arts degree in English with a minor in Spanish. He is a freelance writer for independent publishers through Upwork for novella ebooks, and additionally, he is an Urban Gospel recording artist with Brandon Dent as part of an act named RBF, succeeding his father, Dr. Cedric Dent, who recorded and performed for more than two decades as baritone and one of two primary arrangers for ten-time Grammy Awardwinning group, Take 6. Reflection I’ve worked with my team to create an incredibly artistic volume of work, and I’ve learned a different kind of teamwork from that of sports. I love being able to lend and receive constructive criticism with an ultimate purpose in mind, and I really enjoy collaborative brainstorming sessions that determine the direction of the art as we build it. All of it is a very fulfilling experience that has, perhaps more significantly than anything else it has done for me, given me a much clearer understanding of the opportunities available to me regarding career paths. Ultimately, I’ve learned a great deal from this process, and I’ve accrued considerable experience that with regard to writing, as the class title implies, for publication. A Stand-Alone Complex Dent’s Personal Ethical Will Poem It seems narcissistic to ask so much of those whom I’ve left behind, So abrupt and unexpected, so sudden, so self-centered, so dissatisfying, So uncertain. To those whom it may concern, however, you know How important it was—not just to me—but to the foundations of our Respective relationships that my mistakes, my errors in judgment, My inherent faults, my weaknesses, all be thoroughly understood And justified by my art. We knew that it was folly to view art as Justification for wrongs, but we decided long ago that it might. We figured, if I could just prove that I understood humanity: — Like the actor who finds that novelty of expression. — Like the songwriter who finds a way to make a melody that naturally cries. — Like the novelist whose characters you’ve known before. Somehow, my mistakes might have credibility if I prove to have Truly understood Man, that my faults stemmed from that deep underStanding alone, and that the blame castigate my shell rather than the Ghost within.

26 Black Chicago Dent’s Ethical-Will Poem for Cousin TJ There are make-its and don’t-make-its, like the haves And have-nots because we got those too. For years And years, most of us have been have-nots, and almost Half of the have-nots are also don’t-make-its. To say it’s Been that way is an understatement. I don’t know how else It can be. The make-its can be and the don’t-make-its can’t be. But all of this is just fact. The problem is that the city’s faced With that be-or-not-to-be. He’s a have-not now, and it’s new To him. He doesn’t know how to handle it. He could ask us, But he’s too proud because he’s spent so much time telling Haves they were our better halves. Now what does this say About him? He’s been faced, and to save face, he’s abusing The have-nots worse than ever. He takes pictures of us On our way to work and mails us driving tickets even when We’re sitting at the stop light, stagnant and stagnating. He Lets the haves have our cars even if we’re paid up, and they Ask for a third half, which he let’s them do because it would be Hypocritical of him to stop them. I’m a have in the way that matters most. I have Niyah. I have Mom, and I feel like I have more than she does because my Mother is just something else I provided for her in a sense. My Daughter’s a have-not in that regard. She has a mom, not a Mother. Family’s more than half what a have-not has, and Half of the have-nots are also don’t-make-its, which scares me Because it means there’s this huge probability saying Niyah Shouldn’t make it. I don’t listen, though, because what has Listening ever done for a have-not? We listened when He told Us we hadn’t paid our car notes on time. We listened when He Talked about changing traffic violation laws. We listened when Those gangsters in suits told us we were gangsters. We just Never heard anything.

Elyse Nicole Johnson English Major, Senior Elyse Nicole Johnson is currently an undergraduate student at Tennessee State University pursuing a Bachelor's of Arts in English with a minor in Philosophy. Born and raised in the great city of Stone Mountain, GA by her mother and aunt, Elyse chose Tennessee State University as her place of higher learning. Elyse Johnson plays trombone for the world renowned Aristocrat of Bands, a member of My Sisterâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Keeper Inc., and a member of Sigma Alpha Iota International Music Fraternity Incorporated. She enjoys reading and being around loved ones. Reflection: I have never heard of ethical wills until I got into this class, and I found it to be very interesting. I was able to discuss ethical wills with my older brother and receive his opinion about it. I actually like ethical wills because they can vary in length and in content. This entire class overall was just a new experience for me. This class has molded me into a better English major, which is great because I'm about to graduate, so I needed all the help I could get. My first time going to Schrader Acres was very interesting. I was so nervous about interviewing someone. When I met Ms. Hamler, she put a smile on my face. Her entire demeanor and character reminded me so much of my great aunt. She was quiet, but very stern. She kept her answers short and sweet, until she talked about nursing. She immediately lit up, and I loved it. I am glad I had the opportunity to interview her. I was able to put her life in poem form, and I think that is a beautiful thing. I am just grateful for this entire experience and I will never forget it. I love you all Johnsonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Personal Ethical Will Poem I love you all Never forget me, and never mourn me. I want you to celebrate not only my life, But life itself. Enjoy it, always love yourself. And never forget Who you are. Always have integrity, Always be kind, And always treat others how you want To be treated. Live life in happiness And peace. 36

Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s OK Johnsonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Ethical Will Poem for Brother Joshua To want for yourself, To be selfish, To want to be free. For we are young, And life has just started For us. Don't live life miserable, In a dead end something, Upset and always Angry. Get up, Do something you love, Take yourself out, Because We can not get these years back. You don't want to be 50 Saying I coulda Or shoulda Have done this and that. Do it NOW. Life waits for no one. Do crazy things, never live In regret. Follow your heart, And never be ashamed. Never be quiet. And never forget who YOU are.

Kamri Jordan, English Major, Sophomore Kamri Jordan is currently an undergraduate student at Tennessee State University pursuing a Bachelors of Arts in English and a Bachelor’s of Science in Political Science. Born and raised in Nashville, Tennessee, Kamri credits her family as having a profound influence on her life. An avid writer, she had a short story published at the age of nine. Kamri serves as a Campus Correspondent for the Ohio Valley Conference where it is her task to write articles pertaining to the history and traditions of the TSU Athletics. Kamri hopes to one day be a policy researcher at a nonprofit organization. Reflection I never thought that working with the residents and staff at the David L. Jones Assisted Living Facility would have such a profound impact on me as a writer. Although I only worked with Ms. Barbara Thompson, the entire community at the center aided me with this project. One thing that I learned from this experience was how to pay attention to every detail of a person. Whether it’s their accent, the way they twirl their hair, or even the color of their nails; all of these details tell you about the person. Does she lift her hands when she's excited? Or does she lower her head with when recalling an unpleasant memory? These are habits that their family is well aware of. Therefore, it is necessary to add these details when writing a legacy poem. The family members will remember these minute details, and would want them represented in some way. Another lesson I learned by working with the David Jones center is that no matter what poem you are writing, you must always write in the voice of the person you're interviewing. With the interview poem being the exception, I was Barbara Thompson in each poem. Despite all that I experienced, the most significant lesson I learned was to listen. I got the most information by not asking questions. When she talked, Ms. Barbara told me everything about herself because she knew that I was listening, and was doing it genuinely. I have no doubt that this experience, although short, has made me into the best writer I have ever been.

What Comes to Mind? Jordan’s Personal Ethical Will Poem What comes to mind when you think of me? Does my kindness come to mind? Up before dawn, in bed after twelve, all because 38

I wanted to help. Maybe my outspokenness, left its mark? Cries against the patriarchy, standing for humanity, is that what you remember? Did my happiness, leave an impression? Sadness never stayed for long. Is that what you recall? I do not know what comes to your mind. But I do know, what I see in mine.

Learning Jordanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Ethical Will Poem for Grandfather Sam I've learned a lot in 80 years, But these aren't lessons from the classroom. Every decision and sacrifice I made. Every situation and person I encountered. These are what taught me. I learned about Patience from the decisions I made, Sacrifices from the family I raised, Growth from every trial, and Respect from the people I encountered. I never learned these in school. I never learned these in the Army. I never learned these in the church Instead, I took life easy And learned along the way.

Jennifer Shafer English Major, Senior Jennifer Shafer is a graduate of Columbia State Community College and currently attending Tennessee State University, pursuing a degree in English. She hopes to one day teach and write professionally, and to pursue a Masters in English and, perhaps, one day, her PhD. Her poems have been published in Perceptions and has won writing awards for her short stories. She is the founding student member of the TSU film club and served as project manager for the TSU English Department newsletter, The Critical Approach. Her interests include British Literature, film/television, and social media and its impact on literature and the literary community, as well as adaption theory. Reflection: This experience—learning and writing ethical wills, and getting to explore writing the human experience through poetry—has been extraordinary. Not only have I had the opportunity to examine my own life, but also the life of my mother and the life of a woman I never would have had an opportunity to meet, Mattye Cox. I had no idea what to expect going into this and was uncertain how it would all come together, but Mrs. Cox was so welcoming and kind. She shared experiences with me that I normally would never have been privy to. It was an honor to hear her story. It was amazing to meet a woman who has lived through nearly a century of experiences. She took historical moments that I learned about in school and brought them to light through a very personal lens. It’s easy to romanticize historical events and to overlook the personal cost, but Ms. Mattye reminded me that there are always victims in war and there is always a price to be paid for daring to fight against the system. And yet, she struggled to recognize all that she had accomplished in her life. She was the first black woman to work in the U.S. House of Representative. It was her responsibility to read the letters from Nashville constituents during the 1950s and 60s. She read letter after letter from people who were her neighbors, people who were writing to oppose the Civil Rights Act, fighting to keep her oppressed and maintain a system of bigotry, yet she held no malice towards them then and continues to maintain a message of love and kindness. She was proud of her time in Washington. This woman is an incredible example of strength, compassion, and humanity. Reading and being inspired by my fellow classmates’ work has left me a better writer and reader of poetry, and getting to participate in this project has left an indelible mark on who I am as a person.

My Language Shafer’s Personal Ethical Will Poem Don’t sit in the chair and wait Waiting for him to ask you to dance You see the music the movement and you can take him along with you Look for the sun rolling down the hill, 40

behind the trees as the fireflies take up the mantle Running barefoot in the cool grass a made up game that makes you laugh. Don’t forget the smiles that spread when you brought up his scruffy chin Those smiles were real though he was not. It made us sisters and liars and happy. There is value in the pointless precious Don’t be silent sing instead and change the words when they no longer fit but let the sounds find each other let them take hands and ring-around till we all fall down then reach down and pull them back up do it all again And I will sing with you. Stand Remember And when you open your mouth to speak I will be heard. Plant a Garden Shafer’s Ethical Will Poem for Mom You have to work the land Turning the dirt Pulling the weeds Chasing away the critters To fill the world with color. You have to find your way Burying the seeds Watering them with your tears Watching them grow crooked To fill their hungry bellies. You have to wait each day 41

Letting the Son give life Swaying in the wind Climbing over rocks To fill the time with hope You have to… But of course you don’t. Just plant a garden Watch it grow Watch it die And do it all again. Because that is what happens Whether you’re looking or not.

Aaron Isaiah Walker English Major, Senior Aaron Isaiah Walker is a current undergraduate at Tennessee State University pursuing a Bachelor of Arts degree in English, and a minor in music. He is also a part-time musician and holds roles in many TSU organizations such as: The Collegiate 100 of Tennessee State University, the TSU Forensics team, and the Writers Block artistry group which he helped found in 2013 under the campus ministry the Wesley Foundation. After obtaining his degree Aaron seeks to cultivate a career in professional writing and help run his family’s production company known as Linage Productions Inc. Reflection This class has had the most profound effect out of my entire curriculum for my undergraduate degree. I've teamed up with fellow majors in other classes before on projects, but never in this capacity. It wasn't a class that prompted just individual success. I believe we all started to realize that we had to depend on one another to fully be successful. I feel as though this one lesson will follow me as I further my career paths. It had been expected that we'd move beyond the classroom to perform a more direct approach to interviewing and publication, but I think it came as a surprise when we finally went out to begin. Interacting with other people outside of the school in order to complete our goals brought about new challenges. There were processes and guidelines that influenced our attitudes. We had to submit to the observations of others, and take heed of their directions. I learned that patience was paramount and has to be involved in bigger projects. Beyond, the hassle of scheduling interviews and organizing the material we collected, the encounters at Schrader Acres between our class and the residents were phenomenal. Taking the time to attach oneself to a person and really listen to them was a positive lesson. All my communication skills came into play. After, four years of undergrad it was a great extension to funnel everything I've learned while at TSU. In all, I’ll cherish the friendships and bonds that were made during the process.

Ethical Will Walker’s Personal Ethical Will Poem This was a life on the mountain. All eyes could see, and all ears could hear the pain from up there. He was the son of the one and only God. He thought himself a lion. His days were spent reaching for his roar, Praying his voice become a still song, and at will a war cry. Make no mistake his one true adversary was himself. He shouted and cried and all of Heaven could hear. There was a boy on that mountain. There was a man hanging there. He struggled to keep life in his hands. He had dreams over there, and over there in the distance. The impossible made him smile, the inevitable made him laugh,

because God would always have the last. Those rocks were his home, the cayons his bones, his life was an echo. His family was his valley. He roamed the winds and called for strength. Let him cry, let him moan, that man was the mountain and he knew it. He could push earthquakes out of his lunges. Storms came and he would greet them. There was no shame in dying up there. There was no need to jump. His life was in Gods hands and that was alright with him. That boy could see death coming, He waited for it, It was always at the edge. Yet he hung there. He was strong.

Mississippi Girl Walkerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Ethical Will Poem for Grandmother The South has long known the black girl and the dirt road. The hills of Mississippi that crossed her way, The hands that have known hungry, The hands that gave her away, The feet that ran either way, That black girl who said she was from Duncan, Who sung come down Moses, Who said she had picked her fair share of cotton. She was Great depression. She was the dust bowl. She was a Renaissance. She was Jim Crow. They all knew her name. She had her blues. She took it to Beale street. She smoked in the notes of B.B. Kings guitar. She could sang. She knew the world. Then come one morning the great light. No longer a little black girl, this black woman Had known pain. She made her way into that church house. She heard the singing from the street. This was no longer Mississippi. She took a hymn and made her way down there. Down by the river, She brought her family.

Artist Bios Ayoka (Ayo) Ajamu, 20, is a Graphic Design Sophomore at Tennessee State University. Using a digital tablet, she attempts to capture and display grand messages in lines. Art has a way of making people believe in impossibilities, and impossibilities have always done Ayo good. All she hopes for is that she can do someone a bit of good, too. Her images are on pages 5 and 24.

Jasmine Rodgers, 20, is a graphic design student at Tennessee State University. She finds inspiration in fashion and in how music would look is if drawn. Her digital art is influenced by traditional art techniques because she believes traditional art is very beautiful. She strives for a fantasy type look in most of her pieces to show the emotions of the piece. She wants people to escape in the work. Her images are on pages 13 and 28.

Mikayla Washington is an Art major at Tennessee State University. She is from Memphis TN, and “was very inspired by the poetry. I put time and thought into it showing what I felt as I read the poem. The poems I read forced me to think and feel what the writer was thinking, so I could show it in my painting.” Her images are on pages 17 and 32.

Writing for Publication Course Instructor Michelle J. Pinkard, PhD Dr. Michelle J. Pinkard teaches African American Literature, Poetics and Composition. Her scholarship is inspired by intersections in African American, Gender, Modernism and Creative Writing studies. She is also a poet whose work was published in CLA, Callaloo Journal, and The African American Review. Pinkard’s essays, short stories and poems have appeared in several anthologies. Prior to teaching, Pinkard performed award-winning work in public relations and print journalism, which provided the investigative foundation to become an interdisciplinary scholar of African American cultural history. Ultimately, the apex of these varied interests is an examination of the way identity affects the creative process. She is currently working on a scholarly project in Harlem Renaissance women’s poetics.

“If there's a book you really want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.” - Toni Morrison

Legacies Unpacked: The Women of Schrader Acres in Poetry was the capstone assignment for students enrolled in Writing for Publication (Fall 2015). It is also part of a new initiative called “I Want to Write” in TSU’s Languages, Literature and Philosophy Department. To learn more about that initiative, visit: http://www.tnstate.edu/llp/iwanttowrite.aspx.

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