Blog 1 7/22/12

Sweeping Up Memories

 At closing time, as I headed out to the sidewalk to sweep up the random cigarette butts that had been so graciously scattered out front of my work's establishment, an even better gift of crumpled newspapers was laying alongside of the wall.

To say the least, I was less than thrilled to go pick up someones idea of a light read. I proceeded to start sweeping the paper which was a fleeting task as the dust pan was too small and the wind too great. As I bent down to pick up the papers to dump them in waste basket, a question popped in my mind, "What in the hell had I done to deserve such a 'fulfilling' life." In the mist of my self-pity, a page of the paper caught my eye. It was the Comic section of Thursday's paper. 

Before I could bat an eye, the tears started to well up inside them. Something, as trivial as the paper made a lump in my throat and my retinas burned with despair. It had triggered the memory of my late grandmother, Berline M. Johnson (Sept 1, 1934-May 22, 2012 one day after my birthday), and our fondest times together. When I was a child my grandma was always reading the Chicago Sun-Times. Her husband, Fred Johnson, would bring home a paper everyday on his way home from his job at the post office. After a long day of cleaning, cooking: breakfast, lunch, dinner, and paying all the bills, my grandma would relax into her “stories” (or soaps for those who are unfamiliar with the term), and would start devouring the sports section of the paper. She knew all the stats of the Chicago teams, and close to everything about the rest. From golf to tennis, and basketball to football, she knew it!

As pay for being her good little helper, she would reward me with a handful of cherries from the jar (my favorite) and the comic section of the paper. It was such fun sitting reading my cartoons with the same concentration and seriousness as she did with the ‘World News’ section. Once done with reading the paper, I would dig in to the bubble word puzzles and my grandmother into the Crosswords. A race of pure adrenaline and focus would ensue between who would finish first, and she beat me often. Then after all the excitement, I’d rub her arm and drift to sleep next to her. All the laughs, all the little moments just her and I on her sofa, in front of her soaps, with the ‘Sun’.

To think that those many years of our memories “under the sun”, could all be rolled up in that one crumpled newspaper page. Someone’s trash had become my treasure. Kneeling on the ground, holding the precious moment in hand I took another glimpse at both mine and my grandmother’s favorite part of the comic section, the “Love Is…” column. The line of the day was, “Love is…a memory that brings a lump to your throat”. At that moment I knew it was a sign that she would always be there for me in my heart, that she would always love me and I her. The despair and pity was no more. In its place stood love, strength, and sweet memories to create a strong future.

 Thank you, Grandma, I will always love you.

~M. Monae