Twenty-eight years ago Elie Wiesel and Maya Angelou had a conversation that focused on what the Black and Jewish communities hold in common, especially regarding racism, hate, and oppression. This exchange of ideas took place in a stadium of 10,500 people at the University of Massachusetts. Deep into the conversation Maya Angelou stood and looked out and up into the audience. Turning and pointing, she said: You have been paid for. Each of you, Black, White, Brown, Yellow, Red—whatever pigment you use to describe yourselves—has been paid for. But for the sacrifices made by some of your ancestors, you would not be here; they have paid for you. So, when you enter a challenging situation, bring them on the stage with you; let their distant voices add timbre and strength to your words. For it is your job to pay for those who are yet to come.
I was far up and way back in that stadium, but I felt her voice, her eyes, her words speaking straight to me, and I’m quite sure every other person in that arena knew she was speaking directly to them too. It gave me chills and still does. In this season of remembering those who came before us, Maya Angelou’s words speak to us writers who have the gift of giving voice to the ancestors and letting them add timbre and strength to our words. The ancestors before us paid our tickets, creating a series of chapters that link together in strange and nearly forgotten ways.
Lena is a name I heard only when I was an adult. She was my great grandfather’s second wife. They were married after all my great grandfather’s children were born in his first marriage to Winifred Hart. When I asked for Lena’s original last name, everyone spoke fondly of her, but no one remembered her last name. Yesterday, through the magic of digitized records, I learned that she was Lena Caselbaum, born 1878 in Poland and arriving in New York City in 1887 at nine years old. These are facts. But her story is more than this. What I do know is that Lena was a Practical Nurse, and she was the first person to hold my father. She helped my grandmother deliver him on a kitchen table in Flatbush. Lena Jones, nee Caselbaum, is very much a part of my story. Her hands shaped the future; she did her part to pay my way here.
As writers we have the gift of remembering and imagining the people who came before us, who worked with their hands, or studied hard, or fought fiercely to be heard, or quietly helped the person next to them. Each made it more likely that we would arrive to stand where we do. This Solstice I am looking up at the stars and claiming Lena Caselbaum Jones as one of my great grandmothers.
Events
Listen in to an Interview with Sharon Israel on Planet Poet-Words in Space podcast. Poetry reading from my book, blessed are the menial chores and from the novel, Maud & Addie. Plus a conversation about Amherst Writers & Artists with both Sharon Israel and Pamela Manché Pierce. Click here: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/maureen-buchanan-jones-writing-at-full-tilt/id1528029902?i=1000638704231
February Writing Retreat in Malibu The hills overlooking Malibu Bay are the perfect setting for a writing getaway in February. Bring your already-started or your not-yet-begun writing ideas! All writers are welcome, no matter the genre, no matter the level of experience. For more information: https://www.writingfulltilt.com/retreats/
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