Livin' Small

Race.  What is it?

Throughout time, people of many races throughout the world have always taken some degree of unkindly thought of anyone not of their own.  From as far back as one can remember of societies it is seen.  Countries developed for this very reason.

The Scotch people would rival one another over who’s clan they belonged to.  Same skin color, but I get it.  Hatfields and McCoys.  Both white but different families.  Differences start for many reasons.

Blacks and whites.  Oh wait.  There are yellows, too.  Perhaps creamy in between.  Even whites, like blacks have shades of white.  Norwegian verses Hispanic shades of white.  Indians are red.  Is it really color as or more so than just plain fear of someone who’s culture is different from another one’s culture.  Color I think is more the defining feature to identify the differences in culture more than the color itself.

I’ll admit whites of the colonial days considered native indians to be savages.  In today’s light, who is a savage?  That leaves for a debate on it’s own.

Whites would have never made success out of making blacks from Africa slaves without the help of  neighboring tribes of blacks dabbling in slave trade, by selling members of other tribes into slavery, thus blacks played as much a role in black slavery as did whites.

A quote here from a NYT’s article goes thusly.  The historians John Thornton and Linda Heywood of Boston University estimate that 90 percent of those shipped to the New World were enslaved by Africans and then sold to European traders. The sad truth is that without complex business partnerships between African elites and European traders and commercial agents, the slave trade to the New World would have been impossible, at least on the scale it occurred.

And to go on, The African role in the slave trade was fully understood and openly acknowledged by many African-Americans even before the Civil War. For Frederick Douglass, it was an argument against repatriation schemes for the freed slaves. “The savage chiefs of the western coasts of Africa, who for ages have been accustomed to selling their captives into bondage and pocketing the ready cash for them, will not more readily accept our moral and economical ideas than the slave traders of Maryland and Virginia,” he warned. “We are, therefore, less inclined to go to Africa to work against the slave trade than to stay here to work against it.” (in part from an Article by HENRY LOUIS GATES Jr. APRIL 22, 2010)

There is such a thing as white slavery as well, but it seems white women bear the brunt of this type of slavery.  It’s not for picking cotton, but deemed, at least by myself, of a deep rooted kind of character assassination of women’s souls simply for the lust of sexual satisfaction by evil men of all races.  Iran played this with whites as well as blacks prior to 1826.  It’s history.  It can be readily found in books and on the internet.  Russia put an end to it in 1826.

The United States in its formative years was not a fluke nation on slavery.  It’s been a practice world-wide since mankind appeared on the face of the earth.  Every nation is to blame for this practice.  Even Jewish people would sell themselves into slavery when dire circumstances befell them simply to pay a debt.  At least they had the Year of Jubilee (every 50 years) when all people were freed of debt and slavery and were allowed to return to their rightful property.  Those who remained slaves then did so out of respect for their masters and their own willingness to serve their masters out of their own love for them.  The Greek word for these type slaves was called a “love slave”, but not in the physical sexual sense.  It was out of devotion to another.

Racism in my own younger years was best described as a member of a family who were members of the KKK.  but then again, the KKK back then didn’t hold solely to the idea of an Aryan race.  We actually were equal opportunity in justice.  I knew a woman in the neighborhood who was fooling around on her husband and a cross got burned in her front yard just as quickly as one that might have been burned in a black family’s yard for some other issue.

I witnessed racism first hand in my battery in Germany where I was stationed.  I was quietly trying to write home one evening and a potentially violent confrontation erupted in the hallway outside my door when a group of whites and blacks got into a shouting match over race.  It dawned on me at this time that this type of behavior was detrimental to the cohesion of the moral fabric of this nation.  The military had to deal with it.  Some people were transferred to other units the next day and I was assigned as security in the transport of one of those who instigated the prior evenings event.  The military doesn’t play favorites on race.  All races have an equal footing to either excel or fall upon their own sword.  It’s not an experiment.  It’s a ladder of responsibility set forth by rank.  You obtain that rank not because of color, but because you accepted the requirements within that rank and performed them to the best of your ability.

I came home with an entirely new view of the world.  No more color.  It became evident to me later on when I realized that Sunday mornings were the most racist of all days.  Blacks went to black churches and whites went to white churches.  No one seemed to dare encroach on that sacred ground.  It was the late 70’s when my pastor brought in a speaker for a Sunday evening service and I could hear a collective gasp when the young man appeared when introduced.  He was a black minister who had started a church in the heart of downtown Wilmington on the busiest drug exchange street corner.  He called it The Soul Saving Station.  This church is still there and has brought up in its midst several with the calling to spread the gospel of Christ.  Since that time I began to see Sunday mornings as less than racially divided.  Still, sadly, we have remnants of that divide still with us.  God didn’t create men to be racially divided in our minds.  I feel He created it as a challenge for us to overcome in our maturity as humans in His sight.

I’m a fan of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.  He was a man of vision well before his time.  One black man who’s courage stood in the face of opposition with a heart that stood for the right reasons.  Some will say ill of him, but like David of old whose heart was not perfect kept it soft for God’s hand to shape and mold it for the Kingdom.

Racism has no part in my vocabulary.  We are all men and women of this earth.  It’s not just a “can’t we all just get along”.  It’s a “let’s settle the issue in our hearts”.  We’re in this together and race isn’t to play a part in our lives.

I think it’s more a fear of not knowing one another because we just don’t get together and weigh our differences and see the good in situations and work from that.  Together we can build a lot more when we have the following quote in mind.

I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality. . .   I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.  –  Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Unconditional love.  The basis of all problems are solved when we learn that kind of love for one another.

What are goals?  Of course you know.  It’s something you plan and work toward.  How much does that play in your life?

I’ve discovered it plays quite a bit in my life since retirement.  When working it came about naturally from the nature of climbing the ladder in the working world.  I never really thought much of it, but I stopped recently to take stock of what goals in life I had ventured into.

I set a goal early in life because of what I felt was a calling by God to be in the ministry.  The age of thirteen was young, but I’ve been in conversation, or prayer as most call it, since I was at least this young.  Praying without ceasing, is more like what I consider my conversations with God.  I admit I don’t listen all the time, but He’s always there to talk.  Sometimes He gets my attention without my having the slightest of intention towards conversation at that particular moment.  Okay, I’m rabbit-trailing.

Goals.  Other than that, I had none.  When I graduated from high school I found being 1A for the draft was a huge deterrent to making solid plans.  I did sign up for something I enjoyed.  I took one year of architectural drafting from Chicago Technical College and it landed me in a job in industrial construction and a field engineer, but the Army swooped me up for a two year active duty enlistment.  That period of time in my life made me grow up something like overnight.

It got me out of a dead-end relationship and unfortunately I put myself into another that ended in divorce many years later.  I feel really bad, since looking back on it I found I wasted my ex-spouses life as she was trying to put up with me.  She wasn’t well received by my family I found and I know the feelings were mutual.  I was just a country boy gone to the city.  I tried to fit in, but it just didn’t happen.  I’ve made my mistakes, but still in those early years, I just kind of took things as they came until. . .

When I was twenty six years old I became depressed and did not know why.  It took some time, but I came to realize God was calling me back to Him and I began to search.  It took a couple of years, but I found myself on my knees in front of my couch one Monday morning around one, in the dark, crying out to Him.  I had found that life had become nothing without Him in my life.  Just prior to that moment of the night I had gone to work and on the way over Cape Fear River bridge to DuPont for the night shift, I felt without Him in my life I was worthless and should end it if He wasn’t in it.  For a small sliver of time I felt the void of God in my life and almost ran my car over the rail into the river.  He stopped me.  That’s why I was on my knees in my living room crying out to Him.

I knew that my dad’s life was shortened because he did not answer a similar call on his life and I vowed my goal was to serve God and end the curse that was on the Rowe men before me.  That curse is broken.  I still believe God has more for me to do and I wait on Him.

Other goals.  Aside from the that one main goal, there began to be other smaller goals that took shape.  I honed my drumming skills as a member of a worship team.  I went on to become a deacon in the church, but I fell from grace to some extent due to a mistaken avenue of help to someone taking a wrong path.  I am all the more careful now to avoid mistakes.  The multitude of counsel is a wise avenue to take.  Don’t try to do things alone.

I took a new a new direction at the age of thirty eight.  Blue collar type work was left behind for more administrative white collar work.  This was due to conversation with God.  He instructed me to take the open door and He would restore me to my revenue at the time, but not without a test in finances and health.  Three months after taking the Civil Service job I was three months behind on my mortgage and other bills and in the hospital for the first time in my life since I was born.  He told me five years I would struggle and I did.  On the week of my fifth anniversary I received a check in the mail to cover all my back expenses and put me ahead for a change and was awarded a job I had wanted with better pay.  The rest of my twenty three years in Civil Service saw my salary double from that date of restoration.  Goals.  May not seem exactly as such, but I heard from God and obeyed Him.  His Word was my goal.

I did not retire as well as planned.  OPM is a slow moving giant in the Federal Government I found.  All the goals I had placed in front of me were quashed with no pay for five months and we had to spend all the savings and buy-backs on leave I had hoped to pay off bills with.  But remember, those I now see as my goals.  Not God’s.  He sets my goals.  I have to recognize that.  I am being patient as much as allows.  I know down the road my goal is to be where God wants me.

In the mean time, I create small goals to keep me busy, like drive cars for dealers.  I’m attending a class for substitute teacher certification next month and/or anything else I feel the unction to delve into.  God can’t do anything unless I’m moving, so it pays to be moving.  Just sitting at home is not a goal oriented function in life.

Even smaller things are goals.  I still have trim to cut and put in place in the house, new tile for the bathroom, new pedestal sinks, which will require small re-plumbing issues as funds allow.  In short, stay busy.  God can’t help a stalled life.  If you feel that way, do something.  Anything to occupy the time.  Do it as unto God and He will reward your efforts.  Nothing is wasted.

Remember the old adage.  Idleness is the devil’s workshop.  It still applies.  Have goals, no matter how big or small.  And work towards them.

I had an interesting day yesterday.  To lightly preface this, I’ll say I picked up a very part time something to do.  No set hours, no set days.  no particularly set pay.  I just show up when I’m called and drive a car to another dealer or go to another dealer with a chaser driver and pick one up.  With that, I may make a little money, I may not.  It depends on what the dealer wants or needs.

With that said, yesterday I got to meet who I’d heard was an elderly gentleman, who is in

Durwood Stokes in his earlier years, yet still serving God

charge of calling drivers when needed.  I also found out he was, or I should say still is a preacher.  A pastor of two churches still, in fact.  The fascinating part is he used to have five churches and has cut back to two.  That and coordinating drivers during the week as well as driving some himself.  For 30 some of those years as a pastor he did so in Johnson County up around Smithfield, NC and Rocky Mount.

Okay. . . you ask.  Two churches, coordinates drivers for a business.  Yes.  He does.  And to add to that is the fact that he’s 90 years old.  Yes, ninety years old.  He’s very active to say the least.  Some of you may know him.  His name is Durwood Stokes.  He was born in Ayden , NC.

Well, yesterday he called me to drive a car to Wilmington and he’d follow and pick me up to bring me back.  For young me, still used to clipping along the highway at least seven to eight over, this was a challenge to following him down.  He did not go over 57 mph and that only when we were on a downhill slope.  I set my mind to “appreciate” and let the ride take us down.

We got to the dealer down there and I went in and dropped off the keys and got the VIN number to take back with me.  Awaiting me when I came out was Preacher Stokes, as I shall call him.  I got into the car and I immediately felt the presence of God.  We started with the usual “get to know you” chat and then on to a small lesson on the simplicity of the Gospel.  From that we talked all the way back to Jacksonville in a more than usual presence of God.  We talked about a lot.  Why Jesus was baptized.  The only commandment that made a promise, tithing, the work of the blood, the reason Adam fell.  We covered quite a bit of Biblical territory in the Mount of Transfiguration and the significance of it.  Old verses New Testament principles in general were a part of the themes of conversation.  All this while I heard God say I could sit at this man’s feet and learn.  Somewhere along the way I repeated this to Preacher Stokes.  He was quiet.  He then asked me why and I told him God spoke to me while we were riding.

When we finished the ride he shook my hand, told me he enjoyed our talk and we would do this again sometime.  I’m glad I got to meet this man.  He is a very learned man by experience and by study.  I could feel the spirit of this man is very settled and calm.  He knows where he stands in God.  I can say I’ve never met a man such as he.  God has truly blessed him.  I look forward to seeing him again.

First off let me preface this with some facts about my family.  Well, the whole community I grew up in.

My mom, Peggy, was a singer.  Even though totally deaf in her left ear she could sing like a bird.  She was requested to sing for about anything church related.  Funerals, weddings, homecomings, and events of most kinds where she met quite a few bigger named gospel singers.

My brother Danny, played with Dwight and me in the very beginning.  These two taught themselves how to play guitar.  I lost track of Dwight after I married, but I know Danny went on to eventually play in a Country band, till his health got too bad to continue.  He eventually played bass most of the time on a fret-less version.  He sang as well.

Timmy, next to youngest, was a percussionist and singer, who is the only one I know of us that actually went into a recording studio with a group from New Bern called the Gabriel’s and cut an album, which I still have a copy of on vinyl.  He played with the band Danny was in for a bit, but had health issues as well being primarily why he stopped.

Jamie, the youngest, was just learning to walk when I left for the Army, so I didn’t know a whole lot about him till our later years, but by the time he was in high school, the school had a band.  He learned wood-winds and keyboards.  I got to hear him play once in Edward Christian Church in the 80’s, when I led our churches worship team in an evening service there.

My dad played the auto harp.  I still have it in my possession, but it is in very bad shape.

I have to throw in this on tidbit.  Way back when, a cousin of mine was lead singer for the well known east coast shag, beach band, The Embers.  Jackie Gore.  I never have met him, but a couple of my brothers and mom met up with him on occasion after I went off to the military.  Jackie is still singing and has always done well with his talent.

I had a brush with a famous musician and singer, Wayne Cochran some years ago.  He played in a group called the C.C. Riders.  Look him up.  I enjoyed playing behind him in a church service.  You can only imagine what that was like unless you were there.

This leads to me.  I taught myself to play drums.  I played for over 30 years, 25 of which were in a church worship team at Praise Tabernacle and a couple of years in First Christian.   About three years Danny, Dwight and myself played garage parties and a couple of club dates, and just plain jam sessions with other groups.

In all those years I was always open to the idea of playing another instrument of some kind.  I watch guys and girls who are so talented in music play one instrument and jump up and pick up something else and play that.  I am amazed at such talent.  I wanted to be versatile like that.  I live in music.  It’s playing a large portion of my day.  It plays on a small bluetooth speaker next to my pillow all night.  Contemporary Christian music is the staple music I listen to and if any of these musician’s are in the area Lib and I try to attend.

So, what am I getting at?  I was in the worship service in our new home church one Sunday and for some reason I could hear a saxophone hitting riffs in my head.  Then God spoke to me.  He asked would I be interested in learning.  I said most definitely.  He then told me to get a saxophone and I would be gifted to play.  I went like, how?  Just do it and you’ll learn to play.  I take God at His Word, so this past week I rented an Alto saxophone and I’m walking through that open door.  Two days in, this being the third and I’m am actually excited about it.  You have to know me, to know I don’t get excited about much of anything.  The task has proven daunting when I hit the lesson on where ALL the notes are on an Alto saxophone.  I want to get proficient on all of them like. . . today, but I figure this will be an extended time frame, since there are a lot of them and it will be a slow process at first.

Even so, it doesn’t deter me from the desire to learn.  Mouthing the reed end and fingering the right keys are all a part of the learning process.  The instructor I’m listening to is my kind of guy.  He’s more into learning how to meld the person to the instrument so the two become one in a way that the instrument performs to the wishes of the person.  If reading music is to be done, basics only.  The more intricate knowledge of playing by sheet music is more like something down the road somewhere.  Pardon me if I sound crazy, but the instrument becomes like a partner more than an object to be tackled and brought into submission.  You have to learn to woo the instrument with the knowledge that it will do what you want, so long as you learn how it likes to be treated and it will deliver the sounds from the soul of the person as the two get to know each other.  Music is a true sound from the soul of people in tune with themselves.  What’s inside of them will tell others a lot about what is inside.  Music doesn’t lie.  It expresses the core nature of a person.  The instrument becomes the expression of that soul.  Learning how to play it involves this part of the process more so than reading music.

I express myself through the music I listen to and play.  The most free that I’ve ever felt in life involved, on many occasions, was when I was playing drums.  I could let myself go and forget the world around me.  Now with this new instrument, I hope to find a new avenue of release.  That’s why God has given me this nudge to play.  He has something for me in it.  That’s the “why” in it all.