Author | Blogger | Columnist
I was invited to Apres’ Diem to met with the Diva’s Urban Book Club to discuss my book! It was an amazing experience and the ladies were so very kind! I was blown away with how well they knew the story, and the great questions and future suggestions they had for me!
My first in studio interview was at WRFG 89.3 FM on Ms. Dia’s show. It was interesting and exciting. I’d never been on the radio before, and was a little nervous at the beginning, but quickly gained my footing and had a great segment! Great experience!
On Saturday October 22, 2016, I was a panelist at fellow author Jill-Capri Simms’s Author Showcase in Lawrenceville, Georgia. The theme was “Write Right Now”, and the topic I spoke about was “The Truth About Christian Fiction”. The knowledge and experience I gained from radio interviews (both in studio and via telephone) leading up to and during this event was invaluable. I’ve been enjoying doing things I’ve never experienced and the growth that comes from it. The journey’s just begun, and I feel truly blessed to be a part of the process.
Here are a few video clips from the Q&A portion of my presentation:
The dark mahogany doors leading to the funeral parlor should have tipped me off that the entire interior had been refurbished, but the finance and expense reports that I’d received never reflected it. As we stepped inside, I saw that the cosmetic improvements included crown molding, new fixtures, fresh paint and wallpaper, new furnishings, hardwood floors, and new carpet and tile. The once small prep room was now spacious, with new instruments and modern equipment and machinery. Remembering the backbreaking work, I marveled at the mechanical hoist for lifting and lowering bodies. A new state-of-the-art refrigerated storage area had been added, along with a new cremation oven and exhaust system. A computer system now handled the majority of records and files.
Only Uncle Clem’s cramped office remained unchanged. He still used the same worn, brown desk that matched the paneling on the walls. Hanging behind the desk, the same oil painting of my family showed my great-grandparents, Buck and Fettie Belle, seated, with my grandfather Bull and Uncle Clem standing behind them. The original linoleum tile still covered the floor, and the same gray file cabinet sat behind his desk. A 2000 Flood and Sons Calendar hung from a nail in the wall directly across from the same grandfather clock that had been there as long as the parlor had.
After making arrangements with the Brown family, I checked over the paperwork once more and posted the funeral notice with the newspaper. Then Uncle clem and I headed to the prep room. After donning our smocks, gloves, goggles and face shields, we went about the business of embalming and preparation. It felt like old times working with Uncle Clem, a master mortician. No one restored a body like him. I felt like that seven-year-old kid who once stood on a chair to watch him work.
“Yeah, all our kin is in this cemetery, but not everyone on the farm.”
Just like that, his mood changed from pride to anger.
“What do you mean? Whose remains are buried here but don’t deserve to be?”
He looked away, removed his straw hat, ran his fingers through his wavy white hair, and sighed.
“What I’m about to say is for your ears only. I never told Buddy Boy or your grandma, either. Aside from myself, there are only two people who know what happened that night.”
“Try to imagine what this town was like in 1942 in the deep South, in Jim Crow Alabama. White folks literally and figuratively got away with everything under the sun, even murder in broad daylight. White folks had all the power. Any opportunity they had to oppress, threaten, beat, or lynch, they gladly took it. The sad part about it, these very people called themselves Christians. And on top of that, to make matters worse, they always got away with it scot-free. Especially since the folks doing all the bullying and harassing were either the law or related to the law.”
He scooped up a handful of soil in his hand. He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, allowing it to slowly fall back to the ground.
“You know, long ago our ancestors became friends with this soil. Remember, son, not only will it grow any seed planted in it, it will also conceal whatever you want to remain hidden. Now bear with me for a moment, Scooter. I’m going to tell you about something that happened here on this farm sixty years ago. I probably should have told you about this first, but I thought this way would be better.”…
“But right now…….” Lula took my hand. “I need to hear you promise me that you’ll raise this beautiful boy as your very own. God has shown me he’s going to grow up to be a good man, blessed to have your love and devotion. No one in Greensboro has seen me in months, much less had a clue I was pregnant. And aside from family, no one has seen you either. Will you do me this final favor and raise this child? Please say that you will. I’d be so honored and grateful.”
“Yes Lula, of course I will. I promise to raise and care for this beautiful baby boy. I promise to give him the best of me always.”
“Thank you so much. After all, he is a Flood. I know he’ll grow up to be tall, strong, and smart with a good and kind heart like his folks.” With those words, a hug, and a kiss, Lula smiled, closed her eyes, and passed on from this world to the next.
“After a thorough examination, Doc wrapped and swaddled the baby before handing him to me. When I held that beautiful baby in my arms for the first time and his eyes met mine, it was love at first sight, just like it was when Bull’s eyes met mine. He looked at me and smiled, and my heart just melted. Looking into those big, beautiful brown eyes of his felt like looking into the face of God Himself. So beautiful and perfect, I could feel nothing but the most incredible kind of love. It was different from the love I had for Bull, but it felt just as powerful. That new, tiny boy restored my waning faith, and my life had a renewed purpose. He needed me, and God knows I needed him. I didn’t carry him in my womb for nine months, nor did I give birth to him, but he was my child, and I was his mother. Bull’s blood coursed through his veins, and through Lula, so did mine.”…
Late that Friday night, I was watching TV when the phone rang. It was Frankie. She wanted to know if I’d mind driving to Birmingham to pick her up and bring her home. She and David had been arguing, and she asked him to stop the car and let her out. When I made it to the supper club, she was at the bar sipping some wine. In good spirits, she said she’d had a couple of glasses. After she finished her last one, we got in the car and made our way back onto the interstate heading home.
As I drove, I asked, “Are you okay? Did he put you out? Did he harm you in any way?”
“I’m great, never better. I asked him to stop so I could get out, and no, he didn’t harm me. Thank you so much for coming.”
“You’re welcome. Besides, I owed you. You came up here and picked me up, remember?”
“I just couldn’t stay in that car with him another second. David’s going to always love himself. Besides, there’s nothing there. I want something real, something my heart has led me to. No more settling.”
“That makes sense to me. Let’s wait on our hearts together.”
“You’re on, Mr. Flood. It’s a deal.”
“You cut your hair, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did it today. Do you like it?”
“It looks real nice on you. I like it a lot.”
“At least one man notices me. David sure didn’t. Thank you Scooter!”
In two hours, we arrived at Frankie’s house. She invited me in for some wine. Since no one was back at the farm and it was the weekend, I accepted her invitation. Besides, her favorite Riesling was pretty good. She asked me to make myself comfortable and, if I didn’t mind, to pour us both a glass while she changed clothes.
Two bottles of Riesling later, we were sitting on the floor in the family room, laughing and talking. After uncorking the third bottle, Frankie asked me to sit beside her. When I sat down, she turned to me and said, “I’ve had a crush on you ever since I was a girl.”…
As we pulled into Greensboro, I felt proud that the town’s beauty and luster remained unchanged. It still looked picturesque, like a postcard frozen in time, and its beauty shone this time of the year. The small, quaint, town flanked by the Black Warrior River, was located about forty-five miles south of Tuscaloosa in Hale County. The county took its name from Lt. Col. Stephen Hale, a Confederate war hero whose statue stood in the town square in front of city hall.
Greensboro wore its charm like a badge of honor. The kind and respectable residents gave the town a friendly atmosphere. Six days a week, the town buzzed with activity, but on the Sabbath, most residents chose to honor God. Through the years, great racial strides had been made between blacks and whites to create a quiet town where everyone minded his or her business and protected each other. Most working-age residents were able to comfortably eke out a decent living, pay their tithes and taxes, save for retirement, and send their kids to college. There was work in town, but most folks commuted to work in nearby towns at textile mills, factories, the railroad, and the Mercedes Benz plant.
Greensboro had always been a close-knit community. The bonds of family and friendship ran deep here. Many of its citizens stayed their entire lives, although some, like myself, longed for the noise and bright lights of a big city. No matter where life took me, home was always going to be home, and thus never far from my heart. And for whatever reason, home was where Frankie and I had returned.
Spring’s beauty abounded everywhere. Trees, bushes, and flowers were blooming, and birds sang in harmony. Here in the town’s square, folks milled about, cheerfully greeting each other in passing. Several threw their hands up to acknowledge us as we drove by. Every business appeared immaculate. I rolled down the window and inhaled the clean, new, air mixed with the fragrances of pine and honeysuckle, which drowned out the acrid smell from the piles of burning leaves we’d passed before reaching the town square…
After a quick bite and a scolding from Grammy for missing supper, I made it up to my room for the night. Still feeling the effects of the whiskey, I decided to sit out on the deck for a while and take in the night’s beauty. The full moon outshone the constellations of twinkling stars, and the late spring breeze felt wonderful.
I was about to get up and put on some music when I heard a familiar voice behind me. “There you are. I wondered when I was going to catch you alone again.” When I turned around, I froze. I couldn’t believe that I saw my wife Deja, as beautiful as ever, surrounded in light.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
” Is it really you?”
“Of course it is. Come back over here and sit down. We need to talk.” I came back and took a seat as she asked. She was so beautiful. Those eyes and that smile were the same. “I knew I saw you all those times,” I said. “I knew my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.” I moved toward her, but she motioned for me to sit back down. “I’ve missed you too, Pollux. You don’t know how much.”
“It really tore me up when you left me baby. I’ve felt so guilty about a lot of things. I should have been a better husband, worked less, and spent more time with you. I keep thinking if I’d only gone to the doctor with you like you’d asked me, you’d still be here with me.”
“You shouldn’t think that way, We’re born into this world knowing we’ll leave at a certain point. I want you to accept that. I also want you to know you were a great husband. I loved that you were trying to make partner. You were always so focused, and I admired that about you.”
“I don’t know what to say. There’s so much I want to know. Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”
“We’re better than okay. We’re great. I came to you tonight to tell you this and to ask a favor of you.”…
Uncle Clem spoke about his parents. “I was blessed with a wonderful Mama, whose love for me was true, eternal, and unconditional. She was shunned and sent away from her family and the only life she’d ever known, just for choosing to be a mother to me, to love and raise me. She truly lived for family, and she made me love and accept myself and always walk with my head held high. Our bond of love is forever.”
“I’m grateful for a Papa who loved me and made me into the man I am today. Our incredible bond was not borne of blood but of love. He claimed me as his own, sight unseen, and gave me his name and heart while I was still in my mama’s womb. It’s not easy to raise another man’s child, much less a white man’s child in the deep South in the early 1900s, but that’s exactly what he did. He loved past my skin and into my heart, and he did so proudly. He would tell anyone, white or colored, that I was his son. I learned so much from him. He taught me everything. I’m so proud and honored to be his son.”
After that, Uncle Clem sat down, wiped away his tears, and took another swig of whiskey. Everyone was wiping away tears. We hugged him and told him we loved him. Next, he opened his gifts and thanked everyone for them. About an hour later, after finishing his whiskey and his cigar, he thanked everyone again for his gifts, and I helped him back upstairs to his room.
I built him a fire while he changed into his pajamas, methodically hung his suit, shirt and bowtie in the closet, and put away his shoes. He carefully put his hat back in its box and placed it on the shelf. After hugging him once more, I wished him good night and asked him if there was anything else I could do for him.
He smiled. “Have a seat. I’ve got a favor to ask of you.”
I sat down. “Sure, anything.”
He leaned in closer and put his hand on top of mine. “Like I told you before, I’m not sure how much longer I have left on this here side, but I’m sure it won’t be much longer.”
“What is it? What do you need me to do?”
Charles R. Butts Jr. 