Forgive me for borrowing the title of one of the most profitable films in history, “Star Wars: A New Hope.” I’ve always been enamored by space. I’m a child of the 1960s and I remember playing with my Major Matt Mason action figure (not a doll!) as my family and I watched Neil Armstrong step onto the moon and state “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” in 1969.
I still enjoy space-themed movies. Maybe it’s the escapism I enjoy. But I’ve come to realize that there are limits to escapism as you can never really escape reality. Those who overindulge in drugs and alcohol can testify to that. No matter what you do or what you consume, the real world, and all its problems and challenges will be there waiting for your return.
So I’ve been thinking about today’s reality: social injustices, political instability, and economic uncertainties. As chaotic as I believe today is, I think about the days my parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents lived. They had social injustices, political instabilities, and economic uncertainties too. I can’t imagine living in a day when someone that looks like me couldn’t walk through the front door of a restaurant. That’s unreal. But for my parents, that was their reality.
So I’ve found myself wondering how they made it through. Thank God for YouTube. I’ve created a playlist that includes Mahalia Jackson, the Georgia Mass Choir, and sprinkled in Walter Hawkins’s “Love Alive.” These songs of hope kept my parents when this world seemed unbearable. These songs spoke of a place and time where there would be no sickness and suffering, where the sun shined every day, and every day was Sunday.
As a child, I didn’t understand why my grandmother would begin crying every time someone sang “Precious Lord” at church. At the time, I remember thinking the musician playing the piano wasn’t that great, and the choir didn’t hit all those notes just right. I just didn’t understand. Sometimes she looked at me through tear-dimmed eyes and with her soft quivering voice said, “Keep on living.” It’s almost as if she knew what I was thinking. Her birthday was a few days ago and she would’ve been 102. She left this world almost 30 years ago, but I’ll always remember her words, “Keep on living.”
These old gospel songs carried a generation through the darkest days of Jim Crow. If they provided hope and comfort then, certainly they can provide hope and comfort now. With COVID-19 on one side and Trump on the other, I need hope like never before. Don’t get me wrong, a little Jim Beam never hurt anyone. But I can’t lean on Beam, but I’m learning to lean more and more on Walter Hawkins’s “I’m going home.”
I don’t know what happened to my Major Matt Mason. While I still enjoy a good sci-fi movie, I can’t seem to escape today’s reality. So much fear, so much uncertainty, so much sickness and suffering. And that’s just in my family alone. But my parents and grandparents endured so much more. My new hope is that if Mahalia brought them through their stormy days, I’m going to trust her melodies will carry me as well. So if you see me, and my eyes are teary, and my voice is quivering, just know that I now understand.
Happy birthday, grandmother, I love you.