No Place Like Home

I've lived in many places, but a piece of me will always reside at the two story, orange-creamsicle colored house at 946 Peck Avenue. Now vacant, that house holds fond memories from the 20 plus years I lived there with my parents and three brothers. Holidays, graduations and many happy occasions rush forth whenever I think of that place. So do hard times, deaths and the last time I locked the front door behind me with tears in my eyes.

My brothers and I shared hearty laughs as we took turns telling stories from our childhood at the Christmas dinner table. But the giggling stopped when I told them no one lived in our old house anymore. We then took turns trying to figure out why before reaching the same conclusions. Built in the early 1900, the small rooms just can't hold the larger furniture pieces people now own. And I'm sure not having closets in two of the four bedrooms doesn't help either.

But there was always plenty of room for our family and all of the guests who visited us. In our memories we still see our mom, dad and brother alive within those walls. Or the lamp in the living room shining through the curtains waiting for the last one up to turn it off before going to bed. That will always be the Eanes family home. Thank you, God, for the memories.

A History Lesson for Tiger

Tiger Woods. Already I hear the collective moans, jeers and sneers when seeing his name. People claim they're weary of the excessive news coverage regarding Wood's mistresses or lost endorsement deals. But one group I have yet to hear from are senior African-American golfers.

As a child, I knew Blacks who played golf. They bursted with pride when Lee Elders and Calvin Peete finally broke the color barrier when they were admitted into the Professional Golfers Association. And whenever Elders, Peete, or Lee Trevino played in any tournament in the 1970's, my family gathered around the tv set to cheer them on.

When I mentioned this to my friend, Amy, she told me how African-American golfers confronted discrimination in Baltimore in the 1940's. Blacks were relegated to playing on tiny, ill-kept public links while white golfers played on larger,well-manicured courses with more amenities. Since everyone's tax dollars supported the upkeep of every club in the city, Black golfers demanded equal access. The mayor's solution? "Negro Day". It was one day every summer when both Blacks and Whites were allowed to legally play on the same courses anywhere in the city.

Yes, I know Tiger considers himself to be 'cablasian'. But many who looked like him fought for decades for the very opportunuties he and others take for granted now. Even if Woods pleads ignorance, I'm sure his Black father knew it every time he watched his son tee off at the very same country clubs which denied admittance to people of color for years. And who can forget the existance of discriminatory practices of some country clubs even today? Sure these practices aren't as overt as they once were, but I've heard stories of weekend golfers who still experience discrimination the same as in generations past.

I have two prayers for Tiger. The first is to make amends to his family. Secondly, I pray he pulls the blinders off when it comes to acknowleging those who cried and died to give him the opportunity to be the best golfer in the world. No one's expecting him to be perfect. But I'm sure these same senior golfers of color would like to hear him finally say a heartfelt 'Thank You' before they die.

Thanksgiving

Last week I gathered with family and friends to celebrate Thanksgiving. It was a great time with plenty of good food, laughs and fun. Phone calls along with email exchanges with those I don't see often completed my holiday. So did shopping at the mall with my friend Diane and her daughter, Sam. The priceless time spent strengthening relationships was well worth the effort.

Quiet time brought back the intense pain of missing loved ones who have died, like my parents and my brother. Or my friend Tim, a close friend from high school. With both Christmas and New Year's fast approaching, I'm sure my longing for them will cause more tears when remembering special holiday times with them.

But the one thing I am thankful for is to have been so richly blessed in this season of thanks. There was a time when grief paralyzed me and left me deeply depressed. Now I'm grateful for being so well loved by those I miss so dearly. My daily prayer is to live my life with no regrets. And to be a blessing to those who enrich my life in countless ways.