By Patricia LaPointe

Graham was born on May 5, 1998. I spent most of his first months helping his Mom adjust to motherhood. Although I have so many memories of holding him, rocking and feeding him, there was one event that I really treasure. I was changing his diaper and singing the ABC song to him when he babbled “boogs”. This became his nickname then and remains so today. In respect for his age, however, I sometimes refer to him as “Mr. Boogs”.
As he grew, we spent many delightful times taking long, long, long walks. And thanks to Boogs and our walks, I dropped a bunch of weight.
Boogs’ favorite toys were his Thomas Trains. When he was nearly two years old, he’d ride in his stroller the two miles to the next town where there was a store that sold the Thomas Trains. As we entered the store, I’d tell Boogs that he could pick out two trains. He’d stand in front of the shelves picking up one train car and then another when he’d then see other cars or accessories that interested him. Before long he’d be holding four or five Thomas items in his little hands. I’d ask him which two he wanted. His response, those beautiful blue eyes, first looking at the items and then up at me, always had the same result. Of course, Grandma, or Gamma as I was called at that age, would walk up to the cashier carrying five Thomas items.
Boogs was a really smart kid and a devout follower of the PBS children shows. So, I wasn’t surprised whenever we were out for a walk and approached a corner with a stop sign, he’d instruct me to stop the stroller: “Stop, Gamma, stop.”
He was also a very observant child. Whenever we passed a house displaying an American flag, he’d jump up and down in the stroller and shriek: “Gamma! The fags are fapping!”
On these walks we always had our drinks: my coffee and his juice in a sippy cup. We’d take a break to sip our drinks and when we finished, he’d say “Re-fretching” His Papa and I still say it after taking sips of “refreshing” beverages.
There was one fast food restaurant that Boogs really liked. It had hot dogs, burgers and Italian food. Boggs’ order was always the same: “doodles” and “meballs.” Papa, or Bapa as he was called back then, would always order pasta, bread and olive oil/parmesan for dipping. On one occasion, Bapa put the oil/parmesan dip a bit too close to Boogs. Being a curious child, he reached over to get a better look at the concoction and in doing so spilled the entire dish all over his powder blue outfit. I immediately grabbed him and headed to the restroom. I soon found out that oil and parmesan do not rinse off very well. It was a very hot August day and the scent of parmesan heating up filled our entire car on the ride home.
Eight more grandchildren have entered my life, and I have wonderful memories of my time with each of them. But my Thomas Train, “refretching”, parmesan-coated Boogs holds a very special place in my heart. When he was leaving for college a few years ago, I didn’t see the 6’1” young man, duffle bag in hand, walking away. I saw the little Boogs, holding the trains and I just wanted to say “stop”.
© 2022 Patricia LaPointe
Pat LaPointe, creator of Share Your Voice, an online interactive community for all women. She is editor of the anthology; The Woman I’ve Become: 37 Women Share Their Journeys from Toxic Relationships to Self-Empowerment. In addition, she has conducted writing workshops for women — both online and onsite. Pat’s essays and short stories have been published widely in anthologies, literary journals and on Medium.com @patromitolapointe. Currently, Pat is completing her first novel, forthcoming late 2022.
John Lewis Lights Our Way
By Jeremiah Cahill
Currently, there’s a bill in the United States Senate, the John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act. This proposed legislation would restore parts of the 1965 Voting Rights Act that were struck down by the United States Supreme Court a few years ago.
I wish our U.S. senators had the strength and good sense to pass this legislation. John Lewis, of all people, deserves to be honored by protecting the right to vote.
Many of you know the outlines of his life as a civil rights pioneer. Not only did he famously have his skull fractured by an Alabama state trooper’s club at the bridge outside Selma. He had been in most major civil rights actions in the years leading up to the transformative Voting Rights Act. Lunchroom sit-ins in Nashville. Freedom Rides on interstate busses across the South. Enduring almost unimaginable beatings, jail time, and other indignities.
Judy Woodruff, the host of the PBS Newshour, described Lewis shortly after his death in July 2020:
“I first interviewed John Lewis in 1971 in Atlanta when he was director of the Voter Education Project. He was in his early 30s but was already a hero of the civil rights movement. I remember being struck by the contrast between his burning determination to make a difference, and that polite, soft-spoken demeanor.”
Her recollections are amplified by one of Lewis’ fellow participants in the 1960s Freedom Rides, recounting the ever-present threats of violence and death as they protested segregated travel:
“John Lewis simply did not posture. He made his decision, he chose his course, he accepted the consequences because he had decided on a greater purpose for his life. That was his great strength. It was impossible to separate religion from politics in his philosophy. If they (the Freedom Riders) did not accept the idea of death, then they could not move ahead.” (From David Halberstam, The Children)
Recalling John Lewis takes me back to an early 1980s encounter in Wisconsin. I was invited to a presentation from the newly chartered National Cooperative Bank. The event was held on the University of Wisconsin-Madison campus, with about a hundred people attending. The keynote speaker would be the woman who was then Co-op Bank president. With her was John Lewis, serving as the bank’s community affairs director before being elected to Congress in 1986.
I entered the Memorial Union that morning as a crowd was gathering, getting coffee and sweet rolls, and socializing prior to the morning program. We were a lily-White mid-west co-op crowd—professionals, comfortable with each other, chatting and renewing contacts. There was only one Black person in the room—standing alone. I’d seen John Lewis’s name in the promotional materials and quickly recognized him.
I wasn’t about to waste that moment. I walked over, introduced myself, and said something along the lines of “I know your name from the civil rights movement, Mr. Lewis. I was in Selma just a few weeks after your trouble on the bridge.”
Talk about an instant connection! His face lit up with a smile, and we were joined in conversation.
After so many years, I can’t remember exactly what we talked about. Probably reflections on Alabama and the importance of those direct actions. He was warm and gracious—clearly pleased that the two of us had met over coffee. But time was short, and soon we were called to begin the program. We shook hands, voiced our mutual appreciation, and said goodbye.
Perhaps John was conducting a workshop later in the day, but I didn’t see him again. I was simply left with a memory that, over the years, has caused me to appreciate him more fully.
John Lewis was devoted to the principles of justice and equality. He was a clear-eyed practitioner of nonviolence—a man who put love into action. He saw in everyone the potential for growth, for change, and for redemption.
One such example involves a former Ku Klux Klan member who attacked the Freedom Riders at a South Carolina bus station in 1961. Lewis and another rider were seriously beaten. Late in his life, Elwin Wilson, the former Klansman, sought out his victim—the man he had bloodied—in order to seek his forgiveness. He discovered that man was Georgia Congressman John Lewis. Wilson traveled to Washington, met with Lewis, and apologized for his actions. Lewis welcomed him, heard him out, and without hesitation forgave him. The two men became friends and later made appearances together.
Image courtesy of Search for Common Ground, sfcg.org
The stunning Freedom Riders 50th Anniversary special with Oprah Winfrey includes a four-minute interview with Lewis and Wilson, (18 minutes into the show.)
Again, Judy Woodruff says it best. “John Lewis defined what it meant to be courageous, and was truly one of the greatest people I’ve ever known.”
His legacy endures as a beacon, lighting the way forward. For activists or citizens simply yearning for a stable, democratic nation, his love and determination live on.
John, thanks for those few minutes we shared. You’re with me all the way!
© 2022 Jeremiah Cahill
Jeremiah Cahill, Madison Wisconsin, recalls “I was 18 when I wandered into the civil rights movement in 1965, assisting in small ways in Selma, Montgomery and, Camden, Alabama. My experiences there changed me and helped shape the rest of my life.”
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