You never knew when, but you could bet your last dollar that it was only a matter of time.
When we visited Hilton Head Island and attended Mt. Calvary, my dad’s home church, the late Reverend Williams would conduct the same exercise. You didn’t know if it would happen during church announcements or right before the benediction. Maybe Reverend Williams was waiting for the spirit, as it is said in old Baptist congregations like Mt. Calvary.
Just when my family and I thought we were home free, he would proudly announce from the pulpit:
“Mt. Calvaryyyyy, I would be remiss if I didn’t say hello to the Colonel and his family. They are here worshipping with us this morning. This is one of Hilton Head’s own!
Could you stand, please, Colonel, and just have a few words for us? Because this young man did a lot. He was on the track team, went into the Army, and he’s not just in the service; he is a Colonel in the United States Army, born and bred right here on the island of Hilton Head, South Carolina. That’s Sister Green’s son!”
I wish we had camera phones because a recording would be priceless.
Back then, in my adolescence, I was embarrassed. I would try to mentally prepare for this momentary spotlight, but I sank deeper into the pew as Reverend Williams continued gleefully from the pulpit.
I would make eye contact with my cousins Jamal and Arend, telepathically communicating:
“Do you believe this? Again?!”
Their return expressions would respond:
“Cuz, be for real. You knew this was coming.”
I would also glance over to my grandmother, seated on her pew, the first pew. You know those mothers of the church who have their seat. She sat quietly, but you knew she was proud.
As my dad began his walk to the podium off to the side where announcements took place, Reverend Williams continued:
“I wish I could tell you when I first met this young man. But he just impressed me.”
My dad, now at the podium, patiently waited. It was almost like he was the little boy at Sunday School again, waiting for his elders to allow the “chilrun” to speak. Before ceding my father the floor, Reverend Williams would declare one final time:
“Mt. Calvary, the Colonel, his wife, and his beautiful children.” The church would break out in reverent applause.
My dad is a man of few words. But when he speaks, you listen. And at Mt. Calvary, you could tell he was always filled with gratitude.
“Mt. Calvary, it’s a pleasure and an honor to be here with you today. It’s always good to come home.
And Reverend Williams, thank you for all you did for me, and continue to do for Mt. Calvary. I am always refreshed when I can bring my wife and children here to worship with you.”
And like any bashful son, he would add, “Yes, Mother Green is my mom.” He would pay homage to her before concluding:
“To the young people: hard work. Perseverance. Stick to it. You can do whatever you want to do.”
And my dad would walk back to his seat next to us, and we all breathed a little easier because we knew the moment had passed. But we were grateful, because his Gullah community always embraced him like he never left.
Looking back, I realize that Reverend Williams was giving my dad his flowers way before social media popularized the term. Today, I’m going to pick up the baton and give my dad another bouquet of roses.
My Father Is a Gullah Geechee Legend.
If you have been following along on Louis Hilton Stories, you know my dad is a fourth-generation Hilton Head Islander and was a Gullah Geechee legend way before the Colonel bird on his uniform.
My dad was his high school’s quarterback. I mean, we all know what that means: he was cool as hell. In our society, we put a lot of emphasis on certain titles and positions, and quarterback is one of them. Honestly, my dad had “it”… that natural star power. He was also a standout baseball player. My father did it all, and did it well.
Track and field, though, that’s where he made his name. His specialty was the 100-meter dash. Since I can remember, every four years, we wait with bated breath to see who will be crowned the world’s fastest woman and fastest man, the fastest people.
A standout on his high school and college track teams, he eventually went on to join the Army. Why? Although he had set his sights on the 1980 Moscow Olympics, if you know the history, you know that America boycotted those Games as a result of Cold War tensions.
But if you know the Gullah Geechee, we don’t give up. Like so many Black folks, it’s not really in our DNA. Upon the advice of one of his professors, he traded in his track spikes for a dog tag.
Year after year, an obedient soldier, I watched him don his Army-issued fatigues, lace up his boots, and complete mission after mission for almost 30 years. I was blessed with not just the world’s best mother, which I wrote about back in May, but also the best father.
Although life has thrown my dad a few disguised coverages, curveballs, and mistimed handoffs, he has always made the right read, kept his eye on the ball, and picked up the baton.
Thank you for showing me how to surmount any obstacle, persevere through adversity, and pursue your wildest dreams. You are an inspiration..
Happy Father’s Day, Dad.
You are a Gullah Geechee legend.
This was so lovely 💐
I so enjoyed this!! Growing up Baptist, I felt this in my bones!