Most African Americans are a mixture of many races. My family is no exception.

My maternal Grandmother was African American, American Indian (Tuscarora), and Chinese. She was short, thin, wiry, and had waist length hair. She was very quiet and even as a child I realized there were some strange ways about her. She was my Grandmother and I loved her. I spent a great deal of time with her. I loved to listen to her talk about her childhood working on the farm. My heart ached as a child because I could hear in her voice how she had wanted to go to school. She could read some but her writing was like trying to transcribe the hieroglyphics.

She had lost contact with all of her family, so my immediate family was all she had. I was the one who spent the most time with her and was rewarded with ever thing my little heart desired.

Having been born in the late 1800’s, I wonder what she would think of us having a Black President in the White house? Could she really believe it? She did have trouble with the man on the moon. Boy what a good time I would have with this discussion.

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 11th, 2009 at 11:56 am and is filed under Looking Back, My Journey, family. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.