I Remember It Well...

Road Trip: Gwen and Elaine

Price Road #5

Life has a way of leading us back to the places that shaped us, sometimes by choice, sometimes by necessity. For Uncle Robert and Aunt Boyd that journey was driven by hardship— their declining health, and the demands of a strict diet. Old age was catching up; therefore, they made the decision to return “home.”

It seemed like a sensible solution—providing care for Aunt Donsy while removing Robert from certain immoral influences. But was that the real reason? Would that really solve the problem?

It was doubtful… Uncle Robert had a brother in Philadelphia, yet his sister-in-law kept them apart, fearing Robert’s influence.

My mother believed that people, like water, will seek their kind or level - no matter where they live.

Birds of a feather will flock together is another version of the same concept… I agree with her…

And, when it came time to finance an addition to the house, Aunt Boyd convinced my parents, James and Nona, to remove their names from the deed - leaving her and Robert as sole owners. That was the only way they could figure out how to get a bank loan which was challenging for Black folks. Loans were most times a personal exchange negotiated over a game of golf; Black folks didn’t have that luxury.

I remember…
Hearing the conversations, the hesitation in my mother’s voice. She had her reservations—and for good reason. But Aunt Boyd was persistent, believing that a rural North Carolina life would force Uncle Robert into becoming a better husband.

In the end, James and Nona gave in.

Mistake #1.

I remember…
The towering pump organ, a grand piece ordered from the Sears and Roebuck catalog by my grandmother. With determination, she taught herself to play, then passed that skill to my mother, who later became the church pianist.

My mother hoped I would inherit the gift, but it wasn’t meant to be. My brother did—his musical talent shines through the trumpet!

My brother, Lavelle, and his trumpet.

I remember…
The delicate, ruffled doilies that graced every end table, each one a masterpiece crocheted by Aunt Donsy. She was the crochet queen of Price Road, her hands weaving intricate beauty into every stitch.

I remember…
The crawl space beneath the house, lined with neat rows of home-canned goods—a pantry of love and labor, filled with the flavors of our family’s traditions.

I remember…
A quilted housecoat, lavender and white, that I stitched with care for my grandmother when I was in high school. Designed with a deep pocket on one side, I thought it was perfect for her keepsakes. It still rests in my closet, a tangible piece of the past - of my grandmother, that I hold dear.

I remember…
Malta Faye Hamlin—my only companion during long summers. A few years older, she understood my longing for adventure. She welcomed me into her world, inviting me to the movies or to roam Henry Street. She left for an HBCU and never returned to Price Road. Now, where her house once stood, there is only an empty lot—yet her kindness lingers in my heart.

I remember…
The garden across the road, near the barn, where one fateful day I nearly stepped on a massive snake sunning itself. I screamed, and Mr. Martin rushed over. With a swift throw, he landed a hoe on the snake, slicing it in half.

Then he ran too! A huge rattlesnake! Neighbors arrived, their hoes in hand, determined to keep the halves apart—because, they said, a snake’s body could reconnect and come alive again.

I never wanted to find out if that was true.

I remember…
Samuel Earl Dalton, the son of an insurance man, whom I met as he rode along on his father’s collection rounds.

His father was one of the few Black men to have a job other than farming. He wore slacks and dress shirts rather than overalls and work shirts.

Samuel Earl never lost touch, always supporting my work, attending my book signings, and welcoming my brother and I into his beautiful home.

Through him, I rediscovered the landscape of our youth—its history, its people, its stories.

Samuel Earl Dalton 1939 - 2023

I was informed that Samuel Earl made his transition a few years ago…

I remember…
The grand house by Springfield Church’s parking lot, at the intersection of Price Road and Shady Grove Road. They say it was once a schoolhouse. Later, it became the home of Mr. Ellerbee, Douglass High School principal.

Eden holds so many memories, and I cherish them all. To those, like Brenda Robinson, who grew up in the neighborhood… Thank you for helping my memory.

Our roots run deep, and our history is worth remembering.