“Growing up I was surrounded by my aunts and uncles who were teenagers. I was like the little sister, the doll, the tangible asset they could play with, protect and teach. The pictures of my toddler years show a young me always smiling, yet desperately hanging onto my family members. Whether it’s a picture of me holding my uncle Brian’s foot, or one of me standing next to my aunt Pam I was a big part of my family. One of my fondest memories is of me going to the track with my uncle Eric. Eleven years older than me, he would put my tricycle in the trunk and put our dog in the backseat. Prior to 1988, car seats were not mandatory so it was nothing for me to sit in the front seat with my uncle when he drove the mile or so to his high schools field. Once on the track he set me up to ride. Try as I may I never was able to ride fast enough to catch him and Tamu our dog on the track. It was so much fun trying though. Eric was my best friend. He was the type of guy that played barbies, watched scary movies, combed my hair, brought me ice cream and did everything a father should do with their daughter, except he was my teenage uncle."
Black History Month is about recognizing the achievements, the impacts and the impressions that Black people have made on our society. As you know I’ve flipped it a bit and chose to focus only on those in my family. Today I honor my My Uncle Eric William Wideman. Eric is a testament to what making a commitment to self help and health looks like. Sometimes in life, we make childhood choices that end up having detrimental effects on our adulthood. Eric is a living example of how wrong can turn into a beautiful right. I admire him so much and I’m proud of the man he has become and what he means to our family. In 2013, I wrote a post about my Uncle for Fathers Day that included an excerpt from my unpublished book. Here is a portion of that piece.
“Growing up I was surrounded by my aunts and uncles who were teenagers. I was like the little sister, the doll, the tangible asset they could play with, protect and teach. The pictures of my toddler years show a young me always smiling, yet desperately hanging onto my family members. Whether it’s a picture of me holding my uncle Brian’s foot, or one of me standing next to my aunt Pam I was a big part of my family. One of my fondest memories is of me going to the track with my uncle Eric. Eleven years older than me, he would put my tricycle in the trunk and put our dog in the backseat. Prior to 1988, car seats were not mandatory so it was nothing for me to sit in the front seat with my uncle when he drove the mile or so to his high schools field. Once on the track he set me up to ride. Try as I may I never was able to ride fast enough to catch him and Tamu our dog on the track. It was so much fun trying though. Eric was my best friend. He was the type of guy that played barbies, watched scary movies, combed my hair, brought me ice cream and did everything a father should do with their daughter, except he was my teenage uncle."
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My cousin Yolanda Elaine Henderson is still considered the baby of my family. She’s milked that stature too by the way haha. She’s always been the one member of our family that has sat in the cut and gone unnoticed. We always joke that no one knows who she is or that she exists because she’s so quiet. Yolanda’s quiet nature has lead to her quiet strength. Named after our Grandmother Blanche Elaine, Yolanda embodies someone who has been able to take the lumps life throws and move on like it was nothing. I admire that about her.
She has brushed the dirt off of her shoulder since she was a child. I remember her getting hit in the head with a rock by some kid in the neighborhood and although she writhed in pain she never allowed the permanent scar to deter her later in life or lead her down a path of self loathing. I’ve never really heard her complain about anything without making a change that removed that complaint from her life. She’s not a dweller and that’s to be admired. My cousin is an integral part of our family. We were raised in the same house and we live together today. She is my sister and my friend and I couldn’t fathom a world without her. Today I honor her during Black History Month and pray that God continues to allow strength to permeate throughout her veins. My Paternal Great Grandmother Daisy Lee was born In July 1913 and passed away the same month in 2003. Today she would’ve been 105. Growing up I remember thinking how lucky I was to know my Great Grandmother considering so many people didn’t even have their grandmother. I shared many memories with her and trying to figure out which ones are most meaningful to me is quite hard.
Grandma Daisy was such a warm and open lady. She had no problem speaking her mind whether it was to give you a life lesson or telling you how much you were loved. She always made me feel special and I’m sure that every person and family member in her presence felt the same. Whether she was cooking up a meal in her Bronx and later Long Island apartment or sitting back and watching “her stories” with you she made you always feel welcomed. Even when I would give her lobster tails on her birthday she’d react like I had given her the whole lobster 🙂. What a great woman she was. Before she passed away, my mom and I visited with her in my Aunts home and before we left she pulled my mom aside and told her to grab a specific elephant out of the curio to remember her by. My mom wasn’t her blood family and never married my dad but my Grandma Daisy didn’t need titles to let someone know they were loved. That’s how I will always remember her. I’m so incredibly grateful that I had her for nearly 30 years. Today during my ongoing Black History Month tributes I honor Daisy Lee a true beacon in my family and a continuously shining light. 105 years ago today my Great Grandmother Myrtle Christine Carpenter was born. After marriage she took on the surname Wideman. A mother of 3, Myrtle or as her family affectionately called her “Jenny” remains an integral part of our family more than 50 years after her passing.
When my family describes her they speak of a woman who was stern, strong willed and determined. She didn’t come off as a warm woman however her actions especially following the death of her husband exhibited someone with a strong moral character who placed family as the primary focus of attention. That legacy continues today. My mother tells me stories of how her Nana Myrtle would struggle to help keep the family fed by cleaning the homes of white people. A story that is quite similar to many of the stories of black women in the 50’s and 60’s. My family when speaking of her spoke about her no nonsense attitude and expectations she had not only for her children but for her grandchildren too. When my Grandmother Blanche was alive, she never really talked about her mom to me. I wish I would have asked questions and learned more about what life was like before her fathers passing. Today on this 7th day of February I wish my Great Grandmother Myrtle a Happy Birthday in Heaven and honor her during Black History Month. My cousin Natisha Henderson was born 4 years after me so I don’t recall a world where she didn’t inhabit it. She’s been like a sister to me and over the years we’ve even fought like sisters. When I think of Tisha I think of her ability to relate to any person she’s talking to within any environment. I’ve seen people at the various jobs she’s worked at over the years take a liking to her and praise her work ethic. When we worked together she was the most tedious organized person I knew and remains that way today.
One of the many funniest memories I have is of a time we were at the doctors for Tisha. We were really young but I remember the nurse came into the waiting room and asked for Natalie Hernandez. We sat there in silence waiting for Natalie to get up and go. It finally dawned on my aunt that she meant Natisha Henderson. It’s an honest mistake but for some reason more than 35 years later we still laugh about it. So much so that on occasion I call Tisha, Natalie Hernandez. My cousin has a good heart and like everyone in my family a funny bone. Today on this 6th day of Black History Month I honor my cousin, my sister, my friend Natisha Henderson. My Great Uncle Joshua Wideman was born on July 17th, 1936 and passed away on October 25, 2006. Affectionately known as “Weenie” he is still remembered as a guiding force in our family whom we reflect on regularly. My memories of him always begin with a wide smile and hearty laugh. Uncle Josh had for children but if you ask my mom, Aunt and Uncles they’d agreed that he was like a father figure to them too.
My Uncle was a a lifetime resident of Huntington and when I tell you he was revered by so many residents from all ages, races and genders I wouldn’t be be giving him his true reach in the community. I remember going to my orthopedic surgeon and him asking me if I was related to Josh because he noticed in my medical records I was given the last name Wideman at birth. I also remember parking at a private beach and the owner of the lot came up to me to tell me I was illegally parked. He ended up letting me stay and extending an invitation for me to park anytime after finding out that Joshua Wideman his childhood friend was my uncle. That’s the type of guy he was. There weren’t many that disliked him. Today as part of my version of Black History Month I honor my Great Uncle Joshua Wideman. My Grandfather Haywood Blair was born on September 16, 1929. Today I honor him as part of my family version of Black History Month. My grandfather had 18 grandkids including me and when you have that many it’s easy to make varying impressions on different ones. To me he was a quiet, loving and gentle soul. One of my fondest memories revolves around playing poker with him, my Grandma Rebecca, my Aunt Willa and their friends. My grandpa was always the only man in the group but he held is own lol. He always took time to teach me different things about the game and when he saw me losing he’d give me a few bucks to stay and play.
Haywood was the kind of grandfather you’d hope for. He sat in back but you could alway steal moments with him that were yours and yours only. From sitting outside of the yard and watching kids play soccer or basketball to him telling me about his days playing Army football I will always cherish my moments with him. My Grandpa was a strong man who made family decisions that I don’t think many men would be brave or loving enough to make and I will forever be grateful for that lasting piece of him. My Grandfaher died in 2012 but thankfully his footprint and memory lives on in the lives of the many family members he left behind. I just pray that he’s saving me a seat at the poker table in heaven ❤️ When I think of the person I want to grow up to be like (yes I know I'm already a grown up but I am also still growing lol), I think about my Aunt Lynn. Lynn became my Aunt in 1991 when she wed my Uncle Brian. She was already family years before that though. I don't remember the exact day I met her but I do know that every time I was around her as a kid and even today, I sit in admiration. I've gone to her for advice and I've made decisions about my life based on that advice. She's always been supportive to me and our family and never hesitates to help when she can. I have so many great memories of her from family vacations, parties, hanging out at the house, putting makeup on me for prom, helping me to mentally prepare for college, putt putt games and cooking up some of the best meals I ever had. But my favorite memories are when we play scrabble, cards or board games. Lynn is just as competitive as me and always wants to win. I love that about her. She is a winner and has constantly remained a guiding light in my life. Watching how determined she is and recognizing the sacrifices she made in life helps me to appreciate her more and more. Lynn, is someone who I've witnessed be an amazing friend, caring daughter, dedicated wife, supportive sibling and encouraging aunt. She's gone above and beyond for those she loves. I only hope that I embody some semblance of those traits. I'm so grateful to call her my Aunt and on this third day of Black History Month I honor her. So today is my brother Zebs birthday and I’ve chosen him as the next person to honor during Black History Month. One memory that comes to mind is when my brother was like 3 or 4. My mother had let me spend the night at my grandmothers and my dad found out. He came over and picked me up and I ended up staying over his house. It was the first time I spent any time with my dad let alone my baby brother who had a different mother. I remember looking at my brother with so much love. He was racing around the house on his tricycle and was constantly vying for my attention. I remember Soul Train was on and my dad kept yelling for me to come watch with him and my brother was yelling for me to come play with him. I was torn and kept running back and forth but ultimately those chubby cheeks won out.
My brother Zeb has always won out when it came to choosing. I’m constantly in awe of him and when I look at who he’s become I tear up because he makes me so proud. He’s talented, hard working and just an all around good guy. My brother has become such a caring man and an amazing father. Today on his birthday I hope he is wrapped with love and joy. Happy Birthday Zeb. It would only be right for me to honor my mother on the first day of me celebrating members of my family for Black History Month. My mom Debra should be a study in perseverance. From dealing with being a single mom of a physically challenged child, to going through and escaping abuse to raising her head above those who aimed to demean and oppress her my mother stood tall and kept walking.
Showing me what strength looks like and what getting through dark moments look like, my mom epitomized what the phrase “Let God” means. My mom is caring, giving and constantly shows me why it’s important to always keep your family close. My mother has taught me what forgiveness means and she has taught me what true love feels like. I credit her for making sure I truly appreciated the value of family. Today on the first day of Black History Month, I recognize and honor my mother Debra Elaine Wideman. |
AuthorMy name is Tamieka Blair and I live on Long Island in New York. I write, I read, I write, I work, I write, I support..I WRITE!!! Archives
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Please note that the viewpoints expressed in this blog are solely my views and do not necessarily represent those of any employer or company associated with Tamieka Blair.
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