I need to say this here and now; If you are within the Cape Town surrounds, and you have not come to the PASS studios as of yet…
You are missing, missing, missing out on some really amazing cultural presentations; especially in the evenings.
That’s all i’ma gonna say on that count. I sure my PASS fraternal twin, Pam, will tell you much more…
So, though i have calmed down in recent years, i am a true film fanatic. I mean, at one time in the early 70’s, when revival houses was all the rage in New York i spent a 24 hour period going from movie theater to movie theater (commercial and revival houses) and watched and watched and watched…including a (was it 6 hours) Russian version of War and Peace.
This film By (i think she was the first female Black film maker with international acclaim) Euzhan Placy touch me in such a way, that i can not watch it.
I own this dvd but i have not watched it. I only saw the film once when it was released in 1983 at a film theater on Broadway by Lincoln Center, in New York.
The reason i can not watch it is that it is the story of me and my grandmother…
I was born to an (economically) underclass existence. My earliest memory was playing with a rat in our 6th floor walk-up apartment at 531 St. Paul’s place in the Bronx.
I don’t think we were that poor…
But it sounds good when i say it that way.
Anyway, when i was 5 years old my mother was stricken with polio about six months after the birth of my youngest sister.
There were seven of us from six different fathers (twins included).
I was the second eldest and the only one who my mother had no recollection of who was the father.
Legend has it that he was a traveling musician; regardless, they had a “one night stand” in late 1949 and i shouted to the Universe, 9 months later, of my arrival.
When my mother was stricken, all the children were put into foster care, except the brother right behind me, who, depending on which story one believes, was either sold or taken by his father.
My maternal grandmother had two daughters, of which my mother was the youngest.
They didn’t like my grandmother very much…i never found out what the riff was, but i as told that when the court asked my mother if the children could stay with the grandmother, my mother said: No.
The exact words were; “Anybody but that woman…”
Another vivid memory was of being behind a cage, at St. Joseph’s by the Sea hospital, in Staten Island, with adults coming by and picking the children to take into their care.
My older brother and i were taken by a Jamaican woman…
She was very abusive to us, especially my brother. The story goes she was paying off her house with the money the State of New York gave for our care, so we were short shifted. My Grandmother would try and visit us; however the woman would often not answer the door. It is said the neighbors would say the woman was home.
I remember a time when the woman had me and my brother tied up back to back (like in the western movies) and i was crying. My brother said; “Don’t cry Anthony, i’ll always take care of you.”
I never cried from that moment on…except for physical childhood accidents.
One time she beat me so bad that i had marks on my back (probably kept it up because i wouldn’t cry).
As it happened my Grandmother came by and saw my back. It was a Sunday and she got a judge to get us out of that situation.
As it happened, as she saved me from the situation, the situation saved the rest of my brother’s and sister’s, because my grandmother got custody of her grandchildren.
The story goes that my grandmother wrote to Adam Clayton Powell, jr. and we were moved to the newly opened Patterson housing projects at 340 Morris Ave.
It seems as though my Grandmother made a private vow to herself that she would raise these children, and give us the love and caring she could not give her daughters.
My Grandmother passed in 1982. I didn’t cry. I gave the eulogy at the funeral – one of my best pieces of writing.
Months later i saw this film with my second wife.
It was the last showing that day.
She kept on glancing at me as the film was going…i was totally absorbed in the film, but did see her looking over at me.
As the film was coming to its end, it struck me…it struck me hard.
The story on the screen was the story of the relationship between my grandmother and i.
I crying uncontrollably, i couldn’t move.
Somehow Wanda got me out of the theater and we sat on a bench at the medium that runs along Broadway. I cried for at least 20 full minutes.
One last thing about my Grandmother, Mrs. Ruth Jones (peace and blessing upon her eternal soul).
There was a incident i sighted in her eulogy.
At the same time i was in graduate school for Playwriting; she was involved i a senior citizens group that met at the Patterson Center, which was housed right below our three bedroom apartment.
The were discussing Lorraine Hansberry’s seminal play “A Raisin in the Sun.”
She was arguing with her class, saying she didn’t understand why the mother in the play wanted to move the family out of Harlem. My grandmother thought she should have stayed and build up the community.
Follow
Well, top of the day to you.
We have worked out all the kinks i think; so the Space station is in good working order.
I need to say this here and now; If you are within the Cape Town surrounds, and you have not come to the PASS studios as of yet…
You are missing, missing, missing out on some really amazing cultural presentations; especially in the evenings.
That’s all i’ma gonna say on that count. I sure my PASS fraternal twin, Pam, will tell you much more…
So, though i have calmed down in recent years, i am a true film fanatic. I mean, at one time in the early 70’s, when revival houses was all the rage in New York i spent a 24 hour period going from movie theater to movie theater (commercial and revival houses) and watched and watched and watched…including a (was it 6 hours) Russian version of War and Peace.
Talk about addiction.
I mean i even went AWOL (didn’t get caught) from the Air Force just to see a film.
This film By (i think she was the first female Black film maker with international acclaim) Euzhan Placy touch me in such a way, that i can not watch it.
I own this dvd but i have not watched it. I only saw the film once when it was released in 1983 at a film theater on Broadway by Lincoln Center, in New York.
The reason i can not watch it is that it is the story of me and my grandmother…
I was born in the middle of the year, in the exact middle of last century in Morrisania Hospital in the Bronx.
http://newyork.hometownlocator.com/maps/feature-map,ftc,3,fid,957701,n,morrisania%20hospital.cfm
I was born to an (economically) underclass existence. My earliest memory was playing with a rat in our 6th floor walk-up apartment at 531 St. Paul’s place in the Bronx.
I don’t think we were that poor…
But it sounds good when i say it that way.
Anyway, when i was 5 years old my mother was stricken with polio about six months after the birth of my youngest sister.
There were seven of us from six different fathers (twins included).
I was the second eldest and the only one who my mother had no recollection of who was the father.
Legend has it that he was a traveling musician; regardless, they had a “one night stand” in late 1949 and i shouted to the Universe, 9 months later, of my arrival.
When my mother was stricken, all the children were put into foster care, except the brother right behind me, who, depending on which story one believes, was either sold or taken by his father.
My maternal grandmother had two daughters, of which my mother was the youngest.
They didn’t like my grandmother very much…i never found out what the riff was, but i as told that when the court asked my mother if the children could stay with the grandmother, my mother said: No.
The exact words were; “Anybody but that woman…”
Another vivid memory was of being behind a cage, at St. Joseph’s by the Sea hospital, in Staten Island, with adults coming by and picking the children to take into their care.
My older brother and i were taken by a Jamaican woman…
She was very abusive to us, especially my brother. The story goes she was paying off her house with the money the State of New York gave for our care, so we were short shifted. My Grandmother would try and visit us; however the woman would often not answer the door. It is said the neighbors would say the woman was home.
I remember a time when the woman had me and my brother tied up back to back (like in the western movies) and i was crying. My brother said; “Don’t cry Anthony, i’ll always take care of you.”
…and i stopped crying.
I never cried from that moment on…except for physical childhood accidents.
One time she beat me so bad that i had marks on my back (probably kept it up because i wouldn’t cry).
As it happened my Grandmother came by and saw my back. It was a Sunday and she got a judge to get us out of that situation.
As it happened, as she saved me from the situation, the situation saved the rest of my brother’s and sister’s, because my grandmother got custody of her grandchildren.
The story goes that my grandmother wrote to Adam Clayton Powell, jr. and we were moved to the newly opened Patterson housing projects at 340 Morris Ave.
It seems as though my Grandmother made a private vow to herself that she would raise these children, and give us the love and caring she could not give her daughters.
So from 6 years old until i left for the United States Air Force at 19 i was raised by a truly extraordinary woman.
My Grandmother passed in 1982. I didn’t cry. I gave the eulogy at the funeral – one of my best pieces of writing.
Months later i saw this film with my second wife.
It was the last showing that day.
She kept on glancing at me as the film was going…i was totally absorbed in the film, but did see her looking over at me.
As the film was coming to its end, it struck me…it struck me hard.
Damn, i’m even tearing up now, as i write this.
The story on the screen was the story of the relationship between my grandmother and i.
I crying uncontrollably, i couldn’t move.
Somehow Wanda got me out of the theater and we sat on a bench at the medium that runs along Broadway. I cried for at least 20 full minutes.
I was released.
Thank you so very much Euzhan Palcy.
One last thing about my Grandmother, Mrs. Ruth Jones (peace and blessing upon her eternal soul).
There was a incident i sighted in her eulogy.
At the same time i was in graduate school for Playwriting; she was involved i a senior citizens group that met at the Patterson Center, which was housed right below our three bedroom apartment.
The were discussing Lorraine Hansberry’s seminal play “A Raisin in the Sun.”
She was arguing with her class, saying she didn’t understand why the mother in the play wanted to move the family out of Harlem. My grandmother thought she should have stayed and build up the community.
It was the same analysis i had made in class.
Tomorrow morning the morning movie will be a musical treat DJ Cherry Bomb and i were talking about earlier this week.
But that’s tomorrow; maybe…if you are well behaved tonight.
Okay…gotta get you tasking here at the Space.
Later…….anthony
Maybe we are making some adjustments