“History is not just facts and events. History is
also a pain in the heart and we repeat history until we are able to make
another’s pain in the heart our own.”
Professor Julius
Lester
24 Bookers ambled along the winding road
leading up to the Grimke plantation. In the shade of her spirit tree wrapped in
scarlet red, Charlotte rocked and quilted together brightly colored squares of
her life beginning with the night her mauma was sold to the final square, with
her daughters, Handful and Sky “their arms woven together like a loop stitch.”
We stepped across BABY BOY BLUE BLOW
YOUR HORN HETTY written in chalk before entering the home of MN Stanky, the
door draped with a sewing hoop and a throw covered with blackbirds. Inside, the
details of the book unfolded in hand-sewn quilts draping the couches and
chairs, a framed photograph of the “real” Grimke sisters, and Sarah’s
Certificate of Manumission freeing her personal slave, Hetty. A brass thimble,
sitting atop a bed of rice, denoted when the “doves moaned and the wind bent
down to lift Charlotte to the sky,” sending her spirit to Africa. A wooden box
filled with scrapes, various needles and threads, a bolt of green material, a
silver brooch in a special box, and marbles spelling out Sarah and Boy
contributed to the setting. A framed
photograph of the Three Fates of Greek mythology, the personification of
destiny like the one that hung at the top of the Grimke’s stairs, showed the
spinners of the thread of life determining the span of human life of every
mortal from birth to death.
Welcome to Bookers’ 11th year
and to our special guest, MN’s sister, Pam Beedy, visiting from Alabama. We
were delighted to see Lois and Melba back with us, but almost fainted at the
sight of Gayle Brummett, our phantom member, who agreed under some duress, to
see for herself what all the hoopla was about.
In JoDee’s voice:
“Hey ya’ll, welcome to Chaahs-tun and
home to the Grimkes all decked out in plantation dress. It’s muggy today.
There’s not a breath blowing in off the Ashley River. This belle is glowing.
Imagination sprouts wings of those eager
to dream even if the path is fanciful and improbable. There will always be
hurdles to leap; there will always be a gloomy Gus to rain on your quest, and
often circumstances will force you to reinvent yourself and your calling. The
Invention of Wings, described as a masterpiece of hope, incorporates a
central metaphor throughout the story, flight, and freedom. Wings depicted on
mythological creatures, angels, birds, dragonflies and fairies represent
everything from power and mobility to spiritual truths and protection to the
elements of magic allowing access to a previously unattainable state.
Although sweeping social issues toward
freedom such as abolition, and women’s rights erupted within this historical
timeline, Ms. Kidd challenged the reader to appreciate how each character
“invented their wings,” by finding a way to break the chain of bondage without
lowering their expectations or compromising their goals. Sarah moved from
dreaming of being the first female jurist to tolerating the limitations of her
gender before emerging as a voice of freedom. Her younger sister, Nina,
followed suit relishing her role in the emancipation of those fleeing from
subjugation to sovereignty. Hetty, dealt the cards of oppression, broke the law
by learning to read, but that simple act of defiance saved her life, and her
mother, Charlotte, hatched a plan to fly away like a blackbird in search of a
better life, leaving her legacy in a story quilt in case she failed.
Oscar Wilde said, “A dreamer is one who can only
find his way by moonlight and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before
the rest of the world.” Sue Monk Kidd invited us to behold first light
and the entertainment didn’t disappoint.”
In MN’s voice:
“This book embraces slavery, sisterhood,
freedom, flight, inhumanity, women’s rights, equality, and inequality, all
written in a beautiful language. Oh My. We feel inadequate, so we thought what
could do this book justice and came to only one conclusion, so we contacted
Sarah, and she graciously agreed to join us today. Please welcome Ms. Sarah
Grimke. She is moving a little slow, you know she’s over two hundred years old
now, so I’m going to help her get settled.”
MN’s sister, Pam, dressed in a black and
white Quaker style dress sewn with her fleur de lis silver button at the throat
and wearing a white bonnet, warmly greeted Charlotte before taking her seat to
address our group, a Bible on one side of her chair, a gold-tipped cane propped
up on the other.
Pam as Sarah:
What we heard today was a voice both
soft and musical in a southern drawl mixed with strength of conviction and
passion for the causes defining her life. If you attended this special
presentation, you witnessed a character telling us her story as if it was her
own. Pam’s attention to detail, highlighting each of the issues that carried
Ms. Kidd’s novel, was masterful, insightful, humorous, and just down right full
of charm. The room grew silent, the group hung on every word, applauding her
efforts with a standing ovation. We think if Angelina Jolie is looking to
direct another movie, her casting department should be ringing Ms. Beedy in her
sweet home in Alabama. Bernie hoped she might move to this area and join the
acting ranks of the Henderson County Performing Arts. The script of Pam’s presentation
is attached to this e-mail for all of you to enjoy. Read it slow and in a
whisper to feel the power of the words.
Sue Monk Kidd said she wanted the story
quilt to “speak about the deep need we have to make meaning out of what befalls
us…how important it is to take the broken, painful, and discarded fragments of
our lives and piece them into something whole.” We should all think about what
our story quilt might say.
The following is Sarah's story told in the voice of Pam Beedy:
“Thank you all for having me. It was so kind of Ms. Mary Nell and Ms. JoDee
to invite me. At first I declined,
thinking I’m much too old to travel across the country and wondered were there
still people out there that wanted to hear what I had to say. They were very persistent and I’m so glad
they were. I feel as if I’m back in New
York in the early days, speaking to small groups of women in the parlors of
their homes. I’m so pleased to be
here.
When I first heard of Ms. Kidd’s book, The Invention of Wings
and what it was about, again I thought who would want to read any more about my
life and how I came to be so outspoken.
Upon reading the book I realized it was not about me, but all the things
that were important in my life years ago that are still so important
today. What does it mean to be a sister,
a friend, a woman, an outcast, a slave?
Ms. Kidd manages to raise our consciences and our consciousness. How do we use our talents to better ourselves
and our world? How do we give voice to
our power, or learn to empower our voice?
With these questions in mind I reflect upon my life and would like to
share with you my thoughts.
There were ten of us children; I was the middle child, the
one mother called DIFFERENT and father called REMARKABLE. Everybody said I was father’s favorite;
Father was a Judge on South Carolina’s highest court, he owned a plantation,
numerous slaves and was a member of Charleston’s ELITE. Mother was descended from the first family of
Charleston. She governed a host of
children, fourteen slaves and was a slave herself to social and religious
duties. When I was being forgiving, I
said my mother was exhausted, I suspected she was simply MEAN. She carried a gold tip cane that was used
often on the house slaves.
The slave’s quarters were behind the house. There were house slaves, yard slaves, barn slaves
and a slave to drive the carriage. Charlotte was our seamstress; mother said
the best in the county. Charlotte had a
daughter named Hetty or Handful as her mother called her. Hetty’s father was left at the plantation
when Charlotte and Hetty were brought to Charleston. She shared a bed with her mother and at night
Charlotte told Hetty stories of Africa. One
night when Hetty was 10 years old she told her that THERE WAS A TIME IN AFRICA
THE PEOPLE COULD FLY; but Hetty WAS SHREWD LIKE MAUMA. EVEN AT TEN she KNEW THIS STORY ABOUT PEOPLE
FLYING WAS PURE MALARKEY. People COULD
FLY ALL RIGHT, BUT IT WASN’T ANY MAGIC TO IT.
Everybody has wings, you have to find them.
At an early age I struggled with the inhumanity of slavery
and the inequality of women but did not know what to do about either. When I was four years old I witnessed the
brutality of slave punishment that left me with emotional and physical scars. I
developed a stutter that I still struggle with when not sure what to do, so I
often remained silent. For my eleventh
birthday my mother gave me Hetty as a personal slave. I was horrified at being a slave owner but
mother insisted and over time Hetty and I shared a bond and friendship much
like sisters. One day while fitting me
for a dress, Charlotte managed to make me promise to help Hetty obtain her
freedom. I didn’t know what to do.? My stutter continued and I remained silent.
Charlotte said I should help Hetty get free any way I could,
so I taught her to read. Reading was my escape;
I was given entry to father’s library and allowed to read most anything I
chose. My brother Thomas and I would sit
and discuss ideas and theories, Latin, History and Literature. I had ambitions of becoming an attorney like
my father. Reading gave me wings, and perhaps it could help set Hetty
free. At the time teaching slaves to
read was illegal and we did keep our lessons a secret, but Hetty like her
mother, courted danger and we were found out.
I thought father would surely understand. I thought he felt the same
about slavery as I did, that it was wrong.
When father found out he was furious and when I explained I meant no
harm my father replied “SLAVES WHO READ ARE A THREAT, THEY WOULD BE ABREAST OF
NEWS THAT WOULD INCITE THEM IN WAYS WE COULD NOT CONTROL. IT MAY BE UNFAIR BUT
THERE IS A GREATER GOOD HERE THAT MUST BE PROTECTED. I WILL PROTECT OUR WAY OF LIFE.” For punishment I was denied access to father’s
library and books saying I had no need for books. My wings had been clipped. Hetty’s punishment was worst than my own, one
lash. My world as I knew it
changed. Mother said it was time for me
to enter society, meaning find a husband.
I wish not to spend much time on my love life, my one prospect turned
out to be a scoundrel and my association with him an embarrassment to my
family. I vowed not to marry and turned
to religion as a refuge. I hoped God not
my mother would show me the way. My older sister, Mary grew up under Mother’s
tutelage and led her life in mother’s image, married and mean. When mother gave birth to her final child Angelina
I begged to be her godmother and care giver.
I did not want Nina growing up solely under mother’s influence.
Hetty’s troubles were worse than my own, her mother had
disappeared. Charlotte kept
company with a free slave named Denmark Vesey, visiting him
on her marketing days. Denmark had
bought his freedom after traveling the world with his former master, now
Denmark, an advocate of freedom for all slaves, tried to gather followers for a
revolt. I imagine Charlotte found in
Denmark the vision of freedom she was always seeking. On one of her marketing days Charlotte refused
to step aside for a white lady. She was apprehended but escaped and did not
return home. Hetty hoped Denmark had
helped Charlotte get away; but still Hetty missed her mother terribly and was devastated;
SHE DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO BE IN THE WORLD WITHOUT HER. Denmark Vesey often spoke at an African church
for coloreds, slaves and free blacks all together. Hetty started frequenting the services to hear
Denmark speak. One evening while Denmark
led the members in a loud rendition of Joshua fought the Battle of Jericho the
City Guard raided the church. The neighbors had complained of the noise and
Denmark and Hetty along with several others were arrested for disorderly
conduct and sent to the Work House as punishment. Mother could have paid for her release but
she did not. Before the end of her
punishment, Hetty’s foot was mangled while trying to help another slave who had
a child on her back. Denmark was later convicted of in citing a slave revolt
and was hanged. This hardened Hetty and she vowed to pursuit
her efforts of freedom.
Our own family was also suffering its own share of problems.
Impeachment charges were brought against my father. They charged incompetence
and although father was acquitted he felt he was a dirtied man. At 59 he was suddenly old, and had a tremor
in his right hand. Following months of care
the Dr. recommended a treatment offered in Philadelphia and mother informed me
I was to accompany father on the voyage.
After a harrowing trip I found lodging in a Quaker boardinghouse. The doctor could find no cause for father’s
tremor or deterioration and recommended the sea air. I secured a room at the only Hotel in Long
Branch, New Jersey where I was invited to the nightly prayer meetings. I felt
God had sent me here. Although father did not recover I was set free. Before he
died father asked for my forgiveness and admitted his silent opposition to
slavery. Most days I sat by father’s bed while he slept. When he seemed to be resting comfortably I
would on occasion walk down to the sea.
I would never tell mother that at the hour of father’s death I was
floating free in the ocean; in solitude I would remember all of my life. I was swimming with some of the other women
staying at the Inn. I had let go of the safety
rope, dropped onto my back and floated, I had never felt so free.
I notified the family that I had arranged a small quiet
funeral for father in Philadelphia and that I would not be returning
immediately to Charleston. The Quaker Religion had become more and more
interesting to me and I wanted to contemplate what to with the rest of my
life. A letter from Nina brought me back
to Charleston. In fathers will he left
the house to my brother with a life estate for mother and she could only keep a
few slaves. Mother resented this and was
becoming more violent, taking her frustrations out on her slaves. Hetty had learned from her mother how to sew
so she remained as mother’s seamstress.
Mother ordered Hetty to make an elaborate mourning dress and mother
continued to wear the dress everyday months after father’s death. The situation was becoming intolerable. No one
was spared the wrath of mother’s cane. On
the voyage returning to Charleston I met a Quaker and his family, Israel Morris
and I had many conversations regarding the Quaker anti slavery views and the
equality of women. When I explained to
Mr. Morris that my family owned slaves but I did not condone it; with kindness
is his voice he replied “TO REMAIN SILENT IN THE FACE OF EVIL IS ITSELF A FORM
OF EVIL”. I still did not know how to
make my voice heard. It was from Mr.
Morris, that I first learned that in the Quaker religion women could be
ministers. Could this be my answer?
My stay in Charleston was short. Angelina had also become outspoken with her
anti-slavery views. Mother thought I was
a bad influence on Nina. We both were
practicing the Quaker Religion and the atmosphere was becoming more heated,
with new orders being established to control and restrict slaves. My defiance on the street became common
knowledge. Mother was outraged, only
Nina stood by me. I was called a slave
lover, nigger lover, abolitionist and northern whore. It probably was all true except that last
part. I could no longer remain silent so I returned north to make what life I
could. I felt like an outcast.
I was offered a room with a fellow Quaker where I studied
and practiced the Quaker religion hoping one day to become a minister. I had maintained a friendship with Israel
Morris even staying in his home after his wife died, helping his sister with
the eight children. Friendship grew into
love and he proposed marriage but he wanted a wife and mother for his children
not a Quaker Minister. I was again
devastated but continued in my pursuit of fulfilling my life ambition, to make
a difference. Within a few years, my
sister Angelina joined me. She could no longer tolerate the south’s views on
slavery. Together we pursued our efforts towards freedom and equality for
all. But even the Quakers could not
abide with our outspoken views on slavery and women rights. We were ostracized
and had nowhere to go. We were secretly
given living quarters in the home of Sarah Mapps Douglass who had founded a
school for black children. We were among
friends but still did not how to make our voices known. We started writing pamphlets and distributed
them to the CLERGY OF THE SOUTHERN STATES and to the CHRISTIAN WOMEN OF THE SOUTH. Our voices were heard; we were invited to
join the AMERICAN ANTI SLAVERY SOCIETY as speakers to women in private parlors
in New York. Following two months of
training we would begin a four month lecture tour. I thought of FATHER, MOTHER, THOMAS, ISRAEL,
THE CHURCH IN CHARLESTON, and THE QUAKERS IN PHILADELPHIA all who had tried to
keep us quiet. Finally my voices would
be heard!
Theodore Weld was our trainer and most outspoken advocate,
He supported us through some harrowing months of lectures on abolition and
women rights. Our audiences grew and we
went from parlors to large halls where men and women came to hear what we had
to say. Theodore was our dearest
friend but he and Angelina formed a bond stronger then friendship soon marrying
and moving to a small farm in New Jersey where they asked me to join them. While we were well received across the northeast
there were churches that urged a boycott of our lectures and a number of halls
were closed to us. We received word from mother that our pamphlets were banned
in South Carolina and we could no longer set foot in Charleston without fear of
imprisonment. We may not have been welcome but at least we were heard, we were
no longer silent.
I had a lingering regret, Hetty. Hetty’s mother Charlotte had found her way
back to Charleston after being held as a slave in another state for years. She arrived with a girl who was about Hetty’s
age when her mother first disappeared.
Skye was the image of Denmark Vesey. Hetty had suspected her mother was
pregnant when she disappeared. Charlotte died leaving Skye in Hetty’s
care. A letter arrived from Hetty
informing us she and Skye were leaving Charleston and looking for a place to
run to. I could not let her try this
escape alone. I had long ago given Hetty
back to mother, a mistake I now regretted. Risking my own life I returned to Charleston
and offered to buy back both Hetty and Skye, mother refused but promised to
free them upon her death. Hetty said no
she was going now with or without my help.
This time I knew what to do. Three
days later we boarded a steamer. We were
dressed in black from head to toe, hats, veils, dresses, gloves, stockings, and
shoes - Hetty in the very dress she had made for mother when father died. We hoped no one would question three women who
were mourning the loss of their mother.
The steamer lurched forward. Standing on the bow we had found our wings
and watched Charleston recede as we flew north. Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty,
we are free at last." Sarah Moore Grimke
On the business
side:
We conducted a short business meeting by
picking two more books for the upcoming months as listed below. Both are must
reads (in our opinions). The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry by
Gabrielle Zevin is an easy read, only 260 pages in which you get a dab of The
Cookbook Collector and The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie
Society with the charm of Harold Fry and Major Pettigrew. The other
selection, also under 300 pages, is The Headmaster’s Wife by Thomas
Christopher Greene. Arthur Winthrop, the headmaster of an elite New England
boarding school, is found walking naked in Central Park. The novel is part
mystery, part love story and an exploration of the ties of place and family.
MN has also read and recommended two
selections by Catherine Ryan Hyde, author of Don’t Let Me Go. Where
We Belong is about fourteen-year old Angie and her Mom who are on the
verge of homelessness again. Her sister, Sophie, has an autism-like disorder
with a tendency to shriek and the only thing that calms her is a neighbor’s
black Great Dane. Also, Take Me With You, her latest,
is about a burned-out teacher who has been sober since his nineteen-year old
son died. He’s spent the summer on the road and had planned a trip to
Yellowstone with his son, but now he’s carrying his ashes instead. It has
camping, a Jack-Russell terrier, a broken-down RV and two extra passengers for
his journey, two boys, twelve and seven. We’ll decide on this next month. Sandy
is reading All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr, set in Germany
and France during World War II and thinks it might be a good one for us. We’ll
check it out and let you know.
The drama continues on The
Goldfinch – Patsy- long book full of deviant behavior, hopelessness,
and few redeeming qualities – a waste of time. Jean Mc: wonderful writing,
could have been 300 pages shorter and still gotten the point across – to Theo,
suck it up dude, grow up…don’t understand the Pulitzer. Beverly – another
love/hate relationship with the book, long and depressing but laughed out loud
on occasion and loved one of the characters…glad I read it. Leslie – powerful
novel, drugs and excessive drinking play a major role and needed to be in the
book and without Boris getting Theo into drugs, there would not be a
storyline…so the debate continues but Leslie has loaned me her book and I’ve
agreed to give it an unbiased try.
COLOR CODING SYSTEM
WHITE: LIGHT READ
PINK: MODERATELY
CHALLENGING
RED: CHALLENGING
October 14th : The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde
Pilcher
PINK
Home
of Joanna Linder
Reviewer: Joanna
Linder
November 11th: Turn of Mind by Alice LaPlanta
RED
Home:
Daryl Daniels
Reviewer:
Bernie Crudden
December 9th: Evening Holiday Party & Meeting
The
Storied Life of A.J. Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin
PINK
Home: TBD
Reviewer:
TBD
January 13th, 2015 The Headmaster’s Wife by Thomas
Christopher Greene
RED
Home:
TBD
Reviewer:
TBD
February 10th: TBD
March 10th: TBD
April 14th: TBD
May 12th: Book TBD
Home
of Beverly Dossett
Request
change of date to May 19th due to travel conflict
Summer Break: June, July & August
September 8th: Bookers 12th year
While I read this book the violence in
Ferguson Missouri plastered the news…thoughts returned to a hooded teenager
gunned down in Florida – the divide is still deep…someone asked the rioting and
unrest be controlled in reverence to what Martin Luther King, Jr. died for.
“Abolition is different from the desire
for racial equality. Color prejudice is at the bottom of everything. If it’s
not fixed, the plight of the Negro will continue long after abolition.” Fast
forward to today…
Happy Reading,
JoDee
