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Raining in the Dark

Raining in the Dark

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Raining in the Dark

75 pagine
1 ora
May 20, 2016


Raining in the Dark by Dorothy Davis


May 20, 2016

Informazioni sull'autore

Anteprima del libro

Raining in the Dark - Dorothy Davis


Copyright © 2015 Prophetess Dorothy J. Davis

All rights reserved

First Edition


New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2015

ISBN 978-1-68289-168-1 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-68289-169-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America


Chapter 1

I Remember Laughing

Chapter 2

Coming to Cleveland

Chapter 3

The Turbulent 1960s

Chapter 4


Chapter 5

A Diamond in the Dust

Chapter 6

The Detour

Chapter 7

Raining in the Dark

Chapter 8

Reflections of God’s Grace

Chapter 1

I Remember Laughing

On May 21, 1953, I was born, and Rock ’n’ Roll was still in the womb, it having been conceived by Mississippi delta blues and swing music as well as the deep soulful cries of black southern gospel music. Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, Frank Sinatra, and Bing Crosby were the American idols of that day. President Eisenhower was in office, and our nation was in conflict with Korea. I was born in Meridian, Mississippi, at Matty Hersee, a hospital which segregated the blacks who were being housed in the basement with no nurse attending them. Family, friends, or loved ones came in to see about them and care for the sick until they were discharged.

I remember telling my mother of a memory that I had of being a baby about a year old. Mama was holding me up to the mirror after having dressed me in my new dress and combing my hair. She plastered it down with Johnson & Johnson baby lotion and baby oil. I remember her saying, Look at Mama’s pretty baby. And Look at the pretty dress on her! Just look at Mama’s pretty baby!

I remember dancing and looking at my dress, laughing and smiling at myself and being pleased that Mama was so pleased with me. As I recalled this story to Mama, she looked at me with shock and commented, How could you remember that, Dorothy Jean? You were only eight months old. I remember that time of laughing and dancing in front of the mirror. I vaguely remember other incidents from the age of eight months to two years old.

Later, my father and mother moved to Cleveland, Ohio, to find work and a place for my older brother and me to live. They left us with our two sets of grandparents: Daddy’s Grandpa Charlie and Grandma Irma Ford and Mama’s parents, Mama Hattie and Papa Lewis Eakins. Grandma Irma’s face was kind and friendly; she had real pretty skin like an Indian. I remember the big swing on her porch that my brother John and I raced to ride. We’d swing to our hearts’ content or until it was time to go and eat, whichever came first. I’m not certain how long we were at Grandma Irma’s and Grandpa Charlie’s house. I do know that we finished our stay of those two years with Mama’s parents, Mama Hattie and Papa, because I remember the day in which I saw my daddy for what seemed to be the first time. I was too young to remember him from two years before. He said, Come over here and give Daddy a hug, and it was the first time I’d heard the word daddy. I ran to Grandpa and cried with everything in me. I want my papa, I want my papa! I clung to his leg, and my grandfather said, Come on, baby sister [a nickname given to keep my brother John from becoming jealous of me when I was born]. Now don’t be like that. This is your daddy. Papa is your granddaddy. Come on now, baby, go hug your daddy’s neck and give him some sugar. Come on now. I held onto Papa’s leg as long as I could. I felt safe there with him. Besides, I remembered the night before my older brother by one year, John Lewis, confiding in me that he heard Mama Hattie and Papa talking about Burl coming from Cleveland to take us back home, and John decided he was not going back with him! After hearing that, I didn’t want to go either! I cried out in my preschool southern drawl. I ain’t studdin’ you! I ain’t studdin’ you! I wanna stay down here with my papa. I wanna stay with my papa! When Daddy reached down to pick me up, I tried to punch him with my little fist. He picked me up in his arms and held me close near the cleft of his shoulder. That was my first sniff of Old Spice Cologne for Men. As he rocked me in his arms, he told me why he had left us with Grandma and Papa. He’d gone to find work and told me all about the new place he’d found for us to live in, how much he and Mama missed us, and how glad they were to bring us home to Cleveland. My tears began to subside and the heartbroken sobs ceased. Now can you give Daddy some sugar?" That was the first time I obeyed my father, and little did I know it would be few and far between that I would obey him thereafter.

Words can never express the sorrow I felt on leaving Mississippi and my grandparents. At two years old, I discovered that

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