My mother's family was tri-racial and can be traced back to the Melungeon , as well as African and Native American ancestry. There are many family stories, but the ones that mostly resonate with me were of my grandmother's brothers. Mining in Texas. My great-grandfather, his brother and son toiled long days. One day they were deep in the mine when someone set off charges causing a cave in which killed a large portion of the African and Native American miners. John had crushing injuries which needed immediate medical attention, the white persons, hospital was about a mile away. The colored persons hospital was a day by train. He died on the way. In my great-grandfather's youth. He used to trade horses with a bandit on the Texas border called Poncho Villa which the family still has pictures of him and Mr. Villa inspecting horses. David was killed in Wisconsin for dating a white girl, she was the ex-girlfriend a politicians son. They all went swimming on the day he was killed and his back was broken. He was tied down with a chain and tossed in the lake. The politicians son was never prosecuted. Although he ended up living his life in an insane asylum.
My great-grandfather did pursue those individuals himself but was attacked by hooded night riders. The only thing that saved him that night was a straight razor he had stuck in his pocket while he was moonlighting as a barber's assistant. It was around this time in history that my wife's great-grandfather lost his ranch in Georgia, it was burned to the ground, his horses and cattle were shot, his land was confiscated and his family went from proud and fairly wealthy for that time, to sharecroppers. The trajectory of many families ended up that way, no chance of passing on wealth from one generation to another, because it was stolen. Anyway, my uncle Bergen was shot by Texas Rangers when he found them in his home. They didn't identify themselves, according to his wife. Besides, Bergen was a ranch hand at that time and wore a side arm, you can figure out the rest.
Wesley was the twin of my uncle Pete, he was slit stem to stern by the nurse who claimed she was just trying to cut his umbilical cord. He was stitched up and given to my great grandmother who couldn't figure out why he looked so pale. He finally looked under his nightshirt and saw the stitches from his chest to his crotch. He died 2 days later. That particular nurse continued working at that hospital. Richard was supposedly given a shot of antibiotics, but ended up to be a syringe full of nightshade poison. That particular doctor never lost his practice.
Robert was hung from a lamp post in Michigan because he refused to apologize to a man who was splashed with mud by his horse. My great-grandmother Leslie died after her last son was murdered, she hemorrhaged from her nose and mouth until she bled out. 3 other uncles died in World War II. Roger, Albert, and Edward were killed when a Kamikaze skipped the wave tops and hit their ship, which ignited their magazine. From what I understand many of those men survived the explosion but were killed by sharks feeding on all of the bodies in the water.
My father fought in Korea in 1953. My cousins, Scott and Joey were killed in Vietnam, they were like my bigger brothers because I was the oldest in my family unit. My 2 younger brothers were murdered, one by a police officer who wanted his girlfriend and the other by his wife's brother who wanted the horse ranch. Dave was a horse trainer and cabinet maker, Pete was a carpenter and love to dirtbike. My father died of a heart attack when my brothers were small. I miss both of them more than I can explain. My sons have been discriminated against in school by teachers who had some other agenda. The youngest son has gone back to try to continue his education because he has to have twice the credentials of some of his contemporaries. My oldest son was slipped a Mickey Finn at a party in North Hollywood, California, and never recovered from it. I have 2 cousins on the Chicago fire Department and 2 cousins on the Chicago Police Department, although they are from my father's side of the family and really don't encounter too much difficulty.
When I was in kindergarten. I would walk to school, which was only about 4 city blocks away, the old German man, Mr. Kaiser used to yell out the window, that he was going to shoot me for sullying the sidewalk in front of his house with my dark filth. I didn't tell anyone about that for almost a year, even though he said it every day during school, when my father found out, that person left the neighborhood permanently. We moved north of the city and had a small farm, sorry to say the school system and some neighbors didn't appreciate us moving into that area. The teachers and the school used to humiliate me, they had me wear a giant diaper and carry a baby rattle because they claimed I acted to uppity because I could read at a high school level in 3rd grade. I suppose would've been easier to act stupid, but I didn't understand what was going on at the time. In 1974 we were asked to leave a diner in New Mexico, because we had long hair and dark skin, they basically told us they did not serve our type in their restaurant. I met my wife at her parents anniversary party, her skin was so dark it looked blue and she had the longest Curliest hair I had ever seen. We were married 6 months later and on our honeymoon they wouldn't even sit us at the same table, talk about embarrassing. That happened to be in French Lick Springs Indiana, they also implied that she was a prostitute.
My wife was taught to speak appropriately and professionally, my wife's mother actually marched with Martin Luther King and dealt with attack dogs and was arrested for riding in the front of the bus. I became a facility engineer, my wife became a manager at a large pharmaceutical company, but is working way below her education. When we were working on buying a house years ago the phone conversations were very pleasant until we actually showed up. Then the properties somehow were sold or not available anymore. I have a lot of hatred in my heart, this is where we were supposed to be safe, this country was supposed to be our haven as a family, but instead my mother's family was almost wiped out of existence. Our family has fought and died for this country fighting foreign enemies and also family members died fighting other citizens of this country for the right to live in peace.
Sorry I am not a writer, so this might seem disjointed, but it is painful to recall some of this information. I was asked to write a diary, this is just a small portion. There are many, many other instances I could cite as far as my family goes. Anyway, thank you for the opportunity to speak my piece. And for the record, as far as whites go, my father was a white man and I will say more whites helped than not, if it wasn't for those good people I don't know what my life would've been like.