Or the opposite, the Mayor

 

Mary put down the phone

Carefully,

It was all who fault

They were going to be

At the White House 

Today

And she could not

Show her face.

It was her opnion

That Walter should 

Go into Politics

What with his wife

A Howard University graduate

And him a war hero.

It was time she said

From her perch

In the financial sector

Of New York City

For the man to rise up

Over his own people

Most of DC 

Was now African 

Only a few families

Had held onto those 

Old brick houses

In central DC

The others commuted

Why not run for Mayor?

And so, he listened to his Mary,

Instead of his wife

The mother of his only child

Mary had brains 

She was good at mathematics

While his wife 

Was just an educator

There was that slight

Shuffle as daughter

Was carted off to school

But why?

How many times 

Will you be asked

To visit the White House?

Did you know him

Dad? 

When you were in the army

Together?

Well, now

Mr. Nixon 

And I were not in the same unit

Understand.

But we did fight the same war.

Im so proud of you

Can I call grandpa?

Her mothers father

Was a Reverand

A Baptist Reverand

From the old community

He was a descendant

Of one of those plantations

Given their freedom

But stayed in the same place

They were all rich

Some benefactor

Left the community money

To rebuild themselves

While the old man sat

On his veranda

Awaiting the return of his last son

It never came

Everyone of them that fought

For the south died

And the only one 

Who went north

Never came home

Some say he ran off 

To the West coast

To avoid a confrontation

With his old man

Others say 

He was murdered by

One of his own brothers

Anyways they say

Those boys 

Before they left town

Sowed their seed

In the local community

And by heavens

If the old man 

Did not leave them

The old mansion

To be turned into a proper school

And the locals who attended

Got rewarded with bank loans

To rebuild the town

One business at a time

Till the whole place

Was just about as 

Well African as can be

The white folks

Knew to keep to themselves

What they thought

Because apparently

His forefathers

Had made it a point

To have kin folk

Tending to the fields 

And what not 

If one catches their meaning

She was not sure 

Of what it all meant

Except their family 

Was one of those

Who were allowed to come 

And go as they pleased

But Grandpa was real strict

He even had a cousin

On the other side

Of the mountain

One of those older ones

Had migrated

Towards North Carolina

And they were all artists 

Not their kind at all.

She wondered what 

He would think of the politician

He set the phone down carefully

He knew his granddaughter

Did not know 

What had been their way of life

The Civil rights

Had altered the quiet community

Which drew upon a common benefactor.

The war had changed them

Allowing her to go off 

To a real college

And marry an unknown

It was along the lines

That many had kept

Too close

They were coming out

Wrong

Wrong in the head

And wrong skin color

And just plain not right.

There was even that other side

Who had a fancy singer 

Swept through the whole system

As someone else problem

Now he had to deal with a granddaughter

Who had never known poverty

Nor what it meant 

To live in the white world.

Having lived her entire life

Among family 

Who had been given

A way of survival

After the last one of them

Passed on without an heir.

Her world was blessed

Compared to the others

When she went out in that community

And sees what is really there...

Her world was enormous

She went on to go to univeristy

And to visit Africa

Living amongst the poorest

For her degree in  Sociology

She did not want to teach 

As her mother had

But to teach about her culture

She became the expert

On African culture

And made Professor

Of a  California University

She married a young man

Who got to be in the ROOTS series

Lived his lavish life

In Hollywood

But as a widow 

Does not regret her decisions

To see the real world

And her time in Paris

Brought her Josephine Baker

Whom she wrote about

Those war years 

Of espionage 

She had heard about

In DC sitting at those peoples tables

Allowed her a different world

Than expected 

Compared to the poor boy

Who ran away run day

And never returned to them

Having gotten in the way

Once too often of his own father

Would  not even acknowledge him

Jimmy as he is now called

Lives a weird life of fantasy

Always being given his own way

While he waits for that little one

To recognize him one day

Which she never will

Having gone her own way

After they spent hours flying

In first class together

Without the normalcy

Of a white skin color

She also had her troubles

But managed for awhile

To get away from him...

The Mayors daughters

Had learned their lessons

Early in their lives