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Finally wrote my mom's obit & sent it to the funeral director to post. Was having the worst writer's block. Also got me thinking of other friends & family & their obits and, as I organize my mom's house, I've remembered my neighbor as I grew up, Mr Wilson Adams, who died in 2008.
I looked online for Mr Adams's obit and found only a short, one sentence listing with a funeral time and names of surviving family. This made me so very sad because Mr Adams was an incredible man and I will never forget his love and kindness to me as I was growing up.
When my parents moved into Philly in 1971, the house they purchased had a shared driveway. The neighbors were a nice, kind older couple, Sam & Bert Eretzian. In the midst of "white flight" they moved to Jenkintown in 1974, when I was 5 yo. We kept in touch until their deaths.
Our new neighbors were Mr and Mrs Adams, an African-American couple about 10 years older than my parents. They remained my parents' neighbors (& close friends) for over 30 years until Mrs Adams died and Mr Adams eventually went to live at the Stapeley senior care in Germantown.
Mr Adams was a World War II veteran who'd served in a segregated US military in the South Pacific. He told me stories of discrimination from white officers & prejudice from fellow soldiers while fighting together against the Japanese. Friends of his lost lives in the war effort.
Upon returning to the US, he married & settled in the north where he was able to leverage the GI Bill to get a college education (the situation in the south, outside HBCUs, didn't afford such opportunities). He studied history and, after college, received certification to teach.
Mr Adams ended up a high school history teacher in the Philadelphia public school system, where he served for decades until his retirement. While I never had the honor of having him as a teacher, I am certain he was an excellent one, judging from the erudition & kindness I saw.
He invited me over to his home on many occasions to talk to me about history, to tell me stories of his experiences, to share books & magazines with me, and as he grew older, to sometimes help him with house repairs. Some part of the love of history I carry w/ me comes from him.
In a nation where white citizens too often live in a self-enclosed world, distant from their Black neighbors & their lives & experiences, Mr Adams's friendship, hospitality, & gentle education of a kid like me was a rare privilege, even if that didn't always register at the time.
Recent deaths, nationally significant or very nearby, have me thinking about memory & the influence each of us wield for good or ill. While lacking the fame & stature of John Lewis or Rev Vivian, I hope the memory & influence of my neighbor, Wilson Adams, continues to live in me.
