What Happens To A Dream Deferred

WHAT HAPPENS TO A DREAM DEFERRED? *

It was 2013 and I had just boarded a plane that was leaving Detroit, Michigan, to take me to a place that I had dreamed about. It wasn’t a tropical island or a country in Europe, which are wonderful places to visit. It was a place that I had never in my wildest dreams counted on seeing while living on this earth. It was the birthplace of my mother, Rock Hill, South Carolina, which is 25 miles south of Charlotte, North Carolina. The Rock Hill population in 1920 was 8,800.1 My mother was born a few years later in 1922. The population of Rock Hill in 2021 had skyrocketed to 76,818.

Rock Hill was always in my thoughts as a place to one day visit, because I had visited Memphis, Tennessee the birthplace of my father, who showed us his Memphis history, but I hadn’t seen my mother’s birthplace. My twin sister, Leona and I, often pleaded with our mother to go with us to Rock Hill and show us her hometown, but the answer was always “NO”. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged my mother to Rock Hill. She loved showing us her mother’s funeral photo album and explaining to us for the 100thtime, who was in the pictures and their fascinating life stories. She explained as she looked at the pictures of her mother in the casket, that the pain was too unbearable for her to return. Trying to explain her reasoning resulted in her crying like a baby.

*Hughes, Langston, Dream Deferred (Harlem) 101 Great American Poems

1. Rockhill Census,1920

At that point we knew we had pushed too hard, so we stop questioning her about the possibility of all of us taking a trip together to Rock Hill. We needed to give her some space and possibly revisit the topic another time. So, we passed the Kleenex tissue box back and forth between the three of us and quickly changed the topic so my mother’s smile would return once more, as she continued the stories about her family.

Our mother described her mother, Fannie S. Chisolm, who was born in 1886, as a strong woman that was way ahead of her time.

Fannie and her husband, Anderson Chisolm, simultaneously owned two houses, located across the street from each other. They also owned a gas station with a convenience store that was located next door to one of their houses in Rock Hill. This area of the city stood out from the more rural areas close by because they were blessed with having modern day amenities; like running water and automobiles. My grandmother who was fortunate enough to have an automobile, allowed my mother, who was only 12, to drive the car on dirt roads, to run errands for her. This area was populated predominately with African Americans.

Even as a business entrepreneur, my grandmother still found time to raise her eleven children. My grandmother was a strong believer in education, so seven of her children graduated from college. My mother, Mattie, was one of the four exceptions. She graduated from a hospital- based diploma program and successfully passed the Florida RN State Board Examination and obtained her license as a registered nurse and two of her brothers, received the required training and became licensed funeral directors, who owned and operated their funeral homes where each resided. One location was in Massachusetts and the other in South Carolina. Her remaining brother became an ordained minister in Rock Hill.

Our mother emphasized that her mother’s true inner beauty was the way she improved life for others which was heightened when the Great Depression came in 1929-1939 and affected nearly every country in the world with unemployment, poverty, banking panics and homelessness. Fannie led by example and taught her children the true meaning of helping others. In her store her children watched her give away food, clothing and other items that people so desperately needed to survive.

It came as no surprise to me that all her children entered professions that were dedicated to serving the public, i.e., a nurse, minister, teachers and funeral directors. Public service was in their DNA.

However, one of her sons, William Mason Chisolm, born in 1905 stood out as an extraordinary generous human being.

An article in The News & Reporter, written by Makeda Baker, beautifully described the many facets of my Uncle William:

…one of South Carolina’s unsung heroes who was born in

1905 in Rock Hill into a large family. William Mason Chisolm

was by no means an ordinary man…During a time of enf-

forced segregation, disenfranchisement, and racial rest-

rictions, this William Chisolm refused to allow the separate

and unequal societal mandates to dictate or define his life,

purpose or responsibilities.

He was a graduate of Drake University in Des Moines, Iowa

in the 1920’s, when very few people of color were afford-

ed any type of a college education. He travelled inter-

nationally, including studying at Spain’s University of

Madrid and the Heidelberg in Germany.

Besides being a singer and pianist, he reportedly spoke

seven languages.

Aligning himself with northern philanthropists, he used

this social relationship to help provide and improve the

Lives of those in need in Rock Hill and surrounding

communities. These provisions included monies to help

finance neighborhood centers and clothing for those

in need…He established sewing, cooking, and piano classes…

During the 1930’s he began, in Rock Hill, what was called

The Durkee Institute, a formalized training program likened

unto Tuskegee Institute, according to a 1938 Evening

Herald article. Culinary and professional housekeeping skills

were taught here.

… For those living in rural areas of town, Mr. Chisolm, in

ensuring access to city water, paid for water lines to run

from the city to those in the country. He designed

numerous buildings that were built along Saluda Street

in the area of Heckle Boulevard, including his home which

for years stood as a directional landmark for the community.

…One of the greatest acts of benevolence bestowed upon the

community by Mr. Chisolm was the purchasing of a bus

for the express purpose of getting rural students to the

few segregated schools in the area. Not only did he use

personal funds to buy the bus, but used those same funds

to pay the driver.

…Though he left no children, Mr. Chisolm left a legacy that

has long been remembered and not forgotten. 2

My uncle though never married during his 57years, accomplished far more than the average man. Even though the Klan burned down many of the structures he built, including the schools for Black children, it would not stop him from helping his community. His commitment to the community was incomprehensible and his level of achievement had lasting effects on the lives that he helped and were felt for generations to come. The blueprint of Fannie’s generosity was deeply imbedded in William and his siblings.

Nevertheless, the Klan did not care for Fannie’s or William’s acts of kindness to their community. It was not unusual to see the Klan coming into their town burning crosses on the front lawns.

However, this night when the Klan stormed into their town, they had targeted the Chisolm family. My grandmother immediately ordered my mother, who was 8 years old and her little sister, my Aunt Net, who was 3, to hide under the bed, so no one could find them.

My mother, very protective of her younger sister, followed her orders. as she hid and covered her baby sister. I can only imagine the fear in my mother’s little heart, while hiding and silently listening to the crackle of

2.https://www.onlinechester.com/content/salute-mre-william-m-chisolm, “A Salute to Mr. William M. Chisolm” by Makeda Baker, March 4,2014, updated March 5th)

the flickering flames from the cross burning on her front yard. Simultaneously, the Klan targeted my grandmother’s other home across the street and set it on fire. As that home went up in blazing flames, the family had to have heard the creaking and groaning of timbers and the contracting of the frame that once supported the structure of the house, glass popping and shattering. People were screaming and running, while clouds of smoke billowed through the neighborhood. Fortunately, at this time only three of the eleven children were still living in the family house because the older children had left to marry, attend college or to establish a foundation for their lives.

When the Klan left, the house without the convenience store or gas station, was reduced to smoky ruins. Everything in that house was destroyed. But thank God, there was no loss of life for the Chisolm family.

You would think with a loss like that my grandmother, out of fear would have withdrawn, but instead she was more determined to help families who were impoverished and had absolutely nothing.

My mother’s sweet memories of her mother were a timeless treasure and would never fade, but the memories of pain she and her family endured was the reason she would never return.

My mother died in 1998 at the age of 76. My twin sister, Judge Leona L. Lloyd, unexpectantly died in 2001 from arteriosclerosis at the age of 51, so the possibility of us going to Rock Hill as a team died with her. The idea of going to Rock Hill by myself without personally knowing any of my remaining relatives would have amounted to a hopeless fishing expedition in search for information and possibly ending in rejection. Twelve years after my sister’s death, unbeknownst to me, fate had determined my future trip to Rock Hill. As fate would have it, my trip to Rock Hill would come to life in 2013. It all started when my unknown cousin Pamela (Pam) Chisolm, sent a letter introducing herself to me and stated she was a detective for the Washington D.C. police department.

She further explained how we were related and that we were second cousins. Very intrigued by her letter I called her, and we talked for over an hour. However, the big surprise came at the end of our conversation when she told me about the upcoming family reunion. Even though she acknowledged it was short notice, she still wanted to send me the reunion information. She said,” I hope you can come; I would love to meet you.”

She sent a chart of the family tree, a picture of my grandmother’s burial site and a picture of our great grandmother. Hoping for an affirmative response, she sent information about the upcoming Chisolm family reunion. Even though it was three months away, I immediately called her and said enthusiastically, “I am coming, I wouldn’t miss this for the world”. This would be a great chance for me to connect with my unknown relatives in Rock Hill. I immediately booked my flight and made room reservations in the same hotel as Pam.

Travel day had finally arrived. I was about to catch my flight to Rock Hill. Thanks to my unknown cousin Pam, my trip of my dreams was happening. To say I was excited would be an understatement. Rock Hill did not offer commercial passenger airline service, so Pam met me at the Charlotte airport. I was anxious to meet my cousin Pam.

Later that evening Pam introduced me to my other unknown cousin Allen. Pam and Allen were also cousins and had known each for quite a while. They teamed up as my informal tour guides and showed me the best Rock Hill had to offer, as well as places that were connected to my family history. I saw the extensive parcels of land that was once owned by the Chisolm’s and now repurposed as large residential communities. Pam, also the family historian, said at one time the Chisolm family owned about 50% of Rock Hill. I was both speechless and proud.

I was astonished when Pam showed me the street sign named “Chisolm” and then she took my picture standing next to it. Touring Rock Hill, I got a chance to see the growth and progress of Rock Hill since the time my mother lived there as a child.

In the afternoon, we proceeded to the family reunion picnic where I met a lot of relatives. I was introduced as ‘William Chisolm’s niece” because everyone seemed to know my Uncle William. Being from Motown, I joined the dozens of cousins on the dance floor that had formed dance hustle lines. Pam was taking pictures of me dancing and spinning around. Between the jumping music and the mouth-watering food everyone was having a ball!

Later that evening was the big family reunion dinner, during which 500 elegantly dressed family members got together to celebrate the solidarity of the Chisolm family and its cohesiveness. This was the most important family get together meal of the year. Filled with excitement, I looked across the ballroom that was filled with family and love. The master of ceremony had me stand as he introduced me as Judge Leonia Lloyd, from Detroit and the niece of my uncles A.D and William Chisolm. Judging from their applause I felt very warmly received. After the dinner, I proudly took pictures with several groups of second and third cousins, who questioned me about my role as a judge. The young ones were giddy and beaming with pride as they posed for pictures with me, capturing a special moment in time.

I got a chance to meet and talk to relatives that knew my Uncle William and they gleefully shared with me firsthand knowledge of his kindness and generosity to his community.

When the reunion dinner ended, I returned to my hotel room. I laid across my bed and reflected on my unbelievable fun filled weekend that was packed with the amazing history lessons of the Chisolm family tree. My eyes filled with water as I thought about my mother and Leona and desperately wished they were there.

This was my final night in Rock Hill and my trip was coming to an end the next day, but I had one more place to visit and that was my grandmother’s burial site. It was crucial that I see her statute that her son Napoleon, the funeral director, had erected. Sadly, my mother had never seen the statute, but this was my chance to see it for her.

However, that night was one big nightmare. I tossed and turned, as I dreamed about the burning cross on the front yard of my grandmother’s house as well as her other house torched by the Klan. I dreamed I was there with my mother under the bed when she was a little girl and I was trying to protect her and her baby sister.

Finally, morning arrived and I awoke from this horrible nightmare with an urgency to go see my grandmother; the woman who left a ‘legacy of the gift of giving’ to her children and grandchildren.

When my cousins arrived to pick me up, I was packed and ready, but I immediately asked them to take me to Grandmother’s burial site at the cemetery and Allen responded, “no problem, I know where it is located”.

When we arrived at the cemetery and started walking towards the site my cousin Allen said, “there is a statue of an angel marking her gravesite.” I said, “No, it is supposed to be a statue of my grandmother!” As I approached the statute, I excitedly said, “it is my grandmother, look at her hair, her rimless glasses, her smile and her little hoop earrings.” She looks exactly like her portrait that my mother displayed in our house for years. She was beautifully draped in a flowing gown with her hands clasped together in prayer, so, I can see why Allen thought she was an angel. Like Allen, I too thought she was an angel, because of all her good deeds for others. Gazing at my grandmother’s face I was mesmerized and hauntingly drawn to it. As I came closer, I began to slowly touch her face. I starred at it for the longest time in a trance and then like a bolt of lightning hitting me, I then realized why I was staring at her. The face on the statue bore an unbelievable likeness to me and my twin sister Leona. The resemblance left me breathless.

Looking further, I saw two tablets, one on each side of her statue with inscriptions on it that shared the most descriptive values she possessed:

Tablet 1: A pioneer devoted to building character, educationally, morally, and religiously. Seeking her own in other’s good.

Tablet 2: A civic leader devoted to improving and uplifting the lives of others.

To preserve this wonderful memory, I took several pictures standing next to the statute of my grandmother. I talked to her as if I had known her for years. I told her that Leona and I followed her footsteps by selecting professions that serve mankind and help transform lives, i.e., teachers, lawyers, and judges.