The Finessing of Fate

My Grandpapa was twelve years old when he was sent away. Mind you, being sent away for black people is often an outpouring of love and concern for one's safety. When the need truly arises for someone to go away from the only home they've ever known, it must be something noteworthy. The story goes like this...

My Grandpapa and his dog were going through the brush; hunting or fishing or doing any of the things that boys do. They came upon the road and were just going to cross. It so happens at that moment a southern gentleman was also coming along. They crossed paths and the man shoed the dog and the dog started barking. The boy sprayed his BB gun. The horse startled and raised up on his hind legs, the man fell. The man sustained no injuries but a great deal of bruising to the ego. The boy was accosted and taken to estate for swift justice.

Now, the southern gentleman was already in no mood to settle for less than the satisfaction of a switching to the young boy. Just enough to soothe his temper, but the word got around that the boy was not just French but also negro. When the man returned to the estate, he was furious and I’m told he said, “If I had known he was mulatto, I would have killed him dead.”

Well, the boy’s grandfather was not to be threatened with violence when it came to the people on the estate, especially not this boy. Yes, the boy was the son of a Frenchman and a negro woman, but the boy’s grandfather loved him. This was his son's son. After all, he himself had taught the boy to fish and hunt. He had given the boy the rifle and the dog. He gave the boy free range on his own land. But experience told the boy’s grandfather that some things could not be changed and the deep south at that time was one of those things.

“Go west ‘til you get to the big river. Turn north and go to St. Louis, there will be people there to help you.” The words he spoke to the boy were all he knew to say, so he said them and packed a survival package for the boy and the dog.

So, the boy and the dog walked for weeks and finally made it to the mighty Mississippi. Too tired to go any further, the boy came inland a bit from the river and built a mud hut. A twelve-year-old boy and his dog, living in a mud hut down by the river and for two winters, no less.

Surely fate must have known the boy only had so many steps. Surely it must have been aware of the magnitude of the order given to such a youngster. Yes, fate knew indeed because at the same time, fate was also bringing up another family from Copiah County, Mississippi. To which, the eventual convergence of the two families is what brought about the love, marriage, and family of a bouncing baby girl.

As that baby, now turned woman, I definitely believe in fate, but I also know fate is finessed by the actions of individuals. Had it not been for the impossibility of the mission, I would have grown up a Missourian and not the proud Mississippi girl that I am.

We are destined to do many great things, both individually and in union with others. We do not know the how, when, why, or most time the who we will run into as we march toward our destiny. You must know that no matter the current circumstances of your life, fate is constantly pulling you in the direction of kismet.

What can you garner from each step along your journey? What can you learn from each encounter? How will each interaction help you to become a better person? Only time will tell. In the meantime, enjoy each sunrise and sunset, even if it is from a hut down by the river.