by sheila morris
sharing the heat on a cold morning in our carport
Yes, in case you are counting, there are three cats piled together on one heating pad on top of a fine cat home never used. Another heating pad is also ignored for reasons known only to the cats.
The legacy of Carport Kitty is alive, well, and warm.
Wild Woman Sisterhood – it’s never too late to join an organization whose mission is “to help you embody your authentic nature and live a truly fulfilling life.” Getting closer to my 78th. birthday in April, my thoughts turn to the women I once was – WWS suggests they deserve a little more kindness than I typically have for them.
Make peace with all the women you once were. Wait a second – you mean, all those women? The young woman in her early twenties whose nightly pilgrimage through the halls of her college dormitory ended in frustration when the soft knock on her beloved’s door woke a surly roommate instead of the woman of her dreams, a roommate who recognized she was, indeed, lost at two o’clock in the morning but on a much different level from her proffered confusion about room numbers.
Or are you asking me to make peace with the young woman in her late twenties who had crisscrossed the country 3,000 miles one way several times, eventually knocking on a door in a seminary dormitory that finally welcomed her with open arms only to discover the excitement of infidelity + way too much alcohol consumption = a detour in her journey that had no GPS in the 1960s. Make peace with that young woman on a quest to find authenticity before she understood the question – much less had a clue to an answer for herself? Sorry – no flowers for either of those young women in their twenties in the 60s.
As for the women in her thirties, forgiveness is at least a possibility because they began to openly acknowledge their own truths that belonged to each other; they were no longer two women on a journey plagued by internal battles but one survivor forged by the burning of incense and cooled by the sweetest honey. This woman understood that wandering in the wilderness had always been about her search for authenticity.
Forty years later the women in my twenties, thirties and decades after ask me to honor, forgive, listen, bless and let them be because they are the bones of the temple I sit in now, the rivers of wisdom leading me toward the sea. If it’s not too late, I’d like to lay flowers at their feet and join a sisterhood of wild women committed to living a truly fulfilling life at any age.
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Slava Ukraini. For the women and children of Ukraine who began their third year of resistance last month against enemies determined to wipe democracy from the face of the earth. I’d also like to lay flowers at their feet.
four-year-old Ella with her coach (Daddy Drew)
two-year-old sister Molly on the move behind them
kids that play together…don’t hate each other when they’re four
some confusion about where to kick ball
on final play Ella went down the field and scored
(luckily for her team!)
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Special thanks to another grandmother Lolly for these great photos which captured the joy and innocence of young children. Ella’s Nana and Naynay were far too entertained by the team’s goalie who stood behind the goal to avoid balls being kicked toward him. Focus on the game, grands.
Unfortunately, Coach Drew will not be available for the next few weeks. He’s having a medical procedure related to an injury he suffered playing league basketball several weeks ago. No genetic testing necessary for Ella’s competitive spirit, and fingers crossed for Daddy Drew.
By the way, the Republican Primary in South Carolina coincided with Ella’s first soccer match. The results after the polls closed later that evening heavily favored an ex-president who was on the ballot again – thank goodness for the soccer match in the morning which gave me hope for a future generation that focused on the things where, as Maya Angelou said, human beings are more alike than unalike.
In 2006, Cleveland Sellers’ twenty-two year old son Bakari was elected to the South Carolina Legislature, making him the youngest African American elected official in the country. Speaking with emotion at a SC State memorial service to honor those lost in the Orangeburg massacre, Bakari Sellers said, “We join here today in our own memorial to remember three dead and 27 injured in yet another massacre that marked yet another people’s struggle against oppression. These men who died here were not martyrs to a dream but soldiers to a cause.”
The Orangeburg Massacre occurred on the night of February 8, 1968, when a civil rights protest at South Carolina State University (SC State) turned deadly after South Carolina highway patrolmen opened fire on about 200 unarmed black student protestors. Three young men were shot and killed, and 28 people were wounded. The event became known as the Orangeburg Massacre and is one of the most violent episodes of the civil rights movement, yet it remains one of the least recognized.
The above excerpts from HISTORY.com editors on February 07, 2022, related to an event known in South Carolina history as the Orangeburg Massacre which took place on February 08, 1968. I remembered the year, but I didn’t remember the Orangeburg Massacre when I moved to South Carolina in 1974.
I was in my first year of a “real” job in February, 1968, working for one of the Big 8 CPA firms when the Orangeburg Massacre occurred. While I sat in my cubicle on the 17th. floor of the Bank of the Southwest building in Houston, Texas, I didn’t realize history was being made by students my age at historically black South Carolina State University in the small town of Orangeburg, South Carolina, more than a thousand miles from where I sat.
Imagine being a black student at SC State, going to a bowling alley with friends on February 05, 1968, only to be turned away by owner Harry Floyd who claimed his All-Star Bowling Triangle bowling alley was exempt from the Civil Rights Act of 1964 since his bowling alley was private property. Whites Only, the sign said.
Students from SC State and nearby Claflin University began nonviolent protests that lasted for two nights, but on the third night their nonviolence took an extremely violent turn when South Carolina highway patrolmen opened fire on about two hundred unarmed black student protestors. Three young black men were killed with another twenty-eight protestors wounded.
The three students who were shot and killed by the police were: Freshman Sammy Hammond was shot in the back; 17-year-old high school student Delano Middleton, whose mother worked at SC State was shot seven times; and 18-year-old Henry Smith was shot three times. (History.com)
Among the wounded that night was a young civil rights activist named Cleveland Sellers, Jr., who was born in neighboring Denmark, South Carolina, a town with a population under 2,000 when he was born in 1944; he had returned to his home state in 1967 to pursue a teaching career following years of activism in the Civil Rights Movement which put him on the government’s radar as a militant. On the night of the Orangeburg Massacre Cleve Sellers was shot in the arm, taken into custody at a local hospital and charged with inciting a riot on the campus. Two years later in September, 1970, a South Carolina judge allowed the state to convict him of rioting at the bowling alley. Sellers was sentenced to one year of hard labor but released after seven months. He was the only protestor prosecuted – nine police officers were charged with shooting at the protestors…all were acquitted.
Harry K. Floyd, Sr., owned and operated the All-Star Triangle Bowling Alley until his death in 2002 at which time his son Harry K. Floyd, Jr., took over. The Floyd family closed the bowling alley in 2007 due to “financial difficulties” according to wikipedia. The site remains on the National Register of Historic Places and has supposedly been bought by a nonprofit in 2020 with the goal of turning it into a memorial for the Civil Rights Movement in Orangeburg called the National Center for Justice.
February 08, 2024, marked fifty-six years since the Orangeburg Massacre, and I felt Black History month was an opportunity to remember, to honor the personal sacrifices made by ordinary citizens who refused to yield to discrimination based on their race. Cleveland Sellers, Jr., went on to serve his native South Carolina by becoming the director of the African American Studies Program at the University of South Carolina, by becoming the 8th. president of Voorhees College in Denmark, and by raising his youngest of three children, Bakari, to follow in his footsteps as an activist who honored the Orangeburg Massacre.
(1) There once was a woman named Teresa
Who loved a good shrimp quesadilla.
To Cancun she did roam in two thousand one,
And when she came home still red from the sun,
She’d found new love with her best friend named Sheila.
(2) There once was a woman named Sheila
Who loved a good shot of tequila.
To Cancun she did roam in two thousand one,
And when she came home her journey was done,
She’d found true love with her best friend Teresa.
(3) An anniversary of love in twenty twenty-three
The best of the best has been you and me.
Wherever we’ve roamed
We’ve always come home
Together, believing the best was yet to be.
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Happy Anniversary, Pretty. To quote Tina Turner, you’re simply the best – better than anyone could ever have been for me. I am forever grateful that you were the little girl who said yes.
I'll Call It Like I See It 
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