Watering the seeds of legacy cultivates future growth
Spring once again offers colorful metaphors for unity and growth. This year is especially colorful, as I recently celebrated the 20th anniversary of my interracial marriage — a union once against the law in the “Virginia is for Lovers” state. My wife Deborah and I had our differences, compacted by our North and South origins, but luckily our families planted the seeds for acceptance long ago.
Her late grandfather, Dr. Rowland Heacock, made headlines as one of the first Black pastors of an all-white congregation. His invite to preach one Sunday at Stafford Springs Congregational Church in Connecticut blossomed into an interim pastorate following an act of neighborly love: When “Papa’s” house burned down in 1948, destroying all possessions, the town’s people offered him the church parsonage and furnished it. He put to good use his seed money for his education at Howard, Yale and Boston universities started in a coffee can from a $3 a week wage as a printer’s devil. He reaped the 1950 Chicago Defender Award for his influence on race relations and continued sowing the seeds of unity beyond the civil rights movement.
While Deborah’s grandfather saved white souls in the North, mine — a Norfolk police officer — saved a Black man in the South. One early morning in 1939, during a still raid in Norfolk County, the suspect dashed to the Northwest river, plunging through a thin coating of ice. Towards the middle of the river, he sank. Granddad grabbed him and brought him to shore where he warmed him up by the still fire.
I shared this story about one of
Norfolk’s Finest at a recent “Coffee with Norfolk’s Chief of Police” event. A single clap from the standing-room only audience perked me up, but imagine the reception had its unifying effect sprouted up on NPD’s website following the George Floyd protests when police relations with Blacks were strained.
During the racial discord in 2020, my drawing of a Black girl and white boy simultaneously watering the symbol of Norfolk, a mermaid, accompanied by the slogan, “Unity Blossoms When Watered,” became the cover image of a popular Norfolk website. Despite its positive message, admins had to fight off the weeds of censorship to slow its removal.
My mother-in-law, Dr. Layton, started her education at Howard University and home-schooled white children, drawing from her thesis, “The Quality of Parental Involvement as it Effects the Child’s Cognitive and Emotional Development.” My father’s “lesson” was short — “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” While not always easy to abide by, once planted in my head, it helped me make friends during the tense busing days to Diggs Park and Jaycox schools.
Last month, I joined some 130 community based organizations at Scope for Engage Norfolk. The founder told me there was no available space, but squeezed me in. I adapted last year’s “Be Cool — Keep the Peace” billboard cover, sporting kids of different races promoting peace, to an 8-foot table. My district’s councilman stood 5 feet in front of it, but amidst a packed assembly of the city’s most powerful resources, my best networking opportunity came from out-of-state. Grass roots projects don’t always get nourished locally, but their roots run deep.
Papa’s works have resided in the Amistad Research Center at Dillard University in New Orleans, since the center’s request for them in 1973, after his passing. However, his papers remain unprocessed — like many other acquisitions — limiting access. Granddad’s on-the-job heroics slumber in yesteryear’s archives. Luckily, places such as Slover Library’s Sargeant Memorial Collection offer a good chance of digging up something to cultivate in local family trees.
Of course, promoting unifying experiences extends beyond racial and cardinal divides, building upon the positive foundations close to home offers a good head start for a better tomorrow. Rescuing our legacies from anonymity allows our ancestor’s hard-earned work to continue contributing to a larger garden. But we have to water it.