We’re
all familiar with Washington Irving’s classic tale of Rip van Winkle, the man
who slept for twenty years and awoke to a different world from the one he
knew. When I first read the story as a
boy, I thought that some of Irving’s observations were far-fetched. Now, more than forty years after that
reading, I am discovering that he didn’t cover the half of it. For like his befuddled protagonist, I have
also seemingly emerged from an even longer sleep—more than thirty years—to
re-engage with a land and family that have undergone significant changes.
When
I lived in Colorado, I had contact with my family, but it wasn’t as frequent
and regular as it could and should have been.
Oh, there were no quarrels or disagreements that created a hateful
silence or unbridgeable schism. I kept
up with my parents and siblings and had a broad understanding of what was going
on in their lives. At the same time, I
filled them in on some details of my Colorado life. Furthermore, I would travel back to Alabama
from time to time to see everyone and reconnect. Then my father died suddenly in 1991 and his
death had a profound impact on my extended family. He was the glue who held things
together. He constantly checked up on
kinfolk and not just the ones who lived in Birmingham. He was a father, uncle, great-uncle and
mentor to so many and his death opened a void that nobody filled.
So
family members began to drift apart. My
own visits were spaced over wider gaps in time.
My siblings, who had been children when I left, graduated from high
school, went to college, got married and became parents themselves. My mother also returned to work and helped
support her grandchildren. I became the
mysterious uncle who lived far away in the West and lived a life beyond the
comprehension of most of my extended family.
The years lengthened and changes came; some of them were quite sudden
while others were of the slow and gradual kind that overtake one before he is
even aware they have transpired.
My
arrival last spring has been much like Rip Van Winkle’s awakening and return to
his home village. Before his sleep, he
was a colonist and subject of King George III.
He was shocked to learn that now he was a citizen of a new nation and
that his loyalty to his former king and country were badly misplaced. For me, it was the discovery that Alabama had
changed somewhat and that my family had new members, young people born during
the decades of my absence. These cousins,
nephews and nieces knew little of our family’s history and had their focus on
other matters now. Meeting them and
getting to know them has been almost surreal.
I see them and remember when their parents were children. Or I see them and realize the cousin I knew
as a child is now this young boy’s grandfather.
My
niece heard me talking about one of her great-grandfathers not too long ago and
she wanted to know his name. This man
was my paternal grandfather, but my niece knew nothing about him. That isn’t too strange because her father, my
brother John, had never known either of his grandfathers. Besides that, our father died years before my
niece was even born, so she has little idea of who he was either.
For
me, there is still the strangeness of being “Uncle Raymond”. My brother John was only eleven years old
when I moved away. Now I see his
children. Years ago, the only Uncle
Raymond in our family was my father. Now
I have assumed that title and role without the advantage of gradually getting
to know these young people. They have appeared
cut out of whole cloth as if by magic. I
know very little about their infancy but am presented with this fully realized
child. I look from the child to the
brother or sister who is the parent and I wonder where the years have gone.
Siblings
relate their college days and experiences to me. They talk about getting married and where
they spent their honeymoons. I missed
all of that. I met a young boy not too
long ago and upon introducing myself marveled at saying to him, “I’m Raymond
and I’m your first cousin twice-removed. That’s because your great-grandmother and my
father were sister and brother, making your grandfather my first cousin.” Or there is the young girl who came to our
house a few weeks ago who is my second
cousin twice-removed. There are also some third cousins of mine
lurking around town whom I haven’t run into yet but knew from my previous life
here.
Then
there are the changes that have occurred in Alabama. In some ways, the state is as backward and
retrograde as it was when I moved here forty years ago. Southerners are notoriously resistant to
change and many are very unhappy with what they see transpiring in the
region. Latinos and Asians are moving
into the state, upsetting the demographic balances that have been the norm for
decades. I hear Spanish spoken and see
Spanish-language signage in certain establishments making me wonder if I’m in
Alabama or back in Colorado sometimes.
My
old neighborhood was entirely black when I lived here in the seventies. Latinos have moved in now, even establishing
a Spanish-speaking church just a few blocks from my house. Old timers grumble about that, saying they
want to keep Smithfield and East Thomas black.
The newcomers are regarded with deep suspicion and resentment by some. I marvel at that, telling my neighbors that
whites resisted the integration of their communities in much the same way
thirty and forty years ago, and how we should be the last people in the world
to adopt that attitude.
It’s
not just Latinos who are changing community demographics, either. Other traditionally black areas are seeing an
influx of white folks. Streets that have
not had white residents for seventy years or more are becoming integrated. Many come because housing is so cheap with a home
costing a small fraction of what it would in Denver or Boulder. In a stunning reversal of roles, some areas
are seeing “black flight” as whites return to the city proper and blacks head
out to the suburbs and exurbs.
On
another front, technological progress is evident everywhere. From the Marshall Space Flight Center in
Huntsville, which was one of the training bases for space shuttle astronauts,
to the continually sprawling campus of the University of Alabama in Birmingham,
the state has embraced the twenty-first century. Birmingham’s skyline has new skyscrapers; and
upscale lofts and condominiums have appeared in once rundown areas on the south
side of town.
Alabama
itself seems to be more open, more willing to move forward even if that
progress is slow. I think the newcomers
and economic necessity have been the engines of that progress. Otherwise, I would expect matters to be much
the same as they were when I moved away.
I will certainly see and learn more when I finally secure some
transportation for myself; and I will travel and see as much of the state as
possible. I don’t doubt there are more
surprises waiting for me.
Then
there are the things that have remained the same, college football being among
these. The game is the top priority in
Alabama. That was true in the past, and
if anything the fervor and intensity its fans display have only increased
during my absence. I’ll go into more
detail about that in a future entry but for the moment I will say that
fanaticism is not too hard a word to describe what the sport means to Alabamians.
Race
relations are about the same as they were in the past, which is something I
will examine in greater depth later. For
now I will say that there is an equilibrium between the two major demographic
groups—black and white folks—in Alabama.
That’s not to say that the old attitudes don’t exist anymore because
they most certainly do. But they have
been driven underground more or less these days. Many factors have contributed to that, not
the least of which is Barack Obama’s election as president.
So
I have “awakened” to a different world just as old Rip Van Winkle did. He had to make adjustments to accommodate the
new reality and I must do the same.
Thankfully, I’m being ably assisted by my family and friends. Without their help, I would be unhappy and
dissatisfied. My biggest problem has
been homesickness for Colorado. Some
days are better than others fighting it and my family has patiently listened to
my lamentations. I know I’ll always love
Colorado and the West. The challenge now
is making room in my heart for Alabama and the South.
