My severance package was generous, just like Linda said it would be.  Mr. Silver compensated me $2500.00 for the occupancy rate, $10,500 was my severance and $7000 up front for taking the assignment in Alabama.  Linda provided me with a credit card to pay for my living expenses while I lived and worked at the property in Three Notch.  Of course I banked half of the money and the rest I used to pay off some bills, buy some new clothes, get the Ford Windstar tuned up and checked out for my long drive and spoiled my parents with money and gifts.

“Tommie, what’s all this for girl, what you do, hit the lottery or something?” (said Bud).

“No dad.  You know I don’t play no lottery, you and ma play it enough for all three of us, and then some.”

“Well something then girl, you done did something to get all this money and stuff you handing to me and Emma like you one of them cash machines they got at the bank.”

“ATM machine daddy, the bank got ATM machines.”

“Yeah, them machines that give you money, you know what I’m talkin about Tommie.”

“Yeah, Yeah Bud, I know what you talking about.  Can’t I just be nice to you and your wife without you being so suspicious?”  “I love you and ma, I just want to do something nice for you guys.  I’m being sent on an assignment for my boss and the money is part of my salary for agreeing to take the assignment out of state.”

“Out of state you say, where you going?”

“Down south daddy, Linda and Mort sending your baby girl down south.” (I stared at his face to see his reaction).

“Do your mamma know about this Tommie?” (he replied in a soft voice).

“Not yet daddy.”

“Well when you planning to tell her girl – when you go tell your mamma that you going south?”

“When she get home daddy.”

“Tommie.”

“Yes dad.”

“Go fetch me a Budweiser from the fridge please.”

I sat at my parents dining room table and watched my father slowly sip his beer from the can sitting in his lazy-boy recliner, in the corner near the window of  the living room.  Bud sat there silent and gazed out the window without saying another word to me after I got up and brought him his drink of choice.  I sat in silence.  Scared to interrupt his solitude.  Scared to ask him what was he thinking about.  Scared to remind him that I was still there – at the house – sitting at his dining room table – waiting for my mom, his wife, to come home.

To be continued on:  Saturday, 2/06/2016

B. Knox

75 South

The package Linda left for me was pretty impressive.  The target town was Three Notch Alabama near Union Springs located in the Plantation Country (also known as the Black Belt region for its rich soil)  part of the state in Bullock County.  According to the map, the major cities in close proximity were Montgomery, (the capital) Tuskegee, (the next county north of Union Springs) and Selma, to the west in Dallas county.

Being an avid reader, I knew a considerate amount about the south because I knew my history.  Although I’ve never stepped foot in ‘Plantation Country’ or any other part of the south – I knew who I came from – where my people came from after surviving the middle passage to this country.  I sometimes think that the reasons I’ve avoided going south is due to how I feel about the jacked up history that comes up whenever you’re talking to a conscious person about the American South. Some people just don’t get it, some people don’t want to get it, so for me, I try to refrain from discussing such a complex, emotional, important subject with the wrong people – with the people who just don’t seem to get it.  I’ve watched all of the Martin Luther King movies and documentaries on television, I’ve read every ‘Black Power’ book I could get my hands on and I make it a point to support Black films at the box office.  I proudly refuse to work on Martin Luther King Day by asking months in advance for that day off if the company I’m working for at the time is open on ‘King Day.’  I feel it is my duty as a black woman (I prefer black over African American) to learn as much as I can about where and whom I come from, and, where I’m going.

That awareness never included, in my mind anyway, going south.  The more I reviewed the package, the more excited I became about going.  What’s funny to me is, when I meet and talk to people for the first time at work, at a club or some other type of social gathering, over half of them ask, “what part of the south are you from Thomasina?”  I always reply the same, “Detroit.”  People tell me I have a southern twang and I insist that I don’t know where I picked it up from and we all laugh and the conversation naturally shifts with everybody happy.  But now, now, I was warming to the idea of going south.  When I think about it, I’m surprised that my mom and Bud never took me – both of them are from Alabama, I’m not sure where because they never really talk about it – I don’t remember them ever going down there for anything like a wedding, a funeral, a family reunion – nothing.  I wonder how they’ll react to the news about my work assignment in Alabama – hmm mm,  I wonder.  They talk about it sometimes but it’s always real casual, like the cousins they grew up with or how they hated outside plumbing and the little school houses they attended.  I know one thing, they won’t be much help in supplying me with information of people to get in touch with because they’re so outta touch.  I don’t remember them talking to anyone on the phone that lived south, but, oh yeah, but, Bud does talk to some old lady who lives in Akron, Ohio, somebody he’s been knowing a long time, a friend, I think a childhood friend from down south somewhere – I can’t think of the name but I know he talks to her at least a couple of times a year – at least.  Alright, Alright.  I’m going to try to find out Bud’s friends name when I let them know about my trip to Plantation Country.

B. Knox

75 SOUTH

To be continued on Sunday 1.31.2016

“Hi Mom.”

“Hi Tommie, how you doing?”

“I’m good Ma, I was just calling to see what was going on with you and Bud.”

“Girl, quit calling your daddy Bud, You know that’s not right.”

“Bud don’t mind, I mean (laughing), dad don’t mind.”

“I always told your daddy we should’ve had more children.”

“Come on Ma, you know I’m more than enough for both of you.”

“Yeah, you right Tommie, sometimes a little too much” (laughing).  “At least you aren’t spoiled, child. I definitely thank the Lord for that.”

“Love you Ma, tell Bud I called.”

“OK honey, I’ll tell your daddy you called, talk to you soon.”

I decided to take the offer that Linda presented to me on behalf of Mr. Silver, heck, at least I’ll get a chance to travel the south on somebody else’s dime.  Although I had never ventured south, I was aware of distant relatives that I overheard my mom and Bud talking about.  Friends of mine had relocated to Atlanta a few years back and they have not returned home – not once since they left the Motor City.  They both even convinced their parents to move south so they wouldn’t have to fly back and forth to check on them.  I’m not sure what they said to the Clemons’s and the Holley’s but they packed their stuff up, rented out their houses and have settled down in Savannah.

On occasion, me and Vickie would talk and she would always let me know how much she enjoyed living in Atlanta.  “Girl, look a here, look a here – Vickie Holley loves Atlanta, loves living down south – you hear me talkin to you T ?”  I love the south.”

“Well V – does the south love you back?”  (I asked).

“Hell yeah girl!  “Atlanta loves them some Vickie, I mean, you know me girl, who or what wouldn’t love me?” (laughing).

Alright Ms. Thang.” (I remember saying).  “Talk to you later.  Give my love to Murphy, your parents and your in laws and you all take care of yourselves. Mom and Bud say’s hi as well.”

“OK Tommie – my love to your parents as well.”  “Girl, why you call your father Bud?”

“Cause that’s his name.”  (I replied).

That was over a month ago and I couldn’t wait to tell Vickie that I would be traveling south, I know she’s going to be blown away.  She’s been trying to get me to come and visit her and Murphy since she stepped her size 6 feet on that red dirt and proclaimed that she was home.  Maybe I’ll make a stop in Atlanta first – I don’t know, something to think about.  First, I have to let my parent’s know about my plans – then, I’ll tell V.

B. Knox

75 SOUTH

To be continued on Tuesday, 1.19.2016

I had worked for Silver Streak Properties for almost 7 years.  During that time, Linda, the district property manager had mentored me from day one on everything from choosing the maintenance staff, working on positive relations with our tenants and most of all, the most important thing in property management land – maintaining occupancy levels at 85%.  That was the main focus and everybody who worked at the property knew it.  Maintaining the property was just as important, that came without saying.  The maintenance staff knew how I rolled so they got on board and rolled right with me.  I made sure that myself or Artesia, my assistant  entered all incoming maintenance orders from tenants in the system while they were yelling, screaming and sometimes whispering their problem over the phone.  Tenants would be complaining about this don’t work, that thing got broke, the dumb ass maintenance man didn’t fix it right – and one of us would be typing and talking at the same time.  To me, a happy tenant paid their rent, paid it on time and renewed their lease more often than not.

Paradise was a section 8 / tax credit property with 250 one and two bedroom apartments for senior citizens age 62 and above, and a small percentage of disabled individuals under 62.  The property on the east side of Detroit also had 50 two and three bedroom townhomes for low income families.  There was another world of property management where I started at in Southfield as a leasing agent at the Center Apartments.  This world of property management was more conventional, also known as market rate.  Unlike section 8 or tax credit where rent is subsidized based on your income,  usually about 30% – market rate is whatever the market will bear in the area that your property is located.  Needless to say, the Center in Southfield was a much easier property to manage.  Prospective tenants who applied at the Center Apartments knew the cost and if they made a certain amount of money and could afford the market rate – that’s what they would pay.  I enjoyed working there but after a couple of years I felt like a needed a challenge and stepped into another  zone of property management.

Linda had given me a lot to think about concerning Mr. Silver and his proposition.  Before leaving my office, she left a package concerning the property in Somewhere Alabama and what they wanted me to do if I decided to go 75 South.  I had asked Linda about my staff and she ensured me that they would all receive severance packages and would be invited to apply at another property owned or managed by Silver Streak.  That gave me comfort because my staff was like family to me.  As I sat there at my desk alone thinking about my time at Paradise, many things came to mind.  I thought about the long hours, continuous arguments with a few irate tenants, the sometimes downright dangerous positions you could find yourself in, unsavory people that would be buzzed in by lonely senior citizens – some they knew, some they didn’t, just because somebody rang their bell.  Some of the bell rangers were drug dealers, thieves, and ungrateful children or grandchildren showing up on the 1st and 3rd of the month to help themselves to their loved ones SSI or Social Security checks.  I also thought about the good things that I witnessed – senior citizens interacting with each other on their own terms and preferences, this was an Independent Living community and you lived your life the way you wanted to live.  If you wanted to come down to socialize, attend a talk that someone was giving, join the coffee crew for conversation or just see what was going on – that’s what you did.  You were an older adult – not a child, and the seniors at Paradise flourished.  I also admired how a lot of the families in the townhomes took pride in where they lived.  They doted on their children, kept their yards clean and for the most part, reported anything unsavory that might be going on to management so it wouldn’t get out of hand, and, contrary to perception, most people in subsidized housing have jobs – they may not be high paying jobs but, the majority at Paradise had some type of job and they took pride in that.

About 2 years ago, I started having panic attacks.  I didn’t know where they were coming from and I didn’t realize what it was the first time it happened.  I was in bed asleep and all of a sudden I was forced to wake up.  It appeared to me I was having problems breathing and jumped up with a racing heart along with a sense of panic and confusion.  It was after 12 midnight and it took about 15 minutes to get myself together.  I called a friend and talked to her on the phone until the panic wore off.  I told myself it was bad dreams, the constant noise of sirens in my east side Alter Road neighborhood near Grosse Pointe, working too hard to keep occupancy levels high and so on and so on – I didn’t understand why it was happening.  Now, I was feeling that panic again, but, this time I knew where it was coming from.  Linda.  Linda and Mr. Silver were disrupting my world by selling Paradise and sending me on some down south assignment that I didn’t ask for.  I had a lot to think about and I’m glad they had the decency to give me two weeks to decide.  In the meantime, after the end of the week, I’m officially on vacation.

To be continued on Friday 1/15/2016

B. Knox

75 South