03.05.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 4:33 pm by Administrator
It’s more than a name. I’m talking about a building. It has been 20 years now since the Dr. Harold W. Jordan Habilitation Center in my hometown of Nashville was named for my Dad. He is an extremely modest man and is not one to ever brag about this fact. Many people who know him do not even know about the building. In fact, he would be incensed with me if he knew I was writing about what my family calls “his building.” The kind staff there takes it upon themselves to honor my Dad in some way every year. The building was so named after he served the state of Tennessee as its first black Commissioner of Mental Health and Mental Retardation. I bring all of this up because of my concern about a rumor. There is talk these days that due to budget cuts, the building bearing my Dad’s name may soon be no more. I understand budget cuts - I realize every state is having them - but there are some services, to me, that are not optional. The Harold W. Jordan Habilitation Center and Cloverbottom, another mental health facility located next to it which is also rumored to close, together serve more than 300 patients.
Statistics show that mental illnesses are common, about one in four adults over the age of 18 suffer from a mental illness, according to the National Institute of Mental Health. A “Global Burden of Disease” study, presented by Harvard University, the World Bank, and the World Health Organization, also shows that mental illness “accounts for over 15 percent of the burden of disease in established market economies, such as the United States… more than the disease burden caused by all cancers.”
We cannot let facilities helping the mentally ill be torn down. The consequences of such a move are too great, and as the statistics show, it is not someone else’s problem. It is all of ours. So please join me in writing, e-mailing, or calling Tennessee State officials including:
Governor Phil Bredesen
Governor’s Office
Tennessee State Capitol
Nashville, TN 37243-0001
Phone: (615)741-2001
Fax: (615)532-9711
Email: Phil.Bredesen@tn.gov
Commissioner Virginia Trotter Betts
Department of Mental Health and Mental Disabilities
Central Office
425 Fifth Avenue North
3rd Floor Cordell Hull Bldg
Nashville, Tennessee 37243-0675
(615) 532-6500
oc.tdmhdd@tn.gov (Office of Communications)
Thank you in advance, friends, and if you see my Dad, don’t tell him I told you!
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02.22.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 3:30 am by Administrator
Some things make you smile. That’s exactly what I did when I found out my little niece, Katy, had written a class paper about Dr. John Henry Jordan, her great-great-grandfather, my great-grandfather. I was so pleased I just beamed into the phone as she told me about it. The conversation went something like this:
“Katy, whose idea was it for you to write a paper about John Henry Jordan: yours or your parents?”
“Um…”
She wasn’t sure when I asked, but my brother, Harold, tells me she came up with the idea all by her little self!
“What did your class think?”
“They liked it,” she told me.
“Where did you get the information from?”
“Your website,” she said.
I laughed at that. I didn’t even know she knew I had one.
“My dad showed it to me,” she explained.
I smiled again. I sometimes wonder what my great-grandfather, I like to refer to him as JHJ, would think of his family if he could see us now. He died at such a young age, he was only 42, and had no idea whether his then 12-year-old son, my grandfather, would marry much less have children and grandchildren of his own. From the loins of my grandfather, JHJ’s only son who survived infancy, were born four children, eight grandchildren, and ten great-grandchildren and counting. I realize my brother’s children are too young to fully comprehend what John Henry Jordan accomplished as the first black doctor in Coweta County, Georgia, near Atlanta. Someone I was talking to just yesterday asked me in what year he finished medical school. The person was shocked when I said 1896.
I am so proud of my eleven-year-old niece for wanting to explore a little fragment of his life at her young age (I didn’t write my first paper about my great-grandfather until I was in high school). I am also equally proud of her sister, Rachel, and her brother, Christopher. I’m sure my great-grandfather would be too.
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02.06.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 2:21 am by Administrator
Thinking about Black History Month makes me proud when I consider all of the achievements African Americans have made for countless decades. One of them, Oliver Randolph, is someone I have come to know recently through the pages of history. He was the first African American to be admitted to the New Jersey State Bar in 1914. A graduate of Howard University Law School, Randolph lived in Newark and served in the New Jersey State Legislature and, in 1946, was appointed as a deputy in the New Jersey State Attorney General’s office. His signature appeared on the New Jersey Constitution, and he helped to pass important civil rights legislation, including the Anti-Lynching Law of the State of New Jersey.
While Randolph’s achievements were many, he also came from an accomplished family. His father was a longtime state legislator in Mississippi during Reconstruction, and his brother, Joseph, was the first black president of Claflin College in South Carolina (he was known as Uncle Joe in my family as he was married to my great-grandmother’s sister). I hope Oliver Randolph’s story, and that of his family members, continues to inspire people today. Happy Black History Month.
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01.30.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 11:23 pm by Administrator
I read the other day that some people feel like every Monday is a new year. I think that’s a good philosophy to have. There’s nothing like a fresh start. I’m so grateful my Grandmother has lived to see another decade. Since she reached the milestone of 97, it has made me think more and more about longevity. As I once heard a wise woman say about my Grandmother: “they don’t make ‘em like her (any) more.”
It’s true, and even despite her age, her feisty ways still make her a force to be reckoned with. On top of that, my Grandmother has always eaten whatever she wanted, has never really worked out, and, until recent years, has never had any major ailments. Even on the days when she reprimands me for trying to take away her independence - “I’m not a baby,” she insists - I realize she still has many pearls of wisdom to impart.
I recently asked her just how she has managed to live so long. It didn’t take her long to respond.
“Working hard” was her first answer. “It gives you good exercise, you know.”
Since she used to be a schoolteacher, I assume she’s referring to chasing kids up and down the hallway.
“Okay, what else?”
“Trust in the Lord,” she added. “Be obedient.”
Then, she pointed out how she made a habit of going to church every Sunday and Sunday school too, the same church my great-grandfather, Dr. John Henry Jordan, attended a century ago. Finally, she added…
“Treat people right. You treat people nice. They’ll be nice to you.”
Hmm. Who knew the Golden Rule could help you live longer too? Sounds like one of a few good rules to follow.
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01.18.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 8:05 pm by Administrator
So…. my grandmother babysat Dr. Martin Luther King. Of course, we’re talking many decades ago. In honor of this Martin Luther King Day, I thought it would be fitting to find out more about the man - well, when he was a boy.
When I called my grandmother to ask her about it, I was apparently interrupting her as she celebrated MLK day by watching a movie about him. She wasn’t really eager to talk about her recollections, mainly because she says they are few and far between.
“That was so long ago, baby, I don’t remember,” she said, shrugging it off.
She is 97, so I guess I can’t expect her to remember everything. Still, the journalist in me wouldn’t let it go.
“But what was he like, Grandmother?”
“He was nice,” she finally said. “He ate up all the biscuits.”
Funny considering that my dad, as a student at Morehouse College, had his own encounter with Dr. King over a breakfast table at a mutual friend’s home in Memphis. My dad mainly remembers watching Dr. King eat a plate of bacon and eggs (the man’s wife wasn’t home, and it was all he knew how to cook). What is it with Dr. King, my family, and food?
While my grandmother acknowledges Dr. King’s legacy, she doesn’t understand my interest. She thinks I’m making a big fuss over nothing. This despite the fact she played host to little Martin Luther King when his father, Martin Luther King, Sr., a minister, dropped him off at my great-grandparents’ house in LaGrange, Georgia, when he traveled there to speak at the city’s black First Baptist Church. I can only imagine little Martin Luther King, Jr., picking blueberries out of my great-grandmother’s garden. My great-grandmother used them to make her delicious blueberry pies (my grandmother does remember those).
Still, my grandmother’s memories of Dr. King remain fuzzy, and she’s fine with that.
“I know he’s a famous man,” she says. “I think he (was) nice…(but famous or not) everyone ought to think well of themselves. If you don’t, you don’t need to be living.”
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12.15.09
Posted in Uncategorized at 5:43 am by Administrator
Today is my Grandmother’s 97th birthday. Yes, she’s almost as old as Methusalah. But seriously, I am grateful. She has her difficult days, and she can’t get around the way she used to, but she’s still here. Of course, for me, there’s the guilt. I wish I could have been in Georgia to help her celebrate. Instead, I had to join in on the celebration by phone. There was a special lunch with enough cake and ice cream for all of her friends, she told me. Her voice sounded happy. It made me smile. However, there was one gift she didn’t like: a clock.
“I don’t know who got me this clock, but I don’t like it when people give me things like that. I’m not going to live long. I don’t need anything like that,” she says.
I’m glad I didn’t give it to her, but it reminds me of another thing I’ve learned about the elderly: they have a totally different concept of time than we do. Everything is always now!
“Did you send me that… article you wrote yet?”
I pause, hating to disappoint my Grandmother since the answer is no. Of course, by the same token, she had just asked me over the weekend, and we all know post offices are closed on Sundays (not counting at the airport, of course, but don’t tell her!).
“No, Grandmother, but I’ll send it to you,” I say weakly.
That was this morning. By late this afternoon when I called her again, her question was the same.
“Have you sent me the article yet?”
Okay, now I do feel lame.
“Um, no, I was working all day, but I promise I’ll send it this week.”
Ugh. Note to self: put that at the top of this week’s to do list.
My dad says that if my Grandmother lives one more year, she will have outlived her own mother. I hope my Grandmother makes it, but regardless, I’m simply grateful she lived to see today.
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12.04.09
Posted in Uncategorized at 7:51 am by Administrator
I love Thanksgiving. You can’t beat the food, the festivities, catching up with old friends, but my favorite part is family. I think a lot of us take them for granted all year long, but it seems as if when the holidays come, we have a natural tendency to cling to them. It’s always fun for me to see how my little nieces and nephew are growing up. Kids seem to grow up so fast these days. My nieces, Rachel and Katy, text way more than I do, and there’s never a dull moment with my seven-year-old nephew, Christopher. He is the second Jordan boy of his generation. At his young age, I realize there is no way he could know the significance of it. When my great-grandfather, Dr. John Henry Jordan, died at the age of 42, he was survived by only one child, my grandfather, Edward (who was the second Jordan boy of his generation). John would never know how his legacy would continue, or if it would. It struck me as my sister-in-law, Michelle, recently showed me a photo she took of my little nephew sitting next to a family portrait of my great-grandfather, my great-grandmother, Mollie, and my grandfather. Ironically, my grandfather was about Christopher’s same age at the time the photo was taken. And as my sister-in-law points out, Christopher has the same expression on his face as my grandfather had on his when the portrait was taken about 100 years ago. How strange is that? It almost gives me goosebumps. My grandfather would have been so proud of Christopher. Of course, my dad is proud enough for the both of them.
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11.07.09
Posted in Uncategorized at 4:39 am by Administrator
[caption id=”attachment_76″ align=”aligncenter” width=”214″ caption=”John, Mollie, and Edward Jordan”]
[/caption]
It is time to forgive. It’s not easy, but it is necessary. The person I have to forgive has been dead for many years. Her name was Gertrude Ramsey Randolph. She was my great-grandmother’s sister. The family called her Gertie for short. She and my great-grandmother, Mollie Ramsey Jordan, looked nothing alike, were six years apart, and grew up in different states.
But there were similarities. They both majored in music in college; both liked the finer things in life, and they both married accomplished men. My great-grandmother’s husband, John Henry Jordan, became the first black doctor in Coweta County, Georgia (http://bit.ly/N7JRO). Aunt Gertie’s husband, Joseph Randolph, became the first black president of Claflin College in South Carolina. Although all things appeared equal, they really weren’t. While my great-grandparents had two children (only one of whom, my grandfather, Edward, survived infancy), Aunt Gertie and her husband had none. I believe this is one of the factors that led to Aunt Gertie’s jealousy of my great-grandmother.
My great-grandmother died young. She was in her 40’s, but my grandfather was still alive when three years later, Mollie and Gertie’s father died. Throughout the lengthy obituary, which I am positive Aunt Gertie wrote, with all of its accolades and commendations for my great-great-grandfather, Dr. Edward Ramsey, one glaring thing was left out in the list of relatives who survived him: my grandfather’s name. My grandfather was Ramsey’s only grandchild. It could not have been an accident.
Until recently, when I thought of Aunt Gertie, anger would rise up in me like an overwhelming flood. Now, however, I feel differently. I think I feel sorry for her that she never really valued the gift of having a sister or being blessed with a nephew to dote upon. Today, I am no longer consumed by anger. My bitter tears are gone. Without harboring any more animosity or resentment, I can honestly say: Aunt Gertie, I forgive you.
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10.13.09
Posted in Uncategorized at 11:50 pm by Administrator
She’s not a cousin I’ve known all my life. In fact, we’ve never met, but she is dear to my heart. Her name is Ola Mae, and she turned 90 on Sunday. She is a niece of my great-grandfather, Dr. John Henry Jordan. She and I talk on the phone pretty regularly, and we laugh a lot about old times. Well, the days when she was growing up. She loves to talk about those times, and I enjoy listening to the stories of her days coming of age in Georgia. She even named one of her sons after my great-grandfather, and she loved my grandfather, Edward. Even lived with him for a time when she was in high school. Those were the days when people walked miles and miles to school. During the winter months, she said my grandfather told her father, Uncle Sam, “if the weather is too bad, you just have Ola Mae stay at my house.” She appreciated it. Still does. I appreciate her, and I can’t wait to meet her, hopefully, one day soon. Happy Birthday, Cousin Ola Mae!
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09.30.09
Posted in Uncategorized at 12:26 am by Administrator
So I finally got my grandmother’s blueberry pie recipe (see entry from 9/7). Well, sort of. She’s a great cook although she begs to differ, but getting recipes from her is truly like pulling teeth. She may be pushing 97, but it’s been this way for awhile. She’s always been able to cook the best of everything: amazing cornbread dressing, delicious pound cake, wonderful salmon croquettes, but trying to repeat the masterpieces is a whole different story. I wish I could find a way to get every one of her recipes. Besides the fact there are 3,000 miles between us, I don’t think she has that much patience. When I bring up the fact I need one of her recipes, she tries to deflect:
“Look, I have a cookbook I’m going to send you.”
“But Grandmother,” I protest. “I don’t want one of your cookbooks, I want one of your recipes. Like I need your blueberry pie recipe.”
“Blueberry pie?”
“Yes, what do you put in it?”
“Baby, you can use whatever you have,” she insists.
“Well, I mean besides blueberries, what do you use?”
“You put some sugar in it,” she says.
“How much?”
“I don’t know, baby.”
“Would it be a cup or half a cup?”
“Baby, your grandmother doesn’t know.”
Did I leave out she never measures anything? That’s when you know somebody can cook. Well, now that I have the ingredients and no correct measurements, I guess I’ll just have to take my chances. We’ll see how it turns out…
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