Atlanta, Georgia - 1977
Lulu was on her way to the house in which she grew up from the age of eleven. Since her father was killed by the neighborhood police and her mother had left when she was four, the authorities tracked down her father's mother Diane in their search for a suitable guardian.
Lulu remembered every inch of that house. As she tilted the airplane seat back, her mind wandered as she stared out the window at the clouds. Closing her eyes, she was able walk from room to room through her childhood house in her mind. To her, it was as if the house was a living, breathing embodiment of her history. Scattered throughout the house, the secrets of her youth could be found in the dark cellars, deep closets, and heavy oak drawers.
Lulu's grandmother Diane made sure that her physical needs were taken care of. She made sure that Lulu was well groomed, well fed, had clean clothes, and had a roof over her head. Lulu's memories of her grandmother were made three-dimensional by the details of her house: the sound of the creaky back stairs, the smell of mothballs in the linen closet, and the hum of crickets in the backyard on summer nights. Lulu remembered her grandmother listening to old records while she danced in the arms of an invisible beau, her nightly glass of sweet tea in hand. Diane belonged in her home like a doll in her dollhouse. Each article of clothing, piece of furniture, and accessory seemed perfectly suited to her style and personality.
Diane was not a traditional grandmother in any sense. She was tough and energetic, and the guts and nerve contained in her petite five-foot frame rivaled that of ten men. Lulu remembered being told about the time when her grandmother had been a beautiful hat-check girl at the Tenderloin, which was a black nightclub in San Francisco in the 1920s. Diane would smile as she told Lulu stories about the great jazz they would play and the handsome young men that would flirt with her. Unfortunately, when Prohibition arrived, the club was eventually closed for good.
The best times in Lulu's childhood occurred when she lived with her father. During that time, she let her imagination run free. In the winter, her father would put her on his shoulders to keep her feet out of the snow. In the summer, she would run as fast as she could through the tall cornfields, whisked away like the wind, dancing with the fireflies, as quiet magic turned the sun from gold to red. She recalled how it felt to laugh squeal with joy.
When Lulu landed in Atlanta, she checked into The Westin Peachtree Hotel. The bellboy put her two yellow suitcases on the shag carpet next to the double bed. Lulu put on a smile like a mask, as she tipped the bellboy five dollars and watched him leave. When the door closed, she dropped her purse to the floor and flopped onto the center of the bed. It was all so surreal as she lay within the oversized daisies of the pattern on the bedspread. She remained very still as she looked up at the ceiling. Lulu was filled with dread. She was going back to a place she hadn’t been in twenty years. Yet, as she lay on the bed, she knew that she was only seven short miles from Hapeville.
Lulu was always a complex, intricate being, but never truly recognized her own beauty, either externally or from within, despite an abundance of compliments on her looks and admiration and awards for her deeds. By any standard of physical beauty, she stood out as powerfully stunning. She had a dark coffee skin tone, intense bright eyes, and an athletic build. Although soft-spoken, Lulu communicated loudly and clearly through her deeds and fashion, always on the lookout for the unusual and the unique. Her clothes were often loud and flamboyant, giving sophistication to even the most cutting-edge trends, and displaying a sense of experimentation and fearlessness. Lulu didn't follow trends, she created them. Within this framework lived a woman who was intelligent, spiritual, and fiercely motivated. Yet, all of that didn't help her with healing.
In 1970, Lulu opened a small bookstore in downtown Los Angeles. She couldn’t believe her luck in getting this location. In just 200 square feet of space came big things. She started by selling books exclusively about black women's issues and then feminism more broadly. After a year, the little store became a haven for energized feminist community meetings, leading to protests and solidarity-building events.
In 1972, the Los Angeles Times published an article about the hub that Lulu had created, focusing on her ability to organize and motivate. When asked about the source of her inspiration, she declared, “That's easy. I was a little black girl that had nothing but dreams.”
Shortly thereafter, a local museum curator offered her an opportunity to create a much-needed wing for a major Los Angeles museum that would be based on black feminism. She was known for her ever-changing displays that continued to inspire activists, artists, and young black girls.
The avocado-colored phone on the nightstand rang abruptly.
“Hello?”
“Yes, ma'am, this is the hotel operator. Ya'll have a call from a Reginald Simmons. Should I put the call through?”
“Yes. Go ahead. Thank you.”
“Thanks, ma'am. Here ya go.” Click.
“Lulu?” came a familiar and welcome voice from the receiver.
“Hey Reggie! Thanks for doing this.” Lulu lay back down on the bed.
“Are you kidding me, man? Do you know how long I've been waiting to see you?”
Lulu heard herself giggle. “Tell me, Reggie. How long?”
“I don't know. Twenty years?”
Reggie was a few years younger than Lulu and lived next door. They had wonderful times playing as children, which allowed them to escape the hard times, if only for a little while. They didn't see each other very often, because Reggie and his mother later moved to Montgomery, Alabama. But when they got together, it felt like they had never been apart. When Reggie grew up, he fully embraced the Rastafarian lifestyle, complete with dreadlocks, bright colored clothing, a positive attitude, and lots of ganja. Lulu was happy for him. He had found his way to some measure of inner peace.
Reggie: “So, I'm picking you up tomorrow at about 11 am, right?”
She thought for a second.
Lulu: “Yes. That'll be fine.”
Reggie: “Oh, by the way Lulu, I need to warn you about your grandmother....”
She sat up.
Lulu: “Yeah, the hospital called me when she broke her ankle. That was a couple of months ago. She's been back home for a couple of weeks now, I think.”
Reggie: “That's right. As you know, I've moved back to Georgia. I live in Atlanta now. So, I've been checking in on your grandma.”
Lulu: “Yeah, I know. I haven't really thanked you properly for that. Let's do the town while I'm here.”
Reggie: “Oh...uh, sure, okay. Well, anyway, it's just that your grandmother probably isn't how you remember her. I mean...have you talked to her on the phone recently?”
Lulu: “Only a few times over the years, sorry to say. And it was always very brief.”
There was a pause.
Reggie: “Okay. 11 am. Get some rest and be out in front! See you then.”
Lulu hung up the phone and lay back down. She was now no longer feeling nostalgic, but instead fighting back unpleasant memories.
Lulu’s grandmother Diane never understood the need to provide anything else beyond food, clothing, shelter, and education. So, for Lulu to ask to go to a friend’s house or to a dance was taken as being ungrateful, since these things were considered frivolous. Diane would constantly remind Lulu how lucky she was because, as she put it, “What if I had just left you in foster care? Where do you think you’d be?” Lulu learned early on that she had to be fiercely independent. In a way, she was grateful to her grandmother for teaching her not to need.
Lulu and Reggie pulled up in front of Diane's house. The passage of time had changed things so much. Lulu's memories were static, like old photographs. Lulu sat for a full minute looking out the passenger window of Reggie's '67 Buick Skylark. She saw her grandmother sitting in the same chair in which she had always been sitting, yet she seemed like just any old lady. As they got out of the car, Lulu’s grandmother didn't seem to notice them. She was staring blankly at nothing in particular.
Reggie approached Diane. “How are you? You look beautiful!” Diane looked at Reggie's sandals. “I see why you’re out here”, Reggie continued. “It's a beautiful Georgia day! Look who I brought over!” He motioned for Lulu to join him. Her grandmother glanced at Lulu's purple pumps. “It's Lulu! Look, it’s Lulu!”
“Grandma?” Lulu kneeled. “How are you, Grandma?” Diane had fixed her gaze on Lulu’s pumps. She and Reggie looked at each other, wondering what to do next.
“I want those! Gimme those!” Diane shouted, causing Reggie and Lulu to jump.
“What?” squeaked Lulu. She began to panic.
Diane was once again focused on Lulu's purple pumps. “Those shoes! They're mine! Take them off! They're mine!”
Reggie elbowed Lulu, in an attempt to snap her out of her shock. He whispered, “Give her your shoes. You'll get them back later.” Lulu complied.
Diane snatched the shoes from Lulu and smiled. She looked at Lulu’s face for the first time in twenty years. “Thank you, little girl,” she said. “Next time, ask me first when you want to borrow them. Reginald, take me inside. My stories are coming on the radio.”
The neighbor, Mrs. Brown, opened the door for them. “Reggie, I've got to get back now. Y'all okay? “Oh hello. I'm Mrs. Brown, and I live next door. Good to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Brown. Thank you for watching my grandmother,” said Lulu.
“Aw, she's all right. Crazy as a road lizard but a good ol' girl. Hey Diane, you be nice to these folks!” With that, Mrs. Brown left the house.
Reggie helped Diane up from the porch chair and guided her toward the front door. She stopped and turned to see a heartbroken Lulu alone on the porch. Diane gave Lulu a big, broad smile.
“Reginald, where's your manners! Show your friend inside. And give her some ham hocks. She needs some meat on her bones.” Lulu felt like a stranger.
Reggie set Diane up in front of the television. She was thrilled as she watched Mannix. Reggie and Lulu went into the kitchen. Reggie whispered, “She loves Mannix. Actually, she loves his assistant Gail...”
“Reggie!” Lulu complained. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“Why didn't I tell you? The truth is, Lulu, I didn't tell you because I thought you wouldn't come if I did.”
Silence.
“I deserved that. I'm sorry,” Lulu admitted.
Reggie’s voice began to crack. “I’m painfully aware of your grandma’s constantly changing emotions and identity. Sometimes she’s scared of her own reflection in the bathroom mirror. It's heartbreaking.”
“Can she see a specialist for this? I’ll pay for it.”
Reggie smirked, “Yeah, and after that, let's take her to the spa up in Decatur. Come on girl! Where you been? Black folk don't get to see specialists 'round here.”
Lulu was baffled.
“When this first started, it was when she was in the hospital for her ankle,” Reggie explained. “They said she was experiencing dementia. Then she saw a doc that her neighbor recommended, and he said she will not only be forgetting things but all of us too.”
Lulu began to cry. Reggie held her until the tears stopped.
“There's my girl! Gail, you show that Mannix how it's done, baby!” Diane shouted at the television.
Reggie: “They say it won't happen all at once. But obviously she can't be alone. I can't take care of her because, ever since my divorce, I finally got a place where the court will let me have my kids over.”
Lulu: “I know Reggie, you've gone way above and beyond what anyone else would do.”
Reggie: “Lulu, you need to figure out what's gonna happen with your grandma.”
Reggie agreed to stay another week to help Lulu become familiar with this extremely bizarre situation. Lulu had given notice to the museum that she was going to take a couple of months off to take care of “family issues”.
After a couple of weeks, Diane still had still not recognized Lulu. The sadness Lulu carried with her about that was something she was starting to become accustomed to. That sadness just became part of her.
Lulu organized the house so that her grandmother could still maintain a sense of independence. She set herself up in a little room off the kitchen, so she would be able to monitor her grandmother’s activities. Lulu scattered items around the house, such as a drawing she had painted in kindergarten, a music box containing a dancing ballerina, and a Raggedy Ann doll, all in an effort to trigger her grandmother’s memories.
Lulu occasionally paid Mrs. Brown to sit with her grandmother while she ran errands. Lulu was quite aware that all this was not sustainable, because she knew that Diane would eventually be getting worse. Should I put her in a home here in Georgia? Should I bring her to California? Lulu was able to temporarily push these thoughts out of her mind.
When she was in the city shopping for things for the house, Lulu came up with what she thought was a brilliant idea: she would give her grandmother a makeover. She quickly found her way to the cosmetics counter of a nearby store, and bought some makeup, lotions, sprays, and hair styling tools, inspired by the thought of the joy it would bring to her grandmother. Lulu saw this as her way of restoring her grandmother’s youthful spirit.
When Lulu returned to the house, she knocked at the door for what seemed like fifteen minutes. Did the neighbor lady leave? Did something happen? Diane finally cracked the door open just enough to peer outside. She squinted at Lulu like a mole poking its head from its hole into the bright sunlight. Lulu entered, as her grandmother walked slowly back to the couch, stoop-shouldered, her head hanging sadly, mumbling softly to herself. Diane lowered her small frame onto the sofa. Her fragile body was meek and helpless, dwarfed by the portrait of her at twenty-two hanging on the wall behind her, mocking her. It was painted by a man who loved her, who left like the rest, because Diane didn't know how to give love in return.
In the painting, Diane was wearing a stunning emerald green dress. It was slightly off the shoulders, revealing her beautiful chocolate skin. She would wear it to the local juke joints when she was drinking and dancing with her friends.
Forty-five years later, Diane was sitting beneath her own portrait, her gray skin looking faded, blending into dull gray, lifeless hair, covered with a hair net and several dangling hair pins. Her pink terrycloth robe was showing bits of her breakfast from that morning.
“Grandma, where did Mrs. Brown go?” asked Lulu. It was obvious from her grandmother’s expression that she didn't understand the question. “Never mind, Grandma, I have a surprise for you. I'm going to pretty you up more than you already are.”
“I know you!” exclaimed Diane, loudly. Lulu didn't even hope anymore.
“You're the lady that sells fabric downtown, right? I need some gingham to make curtains,” Diane continued.
Lulu sighed. “Okay, Grandma, let me get at your hair.”
Lulu removed the hair pins from Diane's hair. Lulu asked if she would also like her fingernails and toenails polished. Her grandmother just stared at her feet, which were nestled inside two fuzzy pink slippers. Lulu stood behind her, picked up the hand mirror, and placed it in Diane's hand. When they both saw their reflections, Diane turned away, her eyes wild and frantic. Lulu gently removed Diane’s hair net and began combing out her hair. Lulu flashed back to when she was a child, watching her grandmother’s skilled hand, painstakingly put rollers into her blue-black hair. Every roller was planned, and every pin was in place. But now, her grandmother's hair represented the absence of color in her life.
Suddenly, Diane bolted forward, stood up, and raced to the Raggedy Ann doll that was sitting on the wooden rocking chair. She started rocking back and forth, making a cooing sound. Fearfully, Lulu turned to face her. Diane was cradling the doll with her eyes closed, smiling.
She opened her eyes, frowned, and looked at Lulu. "Mine!", she protested. "This is MY dolly!". She hid the doll under her robe.
"Okay, Grandma," said Lulu.
Diane slowly pulled the doll from her robe and began removing its clothes, while keeping a watchful eye on Lulu. Diane was like a five-year-old girl. Lulu smiled at the ironic childhood memory of wanting her grandmother to be her playmate.
"Do you like my dolly?" Diane asked.
"Yes. And you're such a great mommy too!" Lulu told her.
Diane giggled like a little imp. She took the comb from Lulu's hand and asked if she could comb her hair. She told Lulu that "just yesterday" her mother had taught her how to braid hair. Lulu was delighted to comply.
Diane combed out Lulu's hair as she had done millions of times before, but this time she sang little girl songs while doing so. Although she was dependent and at times felt powerless that afternoon, Diane taught Lulu a lesson that no other grandmother would have the tools to teach - a lesson that even transcended dementia. That afternoon, Lulu realized that she had a unique opportunity to connect with her grandmother in a way that didn’t require the normal boundaries that define one’s identity.
Although Lulu felt relieved each time her grandmother would “return”, she felt a bit selfish. At that point, Diane's face would fill with the anguish that came with awareness of her decline. Her overwhelming grief would come in waves. Diane experienced her memory losses one by one, each dissecting a factor of her being, forever irretrievable, fruitlessly clinging to echoes and shadows long left behind.
Lulu felt that if she could be unselfish long enough to stop mourning her grandmother, she would see that she was thinking too small. Her grandmother was no longer defined by the constraints of age, she thought. It's almost as if the powers that be struck a deal with her grandmother...Diane would only be allowed a given memory if she surrendered to it completely.
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