Will You Remember Me - How Will You Remember Me?

So the story of the woman found in her apartment three years after her death, still bothers me. I want to be remembered!

I'm a church girl. My parents are preachers, so I've been in church all my life. I had a youth leader that I will never forget. She was the worst youth leader to walk the planet probably. Yes, I'm exaggerating. But she was pretty awful. I assume she hated the position and I often wondered if she even liked young people. 

Every time she came to youth meetings it was as if someone was infringing on her time and like we should feel privileged that she graced us with her presence. She was always engaging us in debates about whether being from the inner city made us "hood kids". That wouldn't be bad if ever so often she wouldn't punctuate it by scolding the girls in the group by telling them she wouldn't be surprised if they became teen mothers. 

Now that I think about her, she was slightly psychotic. Anyone that projects those feeling and those kind of ideals on impressionable minds and people she should be molding had to have some kind of loopy tendencies. Funny thing is, we (kids) never reported her. 

She also had authority issues. She was always at odds with the church overseers. I was a kid but it was obvious that she had issues. I remember the last time I saw her at church she went into the office, tendered her resignation and promptly exited the building. All during Sunday morning service. The church office was beyond the pulpit at that time so she had to pass the entire congregation to do that. Why not wait until the end of service? Dramatic much?

Well the other day in the newspaper, I saw an obituary with someone of the same name. I wasn't sure if it was her but my memories were filled with her shouting at us, putting us down and her general unfairness. Then I turned the page.

I remembered.

Will You Remember Me? Part 2

I often wonder who will remember me. I know my parents will and I assume my siblings will. But with my constant interaction with people I wonder how many of them would say, "That girl/woman...". I remember my grandparents often. I think of school friends one or two of them haunt my mind when I think of school fights and arguments.

I used to do youth work. I wonder if the kids there will remember how they often came to my workplace and stayed there until time to go home. I wonder if they'll remember pizza Fridays. I used to work for a Pastor, I wonder if he'll remember how spent days and nights for three months clearing up his accounting.There was point where I worked at a school, it was in the cafeteria but I wonder who remembers the lady that they had to pay, the one they said always made them smile.

As a singer who will say a song I sang touched them, made them think, gave them goosebumps. I was at a street festival a few months ago and ran into a director that I had worked with. With his eyes lit he said, "I thought about you last week. I was listening to the radio, I turned it off and thought, 'Ali Cole, that girl could sing her a__ off, I wonder where she is?' and here you are." I wonder...

Who will remember me?

Will You Remember Me?

Ever so often, something grabs my attention and forces me into a long hard think. The other day while watching Netflix I stumbled across a documentary and it has since left me a little unnerved. The documentary was about a woman named Joyce Vincent and according to what I read she had been found in her apartment dead after three years. 

As I watched this unfortunate occurrence, it saddened and angered me. But most of all it made me reflective. Has my life made enough of an impact on the universe that people would be concerned enough to look for me if I simply didn't show up one day? 

The interesting thing is that this woman knew people, people knew her. They described her as bubbly and charismatic. I'm bubbly and charismatic. They spoke of how she connected with so many people. Mentioned that people found her affectionate and a joy to be around. I thought about it.... Joyce could be anyone. Joyce could be ME!

I've been thinking about this for a few days now, and I hope that I'm not so easily forgotten.

Just think about it.

Mothers and Sons

When I think about it....

I don't think I'll ever get the mother/son dynamic. I was talking to a son the other day and his frustration, though suppressed, was evident.

He was recently married. I don't think his mother understood that. She referred to his wife as "that girl". And talked about him giving all of his money to "that girl". He worked in a field that was dependent on tips and gratuities and his mother assumed that with his meager earnings he should support both her and his wife. I couldn't understand the unreasonable nature of this woman. His love for his mother was overwhelming.

She seemed greedy to me. As I thought about it I realized that the story wasn't new. Time after time, mothers expect their sons to be provider and protector, and somehow they forget that those sons may (and should) become that for someone else. And that it's okay to let go.

I think that's the biggest problem.
Letting go.

Maybe he needs to let go.
Maybe it's time for him to tell his mom that he's grown and has taken on a life of his own and with all his love and with all his appreciation for life and love from her. He has to let go of the apron strings. He has to let go of the umbilical cord.

With all the love he has in his heart for her. He has to let go.