Without my mother’s legacy, I would never have been able to look at this history of loss, this future where I will surely lose more, and write the narrative that remembers, write the narrative that says: Hello. We are here. Listen. It is not easy. I continue. Sometimes I am tireless. And sometimes I am weary. And when I am weary, I imagine this: After the moment I die, I will find myself standing on the side of a long, pitted asphalt road flanked on both sides by murmuring pine trees, under a hot, high sun in a blue sky. In the distance, I will hear a rumbling thumping, a bass beat. A dull blue ’85 Cutlass will cut the horizon, come growling down the road before stopping in front of me. It will stop so quickly the gravel will crunch, and then my brother will swing the passenger door wide with one long tattooed arm, the other on the wheel. He will look at me with his large dark liquid eyes, his face soft. He will know that I have been waiting. He will say: Come. Come take a ride with me. I will, brother. I’m here.
Acknowledgments
First, of course, I’d like to thank the families of the young men I’ve written about in this book, who were invaluable resources for me as I attempted to tell some of the stories of our loved ones’ lives. I could not have written any of this without you sharing your love and grief with me, so my boundless gratitude goes to the immediate and extended families of Roger Daniels, Demond Cook, Charles Martin, and Ronald Dedeaux. Special gratitude goes to Dwynette, Rob, Cecil, and Selina, who patiently answered question after question about their cousins/loved ones.
I’ve been blessed with a most excellent writer’s group: Sarah Frisch, Stephanie Soileau, Justin St. Germain, Mike McGriff, J. M. Tyree, Ammi Keller, Will Boast, Harriet Clark, Rob Ehle, Raymond McDaniels, and Elizabeth Staudt. Sarah Frisch was especially helpful, talking me through the book, chapter by chapter, when I was still unsure I’d even written a memoir. The wonderful faculty and students I worked with during my Stegner Fellowship at Stanford University also helped me immensely in this project, especially Tobias Wolff and Elizabeth Tallent. I wrote the first draft of this book while I was the Grisham Writer in Residence at the University of Mississippi, so I must thank everyone there and in the surrounding community of Oxford, Mississippi, who welcomed me into the fold of their literary community and made my time there productive, instructive, and rewarding, especially Ivo Kamp and Richard Howorth. I’d like to thank the University of Michigan for believing in me and teaching me and mentoring me, especially Peter Ho Davies, Laura Kasischke, Eileen Pollack, and Nicholas Delbanco. Special thanks to Thomas Lynch, who taught me so much about creative nonfiction and who was the first person to encourage me to write about my grief, which became the seed of this book in an essay I wrote for his class. He was unfailingly kind and encouraging and read the essay aloud when my voice failed me.
I’d like to thank my agent, Jennifer Lyons, for first suggesting that I had a memoir in me, and for believing and being passionate about my work from the very beginning. My publicist, Michelle Blankenship, for being an amazing publicist and an excellent friend who humors me when I am in New York City and feel like eating Korean BBQ for three hours. I’d like to thank my dear friend and editor, Kathy Belden, who saw this manuscript when it was half-realized and, with careful reading, brilliant feedback, and meticulous prodding, helped me to write the best book I could. I’d be a much worse writer without her.
My mother has been after me for two books to thank the man who provided me with a scholarship to my exceptional high school, so in my third, I’d like to thank Riley Stonecipher for seeing potential in me and generously offering to help me get a better education. The world is a better place with people like him in it, who give and help where help is needed. There were many friends, teachers, and librarians at my high school who saw potential in me and helped me become the writer I am: especially Mariah Herrin, Kristin Townson, and Nancy Wrightsman.
Finally I’d like to thank the hood in DeLisle, without which I could not have lived this to write it: Blue, Duck, Loc, C-Sam, Scutt, Pot, Fat Pat, Darrell, Darren, Jon-Jon, Ton-Loc, Tasha, Oscar, B. J., Marcus, L. C., Rem, and Moody-Boy (many of whom told me their stories and helped me write this book). I’d like to thank my friends and cousins who comforted me when writing was almost unbearable: Mark Dedeaux, Aldon Dedeaux, and Jillian Dedeaux. There were days where I could not write another word without you telling me: It will be all right. B. Miller for knowing exactly when I need to laugh so I won’t cry. My father for telling me stories about our family, for stressing the importance of history and memory, and for teaching me to believe in community. My grandmother Dorothy for helping me learn the family’s history, for teaching me how to be a strong, beautiful woman, and for cooking me special dishes. My mother for giving me permission to write this book, for clarifying facts about our family heritage, for mothering us when we wandered in the wild, and of course, for making a way out of no way every day. My niece, Kalani, and my nephew, De’Sean, for making me be silly when I need it and hugging me when I need it and giving me hope that tomorrow will have light. My baby, Noemie, for waking me everyday and reminding me to be grateful and amazed that we are here, for teaching me I can do what I previously thought impossible, and for making me happy to be alive. My sister Charine, who insisted that I write this book, who helped me research so much of it, and who pushed me to tell our story when I didn’t want to. And finally my sister Nerissa, who saved my computer during Hurricane Katrina, and who was the first person to tell me that I must tell our story, the first to insist this story was worth reading. My sisters, I am forever in your debt. In closing, I’d like to thank every one of the aforementioned for loving me, for walking with me through this trial, and for giving me a home. Thank you.
Footnotes
1 See www.communityvoices.org/uploads/souls_of_Black_Men_00108_00037.pdf, July 2003.
2 http://newamericandimensions.com/drupal/content
/10-notable-statistics-Black-history-month.
3 http://www.irp.wisc.edu/faqs/faq3.htm.
4 http://www.census.gov.
5 http://www.measureofamerica.org/maps/
6 Matt Volz, “Male Prison Population Mostly Black,” Associated Press, August 23, 2003.