The parson stayed in that tree

I think it was all night

Then he cast his eyes to the Lord in the sky

And these words said to him

Oh Lord, didn"t you deliver Daniel

From the lion"s den?

Also brother Jonah

From the belly of the whale,

And when the three Hebrew children

In the fiery furnace sent?

Oh Lord, please me do spare!

But Lord, if you can"t help me,

Please don"t help that bear!

Honey, we thought that punch line at the end was just about the funniest thing in the world. Oppressed people have a good sense of humor. Think of the Jews. They know how to laugh, and to laugh at themselves! Well, we colored folks are the same way. We colored folks are suvivors.

There are certain stereotypes that are offensive. Some of them don"t worry me, though. For instance, I have always thought that Mammy character in Gone with the Wind was mighty funny. And I just loved "Amos "n" Andy" on the radio. So you see, I have enough confidence in myself that those things did not bother me. I could laugh.

Sadie and I get a kick out of things that happened a long, long time ago. We talk about folks who turned to dust so long ago that we"re the only people left on this Earth with any memory of them. We always find ways to celebrate our memories of our family and friends. Why, we still have a birthday party for Papa, even though he"s been gone since 1928. We cook his favorite birthday meal, just the way he liked it: chicken and gravy, rice and sweet potatoes, ham, macaroni and cheese, cabbage, cauliflower, broccoli, turnips, and carrots. For dessert we"ll have a birthday cake-a pound cake-and ambrosia, made with oranges and fresh coconut.

Generally, we stay away from liquor. Except once in a while, we make Jell-O with wine. What you do is replace some of the water in the recipe with wine. It"ll relax you, but you won"t get drunk. The truth is, I have never been drunk in my life.

One thing Sadie and I do is stay away from doctors as much as possible. And we avoid hospitals because, honey, they"ll kill you there. They overtreat you. And when they see how old you are, and that you still have a mind, they treat you like a curiosity: like "Exhibit A" and "Exhibit B." Like, "Hey, nurse, come on over here and looky-here at this old woman, she"s in such good shape . . ." Most of the time they don"t even treat you like a person, just an object.

One time, some doctor asked Sadie to do a senility test. Of course, she pa.s.sed. A year later, he asked her to do it again, and she said, "Don"t waste your time, doctor." And she answered all the questions from the year before, before he could ask them. And then she said to me, "Come on, Bess, let"s get on out of here."

People a.s.sume Sadie and I don"t have any sense at our age. But we still have all our marbles, yes, sir! I do get tired, physically. But who am I to complain about being tired? G.o.d don"t ever get tired of putting his sun out every morning, does He? Who am I to complain about being weary?

Funny thing is, some days I feel like a young girl and other days I"m feeling the grave, just a-feeling the grave. That"s why it"s important that we get all this stuff written down now, because you never know when you"ll meet the Lord in the sky.

Bessie Delaney

"Are We Having Fun Yet?"

You don"t stop laughing because you grow old; you grow old because you stop laughing.

Michael Pritchard Every summer when I was a kid, my family took a two-week vacation at a resort in northern Minnesota. We looked so forward to this annual event that I clearly remember not being able to sleep the night before, and I actually felt my stomach tickle as we drove down the lane of the resort.

The resort was on a lake named Potato. Honest to G.o.d, that is still the name of this lake; and no, you don"t fish for potatoes. I do, however, remember some rather clever names given to boats: "Sweet Potato," "The Potato Chip" and "Spuds." My dad had visited this lake when he was a kid, and tells us how he was taken in by the sheer beauty of the place and the friendliness of the people. So when he and Mom were married, somehow he convinced her that this was to be their "honeymoon haven." Needless to say, she fell in love, and so our annual vacation saga began.

I don"t know when I first met Delores. She was kind of like a relative. You know how it is, you grow up with them, and they are always just sort of around. Delores and her family had a cabin at the edge of the resort and were always actively involved in everyone"s vacation. I laugh to myself when I say "actively involved" because Delores was known as the resort"s "Activity Director," always drumming up something to do.

I was truly inspired by this woman. You know how every once in a while, you meet someone that touches your soul, as if you were blessed to have known them. Delores was that person for me. She was a pet.i.te lady in her early 60s, with tanned skin and a smile that lit up her whole face. Her favorite phrase was, "Are we having fun yet?"

Delores always wore bright colorful outfits with hats and pins or necklaces that her grandchildren had made. She was very sentimental, and it seemed that she always had a tear in her eye over something: a hug from a child, an inspiring song or watching a beautiful sunset. Delores radiated a faith about her. You always felt good about yourself and others when she was around. She found something positive in everyone, and sometimes that"s hard to do. I remember her saying, "G.o.d made us and is in all of us...you just have to search a little harder in some people." Anyone that knew her knew where her priorities were: G.o.d, family, friends and loving life. She was actively involved in her church and community, she was a Registered Nurse, and she and her husband, Rich, raised six beautiful children.

Every year over the Fourth of July, Delores planned a big celebration with a boat parade, talent show, raising of the flag, candy hunt for the little kids, volleyball, potluck, fireworks and a campfire sing-along. Oh sure, there were always mumbles and grumbles from people who just wanted to "vacation," but by the end of the day, everyone had partic.i.p.ated and, from the smiles and laughter, I would say truly enjoyed themselves.

In the fall of 1991, Delores was diagnosed with cancer. Of course, everyone was devastated by the news. Yet, somehow, I felt that everything was going to be okay. Each year at the lake, we kept thinking that this would be her last "Fourth of July," yet she kept coming back with her colorful red, white and blue hats, planning the celebration once again, and of course asking, "Are we having fun yet?"

By the fall of 1994, Delores was confined to a wheelchair and had to be fed intravenously. We all knew that death was close. One of her daughters told us that Delores had invited her priest over one day and told him, "You know, Father, I have never been scared of dying because I know where I"m going, but I just wasn"t ready to go until my family was ready...and I think they are ready now." Then she went on to let him know that she really should plan her wake. Her priest had replied, "Sure, Delores, whatever you"d like to do." As the priest started to talk about the formalities of the wake and funeral, Delores interrupted him and said, "No, Father, you don"t understand, I want to be there at my wake!"

Two weeks before she pa.s.sed away, Delores had her "Irish wake," complete with family and friends, Irish toddies, singing, dancing and laughter. Delores sat in the center of the room in her wheelchair, dressed in green with a green Irish hat, and a pin that said, "Kiss me, I"m Irish." What a celebration of life!

A couple of months after Delores" death, her family was sitting around the kitchen table feeling pretty blue and really missing her. Mark, one of Delores" sons, said, "You know, I haven"t felt like going to church much anymore. How does anyone really know that there"s a G.o.d and a heaven?"

Just then, there was a loud BANG! Everyone jumped, and Mark ran over and picked up a plaque that had fallen off the wall. The plaque had been there as long as anyone could remember. It said: "Delores" Kitchen."

Everyone sat there, stunned. Then someone started to giggle, and we all burst out laughing. We could all see Delores, wearing one of her silly old hats, smiling down on us and saying, "Are we having fun yet?"

Kim Miller

9.

HIGHER.

WISDOM.

Miracles are natural; when they do not occur, something has gone wrong.

Helen Schucman

Asking for Miracles

A number of years ago, author and poet Maya Angelou learned that her only child,Guy,was scheduled for emergency surgery. He had broken his neck in an accident several years earlier, and now complications were arising. So Maya asked for a miracle. Here"s how she tells the story.

I went directly to San Francisco to be with Guy. As soon as surgery got under way early the next morning, I drove out to Mission Dolores and I prayed. I had gone there before in a time of trouble-when I was pregnant with Guy and needed help to be allowed to enroll late in a summer school program so that I could finish my high-school education. I had prayed before the statue of Mary then and my prayers were answered. Now I was praying for the life of my son.

When I got back to the hospital six hours later, Guy"s doctor was waiting for me. "Success," he said. It was the word I most wanted to hear. I immediately called my sister to tell her the good news. Guy woke up shortly after that. It was late afternoon by then, and everything seemed fine. I stayed around the hospital talking with him and then went back to my hotel.

At midnight the doctor called me. "Ms. Angelou," he said, "we"re losing Guy. We"ve got him back in surgery and we"re losing him. You stay there and we"ll call you."

Of course, I could not stay in the hotel. I went directly to the hospital, but I didn"t go to the surgical floor. Instead, I went to the floor where his room was, and I walked the hall. I walked along past all those half-opened doors, and at times while I was walking I would suddenly feel I was standing on wet sand that was sifting out from under my feet. Then I"d say: "GRAB YOUR LIFE. HOLD ON TO IT. HOLD ON." Loud. For three hours I walked and talked. Then I felt solid.

The doctors came up from surgery. "Ms. Angelou," they said, "we"re sorry. He"s alive, but he"s paralyzed from his neck down." I whispered, "I see. I see." I went down to the intensive care unit and paced in and out waiting for my son to wake up. By 7 A.M. he was awake, and I went in and stood looking down at him. Tubes were coming from everywhere. "Mother," he said, "the thing I most feared has happened. I"m paralyzed."

"It would seem so," I answered.

"I"m your only child," he continued, "and I know you love me, but I refuse to live as a talking head. If there"s no chance for recovery, I want to ask you to do something that no one should ever have to ask a mother." The tears were just rolling down his face. "If there"s no chance for me to recover, please pull the plug and let me go."

"In that case," I said, "TOTAL RECOVERY, I SEE TOTAL RECOVERY. I SEE YOU WALKING, STANDING, PLAYING BASKETBALL AND SWIMMING. NOW QUIT IT RIGHT NOW. I MEAN IT." That"s what I said. Guy started laughing. He said, "Mother, please control yourself. There are some very sick people in here."

The doctors came to talk with me. They said, "Ms. Angelou, Guy has had a blood clot sitting on his spinal cord for eight hours. The cord is so delicate that we don"t dare breathe on it. He will never be able to move."

I said, "I"m not asking you, I"m telling you. My son will walk out of this hospital and I thank G.o.d for it-now!"

One of the doctors started to say, "We all have to..."

And I said, "You can"t tell me. I"m going somewhere so far, so beyond you, you"re not even in it!" And every hour after that I"d say, "TOTAL RECOVERY. I THANK YOU FOR IT. I"M CLAIMING IT FOR THIS BOY. THANK YOU. TOTAL RECOVERY."

The next two days were busy. I called Dolly McPherson, my chosen sister, and she got the whole prayer group at my church together. We had a Jewish sister-friend, and she called people from her synagogue. A Catholic friend called the people she knew in her parish. "Go get everybody, go," I said. "Do what you can do."

The second night, I was lying on a couch in the ICU waiting room when a nurse came in. She said, "Ms. Angelou, Guy"s moved his toes." Together we walked to Guy"s room. She reached over and pulled the blanket off his feet and Guy moved his toes. I said, "THANK YOU, G.o.d. DIDN"T I ASK YOU FOR IT AND DIDN"T YOU GIVE IT TO ME. THANK YOU FOR IT. THANK YOU, G.o.d."

The next morning when I went in to see Guy, he said, "Mama, thank you for your faith. I"ll walk out of the hospital." And that is exactly what he did a few months later. I know that prayer changes things. I know. I don"t question. I know.