Ready To Die

"Today I'll join Fellowship. I want to have a church for my funeral." - Samuel Lee VArner 03.29.2009

"My life is played out like a Jheri curl, I'm ready to die." - Notorious B.i.g. - Ready To Die 9/13/1994

Forwards ever, backwards never.

"Forward Ever, Backwards Never."

(My father's favorite quote.)

Seko Benjamin Eric VArner
09/22/2010

It's one year later. I lost my writing voice a year ago. A "other-father" of mine read one of my blogs a few weeks ago and encouraged me to keep writing as he was touched by the sentiments. "It's publish-able; For-a-price publish-able." he encouraged knowing how money focused I can be at times. I couldn't raise the courage to admit to myself, or to him, that I lost my voice. I lost my voice when my Father passed.

As one who continues aspects of traditional Afrikan culture I've been 'Pouring Libation' for over 30 years now. When my friend Juan Orso passed, I poured libation. When Grover Washington Jr. passed I poured. When Sean Sharpe passed I poured. When Elder Clarence Motsongo Vincent passed I poured. In the shock of Mother Gloria's passing I poured. I actually pour libation daily. Sometimes frequently. When Dad passed I felt as if I were being poured. 40 days after Dad's funeral I visited his earthly womb. I poured. Today I just feel empty. I miss my Mother-Gloria, I miss my dad. I just feel depleted.

Today the Wifey and I were clicking away on seperate computers as the television that was watching us was showing Spike Lee's documentary about If the creek don't rise.." Last year Wifey and I returned from New Orleans on 9/21/2009. Dad crossed the bar on 09/22/2009. While I was emotionally battered from watching the difficult footage I remembered the depression that sacked me when Hurricane Katrina occurred.

When Katrina occured I became continually physically sick, was emotionally depleted, and felt such a loss of life. One of the sacrifices of having a connection with the ancestral world is at times I feel when people are sucked into that exsistence. I know my fellow Christians may not understand. I've come to believe that as one focuses upon Yeshua (Jesus), the ability to feel the connection to other aspects of the spiritual realm is removed. My fellow Conscious believers may understand. I simply felt those Americans, those African-descendants, those New Orleanians, those humans, those other parts of me being dragged 'unpeacefully' into the spiritual world.

As the television watched us the Wifey began reading out-loud, as she often does when she's on the computer, and I tried to begin to listen to her. She then stated "Papi' died on the anniversary of the Emanicipation Proclamation." I thought "He's finally free."

(photo - Untitled by Henry Louis Stephens 1863, A man reading the newspaper about the Emancipation Proclimation)

Yesterday I found a casette tape of a speech I did for Youth day at Providence United Church of Christ on 6/6/1993. The speech was called "What's the 411." In this speech I began by performing a public Libation ritual in the sanctury. I then discussed how as one becomes older one gets closer to GOD and one shouldn't be afraid of death. I actually stated "We should embrace death as that's when we become closer to God." Listening to the speech I laughed at the level of quasi 5% (Nation of Gods and Earths) Hip-Hop lingo I used to use, and how radical I must have seemed, and the level of devotion I had at that time to "improving the lives of people of African descent to improve the United States of America." I was a great speaker then. I was on the road to becoming a great person then. As I look at my current life, I feel empty. My passion is gone, Mother-Gloria is gone, my father is gone, my voice is gone.

Bless-fully I continued listening to the casette after my speech ended. After my message was the voice of my father. He prayed, sang hymns from the pulpit, and ended the Sunday service. T'was refreshing hearing his voice. T'was refreshing feeling his presence.

Today my father is free. A year ago he became free. I've learned that I needed to embrace his freedom. I needed to embrace his death as his freedom. I also sat down and cried like a baby after the Wifey stated "Papi died on the anniversaryof the Emancipation Proclamation." As I take my Mother to his gravesite today, as I pour libation today. I'll proclaim that he has been emancipated. He is free.
Fresh water keeps me well;

Fresh water opens the way;

Fresh water is my sustainer;

Fresh water is from above.

I thank GOD for Fresh Water.

Fresh water in life;

Fresh water in Yeshua;

Fresh water in the form of those who walked before us.

Fresh water in the form of Mother-Gloria,

Fresh water in the form of DJ Law (crossed 09/19/2010),

Fresh water in the form of my Father.

I prasie you, Almighty, for fresh water.

Ashee, Ashee, Amen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Postscript:

I think I found my voice again.

"Forward ever, backwards never."
As my father used to say.

Not just a hero, my hero.

What a difference a year makes. 10/19/2008 We shared a meal, family, and my pops. He received a cup, an Obama t-shirt, and other gifts. His birthday cake held two candles, a number seven followed by a number one. Today, one year later, his birthday cake was without candles. Today we shared a meal, some tears, and shared family.

Next to our table a young girl smiled widely as the waiters gathered around her table sing "Happy Birthday to you !" Later an older man surrounded by his family grinned as the waiters serenaded him. Each time our family clapped for the celebrant, then slowly hung our heads as the jubilance left. My son began..."All the children should say someting about Papi." My son shared a wisdom beyond his years, my daughter reluctantly passed. The four year old fraternal neice shared her memories, invoking a smile a relief from the moment. My elder fraternal neice passed. The adults chimed in.

We were cuting the cake, my brother and I, hoping to remember that the family remains intact in his physcial absence when I noticed that the cake I ordered held no candles. In place of the numbers seven and two were two dates............ Sunrise 10.19.1937, Sunset 09.22.2009. This year held no jubilation, this year held no joy. This year had no presents, this year was without his presence. The cake read "In rememberance of you." As I looked up to make a toast to my father I saw my elder-neice nestled under the arms of my mother as Mom was being comforted by my son. All were crying. The entire table wept together. I missed last year.

Last year my elder fraternal-neice stood a read prose created to celebrate Dad's 71st birthday. She ended by saying "You're a hero. Not just a hero, my hero." My sentiments, excatly. I miss my hero. (Press the play button for the below video).

Dr. Varner will always remain

Metropolitan Wesley A.M.E. Zion Church
1712 North Capitol Street, NW

Washington, D.C. 20002
202-483-3262

Rev. Dr. Heath Cheek, Sr. Pastor

Rev. Sharon Cheek, Co-Pastor

9/26/09

To the family of the late Rev. Dr. Samuel Lee Varner,

Words are truly inadequate to express the life of one who was truly blessed.
A servant of the Most High whose name Dr. Varner would convey and be an example in his living showing the lost The Way.

Royalty in stature yet he kept humility at his side, along with a beautiful woman he made his wife and two sons and a daughter to guide. His imprint has been left in those who knew him best the transition he makes is an honor for Dr. Varner has undoubtedly earned his rest.

He is among those great clouds of witnesses the spirits of the past, an honored elder an ancestor whose spirit will always last.

Words are truly inadequate and it is hard for me to express, yet I was one he did encourage to always do my best. Friendship is truly essential that I doubly share with his son, Seko-Ben, we experienced a great deal together and share the joy of calling each other friend.

To the family rest assured that the LORD feels your heart felt cries, when the days become overwhelming angels will be sent to dry your eyes. A portion of Dr. Varner will always remain in each and every heart and the lessons of love he taught, from your lives never let them part.

With the love of Christ,
Rev. Dr. Heath L. Cheek

My father is now my ancestor

Dr. Rev. Samuel Lee Varner: Sunrise 10/19/1937. Sunset 09/22/2009.

9.22.2009 I was awoken suddenly at 1:37 a.m. I couldn't determine what awoke me. I couldn't immediately return to sleep. 10 minutes or so later I was snoring. At 1:51 a.m. I'm awakened by a phone call. I hear my mother's muffled voice crying hysterically. My sister in-law then appears on the line saying "Seko, Papi's gone. He's gone."

I couldn't breathe......... "Are you saying that he's dead ? Is that what you're saying ?" hoping that Dad was moved to another room in the Rehab' Center. Life nudged me and I fought back throwing the telephone receiver at the mirror shocking my wife awake. "What, what is it Seko ?" I couldn't answer........Too busy screaming.......Too busy crying.....I wanted to break everything in sight. I ran out of the room yelling and grabbed a lamp on the way out hurling it towards the window. Rhonda's trying to calm me down while I run down the stairs and out of the house screaming. "Don't drive, don't get in the car" she begged as I ran down the streets of my neighborhood. I had to get somewhere where I couldn't break anything else. Finally I fell to my knees on a patch of grass near the main street. After a while I sobbingly returned to my house, dried my eyes, and gathered myself........ Until I looked into the worried face of my 7 year old daughter. The look on her face weakened me as I fell to the floor crying and trying to catch my breath. I couldn't look at my son, I didn't want to make eye contact with him as I couldn't be a strong supportive father at this moment in time. I hated that he saw me completely floored and unable to control myself. I tried to breathe to calm myself but I couldn't. I felt as if I lost the reason to breathe.

Eight hours ago I returned from an anniversary trip to New Orleans with my wife of twelve years. I planned to see Dad as soon as I returned, but became wrapped up in seeing a few counseling client's instead thinking that I'd be able to see Dad tomorrow. Tomorrow never came, tomorrow will never come. Enroute to the nursing home to hold the lifeless hand of my father I sent the text: "My father is now my ancestor."

Then (1972) Pops & I:

Circa 1987 I was in a Hampton University college psychology class and our instructor self-nicknamed "Mr. R.E.O." (Read Early & Often to pass my class) was encouraging us to debate each other. As the discussion turned to 'fathers' a classmate stated with extreme anger that "Fathers ain't nothing. We don't need fathers. Ain't nobody's father ever done nothing for them." I shared how my pops had cooked most of my life and had been in our house everyday except when he took the family our of town. I ended by saying how I enjoyed my pops' food until the #@tch interrupted me yelling out "I'm glad you grew up in the Huckstable's Home but the rest of us had to live in reality. " As I sat there confused I slowly realized how blessed I had been, how much this #@tch was gonna' pay for embarrassing me, and how much justified anger she showed for her mother's bad decisions. As the entire class erupted in laughter I attempted to respond by saying "I'm sorry that you grew up in the ........" stuttering I realized that I couldn't come back on her and be right. I sucked up the embarrassment and kept it moving. I kinda' laughed to myself, she was fat, unattractive, a female, and angry. There was no way I was gonna' win this war with words. A few seconds later on a young lady stated something nice about her father and a few other students agreed. The fat, unattractive, female kinda put her head down on the desk and then I felt a bit sorry for her. I also noted that she had some sexy legs for a fat unattractive female and she stopped being unattractive......... I digress...........

Now (2009) Pops:
All my life my pops has fathered me. (Not to leave Mother -Dear out but I talk about her in another blog). The last 8 months I've washed him, fed him, cleaned after him at times, and guided him with some financial decisions. He shared one day how he ended up having to care for his father, and now his first son was caring for him. My pops has become legally blind and is so sick sometimes that life surely feels like torture. I'm having problems sleeping and I'm over-eating and I realized the other night that I'm making myself sick.What's wild is how my son and daughter know how to say the wrong thing at the right time and make everything alright. Just when I begin to beat myself up comparing my son-status to my brother's son-status (he'll probably always win the "Best Child Award" if there is such a thing) or I begin to think about my pops becoming an ancestor, one of my kids walks up and hands me a handmade card/picture/structure that they made for me effectively washing away the depression. I know that I'll have future fears, pains, tears, and worries about my father - yet It's rejoicing to know that my kids will have a 'creation' up their sleeves to Daddy their Daddy.

Thanks be to Father Almighty, thanks be to the Son of Father Almighty, thanks to the ancestors. I love you Pops. I love you Moms, I love ya' kids.

The Riot Starter

T'was the night before News Years (Roman Calendar December 31st, 2008) and we just picked up Pops to take him to go to the Watch Night Service. Mums didn't feel good and refused to go with us stating "I'll be fine right here." as she gently patted the bed she layed in. When Pops opened the door his pupils were dilated and he stood rocking back-and-forth trying to get his balance. His Glaucoma is kicking his tail, the surgery he recently had for his eyes seems to be in vain. The eye that didn't receive the surgery is now his "good" eye.


We walked out of the house, off the porch, and then made a wide circle towards the vehicle instead of walking directly to the truck. Instead of guiding him I let him find his way. It has to be depressing to loose your vision. He's facing the same thing his father faced.......Blindness. He shared with me a few days prior to Christmas how I'm fulfilling the same role he fulfilled for his father..... He became his father's eyes, I'm doing the same.....Reluctantly. I try as much as possible to allow Pops to accomplish anything he can with out treating him as a crippled man. As I fully want to guide him to the car as a normal person would move, he needs to be capable. He wants to be capable. He can get so cranky when he's helped to do things he can do for himself.


En route to the church Pops mentioned a friend of the family, Sarah Kinard, who is writing her thesis about her father and my Pops' Omega Psi Phi chapter brother John Kinard. John helped Pops cross into our Omega fold in 1958. Influenced by a man in his neighborhood Pops was originally interested in Alpha Phi Alpha but as one of the Alphas on campus showed an interest in Pops (in a different way) Pops decided against Alpha Phi Alpha. The Omegas knew that Pops was destined to walk in Purple and Gold and John Kinard opened the doorway. Years later they remained friends as John became the curator of the Anacostia Museum in Washington D.C. John and his family were frequent hosts to my family when I was young and I fondly remember eating Monkey Meat, Shark Meat, Octopus, and other exotic delicacies. Sara interviewed my Pops and reminded him that John and Pops help start a student riot on Livingston College's campus. According to Pops, who then shared the story: An another future man of Omega Psi Phi - Jesse Jackson Sr. (of I am somebody fame) and some other students held some sit-in demonstrations in North Carolina and the "white" citizens of Livingston North Carolina wanted to avoid having a similar situation. These citizens had been donating great sums of money to the historically Black College Livingston, and also the beginnings of the Food Lion Corporation had been supporting the College. A delegate from the citizens contacted the school and sharing their concerns about a possible sit-in stating that if such a sit-in occured in Livingston the citizens would remove their support and also could impact the funding received from Food Lion. The school's Chaplin contacted Pops and Mr. Kinard and encouraged them to act in the best interest of the school's funding. This Chaplin then drafted a letter written from the perspective of the students stating that they had no interest in holding a demonstration. Pops and John Kinard signed the letter with the implication that they authored the letter and the correspondence was published in the local newspaper calming the concerns of the "citizens". Pops then shared how the students gave he and John hell for their act of betrayal and then held a riot to "demonstrate" their anger on campus.


As Pop's story ended we drove up into the parking lot of New Life - Providence, the church that my wife and Kids having been visiting for over two years now. Their New Years Eve service had been heavily promoted in the church and included food and drinks prior to the service, a service, and food and drinks following the service. New Life is a mixed congregation and prides itself in being "Trans-ethnic" as it boasts membership consisting of people of many ethnicity's promoting that the body of Christ, and the Church accepts all people ethnically. This position of Trans-Ethnic initially turned me off, and now I could take it or leave it. Surprisingly this pastor, Pastor Dan Backens (photo to left) has often shared information I learned in my times frequenting Black studies groups such as the incorrect presentation of 3 Kings on the standard Christian Nativity scenes. Today as we walked in the sanctuary Pastor Dan surprised me and Pops by giving the Black History of the New Year's Eve (Watch Night) Service. I normally post to the e-group of the Imani Foundation each year a special historical note regarding going to church on New Years Eve. "The Watch Night Services in Black communities that we celebrate today can be traced back to gatherings on December31, 1862, also known as "Freedom's Eve." On that night, Blacks came together in churches and private homes all across the nation, anxiously awaiting news that the Emancipation Proclamation actually had become law.Then, at the stroke of midnight, it was January 1, 1863, and all slaves in the Confederate States were declared legally free. When the news was received, there were prayers, shouts and songs of joy as people fell to their knees and thanked God. Black folks have gathered in churches annually on New Year's Eve ever since, praising God for bringing us safely through another year. It's been nearly 140 years since that first Freedom's Eve and many of us were never taught the African-American history of Watch Night, but, tradition still brings us together at this time every year to celebrate "how we got over." Pastor Dan, an older white guy, almost read the above information word for word with a few changes in the presentation to make it appropriate and relevant. Pops and I looked at each other slightly amazed.

Pops, who has been a minister for over 60 years left the service feeling refreshed and stated that he approved of Pastor Dan's approach to ministry and the service. He had visited the church once before this year when his eyesight was with him. What a difference a few days make. Three months ago he drove himself to this church, now we have to lead him from the truck. I give thanks to the Almighty for 2008. I've had a chance to spend a great deal of time with Pops and my life has been affected, my fatherhood has been affected, and my faith has deepened.

Seventy One Years

Sunday 10/19/2008 (Roman Catholic Calendar) Dad became 71 years old.......We guess. In Dad's day an official-actual-legal birth certificate wasn't provided for Colored people in Opelaka Alabama during the 1936-1938 years. Most kept a copy of the baby's note in a family Bible or so. His birth was done with a mid-wife and somehow the records haven't been located. Since the old place that Pops was raised in isn't around at this time, and both of my grandparents are ancestors, we will probably never know.

We gathered around the dining room table. The only folk missing were my sister Elizabeth and my (Sister's daughter) niece Karina. Dan and his wife and three children were in the house. My wife and kids were in the house. Dad was happy.

His grandchildren wrote compositions and recited them. His children gave him presents. His wife gave him directions. All was well with his soul.

Dad had been complaining about his health lately, specifically stating that he wasn't sure if he would see this day earlier. I have been driving Dad back and forth to his classes lately and asked a week or so ago if he was aware of how the family has been bothered by him making such statements. He shared that he wasn't aware that we had become privy to his worries. Today he made mention that he was looking forward to many future parties with his family, he looked at me and smiled, resolving our discomfort.

We ate food, we ate cake. Dad held his newest grandchild and sang to her. This was a small, warm, and touching night.

Today I looked upon a man who was very different. The man who first gave me an allowance and who sold a car he allowed me to use after I neglected to pay him insurance money was now asking me for financial advice. The man who seemed like a giant is now shorter than I. The man who gave discipline with a heavy hand was now lighter than I. There is one thing that has remained in regards to our relationship - fear. I used to fear his wrath, now I fear his absence.

Happy Birthday Pops, we love ya.

Seko Benjamin-Eric VArner