I firmly believe that I have lived a long life of beauty and, oftentimes, fortunate luck. I 
was born with more advantages than many, at least as far as my family, my community, socio-economics, church, etc. I would also argue that much of my life has been cloaked in a general naivete - and that true experiences of depth were often something that eluded me.
But now that I am just a few days from my 34th birthday, I see my world, and the people who make it up, with much more clarity. I know that people do bad things, with bad intentions - and that many carry guilt, shame, and secrets like an albatross around their necks. And I also know that my children will also someday experience hard truths, and difficult trials. So it is my great hope that Jessica and I can provide the same type of comforting upbringing for them, to act as the cushion when they fall hard, because at some point, they will.
It helps me to know that one of the greatest benefits of my upbringing is that I have always existed within a larger narrative of family history. And as much as our families carry around their secrets and their shame, they carry just as much redemption and grace. And for me, all of that exists in a tangible way - in the form of artifacts from my family that have been passed down. Mom stored her dishes in the corner cupboard that some family member had carved during Reconstruction. We ate holiday meals on the dining room table that belonged to my Great Grandmother. My sister slept on beds that once belonged to Mom's aunt. And though he passed away before I was born, we were always surrounded by pictures of my Grandfather, Henry, whom my Mom loved so much (I even named Noah Henry after him).
But my favorite keepsake from the generations of my family is my Great Grandmother's cowbell. My family owned land on the southside of Winston-Salem - across the street from the depression era-built Bowman Gray Stadium (the host of many Wake Forest, high school, and Winston-Salem State football games - as well as stock car races. Both my Father and I played football there at some point). I do not even know when they bought that land, but by the first World War (1914) they had a sizable working farm in place there - complete with cattle. Of course, the lead cow of the herd was the "bell cow" - and by the time I was born, that very bell had been passed into the hands of my Mom. She hung it up on the back porch - and she would always ring it when it was time for all three of us Graham kids to return home, usually for dinner. It was super-loud, and the entire neighborhood knew that when they heard that bell, the Graham children would be seen running through yards towards our home.
So, in one of the most memorable moments of my life, my Mom passed that cowbell down to me a couple of years ago. I take my possession of this artifact as seriously as anything that I own. And now it hangs on our front porch, and we use it. When Noah and Avery are playing in the neighborhood - usually in our yard or next door with their friends, they already know what the cowbell means. They hear and respond to the same sound that folks in my family have been hearing for 100 years. That simple fact provides me more comfort than almost anything else in my life - the knowledge that my children will grow up knowing that they are a part of something bigger than each of us - and that they have a role to play, and a responsibility to define that role for themselves. And in that is the gift of that comfort that I hope they will one day feel - as I feel now.
was born with more advantages than many, at least as far as my family, my community, socio-economics, church, etc. I would also argue that much of my life has been cloaked in a general naivete - and that true experiences of depth were often something that eluded me.But now that I am just a few days from my 34th birthday, I see my world, and the people who make it up, with much more clarity. I know that people do bad things, with bad intentions - and that many carry guilt, shame, and secrets like an albatross around their necks. And I also know that my children will also someday experience hard truths, and difficult trials. So it is my great hope that Jessica and I can provide the same type of comforting upbringing for them, to act as the cushion when they fall hard, because at some point, they will.
It helps me to know that one of the greatest benefits of my upbringing is that I have always existed within a larger narrative of family history. And as much as our families carry around their secrets and their shame, they carry just as much redemption and grace. And for me, all of that exists in a tangible way - in the form of artifacts from my family that have been passed down. Mom stored her dishes in the corner cupboard that some family member had carved during Reconstruction. We ate holiday meals on the dining room table that belonged to my Great Grandmother. My sister slept on beds that once belonged to Mom's aunt. And though he passed away before I was born, we were always surrounded by pictures of my Grandfather, Henry, whom my Mom loved so much (I even named Noah Henry after him).
But my favorite keepsake from the generations of my family is my Great Grandmother's cowbell. My family owned land on the southside of Winston-Salem - across the street from the depression era-built Bowman Gray Stadium (the host of many Wake Forest, high school, and Winston-Salem State football games - as well as stock car races. Both my Father and I played football there at some point). I do not even know when they bought that land, but by the first World War (1914) they had a sizable working farm in place there - complete with cattle. Of course, the lead cow of the herd was the "bell cow" - and by the time I was born, that very bell had been passed into the hands of my Mom. She hung it up on the back porch - and she would always ring it when it was time for all three of us Graham kids to return home, usually for dinner. It was super-loud, and the entire neighborhood knew that when they heard that bell, the Graham children would be seen running through yards towards our home.So, in one of the most memorable moments of my life, my Mom passed that cowbell down to me a couple of years ago. I take my possession of this artifact as seriously as anything that I own. And now it hangs on our front porch, and we use it. When Noah and Avery are playing in the neighborhood - usually in our yard or next door with their friends, they already know what the cowbell means. They hear and respond to the same sound that folks in my family have been hearing for 100 years. That simple fact provides me more comfort than almost anything else in my life - the knowledge that my children will grow up knowing that they are a part of something bigger than each of us - and that they have a role to play, and a responsibility to define that role for themselves. And in that is the gift of that comfort that I hope they will one day feel - as I feel now.
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