I’m turning 86. I’m so thankful for my health, my friends and my love of learning

I once heard somebody say, “If a woman tells her age, she will tell anything.”

That’s not true for every woman. Some of us tell our age because we are just so thankful to have made it to another year. And that is why I am happy to let you know that if God is willing, I will celebrate my 86th birthday on Monday, Feb. 12.

I am so grateful for the years I have been given, and for the path the Lord has placed me on. I do not take anything for granted — not the air that I breathe, nor that I got up this morning clothed and in my right mind, and with a reasonable portion of health. I am thankful that I was able to move about on my own and, as one of my church sisters, the late Sister Lillie Pearl Kelley, used to say, “… I could wait on myself,” meaning I could take care of my personal needs.

Eighty-six, huh? That’s a lot of water under the bridge. And a lot of people often marvel at my energy. They ask me, “How do you do all the things that you do at your age?” I tell them, unashamedly, that it is the Lord who keeps me and who gives me strength from day to day.

I am amazed, though, at what these 86-year-old eyes have witnessed. I am a country girl from rural Williston, Florida, who moved to Miami in 1944 when I was 6, with my mom and younger brother Adam.

Mom, who had left an abusive marriage, was blessed to move to Miami’s Overtown, then called the Central Negro District neighborhood, Nurturing women — some from the Bahamas, others from the rural towns of Georgia and Alabama — wrapped their arms around her and became surrogate moms to me and my brother.

I am so honored to have lived in Overtown in its glory before Interstate 95 split the community, leaving it almost desolate. When we moved there, Overtown was a warm, welcoming community, where Black entrepreneurs had set up shops and stores, doctors’ and law offices, and hotels and restaurants. It was where majestic churches beckoned the community to its services on Sundays, and it was where the movie theaters offered us the freedom to sit anywhere, not just in the balcony.

Overtown was where on any given Saturday night, we would see Seminole Tribe members in their brightly colored clothes sashaying along The Strip (Northwest Second Avenue, formerly Avenue G). They usually came to attend the movie theaters in Overtown. Like us, they were not welcome at the white theaters. I feel blessed to have lived in such a vibrant community, where I could feel safe, even while racism raged at our perimeters.

Never having to lock our doors

When I was 13, and after Mamma had been on the waiting list for more than a year, we moved into an apartment at 1305 NW 65th St. in the Liberty Square Housing Project, then the oldest housing project for Blacks in the country. Back then, it was also one of Miami’s nicest Black communities. The Project had a community/auditorium and when we moved to Miami in 1944, it was the site of the only playground for Black children in the city.

On the east end of The Project, along Northwest 12th Avenue, there was The Wall, an 8-foot- tall wall made of concrete blocks. Whites lived east of The Wall, and we Blacks lived on the west side. The Wall started at Northwest 62nd Street and ended at Northwest 67th Street. A remnant of the wall is still visible in some spots along 12th Avenue, a sad reminder of that segregated time.

In my lifetime, the once beautiful community of Liberty Square, with its manicured lawns, came to near ruins, as drug addicts moved in and crime took hold. Before then, it was a community, where we never had to lock our doors. It was where we “went walking” unafraid, on moonlight nights, or where, as children, we laid on the grass in our backyards on star-lit nights and counted the stars. Gradually, our beautiful community became so downtrodden it was dubbed the Pork ‘n Beans Project.

Today, most of the Project has been razed, and gleaming, white buildings have risen in its space. All that is left is the community center/auditorium. A drive through the community makes me both sad, and happy. Sad because all that is left of my life in that once wonderful community are my memories. Happy, for the hope of a new beginning.

As I look back over the years, I am amazed, and thankful for some of the physical changes in our society that I have been witness to. I am also disappointed at how some people want to erase the progress that we have made as a nation. I had hopes that by now we would have learned from our history, and would have become a more unified America, and a more unified state and city.

What happened to us? Did we become tired of trying? Or did some find it easier to go back to the “old ways,” rather than to keep striving to make this a better country for everyone? I wish I had the answer.

Wisdom that comes with age

On a personal note, growing old has taught me a few things.

I have learned that I, alone, cannot change the world. While I kind of wish that I could, I have learned the importance of “working on myself” as my mom used to say. That is a good way to do all that I can to keep my space on this Earth clean. So, I have learned that it matters, not only to me, but to those around me, for me to take small, positive steps, one day at a time.

I have learned that it is imperative that I continue to love unconditionally; to be kind and compassionate, to treasure my friends — both old and new. I have learned to hold others in esteem higher than myself, to lighten up, to laugh more, to try new projects. I have learned that it is a blessing to me to make someone else happy.

I have learned that prayer really does change things, even when the prayer isn’t answered at the time when I think it should. And that it is a gift to know how to wait on the Lord, and to let His joy permeate my soul every waking hour. I have learned to pray more, to seek God’s favor and to listen for His voice to guide me in all that I do.

I have lived through heartbreak and the pain of losing loved ones. And I have known fear and the anxiety that comes with it. I have known depression at its deepest. But through it all, I learned to lean and depend on Jesus and He has brought the sunshine into my life.

Now, in the evening of my life, I am looking back over the years with amazement and thankfulness. I am amazed that at 86, I still have a sense of humor, and the energy and curiosity to learn new things. Most of all, I am thankful that I still want to.

I give God all the glory!