And I came to understand that preserving these stories was an imperative I couldn’t ignore. I started to push him for details about his days before I was born. I took any afternoon or evening I had free to visit during his recovery. I couldn’t stop thinking about the things we rarely talked about and the questions I hadn’t asked.įortunately, his surgery went well. I was rattled when I thought about how I’d taken our regular Sunday dinners together for granted, that there was still so much I didn’t know about him. For an 80-year-old man, the timing of going into the hospital and having an extended stay in another facility to recuperate raised concerns for our family. ![]() I wanted to document what it must have been like for my father to be a Black entertainer in the ’50s and ’60s, striving to create and perform during a time when America was being called upon to reckon with civil rights.Īt the start of 2020, when we started to see a steady rise in COVID-19 cases in the U.S., my father was scheduled to have surgery to repair a nerve that severely limited his mobility.
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