Chapter 1

The Beginning

Let me take you back to where this all began.

I was born on the South Side of Chicago, the fifth of nine children, five girls and four boys, to our single mother, Willie Mae Morris. My father had left us but continued to live in the neighborhood and only occasionally visited us. So, it became my mother’s responsibility to raise seven of us as well as manage to support us on the meager wages she earned cleaning houses, among other jobs she held.

I knew she loved us. She showed us her love every day by faithfully working diligently to make sure that we always had a roof over our heads, food on the table, and clothes on our backs.

At the same time and for many years as we were growing up, my mom was an alcoholic. Sometimes she’d go out and party, and often, she held card games in our home. Although she drank and enjoyed the company of men, she didn’t allow any of the men to mess with us. This was the lifestyle we were exposed to—in fact, my older siblings also abused drugs and alcohol. We didn’t see it as being such a bad thing. It was our normal.

Even when my mother was drinking and partying, she still continued to put our welfare first. She continued to love us, provide for us, and care for us. In this respect I now recognize that she was very special—in fact, exceptional.

When I was twelve or thirteen, Mom said, “My kids are growing up.” And, with the realization of how her behavior was affecting us, she gave up her drinking and partying life—just like that. A number of years later, she did tell me that a couple of years after she stopped drinking, she tried to sneak a beer and it just “froze in her mouth.” She never touched another drop again.

That took grit and willpower. For that reason, as well as for the powerful love and devotion she had for all of us, plus her courageous work ethic, her unwavering faith in God and the Holy Spirit, my dear mother is my first hero.

One theme woven throughout this book is heroism. As I just stated, my mother is my first hero. My grit and determination come from my mother. I am forever in her debt for being such a powerful role model. She accepted whatever life gave her and always remained a woman of faith, steadfast and upright.

Another theme that will run throughout this book is an exploration of fear. One thing that I discovered in crafting this memoir was how, for so many years, fear and my lack of self-worth and self-esteem were inextricably linked, and I asked myself, “Where did my fear, my lack of self-worth, and belief in myself begin?”

One thought that occurred to me is that I was a very sensitive child. I felt every single thing so intensely. In this context, one recognition that emerged is that I simply needed more affection, more hugs, more personal time with her than my loving mother could provide.

I now recognize that this longing for more nurt