Grandma's Hands

“You are never in a room you don’t belong in” Essie Lee Dickerson

Grandma is the foundation that permeates my life. She is the primary reason I operate on the premise, "Be true to yourself. Be true to God. Everyone and everything else is secondary". Those words were constant from her. Although my family is comprised of near-genius, special needs, introverted, extroverted, addicts, churchgoers, over and underachievers, she made no distinction in how she treated us. Some things are unforgettable.

I was in my early teens the day I saw a man eyeing me as I emptied the trash in the alley container. After I was back inside, I peered at him from the kitchen window. To my amazement, he came through our gate, sat down on the patio, and began eating the food Grandma put out for the cats.

Startled, I yelled. " There's a bum in our yard eating the food you left for the cats!"

She came into the kitchen, glanced out the window, and said quietly,

"That's your Uncle Charles. "

I knew he was her oldest son for her Bible inscriptions.

I asked why he didn't come into the house. She explained he was not comfortable socially with people.

Confused, I asked, "Where does he live?"

"On the street ."A sad look appeared on my grandmother's face.

Still confused, I continued, "Where on the street? Why can't he have one of the empty rooms we rent to strangers?"

She replied she had offered several times, but he had refused. I knew then the food she left on the patio had been for my uncle. Now, the plastic forks she kept wrapped in the napkins made perfect sense.

After that day, I would look for him. As time passed, his visits became infrequent. One day, some men came from the City and told us he had died from exposure under the Park Avenue bridge.

The following incident happened that same Summer. I was reticent after visiting with school friends. As I went about my evening chores, my grandmother asked if something was bothering me. I blurted out that one of my friends said I was a "freak" because I didn't want to be sexual with boys. It hit home. My sexual identity was coming to age, and although I enjoyed male company, I wasn't aroused by them physically. Grandma took my hand and led me outdoors to the garden near the fence. It had budding tulips reaching towards the sun. None were identical. Coincidentally, a yellow one was arched and facing in the opposite direction of the others. Grandma said I was like that flower. Blooming like the rest, but unique, not a freak, and with a different perspective on life. No one could have lightened my heart anymore than she on that day. She knew I was gay. But, to her, I was just her first grandchild. I was just Vicki.

When I thought about a name for our family organization, I knew it would be in her honor. She has been our spiritual connection to all our ventures. I feel her pulse every day in every way. I am thankful today for her undying love and support throughout my struggles with identity, worthiness, and addictions. How she quietly loved my family has had a lifelong impact. We fearlessly live as essential parts of Essie Lee's Foundation.