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West Southern Pines, North Carolina, July 2019

West Southern Pines, North Carolina, July 2019 West Southern Pines, North Carolina, July 2019 by Lynn Marshall Linnemeier I AM BACK in North Carolina, remembering when I was back in North Carolina and dreamed of coming home. After running away from my hometown for most of my life, I can’t believe I dream of going home every day. My family abandoned our home many years ago. Like many American blacks born in the ’40s and ’50s, we left southern towns seek- ing respite from the notion that we deserved less because we happened to be of darkened hue. I left fifty years ago. Why would I want to come back? The first time I went back was painful. I went home for my Uncle El’s funeral and decided to drive down the street where I grew up after re- peatedly avoiding it. I realized that the pain of losing my mother and father, the memories of good times in the house, weighed heavily upon me. I did not want to remember that my exis- veling at the survival of Aunt Lottie’s azaleas, cat tence there was not all bad. It wasn’t. My Aunt Lottie and Uncle El’s home across the descendants lurked, posing for the camera http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Southern Cultures University of North Carolina Press

West Southern Pines, North Carolina, July 2019

Linnemeier, Lynn Marshall
Southern Cultures , Volume 26 (1) – Mar 21, 2020
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Center for the Study of the American South
ISSN
1534-1488

Abstract

West Southern Pines, North Carolina, July 2019 by Lynn Marshall Linnemeier I AM BACK in North Carolina, remembering when I was back in North Carolina and dreamed of coming home. After running away from my hometown for most of my life, I can’t believe I dream of going home every day. My family abandoned our home many years ago. Like many American blacks born in the ’40s and ’50s, we left southern towns seek- ing respite from the notion that we deserved less because we happened to be of darkened hue. I left fifty years ago. Why would I want to come back? The first time I went back was painful. I went home for my Uncle El’s funeral and decided to drive down the street where I grew up after re- peatedly avoiding it. I realized that the pain of losing my mother and father, the memories of good times in the house, weighed heavily upon me. I did not want to remember that my exis- veling at the survival of Aunt Lottie’s azaleas, cat tence there was not all bad. It wasn’t. My Aunt Lottie and Uncle El’s home across the descendants lurked, posing for the camera

Journal

Southern Cultures – University of North Carolina Press

Published: Mar 21, 2020

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