I feel my uncle channeling me. There are constantly forces trying to keep me from hearing what I need to hear, get what I need to get. I feel his presence. I can see his warm, dark face, chocolate as it was when he was nearing the end. He looked more like any Goodson I have ever seen then than at any other time that I have known him. I rememeber seeing a photograph, in a frame, that hung on the wall in the hall outside of my Aunt Earnestine's room-- in the house that she didnt finish paying my grandmother for.It used to scare me, and I thought it was Martin Luther King, but it was either Uncle Lawrence or Uncle Archie. My uncle's voice was deep, smooth, rich, intoxicating and soothing. He was blessed and jovial and you could tell the pure delight that he took in living. His face, his smile, always illuminated his environment. He was also good in the soil- he could touch the earth and the soil would get richer, ripe for growing. He was a great seducer. And no matter what you might be able to say about Lawrence DeRamus lord- he was mean as hell, could curse you out and teach you words you didn't even think existed ( a trait he shared with my mama and Aunt Johnnie),he was not a misogynist, but he was certainly a womanizer ( I dont know, but my mother said he had an outside child, and I know he used to beat on Aunt Venetta-- he had a tube stuck in his stomach and he was still hollering at her, even though he was feeble. My sentiment was he needed to shutup before she pulled that tube out. Wouldn't have faulted her at all.

At anyrate, he was many things-- mean,honoray-- ready for a fight ( which in my book isnt a bad thing). He told me, and wrote in his autobiography that back in the sixties, when he was working for the federal government on the OCAP project the head of the Ku Klux Klan would call him and ask him "DeRamus, I hear you got a white secretary, is that true?" "Yes" "Do you drive down Interstate--- every evening don't you?" "Yes," "You wouldn't want any trouble out there while you're trying to get home, would you?" "I don't know...... but I'll tell you. I've got my pistol sitting right there in my glove compartment along with me and if you want to cause some trouble then you come on and you better bring Jesus with you because if I have to go I intend to take few of you with me." My uncle was certainly a Goodson. Lawrence Dupriest DeRamus.

At his funeral, my cousin Larry (his progeny. He sent him to Westpoint. We all have our faults) said over his father " Now all of you knew my father pretty well, as a matter of fact I'm sure more than few of you had been cursed out by him a time or two." Indeed, the minister that spoke over him had felt his wrath a few years earlier, at which point my uncle stopped going to church, but was still a member. My uncle's beautiful house in Enterprise was always a place of rest, calm, and serenity for me. I love(d) nothing more than sitting in his gazebo surrounded by all of those beautiful trees in his little grove, contentedly reading my book, feeling the breeze against my face, at peace. What a beautiful time. I need to go back there.

My uncle was a rambunctious, curious, intellectual ripe,incredible man of ability and strength. He also had plenty of foresight. He established a credit union, organized a teacher's union, organized chapters of the NAACP, started headstart programs and poverty relief programs, helped design a country club(ok, whatever), and was well-respected and admired. When he was near the end, his hair was completely white and his skin sagged, though still maintained its rich color. With his eyes, he could look down into your soul. At his funeral there were three mayors from the surrounding towns present and the governor of Alabama sent a letter of condolence. I was impressed. My uncle was a brilliant mind and always loved to talk with me about people of color, Pan-African movement, the world, and life in general. Thank you for him.