Sandy Evander Jones was my Grandfather. Here are a few facts about him. He was born in Sumter South Carolina. Later he attended and graduated from Allen University in Columbia South Carolina,a college founded by the African Methodist Episcopal Church he grew up in.
Shortly after graduating,he was called by the Army to serve in World War I . He received a Distinguished Service Cross for his actions during that war.
Now what a lot of people don't know,and what is largely hidden from American History is that in the segregated US Army of World War I,it was the black battalions largely placed on the front lines.
As anyone can see looking at any old footage of that War,can say it was no joke. Face to Face combat,foxholes and Poison gas openly used. The word was my grandfather performed the same acts of heroism,facing greater danger than Sgt. Alvin York. Yet it was Sgt. York,a white soldier who received the Congressional Medal of Honor and afterwards became an American hero,starring in movies. President Woodrow Wilson,an avowed racist was not about to award the highest award to a black man. Sandy Jones never had much nice to say about another World War I "hero" Gen.John "Blackjack" Pershing either.
After the war,my grandfather returned home,married his longtime sweetheart,Annie Louise Moore,moved to Washington DC took a job with the Census Bureau,and after a couple tragic miscarriages,had my mother Helen Louise.
By the time I came onto the scene along with my brothers,my grandfather was a successful real estate agent.
We called him Granddaddy.
Visiting Granddaddy's house and his DC neighborhood to this Connecticut born and raised kid was akin to going back to another time,particularly in the 1960's. Coal heated his house. The Ice man on a horse and buggy would deliver blocks of ice for the ice box. I looked forward to seeing the horse and buggy run by the Watermelon Man. Garbage was burned in a barrel in the back yard,and it seemed as no one had an electric dryer as one would see clothes lines at every neighbor's home in sight.
Every summer,my mom and the Daniels brothers would embark on a journey to my granddaddy's house. We would leave on the day following the last day of school and would only to return to Connecticut on the day before the first day of the next school year.
While Granddaddy lived in the Nation's Capitol,the rural sense of life never left him.In 1962,our family drove from Washington to the family homestead in Sumter,and my most vivid memory of that trip was my granddaddy,soon as the car stopped,taking his shoes off and walking down the dirt road.
He'd awaken soon as the sun began to rise,and would begin working on something...maybe it was something in the yard or in the house that needed repair,and it would drive him absolutely crazy that I preferred to spend my mornings in bed. My ability not to see a piece of paper dropped on the floor or notice that my shoes were untied would astound him.
His rural sense also emerged in a property he owned across from him home. The property was large enough for another house to be built there.He probably could have made more money by doing so.Instead that land was a garden,and neighbors were free to rent the space he wasn't using. He'd grow corn,tomatoes,okra,green beans and collard greens. He would take me to his garden,but it wouldn't be long before he would chase me back to his house after I'd step on one too many of his plants. He'd go on saying things like "You city boys have no idea where your food comes from..you think it comes from a store!"
He would take us boys to his real estate office.I'd write using the carbon paper,and draw on the chalkboard before complaining to him that I was bored.
The primary reason we would spend our entire summers in Washington was after my parents' divorce,my grandmother came to live with us to help my mom raise three boys. The summers gave my grandparents time to be together in their own house. We would see Granddaddy in Connecticut as well as he would visit at Thanksgiving,Christmas,and Easter.In addition,he would make "surprise" visits..sometimes where only my grandmother knew he was coming,and other times where he would surprise even her..One surprise visit got cut short upon news of Martin Luther King's assassination in 1968.Riots in DC forced him to return to check on his office.
Granddaddy and my grandmother had a particular banter between them. He'd call her "sister".My grandmother would answer back saying "I am not your sister! Your sister is Bertha"..,and she'd go down the line. It was not easy for them to be apart for months at a time.They did it because they felt it was in the best interest of the family to do so. There's another vivid memory of a "hot date" my Granddaddy and grandmother were supposed to have.The "date" was going to be on their front porch and not even my mom was going to be allowed there. A Daniels brothers spy mission proved to be disappointing as the "hot date" consisted of eating Watermelon and listening to Washington Senators baseball on the radio.
He knew about dealing with hardship and tragedy. In addition to the miscarriages, a doctor's experiment,similar to those done to Black Men in the Tuskegee Experiments left my grandmother crippled for life. There was nothing he could do about this situation.That event gave cause for him to encourage my mom's husband in pursuing his medical career. It was his belief that having more black doctors would reduce the risk of such experiments being performed.
Divorce can be hard for all involved,but Granddaddy continued to maintain a rapport with my Dad and continued to support the achievements in his career.
Granddaddy was a storyteller,there would be the war stories and the country stories,many he would tell over and over to the point where anyone listening could finish the story. I think that's the way he wanted it.
He'd use things I liked to make a point. Point to me: "Cleon Jones (New York Mets outfielder and my favorite player) isnt going to care about your life.He made his life,you're going to have to make your own!"
While my grandmother was big on baseball ,Granddaddy loved football. My love of football developed through watching games with him.
When my mom was back in school pursuing her Masters Degree,seeing as she could not spend the entire summer in DC,I decided to go to Washington on my own to spend time with Granddaddy.My mom and grandmother thought this was a disater waiting to happen.They knew his habits and they knew mine. Predictions of a blowup were rampant. Granddaddy did make sure I got out of bed early,and he did have a list of chores for me that were to be done by the time he returned home from work..Mowing the lawn was something you wanted to do early anyhow in the muggy Southern summers of Washington and I did learn that there was plenty of time to get the chores done and still goof off. It was one of the best summers of my youth.
At High School age for me,my grandmother decided it was time to spend the last days of her life back in Washington with Granddaddy.Shortly after returning,she was diagnosed with breast cancer and passed away after a year in Washington. As she was passing,she told us all something peculiar.She said she was going to take Sandy with her.
A year later Granddaddy was diagnosed with a terminal cancer. There's another memory of him being allowed to come home one last time,and over the loud protests of my mom and brothers,him grabbing a ladder and climbing on top of his garage to repair something he meant to fix before entering the hospital.
I was escorting Granddaddy to the bathroom at Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington when he collapsed and died in my arms.
There's definetly something to influences and there very well could be something to spirits being passed on,but I'm the storyteller and gardener now.
If I could only be close to the influence he was to me to my own grandchildren..
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