A House is not a House…

A handful of folks that carry the same blood as me was born in this home, including the woman who brought me Earthside, my Momma. Celebrations happened here, family happened here, laughter happened here, memories happened here, and most of all, Love happened here. This is the home of Uncle John Lee. My great uncle — the son of a share cropper, and the great great grandson of a slave owner. John Lee Tyson held space and was a beacon of love and ancestral re-memory for our family. He was a builder, a grower, a nurturer, and a lover. My mom recalls being born in the back room of his home by the hands of the family midwife; and although much younger, I recall gathering here for a good bit of our family celebrations. Uncle John Lee would say to me, “ Come here boy, you take care of that Gal of mine, you hear?” I would answer all shy and timid, scared to stare into his greyish green eyes, “ Yessir.” He didn’t play about my Momma or any of his children, nieces, or nephews for that sake. Uncle John Lee was a father to ALL, a true Uncles, Uncle. Here, my mother stands in front of his home in Americus Georgia; she cries at the despair it has fallen into over the years and on the other hand, rejoices over the memories that were made. A month after I made these photos, unknown to us, the condemned house was demolished. And although the physical vessel is no longer, the true essence of his love and home lives through our collective Re-memory.