Descendants of Those In The Room When General George Washington Died.

The night of my memory, December 14, 1999 was a cold, shivery, December evening at Mount Vernon, the home of General and Mrs. Washington.  I had been invited to stand in for my grandmother to the 7th generation, Caroline Branham, personal maid to Martha Washington. 

The occasion was a ritual commemoration of the evening General Washington died.  Descendants of both General Washington and his wife were present, a member of the Masonic Hall #22 and a nephew of Washington's Secretary, Tobias Lear were joined by a medical researcher who had written an account of the viral infection that took the General's life 200 years before.  He had been kind enough to include my grandmother's contribution and service to General Washington on that fated evening.

My Caroline would have been at her post on December 14, 1799 standing behind Martha Washington or near the door.   I stood where she had stood and as I did, my knowledge of the intercultural relationships evidenced by those in attendance danced around the room.

I was a flower budding on the family tree.  In 1799, there were the enslaved, the masters and those who knew them well.   Behind the shadows clinging to chilled window panes in the dimly lit room, were the true stories that history had hidden from full view.  

They say my Caroline practiced resistance, a common practice among slaves to keep Masters aware that the things they enjoyed, their way of life, was dependent on the labor of enslaved people.   Caroline cared about other enslaved people on the Estate that may not have had access to cloth or extra food.

I want to remember that night.  It was a night of dawnings.  I knew who I was but did the others know.   We are a nation of intercultural relationships.  That night, as I stood in my grandmother's place, I became a witness to 100 years of history.   Strangely, the facts of intercultural relationships have not changed as much as we might think.   What has changed is that they may be more transparent in 2009.

The inner beauty of intercultural relationships shines only in the eyes of those who can imagine a bolder time of cultural equity.  The American Experience was born anew in me that night.  I dedicated my life to the preservation of intercultural histories in America and around the world.  I love sharing my family history with children and watching them "catch the spirit of healing with history."

The memory of holding the lamp on true history that night in 1999 will be with me all of my life.  The stories I will continue to spin will be gifts to my children and grandchildren and will become my legacy to them.  We are truly one family.   That night still haunts me and gives me hope that one day, all of the stories will finally be told at every historic site.  Our children need to know.