Class of 1962

Keeping up with a blog can be a bit of a challenge. Obviously, you have to post content regularly. You also, want that content to be good so that people will visit your site and actually enjoy it. There are times when I struggle with finding things to write about and then there are days like today, when a post just falls into my lap!

If you have been a part of my blog for some time then you know that both my parents are deceased. My father passed away ten years ago, my mom five years ago. There is probably not a day that goes by that I do not think about these two people. Unfortunately, after my mother passed away much of our family pictures and artifacts went missing.

Fast forward to June 2021. My publisher, a remarkable woman, invited me to an event for the sale and signing of my book. Any opportunity I have to share my book with the world is one I am grabbing on to with both hands! The event, in honor of Juneteenth, was being held in a historic part of Tampa. Throughout the day many people visited the event. I learned just as much as I shared.

Toward the latter part of the day, within an hour or so of the event being over a man approached my booth. He asked about my book and just as with everyone else that day, I shared. Reading my name on the cover he stated that I had a beautiful name and asked if Mandisa was my last name. I get that question a lot. I laughed and replied, "no sir, that is my middle name and the name I use as an author. My last name is actually Peacock."

"You don't say!" He replied. "Now, I don't know too many Peacock's but the ones I do know are from Bradenton. Where you from?"

"Well...my family is from Bradenton. That is where my father was born."

The gentleman grabbed my arm as if finding his balance and said, "Girl, who is your father!?"

"Mose Peacock." I stated knowing now that this was probably someone from my father's hometown.

"OH, MY GOD!" The man shouted so loud people turned to stare at us. "Girl, I went to high school with your father. He was one of my childhood friends and I really miss that man!"

For a good five minutes all he kept saying, while holding on to me was, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"

Writing this now, I have chills just thinking about that moment. When Mr. Marvin (I finally got his name) was able to get his bearings, I learned that his mother and my father's mother were best friends. Since the two women spent a lot of time together, Mr. Marvin and my father spent a lot of time together as children. With only one high school in the town for blacks at that time, he and my father went to high school together.

At some point in the conversation, Mr. Marvin reached out for my arm again. "Oh, my God!, I think I have a picture of your father from high school. We were on the football team together and I think he might be in that team picture!"

What happened next was, for me, nothing short of God's grace. Mr. Marvin and I exchanged phone numbers. He promised that he'd go straight home and find that picture. If my father was in it, he said I could have a copy. Of course, this to me was an absolute blessing since I have not a photo of my dad prior to him meeting my mom. Add that to the fact that nearly everything from my mother's house went missing after she died, I have very little of my family's history. If Mr. Marvin had that photo, it would literally be priceless.

But, I couldn't get my hopes up. I had just met this random man less than an hour ago, who knew my father some fifty plus years ago. I had no way of knowing if Mr. Marvin would find that photo or if he'd contact me if indeed my father was in it.

The event had come to an end. I helped my publisher clear out our booth, packed up my car and headed for home with tears in my eyes. The first call I made, once in the car, was to my sister. I relayed the entire story to her. Like me, she hoped Mr. Marvin had that photo and would reach out.

When I arrived home, my husband met me in the drive way. While he cleared out my trunk I relayed the story to him. "Wow, Ro! That is some kind of crazy coincidence. I really hope he calls." Stepping into the house, my cell began to vibrate. The caller ID showed a number I didn't immediately recognize. Hoping it was Mr. Marvin, I answered.

Today, July 21st, I met Mr. Marvin near his home and he handed me this photo. Unfortunately, the guy he pointed out to me as we stood in the parking lot was not my father. As you can see, the photo is old. I took the photo home anyway. Mr. Marvin was certain my dad was in this picture. Later on this evening, with the help of my nephew, we were able to locate my father. He is the young man sitting directly behind the guys in the front row wearing jerseys 00 and 68! By the way, Mr. Marvin is jersey 91 on the back row.

Blessings...