Man, it was a blessing to live in this spot. 1257 Ponders Way. Just a little too close to Tyler Perry Studios, but otherwise, I loved it. My neighbors were a couple in their 70's who had lived on Ponders for over 40 years. They remember when the GA Highway 166 didn’t cut through woods there as it does now, ensuring that the block will never have neighbors across the street. It once did. Robert, the husband, recalled a time, years ago, when there were houses across the street. A son and his father got into a pretty heated argument… The son shot and killed his own father that morning… Robert was who I knew best. He availed himself to me. That man was amazing. In such a simple way, I watched greatness flow through him. He loved to move. I'd see him get up and work. Every. Single. Day. On something - Mowing the lawn, fixing a car, organizing the backyard, building something Robert was always moving, always doing something. I'd often drive down Lee street and make the right up to the houses, seeing Robert, adorned with his usual; a leaf blower on top of a just-a-little-to-worn t-shirt, crowned with a dust-ridden Atlanta hawks hat. Yall remember the blue Atlanta Hawks hats? From the 60-win, but got swept-by-Lebron era Hawks? Nah, me either. Anyway, Robert epitomized the kind of man I am settling into; simple, solid, loving, giving, active, and present.
We didn't talk often — Usually, I’d wave as I walked out of the front door of my part of the duplex, but he spoke to me so often. He looked out for me. He took particular interest in the garden I put in on the side of the house. It was a small raised bed garden, made of bricks rather than wood. I always knew I wouldn’t be there long. I planned on living there only for 6-months. By May, I was set to move to Chicago… But in late July, I'd sometimes wake up and find the garden watered… Or, I'd watch from my window how carefully he’d cut the grass with his lawnmower around one of my sprawling watermelon vines... I miss the sound of his truck trying to start up.
A few months into an incredibly inadequate response to COVID-19, Atlanta, like most of the US, was in some sort of shelter-in-place order. So my little 3 house block became most of my world. I'd never lived so small. But I'd also never lived so free. Training capoeira on my own, staring a book club (Kongo Square Literary Society), still getting out to document black folks in and around Atlanta and beyond, preparing for a move to Chicago (which did happen, in September)... this world was a blessing. It gave me the space to settle into myself.
Turning 30 has been soooo good to me ya'll. I feel more powerful, more rooted, more enlivened than I remember. I trust myself, fully. I trust the way I look at the world. I trust the ability of black people to win. Elders like Robert taught me that.
The funny thing about this image. This actually isn't even Robert. All of these images are of his older brother, who was over helping Robert fix a car he just bought.