My Black Daddy had such an inner strength and self-possession that he always made everyone, no matter his or her color, feel welcome around him. Not talking about the loss of a loved one is a great mistake that military families continue to make. It was just right for a warrior who not only faced the enemies of his country, but also the enemies among his countrymen and some of his own people who looked just like him. Wright, who was the “love of his life” and a beautiful, dutiful wife, making sure the castle he made safe was beautiful with the right atmosphere. This feeling of ocean waves of the constant flow of thoughts of loving my Daddy has been washing over me so this morning until I had to stop and “write the vision on the wall,” Habakkuk 2.Īnh’s questions opened a floodgate of feelings, I guess because growing up we really did not talk about my father, who served in two wars and was a fallen hero in the last, nor our Mother, Ouida F. Joe, Stanley and Phyllis were 8 years old, 5 years old, and 6 months old respectively. Not loved, which I could have said because he died in Viet Nam when I was 10 years old, the oldest of four siblings. It’s such a rushing feeling and the thought rolling over and over in my mind, I LOVE MY DADDY. To keep his blood circulation from stopping, he’d lift me up to his chest and he’d look me in the eye and say, “Jackie, you have nothing to be afraid of,” and for the most part, I’ve gone through life unafraid, ready to take on the battles of the day as my father reminded me to “fear no evil.” My Black Daddy gave that to me. I can still feel the press of my head against his muscular outer right thigh as I grabbed tightly around his leg when childish fears would creep in.
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Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech on Aug.
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He was in the jungles of Viet Nam when the rest of the family all gathered around the TV in the comfort of home in Phenix City, Alabama, to hear Dr.
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This from a child of the ‘60s who grew up in the Deep South, as my father was in Viet Nam. My Black Daddy gave me such a feeling of safety, I had no idea how evil racism was or that it even accounted for anything in life. My father hated lies, too and in one variation of the spelling of his name, the message is Why Lie? One of the last messages he gave to me was “Why lie?” He taught me that the weak lie and lies, though they seem strong in the moment, end in futility and waste.
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She hated liars! That simple metaphor of a rug lying on the floor meaning it was innate and that was all that person did, just lie, totally got by me until decades later. I couldn’t understand the concept of someone “lying like a rug “ that my great grandma, my Dad’s grandma, Moma Nora, used to talk about. My father equipped me with such a mother lode of the sense of freedom and safety, I couldn’t quite understand Mother’s warning, “Just because someone feels they have a right in your life doesn’t mean they have a right.” “Who goes there, friend or foe?” “Guard your heart with all diligence” didn’t register. He gave me such a feeling of safety and freedom in the world that I’ve found myself a little too unguarded most of my life. knew the truth in his heart and he taught me that truth before I ever heard that shout from my generation. I LOVE MY BLACK DADDY! Growing up in a time when there was no chant of “Black is Beautiful,” Wyley Wright Jr. In my eyes, Wyley Wright was a beautiful “Blue Black” as they used to say back in the day. He was one of those “blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice” Black men. I LOVE THAT MAN, My Dad! The room lit up when he walked in with his Black self! There was no doubting, no possibility of passing. Army, whose last mission in Viet Nam was March 9, 1964, as an Honor Guard for then Secretary of Defense Robert S. 13, 2018, a couple of days after Veterans Day, thinking about what Anh Lê, a freelance writer in San Francisco, had asked me about my Father, Sp5 Wyley Wright Jr., of the 114th Aviation Company of the U.S. Woke up in the Fourth Watch of the night, Nov. I LOVE MY BLACK DADDY! I LOVE MY BLACK DADDY! I LOVE MY BLACK DADDY! I’m telling you, I’m telling you, I’m telling you … As a proud Black man, that is something that kept him from being promoted to the level he worked for,” writes Jackie Wright in “Love story at Arlington National Cemetery,” published in the Bay View in 2015. He was an honorable man who spoke his mind.
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He loved the people of Viet Nam and wrote to us about their beauty and industry. By Jackie Wright “My father loved his work as a helicopter crew chief.