THE CORNERSTONE by SHADELRA (the rosie project .TXT) 📕

Melvin Jackson felt a chill go up his spine. He did not know if it was from the cold air or from what he was about to witness. It was one of the coldest days of the year in the nation's capital. On any other day like this he would be in the warm comfort of his senior building. Instead he was out braving the elements. He had to be here when history would be made. "Daddy watch your step coming up here" his youngest daughter Janice said. She was already on the platform with his eldest daughter Mabeline and his four grandkids. "Baby, don't worry i'm right behind him" said mark. He was janice's husband of twelve years. "Take your time dad there's no rush" he said. Melvin looked back at him. He was a good man but to melvin it seemed like he went to far out his way to gain his approval. "Boy i may be getting up there in age, but my legs still work good enough to climb these steps" melvin grumbled. "Point taken" mark said with a smile. He seemed to take the hint and backed off. Melvin grabbed the rail and worked his way up the steps. He could feel his bones crack as he slowly made it to the top of the platform. "A cold day like this is messin with my arthritis" he thought to himself. When he reached the top, he realized the pain was worth it. Melvin looked out on to the mall. He could not believe his eyes. "Oh my lord!" he said out loud. What he saw was a massive sea of people from all walks of life. Melvin saw black people, white people, latinos, asians, he even thought he saw a contingent of native americans. His eldest daughter grabbed him by the arm and whispered, "isn't this something daddy?" "I must have died last night cause this surely is what heaven looks like" he said still in awe. "Amen" janice said softly. "I'm not trying to rush you guys but we have to get to our seats" mark said looking behind him. "We're holding up the line." Melvin shot him a look. "They can wait!" he said. Janice guided the grandkids toward their seats. "Come on daddy, it will be starting soon" mabeline said. As they got to their seats melvin looked around at the people already seated. He knew he saw some of them on the news. "Hey, i see some of the original tuskegee airmen!" said mark. "I see congressman smith a couple of rows down" said janice. "Pop-pop didn't you march with him down south during the sixty's?" asked his teenage grandaughter. "Sure did. that fool still owes me ten dollars!" he said. Everyone laughed as the presentation was ready to begin. "Dad did you ever think that you would live to see this day?" mark asked. Melvin looked out again over the mall. "I always hoped, but never in a million years." He could feel his eyes swelling up with tears. "All of this" he was pointing toward the crowd. "It was a dream that you could not touch." Mark could see that his father-in-law was getting emotional. "Well dad not only can you now touch it, you can grab it and claim it for you" he handed melvin a mini american flag. Melvin took it from him with a smile. He looked at his daughters thinking he wished his wife mabel had lived to share this moment with them. He looked at the tiny american flag in his hand and thought about the legacy of his family. As the master of ceremonies announced congressmen, cabinet members, former presidents and first ladies, melvin thought back to the story that was handed down from generation to generation...


It was the summer of seventeen ninety-three. WASHINGTON D.C wasn't even WASHINGTON D.C yet, it was just a stretch of area that bridged the states of maryland and virginia. The scene was frantic, some would describe it as chaotic. Ever since the first cornerstone was laid in october of the previous year, hundreds of workers labored long days to accomplish the goal president Washington had put before them. Bulid a imperial city that would serve as the capital of a young nation. There were irish and german immigrants, asian servants, native americans, but the largest workforce was the black slaves. One of the older slaves big paul looked up from the ditch he was in. He took off his straw hat and wiped his brow with a handkerchief in his overall back pocket. He climbed up out of the hole and walked over to a slave giving out drinks of water. "Hot as the dickens ain't it?" the waterman said. Big paul looked up at the blazing sun. "It's so hot it's burning my hide, and i'm already dark as is" Both men laughed. "You ain't joshin" said the waterman. He dropped the ladle in the bucket and brought it back up full of water. The fellow slave handed the ladle to big paul. "Somethin to cool ya off." Big paul took the ladle and put it to his lips. He guzzled the cold refreshing water. As it went down it felt like it cooled his insides. "Give me one more to cool my head off." The waterman looked nervously around. "Now you know cletus don't want nobody gettin more then one water break." "Forget ole cletus, he to busy tryin to tell the other negroes what to do, when to do." The waterman looked around again to see if the coast was clear. He dipped the ladle back down in the water. Big paul took it and poured it over his head. "Ole cletus is motioning you to come back to your hole." Big paul looked over at to where the ditch was at. Cletus was waving him back over. Cletus was the overseer that directed the slaves on that part of the labor camp. He was a big, tall white man standing about six foot four. He was from a plantation from virginia and had a reputation for breaking in slaves who did not want to cooperate. He was mean as georgia bees but he did not intimidate big paul and he knew it. Big paul walked back to the ditch. All around him there was activity. There were trenches being dug, lumber was being hauled, workers were clearing trees and brushes. As big paul made his way back to the ditch, he kept eye contact with cletus. Cletus had a scowl on his face as big paul walked right up to him. "Why ain't you in your hole?" he asked. "Need me a water break" big paul answered. "Who told you to get some water without askin?" "Figured i get some before i die of thirst. Also figured you wouldn't want to pay masta hobans for a dead slave." Cletus seemed taken aback by big paul's answer. He stood there for a minute. It seemed to big paul that he was figuring out if he should try to break him in. Finally cletus stepped back and spit out a mouth full of tobacco. "You mighty uppity boy, but there be ways of knocking negroes like you down a peg." Big paul stayed calm and stood his ground. Inside he was heated. He wished he could have knocked that fool upside his head, but he knew that would be an automatic lynchin. Big paul felt eyes upon him coming from down in the hole. He looked down in the ditch to see a skinny negro looking up at him. "Who's that?" he asked. Cletus looked down in the hole with a frown. "That there's some help for ya, maybe with him you can work faster." Big paul ignored him and climbed back down in the ditch. "You go ahead and talk some sense in that boy, he's a wild one" cletus said. He spit out one more thing of tobacco in the hole before walking off. Both slaves got out the way as the huge globe of saliva hit the ground. "Nasty bastard!" said the skinny negro under his breath. Big paul looked him up and down. He was a light brown negro, looked like he had some mixed blood in him. He wasn't that big, matter of fact he was small framed. Big paul seen something in his eyes. He seen a fire burning, a hatred for his oppressor that would not be doused. "What you lookin at old fool?" the slim negro asked. Big paul picked up his shovel and started to work again. "You hear me old man?" Big paul turned toward him. "I'm lookin ata negro whose already dead if he don't let that anger go." The skinny nego looked at him like he was crazy. He picked up his shovel. "Old fool what you know, seein that you like to do what masta tell you." "It's not that i like doin what masta tell me, i just like breathin." The skinny negro looked like he was about to say something, but he remained silent. "What they call you?" big paul asked. The skinny negro continued to work, but finally responded. "Emanualle jackson, what's it to you?" "Just want to know who i'm working with. Where you hail from?" "Maryland, montgomery county out at master jackson's plantation" emanuelle responded. "A bunch of us came in this morning." "Well nice to meet ya, they call me big paul. I hail from virginia." Emanuelle didn't answer. Big paul continued to speak. "I tell ya, this be some hard backbreaking work, but we sure are some lucky negroes." Upon hearing this emanuelle threw down his shovel. "Lucky? I knew you was a fool when i seen ya. The sun must have fried your brain. Ain't nothin lucky bout slavin in the heat all day so their leader can live in a house that can hold more of us that can be in the fields." Big paul looked at emanuelle kind of peculiar. "Their leader? You talkin about president Washington?" "Man, i need to whitewash you. You want to be them so bad, that man ain't no president to us" emanuelle said. "He's the president of the whole country, this is a big step for us. We negros doin the lord's work." "The lord's work?" emanuelle shouted. "Keep it down son" big paul said. "I don't care if they hear me! I'm not a scared negro like you ! The lord got nothin to do with this! That president of yours don't care about us! He owns slaves just like the rest of them, when they done with us they gonna throw us back in the fields." Big paul wanted to say he was wrong, but deep down he knew emanuelle was right. Big paul just turned