"Hold fast to Dreams"

Everything we do seems such a drama, these days.  Let's go out to the courts and forget about nerves and school work and "Holy Basil Leaves".  Okay, I had 2 takers.  Enoch and Ezra and they each represented parts of the dreams of the past generations.   I saw Gramps and Grandma Monica, as though they had been married to eachother.  They seemed the antithesis of one another in life, but here they were big as the picture of my boys.  American Black Men, laid back, casual, no pressure:  a Competitor, to some degree, but not a pusher, at least in my life.  West Indian Woman: effective, tenacious, go getters.  How could they ever have gotten along?  I don't ever remember seeing them, even say hello to each other.   The dream of my father crushed underneath his ineptitudes and laziness.  The bike, he had long dreamed of, taken away because of his non-conformity.  She got her point across to her son, but she lost him, in the process, never to recover him.  I loved her enormously.  He never forgave her for taking his bike away.  I saw that today.  Children are children for a very short time and they may learn life lessons the hard way or the easy way.  The working woman must be very careful not to be too hard.  {What could she do?  She was much smaller than he was, she had to show her authority?}  He hated her for that one thing.  He left the bike out in the rain and it was gone to Good Will the next day.  He would learn the value of a dollar.  She would learn the value of a son.  Does love skip a generation?
The Tennis Dream
On the team at Jamaica High School, can a Black man have a tennis dream?  Not in the 1930's, discouragement looms where ability and limitations meet. I don't really want to play tennis, is the sour grapes of  a young man who was uninvited to the invitational, one too many times.  Now, his great grandson has no ambition in that direction.  Her Great grandson can't ride a bike.  Why?  Don't want to.  Can't, uninvited, unmotivated, unnerved...more negatives on the nerves than positives? 

My dad learned austerity to a fault.  My Grandpa learned to play hard and think fast.  A hit on the head would be an ever present reminder not to forget, if your brains stay in your head.  No.  Can I?  No.  Could I?  Who cares?  That is the parental violation of limits.  The goodness of God leads to repentance.  The austerity of parents leads to discouragements.  I saw that clearly on the courts today, no fiction.