Hearts Have No Color

"Hearts have no color Daddy.  You taught me that when I was a little girl.”

This is maybe my favorite line in the The River Hideaway. I won't give away too much for those of you who have not read the book yet & if you haven't what in the world are you waiting on? :) 

What I love about this line is that it has taken on a life of its own with many of the readers. I  have had- Hearts have no color- repeated back to me by various readers. My friend, Richard Busby, suggested at a book signing in Raleigh to sign the books with that caption. I don't know why I did not think of it sooner. 

There are a few reasons why this line means so much to me. The lesson was taught by my favorite character in The River Hideaway, Clarence Wilkins, a black man, refuses to allow the prejudice he endures in his life to change his way of belief that- "Hearts have no color." He teaches this lesson to his son & daughter. But there comes a part in the story when his daughter ventures down a road that he does not approve of & he does not live out the words that he has taught. She turns his words back to him. What will he do?

The River Hideaway is fictional-unlike our lives, though at times I sure wish I could write some of my decisions off to fiction. I love the line in my book because I believe it with all my heart. I believe it because I believe in God- a Father that loves His children. Do you think for one moment that our loving Father considers the color of our skin? I don't. 

I have shared often about growing up in a church where racism flourished. Even as a little boy during the racial conflict that was a big part of Wilmington during that time as well as in much of the country I recall sitting in church thinking isn't this where we should all come together? But our doors were closed to anyone of color. I never shared my thoughts with anyone & I forgot about the thoughts a little boy once had for most of my life. But don't you think God knew that a little boy would one day grow up & write a story about racially charged times? I suspect even then He was planting the seed for the type man I would grow up to be. 

Recently, I heard a message from a black minister who felt the Lord wanted him to integrate the church that he was Shepherd at. It was met with resistance by some of the congregation but he pressed on because that was his directive from God.  The church is now diversified.

I wish I could tell you that I never was prejudice as I grew up in the south or that I had no problem when our schools begin to integrate, or when we were bused to what was previously an all black school I said, "Great. Sign me up." No, sadly I gave into the silly stereotypes of that time. 

But on the night when God showed up to a lost young man, walking down a black street & I experienced first hand how real our God is I knew without anyone telling me that God looked on the heart. The color of our skin matters not. Not in any circumstance. 

1 Samuel 16:7
The LORD does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart."

I coached basketball for twenty years. I was asked often. How many black kids do you have on  your team. What a question. No one ever asked me how many white kids I had on my team. My answer was always the same. "I don't know."
That was the truth. Oh, I could have sat down & thought about it or looked at the team photograph but it was not information I stored in my head. I would hope my boys would say coach just wanted us to play hard, play smart, be a good teammate. He didn't care if we were purple if we just did that.

    

Remember when the disciples asked Jesus about Heaven & He said you don't even understand earthly things. 

I am pretty sure of a few things about Heaven. There will be no us & them. There will be no racial division. No prejudice. No stereotypes. Maybe just one heart all tied into our Father.

  

Hearts have no color.  

I believe that is more than a line in a fictional story. 

Papa Jack

"Good & bad in all. Good & bad in Black...Good & bad in White."

The above quote is attributed to the man in the photo. He was my Grandad, Jack Rogers. Many people referred to him as Papa Jack and that was not limited to family members. The dog in his lap, Tootsie, was my dog but make no mistake she loved Papa Jack more than anyone. I was not even a close second.

Papa Jack wore a white shirt & tie daily as he is in the photo. This was even after he retired in the early sixties from running the Fish Market on Oleander Drive in the community of Sea Gate. He & my Grandmother, Ruth Rogers owned the store together. Those of you that have read The River Hideaway might recall I based the character of Vicky on my Grandmother.    

Papa Jack had little in the way of education and he was a simple man in many ways. Look at the photo again and look at his right hand. That is a Tampa Nugget Cigar. It was also part of his daily routine to enjoy a few of them each day.

There was much racial conflict in this area when I was a boy. Wilmington was in the national news for being placed on curfew after a riot broke out. If memory serves me correctly I believe the National Guard was brought in just as it has been this week in Baltimore.

I lived right across the field from my Grandparents and I often sprinted to spend time with my Grandmother. She was my hero. She still is. 

On this particular night my grandparents were watching the news and I recall seeing fires and racial conflict play out on the little black and white screen. I can't say for certain what event this was. But I do recall with clarity that my Grandad, as he was watching, very simply stated,  "Good & bad in all. Good & bad in Black...Good & bad in White."

I have never forgotten that statement. Very simply stated, true, & full of wisdom. That was how he viewed things. I wish everyone might have seen things that simply.


As a little boy, I don't think I was aware & even if I was I don't know if I would have grasped the magnitude of something my Grandad routinely did as part of his business. He delivered fish to black neighborhoods. He often sat and shared coffee, or a meal.

My sister Kay, the family historian, added another part to this story. Grandad treated all of his customers fairly and that included extending credit regardless of race. 

Mom often remarked that she believed that Grandad truly did not see color. I think considering the times, it is easy to say that is remarkable but I also just believe that it is right.

I was a young man when Grandad passed away. My Grandmother, preceded him in death. One particular memory that brings a smile to me was during my early years as the Park Supervisor for the Town of Wrightsville Beach. I was enjoying a conversation with an older black man, who worked for the Public Works Dept. He was from the area as most of us were back then. We swapped stories of where we grew up and I asked him about the fish market. I don't recall much of the conversation but I do recall what he said when he discovered that I was the grandson of Jack Rogers. "Mr. Jack was your Granddaddy! He was a fine man."

I wish I could write that in my youth I saw no color-that I never joined in nor spoke some of those horrible words that flowed so freely and sadly still do. Deep down I did not hate because of a difference in color but I also was prone to believe some of the stereotypes expressed by those around me.

I have shared liberally that I had a powerful Damascus Road moment as a young man. In the blink of an eye I encountered God, or more likely He encountered me. As I began my often failed walk with Him-from that moment the light went on in my heart I knew without anyone telling me that God did not see color. His love shared equally and gracefully. Nothing else could possibly make sense.

One of the greatest blessings for me is hearing comments from people-even Christians that I know & respect, who have read The River Hideaway. They have said things like it made them question whether they truly believed that hearts have no color.  Were they without prejudice in the eyes of God?

I spoke to a group recently about my novel and I was approached by a man afterwards. He was nice-not contentious in the least. He said he grew up here just as I did but he still believed in separate but equal. He was not angry. He was just sharing and he did so quite cordially.

Later that night my wife, Julie and I discussed this encounter. She had witnessed the entire conversation. I wondered why he felt the need to share his views. Julie looked at it far differently. Jule's viewpoint was yes the man & I grew up here during similar times & obviously we viewed things differently. But maybe, just maybe, the man went  home and thought about the conversation.

Papa Jack did that for me once. He said something that made a little boy think and I have never forgotten it.

One Young Man at a Book Signing

This past Saturday, I had a book signing for my novel, The River Hideaway. It was a very good day. There were so many highlights in that first hectic two hours, that if I list them I will surely leave people out.

I signed many copies & in some cases below my name, I also signed them as, 'Coach.' Parents, and in one case a sister, bought my book for a Christmas present for men who I once coached in basketball, when they were boys, aged ten to twelve. One of my favorite players, Stephen Wolff, came in with his girl friend. He shared stories with my wife about what he recalls playing ball for me.

There was a lady that my family holds dear in our hearts, for all the love & care she gave to my mom in those last years consumed with dementia. Tiffany, you are an angel and you hold our families deepest thanks always.


My PR angels, Sharon & Wylene, for continually pushing this little story to everyone you can reach. Robbie, for showing up once again & taking pictures of the event as only you can.

My old friend, Gary Barbee, who came from Pinehurst. Thanks for providing the comedic relief. 

A teacher came that taught me typing in the ninth grade. The ninth grade was the first year I was bused to another school to achieve real integration. Several of my classmates of that time came by Saturday.

More times than not the books were purchased by people for Christmas presents. How do I value that? To be a part of Christmas in homes across the region.

I saw people I had not seen in nearly forty years. But there was one sale that day that resonates the deepest. A young man approached  the table & asked me very directly, "Why did you write this book?"

I shared with him my reasons...my inspirations.

He nodded and said, "I will buy one."

As I was preparing to sign it for him he offered, "I was in the parking lot & I heard two people talking about your book and I just felt like the Lord wanted me to come in here and see you."

He was looking at me eye to eye as he said this. I got goosebumps or as some of us refer to them, God-bumps. We talked a little while longer and I told him that the book has a spiritual theme in it & that it begins with an elderly man having a vision from God.

I thanked him for the encouragement he offered to a no name author, with a small press, struggling to get the word out for this story. I know God is with Julie and I, wherever this goes. But at times I also doubt, worry, & struggle with the things I can't control.

Maybe that is why God reminded me what he could do with one person.

One Last Time

 

It has been a long but productive week. The file has been sent in its entirety one and hopefully last time. I worked till 2 this morning, (I am a morning person these days but not that early). It was a great feeling to turn the page & see it blank. As in no more corrections or places to trim the story a bit as suggested by the Publisher, which helps trim the price a bit. Julie & I prayed over it one more time before I hit the send button. I hope this does not come off as egotistical. I have no illusions of being a tenth the writer of someone like Pat Conroy. (my personal favorite) But I do love the story of The River Hideaway. There are parts all these years later that I get emotional about while reading. Have to tune that out when you are editing though. 

I was asked before the Publisher offered a contract. Who will read this book? Good question. I think people who are interested in that era of civil issues, though I want this clear from the beginning this is not an historical fiction piece. People interested in racial division, which sadly still exists. People that don't mind a spiritual element in a story as long as they are not being preached at. (I am the last person qualified to preach to anyone.) People that love a good drama, with mystery and love in it, but neither being the dominant theme of the story. 

One more week and hopefully it will be available for order next Sunday on mom's birthday. I wish you could be here to witness it. But I have to believe that God is allowing  you to peak over the balcony. I miss you but I will see you again. And that is my promise.

The River Hideaway

On a day when my best friend, Jack and I were at home watching the movie 'A Time to Kill' an idea came to me. I asked, "Jack, what if this rich white guy and black guy meet and become friends back in the 60's when racial tension was so high?"

He looked at me strangely and said, "Where do you get this stuff?"

I took that as he thought I was crazy and at that time there was probably substantial evidence to support that theory. But later when I voiced this he immediately said, "No, I think it is great. I really  meant where do you get this stuff?"

That was 1998 and before I had a computer I began to write a fictional story starting from two young men meeting on a basketball court. My son, Micah reminded me yesterday of all the times we went back to the Park when the office was closed so I could write. I also remember a stretch where the ideas were flowing and sometimes I would wake at four and go to work early and write until my shift began at seven.

The second publisher that I submitted this story too gave me great hope. I received a very personal letter from Anne, the lady that read it. She loved it, however she was unable to convince the board to choose it as the one piece of fiction they published yearly. Still, with her glowing recommendation and five contacts she furnished I thought it was only a matter of time. Despite her recommendation three responded, no new fiction and no new authors. One publisher had decided to publish only children books. The other called and told me how interested he was and that he knew all about it from Anne, who personally had sought him out at a conference. But his company kept me on the hook for two years and despite how much they liked it in the end they decided to pass.

It seemed to play out that way often. I equated it to trying out for the varsity basketball team and making cut after cut but not making that final cut. That is not to say I did not have outright rejections I certainly did. The past few years I rarely tried as the process and life in general was wearing me out.

Some of you reading this may have ventured down the road of trying to get published. The realization sinking in quickly that it is very difficult to even get a publisher to agree to read your entire manuscript. Each company that I dealt with for the most part wanted only the one page query where you try to describe a manuscript that might be five hundred pages long. All in one nice tight page.

Right away you find out you have to rule out publishers of size because you have to have an agent. That is probably more difficult than getting published.

One small publisher in New York wrote something I never forgot. They received 7,000 manuscripts yearly from which they published seven books. Throw in being an unpublished writer and maybe less than half of the seven derived from that category. You do the math.

I can't recall in the past five years if I even tried more than two or three times. I was in a bad place for a long time where I thought I was good enough but that this God that was suppose to love me so much would never allow the desires of my heart to happen.

Many times I have shared the two great desires of my heart that were just for me. One was the right woman and Julie entered my life for good almost one year ago to the day. Today I am minutes away from signing a contract for 'The River Hideaway' and mailing it to a publisher in California.

I wasted so much of my life doing it my way because I thought my plan was better than God's. If you learn anything from my blogs I hope you learn to not be the fool I was. I turned the wheel over and God has so richly blessed me. I have a wife that loves me in ways I can't even comprehend.

Pastor Steve shared something this past Sunday that nailed my life before I turned the wheel over to God. He referenced a book and the following quote.

"The Christian life is so difficult because we seek God's blessings while we live in our own will! We would be glad to live the Christian life according to our own liking."

Absolute Surrender  by Andrew Murrey.

That was me. I was always asking the blessings of Jesus while I lived my way. Walking the path that I desired. Steve said it just doesn't work that way. I concur.

So now I have a writing break. I don't know what will come from it. The biggest dream is that it does well enough that I can get the other manuscripts already written published. But if this is it and this one little book sells 1,000 copies and that is all that ever comes from it I will say, "Thank You, God for your favor."

The publishing agreement came several weeks ago but the contract arrival took until this week. It gave me every opportunity to doubt and I did. I was extremely frustrated yesterday afternoon but even in my frustration as I was inclined to venture down that old path of anger toward God, I refrained. He has been far too generous to me.

I kept the news of this publishing agreement confined because I did not trust that it would not blow up again. I had been disappointed so many times. But it is okay because I have learned to trust God's timing better than mine.

Obviously, I shared the news with Julie who called me as I was reading the initial publishing offer and I was unable to speak. I called my son and he had to read the email to really hear clearly because I could not stop crying. That is my God. He reduces me to tears.

I don't want to leave anyone out and people close to me were all thrilled and your support means so much to me. Still, how can I not mention my adopted sister Katie's reaction? I placed the letter on a shelf under her water bottle one morning as she lifted weights with Julie and I. I told her she needed to drink some water. She did not understand but she picked the bottle up and read the letter. She got as far as the first paragraph before sprinting across the garage and leaping into my arms with tears already flowing. How blessed am I to have the people I have in my life. I am beyond humbled.

My sister Kay shared something when I called her and shared the news. First she was very happy and very proud of her little brother. Next she said, "Who knows Billy? Maybe Mom nudged Jesus and said, Lord, you know how long he has wanted this. Do this for my boy."

I like that. Thanks Mom. I love you and I think Kay was right.