Notes from the Crystal Stair

an introduction to my page

Mother to Son

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

“Mother to Son” by Langston Hughes was my mother’s favorite poem. As an English teacher in both Catholic and public schools, she always introduced that poem to her students. Over the course of her career, she taught in Harlem, in Bedford Stuyvesant and in the small rural town of South New Berlin, NY. It didn’t matter the size of the class, the racial or economic makeup of the students, or what people may have thought about her or the poem. It’s a brilliant piece of writing, as well as a description of many of our lives and hardships. It deserves to be taught.

My Mom loved language. She never really got to be the actor she wanted to be, but she channeled that disappointment into another direction – teaching. She often read to her students, her rich, dark and beautiful speaking voice expertly articulating every syllable and nuance in a poem, a monologue, a paragraph. She could be Langston’s poor African American mother as well as the ambitious and imperious Lady Macbeth. She was Portia and Juliette. She could read passages from Zora Neale Hurston and Emily Dickenson and William Butler Yeats. Language was her song, and she could sing, in both speech as well as in rich contralto singing voice that matched her in every way.

I miss my mother every day, but I’m so grateful that somehow, when I wasn’t looking, I absorbed so much of her. I too, love language, I love storytelling and the power of words and music. I’ve had a few and varied occupations in my life, and I enjoyed them all. I’ve been blessed that all my creative interests have had a chance to express themselves, and at 66 years of age, they are all still viable and available for me to improve. I was in the fashion and home furnishings industry, I studied voice and stagecraft, and was a classically trained opera singer, and now I’m a writer. I have come full circle back to my mother, who had a hand in all of them.

I’ve enjoyed a modest success in my field of non-fiction writing – I write about architecture, historic preservation and the histories of people and communities in the places I have lived. More and more, I’m discovering topics in the rich history of African Americans, both in Brooklyn, where I lived for almost 40 years, and now in Troy, NY, where I live now. There are so many stories to tell – about all kinds of people and places, about how our built environment shapes our lives and should be preserved, and about this walk through life, how we touch others, and how they touch us.  I want to tell stories about events that have happened to me, how they’ve shaped my life, and how I regard this complex world of body, spirit and stone.

I don’t want to be pigeonholed into only one topic, or one category. I may write about a building in Brooklyn or Troy one day, tell a story about growing up in a rural village the next, and end the week with a story about performing in front of an audience, or discovering a hidden figure from history, or discoveries in NYC’s garment district. I won’t get too political, I leave the expertise of political writing to those who are really good at it, but I may offer an opinion, if I’m in the mood. I may also share a spiritual insight or two, as well. Who knows? Life is complicated, interesting and full.

My mother’s life was a journey up that crystal stair. She encountered the bare spots, the nails and splinters, as many of us do. But instead of defeating her, her journey made her stronger, more loving, and brought her closer to all the things that were important to her – family, faith, the beauty of nature and the creativity of humanity. My life, while full of its own pratfalls and difficulties, has never been as hard as hers was. She saw to that with everything she had to give. I hope to honor her by being the best I can be and sharing my journey with the world.

Welcome to my Substack – welcome to Spellen of Troy. As the poet says, “Don’t you set down on the steps,’ Cause you finds it’s kinder hard. Don’t you fall now— For I’se still goin’, honey, I’se still climbin’, And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.”