I have so many interesting love stories in my life these days... I dont mean of the romantic sort... unless by romantic you can imagine the broader definition of romance (marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized )...In fact some of the love stories in my life are quite controversial. One such story is that of fine artist, Alan Feltus and his family, a direct descendant of the family who owned the plantations on which my ancestors were held as slaves. The ways our family have crossed paths over the course of 30+ years, is down right strange.My uncle Harlan, who lived in Germany since the 60s met Alan while traveling in DC more than 30 years ago, they became fast friends, back in Europe where they both lived at the time. His brother, back in the 70s, a philatelist, knocking on the door of my Auntie Helena (Harlans sister) all the way in Oakland, expecting the Helena Feltus living at that address to be white like him, since she shared his last name, he called his brother and told him of this black woman with their last name. Alans sons (super cool artists....., Joseph Feltus and Tobias Feltus) and I becoming friends on myspace years later... all completely separate incidences, unconnected, that converged and dots were connected just in the last few years. Two years ago, Alan was flying from Italy, where he lives, to appear at an exhibition of his art in San Diego, just before Thanksgiving. We made plans to meet, in person, for the first time... this years long friend of my uncle, who passed a few years ago... He had Thanksgiving dinner with our family...sat at our table, shared a prayer of gratitude, broke bread, and we began to speak about the past. Thats where all of the dots began to connect. As he recounted his brothers story, and we talked about how he met my uncle H (my dads brother), and the times they spent, the correspondances over the years... what he knew about his own familys history, and the slavery connection between our families... and there were tears and lots of quiet contemplation about what it all meant about the histories of our two families. What we got was how deeply robbed the world in general is, by such atrocities. How such things are designed to create rifts and divides between peoples... how diabolical and deep rooted those designs are, even today... theres some of you who may even be reading this story with great discomfort, or even a bit of disgust that we would break bread with this man whose family profited from the blood, sweat, tears, and terror of my ancestors. I wont explain myself either, other than to say that its all real, but then again, its not. I am not this body, and its condition does not define my freedom. This is the place I am. And the only thing that matters for me is to follow what Spirit tells me to do. Alan and family, Im thinking of you this morning... hope all is well wherever you are in the world. Paulette Feltus Lani Irwin
Posted on: Sun, 13 Jul 2014 14:55:46 +0000