My mind is filled with “recollections” my heart went out to them.   “Until we meet again God be with you!”  My beloved Son has offered meaningful support and prayer.  Our family was born and raised in Pickens County Alabama.  We had asked God for help in order to live under a very hard system of government.  The local white people operated the programs of government which included Merchants, Farmers, Bankers and the Sheriff Department. Some of us prayed while other Colored folks went out and drank “homebrew” I guess it was use to dull the pain of oppression or to cope with other interpersonal issues. Some of our Colored men felt the sting of humiliation on every hand except when they got drunk.  Our people wanted to be treated fairly.   First, people believed that to be an American means to be free.  Second, because Americans did not have to free themselves from outside influence, she seems to be free from troubles and disputes unlike the Old World.   Indeed, for numerous Americans, liberty has not always been guaranteed, and conflict has been necessary, sometimes welcome aspects of their life.   To these Americans, the United States is less a sanctuary than it is one more battleground for old and new ideas.    The Colored people had no choice but to file for government protection against both physical and mental abuse of   broken rules of conduct.   From America’s   origins in the early period of our existence Our Colored family roots go back to the second generation.  And believe that to be Americans is to be “Free.”  Perhaps we should be grateful and try to live at peace with our neighbors and for the most part we did.  It never dawned on us that we had to free ourselves from a system already in place long before we arrived. The landscape of our mind was filled with hope. However, often we found that a country in which its citizens behave as though all of the questions are settled.  So we thought.  We come from a people who feel good about our destiny in history and culture rich in Colored tradition. “Fairs days work for a fair’s day pay says our father.” Our African roots grew deep in southern geology in Pickens County and surrounding communities.  Colored folks ought to have the right to pursue “happiness.”   My kinsfolk purchased hundreds of acres of farmland.  Our challenge was to hold on to our property.   And they toil and endured hardships to form a colony called Eatmontown.  Our kin had to deal with various forms of oppression on several levels.     They forged a neighborhood from blood, sweat, and tears especially for the Eatmon family residents. The Society of day whose guiding document is none other than the Declaration of Independence that guaranteed freedom to dream- and to feel comfortable in having opposing opinions.  Dad use to say, we got to keep the peace.  Throughout his life, he offered no resistance.  It was only through prayer he could keep quiet and offer no resistance. Those of us who knew him contend that dad hated conflict.  His tendency was to avoid it whenever possible.   Older Colored folks tended to squirrel away and pray rather than stand and speak up.    During our trip back to Millport, Stephen said his mom still lives in the Colony of Eatmontown.    But so many have fallen asleep and dad and mom are among the sleeping saints.  Dad and our dear momma often shared with us youngling how they were “converted” and had a life-changing experience later in life.   Spence listened to both of them tell of a wondrous story that old, old, story of Jesus and his love.   He sat at her bedside while she awaited death as she told him  she said, “I’m  gonna run on  to see what the ending will be” a charge to keep I have and a God to glorify a never dying soul to save that’s fitted for the sky.”   Pence and Spence spent lots of quality time with the kinfolks in Eatmontown.   They had a host of cousins to frolic on adventure and mayhem.  One favorite was a kid names Destry Eatmon and his brother Freddy as well as Calvin and lots of others.  He recently met their brother Stephen who lives in Cleveland.   Spence took a trip with him and his wife Pam about a year ago to Millport. It had been some twenty-three years since who was home.  The last time he was there, it was to drive his brother Devers to Alabama Medical Center for treatment.  When they got home to Millport   Spence did not know where they were?  It was really sad!   Oh, the heartache he felt.  Soon he was relieved and had the chance to see many of his kinfolks there.   Our cousin Carl was a couple go years older than we were.   He sure could hit a baseball when we played outside at school during recess.  It uses to sail through the air maybe one hundred or two hundred yards right over center field.  He saw him run so fast that nobody could catch him and “tag” him out.  The twins walked over to the Colony where every person lived there last name ended in the word Eatmon.   It wasn’t all fun and games for our cousin scolded us for wasteful eating and demanded a promise from us, to eat all of the melons or, don’t go near his patch.  My cousin Carl was a chunky boy of height but he could certainly run to the bases. He sure talked fancy     to us younglings.   Destry on the other hand, was first responder to excitement he climbed trees.  His brother