This morning, I decided to put on Kind of Blue - with Pop, it was never just “Miles Davis”, it was always “Miles DEWEY Davis” to really emphasis his greatness - and write this reflection. And I also decided I would share the eulogy I wrote for Pop back in December. The theme of those remarks is centered on gratitude, and after four months without him, I still feel grateful. I’m grateful that our family and friends had the opportunity to mourn and celebrate together, when so many folks now must mourn their lost loved ones alone, without being able to celebrate and grieve with their family, friends and community. I’m grateful to have a mother who has been an open and vulnerable partner in grief, and to have sisters who call to check on me when I don’t do the same as much as I should. I’m grateful to have an empathetic girlfriend who is committed to figuring out how to support her introverted partner when space and time may be more helpful than a hug. I’m grateful that police officer didn’t take offense to my rage that day, because so many others haven’t received such compassion from public authority when their emotions got the better of them. And I will forever be grateful for Herb Arlene, Jr.
Family Remarks for Herb Arlene, Jr.
December 20, 2019
You know, my dad used to say that when his time came, that we should just take him out to Rolling Green, play some Earth, Wind and Fire, and call it day. While he was often at the center of the conversation, I’m not sure my dad was all that comfortable being celebrated. But he was a man who lived a life that deserves celebration, so I am grateful for the friends and family who have joined us today to celebrate. And I am also grateful to Mount Tabor AME Church for opening their doors to us on such short notice to allow us to celebrate in your home.
I promise that I won’t take up too much of your time, but since I’m Herb Arlene’s son, you know I had to say a few words about my old man. As my Aunt Clara put it, he was a real son of a gun, and he was the driving force in my life. Whether it was singing in my high school choir, waking up before sunrise to workout, or even joining the Army, I’ve been in on a 37-year journey to be like Herb Arlene. Over the last week I’ve reflected a lot on my dad’s influence on my life and what it actually means to be like Herb Arlene. And I kept coming back to the idea of values. Defined as a person's principles or standards of behavior, or one's judgment of what is important in life, my dad was a man who lived his values every day. As much as my dad enjoyed a lively conversation, the way his lived his life emphasized that being about it is more important than talking about it. And while there are a number of values that guided how my father lived his life, there are four that are particularly meaningful for how they influenced my quest to be like my dad:
Joy, Service, Pride and Gratitude.
If you met my dad, you know he was a man who lived every day with joy in his heart and did his best to share that joy with others. Whether it was the way his laugh boomed when he was really cracking up, the twinkle in his eye when he figured out how to add some new information to a story he’d been telling for 30 years, or the way he’d smile at you and say “hey, baby!” when it had been too long since he’d seen you last, he did his best to bring to smile to your face. Any of his kids and grandkids can tell you that if one of his favorite Whispers or Earth, Wind and Fire songs came on the radio while he was driving, his hands would be clapping instead of on the wheel and you were getting at least one emphatic “YES!” every 30 seconds. And the man could make friends just about anywhere – waiting room at the doctor’s office, walking to play his numbers and go to Wawa, sitting in the audience at his granddaughter’s graduation – because he understood the power that a smile and a two-minute conversation could have. And he had a lot of two-minute conversations.
My father demonstrated that service – and in particular the value of selfless service – could be lived in ways large and small. In 1958 he was drafted into the United States Army, and while he was not initially too excited about heading to Fort Jackson for basic training, serving his country with men from around the country became so meaningful to him that he considered making it a career. But as his enlistment was winding down, my great-grandmother Clara Davis passed, and he felt that returning home to be a supportive son to his mother Emma was more important. Putting the needs of others ahead of his own was something that dad would continue to do, whether he was watching his son’s little league game from a secret spot because he knew seeing him would make me nervous, or his Sunday routine of providing security and operating the chair lift at AME Union. After he retired from his 30-year career with the Court of Common Pleas, he founded a nonprofit that my mother affectionately called the Arlene Family Taxi Service, spending more than 20 years of his retirement shepherding his kids, grandkids and great-grandkids to school, work, doctor appointments, and wherever else a ride was needed.
Pride can be a dangerous thing. Too much of the wrong kind of pride can leave someone thinking they are better than the person sitting next to them. That’s not that kind of pride my father exuded. He was proud of the people, places and experiences that made him. My old man was North Philly through and through, and he was always proud to say he was from the “heart of North Philadelphia.” He was so proud to wear the uniform of an American Soldier that he almost got into trouble when he moved from the line for blacks to the line for whites to buy his train ticket home from the segregated South. He was proud that my grandfather became the first Black State Senator in Pennsylvania. Even though he was born an Arline, he was proud to be Arlene. And he was so proud of his family. You couldn’t help be hear and feel how proud he was at every school award ceremony, graduation or football game. But there were also the times when he pulled you aside, looked at you and quietly said, “I’m proud of you.” And while the accomplishments of his family brought him joy, his pride was rooted most deeply in seeing his kids, grandkids and great-grandkids become people with good hearts and generous spirits.
My dad always talked about how blessed he was. In fact, the exact words we heard on more than one occasion were “you know, I’ve got a lot to be thankful for.” He had the type of family that may disagree every now and again, but that always pulls together when times get tough and who always let you know that you are loved. He had the type of friends who were loyal, who always had his back and he had theirs. He had his health, especially after surviving prostate cancer more than 20 years ago. Unfortunately, he never hit the Powerball or Mega Millions, but whenever he did hit a winning lottery number, he expressed his gratitude by sharing his winnings because when you get lucky, the people around you should be lucky too. Whenever I would say, “how you doing old man?”, he’d just say, “I woke up this morning, I’m ahead of the game.” As older millennial who has lost perspective from time to time as I focus on what I want for myself, I always come back to my father’s example of expressing gratitude for the things that are most important in this life.
The last week has been the most been the most bittersweet of my life. Experiencing his loss, I have felt a unique and profound pain I never knew existed. But I have also experienced a love I never knew before, a love born out of feeling the values that guided my father in a new way. I have felt immense joy not only in retelling old tales, but in seeing how much other people loved my father in their own way. I have experienced the village around our family put our needs ahead of their own, and I have watched my mother – Lois – lead with a quiet strength that I never saw before, as she has routinely put the wishes and memory of my father at the forefront as our family made arrangements. I have felt so proud to be a part of a family with so much love and compassion, who have moved through this period of heartache collaboratively and thoughtfully. And I have felt immense gratitude for the many kind expressions of love and support that our family has received from near and far.
My father brought immense joy to my heart and many others. My father reliably served his family and did whatever needed to be done. My father took great pride in what it means to be a member of the Arlene family. And he was grateful for a life that was well lived, where he shared love and reaped what he sowed.
Grateful. That is the word that I keep coming back to this week. For the reasons I’ve already mentioned and many more, I am grateful for Herb Arlene, Jr.
