Christmas Memories Growing Up in Chicago

Now that the holidays have come and gone, my memory of how things used to be when I was a kid still remain. I grew up in Chicago with my three brothers and sister. My parents were both from Georgia. I remember the live Christmas tree and how it filled the room with the strong scent of pine that I crave every Christmas. I remember decorating the tree with big multicolored bulbs and being careful to string the lights just right. One Christmas I got a small electric shock when I plugged in the lights and it made a small hole in my pajama shirt. It scared me, but Daddy reassured me with a hug that everything would be alright.

I remember how Daddy would take us down to 12th street in Chicago, to this outdoor market to buy fruit, nuts and sweets. We would buy different kinds of nuts in the shell like walnuts and pecans and those big dark, hard nuts, which I can’t remember the names of now—and how we struggled to crack them open to reveal the sweet meat inside when we got home. Sometimes my Aunt Ruby would send us pecans in shoe boxes from Georgia. When momma got them we would shell them and she would make the best pecan pie you ever tasted.

I remember Daddy buying peanut brittle and a special brittle made with coconut and those giant peppermint sticks that we would crack and eat greedily. Daddy would always buy lots of fruits like tangerines and sweet red apples. We would make a big platter on the table with the nuts and fruit. While driving home Daddy would take a detour and we would drive through neighborhood after neighborhood looking at the light decorations in front of peoples homes. Daddy always had a station wagon with a back seat that would face outside. My brothers and sisters and I would always fight to get the back seat to assure a perfect view of the twinkling lights. Daddy would always call back to me, “Are you still there”? he asked smiling, because I was always so quiet.

When we finally got home we would rush under the tree to shake whatever present had our names on it, and try to guess what was inside. As a joke sometimes we would wrap up something someone already owned, and present it to that person on Christmas day as if it were new. Momma and Daddy didn’t like us to do that, but we got such a kick out of it. I always seemed to get exactly what I asked for. Back then we got simply one gift each. One year all I wanted were white go go boots. Another year I longed for a new pair of ice skates so I could skate near the park off Lake Shore Drive.

I remember shopping for a gift for Mama and Daddy and going to Sears downtown off State Street. I loved taking the escalator up and down and the funny music that piped through the store. My big sister Cynthia always took us to Marshall Fields and Carson Pirie Scott to look at the elaborate Christmas decorations in the store fronts. There was always an animated Santa in the window and toy trains and gingerbread houses. It was all so enchanting.

Posted in January, 2008

Stuck, Unstuck

I’ve been revising my picture book about children and divorce for some time now. The book centers around a child trying to cope with the practical and emotional logistics of living in two households, after a parents divorce. Each round, my editor challenged me to add more emotion to the story. And after each revision, I thought I had.

I’m desperately trying to keep my enthusiasm up here. With each round it gets harder and harder. I feel that it is never-ending and want to move on.

After reading a book this weekend though, I see what my editor has been implying all along. Sometimes it’s a well-crafted word or phrase that can make a character real. I read Jamaica’s Kincaid’s coming of age novel, Annie John and was moved to give the manuscript one more try.

In Annie John, Kincaid skillfully chronicles a young girls growing up in Antigua and includes a lot of complex mother–daughter conflicts. Her lush details about Caribbean life are particularly rich.

In the beginning as I read the first pages of the book, I must admit, I was not particularly moved. However as I read on, each subsequent page captured my attention and I grew increasingly intrigued.

Kincaid has a gift of injecting subtle emotion into her writing without it being overwhelming or pretentious. It just feels natural. I love the way she gets into the head of her characters and describes, through a strong narrative voice, their feelings.

I hungrily read Annie John in one day, finally finishing at 3 a.m. the next morning, when sleep evaded me. Afterwards, I couldn’t wait to apply what I learned from Kincaid. Annie John was just what I needed to usher me on to the next revision of my children’s book.

Adjoa J. Burrowes

Posted in December, 2007

A Graphic Connection

Few knew that the late, renown American painter, Lois Mailou Jones (1905-1995) illustrated several children’s books during her prolific career as an artist — not even me. I was a student of hers at Howard University where she taught for 47 years. I remember her as a no-nonsense design teacher who meticulously critiqued assignments and encouraged all of us to push the boundaries of our designs more and more.

I stumbled across her illustration connection while browsing the catalog for the exhibit, Through Sister’s Eyes: Children’s Books Illustrated by African American Artists, held Nov. 4, 1991—April 24, 1992 at the National Museum of Woman In The Arts, Library and Research Center in Washington, D.C.

The exhibition consisted of original illustrations from Lois Jones, Carole Byard, Pat Cummings, Cheryl Hanna, Delores Johnson and Faith Ringgold. Five other artists including Camille Billops lent their books for the exhibit.

One of Lois Jones’ ink on graphite illustrations for The Picture-Poetry Book appeared on page two of the catalog. Another illustration that looked like a wood or linoleum block print appeared on the back page and was from Eloise Culver’s Great American Negroes in Verse, 1723-1965, depicting the African American freedom fighter Harriet Tubman.

All of Jones’ illustrations in the exhibit were from eight children’s books published by Washington, D.C.’s Associated Publishers. Most if not all of the books featured in the exhibit are out of print and can only be found in the Library of Congress and other selected libraries.

In the catalog’s acknowledgments, Krystyna Wasserman, co-curator of the exhibit, thanked NMWA Founder and President Wilhelmina Cole Holladay for discovering Lois Mailou Jones children’s illustrations while visiting the artist’s studio one day.

Lois Jones was one of the premier African American artists of the 20th century. Her work, spanning three continents, is in the permanent collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the National Gallery of Art and the National Portrait Gallery, to name a few. I feel fortunate to have discovered another aspect of the creative life of an amazingly prolific artist. My teacher.

Posted in November, 2007

The Gift of Words

My painted mural "The Gift of Words" is permanently installed in the children's division of the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial library in downtown Washington, DC. The mural, 5' x 15' in size was based on an illustration I created for the book Destiny's Gift by Natasha Tarpley, that explores a young girl's love for words and the struggles of a small neighborhood bookstore.

I incorporated many book covers into the painting from books relating to Washington D.C., including children’s books by Washington Children’s Book Guild members Alice McGill, Mary Quattlebaum, Michelle Green and Wendy Old.

The mural, funded by the DC Public Library Foundation, is housed on
the second floor in the children’s division of the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial Library at 9th and G St. N. W. Washington, D.C.