This week I traveled to South Bend, Ind., to attend the funeral—or should I say the home-going service—of my 94-year-old grandfather. Lawrence Lowe Sr. was a spry man and as the patriarch of the Lowe clan, he possessed wisdom far beyond his years.
He stood about 5 feet 11 inches tall, but in my eyes he looked more like 6 foot 6. His ebony complexion hid the scars and hardships of growing up under the burden of racial segregation and Jim Crow laws. But he let nothing stop him from leaving his mark on the earth in his own unique way.
He spent his early years working as a farmer on his dad's farm along with his eight brothers, and as a carpenter in his latter years. His huge fists no doubt held the key to thousands of family stories that I unfortunately never got a chance to hear. read more