10-10-10-10-20-30-40-50-60-70-80-90-1/10, 20-30-40-50-60-70-80-90 2/10..…. hopping on one foot, then two feet, spinning and turning sideways, with tip toe dance steps,  one foot after the other raising and descending, counting each step, the sound of the tap tap tap of the double ropes hitting the ground are memories etched permanently in my mind.  Jumping double-dutch was my thing.  I could jump all day, but when the streetlights came on Mama was calling my name, followed by the names of my three brothers, hanging out the front window of our house for all to hear.  We filed in one at a time as the sun went down behind us. 

The sweet smell of cornbread, ham hocks, and navy beans met us at the door and prompted us like human robots to go wash our hands, take a seat at the kitchen table and wait anxiously, but patiently for Daddy to take his place at the head of the table.  It was an unspoken rule that you didn’t sit in Daddy’s chair, and no matter how hungry you were, you waited until Daddy blessed the food, and asked God to kindly bless the cook.

Life then was sweeter, and simpler.  Everyone on the block knew each other.  We walked to school and back together, we played together, and my family went to church every Sunday, every Wednesday night for bible study, and every Saturday for choir rehearsal.  Joy was ever-present even if this was the third night in a row, we dined on beans with ham hocks and cornbread.  Joy was the sweet taste of margarine melted into warm cornbread.  Joy was the laughter around the table with my three brothers.  Joy was my mama’s smile as she served us as if we were special guests eating filet mignon and truffled salad.  We didn’t know we were poor.  We didn’t have time to notice.  We were too busy living our best lives.  

Living your best life these days probably has little to do with a warm bowl of beans and cornbread, or simple things, like jumping double-dutch.  Today, if you Google living your best life, 6.1 billion results pop up to teach us how to live our best life.  Social media has become a platform for evidence that people have either arrived, are on their way, or offering to share their journey to the best life dream for a money-back guarantee.

Life in this pre-post-pandemic era, in the aftermath of voluntary and involuntary isolation, fear of living or dying, losing or gaining from one day to the next, and living in constant uncertainty has unfortunately become the norm. So, for me, the barometer for happiness or the “best life” quotient is relative.  Fortunately, the subconscious lessons of my childhood in retrospect have immeasurable value.  Reflecting on those simple memories reminds me of how truly blessed we were.  Memories of those times transport me to a place of happiness, calm, and gratitude.

I am grateful for the summer trips to the park, Nathan’s french fries, chocolate-dipped Carvel ice cream, White-Castle burgers in the middle of the night,  and the rolling belly of the giant electronic lady laughing incessantly at the entrance to Coney Island.  Acknowledging these simple blessings in my life cultivates a sense of thankfulness for what we had, and what we didn’t have.

In retrospect, we didn’t have a lot of material things and we will never know the extent of the sacrifices our parents made to ensure we had clothes on our backs, a roof over our heads, and an occasional trip in the car with a shoebox of fried chicken and pound cake.  What they exemplified was an abiding faith in God’s providence in our lives and a steadfast belief that God’s mercy was renewable and never-ending.  I learned that fresh grace is extended every day, and gratefulness is an activator.  I didn’t understand the power of faith or gratefulness then,  but today it is those memories that sustain me, lift me up, and give me peace.

At a recent family gathering, my cousin pulled out the double ropes.  When I heard the tap, tap, tap, tap on the concrete sidewalk, I kicked off my shoes and jumped in.  Ahhh yeah, this is living my best life!