Memory Monday - Granger Court East

This morning, I got a nice little Facebook memory on my friends and family account. This photo, which I estimate to have been taken when I was about 14 or 15, shows me (back corner right) with just a few of my neighborhood buddies (and a couple of young'uns), standing in front of the McBride home, on Micott Drive in Hampton, Virginia. Our neighborhood, "Granger Court East," was built in the early 60's as an extension of the historic Aberdeen Gardens neighborhood. Granger Court was marketed to attract black military families - retired or active duty - to its middle class arrangement of a variety of 3 and 4 bedroom single family homes.

Part of the "GCG" sometime in the early 70s. 
(Rest in peace, Shirelle and Karen.)

To say that Granger Court was filled with kids would be an understatement! Every household had children; and we spanned all the age groups. We were an all-black neighborhood, with working parents (always dad - and probably about 75% mom, too) and plenty of room to run, play, and explore. We didn't have any type of recreation services - not even a playground. We made our own fun playing kickball/baseball/football/dodgeball in the cul-de-sacs, hanging out and playing in the woods and at the "Big Hills,"* climbing/scooting/balancing over fallen trees and sewer pipes in the woods - to get to an adjacent neighborhood, riding bikes, playing hide-and-seek, swinging on clotheslines - and just doing whatever else we could do (or get into) that would keep us outside with our friends -- but only until the streetlights came on! (Of course, that rule loosened when we became teenagers. We hung on the neighborhood corners well into the night, then!)

New Journal and Guide (1916-2003); Nov 2, 1963

Somewhere along the way, a group of us started referring to ourselves as the GCG, or "Granger Court Gang," for short. I know that I was the one who came up with this, and it only caught on with a small group of my friends, but I remember thinking it would be cool to refer to ourselves in this way, especially when we ventured as a group into other neighborhoods, such as "L.A." (Lower Aberdeen) or "P.C." (Pine Chapel). And, every time I see this "tough" looking photo of some of us, I feel as though it personifies that moniker quite perfectly - quite probably being one of the only times a group of kids from Granger Court ever looked the part of a "gang."

Somewhere, I have a photo that shows our whole house; but, for now, here are my siblings and me standing in front of the house, sometime in the 60s.

Did you grow up in a neighborhood like Granger Court? Please share your memories in the comment section, below! :)

Thanks for reading!                                                                                                                              Renate

* The "Big Hills" were two HUGE mountains of dirt that we could climb, ride our bikes down, or slide down on pieces of cardboard. They were located behind the Darby's and the McBride's homes, off of Micott Drive, right next to one of our entryways to the The Woods and The Creek. :) We didn't know it, then, but I now realize that those "mountains" were the mounds of dirt that had created when the land was cleared to make our beloved neighborhood. Later, the Big Hills were removed, and more houses were built on the land on which they used to stand.

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#52Ancestors: Week 2 - "Origins" - WHERE I'M FROM

This post is being updated on January 8, 2023, for inclusion in Week 2 of Amy Johnson Crow's "52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks" writing initiative. The original post was written and shared in 2011. I remember being very proud of it, then; and, I feel the same way now. Only the slightest of changes have been made.

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July 24, 2011

Thanks again to Randy Seaver of Genea-Musings for providing us with a fun, engaging activity.  This week's assignment, was to use write a poem entitled, "Where I'm From", using the template. To visit Randy's site and read the entire challenge, please visit http://www.geneamusings.com/2011/07/saturday-night-genealogy-fun-write-poem.html

I enjoyed working on this poem, but found it challenging in some ways, as I had to grope for ideas for a few of the items. However, most came easily, and I found myself smiling, and even laughing as I reflected on memories of days gone by.  I encourage everyone to give this a try, and to share it with your family members, too. :) 
Here's my poem:

Where I'm From

By Renate Yarborough Sanders

I am from bell-bottom pants, stacks and afros. I’m from Hostess Twinkies and Now & Laters.

I am from the historic black neighborhood of Aberdeen (Built by Blacks for Blacks), paved streets, big yards, filled with children playing while mammas watched from every window, and where you’d better get home before those street-lights come on.  I'm from playing on the "Big Hills", waiting for the Ice-Cream Man or "The Truck", and from where switches came off trees faster than you could get the last disrespectful word out of your mouth.

I am from azalea bushes and crepe myrtle trees, and from my grandma’s prized roses.

I am from holding hands during mealtime prayers, and persevering above the odds; From Anna Beatrice GREEN and Mary DAVIS and YARBOROUGHS, NEALS, DUNSTONS, HILLS, ROSSES, BRYANTS and BROWNS. And, like it or not, I’m also from HAWKINS, JONES, MACONS, DAVENPORTS and more.

I am from the head-strong and faithful. I’m from, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all.” And, “Pretty is, as pretty does.”

I am from Baptists, and Presbyterians, and from the foot-stomping, dancing-in-the-aisle United Holiness Church. I’m from folks who love the Lord with all our hearts, souls, and all that is within us!

I'm from Cleveland, Ohio, by way of Franklin, Warren, Tyrrell and Washington Counties, in NC; Norfolk, VA; and somewhere in Africa where people spoke the Bantu languages and watched their families torn apart, chained, and loaded onto ships like somebody’s cargo. I’m from Nigeria, where my ancestors walked proudly, heads up – backs straight, until that fateful day when they were forced to bend by men whose descendants would one day be my kinfolk.

I’m from blue-crabs steamed in a touch of vinegar and seasoned (heavy) with Old-Bay; I’m from collard greens and macaroni-and-cheese, with hot, buttered corn bread on the side.

From Anna Green, a runaway transplant who shared her life with Nathaniel Hawkins, and bore six kids by him; from Arthur P. Yarborough, who after a stint as one of our nation's first black Marines, reenlisted and worked his way up to the rank of Major in the United States Army, only to be cheated out of his next promotion by the stronghold of racism.

I am from the house my grandfather built in Louisburg, the property my grandmother and mother fought to keep in Norfolk, from the last house on the left on the corner lot in Granger Court. I’m from the metal safebox which always sat on the top shelf of my parents’ closet, but now rests in mine. I’m from photo albums filled with pictures of the known and unknown, from manila folders labeled with surnames and CD-ROMs that hold pictures and documents that provide proof of my history - most of which has migrated, in digitized form, onto my laptop and my external hard drive, since the time this piece was first written.

I’m from all of this, and so much more. I’m from America.

Thanks for reading!

Renate

P.S. If you'd like to get in on the 52 Ancestors fun, just click here for more info!

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