Roxanne Lewiell

It has just occured to me that in two months I will be another year older and as I do always, this time of year, I reflect about my past and what i want to get done in the comming year and the years to come before it's all over, at least on this thread of existence. I have never been one to nibble on the fruits of our journey as humans but to rather bite off big chunks and devour all there is, for better or worse often bitting off way more than I could chew. I think it all started when I was around 3, we were all at a pool party and BBQ at one of my parents friends house when i walked straight to the deep end and jumped off. That's pretty much the way I have done things from that day forward. In my life, i have had the opportunity to meet and get to know many people. Many have changed my life and have been the catalyst for much change, some good and some bad. I met Roxanne in 1986, she was the mother of my friend George and his sister Sheila.Her people were Cajun Creole she was light skinned with a beautiful rosy tint and light green eyes. In 1986 I was 23 years old, I was managing a Night Club called the Firehouse #7, and it was in a building that had survived the Earthquake in the 1880's. It had a spiral siaircase to the basement where the offices were and a firemans pole that dropped from the apartments upstairs through the dance floor below and on down to the basement offices. The club was very successfull as we had different DJ's every night. We had Reggae Night, Hip Hop Night, New Wave Night, etc. and the club was always busy. ALWAYS. San Francisco is almost as expensive as NYC when it comes to the cost of living and though i was making $13.00 an hour in 1986 which was alot of money then, I Still could not afford to live alone, which was my preferance. Roxanne invited me to live with her, her son George and her daughter Sheila, offering me the upstairs bedroom with a 1/2 bath and the quiet and privacy to write for a couple hundred dollars less than the shared flat I was then living in which was a tempting offer and Roxanne was one of those people that from the moment we met we were old friends. Have you ever met someone and from the begginning you felt like family? Case in point. So, with that I left the flat on 16th and Bryant, the 7 other roommates and a flea infestation that resembled something from a Sci-Fi B-Movie and moved to Filmore St. About 6 or so blocks west past Haight Ashbury's "panhandle". Roxanne lived in the Prince Hall Projects, and she greeted me with open arms and a big pot of Gumbo. I was the only white person in the entire complex and I have to admit that it was a bit awkward there for a moment. I was, at the time, a very serious tenacious young woman and took myself very serious which Roxanne and her kids found endlessly entertaining, teasing me ruthlessly, which in turn helpped me grow and I grew to love them for it. It didn't take long for me to see their family life was so different from the one I had growing up, we didn't have African American kids in my school and life with the Lewiell's was a lesson in culture. They were poor, her husband George Sr. died from exposure to Agent Orange in the Viet Nam war, and many years later she had received no help monetarily or otherwise. There were no towles in the hall closet, no bath mat, no matching sheets, nothing in the refigerator, no windows to look outside on a beautiful day because the "Projects" that were designed in the inner cities of that era had long narrow windows so high up you couldn't see out of them. The first Christmas I was there, we had no Tree, no gifts, Christmas was just another day. But the things they did have were, love for one another, music, dance, laughter, and their God as they knew him. The house was full of laughter alot of the time to my shegrinn, at my expense. Roxanne would have Bible study every Wednesday night and everyone was welcome. I was not raised in a religious family. that's not to say that my parents we agnostic or atheist, they just didn't go to church. My father had been beaten and abused as a little boy at the hand of his visciously insane Grandfather who, by the way, was a fist pounding 7thy Day Adventist. It's not that daddy is a non believer he's just never gone to church as an adult and my mother tends to lean more towards eastern ideals. Roxy who I called Mamma never judged anyone, her heart knew no boundries and I remember many days and nights I would spend laying on her bed watching TV or just talking with her about life. She called me her "Wild Irish Rose" which in time ended up to be just "Irish" to those in the hood. I lovd her so much and for her birthday the first year, I bought her a beautiful set of sheets and a new set of towels, bathmats and lotion. I will never forget the look in her eyes when she opened her gifts, her tears were worth a thousand words, she was so giving and greatfull. I wanted to give her the world because she deserved it. She was always writing poetry and sending it in to this contest and that contest. Every Saturday I would wake up to her yelling and hooting at the TV watching her favorite show Pat Paterson's Big Time wrestling. I would walk down stairs to see her on her bed, so short her legs stuck straight out not being able to reach the floor. "sit down baby, have you had breakfast?" she would say, always sharring whatever she had. She was such a beautiful spirit, so sweet, so funny, so bad in a wonderful way. I have many fond memories of my Years with Roxanne, and her kids. She taught me many, many, things, how to make something out of nothing, material things have no measure to what's inside and the most important lesson, how to laugh, at myself. I will never forget the day when I realized it was time to leave California. I had a plane ticket waiting and I was broken as i sat on her bed crying inconsolably. She held my hand and said "baby you must go, there is so much for you to do. Your Mother and Father need you, Lizzie you don't belong here, and I've seen it before, if you stay too long you will never get out of here. I will always love you my child, Mamma will always be here for you, you know that" I returned home to my Mother and Father and from that day to this I have seen her only once while on tour in Southern California. She eventually did win a big prize for her writing, got published and finally got out of Prince Hall in the Filmore district between Japan Towne's Kabuki Hot springs and Haight Ashbury. She bought a car and started over in a city somewhere in Northern California the name of which I don't recall right now. I will never forget her and hope some day we shall meet again either here or there. I will know her by her laugh and her beautiful infectous smile, a woman who was my friend, my mother, my sister, who taught me to laugh, to pray, to give and as a woman whose heart knew no limits.......