Page 77 - From the Outhouse 4 -21

77 | P A T R I C I A R A E M E R R I T T W H A T L E Y

It was in Sunday School that I got the foundation of knowing about Jesus. My mother embodied the verses in the above scriptures.
The Sanford community adored her teachings in Sunday School and in the public schools. She was also a church Youth Director and

sang in the church choir, while my grandmother was a Prayer Warrior and Deaconess at our home church, St. Paul Baptist Church in

Sanford, Florida. In fact, my mom was on the committee to research church properties to provide ideas and styles for our new church
after the old one started falling apart. In addition, she was the Church Clerk, Program Designer, and the Reader of Church

Announcements.

Like all the other “Negro” children, my speaking ability began in our church in preparation for the Christmas and Easter programs.

You were going to participate whether you wanted to or not. You did not have a choice. Do or die! It was the rule in most Negro

homes back in the day. It was certainly the case for me because my mother was the Youth Director and the Drama Coach, too!

After my dear mother stopped teaching, a terrible tragedy occurred. A week after my mother retired, she was killed by a train that
dragged her automobile down the tracks. The train only ran on those tracks once a day. My mother crossed the tracks around noon.

Before her retirement, mid-day was a time that she would be teaching or working with classes as a Librarian. There were no guardrails,

and my mother never saw the train. Her concentration was on the day’s plans, which involved preparing for a Graduation Tea to be
held at St. Paul Church the following Sunday. She didn’t hear the whistle blowing from the train because her radio was turned up,

and the car’s air conditioner was blowing. The investigator declared that the Conductor tried to warn her, but it was too late!

My mother’s car was bent terribly! Horribly! A helicopter had to fly in to rescue her from the car. My father and I visited the junkyard;

we saw the steering wheel that had to be welded from her chest! It took me seven years to overcome this tragedy!! To this day, I am
cautious when crossing train tracks. My mother was fifty-eight years old when this accident occurred. I was frightened when I

approached that age because I wondered what tragedy might happen to me. Praise God, I made it through!