Discovery

Rummaging through my garage this morning, I happened upon some exquisitely handwritten notes. While it seemed obvious that only a human being could have written them, it was almost impossible to accept that any modern human would have the skill, will or time, the meticulous attention to detail this writing represented. On closer inspection, the notes appeared to be legal documents. I was still perplexed because neither I nor anyone I have ever known could have produced these. But then, suddenly, a strange flutter of recognition drew my eyes in, narrowing my focus and quickening my pulse. Some part of me knew on a sub-conscious level well before I could put anything concrete together, that these notes had significant meaning to me.
Lately, I've had time to rummage through boxes of files, stowed in our hot, miserable garage. Most of the boxes are from our move to the DMV six years ago.  Many of these sat dormant in our dank and musty basement in Boston prior to the move.
I just left my job on July 7th. I think that I am moving my way, with some grace I might add, through the 8 Stages of Career Transformation Kathy Caprino writes about. The stages are cyclical and non-linear but I feel like today, I am most powerfully in stage 6, the stage of discovery. Caprino writes, "This stage is about discovering ourselves again-finding what was lost, healing what was wounded, and remembering what we wish to honor, support and strengthen in ourselves going forward."
I have discovered many gems that have somehow survived the oppressive conditions of our basements and garages. Today's gem is a discovery of tremendous proportions and one that meets all of Caprino's criteria. The notes were produced by none other than Stanley Greenidge, Esq. Who, you may ask? Stan was the attorney who represented me 28 years ago when the Harvard Square police decided that I was not compliant nor subservient enough and that they could act and speak to me in any sort of way. Stan donated his services to me at a time when my family simply didn't have the resources to pay for a lengthy trial process. I could have very easily become just another victim of the criminal justice system like a Kalief Browder; the case against me was based on much more serious allegations than Kalief's. It was just dumb luck that I was in Cambridge and not NY when the incident happened and also that my family had more access to political and social privileges based on my proximity to white folks with power.
As I poured over the notes, it all came rushing back. The countless hours that Stan invested in the case were powerfully and symbolically evident in this one binder of notes and research. I hurried to contact the legendary Chip Greenidge, my friend and Stan's cousin. No sooner had I hit send on the text than the panicked thought smacked me- I should not have sent this text before Googling Stan. And of course, there it was: GREENIDGE, Stanley E. Esq. Of Cambridge, Friday April 17. Devoted husband...... Dammit. Awkward.
Here's what I clumsily then texted to Chip, "Man, I'm so sorry. There's a really common theme I'm dealing with with which are these angels who I did not do nearly enough for while they were here but I'm praying that my life and mission is in some way honoring (them)."
I'm confident that on the other side of this sadness and guilt that I feel, that I certainly have been trying to pay you back Stan by paying it forward. You are one of the many amazing beings who blessed me when I needed a blessing. I've tried to be that for others.