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1 The blueprint of My Life and the House There is a single thread going through my life, from the very beginning that leads to the house by the side of the road. i believe that when we are born God has a certain plan for our lives—a sort of blueprint. Sometimes the plan may not be seen in our lifetime. We may be the lifeline to a greater person, or a person that will provide a piece in the greater mosaic of God’s intentions. God gave each of us the gift of thought, and as individuals we are each free to alter the plan with the decisions we make as we travel life’s path. Let me stop here and share with you a poem that has been a tremendous influence in my life. There are hermit souls that live withdrawn in the place of their self content; There are souls like stars, that dwell apart, in a fellowless firmament; There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths, Where highways never ran; 2 / Chapter 1 but let me live by the side of the road And be a friend to man. Let me live in a house by the side of the road Where the race of men go by The men who are good and the men who are bad, As good and as bad as i. i should not sit in the scorner’s seat, or hurl the cynic’s ban; Let me live in a house by the side of the road And be a friend to man. i see from my house by the side of the road Where the race of men go by The men who press with ardor of hope, The men who are faint with the strife. but i turn not away from their smiles nor their tears, both parts of an infinite plan; Let me live in a house by the side of the road And be a friend of man. i know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead And mountains of wearisome heights; That the road passes on through the long afternoon And stretches away into the night. but still i rejoice when the travelers rejoice, And weep with the strangers that moan, nor live in my house by the side of the road Like a man who dwells alone. blueprint of My Life and the House / 3 Let me live in my house by the side of the road it’s here the race of men go by, They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong, Wise, foolish—so am i; Then why should i sit in the scorner’s seat or hurl the cynic’s ban? Let me live in my house by the side of the road And be a friend to man. —Sam Walter foss, 1899 Letmetellyouaboutthehousebythesideoftheroadwhere ilive. even better let me be the voice that tells the story that these walls would tell if they could speak. i was born in Mobile, Alabama, on August 30, 1932, to Juanita barnett Richardson and John William Sherrod. both parents were natives of Sumter County in the west Alabama black belt. both came from small but nurturing Alabama communities. My mother is from Hamner and my father from york, small towns where everyone knows one another. My father was a brakeman on the Alabama-Tennessee and northern Railroad, a plum of a job for a black man in the 1930s. i can remember as a small child my mother taking me to the last stop before the train reached york so i could ride the train into the station with my daddy. What a wonderful life this was—pure and simple. i also wanted to look like my daddy, so the smallest pair of overalls was purchased although my mother still had to do a lot of alterations to make them fit. To complete the outfit, i had my very own brakeman ’s hat and lunch pail filled with a lunch my mother had prepared for the day! i was so excited before the planned trip. i was “off” to 4 / Chapter 1 work with my daddy. i sat in the caboose with the other members of the crew, each of whom welcomed me with open arms. A father somehow has a special place for his little girl, and i was indeed special to mine. My mother, who lived to be 102 years old, had seen it all. How many times...

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