By Ruth Ann Ruiz
The Post Newspaper Features Editor
It was a hot, balmy Saturday afternoon when I serendipitously captured photos of Galveston’s Juneteenth parade. Someone said while I was out wandering around enjoying the charm of downtown Galveston, “There’s goanna be a parade.” I asked when because I love parades. There was just enough time for me to run to my apartment and grab my camera.
That was June 2015.
I took some fun photos. It didn’t matter that the clouds were rolling in, nothing was going to stop the parade.
At that point I didn’t really know what Juneteenth was all about. Through the years of living in Galveston I have been able to educate myself on the significance of the holiday.
It was easy for me to embrace the holiday—after all I got a good lesson about slavery from my mamma. Our family was fortunate to be the last tenants in the city’s oldest mansion in Grandville, Michigan.
I remember being a five-year-old living in what had once been a place of prestigious social gatherings. There was a grand ball room which included a built-in lounger where I took many naps.
You can’t visit the house today. We moved out and it was demolished. The city police and fire department still stand in the mansion’s former location.
Once I walked into the bathroom of that old house, and the mirror broke. My brothers never let me hear the end of that one. There were the doorknobs that fell off at random times, causing a clattering, and the lights that flickered. One time we all came home from school, and the city fire trucks were in front of our house. There had been some sort of electrical issue.
What I remember the most is one afternoon while I was helping fold the laundry, cats started fighting in the basement. I was so scared I jumped on the sofa with my mom. I thought there were huge lions and tigers in our basement.
My mom assured me what I had heard were just a bunch of regular cats— not huge ones— fighting. We didn’t have cats, and I wanted to know how the cats got into our basement.
She took that moment to teach me a part of our nation’s history. The basement had a secret door, and someone must have left it open. But why was there a secret door, I demanded to know.
She explained the house had once been part of the Underground Railroad, and runaway slaves from the South had hidden in the basement.
What were runaway slaves and why did they need to hide? My curious mind wanted to know.
There on the sofa next to my mamma, I learned about our nation’s history with slavery. I learned from her that it was a cruel practice of the past and we should never, ever have slaves again.
She went on to talk about racism and words we should never use. I learned we should love all people and help people when we can. I learned a huge lesson that day one that has stayed with me my entire life.
History lessons continued in my classrooms in both Michigan and Arizona. I’ll admit, I didn’t learn much about Jim Crow laws in school. I have educated myself, and I grieve that our nation at one time imposed such horrific laws.
As we begin Juneteenth celebrations, I am very happy to be here in the birthplace of the holiday, and I take pride in knowing it is now a national holiday. Juneteenth recognizes a day in our nation’s history when we moved a little bit closer to the beliefs stated at the beginning of our Declaration of Independence:
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
See you at one of the many Juneteenth parades or other celebrations.
