Last Word: What DC Can Learn About Family

Could DC be a family? I don’t think so because I don’t see enough love. I don’t see the intangible bond between the rich and poor. There is no care for those in need; only a few struggle to keep a pleading majority of Washingtonians afloat.

What is family? My grandfather, my grandmother, my family friend and the people at Street Sense are part of my family.

Even though some are not with us physically, I recall memories of them and relate them to my life. I write this with a depressed heart, for I see what DC could be and it may never happen.

My grandfather, Dolphin Dunnaha Overton III, lived 86 years. I learned more about the human soul from him than I did from anyone else.

He was a Korean War ace with countless medals to bolster his name, but this was not the man I saw. He loved his family. Whenever someone visited he would greet them with a smile the size of the Mississippi and a cheesy one-liner. “Well if it isn’t my main man from Washington,” he’d greet me.

But his most inspiring trait was his strength.

When he was dying in hospice, my grandfather hung on for my delayed uncle to arrive. And once all his children and loving wife were there, he left this world in peace. True beauty and love only family could make.

My grandmother, Olive Watson Cobb (born Latimer Watson), also lived 86 years. Along with being a distinguished member of the DC area, having worked with school, medical, and social areas of expertise, she raised five fantastic children and oversaw 16 wonderful grandchildren.

She was one of the most caring, most intelligent and toughest people in history. She had fallen countless times, but she always got up and continued with her business, whether it be a jog or laundry. And even when she was dying, she still thought of others’ well being before her own.

For her whole life, it was her undying love to her husband that showed the true beauty of family and love. They took care of each other when they were sick or mourning, but the most magical element was the intangible, indescribable love that they shared even beyond death.

My family friend’s husband passed away last year. Although, sadly, he lived a shorter life than my relatives, his story is just as amazing.

During the late 1980s there was a great famine in Ethiopia, his home country. He wanted the best for his family, so he worked countless jobs to come to America. Once here, he spent years working almost three jobs at once just to bring his family over.

But he didn’t stop there. By the end of the 1990s, he had brought over three more families and many family friends. Around 50 people came to America by his dedication and love to his community, his family.

I never saw him that much, but when I did he greeted me just as Reggie, a friend and vendor; Eric, my boss; and Mary, editor-in-chief of Street Sense, do every time I step into the office.

My family friend and the people at Street Sense accept me as part of their community and lives. It is a marriage of cultures and backgrounds, seemingly separated by different ethnicities and economic positions, uniting two different worlds in a beautiful array of laughter. These bonds never break. So why can’t DC accept and love the homeless, like a family — my family?

It is time we became a family. Let’s take our neighbors by the hand, get support, and raise awareness for those in need. Street Sense and other organizations can’t do it by themselves. So I ask you, reader, to not just love your family but love OUR family, the people of Washington, DC.


Issues |Youth

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