‘Bama State’s Marching Hornets Band took the field and did their thing. Next up, Tuskegee’s Crimson Piper Band tossed their hat in and fought for the crowd’s favor. As the bands cleared the field and the commentators began to rate the show, Charlie Neal began to talk about how both bands were good, but, he’s partial to Southern’s band. Doug had to pull for Grambling University’s band. Nate with his quick wit, zeroed in on Jerry Rice.
“Jerry, don’t you say a word. Does Mississippi Valley even have a band? Never mind, it’s not important. Now Doug, you know the best thing at Grambling was Eddie Robinson.” Then he turned to young Eddie Robinson former linebacker at ‘Bama State, and the NFL’s Jacksonville, Jaguars and Tennessee, Titans, “Not you Eddie Robinson, the O-riginal Eddie Robinson. Besides the best halftime show in the country is FAMU’s Marching “100", hands down. Tell me I’m lying.”
Chapman was beaming as a result of the comment Nate Newton made. It made him feel good because FAMU’s band was a point of pride for him. To hear someone appreciate the band from the period when he was in it, was a major stroke to his ego. In the middle of his thought, the sound of the doorbell chimed through the house. Jumping to his feet, he dashed to the kitchen to rinse away the evidence before he answered the door.
“Come on in. Hello Precious...Little Billy and Yvette. Have you all been good? You all come on in and make yourselves at home.”
After closing the door behind the Jones clan, he noticed that Terri had made her way out of the bedroom and was in place just in time to greet everyone as they streamed into the living room. Ma Sweet and Ma Black were up from their naps and had resumed the preparation of the bountiful feast. Before they knew it the table was being set for dinner.
Chapman and Thumper were standing outside by the music practice shed. He couldn’t wait to tell Thumper what Nate Newton said on TV One. The thoughts generated by Nate Newton’s appreciative comments cause them to be mentally transported back to their old college days. Standing down on the Patch as Doc Foster, Doc White, and Doc James put them through the grind.
“Dinner time,” announced Ma Black.
Everybody began to move toward the table like cows coming in from the field. No one was in a rush and it almost seemed church like in atmosphere. Chapman directed traffic as Ma Sweet and Ma Black fussed over what they should put on the table first. Finally, everyone was in their place around the table. Ma Sweet looked at her baby with wet eyes and nodded for him to begin the grace. When he joined hands with Terri it seemed as if all ill thoughts faded away. Instructing everyone to join hands, he eased into his Thanksgiving prayer.
“Oh God of all that is, we come to offer thanks for all that you have provided for us this afternoon. We thank you for life, food, family, friendship, love, happiness, and dreams. May we take this time to reconnect with those that mean the most to us and move on to a positive future. Bless Sis and her family, as they travel to another part of this country to commune with their other family. Keep us safe and united, in your son Jesus’ name─Amen.”
The chorus of amen followed Chapman’s as Ma Sweet and Ma Black prepared the traditional first plate of food, for the man of the house. Chapman received his plate and again accepted the full responsibility of what it means to be the first man to receive the first plate. The weight was great, and he felt all of it.
“Now we need a Bible verse from everybody,” Chapman requested.
The kids wanted to show their stuff. “Our Father who art in Heaven...”, exclaimed Thumper and Precious’ oldest child Yvette.
“Jesus wept!”, quickly came from the mouth of her little brother Billy, Jr.
“No fair, I was going to use that one,” protested Terri.
They all had a hearty laugh at the joke and Terri’s pretense of being upset. It got so nice up in there, Terri even let Chapman fork feed her some sweet potato pie, and anybody who knew Terri, knew that she did not go for that puppy love kind of stuff.
Blue Night
“I guess it felt like one big blur between Thanksgiving, Christmas and the New Year. I am sitting here smack dab in the middle of my...excuse me...our spacious den. I’m working on being a more kinder, gentler Terri this year. Nice music, the sweet sofa set my man had imported straight from the motherland, the man of my dreams preparing me a plate of food, and I’m still not happy. I’m tired of playing games. Oh...here I go again. Put on the face that grins and smiles, put on the face, put on the face.”
“What’s up Chick?”, bellowed Chapman with his deep voice.
Terri for some strange reason is moved by Chapman’s verbal display of affection. But, then again she always would be, as long as things were going according to her plan.
“I made this just for you. This is your favorite Saturday meal. The Sweet-Man’s special. Grilled sirloin tips, grilled veggies, and grilled shrimp. This wicked combination of surf and turf, coupled with my secret Sweet-Man’s dipping sauce is one erotic combination of oral delight. Now you eat this while I play a little something for you.”
Terri reared back in the big leather lounge chair while Chapman walked across the den to two black instrument cases on the floor in the corner. The first case he opened contained an alto-saxophone. Putting the sax back into its case, he reached for the case at the bottom of the stack. With a firm, yet gentle grasp, he pulled out a purple lacquer flugal horn. He handled the horn as if it were a part of the Tut-Ahnk-Amun treasure. It was obvious that he really liked this unusual looking horn. He began rubbing over the texture of the etching on the bell. The inscription read, “Daddy’s Man”. Chapman smiled and chuckled to himself. That’s the name his father used to call him when he was a very little boy.
“Daddy’s little man”, he whispered, and then shook his head as he returned from a momentary dream-like state. Reaching back into the horn’s case, he retrieved a mouthpiece and a harmonic mute. Blowing a large breath of warm air through the horn, he fluttered the valves with his fingers in order to warm the cold brass piping. Setting the mood, Chapman dimmed the lights so that Terri could still see her food.
“What are you doing? I can’t see my food,” Terri softly protested.
“Um, just settin’ the mood,” he mumbled. “This is for you babe.”
Chapman carefully placed his horn close to his mouth and instinctively gave the cold, dry mouthpiece a preparatory lick with his tongue, and then he placed his warm brown lip against it. He began to blow a tune that was somewhat out of time and tune. Chaos and confusion is what it would have been to the untrained ear and heart. Terri began to makes faces, but the sounds were sliding toward making sense. Organized chaos or disorganized genius or whatever it was, began to pull itself together. When it did, Terri inserted a pleasurable fork full of surf-n-turf into her mouth and softly tossed her head back in what was pure ecstasy. She chewed her food with an ever-so-slight smile on her face. All the while, Chapman was playing his arrangement of the old Billy Joel tune, “Just the Way You Are”.
This was one of the rare moments when an artist becomes a spiritual conduit for God’s voice. Chapman was making a definite joyful noise. His eyes were closed. The hair on his arms literally stood on end. The combination of the food he prepared, dim lights and God’s spirit of love emanated through Chapman and his horn to create a trance like state. It was as if Chapman were in the midst of worship service and he began to speak in musical tongues. Terri could see and feel that something good was going on, but God knows, only Chapman could understand that something completely. As he played on for what seemed like eternity, not another sound could be heard. And Terri appeared to be saying amen to his prayer.
What Terri saw looked like a scene from an old black and white movie. Chapman was perched on a stool under a blue light. Beads of sweat on his forehead resembled blue diamonds on brown velvet. He held a white handkerchief in his left hand as he continued to preach through his horn. A single tear rolled down his face. The emotion felt thick enough to touch. Terri began to see