1 In the Beginning“GREAT DAY!” Great day, great day, the righteous marching,Great day; God’s gonna build up Zion’s walls.Chariot rode on the mountaintop,God, He spoke and the chariot stop.This the day of Jubilee,God done set His people free!Take my breastplate, sword in hand,March out boldly through the land,Want no cowards in our band,Each must be a good, brave man.Great day, great day the righteous marching,Great day; God’s gonna build up Zion’s walls. I am the joy and the pride of my maternal grandmother, looking out over a front yard overflowing with grandchildren. I am the steady and stern glance of my paternal grandfather, and the upbeat whistle pushing past my father’s lips as he enjoys a ride in his very first car, that green, two-door Chevrolet. I am the warmth of my mother as she speaks the letters of the word Mississippi in rhythm, her special way of making spelling lessons more fun. They are all in my DNA: their beautiful blood, rich with the determination, the songs, the hope, the heartbreak, and the strength of my people, stretching back past the cocoon of my childhood home in Augusta, Georgia, beyond the most storied of concert halls, beyond the earth’s surface, beyond, even, the nurturing glow of the African sun.
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