ODE TO THE GROVE

Love Grove is the place where I grew up. Love Grove, a part of the city of Wilmington, is tucked away and separated by the railroad tracks. There was one way in and one way out. The graveyard, for whites, was in the bend of the curve entering the Love Grove. Railroad tracks ran across the entrance to Love Grove and down the middle of the main street – King Street. King Street was not any different from the other two streets, Corbett Street and Stanley Street, that made up the whole of Love Grove. But King Street was the street where I not only grew up but where I was born. That’s right – I was born across the street from where my family ultimately made their home for over 60 years. Yep!! I was born in a house on the very street where I grew up. It was a small house nestled under pecan trees. Being born at home was not as uncommon as it sounds today. Hospitals were not for us – black folks. Hospitals, back in the day when I was born, had a colored wing and a white wing. Our wing, the “colored” wing, looked more like a back porch than an actual hospital. So, I came into the world, in a house on King Street, on a Sunday morning in July 1950. A neighbor, Ms. Annie Walker, named me. I think she did a good job because I have only met one other person in my lifetime with my name – Annisteen. It has served me well over the years. It is not a name that is easily forgotten - that is for sure.