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Excerpts from book: Beyond the Veil: Essays in the Dialectical Style of Socrates
by Ellis Washington On Philosophy Prelude Birth of a Young Philosopher Characters  Publiuspseudonym for the author  Newspaper Editoryou typical liberal/utopian college student  Platoafter the great Greek philosopher of antiquity  Aristotlestudent of Plato  ThoreauNew England philosopher of the late nineteenth century  Polisfriend of Publius {Setting: College campus of DePauw University, Christmas break, 1982} Polis: Hey Publius! What are you doing? Publius: Im thinking. Polis: {incredulous} What?! Im for real man. Do you want to play basketball or do something? Publius: Im . . . I-I-I-cant; Im thinking right now. Polis: Dont you know that school is over right now? Publius: {frustrated} Polis, I said, Im thinking! Do you know what that means? Polis: {frustrated} Thinking about what? I mean class is over right now. What are you thinking about. Why do you have to think? Class is over for now man; dont you understand? {pause} {Setting change: In the quietness of his study, away from Polis and the other enemies of thought where critical thinking and lofty ideas are free to roam} Publius: {to the reader} The following two essays were some of the first published examples of my writing in a serious academic style. They were originally written in January and February, 1983 for my school newspaper during my senior year at DePauw University. I was 20 years old. What provoked me to write these pieces was my weariness at the low level of intellectual interest of our school newspaper. After three years of reading this paper, I grew tired of knowing what the sororities and fraternities did at their parties; who won the football or basketball game or what young lady was homecoming queen. Those things, while seemingly important to most of my student colleagues, were absolutely irrelevant to me. I was in a quandary, a dilemma, a paradox. What could I do? What would I do? Simply complaining wasnt enough. I wanted read something substantive. Something intellectually compelling. Something that could improve the mind, yea, dare I say even the character of the reader. I thought to myselfwhat a better way to express my ideas than to write something myself. {Setting change: Office of the Student Newspaper} Newspaper Editor: May I help you? Publius: Yes. My name is Publius. I was the person who called you a few days ago to see if I could write a weekly editorial for the school newspaper based on substantive and serious ideas and topics that may be of interest to the student body. Newspaper Editor: {irritated, condescending} Well, Publius, as you may know our newspaper has very limited space so we are confined on what actually gets published, however, we do try to allot a section of the paper each week for editorial opinion by those no on the newspaper staff. Send me your essay and Ill see if we would be interested in publishing it. Publius: {to myself} At first I envisioned a weekly editorial called The Report from Washington (I thought the pun to be quite clever at the time). Unfortunately, all I was able to convince the editor to allow was the following two essays which I have transposed into the Socratic dialectic style. On Aesthetics Essay 1 Music: You are what you listen to {January, 1983} Publius: Music, to the majority of the populace, serves as an indispensable part of life in America. We can listen to it while we do just about anything and take it with us anywhere we go. Music is a tremendous force, evoking a gamut of human emotions. Aristotle: Rhythm and melody supply imitations of anger and gentleness . . . of courage and temperance . . . of virtues and vices in general which hardly fall short of the actual affections. . . for in listening to such strains, our souls undergo change. Publius: The music that is considered popular today makes Henry Thoreaus prophesy in his great work, Walden, even more despairing. Thoreau: Even music may be intoxicating. Such apparently slight causes destroyed Greece and Rome, and will destroy England and America. Polis: Well Publius, I like to listen to rock music, rap music and popular music. Whats wrong with that? Publius: Musical styles are consummate and serve a voluminous amount of objectives from worship to sound effects; therefore, I will limit my comments to the two most popular forms rock-and-roll and pop or soul music. All of these musical forms, especially rock has achieved unprecedented influence on the values of society. In general, most of the songs glorify either sexual immorality, occult worship, adultery, hedonistic philosophy, drugs, incessant partying, drunkenness and with the advent of rap music, pathological violence and murder. But the central theme of our current hit songs is doubtlessly propagating sexual promiscuity, which is clearly manifested in rock, soul and country music. Polis: It seems to me Publius that you dont want anybody to have any fun or gain any pleasure from listening to the music that they choose to listen to. This is America. Arent you being a bit puritanical, judgmental and intolerant? I mean who are you to criticize what kind of music people what to listen to? I mean isnt this a free country? In America we are free to do anything we want to do and its nobodys damn business what I to do with my own life! Publius: Well spoken, Polis, you have made many interesting and provocative statements of which if I were to fully address each point would take an extended treatise. However my condemnation isnt toward the people that advocate in their lives the exhaustive list of adjectives I listed in the previous statement, it is against those who in hypocritical arrogance cringe at the mention of any of those words in a regular conversation, while adulterating themselves unreservedly to the beat and the message of rock and soul music in practiceIf it feels good, do it! As a music educator and a conscientious listener to only discriminating forms of music, I have come to recognize a definite link among the several popular varieties of music. In all cases the harmonic and rhythmic material of roc, soul and country music are critical, and viably significant to control the listener. For example, many of Pavlovs experiments were conducted with a metronome to elucidate the effects of rhythm as a shaping factor. The rhythm of the music affects the subconscious tremendously and leaves the unenlightened listener totally oblivious to the impending attack of the musics relentless beat and message. In many circles today our popular music is unquestionably reverting back to savagery. For example what is the type of atmosphere you would find at the average rock-and-roll concert like The Rolling Stones or The Grateful Dead? No doubt you have abundance of drugs, repulsive stage antics, deafening music and in many cases riots and uncontrollable havoc. Its all a result of what I call the message of the music which is geared to make you lose sight of reality and purpose for life. As I mentioned earlier, it happened to Greece and Rome-a constant, repressive degradation of the musical taste of society as a whole that, combined with degenerating societal morality lead to the fall of many once great nations. Who is to say that history wont repeat itself here in America since we obviously havent learned from history? Polis: The average listener doesnt consciously think about the music he just experiences it. The music evokes subjective responses that eventually gain a subconscious control of the persons behavior. Earlier you quoted Aristotles ideas on music. Im curious, did his teacher, Plato have anything to say on this subject? Plato: Give me the music of a nations and I care not who makes its law, I will control its people. Publius: Even Jesus Christ extolled the significance of music when he said in the Bible, Ye that have an ear, let him hear. . . What the Jewish mind meant by hear (hesed) is to not only hear what Im saying but to listen with a mind to be open towards obedience, learning and substantive change in all things. On Love Essay 5 Caroline My Valentine Completed January 13, 1999, this dialogue is in Socratic dialectical style and is basically a short narrative of how the Lord used me to lead my sister-in-law {then named Caroline} to become a Christian. During this period she had planned on doing two terrible deeds just as soon as she saw her relatives one last time: (1) She planned on buying a gun to murder her then husband who was seriously abusing her; (2) Next, she planned to turn the gun on herself and commit suicide . . . Fortunately, God had other plans. ~ Part 1 ~ n the eve before Valentines Day, the night was transfixed. The celestial audience were in their place. Caroline My Valentine and I conversed on the green couch was we had many, many times before, but something was wrong; Something was dreadfully Amiss! You must understand dear reader that Caroline My Valentine had come for a week-long visit. This night, here heart was heavyExceedingly BurdensomeLive was crushing her to Death! Caroline My Valentine wanted to die this night. She tried to dieshe really did. She only made one misstake that would have completed her journey to Hell . . . ~ She picked the wrong house to Die in ~ God to Caroline And as for thy nativity, in the day thou was born thy navel was not cut, neither was thou washed in water to supple thee; thou was not salted at all, nor swaddled at all. None eye pitied thee, to do any of these unto thee; but thou was cast out in the open filed, to the loathing of thy person, in the day thou wast born and when I passed by thee, and saw thee polluted in thine own blood, I said unto thee when thou was in thy blood, LIVE!; yea I said unto thee when thou was in thy blood, LIVE! ~ Ezekiel 16:4-6 I gently picked thee off the ground. (You must understand dear reader that she is my sister and I love her so!!). I carried thee up, up, up to your bed. I took thy shoes offone at a time. I tucked thee into bed as a child, as a little Stone. Oh My Valentine, My lovely, lovely Valentineand softly brushed thy brow. Rest! Rest! Caroline My Valentine, for tomorrow will be the first day of your life. ~ Part II ~ It is Valentines Day night. The celestial audience are in their place. Caroline My Valentine and I sit on the green couch. I read the verse, We said the Prayer, The Cord is cut, Life is there . . . ! Caroline My Valentine . . . Caroline My Valentine . . . On Epistemology and the Nature of Judgment Essay 24 The Forgotten Genius {To be read with Bachs music playing quietly in the backgroundPerhaps the Aria from the Goldberg Variations for solo harpsichord} This dialogue is a fictional conversation based on historical facts. The characters are the great classical music composer and conductor Felix Mendelssohn and his son. Felix Mendelssohn, grandson of the legendary nineteenth century philosopher, Moses Mendelssohn. Felix Mendelssohn single-handedly resurrected the music of Johann Sebastian Bach from obscurity with his famous performance in 1829 of Bachs supreme masterworkThe Passion According To St. Matthew. Prior to this historic performance, for almost a century Bachs music lay in boxes in the cellars of the German cathedrals where he once performed. This short invention pays homage to ~ The Forgotten Genius {SettingIn the study at the home of Felix Mendelssohn, Leipzig, Germany, 1828} ~ Characters ~  Felix Mendelssohn  Mendelssohns young son Son: Daddy! Whose music is this in these old, dusty, dirty, moldy boxes? {As tears begin to well up in his eyes and a tremble in his voice} Mendelssohn: My son; My dear, dear son! This music is by a very, very great composer who lived many years ago! Son: What is his name? Mendelssohn: Johann Sebastian Bach. Son: Where did he live, Daddy? Mendelssohn: He was born in Eisenach, Germany in 1685. He died in 1750. Son: Where did Bach work? Mendelssohn: He worked right here in the city of Leipzig, Germany at the Cathedral of St. Thomas Church, a few blocks from here. Son: Where did you get these boxes of old, dusty, dirty, moldy music from daddy? Mendelssohn: I found this music from the basement of the Cathedral of St. Thomas Church down the street where Bach used to work, son. Son: Daddy, why did they put Bachs music in these old, dusty, dirty, moldy boxes in the basement of the church for? {highly inquisitive/looking up into his daddys eyes} Son: Daddy?! . . . Was Bach a bad man? {with tears streaming down his face now} Mendelssohn: No, . . . son,. . . . No. . . Bach was not a bad man, he was a very, very good man! Son: Daddy, they cant play Bachs music in the basement of that church, can they daddy? Mendelssohn: No son, they cant play his music while the music stays in those old boxes in the basement of the church. Son: Daddy, why are you crying, did I do something bad? Mendelssohn: No, . . . No, . . . son,. . . you did nothing wrong. I cry tears of joy and tears of sadness. Son: Tears of sadness and joy?But daddy, I-I-I dont understand. Mendelssohn: Yes son. My tears of Joy are for the magnificent discovery Ive made in finding this music of Bach. {Proclamation style} Johann Sebastian Bach was the greatest composer, violinist, organist, Choir director and harpsichord player of his day and the more I read and play his music, the music in these old, dusty, dirty, moldy boxes, the more I realize that he was the greatest composer and musician that ever lived, yea, he was the greatest composer that will ever live. Son: Daddy, then why do you cry the tears of sadness? Mendelssohn: Because, son, Bach, like many truly great individuals in history, Jesus Christ for example, were not appreciated in their day. He was not appreciated by his own people. Remember the Bible verse I taught you last week? A prophet is not without honor, except in his own country, and in his own house ~ Matthew 13:57 Son: Daddy, why didnt the people appreciate Bachs music? Mendelssohn: Son, that is a very, very hard and complex question, Ill do my best to answer it. Son, you see times were changing during the time Bach lived in. Bach lived during the Baroque period of music historyduring the Renaissance period at a time where everything man did was dedicated to God. Bachs death in 1750 ended the Baroque Period and a new worldview emerged, the Enlightenment period, where men consciously and purposely sought to free themselves from following Gods laws. Man now saw himself as autonomous, independent, secular, liberated! Bachs Christian-based music was now considered out of style with the times. Son: Daddy, How can man be free without God? Mendelssohn: He cant be free son. Man thinks he is free, but hes actually a Slave  A Slave to his passions;  A Slave to his lusts;  A Slave to materialism;  A Slave to sex, power, money, influence;  A Slave to what people say, think and believe, not to what is good, virtuous and honorable, despite what the people say!  A Slave to his own achievements. Son: Daddy, what piece of music is that on your desk. Mendelssohn: Son, this is a very, very special piece of music. This is Bachs original manuscript to his Passion According to Saint Matthew, written for two large four voice choirs, a boys choir, and large orchestra which includes full strings, woodwinds, brass instruments and tympani. {proclamation style} IT IS ONE OF BACHS SUPREME MASTERPIECES AND ONE OF THE GREATEST PIECES OF MUSIC YET WRITTEN! Son: Was that music in one of those old, dusty, dirty, moldy boxes, daddy? Mendelssohn: Yes . . . son. . . . yes it was. {with urgency} Son: But Daddy! Why was the greatest music yet written kept in those old, dusty, dirty, moldy boxes? Why! Daddy? . . . . . {looking up at his father} Why? {pause}{big sigh} Mendelssohn: I imagine because the people of the Enlightenment Period werent very enlightened, were they son? Son: No! Daddy, those bad people who put Bachs music in those old, dusty, dirty, moldy boxes were not very enlightened at all! ~ The End ~ On Courage Essay 72 Richie The Lionhearted Died of AIDS Completed 15 June 1999. This essay is a case study of a childhood acquaintance whom I greatly feared when we were kids growing up, but now saw in a very different light as I viewed him at his funeral several years ago. Richard 'rich-ərd name of 3 kings of England: I (Coeur de Li-on{Richard the Lionhearted}) 1157-1199 (reigned 1189-99). . . Publius: I saw you in the casket today, Richie The Lionhearted. You looked so frail, so weak, so unlike as I remembered you back in the dayback during the time when we were kids growing up in the ghetto of east Detroit when we were little kids, ages 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. I thought that You, Richie the Lionhearted, was the man. You, Richie The Lionhearted were so strong. You, Richie The Lionhearted were so fast. You, Richie The Lionhearted were such an excellent great football, baseball and basketball player. (Richie, I thought you were good in everything). You spoke so confidently (not eloquently or wisely), but you seem to speak and live life with such fearlessness! With such a reckless abandon that I admired so much mostly because in many respects I was the opposite of you. Richie the Lionhearted, you werent afraid of anything or anybody. You won every fight that you ever had except one. Nobody messed with you, Richie the Lionhearted. {whisper voice} You were the man! Richie the Lionhearted was a bad mother- - - {shut your mouth}! Polis: What was the one fight that he lost? Publius: Once an older boy named, Dee Dee beat him up because Richie was probably running his mouth too much and Dee Dee got mad and smacked him around a bit. When Richie went home to tell his parents what happened the response was horrific. Not only did he get a severe beating from his mother for losing a fight, but his brother, Dyrel got a terrible beating also. Polis: But why? What did Dyrel do for such a sever punishment from his mother? Publius: Dyrel was not punished for failing to defend Richie, for Dyrel didnt know about his brother being in a fight. Polis: Why did Dyrel get a beating then? Publius: His mother, Mrs. Kendricks, beat Dyrel just in case he had any doubts about what his mission would beto avenge the beating of his brother. Although Dee Dee was much bigger than he, Dyrel whipped Dee Dee like he was his daddy. The family name was vindicated. Richie the Lionhearted was the man again. . . . (or was he?!) {pause} Now, there seems to have been a very, very small, little chink in his armor. I didnt see it at the time because I was too young, too naiveI hadnt experienced enough life yet. I didnt see that he had too many older brothers carrying his armor. The chink in Richies armor grew over the years as his big brothers moved away from him. Soon Richie was home alone. Richie the Lionhearteds downfall happened because Richie actually started to believe his own press reports. He actually believed that he was the baddest kid on the block. (What kind of job will being the baddest kid on the block get you in corporate America? {duuhh!}) I guess thats why Richie the Lionhearted went to the Army. Yes, Richie became a soldier, and eventually a husband and a father of two children. What kind of father are you now Richie the Lionhearted? What kind of father, husband, son, lover, soldier, brother are you now, laying down in that casket . . . all alone? Interlude Phantastic! {After Hector Berliozs, Symphonie Phantastic} Publius: Richie? Who is that laying next to you in your casket? . . . Polis: Oh, Richie! Is that your newest friend, Mr. AIDS Virus. Richie: Yes, Publius, it is. Publius: How are you today Mr. Virus? I hope Richie treats you better than he treated me when we were kids. Mr. AIDS Virus: It doesnt matter; my work with him is done anyway, Im just going with Richie for the ride. I have so many future victims lined up who dont even know that Ive paid them a visit, that I needed a vacation! Sometimes, even a deadly virus as I get tired of killing folks such as thy! Thats no lie . . . I dont even have to try! . . . Se ya next July! . . . Publius: I guess Mr. AIDS Virus was one bad brother Richie the Lionhearted couldnt defeat. Mr. AIDS Virus was a bad mother- - - Ghetto Chorus: Shut your mouth! Publius: Id never want to meet! Mr. AIDS was badder than Dee Dee, who whipped Richie when we were kids years ago. Mr. AIDS was badder than his big brother Dyrel, who saved Richies reputation and vindicated the family name. {25 years later} Publius: Where has the time gone? Where has Richie the Lionhearted gone? I looked at Richie lying in that casket. He was a shriveled up little man of about 5'8, 130 lbs. Why was I in such fear of him 25 years ago? Did I believe Richie the Lionhearteds press reports also? Did I believe his threats to beat me up if I didnt do what he said to do when he said to do it? Did I believe the hype?that Richies threats against me were greater than the reality I knew about myself? Did I believe? You know most gentle reader, belief is a strong emotion that we dont talk about that much these days. Belief can really control your lifes destiny. Lets talk about belief for a minute. I believe that Richie the Lionhearted was not a lionhearted at all. As a matter of fact, he had no heart at all. He was merely a spoiled brat ghetto boy who thought that he could get away with anything. . . with cheating on his wife with, having sex with other men; Being The Man! . . . with a man? I dont understand! I cant follow his plan. . . America! Can we no longer withstand? . . . {pause} Postlude Publius: This is sadness! Stop the madness! King Solomon wrote three thousand years ago thatThere is a way that seemeth right onto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death. Richie the Lionhearted! Where dost thou roam? Richie the Lionhearted where is thy throne? Richie the Lionhearted sat all alone. . . in a casket with an invisible man named Mr. AIDS Virus . . . Have you seen Richie the Lionhearted . . . lately? On Encouragement Essay 43 Deborahs Beautiful Blue Eyes 26 January 1999, 12:35 p.m. One day I was looking for Rick the walking Slum One day I was looking for Rick the Bum when I found you. Our eyes met for a moment, maybe two, for a very brief period of time as I passed by you sitting on the Churchs steps with your two male companions who lay fast asleep behind you. (You must understand Oh Noble Reader that it was about 12:30 p.m. and this ill-kept, ill-feed, ill-cleansed trinity of 2 White brothers and the White sister with the big, beautiful blue eyes . . . who sat on the church steps were . . . DEAD! . . . ti-red. . . dead . . . but . . . so tired . . . !) I said within my heart as I walked down the street toward the Varsity restaurant. As I look for the walking Slum. As I looked for Rick the Bum: If Rick the Bum is not there, I will take my New Mind Package elsewhere and give it to Deborah who had such beautiful blue eyes! Rick was not there. I guess he picked another street corner to beg on that day, so I walked back to the church steps and there were the most exquisite, radiant blue eyes I had ever beheld? There was still a faint glimmer there. Life had not killed her quite yet! I noticed the hospital bracelet around her wrist. She told me she checked herself in yesterday. The doctor said she had pneumonia. (Publius! Instead, Like you said, Give her the New Mind Package, for tomorrow she may be DEAD!) I asked her how old she was? She giggled nervously, Im 40, but I look 120. I tragically agreed. For a brief moment I cried within my spirit. Life had been so cruel to her or perhaps she had been so cruel to Life! It was as if each day of her 4 short decades was spent fighting a losing, wasted battle against Life and dying instead of enjoying Life and living! But Why Deborah? Why . . . Deborah . . . Please. . . . Please dont . . . dont Die . . . Ellis, Dont Cry! . . . Oh, Deborah! the urine! scented lady . . . with . . . the beautiful . . . radiant. . . . blue . . . eyes! On Race/Racism Essay 68 Lynching Me {Strange Fruit} The inspiration for this essay came from a newspaper article I read dated 24 January 2000 in the New York Times, titledHistoric Images of Hate, In a Compelling Display Exhibition on Lynchings Draws Crowds, by Somini Sengupta. Like the title states, this was an article reviewing a photography exhibition depicting Black men being hanged throughout American history {pause, mood change}. . . Savagely . . . Frequently . . . Unlawfully . . . Joyfully with White Glee! . . . the silent pictures of righteous Black men swinging free. . . the unspeakable images of strong Black men hanging from a tree. . . I often wonder . . . are they lynching me. . . ? Strange Fruit . . . {To be read with Billie Holidays immortal rendition of either the following songs Strange Fruit or God Bless the Child playing softly in the background} Publius: I saw the story, the long forgotten story of how my people were savagely treated by the forefathers of White America. How they hung our strongest Black men by the neck . . . from the branch of the tree. Jazz songstress, Billie Holiday, called this tragedy in America, Strange Fruit. Yes, Ms. Holiday, now I see it was strange to me as they sang, My Country tis of Thee, Sweet land of Liberty, that a country like America could hang Me on that tree. {pause} Yes, Ms. Holiday, it was a strange sight to see that a place like America, a country supposedly founded by Christianity would have such strange trees in the landin this sweet land of liberty . . . Was there a master plan? I cant understand that America would have such strange trees that grew such Strange Fruit made by the White man! As I read this article yes I try, only a little could I read at a time, before I cry. . . before I die. . . I saw a proud, beautiful old Black woman, a mulatto to some, with bowed head and weeping soul, asking . . . was I the only one? She remembered as a little girl in Pickens, S.C. one terrible dark day of a strong Black man come-aknocking on our door that day. The Black man, of loud sound, most profound, cleared his throat, did expound, . . . Woman! Keep your chillins inside today, there was some {here I broke down and cried for awhile} strange fruit growing on a tree about 30 miles away. Sixty five years later I am seventy two years old today, but as I gaze upon the pictures of this strange fruit, I must go away. But dont worry about me my friend, said the Old Woman to us all, I vow to return to see the story of how White folks hanged our strongest Black men so tall. This story will end as it began of how our strong Black men were hanged from a tree. . . of how our strong Black men were strange fruit you see? . . . Did this happen to thee in the land of the free? . . . Did this happen to thee in the great land of Liberty . . . Fraternity . . . Destiny . . . Its all good to me. Cant you see . . . Its all good to thee, if America will one day STOP! . . . Lynching Me . . . . * N.B.: Dedicated to every known (and unknown) Black person hanged on a tree in these here United States of America. On Race/Racism Essay 65 Oprah! Did You Know that President George Washington Is My Father Too? This short essay is an epic in miniature and was inspired by a program Oprah Winfrey did on the Black descendants of President Thomas Jeffersons sexual union with one of the Black slaves he ownedMs. Sally Hemings. Publius: The date was January 18, 1999, a Monday afternoon, the day America celebrated Martin Luther Kings birthday. My son, Stones daycare center was open today; so was the hospital my wife works at; but the law firm where I worked respected this dayThis King Holiday. I turned on the television to channel 3 for I had heard Oprah would have the descendants of President Thomas Jefferson on the show todayhis White descendants AND his Black descendants. {refrain in a sassy tone} Polis: Did you say, Black Descendants? {pause} Oh! Oooohhhh!! Dont you dare, Oprah! Sister Girl, . . . Dont you Go There! Yous gonna scare those poooo White folks right out they chair! {response in a firm, resolute tone} Oprah: A Womans got to do what a womans got to do! {joyous, inquisitive tone} Publius: So I dare Oprah . . . Im there Oprah, . . . sitting on my chair . . . I stare! . . . Do I dare? to think that one of Americas Founding Fathers, this demigod, could do such a thing, this man of flesh and blood, with his maiden slave of 14 named Sally Hemings?! Narrator: The White descendants spoke first; the White man, particularly profound, did expound saying, Oprah, the graveyard gate at Monticello that doth surround (the White dead from the Black dead. . . ) tear the Mothersuker DOWN! Polis: OOOOOOhhhhhhhh!!! NNNNNOOOOOOO!!!! A White man said that!? Narrator: Well not exactly in those words said he Did, but the DNA test proved the truth! These Black Folks were President Thomas Jeffersons Kids!! Polis: Well now Oprah, I told you earlier, {refrain} I-I-I-I de-clare Girlfriend, Dont you go there, yous gonna scare those pooooo White Folks right out they chair! Oprah: I dont care! I swear! . . . America! Tell the truth! . . . if you dare!? {joyous, inquisitive tone} Publius: So Im there Oprah, . . . sitting on my chair . . . I stare! . . Do I dare? To think that one of Americas Founding Fathers, this demigod, could do such a thing? . . . This man of flesh and blood, with his maiden slave of 14 named Sally Hemings? ~ Part II ~ I Didnt Know President George Washington had Chillins Oprah: So Mr. Washington, what is this I hear about you being a descendant of slaves owned by President George Washington? Ellis: Its true, Oprah! My father, Ivan Washington, told me years ago that his grandfather told him that our forefathers were slaves at President George Washingtons Mount Vernon Plantation; thats how we got our surname, Washington. Like most slaves we had no last name, so when upon George Washingtons death, in an expressed decree in his will, all of the slaves he owned and their children were to be immediately set free! His widow, Martha Washington tried to deny President George Washingtons will, but the slaves to be freed threatened her with bodily harm, therefore after a year or so she relented and freed his slaves and their children. Oprah, President George Washington died in 1799; Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863. Oprah, that means that my people were free Black Americans 63-64 years Before the official year most slaves were made free by law! {In a joyous country style} Ellis: Well bless the Loaawwwddd, Ms. Oprah!, Maybe thats why I flow so Passionately . . . So Intensely the way I do. Ms. Oprah, maybe thats why I dedicate this work unto you. Ms. Oprah, maybe thats why I have been free 63 years longer than . . . thee? . . . . Cant you see?. . . .! Fidelity! Fraternity!! Destiny!!! Liberty!!!! {pause} Its ALL GOOD . . . to Me! . . . Thank You! President George Washington. . . . Thank You! . . . AUTHOR’S BIOGRAPHY ______________________________________ Ellis Washington, DePauw University; B.M. 1983, University of Michigan; M.M. 1986, John Marshall Law School; J.D. 1994. He was an editor at the University of Michigan Law Review and the Rutherford Institute. 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