Homecoming Weekend (28 page)

Tranise, Mary and Charlene

“I
can't believe they are selling those giant, deformed smoked turkey legs,” Charlene said as she, Mary and Tranise walked the concourse of Dick Price Stadium just as the game began. “I like to eat—make that
love
to eat—but I wouldn't mess with that. If a turkey was big enough for that leg, he would be able to post up Shaq.”

“And look at that line,” Tranise said. “I guess folks are hungry.”

There were a lot of hungry folks in the bowels of the stadium for the homecoming game between Norfolk State and Howard. There were thousands of people who remained at the tailgate and did not even attend the game. And there were more than thirty thousand at the game. Most were in the stands, but many people made their rounds walking the concourse. It was a prime opportunity to see even more former classmates.

Most people, especially women, attended the game only to reconnect with old friends and to see the band perform at halftime. They wanted the Spartans to win, but it was not that important to sit there and see
how
they won.

“Oh, I just got a text from Joi Edwards,” Tranise said. Joi was a friend she had met in Atlanta at a Jill Scott concert at Chastain Park two summers ago. They complimented each other on their hair and learned that they went to the same place, Like
The River The Salon in the Inman Park section of Atlanta.

“Who's Joi?” Mary asked.

“She's my girlfriend from Atlanta,” Tranise explained. “She's a dentist. She went to Howard, but I don't hold that against her.”

“She came here just for the game?” Charlene asked.

“Yes,” Tranise answered. “Her cousin plays for Howard and she hadn't seen him play in person this season, so she picked this game. She told me she was getting in this morning. We've got to connect with her. She's a sweetheart.”

The ladies backed away from the center of the concourse, away from the wall-to-wall foot traffic. “I can't believe this many people are here,” Tranise said. “This is so great.”

Steven Nottingham came up and pointed his high-tech camera toward Tranise. “Hello, ladies,” he said. “Strike a pose.” And they did. Before they could break up, Marsha Lewis, the AKA, asked them to stay there for another picture.

Steve and Marsha were special in that way. Seemingly every other person had a camera and took photos. But those two loved to capture the weekend in pictures. They did not ask for money to receive the photos or even a donation. They did it because they enjoyed doing it.

They inspired Tranise to pull out her camera. “I have been so overwhelmed that I forgot I even had my little Canon,” she said. “Come on, ladies, pose.”

She took photos of her friends and then anyone who passed by them. “It just feels good to be here,” she said. “I am embarrassed to admit this: I went to a homecoming at the University of Georgia last year. I hadn't even come to my own but this guy who went there invited me.”

“How was it?” Mary asked.

“It was good,” she said. “But it wasn't
this
. He was a nice guy
and made sure he introduced me around. But the bond I see here wasn't what I felt there. This is like one big family reunion, one big community. There, it was the few black people among ninety-thousand white people making their one little spot on a huge campus. The people I was with were great and they were happy to see each other. It just was on such a smaller scale and nowhere near the passion I see here.”

Indeed, they stood by and watched old classmates reconnect over and over and over, with a few of them shedding tears. “I cried when I saw you, Mary,” Tranise said. “When I think about it, you and Charlene and other people we were close to—and Norfolk State—represent a special time in my life. By the time I left, I was more proud of being a black woman than I can even tell you. I believed I could do anything. That pride has stayed in me, made me stronger when I could not get the job I wanted out of college.

“That's why I wear this Norfolk State T-shirt with so much pride. I have about five of them. I wear them in Atlanta. I tell my students about NSU. I have told my students about the both of you, how the friendships I developed in college mean so much and last a lifetime.”

“Damn,” Mary said, “and she ain't even been drinking yet. Already into her sentimental speech mode.”

“You just want to play hard all the time, but I saw you crying, too, when we first saw each other,” Tranise said to Mary.

“Ain't nobody cry when you saw me,” Charlene said in mock disgust. “That's some bullshit right there.”

“Awww, you know we love you,” Tranise said, hugging her.

“Speak for yourself,” Mary cracked. “I ain't liked this bitch since she ate my Pop Tarts junior year.”

“Must we go back to that?” Charlene said, laughing. “I was
hungry. And I replaced them with some fresh Pop Tarts. The ones I ate were dried out.”

“This is what I'm talking about,” Tranise said. “The memories.”

“I also remember you stealing my TV out of my room and putting it in the living room to entertain some guy,” Mary said.

“Damn, right,” Tranise said. “You were sleep and the TV in the living room was broken because you tried to do a cartwheel and banged into it, remember? So, it was your fault it was broke. I needed a TV.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that,” Charlene said. “She was mad as hell. She was being all selfish about her little-ass TV. Thing couldn't have been but about fifteen inches.”

Playfully, Mary said: “You had no right to steal my TV. I should have called the police. I—”

BOOM!!!!
came a sound from inside the stadium.

The ladies jumped.

“What the hell was that?” Mary said. “Scared the shit out of me.”

“Oh, that was the cannon going off,” said Jimmy, who was walking by with Carter and heard Mary's question. “It means Norfolk State just scored. The cannon goes off every time we score.”

“Well, damn,” Mary said. “They need to warn you before they do that. Somebody's gonna have a damn heart attack.”

Jimmy laughed. “Well, the good news is that Norfolk State is in the lead,” he said.

“And that I have a strong heart. Thanks,” Mary added as Jimmy and Carter walked on.

“Maybe we should go into the game and see what's going on,” Charlene said. “I happen to like football. And my damn feet are starting to hurt.”

“No one told you to wear heels to a tailgate and football game,” Tranise said.

“That's okay,” Charlene added. “I got my flats in this bag, so
when it gets too bad, I'm changing. But I need heels to give the illusion of a slimmer me.”

They laughed and made their way up the ramp on the home side of the stadium, where the stands were packed with students and alums. Charlene heard someone call her name. She looked up to see Aundrea “Inky” Johnson, who waved her to come up to where she was sitting. There were some available seats on her row three-quarters of the way up the stands.

They greeted Inky and slid their way past fans and plopped down on the aluminum bench. Just behind them were the Alphas, and they were in a celebratory mood.

During breaks in play—dozens of them clad in black and old gold led by Colonel Ronnie Bagley, Sam Myers and Randy Brown—chanted, “You, you, you know the story . . . Tell the whole damned world this is
Alpha
territory. Oh-six, mother-fucka, oh-six!”

In the next section, the Deltas, wearing red and white, made their “ooow ooop” sound signifying they were in the house. And that made the Alphas address them with another chant: “The Ques are your brothers but the Alphas are your lovers. Say what? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha . . . this situation is serious!!!!”

The band, stationed in the north end zone, rocked ESPN's theme song and a series of hits, current and old school. The dancers shook what their mommas gave them, creating a sort of huge party atmosphere. On the track on the perimeter of the field, the alumni cheerleaders—some of them looking more exuberant than others—tried to summon their youth. On the other end, the current cheerleaders, perky and spry, did their thing. And Mr. Norfolk State—an elderly gentleman who had attended NSU games for decades—pranced around the stadium with a green umbrella clad in an all-green suit, shirt and tie. After halftime, he would change into an all-gold ensemble.

“I feel like I'm back in college,” Tranise said. “I forgot how great it felt to be a Spartan. Homecoming is the best thing ever. I've got to go over to my sorors' section for a while. I'll be back.”

And off Tranise went to convene with her Delta sisters, many of whom were surprised and delighted to see her after so long. She pulled out her iPhone and programmed the numbers of several friends—the experience inspired her to be committed to keeping in touch with her sorors.

At halftime, Joi texted her again and asked to meet. But Tranise insisted on doing so only after the band, the Mighty Spartan Legion, performed. “I know y'all band at Howard sucks,” Tranise said. “But ours is awesome. You should stay and watch a band give a great halftime show.”

“Whatever,” Joi said.

Seeing the homecoming court walk onto the field touched Tranise, who watched alongside her soror Felita Sisco Rascoe, who, at fifty, looked so much younger. “It seems so long ago,” she said to Felita. “But you inspire me to take care of myself so I don't have to look my age.”

“Aww, you're sweet to say that,” Felita said. “But you're off to a great start. You look beautiful.”

Tranise smiled and thanked her. “I can remember so clearly what it felt like to walk onto that field as Miss Norfolk State University,” she said. “It was one of the proudest moments of my life. I know just how that young lady feels right now: happy, nervous, proud.”

After the coronation, Tranise stood with Felita—and the entire stadium—to watch NSU's band put on another awesome show that ended with long-time public address announcer James Stanton declaring,
“Behold
. . .
The Green and Gold.”
Nearly the entire stadium recited the Norfolk State calling card with him.

Tranise then sent text messages to Joi, Charlene and Mary,
asking them to meet her at the stadium entrance near Joe Echols Arena. When Joi arrived, wearing a Howard University sweat-shirt, Tranise shook her head. “I should have known you'd come in here wearing the enemy's garb,” she said.

“Don't hate,” Joi said.

They hugged just as Charlene and Mary arrived. Tranise introduced Joi to her old roommates and the ladies immediately clicked.

“I've been to Howard's homecoming,” Mary said.

“It was great, right?” Joi asked.

“Well, I had a good time,” Mary said. “It wasn't quite the same as ours, you know? For starters, we couldn't even get into the game. The stadium is like a high school stadium. Or smaller.”

“This is nice,” Joi said. “Y'all do a nice little job. But it's not like a Howard homecoming.”

“Everyone thinks theirs is the best,” Tranise said. “My friends in Atlanta, Jewel Rowell, Kathy Brown and Toni Tyrell—they swear by Tennessee State's homecoming. Petey Franklin, William Mitchell and Jeri Byron would bet on Morehouse's and Spelman's. Venus Chapman and Len Burnett, they will fight you if you say your homecoming is better than Florida A&M's. Michelle Lemon and Tinee Muldrow will put A&T's up against anyone's. My friends from Virginia Union—Dixenn Toliver, J.B. Hill and ‘Trouble'—they stand by their school. D.J. and Mischa Davis would go with Clark. Deborah Johnson and Eileen Stokes went to Virginia State and believe in their school. Monya Bunch and Marty McNeal are Hampton Pirates all the way. I have never been to Maryland Eastern Shore, but my friend Tim Lewis will let you know in a minute how good their homecoming is. So will Xavier Rogers about St. Augustine's.

“So, Joi, you swearing by Howard is the same as anyone else.”

“Well, that may be true,” she said. “But only at Howard could you get the experience I got in 1995.”

“Really?” Tranise asked. “What happened?”

“I'm telling you I can remember it like it was yesterday. It was October 25, 1995,” she began. “I was in my dorm—Slowe Hall. I heard this commotion outside. I went to my window and it was like a scene from the movie ‘X.' There were dozens and dozes of brothers, Fruits of Islam, dressed in black suits, white shirts and black bowties. They were calling the men of Howard to come with them. It was the Million Man March.

“They were gathering the brothers and I was mesmerized. I hadn't showered. I hadn't even brushed my teeth. But in my sweats, I went right out there with them. I wasn't processing that there would be more black men, but there were more—lots more. So we start the march, down Fourth Street, I believe. We meet with Marion Barry, who was the mayor of D.C. at the time. There's this police escort leading the way. We got to Founder's Library and I had a decision to make: Do I make a left and go back to Slowe? Or do I keep going?

“I was feeling the energy. It was in the morning. The sun was rising. I was feeling it all. So I just kept going. I was with them but by myself. I didn't know anyone, but I met people and talked as I went. Before I knew it, we were all the way down on the Mall. It was an amazing thing.

“I met so many people. I stayed for all the speakers and walked all the way back up to Howard with the crowd, meeting more people. It was an amazing day, something I will never forget. All that and I hadn't even showered or even brushed my teeth. It was so powerful that it just carried me right with them. So, y'all's homecoming is great—I mean, it really is great—but you could only get that experience unless you went to Howard.”