My father was born and raised in Chicago. Very, very, very, very, very poor family. My mom from Texas, not well-to-do certainly, her mother was a teacher. Her grandfather had a bunch of black businesses and did things in Odessa like build sidewalks and things like that, but they weren't rich. But they understood the importance of education. They met in college at Southern University, which at that time was a segregated college -- or university I suppose -- in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. So it was a segregated school. So, to say they were academic, you know, I meet people who are from academic families, and it kind of wasn't like that. It was just that I think my parents recognized the importance of working hard and enjoyed school. You know what I mean? So they weren't sort of these academics. They were more like hard-working people who enjoyed school and wanted us to enjoy school.
There was a love of books and things like that in the house, instead of the sort of like, "We are professors." Most of my growing up, my dad was in the Army, which was totally different. It's not academic. He was a tank guy. He was 6'4" and he would ride around in tanks. I've never been in a tank, but when I would ask him what it was like, he would always kind of pull his knees up to his chin and smile. That's all he would say.
What was his experience like in Vietnam?
Suzan-Lori Parks: Back then, it wasn't a popular war, and the public, the folks who didn't go, weren't smart enough to know that the people who went over there had to be respected. So there wasn't a lot of talk about your experiences in the war. The men and women who served didn't talk about it. What I do know is that it was kind of a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situation, as he would often say. Before he went, I remember he would wear his uniform when we went, for example, from Fort Knox, Kentucky to Greensboro, North Carolina. It's a big stretch of land in the South. People debate whether Kentucky is in the South or not, but to me, it is. Mint Julep, Kentucky Derby, slavery. It's in the South, so not to be dissed or anything, but it was actually a dangerous span of land to travel in.
When we did that trip when I was little and in the car and seeing sky, trees, sky, trees, sky, trees, my mom had a shotgun in her lap, and my Dad had on his uniform. This is how we traveled because the understanding was, they were told, "Carry a gun in the car," by the folks in the Army. "Carry a gun in the car." If you're black, and in the South, and traveling, carry a gun in the car, number one. Number two, the person in the service -- usually it was the father, the man -- wear your uniform. So okay. That was 1963. We were traveling, gun in the car, uniform on the man. When he came back from Vietnam, he got shit for wearing his uniform. Do you see what I mean? So before, in 1963, you were protected because, say for example, some unsavory character would see you and figure you must be all right because you're serving the country. Then in 1968, 1969, 1970, he got a lot of shit because he was wearing his uniform. Like he said, "Damned if you do, damned if you don't." He said that a lot in his life.
What books did you enjoy reading as a kid?
Suzan-Lori Parks: Harriet the Spy. A brilliant book, great pictures. Hotel for Dogs, that's another overlooked classic, in my opinion, and I just looked it up on Amazon. I'm going to go and buy a copy for myself. I haven't read it since the fourth grade, and I am going to re-read it because I remember loving that book. Books with pictures generally, I'm quite fond of.
I don't know how to pronounce their name. There are these French people, the D'Aulaires. D-apostrophe-a-u-l-a-i-r-e-s, something like that. "D'Aulaires," you're supposed to say. Greek myths, illustrated. The book used to be -- I think it still is -- about this big, and I have it in hard cover, still do have it in hard cover, and it's Greek myths. My mom and dad got me that book in probably the third grade, and I would sit there poring over these myths. I love tales and myths and legends, that kind of thing. I still do, love that kind of stuff, those stories, stories about gods and goddesses and all kinds of stuff. I loved that. Those were my favorite books growing up.
Were there any particular teachers who really encouraged you before you got to college? We've heard there was one high school teacher who actually discouraged you.
Suzan-Lori Parks: Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's funny how discouragement can be a form of encouragement actually. It's all how you take it. I had lots of wonderful teachers who would give you pats on the head or whatever, but you mean in -- you know, back in the day. But I tell my students, when I give my lectures, "Use shit for fuel," because sometimes something discouraging can be encouraging. It's all in how you take it. When I was in high school -- and people have to understand that this was back in the Dark Ages, before we had things like spell-check -- I was a very poor speller. Still am actually. They used to say, "Sound it out," if you couldn't spell something. Having spoken German fluently, I knew you can sound things out in German, and you'll figure out how to spell something, but in English, it doesn't work that way. So my teachers would say, "Sound it out, sound it out," and I had no clue. So I was a very poor speller, especially back in the day, and no spell-check. I was in AP English -- Advanced Placement English -- because I just loved reading and books and things like that, loved writing, but this teacher would have us take weekly spelling tests. There would be a column of words every week, we'd have to spell them. She'd probably give them to us on Monday, and then we'd have the test on Friday. Oh, horrible grades!
I went to her (the English teacher) and she said, you know, in that advisory thing that you do when you're about to graduate from high school, and she said, "What are you thinking of studying in college, Miss Parks?" and I said, "I'm going to study English. I want to be a writer." I was all excited. And she looked in her grade book, and I got all these F's in spelling, and she said, "I don't think it would be a good idea for you to be a writer because you're such a poor speller." Probably not the advice one would give today, because of spell-check, but back in the day, that was the prevailing wisdom, as they say. I was brought up to say "Yes, ma'am" and "No, ma'am" and "Yes, sir. No, sir." Respect of elders and whatnot. So I said, "Yes, ma'am. Okay. Well, I'm not supposed to be a writer because I'm a poor speller." Fortunately, I was really good in science, and I was really good in physics. I used to ace my physics tests. So I thought, "Well I'll just be a scientist." But what you love comes back to you. So I ended up in writing.
Suzan-Lori Parks: Oh no, because that kind of story has happened to me many, many times. There have been many people in my career who tried to do that to me. When I retell those stories, I don't mention who they are or the specifics, because I'm not into dissing them. I'm not into that. For me, the importance of the story is how you respond when you're given some advice that doesn't jibe with what's going on in your heart. That's what's important. So I didn't keep in contact with her. I didn't keep in contact with many people, just because of moving around a lot. You don't develop the habit of keeping in contact with folks from way back. But I wish her love, and I know she was giving me the best advice that she had. That's how I take it.
I did run into, though, a guy who is like -- a fabulous career -- he lives in, I think, Ohio. Cincinnati, I think, or maybe Cleveland. And he is a surgeon, brilliant guy, was brilliant in high school. I told the story, didn't mention the name of the teacher, and he was in the audience, and he came up to me afterwards. He looks the same. He said, "Oh my God, you look the same." I said, "Oh my God, you do, too," and he said, "That teacher, she said the same thing to me! I think that was her thing that she said. If you weren't a great speller, she was sending you out of the English Department kind of thing." So you know, it wasn't personal.