She lived with my parents and me from the day I was born until I was almost ten. She taught me to read. She placed the Bible in my hands as my first book. She recognized my calling before I had language for it.Long before I ever used the phrase “Elder Futurist,” she embodied it.

She was the daughter of formerly enslaved parents. She migrated from Alabama to Pittsburgh. She survived what should have taken her out. And at 108, she could still tell you exactly who she was.

Today I honor her not as distant history, but as the elder who covered my beginning.