AACPA Of Rome, GA "The Connection "

06/07/2026

Visit the Alton Holman Heritage Arts, Inc. page for more info... 😎

06/06/2026

Local Columnist WILLIE MAE SAMUEL:
Remembering the last day of school

There’s something unique about connecting with the educational system, especially in the classroom. We’re all excited when it’s time to start school. We’re all excited when we get our first vacation. Everyone is extremely excited when it’s time for Christmas and Spring breaks, but there’s something unusual about the last day of school.

I remember some teachers would put up a calendar for that last month, and each day a child would run in and ask, “May I cross out this day?” Of course, we would do the countdown, with a child counting out each day until the very last day.

When I saw the long yellow buses leaving the school I taught at on the last day of the year, something would just come over me. It was like that feeling I think we all get when we see a parade, go to the fair, or go to the circus. There’s that childish, innocent part of us that surfaces, making us happy to remember being young, eager, and anxious to see the merry-go-round and the Ferris wheel, try the apple bobbing and breathe in the wonderful smell of cotton candy.

That last day of school brings out something genuine. When that bell rings ... when that last bell rings, something magical happens.

We all go to watch the buses get loaded with giggling, happy children. They all get on, grab the first seat they come to, and roll those windows down. I believe it’s a no-no during the regular school term, but on that last day, the windows are rolled down. Heads start popping out of the windows, and teachers’ hands wave at each bus as they fill up.

Names are called out with affection. Principals, teachers, counselors, lunchroom personnel, janitorial staff — everybody is out trying to find a face to say goodbye to as we listen for our name. We are listening for our name to be called out as hundreds and hundreds of children call out names, saying goodbye and waving as if we were all just one big happy family for seven months. Because on this last day, all of the disagreement, all of the low grades, all of the discipline, all of the ISS have been forgotten and forgiven. All of the detentions are forgotten, at least for these 30 minutes.

Love, glee, happiness and joy are spreading across the schoolyard as the buses begin to rev up and pull away slowly. The bus driver realizes this is a special time for everyone involved, including themselves. They will get theirs at the different bus stops, with their goodbyes. They love you and will miss you. Thank you so much for being a great bus driver.

Back on campus, the students on the bus pull off noisily. Love is in the air. Teachers can’t help but say back to them, “We love you. We’re going to miss you. Have a great and joyous summer. Take care of yourself and be safe this summer.” We look forward to seeing you next year. We pray that you do something that brings you joy during your holiday season.

Yes, the end of the school year is so unique. It is so joyful and truly special.

As the last bus pulls away, the noise fades as teachers walk back into the classroom, principals return to their offices, and custodians resume cleaning. Lunchroom personnel begin putting things away for next year. But all are thinking about the buses that just pulled away, with children leaning out the windows, waving and yelling, “I love you.”

For a little while, sadness and loneliness may become part of this moment. The teachers are beginning to realize who they had in their various classes. The many children who came just for lunch. The many children who came for encouragement, a smile, greetings or a joyful face. The teachers will remember the children in the class who were much better off with them than they would be at home alone.

Many of the children are latchkey children and will be going home to an empty house because their parents are working. Many will go into houses and find no snacks, sandwiches or any food waiting for them. They’ll have to wait for mom or dad to come home and prepare it. There are many children who will wake up in the morning with nothing to do, no place to go and no one to grow and build with. There also will be some children with something constructive to do at summer camps.

But whatever they do over these two months will not compare to what they left behind in those teachers, those principals, those custodians, those lunchroom personnel and their friends. Many will start counting the days until school opens again, and many will remember the last day of the school year.

Willie Mae Samuel is a playwright, founder and director of the African American Connection of the Performing Arts Inc. and a 2020 Heart of the Community Award recipient. She can be contacted at [email protected]. 💜

06/05/2026

05/30/2026

Guest Columnist
WILLIE MAE SAMUEL: Speaking of hope
He believed it to be a burning house.
Several days ago, one of my church members and a former student posted a dire warning to us, not just church members but people in general. It was so unlike her because she’s leaning on and depending on her hope, Jesus Christ. But on that particular day, she realized that there are times when one must speak up and speak out, and if God gives you something to share in a prophetic way, it must be done.

The post concerned an audio recording of a statement by Dr. Martin Luther King. When I saw her post it, saying that if you’re not worried, you should be, I remembered that we sometimes forget that Dr. King was killed by enemies in this country, not by outside forces. Just prior to that, he had a premonition that something evil would happen to him.

I recalled Harry Belafonte, a very good friend of his, reporting that one night, after a great celebration and a very positive meeting with a strong turnout, he and Dr. King returned to the hotel, and Dr. King was deeply depressed. Harry Belafonte said he couldn’t understand why Dr. King was in a morose state, especially after the great celebration they had had. So he was concerned, and out of that concern, he couldn’t help but invade Dr. King’s privacy.

He said to Dr. King, “What’s wrong, Martin? We had a great celebration. Why are you so down?”

He said Dr. King hesitated, then said, “Harry, I’m very, very concerned. I’m concerned that I have brought my people into a burning house. America is a burning house.”

As I read what the church member and former student had posted, the thought came back to me that it is never too late, and I hope it’s never too late. We in this country are truly headed down a very dark path, and those who are in a position to speak up should step up to help turn it around. But there are those who refuse to do so out of a desire for power, hatred of people who are not like them or just plain old ‘I don’t care.” Thinking there is no skin off my back.

I’m not one who believes in signs and wonders, but if you notice, there are a lot of houses burning with people inside, a lot of businesses exploding and a lot of dangerous leaks of deadly, poisonous gas lately. There are airplanes with engines falling off and burning. Great fires are happening in Florida and South Georgia. California is always on fire, it seems. New York was on fire for days last year.

But I don’t believe Martin was referring to that kind of fire. There are developments we must be aware of as people who believe in this republic. Those of us who believe in this republic can no longer sit on the sidelines, assuming someone will come to save us. No, no one is coming to save us, and we are all in this burning house. The question is, what are you doing? What will you do? What can you do to keep the house from burning down completely?

No, by no means was Dr. Martin Luther King speaking of the fires that are taking place in homes, in businesses, on airplanes and on the ship out on the waters. Dr. King was speaking of the fires of hatred, the fires of corruption and the fires of evil toward one another. He was picking up the fire he had walked through and survived.

He knew what it felt like for the top man over the major law department in the country to aim his gun at him; he knew what that was like. He knew what it was like for J. Edgar Hoover to encourage him to kill himself. He knew what that felt like, and at this point, he realized that no one was coming to save him.

Martin had invited, he had encouraged, and he had opened doors for his people to enter that same burning house in which he had felt so much hatred and prejudice. Even after that, he went to Memphis (where he was killed) because, despite all the hatred directed at him, he still had hope. And it is only hope that will keep us moving, hoping for justice just a little bit, so that all might feel or understand what it is like to experience justice on this side.

Each one of us can grab the moral arc of the universe and bend it just a little toward justice.

Willie Mae Samuel is a playwright, founder and director of the African American Connection of the Performing Arts Inc. and a 2020 Heart of the Community Award recipient. She can be contacted at [email protected]. 💜

05/23/2026

Local Columnist
WILLIE MAE SAMUEL: Keep your crown on
Usually, I don’t wallow in a message or sermon preached on Sundays, whether on the airwaves, through cyberspace or in a church house, but from first week of May I’ve been basking in the message I received that Sunday.

May is a month of celebrations, including Mother’s Day, and I remember that in school we celebrated May Day. We always had a big celebration at my school, Rosenwald Elementary School, wrapping the maypole with jolly little people laughing and jumping, and we celebrated with excitement. May is always a month that brings me joy for many reasons, including the fact that I have a daughter-in-law who was born in May. I have a son who was born in May, and Stephen’s daddy, Paul Edward Samuel Sr., was born in May, and many other individuals with whom I cherish friendships.

The sermon that still lingers with me was about wearing masks. It took me back to a poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar, written during the Harlem Renaissance. The poem was titled “We Wear the Mask,” about the condition of Black citizens in this country. That Sunday, the message was not about a particular race of people but about a gender: Women wearing the mask.

And this being the month to celebrate women, to recognize women, to lift women up and to give them the highest esteem they so deserve, that was the angle the sermon came from.

Scripturally, it was based on a Biblical narrative involving Tamar, the daughter of a king. Tamar was abused and misused by her own brother. We are all faced with abuse, from one direction or another. But it seems to be so much more devastating to our psyche and our emotional stability when the abuse comes from a family member.

With this being National Women’s Month, the minister wanted us to take a look at ourselves and at other women who are currently in our lives, who have been in our lives, and who may still be with us. We were encouraged to consider how we are, where we are and why we are there. To examine our position, he reviewed the status of each woman in the church, prophesied to every woman present, and placed a literal crown on each of our heads.

As a matter of fact, he gave each of us a direct crown, truly placed on us by him, according to God’s instructions, and God allowed him to enter a prophetic zone. Each person was given a prophetic word. God allowed him to read every woman in that church on Sunday, and he did not stop until every woman had been prophesied to. It was a daunting task, one that drained every ounce of energy from his body. Lady Alston saw him draining and stood with him, trying to pour into him as he was pouring out, but God kept pouring.

As I watched and listened, I realized it was a timely message. It was timely because, as he said, many women do not realize that not only has their crown been knocked off, but they also lack the energy, the desire or the wherewithal to put it back on.

Tamar, the Biblical character, after being abused, misused and cast aside, took off her royal gown, put ashes on her forehead and lived in a dismal state for the rest of her life. The minister said to us women: I know this too has happened to many of you. It might not have been the sexual abuse that Tamar suffered, but you, too, have had your crown knocked off or twisted, and you have not had the energy to put it back on. Today I am personally placing it back on. And I want you to walk in queenship the rest of your days. I want you to walk in godliness the rest of your days. I want you to walk with your head held high for the rest of your days. I want you to never allow anyone to make you feel less than God has made you. He has made you wonderfully and beautifully; carry yourself in that way.

At the close of the service, he sent the Queens out, each wearing her crown. Most went out to dinner, wearing our crowns proudly and forgetting that the actual play crown was there. And we’re still going, and we’re still lifting each other up. This month, we recognize that women are invaluable.

Let us recognize women, all women, as being priceless. And we want to encourage each female in our lives to wear her crown with pride and dignity.

Happy National Women’s Month, Queens.

Willie Mae Samuel is a playwright, founder and director of the African American Connection of the Performing Arts Inc. and a 2020 Heart of the Community Award recipient. She can be contacted at [email protected]. 💜

05/17/2026

*ELECTION DAY VOTING*
Tuesday, May 19, 2026, from 7:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m.
Election Day voting is always held at your designated polling location/precinct.
Not sure where to vote? Please visit
https://mvp.sos.ga.gov/s/

05/16/2026

Local Columnist WILLIE MAE SAMUEL: Never again
You know how sometimes, when you’re quiet, you hear a little voice whispering to you, giving you instructions, telling you to do this or that? Have you ever had that happen? Do not ignore the voice.

That happened to me earlier this month. I heard a little voice tell me to go to the porch and check. I followed the instructions. I went to the porch, and the word “check” hit me like, check what? When I got there, I remembered that sometimes all we have to do is go back to a place, and it’ll take us back to a time when particular things happened. While standing there with the word “check” in my head, I remembered last summer.

Last summer, I did not check, and I ended up with four birds on the porch. When I did check, all the nests had eggs, tiny baby eggs. At that time, I promised I would not let that happen again. So I moved around, checking on the places where ones that had been built the year before, and all were empty — except one. My heart fluttered when I saw that one.

Last year, my nieces and nephews, grandnephew and spiritual daughter told me not to tear those nests down. Rose said, “You have got to let them hatch out. It would be a cruel thing to do,” and I took them at their word and did not harm the nest. My spiritual daughter, who lives close to me, said, “I promise you I will come and clean up the mess that I’m sure they’ll leave when they hatch out.” So I left the nest up until they had a shower.

But I believe two mother birds were using the same nest because when one group hatched and flew away, the nest still had three or four eggs left. So I left that nest up a little longer, and one day, while in fellowship with friends and family, a visitor found me in the back area and said, “There is a snake on your porch.”

I could not believe it because it’s been some years now since a snake has come up on the porch. When I first moved to the country, of course, I was invading their territory, so I understood when I saw one on the porch. But that had been a while. So I asked him where. He said around the front. The snake had climbed up the column.

So, I went around to the front and, sure enough, there was that last nest I had not torn down because it held some eggs and I was going to wait for them to hatch. I looked up, and there the snake was, with his head in the nest, and everyone on the porch was saying, “Get something and kill him with it. Kill that snake.”

But I happened to have one of the sons visiting, and he’s not afraid of snakes. He asked me what I wanted to do with it. The snake was still on the column, and he had his head in the nest with the bird eggs. I heard everybody around clamoring, “Kill the snake, kill the snake,” but it didn’t drown out the voice I had heard, and still hear often, from my baby son. Stephen says, “Mama, all snakes are not poisonous and all snakes are not bad. Some snakes are here to help by eating insects and other pests that trouble those who live in the country.”

That’s the voice. I heard that not all snakes are poisonous and don’t kill anymore. So I told my son Randy, who was standing down, waiting for my answer, “No, don’t kill him. Just get him down.” Randy tapped him and he fell to the ground. When he hit the ground, he went into a crawling mode, going back where he had come from.

The porch is 200 yards from the woods. I could not understand how he knew there were eggs in a nest up there, 20 feet away.

So here I am, checking to make sure I don’t have that experience again this summer. I walked around to the right side of the porch, looked up and, sure enough, there was a nest that had already been constructed. I panicked because I thought, “Oh, it’s the nest, and it’s got to have eggs in it.” I knew that if eggs were in it, I would not have the heart to tear the nest down.

So I got closer to the nest and snapped a picture by holding the camera above my head. I looked at the picture, hoping not to see any eggs. There were no eggs in the nest, so the nest came down.

I have been watching every day to see if another mama bird is building a nest this spring. It has become a daily task for me, so as of today, the one nest that had been started is gone.

Willie Mae Samuel is a playwright, founder and director of the African American Connection of the Performing Arts Inc. and a 2020 Heart of the Community Award recipient. She can be contacted at [email protected]. 💜