AACPA Of Rome, GA "The Connection "

08/29/2026

Local Columnist WILLIE MAE SAMUEL:
Much ado about something

For some, this discussion about voting, voters’ rights and registering to vote may seem like much ado about nothing. But for those of us who have experienced being excluded and denied the right to even register, it is much ado about something.

I’m reminded of the time I graduated from college in 1965 and decided to use that summer to join forces with those in my community who were denied the opportunity to register and to vote.

Allendale County, South Carolina, is one of the poorest, most racist areas in the country, despite the fact that the county is predominantly black. That summer, I was connected with two Freedom Riders, William Leue and Lance Nelson, who were White and from New York. Our mission was to visit the homes of people who were unaware that the Civil Rights Act had been passed and they could go to the courthouse to register.

I had grown up in that area and knew all the families. Each day, Bill, Lance, my two younger sisters and I would visit various homes to explain the law and that we would set a day for us all to go to the courthouse to register together.

Four weeks passed, and we had gathered a good number of people. On the first Monday of July 1965, we lined up at 9 a.m. at the courthouse door. The registrar opened the door at 9:05 a.m. and allowed one resident in. Around noon that individual was brought back and let out. Then we were told the office would be closed until 1 p.m. so we would need to come back then. At 1 p.m., the registrar let in one individual, who was escorted out at 5 p.m. and we were told that the office was closed for the day.

That continued daily. We would return to our homes some 20-plus miles away get prepared to return the next day. After a month of that, we had about eight residents registered to vote.

We realized that was not going to work and held a meeting at a church in Allendale, and then another at Mount Hope Baptist Church in the county. At this point, more people were hearing about what was happening and wanted to be involved in community work and carry out their civic responsibilities. The crowd was growing. Older people were beginning to join the movement. We had to come up with a plan or strategy to bring about change.

Our leaders, Bill and Lance, were with us every step of the way. I am not sure what training the Freedom Riders had, but we had heard about the danger in other states and cities. James Chaney, Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner were killed in Mississippi by members of the Ku Klux Klan with the help of local law enforcement. But Bill and Lance, who were a year younger than I was, were ready to accept whatever fate we faced.

At the called meeting, quite a few were ready to take action. We agreed that when the registrar tried to lock the door again, the first person in line was to step inside, and all would follow.

That Monday, the line of people flowed in like a river, filling every corner of that registration area, and everyone stood quietly. The rule was that, if there was no talking, law enforcement would not know who the leader was and everything would have to be directed at the entire group.

I remember it as uncomfortably quiet. Policemen rushed in with their weapons drawn, and one said: “OK, you know that you’re breaking the law. You are going to be under arrest unless you leave now.” About 10 people got up and left. That fear got to them. But the rest of us were still in there, being quiet.

Shortly after that, a couple more policemen came in with a man who, I guess, you could consider a Black community leader. They introduced him as Mutt Jones. The chief of police told Mutt he wanted him to talk to us and “let them know that we want peace in this town and that they should not be rocking the boat.”

Some in the group knew him as a civic leader; most of us from the county didn’t know Mutt Jones from Sam Hill, but he spoke to all of us. And after he finished, there were about 15 or 20 who walked out with him. Then the police chief said it was our last chance to “leave unless you want to go to jail,” and left.

We were still there, quiet as church mice, realizing we had passed the test and would not let fear or the thought of the next consequence make us back away from the cheese before us.

The policemen were still gathered on the other side of the room, though, and one of them asked his partner how they would get all of us to jail. “Hell,” the other officer replied, “we’ll just let them walk.”

To be continued next week...

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]. 💜

08/24/2026

Local Columnist WILLIE MAE SAMUEL:
Trailblazing or making history

Many times, when we do things from the heart, mind and soul, we don’t see them as trailblazing or as making history. We simply look at the things we do as necessary steps to make this society a little bit better than it was when we came on the scene. Records should be kept because you may often be a trailblazer without knowing it.

I realized recently that we have a trailblazing cousin in the family who went to Georgia Tech, graduated at the top of her class and just went on about her business. Her name is Clemmie Whatley and she is doing her thing in life, doing the things that we think normal people should do. She said she did not realize she and a girlfriend named Hammond were actually trailblazing or making history at the time. It was long after her graduation and her entry into the world of work that she learned that, when she stepped into that classroom, she was the first of her color to do so.

And I’m sure that was true of the Main High School student demonstrators who stepped out in 1963 to change the racial dynamics of Rome and Floyd County. When I spoke with them at a gathering earlier this year, it’s as if it was still sinking in after 63 years. Many are deceased now but many, along with their families, are still alive and well. Viola Lyons Brown, George Foster, Eleanor Hoke, Dan Brown, William Reynolds and Rolston Beard. Lavada Dillard, Mary Estelle Jones and Joe Twyman. I mention their names here because they are people I have spoken to or been in direct contact with. There are others.

History is not something to wallow in or be saddened by, but as something to inspire us to do better, move forward, and step up. I’m saying that because lately I’ve been thinking about the 62 students who sat in at downtown Rome stores in 1963 and who recently celebrated their 63rd year. At that time, they did not see themselves as making history. But as time passed, it became clear that was exactly what they did. They were blazing a trail and making history.

I attended the celebration at the Rome History Museum for the fellowship in March with some of the 62, along with their family members. Many of them had not seen each other for a long time. After the conversation and refreshments, RAHC Director Selena Tilley unveiled an old sign with the words “colored” and “white,” used to separate the drinking fountains in a store — something we know they experienced during the sit-in.

At some point in 2024, contractors working in a downtown building had to tear down some walls and ran into the marble plaque that had been hung in the stores. This particular store was the Kress Department Store. Not knowing what to do with the plaque, they realized it was something that needed to be kept, so they called the history museum and asked the director if they would like to have it. And with Selena being a historian of Rome, naturally she would say yes, and she did.

The younger children had never seen anything like that because there are no Black and White signs over their water fountains, in their bathrooms or elsewhere. Those of us of age had, and we were grateful that they are now all taken down. This one reflects a history that, hopefully, is behind us, though at one time it was before us.

The 62 students’ sit-ins marked the beginning of tearing down the wall of division that was so prevalent in our city and county. There is a book, a memoir of that time, titled “Voices of Protest,” by Rose Levin. Rose and her husband worked together to capture that local history. Copies are available at our history museum, and I encourage people to pick up a copy. The writer didn’t just deal with the city leaders, the demonstrators and their feelings, she also addressed the condition of Rome at that time, including businesses, schools and every area of the community.

There’s so much to learn from history.

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]. 💜

08/22/2026

08/15/2026

Local Columnist WILLIE MAE SAMUEL:
What happened to God?
I am not sure if I have been missing it, or if it’s true that none of our leaders now say what many of them used to say at the close of their messages: God bless the United States of America. Either way, I would like to ask you to help me figure out what has happened to the God on whom we once called to bless America.

I am reminded of the Pharisees who gathered, trying to trick Jesus. They encouraged one of the lawyers to ask Jesus a question, so he walked up to Jesus and said, “Master, which one of the commandments is most important?” And Jesus answered him from the depth of his heart. First of all, you are commanded to love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul. And then he said that the second most important one is just as important as the first. Love your neighbor as yourself.

We do not love our neighbors as ourselves. We can sit in our churches, listen to the preachers teach and preach, read our Bibles, and hate our neighbor at the same time.

We have given our God, his son Jesus, specific qualifications that are not appropriate for who he is. Love, of course, is the main ingredient that he has said is a part of the second commandment, but if you can’t love him with all your heart, your mind, your soul, there’s no way you will be able to love a neighbor in that manner.

I genuinely believe that love has grown cold because of that little ugly thing we have inside of us, which is the lack of the ability to forgive. As one leader said, empathy is often viewed as a weakness. Kindness is a weakness. So we have turned back the hands of time; we no longer say God bless America. Probably out of guilt. We wonder why should God bless America when when America is not blessing God and is not being that light to the world that we are supposed to be.

As a democracy, our light should be shining all over the world. I’m aware under a democracy all religions are to be acknowledged and respected, but because we founded this one with the God Bless America mentality, that is the direction in which we lean. And as a godly country, we are supposed to be like a beacon, a light on a hill shining and leading other countries of people to the way of life ordained based on the Bible. So the Pharisees came up to Jesus to trick him. I believe someone has approached our leaders and tricked them with a question.

Are you a follower of Christ, or have you thrown that teaching out the window and adopted your own teachings, or twisted what Jesus taught in the New Testament to fit your way of thinking? Have you twisted the words that he said to his followers: “What you do to the least of my children, you have done to me.”

Have we pulled the Bible from the shelf, as we have done with other books that contain teachings we don’t like or disagree with? Should we pull the Bible from the shelf? The answers would probably be no, we should not. But we might just as well, because what we are teaching, what we are living, is contrary to what’s in that book. And are we not afraid that someone will read what is in the Bible and it will make them feel guilty? That’s the reason for removing cultural books from libraries and schools — because they contain ideas contrary to the thinking of a few people, and therefore let’s make them disappear.

I often think about what Dick Gregory asked many years ago, when he was wondering what happened to Black history. He asked was it lost, strayed, or stolen.

What happened to God?

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]. 💜

08/15/2026

Today is the 91st anniversary of the Social Security Act being signed into law.

If all income in excess of $400,000 were subject to the Social Security payroll tax, Social Security’s solvency would be guaranteed forever. We could also expand Social Security benefits.

There’s no reason even to consider reducing Social Security benefits or raising the age of eligibility. The logical and necessary response is simply to raise the cap. What do you think?

08/08/2026

Local Columnist
WILLIE MAE SAMUEL: Wearing the masque
A while back, I walked into the Urgent Care in West Rome, checked in, and sat for a bit. Shortly after, a strong, vibrant Caucasian man walked in and sat down in front of the receptionist. He said, “Ma’am, I don’t know what’s happening. I woke up this morning. My eyes were glued together with gunk, goo and crust, so I came in for you all to see about this.”

Let me say that, two days later, the same thing happened to me.

And of course, I thought about the conjunctivitis eye disease that we in South Carolina, and I guess Georgia, grew up having to deal with. I thought to myself, are these things coming back? We used to call it the pink eye or the sore eye. Since those days, health officials have adopted a more sophisticated term: conjunctivitis. Whatever name we call it, it’s the same thing.

We must take a serious look at health issues in this country and realize that the world is smaller than it used to be. We’ve made it smaller. We are capable of traveling hundreds of miles an hour. And just as we can travel that far and fast, so can diseases and bacteria. We cannot build an invisible wall that will keep bacteria and viruses raging in other countries from affecting us. Something to think about.

I’m sure I’m not the only one, or even the first, to think about George Orwell’s book “1984” and how many things that happened in it are actually happening today. Things we once thought were impossible are now happening.

I thought about the statement made by individuals in high places about sending people who have been affected by the Ebola sickness to another country and housing them in a special building.

My thoughts went back to the years when I assigned my English classes to read many short stories. One particular one was “The Masque of the Red Death” by Edgar Allan Poe. In it, the main character, who is a ruler and in control of every decision concerning the people and events in the area, has the power to do whatever he wants, and he does just that.

The Red Death was raging and attacking everyone everywhere, so the leader decided to build a special place for himself and his followers to avoid the plague. He had everything and everyone he cared about moved into this dome city ... I mean, this palace-type fortress. The ruler made sure that everything possible was in the palace. Every amenity that could be thought of was in the palace. In addition, it contained seven great rooms for various occasions. Every room was painted a beautiful, vibrant color: blue, green, yellow, etc. Then there was one that was vibrant red. Everyone connected to the ruler was in the building, protecting themselves from the Red Death.

My mind began to wander to us (the USA) withdrawing from the World Health Organization and cutting off supplies to countries that need them to maintain their health, but actually the health of all of us.

Do we think we are going to be excluded from the new Ebola outbreak and from many other diseases that have been lying dormant and are now resurfacing? Measles and many of the childhood diseases that people in other places have to deal with may eventually visit us, too. Do we, in good conscience, think we will be exempt from suffering the same things others are suffering when we have actually been the cause of these things? How do we think we are to be exempt from those diseases?

Many supported the decision to let the medicine and food sit on the docks and rot. Many of us do not believe in the reaping-and-sowing philosophy. If we do not reap, our children and grandchildren will be expected to pay the bill.

So many of us have read fables and parables, and we know how this story ends.

We do know, even though this is a parable, the red death will invade our dome city, even though it was built in such a way to keep the red death out. We know that we took it into the dome city ourselves; we are the cause of these terrible diseases returning.

I wonder what we were thinking when we thought it was a great idea to ignore the calls for help from other, less fortunate countries?

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]. 💜

08/01/2026

Local Columnist WILLIE MAE SAMUEL:
Getting good advice, but not using it
Asking for and receiving helpful advice but not using it describes my situation completely. Several years ago, I asked about getting a goat, and one of my former students said, “Mrs. Samuel, if you get a goat, make sure you get two.”

Two years ago, Hazel, my nanny goat, became part of the family. I never owned a goat growing up. My mom and dad had a goat for us, so all five of us considered Billy our goat. Even now, each of us remembers Billy. So Hazel, two years ago, became part of the family, and it didn’t take long for me to realize why the former student had told me to make sure I got more than one.

If you’ve ever owned a goat, you know they’re unlike any other animal you can own. Hazel was a very sociable goat, but her understanding was so limited. I don’t even know why we gave her the name Hazel. I don’t think she ever acknowledged that she had a name. We did, but I don’t think she did.

She had no fear of dangerous things. That may be why she could get up onto a very narrow fence and just stand there without fear of falling. She was always looking for something higher than she was to climb on.

If she came onto the porch, just being on the porch was not high enough for her. She would jump up onto the table or into the rocking chair. At one point, I heard a loud noise on the porch. She had come up and gotten into the rocking chair, but she wanted to be higher than the chair part. So she got up on the back of the rocker, and the rocker flipped into the window on the porch.

Hazel is no longer with us because of her need for socialization; she became attached to the dog, who was only dropped off as her socializing partner for the first year.

Neither one understood what the other was. Most of the time, they just looked at each other and went their separate ways. And then it became a little bit more than just looking. Roscoe would try to smell her to see if she was a dog, and that agitated her quite a bit. After a year, her horns grew longer, and she realized what they were for. She used them to scratch herself or to punish the dog, Roscoe.

The only thing we did not realize was that she had grown very attached to Roscoe. We noticed she followed him around in the yard and aggravated him to no end, but we thought that was where it ended. If he was resting, which he did a lot, she would go to him and jab him with her little horns. Then he would holler like he was being stabbed, which, of course, he had been, but it was not a deep stab. He would yell and growl at her, but he never would actually bite her.

Two weeks ago, she followed him to our neighbor’s house. We were not aware that she had started following him and, because he liked having company, he allowed her to tag along. And that fatal day, when she followed him to the neighbor’s house, was the end of Hazel’s antics.

My neighbor and her daughter knocked on my door and asked, “Do you own a goat?” I said, “Yes, I do.”

And she said, “Well, your goat has been injured. The dogs attacked her, and we brought her home. They would’ve killed her on the spot if I had not fought them off.”

Hazel was crying out in pain. She was bleeding badly and was not able to stand on her own.

So we put Hazel back in the fenced-in area. Later, when I noticed she was not eating or drinking her favorite food, I took her to our animal hospital. The doctor examined her, spoke with her, and gave us the impression that she was not seriously injured. After shaving her hair off, she seemed just a little scratched up.

We got medication to administer to her for the next couple of days. We brought her home and attempted to feed her, but the next day she succumbed to the injuries from the attack.

So there will be no more antics from Hazel. Hazel’s Fan Page is no longer operating.

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]. 💜

08/01/2026