James Baldwin Was My Grandfather

By Kemp Baldwin

James Baldwin, the famous black homosexual author, was my grandfather. We called him Jimmy. Although I’ve never read any of his books, I did know him after he supposedly died of cancer in 1987. By then he was a bald, white Republican with a penchant for mid-afternoon cocktails and wearing silly hats or whip cream on his head during the holidays.

No one in my family ever talks about Jimmy’s early days when he was famous, black, and gay and I can’t remember them. This raised the first red flag and made me wonder if my family was in fact a bunch of homophobic racists, since clearly fame has never frightened a Baldwin. However, as an aspiring world famous writer myself, it is nice to know that I have his talent swimming about my gene pool somewhere. It gives me the confidence to punch those keys like a monkey searching for Shakespeare when I roll out of bed at the crack of noon. I have to assume Jimmy (James) thought this would suffice because that rich chameleon decided not to leave me a scrap of inheritance – not even a signed book. Go tell that on a fucking mountain.

When Jimmy actually passed away from cancer in 2002, I started longing for information. I wanted to connect, find some closure, and untangle the mystery of his assorted histories. This was the man that begot my begetter and I knew almost nothing about him before the twilight of his life. I missed him – the white him and the black him, despite not knowing that darker side of him. In all honesty, I’ve always felt pretty black despite being extremely white. Maybe my grandfather’s melanin reversal can explain my natural dance moves. (Is that racist? Really? How can I be racist when one of my favorite grandfathers was black.)

I dug through the family archives to no avail. Our family pictures only capture him when he was white. But thanks to the advent of the Internet, I’m able to see my grandfather in his hey day.

Excuse Me, Do I Know You From Somewhere on the Internet?

Excuse me. Hi. I never approach women at bars, but do I know you from somewhere? You look so familiar.

Come on, where do I know you from? Seriously, this isn’t just a cheesy pick-up line. I feel I’ve seen you so many times before.

Wait, are you on Okcupid.com? The dating site? Yes! You’re the girl with labradoodle with three legs, right? She’s so cute. Poor pup’s got a cross to bear.

That’s not you? Really? I swear I won’t tell anyone.

No? Okay, my mistake.

* * *

Pardon me again, but I think I’ve got it.

Honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t figure this out the instant I saw you. I’d know those beautiful blue eyes anywhere. You’re on Match.com. Eternallyblue2?

You’re kidding me? I would have sworn…

Right, your eyes are green. Sorry, I’ll leave you alone now.

* * *

Me again.

I was wrong. It was e-Harmony. We were matched for compatibility. You’re from Hoboken, love Thai kickboxing, have a pet rat, and consider yourself a foodie. Why didn’t we ever go out? I mean I love rats and Hoboken.

Get out! You’re pulling my leg? That has to be you.

Hold on, you hate rats? But their piercing red eyes are like, so comforting… Jeez, well, now I’m just embarrassed. Enjoy your meal.

* * *