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    Gifted
    Gifted
    Gifted
    Ebook114 pages1 hour

    Gifted

    By Samuel OBie

    ()

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    About this ebook

    The wonderful life I've lived from May 7, 1953 to now from Hillsborough, NC, now residing in Gastonia, NC.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateMay 31, 2019
    ISBN9781543973433
    Gifted

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      Book preview

      Gifted - Samuel OBie

      Text © 2018 by Samuel OBie. All rights reserved. Published by Salexo Music. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address, Samuel OBie, 1102 Robinwood Rd, Suite F, Gastonia, NC 28054 and Samuelobie.org.

      ISBN: 978-1-54397-342-6 (print)

      ISBN: 978-1-54397-343-3 (ebook)

      Contents

      From the Author

      Early

      Mom’s Voice

      The Road

      Mistaken

      Songwriting

      Lisa/Charles & Life

      Language

      From the Author

      It has been over 47 years since my career began in the music industry. The big blessing was starting out on top with Shirley Caesar. Thanks to my Mom’s giving me Shirley’s I’ll Go LP, the journey is yet taking me to new highs. Church, theatre, tour dates, recording sessions, one niter’s and concerts are yet my life. So, along with my first eBook writing THNX MOM, this read expands on the first and fills in some of the blanks for those who know me and introduces me to those of you that are new followers. Music has been my gifting since 1967 and producing since 1981. Life for me is like the notes on the organ, black and white with enormous expressions. I have two daughters, Teki and Joyce that I’m proud of. I don’t have grandchildren of my own, however my life is filled with many people I’m able to positively influence concerning this life. This covers the highlights I recall and others that I do not and omits other names and incidents. The music, videos and social media are catalogued at Samuelobie.org, CDBaby, Amazon, iTunes, YouTube, Twitter, Linkedin, Instagram, Spotify and other digital outlets.

      I dedicate this writing to my Mom, Joyce Long OBie who’s responsible for all that I am musically and as a human being.

      Now, I present my memoirs Gifted.

      Chapter 1

      Early

      On May 7, 1953, I entered the world connecting with the OBie/Ray/Long family tree.

      The OBie/Ray/Long family tree affords its descendants singing, playing music, cooking skills and the ability to take the gift further than the Hillsborough, NC city limits. My Uncles and Aunt sang well. Uncle James OBie, Jr worked professionally on the road with a quartet group and plays keyboards.

      My Mom’s only sibling, Charlie Long, Jr joined the Air Force after high school, moved to New York and retired there as a subway driver, before moving back to Hillsborough to take care of his mother we call Mama Beulah. Our family has been greatly benefited by his goodwill to our Mom. According to his teammates, he was a great basketball player.

      Looking back, the idea of showcasing on a grand scale wasn’t on OBie minds because there was more than enough small minded hometown water to put that fire out.

      In the 60’s, Hillsborough’s population was around 3,000. God given talent was given to the Woods, Clark, Cooper and OBie families. On any given night, these musical family groups could fill a church with a quality performance that would’ve impressed any A & R record company rep.

      There weren’t many jobs in Hillsborough and offers to go north to Wildwood, NJ, New York and Bridgeport, CT for work at times ended up being a relocation tool as the jobs became permanent allowing their families to move north.

      We grew up in a situation that was completely segregated and it became an accepted way of life. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr led the Civil Rights Movement along with the NAACP and SCLC that gave way to national television coverage of our struggle for freedom and equality. Water hosing and attack dogs were used on peaceful demonstrations. Four African American children, Addie Mae Collins, Cynthia Wesley, Carole Robertson and Carol Denise McNair were killed at the 16th Street Baptist church in a Birmingham, AL bombing in 1963. I remember having to order take out at Jack’s Shack because we weren’t allowed inside. Some years later, I remember going inside the restaurant to be served in the ‘70’s realizing how much things were starting to change. We couldn’t swim in the local town’s pool and knew to stay on our side of town. Then, as now, Sunday is the most segregated day of the week as most of our churches are culturally divided.

      Central High was the Black school with grades 1-12. It was a comfortable environment. Learning was fun. We lived close and had to walk to school. Mrs. Torain, Mrs. Green, Mrs. McPherson, Mrs. Burt, Mrs. Venable and Mrs. Snipes were my awesome teachers from grades 1-6. Attending there was a fundamental step in my growth. Lunch and recess were the most fun times of our day as we ate and played games.

      I had so much energy. One of my aforementioned teachers said she wished I could have run around the track before school in order to burn off some of it.

      Up until age (10), my voice was in the alto/soprano range. I sang top part with my brothers Charles and Lyle. However, I recall feeling sad that my range was dropping, only to have Mom say, just wait, you’ll be a baritone by the time the process concludes. She was so right.

      Sometimes our 6th grade teacher would allow us to place the desks around the perimeter of the room, freeing up the center for dancing as our activity. A box record player would play the 45’s. Obviously, this was one of our most fun things to do. Sometimes Mary Hester and I would take center stage with everyone watching. Even though this was ok with me, it was not anything I could share with my parents as their Pentecostal upbringing taught such things as dancing, bowling, going to the movies, smoking, drinking alcohol, swearing, ladies wearing pants and their use of makeup as sinful. So, I kept these experiences to myself. That is up until now.

      There was paddling for misbehaving in school by the Principal. Then, as you arrived home, your parents would weigh in.

      One very special memory for me happened at Central High in 1965. It was the North Carolina High School Conference Men’s Basketball Tournament. I don’t remember the two teams, however, the scheduled timekeeper didn’t show. Richard Lyons was Central’s basketball coach. During practice scrimmages, he would let me run the clock. It was a green metal box with toggle switches to start/stop the time and add the running score. A red button was for sounding the horn. It was around 3:30p. School was out and I was in the gym. Mr. Lyons called my name. He shared with me that this would be just like scrimmage. I was very nervous sitting beside the official scorer and the perspective school stat keepers. He stayed close by for my confidence. Only once did the referee have to remind me to start the clock as I’d lost focus watching the game. Afterwards, I remember signing the green official score book. Now, mind you, I’m only in the 6th grade. Mr. Lyons was great to work with. He had some great teams at Central.

      I remember the day President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. The teachers were crying and told us to put our heads down on our desks as they shared our nation’s grief. We were too young to understand. However, it was all over the television networks. It was cool seeing Uncle Johnny OBie at school. However, my dad decided it was time for us to attend the white school as desegregation emerged.

      Some things happen in our lives that are once in a lifetime occurrence and this it for me. Dad worked at Liggett and Myers Tobacco Factory. He’d receive a weekly pack of cigarettes. He didn’t smoke. So one day, I decided to try one. Taking the pack from his top drawer, I picked up matches and went across the street to the empty horse stall. Winston’s without the filter was my choice. I lit it, exhaled deeply and took a long inhale on the cigarette. Everything went black. I saw stars and passed out. About an hour went by as I revived. Gripped with fear, I went home, gargled with Listerine so no one would smell my breath.

      My mouth got me into trouble one evening at the dinner table. I didn’t

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