Mr. Johnson's New Family
By: Reed Karaim; Source: AARP Bulletin Date Posted: 2006-02-07 10:29:00-05:00
Ralph Johnson of Atlanta had already lived a grand novel of a life when he suddenly found himself repeating an early chapter.
In the 1940s and 50s, Johnson played baseball for the Kansas City Monarchs, Indianapolis Clowns and other teams in the Negro major leagues, counting all-time home run king Henry Aaron among his teammates. He married, had eight children and divorced, and after his ball-playing days he crisscrossed the country as a truck driver for nearly three decades. By 1983, his children grown, Johnson had more than earned his retirement, the freedom to pursue whatever whims he wished.
"I could have been down fishing in Florida," Johnson says. But today, at 82, Johnson is raising another family, five boys this time, on his own. "It changed my life completely."
Johnson's story is a testament to how his generation has become a critical part of the social safety net. He's one of 2.3 million grandparents raising grandchildren across the United States, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. Many, like Johnson, took up the responsibility when the children's parents were unable to care for them. Johnson's second go-around at parenthood began one night in 1990 when a young woman he knew only as a friend asked him to watch her newborn son, "the prettiest baby I ever saw in my life," he says. "I didn't see her for two weeks. She was a drug addict, and I didn't know it." The boy ended up in his care full-time, and eventually Johnson agreed to the mother's wish: he adopted the child.
His new family expanded in 1999. Johnson's four grandsons had been living with their mother and her boyfriend. After the boyfriend was shot during a break-in, Johnson took in the children, expecting them to stay for a few months. But the boyfriend died in the hospital, and Johnson realized his daughter couldn't care for her boys. "She was really out on the street, been in and out of jail," he says. "I tried my best to help her, but that wasn't no good."
Suddenly overwhelmed financially and emotionally, he called an old friend, May Emma Burly, then 91, and told her he didn't think he could make it.
"She says to me, 'Mr. Johnson, God ain't going to give you nothing you can't handle.'
"I said, 'I can't do it.'
"'Yes, you can,' she said, and then she told me, 'Mr. Johnson, there's more help out there for you then you know.'"
That led Johnson to make one of the most important telephone calls of his life, to Project Healthy Grandparents in Atlanta. Founded a decade ago by Susan Kelley, dean of Georgia State University's College of Health and Human Sciences, the project was one of the first in the nation to concentrate on helping grandparents raising children.
"We were seeing more and more children living with their grandparents," Kelley says, "and I was struck by the demands put on these grandparents—the stress of their situation."
The program, funded through federal, state and private grants, counsels grandparents on child care and helps them navigate the social services and legal systems. To date, Project Healthy Grandparents has helped 500 families, with about 1,200 children, becoming a model for similar programs in other states.
For Johnson, one of the biggest benefits was meeting other grandparents in his situation, learning he was not alone. Group sessions gave him emotional support, and on the staff's advice he adopted his grandchildren, increasing the financial aid available to the family. "It's something a lot of grandparents are reluctant to do," says Judy Perdue, the group's community projects coordinator, "because they feel it's against their children somehow. But without it, they're often surprised by how little rights they have. And for the grandchildren, it really provides a sense of stability."
Starting the ninth decade of his life, Johnson is tall and broad-shouldered, with lively eyes and a great smile. It is easy to imagine him coiled in the batter's box, waiting for the next pitch. But time has taken its toll. Johnson undergoes dialysis three times a week. He has battled an assortment of other ailments. Still, he's been chasing after a pack of boys for years, since they were ages 4 to 9, and his old-fashioned sense of responsibility contributes a lot of stability for Livingston and Cornell, both 15; Calvin, 11; J.T., 10 and Jeremy, 12.
"I've had something for them to do all the time, from day one, from the time they get out of bed until they went to bed," he says. "That's the way I was brought up."
They're all responsible for their rooms, but the two youngest also clean the bathroom. The oldest get kitchen duty. Johnson has taught them how to cook. "Now I don't have to worry about breakfast," he says. The boys go to school and, under Johnson's watch, their homework gets done.
He tries to give them a normal life, for example "going down to Centennial Park, so they can play baseball, basketball, just like the other kids." But it hasn't always been easy. "I was in a pretty tough area before, a complex with a lot of bad people in it," he says. "I kept them in the house a lot. They didn't have to be outside getting in trouble. That's why I got them out of there."
Johnson is happier with his new apartment, and so are the boys. Still, he knows there are challenges ahead. His daughter is out of jail and the boys sometimes visit her. Johnson believes she is currently straight, but "for you to get into their lives," he has counseled her, "you've got a lot to do—a lot to do." He hesitates, and adds. "I do believe she's trying."
It's been a tough road, but not without recognition. In 2003 Johnson was attending a banquet for participants in Project Healthy Grandparents at Turner Field, the Atlanta Braves ballpark, when "all of a sudden they said, 'Mr. Johnson, come up.' My knees got weak. This guy I played baseball with—Hank Aaron—presented me with an award. It was a total surprise."
The boys are clearly proud of their grandpa. Gathered in the living room, Johnson's five boys are polite and shy. Among them, Livingston, who at 15 looks like he might take after his strapping grandfather, has a smile sweeter and younger than you expect from a teenager. After a time, he feels at ease enough to tease his grandpa, the affection in his eyes clear and uncomplicated.
"It was time for me to start enjoying my life. Instead, I got these boys to worry about." Johnson smiles ruefully, and then his expression changes. "I do not regret it. I do not regret it at all."
Additional Related Links:
The Demands of Second Parenthood
Grandparents Raising Grandchildren (NOTE: Check Dates -- Link shows article Nov.'05/Linked article shows Feb.'06.)
preview