Remembering Grandma Vinson

Note: This post has been written as a tribute to Erma Vinson.  I am unable to make it to her funeral (Saturday, June 22) so asked if I could share something in writing.

Beloved family:

You have gathered together in loving memory of a generous human being; one we can only aspire to be like.  When the word ‘hope’ is uttered, the image of Erma Vinson always comes to mind.  Erma, in some sense, is hope personified.  We call hope wrapped in human skin Erma Vinson, for she spent an entire lifetime leading children from hopeless situations into the freedom of opportunity and possibility.

One such person was me.  I was born to a teenaged mother who struggled to care for me.  When things became difficult I wound up, as an infant, in the home of Erma, who, with her late husband Rev. Adam, became grandma and grandpa to me.  Erma and Adam would care for me until a family was found who would adopt me.

Earle and Gail Kilner, of Sarnia, Ontario eventually adopted me in the autumn of 1984 and stayed in contact with Erma, and she became, to our entire family of 13 children, Grandma Vinson.  She would remain familiar (and extremely popular) to everyone in the Kilner family as we frequently picnicked together in the early years.  As Erma aged we saw her less and less, but she always had that exciting and flamboyant personality that made it easy to fall in love with her.

The last time Erma ever visited my family in Sarnia was just over a decade ago.  I think I was just about to head off to the University of Waterloo (which means it was probably spring of 2002).  She came with some family and began reminiscing with my mom.  I remember I had two friends come over and they listened as Erma retold these stories about Jimmy Co-co Pot.  When they realized that Jimmy Co-co Pot was me they let me have it.  They still laugh at my funny nickname.

You see, I was born “James” but when I was adopted by the Kilner family they sought to honour the Vinsons by renaming me after Rev. Adam.  I had been born James Michael Vyncent Warren and was rebranded Adam James Kilner.  The Vinsons and Kilners colluded to give me a fresh set of garments, tailored for a life of overcoming the many things many of us Black folks are accustomed to being imprisoned by.

I must have been a student in seminary working on a Master of Divinity degree (at Emmanuel College at the University of Toronto) a few years ago when I made a visit down to Windsor to see Erma.  It was a Friday and she asked me if I would preach at the AME church in Chatham that Sunday.  I declined, but said I would be happy to speak the week after.  During that visit we also talked about my biological parents.  I had been in communication with my biological mother for a few years and then shared with Grandma Vinson the name of my alleged biological father.  She, of course, immediately pulls out the phone book and says, “I know who that is.  I’m gonna call him up.”

I showed up at Campbell AME Church in Chatham to share a few words and my mom and dad show up late, and so did this young couple.  They shared the same pew.  After church I went up to the young woman and asked her, “So where are you from?”  She says, “Oh, we’re from Harrow.”  I thought to myself, well that’s a long ways from here.  We finished the small talk and I went outside to throw my guitar and notes into the car and my mom was talking to the young man.  I walk up, interrupt their conversation saying, “It’s funny that you say you’re from Harrow, because my biological father is from Harrow.”  And he turns slowly toward me and says, “Well I’m him.”  Our jaws dropped.  Then I looked back up the stairs to the church and there was Grandma Vinson being pushed out on her wheelchair.  I grew suspicious.  “Did you set this up?” I asked.  She was just as surprised as we were (or she was, with a satisfied smirk, “playing dumb”).  But she did admit to calling him and telling him about the service.  She didn’t seem to think he was actually going to show up.

For me, Erma is a modern-day Harriet Tubman who, herself, was seen by Black folks of her day as a contemporary Moses.  Tubman, in her day, was called “Black Moses” because she led hundreds of slaves to freedom.  Erma did the same thing for many children of many different races and abilities.  We who were enslaved from our humble beginnings found our chains broken as Erma nurtured us.

My soul is deeply troubled by her death.  I feel like Jesus after his good friend Lazarus died.  The Greek word used in that story (embrimasthai) to articulate how troubled his soul was has no literal English translation.  It seems to be used in that story to suggest that Jesus was so overcome with grief he couldn’t find words.  All he could do was groan in sorrow.

But even as we walk through the Valley of Shadows Paul of Tarsus reminds us that as people of faith we do “not grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Thess. 4:13).  Death does not have the last word.  Death is not the end of everything, as the Greek philosophers of the 1^st century seemed to believe, and many Canadians seem to believe today.  Rather, when we look at the life of Erma Vinson it is possible to see the truth of Paul’s proclamation that “Death has been swallowed up in victory” (1 Cor. 15:54), for the seeds that Erma planted and watered for so many have grown into beautiful plants and are just now beginning to blossom.  Her legacy lives on in you and in me.  And our companion through Valley, the Lord – Erma’s Lord – continues to inspire us the way he inspired her.

I am now an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada, and I trace the roots of that journey all the way back to Erma.  Whenever I think of her I see hope personified.  Remember what they said about Jesus when he began preaching in Galilee:

“The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light” (Matt. 4:16)

Didn’t we see that same light in Erma?

Sincerely,

Rev. Adam James Kilner (Jimmy Co-co Pot)

Erma’s last infant in foster care