Uncle Junior loved Earth, Wind & Fire.
James Harriot Jr. was unquestionably the greatest male influence in my life. He talked in adages, told stories like a griot, and he “knew things.” And, when I was only 10 years old, he introduced me to “The Elements.”
Twenty years ago, Uncle Junior stopped by my house on his way home when a snowstorm came out of nowhere. Trapped for the evening, we sat up all night talking and watching his favorite movie, The Godfather II. As usual, he predicted my future, telling me that I had already met the woman I was supposed to marry. “Sure, Uncle Junior,” I replied. “And you’re gonna live forever.”
He did not laugh.
After promising that I wouldn’t tell any other members of the family, Uncle Junior revealed that he’d recently been diagnosed with a liver disease. I don’t know why he swore me to secrecy because it’s not like anyone in the family would be concerned. Because if you asked my sisters, cousins or anyone tangentially related to the Harriot clan to tell you about Uncle Junior, they would all volunteer the same fact.
Uncle Junior couldn’t die.
Uncle Junior’s immortality was not a matter of faith. I can’t explain why we believed it or how it became an accepted truth. He wasn’t ranked in the Harriot family’s top 10 Holy Ghost practitioners, so it had nothing to do with religion or faith. Surviving Vietnam or coming out unscathed from the point-blank shotgun blast that tore my Uncle Rob’s arm to shreds had nothing to do with it. It was just a fact. So when Uncle Junior told me that he was sick, I just asked him if he wanted to listen to some Earth, Wind & Fire.
In less than a month, Uncle Junior had died.
On Feb. 6, 2016, I wrote my first obituary.
Although the article was intended to celebrate the passing of Earth, Wind & Fire founder Maurice White, it was really about Uncle Junior. “I could write a Psalm about him that could rival anything David ever produced with his harp,” I wrote. “I am a better writer, and in my then-grade-school-age universe, Uncle Junior was God.”
That tribute to my favorite uncle and my favorite band eventually became “Earth, Wind and America,” the first chapter of my book, Black AF History: The Unwhitewashed Story of America. A few days after it was released, I received a call:
“You wanna help make a movie about your favorite band?” said the familiar voice on the other end. It was Questlove. He had just read that chapter of the book and wanted to know if I would participate in his next documentary.
On Wednesday, a few minutes before Robert De Niro introduced Questlove’s new documentary, Earth, Wind & Fire (To Be Celestial vs. That’s the Weight of the World) at Tribeca Film Festival, I received a text from my Aunt Rosalind with a picture of her late husband…
James Harriot Jr.
When I first saw the picture, I thought it was a photo of James’ son, my cousin Jeremy. Until I received that text, I hadn’t noticed that they were the spitting image of each other. Then again, every now and then, Jeremy will text me a picture of his son, who is also the spitting image of Uncle Junior. But Jeremy’s son even bears his name:
Ever James Harriot.
But this is not what made me realize that Uncle Junior was right all along.
In my quest to become a scholar on Earth, Wind & Fire, I remembered a passage from Maurice White’s biography:
On one of my walks back from getting water, with the work group at least a half mile off in the distance, I heard a clear, strong voice saying, “Stop.” I believed this was the voice of God.
“Why do we have to die?” I asked.
“You will live forever; you are immortal.”
Shortly after the film premiered, Earth, Wind & Fire gave a special performance backed by The Roots. I was ecstatic because…well…here’s the thing:
Earth, Wind & Fire is not actually my favorite band.
Technically, my favorite band is The Roots.
Maurice White died. Uncle Junior died. Everything that has ever lived will also die...including America. But the fire they sparked still burns.
We are the fire.
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