Cleanliness is next to Godliness.

I had two whispers from my mother growing up. Well, one was really a whisper. The other was a belt to the behind if it didn't get done. The Whisper: "You kids do know that cleanliness is next to godliness." The Whisper/Command: "I want this house cleaned by the time I get home from work. And y'all know this house is not considered clean until the kitchen is spotless." It was another Saturday morning in childhood, and I could hear my oldest sister yelling to my younger sister, my brother, and me: "Get up and let's get this house cleaned now! I have somewhere to go this morning." Of course, my two older sisters always had somewhere to go on Saturday mornings. Meanwhile, my baby brother and I wanted nothing more than to eat cereal and watch cartoons. Then here she came again, sounding just like my mother: "Turn that TV off, get your room cleaned, and take out all the trash!" Then came the part I dreaded. "James, it's your turn to do the kitchen." Grudgingly, I headed toward the kitchen. Well, to make a long story short, my sister finally relented. "Boy, take that trash out and get out of the kitchen. I'll do it myself. I have somewhere to be this morning!" This Saturday cycle continued through most of my years living at my parents' house. To this day, I honestly don't remember ever completing my full kitchen duties back then. Not because I was lazy. I just couldn't live up to the standards my mother had set. Fast forward to adulthood. Even after my sisters, brother, and I found ourselves in our own modest homes, my mother's words still resonated loudly. Almost like clockwork, we could call each other on a beautiful Saturday morning and ask: "How are you doing today?" And each sibling would have a similar reply: "I'm cleaning the house." Or: "I'm getting ready to clean." Or:"I just finished cleaning." Sorry, folks, but I need to cut this whisper short.After all, I'm writing this on a Saturday, and I can still hear my mother's voice: "James, remember... cleanliness is next to godliness." And oh yeah... I think she would be proud. I finally got that kitchen thing down to a science. The Stories We Inherit. The Signals We Become.

— James Gray, Sr., passed down by Mother