Virgil Eubanks's Daughter Monologue

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Maria A. Tisdale Virgil Nathaniel Eubanks Capsule June 16, 2012 Professor Thomas HUM 202 D01 If you are reading this, that means I am probably dead. My name is Virgil Nathaniel Eubanks. I created this time capsule, to give a behind the scenes look at James Baldwin's life as a writer and our connection. I was born on July 28, 1924 in Memphis Tennessee. My father’s name was Ricardo Eubanks and my mother’s Maria Zambrana. My father was Dominican and my mother black and Puerto Rican. They met when they were 15, had a whirlwind romance and married at the age of 17. By the age of 22 they had three children; my older sister Roxanne, myself, and my younger brother Eric. In 1931, my sister was kidnapped and killed at the age of 10. My parents…show more content…
After he disappeared, his well-kept secrets began to come to light. My father was a rolling stone and combined, he had a total of 18 children, not including my dead sister. My mother had no clue, as to my father’s whereabouts so she was forced to work full-time to provide for us. Her mother moved in with us to take care of me and Eric, while she was at work. When Eric was 11, he was “allegedly” killed and hanged by two white men. The case never went to trial and till this day, his murder is enlisted as unsolved. When I was 15, my mother uprooted me and my grandmother to Bronx, New York, where she assumed it would be much safer for me to grow up. I attended school at DeWitt Clinton High School, and it was there where I met, famous novelist James Baldwin. At the time I met him, I had no idea he would become famous; I just knew he made a great friend and an even better listener. Whereas I was somewhat rebellious and had a tendency to handle situations violently, James was a Pentecostal preacher and a junior minister at the Pentecostal Church. James could speak to me and him, unlike many before him who had tried and failed, had the ability to calm me down from making some very huge…show more content…
At that time we were both trying to find ourselves and we often “experimented” with our sexualities, together. One day in, through a friend, James met an African American painter named Beauford Delaney. After meeting Delaney, James became obsessed with himself as a writer and not just an African writer and suggested I meet Delaney as well. I did meet Delaney and he helped me escape into my own world of writing, where I could finally come to terms with the deaths of my siblings and my resentment towards my father. It was around 1950 when James exiled to France to discover himself as a writer as well as discover his

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