In Remembrance of Dr. Delbert Blair
My father, Dr. Delbert Blair, transitioned from this realm to the next on February 1st 2016 after a rather lengthy battle with prostate cancer. He was born at St. Luke’s hospital in Chicago on February 13, 1934. So if you are one who measures time by the number of days it takes the Earth to orbit around the sun, my father passed at the age of 81 just 13 days shy of his 82nd birthday.
My father was raised on the South side of Chicago with his parents George and Dorothy Blair until the age of 10 that was when his parents divorced. After that he would see his father sporadically until age 16 mainly to pick up child support checks at his father electricians shop. His father was also a skilled electrician. After that my father would only see his father one more time at age 25 when he moved to Jamaica for good. At the time my father was an only child there were rumors that he may have had a much younger step-brother in Jamaica, but that was never verified. So for the majority of his life my father was raised mainly by my grandmother, Dorothy.
If some of you are wondering why I’m presenting a little personal history about my father’s upbringing it’s because he taught me to always learn as much as you can about the person presenting information to you. That should include authors, teachers, public speakers, preachers or anyone whose information you are trying to absorb into your personal cache of knowledge. After all, you may also be absorbing some of their personal biases. So it’s good to know as much about that person as possible so you have a small window into how they view the world.
I remember him showing me a passage where one author had labeled a table found in an ancient building in KMT (Egypt) as a “The Sacrificial Table” used to sacrifice humans to the Gods”. He had reached that conclusion based on the fact that DNA had proved human blood had stained many of the stones and the room had paintings of the Gods surrounding it. But another author said it was a “Delivery Room” used for birthing children. The pictures of the Gods were present to protect the child and mother and to bless the new soul into this world. Later it is proven that the second author was correct. It was a birthing room. The mattress had rotted away millennia ago because it was made with cloth and feathers. How did we find out? Because in another room there was a painting of that exact same table with a mother giving birth. Surround by what seemed to be a priest, a doctor and her mother.
It is for that very reason that my father would always say, “There is no truth until you decide what truth is” His point was simple. Everyone processes new information based on their own past experiences, personal belief systems and biases. Often when new information is presented one of two things will happen, it will be rejected because it contradicts ones personal information processes or it will force the person to EXPAND THEIR CONCIOUSNESS. That was another phrase often spoken by my father but either way he felt he did his job.
Most of you will remember my father based on where you are within your personal journeys. If you were seeking health advice then you probably saw him most as a doctor. If you were seeking spiritual advice then he was a pastor, If at the time of your journey you were trying to find out more about how “Africans” have arrived at this present point throughout the Diaspora then he was a historian. And if you were considering the journey beyond this present realm we call life then he was a metaphysician. For me he was simply my father.