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When Marcelino Manuel da Graca aka Sweet Daddy Grace came to town.
 At an early age, I must admit that I was excited along with the majority of the Black community of the South East section of the city. It was a grand tradition that took place during his birthday or annual baptism. The event started with a grand scale parade, which started from The House of Prayer on Ivy Avenue then moved progressively down Jefferson Avenue ending at the shore of Pinkett Beach. The parade was meticulously organized and each primary function was categorized. There was the percussion section, where men of different height and various shades of brown pounded rhythmically on various sizes of bass drums, and clammed with precision on golden polished cymbals. The women in the parade wore beautiful long flowing pastel gowns and rhinestone tiaras in their hair. There was a section with a small group of men who were smartly dressed in black suits and on their heads they wore red masonic style hats with dangling tassels. A tall magnificent man, whose complexion was that of a midnight country sky lead the procession. he wore the tallest of the masonic hats, and his face was grimly frozen. He menacing veered left to right down the wide road, wavering a large machete with the likeness of the one on his hat. 
The co-pastor, deacons, and their wives in their stunning attire; sit solemnly executing nimble waves of their hands to the crowd as their new 1950 black convertible Cadillacs with eye-catching polished chrome bumpers and moon hub caps that reflected the approving faces of the crowd as it moves slowly by. 
The Gray Soldiers marched in front of his white convertible  Limousine that transported Sweet Daddy Grace. He was a light complexion man with black shoulder-length wavy hair and fingernails that were the length of a Chinese
 Emperor. A Lordly look illustrated his demeanor. At the age of seventy-one
 he had a youthful look of a man of forty, some say that it was because he was a true man of God and a faith healer. The crowd shouted out praises. "We love you, Sweet Daddy Grace, Touch me, Sweet Daddy Grace." Beautiful young cheerleaders in their crisp colorful uniforms who were always at the end of the procession marched behind Sweet Daddy Grace. Caught up in the array of emotions of the crowd I found myself following the procession down to Pinkett Beach to watch the baptism.






copyright Labyrinth of Life
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