MY FAMILY IS DOING WELL. My mother is our foundation and she continues to keep our family together. Her voice still echoes faith and truth. She lives with her family memories and her beloved dogs on ten acres in Riverside County. Her health remains stable. There have been more surgeries, resulting from the one so long ago. But her spirit and love for her family remain strong and the warmth and dignity that have always characterized her still shine through. She remains beautiful inside and out, possessing that stunning smile, and the power to turn heads in her Sunday suit and hat still. Her days on Southridge are long gone and the memories linger, but wealth and fame were never a priority for her to be happy. At heart she is a faithful worshipper of Christ and goes to services every Sunday. She loves to visit her grandchildren and great-grandchildren as much as possible, and cooks for us every now and again. The same beautiful black-and-white photos of her and my father sit on the baby grand piano in the living room. And somewhere in the piles of boxes in her garage, I’m fairly certain there is a very large collection of hats, shoes, trophies, and memories of our childhood.
My little brother Bobby is Pastor Robert Robinson now. I am extremely proud of Robert and what he has accomplished. In 1985, God gave him a vision of himself as a pastor. When he realized it was not a hallucination caused by drugs, he walked into our mother’s bedroom, sat down, and said, “Tell me about Jesus.” So she did. He enrolled in divinity school, and three years later, he graduated and became a minister. With some of my father’s stage presence and a strong speaking voice, he is an imposing figure in the pulpit. If you look very closely, you can still make out the scar from the accident with the electrical cord that almost took his life. He has our great-grandfather Mike’s red hair. Robert now has a ministry in a small church in South Central Los Angeles. His church is a light on a hill, offering refuge and respite to those who are in need of food for the soul. My mother is his most devoted parishioner.
David has shared some of the same struggles I have. He has been sober for seven years now, living, like me, one day at a time. He refers to his years in prison as his “college.” It was there that he learned some of life’s most soul-searing lessons. He will tell you that it was the love and prayers of his wife, our mother, and family that kept him strong. It enabled him to see the light at the end of the tunnel. He could not let them down. He had to survive and emerge a better man. But he is the same funny, quick-tempered person he was as a kid, and just as lovable. His beautiful children are model students. He committed his life to God in prison, and he continues to do the work of the Lord with gangbangers and at-risk kids. He shows them his physical scars and tells them about the psychological ones as well. His courage and honesty continue to save young lives. Like all the men in our family, he has been saved from the fire, too. God has been good to us.
My daughter Blair aspires to follow in her grandfather’s footsteps. She possesses a strong inner strength, and has an exquisite voice and timbre that reminds me of my father. She sings R & B and though she hasn’t been able to record in her grandfather’s studio as he promised her, she is currently working on a debut CD. Note by note and song by song, she is slowly creating her own sound and repertoire. It is exactly what her grandfather did early in his career, without help from anyone. When asked what her grandfather’s greatest legacy to her is, she answers promptly, “My music.” I know he is watching and his spirit shall rise in her.
Both of my daughters are strong young women. They have inherited their grandmother’s beauty and courage, and their grandfather’s determination. Instead of running away from their feelings as I did, they have transformed the pain into strength. Blair says my failures have made her strong, and have shown her that she can stand on her own. Erin refers to herself as a warrior, a woman who has learned to fight fiercely for those she loves. They are very close, fiercely loyal to each other and to me. They are realistic about my failures as a father, but they also understand the father I wanted so much to be, the father I was some of the time. They honor my intentions and my heart instead of dwelling on my mistakes. I have learned from their forgiveness and I am humbled, and now I can forgive myself. Erin, a makeup artist, feels her grandfather’s legacy not as a burden but as a support. Whenever she is tempted to back away from something that seems too difficult to achieve, she thinks of her grandfather. She reminds herself that he never allowed being blind, black, or poor to stop him from going forward. If he could achieve all that he did, she has no excuse. Both of my daughters carry their grandfather in their hearts every day. And when you mention his name, they simply smile. They remember him with joy and laughter. A fond memory for Erin and Blair is the day they did a photo shoot with him for People. We are blessed to have that quality time captured on film. It was special for me to watch my father spend time with the girls as he had done with me.
As for little Kennedy, her mother believes that God gave her a daughter so that I would have the chance to be the papa to Kennedy that I so much wanted to be to her and Blair. Kennedy is the apple of my eye, and I will argue with anyone who doesn’t think she is one of the three most beautiful little girls I’ve ever seen. When my father passed away just before Erin planned to introduce him to Kennedy, Erin and I both grieved that he would never see his great-granddaughter. Now, though, we are not quite so sure. Some odd things have happened since Kennedy was born.
When Kennedy was a baby, she liked to sit on Erin’s lap and look into the mirrors on the bedroom closet doors. Erin assumed Kennedy liked to look at herself, the way babies do. One day when Erin and Blair were in the bedroom, they looked over at Kennedy, who was sitting on the floor looking into the mirror as usual. As they watched, Kennedy looked intently into the mirror and then started rocking from side to side and smiling, exactly like my father did on the piano bench. Erin and Blair looked at each other. They knew Kennedy had never seen a video of my father performing, but her movements were a dead-on imitation. Just as they were about to reassure themselves it was a funny coincidence, Kennedy smiled at the mirror, stopped rocking, and said, “Bye, Papa, bye!” Erin and Blair stared in disbelief. They didn’t know what to think.
About a year later, when Kennedy was a little over two years old, she was misbehaving in the living room. Erin put her in one of the dining-room chairs and told her to stay there for a time-out. Erin sat down in the chair next to Kennedy to talk to her about her behavior. Instead of focusing on what her mother was saying, however, Kennedy kept staring over the top of Erin’s head. Erin began to get irritated. She turned Kennedy’s face to look at hers and said, “Kennedy, what are you looking at when you should be listening to Mommy?”
Kennedy pointed over the top of Erin’s head and answered, “Papa.” Erin had always been puzzled that from the time Kennedy could speak, she would say “Papa” whenever she saw a picture of my father. Erin couldn’t remember telling her who her grandfather was, but Kennedy clearly knew. His spirit lives.
Erin was married last summer to Demarcus James, a wonderful man. The wedding was held outdoors at a beautiful hotel in Manhattan Beach. It was a picture-perfect California afternoon, with a slight breeze to cool the guests. Erin looked stunning in her gown. As I stood there waiting to walk my daughter down the aisle, I could see my entire family assembled for this joyous event. Kennedy was dressed like a princess in a floor–length pink gown with a tiara atop her long black curls. My mother, along with Duana, sat in the front row, glowing with happiness in her bright magenta dress so becoming. David and his wife sat in the second row with their children. At the end of the aisle, waiting to receive us, stood my brother Robert in his white robe and surplice, waiting to join his niece and her fiancé in holy matrimony. Blair, the maid of honor, smiled as she preceded her sister down the aisle. I remembered my journey to this beautiful day, as we stood together against all odds. Tears fell the moment I saw Erin approach me in her wedding dress, and the first thing she said to me as we prepared to walk down the aisle together was, “Dad, please don’t cry.”
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sp; Only one person was missing that evening.
The bridesmaids’ processional music faded to a conclusion, and I stepped onto the end of the black-and-white runner with my daughter holding tightly to my arm. As we took our first step down the aisle, my father’s voice, as though from the heavens, filled the air. He was singing “Over the Rainbow.” Tears filled the eyes of almost everyone watching. In that moment I knew that my father was there with us, seeing his granddaughter walk down the aisle, her heart filled with his voice that lingered in the air. He could see her. See her. He could see us all, completely, as he had never been able to see us in life. I knew he could finally see us as I had always longed for him to. And at last, I could see him with the vision that only God could give me.
This September, shortly after my third sobriety birthday, Kennedy started kindergarten at the same school I took her mother and Blair to on their first days of kindergarten. It is the same place I played with my friends during the long summer afternoons so many years ago. As I sit on the bench in front of the auditorium, waiting for her, the breeze rises from the ocean not too far away. When Kennedy walked through the gate, my eyes filled with tears, that strange mixture of joy and sorrow that pierces my heart at such moments. God has given me another chance. Kennedy and I will walk together, I will listen to her little thoughts, I will laugh with her and nurture her.
TO KENNEDY
Kennedy, I will be there to love you.
I will be there to protect you.
I will be there to pick you up when you fall.
I will be there if you need me to hold you.
I will be here, right here to watch you grow.
I will be here for your kisses and hugs.
I promise, I love you, little girl
—Paw Paw
By being there to watch Kennedy grow and by being a part of her life, I am born again. I pray that the painful memories fade with time for my daughters. I want Erin and Blair to know that I love them very much and God does, too.
Ray Charles lives, his blood shall continue to flow in his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
That is our legacy.
APPENDIX
Poems for My Father
I Searched for You
Dad, I’m searching for you and now you are gone
You and I were like two ships sailing in the
Night. Just missing each other, each searching
For the light in the other. Seeking each other for love, seeking each other for strength.
Wishing you were here to bump into, to feel your hands cup my face, running your hands over my shoulders to my waist, to the top of my head, and to you I have grown all over again.
Wishing I could kiss your forehead and tell you not to worry, I crossed my own boundaries, my trials were necessary.
Though the rain shall come again, I promise to follow the sun. When I see you again in the light of God, His will shall be done and you shall smile to see I have found my way to the light.
In the light there shall be no more past, no disappointment or reliving the pain, only love.
You shall see me for the first time as I shall you. We shall walk and talk together about all we can look forward to in life eternal.
Dad, please tell Grandmother Aretha, Grandfather Bailey, Granddaddy, Uncle George, Mary Jane, Grams, Aunt Sadie, Mama Lee, Elaine Bailey, and Elaine Chenier hello. Also say hello to Hank, “Fathead,” and Leroy. Please let them know they are missed, too.
Dad, do not forget to touch me in my dreams, so I can continue to follow life’s beautiful schemes.
Until we see each other again, you can rest now.
I love you, Dad.
Inside the Music
Dad, inside the music was where you belong,
Your first love, your beginning, and your ending.
Your music was the experience and your dreams
At work. It was all of the words and your feelings
You could not express.
Inside the music was your private world, your gift, and your journey.
It’s where the requiem of your thoughts and
Dreams could be heard
All in real time to be deferred.
Inside the music was our common ground,
It was our sanctuary to search our thoughts,
Souls, and dreams to abound in
Those beautiful life schemes.
Inside the music was life in all its splendor
With all of its sunshine and rain. Yet we survived to remain, no one to blame. With all of the love meant, Dad, life with you was still as beautiful as the dream.
It is here in the midst where they shall find you and me, inside the music.
It’s a New Day
I have witnessed the injustice and civil unrest during the 60s in America,
And I watched the assassination of an American president.
I remember the disappointment and the fear of the Watts riots, “Burn Baby Burn,”
And I remember feeling the hopelessness the day Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated.
I watched a man walk in space,
And I remember how the balance of scale tipped with the Voting Rights Act of 1965 for our race.
I remember voting for change in 2008, America’s status quo was rearranged
And the result was our first African American president, Barack Obama, the forty-fourth president of the United States of America.
With great strides taken in the twenty-first century, God bless our president and God bless America.
My father would have been surprised, oh say can you see, it’s a new day for you and me.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to express my gratitude to my agent, Alan Nevins, and his staff. Thank you so much for working tirelessly and believing in my story to get it published. With great appreciation and gratitude, I would like to thank my editor, Julia Pastore of Harmony Books, and her staff. As well, I would like to thank my cowriter, Mary Jane Ross, for her tireless effort and bringing her own perspective to my story. I want to thank all of you for your patience, understanding, and the way you handle the sensitive nature of my family’s personal lives. I could have not asked for a better team.
I would like to extend a special thanks to our close family friends who helped fill in the gaps of my life in echoing my father’s thoughts and words, and clarified some of the events in our lives. I would like to thank Herbert Miller, David Braithwaite, Reverend Mable John, Duke Wade, and Mr. “T” Terry Howard. I know by telling my own story, you were reliving your own lives with RC as well. Thank you for sharing your lives with my father with me; your input was vital and forthcoming.
I would like to express my love and appreciation to Rhonda Bailey for her patience, love, and encouragement. Thank you to Lisa Nkonoki, who gave me the inspiration and the courage to write this book. Also a special thanks to all of my close friends who have encouraged me during my trials over the years: thanks to Paul, Shed, Gary, Les H., John T., Al M., Jeru, Randall, Holder, Emile, Larry, Renard, James W., Tolly and Billy Harris, Jack S., Malcolm, and D. Brown.
Once again, I cannot express enough gratitude for the men who took their valuable time to help nurture and mentor me during my formative years. I shall never forget what values and joy you brought into my life. Thank you, General Titus Hall, John Williams, Mr. Kaiser, Mr. Ramirez, Mr. Hill, and Jonathan Leonard.
As well, I would like to express my gratitute to Universal Studios for an impeccable job of promoting and distributing Ray.
And congratulations to Concord Records for Genius Loves Company.
Finally, I would like to express my love and gratitude to my family for their unfailing support and understanding. I thank my brothers, David and Robert, for their willingness to share their own trials and temptations. I am grateful to my daughters, Erin and Blair, for sharing their memories with love and forgiveness. Thanks to my uncle James for his love and encouragement; you have always been there for me. With
love and appreciation to my mother, Della B. Robinson, for the many hours she spent recounting her life memories, filling in the gaps in my family history, and sorting through our family photos and memorabilia. Your courage and honesty in sharing our family’s journey made this book possible. I love you, Mom.
In Memoriam: Peace and Love to Terry Howard,
who passed away on February 26, 2010.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RAY CHARLES ROBINSON JR. is the oldest son of music icon Ray Charles Robinson and Della B. Robinson. Ray grew up in Los Angeles, California, in a home filled with music and frequented by great musicians like Hank Crawford, David “Fathead” Newman, Quincy Jones, Milt Jackson, Marcus Belgrave, Gerald Wilson, and arranger Sid Feller. He is an alumnus of Whittier College and the Lancer Society of Whittier College. He majored in business and minored in economics.
Ray is an independent film producer. He co–executive produced Ray Charles: 50 Years of Music; co-produced the concert DVD Ray Charles Celebrates Christmas with the Voices of Jubilation; produced and appeared in Black Prince, a Grand Jury Prize award winner of the New York International Independent Film Festival in 2005; co-produced Ray, a Taylor Hackford film with Crusader Entertainment/Walden Media; and co-produced Hotel California with Alliance Group Entertainment, among many other projects. Ray is currently in the process of financing two independent films as an executive producer and transitioning his experience to the real-estate finance market.
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