In Loving Memory of William Brown

My father, William Brown, was a vibrant and energetic man whose strong personality sometimes clashed with others. One of my fondest memories is how he took pride in the neighborhood, often sweeping the outside of our house in Brooklyn. He always started at the front and would sweep the entire block, embodying a sense of community.

I remember visiting him at his job at the toy factory, where he wore a sailor hat and dedicated himself to keeping the factory clean. He would often shop at the supermarket on 14th Street in Manhattan, making sure to pick up cat food for the boss and other important items. I would frequently go to his workplace to pick up money for groceries at home. Before I left, he would tell me to grab something to eat at the nearby Spanish restaurant and to put it on his tab.

Dressed in black suits, my father would carry a bag filled with Bibles and Gospel books. Whenever we traveled together, I was tasked with carrying a Bible and handing out Gospel tracts to people on the street or train.

The lessons he imparted were invaluable. He would often say, "Your friends are those who invite you to their house." He encouraged me to walk confidently; whenever I lagged behind, he would place his hand on my back, urging me to keep pace. Most importantly, he taught me to never be afraid of anyone or anything that life throws at you.

I have a vivid memory of one rainy day when my youngest brother fell sick. Together, we walked nearly three miles to get him the care he needed at the local hospital, demonstrating our family's resilience and commitment to love one another.

Finally, I remember him humming the song,

"One Door and Only One, what side is you?"