I'm Major Jackson and this is The Slow Down.

Recently I recalled several memories of my father that had been hiding from me for

some years.

He's a fine swimmer and for the better part of my life, he made sure to swim laps

at least once a day.

When I was about 10 years old, one dark winter afternoon, he took me to the YMCA and

just outside the glass doors, he stopped us.

He bent down to me and announced that he had burns on the lower half of his body and

that I should not stare that when I turned 18, he would tell me the story.

By the way, 18 done came and gone, I still do not know his trauma.

I grew up looking away from my father's body, his secret writ on his skin and over his

limbs.

He's found ways to evade the many difficult moments in his life.

Those burn marks are visible emblem of his approach to the most uncomfortable moments

and subjects between us.

Family lore has it that my grandmother briefly dated Cap Callaway during her days in Harlem.

My father's not willing to discuss this nugget of celebrity gossip because from what

I've pieced together, their union might have been an illicit affair.

He wishes to keep her pristine image intact.

Granted, this alleged trist occurred before he was born, but I know he knows something

of his mother's freer days.

I want to encourage him to reengage his past, including his traumas, in his own language

...