60 AMERICANWAY
NOVEMBER 15 2008
“Would you like somewater?”Dr.MayaAngelou asks as shewelcomesme intoherNew
YorkCityhome. “Or theworld’s greatest apple juice?”
Though time has slowedAngelou, who turned 80 inApril, her kind eyes and robust
laugh reflect awomanmuchyounger in spirit, andherwords reveal an intellect andawit
sharper than ever.
“Unbuttonyour jacket andbecomfortable,” she saysas I joinheratherdining room ta-
ble. She raisesherglassofMartinelli’s apple juiceand clinks it againstmine. “Cheers,” she
says.Somehow,Angeloumanages tosimultaneouslybewarmandapproachableyetdigni-
fiedandalmostnoble inherpresence. She isAmerican royalty, and this isherpalace.
It’soneof twopalaces, actually. Lovelyas it is— thewalls adornedwithbeautifulAfri-
canartwork— thisbrownstone inHarlem isnotherprimary residence. She spendsmost
of her time at her home inWinston-Salem,NorthCarolina. But thisweek, Angelou is in
NewYork for a signing of her latest book,
Letter toMyDaughter
, a collection of reflec-
tionsand life lessons for the thousandsofwomensheconsidersherdaughters, thoughshe
nevergavebirth toone. It’sher30thbook;but, tobehonest, she says, she’s started to lose
count over the years. After eight decades of triumphs and tragedies, Angelouhas learned
that happiness is not found in countinghowmuch youhave, be it books or accolades or
wealthor friends, but byappreciatinghowevermuch—or little— you’vebeengiven.
“I’m grateful,” she says, sipping her juice. “I am truly grateful. I’m grateful for being
here, for being able to think, for being able to see, for being able to taste, for appreci-
ating love— for knowing that it exists in a
world so rife with vulgarity, with brutality
and violence, and yet love exists. I’m grate-
ful toknow that itexists.AndI’mgrateful to
know it exists inme, and I’mable to share it
with somanypeople.”
Angelou’s feelings of appreciation are
part of the reason that Thanksgiving is one
of her favorite times of the year. Her most
prized possessions are her familymembers
and friends, of which she has many, and
Thanksgiving affords her time to spend
on nothing but them. This month, as she’s
done for many Novembers, she’ll host be-
tween200 and250of her “beloveds” at her
home in North Carolina (Oprah Winfrey
has been a guest in the past), where they’ll
take part in an elaborate Thanksgiving cel-
ebration. The festivities will go on for four
days — just long enough for Angelou to
properlygive thanks for eachand everyone
of herblessings.
Of course, blessingsweren’t alwaysasap-
parent or asplentiful inherpast as theyare
now. Angelou’s tumultuous life has been,
quite literally, anopenbook, as shehasdoc-
umentedher early struggles in six different
autobiographies. Marguerite Ann “Maya”
Johnsonwas born inSt. Louis,Missouri, in
1928. Her parents divorced when she was
three, andhermother sent her andher old-
er brother, Bailey, to the rural, segregated
townof Stamps,Arkansas, to livewith their
paternal grandmother, Annie Henderson,
whom theyadoringly called “Momma.”
Angelou and her brother would eventu-
ally return toSt.Louis,where—asAngelou
detailed in her first and still most famous
work to date,
I KnowWhy the Caged Bird
Sings
— she endured several traumatic ex-
periencesandremainedmute foryearsafter
as a result. Angelou was then sent back to
Stamps to live with her wise and strong-
willedgrandmother,who taughther agreat
deal about life.
“You know how they say you only have
so many teachable moments?” Angelou
asks with a laugh. “Well, my grandmother
caughtmeat everyone.”
One of themost important — andmost
frequent — lessons Henderson taught her
granddaughterwas to not be a complainer.
As the only African-American store owner
in Stamps, Henderson endured her share
“I’m grateful for being
here, for being able to
think, for being able
to see, for being able to
taste, for appreciating
love— for knowingthat
it exists in aworldso
rife with vulgarity,
withbrutality and
violence, and yet love
exists. I’m gratefulto
knowthat it exists.”
