THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, December 11, 1994 TAG: 9412110054
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: PAUL SOUTH
DATELINE: SOMERSET PLACE LENGTH: Medium: 79 lines
The man in the black baseball cap prepares to till the garden of sculpted shrubs just steps from the porch of the main house at this Albemarle-area plantation.
He stops his work, walks a few paces and exchanges pleasantries with a visitor.
``How are you today?'' the visitor asks.
``I'm blessed,'' James Sykes responds, his answer emphasized by a 400-watt smile.
For some folks, James Sykes' answer to a routine question might cause eyebrows to raise, or eyes to roll - or cause no reaction at all.
But talk to the 47-year-old Alligator, N.C., man and you'll find his answer anything but a routine reflex.
``I'm blessed'' comes from his heart.
Sykes has worked for the past year as the maintenance supervisor at Somerset, a centuries-old plantation near Creswell. On Tuesday, he was busily working in the garden, readying for a next-day delivery.
``The bulbs are coming in tomorrow,'' he says. ``We found some records that they planted tulips, pansies and glads (gladiolus) in here back years ago. We're going to bring this piece of ground back to life.''
``They'' are the Collins family, who built and owned this plantation, and at one time enslaved almost 400 African-Americans.
Today, Sykes tills the soil his people worked. Drops of his sweat mingle in the soil with the blood, sweat and tears of his ancestors who were taken from their West African home to build this place on the banks of Lake Phelps. As he works this place, he often thinks of them.
``I look at it like this,'' Sykes says. ``Only the strong survive. My people were survivors. I think about it sometimes. But I don't let it hurt me so that I'm going to lose my joy. The Devil's going to do whatever he can to steal your joy, making you think about things that make you angry, or make you hate other folks for what they did in the past.
``Look at this place,'' Sykes says. ``It's like the Lord took the evil out of here, and left the beauty behind.''
Sykes knows something about survival. He served three years in Vietnam, and counts himself fortunate to be here.
``I saw a lot of my friends go down,'' he says. ``I don't consider myself lucky. I consider myself blessed.''
Many folks might consider the back-breaking work Sykes does to be an unbearable chore. Not so for this father of three. For him, it is a labor of love, and a chance to talk to his closest friend.
``I love watching the grass grow here, and making sure it stays cut and nice. When I get on that mower, I pray. There's nothing like the smell of fresh cut grass.''
Sykes admits that like most people, there are days when the work here at Somerset is too much.
``Sometimes, I feel a little stretched out,'' he says. ``There is so much to do here. Like when we were getting ready to have the Christmas open house, I worked every day, and Sunday. Somebody asked me if there was some place I'd rather be on a beautiful Sunday, and I said, `Yeah, I'd like to be in church.' See, my cousin is our First Bishop, and I wanted to hear him preach. He can really preach the word. But I told Mrs. (Dorothy) Redford (director at Somerset), ain't nothing going to take my joy. I just had church out here.''
Talk to James Sykes long enough, and you'll learn not only about faith, flowers and forgiveness. He'll teach you something about concrete, too.
``I'm a concrete mason by trade,'' he says. ``You know, no two truckloads of concrete are the same. People are like that, too.''
Soon Sykes returns to his tiller. After all, the bulbs will be delivered soon.
``I love this job, and I love this place. It's a challenge, but I love anything I can do with my mind and my hands. It's so nice to see people come here and smile because it's so pretty.''
As the sun sets on Somerset Place, Sykes cranks the tiller. In a few months, the bulbs will be blooming. ``Me and the good Lord will see to that,'' he says.
Long after the last chorus of ``Joy to the World'' is sung this holiday season, there will still be joy at Somerset.
James Sykes and the good Lord will see to that, too. by CNB