Thirteen Minutes

WARNING: this is a longer-than-usual read but I don’t think you’ll mind. This is quite a story.

Last Friday on a quick trip to New Orleans, Jim and I were in the French Quarter, trying to catch a streetcar over to the Garden District. The corner stop was crowded, and a woman in a wheelchair was telling nobody in particular that the streetcars were full by the time they arrived at this particular stop. The way to actually get on one was to walk down the street and go around the corner to catch it at the end of/beginning of the line.

Nobody paid much attention to her.

Then, when two full streetcars glided past where we all waited, I sighed. We were in town for less than two days and I didn’t really want to spend much time standing and waiting when we could be on the move. I walked over to the woman and said, “Can you please repeat what you were saying about catching a streetcar?” She gave me the directions and I handed her a five dollar bill.

Jim and I headed down the street and around the corner, and saw the streetcar stop, where a few people were waiting. We crossed the street to it and were very happy to get on the next streetcar just a couple of minutes later. It wasn’t until we got on that streetcar that I saw the OTHER streetcar stop and realized we were now on the wrong line. Oops.

As it turned out, it was a wonderful accident. We exited the streetcar just a couple of stops away and decided to just call a Lyft to get to the Garden District. It was one of the best decisions of the entire trip.

My Lyft app told me that Sabrina would be picking us up in just a few minutes. When she arrived, we climbed into her car and exchanged pleasantries. We always talk to rideshare drivers and suss them out in the first minute or two: sometimes they don’t care to chat and that’s totally fine. Sometimes they want to chat and we have a nice, surface-level conversation before hopping out at our final destination.

This might be the first time I’ve ever felt a super strong connection with our driver after chatting for literally every second of the ride.

Sabrina was (is!) very nice. I can’t remember exactly how our conversation began but she told us that she was driving to benefit her son’s foundation. I asked her about that, and she told us that her son was Glenn Foster Jr., who started The Foster Family Foundation shortly before he was murdered in the state of Alabama.

“Oh my goodness!” I said. “I’m so sorry!”

(Jim expressed this as well but I’m only giving you my part of the conversation, to avoid losing you in the details.)

Sabrina told us that Glenn Jr. had played for the New Orleans Saints for two years and after that became a businessman. He had a wife and four little girls. In December 2021 he was arrested in Pickens County, Alabama and died in custody. The family was told that he died “of natural causes,” but after having an independent autopsy done, it was revealed that there was evidence of “neck compressions and strangulation.” There is currently a lawsuit in progress, and the family is being represented by Diandra Debrosse Zimmermann and Robert F. DiCello, along with Benjamin Crump. If Mr. Crump’s name sounds familiar to you, it’s because you’ve indeed heard of him. He specializes in civil rights cases and has represented the families of Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, George Floyd, Sonya Massey, Breonna Taylor, and Tyre Nichols, just to name a few.

Glenn Jr.’s story is tragic, and as I was commenting as such to Sabrina, I said something like, “This kind of thing is beyond awful. I know that so many people think that the killing of Black Americans is new in the past few years but I know it’s been going on for a very, very long time.” She thanked me for acknowledging that, and we kept talking.

Sabrina told us more about her son’s life and her own life. We learned that she is a Chicago girl like me, and there were a couple of other commonalities that I won’t share because I don’t want to put all of her private business out here! I asked her how long she had been driving for Lyft and she said that she and her husband had only been doing it for a couple of months, and she liked talking to people–especially when she could share about her son. She told us that Glenn Jr. had told her shortly before his murder that he wanted her to run the foundation.

She handed me a flyer that had information on it about The Foster Family Foundation, and then suddenly we were in the Garden District.

I didn’t really want to get out of the car! I felt connected to Sabrina after only thirteen minutes of knowing her.

But we did leave her car because it would have been very strange to ride around with her when we were on vacation.

I watched her drive away and I told Jim, “Meeting her is going to stick with me for a long time. That felt really special.” I was excited about the rest of our day’s activities but also I couldn’t wait to be in a place where I could sit and read the flyer, and look for more information on Glenn Jr. and their foundation.

Later, I did one of the things I do best: research. I looked up the foundation and Glenn Jr., and then I Googled Sabrina.

Sabrina Jones Foster is not only Glenn Jr. and Bria’s mom, a wife, a grandma, an entrepreneur, an advocate, and the person leading The Foster Family Foundation. She also founded the New Orleans chapter of Black Lives Matter Grassroots! Every new thing I learned about Sabrina left me a little more speechless over the fact that this amazing woman was driving us around the Big Easy.

When we arrived home on Sunday, I decided that I wanted to email Sabrina through the foundation. I used the “info” email address and put “For Sabrina Jones Foster” in the subject line, in case she wasn’t getting the “info” emails herself. Here’s part of that email.

As is typical for me, I reread my email after I sent it, and was horrified about something I wrote. I nearly had a panic attack because I didn’t want Sabrina to think poorly of me. So I emailed her a correction. (Welcome to my neurosis!)

I felt much better after sending that second email.

On Wednesday afternoon, I was sitting on my couch after finishing up my work day, and my phone rang. I looked at it and was shocked to see that Sabrina Foster was calling me.

I answered quietly. “Hello??”

Sabrina said, “Melisa?”

I said, “Yes!”

And we both started crying.

She said, “Hold on…”

We pulled it together and she said, “I had to call you.”

I was sitting there wondering how she possibly could’ve found my phone number, and then my brain kicked in and remembered that it’s in my email signature.

I won’t write about the entire call in detail (you can ask me about it offline, though!), but she thanked me for my email. I said, “You got both of them, right?”

She did.

(Shew!)

She said that my email meant so very much to her, and I told her that I was so happy to hear from her because I hadn’t stopped thinking about her and her son. She told me more about him: about how she and her husband raised him, and how they know without a doubt they did a great job. (I said, “Of course you did!”) She talked about her granddaughters and how, by being a major presence in their lives, she can help her daughter-in-law remind them of their daddy.

We talked a little bit about white women and Black women, and how we all need to work together to bring change, equity, equality, opportunity for ALL people. The conversation was completely refreshing. She inspires me.

We talked a little more about her background and she told me that Glenn Jr. used to tell her, “Mom, you have a movie. You should write it.” She hopes to do so, someday.

That’s where I interrupted her and said, “No pressure: I know you have to start writing whenever you are ready. But when you do begin, if you need someone to read portions or edit, or whatever, let me know. I’m happy to help. I’m a writer myself and I do a lot of editing as a part of my job.” She appreciated the offer and MAN, I hope she writes it someday!

We talked for about twenty minutes and I told her I’d keep in touch, and that I was planning to write about our meeting. I said, “I hope you don’t mind: I’m going to keep your number in my contacts.” She said she’d keep mine, too.

I thanked her for calling, she told me to please let her know when we get back to New Orleans, and we hung up. Then I cried some more. What an amazing experience, connecting with another human like that, in a way that was total chance. I won’t forget it (or the feeling of it) anytime soon.

Here are some links, if you’re interested in learning more.

The Foster Family Foundation’s mission is “to provide equal access to equitable opportunities, programs, and resources for individuals living in marginalized and under-resourced communities.”

Watch Glenn Jr.’s wife Pamela talk about her husband’s death.

Read a cool article about my new friend, the amazing Sabrina Jones Foster, here.