I was raised by my great-great aunt. I was adopted within our

Host: The room feels quiet, the weight of the words hanging in the air as Jack and Jeeny sit across from each other. The evening has settled in, the soft hum of the world outside drifting through the window, but inside, the conversation feels heavier. Jack leans forward slightly, his eyes reflecting the intensity of the story that has just been shared.

Jeeny: "Eric Dickerson shared such a powerful part of his story when he said, 'I was raised by my great-great aunt. I was adopted within our family. My mother had me when she was, I think, 15, 16. They tried to get her to have an abortion and she refused. So, my 'mama' adopted me, which was really her great aunt, which was really my great-great aunt, who was named Viola Dickerson. I was told that my mother was my sister.' That’s so much to carry—being raised with that kind of history. What do you think about how he handled all of that? The complexity of family and identity?"

Jack: He exhales deeply, his hands folding in front of him as he reflects. "It’s powerful, isn’t it? The layers of family, of identity, that he describes—it’s almost like a puzzle. You have one family, but through his story, it feels like multiple generations and identities are intertwined. He talks about being raised by his great-great aunt, but also being told his mother was his sister. It’s not just about a shift in family roles—it’s about how those roles shape your sense of self. How much of who you are is defined by what you’re told, what you're raised with, versus what you eventually discover about your own history?"

Jeeny: "Right, and that idea of family—how fluid it can be. The love, the support, and the way someone can nurture you, regardless of biological ties. What really stands out to me is how his 'mama' adopted him and gave him a sense of family, even though their connection wasn’t through blood. It almost feels like family, in his case, is more about who steps in and offers care and guidance than about lineage or bloodlines." She pauses, reflecting. "I think it’s a reminder that family isn’t always defined by traditional roles, and that love can come in many different forms."

Jack: "Absolutely. It’s like family is a choice, in a way. His great-great aunt wasn’t obligated to raise him, but she chose to step in, to be a mother figure for him. It speaks to the strength of those relationships—how sometimes, family isn’t about the structure or the way things are supposed to be, but about the people who show up for you." He looks at her with a thoughtful expression. "The layers of his story show that family can be complicated. There’s pain in it, sure—learning about your origins, the things you didn’t know, the things you were told that weren’t true. But there’s also a beauty in how it’s all stitched together over time, how love and care can fill in those gaps, even when it’s not perfect."

Jeeny: "It’s like a reminder that the way we see ourselves is often shaped by the people around us. How others define us or protect us, and the narratives they tell us about who we are, can shape our identity in ways we don’t even realize. But at some point, we all have to confront our truth—the real stories of where we come from, the parts of ourselves that are a mix of the things we were told and the things we discover for ourselves." She pauses, her voice softening. "I think that’s one of the hardest things—coming to terms with the complexities of who we are and where we come from, especially when those truths are different from what we were told."

Host: The room feels heavy with reflection, the quiet moments between them now filled with the weight of what they’ve just shared. Jack and Jeeny sit in the stillness, the story of Eric Dickerson resonating deeply, not just about family, but about identity, love, and the complexities of history. In a world where so much is defined by bloodlines and expectations, his story is a powerful reminder that family, identity, and truth are far more intricate than we often realize.

Jack: "It’s almost like a shift in how we see ourselves as we grow older. As children, we often rely on the stories we’re told, the way we’re raised. But eventually, we have to take those pieces and understand them for ourselves. We have to choose what parts of our history we carry with us and what parts we release." He smiles slightly, as if realizing the weight of his own words. "Maybe that’s part of what makes us who we are—the journey to discover the truth, and how we decide to hold on to or let go of the things that shape us."

Jeeny: "That’s the power of his story, isn’t it? It’s about finding his own truth, even in a family that’s full of contradictions. The fact that he was told one thing, but learned another—there’s power in that. In being able to take control of your own narrative, even when parts of it are hard to understand." She smiles softly, her gaze steady. "His mama—his great-great aunt—gave him a sense of belonging, a sense of love. That’s what really defines family, in the end, right? Not the stories we’re told, but the people who show up for us."

Host: The room feels quiet again, a sense of peace settling over them. The evening continues outside, but here, in the stillness, Jack and Jeeny understand that family and identity are far more than just what we’re told. They are shaped by the love and care we receive, the stories we choose to believe, and the truths we come to understand for ourselves. In the end, it's not just about bloodlines or titles—it's about the relationships we forge, the choices we make, and the love that binds us all together.