My earliest memories come from second grade when I lived with my grandparents in Coushatta, LA. I don't exactly recall the circumstances of my parents' situation, but for nearly two years I lived with my daddy's parents who I called Pappaw and Josie.
It's odd the things a young mind remembers. I remember Josie made us breakfast every morning: eggs over easy, bacon, toast with five spots of butter (just like I had this morning) and a Coke. Having a Coke for breakfast isn't that unusual now, but back in 1969, a Coke was a rare treat and I had it every morning!
I don't remember a lot about Pappaw other than him smoking unfiltered Camels and taking a nap on the couch every day after lunch.
Pappaw and Josie were both good people; Josie, in particular, had a big influence on my life. She was an angel to me, and she went to church at the Baptist Church. I remember another family used to pick me up to take me to the Church of Christ. I didn't understand then why I couldn't go to church with Josie. At the Church of Christ, even as a 2nd grader, I went to the adult Sunday school classes. I remember them saying if you weren't a member of the Church of Christ, you were going to hell. Even to my young mind, I secretly doubted what they were telling me ... there was no one better than Josie, and I couldn't believe God would send her to hell just because she went to church in a different building that had a piano in it!
Living with Pappaw and Josie made me think of other things, too. In the sixties, there was a lot of racial turmoil in Louisiana. I remember living in Baton Rouge and hiding in another family's home because the Black Panthers were marching and everyone was afraid.
I remember when they integrated the schools in Coushatta. I didn't know what to think, but I remember a bunch of white men with guns hanging around in front of the school.
My grandparents were poor and didn't have much. We always had plenty of food to eat for supper though -- purple hull peas and corn bread from a round pan. I remember after supper, it was my job to take all the table scraps up and separate them into two bowls. One bowl, I took out to feed to our dogs; the other bowl I took behind the house to an old tar-paper shack where PeeWee and his wife, Shirley lived. PeeWee and Shirley were elderly black people, and I don't know why I brought them food every night, but they were sure happy to have it.
A few years later, my parents resolved their situation and my two brothers and I lived with them in Shreveport. I finished 4th and 5th grade at Alexander Elementary which was half a block from my house. I didn't think about it at the time, but there weren't many black kids at my school. In 6th grade, they made me go to another elementary school where there was a lot more black kids. It wasn't a problem for me although my youngest brother didn't enjoy starting kindergarten there (that's another story).
In seventh grade, they decided to bus me to a school a long way from home. I remember there were seven of us on the bus -- all white -- and they sent us to J.S. Clark Junior High School. We were the only white kids in school. As I walked to my second period class, about 6 black boys cornered me in the stairwell. One of them put a knife to my throat and told me I better not come back to school the next day. I didn't go back.
I refused to go back to school. I even had to visit the Parish School Superintendent to explain to him why I wasn't going back to school. It took a few months before my parents found a house in another part of town with a better school situation.
I attended Midway Junior High and the mix of black and white kids was about even. It was a happy time for me and I had a lot of friends both black and white. When it came time to go to high school, I went to Fair Park. Although Fair Park was a predominantly black school, I never had any problems there. Some of my life's fondest memories were at Fair Park -- I think I was somewhat insulated from some of the other problems because I was an athlete. We tended to stick together and the black guys I played sports with made sure I didn't have any trouble.
Looking back, I realize now I grew up in a racially-charged environment. I'm not sure why I did not notice it more at the time. I guess I didn't look at people in terms of black or white; my friends were my friends and it didn't matter to me what color they were.
But after watching 42, I was reminded of that time and I do remember the ugliness of it. Even as a young child, I knew racism and I knew it was wrong. I am thankful I did not inherit the disease of hate even though I grew up with it all around me.
Enough for now .... can you guess which one's me in this photo from my high school days?
No comments:
Post a Comment