“Tracy John, you?re someone who's kind of shy but kind of not,” I said, and sat up. “This is the most import tant thing you will do all year.”
He frowned. “The year is almost over.”
“Exactly. You must echo the sentiments of our ancestors.”
“What's an ancestor?”
“The people of the past. The people we love who are gone. Do it for Sojourner Truth, Denmark Vesey, and Medgar Evers.”
“I don't know any of those people.”
“They know you. They sacrificed for you. They gave their lives for you, Tracy John. That's why this presentation is so important.”
“Why don't y'all go in the other room if you're going to carry on a full conversation,” Leo griped from his bed.
I got out of bed and took Tracy John by the hand. I led him back to his room and said in a low voice, “Tracy John, you must stand tall and proud like our ancestors and tell— tell not only Friendship AME church but the world.”
“But what if I can't remember everything? What if I get up there and make a fool out of myself like Demetrius?”
“Demetrius is a fake. He didn't study. He didn't practice. He thinks that just because people like him, he's too good to work. You are nothing like him. You're very hardworking and I know tomorrow you are going to be perfect.”
A few hours later, on that beautiful Sunday morning, I saw Daddy shaved, suited, and with shoes shined. He winked at us. Tracy John asked him, “Une, you're coming to church?”
“I wouldn't miss you and Maine for the world. Besides, I'm down with Christ,” he told us. He joined his brown hand with Ma's white-gloved one and they walked arm in arm.
Reverend Clee was as superb as he had been the week prior.
“If you are right, God will fight your battles,” cried out the reverend.
“Preach, preacher,” affirmed Ma's friend, Mrs. Langley.
“We are gonna get real black up in here,” Reverend Clee said to us.
Daddy held up his hand. “Don't hurt nobody, Rev.”
“We are dark-skinned people.”
“Take your time,” Mrs. Langley said.
“We are broad-nosed people.”
“Tell it,” Mr. Harvey said.
“We are large-lipped people.”
“All right now,” Daddy said.
“Now, this much-maligned facial configuration is the source of envy the world around. Thusly, you will never hear me say ‘Make me whiter than snow’ from this pulpit. I've heard that some of us are even ashamed of being black. Be who we are, and we are going to show the whole wide world that we are in love,”
Next the choir sang. Our rev even sang a little, and his voice was surprisingly soft, like custard.
My turn came next. I did the emcee bit and turned it over to the congregation's children. One by one, each kid mumbled a rushed, nonenunciated garble of words relating to our history; The next-to-last girl to speak dropped the microphone.
I helped reorganize things and went into my final introduction.
Tracy John took the podium. He looked very classy for a child. Very distinguished, like royalty, (I'm not talking like King Louis or Henry the Eighth. I'm talking Shaka Zulu or Cinque.) To see him in his gray suit and maroon tie was nothing compared to hearing his elegant delivery.
“Meredith Gourdine,” he said in a voice that boomed, “is r physicist who was iborn in 1929. He is known for his pioneering work in electrogasdynamics, or as it's called in scientific circles, EGD.”
The congregation clapped.
“Tliat's our boy,” Daddy celled out.
Horace and Leo cheered.
Ma was” of course, blubbering away.
As proud as they were of Tracy John, that pride multiplied by a million was my sentiment.
Mrs. Clee was down from Minneapolis; she offered her handshake, warm and firm, and she kissed us. She was wearing a majestic purple robe, like Jesus. There was a gap between her front teeth. Her hair was unprocessed, like mine. The reverend held his wife as if she was a treasure made from gold.
In the afternoon of this all-day affair, we girls wore the same dress. The ‘males stripped down, taking off their suit coats.
Spiderman was there. He was wearing clothes that matched for a change. He looked almost handsome. He said hello to me, then turned to Tracy John.
“Hey, you really know your stuff, little man.”
“I have a great coach,” Tracy John told him as I hugged his shoulders.
Many other people came up to congratulate Tracy John on his dramatic-speaking ability. They swept him away, so it was just Spiderman before me.
“Thanks for coming, Spiderman,” I said.
“You can call me Raymond,” he said, and gave me a penetrating looL Then he took my hand.
“Thank you, Raymond;” I said, blushing a little from the attention.
In the church's rec room, the food committee had gone beyond sheet cake and punch. They were almost in funeral mode with this elaborate spread. Chicken was well represented. Fried, broiled, baked … Greens. Potato, macaroni, and three-bean salads. The committee had also cut cheese sandwiches into little angels.
After brunch, Reverend Glee delivered libation: words of hope and prosperity. “By celebrating this day, I acknowledge that those who came before me have run their races and that it's time for me to run mine.”
He raised a cup and passed it to Tracy John, who just happened to be standing right next to him. Tracy John downed the whole cup.
Everyone looked at him and laughed.
“Where are we gonna get more libation?” Tracy John asked.
I took his hand and the cup. “From the kitchen sink, where else?”
We went to the back room. He climbed up on the counter and sat as I let the water run to cold.
Tracy John tugged on my dress. “Is Spiderman your boyfriend now?”
I just patted his head and remained silent. He didn't have to know everything. I filled up the cup.
“Is my mommy an ancestor like Martin Luther King?” he asked me. His penny-colored eyes shone bright and clear. “You said people who died are ancestors.”
I turned to him. Ma, Daddy, Leo, Horace, Millicent, and Cissy had been right all along: the relationship between Tracy John and me had been a friendship delayed. I started tearing up, thinking of all that I would have missed if I had kept on the same blind path I had been on. Much as I had seen Auntie Karyn, I now saw her only son as a neon rainbow. Bright. Strong. Beautiful. He was a part of her. How could I ever have had anything but love for him?.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. I'm just so happy. I know that your mommy can see you. Tracy John, she's so proud of you.”
His thumb brushed away the streaks of tears from my face. It was just like that saying: a person is never dead until the memory of that person is forgotten. I pulled him down from the counter, and then we went back to the celebration.
About the Author
A Philadelphia native and a Virgo, Allison Whittenberg studied dance for years before switching her focus to writing. She has an MA in English from the University of Wisconsin and enjoys traveling to places such as the Caribbean and Russia. Sweet Thang is her first novel.
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