Then she started pacin’ up and down, “I never dreamed that I was such a terrible mother.” “You’re not so terrible,” I says, “you got a whole set of inhibitions of your own. For one thing, you’re always feelin’ awful about how you’re feelin’ inside and workin’ yourself to death tryin’ to make the outside look just the other way. You will spring unexpected dinner guests on me and then go ’round here complainin’ ’bout havin’ a headache. When you do that you’re tryin’ to make me feel sorry for you so that I won’t get mad about the extra work.”
“Why,” she says, “I would never plan to do such an underhanded kind of thing!” “No, you wouldn’t plan it,” I says, “’cause you’ve done it so much ’til it’s become second nature. I notice that every time you have a few cross words with your husband, you jump in the bed and play sick ’til he buys you a ring or a watch or somethin’, and you also give me a little present every time you speak cross to me or act unreasonable.”
“Oh, my!” she says in a real airish way, “I wonder how my husband can stand me!” “No need to wonder,” I says, “’cause I notice that whenever he goes out of town for two or three days he sure is extra-special nice to you when he gets back here, and no matter how cranky you might act, he’s as humble as a little lamb for two or three days. I guess that’s his way of givin’ you a piece of candy, just like you do with that child.”
Marge, I was sorry the minute after I said it ’cause I hate to bring a hurt look to people’s eyes and you know I mightn’t have said it at all if I wasn’t so mad. She looked at me long and hard, “All right, I guess I deserved every bit of that.” I shook my head, “Let’s don’t worry ’bout our just desserts ’cause if we got what we deserved all of us would be mighty happy. All we can do is go ’long and do our best without tryin’ to fool anybody, ourselves in particular.”
“Well,” she says, “it’s a deep subject, and we could talk all night long and not come up with the right answers.” And I told her, “It wouldn’t take nearly as long as you might imagine.”
By the time the little boy came back in the house, I was ready to leave. That little devil decided that he wanted to pour the sugar bowl out on the table…. Who me? … No, I didn’t open my mouth although he kept watchin’ me out of the corner of his eye.
His mother took it away…. No, she didn’t tell him why. You know that smart little fella really knew why he shouldn’t do those things…. Sure, he hollered, but before I left, he was quiet as a mouse and he and his mama was busy readin’ a story together.
No, indeed, I don’t need anybody to tell me about Inhibitions, not after all the hard days I’ve seen and lived through!
WHAT IS IT ALL ABOUT?
MARGE, DO YOU EVER ASK yourself, “What is it all about?” I mean livin’ and dyin’ and the long stretch of struggle that comes in between.
I was over to my cousin Nellie’s house and she had just come through a great store of trouble and it looked like a fresh supply was due any minute. Well, honey, she threw up her hands and said, “Why? Why? Why? What is it all about? I go out to work every day on a hard, low-payin’ job, I live in this broke-down, high-rent apartment and I just barely manage to buy enough food so’s I can keep my strength up to go back to that low-payin’ job, and things go ’round like that year in and year out. For what? Why!”
You should have heard her, Marge. “Folks goin’ off to war,” she says, “killin’ other folks, hatred scattered everywhere near and far, everybody actin’ like dog eat dog and the devil take the hindmost! Every Sunday we get together and sing ‘Nearer My God to Thee’ and then go back to the same old scuffle come Monday mornin’.”
And she’s right, Marge! Ain’t it awful? Just think—a man is headed for the grave…. Excuse me, Marge. I meant no disrespect, let’s say he’s headed for Heaven, but before he goes, he’s got a mission to accomplish, so he says, “Before I go to Heaven, I’m gonna own all the old shanty buildings in my town and charge the poor folks so much rent that I’ll be able to buy me a car and a big house with a swimming pool.
“And before I go to Heaven, I’m goin’ to see that all the schools stay Jim Crow so’s that different races can keep hatin’ each other. I’m goin’ to keep black people off of juries, also—before I go to Heaven, I’m going to drop bombs on people and also raise the food prices. Furthermore, before I go to Heaven, I’m goin’ to vote against free hospitals for children. I’m goin’ to build houses of prostitution and more jails to put the prostitutes in. Before I go to Heaven, I am also going to build me an atom bomb shelter, so that I will not go to Heaven too soon.
“Before I go to Heaven, I’m goin’ to join the Klan and burn crosses on folks doorsteps … and bum folks if necessary. And last but not least, before I go to Heaven, I’m goin’ to give away fifty Christmas baskets every year to the poor, regardless of their race, creed or color!”
Can you imagine that, Marge? … You’re absolutely right, girl! Life should be more than grabbing and getting. Like I told Nellie, “Ain’t it plain, to see the mission is loving and working to glorify the earth and all that’s in it? It’s to heal the blind, not only with operations and glasses but with knowledge and learning; to cure the sick, not only in hospitals but the folks who are sick at heart; to feed the hungry! Divide the loaves and fishes among all the children in the world and see the great amount we’ll still have left over. It’s to find delight in one another and bring about the true brotherhood of all mankind.”
Well, Marge, Nellie smiles at me and says, “Mildred, the last man that taught those things got crucified, and if he was back here today, he’d get it again!”
“Don’t I know it!” I said. “But what did he say? ‘Lo, I am with you always!’”
“Look around, Nellie,” I said. “Every age has somebody teachin’ those things, but the golden age of peace and joy will come when we stop the crucifixion!” Well, leastways, Marge, that’s how I think—or else, as Nellie says, “What is it all about?”
WE NEED A UNION TOO
MARGE, WHO LIKES housework? … I guess there’s a few people who do, but when a family starts makin’ money what is the first thing that happens? … You are right! They will get themselves a maid to do the housework. I’ve never heard of no rich folk who just want to go on doin’ it our of pure love and affection! Oh, they might mix up a cake once in a while or straighten a doily, but for the most part they’re gettin’ a kick out of doin’ that simply ’cause they don’t have to do it. Honey, I mean to tell you that we got a job that almost nobody wants!
That is why we need a union! Why shouldn’t we have set hours and set pay just like busdrivers and other folks, why shouldn’t we have vacation pay and things like that? … Well, I guess it would be awful hard to get houseworkers together on account of them all workin’ off separate-like in different homes, but it would sure be a big help and also keep you out of a lot of nasty arguments!
For example, I’d walk in to work and the woman would say to me, “Mildred, you will wax the floors with paste wax, please.” Then I say, “No, that is very heavy work and is against the union regulations.” She will say, “If you don’t do it, I will have to get me somebody else!” Then I say, “The somebody else will be union, too, so they will not be able to do it, either.” “Oh,” she will say, “if it’s too heavy for you and too heavy for the somebody else then it must be also too heavy for me! How will I get my floors done?” “Easy,” I say, “the union will send a man over to do things like paste wax, window washin’, scrubbin’ walls, takin’ down Venetian blinds and all such.”
She will pat her foot then and say, “Well! That will cost me extra!” … “Exactly,” I will say, “’cause it is extra wear and tear on a man’s energy, and wear and tear on energy costs money!”
… Oh, Marge, you would have to put a problem in the thing! All right, suppose she says, “Never mind, I don’t want you or anybody else from that union, I will search around and find me somebody who does not belong to it!” Well, then th
e union calls out all the folks who work in that buildin’, and we’ll march up and down in front of that apartment house carry in’ signs which will read, “Miss So-and-so of Apartment 5B is unfair to organized houseworkers!” … The other folks in the buildin’ will not like it, and they will also be annoyed ’cause their maids are out there walkin’ instead of upstairs doin’ the work. Can’t you see all the neighbors bangin’ on Apartment 5B!
PRETTY SIGHTS AND GOOD FEELIN’S
I SERVED A LUNCHEON PARTY today…. Yes, It was a very nice affair. It seems like it was given to benefit some orphanage, and the ladies had a very nice time chit-chattin’ and playin’ cards and I was mighty glad that somebody was gonna reap some benefit out of the fun ’cause wasn’t nothin’ else happenin’.
… I mean they seemed kinda bored and weary and put-upon and also acted like they’d just as soon be somewhere else. By me bein’ the one who was doin’ the servin’ I got to hear a lot of what they was talkin’ about. My, but they have done a heap of travelin’! I tell you, when we take off every few years and go down home for a week, you can bet your last dollar that we’ve been nowhere! Why, those folks don’t think nothin’ of jumpin’ up and flyin’ off in all directions at one time, and it would be pretty hard to name a place where most of ’em haven’t been.
One sorry-faced woman told all about how she had gone to India and France and Egypt and all manner of far-off places. I couldn’t for the life of me see why she looked so sad-eyed because I know that just one of those places would’ve set my eyes dancin’ for years and years. But there she sat, blowin’ smoke rings and yawnin’ every once in a while. The others took their turns and went to describin’ all corners of the world and how the food in France stood up to the food in Spain and also how tea was made one place and how the coffee was brewed in another…. Yes, it was strange how they kept talkin’ about food, and I did get the general idea that of all the places they had gone nobody had looked at very much except their dinnerplate! Why, you’d think they had never had nothin’ to eat!
Honey, they was busy rememberin’ the pastry from here, the fish from there and the wines from some place else! And all the time sittin’ right in front of them was every manner of goody that you’ve ever heard of! I’m tellin’ you, they had a spread! But everybody just picked at the stuff and mumbled about their diet. Seems like they couldn’t eat unless they went off some place far!
They raised a right-smart piece of money for the orphans and after the affair was over I had to hang around puttin’ things in order. After the last guest was gone, I got to chattin’ with Mrs. G … and I asked her about the trips she had taken. She told me about Italy and a few other places, then she says, “The next time I make a trip, I think I’ll go to South America, I do think I’d see more and enjoy the atmosphere of a new …”
“Well,” I says, “I always see a lot when I go on a trip and although I haven’t been to many places, I figure that I really get my money’s worth of sights and feelin’s.”
“Oh,” she says, “have you traveled?” “A bit,” I said, “I’ve been back down to South Carolina two or three times, out to St. Louis once and I make little short trips to Long Island and New Jersey all year round.”
“And you’ve enjoyed them?” she asked. “Oh, yes,” I says, “when I go travelin’ I see a heap, and it’s my greatest pleasure to recollect things for a long time and in that way it seems to me I get all the good out of where I’ve been time and time again.”
“I’ve been to South Carolina,” she says, “and I do recall that they have a lovely Battery, the Cooper River Bridge and …” “Well,” I says, “I remember other things more. For example, I’ve never had a more wonderful feelin’ than lookin’ out of the train window in the first early hours of the mornin’. There’s a deep misty haze hangin’ just a few feet above the ground, the sky is streaked with red and gold against gray, everything is quiet and still-like and it seems as though there’s not a livin’ soul in the world.
“The brown-wood lean-to houses look like livin’ things standin’ along the side of the track and watchin’ the train whizz by. If you can get to the diner and have a cup of coffee at that exact time, well, you’ll find that coffee tastes better at that minute than any other time. You feel cozy and close to your own thoughts, yet lookin’ out the window makes you think of how big and strange the world is and how small you are.”
“Yes,” she said, “I do recall that feelin’ slightly although I never paid too much attention at the time.” “But,” I says, “that’s not all. You have to look sharp if you want to get the good out of a trip. Be sure and watch for early twilight-time and you’ll really be in luck if there’s a little rain happenin’ at the same time. You’ll see the tall cornstalks noddin’ and wavin’ in the fields, you’ll see a horse shakin’ his head and strollin’ in little circles. I’ve always wondered why the horse pays the train no mind. And right about then the train engineer blows his whistle ‘too-whoo-whoo-whooooo,’ and all of a sudden I smile to myself … not about a joke or even anything I can describe. No, I can’t name the feelin’, but I smile or laugh a little to myself and it feels good to get up and rock and sway down the aisle and drink a cup of icewater out of one of those paper cups.”
Then the woman says to me, “But that’s on the train, what about the places you’ve visited?” “Oh, I enjoy the places, too,” I says. “But more than the monuments and the parks and streets and such sights, I enjoy the little unexpected moments that jump up in front of you and are gone before you know it. Like when we all went on a picnic out on Edisto Island, off the coast of Charleston, The picnic was nice and there was lots of good things to eat and games to play and laughin’ and talkin’ and singin’. But when the picnic was over and we gathered up our things and started back to the wagon, one of those moments jumped up right in front of my eyes for almost a whole minute.
“You see, we had picnicked up on a grassy mound under a big tree, and I was one of the last ones to leave. As the people trailed down the path, some of them were carryin’ the sleepin’ children and their heads were bobbin’ on their shoulders, the old folks were pickin’ their way real slow-like so’s not to stumble or fall; one little girl was runnin’ to keep up with her papa and her feet was slippin’ and slidin’ and kickin’ up the dust and everything was covered with a big silence.
“Then Reverend Carter, who was pullin’ up the rear with his arms full of little campchairs for the children, started to sing ‘When the Saints Go Marchin’ In’ and he was singin’ all by himself. Somewhere off in the distance a big old lonely boat whistle hollered out—‘Loooord!’ And then the people joined in with the minister, ‘I Want To Be In That Number!’ As I stood up on that little mound watchin’, I felt big and strong and able to do anything in the world. It seemed as though I was miles away and didn’t know them and that they was the whole world passin’ before my eyes!
“Then my friend Pete Jones came up to me and said, ‘You gonna stand here all night, sister? Come on ’fore we get left!’ Then the moment was gone and soon I was back with them and we was all talkin’ and makin’ jokes about what all we had done that day.”
Mrs. G … looked at me and nodded her head. “You should get to travel more since you get so much out of it.” “Yes,” I says, “and I hope to someday but meantime I just look at everything that I can see right here at home because I know there are a lot of people savin’ up their money to come here to New York and if it’s worth that much to them, I oughta make it worth somethin’ to me.
“If you want to see somethin’ now, you get out of here on the first day of school openin’ in the fall. Don’t tell me these children don’t like school! You never saw so much starch and hair ribbons in your life and new pencil-boxes and plastic book-bags, and sass and candy apples! Another thing you oughta catch is the children out in the street on Christmas-eve night, the hot chestnut man with that little weak whistle on his cart, folks draggin’ trees through the snow …”
; Then she says real solemn-like, “I wonder what Paris, the West Indies or Italy would mean to you?” And I told her, “Honey, I would have me a natural ball!” And I would, wouldn’t you, Marge?
DOPE AND THINGS LIKE THAT
I BET YOU can’t guess what happened over at the pubic school yesterday”! … Miss Richardson told me that they found out that some of the school children was dope addicts…. No, I’m not talkin’ about the high school, I’m speakin’ of the elementary school! … That’s right! Most of them children ain’t over thirteen or fourteen years old! It sure is a cry in’ shame…. Yes, they say they caught some young man who had been sellin’ it to them! They say that he was on the stuff too!
Girl, you can’t pick up a paper or a magazine without seem’ somethin’ about people caught takin’ dope. I wonder why they do it, too. Most times you’ll read somethin’ about it givin’ them some kind of kick or thrill or somethin’ like that, but I don’t believe that could be altogether true!
I worked for a woman once, and they found out that her daughter was takin’ some kind of dope. The daughter was a nice enough kinda person, but she didn’t never seem too thrilled about nothin’, if you ask me! … No, she used to hang around the house lookin’ real quiet-like and still all the time. There would be days when she got sort of nervous and jittery and more than once I noticed that she had awful dark circles under her eyes to be as young as she was! But for the most part she was dull as dishwater and didn’t seem to take too much interest in nothin’….
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