In the Midst of Innocence

by Deborah Hining

  November 19, 1931. It was an exciting day. Mrs. Carlton bobbed my hair, and Mama’s also. We were looking at the pretty ladies and their clothes in the Sears & Roebuck catalogue, and Mama said she was sick of her hair; it took so long to brush it out and pin it up every day. Mrs. Carlton said, “Why, Adeline, you would look pretty with your hair bobbed, and it is so easy to take care of. I can cut it for you.” Mama looked surprised at first, and then she crossed her arms and said, “Well, all right, then,” and went and got her sewing scissors that had just been sharpened last week.

  Mrs. Carlton bound up her hair at the back of her neck, then she tied another ribbon around it just below that, and she cut it between the two ties. She says she will send Mama’s hair off to someone she knows in New Orleans who will pay good money for it to make a wig out of it. The next thing we knew, Mama’s long, long hair was lying on the table beside her, and Mama was looking like a movie star! She looked so beautiful that I said I wanted my hair bobbed, and Mrs. Carlton cut it the same way. She tied up my hair in string, too, and I hope she can sell it for a lot of money.

  Mama and I now have very short hair that comes just to the bottom of our earlobes, and we have bangs! Mama put on some lipstick and some blacking on her eyelashes, and we all danced around and had a fine time pretending to be elegant and beautiful. Darlene looked a little sad. I know it was because her hair seemed so hopelessly kinky, but her mother took all the braids out, cut it short, and slicked it down with some petroleum jelly, and it looked just wonderful. I wish Beryl had cut hers, too, but she was too scared she would look funny.

  Uncle Woodrow walked in on us while we were acting silly. He stopped in the doorway, looking from Mrs. Carlton to Mama to me to Darlene, while we all held our breath, waiting for him to speak. He broke into a big grin and said, “Excuse me, ladies. I thought this was Richard Wallace’s house. I see I have stumbled onto a movie set by mistake!” I laughed so hard I had to sit down on the floor.

  Daddy does not approve of Mama’s and my new hairdo, though. He came in before supper while we were combing our hair and admiring ourselves, and he just stopped in the doorway, staring at us as if we were wild Indians. He turned straight around and went outside, but thank the Lord he did not go hitting the bottle. When he came back into the house, he was a little teary-eyed, and he was nice to us all evening.

  It was good to see Uncle Woodrow. He had disappeared for a few days, and we always worry about him when he goes missing. He appeared to be in fine spirits. He drank coffee and ate some cornbread with molasses, and he did not shake any the whole time he was here. Ruby knocked some blocks over, and he jumped a little, but not much.

  November 20, 1931. I am sorry to say Miss Weston does not like my new hairdo, either. When I walked into the schoolhouse, she took one look at me and turned white. She said, “Pearl, your hair is your glory. You were such a beautiful young lady, and now you look like you have turned into a boy.”

  That made me sad, but I do not want to have my long hair back. If Miss Weston does not like it, I am sorry, but having short hair makes me feel lighter, both on my head and in my heart. I also am looking forward to getting some money from that wig-maker. I want to buy a little dress for Sapphire, and maybe I can get another pair of patent leather Mary Janes.

  Darlene and Mrs. Carlton came over today to bring over some fresh goat milk. Mrs. Carlton had gotten kicked by her cow again, and she told the story so funny! Darlene was limping a little, and when I asked her what was wrong, she said she was skipping rope and fell off the porch. Mrs. Carlton said that was not as funny as her getting kicked by a cow.

  Today is Beryl’s birthday, and Ruby’s is next week. I cannot believe Beryl is nine years old already. Now we are only a year apart for the next few weeks. We had a little party after dinner tonight, but we will celebrate big on Sunday at Pap-pa’s place. I will give Beryl her coat, and I am sure she will be thrilled to get it. She has been piling on sweaters so she does not have to wear that ragged old coat unless Mama makes her. I wish I had saved my Easter shoes to give her as a birthday present, too, because that would make it extra special for her. I have a sugar tit for Ruby made out of real maple sugar. I am glad she will not realize that Beryl’s present is so much better than hers.

  November 21, 1931. I have hit pay dirt. I was out in the barn today looking for Daisymay’s nest, and I found a little hidey-hole made out of bales of straw over in the corner. Behind it were three dozen jars of whiskey! This is what Daddy has been doing when he stays out all day. He was making enough whiskey to keep him and his friends drunk all winter. I bet I can steal at least four or five, especially if I just get one every couple of weeks.

  Now, I know it is going to be a fine Christmas. There is so much whiskey that I am thinking maybe I can make a deal with Jake Hatton where I give him wholesale prices so he can sell some of what he buys from me for a profit. He has mentioned that he could sell a lot of whiskey if I could just keep him supplied. I hate the thought of partnering up with somebody as low down as Jake Hatton. I know he will cheat me at every turn, but when you are engaged in criminal activity, you have got to keep your standards and your expectations low, and you have to keep your wits sharp about you.

  Darlene did not come today, so I went to her house. Daddy would kill me if he knew because he still does not like me being friends with Darlene. He keeps his mouth shut when she and Mrs. Carlton come over here now, though, because he knows Mrs. Carlton has saved Sapphire’s life with her goat’s milk. We have not told Daddy that Darlene and her mama are Catholic. It is bad enough that Darlene is a Negro. He would bust something if he knew she was Catholic and she comes over here and sits in his kitchen drinking his coffee.

  November 22, 1931. We all wore our new sweaters to church today, and Mama wore her fur coat. We looked as fine as anybody there, maybe even finer. Everyone stared at Mama and me, but we did not care. Miss Weston did not say anything about our hair. She pretended she did not notice it.

  Miss Weston preached on heaven and how we will get Glorified Bodies that will not feel any cold or pain, and we will eat all we want, any time we want, and that we will never have any cause to be afraid. We will not just be sitting around on clouds playing harps all day long but will be doing our favorite things. I probably will be fishing or swimming in the river. I suppose there are fish in the River that flows by the Throne of God. It would be a waste of good water for there not to be.

  Afterwards, we went to Pap-pa’s house and we celebrated Ruby’s and Beryl’s birthdays. Beryl LOVED her coat! She cried and jumped up and down and hugged me until I thought I would be squeezed to death. Mama cried, also. She said she was very proud of me.

  It was a very nice birthday party. I wish Uncle Woodrow had been here, but he did not go to church with us and so he could not come to the birthday party, which made me mad. He should have been more considerate of it being a big birthday celebration. Miss Weston came, but she did not seem to be happy the whole time she was there. She seemed nervous or something, looking around and jumping whenever anybody said something to her. I hope she is all right.

  Daisymay has hatched out four sweet little chicks. Although Mama did not want her to sit eggs because it was so late in the season, somehow she managed to hide these away so that we could not find them, and now she is a proud and happy mama! They are staying in the barn since it is cold. Daddy’s hounds are having to share their home with fluffy little chickens, but I do not think he minds. More chickens mean more eggs and meat.

  November 23, 1931

  My School Journal, grade 7, Miss Weston’s class

  By Pearl Wallace

  My baby sister, who just turned one month old can smile. When I look at her, she looks right at me as if she knows me, and she grins like she is happy to see me. She is the most darling little baby ever!

  I am very happy that Thanksgiving is this week. Mama is baking pumpkin and apple pies, and she also is gathering up Brussel sprouts that she will cook up with some brown sugar an
d ginger. Pap-pa will kill a goose, and who knows what Miss Janey Jo is going to put together! My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

  I also am very excited that Miss Weston will be joining us for Thanksgiving dinner. She has family in Chicago, but it is too far for her to travel for just a long weekend, and so Miss Janey Jo was thoughtful to invite her. It will be very nice to have her with us. I know Miss Janey Jo will make us proud with her cooking and her fine table.

  November 25, 1931. Otis Merriweather gave me a piece of gingerbread at dinnertime today. His mother packed an extra one for me. I thought that was very nice of her. She barely knows me, but she sent me some gingerbread just because Otis likes me. I think maybe he is nicer than I gave him credit for.

  November 26, 1931. Today was Thanksgiving! We all went over for a feast with Pap-pa and Miss Janey Jo. It was a real treat for all of us that Miss Weston was there, too. We had a big goose that Pap-pa had killed early this morning. I am glad I did not see that because when I do I never can eat any, and it was very, very good! I am not tenderhearted about most animals, especially about fish. I can kill them without thinking about it. I also can kill a squirrel, although I used to be squeamish about them, too. I got over that when a tribe of them wiped out just about our whole tomato crop last summer. They came at them the minute they started turning red, took out one bite from each of them, then threw them on the ground. We probably lost 100 tomatoes to them, so now I am not at all tenderhearted about them. Squirrels are good eating, too, and I figure we have to eat. If I let my heart get in the way of my stomach, then I will starve to death. Jasper says they are just furry rats, but I do not like to hear that because I do not like to think about eating rats.

  Although I can kill a squirrel any time, and a rabbit if I do not think too much about it, and certainly possums and raccoons, I hate to see a bird die, except for roosters. Of all the roosters we have had, there have been only about five or six good ones. The rest are just awful, fighting each other, jumping on the hens, grabbing and pulling on their combs, and mashing them down to the ground. They flog the little children, too. I think most of them do not deserve to live. Other birds, though, I do not like to think about killing. I think of them in the air, flying free, and imagine their spirits soaring up there. When they die and their spirits leave their bodies, it is very sad. One minute, it is a living creature, running around, flying, enjoying life and the sunshine and all of its friends, and the next, it is limp and its eyes have gone empty. So I do not watch when Pap-pa kills a goose. I do not like to think about how we just robbed something of its life so we can enjoy eating it.

  I am thankful today, for my life, and for all the people in it, even Daddy, who was sober and was as nice as he could be. He swung me up on his shoulders, although I am too big to do that, but I liked it because I felt safe, knowing Daddy was steady and he would not fall over and drop me. He has big, strong shoulders, and I like it when he runs with me on them, bouncing me up and down. I also am thankful for my sweet Mama and my brothers and sisters and for my Pap-pa and Miss Janey Jo and their big table that will hold all of us, even Uncle Woodrow, and all that food. And Miss Weston, too. It was nice to see her not so prim and proper.

  She sat back and laughed a lot today, and when Pap-pa offered her a wee dram of sherry, she stopped for a second, then flickered her eyes over toward Uncle Woodrow, blushed, and said, “Well, Mr. Aiken. I normally do not imbibe, but since it is a special occasion, I will not refuse your hospitality,” and then she took a little glassful! After that, she was very scundered when it looked as if no one except Pap-pa and Miss Janey Jo was going to drink any. She did not say anything, but her face went white when everyone at the table turned Pap-pa down, and then she looked at her lap and got very quiet. I did not know what to do, but then Mama spoke up and said, “I do believe I will have just a sip, although Richard is avoiding all alcohol at present.” Then Uncle Woodrow, who never drinks at all, ever, said, “Yes, I would like a little glass, too.” I could tell Miss Weston was very grateful to both Mama and Uncle Woodrow. So was I! They all drank a toast to Pap-pa’s health and then to Miss Weston, the special guest of honor. It was very nice.

  November 26, 1931

  Dearest Mother and Father,

  Happy Thanksgiving! I am sorry to miss spending it with you, but rest assured, I did not spend it alone, and I had a very good time becoming more acquainted with the good people here in the Cheola community.

  The Reverend Miller is continuing to improve, but slowly. He and Mrs. Miller had dinner with Mrs. Miller’s sister and her family while I went to the Aikens’ home for the holiday. Although the Millers need me to be with them most of the time, today I got a little break and was able to socialize more in the community.

  I hope all of you had a grand day and that Thomas and Jonas did not eat too much turkey! I miss you all and love you very much.

  Your daughter,

  Emily

  November 26, 1931

  Dear Cecilia,

  Happy Thanksgiving! I had a wonderful day today at the Aiken’s home, eating one of the finest meals I think I have ever had. It was a beautiful, clear, crisp day, and I feel full of the joy of living.

  I did have one awkward moment, although it passed quickly and did not leave any lingering discomfort. Mr. Aiken offered me a glass of sherry after dinner. I am so used to Father and Mother drinking sherry after dinner that I completely forgot about it being illegal! I do wish Congress had made an exception for fine wine drunk at meals when they passed the Prohibition amendment. I can understand why they needed to outlaw hard spirits, but I am sure wine has never hurt anyone. Our Lord certainly had nothing against it.

  I digress. Right after I had accepted a tiny glass of sherry, I suddenly remembered that spirits of all kind are illegal and that Mr. Wallace has a weakness with drink. He declined a sip, as did Mrs. Wallace and Woodrow, and I was so embarrassed at my lapse of judgment, I nearly died. But suddenly both Mrs. Wallace and Mr. Woodrow changed their minds, which made me feel infinitely better. It would have been better if we did not have the specter of Mr. Wallace’s failings hanging over our heads, but even with that, we had a nice, cozy afternoon together.

  I am happy to report that Mr. Woodrow did not seem to be suffering from any ill effects after his frightful episode of last week. He seemed to be in fine spirits, although he was a little distant with me. That is understandable, considering how embarrassed he must have been. I wish I could tell him I hold no hard feelings for him over it, that in fact, it made me more sympathetic to his situation, but knowing his pride, I refrained from even mentioning the episode. I look forward to the day we can discuss his illness in comfort together. Together, perhaps we can devise a way for me to help him overcome it.

  I hope your day was fine and comfortable among our blessed family. I miss you all! Give my love to Thomas and Jonas.

  Much love,

  Emily

  Cold, short days, bitter nights.

  Rage tears along my banks,

  Hurling and tearing, flinging fear and pain.

  The in-between child cries are muffled with tears,

  The woman suffers in proud silence.

  Dark more dense than winter hovers,

  Grinning and gaining, stinking of hate.

  November 27, 1931. We did not have school today on account of the Thanksgiving holiday. Darlene came over, but she did not want to play much. She said her stomach hurt and she just wanted to sit inside and play with Ruby, so we stayed in the kitchen most of the day, eating leftovers from yesterday and talking about what we are going to be when we grow up. I want to be a missionary like Miss Weston. Beryl wants to be a wife and a mother, and Darlene says she wants to be an actress. I was surprised to hear that, because Darlene is bashful sometimes. You would not expect her to get out in front of people!

  Jasper and Sardius also surprised me. Jasper said he wants to be an airplane pilot like Mr. Charles Lindbergh, and he wants to build his own plane and fly all over the w
orld. I always thought Jasper would be a farmer. He is so good at it, and he already has a good start on it. He knows about everything there is to know about farming. Sardius had to think about it long and hard. At first, he said he wanted to be a teacher, but then he changed his mind and said he wanted to be a preacher! I cannot imagine Sardius being a preacher any more than I can imagine Darlene being an actress. Both of them are just too bashful.

  We did not see Mrs. Carlton all day. Mama asked after her, but Darlene said that Billy Ray was keeping her home today. That sounded a little strange to me, the way she said he was “keeping” her home, as if he were holding her against her will. Mama looked funny when she said it, too, but no one said anything.

  November 28, 1931. Darlene and her mama came over early, right after Billy Ray took off for Johnny Joe’s barn and Daddy left out to “take care of some business,” as he called it. Of course, I know what kind of “business” he was talking about. At least he is only making whiskey, not drinking it, which suits me fine. Uncle Woodrow came over to chop some wood, although to tell the truth, we have a good supply of wood already laid by. I guess he thinks it is going to be a hard winter.

  All of us young-uns went outside to play human croquet. It was boys against girls. We were having the best time when Doodlebug, our mean old rooster jumped up and flogged Darlene on the back of the leg, just in that soft spot behind the knee. Darlene had not done a thing to him. He just decided he did not like her and lit into her like he meant business. I could see that he drew blood, so I lifted up Darlene’s dress a little to look at it better, and I saw some big, red, crusty welts that looked as if she had been hit hard enough with a strop to bring the blood. I could not help myself. I just said, “Oh, Darlene!”

  Darlene jerked her dress down very quickly and ran inside to her mama. No one but me saw the strop marks, and when I followed Darlene inside, Mrs. Carlton was saying, “We’ll take care of this at home,” and she and Darlene left without hardly saying goodbye. Uncle Woodrow looked worried, and he went outside right after that, and that’s the last we saw of him. I wonder if he knew Darlene was hit hard enough with a leather strop to bring the blood, and it made him techy. I told Mama later, and she just shook her head and told me to pray about it, which made me techy. She ought to say or do something to keep Darlene from being beat that bad.