It feels good to be done with that. I am going to take a bath and go to bed directly.
February 28, 1932
Dear Jonathan,
Thank you for your kind letter and your promise that you are finding more funding for my students. If they are relieved of the burdens of having to provide any of their own expenses, it will go well for us all. I can see them both being quite accelerated in their academic pursuits and ready for college in no time at all!
In answer to your question, I am not sure about my plans for the summer. I do intend to come home for at least a short while, to spend some time with my family, and perhaps to visit some schools in order to ascertain the best academic opportunities for some of my other gifted students. You are welcome to help me search out the options, and I always am grateful for any financial help you can secure. Being a missionary means that I must rely on the goodness of those who have wealth and wish to use it for the Lord’s work. I have found that it is not advantageous to be shy about asking for support!
Things are going well here. I have fit into the community as smoothly as a hand in glove, and I have come to love it dearly.
Your eternally grateful friend,
Emily
February 29, 1932
My School Journal, grade 7, Miss Weston’s class
By Pearl Wallace
February 29 happens only once every four years, when there is an extra day in February. It is the one day that women are allowed to ask men to marry them. I wish Miss Weston would ask someone from around here to marry her! I would like it very much if she lived near us forever, and maybe even became a part of my family.
Thank goodness I am not old enough to be getting married, since I do not know of a single boy around here that I would like to ask to be my husband. There is a boy at my school who is nice, but he is not enough of a gentleman for my liking. If I decide to marry someone, I am going to make sure it is someone who is tall and handsome like my Daddy and Uncle Woodrow, and is also nice, sober, educated, and fun.
March
March 1, 1932. We ate the last of the potatoes today, because Daddy got into them again. Last year he stole about eight bushels, and we ran out at about the same time last year. By my reckoning, we should have at least 10 bushels still down in the cellar. When Jasper came up from the cellar this evening and said they were all gone except the eight little shriveled up ones he had in his hands, Mama went white and she pressed her lips together very hard for a minute before she said, “Oh, well, we can eat these tonight, and we still have plenty of other things to last us the winter.” Jasper pointed out that we could not eat these because we have to use them for seed, but Mama said we can borrow some from Pap-pa when planting time comes.
I really hate it that we have run out of potatoes, but Mama is right. We will not starve. We still have plenty of green beans, as well as two sacks of cornmeal, so we can feast on cornbread and muscadine jelly, and we have enough apples to last us awhile. Also, there are plenty of fish in the river. And we can hunt. I am glad we live in the country. We can always live off the land!
I hope Daddy has made plenty of whiskey out of these potatoes. Pap-pa, Walt Bittertree, Jake Hatton, and Jake’s friend are all wanting some, and there is hardly a drop to be found.
Waxing days, bitter winds, frozen nights.
The great orb turns her face from me, and lets me rest.
I seek the comfort of my silver children;
My creeping children still slumber in their burrows,
But soon, soon, they will wake and know hunger.
My upright children fear the starving,
And the Darkness that lurks like a copperhead.
March 2, 1932. Today was very windy. Spring is coming, and I say it cannot come too soon! Sardius, Beryl and I ran all the way home after school so we could go fishing before supper. We stopped at Darlene’s house on the way so she could go with us. We caught nine big ones, so we all will feast! Darlene’s mother was mighty happy to get those trout. She said she had been hankering for some for the longest time.
Sapphire sat up all by herself for a second today!
March 3, 1932. I am ascared I am growing too fast. My shoes that I bought just last October are getting tight, and I do not know if they will serve until Easter. I want another pretty pair of patent leather ones. I have plenty of money to buy them. I just have to figure out a way to make Mama think I got the money from Pap-pa by working for him.
There was some very bad news in the papers today. Mr. Charles Lindbergh, who was the first person to fly across the Atlantic all by himself, had a little baby who was kidnapped night before last. The kidnappers are demanding $50,000 to give him back. I feel very sorry for Mr. and Mrs. Lindbergh. I was only five years old when Lindy made his famous flight, but I remember it.
I am too sad to write any more today.
Waxing, cool days, cold nights
Green shoots nibble at my shore,
My silver children, my creeping children
Wake and shimmer, stir in the thickets,
In the shallows,
Seek out one another, and begin their seductions.
The cruel man lashes out
In fear and pain and anger.
The woman stands her ground,
The in-between child learns to hide.
March 5, 1932. I got up early and went out to the barn to see if Daddy had resupplied his stash behind the hay bales. They are very well hid, so that you have to either crawl over a high stack of them, or worm your way through a little pathway through them. I am little enough to be able to slip in through the cracks. I got back in there all right, but Daddy has not added to the store, so I will not be able to take any more from there. The woodshed is getting low, also, and so is the springhouse. Jake and his friends are just going to have to do without. I cannot risk taking any more without Daddy figuring it out.
While I was in there, I heard somebody come in. I kept quiet, because I do not want anybody to catch me hiding back there with Daddy’s whiskey, but I was able to peek out between the bales to see who it was. Uncle Woodrow and Mrs. Carlton were standing just in front of the door, just a little apart, facing each other. I could not see Uncle Woodrow’s face because his back was turned to me, but Mrs. Carlton’s face was a mess. She had a black eye and a big, long bruise all along the side of her cheek. Her lip was busted and swole up.
Uncle Woodrow’s shoulders were shaking. “I can’t stand this, Celeste,” he said. “You have to get away.”
“And where would I go?” she answered. “I can’t leave Darlene. At least she’s safe for now, but I can’t just leave her. I don’t have a penny to my name. He’d come after us.”
Uncle Woodrow just sank down onto one of the hay bales, his head in his hands. “I’ll come with you,” he said. “We’ll manage.”
Mrs. Carlton shook her head. “I have to get back. He’ll be waking up soon, and I have to get breakfast on the table. He’ll be nice enough for a while now. He got it out of his system, and we’ll be safe, especially if Darlene stays away.” Then she went out the door, leaving Uncle Woodrow sitting on the hay bale, sobbing his heart out. He is so tenderhearted. It just about breaks his heart to see anyone suffer, especially someone as nice as Mrs. Carlton.
I could not leave until he did, and so I just sat there a good long time until Uncle Woodrow finally eased himself up and went out. I waited for a few minutes, then slipped on back home. Darlene was there, having breakfast with everybody. Uncle Woodrow was not around. I expect we will not be seeing him for a while. Mama asked me where I had been, but I did not have much of an answer. I just said I had been out to the outhouse.
I bet I will not see Mrs. Carlton for a while. No doubt, she will be keeping her face hid from everybody for the next couple of weeks. Daddy is nowhere around, either. The boys have gone to the river. Darlene is as low as a snake’s belly. It is mighty quiet around here.
March 6, 1932. I am happy because Darlene came with us to Pap-pa’s
house for dinner! I am hoping that now that she is spending some time with Miss Weston, she will get saved and baptized. She has already been baptized once, but that was when she was a baby, so it does not count.
Miss Weston came to Pap-pa’s house with us for dinner. While were eating, Miss Janey Jo surprised us all. She said, “Darlene, I have always wanted to have a little girl come and live with me. I know your mama needs you during the week, but on the weekends, she has Billy Ray to keep her company. How would you like to come stay with us on Saturdays and Sundays?”
Darlene’s mouth fell open, and so did mine. It would be just wonderful if Darlene could get away from Billy Ray when he was home. Miss Weston spoke up, saying, “What a wonderful idea! I could come over here sometimes on Saturdays and maybe we could do a little reading together.”
Mama got excited, too, saying that Miss Janey Jo would be so happy if Darlene would come and spend some time with her. Before we knew it, it was decided right then and there that Darlene would come every weekend. Darlene is very excited and happy, and I am, too. Planting season is coming up, and I will not be able to spend time with her, but I know she will have fun with Miss Janey Jo and Miss Weston.
March 7, 1932. We have started the spring planting. It has warmed up, melting the snow so that we have been able to plant for the past 2 days. We had to miss school, but one thing that really brightened my day was that I ordered my Easter shoes. I told Mama I was going to use my hair money, but she said she was going to pay for them, now that Daddy is working. She also bought Beryl, Ruby, and me some socks. Beryl and Ruby can get by with my old shoes for Easter this year, but Mama says that if Daddy keeps his job, she will buy everyone new shoes for Easter next year. Won’t we be a sight—all of us in our shiny new shoes!
I hope spring does come early, as the groundhog promised it would because we are running low on everything. We will be lucky to make it until the first crops come in. When Easter comes, I will wear my new patent leather Mary Janes, and I will have a new dress, too. It will be very nice to celebrate the risen Christ with all new clothes and shoes.
Mrs. Carlton and Darlene also are doing some planting, so Uncle Woodrow went over to help them.
March 13, 1932. Daddy got busy as soon as he got home yesterday, and we got the rest of the early planting done. I am very relieved it is over! Today is Sunday. Hurrah! A day of rest! My back is killing me.
I was very surprised to see that Otis Merriweather came to Miss Weston’s church today. His family goes over to that trashy Holy Roller church over in Big Gully where the people do not respect the Lord or His holy temple. They holler and carry on as if the Lord cannot hear them unless they are screaming their lungs out. The preacher is ignorant, too. He does not even have an eighth grade education, and cannot hardly even read, so he just thumps on the Bible and makes things up that are not true while pretending to read it.
Otis slipped in sometime during the singing to sit in the back row, so I did not see him until the end of the service, then he crept outside before I got out, but I could tell he was waiting for me when we walked past the big cedar tree in the front yard. I told everybody to go on, that I had left my hair clip inside and that I would catch up to them. Beryl offered to go back with me, and it took me a long time to talk her out of it. Finally, Sardius said, “Come on, Beryl, I will race you down to that fence over yonder,” and she could not pass that up. Sardius always lets her win, so she loves to race him. Sardius knew Otis was waiting for me. He is the sweetest, kindest brother of all.
After they all went on, I slipped back to the cedar, and sure enough, Otis was there. He stepped right out and tipped his cap as gentlemanly as could be, and he asked me if he could walk me home. I did not object, so we turned and started walking toward home as slowly as I could walk. I did not want Daddy looking back and seeing me walking with Otis Merriweather! He does not like the Merriweathers because they do not have good breeding. I have not told him that Otis’ mother has Scottish blood. He may not believe me because nobody has ever heard of the Cluecluckers.
Otis and I talked all the way back to the house. I reminded him that he was supposed to talk to his uncles about talking or beating some sense into Billy Ray. I told him about how Billy Ray beat Mrs. Carlton’s face bloody and begged him to do something, but he said he would not see his uncle until Easter because they live all the way over toward Ten Mile and he does not hardly ever get over that way. The family will be getting together for Easter, though, and he said he would do everything he could to get them over to take care of Billy Ray.
We went to dinner at Pap-pa’s and Miss Janey Jo’s as usual, and it was good to see Darlene there. Dinner was very good, especially since Darlene, Miss Weston, Uncle Woodrow, and Daddy were there. We had fried chicken, with mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits, green beans, coleslaw, and chess pie for dessert! The only thing that put a damper on things was knowing Mrs. Carlton was stuck over in our holler with Billy Ray. I could tell Darlene was grieving about it, but she put on a happy face for us all.
I am pretty sure that Miss Weston is struck on Uncle Woodrow. She sat beside him today and talked to him and nobody else the whole time. Uncle Woodrow is nice to her, but since he is bashful, he does not make on over her like she makes on over him. I bet he is tickled about it inside, though.
Warm, waxing day, shorter nights.
The wind howls over the tender grass
That edges to my water,
Braving frost and Spring swells.
I howl, too, full and rushing, tumbling,
Running, free and wild,
Impatient to couple with the sea.
The laughing child seeks peace for her friend,
But she will deliver only sorrow.
March 13, 1932
Darling Cecilia,
What a wonderful weekend I have had! Pearl’s friend, Darlene, is now staying every weekend with my friend, Janey Jo Aiken. While that is a good thing, the circumstances of why she is there are not. Her stepfather is so abusive that everyone is worried about her safety. He already has beaten her bloody several times. You can see bruises all over her face, arms, and legs. The poor child has been a punching bag for a despicable, violent man.
Yesterday, I went over to help entertain her and to see what I could do to help with her learning. She is surprisingly academically advanced for her age, and for the fact that she has had little formal schooling.
She actually is a charming little girl, and rather interesting looking. She has features that set her apart as being from African descent, but she is afflicted with albinism, a condition I do not think entirely regrettable. Her skin is milky white, and her hair is the palest shade of blonde, although it is kinky. Her eyes are a beautiful blue, large and luminous. I think that she may grow into her thick facial features at some point and become quite striking.
We had a lovely day sewing, cooking, reading, and walking about the farm, feeding and observing the animals. She has a lively curiosity, a sweet nature, and an abundant sense of humor. I like her very much! It is such a pity that she probably will never be accepted within white society. I have been wracking my brain to try to figure out a way to get her into a decent school up North, but it will most likely be difficult. Perhaps I can find a respectable school for Coloreds. I hope the fact that her skin is not black does not mean that Negroes will ostracize her. What a predicament!
Today was a good day, as well. I had a nice conversation over dinner with Woodrow about ways to help Darlene. We talked about the plight of people of color and what we as a society owed to such benighted souls. While Woodrow was initially receptive, in the middle of the conversation, he suddenly became unengaged. It was clear something is troubling him. I hope it is not the memories of his unfortunate experiences during the Great War.
I miss you and love you, sweet Cecilia. I am happy to hear that you have captured the attentions of Harry Hamilton. What a catch he would be!
Good night. Please remember to pray for us all.
Emily
March 14, 1932
My School Journal, grade 7, Miss Weston’s class
By Pearl Wallace
Our neighbor Billy Ray Carlton has a nice little flat-bottom boat. Mrs. Carlton and Darlene can handle it just fine. They pole up and down the river as if they have done it their whole lives, which, in fact, they have. They used to live on what they call a bayou, which is like a very slow, swampy river. Our river is very swift, but Mrs. Carlton and Darlene are not troubled by it. They put their backs into it, and Darlene holds the boat in the current while Mrs. Carlton picks up her pole and pushes upstream. They say the Little T. is not as dangerous as a bayou because the bayou is full of alligators and also snakes that live in the trees and drop on your head when you paddle underneath. We have snakes here, but I have never seen one in a tree, except for little black snakes and green snakes, and they do not count.
Last week, we took the boat all the way over to Gracie May’s Island. Someone has been camping there and has made a sturdy lean-to. We crawled in there and pretended it was our house. We had a good time fishing until it was time to go home for supper.
March 15, 1932. Darlene and her mother spent most of the day with Mama and the little girls today. With Billy Ray being gone during the week and on his best behavior on the weekends ever since he beat Mrs. Carlton so bad, things are getting happy again. By the time we had gotten home from school, they were all very jolly, sitting around, chattering in French, eating biscuits with persimmon jelly. Mrs. Carlton still looked pretty rough, but she was smiling and laughing as if she did not feel a thing. Uncle Woodrow was telling a big tale about an old fellow who called his rifle his “Hell by 90,” and claimed to have shot an eagle that was so high up in the sky that it took him 24 hours to fall to the ground. Mrs. Carlton topped that one with a story about a fellow down in the swamps who caught alligators by their tails and slung them around until they were so dizzy they could not walk. Then he lined them up in the mud and walked across the swamp on their backs. Jasper had to top that with a story about a fellow he had heard about who would not shoot at a squirrel until he had at least three in a row lined up in his sights so he could get all three with one shot. By the time they were done, we were all just slapping our knees, laughing fit to be tied.
In the Midst of Innocence Page 20
