Table of Contents
Title Page
Table of Contents
Dedication
Copyright
A New Teacher
Miss Roula Olette
A Letter from Missy Violet
Charles and Missy Violet Write to Each Other
Special Care
Miss Battle and the Sharecroppers
Always Go Straight Home from School
Charles Gets His Comeuppance
What We Saw in the Woods
Telling All About Our Troubles
Words to Comfort
Savannah
Lorendo
Getting Ready for the Contest
Always Happy to Hear from You
The Essay Contest
A Sad Tale
Mama and Miss Petty
Mama Gets a Letter from Missy Violet
Little Bennie and Little Maggie
Mister Som Grit and the Rausy Brothers
Papa’s Dilemma
Missus Daisy Monroe
So Much to Talk About When I Get Home
Cousin Essex
A Wedding
Mister Som Grit
Missy Violet Comes Home
This book is dedicated to my first cousins,
Mary Alice Bishop and Lyman Brandon,
and to the memory of their mother,
Cornelia Davis.
Copyright © 2012 by Barbara Hathaway
All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.
Houghton Mifflin is an imprint of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company.
www.hmhbooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hathaway, Barbara, 1944–
Letters to Missy Violet / by Barbara Hathaway.
p. cm.
Summary: While her friend Missy Violet, the town midwife, is away in Florida, eleven-year-old Viney concerns herself with ailing neighbors, schoolmates, and her irrepressible cousin Charles, who feels superior because he has been to Harlem in New York City.
ISBN 978-0-547-36300-4
1. African Americans—Juvenile fiction. [1. African Americans—Fiction. 2. Letters—Fiction. 3. Southern States—History—1865–1951—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.H2819Le 2012
[Fic]—dc23
2011012162
DOC 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
4500332149
A New Teacher
It is August and school has already started. We have a new teacher, Miss Glover. She’s nice-looking, brown and smooth like peanut butter, and wears her hair pulled back in a bun. She’s not loud and bossy like Miss Battle, our old teacher. Miss Battle is mean and yelps like a yard dog. She makes you learn, though.
Miss Glover makes you learn, too, but she makes learning fun. She brings in lots of pictures and maps and books for us to look at. She’ll even let you take some of them home if you promise to take good care of them and bring them back. A lot of the pictures are of places she’s been to. And if she makes you read in front of the class and you miss a word or say it wrong or something, she won’t shame you in front of everybody. She’ll just call you up to her desk and help you with the words you said wrong. And no one else can hear what she says to you but you and her.
Another thing Miss Glover doesn’t do: She won’t give you a licking with the ruler. Miss Battle will give you a licking right in front of the whole class and then go tell your folks you been acting up in school. She’ll even tell your grandma and your grandpa when she sees them in church on Sunday. Miss Glover would never do that—she believes children should be talked to. If any switching needs to be done, she says it ought to be done at home. She’s always having to talk to my cousin Charles. Sometimes I think he cuts up just so Miss Glover will take him to the back of the room and talk to him. You should see his face when he’s getting talked to—his eyes get all dreamy-looking and he grins like a Cheshire cat.
Charles sits next to a real pretty girl named Winsome Blue. He’s sweet on Winsome but he doesn’t want my friend Arma Jean Pettegrue to know, because he’s sweet on Arma Jean, too. He doesn’t know how to act when both of them are in the same place at the same time. When Winsome is around he gets all silly and clumsy and starts dropping things on the floor. But when Arma Jean is around he gets all mannish and acts all biggity, strutting and talking that Harlem talk he learned while he was up in New York City this summer, like “Gimme some skin, man!” and “Dig that crazy jive!” I sure hate that he had to come back down here to Richmond County to go to school again this year. I wish his poor mama would get well so he could go back home.
But getting back to Miss Glover, most of the parents just love her and they all gather around her at church, except for Mister Waters, Cleveland Waters’s daddy. Mister Waters says his boy don’t need “all that book learnin’ and coddlin’” Miss Glover trying to do. He asked Miss Glover, “What Cleveland need with so much book learnin’ when the South ain’t gonna let him be nothin’ but a sharecropper?” He even comes to school and plucks Cleveland right out of the class whenever he wants him to work in the field. Too bad, because Cleveland likes school and catches on real quick, especially to things that have to do with numbers.
Miss Glover tried to talk to Mister Waters one day when he came to take Cleveland out of class. She spoke real nice to him but he got all loud and talked to her rough like he was trying to scare her. Told her she was “fillin’ the children’s heads with foolish notions, talkin’ to them ’bout travelin’ and such.” Then he said something that made all of us children feel ashamed. He asked Miss Glover if she really believed any of us colored children would grow up to be anything other than somebody’s maid or farm hand. Miss Glover stood back and looked him straight in the eye and said, “My dear Mister Waters, you are looking at a colored child who grew up to be something other than a maid or a farm hand!” And Mister Waters couldn’t say a word. But he took Cleveland out of the class anyway.
After they left, Miss Glover reminded us that there was nothing wrong with being a maid or a farm hand as long as you were honest and hard working. She said, “Education and good morals will lift the colored people up.” I hope we keep Miss Glover forever!
Miss Roula Olette
Just before school started Missy Violet had to go down to Tallahassee, Florida, to see about her sick brother, but she gave me his address and told me it was fine for me to write. Missy Violet and I are very good friends now. She says I’m her best helper girl because I helped her “catch babies” this summer. But Mama told me not to bother Missy Violet with letters while she was down in Tallahassee. Mama said, “Don’t go tantalizin’ the life out of Missy Violet with a lot of letters, worryin’ her about things goin’ on up here at home. She got enough on her mind takin’ care of a sick brother.” And she shook her finger at me.
I told Mama that Missy Violet was expecting me to write and tell her all about school but Mama said, “No!” So I had to sneak and write a letter. I hated to disobey Mama, but I just had to tell Missy Violet about Miss Roula Olette! Miss Roula is Missy Violet’s good friend and she is in a bad way. So I borrowed an envelope and a stamp from my big sister Savannah’s stationery box and wrote the letter on a piece of paper I tore out of my composition book. I hope Savannah won’t miss her envelope and her stamp. Now all I have to do is get the letter down to the post office window at the general store before Mama finds out about it.
August 14, 1929
Dear Missy Violet,
I just had to write and tell you about poor Miss Roula. I think she is gone sick in the hea
d. She won’t eat anything except oatmeal and squash and goes wandering around in the cemetery in her housecoat! I think she’s acting that way because her snooty ol’ daughter Amabelle came down here from New York City and made her stop taking the boneset tonic you gave her for her tired blood and poor circulation. I know Miss Roula has some because you sent Charles and me over to her house with a great big jar full before you went away. Mama told her daughter about the tonic but Amabelle claims she can’t find it.
Missy Violet, I don’t like Amabelle one bit. She looks at people down the side of her nose like she thinks she’s superior. Charles doesn’t like her either—he calls her “astorperious.” That’s a word he picked up up in Harlem this summer. He says it means “stuck up.” Something about Amabelle reminds me of my classmate Margie Poole. I bet Margie will be just like her when she grows up, all snooty and superior-acting. Both of them are know-it-alls. I won’t forget how Margie laughed at me because I thought babies came out of a tree stump.
I can tell Amabelle thinks she’s good-looking, and she does have all that pretty black hair hanging down her back, but to me she’s not as pretty as Miss Roula is. She looks like an ol’ yellow pumpkin to me. She’s talking about taking Miss Roula back up north with her to live. Poor Miss Roula doesn’t know anybody up north. Amabelle hardly lets her have visitors now. Like the other day when Mister Johnnie Browne stopped by to see how Miss Roula was doing, Amabelle looked him up and down, wrinkled her nose, and said, “You need to do somethin’ about that rash all over your face and arms before you go visitin’ folks.” Hurt Mister Johnnie’s feelings something awful. He came over to the house with water in his eyes, telling Mama and Papa about what happened.
Charles says he’s gonna put a cow patty in Amabelle’s car. I hope he does.
Missy Violet, I also have some good news. We have a new teacher at school. Her name is Miss Glover and she is a fine teacher. I look forward to going to school every day now. Even Charles gets up and gets ready in the morning without giving Mama any trouble. You will like Miss Glover because she encourages us to read. You always do that, Missy Violet. You always say, “Read, children, read!” Well, we are doing lots of reading now. Miss Glover brings the newspaper to class every day and we all have to take turns reading from it. Maybe you will get to meet her when you come home. She attends church every third Sunday.
That’s all for now, except that the ax handle fell on Papa’s foot while he was working in the woodshed and now Mama’s making him stay off it. When it happened I was at home and ran with Mama to the woodshed when Papa hollered for help. When I saw how his foot was bleeding I remembered what you taught me about bloody wounds and told Mama not to wipe the blood off, but to tie it up in its own blood because that would start the healing right away. Later, when we got Papa back to the house, Mama cleaned the wound and bandaged it up. And we put cayenne liniment on it every day just the way you did for Mister Cook when he cut his foot on the tractor. Papa and Mama were surprised that I knew how to make cayenne liniment and how to take care of wounds. I was glad I remembered what you had taught me.
Papa is complaining about having to stay put all the time, but he makes sure that one of the boys goes down to your house every day to feed your dog, Duke, and milk the cow.
Please write to me and tell me what to do about Miss Roula, and say hello to your brother for me.
I sure wish we could find that boneset tonic.
From your best helper girl,
Viney
A Letter from Missy Violet
Uh-oh! Mama found out I wrote to Missy Violet. The letter came on a Saturday. Usually Savannah or one of the boys takes in the mail on Saturday, but that Saturday Mama brought in the mail. “Look, Viney, here’s a letter for you from Missy Violet,” she said with a smile on her face.
Both of my ears started to ring. I didn’t want Mama to see that letter. I snatched the letter out of Mama’s hand and tried to walk away real fast. I shouldn’t have done that, because Mama is as quick as a rattlesnake. She snatched the letter right back, her smile turned to a frown.
“You wrote to Missy Violet and told her about Miss Roula, didn’t you,” Mama said in that voice she uses when one of us kids does something she doesn’t like behind her back. Then she made me go into the parlor and read the letter out loud in front of her and Papa.
August 25, 1929
Dear Viney,
Hope this letter finds you and the family doing fine. Brother is coming along slowly, but I pray that with God’s help, he will be back on his feet soon. It was so good to hear from you, Viney. Your penmanship is very neat; it is a pleasure to read.
So you met Amabelle. I know her very well, from the day she was born. You see, I attended her birth—that’s how long her mother and I have been friends. I’m sorry you don’t like her, but she is not so bad. She doesn’t think she is superior. She just likes things done a certain way. She has always been like that. She’s particular, that’s all. Even when she was a little girl she was very neat and careful with her things. She is the same way about her mama. She really is a good daughter, and I believe if she could find the boneset tonic she would give it to Roula.
Tell her to look underneath the bed. Roula has been hiding things under the bed for quite some time now. I’m afraid my dear friend is getting a little feeble-minded. I believe the tonic will help her, but don’t expect her to be like she was before. I believe something happened to her mind when her husband passed away. But don’t worry, Viney. Miss Roula will be fine up in New York with her daughter. Amabelle will see that she gets good care.
You are a sweet child, Viney, to worry so much about other people. That is why I think you would make a good midwife.
I’m so happy to hear about your new teacher. I think I got a glimpse of her at church one Sunday. She is pretty, in a quiet, dainty way. Sorry I didn’t get to meet her. I’m so happy she encourages you children to read. If you know how to read well you can learn most anything.
Give a special hello to my redheaded boy, Charles. You and Charles are my special dumplings. Tell him not to put a cow patty in Amabelle’s car—that wouldn’t be nice. Remember, you reap what you sow. Tell him to write me and let me know how he is doing in school, too. Be good to one another.
Give all the family my love. Tell your daddy to stay off that foot as much as he can. And I’m so proud that you remembered what I taught you about bleeding wounds. Good job! Thank your daddy and all the children for looking after Duke and the cow for me. Hope to hear from you again soon. Be a good girl—study hard and say your prayers.
Yours very truly,
Missy Violet
After I read the letter, Mama told Papa she was going to whup me for being so fast and nosin’ in grown folks’ business. I think Papa was tickled, but Mama didn’t think it was funny at all! Mama took the letter from me and kept shaking it at me. “Viney Eleanor, didn’t I tell you not to go worryin’ Missy Violet with letters and things while she’s down there in Tallahassee?” she said. She never calls me Viney Eleanor unless she’s real mad.
I wish she had taken me aside like Miss Glover would have done instead of talking all in front of Charles. He loves to see people get into trouble. I saw a big smirk sneak across his face when Mama chastised me, and I could hear him laughing underneath his breath until Mama saw him and reminded him about the part of the letter that told about the cow patty. That wiped the grin off his face right quick. I tried to explain to him later that I was really on his side about the cow patty, but he wouldn’t speak to me. “I’ll getcha for this!” was all he said.
Mama made me go in the yard and get her a switch. Then she made me go to her room and sit on the bed until she was ready to whup me. But before she came in the room she fussed about the letter all afternoon and poor Papa had to sit and listen because he couldn’t walk away on his sore foot. I kept poking my head out of the bedroom door to let Papa know he wasn’t the only one in misery, that I was miserable waiting in the bedroom too.
Then I heard Papa say, “Amabelle is kind of persnickety, Lena.” I think Papa was trying to help me out.
“I know she a handful,” Mama said. “But Viney had no right talkin’ that way about a grown woman and tellin’ Miss Roula’s business like that.”
“The child didn’t mean no harm, Lena,” Papa said. “She just worried ’bout Miss Roula. I think it’s kinda sweet. Besides, she didn’t say nothin’ that wasn’t true. It does seem like Miss Roula done gone around the bend. Roamin’ up there in the cemetery in her housecoat.”
“I know,” said Mama. “She’s probably up there lookin’ for her husband’s grave. She probably forgot where he’s buried.”
Letters to Missy Violet Page 1
