Letters to Missy Violet

by Barbara Hathaway

  “How long were they married?” Papa asked.

  “About thirty-eight or forty years, I reckon,” Mama answered.

  “Treated Miss Roula like a china doll,” Mama told Papa. “She was never the same after he passed away, poor soul. Her heart was just eaten up with grief. I reckon I’d feel the same way if anything ever happened to you, James,” Mama said, and her voice sounded all funny and cracked.

  “Honey, you would miss me that much?” Papa asked.

  “Sho’ I would,” Mama answered.

  “Come here,” Papa said, and I stuck my head out the bedroom door. And there was Mama and Papa sitting together on the settee with their arms locked around each other. I put my hands over my mouth so they wouldn’t hear me giggle.

  “I’ll go over to Miss Roula’s tomorrow and tell Amabelle to look underneath the bed for the jar of boneset tonic,” Mama said.

  Later on Mama came and sat down next to me on her bed and explained to me about Miss Roula. She said that sometimes when people start to get old, their mind starts to go. It starts to play tricks on them and they may say and do foolish things. “That’s the way life is sometimes, honey. And we just have to accept it,” Mama said. She didn’t give me the whupping she promised me, and she said I could write to Missy Violet, but only about school.

  Charles and Missy Violet Write to Each Other

  August 28, 1929

  Hey Missy Violet, this here is Charles,

  I diding write you befor now becose Viney didn’t tell me you sed to write. I jus snucked up on her reading a letter you rote her one day and then she tell me you say to write. She always keeping things lak that to hersef like she grown or somethin. Then when she give me the addrest she say “Don’t be worryin Missy Violet wit a whole lotta letters.” But I ain’t payin her no mind. She just gellous becose I went to New York City. She say, “Charles, don’t you know nothing els to talk about besides New York City?”

  I’m gonna write about my trip in the essay contess. I know its gonna be good and I am gonna win firs prise, cose I seen everything up in New York Ciy folks down here ain’t never seen! All kinds of cars and peoples. I saw Buicks and Cadillacs and Oldsmobiles. Even big ol Packards like Mister Som Grit got. I even saw Mayor Jimmy Walker ridin around in his Duesenberg. Diding see no old timey cars on the streets up there.

  I even rode downtown on the subway, that’s a cho cho train that runs under the ground. I was just lookin and lookin all around. Downtown I saw all the tall billdins and stores where the rich people shops. But they got plenty stores up in Harlem too.

  A lotta people up in Harlem got radios. They lissen to the ball game and the boxin match and music and evything! They lissen to the Amos and Andy show. A show about colard people livin in Harlem. Bess show I ever heard. Wish we had it down here. “Ow wah, ow wah, ow wah!” That’s what Amos and Andy say at the end of the show. Don’t none of the colard people down here have radios. I asked Mama and Papa about getting one. Papa sed they cos too much money and use up too much lectricity. Mama sed it was the work of the devil and wood catch the house on fire when it thunderstorms. She say she even hear people say they wood make you sick. Papa say he not even sure they have the Amos and Andy show down here. Everybody down here all wet, man. When I gets grown, I’m gonna buy mysef a Buick and drive back up to New York City quic as I can. Man, I love that Big Apple!

  Missy Violet, when you comin home? I am tired of Viney ackin like you lef her boss over evything. Bring me something from Floreda when you come back.

  Charles

  September 9, 1929

  Dear Charles,

  How is my handsome redheaded boy! Missy Violet was so glad to hear from you. I’m happy you had such a good time up in New York City. I have never been there, though I hear it is some fine place. I would love to see Harlem, a place with lots of different kinds of colored people all living together. Maybe someday before I get too old I’ll get a chance to visit. Maybe you will drive me up there in your Buick when you finish school?

  I think it’s nice you want to go back when you grow up, but, child, you must go back with some schooling under your cap. Please try to finish school. You know the world is changing all the time and there is a place for colored in every trade.

  Charles, I enjoyed your letter so much, but I want you to work on your spelling, son. I know you can do this because you spelled the names of all those cars you liked correctly. I think if you take your time and learn to spell the small everyday words well, you will have a good chance of winning that contest.

  How is your dear mama? Is she feeling better? I pray so. Give her and your papa my regards when you see them. I am sorry they would not let you have a radio—I would love to have one myself. But they are expensive, costing between fifty and one hundred dollars, I’ve heard. I don’t know how so many people in Harlem can afford one. Maybe they buy on time or maybe they buy used radios. Whatever it is, it certainly would be nice to have one. I guess one day we all will.

  Charles, I just love it when you children write to me. You and Viney are my special dumplings. I miss you both and look forward to seeing you all when I get back home. Be good in school—mind the teacher and work hard at your lessons. And remember to say your prayers.

  Yours very truly,

  Missy Violet

  Special Care

  September 11, 1929

  Dear Missy Violet,

  I have some bad news: Not long after school got started, our favorite teacher, Miss Glover, got married and moved away! She married a man from Fayetteville. That’s all we know about him. He came to church one Sunday, but nobody knew who he was. And nobody knew he was there looking for Miss Glover. Well, nobody except Arma Jean, that is. She figured it out right away. While we were walking on the church grounds that morning she said, “Look at that fine-lookin’ man. I bet he got his cap set for Miss Glover.” Yep, that’s what she said, just like that! Arma Jean’s good at figuring things out. She figured out that Charles was sweet on Winsome, too.

  More bad news: Miss Battle is back! And the first thing she did was change our desk partners. She made me sit next to Margie Poole even though she knows I’ve been sitting next to Arma Jean ever since the first grade. I hate sitting next to Margie Poole—she acts so uppity and snooty. I try to be nice to her but she acts like I’m not even there. I sure miss sitting next to Arma Jean and she misses sitting next to me, too. All we can do now is wave and give each other sad smiles from across the room. Sometimes, Arma Jean mouths me a silent message. I can read her lips real good. She mouths, “See you at recess,” or “What you got for lunch?” Sometimes she gets caught and Miss Battle scolds her. “YOUNG LADY!” she shouts. “IF YOU TALK ACROSS THE ROOM ONE MORE TIME, YOU’LL GO STAND IN THE CORNER!” Then everybody looks at Arma Jean, and Arma Jean snaps her head back around to the front. That’s when Margie Poole just smirks and looks all satisfied and I want to hit her in the head with a brick.

  Arma Jean now sits next to a big ol’, simple-lookin’ girl named Ruby Dean Baker. Ruby Dean should be sitting in the back with the older children, but Miss Battle says Ruby Dean is slow and puts her in the middle with the eleven- and twelve-year-olds. Miss Glover wouldn’t have done that. All the kids tease Ruby Dean about sitting with the younger children because she is so big, but I try not to join in because Mama says, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” And I sure wouldn’t like to have all those kids teasing me. But Ruby Dean is pretty slow. Even Miss Battle can’t make her learn.

  Missy Violet, you would say that Ruby Dean needs “special care.” The kind of care you give to little babies who won’t nurse or who are slow to grow. I remember one time I went with you to catch a baby named William—“Teeny William” you called him because he was so small.

  You looked worried when you saw how little he was. You didn’t think he was going to live. Right away you grabbed three baby blankets and laid them one on top of the other and wrapped Teeny William up in them real tight. Then you warmed a brick
in the fireplace and wrapped it in a cloth and put it underneath his cradle. “We got to keep this baby warm, warm, warm,” you told his mama and his papa.

  But poor Teeny William wouldn’t nurse, so you went by his house every day and showed his mother how to feed him with an eyedropper. William still wouldn’t take his mother’s milk, remember? You said this happens sometimes with sickly babies—the mother’s milk is too rich for the sick baby’s stomach. So you brought soybean milk to the house and mixed it with a little water and squeezed it into Teeny William’s mouth with the eyedropper and Teeny William kept it down.

  Every day you would go by to see how Teeny William was doing and once a week you would weigh him on your funny little scale. Soon Teeny William started to nurse and to pick up weight. Now he is four months old and plump as an apple dumpling! I think that’s the kind of special care Miss Glover would give Ruby Dean if she had stayed, because you and Miss Glover are kind ladies.

  I think Miss Glover had already started to give Ruby Dean special care, because she would give her things to do like collecting papers and passing out books. Ruby Dean did a good job, too, and Miss Glover praised her in front of the whole class.

  Miss Battle just says, “Ruby Dean, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just lazy.” She makes Ruby Dean go up to the blackboard to do arithmetic. Ruby Dean is afraid of arithmetic the way most people are afraid of snakes. And when she walks up to the front the floor boards creak and the kids laugh. Then poor Ruby just stands there in front of the board scratching her head and rocking from side to side. Then Miss Battle says, “Ruby, this lesson is not that hard—even the first-graders can do it.” Then she scolds her for rocking. “Stop that rocking, child. You’re not a boat!” she hollers, and the children laugh some more.

  When I tell Mama how bad Miss Battle treats Ruby Dean, she says Miss Battle is just trying to get her to learn. But Mama did say she could do it in a more Christian way.

  One week, Miss Battle didn’t get a chance to pick on Ruby Dean at all because she had her hands full with a little girl named Nettie. Nettie had never been to school before and every day when her papa dropped her off she would cry and cry and cry. Nothing Miss Battle said or did made her stop crying.

  Miss Battle made her stand in the corner and promised to give her a licking, but even that didn’t do any good. Nettie just hollered louder. But then a funny thing happened one day: Nettie was crying and Ruby Dean got up from her seat and went over and put her arm around the little girl’s shoulder and talked to her in a real soft voice and the little girl stopped crying. She lay in Ruby Dean’s arms like Ruby Dean was her mama. Miss Battle told Ruby Dean to go on back to her seat, but when Ruby Dean did, Nettie started crying all over again.

  “What is it now?” Miss Battle squawked, and the little girl said she would be quiet if she could sit next to Ruby Dean.

  “Go ahead, then!” Miss Battle hollered, but this time Miss Battle sounded like she was going to cry.

  Later that day, Miss Battle said to Ruby Dean in front of the class, “Ruby, I see you are good with children,” and Ruby Dean looked all bashful. Then Miss Battle said in a real sweet voice (and we kids couldn’t believe it was Miss Battle speaking), “Ruby, would you like to assist me with the first-graders at recess?” And Ruby Dean said, “Yes, ma’am,” with a big ol’ sunshine smile on her face. That day everybody went home happy.

  When I told Mama about the little girl and Ruby Dean, Mama said Ruby Dean showed true Christian charity and she hoped Miss Battle had learned something from Ruby Dean’s kindness.

  I found something out about Miss Battle that makes me think she’s not so bad after all. She keeps little packages of fruit and nuts and sweet bread in her desk drawer to give to the children who don’t have any food to bring from home. She thinks nobody sees her slipping it to them at recess time when all the kids are running and playing and making noise. When lunchtime rolls around the children pull out their snacks like it came from home. I guess Miss Battle doesn’t want them to feel bad about being poor.

  When I told mama about it she said most everybody in Richmond County is poor, colored and white alike, except for people like the Cantwells and the Kestenbaums and the Delacroixes, who came up from New Orleans some years ago. And one or two well-to-do negroes. But she said some are poorer than others and its very kind of Miss Battle to look out for those children and for me to keep my mouth shut about it.

  I still don’t understand Miss Battle—after she does good she goes right back to being mean. I guess that’s all the news about school for now. Say hello to your brother for me.

  From your best helper girl,

  Viney

  September 20, 1929

  Dear Viney,

  I hope this letter finds you and the family doing well. I was sorry to hear about your new teacher leaving so soon. Maybe she will return to Richmond County someday. Miss Battle is a fine teacher too. She is stern but that is because she wants you children to learn so bad, not because she is mean. I have known Irene Battle for a long, long time. She comes from a fine family of quality negroes who were house servants for the Landy family. People who taught their slaves how to read and write, something uncommon and against the law in those days.

  Yes, Miss Battle was born in bondage same as I was, and we were both still young children when freedom came. And since most all the Landy slaves knew how to read and write already when they were freed, many of them were put to use by the Freedmen’s Bureau as instructors, helping others learn to read and write.

  So you see, Viney, Miss Battle knows how important education really is, and she’s been teaching for a very long time. Please give her my regards. I hope you will still like school. Schooling is very important, so learn how to read well, Viney. The world is changing all the time.

  Give a special hello to Charles for me. Tell him to write another letter and let me know how he is doing in school. Don’t you two fight. And don’t you forget to memorize your roots and herbs so you won’t forget all I taught you this summer. Remember the game we used to play when we’d come in from the woods?

  Give all the family my love. Tell your daddy to stay off that foot as much as he can. And again I thank him for looking after Duke and the cow. Hope to hear from you again soon. Be a good girl and say your prayers.

  Yours very truly,

  Missy Violet

  Miss Battle and the Sharecroppers

  Not long after Missy Violet wrote to me about Miss Battle, some of the sharecropper farmers came to school with Mister Waters and ganged up on Miss Battle. They were upset because Miss Battle has been giving us a lot of homework, a lot of reading and writing. She says we must get ready for the essay contest. The sharecropper farmers say so much homework keeps their children from getting their chores done on the farm.

  Mister Waters did most of the talking. He got real loud again, just like he did with Miss Glover. But Miss Battle, she can talk loud too. She dressed Mister Waters down good fashioned in front of the class. Told him that colored folks were doing fine things every day now. Becoming doctors and lawyers and teachers and inventors because they were able to get education.

  “Let these children get their lessons out, man! And stop being a stumbling block!” she shouted at him. She said we might not all get educated, but some of us would, and I think her words must have scorched Mister Waters like hot coals because he stopped fussing and left. He even let Cleveland stay in class that day. Hooray for Miss Battle!

  When Mister Waters left Miss Battle talked to us for a while about sharecroppers. She said she didn’t want us to get the wrong idea about men like Mister Waters. She said he was a good man but he just couldn’t believe that things were going to get better for colored people. She said he just didn’t understand how important education was. “There are lots of people like that, children,” Miss Battle told us. “But that doesn’t mean that things won’t change.”

  Miss Battle said that men like Mister Waters were smart men with their own bra
nd of education. Instead of getting their knowledge from school and books they got their knowledge from life, which means that they know a lot of things. Miss Battle said that the sharecropper is a mechanic because he has to know how to fix farm machinery if he has any and if he doesn’t he still has to know how to repair harnesses and shoes for his horses and mules.

  She said he is part blacksmith, carpenter, animal trainer, and breeder. He has to know about all kinds of trees and the crops that grow on his land. He has to know something about insects and plant diseases and sprays to control insects. He even has to be a midwife and a doctor to the animals on the farm. And then she told us how a sharecropper farmer saved her neighbor’s cow.