Friday, July 11, 2008

Where are You From? Draft 1

Where are You From?
Draft 1




“Where are you from?” It was such an innocent, normal question, but a question I dreaded nevertheless. I really wasn’t a liar and I didn’t like to lie. “Sumter,” I answered. My new fourth grade classmate smiled, “Oh, yeah, I’ve been there. You can sit by me at lunch today.” Technically, I hadn’t lied. I was born in Sumter. I lived there until Daddy took Mamma and me home from the hospital. After that, I lived in Lamar.

Lamar, a tiny little town in Darlington County, South Carolina, had been the greatest place on earth. One of my earliest memories is of being in church. I was standing on the pew in between my parents, holding the Methodist hymnal I wasn’t old enough yet to read. Instead, I was loudly singing Jesus Loves Me. I liked going to church, but then again I liked just about everything about Lamar.

My favorite place to be was school. Lamar Elementary for grades 1-6 was connected to Lamar High School by a breezeway. I had been walking those halls for as long as I could remember. See, Mamma was the kindergarten teacher, so I went to kindergarten when I was three, four, and five. I bet I did pretty well on my first grade readiness test! Daddy was the high school principal, so after school I could walk over and see him. On the way, I would stop by the library and say hey to my grandmother. Nannie was the school librarian. My grandfather, Daddy Dalt, was the district superintendent. His office was close by, and sometimes Nannie would take me over there. She would ask his secretary Miss Flowers if he were busy. “Mr. Bennington always has time for you two,” she would say. Daddy Dalt usually was busy and often looked tired and worried, but I understood. He had an important job.

The summer after I finished kindergarten for the third time, Mamma had a baby. Because Billy had to sleep a lot, I had to be quiet inside. I didn’t mind because I usually played in the back yard any way. Our yard backed up to Donna-and-Kathy’s yard. Donna-and-Kathy were blond haired, blue-eyed sisters just a year apart who were my very best friends. One of our favorite activities was playing house in my playhouse. I loved that playhouse! When I was very little, Daddy had built me a sandbox, but once I got bigger he converted it into a playhouse with windows, a door, and an actual front porch. It was my own piece of paradise.

When I finally made it to first grade, I was thrilled. Miss Olson was the sweetest teacher ever and taught me to read real books. School was definitely my second home. I was a little concerned about second grade, though. There were two sections of each grade, and one of the second grade teachers was mean. Sometimes during quiet time in our room we could hear Miss Neil yelling. The big kids said she spanked her students, and I was sure that was true. I tried to ask Daddy about her one time, but he told me all of the Lamar teachers were good teachers. I wanted to believe him. School ended and I tried not to worry about second grade.

About midway through the summer, my parents told me they had some news for me. They had big pretend smiles on their faces. I was afraid they were going to tell me that I had to be in Miss Neil’s class. Okay, I thought, I can handle it. I will make sure I behave and do all my work. As my mother began talking, though, I began to wish that being sentenced to Miss Neil had been her news. Instead Mamma was saying something else. We were moving. Away from Lamar. Away from my school. Away from Donna-and-Kathy. Some other family would be living in our house. I didn’t even know anybody who had ever moved!

“No!” I said.

“Yes,” Mamma said. “Your daddy has a wonderful new job. He will be the Dean of Students at a technical school in Charleston. We are going to live in a very nice town called Summerville.”

“No,” I said. “I’m not going.”

“We will even take the playhouse,” Daddy said.

“I don’t even like the playhouse,” I said in my meanest voice, meaner even than Miss Neil’s voice.

The next day I woke up, happy for a brief moment. Then the feeling of dread washed over me. We were moving. Soon. I thought and thought. I had a plan. I would remind Mamma and Daddy about Nannie and Daddy Dalt. We couldn’t leave them! They would miss us too much. Nannie hadn’t finished telling me the Peter Rabbit stories, and she had promised to make me a ballerina birthday cake. Unbelievably, my parents told me my grandparents were moving away too. Daddy Dalt was going to be a superintendent somewhere called Mount Pleasant. Instead of living five minutes from us, they would be living forty-five minutes away. I cried again.

How had all of these things happened without my knowing? My parents and grandparents had been having a lot of quiet conversations recently. I just thought they were being quiet because of Billy. Now I knew they were keeping secrets from me. I had heard strange words like “consolidated schools,” “integration,” “private schools,” and “desegregation.”

I was very confused. And sad.

It was time to go. I walked through every room of our now empty house to say good-bye. “I’ll be back,” I whispered to each room.

We moved into our new house, only it wasn’t really new. Some other family had lived there. Just like some other family was now in our real house. My playhouse was in the backyard, but Donna-and-Kathy weren’t

I started second grade at Summerville Elementary, and Mamma taught first grade down the hall from my class. My teacher was okay. She didn’t yell or spank anyone. Billy had a new babysitter named Barbara. Only she wasn’t new either. She was old. He probably didn’t like her. He just couldn’t say so.

Every once in a while I would ask if we could go visit Lamar. Mamma and Daddy always said maybe. I knew what that meant. I just didn’t know why. One day after I’d asked again why we had to move, my mother had a different answer. She said we left Lamar because a lot of people were angry. She said the government said the boys and girls from the black school in Lamar could go to school with the white students. I paused. There was another school in Lamar? Mamma said it was old, and the desks and books were falling apart. She said some students didn’t even have books. I couldn’t imagine not having books! Well, what was the problem? My school—my old school—had lots of room and lots of books. Mamma said some of the white people didn’t want the black boys and girls to come and might cause trouble. Mamma must be mixed up. Everybody in Lamar was nice, well almost everybody was nice. What a dumb reason to move away.

Second grade ended. I played with Paula, whose backyard touched ours. We didn’t play with her sister, though. Janet wore makeup and had a boyfriend and told Paula and me not to touch her stuff. Ever.

When third grade came around, I had to admit I was starting to like Summerville. My new teacher was the best. We had a new girl in our class named Sarah. When her mother asked our teacher to choose a friend for Sarah, Miss Borden chose me! Sarah wasn’t very happy at first, but I told her Summerville was a nice place. I didn’t understand all the football talk, but all of the green and gold was pretty.

One day after school Mamma asked me if I still missed Lamar. I thought about it. Yes, I decided, but not as much. “I still don’t understand why we had to leave,” I added, as I always did.
Mamma sighed and told me to sit down at the kitchen table. She handed me the front page of the newspaper. I looked. The (Columbia) State. March 4, 1970. Above the fold was a large picture of a handcuffed man being taken away by two uniformed men. He head was down and he looked mean. Behind them were some school buses. My heart stopped. The man was Donna-and-Kathy’s daddy. “Read,” said Mamma. The day before 150 white parents had attacked three buses of black children. They used chains, bricks, ax handles, and baseball bats. They turned over two of the buses. In Lamar. At my school. Mamma held me as I cried.
I was very confused. And sad.

Years later I discovered that my father and grandfather were forced out of town for refusing to support the white terrorist organization. Maybe they should have stayed and fought, but they were protecting me. From my Lamar.

1 comment:

Ronnie said...

Wow, Julie. What an incredible story for you to tell. It made me cry when I read about Donna-and-Kathy's dad. (I do love how you combined them into one entity.:-) I like that you start with a question. Did you lie because you knew people would know about the violence in Lamar? How incredible for you to have so many family members in your elementary school--it must have really felt like home--all your family was there! I'd like to know a little more about what these places looked like-more sensory details so I can picture both places, but it is indeed a powerful story that needs to be written. P.S. Thank you for your strong support of my work--it means a lot coming from an about-to-be-published author!