The Sixites With Visitors

The day that she was supposed to have neglected me; letting me play in the dirt, while she sat under the tree drinking beer was a story told over and over. Why this was such a retold story makes me wonder if anyone is really all good. My aunt that took care of me on that visit in my eyes was a wonderful lady. It didn’t take much to win the love of a toddler. It never has ceased to amaze me how people as a rule see the bad in most everyone; before they find the good. Mama was surrounded by a bunch always looking for something wrong with what she did or said. She was more than likely someone to be envious of.
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She was very pretty when I was a child. She was always a little too nice to men. We went to the doctor way more than necessary, because he was good looking. She took us regularly until there was no money to pay the doctor with. The southern boys that came to visit were not worth the effort for her. She really hated seeing them coming. Their visits consisted of drinking and bringing any women they could find to bring to our house. She did join in the festivities at times. She could play the piano by hear or she thought she could. I remember her banging, but really don’t remember if it was really bad; I am almost sure it wasn’t really good.
Mama wanted to make friends with the bar girls, so she joined in. It was usually late or early morning before the gang arrived at our house on Morley. The White boys were regular tourists to Michigan. Their good looks made it easy for them to pick-up girls from the bars on Ford Road. In they would come; it was hard for me not to notice if they put their hands up the young women’s blouses. This memory is one that stuck in my nosey little brain.

I have no reason to ever care a hill of beans about these guys. I seen them as bad, because Mama usually got upset with Daddy when they came and after they left. It has really not taken a whole lot for me to love, forgive and find the good in most people. I could also see the bad, but it would not take much for me to forget that; the art of forgiving will get you a very long way.  The trick I also learned at an early age. This was to tune out anything or anyone that I really did not what to hear. This has made me a poor listener today.

I had to have been like a sponge, soaking up all the grown-up business that I could. Always knowing how bad adults could be was probably why I have worried all my life. The good I gathered from them was because I found it in them myself.  I forgave and tried to forget as much as possible. Blocking bad experiences from my mind is something I wasn’t lucky enough to do.

(Note to Self) Giving, I should always remember is not just money or things.

Beautiful story...

RED MARBLES...
I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation
between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me..'Hello Barry, how are you today?'
'H'lo , Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.''They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'Fine Gittin' stronger alla' time.''Good Anything I can help you with?''No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.''Would you like to take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?''All I got's my prize marble here.''Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller..'Here 'tis.. She's a dandy.''I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and
I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.'Not zackley but almost..''Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble'.. Mr. Miller told the boy.'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr.. Miller had died..They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her, and moved on to the casket.Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one; each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket..'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size......they came to pay their debt.''We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho.'With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.

The Moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind
deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath....

Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles ~

• A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself...
• An unexpected phone call from an old friend...
• Green stoplights on your way to work..
• .The fastest line at the grocery store..
• .A good sing-along song on the radio...

Still the Sixties

"You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you."~~Walt Disney
She always called the false tooth a plug tooth. When she was old and lost some of her teeth naturally that tooth still hung in there. The man that had knocked out the tooth was from

Czechoslovakia. This means he was almost a Pollock according to her. Pollock’s were supposed to be dumb, but she described him as having a bad temper. Drinking made him even meaner. His name was Joe, same as her next husband. This was a fact that she mentioned many times in her life experiences. She was beautiful and dressed better than any of her friends or family.
She had gotten a job at Kreskies (Yankee for K-Mart). She lived with her parents in Wayne and used her salary to buy things for herself. Her dad loved her so he wanted her to have everything she wanted. Part of her being marked crazy by my dad’s family may have been; she was spoiled by her father. He had a nurturing character. He did the same thing to his wife. He made life as simple for my Grandma as he could. She was weak and nervous, also. With Grandpa Carte’s understanding she did not suffer the harassment Mama would in the following years.
She was not perfect; no one is. She lived in a far from perfect environment. Going with the flow was not really an option for her. She had the kindness within her that she didn’t show often. There were too many around her forcing her to take up for herself. She could not win. The visitors from Alabama were drinking. They used Joe’s Apartment as a place to vacation. Keith and his wife came on a regular basis. Uncle Keith would tell Grandmother that he was looking for work in the north. All he did was stay with his brother and rally all night, most of the time.
I was just barely walking on one visit. Mama must have just rolled with the punches of each visitor. She drank as many younger women did in the early sixties. Aunt Nell was fresh from leaving a child for a new man. She lived with guilt of leaving the child, along with uncertainty of how this post-affair marriage would work out. She had a small baby boy to take care of in a city she knew nothing about. In the mist of drunks she took the responsibility of taking care of me and her little boy. Mama sat back and let her, because she would. She sat underneath the tree hiding from Aunt Nell and her attitude. The attitude was that of a great mother. She was trying to prove she was good. Mama just was not willing to prove anything. She just hid under that tree letting someone else do it. Drinking let her escape from what she should be doing.

Wayne 1960's

  "If it falls your lot to be a street sweeper, sweep streets like Michelangelo painted pictures, like Shakespeare wrote poetry, like Beethoven composed music..." - Martin Luther King Jr.

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The job that Joe landed was the beginning of a life that his family was quick to share with everyone. He was close to thirty and had lost a great deal of his productive years spent mending the arm he broke in a car accident. The scar and pain would always be a reminder. The job at the steel mill meant more money than he had ever been used to.

He had now a purpose to carry on. He was still the southerner in a big city. He would always have the desire to find out what the city had to offer. With his good looks finding beautiful women was not a problem. He quickly became popular among the women that he came in contact with. He would have many opportunities to have what most men wanted. Humble and kind as he was it was easy for him to be fooled and taken advantage of by women looking for the securities that they all wanted.

Beautiful, fun and worldly divorced women were what he found the most exciting. She was the daughter of a Ford Motor employee. Her father had moved the family her from Nallen, West Virginia. This was one of many things he had in common with his newly found hook-up. She had been introduced to him by mutual friends and quickly found that the attraction was something both of them longed for. She had been married to a foreigner that beat her regularly. He came from a culture that accepted the power of man over women. It was his temper along with his upbringing that made her the target of his punches. Her front tooth was false as a result of his temper.

September 1960, Up North

In September 1960 the place to go was north. Southerners were going to visit, to live and to work.

It was common for men to come from the south to look for work. That is what Joe Abe had done. He left the south to find work. He was not the first in his family to have done so, but was lucky enough have landed a better job than most. Joe had been in a car accident as a teen that damaged his arm to the point that the service would not take him during war time. He thought himself less than his younger brother that served in Korea. My grandmother was always pleased that one of her boys did not have to go. The middle son that died years later in a house fire was convinced that when he went he was not coming back. He was terrified. My grandmother was just as pitiful as him, because she was very proud of her middle son. The youngest son went and never batted an eye. He was always at war with someone anytime he was anywhere.

My Granddaddy’s brother had moved up north and did not find work in industry. He and his wife did take advantage of the migration of men from the south. Boarding was something that was common in the south, because of the farm workers. This was nothing new to Toot and Red. The boarding house became a productive business for them. There were so many of the southern boys that knew them that would much rather stay with someone they knew. They had settled in Cleveland, Ohio. Just about everyone that lived in Alabama had someone that moved to find work in one of northern states. This was a perfect stop along the way to carouse with their uncle in the Yankee bars. Meeting Yankee women was easy, because they all loved the hard working- slow talking southern boys. The venture of the boarding house was much easier for Uncle Red than Aunt Una. She was the cook, maid and manager of the boarding house. She also had the added stress of her husband enjoying the visits from the southern travelers.
My grandmother had even boarded men working for them that had nowhere to stay. She mentioned one of them often, Rink Morgan. “I even kept Rink Morgan.” Is what she would say when she was talking of all the hard work she had always done. He stayed with Grandmother and Granddaddy for the peaks of gathering or planting seasons. He was given food, shelter and a very small wage during planting. He was paid according to the price of the day for picking cotton. This was paid by the pound. When I picked as a child it was three cents for first picking and five cent a pound for second picking. First picking was more because the cotton was fuller at first. Second was just what happened to open following the first picking. Grandmother always was curious about Rink when he was not staying with them. She had quizzed him enough to know he worked in railroad yards during the coldest part of winter, when there was nothing to do on the farms. I am sure having someone live with you makes a lasting impression that you never forget that person.
For all the relatives that were traveling there would be lots of business just from the passersby that were heading even further north. It was nothing to detour by way of Cleveland to stay a night or two. Many of them that were passing thru had no intention of staying or even looking for a serious change in their way of life. It was more like a vacation for them. The trips many times were made just for these young men to be going. It was common for them to get their parents to loan them the money to go looking for work. Their parents would always be willing if it meant that the boys were going to get a job making good wages.

Getting to the residences of the transplanted southerners was the most important task at hand. Then they would be ready for the entertainment that was waiting in a different place. Joe had moved to Wayne, a suburb of Detroit. He wanted to work for one of the automotive companies. The job he landed first was the one he decided to take. He was serious about finding a good paying job and had no problem with staying. This was in the steel mill in Plymouth, Michigan. He was sure that this was the best choice for him. He got an apartment over a garage, worked every day and made many friends to hang out with after work. He was great looking and spoke kindly to everyone he met. He had the great southern charm and resembled Ricky of  the I Love Lucy Show.

Why is it so hard to just, get along?

Anyone can carry his burden, however hard, until nightfall. Anyone can do his work, however hard, for one day. Anyone can live sweetly, patiently, lovingly, purely, till the sun goes down. And this is all life really means.
                                     ~Robert Louis Stevenson
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