Mason Dixon
Douglas Brewer
Copyright Douglas Brewer 2011
Published at Smashwords
Mason Dixon
A story generated from a cubicle
I dedicate this book to Mama who did an excellent job with what she had and to Daddy whom I never had the chance to know as a man due to the struggles of dealing with a world that is definitely not in our favor. It took him to an early grave. Though we all live in different times, some of the problems we encounter show that though days pass we live in the same age. I also dedicate this book to people who are not yet aware of the true power we have within ourselves.
Prelude
This book was written while my technical career diminished while I watched others excel in a southern corporate environment based on gender and the color of their skin. I realized at this stage in my life that racism was still alive and well but can be effective only if you accept it. I had learned to accept subconsciously what the “life card” had given me in the way of environmental, cultural, and economic imprints from my childhood. You are given obstacles from the day of conception.
As sperm each of us is one of millions possibly billions. Not in a vulgar way, each of us is ejaculated into an unknown environment that is competitive from the start. The journey to the egg is already hostile and dangerous though we made it, yes, and I made it out of millions or billions. I made it but yet to encounter another hostile environment: the egg, the race for the egg; and once again not having form I made it. Then while hitting the egg of Mama another immaculate change takes place and then without any human intervention I am ready for the new environment. How I survive, it mandates using what I have already been equipped with. After nine months, you are here in a new environment.
Strike one you are black, strike two you are a Black male, and strike three you are born without much wealth. Now you can see I did not say “poor” and there is an important reason why I left out being poor. It is because I have entered this world without much material wealth and I did not have as much as I would have liked. The Supreme Being blessed me with a wealth that many people I have since encountered did not have: a loving and praying mother, a strong father figure, and a family that loved me and supported me. Though I disagreed with many of the things that went on in my family, the love that we share outweighs any differences that we may have. In addition, while being blessed to be able to write and advance in age I have realized that some of the things I swore I would never do I am now doing. Though I never have been a physical victim of the prison-industrial complex I have been imprisoned in my mind. I have realized that I am in continuous daily battles against my self. Since writing this book, I have come to value enemies just as much as I value friends. My enemies have taught me more about myself. Most importantly, they taught me what I must do to elevate spiritually, mentally and physically. This book is more than a book about my life. This book is an account of what life has thrown at me so far and the tools and armor I have attained from God to master the future obstacles I will surely meet. I am confident that the reader of this piece will find this a topic of discussion and life changing. Peace unto you
Chapter 1.
Carolina – The baby boy… Late 1970’s
Daddy would ride me everywhere on the back of his old pickup truck, especially on spring days in the country in the rural south. It would take the old pickup a couple of times to start but like clockwork, the old ford truck was always dependable. Being a boy that loved to play outside I would normally be halfway up a tree too fat and too tired to climb to the top .Listening out for the screen door on the porch to slam shut he would call my name .Dougie!, come on boy! I would already be halfway down the old tree. the smell of the strong cigar or pipe he would have dangling from the corner of his mouth was my alert .As I hopped on the back of the old pickup as he drove up the roads Scents of fresh tilled dirt or cow manure were common smells.
I was born Douglas “Babe” Brewer in 1968 at the height of the Civil Rights Movement.
Daddy whose name is Roy Brewer was a sharecropper in rural North Carolina for most of his life. Most of his siblings had left for the North: New York City, New Jersey, and Baltimore.
The migration up North as you may already know happened regularly. It happened on my Mama’s side of the family also. The climate in the South was not a good place for some Black People during the years before and prior to my Birth .A majority of my family on both sides migrated to the North looking for a so-called “better life.” Daddy chose not to leave North Carolina. His decision puzzled me as I saw through the eyes of a child how good and happy my uncles and aunts were up North.
As a child, like most young boys, I was very curious about many lots of things. When I was not eating everything put before me, I was always running some sort of odd or random questions by my parents, primarily running a boatload of them to Daddy. I must have run him crazy but he never shunned me away; he always had some sort of answer for me.
I never saw Daddy drink alcohol neither was there any alcohol allowed in our home. When my uncles came down from the North was the only time drinking was allowed in the house. In the late summer, our house would be filled with the smell of cheap liquor, cigar smoke, and laughter. As I would hear them laugh and talk about their “old times,” my Uncle Floyd Brewer along with my Aunt Hattie Jane, who lived in Baltimore, always made it a point to drive down south every summer.
Uncle Floyd’s Cadillac would be packed with my cousins who where a bit older than I was. My elder brothers and sisters had a great time with them. Our family reunions seemed just as exciting as the holidays.
With that said, our family was close-knit. My parents, along with my aunts and uncles, made sure that we knew the importance of family. It was common for my northern cousins to spend the whole summer with us, or as they called it “down south.” Before I was born, my family lived near Olive Branch, North Carolina where Mama had eight children, one girl to precede me, my sister Cynthia who sadly passed on. I learned that Mama and Daddy lived and “cropped” land owned by local whites, the Stegall family. Daddy had sharecropped since he was nearly a child himself. I learned, from talking to Mama and my uncles that Daddy’s parents had died early. He and one of my aunts were the only two out of the eight of the children to stay in the South.
Sharecropping was what paid the bills for them back in sixties. I was told that he soon would leave because the landowner had threatened to whip one of my brothers for not picking a batch of eggs for him. Sounds like the 1800’s, huh? Nope, it was the late sixties and we were still catching hell.
My family moved to the town of Marshville nothing really but an extension of Olive Branch but closer to town. Being that I was born in 1968 to a sharecropper, I found out that Mama and Daddy had only two children that were born in a hospital, the rest delivered a midwife. My parents, Roy and Henrietta Brewer had in order, “Sassy whose real name is Esther. “Snowman his real name is Peter. . I was never close with him as a boy because I never saw him much. He was just back from Vietnam. Snowman was trying to make a mends with the woman he married before leaving for duty .Snowman barely about five foot six , shorter than average but with the spunk of a pit bull was the oldest boy. Hattie Lee, Donald Ray aka Gus, Lucinda, Phillip aka Moon and Cynthia who preceded me in death two years and then me.
Everyone in our rural area had gardens. Our garden was packed with vegetables of all kinds. I can hardly remember any time going to the store or town to buy any vegetables.
As a young boy, I always saw daddy working all the time. At times, Daddy used a mule to plow our garden that was located behind our house. Occasionally he would borrow a tractor, but he preferred the mule. My lazy behind was always the last to get up, but I knew it was time to plow the garden when I heard the loud sound of “Gee Haa!” “GEE HAA, OLD MULE,” daddy used to yell. Daddy stood about five feet six or seven inches tall, at the most, and always wore a hat tilted to the side. Though daddy was small in stature his hands were hands of steel .Being that he was doing hard labor since a child the years of hard work would radiate in his hand and in his face. When not working or doing business, he wore nice ironed pajamas as he relaxed around the house maybe with a cigar. I would beg him to let me steer the mule, “Daddy, please let me steer the mule.” I would plead with him all the time. Occasionally he would let me give it a shot. I tried to plow but I was not good at it even though I was a fat, stocky kid and old enough to do it. Daddy really did not have much for me to do around house or field except help pick the potatoes. “Ice Potatoes,” he called them. Sometimes he would have me pull and shuck some corn or fetch stuff from the family garden or smokehouse. He babied me a lot.
When Daddy was working a job at a local factory, I would sit at the end of the dirt road. I did this almost everyday, or when Mama allowed me to. I would sit and watch cars go by, waiting for one of his buddies to drop him off. I was anxious to get my piece of the sandwich he would always have saved for me from the lunch that Mama had made him. As he and I would walk towards the house, I would nibble on that piece of sandwich and ask all sorts of questions. He would do his best to answer anything I threw at him but at times, he would give me looks as if he wanted me to shut up. I was really glad to see him just to see his stern face and the little grin he gave me. As we walked up the old dusty dirt road with the smell of the factory on his shirt, hat tilted to the side, black lunch box in one hand, and the other resting on my head. I knew he was tired but found time to talk to me. Daddy looked older than Mama did and he was, but some of his aging was due to work overload. He seemed to never rest if he was not at work, he was in the garden or looking after the livestock we or helping out friends of his. Mama would always intervene and say, “Dougie! Daddy is tired and he needs some rest leave him alone for a minute boy!” I would do as I was told for a while but later start sputtering questions at him again.
Chapter 2
Being that we lived in the rural south we were not hungry although money was very scarce. We always had meat and fresh vegetables around our house. Pigs were all over the place every family had a hog pen in their backyard.
We also had a small stock of cows over at my Uncle Roosevelt’s house (who died a couple of years back.) Daddy and two older brothers would tend to these Black Angus, and, in case you did not know, they made a good side of beef. We made trips daily to check on the livestock. Daddy often took my brothers, Gus and Moon, in the truck with him and me. I usually sat in the back of the pickup.
Despite not having much formal education, Daddy and Mama did a tremendous job supporting our family and putting the six younger children through high school and the elder children through college; unthinkable, or better yet, unimaginable for today. Hell, at the early age of seven, though he was gray as ever, I thought Daddy was Superman, and I looked up to him. I was usually begging him to take me everywhere he went, I just wanted to ride, especially if he was driving his truck. I loved to ride in the back of the pickup whether it was hot or cold.
Mama and Daddy seemed to be inseparable. Mama worked at Maleck, a local plant in Marshville, North Carolina. Though she had a job, she was always at home when I got there, or close to it.
She married Daddy at the young age of fourteen. One of my aunts her older sister, used to joke and say that Mama was twelve when she married Daddy. Mama would tell us that it was a common thing for young girls to get married that early when she was “coming up.” My sister Hattie Lee was also a big help, especially when it came to doing most of the cooking. Hattie Lee, who seemed to be most dependable, was given most of the duties around the house. Mama and Daddy counted on her for almost everything. Hattie Lee was a college graduate and very intelligent. Being that she was a born nurturer, she fell into the lead role of being the main cook and caretaker when Mama and Daddy were working. Many of my friends to this day thought she was Mama due to the age difference. Hattie Lee did not leave home because she had gotten pregnant after right after college and was left to take care of a baby by herself. She named her baby James, nicknamed “Bootsie.” He requires special attention because he is mute. Many of her goals were put on hold so she could take care of her son .With a child that needed special attention and with the help of my parents, she was still able to graduate college. Never the less having to take care of her son would soon halt her aspirations. Hattie Lee is full figured, shorter than the average woman her body language alone intermixed with her firmness of speech when she talked was sure to get your attention. Hattie Lee reserved most of the time. She unequivocally gives you her opinion when asked. If she was not behind a hot stove with hear head always wrapped. she would have her church usher uniform on doing something for the deacons or the preacher .Hattie Lee was sort of like the captain giving orders around the house to everyone else .Never time to enjoy her self most of her friends felt a sense of guilt watching her work all the time .If something needed to be done or if there was a problem Hattie Lee had the answer always and she was counted on.
Esther the eldest moved to Jersey City after high school, married, and has a family. She, being the eldest child, did not come home as regularly as Mama would have liked; but it was a treat whenever I did see her. She usually spoiled me when I saw her so I loved it when she came from up North .We usually made her homecoming a big event. Her face was always teary-eyed being that she was now missing home and the closeness of family .A mother with a husband and family of her own demanded her time. A direct replica of my mother physically she was different. She was more emotional than momma or Hattie Lee. Being that she basically spent more time up north she lost her rural Carolina accent and her northern accent was getting thicker no one would ever believe she was from the Carolina’s .
Lucinda the youngest of the girls also lived at home and had a child as a young teenager. My niece Lady was born in 1974. Lucinder getting her height from my mothers side of the family was taller than the rest of us .A normal height for a woman was probably the same height for me and my brothers” lol.”
It was hard to get her from the soap operas when time for family work in the garden. I was bad about telling momma and daddy the number of soaps she washed that was usually why sometimes her chores would be behind when they returned from home.
People still think Lady is my baby sister. Lucinda stayed around for quite some time. She, like the others, worked a full time job but soon left home when she got married. She wanted Lady to come live with her but for some reason Lady wanted to stay at the house with us. Lucinda did not move but thirty minutes up to a neighboring town, Waxhaw. Mama felt that Lady would be too far away so she continued to live with us.
My brother Donald Ray is a year younger than Hattie Lee. Donald Ray played just as hard as he worked. With Donald’s laid-back personality, you may mistake him as not being serious or too playful for a jokester you may say. Realistically he was a very serious a person just as my father he just did not show it. Outside of his party life, this man went to work on time everyday. He was a big parliament/funkadelic fan. Most Parliament fans are known for getting high just like the band member s. I never saw him high on the “Mary Jane, aka marijuana” but he had his share of liquor. He never brought it around Daddy though. Daddy would have killed him. Alcohol was a definitely no in our house except when Daddy’s brothers came down.
Moon was the closest to me though we were ten years apart. I usually got on his last nerve with my whining all the time and wanting to follow him everywhere he went. People to this day say Moon and I look just alike Moon.
I thought that he along with my other brothers was the coolest dude besides Marvin Gaye. During this time, Moon was an upperclassman in high school and getting ready to graduate.
I rarely saw Peter, or Snowman, until age started slowing him down. Though, as I said, peter is a Vietnam Vet, he never talked about the military much. His eldest daughter and I were born only a week apart so we are the same age. I grew up seeing many women come his way when I was younger. He was the eldest son and pretty much did his own thing – most of the time away from the family. At the day’s end, we were known as Roy and Henrietta’s children.
They say we all looked alike because of our features: brown eyes, the big Huntley heads (as they called it), stocky and shortness of stature.
1975
One of my fondest memories during this year was when Daddy had put me on the back of his pickup. Daddy and I went to town to get an old lawn mower serviced. While going through the back door of this place did not bother him much even then I could feel the energy that we were somewhat being observed as though we were on display .The attention of everyone was directed on me and Daddy as if wee were a means of entertainment.
I did notice that we were somewhat darker than the other patrons in this place were. (They were all white men.
The tunes played of Bluegrass in the background, the smell of fresh baked peanuts were coming off fresh from a wood burning stove in the center of this place and you could hear the deep accents of southern good ole boys as they talked somewhat smoothly among themselves.
One man behind a counter asks Daddy in a loud boastful voice. “Roy is this boy here?” Daddy replied “yes sir “ , not in a inferior manner but you could sense that he was a bit cautious as to how we interacted with this man." well that’s a good looking big boy there!" The man said as a huge wet cigar dangled from the corner of his mouth. The old white man stood behind the counter with nothing but overalls on. They talked for a couple of minuets while a man worked on the Lawnmower .The other men just starred at us spitting tobacco and snuff in old rusty cans. I on the other hand would stare back at them and just wonder in my head as to what they were looking at! Daddy got our lawn mower and put me in the truck. I sensed something very strange from that conversation but I did not have the words in place to ask daddy any questions you see I stuttered terribly. I kept quiet from that day on this was one place I did not like going to much at all. However, we did go often on occasions and the atmosphere was almost the same until they turned this place into Washer house for the people in town as a public laundry.
In 1975, that same year I remember my sister Hattie Lee explaining a letter to Mama.
The bulk of the letter was stating that I was to be bused across the county forty minuets away to New Salem elementary. Integration had made its way to our neck of the woods there were not enough blacks at the time going to this school. Mama was very upset that I was one of the first going to this school. The local elementary school was only 10 minuets away in town .She tried to get it Reversed but was unable to .The only way out of this was for some one to drive me daily this was not an option because every one in my house worked. Therefore, I was bused.
Chapter 2.
Going to school in” Klanville”
With all the commotion, my first day of school was scary. Moma had Daddy
Follow the bus to the school just to make sure nothing crazy went down with the local rednecks. I was very scared although the other kids mostly white did not seem that bad at first. We all were quite excited. My bus that took us to school had most if not all of the black kids from our small rural area that made of most of the population of the minorities at this school, being from the same
Surroundings we were all used to dealing with each other. We were watched every step of the way by the whites when we got off the bus every morning. I rather rather liked the attention sometimes. We had our paper bags filled with sausage, biscuits and home fried pork fat. As children, we were unaware of the racial tension that still lured. Some of us established friendships with the other white kids and we had the usual playground fights. However, even as a little boy I would not get a get good feeling when ever my white friends would ask their parents if I could come over sometime, play, and maybe spend the night. Mama was not going to have that anyway but I could tell early from the facial expressions that their parents was in no way going to let me step foot in their house .
At school There were several circumstances in which a white boy, I remember his name to this day Chris HAIGLER and others would tell me they could not play with me anymore because their daddies said I was a Nigger . Well honestly I did not Know really what a Nigger was so finally I Asked Mama .Mama being as bold as she always was instructed me to tell the boys that they were all redneck nasty crackers and I did not need to play with them anyway . I was puzzled at first but from the way, Momma took it when I told her what the white kids said. Therefore, I took it that Nigger was not a good thing so it stuck with me. Wow my first introduction to Racism and not even seven years old.
At New Salem Elementary on the playground, It was second nature for a young white boy to spat out the word nigger and we would call them a honkey or cracker right back Sometimes the name calling battles got heated but we did not really know the severity of our words we just heard it from the adults so much .It seemed like the black kids got in trouble mostly that was the norm .We were always singled out as the initiators in school yard fights .Paddling was the discipline of the day. The teachers would not hold back on the wooden paddle on any of us. The old redneck principle would really get a high when paddling the black children.
My second grade year we had a home room teacher names Mrs. Sutton, she was a tall white lady Grim and gloomy looking with long Red hair that came down her back .I could not help to notice her very long fingers in the way she held the chalk as she would write on the black board. No black child was ever seated in the front row of her classroom. The amazing thing is that we by our on inferior behavior would automatically seat ourselves in the middle or at the back of the class. I notice at times by the smile on her long face that she was pleased at the acts of inferiority we showed at this early age and showed no effort to assist us.
Ms Sutton ,excessively Grave in they way she taught class never ever gave us blacks much attention in class accept to inquire on our life at home. She showed no interest at all to us in class, you were waiting you dam time if you raised your hand to answer a question .But every time a white c
Well, on one incident.
We had a planned Fire drill. Before the drill took place, our class was instructed not to run at all!
Now being that we were all 7 yrs of age we were wired at all times, full of energy
A friend of Mine Rodney Gainey who was very playful started to just trott a little as we walked out side in a single file line. This being done, as the drill was over we were sent back to our classrooms.
Before class would resume Mrs. Sutton reiterated about what she had told us earlier before the drill as she shouted towards us “I SAID NO RUNNING! Most of the black kids all seated together she walked towards us. With long straight red hair dangling down her shoulders and the long dress she always wore. I thought she was a reject from the group "Fleetwood Mac" .She was turning red by the second as she turned her nose up at all of us as if we stunk to high hell. Now I just knew she was going to call one of my buddies out and maybe have them go outside and put their nose on the wall or something of the sort. I also knew that Rodney was notorious for not doing what he was told and being sort of the class clown. Rodney was funny .Rodney was not a bad kid but just funny as hell and knew how to make every one laugh. Being that I saw him run I just knew he was going to get in trouble .although, I was not going to tell on him either. She walked towards me and looked me dead in the eyes. .HER EYES blazed with fury she kicked me hard right in the shin .She then leaned over and told me “I SAID NO RUNNING! This shocked me as I looked back at her but I just sat there and did nothing just frozen still from the shock and the pain.
As the other kids quietly urged me to kick her back, I just cried in my chair, she did not care and class continued. I got off the bus, ran, and told Mama what had happened.
At first Mama did not say one word but took in all the events that led me to telling her why Ms Sutton had kicked me.
Hattie Lee had just gotten home from work at the time .Hattie Lee overheard what I was telling Mama .She knew by the way Mama was taking this in that this was not over .She stopped reading what ever mail she was reading to talk to me out of somewhat desperation . She asked me again, Doug, you better not be telling a lie. She kicked you! Hattie Lee tired herself after working in a plant all day still with the plant cap on her head standing in the living room with lint from the factory dust on her was reading Mama’s facial actions. Hattie Lee again insisted that I had better not be lying. she told me to be as accurate as I could in explaining what happened .As Mama heard the details she immediately went to get her pocket book from the bed room down the hall .Daddy in a laid back Manner and half asleep sitting upright in the coach with his cap nodded over the top of his head quietly reached for his keys .Daddy headed to the car as laid back as usual .As we went back to the school they made me stay in the car. Momma approached the head principle Ray Morgan who was standing outside .Mr. Morgan a short quite spoken southern man. She immediately told him that she was there to see Mrs. Sutton and then explained to him what happen. After a 30minuets or so meeting, Mrs. Sutton came to me crying and apologized for what happened. Mama told me she threatened to kill her. She then told her that if she ever got her hands on her that it would not be pretty .And she was serious. The principle assured her that there would not be any more trouble.
Daddy not saying a word had stood at a presence as if they were really getting off light and he looked at me sternly for a couple of seconds to see if I understood what was going on . I got the message and understood him with him not saying a word .Incidents like this happened all the time during these two to three years I felt smart especially when it came to reading but the teachers were not as enthusiastic about our learning as much as we thought. I was hardly ever called upon to answer questions in class. Therefore, I began to think that I was not as smart as the other children were. When it came to it, I was really one of the first in our class to really read fluently, but sense I was a stutterer the school tried to tell Mama that I had speech problem and maybe even a learning problem. Mama once again had a fit had to go to the school to resolve this matter .Hattie Lee this time resolved the matter calmly. Every morning began with the pledge of allegiance and a prayer. There were pictures of all of the presidents in most of all of the classrooms and to my noticing they were all white, not like anyone I knew.
In addition, of course on every teachers desk there was always Jesus’ picture, with his blonde long hair and blue eyes. During this time, I admired of General George Washington. , I wanted to be George Washington due to the respect that was taught of him by my teachers there .But I would see that we had no resemblance so what I still wanted to be him.
So many racial and mentally abusive incidents occurred that went on. One incident in mind was when a little black girl in our class who lived down the dirt road from me did not have much money and they were poor. The girl was sitting in class one day and this same teacher walks up to her and tells her “She stinks and not to come back to her class smelling like” piss “.This hurt her so bad that she put her head on her desk and cried in front of everybody .I felt so bad for the girl. I looked at this teacher in awe. I tried to reason in my head as to what made her just hurt this girl like that and not care
What made her do this?
.I could not wait to tell Mama what happened. as I told her she called the girl’s mother on the phone , “ Early Mae don’t let those people off the hook !” You need to go down there!” “You here me! Do not let them do your daughter like that we will go with ya! “
The girl’s mother never did.
Another incident one of many as I recall was as we rode the school bus there was to be no talking, a white girl who was named the bus monitor had told the principle that Shirley “a black girl “ had talked .The White girl was of only 1 of 2 whites who rode our bus. The two white girls usually sat at the front of the bus. Every single day their Mother or Father would be eagerly waiting for them every day as the bus stopped, and give us nasty looks as the bus drove away.
Well they were always picked as the B us monitor and would right down names to
Turn into the principle if anyone talked while the bus was moving.
The bus driver took us all the way back to the school to inform the principle of what happened based on the observation of a girl no older than 7 yrs of age. After the principle talked to the bus driver and the little girl, he called Shirley off the bus,
He then took some gray tape “the kind that you use for sealing leaks in pipes. We called the Monkey tape. He then put the tape on the girl’s mouth and told her not to take the tape off until she got home and told the bus driver to make sure she did not take the tape off. The school bus pulled up to the old shack where the little girl and her family lived. She held her silence the whole bus ride tear eyed with her mouth-closed shut with this strong tape .She peeled the tape off as she got from her seat. Her lips where raw with blood this was never reported. Mama was upset that her family did not look into this. As I evaluated my new surroundings in my head, I felt second-class maybe even inferior. As if things were supposed to be this way and that by being white you had somewhat an advantage and was better and that I was just supposed to accept it .Raised in a rural Southern Baptist Church we had the White Jesus hung up in the front Room and it got much adornment.
I really thought that the picture of Jesus that was hanging in our room was the one who would one day make his appearance and save us. It had that much power.
I began a somewhat spiritual journey for that blond haired blue-eyed Jesus to gain his favor.
Obtaining the right hand of fellowship.
We went too church EVERY Sunday, Daddy was a trustee who did not go all the time but went often when it mattered. church annual day, choir annual day, Pastor appreciation day, Usher Board anniversary, pastor Aid anniversary, Spring revival, summer revival , Church Home coming get the picture”lol” , and they raised Money, as you know .,I think it took almost a hundred years for them to spend the so called building fund money . Joke.
Sometimes I would beg Mama to let me know stay at home with him. shit I was like” if getting to heaven means taking up all this weekend time, then how bad can hell be ?” , .. I did not know at the time that my father’s health was not that well; he always seemed ok when it came to me,
.He was not much of a speaker more of an observer. Some of the deacons at the church used to laugh amongst themselves because he could not read too well. Daddy was very quiet and reserved, not shy but stern and resourceful .My home Church consisted of mostly larger families. In the sixties and earlier days they would hang out at each others house on Saturday night and walk each other home too keep from getting harassed from local Whites or we used to say for short “ the Klux Klux “.From the stories told from My Mama black families were very close then and all they had was each other personally as child coming into my own I did not see this that much but there were still some apparent traces of this sense of community I guess ? .It may have been that way in the sixties but in the integrated seventies we were slowly separating from the community concept .I this witnessed first hand . Families at church always had a reason for not getting along with each other. From the moment integration occurred, we went crazy, so it seems .But we were all heaven bound so they would say individually, funny huh? I have still yet to tell my brother Moon until this day that one day when he was away on a date or doing something that his best friend picked me up and slammed the shift out of me for so-called trust passing on his Daddy’s land. His Daddy was one of the Deacons at our church and they lived in our area. I was about six feet from a barbed wire fence by our house. whether my brothers friend was playing or not it was not cool to slam a six year old kid to the ground that hard while he and his brother laughed .My fat ass tried to fight back but there was no way in hell I had a chance against this sixteen year boy well over two hundred pounds then. I look back now as he and my brother talk at his house. As an Adult, I used to feel like beating the holey shit out of that motherfucker. I remember these events as if it was yesterday. However, I find it hard to remember what I had for lunch the day before. .
Mama was the president over the usher board.
She was also a charter member of the Eastern Stars and female division of the Masonic order .I remember her going to meetings and at times them stopping by the house to talk.
She seemed to enjoy the company of her lodge sisters, brother’s .She would look so beautiful in her uniform, and I would be so proud that she was my Mama, as she looked so distinguished. In other words,
For Rural North Carolina we were as Normal as any other black family,
Between 1976 thru 1978” a lot changed for me.1978 I was Nine years old and getting heavier as well.
I wanted to join the church. On a hot summer night, we had our annual summer revival
Children are seated in the middle pew on the first couple of rows.
After one of the sermons that seemed to shake the whole church, to which I dot not even remember what he preached about but this preacher Reverend LD Parker. Reverend Parker was picked by the deacons to preach the majority of our revivals .reverend parker a heavy set, bald , tall and very dark skinned older man. His loud boisterous voice would scare the shit out of a kid when he preached .His fiery red eyes; sweat beating off his deep black forehead, along with his voice that talked over a microphone alone was enough to save the sole of a sinner. He was well liked and could sing ,that seemed to get everyone off their feet .People were shouting, singing and falling all over the place , and as well watched the elders get the spirit, we were moved as well,, we did not shout but felt obligated to show some form of emotion . As
They opened the doors of the church that meant that you could come up for prayer or you could come for baptism if the pastor and the deacons all agreed that you were an eligible candidate. They had to agree to. Oh well.
Most of the Children at our church at this time were girls with the exception of three or four boys all of us close in age. I always sit next to my friends Johnny and Curtis. we would sneak and play thump while service was going on and pray our mothers would not catch us or else it would lead to a switch outside .We would do our best to stop from laughing when this older gentleman name Mr. Fred Dunlap would always want to sing a solo with or with out his Banjo . What was so funny to us boys was that he only had one tooth in the front of his mouth .His suits were always too short and Mr. Fred Dunlap’s jacket was almost to his elbow and his pants were high above his ankles .Mr. Fred always wore white sweat socks that were mismatched one with a red ring at the top and the other a yellow ring and black shoes .He would sing with a high pitched voice and shout “ we called it then catching the holy ghost .“ He always sang the spiritual” I FLY AWAY “. Our Parents would tell us every night before revival, Mama especially as serious and stern faced as can be. She would tell me as she fixed my tie, touch her tongue and wipe my eyebrow, “Now don’t yall laugh at Fred Dunlap or you gonna get it!” at that time it made it even harder not to laugh. We would make an effort look each other in the face to get the other to laugh .I would hold my head down and pinch myself and almost have a hernia to try not to laugh. Until this day that shit was still funny as hell as I sometime think about that .During youth revival there was always one or two children that joined the church. The common rule in church was all children are upfront seated in the pews. Sitting on the front pew made it hard as hell to sleep or even play around .None the less we always found a way to do it .The Girls and toddlers normally sat in the front pews and then the boys usually tried to sit in the second or third pews. my buddies and I usually tried to make our way back further so we could play thumb or shoot spit balls with the paper programs .We would roll up paper or tear the wood part off of the paper fan we had to pop each other with . The famous old paper fan with the picture of some old church or a picture of Martin Luther king Jr on it or the local Funeral Directors daughter on the front. We found a way to play around and the pastor at times would be looking right at us from his chair in the pulpit looking down on us. The older teenagers would be behind instigating and encouraging us to act up .The Teens would be amused in service as they watched and laugh as a couple of my buddies got taken out side by an usher or church elder , that usually meant a whipping at home by your parents . At youth revival, mostly the Girls always were the first to join the church or become candidates for baptism as we called it in the Baptist church.
I watched the girls get up and asked to be nominated for baptism. I did not want to seem out of place .Johnny and Curtis” my buddies “decided to stay seated but me feeling some sort of guilt do to the fact that some of the members of the church were shouting tears of joy when one of these girls announced Jesus as their savior. Here I was asking my self why I did not have the same feeling. Wanting to have this same feeling I let the music change my emotions ,looking on the faces of the elders at how glad they looked as I stood up to have a young boy take the notion to come to the front I got the courage and walked up front .
The Church pastor at t time name was Reverend Robinson. He asked me a couple of questions about Jesus and the church secretary began to read our names out to the congregation as candidates for baptism.
Pastor Robinson’s attention was focused mostly children. We stood there in front of the whole congregation timid and nervous .The pastor quoted some verses in the bible. One I part I remember him saying “and a child shall lead them “There I Was the only boy with four girls and an adult that no one gave much attention to. The adult was probably the only one who was sincere in getting his life together. We on the other hand was just following tradition or rituals handed down .Pastor Robinson at that moment stressed the importance of us remembering the Baptist covenant, in which he said he would quiz us and make sure we remembered it .Now the Baptist covenant had to be taught extensively to all new comers .
After the weeklong revival was over the baptism would take place On Baptism night we came to the church on a Tuesday night .Mama so happy , Daddy was happy also but he was kind of reserved a little more reserved than normal I felt . The
Girls went first to get dipped and then it was my time .The people around us , some shouting in the aisle some praising god as we marched up to the pulpit .they sang the gospel song “take me to the water “ I got scared as hell , the place where they baptized was located under the pulpit. I walked down trembling dressed in white shorts; white socks and a white tee shirt .In the water were two deacons and pastor Robinson standing in the middle of the water in his robs ready for me. I was crying silently scared as hell, Daddy looking on reserved and momma smiling teary-eyed looking at me.
The pastor dipped me three times (in the name of the father, son and Holy Ghost).
As Daddy took me back to the bathroom to clean me up and dry me off, he did not seem like himself. I had to concentrate on him as he was drying me off; something did not seem right about him. I just could not figure out what was causing me to concentrate on his face so much. As he dried me off I looked up in his face and I asked him “Daddy you alright? Yeh “he said,” .I instantly hugged his neck and he just said, “put your clothes on Doug. “ Then he hugged me back .I just had a feeling that should stick as close as I could to him. I loved riding on the back of the pickup but hated like the dam dickens to go get haircuts. Getting a haircut with my daddy meant your whole Saturday was gone. Daddy had a friend in nearby backwoods area called Burnsville in which one of his buddies turned a BARN in to a Baber shop .Those men would talk all day and those days you dare not interrupt black men then when they were talking or you got your ass whipped due to that being disrespectful . I hated to go there with him. The older Moon got he did not have to go with us .I was stuck going with Daddy all by myself .The men talked and smoked cigars from noon till dusk .Daddy’s friend had a large pond in the back of his house. me and the other boys would either skip rocks or catch small fish or tad poles till the men were done talking .It would be dark , Daddy and I would head home and every body else would usually be out of the house for Saturday night. Daddy and I would get home and Mama would be cooking. I had the television all to myself. I was a big wresting fan and Saturday night wrestling on was the highlight of my weekend. Daddy and I would watch it for a while then he would get his medications, take a bath and go to bed for the night. I ,still bugging him and asking all kinds of questions, he would be half a sleep most of the time trying to hang on and talk to me as I watched him fall asleep.
If wrestling was still on and my niece Lady was no yet sleep she would creep up the hall from bed .With lady being up from bed it provided me the opportunity to practice some of the wresting moves that was on TV on her. Lady would whine and cry to go back to bed .During these times on Saturday nights we would have our usual company. My Aunt Connie who had been widowed for a couple of years now is my favorite Aunt. Aunt Connie would come over with a male friend of hers who happened to be Daddy’s first cousin. They would come over at night and just drink coffee and talk. Often times this would be more entertainment for me than wrestling .You see I did not know then that Daddy had diabetes which made him sleepy all the time mostly due to the medication he was taking . My Aunt Connie would come over with her Friend Paul Staton .Paul Staton happened to be my fathers cousin. Mr Paul Staton and Aunt Connie would come to the house around 9:30 or 10:00 at night not late but too late for Daddy. They would come to the house and Mama would tell me " go get your Daddy and tell him Paul and Connie is here.” A huge smile and internal laughter would take over me, I knew what was about to go down. I would run back and say, “Daddy, Aunt Connie and Mr. Paul Staton are here! “ I just knew what he was going to say he would look at his watch and give me frustrating and bewildered looks as he grumbled looking at the clock on the night stand .He would signal me to his side of the bed and tell me “ tell your Mama I am sleep “ and roll back over in the bed .. I would go back and tell Mama,” Daddy said he was sleep”. Tell him to wake his ass up now! Mama would tell me. Now I know that she did not want me to say the ass word but this was a chance for me to say a curse word on her accord. .. this was very eventful and entertaining to me, and it went on, I would tell him Mama said wake you’re ass UP, then she would be right behind me and tell me shut your mouth boy ! Moreover, tell him personally, “your cousin and my sister is out there get up Roy and talk to us Man! He would reply, Woman I am sleep! , tell them I will see them later! .about a few minutes later he would stroll down the hall in his pajamas and house slippers “mumbling to his self” and talk to my Aunt and his cousin. While they were drank Coffee and talked ,daddy would be fighting sleep as if it were the Ali Frazier three fight .By this time I would be in tears laughing looking at him. Our house was not roach infested at but in the country, you may see a roach, one or two may be spotted every now and then. Mr. Paul Staton would make it a point to step on a roach if he saw one crawling. The sound of Paul Staton stepping on a roach was unusually loud with the old brown Stacy Adams shoes he always wore. Hey, being alone with your parents at this age on a Saturday night I found humor in the oddest things. They would sit down for a Good length of time, Momma, Aunt Connie and Mr. Staton laughing and talking. I knew Daddy would be half asleep, as Mr. Paul Staton would talk on and out of nowhere Daddy would get up, Burst out loudly, and say, “Good night yall!” I would almost die from Laughing. This is the only time I personally ever in my life saw Mama and Daddy quarrel in front of me, they were always together and if there was any disagreement, I never saw it. Usually they took their differences to the bedroom and closed the door. As a child the mere bond, they had made me feel safe inside that. The since of security I was feeling by having them was immeasurable.
Later that September,
Daddy had a heart attack it shook the whole family .
I remember the night before he died. Daddy had just gotten back from Pageland South Carolina to visit his sister, which was about 1 hr from the house.
He came in the house not feeling to well so Mama went to the medicine cabinet to get something to rub his chest down with .I looked at him rather strangely as my mother began to rub him down and they talked softly amongst themselves .
He then told me” squirt, to go to the car and get those pies your Aunt Zinnie had sent you.
As I went to the car, a vision just popped in my head. A vision of Daddy in a black suit lying in a casket.
I tried to erase the thought from my head but it was not the first time this happened. I dreamed this before a couple of times but brushed it off and would wake up crying.
Usually Mama would come and sit by me and hold me and rock me back to Sleep.
One day while in route from school I remember well ,it was a Tuesday afternoon as I was in the midst of one my regular brawls on the bus, the boy I was fighting with on this particular day he and I both stopped fighting to realize that there was considerable a large number of cars on our yard .
I thought instantly that my uncle Floyd was in town from Baltimore and we were having a Family Gathering .The usual crying spell I would have from a bus fight soon went to a smile of happiness. I was ready to see my Uncle Floyd and my cousins from Baltimore .as I ran from the bus to the edge of our yard. Usually Mama would be smiling in the window and I knew we had some good food cooking. However, my brother Snow came walking as he lit up a cigarette smiling at me but walking rather faster than normal.
My brother Snow approached me as I got off the school bus. it was rare that I would see him so soon .So instantly I felt something was wrong but I just could not pin point it .when I did see my older brother he would pop me on the head or drill me on my snotty nose or tell me to put my shirt tail in or something . He asked me to walk with him for a minute.