Finding Langston

Finding Langston — page 1 — For Kathy White we love hard In memory of Michael White 1984 2017 friend son artist

Finding Langston — page 2 — one NEVER really thought much about Alabama’s red dirt roads but now all I can think about is kicking up their dust I miss the hot sun on the back of my neck and how now the racket of cicadas seems like no sound at all At the end of a school day fore I had to get home and do my chores I could take my time walking just as slow as I pleased without someone pushing past and cutting their eyes like I was a stray dog come asking for scraps The school bell rings loud and I remember I’m a long way from Alabama dirt roads and slow walking I grab my satchel and make my way fast down the stairs through the school yard past block after block of the cracked sidewalks of Chicago’s South Side I step quick past Binga State Bank the Jackson Funeral Home and Saul’s Butcher Shop with rows of baloney lined up in the window like a curtain I wish it were home I was rushing to Instead I’m hurrying to get as far away as I can from Haines Junior High School I sidestep a group of loud talking women outside the Luxe Beauty Parlor and a tired old man with round shoulders Just

Finding Langston — page 3 — like in Alabama folks here are in all shades of brown so many they call this part of Chicago the Black Ghetto or the Black Belt But of all the names this place is called I love the name Bronzeville A place filled with people each one some color of bronze Finally I reach 4501 Wabash Avenue At my building I sit on the stoop and catch my breath waiting before I have to climb the broke down stairs and walk hallways smelling like two day old garbage and fried onions Waiting alone for Daddy in our kitchenette apartment Landlord calls it an apartment but it ain’t nothing but a room tucked in between and on top of a lot of other rooms Nothing here belongs to us just whoever pays the rent The two beds two old rickety chairs one table the bureau missing a drawer nothing And walls covered by the last tenant with old newspapers to hide the holes When we first moved in I tried to read the headlines but there’s so many layers all I could make out was a few words and pieces of dates July 12 November 7 1945 Didn’t really matter cuz news from a year or two ago ain’t really no news at all This room is so small it feels like I’m being squeezed from all sides Daddy ain’t the best company but ain’t nothing worse than being alone Not used to coming home to an empty house The smell of last night’s dinner and Daddy’s sweaty work clothes hanging in the air Every day I open the door it takes just a minute fore I remember I won’t hear Mama getting getting supper started or hear her humming His eye is on the 2

Finding Langston — page 4 — sparrow and I know He watches me and just a little bit longer to remember I won’t see Mama ever again Our downstairs neighbor comes out her two kids hanging tight to her Looks like she’s got one more on the way The one in her arms is crying so loud I gotta cover my ears Daddy says folks in the North like to keep to themselves so I guess that’s why they never speak I wouldn’t know what to say if they did Been here months now and we still only know one neighbor by name Sometimes I wish we didn’t Miss Fulton comes up the steps struggling with a bag Come help me she says when she sees me sitting Looks like I’ll be going inside after all Her plump hands pass me her bag She lives on the top floor across from us and only time she talks to me is when she’s asking for my help More like telling telling me to help Get over here and I need you to I don’t think she even knows my name In Alabama I was raised on please and thank you Ain’t no way Miss Fulton’s from Alabama Daddy says she’s a teacher in a high school across town Bad as my classroom is I’d hate to be in hers She’s just about my mama’s age just as pretty but she’s as wide as my mama was narrow narrow Her freckled light skin nothing like my mama’s smooth nut brown Mean as my mama was kind And she’s missing Mama’s gap toothed smile Uppity is what folks back home would call her And other words I ain’t got no business thinking Following her up the stairs I can barely see around her wide behind swaying from one side to the other She puffs all 3

3

PAGE 3 OF 108

›

The only kids' eBook subscription service that offers thousands of high-quality books from well known publishers like HarperCollins, National Geographic and others.

JavaScript Required

Whoops! We're sorry but Epic doesn't work properly without JavaScript enabled. Check your web browser's settings to make sure it's enabled.