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With the Might of Angels
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DEAR AMERICA
The Diary of
Dawnie Rae Johnson
With the Might of Angels
ANDREA DAVIS PINKNEY
This book is dedicated to the legacies of
Thurgood Marshall and George E. Bragg.
Contents
Cover
Title page
Hadley, Virginia 1954
Tuesday, May 18, 1954
Wednesday, May 19, 1954
Thursday, May 20, 1954
Saturday, May 22, 1954
Monday, May 24, 1954
After Suppertime
Tuesday, May 25, 1954
Wednesday, May 26, 1954
Thursday, May 27, 1954
Saturday, May 29, 1954
Sunday, May 30, 1954
Tuesday, June 1, 1954
Wednesday, June 2, 1954
Thursday, June 3, 1954
Friday, June 4, 1954 Before Bed
Saturday, June 5, 1954
Sunday, June 6, 1954
Monday, June 7, 1954
Tuesday, June 8, 1954
Thursday, June 10, 1954Late night
Friday, June 11, 1954
Later
Saturday, June 12, 1954
Sunday, June 13, 1954
Saturday, June 19, 1954
Tuesday, June 22, 1954
Saturday, June 26, 1954
Tuesday, June 29, 1954
Sunday, July 4, 1954
Saturday, July 10, 1954
Monday, July 12, 1954
Later–Full Morning
Thursday, July 15, 1954
Monday, July 19, 1954
Thursday, July 22, 1954
Monday, July 26, 1954
Wednesday, July 28, 1954
Saturday, July 31, 1954
Sunday, August 1, 1954
Wednesday, August 4, 1954
Monday, August 9, 1954
Monday, August 16, 1954
Wednesday, August 18, 1954
Saturday, August 21, 1954
Sunday, August 22, 1954
Thursday, August 26, 1954
Monday, August 30, 1954
Friday, September 3, 1954
Saturday, September 4, 1954
Monday, September 6, 1954
Tuesday, September 7, 1954
Later – the in-between
Wednesday, September 8, 1954
Thursday, September 9, 1954
Friday, September 10, 1954
Sunday, September 12, 1954
Monday, September 13, 1954
Thursday, September 16, 1954
Friday, September 17, 1954
Sunday, September 19, 1954
Monday, September 20, 1954
Wednesday, September 22, 1954
Friday, September 24, 1954
Saturday, September 25, 1954
Sunday, September 26, 1954
Monday, September 27, 1954
Evening
Tuesday, September 28, 1954
Wednesday, September 29, 1954
Thursday, September 30, 1954
Friday, October 1, 1954
Saturday, October 2, 1954
Sunday, October 3, 1954
Monday, October 4, 1954
Tuesday, October 5, 1954
Wednesday, October 6, 1954
Later
Thursday, October 7, 1954
Friday, October 8, 1954
Saturday, October 9, 1954
Monday, October 11, 1954
Tuesday, October 12, 1954
Wednesday, October 13, 1954
Thursday, October 14, 1954
Friday, October 15, 1954
Sunday, October 17, 1954
Tuesday, October 19, 1954
Saturday, October 23, 1954
Tuesday, October 26, 1954
Saturday, October 30, 1954
Sunday, October 31, 1954
Monday, November 1, 1954
Tuesday, November 2, 1954
Wednesday, November 3, 1954
Later
Thursday, November 4, 1954
Friday, November 5, 1954
Later
Saturday, November 6, 1954
Monday, November 8, 1954
Wednesday, November 10, 1954
Friday, November 12, 1954
Saturday, November 13, 1954
Monday, November 15, 1954
Tuesday, November 16, 1954
Wednesday, November 17, 1954
Friday, November 19, 1954
Saturday, November 20, 1954
Tuesday, November 23, 1954
Later
Wednesday, November 24, 1954
Thursday, November 25, 1954
Friday, November 26, 1954
Saturday, November 27, 1954
Monday, November 29, 1954
Saturday, December 4, 1954
Sunday, December 5, 1954
Monday, December 6, 1954
Later
Tuesday, December 7, 1954
Thursday, December 9, 1954
Friday, December 10, 1954
Saturday, December 11, 1954
Sunday, December 12, 1954
Monday, December 13, 1954
Tuesday, December 14, 1954
Wednesday, December 15, 1954
Thursday, December 16, 1954
Friday, December 17, 1954
Later
Saturday, December 18, 1954
Sunday, December 19, 1954
Monday, December 20, 1954
Wednesday, December 22, 1954
Friday, December 24, 1954 – Christmas Eve
Saturday, December 25, 1954 – Christmas
Tuesday, December 28, 1954
Wednesday, December 29, 1954
Friday, December 31, 1954
Past Midnight
Saturday, January 1, 1955
Sunday, January 2, 1955
Monday, January 3, 1955
Tuesday, January 4, 1955
Later
Wednesday, January 5, 1955
Thursday, January 6, 1955
Saturday, January 8, 1955
Monday, January 10, 1955
Wednesday, January 12, 1955
Friday, January 14, 1955
Monday, January 17, 1955
Tuesday, January 18, 1955
Wednesday, January 19, 1955 Late Night
Thursday, January 20, 1955
Friday, January 21, 1955
Sunday, January 23, 1955
Wednesday, January 26, 1955
Thursday, January 27, 1955
Later
Friday, January 28, 1955
Monday, January 31, 1955
Tuesday, February 1, 1955
Wednesday, February 2, 1955
Thursday, February 3, 1955
Friday, February 4, 1955
Saturday, February 5, 1955
Monday, February 7, 1955
February –?
Saturday, February 12, 1955
Saturday, February 19, 1955
Sunday, February 20, 1955
Monday, February 21, 1955
Tuesday, February 22, 1955
Later–After supper
Wednesday, February 23, 1955
Thursday, February 24, 1955
Saturday, February 26, 1955
Sunday, February 27, 1955
Monday, February 28, 1955
Tuesday, March 1, 1955
Later
Wednesday, March 2, 1955
Later
Thursday, March 3, 1955
Friday, March 4, 1955
Saturday, March 5, 1955
Sunday, March 6, 1955
Monday, March 7, 1955
Tuesday, March
8, 1955
Thursday, March 10, 1955
Saturday, March 12, 1955
Sunday, March 13, 1955
Monday, March 14, 1955 Early Morning
Later
Wednesday, March 16, 1955
Friday, March 18, 1955
Monday, March 21, 1955
Saturday, March 26, 1955
Tuesday, March 29, 1955
Thursday, March 31, 1955
Later
Friday, April 1, 1955
Wednesday, April 6, 1955
Friday, April 8, 1955
Saturday, April 9, 1955
Sunday, April 10, 1955
Monday, April 11, 1955
Tuesday, April 12, 1955
Wednesday, April 13, 1955
Thursday, April 21, 1955
Friday, April 22, 1955
Saturday, April 23, 1955
Sunday, April 24, 1955
Later
Monday, April 25, 1955
Tuesday, April 26, 1955
Wednesday, April 27, 1955
Later
Thursday, April 28, 1955
Friday, April 29, 1955
Saturday, April 30, 1955
Sunday, May 1, 1955
Monday, May 2, 1955
Tuesday, May 3, 1955
Thursday, May 5, 1955
Saturday, May 7, 1955
Monday, May 9, 1955
Wednesday, May 11, 1955
Wednesday, May 18, 1955
Epilogue
Life in America in 1954
Historical Note
Real People Mentioned in Dawnie Rae’s Diary
About Negro History Week
Civil Rights Timeline
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Other books in the Dear America series
Copyright
Hadley, Virginia
1954
Tuesday, May 18, 1954
Diary Book,
It’s early, before the sun even knows she’s got sleep in her eyes. With the way the heat is already rising, Mama will no doubt say this morning is as hot as the day I was born.
Folks in Lee County still talk about me coming into this world. “Someday you’ll put it in a book,” Daddy likes to say.
Well, thanks to Goober, I now have a book to write in.
The best way to tell about something is from the beginning. Even in a diary book that’s private, and for my eyes only, it’s good for me to write about myself from the start — to claim this book as really, truly mine. In case anyone ever finds my diary, they’ll know about me.
Mama said I was born right as the new day was dawning. Came into this world during the “in-between,” when night is changing to day, when morning starts to roll out like a pie crust. That’s why Mama and Daddy named me Dawn, after the in-between.
When Mama cradled me for the first time, she put my name to a song. “Dawnie, Dawnie, sweet potato pie.”
The nickname stuck — Dawnie.
My middle name, Rae, is the name Mama had before she married Daddy. She was Loretta Rae then. She’s Loretta Johnson now, the name of Daddy’s people, and my name, too. Dawnie Rae Johnson.
When I was born, I came on strong like the sun, and, Mama says, “Loudest baby to ever cry in Hadley Hospital.”
“You were shouting good news,” says Daddy. “You’ve been blessed with the gift of gab ever since.”
One thing about being born when the sun’s about to rise — and being named after that time of day—is that I always beat the morning. When my eyes are wide open, the sun is still deciding to sleep for five minutes more.
This morning when I woke, I was hard-pressed to wait even five minutes for anything. The first chorus of bullfinches were welcoming May with their song. Seems those happy birds knew it was my birthday. And thanks to Goober, my celebrating had already started.
As soon as I felt this hard, flat square pressing up through my pillow, I knew Goober had done something special. Goober is some little brother. He can sure rattle me plenty, but he knows how to make me happy, too. Only eight years old, and full of surprises. During the morning’s in-between, I yanked this diary book out from under my half-’sleep head.
When I got to the kitchen, I was all smiles. Goober was there with Mama and Daddy. He’d lined up his peanut shells along the edge of our kitchen table, nose-to-tail, in a parade.
Most likely it was Goober who’d propped my pogo stick on one side of my chair, and my baseball bat on the other.
Goober spotted the book in my hand right off.
“Dawnie,” he said, “I made it for you special. It’s a diary for your birthday.”
Special is sure right. This diary is small and square, and put together like two slices of dark toast pressed into a sandwich. Its spine has been sewn with thick twine. The pages are rough at the edges, but there are plenty of them for writing. I named my birthday gift as soon as I held it — Diary Book. Thick as a brick, and sure hefty. Lots of gristle on this book’s bones. Just like me.
At breakfast, I ran my fingers along my diary’s bumpy spine.
“You made this?” I said to Goober.
“Mama helped me,” Goober said.
“We know how much you like to write.” Mama looked as proud as Goober.
Goober rocked in his chair, set the chair’s back legs up to tilting. Then he handed me another gift: a new red pencil, with a plump eraser.
“For the bestest sister,” Goober said.
“You’re the bestest, Goober,” I said, then hugged him. “Thank you.”
I sure don’t know why people say Goober is slow. I think he’s as regular as anybody, only different in certain ways. Mama’s tried to explain it to me, but I have a hard time understanding. “Your brother’s one of God’s beautiful creatures. You came here with the gift of talk. Goober’s gift is that he sees the world in his own way.”
There’s nothing wrong with Goober’s eyesight. Sometimes he won’t look at you when he speaks. But my brother can no doubt see fine.
Some kids say Goober’s addle-brained. Others say he’s touched in the head, or a simpleton. To me, Goober’s just special.
My little brother’s given name is Gunther Johnson. But the boy loves peanuts, so we’ve been forever calling him Goober. Most days his pockets bulge with peanuts and their shells. His skin is the same brown as a peanut, too. “And he’s just as pudgy.” My daddy always winks when he says this.
Daddy works nights mostly, hauling and loading milk casks and cheese crates from the backs of trucks at Sutter’s Dairy, the biggest dairy supply in all of Lee County.
Daddy leaves for work after supper, returns right before morning, eats breakfast with us, then reads his stack of newspapers before he sleeps. This morning, like always, Daddy was deep in his reading. Didn’t look up once. That’s Daddy. He reads like words on a page are the tastiest plate of grits ever.
“You get that from him, Dawnie,” Mama says. “The two of you read faster than drinking root beer through a straw. And you, child, take in book learning just as quickly.”
Mama’s right. At school I’m quicker than most kids.
Daddy can’t get enough of his newspapers and magazines. He stacks them all next to his coffee cup — Look, an NAACP journal called The Crisis, and our local paper, the Hadley Register. Daddy even somehow gets his hands on that Northerner newspaper the New York Times.
This morning when I sat down, Daddy took a break from his breakfast reading. The little smile playing in his eyes told me a surprise was brewing. He studied me for a long moment. “Happy birthday, Dawnie.”
Then he pushed that New York paper under my nose. “Here, child.”
He was eager to show me the front-page headline. “Clip this for your new diary.”
I looked carefully.
Daddy told me to read what I saw. He said, “Speak loud enough to scare some pigeons.”
I read slowly, pressing each word into the warm morning air.
Se
ems Mama already knew the news.
Didn’t take her but a minute to hand me a pair of scissors from her sewing basket and a tin of paste from her craft bin.
“Make your birthday book look pretty,” Goober said.
Nobody even had to tell me what to do. I knew right off why those scissors and paste brush were suddenly in my hands.
I’ve carefully glued the headline right here as a memory of the day I turned twelve.
HIGH COURT BANS
SCHOOL SEGREGATION;
9-TO-O DECISION
GRANTS TIME
TO COMPLY
Washington, May 17
Wednesday, May 19, 1954
Diary Book,
I want to tell you everything. I could write all night about today, but Mama has already given me two warnings. “Dawnie, lights off. It’s past nine o’clock!”
At school, kids and teachers were talking about integration, and what it said in that New York paper. I even heard our principal, Mr. Calhoun, say, “An ice storm will fall on the tropics before any white folks let us into their schools.”
I could write more, but Mama’s calling for the third time. “Dawnie, turn off that light!” I’ll put you under my pillow where I first found you. You can share the spot with my birthday candle, the last one to lose its flame from my blowing. Mama says the final candle to go out is the one that makes your wish come true.
I’ll be back at you soon, Diary Book.
Catch you during the in-between.
Thursday, May 20, 1954
Diary Book,
Today Yolanda and me didn’t come right home after school, like we’re supposed to. I mean, this is my birthday week, and I did make a wish on the candles Mama had put on my cake at supper on Tuesday. I didn’t need those candles for wishing, though. I’ve had the same wish for as long as I can remember — to see the inside of Prettyman Coburn, Hadley’s white school.
Mama and Daddy have told me time and again that I am never to go to the white part of town without them.
Daddy once said, “If I ever get wind of you going over there, your behind will wonder if it can grow skin again.”
But I wasn’t really going to be in the white part of town, I was just passing by the white part of town so that I could see Prettyman.
Yolanda and me took the long way home. Really, it wasn’t even on the way home, but it was long. Truth be told (since this is my diary, I can be honest), Prettyman is way on the other side of Hadley, nowhere near to where we live.
By walking the main streets, it takes just about one whole hour to walk the two miles to Prettyman from our neighborhood. It’s less than half that time when you take shortcuts.