The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963 Read online

  The second reason was that Momma and Dad were always threatening to do stuff to Byron that everybody knew they wouldn’t do. Dad had been keeping a countdown on how many more months it would be before they could force him to join the army, but we knew they wouldn’t do that.

  But the biggest reason Byron and Joey and me thought they’d never send him to Alabama was because we had heard so many horrible stories about how strict Grandma Sands was. The thought of living with her was so terrible that your brain would throw it out as soon as it came in.

  Well, Byron’s brain had better get used to it, we all knew by the way they’d gotten the Bomber ready and by the way Momma’s voice sounded that they meant it this time.

  The big, cool baby finally shut his mouth and ran into the house. He slammed the door as hard as he could and we all heard him say, real clear, the S word.

  Joey said, “Oooh …”

  Dad started to go in after him but Momma said, “Let him go, Daniel, he better get as much of that nonsense out of his system as he can. Grandma Sands won’t be putting up with any of that mess.”

  9. The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963

  That Sunday I got up early. There weren’t any cartoons on then but it was always fun to wake up and not have to worry about going to school.

  When I got into the living room I was surprised to see the front door open. I looked outside and saw Dad sitting in the Brown Bomber. I guess he was listening to records because he had his arm across the seat and was beating his hand up and down like it was a drum.

  I ran back upstairs to the bedroom and changed out of my pajamas. I peeked out of the bedroom window to make sure Dad hadn’t left. He was still in the car so I ran downstairs and through the front door. I remembered and caught the screen just before it slammed.

  I tapped on the window and Dad turned and smiled at me, then pointed to the passenger side for me to get in. I ran around the car and climbed in.

  “Hey, Kenny.”

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “How’d you sleep?”

  “O.K., I guess.”

  “Go on in and get ‘Yakety Yak’ and sit with me for a while.”

  “That’s O.K., I’ll just listen to what you’re playing.”

  We listened to a couple of jive songs and then I said, “Dad, does Byron really have to go to Alabama? Couldn’t we just drive down to about Ohio and pretend we’re going to leave him to scare him?”

  Dad looked at me and smiled kind of slow. He reached over and turned the Ultra-Glide down a little bit. “Kenneth, I know you’re going to miss Byron, we all will, but son, there are some things that Byron has to learn and he’s not learning them in Flint, and the things he is learning are things we don’t want him to. Do you understand?”

  “No.”

  Dad turned the Ultra-Glide down a little more. He looked like he was thinking whether or not he should tell me something. He was looking straight at me, and even though it was real hard, I looked right back at him.

  I tried to look real intelligent and I guess it worked ’cause finally Dad said, “Kenny, we’ve put a lot of thought into this. I know you’ve seen on the news what’s happening in some parts of the South, right?”

  We’d seen the pictures of a bunch of really mad white people with twisted-up faces screaming and giving dirty finger signs to some little Negro kids who were trying to go to school. I’d seen the pictures but I didn’t really know how these white people could hate some kids so much.

  “I’ve seen it.” I didn’t have to tell Dad I didn’t understand.

  “Well, a lot of times that’s going to be the way of the world for you kids. Byron is getting old enough to have to understand that his time for playing is running out fast, he’s got to realize the world doesn’t have a lot of jokes waiting for him. He’s got to be ready.”

  Dad looked at me again to make sure I was understanding. I nodded.

  “Grandma Sands says it’s quiet down where they are, but we think it’s time Byron got an idea of the kind of place the world can be, and maybe spending some time down South will help open his eyes.”

  I nodded my head again.

  “Momma and I are very worried because there’re so many things that can go wrong to a young person and Byron seems bound and determined to find every one of them.

  “Now, do you really understand why we’re sending Byron to Birmingham?”

  “I think so, Dad.”

  “Good, because, Kenny, we’ve done all we can and it seems the temptations are just too much for By here in Flint. So hopefully, the slower pace in Alabama will help him by removing some of those temptations. Hopefully he can see that there comes a time to let all of the silliness go. By’ll be back, maybe at the end of the summer, maybe next year. It’s completely in his own hands now.”

  I loved when Dad talked to me like I was grown-up. I didn’t really understand half the junk he was saying, but it sure did feel good to be talked to like that!

  It’s times like this when someone is talking to you like you are a grown-up that you have to be careful not to pick your nose or dig your drawers out of your butt.

  “O.K., Dad, thanks.” He smiled again, turned the Ultra-Glide back up and ran his hand over my head.

  Some of the time when you think about being a grown-up it gets to be kind of scary. I couldn’t figure out how Momma and Dad knew how to take care of things. I couldn’t figure out how they knew what to do with Byron.

  “Dad?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever know what to do when I’m a grown-up. It seems like you and Momma know a lot of things that I can never learn. It seems real scary. I don’t think I could ever be as good a parent as you guys.”

  Dad turned the Ultra-Glide back down. “Kenny, do you remember when we used to go on drives and I’d put you in my lap and let you steer the car?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, does that mean I get to do it on the way to Alabama?”

  “Sure, but that’s not what I meant. Do you remember how big and scary the car seemed to be the first time you were behind the wheel?”

  Dad was right. Even though I knew he was watching everything real close it still was scary to steer the Brown Bomber.

  “Well, that’s what being a grown-up is like. At first it’s scary but then before you realize, with a lot of practice, you have it under control. Hopefully you’ll have lots of time to practice being grown-up before you actually have to do it.”

  This was making sense to me.

  “And as far as you being a good parent, don’t worry. You’ll learn from the mistakes your mother and I make, just like we learned from the mistakes our parents made. I don’t have a single doubt that you and Byron and Joey will be much better parents than your mother and I ever were.” Dad stopped talking for a second. “Besides, some of the time we don’t think we’ve done such a good job. But you’re right, Kenneth, it can be scary, and it gets a lot scarier when you see you’re responsible for three little lives. A lot scarier.”

  I waited to see if Dad was going to talk to me like this anymore but he turned the music back up. We listened to his junk a little more, and then I said, “Dad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve got one more question.”

  He turned the Ultra-Glide down a little again and gave me his serious look. “What do you want to know, Kenny?”

  “Is it too late to go get ‘Yakety Yak’?”

  Dad laughed and sent me in to get it. I had to promise to play it only three times, though.

  After the third time I asked, “Dad, why did you buy this record player? Don’t they have radio stations in Alabama?”

  “Sure they do, lots of them, but you see, once you get south of Cincinnati the only kind of radio station you can get is hillbilly music. And you won’t believe this, but if you listen to any kind of music long enough, first you get accustomed to it and then you learn to like it.

  “Now, your mother and I made a deal when we first got married that
if either one of us ever watched the ‘wunnerful, wunnerful’ Lawrence Welk Show or listened to country music the other one got to get a free divorce. I’m kind of used to your mother and I don’t want to have her dump me, so instead of taking the chance I would get hooked on hillbilly music I thought it would be wise to bring our own sounds along with us.”

  Even though this made sense to me, Momma didn’t buy it, and for the next week, while we were getting everything set for going to Alabama, she kept reminding Dad how much the Ultra-Glide cost and how it messed up all the plans she’d written in her notebook.

  Me and Joey were in the living room playing when Momma and our neighbor Mrs. Davidson came in.

  “Hello, Joetta. Hello, Kenneth.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Davidson.”

  I noticed right away that she had something behind her back. She said, “Since I won’t be seeing you for a while I thought I’d give you something so you wouldn’t forget about me, sweetheart.” She stuck a box out toward Joey.

  I could kill Joey the way she opened presents. Instead of ripping the wrapping paper off she hunted around to find each piece of tape, then peeled it off real careful. It took her about two days to get all the paper off and open the box. Joey finally held up her present.

  I didn’t think Mrs. Davidson noticed but I could tell there was something that Joey wasn’t too happy about. She looked at Momma real quick and Momma looked at her, then Joey said, “Thank you very much, Mrs. Davidson.”

  Momma smiled.

  Mrs. Davidson took the present from Joey and handed it to Momma. “See, Wilona, it’s just like I told you. Look at that smile! The minute I saw it it reminded me of Joetta! Is that her smile or what? In fact, do you know what I named this angel?”

  Joey pretended she was stupid and said, “No, Mrs. Davidson.”

  “I’ve named her after my favorite little girl, this angel’s name is Joetta!”

  I went over for a closer look. Mrs. Davidson had bought Joey a little angel that was kind of chubby and had big wings and a halo made out of straw. The only thing about its smile that looked like Joey to me was that the angel had a great big dimple too. It was made out of white clay and it looked like someone had forgotten to paint it. The only thing that had any color on it were its cheeks and its eyes. The cheeks were red and the eyes were blue.

  Mrs. Davidson said, “Ooh, child, give me one more big hug before I go.”

  Joey got up and hugged Mrs. Davidson, then took her angel and said, “I’m going to put her in my room. Thank you, Mrs. Davidson.”

  “You’re welcome, precious.” Mrs. Davidson looked like she was going to cry. We all knew she’d kidnap Joey if she had the chance. She liked her that much.

  When Mrs. Davidson left, Momma went upstairs and into Joey’s room.

  I eavesdropped.

  They were both sitting on Joey’s bed.

  “I was very proud of the way you behaved, Joetta. What was wrong?”

  “That angel, Mommy.”

  “Oh?”

  “Mrs. Davidson said it reminded her of me, but it didn’t look like me at all.”

  Momma looked around the room. “Where’d you put it?”

  “It’s in my socks drawer.”

  Joey was so neat she had a separate drawer for socks.

  Momma went and got the angel and sat next to Joey.

  “Sweetheart, I can see how it reminds her of you. Look at that dimple.”

  “But Mommy, it’s white.”

  Momma laughed. “Well, honey, I can’t say it isn’t, but an angel’s an angel, what do you think?”

  “Maybe, but I know that angel’s name isn’t Joetta Watson.”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t hurt Mrs. Davidson’s feelings. Keep the angel around, you might get to like it. Where do you want me to put it?”

  “Back under the socks.”

  Momma laughed.

  The only one who didn’t do anything to get ready to go to Alabama was Byron. He acted like nothing was going to happen, even though Momma got a bunch of our clothes together and put them in suitcases.

  The smelly green pine tree was hung from the rearview mirror and all the lists and figuring were done, but Byron acted like he didn’t notice. Even after a few more yelling phone calls were made to Alabama, Daddy Cool just kept being cool.

  Byron didn’t even get nervous when Momma packed a whole bunch of food in the giant green cooler we borrowed from the Johnsons. After all of this stuff it was finally the night before we were supposed to leave.

  We’d just got in bed. Byron was up in his bunk and I was down in mine. I was so excited that I was talking a mile a minute, but I was talking to myself. Byron wouldn’t answer or anything. There was a knock at our bedroom door.

  “Come in.”

  It was Momma and Dad. Momma said, “Lights out, Kenneth. Byron, you come with us.”

  “What for?”

  “We thought since this was the last night you were going to be spending in Flint for a while that you might like to sleep in our room tonight.”

  “You thought what?” Byron had a way of saying stuff in a few words that made it seem like he was saying a whole bunch more.

  “Come on, By, you’re bunking with us tonight,” Dad said.

  “Awww, man …”

  Byron jumped out of the top bunk and gave me his Death Stare.

  I just shrugged.

  I guess the grapevine had gotten back to Momma and Dad that By was going to make a prison break tonight before he got transferred to Alabama. He thought I was the snitch but it was Joey.

  She knew if Momma and Dad got up in the morning and Byron had flown the coop that he’d really be a dead man when they finally recaptured him, so I guess she saved his life by snitching. But By sure didn’t appreciate it.

  I sneaked out of bed after Momma and Dad arrested Byron. I was too excited to sleep and too excited to read. I looked out of the window at the Brown Bomber and couldn’t believe it was going to take us all the way to Alabama.

  The trip didn’t become real to us until nine in the morning when we were in the car waving good-bye to Rufus and heading toward I-75, a road that runs all the way from Flint to Florida. One road!

  We weren’t even on the expressway before Momma started reading out of her notebook telling us everything that was planned for the next three days.

  “Day One, today. We leave Flint and drive for three hundred miles in about five or five and a half hours, that will take us to Cincinnati.”

  Three hundred miles in one day! It just didn’t seem like that could be done. Me and Joey shook our heads. Byron looked out of the window.

  “In Cincinnati we’ll get a room in a motel. We brought plenty of blankets so you kids will be able to sleep on the floor.”

  Me and Joey cheered. We’d never been in a motel before. Byron just kept looking out of the window.

  “Day Two, tomorrow. Now your Daddy and this car both aren’t as young as they used to be so we don’t want to push either one of them too hard.” Dad looked shocked.

  “So we rise and shine real early in the morning and drive for two hundred and fifty miles in about five or six hours. That should put us right outside of Knoxville, Tennessee. Mr. Johnson says that there are some clean, safe rest stops there so we can spend the night in the car. If that’s true we’ll stay there, if not we’ll have to see if we can find a motel room in Knoxville.

  “Day Three, Monday. This is going to be a tough day for your daddy because he’s gonna have to drive for more than six hours. After we leave Knoxville we’ve got about three hundred miles to go. If we leave early enough we’ll be pulling in to home about three in the afternoon.” Momma turned the page in her notebook.

  “We’re gonna be able to stop once a day on the way down for hamburgers and once a day on the way back.”

  Me and Joey cheered again at this news. Byron acted like he didn’t hear.

  “Now, if we sleep in the car outside Knoxville we can stop one more bonus time coming
and going, otherwise the cooler in the trunk is full of chicken, soda pop, potato salad, sandwiches and fruit for the whole trip down. I’m sure Grandma Sands will have everything set for the way back.”

  I thought about it for a minute, then asked, “Momma, how come we don’t just drive until Dad gets tired, then stop?”

  Dad did an imitation of a hillbilly accent. “ ’Cuz, boy, this he-uh is the deep South you-all is gonna be drivin’ thoo. Y’all colored folks cain’t be jes’ pullin’ up tuh any ol’ way-uh an be ’spectin’ tuh get no room uh no food, yuh heah, boy? I said yuh heah what I’m sayin’, boy?”

  Me and Joey laughed again, and even Byron kind of smiled. This only encouraged Dad to say some more Southern-style stuff.

  “Y’all didn’t know that, boy? Whas a mattah wit’ choo, you thank this he-uh is Uhmurica?”

  Momma had everything planned about the trip, everything!

  Where we’d eat, when we’d eat, who got baloney sandwiches on Day One, who got tuna fish on Day Two, who got peanut butter and jelly on Day Three. She’d figured out how long we could hold ourselves between going to the bathroom, how much money we’d spend on hamburgers, how much was for any emergencies, everything. She’d figured out who’d get the windows on each day and who was responsible for keeping paper and junk from piling up in the car.

  When she finished reading all that stuff to us I asked her if I could look at the notebook. She handed it to me and I saw written on the cover in big, black letters, “The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963.” She’d even drawn a picture of a flower with a big, fat, stupid bird trying to land on it. Man, Momma sure is a bad artist!

  “Why is this bird trying to land on a flower, Momma?”

  Dad cracked up. “Ooh, Kenneth, I asked her the same thing and she was highly offended.”

  Momma said, “That’s a bee, not a bird!”

  I guess if you squinted up your eyes it might look like a bee, but not too much.

  Momma’d also gone to the library to look up stuff about every state we’d travel through. We heard a bunch of boring junk about the expressway—how many years it took to finish it, how many miles long it was, how much it cost to build it, how it ran all the way from the Upper Peninsula in Michigan to Florida, all kinds of thrilling news. The only thing that was a little bit interesting was how many people got killed and hurt making the road. You never would think putting an expressway down was so dangerous.