Читать книгу Becoming a Counselor - Samuel Gladding T., Samuel T. Gladding - Страница 19

The South I grew up in was blatantly segregated. Jim Crow laws ruled society and the Ku Klux Klan was active, especially outside of cities like Decatur. Yet Blacks and Whites spoke to each other and worked for or with each other within the confines of the written and unspoken rules of society. My first exposure to this interaction came during the spring when my dad hired an older Black man to come plow his garden. Will Lee was his name. Each year he came to our house around late March or early April riding in the wagon that his mule pulled. At first his journey was short because he lived in a Black settlement up Church Street between the Decatur Cemetery and the First Methodist Church. However, later he and his community were forced to move about 3 or 4 miles south of the city limits. Therefore, when he came to plow, his mule-driven wagon inevitably had several cars backed up behind it. Neither Will nor his mule seemed too concerned. Of course, the mule had blinders on, and Will was focused on the road.

It took most of the day to plow the garden. My mother would always fix Will a hot lunch, which she served him as he sat at our breakroom table. I thought it a bit odd that anyone would want a hot lunch, as I always ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the noonday meal.

On several occasions my father took my brother, my sister, and me to Will’s house when he rode out to ask Will to plow his garden. Will’s house did not have a phone, so going to see him directly was the only way my dad could employ him. Will lived by himself, although I had the impression he had once been married and had grown children. His house was well below modest. It was a work in progress. The walls of his main room were covered in newspaper, probably for insulation. He had a bedroom off the main room, but I think his bathroom may have been a privy outside. The only other things I noted were a potbelly stove for heating and cooking and kerosene lights.

As a child I initially thought Will’s life seemed neat. Now I realize how poor and discriminated against he was. His world was confined. He had virtually no hope of rising above where he was. I doubt he was content with his life, but he was accepting because he did not have a choice. I am sure he was glad to get jobs like the ones my dad gave him. I wish it could have been different and wish, in retrospect, that I had truly seen what was happening under Jim Crow and had the power to fix it.