Under the Green Tree

The wind blew the snow in a sweeping motion on a cold November night, while pedestrians hailed taxicabs on the streets of downtown Rochester, N.Y. Cold winters weren’t uncommon, most of the children enjoyed building a snowman or having snowball fights. The older generation preferred the other three seasons and impatiently waited for spring. The elderly would complain about their arthritis or rheumatism during the cold season; the majority of them stayed inside and hibernated.

On this particular night the snow was about a foot deep and the melted snow had turned into slush. The gutters were clogged, making it difficult for the liquefied snow to drain. Water flooded the streets while the wind made things miserable for the people that were downtown.

Three winos had a fire blazing from a fifty-five gallon steel drum at the corner of one block. They kept themselves warm by holding their hands over the fire and taking an occasional sip out of the bottle disguised in a brown paper bag. The wino’s had long coats and hand-me-down clothes on. Dirty scarves were wrapped around their necks to protect their ears, and their fingers poked out of holey gloves.

An ambulance sped down the street flashing its lights and blasting the siren; clearing a path to the hospital. Some of the cars on the street didn’t give the ambulance due respect by pulling to the side. Steering the ambulance onto the sidewalk was the only choice the driver had to get around the cars. As he made his turn to get back onto the street, he hit the steel drum that the winos were using to keep warm. The winos were startled as they watched their drum tumble into the street. The slushy snow prevented a fire from starting and the ambulance continued it’s high-speed journey.

The ambulance arrived at the hospital. Security guards cleared the entrance of the emergency room, while the ambulance crew brought a woman in on a stretcher. Paramedics forcefully opened the doors and perspiration dripped from the woman’s face, as she burned with the intense pain of her labor. She grabbed the arm of one of the paramedics and began to squeeze while her moaning became louder. The agonizing pain was unbearable!

The doctor on duty was calm; it seemed like this was his millionth time he had delivered a baby. After putting on his rubber gloves he instructed the paramedics where to take the woman. He tried to console her during his examination, but she was close to ten centimeters, so he immediately came to the conclusion that it was time to deliver the baby.

A smack on the butt and a baby’s scream filled the delivery room. The woman exhaled, displaying relief now that her son had exited her womb. The doctor handed the baby to the nurse; she began to clean the after-birth from the infant’s body. He explained to the woman that everything went well and she should try to get some rest. While walking away he displayed the attitude of just having another day on the job, however; the glow on the woman’s face expressed how happy and relieved she was. The doctor stopped at the door; he turned around and smiled at the woman, saying "congratulations." His smile was evidence that he was proud to have been a part of the miraculous work of God.

Returning the smile, the new mother said "thank you." Then she turned to her side, positioning herself to receive the infant from the nurse. She could hardly wait to hold the baby that had been doing somersaults inside of her for the past eight months. After cleaning the after-birth from the newborn, the nurse handed him to the woman. It seemed like she was trying to eliminate any doubts to the infant’s fresh mind who his mother was. The woman smiled as she gazed into the eyes of her newborn son. His round brown eyes stared back at her, watching her lips move, but unable to comprehend.

"You look so clean and pure," she said. "You are a clean looking baby boy. I don’t think Clean Boy would be a good name for you; the kids in school will just pick at you. Perhaps if I write the two words together it will sound better?" The woman reached over to the nightstand at the side of the bed to get a pen and a piece of paper. She then started to write other names for the baby; however, Clean Boy was the name with the most significant impact to her.

Taking the first four letters of the word ‘clean’ and the first two letters of the word ‘boy,’ she formed the name Cleabo. Cleabo Jones was the baby’s name. It was an unusual name, but to the woman it was a good name because it had meaning. Names like Larry, Tom or Dick were ordinary and the woman preferred something different for her child. Perhaps she felt that with a different name a different life would accompany the infant? The woman wanted her infant son to have a life unlike her own, which had been filled with pain, sorrow and regrets. She was the owner of a life that explained why she was all alone in the hospital, with no family or friends to share the glorious event of childbirth.

Sara Jones was the woman’s name; she was young and attractive. Her brown eyes and beautiful creamy complexion made her irresistible to men. She was five feet ten, rather tall for a woman. She knew some men found her height to be intimidating, but she felt her height was an advantage. In the nineteen fifties it was typical for a young black woman to have a gold crown on her tooth, and Sara’s left front tooth was no exception.

She turned the heads of many men with her long straight hair and brown eyes. She wore her hair up with a small hat pinned to it; it was the norm for a woman in the fifties. Sara looked polished and glamorous in her business suits. Although, this was Sara’s second baby she still had a beautiful figure. She had a small waistline and a figure eight, or Coca-Cola bottle shape.

Men, congregating like a pack of wolves, couldn’t help themselves from watching Sara when she walked by. Just to tease them, Sara would cross her left foot over her right as she walked and swished her perfectly round rear end. She could always feel their eyes watching her everywhere she would go; everyone would stop and stare. She felt that being attractive could have its rewards and difficulties, and she knew how to handle either.

Most of the women she met displayed signs of being intimidated or jealous of her. When women would compliment her, she was unaware if they were making a pass at her or just being friendly when they said, "Oh, you are so beautiful." She was a proud, positive thinking woman whose goal in life was to be the best mother she could possibly be to her children.