No Longer Bound

I am from a family of fourteen children and twelve are still living. One child was lost as a result of a miscarriage my mother had. A second child, my brother Sammy passed away at six months old on a cold wintery night. He froze to death. My sister (who actually found him the next morning) I don’t believe that she has ever really recovered from that event. I believe the only obituary we had about Sammy’s funeral was a book marker with his name and a few words on it with the Lord’s Prayer. If I’m not mistaken she still possesses that today. My sister was just a kid herself. We never had heat or hot running water in our house. My mother said she was going to get some milk and didn’t return home for days. The neighbors called the welfare people which were social services to come and take all of us away, as I remember back then, there weren’t many places to put eight black children, instead God worked on our side. Social Workers worked hard to get heat and water turned on (no hot water heater) but still water. This was just another weekend shocker! Now still surviving are six girls and six boys. I am the ninth child, I believe of the twelve. . Out of the boys, I know four of my brothers. One was adopted at a young age and the other one lived with his dad and their family. I have only seen him once when I was about ten years old. He came for a weekend visit to my real mom’s house. He was in town from Las Vegas. As he approached the porch we ran into the house to tell our mother there was someone in the yard that looked like a white man, she went to the door and saw him, then said, “Oh, honey, that’s ya’lls brother”. Well, I was about to faint! There was something I apparently missed along the way! All I remember is that he was a very handsome young man and had a beautiful kid with him named Shone, my nephew. We all had different fathers, except two siblings that had the same father we believe. As I write this book, it has evoked so many memories. Years before I left to live with my dad and stepmom, I have some memories that triggers thoughts of my mom, other “stepdads”, “uncles” and whomever else were there, drunk, falling over, fighting on the front porch, neighbors watching as my sister and I, along with some brothers would go down the hill to some other neighbors house. Sometimes we got to sleep in their house on the floor, sometimes they wouldn’t answer, so we would find an abandoned car or truck and sleep in it. I remember some nights we were so hungry and cold we’d go looking for my mom and step dad, “Mr. Blue.” We would go to the local cafés and find them. They were drinking and partying all night. Often times four or five of us kids would go into “Ms. Tigers” or Tully’s café and ask my mother and her men friends for money to eat. They were cross eyed and drunk so they would give us any money they had. They were so out of it they really knew nothing that was going on around them. I still can smell the “corn whiskey” and “Schlitz beer.” I also remember once we went around the corner to Mrs. Emma’s house. Her husband “CJ” was home that night and was intoxicated. She still tried to help us. I think there were five or six of us asking her if we could stay. She snuck us in her house under the bed in another room. Just as we tried to sleep, “CJ” began to beat her! We wanted to help so bad, but hungry and exhausted we just lay under the bed and slept. I remember crying silently. I just wanted to eat and sleep in peace for once. The next morning she woke us up and rushed us out of the house. There were some nights; my mom would lie down as if she was going to stay home. I remember one particular night I got to lay with her in bed. I slept at the bottom of her bed. I recall holding on to her ankle in hopes that if she tried to leave I’d feel her move and wake up. Well, she left and I was tired and sound asleep. I remember it was about 2 A. M. and I jumped up looking for my mom and my siblings, but everyone was gone. They had all left the house and me alone. I screamed so loud and cried so hard. I was scared to death, so I ran outside still screaming, one of my brothers heard me and ran up the hill to get me. I recall hearing dogs howling that night. The rhapsodic of my fear was intense. As I reminisce on the past, the pain is like yesterday. I recall days being very hungry not knowing where or how we’d eat. I remember Mr. “Casey” and Mrs. Ann Casey. They were the owners of the local café nearby. Often times they would save the scraps from their rush hour lunch and dinner and place them in a bag and send them to my mother by us. The scraps consisted of chicken “necks, backs, liver and gizzards”. My mother would cook them up and serve with rice and butter if we had butter. The Casey’s were good people. They really tried to help, often times it was difficult for them to run a business and give food away but yet still they did. I would work for them sometimes cleaning their house, help run their laundry mat and Mrs. Casey would pay me on weekends. Sometimes that was the highlight of my weekend just to work and earn a buck or two for food.