Read Online Legend of Buddy Bush (9781439131824) by Shelia P. Moses - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shelia P. Moses
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door and leaves the queenâs chair in its place. I believe this is what Uncle Buddy meant when he said, âA lady always knows when to leave a room.â
âWhite folks tell all of colored folksâ business!â Grandma says loud enough for Mr. Wilson to hear as she slams the door in his face.
I want to tell Grandma that I just read that the NAACP is calling coloreds Negroes now. But sheainât going to listen. She says Iâm not old enough to tell her nothing but the time. If she only knew what I just saw back at the jailhouse, maybe I can get some respect around here. I have just seen some real grown folksâ mess. I sure did.
I donât say a word as we get into Mr. Charlieâs car after Mr. Wilson load our six bags. Four for Grandma and Grandpa and two for Ma and me. Grandma and I climb in and Miss Doleebuck climbs out of the backseat. Miss Doleebuck never rides in the front seat because she says she feels better in the back. That means she doesnât think Mr. Charlie is a good driver. Mr. Charlie tells Grandpa and me that he doesnât care where she sits as long as she doesnât open her mouth. Not one word.
Miss Doleebuck is dressed like she is going to church. If she is going to Jones Property, she dresses the same way. Always in a nice dress with a hat. In the summer, her hats have fresh flowers from her garden on them. In the winter, they have all kinds of berries on them. Her hats are mighty pretty on her long white braids and her tan skin.Uncle Buddy told me she got Indian blood. Grandma found out that he told me that mess and she told him to shut up talking about what kind of blood Miss Doleebuck got.
âGood-bye, Miss Doleebuck,â I yell from the backseat.
âGood-bye, grandbaby,â she yells back as she kisses Grandma like she always does. If these two women see each other ten times a day, they kiss and hug. Just kiss, kiss, hug, and hug.
Mr. Charlie waves to his controlling wife and Miss Doleebuck marches into the store to terrorize poor Mr. Wilson some more.
Grandma hardly murmurs a word all the way home. She is still mad at Mr. Wilson for getting in colored folksâ business and Mr. Charlie knows something has happened. But he ainât paying one bit of attention to her silence as he singing his favorite song. I join in with him as he sings âAmazing Graceâ loud enough not to hear Grandma huffing and puffing. I make up my mind at this moment that as soon as I am old enough I am going to learn to huff and puff, too. Not only that, Iam going to get my driverâs license so that I can drive myself to town. I bet Grandpa and Mr. Charlie will think Iâm controlling, too, when I have my driverâs license. I look out the window and sing louder.
Just think, when Iâm riding to New York I will see lots of cars and highway, not cotton and field workers.
I sing louder and donât look at Grandma who is trying to give me the âShut upâ look through the rearview mirror. Iâm not going to look. Iâm not going to look at her. She wants to control me, just like Mr. Charlie and Grandpa were talking about on the front porch last week.
I only look in the front seat long enough to see Mr. Charlie laughing to himself at Grandma in her control mood. The truth is, she is mad and she is worried about Grandpa and Uncle Buddy. She is ready to get home.
âDrive a little faster, Charlie.â
âNow, Babe, you just sit tight. We will be home soon.â
Poor Mr. Charlie speeds up and as soon as weturn on Rehobeth Road, a stray dog is running towards the car. Lord, we miss that poor dog by an inch. Mr. Charlie hits his brakes, causing Grandma to grab the dashboard with one hand and somehow reach into the backseat to hold me down with the other hand.
âHold on, Babe,â Mr. Charlie sings in the same breath with âHow sweet the sound.â
They both singing âLord, have mercy!â at the same time. I
âWhite folks tell all of colored folksâ business!â Grandma says loud enough for Mr. Wilson to hear as she slams the door in his face.
I want to tell Grandma that I just read that the NAACP is calling coloreds Negroes now. But sheainât going to listen. She says Iâm not old enough to tell her nothing but the time. If she only knew what I just saw back at the jailhouse, maybe I can get some respect around here. I have just seen some real grown folksâ mess. I sure did.
I donât say a word as we get into Mr. Charlieâs car after Mr. Wilson load our six bags. Four for Grandma and Grandpa and two for Ma and me. Grandma and I climb in and Miss Doleebuck climbs out of the backseat. Miss Doleebuck never rides in the front seat because she says she feels better in the back. That means she doesnât think Mr. Charlie is a good driver. Mr. Charlie tells Grandpa and me that he doesnât care where she sits as long as she doesnât open her mouth. Not one word.
Miss Doleebuck is dressed like she is going to church. If she is going to Jones Property, she dresses the same way. Always in a nice dress with a hat. In the summer, her hats have fresh flowers from her garden on them. In the winter, they have all kinds of berries on them. Her hats are mighty pretty on her long white braids and her tan skin.Uncle Buddy told me she got Indian blood. Grandma found out that he told me that mess and she told him to shut up talking about what kind of blood Miss Doleebuck got.
âGood-bye, Miss Doleebuck,â I yell from the backseat.
âGood-bye, grandbaby,â she yells back as she kisses Grandma like she always does. If these two women see each other ten times a day, they kiss and hug. Just kiss, kiss, hug, and hug.
Mr. Charlie waves to his controlling wife and Miss Doleebuck marches into the store to terrorize poor Mr. Wilson some more.
Grandma hardly murmurs a word all the way home. She is still mad at Mr. Wilson for getting in colored folksâ business and Mr. Charlie knows something has happened. But he ainât paying one bit of attention to her silence as he singing his favorite song. I join in with him as he sings âAmazing Graceâ loud enough not to hear Grandma huffing and puffing. I make up my mind at this moment that as soon as I am old enough I am going to learn to huff and puff, too. Not only that, Iam going to get my driverâs license so that I can drive myself to town. I bet Grandpa and Mr. Charlie will think Iâm controlling, too, when I have my driverâs license. I look out the window and sing louder.
Just think, when Iâm riding to New York I will see lots of cars and highway, not cotton and field workers.
I sing louder and donât look at Grandma who is trying to give me the âShut upâ look through the rearview mirror. Iâm not going to look. Iâm not going to look at her. She wants to control me, just like Mr. Charlie and Grandpa were talking about on the front porch last week.
I only look in the front seat long enough to see Mr. Charlie laughing to himself at Grandma in her control mood. The truth is, she is mad and she is worried about Grandpa and Uncle Buddy. She is ready to get home.
âDrive a little faster, Charlie.â
âNow, Babe, you just sit tight. We will be home soon.â
Poor Mr. Charlie speeds up and as soon as weturn on Rehobeth Road, a stray dog is running towards the car. Lord, we miss that poor dog by an inch. Mr. Charlie hits his brakes, causing Grandma to grab the dashboard with one hand and somehow reach into the backseat to hold me down with the other hand.
âHold on, Babe,â Mr. Charlie sings in the same breath with âHow sweet the sound.â
They both singing âLord, have mercy!â at the same time. I
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