me so much. My life being as it was, my family being as it was, in the beginning I accepted things the way they were. I worked in the fields alongside my daddy and my brothers, and when the fieldwork was done, I helped tend the horses and the cattle too, but of course anything to do with horses wasnât work to me; that was pure joy. When there wasnât work to be done, I was often with my daddy or my brothers about the place or with them somewhere on my daddyâs business. When I was little, I figured to always be on my daddyâs land. After all, I had no reason to want to leave.
My life was good.
But then as I grew older, I began to take note that Cassie and I werenât always included in my daddyâs and my brothersâ lives. When folks came over to supper, Cassie and I werenât allowed to sit at our daddyâs table, while Robert, Hammond, and George still did. Whenever there was any socializing at the place, we werenât allowed the roam of the house, but had to stay put in the kitchen, where my mama and others served up preparations for my daddyâs guests. Thatâs not to say there was a whole lot of socializing going on. My daddy was a private kind of man and he pretty much kept to his family, but he was also a businessman, a well-to-do businessman, and knew most of the people in the community, so there were some social exchanges.
Now, when I say that my daddy was a well-to-do man, I donât mean he was rich. Very few Southern folks, white or black, were, following the war. But he was comfortable, and by the time I was about to turn twelve, I wasnât wanting for anything that I needed, and neither were Cassie nor my brothers. My daddy didnât have thousands of acres of plantation land, as some folks had, nor had he owned hundreds of slaves. But he did have a sizeable piece of property with the necessary number of people to work it, enough to make him acceptable among the most prominent in the local society. Even the knowledge of a slave womanâs children in his house didnât mar that acceptance. Only his blatant disregard of all social rules would have done that. Allowing Cassie and me to sit at his table while his company visited would have broken those social rules.
When I was a little boy, being sent off to the kitchen to eat or outside to play didnât bother me, because Robert was always sent off with me. But then as we grew older, Robert was allowed to stay when the visitors came for their socializing, though at first he wouldnât stay without me. Even his grandmother couldnât make him stay. Robertâs grandma on his mamaâs side always hated the fact that my daddy allowed Cassie and me to sit at his table and enjoy the life she felt was owed only to her daughterâs children. When the daughter died, her mother was there in my daddyâs house. Of course, I was only a baby at the time, but later I grew to know her hatred. She had stayed on in my daddyâs house and took over running it. I remember she was always hard on my mama, and on Cassie and me. When my daddy was away during mealtime, she would send Cassie and me from the table. When that happened, Robert always went with me, and she couldnât make him come back. Worse than that, she would sometimes say cruel things to us. âTheyâre like mites,â she said once. âYou get them in your bed, and you donât ever get rid of them.â
She said that right in my daddyâs presence. My daddy spoke her name, as if to quiet her, but Cassie had been sitting at the table and she jumped up and threw her plate right on the floor. âDonât you think I know what you mean?â she cried. âI know what you mean, you hateful old thing! Come on, Paul!â
I got up, not fully understanding. My daddy told me to sit back down and I did so, but Cassie had run out.
Later Robert said to our daddy, âWhy donât you just make her go away?â I
My life was good.
But then as I grew older, I began to take note that Cassie and I werenât always included in my daddyâs and my brothersâ lives. When folks came over to supper, Cassie and I werenât allowed to sit at our daddyâs table, while Robert, Hammond, and George still did. Whenever there was any socializing at the place, we werenât allowed the roam of the house, but had to stay put in the kitchen, where my mama and others served up preparations for my daddyâs guests. Thatâs not to say there was a whole lot of socializing going on. My daddy was a private kind of man and he pretty much kept to his family, but he was also a businessman, a well-to-do businessman, and knew most of the people in the community, so there were some social exchanges.
Now, when I say that my daddy was a well-to-do man, I donât mean he was rich. Very few Southern folks, white or black, were, following the war. But he was comfortable, and by the time I was about to turn twelve, I wasnât wanting for anything that I needed, and neither were Cassie nor my brothers. My daddy didnât have thousands of acres of plantation land, as some folks had, nor had he owned hundreds of slaves. But he did have a sizeable piece of property with the necessary number of people to work it, enough to make him acceptable among the most prominent in the local society. Even the knowledge of a slave womanâs children in his house didnât mar that acceptance. Only his blatant disregard of all social rules would have done that. Allowing Cassie and me to sit at his table while his company visited would have broken those social rules.
When I was a little boy, being sent off to the kitchen to eat or outside to play didnât bother me, because Robert was always sent off with me. But then as we grew older, Robert was allowed to stay when the visitors came for their socializing, though at first he wouldnât stay without me. Even his grandmother couldnât make him stay. Robertâs grandma on his mamaâs side always hated the fact that my daddy allowed Cassie and me to sit at his table and enjoy the life she felt was owed only to her daughterâs children. When the daughter died, her mother was there in my daddyâs house. Of course, I was only a baby at the time, but later I grew to know her hatred. She had stayed on in my daddyâs house and took over running it. I remember she was always hard on my mama, and on Cassie and me. When my daddy was away during mealtime, she would send Cassie and me from the table. When that happened, Robert always went with me, and she couldnât make him come back. Worse than that, she would sometimes say cruel things to us. âTheyâre like mites,â she said once. âYou get them in your bed, and you donât ever get rid of them.â
She said that right in my daddyâs presence. My daddy spoke her name, as if to quiet her, but Cassie had been sitting at the table and she jumped up and threw her plate right on the floor. âDonât you think I know what you mean?â she cried. âI know what you mean, you hateful old thing! Come on, Paul!â
I got up, not fully understanding. My daddy told me to sit back down and I did so, but Cassie had run out.
Later Robert said to our daddy, âWhy donât you just make her go away?â I
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