Glo, Sammy Lee and Joyce
“Prejudice is a burden that confuses the past, threatens
the future and renders the present inaccessible.” Maya Angelou
This picture is of Sammy Lee and his sisters at the end of
the school year, waiting for summer.
The Robinson family worked for my parents on our farm on
Jackson Street extension across MacArthur Drive just outside of Alexandria,
Louisiana. This was out in the country
at that time. They lived in a three-room
shotgun on the back of the property next to the barn. Dave worked on the farm doing odd and end
jobs for us. He also milked the cows
twice a day. We got the morning milk and
they the evening amount. Annabelle
worked taking care of us, cleaning, and cooking.
The Robinsons had three children, Glo, Sammy Lee and
Joyce. Sammy Lee was my best
friend. He was a year younger than I and
we were best friends when it wasn't considered proper. In the south, white children and black
children just weren't supposed to be friends in the 1950's, but we didn't care.
We did everything together around the farm, sharing memories
and secrets. We were children, and since
we were free-range you could find us in the pasture, playing Frisbee with dried
up cow patties or hiding in the China berry tree, shooting at our sisters with
our sling shots and torturing them with the China berries. We roamed all over the place, riding horses. Once we even charged kids, from the nearby new
subdivision named Plantation Acres, a nickel each to ride on our horse, until
the girls told on us, and daddy made us stop.
I remember one time when we both wanted to see the same movie
at the Paramount in downtown Alexandria.
Mother was going to take us. We had saved our money and were
disappointed when Mama pointed out that we couldn't sit together. “Sammy has to go to the colored section in
the high balcony,” she said. I didn't
understand. After being dropped off and
our tickets bought, I managed to sneak up to his balcony so we could enjoy the
movie together. I never told Mama.
Since we were friends, I never understood why we had to go to
separate schools when we stood next to each other every morning waiting for our
individual buses to pick us up. Wouldn't
it have been easier if we just all got on the same bus and went to the same
school?
No one gave us a satisfactory answer.
Around mid-May, Sammy Lee and I made plans for summer. We had looked forward to fishing or whatever.
We had even made major plans to camp in the woods around the South Traffic
Circle, something we never did, but felt brave enough to do so. We had packed our bags, gathered
all our equipment to ward off snakes or whatever, and were ready to go as soon
as summer came. Life was going to be
fun.
The last day of school was two days away when I came down
with the mumps. Poor Sammy Lee had to
just sit on his front porch with those sisters of his and wait for the mumps to
pass. Our vacation plans were ruined.
Note: We stayed
friends until we were grown. Sammy Lee
got married young and was at a bar with his wife, on Rapides Avenue a few weeks
after their wedding. Bars were one of
the few places any black person could go for food or entertainment in the 1950’s. Someone in the bar got into a fight, pulled
out a gun and began shooting. Sammy Lee
was accidently shot and killed, and his wife injured. We were devastated. I went to his funeral.
I kept up with the
girls for a while. Glo ended up working
as a housekeeper at Cabrini Hospital in Alexandria. My sister, Becky and I attended her
wedding and reception. Unfortunately,
she too died early from a heart attack not long after her
marriage. I lost track of Joyce through
the years but saw her at Glo’s funeral.
Joyce was living in Atlanta at that time and was a chef at a restaurant.
This is a piece I did showing Glo jumping the broom at her
wedding. An old African custom that dates to slavery. Since slaves weren’t
allowed to marry, they frequently would jump a broom to show that they were committed to each other for life.
© Nippy Blair 2015.
Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.
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