even
more, I didn’t want Elgin to live with it. To have a daddy in prison, to have the whole town know of your legacy of failure—no,
I would not subject him to that.
I knew Elgin had wanted to stay, to play ball, to be around friends and family. He had come because I did. I had tried to
take the blame for leaving, making it sound as if it were my problem and that I hated to make him the victim. But if I had
my way, he would not be a victim. I had already succeeded in getting him away from Hattiesburg, away from his daddy, away
from bad influences and dead-end possibilities.
I didn’t know what Chicago held for him, but I had been able to find work and a place to live. We were getting by, not falling
into debt as had always been predicted for me. I knew Elgin wanted nothing more than to play baseball, and if he was anything
like my brothers and his father, he wanted to make a career of it.
But I also knew the incredible odds against that. I didn’t hope for a big-league career for him, even if that’s what he and
every ballplaying kid his age wanted. What I wanted for him was an unlimited horizon. I based his privileges on his success
at school.
“I don’t expect you to do better than you can do; I just expect you to do as well as you can do. Then you can play and have
lots of time for fun.”
Elgin had risen to the challenge as I knew he would. He was such a good reader, so inquisitive. And competitive. Within the
first two weeks of school, he’d told me he knew who the girl was he had to beat for best grades.
“She’s got me in arithmetic now,” he said, “but not for long.”
He had been right. By early spring he had the highest grades in the class, including arithmetic. I allowed myself to entertainbroadcasting as a potential career for him in spite of his shyness. With my first raise, which came six months after I arrived,
I began putting aside money for college.
I had asked my boss what he recommended for financing college for a kid who was almost ten now.
“How do you feel about crime?” he said, smiling. I laughed.
Maybe Elgin could earn a scholarship. Did colleges offer baseball scholarships? If I were trying to get him into the big leagues,
I would have stayed in a climate where he could play year-round. Chicago held other opportunities. Reading did not depend
upon the weather. With his brain, his memory, his scholastic ability, the future was his.
We rarely talked about it, but I could see him anchoring a sports roundup show, maybe doing play-by-play or even color work
for major events on a network. I knew there were many levels of broadcasting before that and lots of competition—everyone
in the business looking for the same plum assignments—but that didn’t have to deter Elgin any more than it had deterred me.
Leaving Hattiesburg for Chicago in the face of uncertainty and criticism had been like taking off for Mars. But I had a feeling.
I had to do what I had to do, and no problems were too great.
I wanted a nicer place to live, would have loved to be able to afford the suburbs, but there was no way. Any extra money would
go for sports equipment, sign-up fees, and the college fund. Everything would point toward Elgin’s success. That was the greatest
investment I could think of.
Could he be even more than I dreamed? Could he do something for people far beyond what would bring him success and money in
a profession he loved? Was it possible he could be a doctor, a lawyer, or a college professor? Who knew? It was delicious
to think about all the options. Everything about Elgin spoke of the future, not of the past.
The past was gone, a painful, bitter memory that sneaked up on me late at night when I needed a baby in my arms or to be a
baby in someone else’s arms. In my mind, I would take Elgin’s face in my hands and turn him toward the future, toward the
rising, not the setting, sun. I wouldn’t push; I would merely enable. I would
more, I didn’t want Elgin to live with it. To have a daddy in prison, to have the whole town know of your legacy of failure—no,
I would not subject him to that.
I knew Elgin had wanted to stay, to play ball, to be around friends and family. He had come because I did. I had tried to
take the blame for leaving, making it sound as if it were my problem and that I hated to make him the victim. But if I had
my way, he would not be a victim. I had already succeeded in getting him away from Hattiesburg, away from his daddy, away
from bad influences and dead-end possibilities.
I didn’t know what Chicago held for him, but I had been able to find work and a place to live. We were getting by, not falling
into debt as had always been predicted for me. I knew Elgin wanted nothing more than to play baseball, and if he was anything
like my brothers and his father, he wanted to make a career of it.
But I also knew the incredible odds against that. I didn’t hope for a big-league career for him, even if that’s what he and
every ballplaying kid his age wanted. What I wanted for him was an unlimited horizon. I based his privileges on his success
at school.
“I don’t expect you to do better than you can do; I just expect you to do as well as you can do. Then you can play and have
lots of time for fun.”
Elgin had risen to the challenge as I knew he would. He was such a good reader, so inquisitive. And competitive. Within the
first two weeks of school, he’d told me he knew who the girl was he had to beat for best grades.
“She’s got me in arithmetic now,” he said, “but not for long.”
He had been right. By early spring he had the highest grades in the class, including arithmetic. I allowed myself to entertainbroadcasting as a potential career for him in spite of his shyness. With my first raise, which came six months after I arrived,
I began putting aside money for college.
I had asked my boss what he recommended for financing college for a kid who was almost ten now.
“How do you feel about crime?” he said, smiling. I laughed.
Maybe Elgin could earn a scholarship. Did colleges offer baseball scholarships? If I were trying to get him into the big leagues,
I would have stayed in a climate where he could play year-round. Chicago held other opportunities. Reading did not depend
upon the weather. With his brain, his memory, his scholastic ability, the future was his.
We rarely talked about it, but I could see him anchoring a sports roundup show, maybe doing play-by-play or even color work
for major events on a network. I knew there were many levels of broadcasting before that and lots of competition—everyone
in the business looking for the same plum assignments—but that didn’t have to deter Elgin any more than it had deterred me.
Leaving Hattiesburg for Chicago in the face of uncertainty and criticism had been like taking off for Mars. But I had a feeling.
I had to do what I had to do, and no problems were too great.
I wanted a nicer place to live, would have loved to be able to afford the suburbs, but there was no way. Any extra money would
go for sports equipment, sign-up fees, and the college fund. Everything would point toward Elgin’s success. That was the greatest
investment I could think of.
Could he be even more than I dreamed? Could he do something for people far beyond what would bring him success and money in
a profession he loved? Was it possible he could be a doctor, a lawyer, or a college professor? Who knew? It was delicious
to think about all the options. Everything about Elgin spoke of the future, not of the past.
The past was gone, a painful, bitter memory that sneaked up on me late at night when I needed a baby in my arms or to be a
baby in someone else’s arms. In my mind, I would take Elgin’s face in my hands and turn him toward the future, toward the
rising, not the setting, sun. I wouldn’t push; I would merely enable. I would
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