her.
Momma didn’t leave the house to work when we were kids, but looking back, I think those were actually the years she worked the most and the hardest in her life. Walter and I weren’t exactly easy to raise, as you might’ve guessed. Along with my fond memories are the times Momma had to say, “Wait ’til your daddy gets home.” We required plenty of “child-rearing” from Daddy, as you already know. I’m just thankful we at least had a break from that during the day while Daddy was away!
Daddy worked as a custodian and a maintenance man at the Pioneer Recovery factory, where they made parachutes. That was his main job. Once we were all in school, Momma started working at that factory, too, as a seamstress. When Momma was ready to take on other jobs, she picked up a sponge and a fryin’ pan. She cooked and cleaned at the country club and at the homes of many prominent white families in Columbia. Some might read that last sentence and think of my momma as “the help” and feel sorry for her, but she actually loved that work. She never once complained about her “second job.” And if you asked me as a kid what my daddy’s second job was, I’d probably respond by saying “everything.” He had a truck he used to haul stuff for people and help them move. Basically, he’d use that truck in any way he could to bring in some extra money. He also would cut grass, shine shoes, whatever. Like I said—everything.
Daddy was a proud man, but he wasn’t above swallowing his pride if it would put food on the table for his family. He always did what he had to do for as long as I can remember, even back to our days on Korea Alley. I say this with great shame now, but Walter and I weren’t always proud of Daddy’s work. In particular, we’d try to make sure the other kids didn’t find out Daddy shined shoes. Not sure what it was about shining shoes. Perhaps it was too much like servitude, I don’t know. All I know is, Walter and I would try to avoid Daddy when he was shining shoes. And we’d do that on the way to church of all places.
Walter and I always walked to church. We had two paths we could take: (1) the long way or (2) the point-A-to-point-B way. The long way required us to head out the back door, cross a log over a ditch that was always full of water, walk up the road, and then go straight ahead to Orange Street. The short way was to go down Orange to the corner and cut across directly to the church. Though the short way was obviously the better choice for two kids trying to get to church quickly, Walter and I would take the long way, because on Sunday morning, Daddy could be seen shining shoes along the short way. We didn’t want the other kids to make fun of us, so we just avoided him altogether. Shameful, I know. Daddy swallowed his pride to shine shoes and provide for us, and if I could do it over again, I’d give him the respect he was due.
The adults in our neighborhood knew better than Walter and I did. Our parents were very well-respected in our area, and that included over at the local bank. When Daddy was ready to move us all up from our double-barrel shotgun house, he went to the bank for a construction loan. Let’s just say he didn’t need a shotgun to get them to give him money. He secured a construction loan and mortgage based on his reputation alone and soon started the project of building us our third house. Looking back, I’m amazed at how shrewd a negotiator Daddy was. Plain and simply, he was a “can-do” kind of person. When he wanted to do something, he found a way, whether we’re talking about securing money to build a house or actually building it.
When Daddy started building our new house, he went to the high school shop teacher and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Daddy presented him with the generous opportunity to use the construction of our new house as a project for the kids in his class. Brilliant. The shop teacher quickly agreed, and his students worked
Momma didn’t leave the house to work when we were kids, but looking back, I think those were actually the years she worked the most and the hardest in her life. Walter and I weren’t exactly easy to raise, as you might’ve guessed. Along with my fond memories are the times Momma had to say, “Wait ’til your daddy gets home.” We required plenty of “child-rearing” from Daddy, as you already know. I’m just thankful we at least had a break from that during the day while Daddy was away!
Daddy worked as a custodian and a maintenance man at the Pioneer Recovery factory, where they made parachutes. That was his main job. Once we were all in school, Momma started working at that factory, too, as a seamstress. When Momma was ready to take on other jobs, she picked up a sponge and a fryin’ pan. She cooked and cleaned at the country club and at the homes of many prominent white families in Columbia. Some might read that last sentence and think of my momma as “the help” and feel sorry for her, but she actually loved that work. She never once complained about her “second job.” And if you asked me as a kid what my daddy’s second job was, I’d probably respond by saying “everything.” He had a truck he used to haul stuff for people and help them move. Basically, he’d use that truck in any way he could to bring in some extra money. He also would cut grass, shine shoes, whatever. Like I said—everything.
Daddy was a proud man, but he wasn’t above swallowing his pride if it would put food on the table for his family. He always did what he had to do for as long as I can remember, even back to our days on Korea Alley. I say this with great shame now, but Walter and I weren’t always proud of Daddy’s work. In particular, we’d try to make sure the other kids didn’t find out Daddy shined shoes. Not sure what it was about shining shoes. Perhaps it was too much like servitude, I don’t know. All I know is, Walter and I would try to avoid Daddy when he was shining shoes. And we’d do that on the way to church of all places.
Walter and I always walked to church. We had two paths we could take: (1) the long way or (2) the point-A-to-point-B way. The long way required us to head out the back door, cross a log over a ditch that was always full of water, walk up the road, and then go straight ahead to Orange Street. The short way was to go down Orange to the corner and cut across directly to the church. Though the short way was obviously the better choice for two kids trying to get to church quickly, Walter and I would take the long way, because on Sunday morning, Daddy could be seen shining shoes along the short way. We didn’t want the other kids to make fun of us, so we just avoided him altogether. Shameful, I know. Daddy swallowed his pride to shine shoes and provide for us, and if I could do it over again, I’d give him the respect he was due.
The adults in our neighborhood knew better than Walter and I did. Our parents were very well-respected in our area, and that included over at the local bank. When Daddy was ready to move us all up from our double-barrel shotgun house, he went to the bank for a construction loan. Let’s just say he didn’t need a shotgun to get them to give him money. He secured a construction loan and mortgage based on his reputation alone and soon started the project of building us our third house. Looking back, I’m amazed at how shrewd a negotiator Daddy was. Plain and simply, he was a “can-do” kind of person. When he wanted to do something, he found a way, whether we’re talking about securing money to build a house or actually building it.
When Daddy started building our new house, he went to the high school shop teacher and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Daddy presented him with the generous opportunity to use the construction of our new house as a project for the kids in his class. Brilliant. The shop teacher quickly agreed, and his students worked
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