"Kingsley Court"

"Afro Boy-Wonder: Reginald Dominics"

Someone hollered after Reggie but he was burning sneaker-rubber all the way down Virginia Park, towards Woodward.  The underarms of his green shirt were damp with sweat.  In his peripheral vision:  houses, tall trees, and cars parked in driveways and at curbside blurred into abstraction as the backdrop of a film starring himself:  a 16-year-old track star from Detroit, Michigan. 

His body and brain pulsating with youthful enthusiasm, Reggie was full of electricity and music, cheeseburgers, and newly sprung ideals.  Something inside of him awoke as he watched the Games of the XIX Olympiad on television.  When the throngs of young athletes entered the coliseum in Mexico City, brandishing their bright flags from countries such as France, Australia, Brazil, Kenya, Japan, the Soviet Union, and Greece, that energy ripped a tear in the fabric of his life.  He felt pride and physical power.  It seemed he could smell possibility in the air.  He felt he could burst through the gate of his solitude, grab the gaggle of alphabets and streams of words floating around in his mind, and, running, form a banner of syntax that waved in the wind behind him, there, for anyone to see:  I AM REGGIE DOMINICS:  AFRO-AMERICAN HERO.  RIGHT-ON!

He would, from here-on-out, become VISIBLE.  Unlike the young people who sat-in at Woolworth counters in North Carolina; or those who braved the walk through crowds of hateful whites who shouted nigger! at them in Alabama and Mississippi; and unlike the children whose parents prayed hard to Jesus for their protection while they were herded into paddy wagons and locked in jails.  Reggie was not one of the young men and women who mobilized themselves to study, to strategize, to push forward into the wilderness of their righteous imaginations; known popularly by their signature black leather revolutionary gear and defiant sunglasses, the prospect of destabilizing the current political system brick by brick filling them with purpose and zeal.  They were the ones inspired by a dream of planting new gardens full of the ripening flowers and foods to feed a nation the blossoms of justice, dignity, and hope.  They were the ones who would yank their bodies from the long lineage of oppression,  a-righting themselves and their families to a place of power and love.

No, Reggie was not one of these.  He was a regular boy just trying to grow up.  A regular, good-natured boy who was reasonably smart and rather silly.  A medium brown boy who wore a reddish natural that he spent twenty minutes each day picking-out to perfection.  A boy with a cleft in his chin.  A boy with slightly protruding front teeth.  A boy with one married sister and another determinedly putting herself through studies at Wayne State University.  A boy whose Life-LOOK-and-Ebony-magazines-reading mother was thoughtful and pretty.  A boy whose father was mostly quiet.  Reggie Dominics was a boy who liked the movie “The Day The Earth Stood Still”, and occasionally, he would knock on the door to visit Mr. Nicolas “Saint” Sams, who collected Marvel comics and spent time archiving articles of note from magazines and the Detroit News and Detroit Free Press.

"Is There Some Kind of Problem?"

“Is there some kind of problem?” Leo moved smoothly down the porch steps and toward the car.

“I’m sorry.”  Sukie whispered hastily.

The red fingernails lifted away from the car door sill.  “I didn’t mean to pry,” began the woman, turning to Leo.  “But I heard their commotion as I was walking by, and....” Here, Leslie emitted a watery groan from the base of her throat.

Edna Smalls turned to shout through the screen door, “Juanita! Get out here, now.  You have had more than enough time to get yourself together.”  She followed Leo down the steps and across the lawn.  “Meredith, have you met my brother-in-law, Leo Tompkins?  And those are my nieces in the car.”  Leo gave a stiff nod and Meredith smiled.  “Hello, Leo.  I’m one of the neighbors.  I live just down the street....” Meredith gestured as Juanita and Barry came out of the house and murmured their greetings, “Hi, Mrs. Berger.”

Edna opened the car door and pushed the front seat forward.  She looked from one niece to the next, taking in their chocolatey eyes filled with tears, the musty scent of childish sweat blended with vinyl; and the way their cardigan sweaters drooped from their shoulders.

“You know better than that.” she said in a voice that was for their ears only.  Then she stepped back and opened her arms, inviting the girls to crawl out and wrap their arms around her.  By now, the sky’s blue was deepening into a private dusk.

Mrs. Berger cleared her throat.  “Well, I guess I’ll get on home.  Talk to you, later, Edna?”

“Alright Meredith.  Take care.”

“Nice to meet you Leo.”

“Likewise.”

“Bye, girls, and no more fighting each other, okay?” Mrs. Berger pointed a red fingernail at Leslie and Sukie, and, still smiling, walked away.  

Rolling her eyes heavenward, Juanita plopped herself into the front passenger seat of the Plymouth. The stack of 45 records hung around her thumb; the parcel of poundcake slices rested in her lap.  A few feet away, Barry and Leo’s hands were locked in a soul handshake and the uncle said something to make the nephew grin and nod with vigor.  Edna held each of her hands soft against the base of Leslie’s and Sukie’s necks.  “Now, I know you all are going to be good girls for Juanita,  aren’t you?”

“Yes, Aunt Edna.”

“And Juanita, don’t let them stay up past their bedtime.”

Juanita gave her mother a doleful look as her little cousins scrambled back into the car.  Just before Leo collapsed his body down into the driver’s seat, Juanita whispered over her shoulder:  “Mrs. Berger is nosy.”

“Yeah,”  chimed Leslie.  “Just like Mrs. Payne!”

"Big Sister, Little Sister"

In the car Leslie and Sukie sat first patient, and expectant with the hope that at any moment the front door of their Aunt Melvina’s house would open and their father and cousin Juanita would come out.  

“It’s quiet.”

“Yeah.”

“Ssshh.”

“Umhm....ssshh.”  Sitting very still, they managed not to slide their legs over the vinyl seats.  They were conscious of their breaths, and, in their ears, could hear the beating of their own hearts.  Outside the sun was going down and fat brown squirrels darted from hiding place to grass, from grass to tree, from tree to tree limb, and then froze.  In a watchful stillness.  A single breeze swept so confidently down the corridor of the street that it collected and dispersed several smells all at once: the smell of something frying in a kitchen, and the smell of fresh-cut grass; the smell of burning leaves and the smell of autumn’s turning coat-of-many-colors.

“It’s a MONster!”

“Ssshh.”

Sukie reached for her sister’s hand and Leslie scooted closer as protector, coward, and dramatic actress all rolled into one.  She turned to stare into Sukie’s face until her eyes began to water.

“They forgot all about us.”

“No, they didn’t.”  Sukie poked out her lips and blew a puff of air.

“Unhunh.  The monster BLEW inside the house and HUFFED and PUFFED and blew Daddy down, down, down, and DOWN! to the ground!”

Sukie gave Leslie a look of distaste.  She had heard the story of “The Three Little Pigs” enough times to know it had been the wolf that huffed and puffed and blew down the house.  She snatched her hand out of Leslie’s grip and moved her body a couple of inches to the left.  Sensing the game change, Leslie moved a few inches closer to Sukie.  

Sukie retreated and Leslie advanced until the two of them were nearly bunched-up together in the corner of the car behind the driver’s seat.  Sukie tried to push Leslie away.  

“Stop sitting by me!”

Leslie, grinning devilishly, tried to put her arm around Sukie.

“I can always sit by you if I want. Because:  I’m the big sister and you’re the ll-iitt-lll sister. Come here, baby, come here.”

“Stop it! I’m telling on you!”

With their braids jabbing the air like horns, they fell into tugging and pinching each others limbs, tumbling and pawing and baring their teeth like cubs in the wild.

“I’m sure your mother wouldn’t want to see you fighting this way.” An immaculate voice-over  came through the car window.  Startled eyes found a woman whose hairstyle made her look like she belonged on “The Dick Van Dyke Show.”  Sukie---who had been at a disadvantage---used the moment to deliver a well-aimed shot against her sister’s ear.  Intimidated by the strange woman’s ethereal scolding, and humiliated by Sukie’s cheap shot, Leslie brought a hand to her face and worked to squeeze out a cry.  It took a few moments but she was finally able to get a nice wail going.  Covering her eyes, she peeked at Sukie, who had retreated fully to the other corner of the backseat and was sitting with her hands tucked beneath her legs.  She was suspicious of Leslie’s tears and didn’t like the way the woman placed her bloody-red fingernails near the door locks just as the wailing brought Leo and Edna out of the front of the house.

"A Letter From Auntie Mip"

Melvina Tompkins was checking herself out in the mirror.  She was wearing a navy blue shirt-ways dress with a tie belt, and caramel colored shoes with a T-strap and chunky heels.  Her soft, short natural was round like a halo.  Puckering and dabbing her lips with a frosted pink lipstick, she decided that she looked good.  Melvina peeked at her watch and hoped that Leo would be arriving soon with the girls and Juanita.  She went to front door to unlock it while glancing up and down the street.  It was rare for her to be ready to leave on time and so she gave herself a little go’n Girl! finger snap before electing to tidy-up a few things.
In the kitchen her eye fell on the partially-open junk drawer where, earlier, she had stuffed a stack of mail, which had included a letter with their street address, yet addressed to Melvina Smalls---which was her maiden name, after all.  It had been with a sense of query and amusement that Melvina had opened and begun reading the letter, which she quickly realized was not meant for her eyes, but for those of her sister-in-law, Edna.  Wincing mentally and physically, and listening for the sound of a car pulling up, Melvina unfolded the letter and read it over again.

                                                                                                                                     October 21, 1968
Hello, My Dear One,


I hope that you have time to read a letter from your husband's mother’s cousin Myrtle.  Bernard knows me as Auntie Mip.  It has been just over one year that my mother---God Rest Her Soul---left this world and, I have not been doing so good since. 


The whitepeople here in Alabama are this way, some have turned out to be God’s good people even while so many are still just as mean as the devil.  We are learning who is who because of all the marching and the sitting in and the preaching.  You see peoples true self, now.  Our feelings are right up front now.  Before, we all kept hid by keeping each race to their self, but now some of us colored people have a hard time to call ourself Black because that was not never beautiful, before.  Some of us do not know how to be brave but some just couldn’t wait! And, that makes me feel good and afraid, also.


I want to visit your mother-in-law who is my cousin and lives in California she said to come on out, but, I have never made a long trip across the country like that before.  She told me that Bernard has left his little family (you all) to be a big Freedom Man.  This is not something that I can understand.  She said that maybe I should visit you all as I am lonesome since Mother died and I would like to visit you all and my other relations in Detroit.  I heard about what happened to you all up there last year.  It seems that the whole world is just going to the dogs.  I will be visiting you all soon.  Because a family I know by the name of Evans will be driving there and I have been invited along if I may.  Do you know any people by the name of Evans up there from Selma? 


May the Good Lord Bless You Dearly,
I am going to see you soon,
Auntie Mip (Myrtle) Harrison

Melvina remembered Auntie Mip from her childhood.  Of their mother’s closest sister-women-friends, Melvina and her brother, Bernard, had liked Auntie Mip the least, and suspected that she wasn’t truly a blood relative.  Her marital status had always seemed vague and she didn’t have any children of her own; yet, she was always around.  Auntie Mip had been one of those adults who seemed to be unmoved by children, no matter how sweet, cute, or smart they were.  She was always on the look-out for children to be up to something.
Biting down on her well-coated bottom lip, Melvina could have kicked herself for opening that mail.  She considered re-sealing it with a bit of Elmer’s glue, and pressing it between two heavy books until she and Leo returned from the Parents Meeting at Leslie's school.

"Man Talk"

Juanita was putting a stack of her favorite 45 records together when the doorbell rang.  Edna dried her hands on a dishtowel and walked toward the front door.

“Barry! Put on a shirt and come say hello to your uncle.”  She yanked open the big door and pushed  the screen door outward to let Leo inside.

“Hey, Leo.  What you know good?” They gave each other a hug.

“Aw, ain’t nothing shaking, Edna.  How are you?”

“I’m making it.”  She glanced out to where his car was parked in the driveway.  She could see the tops of two pig-tailed hairstyles.

“Is that Leslie and Sukie in the car? You could have brought them inside.”

“Aw....I....I figured Juanita would be ready.  Anyway, they got their pajamas on.”

Edna smiled.  “Juanita!  Leo’s waiting on you.”

“I’m coming....I just wanted to get my records.”

Edna turned to Leo with a smirk, “Everything is music and records, and records and music.”

“Yeah, I guess....”

By now, Barry was ambling into the foyer, grinning.  

“Hey Uncle Leo.”

“Hey, Youngblood! How’s it going?”  Leo grabbed the boy around his neck in a mock head lock.  Barry allowed himself to be held in this semblance of a hug.  He really liked Uncle Leo, the closest thing he had to his own father, who he hadn’t seen in four years.

“Everything alright?” Leo asked, pretending to tighten his grip on Barry’s head.

“Yeah!”

Edna decided to slip away to see what was taking Juanita so long.  Without letting go of Barry’s head, Leo said “What’d you say?”

“I said:  everything’s alright.”  Barry tried to disentangle himself.

“You sure?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know you can tell me if things ain’t alright.”

“Yes sir.”

“We got an understanding?”

Barry could feel a lump rising inexplicably in his throat.  He swallowed hard and tried to push Leo away.  “Let me go, Uncle Leo.”  But Leo held on, causing both of them to grunt as they each tried to gain balanced footing.  Barry swung one of his arms ups to punch his uncle on the back of his shoulder.  He could not name the feeling that made him want to tussle and fight, and he wasn’t sure that Leo was the one he wanted to hurt.  An ache coiled upward from his chest and into his throat.  He gritted his teeth and pushed hard against his uncle.  

Hearing the sound of their shoes dancing without rhythm interspersed with small gasps made Edna crane her neck out from the kitchen where she had been wrapping-up a few slices of homemade pound cake in cellophane.  “What’s going on out there?”  Leo looked over his shoulder.  “Oh, nothing.  I’m just having a talk with my buddy.”  He let go of his nephew’s neck.  Flustered, Barry backed-away, unfolding his lanky body and panting. His nostrils flared.  “Yeah, Ma.  I’m just talking to Uncle Leo.”

“I don’t hear much talking...”  Edna sounded skeptical. but resumed packing the brown paper bag which she handed to Juanita.  “You can let the girls have a a piece of pound cake and some milk before they go to bed.”

Juanita looked at her mother, trying to decide how she felt towards her.  Baby-sitting her young cousins was not something she was opposed to doing.  It was just that Edna had given her permission to go over her friend, Diane’s, house....and then-wham!-all it took was one phone call from Aunt Melvina to make her plans defunct.  How fair was that?        

"The Drive to Greenacres"

Leo shook his head at Reggie’s youth but still reciprocated with his own Black Power salute, and smiled into his neck.  “Daddy? Was that for Black Power?” Leslie asked, watching her father’s fist fall from her eyesight.

“What?”  Leo was distracted.  Just last year Detroit was a-blaze with anger; with smoke and fire and tanks.  This year Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., had been murdered in cold blood; and after him, Senator Robert F. Kennedy.  A lot of days Leo felt like he was walking around with a heavy mourning stone inside his chest.

“This is Black Power.”  Leslie turned to Sukie to demonstrate the gesture.  Holding her fist close to her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut to emphasize her sincerity.

“Mmhmm.”  Sukie balled-up her fist, looked at it appreciatively, and then poked two fingers out.

“This one is for Peace.” she said.

Leslie nodded her head.  “Daddy?”  she tried for Leo’s attention, again.  “Daddy do you know UNH, UNGAWA?”

When Leo didn’t respond she turned back to her sister.  

UNH, UNGAWA!

We got that soul pow-ah

UNH, UNGAWA!

We’re the people of the ow-ah!

Sukie was definitely digging the sound of this rhyme and bobbed her head in time.  She tried to lip-sync with Leslie and they repeated it a few times, clapping their hands and alternating Black Power and Peace Sign salutes to each other.

“Can you see us Daddy?” Leslie tried to catch Leo’s eye in the rear view mirror.  He glanced but didn’t comment.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Can’t you see I’m driving?”

Leslie shrugged her shoulders at Sukie and leaned back on the black vinyl seat.  Sukie leaned back and looked out of the window as the tops of buildings and trees flashed in a blur.  She was too small to see Northern High School, the public library, the brand new florist shop, or the large homes on Arden Park, Atkinson, and the Boston-Edison district.  She couldn’t see the fried fish hut or the gas station or the party stores.  She was too small to see where parts of Detroit resembled the way a person looks when they get hit in the eye with a left-hook and then a right uppercut to the chin. 

They were driving northbound from their home in the North End down Woodward Avenue, where Highland Park was tucked into Detroit’s breast pocket. Behind them traffic faded downtown---some of it veering onto Lafayette and Jefferson streets, and melting into early evening shades of purple and orange.  The sky glowed in golden tones from beyond where Windsor, Ontario sat in Canada on the other side of the Detroit River.  The western sky was brightest; its air still crackling with youthful games being played at sundown in October.  

The family’s Plymouth cruised past the old Ford Motor plant on the eastern side of Woodward, and Sears & Roebuck on the western side.  The girls loved it when Leo bought small bags of warm salted spanish peanuts, there, because it made an ordinary day seem special.  But he didn’t stop at Sears, today.  

Just north of McNichols, Woodward widened, becoming more airy to accommodate the last two miles before Eight Mile Road separated Detroit from its northern suburbs.  Past the woodsy trails, the duck pond, and Good Humor Ice Cream truck parked at Palmer Park---there were residential neighborhoods, two cemeteries, the Michigan State Fairgrounds, and a bar called The Last Chance.  

Edna and her kids lived in a small community called Greenacres on the Detroit side.  Their home was average in size and newer.  The front and back yards were larger than the one’s at Leo and Melvina’s house. Unlike the North End, there were no neighborhood corner stores, shoe repair shops, or barbeque take-out joints.

Detecting a change in the quality of atmospheric energy, Sukie and Leslie sat up on their knees to look out of the car windows.  They saw a boy with a fresh haircut and two girls with ponytails spinning the pedals of an upturned tricycle; they were playing “ice cream truck”.  A man who wore pants with suspenders was setting fire to a pile of leaves he had raked to the curb.      An adult brother and sister stood and plainly stared without smiling at Leo, Leslie, and Sukie, as they drove by.  After a while, Leslie had to ask:

“Daddy? Where’s the black people at?”