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All Good Things
(Sister Helen P. Mrosla) He was in the first third grade class I taught ...
If I had
My Life to Live Over - Erma Bombeck
Mr. Washington -
Les Brown
The Boy Under the Tree
- David Coleman and Kevin Randall
Three Letters from Teddy
- Elizabeth Silance Ballard
"I had done nothing but acknowledge my
sisterhood"
AARP received more than 1,000 responses for personal memories
of the Civil Rights movement.
"I had done nothing but acknowledge my sisterhood"
The year was 1959. At the Trailways bus station, we formed two lines, whites in
one and blacks behind in another. Being the last white people in line, my little
daughter and I took the last two seats before the long seat across the back of
the bus, which would soon be filled by four black women. An elderly black woman
and a young black man were left standing in the aisle.
We set out on our journey, lurching westward along the roads of Mississippi. The
elderly lady was having a difficult time keeping her footing, so I quickly
picked up my two-year-old and put her in my lap, and offered the lady a seat,
which she timidly took. I was pregnant, and I asked the grandmotherly lady if my
daughter could sit in her lap instead of mine. We smiled, made the transfer, and
traveled on but not far.
Suddenly, the bus pulled to the side of the road, and a rabid bus driver
exploded down the aisle toward the back of the bus as every head turned to
watch. When he reached our row, he unleashed venom at the black lady holding my
daughter, the gist of which was, "How dare you sit with a white woman!" After he
had finished accusing her of all manner of crimes against humanity, I heard
these words come through my mouth with calm assurance: "Sir, this is my mother."
The rage in his face was obvious, but he was speechless. Here sat a black woman
holding a tiny white child in her lap, with a white woman sitting next to her
who had just claimed kinship. Had we been sitting in any other seat, the driver
would have thrown us off the bus, or worse, but we were sitting in the back rows
that were usually reserved for blacks, and there was absolutely nothing he could
say or do. If I were black, then I was surely sitting in the proper place on the
bus. Stomping back down the aisle, he drove on amidst whispering whites.
When all had quieted down, I felt a light tap on my shoulder and turned to face
a group of smiling black women. "We thank you for what you have done," one said.
I had done nothing but acknowledge my sisterhood with another human being. Jane
Trotter, Flint, Michigan
These and other stories from that era can be found at the AARP Magazine website
at:
http://www.aarpmagazine.org/people/Articles/a2004-03-18-mag-timeremember.htm
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Poetry