Everything was so korn-fuzing these days. The Reverend Martin Luther King had been one of the most vocal opponents of the Viet Nam War in the months preceding his assassination. Everybody knew that his opposition to the war was why he was killed. Yet here is a father, who is obviously supportive of the Civil Rights Movement, but is probably the only person I have heard first hand this year, who said anything good about the United States Army. And another thing! He called his son Black! Just a few years ago about the only thing you could say to a Colored person worse than Black was the N-r word. My grandparents taught me not to say either word.
Just then, the owner signaled to the waitress with the lightest complexion to come seat us. Lizzie was as cute as a bug in a rug. Not really any darker than me. Actually, she looked Oriental, like someone from the Philippines or Indonesia - beautiful, straight black hair - sparkling eyes that showed high intelligence. No one would bat an eye if I dated her in Atlanta. Down here they would probably burn my car up, if we went out in public. But wait a minute . . . no sir . . . “Miss, that BLACK family was in front of us. They get seated first.” She looked confused at first, then smiled. “Y’all are nice gentlemen. I’ll give y’all first class service and extra hush puppies.
Lizzie seated the family in front, and then raced back to us. She looked at me and asked, “How come y’all don’t have no gals with you? Fine-looking gentlemen like yourselves, should have any trouble finding lady friends.”
The other two guys looked sheepish. I answered, “Miss we just got stood up by three girls from Darien. They were supposed to go camping with us. They went to Jacksonville for the weekend instead.”
Lizzie winked and responded, “Sir, if I had me a man like you, I would be camping out at his door step! “
Knowing that this was a classic flirt from Southern Belles, but suspecting she was too young for me I asked her, “Miss Lizzie, do you go to high school around here?”
Don’t know if she meant to do it, but as she spoke, she simultaneously took a deep breath to display her fully developed breasts. “No Sir-r-r-ree. I iz a GRADUATE of McIntosh County High School. In two weeks I start COLLEGE in Savannah. I am going to study how to be a teacher at Armstrong State. My mammy is a teacher, too. She is a graduate of the TUSKEGEE INSTITUTE. He and my mammy met there. My daddy used to be a principal in Memphis. When they shut down the Black schools, and told the Black kids to go to White schools, they made my daddy the assistant at the White school. The Principal treated him something terrible, so he quit and came down here to start the restaurant. Oh, I’m sorry sir, I shouldn’t be talking about things like that! Please don’t tell my Daddy I told you fellows such stuff!”
I smiled, “Oh doesn’t bother me a bit. I was born in Waycross, and had lots of Colored . . . uh, I mean, BLACK friends when I was little. Things have come a long way since those days.”
Lizzie smiled sweetly, and said, “Oh, sir, that’s alright, if good White folks like you call us Colored. It’s jest that Dr. King taught us that we should be proud that we are Black, not ashamed.”
I glanced at her arm, and then my arm, and quipped, “Well, Miss Lizzie, if you have black skin, then I am a One-eyed, One Horned, Flying Purple People Eater. “ She smiled like the Mona Lisa, but said not a word.
She then took us to our table. It was a window seat overlooking the marshes. Beautiful. All of us ordered the Pig In the Sea platter. It was a massive oval-shaped platter containing barbecued ribs, pulled pork, a whole flounder, fried shrimp, mussels, and a deviled crab. The food was absolutely incredible. Best barbecue and fish I ever ate! Oh, I don’t want to leave out that huge basket of hush puppies. They were also the best hush puppies I ever ate.
Craig picked up a odd item that was laying on the edge of the table near the wall. “What’s this for? To swat flies?” There was no air conditioning in the restaurant, save for the screens on the window openings and funeral parlor fans for each chair. They were endemic across the South until the advent of central air conditioning.
Don’t know about funeral parlor fans? That’s a long forgotten vestige of the old days in the South. They were cardboard with then wooden handles like a popsicle stick. On one side was a printed painting of Jesus and on the other side was an advertisement for the funeral home. I was the only one of the three, who knew how to use these personal air conditioning units.
Craig asked me if I still knew any people in Waycross, who might could loan us a boat. I told him just a few older couples, who had been friends of my parents. It brought to mind old memories of Waycross. “Craig. you know Pernell Roberts, who played Adam Cartright on Bonanza?”
Craig gulped down a hush puppy and answered, “Yeh, what about him?”
“Did you know that he was from Waycross?” Craig’s eyes lit up. “Come on Rich, he has to be from California. He played a cowboy. Whoever heard of anyone from Georgia being a cowboy on television?”
“Nope, would you believe that he went to our church and was a Sunday school teacher? His dad owned the insurance agency next to my parent’s restaurant. They shared a wall. This happened before I was old enough to know anything, but he was thinking about being a minister, but got really angry about the way Coloreds were treated in Waycross and the hypocrisy in the churches there. In fact, I used to play with the Roberts kids. We looked a lot alike.”
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| Lizzie the Little Mermaid from Darien, GA - A True Story - Part Two |
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