Right. And I would love the summer when school was out in the summer,
because I could go back, and it is in my bones now. As I think about it
now, because wherever I go, I travel a lot, and wherever I go I would
think about the country. And to me it may be a way of getting—those were
my peaceful times. And I reflect back on it and the peace. So this is
probably—it was a peaceful time for me. It seems to me when I moved to
the city everything just went, like the hay wall. It was there for a
minute, everybody around. That's why I paid close attention to what
everybody did. And it was good. Hopkins Street is our neighborhood.
That's my neighborhood. But Stagville, that's my home. That's a
difference. A neighborhood and a home. We grew up in that neighborhood
and the atmosphere was pleasant. There was a sense of unity and people
looking out for each other. And loving, and sharing, and caring.
You weren't afraid to lay and sleep. You weren't afraid to walk out on
your porch late at night. You could sleep on your porch. You weren't
afraid of that. And that was good. And through all of that, the country
still came up. I could just run from one end of the place to the—all
that greenery. It was just great. Great for me. And school, school. I
loved school. Didn't want to stay out of school for anything. Sometimes
I couldn't go if it rained, because I didn't have a proper rain coat. I
remember one time for sure. One time in particular, my mother said,
"Well, you can't go today because it is raining too hard and you don't
have a rain coat or galoshes." I said, "But I've got to go to school,
Mamma. If I don't go, I won't learn." I believe I got as far as from
here to maybe Kerr Drug. I was soaked all the way through my clothes,
through my underclothes. That's how hard it was raining. And I started
crying, and I turned around and came back. Mother said, "I should just
let you change clothes and go right back again." We pulled those clothes
off. But that's how much I loved school. I learned. To me school—I
remember when I was in elementary school, we were living on Hopkins
Street, so I would walk. Each school that I went to I walked the rail
road track., and one was going toward Dowd Street. The other was going
toward Herd Square, Whitted School, which is Operation Breakthrough now.
And then, Hillside, of course. But walking to school, going to school.
And I remember when children began to fight, they wanted to fight. That
was so strange. It didn't make sense to me. I ran home to tell my
mother. I said, "They're trying to fight at school!" And it just so
happened that my father was home that day. And my father, he said,
"Well, you've got to go back. You can't run home." I said, "But they are
fighting." I said, "Mamma, I thought school
Page 23 was
where you go to learn." I didn't know that you go there to learn how to
fight.
[Laughter] So naïve. My father
said, "Well, this is a part of life. You've got to learn how to take
care of yourself." I said, "Do I have to?" He said, "Yes, you have to
take care of yourself. You can't run." That was an experience for me, to
learn. Because everything—I liked school, and I thought everybody else
liked school. And we were supposed to go there to learn. I didn't know
all of this was like fighting and all of that went along with it. That
was another thing I had to get used to because we didn't do it at
Merrick-Moore. There wasn't any fighting out there. So I saw smooth
sailing, but things changed. People have different ways, views of
things, and ways of looking at it I did not understand at the time. And
when a new kid is on the block she has to be tested or he has to be
tested. I didn't know anything about that. It was seeing whether I was
going to stand or run. I fled. Because I ran. I didn't know I was
supposed to stand up there, but that was the part. But, okay, so—