Like One of the Family (18 page)

Marge, she set her mouth all prim-like and got a look in her eyes that meant, “I'm not gonna say another word to you.” So I went on talkin'. “Are we citizens?” I asked her. She goes right on lookin' at me like the subject is closed. “Are we citizens?” This time I said it so loud 'til she says, “Yes! Shhhhh, everybody is watchin' you.” “Well,” I says, “in that case, we're entitled to all our rights.”

By this time the drunk had flopped down in a seat and was hummin' a tune to himself. No, we didn't move 'cause I wasn't thinkin' 'bout takin' the burden of some poor soul's weakness on my shoulders!

M
ARGE, AIN'T THERE A LOT
of talk goin' on about
inhibitions?
The woman I worked for today says she does not want her son to be inhibited…. This means that he can climb up the drapes, smash up the dishes, be rude to tradespeople, sass his parents, eat what he wants and in general act like the cock o' the walk. When he starts in to cryin', he can write his own ticket and get the moon with star-sauce on it…. You're right, girl, he can also get in my hair and on my blasted nerves…. As far as his parents are concerned they think the whole business is “cute.” I'm tellin' you, one of these days he's gonna marry some woman and make her miserable!

Well, the point I want to make is this: I usually just gear myself to ignorin' whatever goes on in order to get my work done, so I've gotten used to him rulin' the house. Today was rush day for me, and I was in a hurry and tryin' to get finished so I could make it on home. He come runnin' in the kitchen and wanted to stick his fingers in the chopped meat patties, and when I wouldn't let him, he started screamin' bloody murder. His mother came rushin' in to find out what happened, and I told her, “I won't let him play in the hamburger.” She kept explainin' to him, “Mildred loves you! Mildred loves you! But she's busy.” He kept kickin' up his heels and screamin', “She does not! She does not!”

At this point his mother turned to me and said, “Tell him, Mildred, tell him you love him and explain why he can't play in the hamburger.” Then I says to him, “Because I
said
not, that's why!” Well, his mama was some shocked and after she was finished givin' her son cookies, candies, kisses, and also let him go out to play, she asked if she could have a few words with me. The few words were: “Mildred, you can't deal with children abruptly, you always have to let them know the reason why things take place or else they will feel unwanted and inhibited.”

“And that's bad?” I asked her. “Definitely!” she said. “Well,” I says, “don't you think that should hold true for everybody? Why should I be inhibited? I can't tell that child why he can't do things and make any sense out of the tellin' 'cause I'm in such a inhibited state myself. I got to walk around here bein' considerate of you, and the only way I could explain to him why he shouldn't do things would throw
you
smack-dab in the middle of the explanation.” Then she says, “I don't see how that can be.”

So I told her, “You have spoiled that boy so rotten 'til you've made it impossible for anybody to have any dealin's with him at all. If I was to tell him why he couldn't play in the dinner, I would
have
to talk about you some. If I did that, it would put you and me in a awful strain, so I just go along and tell him don't do it 'cause I
said
so.”

“Well,” she says, “I'd rather you speak up and tell me just what's on your mind.” “Since that's what you'd rather,” I said, “here it is: the reason he can't do any and everything that strikes him is 'cause somebody has given him some wrong ideas about his
rights!
In spite of what you tell him, it is not his
right
to walk over everybody, to be rude and sassy, to hold me up from doin' my work, to make everybody sick 'cause he feels like playin' in their food. No, it is not his right to do these things or to get rewarded for
not
ruinin' the supper. He needs to be told that there are things that everybody ought to do whether they feel like it or not, and the sooner they get used to the idea, the better they will get along in the world.”

Oh, Marge, she started a whole lot of goin' on 'bout how I don't understand the modern methods of teachin' children and by the time she said “you don't know” and “you don't understand” about fifty-'leven times, she began to make me mad! “Look here,” I says, “I know that half the time you're givin' in to that boy because you don't want to be bothered with him!”

Marge, she looked so dumbstruck that I thought she'd faint. “Mildred!” she says, “Are you tryin' to tell me that I don't love my son?” “No, I'm not
tryin'
to tell you anything,” I says. “I'm
tellin'
you that you get sick of him a whole lot of times and then he does somethin' naughty to make you give him things and try to prove that you love him! That's why you come in here hollerin', ‘Mildred loves you! Mildred loves you!'” “Well, I
never
!” she says, and I went right on talkin', “You never! That's right, you never take time out to talk to him like he's a person. You never feel like lookin' at his drawin's and talkin' about his games and things. You never tell him what's on your mind, but you will always be on hand just in time to shove a piece of candy in his mouth and start talkin' about love!”

Then she started pacin' up and down, “I never dreamed that I was such a terrible mother.” “You're not so terrible,” I says, “you got a whole set of inhibitions of your own. For one thing, you're always feelin' awful about how you're feelin' inside and workin' yourself to death tryin' to make the outside look just the other way. You will spring unexpected dinner guests on me and then go 'round here complainin' 'bout havin' a headache. When you do that you're tryin' to make me feel
sorry
for you so that I won't get mad about the extra work.”

“Why,” she says, “I would never plan to do such an underhanded kind of thing!” “No, you wouldn't plan it,” I says, “'cause you've done it so much 'til it's become second nature. I notice that every time you have a few cross words with your husband, you jump in the bed and play sick 'til he buys you a ring or a watch or somethin', and you also give me a little present every time you speak cross to me or act unreasonable.”

“Oh, my!” she says in a real airish way, “I wonder how my husband can stand me!” “No need to wonder,” I says, “'cause I notice that whenever he goes out of town for two or three days he sure is extra-special nice to you when he gets back here, and no matter how cranky you might act, he's as humble as a little lamb for two or three days. I guess that's his way of givin' you a piece of candy, just like you do with that child.”

Marge, I was sorry the minute after I said it 'cause I hate to bring a hurt look to people's eyes and you know I mightn't have said it at all if I wasn't so mad. She looked at me long and hard, “All right, I guess I deserved every bit of that.” I shook my head, “Let's don't worry 'bout our just desserts 'cause if we got what we deserved all of us would be mighty happy. All we can do is go 'long and do our best without tryin' to fool anybody, ourselves in particular.”

“Well,” she says, “it's a deep subject, and we could talk all night long and not come up with the right answers.” And I told her, “It wouldn't take nearly as long as you might imagine.”

By the time the little boy came back in the house, I was ready to leave. That little devil decided that he wanted to pour the sugar bowl out on the table…. Who me? … No, I didn't open my mouth although he kept watchin' me out of the corner of his eye.

His mother took it away…. No, she didn't tell him why. You know that smart little fella really knew why he shouldn't do those things…. Sure, he hollered, but before I left, he was quiet as a mouse and he and his mama was busy readin' a story together.

No, indeed, I don't need anybody to tell me about Inhibitions, not after all the hard days I've seen and lived through!

M
ARGE, DO YOU EVER ASK
yourself, “What is it all about?” I mean livin' and dyin' and the long stretch of struggle that comes in between.

I was over to my cousin Nellie's house and she had just come through a great store of trouble and it looked like a fresh supply was due any minute. Well, honey, she threw up her hands and said, “Why? Why? Why? What is it all about? I go out to work every day on a hard, low-payin' job, I live in this broke-down, high-rent apartment and I just barely manage to buy enough food so's I can keep my strength up to go back to that low-payin' job, and things go 'round like that year in and year out. For what? Why!”

You should have heard her, Marge. “Folks goin' off to war,” she says, “killin' other folks, hatred scattered everywhere near and far, everybody actin' like dog eat dog and the devil take the hindmost! Every Sunday we get together and sing ‘Nearer My God to Thee' and then go back to the same old scuffle come Monday mornin'.”

And she's right, Marge! Ain't it awful? Just think—a man is headed for the grave…. Excuse me, Marge. I meant no disrespect, let's say he's headed for Heaven, but before he goes, he's got a mission to accomplish, so he says, “Before I go to Heaven, I'm gonna own all the old shanty buildings in my town and charge the poor folks so much rent that I'll be able to buy me a car and a big house with a swimming pool.

“And before I go to Heaven, I'm goin' to see that all the schools stay Jim Crow so's that different races can keep hatin' each other. I'm goin' to keep black people off of juries, also—before I go to Heaven, I'm going to drop bombs on people and also raise the food prices. Furthermore, before I go to Heaven, I'm goin' to vote against free hospitals for children. I'm goin' to build houses of prostitution and more jails to put the prostitutes in. Before I go to Heaven, I am also going to build me an atom bomb shelter, so that I will not go to Heaven too soon.

“Before I go to Heaven, I'm goin' to join the Klan and burn crosses on folks doorsteps … and bum folks if necessary. And last but not least, before I go to Heaven, I'm goin' to give away fifty Christmas baskets every year to the poor, regardless of their race, creed or color!”

Can you imagine that, Marge? … You're absolutely right, girl! Life should be more than grabbing and getting. Like I told Nellie, “Ain't it plain, to see the mission is loving and working to glorify the earth and all that's in it? It's to heal the blind, not only with operations and glasses but with knowledge and learning; to cure the sick, not only in hospitals but the folks who are sick at heart; to feed the hungry! Divide the loaves and fishes among all the children in the world and see the great amount we'll still have left over. It's to find delight in one another and bring about the true brotherhood of all mankind.”

Well, Marge, Nellie smiles at me and says, “Mildred, the last man that taught those things got crucified, and if he was back here today, he'd get it again!”

“Don't I know it!” I said. “But what did he say? ‘Lo, I am with you always!'”

“Look around, Nellie,” I said. “Every age has somebody teachin' those things, but the golden age of peace and joy will come when we stop the crucifixion!” Well, leastways, Marge, that's how I think—or else, as Nellie says, “What is it all about?”

M
ARGE, WHO LIKES
housework? … I guess there's a few people who do, but when a family starts makin' money what is the first thing that happens? … You are right! They will get themselves a maid to do the housework. I've never heard of no rich folk who just want to go on doin' it our of pure love and affection! Oh, they might mix up a cake once in a while or straighten a doily, but for the most part they're gettin' a kick out of doin' that simply 'cause they don't have to do it. Honey, I mean to tell you that we got a job that almost nobody wants!

That is why we need a union! Why shouldn't we have set hours and set pay just like busdrivers and other folks, why shouldn't we have vacation pay and things like that? … Well, I guess it would be awful hard to get houseworkers together on account of them all workin' off separate-like in different homes, but it would sure be a big help and also keep you out of a lot of nasty arguments!

For example, I'd walk in to work and the woman would say to me, “Mildred, you will wax the floors with paste wax, please.” Then I say, “No, that is very heavy work and is against the union regulations.” She will say, “If you don't do it, I will have to get me somebody else!” Then I say, “The somebody else will be union, too, so they will not be able to do it, either.” “Oh,” she will say, “if it's too heavy for you and too heavy for the somebody else then it must be also too heavy for me! How will I get my floors done?” “Easy,” I say, “the union will send a
man
over to do things like paste wax, window washin', scrubbin' walls, takin' down Venetian blinds and all such.”

She will pat her foot then and say, “Well!
That
will cost me extra!” … “Exactly,” I will say, “'cause it is extra wear and tear on a man's energy, and wear and tear on energy costs money!”

… Oh, Marge, you would have to put a problem in the thing! All right, suppose she says, “Never mind, I don't want you or anybody else from that union, I will search around and find me somebody who does not belong to it!” Well, then the union calls out all the folks who work in that buildin', and we'll march up and down in front of that apartment house carry in' signs which will read, “Miss So-and-so of Apartment 5B is unfair to organized houseworkers!” … The other folks in the buildin' will not like it, and they will also be annoyed 'cause their maids are out there walkin' instead of upstairs doin' the work. Can't you see all the neighbors bangin' on Apartment 5B!