Memoirs of AGENT BLACK

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AGENT BLACK

Oct 23 1945: Any time Momma was upset with me, she would say she went to the gates of heaven to ask the good lord to let me be born.  It was her way of instilling the fear of god into me at a young age.  Pop being a pastor and all didn’t help.  I guess then it was god that made me who I am.  Did he make a good man?  I’ve tried my best.  This is my story.  

Momma would say Jackie Robinson was a thief.  He stole the sunshine the day I was born because all the folks in town were talking about him signing with the Dodgers instead of talking about me being born.  Momma wasn’t much of a baseball fan after that day.  But to us kids he gave us hope, a chance to dream, chance to get out of Midland, Texas.  I don’t hold any grudges towards Jackie.  On the contrary he gave me legitimacy every time I held that hickory bat.  All the white kids had the fear of Jackie in their eyes.  Momma didn’t like me playing too much ball.  I think she felt it was a waste of time and time was better spent learning a language or reading the good book.  Pops wasn’t much of a talker but he came to every game and cheered in his quiet way.  Smoking his Lucky’s and drinking Mommas home made lemon ice tea.  Come to think of it, I guess Momma did come to my ball games through her lemon ice tea.  Ball came pretty easy to me, it was a little too easy for me.  Bored me most of the time, except when we were losing.  Losing made me angry, rather be angry than bored and winning.  Pops didn’t stick around when we lost.  He drove off and never spoke about the game during supper.  That was the bad thing about losing, that walk home was pretty long. The latter makes pops sound like a cold man.  If you lost your leg fighting the Japanese in WWII I think you would have a reason to be a bit cold too.  The war made pops pretty angry.  He came back home with one leg and about 2 dollars in his pocket.  What was it for?  I don’t think most men that fight in wars know.  Patriotism?  It don’t mean much when you can’t get a job because you’re a cripple.  It’s probably why Pop’s became a preacher.  Otherwise he’d be a pissed off war vet with no purpose.  To this day I don’t think Pop’s even believed in God.  He believed more in the structure and rules.  These rules gave him a filter from his anger.  Pop’s followed many rules.  Some from church, some from the army, some he just made up.  They might have worked for him, but his rules made life dour and quiet for those around him.  Rest his soul, but that man was boring.  Momma on the other hand was the life of the party.  She lived without a care in the world.  She would say, “if I get hit by a bus and die today at least folks will miss me”. She made a joke out of every situation, good or bad.  Did she love to laugh; she had a smile on her face even when she slept.  I miss her a lot.  I miss her smile. I miss playing pretend with her.  I miss acting like French tourist at the A&P. Folks would look at us like we were crazy, walking through the isles talking bad French to each other.  I miss her smile.

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