From the time Little Man and Christopher-John went overseas, I wrote them every week. Mama and Dee did the same. Papa and Stacey sent their love but left all the writing to us, though they were just as eager for a reply to come. Even when letters did not come, the next week Mama, Dee, and I wrote again. When letters finally did arrive, much of what Christopher-John and Man had written had been redacted with heavy black ink. Army officials deleted all information they did not want us to have. We had no exact idea where Christopher-John and Little Man were. Even the mailing address gave us no clue. Their letters did not show the country from which they were sent, but instead an Army mailing address in the States. The first time I received letters from the boys, I was incensed that so much of what they wanted us to know had been censored out. Later, though, I was just happy and relieved to know that at least on the day the letters were written, Christopher-John and Little Man were still alive.
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The house on Everett Street where we lived in Jackson had never seemed more empty. The house belonged to our Uncle Hammer. Uncle Hammer had several rental houses in the city, though he himself did not live in Jackson. For years he had lived in Chicago, but now was living in California. The Everett Street house was the best of his properties and he had turned it over to Stacey and Dee when they married. Soon after, I moved in with them and later, so did Christopher-John and Little Man. At that time Christopher-John and Man were students at Lanier High School and I was at Jackson College. All of us had gone to high school in Jackson, since by the time we were in high school Great Faith School only went to tenth grade. Before the boys and I moved into the house on Everett, Christopher-John, Man, and I had lived with other family members in Jackson, and before his marriage Stacey had been living and working in Memphis as a truck driver. The house, though small, was perfect for Stacey and Dee, and for the rest of us too. It was only a few blocks from the college and the box factory where Stacey worked, and not that far from Lanier. We enjoyed being in the house together. There was always activity in the house, other young people stopping by, boisterous moments and laughter and youthful fun. All that ended when Christopher-John and Little Man went off to war.
Although thoughts of Christopher-John and Little Man dominated our days, our family, like everybody else who had boys in the war, carried on with our lives. I continued my studies at the college, where I was working toward a degree in education and was scheduled to graduate in the spring of 1945. Stacey continued driving a truck for the box factory and both he and Dee, and all the family, were looking forward to the birth of the new baby. With the delivery date near, Big Ma came to Jackson to be with Dee, and she helped to deliver this new great-grandchild, just as she had delivered Stacey, Christopher-John, and me. The baby was born in May at the Everett Street house. Stacey and Dee called her ’lois. Three weeks after ’lois’s birth, Stacey shocked us all.
He announced he was going north.
For months Stacey had talked about going north, but Dee was always against it and so were Mama and Big Ma. Papa had told Stacey to wait until after the war, when Christopher-John and Man would be coming back. Stacey had conceded to them, even though we all knew the opportunity to go north was now. We had heard about all the good-paying factory jobs that were available in the North because of the war. Yet Stacey had kept in mind that Mama, Papa, and Big Ma were now alone on the land and he wanted to keep near to them, at least until Christopher-John and Clayton Chester returned. Now, all of a sudden, he had decided to go.
The morning Stacey made his announcement, he had gone to work at the box factory as usual, but came home unexpectedly soon after. Rie, now a year and a half, was down with Mama and Papa and Big Ma for a few days while Dee recovered from the birth and tended to the new baby. I had no morning classes, so I was at the house. Dee was seated in the living room rocking chair holding ’lois when Stacey came in. Her older brother, Ola, who also worked at the box factory, was with him. Dee looked up in surprise when they entered. “Rob, what’re you doing back so soon?” she asked, then looked at her brother. “And, Ola, what are you doing here?” Stacey passed Dee without answering and headed for their bedroom, right off the living room. “Robert? Something wrong?”
At the bedroom door, Stacey turned and quietly answered her. “I’m leaving, Dee.”
“What?”
“I’m finished with Mississippi. I’m going north. Today.” There was no outburst of anger, no animosity in his voice, just a statement of fact. He opened the door, left it open, and went to the closet.
“What?” Dee repeated, as if not comprehending what he had said.
I stared at my brother. I was as unprepared for his announcement as Dee. I went over to the doorway. “Are you serious?” I asked.
Stacey glanced at me. “What do you think?” He parted the closet curtains and pulled out a suitcase.
Dee looked to her brother for explanation. Ola shrugged. “He means it.”
With ’lois still in her arms, Dee got up from the rocker and stood beside me. When she spoke, her words were almost a whisper. “Robert, have you lost your mind?”
Stacey pulled open a dresser drawer and began to empty out his clothes. “Yeah, I guess I have. I’m crazy not to have left this place long time ago.”
“But . . . what happened?” asked a bewildered Dee. “I don’t understand.”
Stacey opened another drawer. “What’s to understand?” He nodded toward Ola. “You’d better thank Ola that he was with me today because I’m sick to death of these white people down here. I’m going to kill one of them if they don’t kill me first.”
“Robert, you don’t know what you’re saying!”
Ola moved toward his sister. “Dee, Stacey and this white guy got into an argument on the loading dock. Cracker grabbed at him, hit him. Stacey here was ready to hit him back. Took me and couple other fellas working on the dock to hold him, keep him from making that mistake. Boy’d be in jail, or dead, he’d’ve hit that white boy.”
Dee listened to her brother, never taking her eyes off Stacey, who was opening another drawer. As he began to empty it, she said emphatically, “You’re not going anywhere, Robert.”
Stacey just looked at her and tossed socks from the drawer into the suitcase. At that, Dee placed ’lois in my arms and hurried over to the bed where the suitcase lay, grabbed the clothes from it and slammed them back into the drawer, then turned to face Stacey. “You’re not going anywhere,” she repeated. “You’re not leaving me.”
Stacey said nothing, just moved past her to retrieve his clothes from the drawer. Dee blocked him. “I got a newborn baby in this house, Robert Stacey Logan. We got Rie. You’re not going to leave your babies and me. My father left and didn’t come back, and you’re not going to do the same. You hear me? I won’t have it! I won’t let you leave!” Stacey sighed and went back to the closet and pulled pants from a hanger. Dee snatched them away. “I said you’re not leaving!”