| Biographical Non-Fiction posted May 6, 2020 | Chapters: |
...30 31 -32- 33... 
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My son causes me to lose my maid.
A chapter in the book Remembering Yesterday
Another Change In the Wind
by BethShelby
| Background So far, we've gone from courtship to marriage, and now we have three children. I've started a new job. I have a maid who takes care of the children, but that is about to change. |
Things couldn’t stay a secret forever. I soon learned the large printing company where I was employed was being dissolved after many years of being in business. A new company would be formed and Robert, the plant manager, would be the new owner. He had owned a print shop in his home before becoming plant manager here. The new company would be much smaller, so therefore he could keep only a few of the original employees. My fate was still unsettled, but for now, I still had a job.
Robert’s experience in printing was self-taught and had involved only smaller presses. He didn’t understand the need for the vinyl masking sheets or the thick clear plastic that the larger negatives were attached to. The orange paper sheets were much less expensive, and he thought they should work just as well. Dave had never worked for a larger company either, so he agreed with Robert. Since I’d never been involved in printing before, I assumed everyone knew more than I did, so I went along. This was a problem that would drive us all nuts, because with the changes in temperature and humidity, the paper sheets expanded and contracted. While they worked for single color printing, they weren’t stable enough for the perfect alignment required for the four color process work.
As time went on, I learned to do the more complicated stripping on the large light tables. I was still doing the proofreading and the art work. Often, I had to work directly with the customer when they needed a logo or a brochure designed. I loved the work, but an eight-hour day was not always enough time to get everything done. You and I had to take separate cars, because many times I had to work late.
The girls' hair needed help. You had already taken Don several times for haircuts. Carol and Christi both inherited my fine and extremely straight hair. Mamie tried working with it, and often I came home to find both girls wearing tiny pigtails all over their heads. This was more of an ethnic style, and I decided it was time to take them to the beauty shop. I looked through the style books and decided on a Buster Brown cut for Christi and a pixie for Carol. Christi had no problem with her new look. Carol, on the other hand, was horrified and decided she was ruined for life. She had learned how to lock her room door, and as soon as we got home, she went straight to her room and said she would never come out again. She might have made good on that vow, but hunger has a way helping you see things differently. Carol had strong opinions and a very determined nature.
You had bought some cattle, which you were keeping in your parents’ pastures. Now that you had 143 acres of your own, you wanted them closer by. On weekends, you repaired and added fences and rented a truck to hall them to our farm, The next thing was to buy a registered bull. The big Hereford bull’s name was long on his registration papers, but we shortened it to Sam. Along with Sam, you acquired several more heifers. Now you were spending nearly every weekend on our farm property. The acreage contained land that had been used for growing cotton. You leased those acres to a neighbor so he could grow a crop. He agreed to watch your cattle when you weren’t around to make sure they didn’t break out of the fences.
I can’t help but smile when I think of the time Don was looking at our bull and he kept pointing and asking "what's that thing hanging down under his stomach.” You kept trying to distract him, but he wouldn’t let it go. Finally you lost your patience and informed him in rather loud slang terms what portion of the anatomy of the bull he was so curious about.
One day after we got in from work, Mamie said to me “Ms. Shelby, I need to talk to you. I can’t work for you people no more.”
“Why” I asked, “What happened? Is something wrong?”
“Yes Maam, Your son called me something what's not my name.”
“He did what? What did he call you? I’ll make him apologize.”
“I can’t say what he called me. It was something what's not my name.”
By that time, I assumed he must have used the “N” word, but that was something he’d never heard from us. One of the little boy’s next door had a dirty mouth, so that might have been where he picked it up. No amount of persuasion would change Mamie’s mind. We had no choice but to look for other child care options. When I questioned my son, he claimed to have no memory of saying anything to her. I think he inherited your reluctance to talk about unpleasant subjects.
Carol was able to fill in some details. She said Mamie marched him to the linen closet and pulled out a sheet. She said, “You thank you're white. You ain’t white. This sheet is white.” So maybe he called her something that wasn’t her “color.” Either way, she refused to stay.
I started looking for child care centers near where I worked. We did find a place that kept a lot of children. The lady who owned the place seemed very nice. She said she taught Kindergarten classes for the older children. Carol was four, but she seemed advanced, so the lady told me she could put Carol in the Kindergarten class. All of the children would spend some play time outside in the fenced backyard. They would have snacks in the morning and afternoon and a nutritious lunch. There would be a nap time. She said there were plenty of helpers to watch the children at all times. It seemed the best solution. The facility was in an older house that had been converted into a nursery. It was something we could afford, so we signed them up. They seemed to enjoy being there and went eagerly each day
The year was 1965. You and I had been married nine years. Your sister Nan had graduated from college with a degree in music and was teaching. She was now married and living in Gulf Port, Mississippi. My friend Joy, had also moved on. She had taught school for a year in Pensacola, Florida. She had met someone from in the Air Force and they were married. Like us, they had also lost their first child. He died from crib death at eight months. They now had other children and were living in Florida. Lyndon Johnson was the president of the country. The US was sending troops to Vietnam. The Sound of Music was still playing in the theaters, and Dr. Zhivago was premiering.
For the moment, you and I felt we were doing the right thing for our children, but things are never as simple as they seem at first.
Robert’s experience in printing was self-taught and had involved only smaller presses. He didn’t understand the need for the vinyl masking sheets or the thick clear plastic that the larger negatives were attached to. The orange paper sheets were much less expensive, and he thought they should work just as well. Dave had never worked for a larger company either, so he agreed with Robert. Since I’d never been involved in printing before, I assumed everyone knew more than I did, so I went along. This was a problem that would drive us all nuts, because with the changes in temperature and humidity, the paper sheets expanded and contracted. While they worked for single color printing, they weren’t stable enough for the perfect alignment required for the four color process work.
As time went on, I learned to do the more complicated stripping on the large light tables. I was still doing the proofreading and the art work. Often, I had to work directly with the customer when they needed a logo or a brochure designed. I loved the work, but an eight-hour day was not always enough time to get everything done. You and I had to take separate cars, because many times I had to work late.
The girls' hair needed help. You had already taken Don several times for haircuts. Carol and Christi both inherited my fine and extremely straight hair. Mamie tried working with it, and often I came home to find both girls wearing tiny pigtails all over their heads. This was more of an ethnic style, and I decided it was time to take them to the beauty shop. I looked through the style books and decided on a Buster Brown cut for Christi and a pixie for Carol. Christi had no problem with her new look. Carol, on the other hand, was horrified and decided she was ruined for life. She had learned how to lock her room door, and as soon as we got home, she went straight to her room and said she would never come out again. She might have made good on that vow, but hunger has a way helping you see things differently. Carol had strong opinions and a very determined nature.
You had bought some cattle, which you were keeping in your parents’ pastures. Now that you had 143 acres of your own, you wanted them closer by. On weekends, you repaired and added fences and rented a truck to hall them to our farm, The next thing was to buy a registered bull. The big Hereford bull’s name was long on his registration papers, but we shortened it to Sam. Along with Sam, you acquired several more heifers. Now you were spending nearly every weekend on our farm property. The acreage contained land that had been used for growing cotton. You leased those acres to a neighbor so he could grow a crop. He agreed to watch your cattle when you weren’t around to make sure they didn’t break out of the fences.
I can’t help but smile when I think of the time Don was looking at our bull and he kept pointing and asking "what's that thing hanging down under his stomach.” You kept trying to distract him, but he wouldn’t let it go. Finally you lost your patience and informed him in rather loud slang terms what portion of the anatomy of the bull he was so curious about.
One day after we got in from work, Mamie said to me “Ms. Shelby, I need to talk to you. I can’t work for you people no more.”
“Why” I asked, “What happened? Is something wrong?”
“Yes Maam, Your son called me something what's not my name.”
“He did what? What did he call you? I’ll make him apologize.”
“I can’t say what he called me. It was something what's not my name.”
By that time, I assumed he must have used the “N” word, but that was something he’d never heard from us. One of the little boy’s next door had a dirty mouth, so that might have been where he picked it up. No amount of persuasion would change Mamie’s mind. We had no choice but to look for other child care options. When I questioned my son, he claimed to have no memory of saying anything to her. I think he inherited your reluctance to talk about unpleasant subjects.
Carol was able to fill in some details. She said Mamie marched him to the linen closet and pulled out a sheet. She said, “You thank you're white. You ain’t white. This sheet is white.” So maybe he called her something that wasn’t her “color.” Either way, she refused to stay.
I started looking for child care centers near where I worked. We did find a place that kept a lot of children. The lady who owned the place seemed very nice. She said she taught Kindergarten classes for the older children. Carol was four, but she seemed advanced, so the lady told me she could put Carol in the Kindergarten class. All of the children would spend some play time outside in the fenced backyard. They would have snacks in the morning and afternoon and a nutritious lunch. There would be a nap time. She said there were plenty of helpers to watch the children at all times. It seemed the best solution. The facility was in an older house that had been converted into a nursery. It was something we could afford, so we signed them up. They seemed to enjoy being there and went eagerly each day
The year was 1965. You and I had been married nine years. Your sister Nan had graduated from college with a degree in music and was teaching. She was now married and living in Gulf Port, Mississippi. My friend Joy, had also moved on. She had taught school for a year in Pensacola, Florida. She had met someone from in the Air Force and they were married. Like us, they had also lost their first child. He died from crib death at eight months. They now had other children and were living in Florida. Lyndon Johnson was the president of the country. The US was sending troops to Vietnam. The Sound of Music was still playing in the theaters, and Dr. Zhivago was premiering.
For the moment, you and I felt we were doing the right thing for our children, but things are never as simple as they seem at first.
I'm continuing to recall memories of life with my deceased husband as if I am talking aloud to him. I'm doing this because I want my children to know us as we knew each other and not just as their parents;
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