I saw the old farm dog approaching me. He trotted towards me on the dirt road and was carrying something small in his mouth. His tail wagged as he got closer and he proudly dropped it at my feet.
A black kitten. Barely a week old. With a broken neck.
I ran to the barn and climbed the ladder to the hay loft looking for the mama cat and her four black kittens. The kittens were gone and the mama was crying as she paced and sniffed around the hay.
A dog can’t climb a ladder.
I was sobbing as I ran to the farmer’s house and pounded on their door yelling “Mr. Winters, Mr. Winters – the kittens…they’re gone….they’re dead. Please come help!!!!”
Mr. Winters came to the door and knelt down to wipe my tears and comfort me. This man who I spent almost every moment with after school, on weekends, during Summer vacation. This man who had his wife bake cookies for me and would take me for rides on his tractor. This man who would help me save all the county cats and bring them back to his barn to be my playmates. This man who made this Yankee girl from the big city up North who moved to this small town just north of the Missouri Compromise feel like this could be home.
And then he told me he broke those n*gg*r kitten necks because he didn’t want any of them around his farm.
I walked away sobbing even harder. Not for those kittens but because I just lost my best friend in the whole world.
*******
The cats were the last straw in trying to accept or ignore the hate in that town. The town that according to the 2000 census is still 99.9% white.
The first straw may have been the way this nine year old was called a Yankee in 1977. Or hearing the n word used like it was just an everyday noun. By children. Maybe it was the way I was made fun of for my Northern accent. Or maybe because this girl who knew Catholicism was suddenly Methodist..because wasn’t everybody?
Or maybe it was the way our school principal made an announcement when an Asian family moved to town that we were not suppose to talk to the children if they showed up at school. Or maybe it was how that family left 24 hours later. Maybe it was the way everyone would stop and stare if they saw an African American family drive through town on their way somewhere else. Quickly.
And I was only nine and ten and then eleven and then twelve. And I just stood there angry. SO DAMN ANGRY at that town for what they were. And what they said. And how they treated people. And for what they taught their children. MY FRIENDS.
So escaped it all..and spent my days up at the old barn. Feeding and chasing cats, making ‘wine’ from the old farmer’s grape vines, enjoying honeysuckle butter, playing hide and seek among the rows of corn, and chasing the cows in the pasture. Spending time with my best friends – a 60 year old farmer and his wife.
Until the day he broke my heart beyond repair.
**********
This was written as a Memoir for the following prompt for Write on Edge.
“We all have them.
Memories that we wish we could forget…things that we wish we could banish from our minds.
Imagine that writing down your worst memory will free you of it.
What is it?
Why does it haunt you?
What could you have done differently?”
Wow, that breaks MY heart. As do your other memories of that town. I’m not sure if it was your intent but you made me pretty DAMN angry too!
I’m so sorry…
Well I am not glad I made you angry – or maybe I am. I wish everyone would get angry about it. I do every time I think about it.
This line will resonate with me for a long time…
“A dog can’t climb a ladder.”
Such a painful memory told with such strength.
I truly love this post, Tracy.
Thank you, Nichole. That means so much. I knew – I knew when I climbed the ladder what had been done. I just had no idea the extent of the hate.
Oh, I hurt reading this. But your painful memory is so beautifully expressed.
This is so sad. I couldn’t imagine growing up in a town like this or having a neighbor that was so trusted do something so mean.
Holy Crap. This northern Canadian girl can’t even imagine. I feel so blessed to have never known this kind of prejudice. So sorry for your broken heart Tracy. Beautifully written.
Dana
Thank you, Dana. Holy crap that it is still going on in the world.:((
You took something so ugly and made it beautiful with your words, but I have that seething feeling in my stomach. Ignorance and racism and hate are so cyclical and ingrained some places, but that just makes it more awful. My heart hurts for the young you and the trust that was broken that day so long ago.
What bothered me so much is what they teach the next generation…and then the next one..and the next. When I researched the census numbers I was sick to see that nothing has changed in the 30 years since we moved away.
It’s shocking that that kind of hatred still exists and is so blatantly exercised. I know it happens but it’s still shocking. Great piece thought, very evocative.
—I must say, I found myself gasping and holding my breath as I read this post. Shocking. Sad. Unbelievable. My heart ached.
And even so, your words were utterly beautiful.
Thank you. It’s the first post in a long time that I sobbed the whole way through as I wrote it…and still cry as I read.
I have a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat, reading this. And my heart broke for your 9 year old self.
This is utterly heartbreaking. What a terrible lesson to learn at such a young age. Despite the subject matter you have written it beautifully. Thank you for sharing your heart, your memory, your experience in a way that may hopefully bring healing.
I wish I truly understood what causes hate like this – besides the obvious ignorance.
Ignorance yes, but at the heart perhaps just pure selfishness. I believe it is the result of living in a world that is corrupted by sin.
Oh, but I love that you got a black dog!! That this town exists sounds like some bizarro place to me, but sadly I know it is real.
Wow, I can’t even imagine what it was like to not only see the dead kittens but to have to deal with that sort of hatred from such an age. It just breaks my heart.
The whole week the dog kept finding the kittens that the farmer threw in the ditch. Ugh, it was awful.
this is stabbingly good. An ugly story told beautifully–this is what makes me write. There is no way to deal with the horrors of real life sometimes but to write them down. It is not so much the catharsis of writing, but sharing our common humanity and brutality that moves me. I felt sick reading this–nice work! best, wb
Thank you. So true. Only the written word can truly capture my emotions and keeps my trust.
Oh how awful, I am always shocked by the hate and ignorance some people grow up with. As awful as it was, I’m so glad you were able to rise above it all and become the better person for it. What a strong little girl you were.
I knew I could never have a life in that town. I was so grateful the day we moved away.
I can’t imagine your horror at the discovery that your friend, who cared for you so gently, had murdered innocent animals in the name of hatred for humans with a different skin color. There are layers and layers of “this just is not right” going on here.
I’m so sorry for the little 9 year old you were that day. My heart aches for how you had to grow up that day, and the anger that became rage under the surface as you grew to understand more about hatred and bigotry.
Thank you for digging deep and writing this one. It’s a beautifully told story, and filled with deep emotion. You took us right there and put us next to you, experiencing the childlike joy, followed by searing pain.
*HUG*
This absolutely breaks my heart… I am so sorry. No child should ever have to witness such…
Tracy,
Powerful post, mama. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like to go through this at the tender age of 9. And what sucks? Is that sometimes I’m not sure we’re any better off/further ahead today than we were when this happened.
xoxo
Isn’t this so true. It’s out there and so deep and sad.
such a powerful post – im sorry you had to experience this as a child – breaks my heart!
Oh Tracy, this was amazing. I can’t wait to read the book that I know is in you. Remember, I get to go on tour with you…
This was powerful and moving and heartbreaking, everything a wonderful novel should be.
Oh my friend – no it’s your book that needs to be written.
Oh my gosh..what a story.
Life and it’s ugliness.
Best to turn your face toward the sun.
Poor little girl.
This was written in such am amazing way…you told so much.
I have a black cat. He’s 10 years old, my first baby, and the reason I now proclaim myself more of a “cat person” than a “dog person.” Always one to buck the trends, I adopted him *because* he was black. Because I didn’t believe all that phooey about black cats bringing bad luck; I thought he would bring me good luck in a time that I desperately needed a little bit of good in my life. And he did.
I can no more imagine murdering innocent animals for the color of their fur than I can shunning people for the color of their skin. Both are senseless, ignorant, and so painfully wrong that it breaks my heart.
As a sidenote, I’m sickened to the point of tears by what that monster did to those kittens.
Oh I love this.
Funny story as a continuation of my post that I chose to omit…we went out and got a BLACK dog that year. The blackest of black dogs we could find and loved up on him so damn much. My step-dad has a sense of humor like that and suggested that we do it as the crazy Northerners in this messed up town. And yes, I believe he was the only black dog in town and we didn’t give an eff who knew or saw us. Damn I loved that dog.
Good for you!
I just can’t fathom having that attitude about anything pertaining to the color black – whether it’s someone’s skin or an animal’s fur. I mean, what’s next – lynching a woman for wearing a little black dress?
Stupid. So very stupid.
WOW. Its hard to imagine a town that still is like that. Just wow.
You know, I grew up in one of the northern most parts of the US (upper michigan) and I remember my Dad using that word. Many people did. I had no idea that it was bad. So ignorant, so naive.
Yes, I still hear it too. So damn sad.
it still hurts me to hear that word or come across any kind of HATE, the kind that beats people down or hurts their soul. This was so vivid, my hands were shaking with it. It changed me.
Can you imagine how miserable that man must have been to have gotten to that place in his life? I want to weep for you, too, and in a way, for him.
You know how I feel about this post. How I can’t wrap my head around the type of human who would kill a kitten because of the color of its fur.
And I’m happy for the black dog. xo
Thank you, friend. xo I tried to put the dog in and it just kept coming out strange as I am not a writer as you know. Maybe I’ll tell the story on it’s own someday.
I can feel your hurt, embarrassment, and anger as I read the words in the post.
Excellent writing, but I’m sorry you have this as a memory to write about.
I fear the day my kids will know stories like this..since they are half African American. As little kids they have no idea people hated their dad, mom, uncle and grandparents just because they were black.. and they have no idea that many people will hate THEM because they are part black as well. People like to think that this prejudice is in the past but its not. So many people like to think they are tolerant until their son or daughter brings home a person of another race and introduces them as their “boyfriend” or “girlfriend”. I dread that day for my kids..oh do I ever.
Oh Amanda – Thank goodness they have you to guide them through the hurtful words you know will come. Love you so much.xo
It really is horrifying to think that there are people who truly still believe and act this way. After how far we’ve come to combat prejudice and hatred it still lives and breathes and grows in some. Thank God, you were able to get away from it and to escape and teach your family better.
It IS heartbreaking when the people we love fall drastically short of our expectations.
I love him so much – and have so many amazing memories of her…but still have a hard time remember him as a friend as how could I be friends with someone who had that much hate?
Tracy this makes me want to cry. Growing up in East Texas I have had my share of these experiences as well. I know what you mean about the heartbreak and the misunderstanding of being child and being surrounded by hate. I’ve had a story on my heart from my own childhood that I’ve been too cowardly to share. I think you just gave me the strength to do that. Thank you.
Oh I am so glad and I look forward to reading your story. Please write it.
So sorry for that little girl …
Only this week did I have a woman look at my girls and ask me, is that your daughter?
So how do they get along?
Just like sisters.
No, really, do they get along?
… why wouldn’t they I wanted to say to her, because one is black?
Its alive and well in this country, very alive, but sadly not well …
Oh gosh – that is so maddening. Why, why??? I’m so sorry.
What a painful memory but thank you for sharing it. It’s so hard when you know that something is wrong and not be able to do anything about it.
You grew up to be a much better person and fall in line with the terrible things that they were teaching children back there.
Oh, this is just evil. All of it.
I hate intolerance. There are family members I won’t talk to because they knew that I might get a n*gg*r kid when I adopted. I’m dead serious – but, you know, whether or not my adopted kid is biracial (we have no idea, he’s blond-haired & blue eyed, but has a spectacular ‘fro if you let it grow), I’m glad to know how those family members think, so as to better avoid them.
There are no words.
Or maybe there are too many.
Either way. Both.
I’m actually looking away from my screen; my chin resting on my shoulder. Good thing I know how to type without watching my fingers.
Once you mentioned that a dog couldn’t climb a ladder, I knew where this story was headed. And my heart started pounding for you.
Then it kept pounding for the lack of tolerance I still see in this world. In this country that is supposed to embrace freedom.
Race, religion, disability, sexual preference; there is always the next “acceptable” discrimination to replace the one society has attempted to address.
I could say more, but I’ll stop here. Because really, this is your story. Your memoir.
Still. I suppose there were words after all.
Thank you so much for yours, Tracy.
You have got to be kidding me… ouch. That was tough to read, but very well written. Thank you for sharing, Tracy.
I am heartbroken and livid all at once. I am so sorry you had to learn those ugly things so young.
I’m so very sorry that you were exposed to such extreme hatred at such a young age. This is such a heart breaking story. It reminds me of when I was a child who would befriend anyone regardless of color and actually found myself sticking up for them in school because they were being teased for the color of their skin. Stupid and ignorant kids who felt better making people feel bad because they couldn’t come to terms with things within themselves!
Damn, girl, you just about broke my heart with this story. Wow. I would like to say “unbelievable” but unfortunately it’s very very believable. I’m so glad you got that black dog. And this makes me so glad I grew up in the northeast where my very best Kindergarten friend could be a black girl and no on blinked an eye. Well, some did (it was 1965, after all), but quietly and we ignored them. (If you want to read my TRDC story about her it’s here: Cheryl)
Thank you, Varda – I just read your story. What a beautiful friendship. xo
Devestating. If this was the first chapter I would not put the book down. Beautiful job.
Oh my word – thank you for this, Ann. xo
Oh my goodness. I am devastated. So sad. So terribly sad for you and the girl you were. I’m so glad you got out of there, but so sad for those who remain. There and other places. I cannot even begin to imagine such hatred and it breaks my heart. I also want to smash that guy into thousands of little pieces. Bastard.
A dog can’t climb a ladder.
The most explosive six words I’ve read in a long time.
And I’m so glad I read the comments. Your step-dad and the black dog reminded me that these pockets of hate will always have a bright stone of humor and hope in them.
Whoa. So much pain and anger in this story. I feel so badly for that poor little girl.
The saddest part is something you touched on – this is the way children are taught to be. No one is born like that.
Sorta off topic but not really: Was watching an interview w/Bryce Dallas Howard about how she could play “Hilly” in “The Help”. She said she had a hard time at first, but then she realized that this character actually thought she was doing the right thing. She actually thought she was helping people and that she was a good person. Sadly, I’m sure so many people think the same thing about themselves, because it’s how they were taught. So, so sad.
I am speechless. I’m so sorry you went through this.
Wow.
Just wow.
It’s so sad that people think like that.
Wow! What a powerful story! It’s a shame to have encountered so much hatred! And, it is still all around us every day, just varying degrees.
That much hate. So sad.
I’m heartbroken for the little you that had to live through this and surrounded by it.
no child should ever encounter that kind of hatred. I cannot understand that kind of blindness towards people. I mean we are all people right.
I can imagine how devastating this must have been for you. As a mother of 3 bi-racial kids, I’d like to thank you for having the backbone,even as a kid, to try to seperate yourself from things/people that encourage racism/hate of other people. If the world were full of people like you, it may still have problems, but it would be a better place for everyone.
[...] one ugly memory. I hate that I can’t go back and change it. But then I read this post by Tracy, and this post by Melanie, and this post (and several others) by Kelly, and I realized what I can [...]