butterfly chapter 1-3

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CHAPTER 1

My life changed drastically at the end of the year leading up to the time when I turned 12.

I am not sure even now, what caused the change to come about. Was it the influence of Mrs.

Taylor, my love of adventure, the tragic episode, or my desire for something better that brought

about the change? Years later I thought about that year and wondered if one event had been

added or another event subtracted, would the outcome have been the same.

I was born and raised in Piney Woods, Tennessee. That is about 20 miles northeast of

Chattanooga, Tennessee. It is a small town, just a way stop for most people, with a population of

about 1500 in 1955. There were just about as many colored people as white people back then.

Colored people and white people did not congregate together. We didn't see each other that

much, each group sort of kept to themselves. We had our stores, businesses and schools, and

they had theirs on their side of town and we had ours on our side of town. There was not much

difference in the look of our respective neighborhoods and business. City hall and other city

government buildings were in the neutral part of town. The colored section was actually closer

to the outskirts of town. I thought it was nicer, because we had more open fields and trees and

places to picnic and play .

The only time any of us went to the white section of town was to work in one of their

houses. For instance, my mama worked for Miss Anne three days a week for a dollar a day, plus

we got all the left over’s and hand me downs she could get and bring home . It was surprising,



though that Miss Anne’s house was not even as nice as our house. I went to work with my

mama one time when she was working a half day. I think she wanted me to keep Miss Anne’s

little girl, Sue, company while she worked. The little girl was really active and always getting

into something, so I could see why my mama wanted me to keep her out of the way.

Their house was smaller than ours, so there was not much for my mama to clean , mostly

she did the washing, which always took a while . This girl did not even have any decent toys to

play with, and she did not have any kind of imagination even to take the place of toys. At home

we could take a stick and make a toy and game that would keep us busy for hours. But this girl

did not have toys or imagination; she just whined all the time that I was there. After about a hour

of doing nothing, mama said for me take the child to the store, get her something sweet to eat,

and some starch for my mama’s washing. We started off down the street; the store was only

about two blocks away, two blocks in a white neighborhood, a poor white neighborhood.

We had not walked the first block when a car load of white boys passed us hooting and

hollering. I did not pay them any mind, I just held the little girls hand , and kept walking. On the

way back from the store, that same car load of boys passed us again , only this time I heard one

of them call out the ‘n___ ‘ word . That made me stop, because I think they were talking about

me. If I thought I was mistaken, several of them began to chant – ‘n---, n---,’ over and over. I

felt wounded, dirty, and hurt . I looked at this little girl who I had been caring for all morning.

She understood what they were saying about me, and she was laughing. She thought it was

funny. When we got back to her house, mama soon put the child down for a nap, she was only a

year younger than me, 10 years old , but my mama told me to call her Miss Susan . I told my

mama about what happened, that some white boys called me ‘n---‘. Mama did not say anything

at first, I just watched for her to say something. I don’t know what I expected her to say, but all



she finally said was, ‘girl white boys are like that, don’t let them upset you, this is not the first

time you have been called this, and it will not be the last.” And she went on with the laundry,

putting clothes into the wringer washing machine.

I will never forget that time, not just because of those boys, but because my mama did not

seem to understand that it hurt, and she did not show me a way of dealing with it, or comfort me

in any way .

My Daddy, he worked in Chattanooga at a chemical plant, plus he delivered newspapers

before he left for work each morning. There weren’t many jobs for a colored man in PineyWoods

Tennessee in 1955, at least not enough to make a living at and take care of a family. He did

whatever he could to pay for our new house on Lee Avenue. He was a tall man, over 6 feet, and

slim and medium brown skinned . He was also a proud man. He always walked with his head

up, and his shoulders back . He told me once that he was trained to walk proud this way when he

worked as a bell hop at a white hotel in Chattanooga when he was a young man . He said that

the head bell hop , or captain, was a man who had been in the army, and he trained his charges

the same way he had been trained in the army .

My daddy also was the colored union president on his job. From the little that I could

hear one night he almost got into trouble , well he did get into trouble , with his white bosses

because he tried to help one of the colored workers who had gotten blinded by some chemicals in

an on the job accident . This man had eight children, and now no way to take care of them and

his wife . Daddy said this man was working by himself one day while everyone else was at

lunch, he was mixing chemicals to make bleach . He was up on some scaffolding , pouring in

the chemicals into a big vat, when some splashed in his eyes . Daddy had gone to check on him

when someone said what he was doing . He said as he got near him he heard screaming, and ran



to where the man was . The man was holding his eyes . Daddy pulled his hands away and his

pupils were milky white.

My daddy believed in what was right, and he would speak his mind to whom ever, white

or colored. He explained to this man afterwards that he could get disability benefits and a check

every month. The company had only paid for his hospital bills and sent him home. Daddy said

that after this incident his white boss called him into the office and asked him why he helped that

colored man get disability.

“I told him because it was the right thing to do, and he has a family to support,” my

daddy told his white boss, “and he had a right to know about his rights.”

“Yeah, but he would not have known about his rights, unless you had told him,” his boss

replied angrily.

From then on, my daddy said his boss was watching him. He said they would have fired

him then and there, but he was a good worker. But he was warned that he better not mess up

because they were watching him, and they would not hesitate firing him if they had any cause.

But my daddy said that in spite of his beliefs and actions they probably admired him in a way.

Everyone in our house was also a little afraid of my daddy. He seemed to always be

angry or impatient with us children, and even my mama. We had to be quiet when he was

around. My mama had to be careful what she said around him too. He never hit my mama, but

words often hit harder than fists. He treated her at times as if she didn’t have as much sense as

we did. I hated to hear their arguments. My father would be accusing, and my mother would be

trying to placate him and keep him quiet. But my daddy never hit my mama, he hit us, especially

me, instead. Many colored parents were like that, hard on their children, abusive even. They

wanted to protect us. Even considering my daddy’s example at work, they didn’t want us acting



out and getting into trouble with white people. I don’t think they wanted us to be to egotistical

either, or think too much of ourselves and get the attention of white folks. I learned early about

not being too proud or trying to stand out. I felt at times that they wanted to break my spirit, in

order to keep others from doing so .

Our parents were also not the type to hug a lot, or give kisses, or say ‘I love you’. I do

not remember my parents ever saying those words, to each other or to us. But they feed us and

housed us, so I guess they did love us in their way.

With my parents gone so much working, it was left to me, the oldest, to take care of my

two younger sisters and two brothers and keep the house clean. It wasn't so bad. In the summer

time when my mama was at work, we'd clean up the house, or I would clean and supervise the

others. Then everyone went outside so the house would stay clean until my mama got home.

At the beginning of summer, with school finally out we would begin to plan our free time

. Like magic at the beginning of June it would finally be warm enough to go barefoot and wear

the least amount of clothes because Tennessee was so hot and humid. Usually all we wore were

shorts every day but Sundays . We looked forward to those times. I felt so free. No school, no

shoes, and few clothes . What could be better? But this year turned out to be different. As we

prepared to go outside, my brother Henry and I, my mother called me back inside and told Henry

to go on . She pointed me to the bedroom. I followed her in, and she told me that I could not

play anymore without a shirt on . My daddy had directed her, she said, to tell me to stop running

around without a shirt. I was too big. She picked up a t-shirt off the bed and told me to put it on,

and she left the room . But why did I have to wear a shirt and not Henry? I was a little taller

than him, but not much. I could not understand why this summer attire was different, but as

usual I did as I was told.



When I got outside that day, I watched Henry for awhile as he picked up the string off the

steps that we would need for the June bugs that we loved to catch. It was a perfect day . Hot, but

not too hot or humid. There was not a cloud in that blue sky. It felt so good to be barefoot . I just

wished I was like Henry , and did not have on this confining t-shirt .

“Come on BJ,” he cried , “I just saw some June bugs across the yard, hurry up . ”

He raced across the yard, turning once , looking to see if I were following . It was a

large , long yard , with our house on one end and a hedge across the street side. There were two

big oak trees to the side mid way across . I began to run across the yard and I soon forgot

everything but trying to catch June bugs . In June we would look for June bugs , and in July

after July 4th , it was July flies . There was a special activity that marked each season ,

sometimes each month of the year .

It took us awhile to catch just one June bug . It was probably too early for them to be

out . But once we caught that one we would quickly tie the string around one of its legs , let out

the string , and it would fly and buzz around our heads , like a kite .

July flies were bigger and harder to catch . We would tie the string around their whole

body . It seemed sorta like they fought us more in catching em too . But after July 4 , which is

when we got our first official summer outfits , it was July flies during the day time and

lightening bugs in the evening .

I remember another incident later that month of June , it was when my mama was gone

and we had all cleaned up the house . Each person had a job to do , even the youngest Jeanette at

3 helped Lynn 8 dust . l , dust . Then there was David 6 who took out the trash , trash , and

Jerry , who was 10 , and me we swept and moped the linoleum floors through out the house, plus

I cleaned the kitchen and bathroom . We usually did all of our work then we would go outside



and play . We could not go anywhere and we could not have company while our parents were

gone , but we had fun anyways and always found something to do .

Anyways, this one time we had finished cleaning up and were outside building a go-cart.

It was another beautiful June day. Although I do not think we even noticed the weather yt . We

were just glad it was not raining . Me and Henry had found some wood out back, and we took

the wheels off of our old red wagon . The little kids were watching us, but we did not want their

help, they were mostly just playing in the dirt with play dishes pretending they had food, they

were really silly little kids sometimes . They were fine , we thought they might get hurt or get in

the way trying to help us . We were working so hard that I did not notice when David and

Jeanette had slipped away. It was about time for my mama to get home .

“Hey ya'll where are David and Jeanette,” I asked Lynn and Henry .

“I do not know, they were here just a minute ago,” Lynn answered. She usually helped

me some with the little kids. Henry just kept working on our go-cart. He was having trouble

putting the back wheels on . We could have just fixed up the red wagon , but making a go cart

seemed like a better idea , it was more fun too k , .

I had just started walking across the front yard on my way to the house , when the kids

saw mama walking down the street from the bus stop .

“Mama, mama,” they all cried as they ran toward her.

“What you bring us mama,” Henry asked . He was mama's favorite . He reached for one

of her bags , which were usually filled with give aways from the white folks . Sometimes it

would be like half of a left over cake or pie that was just a ‘little’ bit stale . Sometimes there

were old clothes that my mama's white family had outgrown. It was always interesting to see



what she had in her bags . Although we never kept the clothes , daddy provided for us so we did

not need any used clothes . Mama usually gave them to people in the neighborhood worse of f

than us . I think mama took the stuff so the white people would think they were doing something

, plus she knew she would give it away to someone in need . Henry was the first to grab the big

bag as my mama started toward the house.

“Where's David and Jeanette ,” mama asked , just as I had a few minutes ago.

“I do not know mama ,” I said , “they probably in the house using the bathroom .”

We all walked together into the house , go cart forgotten in the drive way .

“B J,” my mama said over her shoulder , “ get that mess up out of the driveway before

your daddy gets home . ” The rest of them , they all walked into the house together .

” Yes ma ‘m ” , I said and turned back while the rest of them went into the house . Henry

should be helping me , I thought . But this was always the way . I'm the oldest so I was

responsible .

Just as I had put the go cart on the side of the house , Henry came running out looking for

me .

“Woo, B J you in trouble now , ” he said , “mama said come in the house right now , and

she looked mad . ”

He ran quickly back into the house. What did I do now I wondered as I walked up the

steps and into the house .

“B J , why is this house not cleaned up , ” mama asked .

She was in the kitchen with all the other children . There was an opened jar of peanut

butter on the kitchen table , a dirty knife, and several pieces of bread lying around. So this is



what the little ones had been doing.

“Mama I cleaned the kitchen earlier before we went outside,” I pleaded .

“Well it's not clean now,” she stated looking around , with her hands on her hips.

“But mama ...” I began .

“ Girl don't you dare talk back to me , you crazy or something , . ” she asked, “maybe

you think I’m crazy?” she asked . Another question that I knew I was not suppose to answer.

“Talking back to me and this house looking a mess, “ she said to herself.

I saw David and Jeanette over by the back door quietly watching everything.

“Mama it was them two, they snuck back into the house and made this mess ,” I said .

“B J you in charge of keeping the house clean, and making sure it stays clean , ” she

said , “and why did you let those two come back into the house anyways ? ”

I knew I was not suppose to answer that either .

“ Wait till your daddy gets home girl, and we'll see what he thinks about this ,” she

added, “go on and clean this mess up B J, and I mean right now, you hear me ? ”

“ Yes ma ‘m”, I said meekly.

I put the bread back in the bag , closed up the peanut butter jar , and swept the floor again

. Everyone else went with my mama to her room as she unpacked her bags , I could hear them

laughing and talking .

Later when my daddy got home my mama told him how I was not watching the younger

children like I was suppose to , and the house was a mess when she got home .

“Honey, how am I suppose to go to work and not worry about these children, when B J



will not do the simple things that I ask her to do , l “ mama pleaded with daddy .

After dinner my daddy called me into their bedroom, took off his belt and I got a

whipping for not doing what I was supposed to do , keeping the house clean and watching the

little ones .

“ Did not I tell you to keep this house clean , “ whack went the belt. The belt kept

rhythm with his words . I hopped with with each hit . But I had learned not to try to block the

belt , because then it would be worse , or run in any way or avoid the belt in anyway .

I went to bed right after that, without dinner . The younger ones watched me walk to the

room under lowered lids. For the next few days I had several whelps on my legs, raised lines of

skin on my lower legs , only one or two bled a little , but I learned to watch my little brothers and

sisters closely , and keep the house clean until my parents got home , and it was not always easy

to do that either .



CHAPTER 2

Building a fort.

Our favorite past - time - was building a fort or play house in the backyard , in the

summer time . We would play in it when it was finished . We would usually start by using the

no longer used , chicken house . We would add to it found materials . The reason we had the

chicken house in the first place was because our granddaddy would usually give us little baby

chicks at Easter . They were so cute . Soft , little , yellow things. I was usually afraid that I

would hurt them if I picked them up, because they seemed so delicate. My younger brother and

sister nearly choked them to death the first time they were allowed to hold them . But they were

just little kids , babies really. They had to learn how to hold them like we older ones did .

They did not stay cute long , the chicks I mean . I remember how we kept them in the

house for the first few days. We would hear them cheep cheeping all night. Then when it was

determined that they could live outside, it was out to the chicken house, that daddy had

previously fixed up for them .

By the time we got tired of feeding them and cleaning up behind them , my mama

determined they were big enough to eat . She would run around and pick the first chicken , and

tie their legs to the clothes line , take a big kitchen knife , and cut off their heads .



Did the other chickens know what was happening to their sister? Did they watch from

the chicken yard nearby ? It seemed that they got real quiet as this situation was going on . We

would all go into the house and watch from the kitchen window, because the chicken would flail

around for it seemed a long time after my mama cut off their heads , blood flying everywhere .

Once I asked my mama if we could give the chickens back to our granddaddy when they

growed up instead of killing them . My granddaddy kept his own chickens in his backyard .

Granddaddy always had two or three other enterprises going in addition to working as a porter

with the Chattanooga Choo Choo . He was the happiest man I ever knew . I never saw him

angry or impatient with anyone . I loved my granddaddy . But we couldn't give the chickens

back to him , my mamma said .

“He gave them to ya'll to play with and learn how to take care of ,” she said , “you can

not go and give 'me back . ”

We also couldn't tell our granddaddy that my mama killed them , but he had to have

known . Anyway after the last ones were gone , we would wait a few weeks for the chicken

coop to sort of dry out . We weren't heartless , but it was hard to get close to chickens . We

could not pick them up and pet them . They would run to us when we came near , but that was

only because they thought we were going to feed them whenever we came close to the chicken

yard . So anyway , after the last chicken was gone from the chicken coop, then my brother and

sister Lynn and I would start to clean it out and make our fort .

We would look in the vacant lot next door for things to add to our play house . Smashed

up cans would be nailed to the roof . Old newspapers were pasted to the inside walls . Then we

would add wooden planks we found in this abandon house behind us . There use to be white

folks in that house before we moved in , at least that was what we were told , but they had all



moved out. We could not tell our mother what we were doing at that old house , although she

had never thought about telling us to stay out of that house, but we sort of knew she would not

want us playing there.

I remember one time when our cousins was visiting and helping us with our fort . Rina

and her sister , Justine , lived around the block with our great aunt Maggie . This was about

August before school started , and we were fixing up the chicken house in our back yard when

they came down to play . We had lots of wood but not many nails , so we were stacking wood

on the roof in layers to close up gaps , being careful not to let any slip . We had just put the last

boards in place when some started to shift . I told everybody to be still , but Henry started to

move toward the door and safety . Then one by one the boards on the roof started to come

down , some inside and some outside fell to the ground .

“Run,” I cried, moving toward the door, looking to be sure Lynn, Rena and Justine were

coming, Henry was already outside . So much for ‘ladies first ’.

Rena came behind me with Justine . Then all the boards came falling down. I started

laughing; it was so funny , until I noticed Lynn and Rena but not Justine .

“My sister , ” Rena was crying , “ you killed my sister . ”

“Rena is she still inside,” I asked her moving back toward the door of the chicken house.

We started moving boards carefully , throwing them in the yard , looking for Justine .

Finally we saw her under a few boards , lying quietly with her eyes closed . She did look dead .

Rena was still crying , and started rubbing her sister’s head . I wondered if we really had

killed her , now we would really be trouble .

“ You killed my sister , you killed my sister , ” Rena cried over and over again .



What should I do ? My mama was inside the house washing clothes . Should I go and

get her and ask her to call an ambulance or something ?

Just then Justine moved , slowly , and Rena stopped crying. She slowly and carefully

got up ; there wasn’t a scratch on her . I could not figure out if she was never hurt, she was lying

so quietly. Maybe she only wanted to scare us or something , or teach us a lesson about leaving

her . I do not know. Rena helped her up. They started walking away toward the vacant lot, to

their house , not saying a word .

“Wait ya’ll, where you going , ” I asked , “ she’s ok , let ’s finish the house . ”

“No we ’re going home , and we’ re telling our mama you almost killed Justine , ” Rena

said helping her older sister over the ditch dividing our yard from the vacant lot .

We watched them leave , helpless to do or say anything to stop them . Were they

serious? Nothing had happened. But that didn’t stop us from working on our fort that day or any

day in the future. Although Rena and Justine never helped us again.



CHAPTER 3

Working with Mrs. Taylor

I loved to read . My mama said I was like my daddy that way . She use to say that I

would read the back of a tin can if there was not anything else around to read , just like my

daddy. Which was true , but she said it like something was wrong with that .

My mama had another job for me to do , added to taking care of the house and my little

brothers and sisters , helping in the yard , and babysitting for neighbors , she also wanted me to

help our neighbor Mrs. Taylor . I didn’t mind any of it much ; sometimes it was fun to get out of

the house . One of the reasons my mama wanted me to help Mrs. Taylor was because my mama

looked up to Mrs. Taylor , because she was educated and owned her own house .

Mrs. Taylor lived down the street from us and she was a widow. I never knew her

husband; I guess he had been dead a long time by the time I knew her . She use to be a school

teacher , and then she got old and lost some of her sight , and retired . At least that is what the

grown up said. She was my fist grade teacher , and she first taught me to read and love books .

That was back when I went to Trotter elementary school , that was a long time ago, almost five

years.

One day as I was washing dishes after dinner , my mama comes in to the kitchen and

stands and watches me from the doorway . I was afraid I had done something wrong. She did

not say anything at first , and I knew not to say a word yet . Things that I could do wrong



involved talking back and just as bad, talking first. It had something to do with not speaking

unless spoken to, and once spoken to don't get the last word , that's talking back .

“B J you about done in here ? ”

“Yes ma ‘m , I was just going to sweep the floor ,” I replied .

“Be sure you rinse and wring out that dish rag , ” she said as she came in and checked the

counters for crumbs and the faucet for water marks .

“Yes ma ‘m . ”

“B J, Mrs. Taylor just called and she asked about you ,” mama started . “She wants you to

come and help her about three days a week after school , after you finish your chores at home .”

“Really mama, I like Mrs. Taylor ,” I said , “how she doing ?”

“You'll find out tomorrow when you go over there ,” she said , “ I think she just wants a

little help, maybe dusting , taking out trash , and maybe cleaning the kitchen . I told her you do

ok with those simple things , but that she may have to go behind you at first to make sure you do

it right .”

“Yes ma ‘m .”

“And don't go over there doing a whole lot of talking . Plus you know not to tell anything

that happens in this house ,” she added, “Mrs. Taylor is still a smart and educated woman . I

know she don't want to hear a whole lot of chatter from some ignorant little black girl, you hear

me ?”

“Yes ma ‘m,” I replied.

My mama really respected teachers and anyone who had been to college . My father’s



three sisters had also completed college , although my daddy had never gone to college, but he

was really smart . My daddy said he quit high school when he was in the eleventh grade

because he did not have any clothes, and I guess the other students made fun of him. I tell you

he was a proud man even then. That’s when he went to work at that hotel .

My daddy’s youngest sister had just finished college the year before, and she was

teaching at the junior high school where I would be going next year . It was all the way across

town, but it was the only colored junior and high school in town . I was n’t sure yet how I

would get there , maybe ride in with my aunt , who lived with my grandparents down the street

from us . I hoped I would also have her for one of my teachers. Aunt Florence was my favorite

aunt . She was young and pretty and took a special interest in me , not many people in my

family did . She would give me her old finger nail polish and toiletries, and I could go through

her closet at the change of the seasons, to pick out anything I wanted, that fitted me.

My mama never got a chance to even complete high school, because she wanted to go out

and work and support herself, rather than to continue being dependent on her uncle who raised

her until she was sixteen. Her parents had died when she was real young. She said that she and

her younger brothers and sisters went from pillar to post until she married my daddy and could

take some of them in. My mothers youngest sister actually lived with us till was in second grade.

That was Ethel. We did not call her ‘aunt’ because she was not that much older than me. We

even went to the same school for awhile. She was about 11 years older than me, the same age as

my daddy’s youngest sister.

After my mama left the kitchen, I had to smile to myself because I was so happy to have

a chance to do something different. Plus I liked Mrs. Taylor and I had never been inside her

house.



I left the kitchen turning out the light . Walking into the living room, I noticed that the

two little ones were already in bed, it was after 8 o'clock . The other two were watching boxing

on TV. with my daddy . I guessed my mama was in her room folding clothes, she had washed

clothes earlier that day . She put the clothes through the wringer in the old washing machine ,

starching those clothes that needed it , and then hanging everything on the clothes line outside. It

was an all day job . I was learning how to help her with the washing and ironing . We ironed

everything, even pillow cases and handkerchiefs . My mama’s first job was in a laundry, and I

think she still liked doing that sort of thing . The clothes did smell good when we took them off

the line, and ironed them though .

“Who is winning ,” I asked . I wished there was someone I could tell about how I was

going to help Mrs. Taylor. I was excited , but also a little nervous .

No one said anything, brother was playing with his toy solders and Lynn was combing

her dolls hair . I sat down on the floor with the other two and tried not to watch the boxing . I

hated watching them hit each other , all the blood and the cheering crowd . People yelling ‘hit

him again’ . But there was nothing else to do before going to bed . I didn't have anything to read

, plus my parents didn't like for us to turn on too many lights in the house at a time . So I sat and

tried to turn from the little black and white T V and offered my little sister advice on her dolls

hair . My daddy didn't say anything , but he would grunt with satisfaction whenever one of the

boxers landed a good blow .

The next day after school I rushed home , Henry and Lynn in tow , checked with my

mama before being allowed to go to Mrs. Taylor's house . I was still excited . My mama told

me to change into my work clothes because she did n't know what I would be doing , but I

needed to be prepared .



I was finally able to leave , and left amid cries from the little ones . They always wanted

to go wherever I went . I gave them all a hug and told them I would bring them something back ,

like mama did when she went off to work .

“B J you do a good job you hear me ,” mama warned , “ don't go embarrassing me by

talking too much or not doing a complete job either in whatever she asks you to do . ”

“Yes ma ’m,” I replied .

I waited a second to see if there was anything else she wanted to say , but she had turned

her back , so I grabbed my coat, and then rushed out the door waving to the little ones who

watched me cross the yard from the big picture window in the living room . It was only about

three thirty; we got out of school at three , so it was not cold yet. This was in September right

after school started .

Nearly running down the street, it didn't take me long to get to Mrs. Taylor's house . I

tried to slow down and catch my breath . I didn't want to be all sweaty when I got there . Her

house was nice and neat . It was a white clapboard house with black fixed shutters . Her yard

was very neat , no fallen leaves on the freshly cut grass. Some of the boys in the neighborhood

would come by every week and cut her grass and trim the hedges . Plus Mr. Ray-ray , who was

like the neighborhood handyman , did some work in keeping up her house . I knew all about

Mrs. Taylor , I had just never been inside her house .

I did not want her to see me standing outside staring up at her house, so I walked up the

path to the front door , and mounted the steps . I knocked on the black painted wooden door .

There was no answer . I waited and knocked again . I heard foot steps coming toward the door .

The door opened slowly , and there was Mrs. Taylor . She looked different than when she was

my teacher . She had on sun glasses in the house for one thing , and she was wearing an old



house coat . Mrs. Taylor use to wear these fancy, pretty dresses when she was my teacher .

“Well come on in , I do not want the neighbors knowing all my business ,” she said

pleasantly .

“Yes ma ’m ,” I said crossing the threshold , sidling past her as she closed the door

behind me .

“Come on in to the living room ,” she said as she closed the door. She did not look at me

or smile or anything.

I followed her down the hall from the front door to a door to the right , which turned out

to be the living room . She was having a hard time walking ; one hand was out toward the wall

as if she were afraid she would fall and she needed a way to balance herself . I did not remember

her being all that old , maybe a little bit older than my mama , but she walked like she was older

than my grandmamma . I use to love Mrs. Taylor , she loved to teach and see children learn . I

did not like to see her old and not teaching anymore .

As I looked around the living room , I did not see where she needed any cleaning and

straightening up done in here . Everything was neat and clean , no dust or anything . There was a

large upholstered couch , several chairs and little end tables all around.

The next thing I noticed was all the books. Every wall had bookcases filled with books.

I forgot about Mrs. Taylor as I walked around trying to take it all in. There were more books

here than in the whole school library.

“You still like books,” Mrs. Taylor stated as she watched me looking at the books that

had my attention.

“Yes ma ’m, I love books more than anything ,” I asserted, “except Jesus, and sometimes



my little brothers and sisters, I love them too .”

“What about your mama and daddy?” Mrs. Taylor asked, “you love them too don’t you?”

I turned back to the books. I hardly heard Mrs. Taylor. I loved the look, smell, feel and

colors of books. Once I started reading I forgot where I was, or who I was . Wow , how lucky to

be able to read all these books whenever you wanted , I thought .

“Yes ma ‘m, of course I love my mama and daddy, but I think I disappoint them a lot . I

don't know how to please them most of the time .” I reached my hand out as if to touch the

books, but was afraid of actually touching them .

“Come on over here BJ and let's talk .”

I turned and followed her to the couch. She waved for me to sit down next to her . She

looked at me for a long time. I didn't know what she was looking for or what she expected from

me either. Did I do or say something wrong already? Mama said not to talk too much . I did not

want to get in trouble so early , with Mrs. Taylor or Mama if she heard about it .

“What can I do for you Mrs. Taylor,” I asked anxiously, “You want me to clean the

kitchen , or dust?”

“No B J, I got Mrs. Adrian, Mr. Ray-ray's wife, to come in every day for a few hours to

do for me . I've heard how you help your parents with your little brothers and sisters , and help

other parents with their little children too around the neighborhood . I'm just proud of you B J,

I’m proud of how helpful you have been .”

I didn't know what to say to all that, I just did what I was told.

“Oh,” I said, “so what do you want me to do for you Mrs. Taylor ?”

“Well I love books ,” she started.



“Oh me too,” I said before I could stop myself, I had said that already. I put my fingers

over my mouth to keep from saying anything more .

“That's alright; we both know that you love books . What I want you to do is read to me

for a little while , anything you want . My sight is not as good anymore , and I remember you

were a good reader .”

“Really Mrs. Taylor,” I said, “Yes, yes, I would like to read anytime and any books you

say .”

I couldn't believe it; I thought I must be dreaming . Read for an hour anything I wanted

to read . But then I thought about my mama , she might not want me to waste time reading when

I could be helping her at home . Mrs. Taylor must have seen my face fall .

“Of course, I'll also want you to maybe dust a little in here , and help me with some hard

reading for a book that I'm writing . Do you think you can do that B J? I'll straighten it out with

your mother, I’ll pay you , and let her know what a big help it would be for me .”

“Yes ma ’m if you explain I'm sure my mama will understand .”

“Ok, let's get started . Why don't you go and pick a book from that section near the

window, choose anything you want .”

“Yes ma ’m,” I said. I got up and went to the shelf she showed me. There were so many

books here, but what caught my eye was a book called, Little Women. I picked it up and walked

back toward the couch .

“Sit in that chair over there B J and turn on the light, you can see better.”

“Yes ma ’m,” I said and sat down where she indicated .

I began to read and got so caught up in the story of a girl and her sisters who lived a



hundred years ago that I forgot the time and forgot Mrs. Taylor .

“Ok, B J I think that's enough for today .” Mrs. Taylor had taken her glasses off and was

sitting back on the couch relaxed .

I stopped reading and noticed that it was nearly dark outside . It must be after five

o’clock. I had been here over a hour.

“You did a good job, B J, but you had better get on home now before it gets too late.

Please come back the day after tomorrow . I'll call your mother and tell her what a good job you

are doing .”

“Thank you Mrs. Taylor ,” I said as I looked for my coat and prepared to leave .

“Why don't you take that book with you and bring it when you come back .”

“Really Mrs. Taylor, but I'm afraid one of the little ones might get it and mess it up ,” I

said disappointed because more than anything I wanted to see what else Jo would get into . I

didn't want to wait two days , but I believed it was a big responsibility to take it home .

“Go ahead and take it I know you'll take care of it ,” Mrs. Taylor said .

I wanted to run and give her a hug and thank her for trusting me , but Mrs. Taylor looked

too refined for this ignorant black girl rushing her . So I just thanked her and walked toward the

front door .

“See you day after tomorrow,” Mrs. Taylor said as she followed me to the door .

“Yes ma’m,” I said as I reached the door, “and thank you Mrs. Taylor for trusting me .”

“Go on B J, I'll call your mother tonight ,” she whispered as I walked out the door .

I rushed home with the book under my coat . When I arrived at the house the door was



locked, which was unusual at this time of day . So I knocked, and after a while my brother,

Henry, came and let me in .

“Why you so late, you gonna get in trouble,” he teased me.

I ran in to my room and put the book under my pillow before taking off my coat. My

mama came in and asked why I was late. I hadn't looked at the time, but I didn't think it was that

late, it wasn't quite dark. Of course I did not say that .

“Mrs. Taylor called,” she said before I could answer, “she said you did a good job, but

she was probably just being nice . Did you do a good job B J ?”

“Yes ma ’m, I did just what Mrs. Taylor asked me to do, and she seemed happy when I

left, and said for me to come back day after tomorrow,” I said looking down because I didn't

want my mama to see the happiness in my eyes.

“Well go wash up, and get ready for dinner, and next time don't be so late,” she said as

she walked out the door .

“Yes ma ’m.”

I rushed to wash up and went into the kitchen where everyone else was eating dinner.

After dinner and after I had washed the dishes, I put on my pajamas and went to my room. The

book was still under my pillow. I took the book to the bathroom, and read a few more pages

before going to bed. This was really a good day. Little did I know then that this was the

beginning of a different life for me.

butterfly chapter 1-3

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