Late Afternoon
“Miss Beverly was a large woman with a nice voice, and she had those prodigious bosoms. A lot of us kids would laugh and laugh because apparently older black ladies thought bosom was a perfectly fine word to use around a child. Do I have that correct, Miss Jasmine?”
“That’s right,” said Miss Jasmine. “Nothing is wrong with the word bosom. Babies feed there and they’re a part of the human body. I can’t tell you the number of times in my life I’ve had conversations with women about other women’s big bosoms. And Abraham had bosoms! But you were saying, Sam?”
“I was saying Miss Beverly came in to teach. The first day she looked at us, smiled, and said, ‘I heard y’all were a rough bunch. Does anybody want to try me?’
“Nobody said anything. We had more white kids than black, but still a lot of black kids. Miss Beverly looked at the biggest black girl in the class and said, ‘Are you Deborah?’
“‘Yes, ma’am.’
“‘Deborah, I think I know your mama. Do you need me to talk to your mama?’
“‘Are you gonna tell her something good? said Deborah.
“‘That depends on you, honey. Let me ask you, who is the toughest black boy in this class? Who is in charge?’
“Deborah didn’t want to rat on Tyrone, but Miss Beverly said, ‘You don’t have to tell me, child, but if you don’t then I’m gonna have to go talk to your mama.’
“Very reluctantly, Deborah pointed at Tyrone and said, ‘Him, Tyrone.’
“Tyrone glared at Deborah and said, ‘Girl, you better shut up. I’m gonna…’
“Miss Beverly cut him off. ‘Tyrone, that’s no way to talk to a young lady. You apologize to her right now.’
“‘I ain’t gonna apologize for nothing,’ said Tyrone.
“‘Are you talking back to me boy?’ Miss Beverly took two steps in his direction. ‘Do I know your mama, Tyrone?’
“‘Nah. I mean, no, ma’am.’
“‘Do you want me to know your mama, Tyrone?’
“‘No, ma’am.’
“‘And do you have something to say to this young lady here?’
“‘Yes, ma’am. Deborah, I am sorry.’
“The whole class laughed. Miss Beverly smiled a victory smile. Tyrone and Deborah sighed with relief that their mamas were not going to get involved.
“Miss Beverly said, ‘Now that we seem to know each other a little better, let’s see what we can read today. I think we’re gonna get along just dandy.’”
“And that was that,” said Sam. “In five minutes Miss Beverly had us under the power of our mamas and her big bosoms. Her class was pretty boring, but we all behaved. I guess when we got to the assembly at the end of the year, we just forgot what Miss Beverly had taught us about the fear of God and mama.”
“Now, Sam, is that everything or do you want to take a break?” said Miss Jasmine.
“Well, high school went swimmingly. I don’t have anything to report so It makes me wonder what all the fuss was about trying to keep people separate. But I do need to mention Judge Judd.”
“Judge Judd? What could you possibly know about Judge Judd?” asked Miss Jasmine.
“It’s easy. I knew nothing about Judge Judd. But my sophomore year of college I was called for jury duty the first week of classes. This was the first semester of Portuguese, along with Spanish and other classes. I was worried about missing an entire week of class, especially at the beginning of the semester, but knew I had to answer the court summons.
“It turned out it was Judge Judd; I think for a criminal case. I had no idea who Judge Judd was. The court let jurors explain hardships to the judge and he would consider if they would be dismissed. When it was my turn, I explained it was the first week of classes at Florida State. I had signed up for five classes and I was afraid I would get behind if I sat on a jury for one or two weeks.
“I don’t remember the exact words Judge Judd used, but I do remember he spoke in a very angry voice and told me he didn’t care about my classes because it was my civic responsibility to be on a jury. I just smiled and said, ‘Yes sir,’ while silently thinking this judge is a total asshole.”
“Amen, Brother McArdle!” said Miss Jasmine. “But don’t say asshole again please.”
“It was twenty years later when I started to read about the boycotts, the rape, and the sit-ins. As Larry explained, Judge Judd was a third of the triumvirate, and in that role he didn’t seem to care about equality under the law. I’ve learned a lot about Judge Judd these past few days. For example, I did not know until Rosemary explained it that he defended one of the men accused of rape.
“I can’t say much about Judge Judd besides what I just told you. Except I did read that he died. To repeat the words of a wise woman, ‘Don’t speak ill of the dead. So good, he dead.’ That’s all I have to say, Miss Jasmine.”
“Well thank you, Sam. I think that’s probably enough for today. Let’s take our break and I would like to go out on the porch with Miss Rosemary. You boys please stay inside for a moment.”
——
Rosemary and Miss Jasmine were on the front porch. Whale had come out and ran down the steps into the bushes. Rosemary was looking at her phone and said, “I think my ride will be here in five minutes. I wanted to ask you, Miss Jasmine, how did you all learn about periods and all that in the 1920s and 1930s? I was born in 1985. We always had tampons and stuff like that. What did you all do?”
“Well, there was that stuff,” said Miss Jasmine. “But it wasn’t cheap and mostly for white people with money. I think they had a special room with a curtain at the pharmacy. That’s also where they sold condoms, I’ve been told.”
Miss Jasmine continued, “Most black women and a lot of white women just bought some cloth and used that. Then they washed them and hung them up on the clothesline. I guess you could say I heard it through the clothesline. You can also see that’s where the expression ‘on the rag’ comes from of course! Can you imagine, Roberta A.—a white woman—washing those rags for me for thirteen years!”
Jackson Jackson’s car pulled up. He saw Miss Jasmine and got out.
“Afternoon, Miss Jasmine. Ya’ll telling stories?” Jackson Jackson grinned his braces at her.
“Yes sir, Mr. Jackson…some stories are for women only.”
“I do understand. And just plain Jackson for me if you please, ma’am. I wanted to tell you I’ve arranged that breakfast we talked about for tomorrow.”
“Then I’ll help serve your customers tomorrow, Jackson?”
“Yes, ma’am, it’s gonna be dandy,” said Jackson Jackson. “Just dandy! Kenneth can tell his story, and maybe I’ll sing.”
“Then we will see you tomorrow.”
With that Rosemary got in the front seat without banging her head on the car roof and they drove off. Larry was peeking through the curtains.
“Jacson Jackson again! That goddamn dirty dog Jackson Jackson the fifth himself. God damn whippersnapper!”