Contents of the Little Black Book Were More Than Just Words

It has been many years since my freshman year in college. Even so, I still think about the experience and the impact it had on my life, but not for the reasons most people would think.

Struggle to Get to College

I grew up in a poor single-parent family with seven other siblings. When I told my mother and other members of the household that I wanted to go to college, they thought the idea was farfetched because no one in my family or in my community had gone to college.

My mother's first comment was asking, "Where in the world do you think you will get money to go to college?" My older and younger siblings were in agreement because we barely had money to put food on the table and clothes on our backs.

My desire was so strong that I took a gap year and worked after graduating from high school so I could have tuition to start the first semester. Then I planned to get a job on campus to help me financially.

The day I left for college, my mother gave me a little black book. She said, "I want you to continue reading this book while you are away at school since you like to read so much. I am giving this book for you to read because you will need all the help you can get." I nodded because I was afraid to say much because of my mother's hesitance for me to go to college in the first place.

Struggles in College

I didn't struggle in college because of my studies. I had always been a good student. My struggle was about finances as my mother had predicted. The elite students didn't have money problems. While I was either working in the administrative offices or doing small tasks for my professors, the girls in my dormitory were out partying. That didn't bother me as much as them bringing food into the dormitory. The smell reminded me that I couldn't afford to purchase food after hours. I had to eat food served in the cafeteria at certain hours during the day.

There was a place down the hill from the campus that sold fried chicken that was the best in the world. Whenever I had some extra money, which wasn't often, I would go to the restaurant and treat myself to a juicy fried chicken breast sandwich.

Letters from My Mother

I used to get letters from my mother at least once a month. Almost every letter said the same thing: "I hope you are doing fine and things are going well with you." I would shake the letter several times and look in the envelope more than once to see if she had included five or ten dollars to help me. Nothing extra was in the envelope during my entire freshman year. However, she never failed to ask me about reading what was in the little black book. When I answered her letters I lied and said I was reading the words in the little black book. Actually, the first day I moved into the dormitory, I put the book on the shelf with other books and did not take it down until the end of the year when I had to move to the sophomore dormitory.

Contents of the Little Black Book

As I was taking the books off the shelf, I dropped a stack of them on the floor. When I kneeled down to pick them up, I saw the little black book in the stack. Then I saw a $10 bill on the floor. I thought maybe my roommate had lost the money. Then I looked around and saw a $20 bill. I began to wonder where the money was coming from when I saw there was more money sticking out of the book my mother had instructed me to read.

I was glad I was already on my knees because I doubled over and wept like a baby. I thought I had no money the entire year, and all the time there was enough money in the book to have bought a lot of chicken sandwiches and other things.

While I desperately needed the money, what my mother wrote in the book would have encouraged me and given me inspiration that would have strengthened me during many dark days.

Every single page included a personal love letter. My mother said how proud she was of me for being the first in her family to go to college. She said she loved me as her daughter and she knew I would go far in life by pursuing my dream. At the end of each page, she wrote: "I love you, daughter." She had taped money to many of the pages. When all the bills were counted, I discovered that my mother had sent me a total of $2,000 during my freshman year.

My Regrets

If I had read the little black book as my mother instructed me to do, I would have discovered the money when I need it the most. Also, I would not have accused her of not supporting me. Now if someone gives me a book to read, I will flip through the pages to see what else is there besides words.