Papa's Visit

I wondered why we had not seen papa Sylvester more than once in our lives. He arrived at our door in Milwaukee on a moderately cold and gray day in October of 1965. As I remember he was the same height as my father about 5’10” and a little bit thinner. My father was 5’10” weighed about 170-180 lbs. this is what I heard my mother say. As a child you do not really notice weight unless someone is extremely thin or fat. His complexion was very fair about two shades lighter than my dad’s (who was on the light side as we say in the black community) other than that their faces were the same. All the same features, wide noses, strong cheek bones and they both had a very bright and huge smile.

I was told never to answer the front door. However, on that day I did and mom was not pleased. She yelled “Dora Ann” as she chased after me. When I opened the door I froze. This man who looked like my dad said, “hi little lady,” and I answered “hi (in a very timid manner).” My mom was about three steps behind me when I froze she stepped in front of me and welcomed him into our home. We had a very short and narrow foyer with just enough room for the upright piano that was flushed against the wall and a small coat rack. There was also a small closet and a small window with a seat under it. Our living room was sunken you had to step down about eight inches to enter from the foyer.

My dad was in the living room sitting on the couch with his leg up due to the hip surgery. The couch was in front of the huge picture windows that faced the street, there was a small ledge that protruded over them. Mom was great with decorating she had found some very rich looking ornate fabric that she had a friend of hers make the drapes from and very sheer fabric for the curtains underneath. This made the room look very classy. The carpet was plush and felt good under your feet when walking barefoot. My father had found the carpet in a small town while on lunch break from his highway construction job one day. He laid asphalt on the newly constructed interstate highways in the Midwest during the 50s and 60s. He usually worked from mid-March through October.

When laid off from work my dad would earn money running errands for people or shining shoes at some of the businesses that his friends owned. Fred Spencer was an extremely proud man and was not going to sit around doing nothing. The highway construction job paid him enough so my mom did not have to work outside of the home when we were young. In fact, she did not have to work away from home until we moved to Kansas City later that year. Papa joined my father in the living room. The two men looked so much alike as they sat facing each other as they talked.

My grandfather had smoked up his cigarettes and needed more. We lived about four blocks from a small convenience store, my dad had sold our car to make sure we had more money to live on and for our trip to Kansas City. This meant we had to walk. Since I was the oldest I was assigned to accompany him to the store. We had the usual conversation adults have with children. “How are you doing in school little lady, he asked? I am doing good sir was my reply. I made all S’s (this meant satisfactory) on my report card. Do you like going to church?” Of course, I said yes (although I did not mean it). Papa where do you live? I do not remember his answer. I found out later as I began my research of our family history that he lived in Buffalo, NY.

When we returned I know we ate something what I do not remember. After our meal my sister and I went to our bedroom. The adults talked and laughed very loudly for a while. They were reminiscing about old times. Of course, I was not supposed to eavesdrop but I did at least for a short while. My mom mentioned being a bit afraid about our future due to my father having surgery on his hip and would not be able to return to work. At ten years old I knew enough to understand our situation and was a bit frightened by it. Some nights I would have bad dreams of the two of us being put in an orphanage due to my dad not working. When my mom would hear me cry out during my dreams she would always comfort me by saying, “We are going to be alright and that God would take care of us.”

My father had collected his last pay from his job. My mom mentioned something about temporary health benefits and that we would have unemployment checks coming for a few months. However, it would be necessary for us to move to Kansas City where our aunts and cousins lived. This way we would be around family and not be alone like we were in Milwaukee. My mom was smart and had worked before she started having children. She said she could return to work to add to my father’s disability income. I stopped being nosey at that point and finished reading a magazine or a book. Since I knew how we would be okay I did not need to hear any more. My sister was occupied playing with a doll. Eventually we were both called to the living room to say goodbye to our papa. He hugged and kissed us both. This would be the last time that we would see him.