A country girl, I grew up in a large family: five sisters and three brothers. From my earliest recollection, my family has always been a close, tight-knit bunch. We'd always visit mom's, parents' (Ma'La and Daddy B) house. There on the farm, we'd lose ourselves amongst the weeds and bushes. In over fifty years of marriage, eighteen of which I witnessed, I don't remember ever seeing or hearing them speak a harsh word to one another. I could only hope that one day, I too would have someone in my life the way my grandparents had each other. However, it wasn't until later that I found out that even their marriage wasn't perfect. I'd also seen an ugly side to marriage. I saw my mama endure a verbally abusive relationship with my father, and for what?
This brings to remembrance the time my father began dating a woman who moved into town from the South. She was associated with sharecroppers who migrated north to look for work. Less than four months after meeting the woman my father began dating and eventually moved her into his apartment. My mom was devastated. I witnessed her bend but never break because of things my father threw her way. One drunken stupor after another didn't stop Mama from truly loving my father. No matter what, she'd been there to bail him out of jail after one of his drunken sprees. She was also there to take him back after he was out creeping with lawd knows how many other women. I wasn't going to settle for any of that. I was determined that when I found the right man, it was going to be a problem free relationship, one that lasted forever. Who gets married with the notion one day they will meet someone new that will cause them to want to cheat on their spouse?
No matter what was going on in Mama's life she shielded us from "grown folks business." Our role as children was to be seen and not heard. Biblically, the man is head of the household, but in our house, Mama was the rock. Recently divorced with five of nine children still at home, she did day work for our landlord.
Many nights Mama returned from cooking and cleaning, so tired she could hardly stand up. But, no matter how tired she was, Mama saw to our needs. We always had something to eat and clean clothes to wear. We may not have always gotten what we wanted, but there weren't any nights that I remember going to bed hungry.
Contrary to belief, I remember events that happened early in my life. Like something taken from an early 60's black and white video, I see the wood frame house we lived in as though it was yesterday. Wads of old newspaper filled holes left in the walls because of rotting wood. Outside, plastic nailed to the windows helped as old quilts from the inside kept the cold air out. Winter was the only time of year I didn't mind sleeping with my brothers and sisters. From birth till I was about four years old Mama did day work. If she was going to be able to take care of us she needed to find another line of work. Mama's break came when she started working in town at a local factory.
Because my birthday wasn't until after the deadline the school system set, I wasn't able to attend school with the friends I'd been accustomed to playing with. Every morning, as they boarded the bus, I'd run to the edge of the road. Sometimes, I'd stand there for hours just staring, hoping they'd made a mistake and come back for me. They never did. Being the youngest, quite naturally, I got away with things my siblings never did. By the time I came along things were different. My brothers and sisters weren't happy about this. As a result, everyday I had to fight for bare survival.
Teasing at the hands of my brothers and sisters was a daily event. Constantly being told I was a mistake did nothing for my self-esteem. Although sibling rivalry is normally harmless, their antics were hurtful at the time.
My youngest brother was relentless in his pursuits to torment me. By the time I was seven he'd already flipped me over the handlebars of his bike more times than I care to remember. The most memorable experience was probably the one with the bees. The cliche "curiosity killed the cat" took on new meaning with me. From the time I first started walking, I searched things to get into, so I was easy prey for Donte's antics. "Go ahead. They won't hurt you," he said, showing me what appeared to be a jar of bees. I thought they were dead. They were under water so I just assumed they'd drowned. Donte' assured me I could step on the bees without getting stung. I had no reason not to believe the bees weren't dead. I couldn't imagine him intentionally telling me to do something knowing it'd hurt me. Donte' often played jokes on me, but never anything serious. I couldn't wimp out, not Giavonni the tomboy. There was something to prove.
Taking time to inspect the jar of bees I prepared myself to take my brother's challenge. Donte' gently poured the contents of the jar on the ground, at my feet. I teasingly lowered and raised my foot several times, stopping just short of touching the pile of motionless bees. To keep him from sensing how scared I was, it was important I maintained eye contact. After ten minutes of teasing I raised my foot for the last time. As I lowered my foot onto the bees I felt proud I'd done something my brother said I couldn't. As my foot touched the pile of bees something happened. Every bee in the pile stung my foot. The pain was agonizing. I couldn't raise my foot. All I could do was let out a loud holler.
I was hysterical. Donte' was scared. The situation went from two kids joking around to a scary situation. Donte' worried I might pass out from the pain. Buy this time, Mama was running out the house to see what was going on. Saying that mama was upset is an understatement. She was furious. There was no need for me to plead my case. I'd come face to face with judge, jury and executioner. I knew what was next. Not only was my foot swollen from being stung by the bees, I was about to get my ass whipped. "How many times have I told you not to do everything someone told you?" Mama snapped. "I didn't teach you to be no fool." Shaking head in agreement was all I could do. "I just wanted to prove to I wasn't afraid," I said as tears as big as dimes fell from my eyes. In the past, tears before the fact spared me a many a whipping. Not this time. After she finished with me she beat Donte's ass for egging it on. It wasn't until later in life I realized the point mama tried to get across that day. To this day I shutter when I see a bumblebee. The bee caper is eternally etched in my mind. Oh well, she did always say… "A bought lesson is better then none."
