Vivian Jewel Jones: Life, Love, and Strawberry Seven-Up Cake

Copyright © 2011 by Nick Johnson

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4620-6394-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4620-6396-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4620-6395-6 (e)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 12/19/2011

Contents

A MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR

Part One:

DEBUT IN THE DELTA

AN EDUCATED JEWEL

TIME FOR THIS DELTA JEWEL TO SPARKLE!

KEEPIN’ UP WITH ME & CLARK

SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA DREAMIN’

MEET THE DOUGLASES

TIME TO REAP THE REWARDS, BABY!

FAREWELL, DALLIN!

LIFE AFTER CLARK

KEEPIN’ ON, IN SPITE OF

I FEEL LIKE GOIN’ ON!

Part Two:

A MAJOR BREAKTHROUGH

THE SAPPSTERS STILL REMEMBER YOU, DALLIN!

YOU CAN ALWAYS COUNT ON AUNT TEA!

THE MORE THINGS CHANGE…

SUMMER MADNESS, MS. VIV ‘NIM STYLE

AND JUST WHEN I THOUGHT I’D SEEN IT ALL…

LIKE GRAMMA JEWEL, LIKE CANDI-GIRL

MS. VIV ‘NIM vs. THE OSW

HOLY GHOST ROAD TRIP

BRET & SUSIE—30 YEARS IN THE MAKING

STILL GOT PLENTY LOVE TO SPREAD ‘ROUND, BABY!

MS. VIV’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

WITH LOVE,

FROM MS. VIV ‘NIM

First and foremost, I would like to thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for the blessing me with the gifts of writing and creativity. I have always known how good The Lord has been to me, yet He never ceases to amaze me. For that, I give Him all the glory, honor, thanks, and praise.

I must give a shout-out to my #1 fan, Momillennium. Hey, Mom—we did it again!

Special thanks also to Christopher Donaldson, Tarik Wiley, Walter Reddrick Donald, and Romaro Spivey; Pastor Austin F. Williams and my True Vine family; my Rust College Family (Go Bearcats!); Eric & Barbara Richardson; Kimberli Washington; and of course, my publishing consultant Sierra Saul and the good people at iUniverse.

And to save the best for last, a special thank you to my guardian angels, Aunt Tea & Uncle Cecil. Your spirit lives on through Ms. Viv ‘Nim.

A MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR

I realized a dream come true when Simply Bret was published on January 26, 2010. I was quite pleased to learn that Simply Bret touched so many lives, but it surprised me that one character stood out apart from Bret—his next door neighbor Ms. Vivian.

I created Ms. Vivian as a tribute to my dear sweet aunt, Rosie Beatrice Quinn, who went home to be with The Lord on January 8, 2008. In addition to creating Ms. Vivian, I spent as much time with my Uncle Cecil until he went home to Glory on February 10, 2009. It did my heart well to know that Aunt Tea and Uncle Cecil were once again united, despite my heavy heart.

Ms. Vivian started off as a supporting character, but soon she became more and more popularity. Moreover, I was thrilled to learn that, in the process of giving Ms. Vivian a life of her own, I received closure of my Aunt Tea and Uncle Cecil’s transition.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, let’s not waste any more time. I present to you Life, Love, and Strawberry Seven-Up Cake, as told by everyone’s favorite senior citizen, Ms. Vivian.

Part One:

Delta Jewel

DEBUT IN THE DELTA

L-R: Me, my dad, my mom, and my baby sister.

Hey, Babies! How y’all doin’?

So, y’all wanna know my story, huh? Well, first off the bat, allow me to introduce myself: My name is Vivian Jewel Jones, but everybody calls me Ms. Viv… actually, my grandkids call me Gramma Jewel, and the neighborhood kids call me Aunt Tea. A select few know me as Delta Jewel, but that’s only a select few.

All right, now—let’s get on down to the nitty-gritty, shall we?

I was born on October 15, 1935 in Ruleville, Mississippi to Gregory and Lynn Coleman. That’s right, y’all—I’m a Mississippi gal and darn proud of it. From what my grandparents told me, my daddy was so overjoyed that he announced to the whole neighborhood that a Delta Jewel is born. My mom added that I sparkled like a lovely jewel, and thus I was christened Vivian Jewel.

The day after I turned two years old, my baby sister was born—Theresa Bernice, whom we nicknamed Reesie. I enjoyed having a baby sister, and vice-versa. Wherever I went, Reesie followed. She considered me more than just her big sister—in her eyes, I hung the moon. I thought it was so cute that Reesie always looked up to me, considering that I used to tease her from time to time.

I wasn’t planning on talking about Reesie until later on, but since I’ve already introduced you to my favorite sister, I may as well go ahead and keep talking about her.

I must admit that when Reesie was born, it sparked a Catch-22. Don’t get me wrong—I enjoyed being a big sister, but I was a bit jealous of Reesie on account of she got all of the attention. It didn’t help matters that I was a little hellion. There was one instance where Reesie had just learned how to walk on her own, and I was on a mission to push her to the ground. Why did I want to push her, you ask? Well, it’s simple: I wanted her to fall, so I ran up to her and pushed her. All she did was waddle and giggle. I waited another couple minutes and went back to push her again. Same results—she waddled and giggled, and I got upset that my plan was not working the way it was supposed to.

One would think that after two times, I would give up, but I was a persistent little hellion. I promised myself that I would give up altogether if Reesie didn’t fall on the last attempt. I waited a couple more minutes, and once Reesie headed in my direction, I ran up to her and pushed her with such force that when she hit the ground, she whined. I didn’t know if Reesie got hurt, and it scared me so badly that I took off and ran into the bathroom. I wanted Mama and Daddy to think that Reesie fell on her own. When I peeked out of the bathroom, Reesie was struggling to get up…

Vivian Jewel?

Daddy had walked into the hallway just as Reesie hit the ground, and he saw me run off. I knew that I was in trouble, so I walked up to Daddy and hung my head in shame. He knelt down to my level, looked me square in the eyes, and said, Don’t push Theresa again, okay?

Yes sir, I answered.

Now, this is gonna be between you and me, he said. But remember: you’re supposed to be the big sister. Reesie is just a little baby, and you gotta protect her, not hurt her.

Okay, Daddy, I said.

Reesie got up and walked over to me and Daddy with a big smile on her face. To appease Daddy and make up for my wrongdoing, I hugged Reesie and gave her a kiss on the forehead. I was glad to see that Reesie didn’t get hurt, but I was grateful that Daddy didn’t tell Mama what I did.

Although pushing Reesie around was fun, protecting her was even better. It was one thing if I did the teasing, but let somebody else come up and mess with my Reesie—it was hell to tell the captain! I remember when I was in Fourth Grade, and some girl in my class started bullying Reesie for no reason. Being a timid gal and not knowing how to fight for herself, Reesie asked the girl to leave her alone. I didn’t say or do anything on account of I thought the girl would quit. Boy, was I wrong. Once the girl put a hand on Reesie, I stood up. The stupid girl had the utter nerve to push me. She didn’t realize the mistake that she made.

Now, I already admitted that I was a little hellion, but if there was ever a time that I needed to raise some hell, it was to protect Reesie. After the girl pushed me, she tried to bully Reesie again. Before I knew what happened, I grabbed the girl by her arm and swung her around. Once I let go, the girl ran right into a pole. Knowing that the girl was hurt, I stood over her and said, Let that be a lesson to ya: If you evva mess with me or my sister, it’s gonna be woe unto yo’ stupid ass!

Little did I know, the girl’s sister, a Sixth Grader, was prepared to attack me from behind. In an act of bravery, Reesie pushed me out of harm’s way. This was the very first time that Reesie ever got upset. She courageously stood up to the Sixth Grade girl and said, Make ya move, big girl—make ya move!

Me and Reesie—a.k.a. Double-Double Trouble.

I couldn’t have been happier for Reesie. At the same time, I couldn’t let anything happen to her, so I stood right by her side. Nowadays these kids call it Ride or Die, and that’s exactly what Reesie and I planned on doing. Matter of fact, Reesie and I were more concerned with whuppin’ ass than taking names. We put a hurting on that Sixth Grade girl. We threw her to the ground and started stompin’ on her—oh, we were fightin’ dirty. It took about five teachers to break up the fight, but in the end, Reesie and I stood tall. However, when we got to the principal’s office, Reesie and I knew that we were in big trouble. The principal explained to Mama and Daddy that he would not expel me or Reesie from school, but instead assign us to a whole month of cleaning all of the classrooms.

It was a long and eerily quiet walk home from school. Each step we took felt like it was our last. When we finally got home, Mama opened the door and ushered me and Reesie inside. As Reesie and I stood in the middle of the living room with our heads hung in shame yet holding hands, Mama stared us down while Daddy stood with his arms crossed.

So, what do you girls have to say for yourselves? Mama asked.

Reesie looked up at Mama and said, I have nothing to say, Mama.

Mama turned her attention over to me.

Now I know that you got something to say, little girl, she demanded.

No, Ma’am—I’ve nothing to say, I replied.

Mama and Daddy looked at each other and smiled, then they knelt down to give us a big hug.

Way to go, girls! Mama cheered. Y’all stood by each other, and y’all won the fight.

Reesie and I looked at each other and shrugged. After all, it seemed too good to be true.

Here, here! Daddy added. Let me say this, though: Your mama and I don’t advocate all that fightin’ and carryin’ on—and believe me, there is a punishment in the works—but we are especially proud of you two for lookin’ out for each other.

Betta believe it, Mama said. Now girls, in addition to your after school punishment, y’all are grounded for a month. If y’all gotta go outside, it won’t be to play—it’ll be for errands and yard work only.

Believe it or not, Reesie and I thought that our punishment was fair.

Word soon spread across the neighborhood about them Coleman Sisters. Just like Mama and Daddy, the neighbors were none too thrilled about us fighting in school. Matter of fact, one of the neighbors nicknamed us Double-Double Trouble, which Reesie and I took as a term of endearment.

Well, now I want to talk about my parents, Gregory and Lynn Coleman. Since it is tradition that ladies go first, I’ll start off with Mama Lynn.

The Lord couldn’t have blessed me with a better mama. In a time where women were known to do nothing but take care of the housework and raise the children, Mama Lynn became an unsung hero when she went out looking for work. She was still a housewife, but she worked as a maid for at least four families in the Mississippi Delta. One particular family loved Mama so much that they adopted her as a daughter. Unless I miss my guess, the name of that family was the Vanderkellens—yes, that’s it. The Vanderkellens enjoyed Mama’s work ethic and loving spirit.

I must also point out that during this era, society was pretty segregated, but that didn’t matter to the Vanderkellens. They loved Mama, and they were just as crazy about me, Reesie, and Daddy. The Vanderkellens treated us so well that they us over to their house for Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

Lest I forget, this was the mid-1930s, when the Great Depression had not yet ended, but do y’all think that something like a stock market crash or unfair treatment stopped a woman like Lynn Agnes Coleman? Oh no, Honey—not one bit. Mama was a strong, praying woman who would steal away three times a day to talk to The Lord. When I was five years old, I remember seeing her come home from working all day and head straight to the bedroom. I wanted to see her in action, so I followed her into her bedroom. Mama turned right around and caught me by the shoulders.

Go back in the living room, Jewel—Mama’s gotta talk to The Lord, she declared.

But Mama, I don’t see anybody in the room, I said curiously.

Just gon’ back in the living room, Vivian, she demanded as she lovingly tapped me on the shoulder.

Yes, Ma’am, I said.

This was also back in a time where the children did exactly what their parents told them to do, lest they suffered the consequences. Those of y’all from the ol’ skool know what I mean. Anyway, I walked to the living room, where Daddy was bouncing Reesie on his knee. I sat beside him and played peek-a-boo with Reesie. Seconds later, we could hear Mama singing. She had such a melodious voice, too.

"Jesus, keep me near the cross—there’s a precious fountain.

Free to all a healing stream, flows from Calvary’s mountain."

Mind you, we lived in a one-story house that had two bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen, and you could hear everything up in that house. We really heard Mama shine once she got to the chorus of her song.

"In the cross, in the cross, be my glory ever…

Oh-oh, ‘til my ra-a-aptured soul shall find—

I wanna find rest, beyond the ri… beyond the river."

Daddy waved his hand and shouted, Yessuh, Lawd Jesus!

Like any curious child growing up in a Christian home, I had questions about The Lord. I tapped Daddy on the shoulder and asked him if he was talking to The Lord, and he said, Yes I am, Sweetie.

But Mama said that she’s talkin’ to The Lord, I said. How can you and Mama both talk to The Lord at the same time? How will He know who called Him first?

Daddy chuckled and kissed me on the forehead, then he said, Sweetie, The Lawd’s got so much wisdom and power that He is able to talk to me and Mama at the same time.

Okay, I said, confused. Sounds to me like Mama’s singin’ to Him, though.

Well, Sweetie, you can talk to The Lawd, you can sang to The Lawd, and you can even laugh with The Lawd, Daddy explained. As long as you’re sincere with your praise, The Lawd’ll hear ya.

Okay, I said, still a bit confused. But how come I don’t see The Lord anywhere?

Jewel, I’m more than happy to answer that question for you, he said confidently. You see, The Lawd is a spirit, but you can still talk to Him, so long as it’s in spirit and in truth.

Will He listen to me if I talk to Him? I asked.

Of course, my precious Jewel, Daddy smiled. You see, it doesn’t matter if you’re a young child or an old man like me—The Lawd’ll hear ya. You’re on the right track in wanting to know more about The Lawd. You may not understand everything now, but just keep on walkin’ with The Lawd, and trust me when I tell ya—you’ll understand it better, by and by.

Daddy was a very spiritual man, as you could tell.

It seems like I made a smooth segue into talking about my daddy, Gregory Otis Coleman, and yet there’s more to tell about him.

My daddy was a great male role model in my life. It was through him that I learned how a man should treat a woman. He was very sweet to Mama, even when they argued. He never raised his voice, nor did he raise his hand. He was also a farmer whom The Lord blessed abundantly. He had so many crops and vegetables that he would share the overflow with the entire neighborhood.

My daddy also knew where his blessings came from, so whenever he wasn’t tending to his garden, he could be found at church. And to top it all off, Daddy was a deacon. Every Sunday, we attended Solid Rock Methodist Church, which was a mere three blocks from where we lived. Needless to say, we walked to church every Sunday—rain, snow, or shine.

Not only was Daddy one of the deacons of Solid Rock Methodist Church, but he was also the chairman of the Deacon Board, and he led the devotion almost every Sunday. All we had for musical instruments was a piano and the melodious voices of each and every church member, but I can promise you that Solid Rock Methodist Church was rockin’ in the Holy Ghost every Sunday.

This is how you knew devotion was ready to start: Daddy and two other deacons stood up in front of the sanctuary. Daddy stood out in front and said, Praise The Lawd, y’all. We ‘bout ready to start our devotion.

And then, from out of the blue, Daddy shook his head and started singing. His favorite devotion song was I Love The Lord. The way he sang it was truly something.

I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I love The Lawd—He heard my cry-y-y-y-y!

The church members, 29 in total, joined in.

I-I-I-I-I-I-I, loooooooooove, The…. La-a-a-a-a-a-a-awd!

He heard, my… cry-y-y."

I felt so bad because I didn’t know that song, but by the same token, I grew up learning about how The Lord admired obedience. I was given the impression that The Lord would punish me if I didn’t join in the song, so I sang along as best as I could, stumbling over each and every note that the congregation held onto with the song. I even sang the ad-libs. Yes, I was a mockingbird, but no one could expect any less from me. After all, I was only six years old.

When the Holy Ghost filled up the church, Daddy and his fellow deacons knelt before the altar on one knee. They held their foreheads with one hand, as though they were in deep thought. Reesie and I wondered aloud what Daddy and the other deacons were thinking about, and Mama told us to shush. The entire church bowed their heads in unison, humming the song that Daddy was singing. Reesie and I followed suit. Suddenly, Daddy broke out with: Our Father, Our Father, Most Gracious and Heavenly Father…

That was Daddy’s introduction every time he led the prayer. Maybe this is a hint of favoritism on my part, but I loved Daddy’s prayers. When he was really in the zone, he would shout, Somebody need ya right now, Lawd!

Gregory and Lynn Coleman, the greatest parents in the world… in my humble opinion.

Sometimes Daddy seemed like he was preaching his prayers to The Lord, and other times it seemed like Daddy was talking to The Lord. No matter the style, Daddy never ended a prayer without asking The Lord to look after me, Reesie, and Mama.

I thank ya for my wife and two little girls, Lawd! You been mighty, mighty good to me—better to me than I been to myself!

Just in case you’re keepin’ score, you’re reading correctly. Daddy would say Lawd as opposed to Lord, but no matter the pronunciation, The Lord still heard Daddy’s prayers.

I also admired how Mama rocked in her seat and hummed to herself. She taught me and Reesie that when you hum to The Lord, ol’ what’s-his-name couldn’t understand your prayers. I asked Mama who ol’ what’s-his-name was, and Mama simply said, That old man.

There were only five old men that I knew of: my daddy, my grandfather, the two deacons and the pastor. There was no possible way she could’ve been talking about them. Only when I got older and studied my Bible more did I realize that Mama was talking about the devil.

After worship service, there was the traditional Sunday dinner. I looked forward to Sunday dinner because Mama could throw down in the kitchen. Reesie and I made plans to stake out in the hallway and watch Mama cook. Once Reesie and I heard the clanging of pots and pans, we got up and made a mad dash to the kitchen doorway. We Mama prepare cube steak and rice, all while humming Near the Cross. In the middle of her song, Mama thought aloud that it would be nice if she made some corn bread. Just as she turned to the refrigerator, she saw me and Reesie, smiling away.

What are you two up to? she asked.

Nothin’, Mama, Reesie answered bashfully.

Reesie was always timid around Mama, but I boldly said, Mama, we wanna watch you cook.

Mama hummed a few more bars of Near the Cross, then grabbed a couple of items from the refrigerator and said, As long as y’all stay out my way and don’t touch nothin’, we won’t have any problems, okay?

Yes, Ma’am, Reesie and I answered.

All right then, Mama replied as she mixed the corn bread batter.

Reesie took Mama to her every word, but me… well, I was also curious and oftentimes mischievous. It didn’t help matters that one of my favorite pastimes as a child was to take a little bit of the batter from the mixing bowl and eat it. As Mama continued to mix the corn bread batter, I smiled. Reesie must’ve seen the gleam in my eye and got worried.

Jewel, don’t do it, she begged me. Mama said not to get in her way.

I’m just gonna get a little taste of the corn bread batter, I said, hoping to assure Reesie that my plan would work perfectly.

Mama put the bowl of corn bread batter down and returned to check on the cube steak and rice on the stove while I tiptoed into the kitchen. Lord knows that I tried to sneak past Mama, but my plan failed. With the reflexes of a cheetah, Mama grabbed a wooden spoon and almost popped me with it. I scurried back over to the doorway by Reesie, who tried her best not to laugh.

Vivian Jewel Coleman, what did I tell you? Mama asked, wagging the wooden spoon at me.

I was just gonna get a little bit of the batter, Mama, I whined in shame.

Girl, this ain’t no cake batter—this here’s corn bread mix! Mama said with authority. There is a difference, you know.

Yes, Ma’am, I said.

Mama turned back around to get a pan for the corn bread, and Reesie mocked me. I wanted so badly to hit Reesie in her arm, but Mama still had the wooden spoon in her hand. Of all the things to scare me, Mama’s wooden spoon did the trick.

Being the mischievous type may have gotten me into trouble, but it was fun nonetheless.

Yesiree, Gregory and Lynn Coleman made sure that Reesie and I didn’t have to want for anything. They also had a strict routine in which housework was set aside for Saturday only, from the church clothes to the ironing and the laundry. Mama didn’t believe in doing any type of housework on Sunday… then again, if it involved Sunday dinner, then Mama would claim that as an exception to the rule.

One other little tidbit about church: Reesie and I could not understand for the life of us, why we had to go to church every Sunday. We asked Mama what the purpose of going to church was, and Mama told us, You’re supposed to remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.

That answer sat well with Reesie, but it didn’t fly with me.

But why, Mama? I asked.

Mama looked at me with one eyebrow raised and said, Just keep lettin’ the sun rise and set, and you’ll learn why.

When I asked Daddy, he said, Your mama and I don’t wanna see you and your sister wind up in hell!

That was a good enough answer for me, even as a little girl.

Some may wonder what it was like to grow up in a time long before cellphones, computers, and remote control televisions. Well, let me tell y’all like my mama and daddy used to say: You can’t miss what you never had. And then again, if you can’t appreciate the mule, how can you expect God to bless you with a horse?

What was I talking about again? Oh, yes—growing up as a child.

I can remember when Reesie and I would play games with the other neighborhood kids, such as hopscotch and hide-and-seek. My personal favorite was the game of make-believe on account of I was the queen of the neighborhood, and Reesie was my assistant queen. The neighborhood kids would come to me and ask me for certain things, and I would occasionally grant them… okay, I would grant Reesie’s requests more than I would the other children. Can y’all say favoritism personified? Unfortunately for me, I forgot the most important rule in make-believe: there were no rules. The other kids got together and tried to fire me as their queen. I stood up on the front steps of my parents’ house and said, Y’all can’t fire me, because I’m givin’ my title to Reesie!

I don’t even need to tell y’all that this didn’t sit too well with the other kids and we all got into a great big ol’ argument. Suddenly, we heard an electric buzzing. We all looked up, and three or four streetlights started flickering. Like a flock of geese, we scurried into our respective homes. Reesie and I fought over who would get into the house first, and in the midst of our scuffle, Mama opened the door. Instinctively, Reesie and I straightened up and jumped in the house at the same time.

What in God’s Name do y’all think y’all doin’? Mama asked.

Mama, we was tryin’ to get in the house before the streetlights came on, I answered in a huff.

Mama put her hands on her hips and looked outside, where the streetlights were finally in full illumination. She looked at us with a smile and said, Congratulations. Both-a-y’all made it in the nick of time, because I was sho’ bout ready to do some whuppin’.

Thank You, Lord, I said aloud.

Yeah, y’all betta thank Him! Mama said, returning to the kitchen.

I also remember how the entire neighborhood looked out for each other, no matter how big or how small the issue. Whether it was baking a cake or borrowing a hammer, the entire neighborhood pitched in some kinda way. Oh, and off the record, we were also taught by the adults to be quiet during a thunderstorm, because The Lord was doing His work. Reesie was terrified of thunder and lightning, but I helped her through her first couple of storms.

As it relates to helping out one another, allow me to give y’all an example: One day, Mama wanted to bake a cake, but she didn’t have any butter, so she raised the kitchen window up and yelled out, Hey, Mrs. Benson! I’m all out of butter!

So am I! Mrs. Benson yelled back.

Mama gave me five dollars and told me and Reesie to go around the corner to buy some butter. As soon as Reesie and I stepped out of the house, it seemed the whole neighborhood was on their front porch… oh, yeah—we had to speak to everyone, coming and going. Reesie was so scared of slipping up that she mastered this rule and took it literally. I, on the other hand, was not so sharp, but I would at least say Hello, Sir or Hello, Ma’am. If I were to mess around and not acknowledge an adult, much less speak, then there would be a nice little greeting from Mama and Daddy when I got home.

Speaking of which, discipline was sho’ nuff handed out. Daddy believed in discipline, but because Reesie and I were his little girls, he never whupped us. He felt that he could get his point across by talking in a stern but loving voice. Mama’s form of discipline was quite different in that she wouldn’t whup us right away—she had to give a lecture beforehand. I remember when I was seven years old and Mama gave me a lecture that started off as such:

So, you think you’re grown, don’tcha, Vivian?

No, Ma’am, I answered with fear in my voice.

Yeah ya do! she yelled. First, you don’t do such-and-such, and now you’re talkin’ back to grown folks?

Are you gonna bring that up again, Mama? I asked, thinking that I was being respectful.

What did you say, little girl? Mama inquired.

I shook my head and said nothing, hoping that it wouldn’t lead to where I thought it would lead. Mama swelled up like a hot-air balloon and said to me, Vivian Jewel Coleman, you gettin’ outta control, and I’ll be struck dead before I raise a disrespectful child… I’m-a whup yo ass!

The next thing I knew, Mama grabbed me by my wrist and dragged me to her bedroom. I screamed for Daddy or Reesie, trying to grab hold of a wall, a dresser drawer—anything! Unfortunately for me, all of my efforts were in vain. Mama had the strength of Sampson and Hercules, considering she was five foot even.

It goes without saying, but Mama whupped the hell outta me. There were even a couple of instances where she kept hitting me in the same sore spot, resulting in an indescribable sting. Every time Mama tried to hit that spot, I wouldn’t let her.

Move your hand! she demanded.

I couldn’t move it. I knew it was an act of defiance, but I just couldn’t stand to get hit like that again.

I said to move your hand, Vivian!

Mama was just gonna have to hit my hand, because I was not about to move it.

Okay then, little girl—keep it there! she said.

And then she hit my arm.

Once I drew my arm back, Mama hit that same sore spot on my leg. She hit me so hard, I let out a scream, yet no sound came out.

After Mama finished whuppin’ me, she gave me a look of complete and utter discontent, as I whimpered and curled up in a fetal position.

The hell you think, Mama said. And you know that I raised you better than that!

I looked away out of fear, but Mama walked up to me. Naturally, I flinched because she still had that belt in her hand.

You think I wanted to whup you, little girl? she asked.

I tried to answer, but all I could do was whimper and nod.

Do ya?! Mama demanded.

N-n-n-no, Ma’am, I answered fearfully.

Mama then turned her back to me and looked up to the heavens.

Lord, You know that I tried to raise her in the way that You told me, but something happened along the way! she declared. Walk with my child, Lord—please walk with her, Jesus!

This was the first time I heard Mama praying to The Lord in such a manner, and it made me feel like I let Mama down. More importantly, especially