It's Good to Be Black

11. Carnival Time

11. earoival time Twice a year the town awoke to the lumbering of heavy wagons over the ruts in the dirt road. For weeks now, we had stood entranced before the flaming posters that covered the sides of the downtown store buildings and the barns. By no stretch of the imagination could heaven be as beautiful and exciting as the jostling midway of a carnivaL We were the luckiest kids in town for we lived only half a block from the carnival grounds, and we could stand in our own field and watch the horses run on the track behind our house. Nobody had to be called twice on the morning the carnival rolled into town. "My goodness," Mother exclaimed as we hurriedly gathered our books for school. "Aren't you children getting out a little early? Look at all the food you've wasted. There are many children in this world who would be glad to get such a nice breakfast." And it was nice. There were thick slices of home-cured ham, fluffy hot biscuits, small servings of delicious homecanned yellow cling peaches, and rich milk from Cherry, our Holstein cow. By ten o'clock, we would be hungry enough to eat boiled sawdust. Now our only thought was to get over to the carnival ground and see what was going up. Helen, Cecil, and I left Spud looking for his cap. Spud was always looking for his cap. He could come home to lunch with it safely perched on his long head but he'd 110 eurnivcd time usually enter the house giving a good imitation of the war whoop of a Comanche Indian, sail his cap toward the first chair, and spring for the table. No matter where he put his cap, he always had to hunt for it. This morning was no exception. We were half way down the block when Spud caught and passed us. Our pace was much too slow for him. Near the corner we met Bessie, Nellie, and Ernest Sadberry . Bessie's face had a few becoming freckles, and she wore her hair in two long braids. Nellie was shy, but we liked her because she didn't cry much. Ernest was a rather lanky, good-looking, brown-skinned boy, but his nose had an awful habit of running a great part of the time. "Hi/' we greeted each other. We were soon joined by Luther Clary and "Dollar Bill" Roberts, unopposed leaders of the south end gang. "Is it a big carnival?" we asked excitedly. Somehow, we knew that Luther and Dollar Bill had all the answers. "Big? Why, it would make three of that little ole dinky one that was here last year," Dollar Bill bragged. "Nawl" Cecil's voice was filled with awe. He was always easily impressed. All my life I've tried to be a skeptic, so I said coldly, "How do you know?" "He wouldn'ta if it hadna been for me," Luther informed us. "The carnival got in town about five o'clock this morning . I got up, dressed, and laid the fire in the kitchen stove forMa. Then I sneaked out and went over to Dollar Bill's house to wake him up. If his window hadna been up, I never woulda woke him. I've heard some fancy snoring in my day, but ole Dollar sure was tackin' 'em down this morning." 111 it's good to be blaek "Gwan, Luther. You stretchin' it some." Dollar nudged Luther playfully. "I ain't neither. If I snored as loud as you, I never would get no sleep, 'cause everytime I'd go to sleep, I'd wake my own self up." We all laughed. Luther was our local John Henry. He was a strong, black boy with wide shoulders, a right arm that packed a mean backhand lick, and a set of teeth that were formed out of mother-of-pearl. He could outfight, outrun, outwork any boy in the south end of town. He never used his strength to terrorize. He minded his own business. He hated bullies, and because all the kids in town respected him, we were glad to have him for our friend. Now we turned the corner, and right before our eyes a huge fairyland was being created. Some of the men in their dirty shirt sleeves lugged heavy boxes. As others pulled and strained at...