travis: innocence and a hope for change

Dear Diary,

Today sure was an unusual day. 

A cracker came to our house late afternoon, lookin' all formal-like with his big ole briefcase and thick glasses. He walked in the door with a huge smile on his face, as if he just done chase a rat as big as a cat and beat it to a pulp beneath his feet (I am strictly forbidden to do that anymore). But Mama and Grandma and Aunt Beneatha and them all looked so tense, as if the rat they had been chasin' fly right outta their hands and underneath a building where they couldn't reach him no more. 

And, Daddy—well he was tryna say somethin' to the man, but I done noticed that he looked mighty nervous. He kept wiping his sleeve across his mouth and faltered in his speech. At one point, he grab me and say, "This is my son, and he makes the sixth generation our family in this country." Oh, gaallee! I sure must be something if Daddy say that to the white man so proudly! 

And then, Daddy said something even more strange. He said, "And we have decided to move into our house because my father—my father—he  earned it for us brick by brick. We don't want to make no trouble for nobody or fight no causes, and we will try to be good neighbors. And that's all we got to say about that. We don't want your money." And then the white man, he was jes' lookin' all flustered and whisking away his things in a flurry, parting with a warning, "I sure hope you people know what you're getting into."

That sorta struck something in me. I remember Daddy's strong voice, Grandmama's tear-streaked face, Mama with her head bowed, and Auntie with her head raised in pride. I mean, what exactly are we gettin' into? Why it such a big deal if we move into Clybourne Park? I never met none of them white boys before, but I know we could get along just fine. After all, Daddy say I am the sixth generation in this family. If Granddaddy and his ancestors weren't able to stand up shoulder to shoulder with a white man, then by gallee, I will be the first one in my family to do that. And when that day come, Mama and Daddy will say to me, "Yes, son. Ain't nobody out there that can tell you you ain't fit to walk this earth. Thrive, prosper, live alongside the others. You done make us proud."

Now that sounds like a lot more respectable goal to work for than to trade marbles or chase them rats down the streets. 

Yours truly,

Travis Younger