*The "book" to which Mama refers was a copy, I
believe, of Lee Grue’s The New Laurel Review, for which I
had written several articles and help to edit a couple of issues.
Or maybe it was another issue of CRICKET.
**The summer after returned home, in 1987, Cary Wyche, my
supposed paternal grandmother, died. I went to the wake but not to
her funeral. I helped, however, to dig her grave in the church
cemetery. At the wake, Pat made a sorry statement. She claimed
that because I did not have a gap in my front teeth that I could
not be a Wyche. To his credit, Edler, my purported father,
attempted to convince others at the wake that there was a facial
resemblance between him and me. But none seemed to see it but him.
Later that summer of 1987, I also got into an argument with
Florence Stith and Sistuh, Mama’s oldest daughter, during the
August revival. Mama’s birthday is August 11 and the revival by
tradition was the second week of August, so the two events
overlapped. She came home the first night of the revival and I
asked her if the church wished her happy birthday. She said no.
Did Florence? I asked No. Did Sistuh? No. the next day I called
Florence and Sistuh to reason with them. Both told me that the
church had a policy against wishing members happy birthday. For,
they pointed out, if you did it for one, you had to do it for all.
So what? I asked. You only have fifty active members. What time
would that take?
When Mama returned the next night I got the same answers. I was
quite disturbed by this insult to Mama. I sat down that night and
wrote out a statement. That summer I read the Koran, cover to
cover, and also read much of the Old Testament and I was filled
with a considerable amount of bombast and fury, and maybe a bit of
the righteousness of the spirit. So I decided I would fix this
injustice and lack of consideration for a woman who had been a
member of the church for over a half century. I told Susie my
intentions and she informed a number of people by phone what I
intended to do, namely, to confront the church that night about
this insult to Mama.
That night, before the main sermon, I read my little sermon and
had the church stand and sing happy birthday. My cousin Charlie
"Nature Boy" Lewis, the grandson of Mary Lewis and the
son of Irvin Lewis, was there. I believe that was the last time I
saw him before he spent an extended period hospitalized and then
died. Though I did not attend his funeral, I wrote a poem to honor
him.
