Norman Kerengton Sr.

He always had breathing problems.  Asthma.  His mother told him that he would outgrow it, but for now, he had to go to the hospital.  Breathing treatments were expensive, but Calvin would sell a sow for it.  It was like he was going away to college.  His whole family was seated in the waiting room hoping that Norman could come home.  When the doctor suggested a few nights in St. Mary's, mother was overcome with grief.  Father began to count dollars in his head and his siblings cried like they thought he was dying.  No one had ever had to spend the night in the infirmary.  Even mother gave birth at home.  Hospitals are places you go it your are going to die.  Mother packed Norman's best night clothes and left him with a few sandwiches and apples.  They waved goodbye longer than they had to and then walked back to their farm.  It was the last time Norman saw any of them in a recognizable form.  Calvin had talked big.  He got his children treated by the white doctor and his son was going to be treated at the hospital.  There was no colored hospital so most colored folks stayed home and died.  Not Calvin's son.  His son would get breathing treatments and live.  Calvin's children wore shoes in the summer and ate ham.  Calvin's children learned to read by age three all played an instrument.  Calvin's children had that light coloring favored by whites on the count of that passé blanc mother.  Norman, who was light bright with green eyes was welcomed at the hospital.  Most colored, back then, wouldn't be welcomed except at the back door to clean slop jars, but Norman was not threatening.  He looked like one of them and was treated like one of them.  All this animosity swirled hate on both sides and somebody decided to burn Calvin's fields.  It was a sloppy job.  The fields lay untouched, but the house was gone.  Norman stayed in the hospital while authorities decided how to tell him the price of those precious green eyes.  Black folks said the Klan did it.  White folks said his own people did it.  All he had left was his milky skin and his glowing eyes.  He had no money, no family and no trust in his community, but he had himself.