THE SAWDUST PILE: Growing Up in Southwest Georgia


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Sadi Mckena. Forgetting Isa. Robert Marion. Doreen Milstead. Ancient History. Negroes were allowed in the Night Owl—the only place in town where the races mingled freely with each other outside the workplace. Jasmine, a fair-skinned Negro, was the waitress: she was a stunningly beautiful girl of nineteen with an exquisite figure set on a medium-sized frame.

checkout.midtrans.com/mujer-soltera-de-bueu.php Her facial features were fine and proud, her cheekbones high, and her nostrils flared slightly. Large buttocks lent emphasis to her small waist and full thighs. Bring us some soda water and a little rotgut, Jesse said. Even though Prohibition had been repealed, alcohol was still illegal anywhere in south Georgia in the thirties, but a ready supply of moonshine was available and was regularly served to trusted customers of the Night Owl. I hear yore old lady done had another youngun, Jasmine said, looking directly at Jesse. You oughta keep yore pants buttoned. Jasmine did not answer, but threw her head back and smiled broadly as she walked away from the table.

He had always treated her with respect and dignity, and she had reciprocated with warm banter and knowing smiles, never insisting upon full payment on those frequent occasions when he was broke. Jasmine was always good company for Jesse, and he needed good company tonight. Especially on this night his spirits needed lifting. But other spirits were at work.

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Normally shy and withdrawn, full of self-doubt and feelings of inferiority, Jesse became outgoing, moving through the saloon confidently, telling jokes, slapping backs, and watching Jasmine out of the corner of his eye as she dallied with other customers. Rasty began a game of pool in the rear of the bar with one of the Negroes while Jesse leaned over the juke box, his forearm and elbow resting on the glass. Suddenly, his life had promise.

He started thinking about the new baby: what would they name him, he wondered, and would he favor his daddy? Maybe he and the boy would become real buddies, like him and Rasty. That would be nice, and for an instant, it occurred to him that maybe he should just go on home. Jasmine sat down. Raised voices suddenly came from the pool table. Erasmus stood glaring at the Negro, his hand tightening on the pool stick. Boy, you gonna git in a pile of trouble, he said, grimacing.

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Erasmus muttered a profanity as he threw down the stick and moved with Jesse away from the pool table. They walked back to the table where Jasmine still waited and seated themselves, Jesse next to the girl, Erasmus facing the couple across the table. The waitress sat close to Jesse, her legs crossed and her foot brushing lightly against his leg. Jasmine had brought a quart jar of moonshine to the table, and Jesse poured a half-glass and handed it to Erasmus.

Jasmine talked with the men a few minutes, then got up to wait on two customers who had just entered the tavern. Naw, hell naw!

THE SAWDUST PILE: Growing Up in Southwest Georgia
THE SAWDUST PILE: Growing Up in Southwest Georgia
THE SAWDUST PILE: Growing Up in Southwest Georgia
THE SAWDUST PILE: Growing Up in Southwest Georgia
THE SAWDUST PILE: Growing Up in Southwest Georgia
THE SAWDUST PILE: Growing Up in Southwest Georgia
THE SAWDUST PILE: Growing Up in Southwest Georgia
THE SAWDUST PILE: Growing Up in Southwest Georgia
THE SAWDUST PILE: Growing Up in Southwest Georgia

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