Rosa Parks Thingamajig

Rosa Parks

Dear Journal,

Messy words. Messy words spilling out of their mouths. Jeering, angry, sharp, hot words tumbling out like fire from a dragon's throat.

They take the woman away, pulling her along the street like a rag doll. I try to keep myself busy; I keep my head down.

Why did I have to sit in that seat? I could've sat in another, right? She was just an old lady... I think to myself. But I know the answer to my questions.

Because she is black and I am white and we can never be the same.

**********************

I can't eat dinner and Millie has taken notice.

"Honey?" She asks, "I made your favorite! Eat up, you must be starving."

I look down at my plate. After today, I don't feel like eating.

Millie knits her eyebrows in concern, such a thoughtful wife, but she wouldn't understand me for pitying a black.

"I'm going to bed," I murmur, pushing in my chair

Millie only stares at the wall, her eyebrows still scrunched together like caterpillars.

*******************

A few days later, the bus is a sea of pale pink faces.

"Jim! Psst, Jim!" Someone whispers

I spin my head around. Will. My best friend since college.

"Ain't this great? No dirty blacks to ruin our ride! Now we can relax."

"Yeah... Real nice," I say, not believing my words.

Will grins, flashing his yellowed buck-teeth. At least he's happy.

"It's my stop, Will," I give a little wave and run off the bus. But I'm soon remembering that day...

***Flashback***

It started off a good night. Work was great--they gave out free doughnuts during lunch break. Millie would be waiting for me, and she had recently bought a new perfume, too, so coming home to her always smelled like rose petals, cinnamon sugar, and sage all mixed together. Going home after a long day was exactly what heaven felt like back then. Whistling to a song by Buddy Holly, I felt lighter than air. Heck maybe I was air and I didn't know it! On that night, I could've been anyone. I was somebody and everyone knew it. I reached the bus and it screeched to a stop, just getting the slightest smidgen of dirt on our black-polished shoes. We thundered in like a herd of elephants.

I got in last and the bus was Packard. And elderly black woman was sitting up front--a white seat.

"Lady! Get up!" I heard myself tell. The words couldn't be held in any longer and were starting to break free from my silence, the air suddenly didn't taste so clear anymore. It had a thick, humid feel--the feeling of sinisterness was clearly present.

She ignored me. A black woman, especially, inferior to me, ignored me. Like a ghost. Like there was nothing there.

I didn't feel like I could've been anyone so much anymore.

"I said move, woman!"

No response.

"DO IT!" I screamed

"No! Don't y'all white people know that I'm a person, too? I am staying right here!" Her voice echoed through the bus. Silence.

I, however, had no comment. At this point, the bus driver has called the cops. The woman is going, going, going... Gone.

Messy words. Messy words spilling out of their mouths. Jeering, angry, sharp, hot...

***************

"Uhhhh..." Someone moans. It's... Me?

My eyes snap open. The dark, smiling face of a black man peers over me. His eyes are being with obvious enthusiasm and milk chocolate brown.

"You passed out, mister. I work at the hospital downtown, so I jus' scooped ye up and got ya here." The black man says

I realize that I'm in a hospital gown. Where's Millie? Is she worried?

"Your wife is in the waiting room. I'll get 'er for you."

I guess I said that aloud... Huh. A black man saved my life.

A black man saved my life. Me. A well-to-do white man.

"Wait!l I call out weakly "What's your name?"

The African-American man grins, his cheeks almost up to his eyeballs. "Moses." Says he "Moses Johnson."

Moses Johnson. Like the Moses who took the Israelites out of Egypt. Whoever this man is, he's going to lead me out of the prison that is my guilt...

My eyelids suddenly feel as though they weigh five-hundred pounds.

Moses Johnson...

And I drop off to sleep.

***************

One year later...

***************

"Awright, ladies and gents! We're gonna test every bus in this here South of the U.S.A.! Who's with me?" Moses exclaims

"We are!" We all shout, out faces swelling with excitement.

The past year has been a whirlwind. Moses Johnson is now not only my new best friend, but and esteemed doctor (yes, with a PhD--African Americans can be doctors, too!), a humanitarian, and an ex-science teacher in an "all-blacks" school. The guy never leaves his house without a colossal smile. I divorced with Millie, regrettably (but she didn't appreciate my new "dirty" friends--her words, not mine) and I am a whole new man. I feel... Pure again, like I was before the incident whose name I've learned is Rosa Parks.

"And why are we gonna do it?" Moses booms

"To make the whole world smile!" We all reply

To make the whole world smile.

I let the words roll around in my head like waves, stretching out to reach every bump, edge, crease, and groove of the land.

Gone are the messy words, the insults of a year ago. The words are replaced with new ones--of kindness, acceptance, purity, and love.

"To make the whole world smile," I whisper to myself. "To make the whole world smile."

Bye For Now,

Jim Dare