End of a Journal

The End of the Journal

November 10, 1935

Dear Diary,

I've done it! I found a job workin' in the home of some nice white folks. I'm surprised I found a job so soon down here. There's a depression going on. Things ain't easy for anyone.

They don't like coloreds much here in Mississippi. Po' people living in fear of them evil bastards, the Klan. I don't understand them none. We's all God's children, black and white. They ain't no better than us. They think they hurt us when they call us "nigger" but it ain't botherin' me cause I'm above all that. Them's the devil's children. They all gonna burn in hell. I just pray my soul don't become as black as theirs.

Gotta get to work early tomorrow. It's late. I gotta stop now.

November 12, 1935

Dear Diary,

Yesterday I started work. The Marshall's, those the people I'm working for, are real nice. They gave me a lot of work to do. They got a huge house. It used to be one of them plantations or something. I told the Misses that I hoped I didn't get lost cause the house was so big. She just looked at me and smiled. Then she muttered something I couldn't quite catch and walked away. I bet she thought I was stupid. I know I don't have that fancy language like them, but I can read and write, and do math. I got me a solid education. I'm just workin' here for the money. I got just about enough saved to get me to Paris. I hear they like black folks over there. They finds us fascinatin' and try to imitate us, but in a good way. Not like they do here. People in Paris just so color blind. They don't care who you are, let alone what color you are.

Anyways, the Marshall's is rich. They have a radio! Ain't no one I know got a radio. Mrs. Marshall listen to it all day. The music is so wonderful. I want one somethin' awful. It would help the time go faster and I could practice my singing to it. The Reverend said I sang like a bird, but I want to sing like Billie Holiday. I saw her once when I was visiting cousins in New York. Something about her singing makes your heartbreak and lift your soul up at the same time. Seems like all I got left here is time. I've been scrimping and saving for years. Now Paris is just a boat ride away.

It's probably best that I came. I couldn't stay in that city no longer. Peoples there live too fast and don't know if they comin' or goin'. There's more space here. It's beautiful country, if it weren't for the locals. And housework is better than slaving away in one of those factories for hours upon hours. I gets some free time and Mrs. Marshall don't want to do nothing and expects that I'll handle everything. I practically run the house. I gotta make sure we get our ice regular. Seems Mr. Taggert, he the iceman, is old and senile. Sometimes he forget to deliver the ice. He just drives on by. They got an icebox and Mrs. Marshall says they gonna be getting' on of those new fangled freezers soon. Then there'll be one less thing to worry about. Who knew runnin' a house took so much. I gotta get the milk in the mornings and makes sure we get the proper order. It's delivered every morning around seven, which means I gotta get up at the crack of dawn. I also gotta clean, dust, cook and be companion to Mrs. Marshall. Thank the Lord Fridays I can go home early. The Marshall's eat out on Friday and sometimes Saturday. The go to the fanciest place in town. Boy that man sure must have some money! Mrs. Marshall says he graduated from Harvard. Tops in his class. Not many folks around here get to go to college.

Them Marshall's is real nice people. I'm glad to be working for them.

November 17, 1935

Dear Diary,

It's been a long and hard past couple of days. I ain't never worked so hard in my entire life. Them white folks ain't no good at cleanin', least not Mrs. Marshall. She tried to help dust. Lordie, that woman just managed to spread it everywhere. The only way to get rid of her is to tell her one of her radio shows is on. Ain't nothin' gonna move her when she listens to that radio. Jesus Christ himself could come a knockin' and she wouldn't care.