Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Friends

A Lesson in Deep South Manners | 1950s

Sister #2 and I hanging onto the front-yard Mimosa tree, 1950s

I don’t remember her name. Her mother was the cook and household helper for Dr. and Mrs. Turner.  Her father took care of yard work and repairs to the Turner’s house.

Dr. Turner was a retired physician. Auntie Turner had worked as his nurse. Once upon a time they owned and lived in the big house. Then they gave it to the mission organization my parents served, and moved out. Now they lived in the old servants’ quarters. The simple wood frame two-story structure sat behind the big house. No one lived on the second floor anymore.

One day the Turner’s cook brought her oldest daughter to work. She was my age. After polite introductions, she and I ran off to play in the front yard by the river. She came several times. When Sister #2 played with us it was even better. That meant we could run races, play dodge ball, hide and seek, or Simon-says.

Our front yard stretched into the neighbor’s front yard which stretched into the next neighbor’s front yard and beyond. All the back yards (where the driveways and garages were) had fences. Most front yards didn’t.

The front yards were beautiful. The river, marsh grass and docks were right there next to us. Our next-door neighbors were often at their main house in the city. They told us we could play in their front yard any time we wanted to. So we did. They were very friendly.

We didn’t dare go beyond their yard, though, because the man in the next big house was mean. He shot Bambi one night with his rifle and Bambi died. Bambi was our new puppy. Sometimes Bambi barked little puppy barks. Mr. S didn’t like barking dogs, even though his great big guard dog barked and even snarled. Mr. S also gave rowdy drinking parties on his dock. We stayed away from Mr. S.

But we didn’t stay away from the huge water oak in our neighbor’s yard. We also had one in our yard. The two oaks became our start and finish lines for all kinds of races and made-up games.

One morning we had great fun racing back and forth between the oaks and then seeing who could twirl around the longest before collapsing on the ground.

The next day Mother quietly told us we weren’t to play with our new friend anymore. In fact, she wasn’t coming back. Ever. Mother looked uncomfortable. I was shocked.

I could tell she wasn’t giving us the full story. She said something like ‘It will be better for all of you if you don’t play together anymore.’ Furthermore, we were to say nothing to anyone else about this and ask no questions. Just do as we’re told.

I still don’t know the full truth. It was clearly about skin color. Our friend was colored; we were white.

I don’t think Mother came up with that by herself. I also don’t think our mean neighbor said anything. But the fact that he was unpredictable, white and rowdy with lots of money probably entered in.

And then there was Auntie Turner. She was never shy about telling us (especially Mother) how things are and how they must remain. Especially when it came to the way Mother took care of the big house, and our manners.

This was my low-key, ice-cold introduction to the social politics of race in the Deep South. My first lesson in Deep South manners and morals. Always ‘for my own good.’

No mixing of coloreds with whites.
Don’t tell the full truth.
Keep your mouth shut.
Don’t ask questions.
Just do as you’re told.
It’s dangerous if you don’t.
You can’t be too careful.

I wonder what Auntie Turner told my friend’s mother, and what she then said to her daughter. I wish I knew.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 18 February 2015, lightly edited and reposted 17 August 2020
Photo taken by JERenich in the 1950s; Sister #2 and I hanging onto the Mimosa tree in the front yard.

The Importance of Smiles | A True Story

Nancy Hanks on city street tracks

Nancy Hanks II on city street tracks, somewhere in the state of Georgia, USA

This is one of my favorite memories about Mom. It’s in two parts. Both took place in Savannah, Georgia during the mid-1950s. I was a young teenager, happily aware of boys by now. Read the rest of this entry »

Party Time!

Sesame Street 2nd BDay Cupcakes

Calling all Muffin, Cupcake and Kookie Monsters! Dance ’til you Drop!

I love blogging! Why? Because I’m having fun, doing what my heart tells me to do, at least most of the time.

Three things stand out when I think about this past year. Read the rest of this entry »

A Lesson in Deep South Manners

I don’t even remember her name. Her mother, Mrs. Jeaudon (called by her first name), was the cook and household helper for Dr. and Mrs. Turner.  Mr. Jeaudon (called by his first name) took care of the yard work around their house. Read the rest of this entry »

What can I say? – Part 1 | Dear Diane

This is the last piece Diane wrote for her friends about ALS.  I’ll respond next Friday.  It’s a longer piece, definitely tough reading.  Partly because it’s about her; mostly because it’s about us. Read the rest of this entry »

Why do I smile? | Dear Diane, . . .

July 1997 – Diane consumes books and articles about ALS.  She watches for TV specials–anything that tells the truth about ALS.  She and her husband soak up the viewpoints of ALS patients, their family members and caretakers.

Diane takes them all in and thinks about herself and tough decisions that lie ahead.  Things like whether to go on a ventilator, Read the rest of this entry »

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