“Momma, is it still a long way to Chicago?”
“’Course it is, honey, what do you think? We just left Florida. Only been on the road two days. Gonna be ten at least ‘fore we get to Uncle Tom’s place.”
“Can I drive?” asked Jimmy.
“No, sugar, you can’t drive,” Gladys said, a little crossly.
She started the car and moved off slowly along the dirt road. Jimmy lay down on the back seat. To his mind, Florida was a long way behind them. Poor Florida; she was in a bad way with the Depression and all. Two violent hurricanes had levelled half the state, and black folks had no shelter there. You couldn’t even plant cassava or potatoes there now. Fruit flies from the Mediterranean had invaded the whole state, and the orange groves were sickly. Luckily, Uncle Tom had invited them to come stay in his little house up in Chicago. He’d left the South five years ago to go up North, where they said the economy was booming. Uncle Tom was an old sweetheart. He was Jimmy’s favourite Uncle. Uncle Tom liked to say nice things about his nephew. Sometimes those compliments went to Jimmy’s head. “Uncle Tom loves you with all his heart,” Gladys often told her boy. The last time Jimmy had seen his Uncle was at his baptism, when the pastor had dunked him into the big bath of water. Uncle Tom had given him a wooden cross to mark the big day, and Jimmy had taken precious care of it ever since. “The Lord will always be with you!” Uncle Tom had told him, handing over the piece of carved wood. Gladys watched her son daydreaming in the mirror. “What you thinking about, sweetie?” Jimmy didn’t answer. Soon they would be in Chicago, living among the skyscrapers, where Black folks were free.
“Momma, will we come back to Florida one day?” asked Jimmy.
“Florida’s done with, honey. Next stop, Chicago. We’re gonna stay with Uncle Tom for a while.”
“I can’t wait to see him!” cried Jimmy.
Gladys focused on the road, relieved to have left Florida behind. Chicago seemed like a welcoming, prosperous city. She was leaving everything behind her: the crash of ‘29, the economic crisis, the Great Depression and the hunger. Jimmy had fallen asleep. Her little Jimmy; her cub, and all she had brought with her. She hadn’t wanted to let him stay too long in the South, where life was hard and violent. Too many Klan down there. Jimmy would find his place in Chicago.
Gladys stopped the car, and laid a hand on her sleeping son’s stomach. “Sweetie, you want to get out? I’m taking a little break.” Jimmy woke up, complaining about how long the journey was. “You’ll see, once we’re in Chicago,” Gladys told him. She took out her New Testament and began reciting a few lines on the roadside.
Alan Alfredo Geday