Juneteenth (9 page)

No, please. Please, Daddy Hickman. PLEASE!

It’s just for a little while, Bliss. You won’t be in the dark long, and you’ll be wearing your white dress suit with the satin lapels and the long pants with the satin stripes. You’ll like that, won’t you, Bliss? Sure you will. In that pretty suit? Course! And you breathe through this here tube we fixed here in the lid. See? It comes through right here—you hear what I’m saying, Bliss? All right then, pay attention. Look here at this tube. All you have to do is lay there and breathe through it. Just breathe in and out like you always do;
only through the tube
. And when you hear me say, Suffer the little children … you push it up inside the lid, so’s they can’t see it when Deacon Wilhite goes to open up the lid.…

But then I won’t have any air.…

Now don’t worry about that, there’ll be air enough inside the box. Besides, Deacon Wilhite will open it right away.…

But suppose something happens and …

Nothing’s
going
to happen, Bliss.

Yes, but suppose he forgets?

He won’t forget. How’s he going to forget when you’re the center of the services?

But I’m scaird. In all that darkness and with that silk cloth around my mouth and eyes.

Silk, he said. He looked down at me steadily. What else you want it lined with, Bliss? Cotton? Would you feel any better about it if it was lined with something most folks have to work all their lives and wear every day—weekdays and Sunday? Something that most of our folks never get away from? You don’t want that, do you?

He touched my shoulder with his finger. I said, Do you?

I shook my head, shamed.

He watched me, his head to one side. I’d do it myself, Bliss, but it wouldn’t mean as much for the people. It wouldn’t touch them in the same way. Besides, I’m so big most towns wouldn’t have men strong enough to carry me. We don’t want to have to break anybody’s back just to save their souls, do you, Bliss?

I don’t guess so, but …

Of course not, he said quickly. And it won’t be but a few minutes, Bliss. You can even take Teddy with you—no, I guess you better take your Easter bunny. With your Easter bunny you won’t be afraid, will you? Course not. And like I tell you, it will last no longer than it takes for the boys to march you down the aisle. I’ll have you some good, strong, big fellows, so you don’t have to worry about them dropping you. Now, Bliss: You’ll hear the music and they’ll set it down in front of the pulpit. Then more music and preaching. Then Deacon Wilhite will open the lid. Then I’ll say, Suffer the little children, and you sit up, see? I say, Do you see, Bliss?

Yessuh.

Say
Sir!

Sir
.

Good. Don’t talk like I talk; talk like I
say
talk. Words are your business, boy. Not just
the
Word. Words are everything. The key to the Rock, the answer to the Question.

Yes, sir.

Now, when you rise up, you come up slow—don’t go bolting up like no jack-in-the-box, understand? You don’t want to scair the living daylights out of anybody. You want to come up slow and easy. And be sure you don’t mess up your hair. I want the part to be still in it, neat. So don’t forget when we close you in—and don’t be chewing on no gum or sucking on no sourballs, you hear? Hear me now.…

Yes, sir, I said. I couldn’t turn away my eyes. His voice rolled on as I wondered which of the two with the trumpets was Gabriel.…

 … It depends on the size of the church, Bliss. You listening to me?

Yes, sir.

Well, now when you hear me say,
Suffer the little children
, you sit up slow and, like I tell you, things are going to get quiet as the grave. That’s the way it’ll be.

He stood silently for a moment, one hand on his chin, the other against his hip, one great leg pushed forward, bending at the knee. He wore striped pants.

Bliss, I almost forgot something important: I better have the ladies get us some flowers. Roses would be good. Red ones. Ain’t nobody in this town got any lilies—least not anybody we know. I’m glad I thought of it in time.

Now, Bliss. We’ll have it sitting near the pulpit so when you rise up you’ll be facing to the side and every living soul will see you. But I don’t want you to open your eyes right off. Yes, and you better have your Bible in your hands—and leave that rabbit down in there. You won’t forget that, will you?

No, sir.

Good. And what are you suppose to say when you rise up?

I ask the Lord how come he has forsaken me.

That’s right. That’s correct, Bliss. But say it with the true feeling, hear? And in good English. That’s right, Bliss; in Good Book English. I guess it’s ’bout time I started reading you some Shakespeare and Emerson. Yes, it’s about time. Who’s Emerson? He was a preacher too, Bliss. Just like you. He wrote a heap of stuff and he was what is called a
philosopher
. Main thing though is that he knew that every tub has to sit on its own bottom. Have you remembered the rest of the sermon I taught you?

Yes, sir; but in the dark I …

Never mind the dark—when you come to
Why hast Thou forsaken me
, on the
me
, I want you to open your eyes and let your head go back. And you want to spread out your arms wide—like this, see? Lemme see you try it.

Like this?

That’s right. That’s pretty good. Only you better look sad, too. You got to look like you feel it, Bliss. You want to feel like everybody has put you down. Then you start with,
I am the resurrection and the life
—say it after me:

I am the resurrection …

I am the resurrection …

 … and the life …

 … and the life …

That’s good, but not too fast now. I am the lily of the valley.…

I’m the lily of the valley.…

Uh-huh, that’s pretty good—I am the bright and morning star.…

 … the bright and morning star.

Thy rod …

Thy rod and thy staff.

Good, Bliss. I couldn’t trap you. That’s enough. You must remember that all of those
I
’s have got to be in it. Don’t leave out any of those
I
’s, Bliss; because it takes a heap of
I
’s before they can see the true vision or even hear the true word.

They pain here and here and there and there. How far the sight? The Scene?… In Tulsa, after the tent meeting, they gave me a Black Cow, sweet teat of root beer and cool glob of ice cream.… He taught me to ha and ah deep in my throat like a blues singer. Horehound honey and lemon drops
.
Cool against the heat of all that fire … It hurts here and here and there and there. Long nails
.

“Senator, can you see me?”

Ha! The merry-go-round broke down!

Up there on Brickyard Hill the octagonal tents shimmered white in the sunlight. Below, my God, sweet Jesus, lay the devastation of the green wood! Ha! And in the blackened streets the entrails of men, women and baby grand pianos, their songs sunk to an empty twang struck by the aimless whirling of violent winds. Behold! Behold the charred foundations of the House of God! Oh, but then, in those sad days came Bliss, the preacher … Came Bliss, the preacher … No more came Bliss
.

Daddy Hickman, I said, can I take Teddy too?

Teddy?
Just why you got to have that confounded bear with you all the time, Bliss? Ain’t the Easter bunny enough? And your little white leather Bible, your kid-bound Word of God? Ain’t that enough for you, Bliss?

But it’s dark in there and I feel braver with Teddy. Because you see, Teddy’s a bear and bears ain’t afraid of the dark.

Never mind all that, Bliss. And don’t you start preaching me no sermon; ’specially none of those you make up yourself. You preach what I been teaching you and there’ll be folks enough out there tonight who’ll be willing to listen to you. I tell you, Bliss, you’re going to make a fine preacher and you’re starting at just the right age. You’re just a little over six and Jesus Christ himself didn’t start until he was twelve.
But you have to go leave that bear alone
. The other day I even heard you preaching to that bear. Bliss, bears don’t give a continental about the Word. Did you ever hear tell of a bear of God? Of course not. There’s the Lamb of God, and the Holy Dove, and one of the saints, Jerome, had him a lion. And another had him a
bull of some kind—probably an old-fashioned airplane, since he had wings—he said under his breath, and Peter had the keys to the Rock. But no bear, Bliss. So you think about that, you hear?

He looked at me with that gentle, joking look, smiling in his eyes, and I felt better.

You think you could eat some ice cream?

Oh, yes, sir.

You do? Well, here; take this four bits and go get us each a pint. You look today like you could eat just about a pint. What I mean is, you look kind of hot.

He leaned back and squinted down.

I can even see the steam rising out of your collar, Bliss. In fact, I suspect you’re on fire, so you better hurry. Make mine strawberry. Without a doubt, ice cream is good for a man’s belly, and when he has to sing and preach a lot like I do, it’s good for his throat too. Wait a second—where’d I put that money? Here it is. I thought I’d lost it. Ice cream is good if you don’t overdo it—but I don’t guess I have to recommend it to you though, do I, Bliss? ’Cause you’re already sunk chin deep in the ice cream habit. Fact, Bliss, if eating ice cream was a sin you’d sail to hell in a freezer. Ha, ha! I’m sorry, now don’t look at me like that. I was only kidding, little boy. Here, take this dime and bring us some of those chocolate marshmallow cookies you love so well. Hurry on now, and watch out for those wagons and autos.…

Yes
, the Senator thought,
that was how it began, and that was Hickman. When he laughed his belly shook like a Santa Claus. A great kettledrum of deep laughter. Huge, tall, slow-moving. Like a carriage of state in ceremonial parade until on the platform, then a man of words evoking action. Black Garrick, Alonzo Zuber, Daddy Hickman
.

God’s Golden-voiced Hickman
Better known as
GOD’S TROMBONE
,

they billed him. Brother A.Z. to Deacon Wilhite, when they were alone. They drank elderberry wine beneath the trees together, discussing the Word; me with a mug of milk and a buttered slice of homemade bread
.

It was Waycross.

I came down the plank walk past the Bull Durham sign where a white, black-spotted dog raised his leg against the weeds and saw them. They were squatting in the dust along the curb, pushing trucks made of wood blocks with snuffbox tops for wheels. Garrets and Tube Rose but all the same size. Then I was there and one turned, fingering for a bugger in his nose, saying:

Look here, y’all, here’s Bliss. Says he’s a preacher.

They stood, looking with disbelieving eyes, dust on their knees, making me like Jesus among the Philistines.

Who, him? One of them pointed. A
preacher?

Yeah, man.

Hi, I, Bliss said.

He looked at me, one eyebrow raised, his lips protruding. A dark, half-moon-shaped scar showed beneath his left cheekbone. The others were ganging up on me, their faces closing in.

What he doing all dressed up like Sunday for? he said.

Who?

Him.

’Cause he’s a preacher, fool.

Heck, he don’t look like no preacher to me. Just looks like another li’l ole hi-yaller. What you say’s his name?

Bliss
. They swear he’s a preacher.

Sho do, the bow-legged one said. My mama heard him preach.
Grown folks talking ’bout him all over town. He real notoriety, man.

Shucks! Y’all know grown folks is crazy. What can this here li’l ole jaybird preach? A.B.C.? Hell, I can preach that just like ole Revum McDuffie does and he’s the best.

I watched his hands go behind his back, his chin drawing down and his eyes looking up, as though peering over the rims of spectacles as he frowned.

Brothers and sisters, ladies and what comes with you, my text this mawning is A.B.C. Y’all don’t like to think about such stuff as that but you better lissen to me. I said
A
—whew, Lord! I says A! Just lissen, just think about it. A! A!
Aaaay!
In the beginnin’ there was A. B. and C. The Father, the son, and the son-of-a-gun! I want you to think about it. Git in it and git out of it. I said A.B.C., Lawd.…

He shook his head grimly, his mouth turning down at the corners, his tone becoming soft then rising as he hammered his palm with his fist. A.B.C.—double-down D! Think about the righteous Word. Where would we be without A? Nowhere ’cause it’s the start. Turn b around and what you got? I’ll tell you what you got, you got a doggone
d!
Y’all better mind! I say you sinners better mind y’all’s Abc’s and zees!

He grinned. If I had me a Bible and a pulpit I could really lay that stuff, he said. Is that the kind of preachin’ he does?

And one in a blue suit and tettered head defended me on heard words.

You crazy, man. ’Cause he
really
preaches.… Any of us can do what you doing.

That’s what
you
say. So what do he preach?

Salvation. What all the grown preachers preach.

Sali
vation?
Hey, that’s when your mouth gits sore and your teeth fall out, ain’t it? Don’t he want folks to have no teeth?

I said sal
-va
tion. You heard me.

Oh! Well tell a poor fool!

Don’t you min’ him, Bliss. He’s just acting a clown.

He grinned and picked up a pebble with his toes.

No I ain’t neither, I just ain’t never seen no half-pint preacher before. Hey, Bliss, say “when.”

“When” what?

Just
“when.”

Why?

Just ’cause. Go head on, do like I tole you; say “when.”

So maybe I wouldn’t have to fight him—And blessed are the peacemakers—“When,” I said.

Aw come on; if you a preacher say it strong.

WHEN!