Bobby was my boyfriend. I was pretty sure about that. Each morning as I got off my bike at the schoolyard, he was there to greet me. He was a patrol guard. As sixth graders we took positions of responsibility around the school. He was there to remind us to walk our bikes from the gate, across the playground grass and into the bike rack! I always had a lot of books with me. They were carefully balanced on the bike fender tray but, when walking the bike they would be unbalanced, so I had to carry them. It was hard to navigate the bike and carry the books, too. So, Bobby and I would talk until the warning bell when he was free to dutifully carry my books while I escorted my Schwinn. He didn't do this for the other girls. So, it was official. We were a couple. Actually, a threesome because wherever Bobby went, Trey went also. They were best friends.
They were always together. They shared a sense of humor and intelligence. They took me into their friendship. It was a heady and exciting time. We were all twelve and we all clicked! We laughed and joked together. After school we rode our bikes to the drugstore and got treats. Sometimes, Bobby paid for mine. Trey was never a third wheel though. He was part of Bobby's friendship. A funny and good part.
Bobby got in the habit of picking me up at my house before school and then we would ride together to meet up with Trey. Bobby had his job at the gate and, soon we all chatted, laughed, and stood around, reminding everyone else to walk their bikes. Then Bobby would help me with my books. As romances go in the sixth grade, ours was standard for the times. Once in awhile, we held hands. It was very innocent and lively. I was learning how to talk to boys. And, vice-versa, I suppose.
Sadly, the end to the idyll was nearer than we could have imagined. Soon, we would learn a harsh lesson from my grandmother who lived next door...
One morning, I was surprised when both Bobby and Trey came to pick me up for school. Trey had stayed overnight with Bobby and so we rode to school together that day. When I got home in the afternoon, I was told to go see my grandmother. My mother's mother was special to me. I had actually lived with her by myself for two months after my grandfather died. My mother had explained I was there because she was so lonely and needed someone to be with her. She was a wonderfully caring and benevolent lady for whom I felt great love.
"Thank you for coming over, Sharon. I have something of great importance to discuss with you", she began. I sat rapt with attention and the obedience of my upbringing. "I noticed boys came to get you for school today..."
"Yes, Grandma. Those are my friends Bobby and Trey."
"Oh, yes," she replied, "I know Bobby's mother from the Club, but I don't know that other one."
"Oh, that's Trey, Bobby's friend," I helpfully informed her.
"Well, Child, he's not to come again to pick you up. And, you musn't be seen with him."
Completely surprised by this news, I asked, "Why? What's wrong with him?"
She seemed equally surprised and flustered to have to justify her decision to me but proceeded on, "Haven't you ever noticed, he's different?"
Completely puzzled and needing more information I said, "No. How is he different? I don't know what you mean?"
Exasperated, she responded, "Well, he lives on the other side of the tracks...Didn't you ever notice he goes home a different way from you? He's different. We don't mix with his kind of people. Do you understand?"
There was a finality about her statement so I nodded and was dismissed.
At home, I confronted my mother. "What is grandma talking about?" I asked. She asked for a verbatim recall of the conversation and began to laugh. "Oh, Sharon, your grandmother is an old lady with some old ideas. She doesn't want you having Trey come to this neighborhood and be seen with you."
I still didn't understand why. "Why?" I demanded. My mother exhaled, looked me in the eye and said, "Because he is a Negro, his skin is black. It doesn't make a difference. But, to your grandma it does. She comes from a different time. When she grew up her parents believed black people were very different."
Thank goodness mother was explaining all this to me. Obviously, my friend Trey was no different than me or Bobby. It was so obvious...how silly my grandmother couldn't see that. My mom knew that was ridiculous...and then she said something that shocks me still. "You better do as your grandma says. It's best for everyone."
So, I told Bobby not to pick me up in the morning anymore. When he asked why, I said it was because my grandma did not like boys hanging around. Even then, I knew the reason my grandma gave was hurtful and wrong. So, I never voiced it. Something else changed, too. Soon after, there was a big fight during recess between Bobby and Trey. I didn't see it but everyone was talking about it. What was the fight about, I asked everyone. They were hazy on the details. Words! A word. Bobby called Trey a word that caused the fight and broke their friendship. I never knew exactly what that word was for a long time...
Now I see it on DMT...My goodness how words have changed in sixty years...and people? Hmmm?
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