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It must have been around eleven o'clock in the morning when I awoke from a stuffy and uncomfortable sleep, in the back of a moving mini-van. My mouth was dry, my nose was sore, and my eyes itched from sleep crust. A huge yawn escaped from my mouth as I tried to stretch my aching limbs. As I was stretching out, I accidentally kicked my little brother Sam in the head.
So much for peaceful sleep, he woke up in a foul mood. He must have thought that I kicked him on purpose because he punched me as hard as he could in my leg. I got really mad at him I yelled " Why did you do that, I kicked you by accident?" I punched him in his chest. Now he was really mad, his screaming and his curses were pretty incoherent. He said something like " Punk why did you hit me?" I said " You hit me first, call me another punk and I'll hit you again!" We probably sounded like two babbling drunks because we were half sleep and using slurred speech. I was about to belt him one more for getting in my face but that was before he yelled "Auntie, Ron hit me!" I said in a whinny little voice " He started it auntie, I didn't do nothing!"Knock it off you two, can't you see that I am trying to drive?"Keep quiet before you wake up your grandmother and your sisters", said Aunt Florence as she gripped the wheel with one hand and turned to give us that cold " don't mess with me today stare." That kept us quiet, we did not utter another word after that.
As for not waking everybody else up, it was too late for that. Brenda, who is the youngest, awoke first. She was being pretty quiet but the silence would not last. She wanted to stop and use the bathroom but instead of waiting for auntie to find a rest stop she thought it would be better to nag everyone's ears off. Her nagging and whining woke Remy up; she is the oldest girl. The first thing that came out of her mouth was " I'm hungry let's stop at McDonalds" She was not too happy when Aunt Florence told her to look for a ham sandwich in the cooler because we weren't stopping until we got to Alabama.
It was quiet again for a few minutes. Then Remy decided to wake up grandma to see if she could get her to convince auntie to stop at "McDonalds." That was not really the best idea because grandma was not in a good mood either she had been driving most of the night and had gotten only a couple hours of sleep. Everyone was feeling the effects of being on the road. As a matter of fact everyone was getting pretty sick of each other. Lately all we did was argue. It was a pretty tough year for the family and this trip was supposed to be that needed escape from all the stress brought on by everyday life in the city.
This trip was also sort of a business thing too. My grandfather's brother had recently died and left him some land out in the country. We were going to finalize all of the legal business that was involved with the deed and the will. The plan was to build a cabin on the land and use it for a family vacation spot. I sat in the back seat and imagined how red dirt roads, green grass, and trees, big trees, would look from the view in the new family cabin. I wanted to swim in a real creek instead of the city pool.
I wanted to relax in the shade with a huge cup of cold lemonade. I wanted to play in the hot sun and see the stars light up the sky at night. In Detroit it is hard to see stars because the big houses and the massive buildings and skyscrapers blocked the sky. I wanted a change of pace and scenery.
I wanted to be free of cares and worries. I wanted to be happy. It seemed as thought I had forgotten how that felt. I was looking forward to spending the rest of my summer in a country paradise. When I saw that huge sign which read "Welcome to Alabama" I was more excited than could be imagined. Everything was as I had imagined it.
Alabama was so beautiful. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders because I began to instantly relax. I could see that everyone else was happy too. It was a little strange because the dirt roads were really red. I thought that that was some kind of tall tale. People wore straw hats, overalls, and jeans with big, shiny belt buckles.
It was different from the hustle and bustle of Detroit. Everyone seemed very laid back. Everything seemed to move at a snails pace, which was fine for me. I thought that nothing would be able to spoil my mood. It seemed that finally I would get something that I wanted. Too bad that wasn't the case.
Actually this was the worst summer vacation that I have ever had. Utah, Alabama is a small place. You probably won't be able to find it on most maps. That's probably a good thing because you probably wouldn't want to go there, especially if you were black.
To most of the whites in Utah being black was like being cursed with an incurable disease. That was a concept that I could not grasp at the time, being black never felt like a bad thing to me. I am from a predominantly black city where blacks did not have to endure strange, hateful stares and racial slurs like spook and nigger. At least that was how I remembered it back then. If it weren't for television I probably wouldn't have known that there were white people around. The mayor, the police chief, most of the city counsel, my principal, and all of my teachers were black.
Everyone in my neighbor hood was black and a white face was rarely ever seen. I was sheltered to a certain extent because I thought hatred, ignorance, and racism was a thing of the past. In school we learned about Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr. but I was lead to believe that I would never be called a nigger or be refused service in a restaurant. I was not even fully aware that I was a minority. I had heard the word a couple of times but I was not sure of its meaning.
I would soon know the feeling of being out numbered and for a brief moment in my life I would feel like a nigger. My grandfather was against the idea of taking a trip to Alabama. He had discussed this with Grandma Mattie and Aunt Florence numerous times in private. We did not find out about the trip until one Sunday at family dinner.
That is where we discussed the week's events and other family stuff. Aunt Florence saw this as the perfect opportunity to ask grandpa about the land and rally for our support. She brought the subject up sort of casually. She said "Daddy what are you going to do with all of that land uncle John left you down in Alabama?" Poppa was really irritated by her question.
It was evident by the look on his face. He answered her in an angry, booming voice. I had never heard anyone talk to auntie like that before. He said " What did I tell you about that land in Alabama? I told you to sell it for me didn't I? Why are you trying to make me look like the bad guy for not letting you go?
Whites don't want us down in Alabama and you know it! Go down there if you want! I ain't shopping you, but I ain't comin wit ya either. Cause the next hockey dat calls me a nigga will regret it! I can't believe that I am getting disrespected in my own house!" He got up from the table and left the house.
I have never seen him so mad. He didn't come back for a couple of hours and he didn't speak to us again until we came back from the trip. I wish that he would have. I wish he had explained to me exactly why he was so mad. After that incident I wondered what a hockey was but no one would tell me. Grandpa always said that he left Alabama because he heard that Chrysler was hiring and because there was a chance for a new beginning in Detroit.
He insisted that he loved it down south. It wasn't until later that he would tell me the real...
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Research essay sample on Stop At Mcdonalds Aunt Florence Alabama
