Open Writing

...That day I will never forget began when I could not get my hair to look right, so I tucked it up under a scarf that I tied around my head. Later that morning the teacher, marching us around the room, chose the ones to be in the Christmas pageant.

"Bertie, pull that scarf off. You can't wear that in the play," she demanded. I stood staring in shock and dread. Then I slowly untied the scarf. My humiliation was totally complete as my tangled hair fell to my shoulders in a stringy mess. To my further shame and misery the teacher added indignantly, "That simply will not do. You can't be in the play looking like that!" I was so overwhelmed by rejection that I sobbed all the way home....

Bertie Stroup Marah continues her deeply moving account of growing up in poverty.

Another really bad memory came from not having money to buy a proper gift for the school Christmas party exchange. I was so ashamed of the ten cent gift I had to offer that I could hardly face my classmates. With my dime I had few choices, finally settling on a toy made of colored wax and filled with a sweet flavored liquid. It was shaped like a tuning instrument and when it was empty you could blow into it and create whistling sounds. Of course, the recipient of my pitiful gift was clearly disappointed. This experience forever spoiled the Christmas season for me. I know that the poor do not look forward to this holiday, dreading the disappointment it brings to those who have nothing to give.

The most shameful memory occurred that same horrible Christmas. I was seven and only in the second grade but was expected to get myself ready for school. Mama worked late at the nightclub and needed all the sleep she could get so that during the day she would have enough energy to run after two toddlers and clean Mrs. Kates' house.

That day I will never forget began when I could not get my hair to look right, so I tucked it up under a scarf that I tied around my head. Later that morning the teacher, marching us around the room, chose the ones to be in the Christmas pageant.

"Bertie, pull that scarf off. You can't wear that in the play," she demanded. I stood staring in shock and dread. Then I slowly untied the scarf. My humiliation was totally complete as my tangled hair fell to my shoulders in a stringy mess. To my further shame and misery the teacher added indignantly, "That simply will not do. You can't be in the play looking like that!" I was so overwhelmed by rejection that I sobbed all the way home.

I never told Mama what happened. I understood she already had enough to worry about. I did not burden my brothers with my problems either. We just tried to get by the best way we could and help Mama with our sisters.
Mama looked very tired most of the time but she was still the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

Fortunately we were able to move from Hot Springs to Albuquerque shortly after this happened. Our move was made possible one night when Mama found a crumpled twenty-dollar bill on the floor of the nightclub. She said to P.G. as they left the club that night, "Look what I found. We can get away from this whole "shiteree" tomorrow." No twenty-dollar bill ever looked better. When she came to my classroom to take me out of school the next day I could hardly wait to leave the place where I had endured such embarrassed.

We packed up and moved to Albuquerque where we stayed with Mama's family. They lived in a small house, but there was an adobe building out back where my brothers and uncles Murrel and Bill slept. Living with my grandparents suited me fine because I enjoyed being near Grandma Counts.