Daddy was a drunk. Sometimes he drank more, sometimes less, but he always drank. His real home was a honky tonk called The Jubilee. It seemed to be the only place he was comfortable.
I accepted the situation as readily as the fact that the sky was blue or that Almond Joys were my favorite candy bar. I knew nothing else.
My earliest memories are of my parents fighting. Unable to keep a job for more than a few months at a time, Daddy couldn't make a living and we were frequently broke.
Other members of the family were sympathetic and generous. Granny, Great-Aunt Maude, and Great-Aunt Clare constantly gave Mama groceries, clothing and money. Even Aunt Veronica, just out of high school and holding her first job, helped.
Although the family meant well, it was humiliating for my mother to accept charity, even from relatives. Unfortunately, she had no choice. We would not have had food on the table or the rent paid if she hadn't accepted their help.
Mama had married Daddy during her senior year in high school. She was a pretty girl with auburn hair and green eyes. I have no idea if they ever loved each other. If they did, I never saw any sign of it and I never understood why they got married.
Daddy's drinking got progressively worse. Many times, when he did work, his paycheck was spent at The Jubilee.
One night, when I was only about four years old and my brother Cody was still an infant, Daddy told Mama he had spent the rent check at the honky tonk.
I had gone to bed, but was awakened by the sound of my mother yelling and cursing at Daddy. The door to my room was partly opened and I was amazed to suddenly see Daddy running drunkenly down the hallway chased by Mama, who was beating him over the head with a tin sauce pan. That night, she threw him out, but a few days later, he was back.
One of the worst things about having a drunk for a father is that you never know what shape he'll be in. When sober, or slightly drunk, my Daddy was charming and funny. He would smile broadly as he complimented the ladies or played games with children. He could tell all sorts of funny stories and he never let the truth get in the way of a good punch line.
Nearly always, he would eventually go too far. Daddy would keep drinking until he got sloppy. He would slur his words and stagger about. At that point, his conversation became loud, incoherent and embarrassing. Occasionally, he would get maudlin and cry.
I learned long before I started school not to invite playmates over to my house. I never knew when Daddy would show up and be a total mess.
His drinking was a town scandal. Everybody knew about it. His own mother, Granny Walker, and Mama tried to make him stop, but nothing could end my Daddy's love with liquor.
In 1956 things began to unravel. Desperate for money, Mama took a job as a waitress at the River Club. There she was forced to wait on tables occupied by women she had known all her life.
Some of the ladies were embarrassed and ignored her, others were rude and condescending. Many, feeling sorry for Mama, over tipped, trying to be helpful.
Once, I remember watching Mama put on her makeup as she got ready to go to work. She was wearing a white waitress uniform with her name, Mary Pat, stitched above her left breast. She wore a narrow yellow plastic headband in her hair. The headband was decorated with little white forget-me-nots made of paper. Suddenly she said, "How the hell did I end up like this?"
I had no answer. She stood there staring at her reflection, seemingly waiting for a sign. Looking at me, she managed to smile. "I'm just tired precious," she said. "Everything is fine."
I knew that wasn't true, but was grateful she sounded normal. I nodded and smiled back. Mama leaned down and hugged me tightly. "It'll get better, Jesse," she said. "It has to."
It didn't.
Later that summer, I was playing in the backyard when Mama called me into the house. Daddy was sitting in the living room, I could tell he was sober, he wasn't smiling. Mother made me sit down between the two of them and then she began to speak.
"Jesse, we need to talk to you for a few minutes. We're only going to ask you this, because your brother is too young to understand. There is a good chance that Wade and I may live apart for a while, maybe even a long while." She paused to look at Daddy as if she wanted him to agree with what she said. He merely cracked his knuckles and looked down at the floor.
Momma frowned but kept on talking. "If we should separate, who do you want to live with? Would you want to come with me or stay here with your Daddy?"
My first reaction was to run. I hated the question and was furious with them for asking it. For a second, I wished I was as young as Cody, too young to be asked hateful questions. I knew no matter what I said, someone was going to be hurt. It wasn't right that I had to answer them. I just sat there looking down at my dusty shoes, wishing I could disappear.
"Well, Jesse?" Momma said. "We're waiting for your answer."
I glanced over at Daddy. He looked as if someone was about to hit him. Momma looked grim as if she was ahead in a long race but hadn't won yet.
"I don't know," I said.
Momma looked displeased. "Yes, you do. All you have to do is tell us and then you can go."
I hated her for asking me and hated them both for trying to force an answer upon me.
Mother's patience ended. She grabbed my arm and shook me. "Well, who do you choose?"
I pulled my arm away from her and jumped up. "Daddy," I yelled. "I'd rather live with Daddy. I don't want to leave."
Her face went white. She looked at me as if I was a barking dog. She turned away and looked out the window. I was immediately sorry, but still angry. "Momma..."
"Shut up," she yelled. You've made your choice and you're stuck with it. Go outside and play." Silently, I left. Daddy didn't speak to me as I passed him.
Two days later, Granny Walker and Great-Aunt Maude came for a visit. The pain on Granny's face was obvious and there were tears in Maude's eyes.
Mama took my hand and we sat in the living room. The other two women stayed sitting at the kitchen table.
"Jesse, there's something I need to talk to you about." She paused and looked around as if searching for an exit. Trapped, Mama looked back at me and said, "Your Daddy has moved out and I've decided to get a divorce. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
I shook my head. I understood the part about Daddy moving out. He had moved out many times, but had always come back. I had no idea what the word divorce meant.
Mama tried again. "Jesse, your Daddy and I have been married for seven years. All that time, I've tried to make a home for us, but it hasn't worked. I'm afraid Wade loves his liquor more than he'll ever love me."
She cried for a moment and then regained control. "There's no future with your Daddy as long as he drinks. That's why I've decided on a divorce. Once the judge agrees, Wade and I will no longer be married. Do you understand?"
I didn't really, but Mama was upset and it seemed important to her that I understand this divorce thing. So I answered, "Yes ma'am, I understand."
She knew better. "Jesse, please listen. I'm only twenty four years old. If I stay with your Daddy, my life will pass me by."
I was confused. It was almost as if she was asking for my permission to leave. I didn't want her to go, but she looked so unhappy that I didn't want to ask her to stay. "It's ok, Mama. I don't blame you," I said.
Mama nodded, grateful this was over. She looked towards the kitchen and called, "Mother Walker, Aunt Maude, y'all can come in now."
Slowly, almost reluctantly, the two older women walked in. They stared at me as if trying to read my thoughts.
Both of them hugged and kissed Mama. "I won't pretend I'm happy about this," said Granny. "This is the first divorce we've ever had in our family. Still, I understand Mary Pat. I wish you the best."
"So do I, darlin," said Aunt Maude. "I'll pray for you." She then leaned down and kissed my cheek. "I'll see you soon, Jesse." Slowly, she walked out to her car.
Granny looked at Mama and said, "About that other matter, I don't want you to worry at all. You know I'll take good care of the boys."
Mama nodded, unable to speak. Granny kissed her again and then followed Aunt Maude outside.
Divorce was extremely rare in Laval, Louisiana in the mid-1950s. My mother's decision to leave caused a scandal. Despite Daddy's alcoholism, most of the people in town sided with him. Women were expected to stay with their husbands no matter how rough things got.
I heard one of our neighbors say that it was "sinful" for a woman to leave her husband even if he was a drunk.
I started the first grade a month after Mama filed for divorce. The first week of school I tried to join a group of boys playing marbles. I was rebuffed. One of them said he “wasn't allowed to play with me."
Eventually, I discovered that several students in my class, particularly the children whose parents were strictly religious, had been warned against associating with me. It was as if I had measles or something else contagious. The other children could catch divorce from me.
I told Granny Walker about it and she became very angry. "How dare those hypocrites take it out on a little boy?" Even Granny had no answers and finally just said that I would have to bear the burden.
I felt envious of my baby brother. Cody was only three years old and completely unaware of what was happening.
The divorce was ugly. Mama and Daddy fought over everything, especially custody of Cody and me. Daddy's drinking was discussed and eventually both my parents sued each other on the grounds of adultery. Even though nothing was ever proven, the gossip grew like Jack's beanstalk.
The scandal caused the manager of the River Club to fire Mama. She wasn't able to find another job and Daddy was always far behind in his child support payments.
It was soon obvious that Mama couldn't take care of the two of us. Through her lawyer, Mama arranged for Grandfather and Granny Walker to get custody of my brother and me. Daddy agreed to this arrangement.
Once again, Mama called me into the living room for another talk. I sat waiting, sick to my stomach, afraid of what was coming.
"Jesse, I hate to do it, but I have to leave. I can't get a job here and there's no way I can take care of you and Cody. I have a friend who lives in Chicago. She says she can get me a waitress job at the hotel where she works. If I can get a job, then I can afford to go back to school."
"So you're moving to Chicago?" I asked.
Mama nodded yes.
"How far away is Chicago?"
"I'm not sure," she answered. "But it's a long way away, hundreds of miles."
"Will I see you again?" I asked.
"Of course, you will, precious. Just as soon as I'm settled and have a good job, I'll send for you and Cody. In the meantime, you said you wanted to stay with your Daddy, but that's impossible. Wade can't take care of himself, much less you. Therefore, you and your brother are gonna live with your Granny Walker, at least for a while." She stood up and walked to the window, staring at the street.
"It'll be nice there. There's that big yard and there are the dogs and your Granny's cat. Also, your aunts will be there." She turned and smiled, "You'll never be at a loss for company."
Not knowing what else to do, I smiled back at her.
Then she said, "I'm doing it for us, Jesse. So eventually we can have a better life."
I didn't believe her, she was leaving, I was staying. She wasn't doing it for "us," she was doing it for her. With Mama in Chicago and me in Laval, there was no "us." I felt angry because she was not telling me the truth.
Two weeks later, Mama boarded a Continental Trailways bus heading north. She was carrying two cheap tan suitcases and was dressed in a pink suit. Mama would be traveling from Laval to Alexandria, Alexandria to Little Rock, Little Rock to St. Louis, and finally St. Louis to Chicago.
Aunt Veronica drove us to the bus station. Mama hugged and kissed Cody and then hugged and kissed me. My brother and I stood by the gate, each holding Aunt Veronica's hand.
Mama was crying as was Cody and Aunt Veronica. I was the only dry-eyed one in the group. Mama frowned briefly as if she resented my calm. She seemed to want Cody and me to be upset.
"Good bye, Mary Pat. God Bless," said Veronica.
Mama looked at us, waved and then marched towards the bus which was already revving up its engine. She handed her suitcases to the porter and climbed aboard the bus. She found a seat and looked at us through the window.
All three of us waved as the bus rolled out. We watched it pull out of the station and turn right. We lost sight of Mama as the bus crossed the intersection. I would not see her again for seven years.
"Let's go home," Veronica said.
Cody accepted her statement with no fuss, but I was confused. Which home did she mean? Did I even have a home?
We drove to Granny Walker's house where Grandfather took our suitcases and boxes out of the trunk of the car.
"You boys will have Nora's old room," he said. Cody smiled and followed Grandfather upstairs, but I stayed in the backyard.
A few minutes later, I wandered into the kitchen. Granny was at the stove, stirring a large pot. She saw me and stopped. "All settled in?" she asked.
I didn't know how to answer that. Settled? No, nothing seemed settled. Granny made me sit at the kitchen table and gave me a fresh biscuit and a glass of buttermilk. I didn't like buttermilk, but drank it anyway.
"Momma said that someday she would send for Cody and me and take us up north. I don't want to go to Chicago, it's too cold up there."
Granny smiled at me as if she could read my thoughts. "Don't you worry, little Jesse," she said. "Everything is fine now. This is your home."
"For how long?" I asked her.
"As long as you need it. No matter what ever happens, this house will always be your home," she said.
For the first time in my life, I felt safe. Granny was right, I was home.
© Robert Mueller, executor of the Dan Carter Estate
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