didn’t seem to be moved by what I had to say.
“Final y we sat down at the table to eat. Your mama was stil into religion back then, so we said grace and ‘Jesus Wept.’ Raleigh reached for a piece of fish, and I couldn’t hold back any longer.
“‘You didn’t tel me what you think of my idea.’
“Raleigh said, ‘What idea?’
“‘My idea that when you are driving the car, you are always the boss. Did you ever think of that?’
“‘The boss is the one that pays you,’ Raleigh said.
“‘But every time they get in the car with me, they are putting their life in my hands.’
“‘That’s true,’ your mama said.”
Daddy laughed and hit his hand on steering wheel. “When we were young, your mama was ‘Yes, baby’ this, ‘Yes, baby’ that.” He laughed again.
“Those were some good days. We struggled, but those sure was some good days.
“Raleigh said, ‘The boss is the one who owns the car.’
“And just like that, it clicked: I needed to own myself a car and let people hire me to drive them around.
“I can’t say those other two were ready to hop on board. I mean, we al knew we wanted something else out of life. Your mama was doing white people’s laundry, didn’t have her high school diploma. Me and Raleigh had our diplomas, but neither one of us had the kind of job you could be proud of. It was, what? ’Sixty? ’Sixty-two? Something like that. We were young and ready to break out into the world. Raleigh had his eye on going to col ege. He didn’t know how he was going to get there, but he wanted it so bad, he was thinking about the army. I said, ‘Man, are you crazy?’ He lucky he didn’t get drafted. So I saved up some money, and Miss Bunny gave me what she had. Raleigh and Laverne gave me their pennies, too.
They both had other plans for their money, but I knew this was going to be the ticket. If things went the way I needed them to go, there would be money later for beauty school and col ege. I bought the first car. That Plymouth. It wasn’t nice like this here Lincoln, but I kept it clean and even crammed a little flavored pil ow under the seat. Your mama stuffed it with cinnamon sticks and other nice-smel ing things; she even sewed some embroidery on it.
“I started driving colored people around, not the wel -off folks, because who would pay money to hire a car that wasn’t as good as the one you have in your driveway? People hired me especial y on occasions like funerals, weddings, things like that. After a couple years, I gave your mama and Miss Bunny their money back. I told Raleigh I was prepared to return his investment — I had it for him in a brown envelope, looked al official and everything. I said, ‘Raleigh, here you go, every penny back, with interest. I got it for you right here, or we can make a deal, a partnership, save up for another car and go into business together. Fifty-fifty.’
“The rest, like they say, is history.”
17
TIME AND A HALF
IN THE EIGHTIES, you could stil smoke in restaurants but only in the smoking section. I don’t smoke, wil never smoke. I even refuse to date smokers because their ashtray kisses remind me too much of my father. Stil , I feel a little pang of sympathy when I see a no smoking sign. The diagonal slash seems heartless, cruel even. My daddy took the ban personal y, said it reminded him too much of Mississippi, but he laughed it off with the same sad joke. “Just when they took down al the signs that said ‘No Coloreds,’ they had to come up with a new way to keep me out. Ain’t that right, Raleigh?” Then Uncle Raleigh would say, “If it ain’t one thing, it’s another.”
“I know that’s right,” I would chime in, thinking not of the smoking bans but of the slew of Sweet Sixteen parties that year. My mother, who had been doing hair for more than fifteen years, had never seen anything like it. Daddy thought it had something to do with Ronald Reagan. Although no self-respecting black person would cast a vote for that joker, Daddy had to admit that the man had a way about him that was infectious. “Carter was a good man, but he didn’t exactly make you want to go out and hire a limousine for your kid’s birthday party. What do you think, Buttercup?”
“I think it’s
“Even black folks?” said Uncle Raleigh.
“Everybody,” I said. “Even Diahann Carrol herself.”
“What about Bil Cosby? You don’t think people want to be high on the hog like the Cosbys?”
“Bil Cosby makes you want to buy a hundred-dol ar sweater,” I said.
“Wel ,” said Uncle Raleigh. “I’l admit that I enjoy a nice cardigan, but in general, I am a simple man with simple taste.” He waved his arm to take in our environment, his cigarette making a ghostly trail.
We were at IHOP on North Avenue, kil ing time while Ruth Nicole Elizabeth Grant was having her Sweet Sixteen at the Hilton downtown. Her parents went al out, requesting the limo, the Town Car, and an attendant — which was me. Al I had to do was be on hand in case somebody needed a tissue or breath mints on the ride. Tucked in my canvas pack was a handy bottle of club soda in case someone spil ed something on their clothes and a barrel brush in case there was a Shirley Temple back there that needed twirling. I never had to dab a stain from a dress, although curls always could use a little tending to. For the most part, I was getting paid six dol ars an hour just to ride around. We were even on the clock sitting up in IHOP eating pigs in a blanket.
Uncle Raleigh and Daddy both wore their dress uniforms, but they left the jackets in the car. They horsed around like boys as they sucked down cup after cup of thin coffee, loosened up with cream and sugar. Sitting on opposite sides of the booth, they often looked up at one another and grinned. I always alternated my seat when I went out with the two of them. I don’t know that they ever noticed, but it wasn’t right that Uncle Raleigh should have to be alone al the time.
Women at the Pink Fox wondered aloud why Uncle Raleigh was stil available, and I knew at least three ladies who would be more than happy to do something about it. Uncle Raleigh didn’t come around the salon much, and neither did my daddy. (My mama says it’s just that they don’t want to see where pretty comes from.) Uncle Raleigh kept his visits short and sweet. When he entered the shop, delivering a package or something, the ladies who were already curled and looking pretty flirted outrageously while the ones who were wet and stil nappy
