Page 116 - From the Outhouse 4 -21

F R O M T H E O U T H O U S E T O T H E L I T T L E R E D S C H O O L H O U S E : | 116

To advance my cultural education, my mother took me to New York City every other summer via Greyhound bus. We explored as
many sights as my mother could afford: The American Museum of Natural History, art galleries, Radio City Music Hall, Broadway

plays, Central Park, the public library, Horn and Hardart Shoppes (now called vending machines), and the subway. My mom was

adamant about exposing me to New York City culture. Traveling from Sanford, Florida, to Corona, Long Island on the bus in itself
was an experience. My mom’s philosophy was certainly in line with what Malcolm X would often say, “By any means necessary.”

The summers that I didn’t go to New York, I went either to Montclair, New Jersey, and Palatka, Florida, to visit my cousins or to
Jacksonville, Florida. I rode the train to the Florida cities because my uncles were Pullman Porters, and I could travel for free. (My

father during this time was no longer a Pullman Porter.)

All the experiences I had in New York were truly exciting! Even riding the subway – wow! I would always stare at the people. There

were so many of them crowded on the subway and crammed on the city blocks. My mom would say, “Keep moving and stop gazing!”

I tried not to look out of place, but it was SO hard! I was dressed in city fashion – hat, gloves, a pretty summer flare dress, socks, and
black patent leather shoes. I imitated my grandmother’s sister, Aunt Vera, who worked in the fashion and garment industry in New

York as a seamstress. Every day, she dressed up and rode the subway into the city to her job.

Please let me pause here to describe my Grand Aunt Vera. She was a prim and proper socialite who lived in a tri-level home in Corona,

Long Island, New York. Her residence was on the main floor, but she rented the top and bottom floors. I loved visiting my Aunt Vera
for many reasons. One was that she made sure we had fresh cinnamon rolls every morning for breakfast. Oh my, how I loved that!

When my mother and I visited, we lived on the bottom floor or basement. Her home was very secure; it had five to seven different
front door locks! That was unreal to me, especially hearing all that clicking before she opened her door. My brother would imitate the

sound whenever he visited her, and it was very funny hearing him talk about his first visit to Aunt Vera’s.