Things was friendly, then. By that time North and South, Democrats and Republicans, folks young and old where making peace with the civil rights, going on ten years. At first it seemed confusing and somethin’ risky. No one was sure how it worked. Like the Edsel. But, that piece of crap was gone. There was still a lot of resistance, and some were still stand’n around, pick’n their butts. But we weren’t kick’n tires anymore; Kennedy was a Catholic, Americans were walking on the moon. Folks everywhere seemed anxious to move ahead of a time that most wanted to forget. “A time to forgive and forget.”, said Reverend Perry. “Without forget’n to forgive.” But things weren’t settled yet. Like what happened at Dirty Pond.
P Town, Tennessee, August 16, 1955
Perhaps ya’ll know why a harvest moon does funny things to a small boy’s mind. I mean one moon’s like any other. Why heck, you got y’ur full moon, y’ur half moon, somethin’ called a crescent moon and then, well, sometimes you got no moon at all. But that harvest moon, it can do strange things to a kid’s mind.
Take the night Jitters and me . . Jitters was my best friend . , we’re down Town Station just hang’n out. We had one of them harvest moons then. It was big and bright, like someone stuck a humungus pumpkin out there and- lit it up with a giant candle. Well that night we was sittin’ under the station platform like we always did ’cause it waddn’t safe to be hangin’ around there at night where you could be seen.
Why only a week or so before some guy was found lay’n on the tracks, and word was he’d been hit by the last run to Jefferson City. In those days, that was Red Bettman’s run and we all knew he was a high ballin’ fool. Well, when we was told this guy was found with all his parts we knew right off he wsdddn’t hit by Red Bettman, ’cause I remember when Red’s train hit Jack Miller they delivered what was left of ol’ Jack in somethin’ ’bout the size of a shoe box. This guy was hit by somethin’ alright, but it waddn’t Red. Mighty misterious. Mighty misterious indeed.
Man, that moon was big.
So, anyway, here’s me and Jitters sittin’ under the P-Town Station platform. We was each restin’ against our regular post look’n out over Dirty Pond. Dirty Pond washed up near the platform sometimes high, sometimes low, but I can’t remember when it waddn’t dirty.
Well, I do remember it was wet that night, I mean “sticky” wet; the kind that squeezes your body like a pair ‘a tight pants. We was havin’ the kind’a heat wave that turned my mamma sour and my ol’ man into mean, and I guess that’s why I was sittin’ there with Jitters cause when I’s with him I knew it could be worse. His family never had nothin’ ‘cept the little work his daddy got down at the post office, and that’s more than most Negroes got in them days. Both he and my daddy worked at the post office. Jit’s, his daddy worked inside the post office, mine outside.
So, here we is with that moon a glowin’ all over Dirty Pond, and I said to Jitters;
“Dark, ain’t it.”
“Yeh, quiet too”, he said. I can hear them cat fish breath’n.”
Jitters was as black as a new spade and I could hardly see him sittin’ there right next to me. But when he got scared he’d start shak’n like one of them California earth quakes. Then those eyes of his would get big and wide, and no matter how dark it was you’d see him real good. Matt called him a jittery “spook”. We called him Jits for short. Everyone called me Peanut.
I ain’t sure when we first heard the foot steps at the other end of the platform, but they was a surprise. The last run was due anytime, but no one ever got on or off that train, mainly cause it never stopped. So, there wasn’t no reason for a person to be there unless they was sittt’n under the platform with us.
“Who dat”, said Jitters.
“I don’t know. Should I look and see.”
Jitters started shaken. “No!. … No!”
“Why not” My lips were barely moving. “S’pose it’s Matt.”
Matt was a friend of ours from Holmes Junction, but it waddn’t like he’d come down to the platform without tellin’ me, or Jitters first.
“No! No!” He settled real deep against his post.
“I’m gonna look”, I said.
I waited for Jitters to say somethin’, but he just sat there . . . he settled deeper and deeper, and I could see him real good then.
I turned over on my belly and kind’a slithered toward the edge of the platform. Who ever it was started walkin’ in our direction and the platform creaked and groaned each time they took a step. I stopped and looked back at Jitters who was just a sittin’ there lookin’ right at me.
“Hey Jitters, y’all o.k.”
Still sit’n there. Just star’n. Jitters was real cool. He waddn’t mov’n. Fact is, I had to look again to be sure he was still there.
“I’s here.”
I could see the light from that ol’ moon streamin’ through the cracks when who ever it was suddenly stopped. I waited some, and then started crawlin’ again. When I got to the end of the platform I pulled myself up so’s I could just see over the top. We was down wind that night. The sweet mash from Tucker’s Still ’bouta quarter mile lay heavy in the air.
I peered long that station platform and he was no more than 20 feet from me, standin’ right there, a shadow in the middle of that harvest moon. Wide brim hat, heavy coat. Even though I couldn’t see it, I’d soon find out he was carry’n a sawed off shot gun. I watched him careful like. He just stood there. Look’n off in the direction of Jefferson City. He turned a little. One way, then another.
That harvest moon was look’n might big.
I lifted up some so’s I could see better through the crack. Just so the top of my head was above the end of the platform. Right then he turned and looked directly at me. That crack now was bigger than that there Grand Canyon. With that harvest moon behind him I knew he could see everything right down to the stains in my skivies.
I let go and dropped to my knees. There was Jitters just’a starin’ at me. I could barely sees his eyes as he slowly raised his arm showing me the palm of his hand. His head moved slowly from left to right. He didn’t move again til the shell entered the breech o’ that gun. By then Jitters waddn’t sittin’ very deep. I heard the echo of the barrel slammin’ shut. I looked back again. Jits was gone.
I guess I don’t remember climbing the shallow dirt bank from below the station platform to the rail bed, but I do remember running down that track faster than I ever run before. My face press’n hard against the thickness of a night that was fast squirmin’ out of control.
The faster I ran the slower it seemed I got. Everything I saw was a blaze in orange. There was dark shadows everywhere, and only the misty fog from Tucker’s Still offered any sign of hope.
‘Bout the time I thought I’s safe a hand took the back of my collar, and as my feet come up from the ground I felt my body twist’n and turn’n like I was hang’n on a meat hook. I tried screamed know’n for sure no one at Tucker’s would hear me, but nothin’ came out. Then the other hand grabbed the front of my shirt turning me towards him. His hat was pulled tight over his head and I couldn’t see him clear, but I felt his ugly breath whip’n cross my face hot as the barrel of that gun. Cold pinched tight against my jaw bone.
We was spin’n like a bear and a possum fuckin’ in the moon light. For the first time I saw him good and clear. He looked young, even to me. His skin peered soft, but his eyes was empty, kinda pitiful look’n with no life. I pushed as hard as I could against his face, but he just shook loose. His mouth opened slightly so’s I could see his anger. His grip tightened, draw’n the barrel of that gun up ‘gainst the side of my head, I thought sure it was gonna be a bad night.
Man, that moon was big. It was real red now.
The impact split the night like that high ball’’n fool. He went down the pond side of the rail bed. I was slid’’n down the other flat on my backside.
Next thing I see’s is Jits. His eyes was calm. He pushed his hand tight into mine.
“Get up Peanut! . . . Ya’ll stay with me now.”
We was runnin’ like hell. Jits was just ahead. He was crus’n. Smooth and confident. He turned as if to see I was still safe. I was press’n and reach’n hard as I could into the darkness of the night.
Jits was just ahead. Smooth. Oh! he was smooth. He looked back again. His eyes was lot different now.
The light from Harpers Still was come’n closer. I could hear sing’n and laugh’n . . and the sweet, sweet smell of mash.
Jit’s went to Vietnam. Then there was 9/11, Desert Storm and other stuff. My daddy and Jit’s daddy are gone now. But not before they became good friends. Jits didn’t come back, but he left a better place. We’re liv’n together, now. A’long way from Dirty Pond. We’re sit’n together, too. In the bus, at the lunch counter, why even in places like Congress. Things ain't perfect yet. We're all try'n hard. I think Jit’s is happy know’n that we’ll have a Black President soon. He's promise'n change. Well, change is good. We trust him.