Someone was knocking at the door. It was Bobby Lee. I hung out in the doorway with him for a moment until I heard the crackling of the gravel as an old Ford Taurus pulled into the driveway. I felt a smile creep on my face. It was old Farmer Ambrose, probably the only black farmer in the county.
Ambrose slowly stepped out of his vehicle. His overalls were dirty with the red clay of a hard day's work and sweat patches dotted his grey tee shirt. A younger man got out on the passenger side.
His outfit looked more like one from the city than the county. He had a rigid scowl on his black face. In his arms, he held a puppy of unclear breed, engulfed in its own rolls of loose skin.
I shook the hand of sandpaper and greeted them both.
"Its great to see you. How you been keeping?"
"Ah well you know how the summer is. Thats my nephew, Terrell."
Before I could offer salutations, I heard the puttering of the golf cart and saw Ambrose take off his straw hat and bow his head.
"Hello, Mr. Sutherland", Ambrose said.
Father's eyes seemed clearer and bluer than they had the past few days. His sallow features seemed have become rosier and his stooping shoulders seemed to have straightened so now, his form looked almost regal again as he perched above the steering wheel.
"Hello. I trust the crops are well."
Father smiled and then gazed at the house.
"Mr. Sutherland, this is my nephew, Terrell", said Ambrose, motioning to the stranger.
Father turned, his mind still clouded in a dream.
"Terrell? You know my son's middle name is Terrell."
"Is that so Mr. Sutherland? Well, Terrell is a fine name. A fine name. My nephew is looking to get rid of this puppy he got here. You wouldn't want another dog here would you?"
"Terrell was the name of my great great grandfather. He was a congressman. He owned many slaves."
I saw Terrell's eyes flash instinctively and then look down. My father continued.
"All the slaves took his name. Thats where your nephew's name comes from; my great great grandfather. Is that a family name, boy?"
Terrell took a moment to realize that the question was directed at him. He looked up and spoke for the first time.
"I aint a 'boy', old man."
Ambrose slowly stepped out of his vehicle. His overalls were dirty with the red clay of a hard day's work and sweat patches dotted his grey tee shirt. A younger man got out on the passenger side.
His outfit looked more like one from the city than the county. He had a rigid scowl on his black face. In his arms, he held a puppy of unclear breed, engulfed in its own rolls of loose skin.
I shook the hand of sandpaper and greeted them both.
"Its great to see you. How you been keeping?"
"Ah well you know how the summer is. Thats my nephew, Terrell."
Before I could offer salutations, I heard the puttering of the golf cart and saw Ambrose take off his straw hat and bow his head.
"Hello, Mr. Sutherland", Ambrose said.
Father's eyes seemed clearer and bluer than they had the past few days. His sallow features seemed have become rosier and his stooping shoulders seemed to have straightened so now, his form looked almost regal again as he perched above the steering wheel.
"Hello. I trust the crops are well."
Father smiled and then gazed at the house.
"Mr. Sutherland, this is my nephew, Terrell", said Ambrose, motioning to the stranger.
Father turned, his mind still clouded in a dream.
"Terrell? You know my son's middle name is Terrell."
"Is that so Mr. Sutherland? Well, Terrell is a fine name. A fine name. My nephew is looking to get rid of this puppy he got here. You wouldn't want another dog here would you?"
"Terrell was the name of my great great grandfather. He was a congressman. He owned many slaves."
I saw Terrell's eyes flash instinctively and then look down. My father continued.
"All the slaves took his name. Thats where your nephew's name comes from; my great great grandfather. Is that a family name, boy?"
Terrell took a moment to realize that the question was directed at him. He looked up and spoke for the first time.
"I aint a 'boy', old man."
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