A Story - Part I

This story begins with two neighbors. One middle-aged white woman lived next door to a young black woman. They were cordial but were not friends. The day and time did not allow them to be friends. There was no slavery, only the remnant of a sense of class and of difference. They chose to be cordial.

The black woman was married, or had been married at one time. People assumed she had been married because she appeared to be taken care of. No man seemed to live with her and she did not work so people just assumed. She also had a few children. Maybe three or four. No one was really sure because she kept a flow of relatives' children in and out of her home. No one really cared because her children, any of the children, did not get into trouble nor did they cause trouble.

The two women went through their lives, co-existing from a distance. There was no reason to pay attention to the other. But things changed.

The white woman's son was a captain. He was her prize possession as she was alone in this world other than him. He spent months at sea, sailing cargo back and forth from one location to another. He was a good captain, stern, but he got the job done. He commanded his crew with a firm hand. His interest was making money and making deadlines. He delivered on his promises.

His crew worked for him because he paid them well. They didn't like him nor did they truly respect him. They feared him. He had no concern for them personally. His interest in them was solely professional. Deadlines were to be met at all cost. Schedules were more important than sleep, food, or sickness. Steam from boiling water can only build up in a teapot so long before it bursts forth. Human spirits work the same way.

As the captain stood at the helm of his ship, observing the looming landscape before him, he had no idea that sight would be his last. He had no memory of the blow, no feeling of betrayal, and no sense of fear. His crew had grown tired and taken their perception of justice into their own hands. Their captain was killed and thrown to sea. His waterlogged body would be discovered on the shore, two miles in from the scene of the crime, an arm missing from the apparent bite of a shark. His name goes unknown. The person who told me this story did not know the man's name. Only that he lived the life of a captain and that he died a betrayed man. Why does he even matter? Stay tuned...

Read Part II