Come By Here: My Mother's Life by Clarence Major

By Clarence Major

Lavish compliment for come by way of right here "With based simplicity and unusual knowledge, Clarence significant supplies us not only the reality of his mother’s existence however the unstated fact at the back of the lie of colour within the American tale. A compelling narrative." –– Rilla Askew, writer, hearth in Beulah "A outstanding rendering of a wealthy and eventful existence. With inventive perception, love, and admiration, significant indicates us how in kinfolk existence down throughout the generations, race particularly matters." –– Andrew Billingsley, writer, mountaineering Jacob’s Ladder: the long-lasting Legacy of African American households severe approval for Clarence significant "Clarence significant has a impressive brain and the expertise to match." –– Toni Morrison, Nobel Laureate "One of America’s so much talented and flexible writers." –– Library magazine

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Aunt Sara also had five children. Her daughter, Susie, was my own age. I was staying with them. And every morning, Susie and I would get up and run up to Aunt Ella’s, to see her and her five children. It was at her house that I first saw brown flour. This was a big deal for me. She used it to make delicious biscuits. One morning as Susie and I were busting out the door, Aunt Sara shouted to us to tell Aunt Ella to send her a mess of greens. I’d never heard the word mess used that way before, but Susie and I delivered the message and brought a bundle of greens back to Aunt Sara.

This became a regular thing. If my sisters were with me he’d give them something, too. I thought he was a very nice man, but I didn’t at that time know that he had had anything to do with my birth. Except for right downtown, none of the streets in Dublinville were paved. The house I was born in in 1918 was on a side street that ran back of the town courthouse. People used to confuse our Dublinville with the Dublin in Laurens County. That was a lumber town with over six thousand population. Our Dublinville was in Oglethorpe County, just a little north of Atlanta, and the population never climbed above five hundred till the 1970s.

Not that there was anything wrong with Mama’s church. I was the problem. I was sixteen now, and attending Union Baptist Institute for colored girls in Athens. qxd 2/27/02 3:04 PM Page 29 Oconee River. The downtown area ended at the university. The white girls were in the Eppy Cobb Institute. In town there were three movie houses for white folks and one for colored. Bus fare around town was a nickel. I went back and forth by way of the Union Bus Station on West Broad Street. My family had to pay for me to go to that private school.

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