Monday, July 31, 2006

Old Josh, in: Volcanic Times [1872] Episode: #18

Old Josh, in: Volcanic Times [1872] Episode: #18


Part One: the Corral

“Git awy, wite folk,” old Josh mumbled aloud, seeing Mr. Hightower the plantation owner, his boss, coming near the corral as the horse pulled the old Negro around in circles like a rag doll.
The horse snorted like a train in high gear but Josh hung onto his bridle [harness] at the horse’s head, trying to restrain him.
“Let him be,” said Mr. Hightower.
“Wht dhis hoss?” said old Josh.
“You let that horse alone old man, he’ll kill yaw!” Old Josh just laughed.
“I recken so,” he mumbled under his breath, as the horse kept a glaring eye on him below its head, perhaps a quick calculation of how long the old Negro would last, and perhaps it was a gesture by the horse that the old man wasn’t giving him a lick of trouble that was worth much, so let’s have some fun. Then the horse lifted his head (as Hightower repeated his warning to let the horse go), the horse now irritated, snorting, rose his head up higher, lifting the old man to his toes as he hung on as if he was holding the head of a snake, falling now and then against the leg of the horse (as Hightower now started to climb over the fence, fearing the horse would run wild throughout the fields, should he open the gate)) old Josh was mad, stubborn, like the horse, thought Hightower)).
“Eyes wants to rid des hoss,” said Josh in a demanding way.
“We’ll see about it tomorrow,” said Mr. Hightower rejoined (in a passive tone).
The horse now eluded Josh’s two hands, and old Josh fell back, but dodged the hooves of the stomping horse, unbroken, and newly purchased by Mr. Hightower.
The horse now was running in circles with a gleaming tongue as Josh tried to grab the rope that hung loosely from his head to the ground, unsuccessfully; but then Josh leaped, grabbing onto the rope, as the horse passed by him again; the horse now found his weight easy as pie to drag, and thus, dragged him in the mud around the cage like a rat. Then suddenly both man and beast stopped, both vacillating, the horse lowered its head, and before the horse lifted it again, Hightower grabbed Josh by the back of his belt, pulled him free of the horse, as the horse burst out upwards on his two hind legs.
(Nearby, there were a few neighboring onlookers, a few youths walking down the dirt road out in front of the Hightower Plantation. They stopped to catch a glimpse, but dared not enter Hightower’s premises, lest he scorn them. The Pandemonium stopped as Josh was now on the other side of the fence.


Part Two: The Hut


Down the lane, behind old Josh’s hut, Silas, his son was running, having heard there was some commotion with his father in the corral. The horse, when Silas appeared in front of the Carrel, was still running wild trying to break through the gate. The folks that were on the street watching had faded into the distance.
“U mad, papa,” said Silas huffing and puffing as he now saw Josh was fine, Mr. Hightower looking over him, Josh had not gotten up onto his feet yet, he was so tired he was leaning on his elbow in the dirt. Not sure what was going on in Hightower’s mind, as he stood looking at the horse, and Silas and then back to Josh, perhaps how in the world did he find all that energy to fight the young mount. But he said, with an astonishing look,
“Wish you’d use all that much energy around the plantation fixing things, instead of having Silas do it all,” (saying it in a colorful way).



Part Three: Henry Jackson Birmingham


It was getting later into the afternoon, and beyond a patch of woods, where the cotton fields were, Silas now took a long look towards, his brim of his hat he pushed upwards to get a better look I assume.
“Yo’ head ok boy?” said Josh to his son.
“T’ant long wes got to harvest,” added “I sees the new owner of da house, Henry Jackson Berham, I hears his name be…”
“Ya, he’s like us, wheres dhe negger finds all dat money to buys dhe hose, he kils da white man maybe, haw?” said old Josh, with a jealous tone to his son.
“Hes yung pa, inherat da money I dink, yo knows, from a uncle he die…”
“Oh…!” said Josh, catching his breath, holding out his hand so his son can help him up.



Note: Written at El Parquetito, Lima, Peru, 7/31/2006

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Old Josh: Black-hide! Episode #17

Old Josh, in:
Black-hide!

[Spring of 1860; Ozark, Alabama]

Episode #17



“Say you! whar do ol man Josh live?”
“ah…down de road a piece,” says Silas to the stranger, “ ‘bout a mile, de Hightower place, but yous wont find ‘im, he’s away fishin’ I reckon.”

At the Hightower plantation, the black stranger knocked on the door, and old Hightower answered and the stranger asked where Josh was. Old man Hightower, hollered for Josh, but he didn’t answer, looking toward the back of his house, toward the barn and beyond were the enclosure was.
“He’s gitting ol…” the stranger said to himself quietly.
Old Josh had seen the stranger and was hiding behind the cow corral and further than, and behind some bushes and jimson weeds.
The stranger was now sanding looking through the open area of the corral with his owl-like face—Old Josh’s knees bent, acing a ting, but not willing to stand up yet. Thus, he remained hidden about one hundred feet away. The stranger just stood there chewing his tobacco, glancing here and there, up and down over this way and that way—eyes eating up each square foot.
“Hey!, wher is you…this is Abram!” said the stranger, then he saw his brother, “dhar you all is a-sitten…!” he said; yet old Josh continued to conceal himself, even though his brother saw him; Abram’s foot on the railing.
“Wuz you callin’ somebody?” said a voice. Abram looked deadeye into Josh’s face, from a distance, from where he stood with his foot on the fence.
“Say Josh, what you doin’?”
Old Josh still remained quiet. Then Josh hollered at him, “kep-a right on goin, dont look back, I dont hyear ya-feet movin!”
“Well, I reckon I cam-a long ways not fer nothing…” said his brother Abram, still chewing his tobacco, while listening off and on to the mockingbirds singing on a nearby old Alabama Oak.

(Interlude: there was dust in the air, this early spring morning, blowing about, flowers filling the air with light odor scents; Josh wanted to lay down, didn’t really want his day disturbed; wanted to go fishing, was about to before he saw the stranger coming up the road on a sprinkled old horse. He walked like his brother, didn’t really know it was him, but had a second sense it was somebody from the past, back when he was a boy in New Orleans, and was left by his mother and older brother, left wandering about aimlessly, but that was seventy years ago.)

“Looks like yous in dhe po’ house back der,” he said to Josh with a smile.
“I’m goin’ on seventy-nine years old, Josh,” he said, as if his days were numbered—then spat into the weeds some of his over moistened tobacco he was chewing.
“You done lef me in New Orlens when I’s just a boy—walking up and down de streets, ‘til Hightower’s pick me up, and hers I am…!”
It showed on their faces, the long and hard years of labor, loneliness, on both their faces, a little less on Josh’s perhaps, or so it seemed: he took thinks a bit lighter than Abram; accept, possibly for this moment.
“I’ …s got money to buy your freedom,” said Abram, to Josh.
A shadow of gloom was on Josh’s face, and a bitter sneer that he tried to hide.


Now Josh and Abram sat on Josh’s porch (of his two room shack); Abram still chewing his tobacco, slowly. Hightower had departed.
“Josh, com wit me,” shouted Abram abruptly, as if he was a big brother. They sat there for hours, both fell to sleep, and Silas come home, tip-toed past them, slowly, not to wake them up, and into the hut, and sat down by the small wooden table, and had some pumpkin soup.
In the morning Abram looked at Josh, they had fallen to sleep where they sat; the old spotted horse had not been fed, and was pacing, nibbling over in the bushes eating whatever. It had been seventy years since they had seen each other, seventy long years since Abram let go of his brother’s hand, and ran, seventy years—that’s when he was his big brother (so thought Josh).
“Nah…! All right!” shouted Abram, as he stood up, flung his coat over his shoulder, spat out some tobacco onto the dirt a few feet from the front of the porch—put on his hat emerged onto the road in front of Hightower’s house. At the same time, old Josh turned his head to see what his son was doing; he heard a noise in the hut, said to his boy, “Dhat dhar chewin’ enough to kill ya!” Then he looked at his brother…”…damn his black-hide!” He repeated.

Written 1/20/2006; the Author lived in Ozark, Alabama in the mid l970s.

Old Josh: Restless Times Episode #16

Old Josh,
Reckless Times
[Ozark, Alabama—1857]

Episode #16



“Fine, where is he?” asked Josh, talking to Mrs. Sally about his son Silas, adding, “I ought to hav gown down to the river fishin’ today” he added as Sally put down some dishes.

“Keep going!” said Mrs. Hightower to Silas, the old mount was trotting along the best it could: she now could see the house, “I suppose your father will be wanting to see you he’s been a bear since you’ve been gone with Charles.”
Mrs. Hightower had her ways like Old Josh did, and Silas knew it, he was but nineteen-now, and had lived on their plantation all his life, his father most of his life, he was stranded when he was just a boy in New Orleans, and Charles Hightower had picked him and brought him back home to work the plantation, that was going on 60-years now.

Old Josh in a pale dirty white shirt, trying to manage as butler—trying to help Ms Sally out, Dandy, her daughter that helped in the kitchen was down with the bug, sicker than a dog, thus, she was gone, and Silas had just come back from New Orleans with Mr. Charles Hightower, and gave Mrs. Hightower a ride back from Ozark, Mr. Hightower stayed in town to play cards with his kind. Old Josh hadn’t even seen his boy yet.
Josh, opened the daily Ozark newspaper, turned the pages, he enjoyed the war that was starting, and the violent talk the papers hand on the North, what he could read of it that is. He was not reading word for word, he wasn’t that good at reading, just bluffing his way through to show Mrs. Sally he could read, and picked out a few words like: North and South, and war, and so forth and so on, then moved about, crossed the room, passed her looking at her dress, and then at her hips and then at her breasts, then Sally would stomp her feet to wake him up from his lustful dreaming; back to work he’d go.

It was twilight when the buggy pulled up in front of the house, Josh had been sitting down in the kitchen, and he rose, suddenly rising his way to the front door, and saw his son carrying Mrs. Hightower’s groceries in for her, as the table was set for dinner and all. Josh grunted, like two peas in a pod, (once he saw his boy coming up the steps) opened the door for Silas and they both gave each other a big smile.



Greens and Biscuits


“I seed him on de street yistiddy: he jes’ dind’t look himself,” said Josh to Silas, in their two room shack.
“If it aint my son Silas,” Josh repeated himself as they stood on the porch, door opened, he had been gone over three weeks.
“How is you?” he asked, with a quiver to his voice.
“Po’ly,” said Silas, “I’s tired also, a long day…”
“I’se y‘all kep’ well, don ther in Orlens. Hightower do all he need to do I suppose?”
“Right well,” said Silas, “whut you goin’ eat pop?”
“Dey’s some geens on de table…”
“I reckon I’ll have a little,” said Silas; Old Josh didn’t realize how much he’d miss his son, perhaps it was that he was left with more work in addition to the missing, and now of course, Silas, could finish the work, and Jody, his younger boy by two years, was trying to handle most of the work but he avoid pop, and work like Josh did, and little got done. Plus he was in town also.
“I done saw Jody downtown helping at the grocery store, old man Hightower must rent him out again I se?” Said Silas, “he’s not the same, he looks angry.”
“You se rights, he takes Jody makes me work all da more, damn white-folk, so, so…” Josh was pacing the floor as normal now.
“Cant eat my teef ant much god any moo…go ‘head you eit all you wants; eit yor greens when yo’ can git it,” dat whut me old mom use…da say whn I was jut’ a boy, down in ‘Orlens.”
“Ya sir,” repeated Silas, “I ben missin…” then he swallowed his food, and Old Josh paced the floor as if he was Silas’ Shadow.
All of a sudden there was noise in the backroom and Silas jumped up to see what it was, and it was a woman trying to get out of the shack through the back window of the shack, in the Josh’s bedroom, it was Sarah the young maid from down at Barchans Plantation, about ten miles down the road.
“Ole man like you wid a girl that’s just a kid, she ant no older than me pop; you aint ‘shame?”
“Hush yo mouth boy, I’m not in de cemetery yit, you is, but I aint, and she aint and we aint, but you is. It seems since you come back talkin’ loud to you papa, since yous cme back-form-Orlens, you learn dat’s from da white folks I suppos’—jes’”
Silas lowered his eyes didn’t make eye contact for a moment, lowered them somewhat, and Josh paced back and forth, he had forgotten he had the girl in his bedroom, perhaps she fell to sleep. Then Silas looked up at his father, started laughing and old Josh, started laughing.
“Yor all right pop?” said Silas.
“’tel you goes to Orlens, I’ll be fine son, then I get my fixin’ then, her’ a biscuit, eit it while you can.”


Originally named “Greens and Biscuits,” 1/23/06, but content changed 1/24/06, changing the name to “Reckless times.”

Old Josh: Episodes: 9 thru 15

Episodes: 9 thru 15




Old Josh: and the Yellow Negro, 1856
(New Orleans/ Episode #9 ((1-31-06))



Josh had gone to New Orleans in the summer of 1856, with Mr. Hightower. He spent most of his time on the Warf or pier area, it brought back old memories of his childhood. His face darkly carved like a bulldog, big feet, large hands, beady eyes, and wide forehead. He walked about like an ape, hands swinging every which way, looking but not looking. Perhaps looking for something he might recognize from his childhood, when he and his mother walked the dock area.
He had been widowed for a while (widowed in the sense he did not know where his wife was, perhaps dead, she ran off with someone) and saw many women walk by, even thought to himself: ‘…what would I say to her?’
“Ha honey,” one Negress said to him, “follow me, I’ll warm you bones for you…give you some whisky!” He did a double take on that word…whiskey.
“Damn squirrel, come ov’er her…”
“…wht yu call me hony?” said the young Negress in revolt.
“Yous not white yous kno’ so wtch-yor tonge.”
Her dress was pinkly, and she had a seductive smile and laugh; Josh had Hightower’s money to buy some hoes, shovels, axes, and a plow for the plantation. His voice-hung back with a laugh—
“Dies slow…is wat to dislow,” and he followed her,
“Mocks-me big nigger, i…s show you…!” she said as they sat down on a cot in a shack she had led him to, there Josh took several shots of whisky, and she slipped him a mickie.

Fretfully, when Old Josh woke up she was gone and was sick; that evening Hightower found him staggering in Jackson Square, asked Old Josh for his money, the money he had leant him to purchase the merchandise, not seeing his hardware anyplace, looking around him some, not even a hoe, he knew something had happened. Old Josh was pale as a ghost, his head looking down, sitting on a bench like a droopy jellyfish, with no light in his eyes.
“Pardon me, Josh,” said Mr. Hightower again, touching him on the shoulder, towering down on Josh’s head, “I don’t mind you getting drunk on your own time, but mine I do, especially when you are carrying my money”; he said, as Josh tired to look up at Hightower, straining to do so.
“I’s be better on, when I gets some food, dats der alligator meat gits to me.” Hightower looked surprised that Old Josh took off the shoes he barrowed him.
“it’s better yous keep it sir.”
“Stand up, up!” commanded Hightower, now pulling him by the arm, Josh confused, wired, his brow full of sweat, “Damn if the dog don’t bite the hand that holds the bread,” said Hightower, as they both walked in the French quarter.





Old Josh From Alabama
Ain’t no Nigger [1849]
Part I, 1849 [Episode #10]


[Josh and his son just arrived back from a picnic down along the River, he lives on the Hightower plantation, outside Ozark, Alabama; this sketch is Josh at his youngest of all the author’s previous episodes on Josh, several of them; he was picked up by the Hightower family in New Orleans, many years ago. This is when Josh was not as bullheaded as he came to be, when his son was around ten years old; as when you read the other several episodes the author has written on him. Now he is back on the plantation, and talking to his friend Bessie, he calls her Aunt Bessie because she helps Josh with many of his need for his two children, Silas is Josh’s oldest boy. They are now in the back area by his little shanty, his hut, by the fenced-in carrel talking and Bessie, asking questions. Joe is walking over to see Josh, he works in the plantation alongside the Hightower plantation, he’s Bessie’s brother.]


Back from the Picnic

Josh: We been down de river fishin’,
Aunt Bessie: Who?
Josh: Me an’ Silas an’ de boss Hightower annudder white folks, an’ we sho’ had a big time ketchin’ fish and’ turkle; an’ I had more liquor dan we could drink.
Aunt Bessie: Is dey gee you anything?
Josh: Dey mighty good to we. De white folks gee me one dollar.
Aunt Bessie: Why kind er people de white folks?
Josh: Wuh kind er answer yous wants?
Aunt: You ain’ gee me straight answer Josh!
Joe: Gee that nigger Josh a question, and he so ‘ceitful he likes dat white folks ‘cus he can go fishin’ and gee da dollar.


Allen joins the group [Hightower’s Butler]


Allen: Wuh is all dis I hear ‘about Josh an’ dey white foks
Joe: It must er been a white man gives him a dollar, he’ no more nigger
Allen: Dat ain’ oughter make no diff’erence. Nothin’ done wid ‘em kill niggers, but dey oughter try ‘em.
Joe: Who de judge?
Allen: No nigger killed toda’, I reckon godam white folks a-while back
Bessie: De name er de Lord n vain, yous tak’ dhe name er de Lord n vain!
Joe: ‘about dat judge, wuh judge?
Josh: Wuh you reckon Hightower in de mind Hightower a bad man when he ack dat er way?
Bessie: I hears a judge talkin’ ‘bout dem niggers escape.
Allen: Dat why Hightower giv’ Josh a dollar, sos he don’ escape.
Bessie: Several on ‘em.
Joe: I know dat, kaze me an’ de boss man talk’ right dere in de back room and’ drinks dey liquor, and he tells me.
Bessie: Silas hears all des, I done, boy let’ go, we leaves da niggers here, cus we ain’t no niggers.

Note: Written in Lima, Peru, 5/19/2006 1849 # Part One [Eposode#11]






Old Josh’s Song to Bessie
Part II, 1849 [Episode #12]


[Josh has taken a liking to Bessie, she works with her brother on the neighboring plantation; helps Josh with his two boys, and now Josh has created a song for her, he is wooing her, it would seem. She has come over to his shanty in the back of the Hightower house, by the carrel. They are now sitting on the little porch, in two rockers, and he is singing this song to her; Josh is not know to have ever been too romantic, in the past, or future, nor in the present, but he is here a little more balanced than in most previous episodes.]


To night she comes to de arms of dhe lover
Tak dey’ time I can hear de cooing of de bird’
Dont you hears what de birds say?
Tak dey time I can hear de cooing of de bird’
Miles an’ miles away.

Oh stay, stay! De Josh he say,
Ain’t you hear what de birds say?
Oh, stay, stay de birds say,
Hush de mout’, de birds say,
Listen de birds say,
I can hear de soundin’ of he singin’
De lover he say
De windin’ of he song.

Take you’ time de bird say
Old Josh is on he way
Oh, listen to what de bird say
Bessie, Bessie ain’t you her
De soundin’ of he bird;

Have no fear, de bird say
He ain’t but a mile away
Take you’ time, oh yes de bird say
Not too late for Bessie an’ me
I hear de bird sing.


Written 5/19/06, Lima, Peru







Old Josh: Sweet Bessie
Part III, 1849 [Episode #13]


Josh [Josh to Silas}: Bessie in a bad fix.
Silas (Josh’s boy): Is? Wha ‘ ail she?
Josh: She an’ she ex husband, Sweet Bessie, be back in de woods fishin’ an’ dey was comin’ out through dem ole road in de night. I see wha me own eyes, Sweet Bessie layin’ cross de grass an’ say:
“Look er dere, Hank. Wha’ is dat?” —an’ Hank is dis kind er niger: he just want er show off he can have Bessie, he own wife. He say:
“Yous ain’ nothin’!” An’ he haul off an’ hit her. He dthink it was rotten fer her to be with me. I see an’ den de fun start. Hank have sense ‘nough to run when he sees me an’ had de knife in me hand; an’ she callin’ to de Lord to save her and he. She tell de Lord bite Josh, no wey. She say ef he ain’t loss his mind.
Silas: Sho’ is lucky dey have fast legs like dat.
Josh: She is save him, but he kow I kind er ooman to he now.
Silas: Wuh mke you say dat?
Josh: I thought I knows so much ‘bout womens I find out I anin’t know nothin’, but I larn dis: watch you’ step and den keep you’ eye on you’ own step, too.

Note: 5/26/06


Old Josh: and Lula the Cook
Part IV, 1849 [Episode #14]


Advance: Old Josh and Lula the Cook, on the Hightower Plantation, in Ozark, Alabama, are talking about the relation ship between Bessie and Josh that didn’t seem to work out. Josh is getting older but not that old he is around 40. [Written 5/27/06; in Lima, Peru]


Lula [talking to Josh]: I hears de argiment ‘twix’ Ms Bessie an’ you ole man Josh!
Josh: I’s no ole man yet. Wuh it is?
Lula: Yous git in an argiment ‘bout how yous think you own Bessie an’ her fam’ly comes to take her home. Ole man likes you claim Bessie an’ you kep’s it up all day git me hot.
Josh: I do look like ole man? Bessie have de agvantage. It’s hard to keep a good reputation in dis fam’ly ef you talks like dat.
Lula: Well, old man Josh yous got advantage in tongue. Atter ole man Bessies husband, he ain’ blame he chillun for wha’ is he, an’ Bessie fam’ly, but she say: “Josh, you talk about de way he ain’t wroth er consideration, like you is. You was drug up, not brung up, in your ways. I reckon dat was wey some folks is, you put your foots to de fie, and git burnt.
Josh: Lula, I tells you Bessie’s husband makin’ personally remarks ’bout me being ole man likes you. He lives in Orleans, gots lots of gals, comes to Ozark and wans blame me for Bessie and me lov’s each other.
Lula: Yous foolish ole man, she loves fire in you and fire in Sam; ole man, she likes you not de way yous like her. She likes you like she likes dhe ole horse in de barn.
Josh: How come?
Lula: I ain’t see why yous fret ‘about dat. I reckon God Almighty already got her and him headed for hell, an’ ef’s you keeps it up, you too.
Josh: I reckon dat de main reason dey do so much frettin’.
Lula: Dat nigger say annudder dhink to you, rember he got de constitution er de Nunited States, you gots nothin’.








Old Josh’s Ghost
[Episode #15] 1859


[Old Josh, is standing on the porch talking to Mr. Hightower, the owner of the Plantation where Josh lives, it is 1859; in Ozark, Alabama]


Josh: Ole Ghost ‘peared to me de other day, Mr. Hightowers.

Mr. Hightower [ready to go into town, his buggy outside of his house]: Did you talk with him?

Josh: Is I talk wid him? He do nothin’ but talk, an’ he tell me a heap er things ‘bout hell an’ de devil. He say he got diff’ent kind er people in de hell. He say he got dis and dat pasture for dhe people he like and don’t like.

Silas [Josh’s oldest boy just came up to the porch was looking for his father]: Mr. Hightower, me dad sees old Henry, he dhe ghost, been dead a good while.

Josh: I know whos he is, an’ he say dere many folks ‘round ere in hell. When he come, I was layin’ down by the brook fishin an’ de sun was shinin’ and’ I say:
“Who you?”
An’d I hear him say: “I is Henry.” He was a heap gladder dan I to see him. I knows him cause he work over yonder for dhe Claytons. A friend he been to me, long time, dead now a fe years, and I wants him to stay dead, I ain’ want no sperrit come hangin’ ‘round my fishin hole, broke me thinking.

Mr. Hightower [not sure what to say, wanting to go]: I’m not sure, but I think Henry borrowed you ten dollars, and he come to collect, I remember that, because before he died, he asked me if I’d pay your bill, and I said no, perhaps that is now bothering you?

Josh: An’ when he left, he make me feel like dat dere ain’t no good in me cause I tells him I pay him back in three years, he lefff me wid de wrong impression now he hav nothin’ to do but bother me.

Old Josh (From: Ozark, Alabama))Revised)) 1st Series; Episodes: 1 thru 6

Old Josh [From: Ozark, Alabama, 1862]
Episode One/8/11/05


(Old Josh is at a neighbor’s house, Mr. Smiley, and white plantation owner, who has a black workman, and his son Toby. Actually, Josh has a son named Toby also, but in this case, it is not his son we re talking about. Toby Jackson, old man Jackson is friends with Old Josh)

[1862] “I let yu know ‘bout dat whn de time come,” says old Josh, to his neighbor peering through the broken down fence. “Yessum, “Toby said, “I ant doin nothing in tells you let me know!” “Hush, Toby” Old Josh says. He looked about to see who might be listening. “Find de box tis hidden…,” Josh says. “I is,” said Toby, Mr. Jackson’s son. “Dar now,” Josh says, “take yo time I aint gwine no place.” “Wwhut kin happen?” says Toby. “I’se right skeered!” “You go an’ do whut I tells you.” “I hears ya,” said Toby a bit nervous. “I mabe… Eye’ got to brake dat window. You knowed dat.” [a pause] “goes wher…?” added Toby. “To de nordh,” dats whar,” said Josh “we’d go on to de nordh, whn we gits de money.” “Fur what?” asked Toby. “Wes jes’ niggers to wait on white folk’ round her,” says Josh. “Recken so,” young Toby said. “Wat I whuts to break ef fo?” asked Toby. “Cus yu don’t hab de key?” “So,” says Josh (his old hands trembling, Toby unsure of what to do). “Lememe tell yous somthin, nigger boy, yu gits jes es much kicking ‘bout ef yous broke the window or not.”

(Old Josh is leaning both his elbows now on the fence, taking in a deep breath, looking here and there to see who is watching. Toby now moves away from the fence, his father, a servant in the Smiley house, is in the stable getting Mr. Smile’s horse ready to ride into town. He’s an older gentleman in his late fifties; Toby’s father in his forties, and Josh 47-years old.)

“It’s Seven o’clock,” (AM) says Toby to Josh. The sun has emerged, and the morning is coming alive with life, movements all about. Mr. Smiley is heading on down the stairs of his mansion to hab breakfast, and Josh is kind of checking out to see if Toby’s father is still in the stable, he sees Smiley eating breakfast now through the window, and granny in the kitchen preparing biscuits for breakfast for the Smiley’s.)

“He up,” said Toby (meaning Mr. Smiley).

(Mr. Smiley now looking out a window buttoning up his white shirt, not looking at anything in particular, just looking out at the new day; within a few seconds he will be walking down the steps to walk around the mansion as he does every morning, looking for rats or snakes or whatever. Smiley’s wife, and his two boys, and one daughter are in the dinning room eating))

It is Sunday, and Toby is thinking about church, and granny was thinking about it for him also, and his father. Matter-of-fact, he was kind of looking for him, here and there, in the stable, and around the mansion, when all of a sudden he sees Josh talking to his son, and knowing what it was most likely about, trouble he figued; thus, He called his son over, and then Josh, skedaddled.)

“En I wouldn’t blame yu-none ef yus did, but I’tell Josh to stop naggin ya, boy, hush—de ol nagger used to nag me de same ole way…got no sense in him…yu her me?” he looked at Toby strict in the eyes, “…is you gwine to church?” asked Toby’s father still staring… “…I’is gwin to whup ya if granny I; yu’all keep awy fum da fence, I don took all I kin fum dat old man. He sees ya klid, whut he done fur yu?”

“Aint don nothin’ fur me pa,” said Toby, eyebrows up high on his forehead, thinking about telling his father what Josh was up to, or wanted him to do, but evidently he knew better, it would just make him look worse for listen to Josh, and he knew better to keep his mouth shut. Toby’s father was now tightening up the leather straps on Mr. Smiley’s saddle, on the horse, in front of the house “Yu’all git on out-of her, goin to church… I sees him doing hit ev’y time, I care who git klid,” said the father as Toby headed on down the old dirt road, kind of relieved he didn’t hab any expectations to go on and rob Mr. Smiley, because he was sure thinking of it, taking it serious; but it never happened, he just went on to church. Actually me Josh there, and he greeted him as if nothing had ever taken place concerning the matter of robbing the bedroom that made him think, did he really mean it.



Old Josh: Fiddlesticks
[From: Ozark, Alabama, 1863]
Episode Two; 8/13/05


(The sun was rising over Ozark, Alabama, soldiers were here and there, bivouacked in pastures, alongside of roads, eating breakfast, marching, exercising, brushing down mares, etc. Some of the soldiers didn’t even hab uniforms, the Confederates.)

Josh was waving his hands with an old wooden stick, hollering at a Captain in a gray uniform, and shaving alongside his tent, as his wagon passed by: “Yawl gonter los, eyes bee a free man den!” Then he said some think like
“Hooraw!” several times.
Josh rode in the back of the wagon, holding onto two sacks of salt on his lap (as his son Toby, scooted on down the dirt path); they had been to town and purchased it for their owner, Mr. Charles Hightower, a retired country gentleman, who had been in these parts of Alabama ever since—or so it seemed—Alabama was Alabama. The plantation was but ten miles up the road. Toby was 24-years old then.

“Pappy, yawl wants to git us in a heap of trouble, jes yu tote dat salt and nummine cusses to the gray sojers. Yos hears me?” Said Josh to son, “Yus han me dat whup, I sho the gry whos I is, a’d yu too; get dem out of de south for god. Hops de blue ketch dem and kild dem.” “Stop dat cussen papa, yous goine git us in trouble talken like dat. Yus the onliest one I’s ev’r her tak like thut!” says Toby. “Fiddlesticks, I’s fixin to whup yu nigger, den wht’s you goina do, asks the gray to helps yu! Yu aint hat any to say whuts I gots ta say. Wher Mr. Hihter, hes sittin his hom doin nothen, watchin us po’ folks do his wok.” “Yessum,” said Toby, “wes be back in an hour or so, efs we make hit ‘fore yus git us kild by the gray! …yus keep talkin de-away.” “De Lawd giv de land to whit fok on’y?” said Josh, “so dey think!” “I reckon,” said Toby, adding, “tole you more dat, nummine me—yu’s jes gitten to be an old man pa.” “Da owns yo flesh, a’d day wants yo soul…Yessem, blind as de bat boy; dey’d got me freedom, don work de plantation all mi life.”

(—They now stopped at the plantation; Old Josh hobbling into the back area behind the barn, where his shanty (hut) is and a few other huts for other workers; where he slept, in what was something like a row of shanties. Waving his stick in the air, shaking it, spurts of hollering at the gray-coats (Confederates), which was some ten miles back, saying something to the effect: ‘…fiddlesticks…; and just caring on as if in his own world, then he turned to see how his son was, he was taking the horse into the barn, and had dismantled the wagon, Josh, saying low, “Dis is America, dis is de great land of de free….”)



Old Josh: Chatting in the Barn
[Ozark, Alabama, 1863]
Episode Three; 8/15/05



“Wor!” he says, ‘we is at wor,” said Old Josh, in earnest.

But Toby paid little attention to his pa, it was as if he felt the old man was losing his mind, talking just to talk, or perhaps talking to himself, he’d not look at Toby half the time when he talked, he’d just talk to talk, and if Toby was listening, oh well, then he was. It was like something in the old mans throat got caught and he had to get it out, and talking did it. And there was work to be done in the barn, lots of work, and if he turned about every time the old man said something, he’d not get it done, and then Old Man Hightower, Charles Hightower that is, would wop his behind good, or worse, slap his head or gee him a kick where the sun didn’t shine. He never used anything other than his hands, or feet, not a whip or shaving strap like other Masters, never once so that was good.

“De is itto recover our freedom!” the old man said, somewhat grouchy. “Wht we want of a white man war?” asked Toby, “who say de warts ours?” added Toby.
“I says—!“ Old Josh yelled, looking with a stern eye at Toby, looking and kicking a bit of hay about, pretending to work, and not really working, balancing a few work against one of the beams of the barn, that didn’t need to be perfectly placed anyway, just for something to do, perhaps thinking about where he was going to take his afternoon nap.

“…’ts too much fir me pa,” said Toby, adding, “pa, dis here work is de mos’ mixed thing I’d ev’r did see—“

“Dey ‘all thinks wes ole ignorant folk—we is, who don’t know nothin’, cuz ef wes knowed somthin’, dey’d be dey poo’ ole nigger, like us, I reckon, dey’d want gee me—I know a damn thing. But eyes peacable, I’d luv to swat dem like de fly wit my cane.”

Yes in deed, Old Josh was feeling his temper rising, his oats you could say, while trying to help his son Toby clean out the stable, which was more like getting in his way, but it was better than having the old man walking aimlessly about out in the yard, and Hightower seeing him pacing back and forth talking to himself.

Toby was listening to his father, but not listening, and not saying much to his father, if you know what I mean, just working, using up time, his father had been a slave all his life, and Toby also, who had been a slave all his life. It was 1863, the war would be over in a few years, and whoever won—flimsy at this point—as the war seemed, to Toby it wouldn’t make much of a difference, so he and his father thought. He put his pitchfork deep into the hay, and shifted his body a bit, to one of the stalls in the stable, the hay was as yellow as the sun, and Old Josh just kept on a bickering until he got tired, and Toby finished his work for him, as he [Josh] dosed off for a long afternoon nap. Mr. Charles Hightower, the owner of the plantation, had gone to town, to Ozark, he had a son fifteen there to check up on; thus, when he got to town, Charles ended up talking to one of the Military Officers about his son joining a regiment, and perhaps himself, Hightower himself, with his son, but the son was a tinge too young, and Hightower a bit too old, or so it seemed to be, and ended at that, in all respects the officer was apprehensive to taking his son at this point, but his son was in favor of joining no matter what.

Old Josh: The Funeral
[Ozark, Alabama, 1864]
Episode Four; 8/20/05

[Josh and Silas: The funeral] Josh stood by the wooden cross, in the graveyard Jordan Macalister, his cousin, who had fought with the Yankees, had come home—Josh and his three sons Silas Jordan, and Toby had journeyed down to a section of South Carolina know as the Richland Country, they wanted Josh to gee a sermon. Mr. Hightower, his overseer agreed to allow this, and wrote a letter, had it notarized indicating these Negroes belonged to him, and were not escaping or running away, that anyone whom might be in authority, to allow them to attend the funeral without delay.

This part of the country had its share of Civil War problems, or I should say, more than its share of superstitions and war issue going on at the time (having lived in the Carolina’s I can vouch for that). There were tales of African Terror created by the canebrakes and Jungles—its yellow waters, dikes and slave dap. Nonetheless, Josh and his boys found his way to the funeral location.

InterludeThe dialect is of course English influenced by traditions, and sentient of the times, of African slaves. I agree few words are distinguishable, but there is a rhythm to it, and I hab tired to duplicate it. It is a peculiar sound with significance. This is/was of its day pure Negro, not a dialect of the coast, or the Black Border, but rather a distinct product of the soil, race, environment, their world. It is English adapted to the need of its speakers.
In those days many of the Negroes were hybrids to speak of, black with white and Indian blood, or as we would say now, part of their genetic pool. Now back to the story.

The Funeral:

Says Josh, standing by the grave of his cousin, fifty black folks, Negroes there with him: family members—and old friends:

Josh: Is yu here dat news?Voices: wuh news?Josh: white folks da blue-coats goina win da war!Silas: pa… ‘tanint no diffe’ence to me, all da-same effin de white folk free us or not.Toby: yu-all remembers date dere sermon pa?(Josh looking at the crowd, then at his sons, especially Silas)
Josh: wes live on bacon, cornbread an cabbage…Silas: pa, da serman…Josh: so he luhv dem white folk… (Everyone starts to laugh, but Silas, he just shakes his head).

Josh: Silas wants us niggers to go in dem swamps an’ live like de whte folks want…
A Voices: its best I middle wid nobody, dats wht I say

Josh: I sees a dog guine in da swamp an’ git lost, an’t got much sense as a man. I tells my boys bring ‘em to dere senses wit a stick.

(Josh now moves, waves his cane in the air, up to the heavens, as if he was Moses.)

Josh: Well, aint none er dem white folk—da gray religious help dem?

Silas: Pa, I ain’t guine jine you in all you say; say da sermon.

(Josh clears his throat, looks at his son, smiles, puts his hand on his shoulder, looks up to heaven—)

Josh: I knowed I aint thinkin’ ‘bout no luv er God when eyes all tored up so fir-gee me Lurd, but me bones de is white like de Marster Hightower back in Alabama, he jes cant see dem, and’ now mi sermon folk:

‘Our brother is gone, he dead, he live an’ rest, arms of gloary, he breathes de Jesus, fre of dis world below asleep in da ole graveyard an’ he hear da mokinbird …ol brother Jordan—he looks down wit pity, on us ole friends, smilin’ he is…he free of dis ole world below …he ‘sleep under de earth by de soul dat is flown to de arm of de savior my brotherin an’ sisters—wes here today to pr’y an’ weep, his life full of trouble an’ hardship He wuz suffernin to set us niggers free, hes gone, gave de body of Jordon, stiff an’ cool, life is done…he now at de pearly gates on’y his body left fur us weepers and mourners to sing de songs.

—most of the Negroes had bare feet, folks in cotton bagging and split flour sack cloths. A few umbrellas by their side, some mules tied to a tree. A few grunted faces. The headstone was plain; just a flat stone with his name, and his name carved in it: a date and the date carved in it—: showing his birth and death [1803-1864]; that was the sum of it. Into the dirt he went. It was a bit damp, and Josh’s rheumatism was acting up, his hands were heavy, hard lifting—he hobbled along side his sons leaving the cemetery, using a stick for a cane. Then three men picked up shovels—



Old Josh: Goes Fishing
[Ozark, Alabama, 1864]
Episode Five; 8/20/05


Old Josh lived on the Hightower Plantation where chores were unlimited and entertainment had to be manufactured by it self, or by those who wanted it. He: Josh was a sharecropper when he was young; back in his the ‘60s to ‘80s.

Some of his chores were to: feed the pigs, milk cows, churning milk into butter; his son now went about husking corn. I suppose if you wanted fun, you had to find it, especially in those far off days in Alabama, create it, and Josh and his children did just that.


His younger, half-sister was raised like him, on the land Hightower owned; his wife ran off for a spell, came back and died there and his sons were raised there for the most part. His oldest boy Toby, whom you do not hear about much in the Old Josh episodes, joins the Yankee Army in 1864, and dies that very year, in his first battle.

Today Josh’s job was to wring necks, chicken necks. He didn’t mind doing it, not a bad job, this was during the days of the civil war of course, 1863-64, when freedom for the salves were being churned just like the butter. Most of what old Josh lived on was bacon, cornbread and lots of cabbage (as Josh had mentioned in the previous chapter, at a funeral), anyhow, he’d get a slice of chicken now and then also, those days were thin to say the least.

His sons Silas, Jordon and Toby were all men now, and tried for the most part to keep old Josh in some kind of peaceful mood, he was or could be quite disruptive. Old Granny fixed the food for the Hightower boys, she’d ring the bell and the hot biscuits and honeycombed chicken would be ready; old Josh, thereafter, would go down to the Goose Creek fishing, catch those catfish, a squirrel, and cook them up, and make funny sounds like: ding ring, ding-a-ring, pretending he was calling the Hightower boys for their meals. Oh he didn’t hate anybody, not really, not even the Hightower’s, he was just a tinge resentful, and so when it was working time, he’d go fishing often, not all the time but the older he got, the more he went, to spite them in his silent way I suppose.

—He was today, at the creek fishing, talking to himself, and doing his little bell play. The backwoods was his getaway. Today Silas was looking for him, and found him fishing as he expecated, a string on his big toe, and two fish cooking, laying back on a rock with his jacket under his neck.

Josh (To Silas): Des here fish wants to git off dis here string, sos he kin swim all da way down the creek to de river, find da Mississ-ippy…. Woops-he gon, he done escape I kin see him, I suppose wit his boys (Old Josh looks deep into the waters)

( The fish did escaped, and Silas was now looking down on him, kind of standing over him, and old Josh knew he had come to try and talk him into going back to help with the work.)

Silas: Ain’ nobody lookin’ for ya pa, eyes jus’ got worried some, an’ could use some help at de barn…(he hesitates, then adds) I sho’ aint luves to wander ‘round des here woods by mi lonesome pa, Yu aint taken nothin’ to eat wid ya?”

Josh: I reckon dat dere ole fish must er had some kind er trouble…
(Silas approaches his father closer, stoops down to help him up, and takes him on back to his shack)

Silas: Yu sho’ looks like you luves to fish dis here creek pa….
(It soon would be twilight)



Old Josh: Laying Sick
[Ozark, Alabama, 1858]
Episode Six; 9/26/05/Revised 11/05


“I is sick,” old Josh said“I knowed you are sick,” said Silas, Josh’s son. And he was lying boned tired, it was a long way back from a funeral he had went to a month ago.“Wher is ms Molly?” Josh uttered.“She lying down over yonder by de creek. Eyes sees she hab an hour ago.”“Git out er her,” Josh said, “guin tells Molly I is sick!”


The old man waited for Ms Molly, a free slave with a hut by Goose Creek, and a fifty foot lot of land, given to her by a cousin, of Mr. Abernathy’s down in Ozark, some five years ago upon her 60th birthday.

Now Old Josh got thinking, mumbling a bit (as Silas goes to fetch her—) here I am, not a tooth in my head, sick in bed, no wife, and this old woman coming, the only one around, the only one available, who thinks I am…dying… (he sees her coming up the road through his hut window) ‘…here she comes like a darn nurse—a man doctor…’ he murmurs…

She is small ((short)), and fragile; like a rainbow; light brown skin, some white blood in her: as Josh always acclaimed. She always complained about Josh’s cussing and he would agree with her he was a damned sinful man, and needed to stop it ((he was simply not ready to though)). If he got anything out of this meeting, he was hoping he’d get some attention from her; she was kind of cute he thought. Josh was not religious but he had an ear and heart for the word of God. And would always say: he was no better or worse than any average white man. But felt God would take him on a trial bases, as he would perhaps do with his Master, Mr. Hightower.

The weather was damp, it had been raining and that also sapped old Josh.Molly walked into the shack, saw Josh laying down on his cot against the window, smiled and pulled up the only chair in the shack by his bed; lifted his hand, took his pulse, wiped the sweat from his forehead—; Josh waved Silas on, to go, get out of the hut, and so he did.

She told him he had a slight temperature, and wiped his sweaty neck dry. He never took his eyes of her as she tried to fix the chicken-feathered pillow under his head.

“Make love to me Ms Molly, eyes guine to join de Lord soon,” old Josh said with a humble voice.
“Yus better already, see Josh—“said Molly. But Josh’s mind was on other things, as Molly knew. He then got a pain and arched his back: then with his hanging hand he went to grab Molly’s dress (or perhaps it was something else): “You ain’ dying for a while ole man,” she said, as she turned around about to leave the shack with a smile on her face, adding, “hit ain’ I begrudging yu, jes for tryin’ but I ain’ offerin’ kaze yu keer on’y fur yu self Josh.”

Old Josh smiled; she was right, as always. Then she was gone. Silas then came back in the hut.
“Sh’ gone, is she?” said Josh, “I knowed hit, she like me, darn good thing I ain’ sick too pa.”
Silas sits back on the chair motionless, with his mud packed overalls, just smiles at his pa, shakes his head once or twice, and drifts off to sleep, while Old Josh mumbles on.