Gone Crazy in Alabama by Rita Williams-Garcia

Author:Rita Williams-Garcia
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-03-10T04:00:00+00:00

Like a Bird in the Sky

“I don’t care what you say. Man has gone too far.” Big Ma whomped her black Bible against the arm of her easy chair and pulled herself up from its comfy cushions. “He should know his place.”

“Amen, daughter!” Ma Charles raised her tambourine and gave it a good shake.

“Forgive man his arrogance, Lord God.”

“Forgive, Lord.”

“Man pushes his arrogant self out, poking holes through the sky; God will sling His arrows back down on man through those holes in a mighty rain.”

“Send your arrows, smite him down, Lord.”

“But the Lord is merciful. Oh yes! He can surely grant man a mercy.”

“A mercy, daughter!” Ma Charles shouted, happy that church was going on in her living room on Wednesday morning. “A mercy.”

“A spacecraft is a man-made thing.”

“Speak, daughter.”

“It may go far, but it cannot reach heaven.”

The tambourine shook and its metal disks rang out.

“It cannot reach the Lord though it will trespass on his holy place!”

Tambourine!

Big Ma and Ma Charles asked all to repenteth: the astronauts, mission control in Houston for thinking they had control, and the TV station for cutting off the morning gospel hour to broadcast the space launch. And yet we all gathered in Ma Charles’s living room while I angled for a better picture of the crowds gathered outside the launch pad down in Florida. Pastor Curtis, who had on Sunday proclaimed the Apollo mission an ungodly endeavor, said he’d be taking Wednesday morning prayer service off so he wouldn’t miss the liftoff. Even golden-framed Jesus’s eyes were on the launch.

“To the right. Yeah, Cousin Del. Now angle it toward the window. Yeah. Keep angling.”

JimmyTrotter wouldn’t let us nickname him, but he called me “cuz,” “Del,” and “Brooklyn” every chance he got. I pulled out the left antenna rod as far as it could go and aimed it from one corner of the window to the other. I pointed the metal rod and froze as JimmyTrotter, my sisters, Uncle D, and Mr. Lucas hollered out, “Hot,” “Hotter,” “To the right,” “More,” “A little left,” and then “Aww!” Watching television in Autauga County, Alabama, wasn’t like watching TV in our house on Herkimer Street. At home in Brooklyn, you turned the dial six or seven times to see what was on the other channels. Then you fixed the antenna when you settled on a show. Down in this part of Alabama, one turn to the left and one turn back to the right were our only choices. And if there was an electrical storm, there was no television to watch, period. No radio. No lights. No nothing. During electrical storms Big Ma and Ma Charles allowed only the dark, a candle, and prayer, although my sisters and I played Old Maid and Go Fish.

Finally, a glimpse of the giant rocket, JimmyTrotter’s precious Saturn V, materialized out of snow, fuzz, and horizontal lines. We all cheered. The second I stepped away the picture snowed up and the sound crackled.

“I’m not standing here holding this antenna,” I said.

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