Last night I had the delightful experience of having dinner with my former high school headmaster in Chinatown. He takes his senior class on a trip to DC every year, and knowing that I now live here, he invited me to tag along.
As we were catching up on life and swapping stories of "where are they now..." the subject turned to some of the various schools where Mr. Pratt has taught over the years.
Betsy : "Wait a minute... Jackson Prep?... as in Jackson..... Mississippi??"
All of a sudden I had "deja-vu" as I recalled Mr. Pratt telling us stories as high schoolers of how "backwards" things were in Mississippi. I'll never forget the one story he told of driving down a dirt road and asking this man on the side of the road for directions. Mr. Pratt introduced himself to the man, and the man responded, "Hi, I'm Mr. John's nigger."
"OH BOY do I have a story to tell YOU, Mr. Pratt" I exclaimed, and I proceeded to talk to him about the life threatening night I drove through the Mississippi Delta to get from Greenville to Jackson with a dying phone and GPS- through swamps and black nothingness.
I didn't have to elaborate very much for him to understand how scarey the situation was (comforting becuase I'm pretty sure most readers thought my story of "MON" was over exagerated).
As a side note, the Delta of the Mississippi River is the most remote part of whole state (as confirmed by a Chief Nursing Officer I met that week), and in Mr. Pratt's own words, the only thing between Greenville and Jackson, is "cotton fields and catfish."
But first, back to dinner in Chinatown.
"When I first planned on moving to Jackson.... " said Mr. Pratt, "an acquaintence of mine told me that down in Jackson... they've got braces on their brains."
Braces on their Brains.
As soon as I heard the phrase I flashbacked to the tremendous intellectual and emotional depression I felt in this city. I recalled the highly uneducated people I constantly interacted with; the obese father sitting alone in the Olive Garden, talking to neighboring tables about how he's never going to hear from his daughter again and how he heard through the grapevine that she's going to have a child; the waitress who responded to me when I asked her where downtown Jackson is, "I don't know... I'm from California"; the enormous portions of food I recieved when ordering room service that made me want to GAG....
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| I ordered pasta and broccoli. They brought two stacks of food. |
The combination of the obesity, the uneducation, the poor population.. was overwhelming...
....Overwhelming, because I realized that this is a culture and a way of life that people are born into. Overwhelming, because that peppy african american teenager busing tables probably doesn't have much of a chance to get out of there, and perhaps he doesn't even grasp the power his surroundings are going to have on his future. Or maybe he doesn't even care?
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| This picture was titled, "Children of the Delta" |
Mr. Pratt continued to tell me about his time there. "When we first moved to Jackson, Mrs. Pratt was playing tennis at the club and someone asked her what my big plans were for the school."
"To integrate it", Mrs. Pratt said.
That caused quite the uproar in Jackson and Mr. Pratt went on to share how he fought to bring the first african american student to Jackson Prep. That, and he also secured the first financial aid scholarship for an african american student.
Braces on their Brains.
I told Mr. Pratt that I felt so intellectually supressed in Jackson, that I literally laid over the bed in my hotel room and stared at the foor on and off throughout my three days there. My movitation was completely drained... it was truly like nothing else I had experienced. But beyond being overwhelming, at the very root, it was actually very sad.
Especially one encounter in particular.
When I had arrived at the Hilton after the long drive from Greenville, the sheets on my bed were dirty. I was actually so tired that I didn't even care and I slept on them anyway. The next day I called the front desk and told them it was "unacceptable" and that I'd like to have them changed once I leave for the day.
By the time I came back... they hadn't been changed. So I called once again... "This is really unacceptable..." And then I'm pretty sure I threw in some B.S. how this is especially unacceptable since I have "status" with Hilton.
They sent up the maid.
She was middle aged, but perhaps even older, as african american women do tend to age very well. She mumbled, not speaking clearly, and had a hard time looking me in the eye.
Something didn't feel right. There I was, sitting comfortably at my desk, typing away on my laptop, in my new comfy old navy pajamas (since I'd left mine in DC) .... and here is this maid... a woman more than twice my age... who more than likely has never gotten out of Jackson... or the halls of Jackson hotels.
Feeling too guilty for the situation, I started helping her take the pillow cases off the pillows. It just didn't feel right to sit there and watch her. I asked her where she was from. "West Jackson" she said, not looking up at all... out of an uncomfortableness to have a conversation with me.
After I shared the effect this experience had on me... Mr. Pratt told me about a book that he actually gave my sister when she graduated high school, called "The Help."
The book takes place in Jackson, Mississippi during the civil rights movement, "where black women were trusted to raise white children but not to polish the household silver." (amazon) Ultimately the book is about the plight of black maids in 1960's, taking care of the white families of Jackson.
After having been to Jackson, I knew I would thoroughly appreciate a book like this.
And after having been to Jackson, I could thoroughly connect with Mr. Pratt's former experiences.
And after having this conversation with Mr.Pratt... I suddenly became very grateful for all that I was born into... and how.... perhaps I complain a bit too much about the demands of my job... the exhaustion of travel... the stress of sales... I reminded myself that the world is truly at my footsteps... and there is no excuse for not grabbing it with everything I've got.
And if you are reading this, the same is true for you.
