Chapter 1


From Humble Beginnings



30 May 2020

Dear Son,

In a few short months you'll leave for college, and it's time I told you the story of a remarkable man who was known by the name of C.L. C.L. is dead now, but during his life I knew him well. I'd like you to know him too.

C.L.'s story begins in an area of North Louisiana...

The first thing C.L. could remember was his mother pushing him away from her breast. He was trying to get more milk when she thought he should've had enough. He was two years of age in 1949. It could be said that his earliest memory was of dissatisfaction.

His next memory was of walking through the corn field near his home in a dress and pigtails. The corn was high and green, and it was in the middle of summer. His mother dressed him in whatever she could find. Since his sister was next to him in age, his mother dressed him in his sister's hand-me-down clothes, and didn't seem to care about it one way or the other. This brought about painful memories for C.L. The next two children ahead of him were girls, so he didn't have much to look forward to.

C.L. remembered his neighbor, who lived across the meadow at the time, trying to show him how to tie his shoes and teaching him his left foot from his right. Once this neighbor and C.L.'s sister played a game with him. While walking through the pasture, in going part of the way home with the neighbor, his sister waited for him while the neighbor pretended to take him home with her. At first he wasn't paying any attention, and she just kept on walking until he finally recognized that his sister wasn't coming. Then he started crying. The neighbor put him down and he ran to his sister as fast as he could. The neighbor just laughed out loud.

C.L. remembered that once, when he was three, his brother John and he were walking past a neighbor's house, and the neighbor, Jerry, asked John if C.L. would fight another little boy whom the neighbor had with him.

"I bet Bobby will whip C.L.," said Jerry, boastfully.

"I bet not," said John.

They looked at each other menacingly. They cursed, made a few gestures, and pushed one another, but that was all that took place. C.L. remembered at this age having little fear in such situations. He was ready to do anything John wanted him to do.

"Ah, man, they ain't go'n do nothing," said Jerry.

"I guess not," said John.

"Where're you guys headed?" asked Jerry.

"Just down on the creek," said John.

"See you guys around," said Jerry.

C.L. found out much later that the older boys always had to display their prowess by fighting with another boy. This was a way of proving their manhood. They even had their dogs engage in fights.

He remembered being gathered around an old woodstove on a cold winter night when he was four, and his brother Lewis told John that C.L. needed something to eat. C.L. was sticking his fingers in the skillet on the stove trying to pick up particles of sausage left after someone had been cooking. The leftover particles of well-seasoned sausage were tasty.

"Hey, man, are you hungry?" Lewis asked.

C.L. didn't say anything, just looked at him pitifully.

"Take that young'un to the store and get him some food," Lewis said.

Lewis knew that John had money if anyone did. He also had a car. Lewis couldn't help anybody at the time because he was struggling just to make it himself.

"That boy barely get 'nough to eat," said Lewis.

John just looked at him and looked away, as if to say, so what's new-none of us ever got 'nough to eat, why should C.L. be any different.

"He's not hungry, there's 'nough food to eat 'round here."

"The old lady is too old to look