easily, even over their Scottish terrier that Nana thought was as sweet as pie. And Nana’s worst fear about Winifred was that somehow she’d inherited all of this from her. Nana worried enough for everyone in the family. She didn’t need any help from Winifred and hoped this sweet, poor girl would stop worrying about everything and leave that to Nana.
During Winifred’s last week on the farm, Nana’s sister Kizarine, whose friends called her Kizzie, had come from Tampa, Florida for a visit. Late one afternoon Nana and Kizzie were in the garden picking plump, juicy strawberries that were perfect for making strawberry shortcake and homemade ice cream. Winifred was supposedly helping them, but she ate as many strawberries as she put in her basket.
Kizzie took off her hat to fan herself and exclaimed, “Whew! It’s hotter than a witch’s tit.”
“No, that expression is ‘colder than a witch’s tit,” explained her sister, Versie.
“Don’t correct my grammar. I live in Florida. It don’t get cold there. Everything’s hot.”
Versie and Kizzie always talked nonsense like this when they got together. To them, it was an intimate way to show affection, but anyone who heard their usual conversations would just consider them bat shit crazy. They were bickering and laughing when Winifred suddenly screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Would you look at that?” questioned Kizzie. “Why it’s a garter snake as big as a hoe.”
Winifred dropped her basket and ran as fast as she could for the house.
Aunt Kizzie hollered, “Don’t you worry about that snake, hon! It won’t hurt you.”
Winifred wasn’t listening. She was sure the snake was after her. She looked backwards and, in her mind, she saw the snake gaining on her. When she got to the house, she ran up the five steps to the porch. On the porch, she looked down to the bottom step and was sure she saw the snake.
Winifred fretted, “That snake can climb up these steps just like I did. I’m not safe. Help!”
She went in the house and latched the hook on the eye of the screen door. Then she slammed the huge wooden door and secured the deadbolt lock.
Winifred then reasoned, “That snake can chew through the screen door. Then it can gnaw through the wooden door. I can’t just stand here and let it get me.” Winifred ran to the kitchen, stopping next to the kitchen table. She decided she was still not safe and would have to climb on top of the table, but she was not big enough. She stood on a kitchen chair, climbed on it and then leaped to the top of the table. She sat there for awhile and then became distressed again.
She determined, “That snake can climb up the chair, just like I did. I’m still not safe. I have to knock over all the chairs. She stood on the table and kicked the backs or all the chairs around it until they fell down. There she was on the kitchen table with no way to get down.
Half an hour later, Nana Mims and Great Aunt Kizzie brought their baskets, filled with strawberries back to the house but they were locked out. They shouted for Winifred to open the door and let them in.
“I’m on the kitchen table and can’t get down.”
“Why on earth are you on the kitchen table?” Nana hollered.
“Because the snake chased me all the way back and I thought it might get in and bite me and I was scared.”
“What are we going to do now? We’re locked out and you’re on the table and can’t get down?” yelled Kizzie.
Winifred sat down on the table and slowly lowered her legs to the ground as she balanced her hands on the edge of the table. She ran to the door and unlocked it and the screen door.
Aunt Kizzie told Winifred, “That snake didn’t come near you. I killed that snake with a hoe back in the strawberry patch.”
“No auntie! I saw the snake. There must have been two!”
Homewood, Alabama
June 11, 1963
When Frances, Winifred, and Trisha arrived home from Winifred’s long day of registration, Odelle Baker was already inside cleaning the house. Odelle had worked for the Dodd family since Winifred was born. She came once a week, on Tuesday afternoons, to dust and mop the Dodd house and do the ironing. Odelle had her own key and let herself in if the family was not home. She worked from 1:00 to 7:00 pm every Tuesday on her day off from the Killarney family who lived just two doors down.
On the way home from Tuscaloosa, Winifred had explained that two Negro students had come to register for summer school at the University and that was what kept her so long at registration. That was, in fact, true. She didn’t mention, however, that she had already registered and stayed so she could see everything that happened. She mentioned George Wallace standing in the door of Foster Auditorium and the news crews that were outside, but didn’t tell Frances or Trisha any more. She did suggest they should watch the six o’clock news that night to see it on TV.
Odelle occasionally cooked for the Dodd’s but usually just cleaned and ironed so Frances went immediately into the kitchen and started cooking supper. It was already 4:30 and she wanted to have dinner prepared, eaten, and the dishes put up before the 6:00 o’clock news came on. She heard what Winifred said, something about Wallace standing in the door when Colored people tried to register, but that was about it.
That night Frances prepared a country dinner that included her specialty, fried okra. She fixed a pot of purple hull peas with a few bean sprouts thrown in, fried chicken, corn on the cob, and egg custard cups for dessert. A pitcher of sweet iced tea was served at every meal. Frances enjoyed cooking during the summer months when she wasn’t teaching. Winifred and Trisha enjoyed it too. They set the table and dinner was served at the dining room table at 5:20. Odelle ate in the kitchen like she always did. After dinner Frances suggested her daughters put the dishes in the sink. They could wash them after the news. By 5:58, everyone was in the living room, including Odelle, waiting for the news to begin. Odelle’s last chore for the day was ironing which she did standing up, using the ironing board that was placed in the corner of the living room.
That night it didn’t matter if they watched NBC, CBS, or ABC. Every channel focused on the same story—the integration of the University of Alabama. The family and Odelle watched it all on NBC. Winifred had been there when Wallace stood in front of Foster Auditorium and she had eaten lunch with Vivian Malone. When the announcer reported Vivian Malone and James Hood had registered for classes in Foster Auditorium, everyone was silent. Everyone, that is, except Odelle.
“Why that girl want to go where she ain’t wanted?” asked Odelle.
Winifred was stunned. She thought Odelle would be elated. Winifred believed this was a major victory for Civil Rights, but did not say anything. She began to realize Nana and Daddy Mims’ and Odelle’s generation would have to pass before beliefs and opinions about integration would change in Alabama.
The next day summer school began for Frances and Winifred. They would drive to Tuscaloosa, drop Trisha at Helen’s home in Alberta City, and park the blue and white Bel-Air at a strip mall next to the University because automobiles were still not allowed on campus. Mother and daughter would attend their respective classes, meet at the Union Building, walk to the strip mall, pick up Trisha and go home. This would become their daily ritual that fateful summer of 1963.
Homewood,
