July 4th, 1923: Dinner Time

Boom.

“Really?!” I shouted, covering my ears.

I walked into the kitchen then, still moaning about the loudness of the celebrations inside.  I appreciate the celebrations, sure, but living in New York is making a strong distaste for them grow inside me.  How are people celebrating so loudly when we have a president as corrupt as Harding?  If I were president, I’d actually keep my cabinet in check.

Sitting down at the table, I said, “Why do we have to live here?  It’s too loud with all the people.’
Whoops.  Here we go again.

“Ebony!” scolded my momma.  “I’ve never thought of hearing you say such a thing.”

Father thought it his place to chime in.  “We’ve been through too much to get to this point.  I had to stand for hours at Ellis Island just to get through all the checkpoints.”

There he goes again.  Really, he can’t go a week without mentioning that.  Coming from Scotland to New York on a boat apparently wasn’t the hardest part of immigration.  It was the standing at Ellis Island.  He came a week before they installed the wooden benches some time in 1903.  Ask him about it.  He’ll probably try to claim he still has blisters on his feet.

“And me, Ebony,” said Momma.  “It took a whole lot of effort for my people to move up here, and I was lucky enough to find work in Harlem.  Do I have to show you again?”

“No, Momma,” I groaned.  She was about to pull out a copy of Crisis, the NAACP’s magazine.  In a 1920 issue, a cartoon called “The Reason” was published.  A ribbon across the picture says “TO THE NORTH,” and the black man in the picture is running from the site of another being hung from a tree, white man right beside him.  So Momma and her family moved up north, just a few of hundred of thousands of black people who’ve moved out of the south because of all the lynchings.  Some were running from the lynchings; some were running for jobs and freedom.  Momma and her family were running for both reasons.

Yeah, I appreciate living in the city.  I’m fortunate to not live down south where Momma grew up, but dang, is it loud on Independence Day.