It was the egg sandwich what done it

St. Augustine School, 903 Walker Avenue, Memphis, TN.

I was to live and breathe with the holy nuns of the order, Sisters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, from second grade through high school. They were a constant stream in my life, recurring over and over as I progressed through the system. I would have the same home room teacher in 9th and 12th grades. Two of them I would always cherish because one gave me music and the other gave me literature. The first was Sister Mary Evangelist, BVM. She was a violinist, pianist, band teacher and gave me my first tonette. The second was Sister Mary Janelle, BVM, who would later cast me as Mr. Boggins in our high school play, Professor How Could You. But, I’m rushing a bit. We’ll probably visit this little schoolhouse and chapel on the hill quite a bit as we roll on.

Circa 1948. I’m in fifth grade, in a class room on the second floor of the main building. It is near noon and we are in arithmetic class. I was good in math, and generally did my homework. As we are going through the lessons of the day, I hear footsteps on the fire escape on the left side of the room. A head is seen moving up the stairs, and the classroom immediately turns attention to the door which opens onto the fire escape. Sister Mary, whomever she was that year, clapped her hands and instantly regained control.

There is a knock on the door. Sister goes and opens it. I could not immediately see who was in the doorway because the angle was somewhat acute. Sister turned to the class and announced, “We have a visitor.” The Pavlovian response to all was rise and turn toward the door. Sister announced, “Mr. Brooks, Christopher’s father!” Everyone, in unison child soprano, perfect pitch declamatory style intoned, “Good Morning, Mr. Brooks.” I had difficulty saying Mr. Brooks, and couldn’t say “Good morning, Daddy,” and then I suddenly needed to go to the bathroom. Immediately! I knew I would have to “hold it until the morning, ” an old admonition when we lived in the shotgun house, with the outhouse out back and no one wanting to go out in the dark with me.

Dad stepped inside the room, and in his perfect sonorous voice said, “Sister, I’m sorry to disturb you but my son left his lunch.” I had my lunch under my desk!

Sister said, “Welcome, Mr. Brooks. I’ll give it to Christopher. “Thank you,” he replied, and turned to go. Just as he was about to take the first step down the ladder, he turned and asked, “Do you mind if I stay and watch the class?” Sister was delighted. No parent, to my knowledge had ever entered a class room during normal school hours.

Sister, turned to the class, and seeing that I was standing, aghast, suggested that T. J., or whomever he was move to the front. Dad would take his seat next to me. I think I was too young to sweat, but I really needed to pee. I would hold it. I was trained. The Brookses could hold it. Dad came back and sat down next to me.

The class continued. Sister peeled out the next question? “What is the difference between an acute and isosceles triangle?” I, sitting in a daze did not know what was happening. I turn to look at Dad and his hand was in the air. There was this din of children all vying to be the first one to answer, while Sister looked in the direction of my father. All the children turned and look in my direction. I looked up, and my father’s finger was pointing down at me.

I don’t remember whether I answered the question or not. I don’t remember when the class was over. I don’t remember getting the fried egg sandwich. I don’t remember much about the rest of the day.

Dad left, because he had to go the work. He had the swing shift. When he came home around 11:30 that night, I was at the kitchen table reviewing my homework. He said, “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” I looked at him, and he left the kitchen to prepare for bed.