When the Jaybird Sings
By Beverly Jennings

Dedication

When the Jaybird Sings is dedicated to my parents who actually lived ths story, and to my friends who suffered through many corrected editions and never admitted to being bored.  Y’all know who you are.   

Our home was in a quiet little city set upon a bluff, overlooking the banks of a wide river. The river always held great fascination for me, wide and deep, busy, inviting, and always forbidden to us children. We were at the end of the city, not far from where the deep piney woods started. If we went up our street, it led to a proper town with stores and many Victorian houses. If we went straight from our back yard, across a street or two, we came to the river, and if we went the opposite way, the houses were further apart, giving a country atmosphere. I would think back later and feel we had the best of all worlds at our fingertips.

This was Savannah, Georgia, in the early part of the new century. She slumbered beside a deep river running to the sea, decorated with festoons of Spanish moss hanging from old and huge live oak trees, her canopy the open sky. She was set apart from events which concerned other places, and was just now awakening from her peace to greet a new dawn, a dawn which would propel her, ready or not, into that new century. If Momma, Poppa or Old Grammy could see how she had changed, they’d fail to recognize the Savannah they knew, for in our days, she was a quiet town, still recovering from the effects of the war fought almost sixty years before.

I was born in the year 1914.

I was named Maria after the Italian grandmother I had never met and until the day I was married, I lived with my family, Momma and Poppa, my sister Estelle, my brother Joey and Old Grammy, in a large Victorian apartment house on the far end of East Bryan Street. Ours was a lovely house, built high above a crawl space, two stories tall, with two apartments on each floor. We lived on the top floor, which we reached by a long staircase, which in turn led to a balcony running between two apartment doors. We shared the balcony much the same as we shared our lives. It was a friendly time when neighbors were more like family and joined their happiness and sorrows together.

Our end of the street was still unpaved and was made of sand from which clouds of dust arose from an occasional passing motorcar or a horse and wagon. In rainy times it was filled with puddles that disappeared with the day’s hot sun and heat. It seemed it was always hot, the sky always blue and vast, the humidity always high, always sunny, but, of course, it wasn’t. We had our rainy days just as we had our rainy times. This was Savannah as it was when I was young, the Savannah I have always loved. This is the story of my family and of my town.

My first memory is of a warm and secure feeling, quickly passing glimpses of Poppa, being carried in his strong arms. Then I remember a little more clearly, Momma and me, walking near the river, and Momma handing me a cattail from the marsh near the banks under the bluff.

Momma said I was born between two big events. She said I was between the sinking of the Titanic and the Great War. Momma said the Titanic didn’t affect people in Savannah much, they just read about it in the papers and said, “Oh my,” but everyone knew about the war and it bothered them a lot. She said the war was still going on and that many of the boys from Savannah had gone to fight.

Poppa came from a place in Europe called Italy when he was young. He lived with his momma in a city named New York, but he didn’t like it there and found a way to come to Savannah where it was warmer. Poppa was a bricklayer, Momma said he worked with bricks and built streets and brick walls and houses. Momma said she met him when she was nineteen and loved him from that day on. She said her momma and daddy raised a fuss like crazy when she said she was in love with Poppa and they told her she should start seeing someone from America. Momma said she and Poppa just ran off one day and got married. She said her momma and daddy were as mad as they could be at her, but they finally settled down when they knew I was coming. I wondered where I was coming from but Momma never said.

My momma used to tell me stories of when she was a little girl. Momma’s name was really Ruth and Poppa’s name was Joseph. Momma said when someone’s name was Joseph, many times they shortened it to Joe, or Joey, but Poppa liked being called Joseph, so that’s what Momma called him. Momma also said Poppa’s daddy had died when Poppa was a little boy and he had called his daddy Poppa, and it was why I learned to call him Poppa instead of Daddy. I didn’t think it mattered much as long as he was my Poppa. Momma’s momma and daddy lived in Savannah too, and Momma had two brothers who grew up to be my uncles. They all lived off near Statesboro and we saw them sometimes, and I had lots of cousins. They were all way older than me. And most of them were boys. With Jimmie Smiley who lived downstairs always getting me in trouble, I felt I had enough boys so I didn’t care much that we didn’t see them a lot more than once or twice a year when they would all come to town.

 Momma’s daddy’s momma, Momma’s grandma, was still alive and she lived with Grandma and Grandpa. She was very, very old. She was born before the War Between the States and she told terrible stories about when she was a young girl. I didn’t like her stories at all, I liked Momma’s stories a lot better. Everyone called her Old Grammy, and what Old Grammy did was go stay with her son, Momma’s Uncle Nathan, for a year or so and then stay with Grandpa, but the last time she went to stay with Grandpa, she must have liked it there, because Momma said Grammy never left again. As long as I could remember, Old Grammy had lived with my grandma and grandpa, and she scared me. Just to see her was scary.

She had pure white hair that was missing in spots and she tied it straight back in a knot. She was little and she was wrinkled and she had only one real eye. She had a fake eye too, but sometimes she didn’t wear it and she had a hole where her eye was supposed to be. Her teeth came out too. She wore black clothes all the time, and even when it was hot, her sleeves came down to her hands, which were bony like chicken’s feet. She had collars on her blouse that came almost to her neck, and her skirts went to the ground and dragged out behind her. Under her skirt she had high shoes that buttoned all the way almost to her knees. On top of her skirt she always wore an apron. I thought it must take her a long time to get dressed in the morning.

She could hardly hear and when she talked to me she shouted. She always shouted, even if she wasn’t mad, so it was hard to tell if she was mad cause she shouted all the time. Sometimes she would put a horn up to her ear and say to speak in that, or she’d tell me to talk in her good ear. She was a fearsome sight and Momma said when I was younger I cried when she came around. Momma said that upset Grammy as she really was a nice old lady once you knew her, not scary. She was just old and had a hard time of it. Momma said Grammy didn’t remember much anymore and all she talked about was Yankees and guns and fires and the war she was in when she was young.

My momma took the paper and every night she and Poppa would read it and they would talk about what it said, so I knew we were having a war now too, and I worried Poppa would have to go. I wondered if the Yankees would come here and try to burn us out like they did Old Grammy. Momma said Grammy’s war was a long time ago and we weren’t fighting the Yankees, we were fighting way across the ocean and it was the Germans we were fighting. She said not to worry because it was a long way off. And she said when Grammy talked about her war, I shouldn’t pay her too much mind as she didn’t remember everything the way it really was and that it hadn’t been that bad. She said, “It was bad, but not as bad as Grammy said, so just you stop worrying and stop pestering Grammy to think back to her bad times.” But I never asked Grammy to tell me her stories, she would just do it.

I remember my first day of school. That was the first time someone called me Little Onions and before the day was over, everyone was funning with me and asking if I cried little tears. I had looked forward to starting school and Momma had walked with me and left me with more kids than I had ever seen in one place. I don’t remember being scared. I was amazed seeing so many little desks and especially my teacher, who looked like a barber pole, all red and white stripes on her blouse. Her name was Mrs. Carter and she asked me if I could say my name out loud for her because she said she wanted to pronounce it right. I told her Cipoletti but that I didn’t know how to spell it yet. I said Poppa said it was Italian and it meant little onions, and that was how that started, the kids calling me Little Onions. That was the day I met Mary Lou Stevens who became my best friend and after the first day we walked to school together every morning and back home after school let out.

Jimmy Smiley was in my class too. I had played with Jimmie some at home, and it was Jimmie who got me in trouble a lot of times, even if Momma didn’t think so. She said I got my own self in trouble and not to go blaming anyone else.

Mrs. Carter said, “Is your name Maria, or is it Marie?” I told her it was Maria and she said she had never known anyone who was named Maria before, but she knew lots of people who were named Marie or Mary. I think I was the only girl in school who was called Maria and not Marie. I told her my poppa had come from Italy and she pulled down a map from in front of the blackboard and showed the class where Italy was. Poppa had said the name of the town where he had lived but I couldn’t remember what it was so Mrs. Carter said to ask him and she would show it to us. That was when I knew I was going to like school, even if I had to always be a little onion and I thought it was nice I was the only girl named Maria. I told Mrs. Carter Poppa said Maria was his momma’s name. She smiled so I thought she must like Poppa and then she asked the girl next to me what her name was and she turned out to be Mary Lou.

After school was over, Mary Lou and I walked out together and there was Momma waiting for us by the door. I told her all about Mary Lou and she walked with us until we came to her house and then she said she would see me tomorrow. I told Momma on the way home about Mrs. Carter and the barber pole blouse and how she showed us all where Italy was. Momma said that was nice.

I can’t remember anything much happening in school except that we sang “I Wish I was in the Land of Cotton, Away, Away,” every morning and Mrs. Carter taught us to write our ABCs and to add some numbers. Momma didn’t walk to school with me anymore. I just walked with Mary Lou and sometimes Jimmie, and Momma always said when we left, “Don’t go gettin’ in any trouble!” As long as Jimmie didn’t dare me to do something, most times we didn’t.

* * *

 One morning Momma didn’t wake me for school, Poppa did, and made me leave a little early and when I asked how come Momma wasn’t getting me ready he said Momma was sick. I never saw Momma sick before, so I was worried about her all day.

Mrs. Carter asked why I seemed so sad, and when I told her, she smiled. I thought it was odd she would smile when I had said Momma was sick. I was going to ask her why she smiled like that but then Jimmie made throw up noises and Mrs. Carter told him to stop and then she started talking about spelling words. I didn’t ask then because I knew I couldn’t talk to her when she was teaching.

On the way home I told Mary Lou that I had worried all day about Momma and was in a hurry to get home. When I did, Poppa was there smiling and said I had a new sister who was called Estelle. Momma was still in bed but now she had a little red looking baby and I asked if she felt better. I was also surprised to see she had gotten a baby somewhere and asked her if she was going to get up soon. Momma said she wasn’t sick anymore but that she would have to stay in bed a few days. I wondered why since she wasn’t sick. I knew no one could make me stay in bed if I wasn’t sick or ready to go to sleep and Momma said not to worry about it. Then I forgot about it and asked if I could touch the baby. She said I could and now I had a sister to play with in a few years, and that I was a lucky little girl to have a sister all my own. I pondered on it a little bit and said I wished she was bigger so we could play now. Momma said she would be big soon enough.

Estelle cried a lot. Sometimes she would smell nice, but other times she smelled bad. Momma said all babies were like that. Estelle didn’t grow very fast and I got tired of waiting for her to be big enough to play with so I kept playing with Jimmie. Jimmie still got me in trouble and one day I got really mad at him because he said, “Let’s go to the river and watch the boats.” Now I knew I was not supposed to go to the river alone. Momma had always said to stay around the house and not to go to the river, but I thought if I went with Jimmie I wasn’t alone and he said his momma let him go there all the time so I went with him.

The river was so big and wide, and the water was running so fast. We didn’t see any boats there, but all of a sudden I heard Momma screaming my name and Jimmie’s momma yelling at him too. Momma and Mrs. Smiley both had cut a switch and they were telling us to get back home, asking what had gotten into us, and they switched us on our legs all the way home, telling us they were ashamed of us and asking why we had to be so bad all the time. I started to tell Momma it was Jimmie’s fault again, that he had said it was all right to do and it wasn’t so, he lied to me. But Momma took his side again and said I didn’t have to do everything Jimmie said to do, did I? Couldn’t I think for myself and know how upset Momma would be if I went to the river after she said not to? And how would I like it if I drowned? I said I wouldn’t like that very much and Momma said, “Then stay away from the river.” She said she was too tired to go chasing me all over the neighborhood and that I wasn’t very nice because I made her come out and drag Estelle too, and Estelle was too young to be carried way out to the river.

I decided I didn’t like Jimmie anymore.

Momma said I could walk over to Mary Lou’s house and play with her and maybe she would be an influence on me since I was acting like such a tomboy. I didn’t get in trouble with Mary Lou and lots of times we would play dolls. Mary Lou’s grandmother had given her a doll that had been hers, it had a real looking glass head and hands and she said she had to be careful not to drop it because the head might break. We were careful and we played with Mary Lou’s tea set and sometimes Mary Lou would be the daddy and I’d be the momma and sometimes I’d be the daddy and Mary Lou would carry her doll and tell me I had to go to work and bring home some money. Once she dropped the doll, who was named Alice, but she didn’t break. After a while I wasn’t mad at Jimmie anymore and I told Mary Lou we should let him play dolls with us and he could be the daddy and then one of us could be a grown kid. She said that was okay so we asked him did he want to play with us but he said no. And Estelle didn’t grow very fast either.

Estelle was small and she could barely even walk but Momma said I should play with her now. She was so stupid, she wouldn’t do anything I said and even when I told her how to play a game, she didn’t know how. She was always taking one of my toys and if I said anything about it, Momma told me to hush and give it to her.