Excerpt
from the Second Interview
C:
Right.
(p) Um,
let’s see . . . Tell me more about your Uncle Eddie.
You were telling me that you had a really close relationship with him.
S:
Oh! God.
He was just so . . . he was mentally retarded, you know.
My mom said he had more common sense than anybody.
(laughs)
He did, ‘cause you know, he was just . . . he just taught me so much,
you know? And
he knew so much.
And like I said, he was—I don’t know the technical term for what he
had these days, but back in the old days, before our time, long before our time,
anybody that couldn’t learn was called a moron.
You know?
And I guess when he was coming up, back in the fifties and early sixties,
he was considered a moron ‘cause he couldn’t learn.
And he was retarded, but, you know, I didn’t think of him that way.
You know?
I never did.
Even though I knew it, mentally, I just didn’t feel like that about
him. He
was just so wonderful to me.
Taught me a lot, you know?
C:
Like what?
S:
He taught me a lot about—well, he taught me how to cook, really.
C:
Really?
S:
Yeah, ‘cause, you know, he would always get in the kitchen and cook,
you know, ‘cause he lived by himself at the time, so he taught me a lot about
cooking, and a lot about a car, and . . . I didn’t really want to know about a
car, but he could tell you anything about a car.
You know, he couldn’t drive, but he loved cars.
He bought a car—couldn’t drive it, but (laughs) he bought a car
because he liked it.
But Uncle Ed . . . oh.
I remember when we were really little, there was a bar right around the
corner from my mother’s house, when me and my brother were little.
You know, my father was the oldest, so me and my brother are the oldest
grandchildren, so it was just the two of us.
I’ll never forget, my uncle used to take us to the bar, and we’d sit
at the bar, and the man would give us little drinks.
We had to go with them everywhere, since they were, you know, the
babysitters.
But he was just . . . he would cuss you out in a heartbeat.
(laughs)
He would really lay you out in a heartbeat, so . . . he always tried to
tell his brothers what to do.
He was the oldest, and it was just like he was the oldest.
He was the daddy, since my grandfather died when I was—my grandfather
died before I was born.
So he was the one home all the time, so you know, he just kind of took
over everything.
The house, you know.
My grandmother worked, she had seven boys, and, you know, he was the only
one at home.
So it was—he just walked, would walk us everywhere, tell us about
landmarks, you know . . . there was a train that went by our grandmother’s
house, there was a train track, you know, right behind there, and you could hear
the trains going, and he would tell us about the trains, you know, where they
were going, and what kind of train it was, and where it was made . . . he knew so
much. We
just didn’t understand, we were going, like, “How does he know all of
this?” You
know? You
do wonder, somebody who didn’t go to school, that was incapable of learning,
but knew a lot of stuff, you know?
There’s a national landmark that was right up the street, it’s an
all-girl’s school, I can’t think of the name of it.
But it’s a private school, it’s not too far up, just up at the next
block, I can’t remember the name of it—he used to tell us about the girls
who went there, and we’re going, like, “How do you know all of this?
You don’t ever go nowhere.
I could tell you a whole lot you don’t know.”
But he was just that type of person.
And I told my mama, I said, “Who deemed him to be a moron?”
My mama said, she said, “Shelly, I don’t know.”
“Well, why’d they call him one then?”
You know?
“Where do they get this ‘moron’ from?
‘Cause he’s not a moron.”
She said, “Shelly, you know, back in the day, that’s just how they
labeled him.
They said they didn’t want to teach him,” you know.
And I think that was wrong, but you gotta think, back in those days, they
didn’t have a lot of . . .
C:
Different programs, and . . .
S:
Stuff like that.
Stuff like that.
So he couldn’t go to school.
Like, now, they don’t say somebody is incapable of learning.
They’ll find somebody that’ll teach them.
But back then, you know, they didn’t have that, so . . . he learned
street-wise.
(laughs)
He learned street-wise.
But he knew a lot.
He was very smart.
A car, he could tear it apart and put it back together again.
You know?
And to think, they deemed him unable to learn. (p)
And that’s sad, when you think about that.
That’s really sad.
So you know, if you thought about it now these days, I mean, I think that
somebody would have a lawsuit on their hands or something.
C:
How do you, like—why do you think you became as close with him as you
did? You
told me in the last interview he was like your best friend, and you . . .
S:
I guess ‘cause, you know, we spent a lot of summers with him, because
both of my parents worked . . . my father’s job, you know, he traveled a lot,
so him and my mom got to see a lot of things, and they were always going on
vacation, and my father was an insurance salesman, and he went on a lot of
trips. You
know? He
and my mom used to go places, on cruises, all the time.
My father had one for best salesmen, you know, and we spent a lot of time
with him. I
guess that’s why.
‘Cause we spent a lot of summers at our grandmother’s house.
You know?
I guess that’s—history repeats itself, you know, you send the kids
somewhere ‘cause you can’t, ‘cause you’re out doing something, and
that’s just the way God . . . (laughs) ‘Cause my daughter, she does
something, you know, and if something good happens to her I gotta go tell Uncle
Jamie. That’s
my brother. ‘Cause
she spent a lot of time with him, and I guess he done spoiled her, and Uncle Ed
spoiled me just like my brother spoiled my daughter.
We just got to spend time with them, you know?