Sitting there watching the clock on the wall in front of me, I wanted to escape ... escape the foulness in the air, the apparent lack of anything worth living for. Where had everything gone wrong? But then that’s why I had come here -- because everything had gone wrong, and nothing mattered except to somehow get things right.
12:06
I had just gotten off the bus from Jackson Mississippi, it seems the bus was about to throw a rod and wouldn’t make it all the way to Chicago. Chicago, it seemed a world away. Spending the summer, this summer -- what was it they were calling it? The "Summer of Love?" I guess nobody stopped to inform the white population of Mississippi -- yeah, spending this summer in the South which had been nearly four years long since I first came here in ‘64 to help register colored citizens to vote. Sometimes the hate was so thick -- no, nothing could cut it.
It’s not so bad for me at least these days. I suppose I look old enough now to pass for a northern businessman -- they don’t resent carpetbaggers so much, but it’s the scalawag I used to be they really hated. “Just one of those commie northern college boys come down to stir up our good negras.” Yeah, I heard that a lot back then, but how bad could it really get? Sure I got beat up a few times -- and God, that’s where the hate really came through. I think they didn’t beat me so hard because I was white though. Traitor, that’s what they’d say, but I could see them hold back, but the black man next to me -- Him? They never held back. It was thick alright, but this had to change and I wouldn’t let anything interfere.
The clock ticked, pinching out moments in a timeless game.
The torch has been passed to a new generation -- ask not what your country ...”
Because if we don’t act now what good is tomorrow? What could it mean to live in the land of the free? That’s what I was thinking anyway.
It seemed my stop over in Little Rock was going to be a few hours. They had to send to Fort Smith for another bus -- wherever that was. I hoped it was in Arkansas. And then he sat down in the row of chairs in front of me.
The picture before me was almost comical. He sat there, a gold tinted tuft of hair peaking up and out of place, bronzed skin worn by the sweat of long days out in the field, scarred blue overalls and mud gathered field boots. A quintessential cracker; I even thought for a second a piping of straw hung down from his mouth.
But there was no straw, he was smiling and his pale blue eyes were shadowing my thoughts.
People milled about, nebulously plotting the points of the desperate struggle to get to where they were going -- only to begin worrying how they were going to get back. A man shouted, “12:15 to St. Louis, now boarding.” Who ever heard of angry revolutionaries swinging their feet together with their oppressor in lily pad park pools? No, no, we are not satisfied.
“You one of those civil rights workers ain’t you.” He was looking right at me. I didn’t know whether to be frightened or ignorant. I just looked at him. “You know it’s getting harder to tell now-a-days. Ya’ll ain’t in collidge no more, not quite a’fresh faced. And ya don’t always got them ties on. But I can tell -- you know how?” I was curious, I wanted to know, but I just sat there trapped by walls of apprehension. I moved forward in my seat hoping his voice would ebb as I drew closer. “You can see it in your eyes. It’s that glowy kind of righteous look, as if ya can’t do nothin' else ‘cept save the whole damn world.” His profanity was soft and I somehow felt as though he was not there to start trouble, at least not in any physical way.
“Oh, that’s alright by me. I guess you doin’ the right thing. Don’t make me no never mind if the coloreds vote. It’s not like that’s gonna really change folks anywho. Oh, and I know the change you want. I know how you northern boys think.” He was in his fifties I would guess, but it was hard to tell. The sun stroked wrinkles on his face made him look much older, but youthful vigor grew robust in the muscles of his arms. They looked as hard and tight as any man of thirty. “Yeah, I think it’s high time they done somethin’, but I guess my views ain’t so pop’lar ‘round here. Makes me wonder, people actually give a damn enough to go around ‘n dress like some pointy headed ghost rider and burn the cross o’Jesus -- just cause he’s mad about somebody gettin’ a’part uh what he’s always taken fer granted. Don’t that beat it?” Yes it does, but someday the work will be done and life can go back to what it should be. But until then those pointy hats, as he so aptly called them, have got to be addressed.
“Ya know, I think one-a-my distant cousins is one of the grand wizards, dirt dumb, between you and me, his wife now, she’s sharp as a tack. Bitter hateful woman, but sharp as a tack -- You don’t talk much do ya? Usually you civil rights boys don’t mind talkin’ to me. Yeah, I met a bunch of ‘em, and they all got the glow. Nothin’ else, jes save the world ... what is it? Peace, justice and the Merican way?”
“Truth.”
“What was that -- so you do talk. Truth is it? I should watch more tel’vision I reckon, just always got somethin’ better to do. You know what I like best of all Mr. Truth, I guess I’ll have to call you that on account I don’t rightly know if’n you can say anythin’ else.”
“No, I’m sorry, I guess I was just preoccupied.”
“Too much to say hello?”
“I know, it’s just that, well you know -- my name’s James, James Tracey. I’m a lawyer from Chicago, and you’re right I was down in Mississippi registering people to vote. So what is it that you like best of all?” I cracked a smile at him suggesting my embarrassment and noting my passive interest. His eyes grew wide with excitement and his face glowed as he revealed just what it was he liked best of all.
“Snappin’.” Snappin’? He saw the quizzical look on my face, and his own expression reflected my attitude almost as if he was equally surprised that I had no idea what Snappin’ was.
12:21
He slowly moved to his feet and waded over to the chair next to me, throwing my discarded newspaper over to the next seat.
I repeated back to him in a questioning tone, Snappin’?”
“Yeah, Snappin’, folks used to say I was snappin’ fore I ever came outta my Momma’s womb. Justa snappin’, about the snappinest, well, I guess the snappinest dude thay ever was.”
My tone became a struggle for understanding, almost declaratory to emphasize my need for clarification. “Snappin’.”
“Yeah, Snappin’,” his voice droned up an octave and moved higher up the scale with each repetition. “Snappin’ ... Snaaappin’ ... SNAAAAPPIIIIN’.” Exasperated he lunged to his feet and stood out in the aisle barely drawing the attention of two elderly ladies in white gloves and netted hats sitting three seats to my left. “Boy, you big city northern folks amaze me. You don’t know ‘bout snappin’? Just how does you’ens live?” My eyebrows raised as if I too was as flabbergasted that I didn’t know Snappin’. How could I possibly have lived?
He turned to an angle in front of me, rigid in form and utterly motionless. His right hand extended outward, slowly rising to a ninety degree angle with his body. Palm side down and then slowly twisted palm side up. He extended his index finger outward and with the rest of his digits made a fist. Then the thumb rotated over to make a pointing gun with his hand ... and then he snapped and the fingers rolled to create that first clicking sound followed by two more in melodic succession * **. His previously rigid arm moved rhythmically with the snaps until his body bent and contorted with the sounds of staccato clicking * ** *** ** * * ** * ** * * soon the tongue joined in audible smack accompaniment ** < < < * * < * < * < ** until the whole of his body -- joints, fingers, tongue, nails, all moved and mashed to create a cricketed chorus of taps and smacks and clicks of all sorts * <*< ** <*> >*< >> *** << ++ ## ^^ < > < _ + # # ** * * >< ** > <> <> ÿ § <><> <** ÿ * ÿ and then rigidity returned with the right arm again extended, the snaps slowly ebbing in their course * *** * * *** ** * * * and then with a brief pause the final sounds, * * * * ! The final sound was a hollow thump emanating from the depths of his shoulder, loud, corrosive and hauntingly grotesque.
He stood there in front of me quite still, sweat pouring down that windswept face. His right arm was limp at his side, and with his left he pulled a red kerchief from his pocket to sweep across the brow of that saddle worn skin. Then he smiled.
“That last one was my real show stopper, hurts to throw my shoulder outta socket now’days, but back in my prime it was nothin’, and oh the sound, much clearer then.” He sat back down beside me and gave a little grunt while he apparently thrust his shoulder back into place. “Now that’s Snappin’, Jimmy.” I just sat there and nodded my head. I didn’t know whether to applaud or laugh. This was the sort of hillbilly fare you can only dream of, but could never really believe that such hokey nonsense might ever actually occur.
“It was different back in my day though, used to be the biggest attraction ‘round these parts. Well, I guess not so much here in Little Rock, city folk gotta way a’puttin on airs, and seein’ how this is the cap-i-tull and all.” He sat back and took a minute to settle down. His chest eased in and out and for a moment things were quiet.
A woman over in the corner of the terminal watched her son as he ran circles around her baby’s carriage. She grabbed him by the arm and swat down towards his face. The child laughed. She had missed. With the second swing there was no laughter, only the red of her print against his white pained skin. Three black youths stood knee-propped against the far wall to the right, their hands placed proudly on their crotches. Three white teenagers stood knee-propped against the far wall to the left, their hands placed proudly on their crotches. A mirror image, a world apart. And the clocked ticked on.
What then must be done? We voted for a man who knew the words to our hymns, but not the numbers on our paychecks.
1:03
The display hardly seemed to faze anyone in the terminal, but then it reminded me of some wino at the train station in Chicago dancing for a dime, and nobody ever seemed to notice that either. Then he began again.
“Back in my day things was differ’nt from what they is now, a lot more simple. Folks then didn’t even much care about this whole civil rights business neither, black or white. And just what is this black power ... is that some kinda magic? See, if the country went through the Great Depression in the thirties, I reckon we always had the Bad Depression here. People were so poor they found they own ways a’amusin’ themselves. They used to come from miles around to see Snappin’ shows. I guess you’d prolly call it a tournament or somethin’ fancy like that. But this was more like a fair, which I guess it was since most times it happened at county fairs and the like. Yeah, back in the day things was simple.” He had a look of melancholy nostalgia on his shaking head, but this was more than mere fond remembering. You could see a sense of disappointment on his face, not that the times were gone, perse, but that they were forgotten.
“I’ll skip the in between, but let me tell ya‘bout the Great Snap Off of ‘32." He smiled and grinned, eagerly waiting for a nod to suggest it was time to begin his story. "It seems that was the only thing folks was talkin’ ‘bout that year. It was to be held here in Little Rock at the Fair Grounds on the first weekend in November. Ya, that’s all folks talked about all Summer and Fall, who’s gonna be what’s doin’ how’s to who. All that jabberin’, folks don’t much jabber ‘bout ‘portant stuff like that no more.”
“Now by Snappin’ standards I was still pretty green, only been in a few snap offs down home. You know they’s just small time events, but my Pa, he knew, he knew alright, saw it right away, and he knew jes what I could do if’n I put my mind to it. Like I said, folks used to say I was Snappin’ before I came outta my Momma’s womb. That year the quality of Snappers was ne’er to be duplicated. Poppy Calloway who had won just about everythin’ for the last twenty years or so before that was there, and so was Louisiana Pops, who was really from Mississip’. But then that’s another story.” He gave a hint of a chuckle and then proceeded.
“See this was also ‘fore ever’body got all up in arms about the coloreds too, so Davis “Snap” Jackson was there. I reckon he won just ‘bout everything else that Poppy didn’t. He was from Northern Arkansas and rarely ventured out of the hills. I spose he’d heard bout all the doin’s and what not, and jest had to be a part. Course only a few folks heard ‘bout me, but those what knowed me, they knowed they was somethin’ special there. Not like I’s braggin’ or nothin’ but that’s jest how it was, like I said Snappin’ before I ever came outta my Momma’s womb. I was jesta Snappin’.” His tale went on and I began to wonder if this was just a spinning ball of yarn for the benefit of a less than knowledgeable Northerner, or if such ridiculous events really took place.
It seems he was about sixteen or so at the time of this snapping event. I thought it rather ironic that the biggest event of 1932 was a Snap Off, as opposed to the most pivotal election of the 20th century. He was, if anything, a born story teller.
Snappers, he explained, could use any audible noise the body could make except tapping of feet. “Nope, can't do that -- that’s dancin’. I thought you city boys was smart?” But the most important rule was that a snap had to occur at least half the time. “And that’s pretty hard if you crack too many knuckles, gotta keep count and keep snappin’.” He seemed entranced by the complexity of the rules and became agitated at some of my naive suggestions. “Clappin’? That’d be stupid. Folks what clap only do so because they can’t make no better noise .... Clappin’? Where’d you say you’ens from, cause seems sometimes like it’s the moon. Clappin’.” His lips blew out the sound of disgust but then rolled into a smile before he began again.
The event opened with each contestant standing on the stage performing a compulsory exercise of something akin to snapping Simon Says. An older expert not in competition would sound out a routine of snaps, some complex and some simple, but those who did not mark the specific cadence were out. The judges sat right in front eyeing each contestant watching for a missed cue. “Then behind them was a sea a’faces that stretched out to what seemed like Oklahoma, but a’course it was prolly only a few thousand or so, and microphones not bein’ so much in them days you had to keep an awful quiet to hear anythin’ in the back. Likeways, if’n you was gonna use a finger pop, or elbow snap, you’d better be good enough to make the sound travel. But you gotta realize, they’s death silence round and that helped. Nobody said a word, after all this was about Snappin’, not talkin’.”
“The first to go down was one o’them Texans -- they can’t snap anyhow, alls I remember is this guy’s big ol’ ears.” After the initial round ten were left and there was a brief recess. “Then the Snappin’ Queen came out. She was so purty, golden hair strung down in a braid on her back. Bluest eyes I’d ever seen and a mouth full of shiny white teeth. She was wearin’ a blue satin dress which back in those days was somethin’ only a princess, or in this case a Queen, coulda weared.” He gave a playful wink at his royal pun. “I was instantly in love. I thought if only I win she’ll fall fer me. I had to win -- you understand -- I was already in agony and I’d only just seen her for the first time not jest a’second before.” The Queen officially recognized the remaining contestants, reading their accomplishments as if it were a resume to apply for a vice-presidency in a securities firm.
“Till a’course she got to me. She’d knowed all the rest if by nothin’ else than by reputation, but me, she stopped and turned backwards as I moved forward when my name was read off. She just looked back and stared for a second. I jest stood froze in my overall’s, white go-to-meetin’ shirt and black Sunday boots what Pa give me that very same day.” And then the miracle happened. “Gall darned if she didn’t smile at me ... if the others had knowed the fact that had on me, I spose they’d cried foul. I knew right then she loved me too.”
The contestants drew lots to see what order they would proceed for the final Snap Off. Three towners, as they were called, drew the first slots. They were local boys from Little Rock who always entered but were never quite good enough to win, probably due to their urban insensitivity to the real intricacies of Snappin’. The final three were named: third from last Poppy Calloway, second from last Snap Jackson and finally, “lucky I guess, I was last.”
1:20
One after the other proceeded on to the stage, the fixated collective eye of the audience anticipating there first move. “Some guys’ould come out and try to wow people with flashy costume and some kinda silly routine, gyratin’ and gesticulatin’ all around. That’s how you could kinda weed out the good from the bad. See if you really got the snap, you ain’t gotta have all the flash. You jest Snap. They say I used to snap in my Momma’s womb, fore I’s born even!”
The first snapper came out obviously nervous. He practically stumbled out to the center of the stage. A short man in his mid-thirties, he was a towner in a gray pinstripe suit whose pants were a full four inches from the ground. “Didn’t matter though, in those days people wore their pants a bit higher. Not like today with those hippy kids wearin’ sailor pants which flop all over their legs.” He swathed a sweaty palm across a sweated brow taking a long last second to scan the crowd. Slowly the sound came forth * ** *** slow and tedious, devoid of inspiration. The crowd gave a low groan as he finished, mopping his flowing brow again as he crept off the stage.
One after the other, locals and foreign competitors came and went, and this year there had even been a Yankee. He was ironically from Chicago, “jes’ like you. You know I been to Chicago. Yeah ever once in a while we go up to Wrigley Field when the Cubs is playin’ the Cardinals. See we ain’t got no real Southern baseball teams, ‘ceptin’ those carpetbaggers what moved to Atlanta from Milwaukee, so ever’body roots for the Cardinals. Course they was good back in my day jest like now, and this was before the colored players started. I like that one kid they got, Gibson, somethin’ fierce in that boy. And I never did see a player what could run like Lou Brock, but then the Birds ain’t been the same since Stan the Man re-tired.” The Yankee strode out from the side shadows. He was dressed in a modest black suit, black thinly striped red and blue tie, and pointy, shiny shoes. He stretched out his right leg and silently slid it back into his body seemingly sending a shiver out to a waving finger *. Then he proceeded to duplicate the feat with his left side. Slide and wave * before both legs ebbed out, and with a turn of his whole body the display began. ** * * * ** ** a percussion of sounds soon commenced, * ÿÿ * *** * ÿ # ÿ # *** # # ** ÿ * *** * ÿ *** ÿ, but as ambitious as it was, “it was still jest a’Yankee.”
The crowds responded with their approval, but it paled with the swelling roar that soon spoke up. Heads turned on stage and off, until the deafening claps silently crawled away. A vaunted figure moved slowly, as befit both his age and stature, towards the stage. Only the echoes of tiny black crickets and hidden Katie-dids remained. Grey tufts waved under the spot lights glow, broad shoulders extended out from an aging silk collar, extending down towards the tails of an ancient tuxedo. “Jeans a’course, he was wearin’ jeans and shiny black cowboy boots underneath. There ain’t enough o’s in smooth to describe it though.” He was like the great warrior called into battle one last time to save his country, Cincinnatus, recalled from ancient glory. He stopped slightly left of center stage and bowed to the throngs of awe struck faces and toothless grins. He moved slightly to the right of center stage and bowed to an equally awed and begging crowd. “Beggin’ cause he was the best, he was the reason they were all there, and he was the closest thing to God any of them would ever know. Ya see, most of them city folks was Reformed, and that just ain’t gonna get it done.” Another wink came as I realized this was a joke, and I had to assume he was of another more selective denomination, but of this wit I remained witless.
* * * * * ** **** * * * * ** * **** * * ** *** A heavy drop of fingers, a splashing display of two united hands crafting a melody in monotone clicks. Beat upon beat, pounding faster, poking at the air. “It was Snappin’.” ** ** ** *** *** *** * * * * ** ** *. Again and again in almost a fidgety rapture until hearts seemed to break at the ease with which the sound came. And then just as the seizure began to take hold, sounds of all sorts poured from the body, <> * * === *** ** > ^ #ÿ# * * * ** ÿ **** *** ÿÿÿ ** ** ** ÿÿÿÿ *** ÿÿ ** ÿÿ ÿ *** ÿ Ç ** ÿÿÿÿ ÿ * ÿÿ ** ÿÿ ÿÿÿ“ ** ÿ ÿ ÿ ** ** ÿ ÿÿ ÿ* * * ÿ* +ÿ +ÿ* **)( *** ^%((*#(*** ** * ^*^ *((* ÇÓÇ *** çç ** ÿÿ ÿ ** çƒç ** ÿ ** ÿ ** ¥ÿ * ÿÿÿ ** • ** confusing the mind with an array of seeming machine gun fire, a point of madness to endure and go beyond until slowly ebbing to the methodical melody and grace that began with a simple *. “My heart sunk when I heard it, I had never heard Snappin’ like that, and for the first time I was ashamed of what I did, all the times I used to entertain the old boys what hung out at the barbershop, playin’ for Momma whilst she cooked, snappin’ so’s my baby sister ‘ould fall to sleep. But out of that shame grew another feelin’. Poppy Calloway bowed to the audience and I heard what sounded like thunder, and suddenly I was proud again. He looked at me and darned if he didn’t wink.”
Jackson came up next. By this time the people were on their feet buzzing from what they had just heard. “And folks knew that if anyone could come close to ol’Poppy it was Snap Jackson. I mean they didn’t call him Snap for nothin’. I looked at him as he moved out on stage, right before he went up the first step he was met by Poppy. They both looked at each other for a sec’, and then gave a smile and a chuckle slappin’ at the other’s hands. They had been through quite a few tussles in their day. Sometimes it was Snap, sometimes Pops, but each time I reckon they figured the other was the better one. I guess it’s because they’s both the best, but totally diff’ernt. It was respect, real respect.”
Jackson was seemingly liquid as he walked out to the stage. Fluid and graceful, an altogether different grace, however, than his rival. And he made the most of body gestures to enhance his peculiar artistry. Slowly beginning with echoed sounds * * * * ) ) ) * * * ( ( ( * ( * ( * ) * ) * ) ) ) * * * < < * * > > * * ( ( ** ** ) ) until a blend was achieved *(<>) *** (( <<*>> )) **** ((( <)***(>))) * < * <* < *** < * < * > * > *** > * > * > * and the sound could progress along a new line. * ÿÿ * ÿÿ *** < ^^ << *** >^^ >> **<^>** < ~> ** * * ** * < < *** *** * ^^ ^^ ** ** ~~~~~-- ** - *** -~-~- **** -** _- * -_- **- ** till such a flurry was achieved that it ended with a total combination. The crowd at once “jumped and death silence took hold. All of a sudden they begun to cheer, screamin’, cryin’ crazy shameless cheers. It was almost teeth pullin’ crazy. I was desperate. I couldn’t think. This was it, and I was licked before I even started. I looked around for somethin’, for somethin’ to break me away from what I’d jest seen. It was all too much ... until she again caught my eye. She was jest standin’ in back a’the judges, sittin’ purty in the regal robes what you get for bein’ the Snappin’ Queen. Her face was all lit up in the fluster of the moment, just smackin’ away at a piece a’gum an’ grinnin’ from ear t’ear. And as I watched the sparkle in her eyes, I jest knew what I had to do.”
“Now ya see, any sort of foreign object to produce a sound is illegal. That’s why they ain’t no foot stompin’llowed. So here’s what I did.
2:21
He waded out mischievously into the middle of the stage, and while the time for snappin’ was closely monitored to less than three minutes, that time did not commence until the first snap. So that gave plenty of leeway for setting atmosphere, an all too important aspect of Snappin’. Once there, he drove his hand menacingly into the front pocket of his overalls and made as if he pulled something out. Unwrapping it, he shoved it into his mouth; and all this without a sound. “Now to those way t’the back they musta thought I’d gone crazy and took out some gum or candy. Most people in the front even had half a’gasp on they faces. Some was jest grinnin’ at the new kid makin’ a fool mistake.” He gently opened his mouth, noticeably gesturing and extending his beginning ( and then down * opening ( and down again * ( * ) ( * ) ( * ) (*) (*) * until the plot was known and a roar of muffled laughter went shrill into the air. The hands extended outward, flailing a suprised motion ** *** ** *** ** * * )()( * ** ** * ()() and blowing outward, rattling in the breeze * * *** ^^ ** () ** )( ^ * ^ )( ** ** << * << a whole orchestra of sounds ÿ * * ç ** ** ÿ *µ * ÿ* * ÿ* ÷**÷ ÿ ** ÿ ** ÿ *ÿ* ¢ **** *ÿ§* *•* ÿÿÿ *** ˆ ** ¥ ** ´´ ** ˆ * ˆ *¨¨* ¥** **¥ *ÿ* to a deafening roar ÿÿ** ÿ **ÿÿ *** ÿÿ˜ *** ÿ* ÿ * ÿ * ÿÿ ** ÿÿ ** ÿÿÿ ***ÿ*** *çÿ *çÿ *çÿ *çÿ and a heightened pitch * * * ( ** ) ** ÿ ÿ * ¨ ** ÿ*ÿ*ÿ ÿ ÿ ÿ *** * * ÿ * *ÿ * * ÿ ¥**¥ ** )( *ÿ ÿÿ *ˆ ˆ ¥* ¥** ¥*** ¥** + **¥ *)*+*(*until bent and furious with sweat he stepped forward towards the crowd, and there renewed with only the snap of blinding fingers * * * *** ** * ** *** * * * ** * * ** **** **** *** * *** **** *** ** * * * ** ** * **** ** ** *** ** ** ** ** * * ** * *** *** *** * * * * *** ** ** ** **** ** ** ** * * * ***** ** then with a jerk to his right !and a jerk to his left !sockets and fingers flashed and ground in front of bewildered faces !*! !* !* **** *! !!* *!! * ** *! *! *! !*! !* !* ! *! !* *! !* !* *! *! !* !* * ***!! *!! *! * *** !*! !* !*!*! * ! * ! * ! * ! ** !!! *** !! * ! * ! * ! * ! * ! * ! * ! * ! * ! * ! * ! * ! *
“It was the first time ever I throwed my shoulders out before, but it seemed just as natural as anythin’ I’d ever done, just like snappin’. They say I used to snap before I ever came out a’my Momma’s womb.” With that, a wry bashful smile showered over his face. “I leapt off the stage and ran to my clappin’ Daisy, that was the Queen’s name. I knew I was never gonna let her outta my sight again. We were married three years later, and about three years after that little Wilson was born; went to Harvard, that’s right, that’s where she went to school. Then Junior was born ‘bout two years later. Never saw a more beautiful sight. He came out with his fingers crossed. I thought I heard him snappin’ on his way into the world. But with that gift I lost Daisy, not that I’m bitter though, I got two reminders of her and six more from them.” His face for a second seemed doused in sorrow, his eyes became wet and heavy. He moved his hand around his back, where I thought he was going to pull out his handkerchief, but instead he removed his wallet. “Ya, they’s everythin’ to me. You got anybody?” I moved my eyes away from him back up to the clock on the wall.
4:23
I could see the faint smile of a face reflecting in the glass. She had not wanted me to go. She said she wouldn’t be waiting when I returned as she had always done, not this time. But I went anyway. I was always putting her off for something else, some long far away cause, she said, when there was so much that could be done right there at home. Not this time, but I went anyway.
I really missed that smile.
A feeling of a firm hand gripped my distracted forearm. “Here see, take a look, these is my kids and they kids.” I silently gleaned over the portraits. “Yeah I been alot’a places, though I guess you’d never gather that. I jest always returned here. I learnt a’long time ago -- maybe that’s what I learned from that time with Poppy and Snap -- they’s lots a’stuff in the world, but so little of it really means much. This here is what life is to me,” he flipped the wallet to expose a grinning Queen, “the rest is jest Snappin’.”
I wandered out to find my bus, they had just made the final boarding call. He walked out with me, almost as if he were a relative waiting until I departed to say good-bye.
“Well Sir, it has been quite interesting getting to know you.”
“You jest hear what I say and have a good life, Jimmy.”
“By the way, I never did get your name.”
“Why ever’body jest calls me the Snapper, the Snapper of Garland County.” With that he smiled, turned around and walked back into the terminal. He stopped at the doorway waving as he yelled back, “See ya, Jimmy.”
I entered the bus and sat down towards the rear for the ride home. The world seemed somehow different, though I didn’t hardly know if the Snapper had “jest” been pulling my leg. I realized that there was a world there worth saving as well.
The doors of the bus opened and I hailed a cab to take me home. I moved to the doorway and opened the lock. Standing behind the open door, there she was, something really worth living for and right there in front of me all the time. I never let that out of my sight again. Tick, tick, tick ….
I have a Dream. By any means necessary.
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