Myrtle

Guest Blogger: Neal

Myrtle and me in 1976.

I was trying to think of something interesting to blog about and one of the suggestions by my sister Georgia was to write about a woman was a big part of my life growing up-- a woman named Myrtle Lee.

Myrtle came to work for our family sometime between 1973-74. It feels strange to say that she worked at our house, when really, she was a part of our family. Since this part happened before I was born, this is information that I heard from my mother. My mother had just been called as the Relief Society president. In Louisiana in the '70's, the church was not what you would call strong. You didn't get a break just because you had six children at home and were pregnant with your seventh. Needless to say, she needed someone to help her out with the housekeeping and with the children. She had put the word out among her friends that she was looking for someone and she had interviewed several people, but had not found anyone she wanted to hire. Then Myrtle came. She was a tall, black woman probably in her fifties (more on her estimated age later) wearing a head scarf, or "headrag" as she called it. Of the questions she asked her, one was "do you like children?" Myrtle replied, "I don't like sassy ones." My mother told her that she didn't like sassy children either and that her children would never sass her, and if they did, they wouldn't do it twice. My mother said that from the moment she saw her, she knew that she was the person she should hire. She met my older siblings, and they instantly fell in love with her. Myrtle told her that she was thinking of taking a job working for another woman but that she would let her know. A few days later, Myrtle came to her first day of work. My mother said that my older brother who was about four ran out up to her when he saw her yelling, "I told you she'd come back! I told you!"

I'm not sure if my mother was already pregnant with me when Myrtle came to our house, or if she became pregnant soon after. One day, about six months into the pregnancy, my mother convinced Myrtle to help her carry a sofa up the stairs to the second floor of our house. I don't know what she was thinking, but despite Myrtle's protests, she got her to help her. A day or two later, complications began with the pregnancy, and Myrtle was convinced that it was because they had carried that sofa up the stairs. My mother said she was just sick about it and kept telling her "I knew we shouldn't have done that!" Myrtle's help would become even more valuable during that time, because my mother had to go on bedrest/limited activity for the remainder of the pregnancy. When I was born, Myrtle asked if she could be my "Black Mama." And that's what she was to me.

Myrtle was the one who gave me the little cloth diaper to use as my blankie that became my beloved "baggist." I remember just following her around all day as she did the housework and entertained me. I would follow her everywhere she went. She would set up the ironing board in my bedroom while I played or took a nap. Since I was the last child still at home when everyone else was in school and we didn't have any neighbors to play with, she was my world. We would play games and "read" books. The only problem was, Myrtle could not read or write. I never knew this until I was an adult. When we were too little to read I guess she would just make up the story from the pictures. When we were old enough to read, she would insist that we read to her. It never crossed my mind that she didn't know how.

Myrtle's inability to write was also a problem when it came to phone messages. When someone would call, she would answer by saying "Miss Annis' residence." I could never understand what she was saying until I was older. I remember thinking, "why does she answer the phone with 'ransa ransa?'" If someone called that she didn't know, she couldn't write down their name or phone number. She would scratch out a few numbers on a scrap of paper and give it to my mother. My mother would always just laugh and say "If it's important, they'll call back." Myrtle was also always afraid when anyone would come to the door. If it was someone that she didn't know, and she would never answer the door. She would make us hide and be quiet so they would think no one was home.

Myrtle and Miss Annis

Myrtle was full of interesting stories. Of course we had our favorites that we would ask her to tell over and over. One that we loved to hear was about when she went to a public hanging. She was young and I think she said it was a man who had killed his wife, or something. Her mother wouldn't allow her to go watch, but she snuck out of the house without her knowing it. She said the man was given one last request, and he wanted some orange juice. After that they hanged him. She said she ran home and got in her bed and pulled the covers over her head because she felt so bad about it. Her mother punished her and told her that's why she told her not to go. We also liked for her to tell a story about this lady she knew whose mother died and came back as a ghost and told the lady where she had hidden some money in the house. Myrtle was very superstitious and in her mind, this was a completely true story.

Myrtle lived in a part of town called the Sonya Quarters. It was a collection of shotgun houses and was a pretty bad part of town. My mother would sometimes pick her up at her house, but usually she would ride the bus to a bus stop closer to our house and she would pick her up there. Every day, I would hide in the car as we pulled up to the bus stop and pretend I wasn't in the car. Every time she would act surprised when I would finally pop up from behind the seat after we had driven away. Myrtle always refused to sit in the front seat of the car, no matter who was driving. Even when my older siblings who could drive would take her home, she always sat in the back seat. She had lived through much social change, and I guess old habits die hard.

Another memory I have is that in the afternoon, after all her work was done, Myrtle would go and sit on the porch or the swing in the yard and wait to be taken home. Of course I would often follow her and sit with her. She would usually get herself a drink of water, but would never use our glasses. Instead, she always drank out of a Mason jar. Again, I guess old habits die hard. One of her favorite things to eat was oranges. I always thought is was so funny that she would eat the whole orange, including the peel!

When my parents would go out of town, Myrtle would come and spend the night with us. We LOVED it--especially when we were in school and didn't get to see her very much. One of the highlights was that we would get to see her hair. Like I said before, she always wore a headrag covering her hair. At night she would take off the headrag before she went to sleep and we would get to see her hair all braided into tight corn rows. I don't know why that was so exciting, but she seemed to get a kick out of our excitement. She also loved to play the card game Old Maid, so of course that was on the agenda each afternoon. I always felt lucky because she would sleep in my room because I had twin beds.

Another interesting thing about Myrtle was that she did not know how old she was. I think she knew the day she was born, but not the year. I guess when you were born poor and black in rural Louisiana (She was born in Winfield, LA) in the early 1900's, you didn't usually have a birth certificate. It came up that she needed a birth certificate for something, so my mother helped her figure out an estimate of how old she was so she could get one. They had to track down someone who had known her all of her life and could verify her estimated birth year. I don't know the details, but I know it was not an easy process, and she was finally issued a birth certificate. A public records search I did on the internet shows her birth year as 1919.

Myrtle's husband died when I was in 5th or 6th grade and my parents, Charlotte, and I went to his funeral. We and another family she had worked for were the only white people in the Baptist Church in Sonya Quarters for the funeral. I remember not recognizing her at first because she wasn't wearing her headrag and her hair was not in corn rows. Myrtle was understandably deeply affected by her husband's death. It broke her heart. By then she didn't come to our house every day because there were only three children left at home and we were all in school. After her husband's death, she didn't really want to work anymore, and who could blame her. My mother would go to pick her up at the bus stop and often she wouldn't be there. She would go to her house and Myrtle would say she just couldn't come today. Finally, my mother had to tell her that she didn't need to come anymore. Of course, my mother still continued to send her paycheck to her every month for many years afterward. A year or two later, we moved away from Louisiana to Texas. I didn't see Myrtle again until I was all grown up and Leslie and I were married.

When we moved back to Texas, I wanted Leslie to see some of the places from my childhood and we went back to Louisiana. My mother knew where Myrtle lived and I called her so we could go visit her. She was ecstatic to see us. She still lived in a shotgun house in the Quarters, but she didn't wear the headrag anymore. When we went into her living room, she had our school pictures on the wall along with the pictures of her own children and grandchildren. She told us people always ask who those pictures are and she tells them they are her "white babies." After Audrey was born, we took her to meet Myrtle. She kept saying how she wished we lived closer so she could come take care of her like she did me.

The last time I saw Myrtle was at my mother's funeral. As I bid my mother farewell, it was comforting to know that I still had my black Mama, and that she was there to share in my grief.

Our visit with Myrtle in 2000

We used to send Christmas cards and occasional letters to her, but two years ago our Christmas card came back undeliverable. Leslie and I both thought she had probably passed away, because we couldn't find an address or phone number. Last night I paid for one of those records searches you can do, and to my surprise it came up with an address and phone number for her. Hopefully we can go and visit her again sometime soon.