by Darryl Brooks

Created on: January 21, 2009

Mamma has always had a love for other people's possessions. When I was growing up, this always created a sense of confusion and doubt at home. We'd be visiting at Aunt Cathy's or our cousin's house down in Coultree County. Mamma would admire a new piece of silver or some fine china statuette. A few days later, I would see the object of her desire in our house. One day, when I was old enough to figure out something was wrong, I asked her about it.

"Mamma, isn't that the serving spoon Aunt Cathy had last Sunday?"

Mamma would just sort of wave her hand dismissively. "She knew how much I loved that piece Isn't it lovely?" or "Wasn't that a thoughtful gift?" and trail off without really saying anything.

Late at night, I could hear angry words behind closed doors. I couldn't hear the words but I knew what Papa and Mamma were fussing about. Sometimes the item would end up back where Mamma first saw it. Sometimes it would disappear entirely, and it would be years before I knew what happened to it.

As I grew older, visits to other people's houses grew more infrequent. I would ask Mamma why we didn't go visit Aunt Cathy or Uncle Lee any more, and she'd just shake her head.

"Them sisters and brothers of mine got too uppity. Think they're too good to have the likes of us in their fancy homes. " And that would end the subject.

Finally, we stopped going to anybody's house anymore, and no one came to visit us either. I missed my cousins, and even a lot of the kids in the neighborhood stopped coming around.

That's about when my Mamma started going shopping. She would catch the bus into town and spend hours at Kresge's or Woolworth's. She never came home with any bags or packages but the next day, I'd sometimes see some new trinket on the sideboard or the shelf in the front parlor.

Mamma and Papa really started going at it then. They'd be up late at night, shouting in the back bedroom. I'd hear Papa yelling and Mamma crying, then doors slamming. Sometimes Papa would leave and wouldn't come home until the next night. Then I'd see Mamma wander through the house mumbling to herself or banging her fists against the side of her head.

I was older then and it didn't scare me as much as it did when I was just a kid, but it still made for some long nights. I wanted to help and make the yelling go away, but I didn't know what was wrong. I knew by then that Mamma was stealing, and it was wrong, but I wanted all the yelling to stop, and I didn't want Mamma to hurt herself.

Then one day, Mamma went

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