The Help and My World

Recently I have been reading The Help. This novel tells the story of black maids working for white women in Jackson, Mississippi just as the Civil Rights Movement breaks into their world. A white woman aspiring to be a journalist collects stories from the maids about their working experiences, stories that include both terrible cruelty and great love, ironically twisted together.

Today is my day off, and I was reading in bed, then laid the book down to rest a moment. I heard a knock on my back door, a common occurrence, as we have a basketball hoop that neighborhood kids are allowed to use, but only if they ask first. I can see the back door from my second story window, and looked out to see who was knocking. I can often just wave my acceptance without going downstairs.

A small boy held up my keys, which I had obviously left in my back door, hanging from the lock, inviting anyone to enter the house at will or alternately steal my car, borrower's choice, not the first time I've done this.

I ran down to retrieve them, and thanked the child and asked his name and the name of his sister, and told them my name. I assumed he wanted to play ball then noticed the keys. I told him I was glad he noticed instead of someone not so nice discovering them. Then I learned he didn't want to play at all, he was just riding his bike past and noticed them, and decided to knock on the door and give them to me. I was even more impressed and grateful that he took the trouble to help me. I thanked him again, and as he rode away he said, "You're welcome, Ms. Kathy."

At first knock I was annoyed at the interruption in my rest. I left my back door being grateful for his kindness. And I thought of the book I was reading and complicated relationships we still have across racial lines. Little people like my visitor are doing their part to change that.