CHAPTER 9

I GOT TO THE FOOD line in plenty of time, but my pretend family wasn't
anywhere around. I had to eat by myself, without the brown sugar.

After I was through I went back to the library and sat under my tree to wait for
it to open. I couldn't stop thinking about Deza Malone and her dimple. How
could her father find them now?

Finally I saw people going into the library.

The same librarian was there again. I said, "Good morning, ma' am."

"Good morning, young man.

"Could I please borrow a pencil and a piece of paper and see that book about
how far one city is from another again, ma'am?"

She said, "Of course you may. You know, after I went home last night I finally
recognized you. Didn't you and your mother used to come in here a long time
ago?"

"Yes, ma'am"

She said, "And if I remember correctly you and your mother had quite different
tastes in books. I remember your mother used to like mysteries and fairy tales,
isn't that so?"

Man, I can't believe she remembered that!

"And you're the little fellow who used to come in all the time and ask Miss Hill
for books about the Civil War, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She said, "I thought so!" She handed me the pencil and paper and the cities
book, then said, "And when you're done with the book bring it back and I have
something special for you!" She had a huge smile on her face.

I said, "Thank you, ma'am" but I didn't get too excited 'cause I know the kind of
things librarians think are special.

I went over to a table and found Flint and Grand Rapids in the lines of the
book. I looked where the two lines met and it said 120. Wow! That was going
to be a good little walk.

Next I wrote down 120. Then divided it by 5, that came up to 24. That meant
I’d have to walk for twenty four hours to reach Grand Rapids, one whole day
and one whole night.

I figured it would be easiest to do the night part first so I decided to stick
around the library until it got dark, then head for Grand Rapids. I wrote down
all the names of all the cities I'd have to pass through to get there, Owosso,
Ovid, St. John's, Ionia and Lowell, and put the paper in my pocket.

When I took the cities book back the librarian was still smiling. She said, "I’ll
bet you've been dying to know what your surprise is, haven't you?"

" I lied. "Yes, ma'am."

She reached under her desk and pulled out a thick, thick book called The
Pictorial History of the War Between the States.

Wow! The book was gigantic!

"Thank you very much, ma'am!"

She said, "Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy!"

I took the book back to my table. I didn't want to tell her that I wasn't really
interested in history, it was just that the best gory pictures in the world came
from the Civil War. And this book was full of them. It really was a great book.

There's another thing that's strange about the library, it seems like time flies
when you're in one. One second I was opening the first page of the book,
hearing the cracking sound the pages make. smelling all the page powder, and
reading what battle the picture on that page was from, and the next second the
librarian was standing over me saying, "I am very impressed, you really
devoured that book, didn't you? But it's time to close now. You may start up
again first thing tomorrow!"

I couldn't believe it, it'd happened again! I'd spent the whole day reading. Her
words snapped a spell that was on me, and my stomach started growling right
away. I was going to be too late for the mission.

When she was walking me to the door the librarian stopped at her desk and
said, "Now I know that knowledge is a food, but I couldn't help noticing you
never went to eat. You must be very hungry."

She handed me a paper bag and gave me another smile.

"Thank you, ma'am!"

She smiled. "See you tomorrow."

I said, "Yes, ma'am. Thank you for everything."

I went back under the Christmas tree and got my suitcase. By this time
tomorrow I’d be looking at the face of the man who had to be my father. I
started eating the cheese sandwich the librarian gave me.

And then I headed out for Grand Rapids. IT'S FUNNY HOW IDEAS ARE, in
a lot of ways they're just like seeds. Both of them start real, real small and then
... woop, zoop sloop ... before you can say Jack Robinson they've gone and
grown a lot bigger than you ever thought they could.

If you look at a great big maple tree it's hard to believe it started out as a little
seed. I mean if you pick up one of those maple tree seeds and turn it over a
couple of times in your hand there's no way your brain will buy that this little
thing can grow up into something so big you have to bend your neck back just
to see the top of it. Something so big that you can hang a swing on it, or build a
tree house in it, or drive a car into it and kill yourself and any bad-lucked
passengers that might be taking a ride with you.

Ideas are a lot like that, that's what the idea of Herman E. Calloway being my
father started as, something so teeny that if I hadn't paid it no mind it would've
blown away with the first good puff of wind. But now here it was so big and
important and spread out.

The idea first got started when I was looking in my suitcase at one of the flyers
showing Herman E. Calloway and his band. That was like the seed falling out
of a tree and getting planted.

It started busting its head out of the dirt when me and the other boys at the
Home were getting our nightly teasing from the biggest bully there, Billy
Burns.

He'd said, "I don't even belong in this place. I been put here by mistake and it
ain't going to be long before my momma comes and gets me out."

Bugs said, "Billy. how come it's taking your momma so long to find out where
you're at? She must have a real bad memory. Seems like since she was the one
what dropped you off here she'd've remembered where she left you by now."

Billy said, "Well, well, well, will you take a look at who piped up, Mr. Bugs.
You know, I've seen lots of people who have roach-infected houses, but you're
the first person I've seen who's got a roach-infected head. I wouldn't expect a
little ignorant roach-head like you to know nothing about folks coming back
here to get you out, you don't even have no idea who your momma and daddy
is. Any fool you see walking down the street could be them."

He looked at the rest of us and said, "Seven little boys in this room and not a
one of y'all knows who your folks is. This is a sure-enough sad collection of
souls here.

I said, "That's not true, I know who my momma is, I lived with her for six
years."

Another boy said, "Me too, I lived with my momma for a long time."

Billy Burns said to me, "Is that right? And what about your old man? How
many years you live with him? I got a nickel here and you know what it says?"

Billy'd stole a nickel from somewhere and held it up so's the buffalo on it was
looking out at us. He pretended the buffalo was talking, it had a deep voice like
you'd figure a buffalo would. It said, "Billy, my man, go ahead and bet this
little no-momma fool that he don't know who his daddy is, then I'd have
another nickel to bang around in your pocket with.”

Even before I had a chance to think I said, "You owe me a nickel, my daddy
plays a giant fiddle and his name is Herman E. Calloway."

And with those words that I didn't even mean to say that little seed of a idea
started growing.

The idea got bigger and stronger when I'd sit up at night and wonder why
Momma'd kept those flyers. It dug its roots in deep and started spreading out
when I got old enough to understand that Momma must've known she wasn't
going to be around too long and was trying to leave me a message about who
my daddy was and why she couldn't never talk about him. I knew Momma
must be too embarrassed about why he wasn't with us and was trying to break it
to me gentle. The only trouble was she waited too long.

I mean what other reason could there be for Momma to keep all these things I
have in my suitcase and treat them like they were treasures, and why did I
know way down in my guts that they were real, real important, so important
that I didn't feel comfortable unless I knew where they were all the time?

That little idea had gone and sneaked itself into being a mighty maple, tall
enough that if I looked up at the top of it I'd get a crick in my neck, big enough
for me to hang a climbing rope in, strong enough that I made up my mind to
walk clean across the state of Michigan.

I opened my suitcase and pulled the flyers out before it got dark. I put the blue
one with the writing about Flint on it on the bottom and looked at the others.
Two of them had the same picture of Herman E. Calloway and the two guys but
the first was called "Herman E. Calloway and the Terminally Unhappy Blues
Band" they were called "Masters of the Delta Blues" and the other one was
called "Herman E. Calloway and the Gifted Gents of Gospel--Featuring Miss
Grace "Blessed' Thomas's Vocals" they were the "Servants of the Master's
Salvation."

The two other flyers just had little drawings. The first one was a drawing of a
accordion and told about a band named "H. E. Callowski and the Wonderful
Warblers of Warsaw" who were the "Masters of the Polka." The second one
was of a picture of some mountains and it told about a band named "H. E.
Bonnegut and the Boisterous Big Band of Berlin" who were the "Masters of All
We Behold."

I put the flyers back in the suitcase and stood up. Just like Bugs, I was going
west!