There is a river that flows between here and Africa, wone day call day Afreecon

reevur...

The first memories I have of life are of events that took place when I was four, maybe
five years of age. My family lived in a new subdivision of tract homes somewhere near St.
Louis, but my memories are not of there. My memories are of another place called Iowa, a
place close enough to St. Louis to be a place we visited, but far enough away to be
completely somewhere else. We lived close enough to Iowa that we could drive across the
border our mother would point out the sign that said Welcome To Iowa to let us know we
were almost to our destination - and visit relatives during holidays and for summer picnics.
My relatives lived on a farm which seems to frame my earliest memories almost as if I had in
fact lived on this farm, although I actually lived completely somewhere else in a suburb in St.
Louis. My memories of Iowa were abundant and stayed with me all my life, yet I would have
to say that all in all I have little memory of St. Louis and so nothing really remains with me of
St. Louis, even though that is where I lived, while my earlier memories are mostly of Iowa,
where I never lived.
My first clear memory of when I was very young was not of the farm where my
relatives lived but of a time we visited the state fair in Iowa. We drove from our house in St.
Louis past the Welcome sign and on into Iowa, and instead of going down the dusty gravel
1

road to the farm that I remember so well, we drove to the fair where our cars were parked
near some picnic tables protected by tall fir trees that were dropping large, syrupy
pinecones. From the trunks of the cars or the back sections of the station wagons, the adults
brought out lounge chairs, blankets, food in aluminum pans, paper plates and cups, Styrofoam
buckets of ice and drinks. Then they gave us kids some quarters and dimes so that we could
go and run around those parts of the fair that had the food and amusements while they sat
and talked and ate and drank.
I dont truly remember any of what I have said so far and am probably making most if
not all of it up, probably making all if not most of it up just so I can offer a background so to
speak for the few bits and pieces of what I do remember although none of it seems made up
but that does not mean I truly remember a single thing of what I just said. But I can say I do
remember my Uncle Bob at this picnic because Uncle Bob was someone who was always
laughing and because he was laughing he was always making everyone else laugh, and so it
was hard not to remember him, even I would laugh at Uncle Bob although I would have no
idea what I was laughing at, or so it seemed. I do remember that we, us kids, were at one
point mulling around the picnic tables, beginning to get bored, asking the adults what we
were going to do now, when my Uncle Bob said, I know, we should all go and see Fanny
Brown! laughing loudly as he said that. When he laughed everyone laughed and I remember
asking, Who is Fanny Brown? What? my Uncle Bob said with this big look of surprise.
Who is Fanny Brown? he asked with a rising voice which meant something funny was going
to be said. Why the one and only Fanny Brown! he said, Thats who Fanny Brown is! and
then he laughed and so of course everyone laughed and so I laughed too not knowing why I
laughed. At least that is what I remember but who knows what really happened. Nothing like
this may have happened at all. But I remember that this was the moment when Peter
arrived.

What I do clearly remember of this day was Peter. My memory of Peter on this day
was a memory I would call true and pure. When I think of Peter today I remember him clearly
even to this day, which is now decades later, decades since I actually saw him at this fair,
while all the other details about the park and the picnic tables and chairs and food are
questionable at best, even my memories of who else was there at the fair are suspect: my
mom, my dad, my sister and brother, cousins, my aunts and uncles, those memories are all
suspect. But Peter was in the foreground of all my memories of this day and so he is all I truly
remember of these early memories, these first memories true and pure.
Not all my memories of Peter are true and pure. Some of them, like the memories I
have of his face, his smile, the sound of his voice, those seem like true and pure memories. I
seem to remember it was his face I liked most of all, his face was so dark, so black while his
eyes were so white and his mouth so pink, and on his forehead he had this scar, this long and
bumpy scar that looked like a caterpillar that had halted in its creep upon his forehead, a
scar that I could not stop looking at until he let me touch it. Where did you get this? I
remember asking. Ah, that ees ay long stor-ee, Peter said. What story? I asked. Day
stor-ee eenside here, Peter said pointing to the scar. Like ay locket, eenside ees the storee. Kept up like ay small miracle een there. And Peter then told me that there were many
miracles and that some miracles were ugly in that they hurt or were makers of things to be
forgotten and that some miracles were beautiful and these were the ones we wanted to keep
forever. And from that moment on that is what I wanted, a scar like that, a scar that looked
like a caterpillar stopped in its creep, a scar that had a miracle inside it like a locket.
From the moment he arrived at the fair, I couldnt keep my eyes off Peter. And the
other memories that I have such as of the pants he was wearing, of how his hands looked
black on one side and yellow on the other, how long or how short his hair was - these
memories were not so pure and true and so these memories, being that they cannot be
3

completely disconnected and made free from other memories and other ideas and other
things I have seen since I saw Peter they are not so pure.
What does seem true and pure was that Peter was the first black person I had ever
seen in person and definitely the first black person I could have called my friend. I had seen
black persons in books, I had a book about a Tar Baby, I had a book about slaves. I had a
Worldbook encyclopedia and I am sure there were pictures of black persons in there that I had
seen. And I am sure I had seen black persons in cartoons on TV. But to tell you the truth, I
cannot remember any of that today. I can only remember seeing Peter and knowing quite
clearly that he was the first black person I had ever seen in person and that I loved him.
Peter was my Uncle Bobs friend from Africa. Uncle Bob lived in some place called
Africa where he taught mathematics. I was told that Africa was a place far away, so far away
that it was not really a place at all. But it became a real place for me because that is where
Peter lived and that made it a real place no matter how far away it was. How did you get
here Peter? I asked. Own day reevur, uv course! he said. What river? I asked, the
Mississippi River? Non, he said, I come own day Afreecon reevur. I dont remember
what this meant to me, but I assume that it made sense to me in some way. I did not
understand but I was not surprised. As a kid, you are not surprised at things you do not know.
That is how it seems looking back. All I know is that when you are young, things that do not
make sense may be difficult to accept, but things that you do not know are presented to you
all the time, and you accepted things you did not know willingly. Things that did not make
sense you did not accept so willingly. Another river made sense, the African river made sense,
or at least it did not not make sense. And so I accept it now as true because it does no harm
to accept it as true.

The fact is, I was really proud to be Peters friend and I asked him if I could take him
around the fair. Uv course, Peter said, Then you ken show me everything in day fay-ur! I
was proud to then be taking Peter around the fair, as he was the first black person I had ever
seen and he was the only black person at the fair as far as I could see and so he could have
been the first black person any of these people at the fair had ever seen as well. Others at
the fair had animals to show, they had their pig, their goat, their sheep, their cow. I had
Peter. And so he was my pig, my goat, my sheep, my cow. This was wrong of me, I know that
now. But as a kid, it seemed perfectly fine. In fact, I can actually remember how proud I was
of Peter. While others had a pig or goat or sheep or cow to show, I had a person to show. I
not only had a person to show, I had a black person to show. So I held his hand and I led him
all through the fair, I held his hand as if I had hold of a rope around this neck. I remember
that this was wrong, but this is what I did and probably that is how I felt. I am not sure I
actually thought of taking him around the fair with a rope around his neck, but I seem to
remember that I felt he was my pig, my goat, my sheep, my cow, and so it was natural to
think that by taking his hand I was taking him by a rope and that rope most likely would have
been around his neck. I remember thinking that because he was black and he was the first
black person I had ever seen and that he was the only black person here at the fair as far as I
could see that by making him mine I was both protecting him as well as showing him off to
people, in fact if I had not been holding his hand as if it were some rope around his neck
someone else may very well have picked up his hand and grabbed it like some rope around his
neck and taken him for their own and then some other person would have been showing him
off to the people in the fair instead of me and what a different experience that would have
been for me and for Peter.
But Peter was mine and I had him by the hand as if it were a rope around his neck, a
gentle rope around his neck as I would never have hurt Peter not in any way, and that may not

have been the case with someone else had they gotten a hold of him instead of me, for just
as they were rough with animals such as pigs and goats and sheep and cows, they might have
been rough with Peter as well and that would have been a whole different experience for him
and for both of us. We walked around the fair and stopped at pens of pigs and goats and
sheep and cows, and while I offered to educate Peter on these animals, I knew I was also
educating all the other people on this person I had who was black. I was the owner of the
only black person in the fair and this made me someone pretty special. I saw the ribbons
hanging on the stalls because their pigs and goats and sheep and cows were special and I
thought that I should have a ribbon for Peter because he was special, and then I saw that all
the people were looking at me as if indeed they too thought I deserved a ribbon, because
maybe I was special, such was their interest in looking at me as I took Peter around the fair,
and so I thought what if I could take off Peters face and put it on mine, then what would
these people think, I am sure they would have applauded me as I walked by looking at them
with those sleepy black eyes, smiling at them with that smiling black face on my face, they
would all stop and look, they would make a circle around me and ask me to walk back and
forth or maybe jump up or do a somersault or bend over in a bow or maybe even say the ABCs
or add twelve plus twelve or maybe even point out what I thought was the most special pig or
goat or sheep or cow at the fair, and for all that I would have been given a ribbon for sure,
but really it would have been Peter who deserved the ribbon not me, and I remember feeling
good that even if I would be handed the ribbon for being special, I would have insisted that
Peter get the ribbon not me as he was the one who had done all the work being he was the
one who was black and whose face it was I had on my face and I wondered what Peter would
say to all this especially if he had no face because I had it in my hands. What would he say if
I was trying to give him this ribbon, why he would probably say in the best way he could
because he had no face that he wanted me to keep the ribbon, he would say I was the one

who deserved the ribbon not him, and for that I would give him his face back, I am sure. And
maybe I would keep the ribbon for I had done my part in protecting him and showing him
around, and then I would keep it forever even if I would always think it was his ribbon and not
mine.
As we walked around the fair, I would take Peter up to a stall and tell Peter that this
was a pig or this was a sheep or this was a goat or this was a cow, as if he had never seen such
a thing in his life and so here he was seeing them as some strange and wonderful things for
the first time in his life, and Peter would say, Ah yes, ah do see that! I never asked Peter
if he knew these animals, I just assumed he did not and so I pointed out their peculiar
characteristics such as having hooves, a curly tail, wet noses and bulging eyes. I showed him
how they ate and I showed him how they pooped and I showed him the piles of poop that
were lying around and Peter would say, Ah yes, ah do see that! as if seeing this all for the
very first time. Or if he did know these animals I just assumed I was showing him something
about these animals he had never seen before and even if he had seen these things before I
still wanted him to hear and see how much I knew about these animals even if I knew nothing
at all about these animals which I dont remember if I did and cant imagine that I did being a
boy from the suburbs and not from a farm. So not only do I not remember what I said but I
dont remember if what I said was true in any way as I was not from a farm but I wanted him
to hear how much I knew anyway and how well I knew these things as they were things worth
hearing anyway. And then I was sure to take him to see the pigs and the sheep and the goats
and the cows which were black just like him, and show him that some were black all over and
others were not, which he seemed not to see until I pointed this out to him and then he did
seem to see this once I pointed this out to him and he would say, Ah yes, ah do see that! as
if seeing this blackness for the very first time. But instead of showing just Peter all these
things, really I was showing all the other people at the fair something they had never seen

before, I was showing them a black person and that while they probably thought he was black
all over, by showing Peter the animals that were black but not black all over I was showing the
other people that Peter was not black all over, not on his palms or his tongue or his nails
which looked like big round yellow blisters on the ends of his black fingers. And when I
showed him this he would say, Ah yes, ah do see that! But most of all I was showing the
people at the fail that Peter was mine and that I deserved a ribbon which I would not keep for
myself and would gladly give to Peter even if he gave it back to me, I could see this in all
their eyes, the eyes of all the people at the fair who were watching me, watching me and
Peter as we educated them on things they had never seen before.
I loved Peter. But I actually dont remember that much about Peter. I could go on to
describe how he talked with a funny accent, how he laughed at everything I did, how he
drank beer after beer, how he tried to play baseball with me but couldnt hit the ball no
matter how slow and how close I pitched it to him. I could say a lot of things, but again I
would probably just be making these things up so as to create a better story around events I
really do remember. In fact, I only remember a few things about that day and like I said I am
not sure how true and pure those memories are or even how true they are.
I do remember playing one of those games you see at all the fairs where you put a
quarter in a machine and you turn a crank on the outside to drive a metal claw on the inside
until that metal claw dropped down into a pile of treasure and if you were lucky the claw
grabbed something out of that treasure and if you were luckier still the claw wouldnt let go
of your prize while it jerked back and forth as you reeled it back towards you until it finally
swung over the trap door and your prize dropped down and popped out the chute on the
outside. While the other kids spend their quarters and dollars on cotton candy and chocolate
malts, I spent my quarters and dollars on the claw. I did nothing but work the claw. While I
was working the claw, someone behind me, someone I could not see and did not bother to see
8

because I was too busy working that claw, this person said That boy is the Master of the
Claw, and since I was not convinced myself, from that moment on thats what I was
determined to be: the Master of the Claw. So when I was done walking Peter around the fair
so that everyone could see him, I remember going back to that claw with a definite and
solitary purpose in mind. Before this I had been the Master of the Claw but with no real
purpose, now I was the Master of the Claw with a definite and solitary purpose. Where this
sense of purpose came from is clear to me, for while Peter was mine on this day, I knew that
Peter would not be mine forever. How I knew that Peter would not be mine forever, that I do
not know for sure, I think my Uncle Bob told me, although I have no memory of this at all, but
it seems like something Uncle Bob would say, and so I think I remember my Uncle Bob telling
me, Peter can be yours all day today, but at the end of the day he has to go and be someone
elses. And when he said this he laughed and then everyone laughed, although I have no idea
if he indeed said this or anything like this, but I do know that whenever Uncle Bob laughed
everyone laughed.
And so when I got back from taking Peter around the fair, I then had a definite and
solitary idea in mind. I remember spending all the money I could beg from my mom and dad
and aunts and uncles, working that claw and trying to get that claw to go down and pick up
something I now desperately wanted. Whereas before I was working that claw without any
real purpose in mind, now I had a solitary purpose in mind, there was something in that pile
of treasure that I desperately wanted to grab with that claw and drop into that chute. I
worked that claw and got it to pick up and drop many things down that chute but not the
thing I most desperately wanted and so I came back several times to my mom and dad and my
aunts and uncles asking for more quarters even though I had won several things, but these
were things that were not the one thing I most desperately wanted and so I gave all these
other things that were not that one thing I most desperately wanted to other people but not

to Peter who was to get the thing I most desperately wanted and nothing else. I gave nothing
to Peter because what I wanted most out of that pile of treasure, what I wanted most to grab
with that claw and drop down that chute was a thing I most desperately wanted to give Peter.
Peter and I had walked around the entire fair, and I had shown off Peter, who was not only
unlike any one else at the fair but most importantly I showed him off because he was mine,
he was mine and the only one like him in the entire fair, and everyone had looked upon us
just like they would have looked upon me if I had the finest pig, the finest goat, the finest
sheep or the finest cow, and so they looked upon me as if I should have had a ribbon for Peter
because he was special, but of course there were no ribbons to be had for having the finest
and only black person at the fair, a ribbon I would have given to Peter anyway and so I came
up with another idea, a definite and solitary idea, an idea that came with a solitary sense of
purpose in the hands of the Master of the Claw. At least that is how I remember it, although
in fact I dont remember much of that at all, that is just the story that I have in my mind that
seems to make the most sense, that seems the most real.
There in that pile of treasure beneath the claw was what I most desperately wanted, a
mans ID bracelet. I wanted that ID bracelet. I most desperately had to get that ID bracelet.
That ID bracelet was what I most desperately had to get as that was to be my ribbon to Peter,
the ribbon we deserved and the ribbon all the people who saw us wanted us to have, only
there were no ribbons for the finest black person at the fair or the person who owned him.
And so while other kids spent money on chocolate ice cream and other games, I spent every
quarter I could on that claw, but every time I tried for the ID bracelet I got something else, I
got a stuffed frog, I got a necklace with hearts, I got a cigarette case, until finally I grabbed
the ID bracelet with that claw and it didnt let go, carried it up above the pile of junk and it
didnt drop, until finally, it made it all the way to the hole and released it in the hole and

10

there it slid out that metal chute into my hands. And then I opened it up and inside that ID
bracelet was a picture of a blonde woman. It was a miracle.
I ran back to the tables under the fir trees where my family was picnicked and
immediately ran up to Peter with his prize. Here Peter, this is for you! I had already given
all the sundry things I had captured with that claw to my aunts and mom and my sister. All
those presents had been simply the mistakes I had captured while trying to get this ID
bracelet that I most desperately desired for Peter. Well thank you, he said, Een fact, I
wuz bay-ginning to wondur when you were go-eeng to geev me a pray-zont. I was star-teen to
feel az eef you deednt like me. Everyone else hee-yar has a pray-zont but not Petur. Look
at it Peter, I said, Open it up! There is something inside only you can see! Peter opened
the ID bracelet and there was revealed the picture of the beautiful woman. Peter laughed,
he showed it to my Uncle Bob and my Uncle Bob said, It is Marilyn! Do you know Marilyn
Peter? And Peter said, Ah wee, Marilyn Monroe, why uv course! And then Uncle Bob
laughed as he passed it around and soon everyone laughed. Why was this so funny? What was
this secret that I didnt know? And why did Peter let the ID bracelet get passed around when
he should have put it on himself? And why was he showing everyone the picture that only he
was supposed to see? Dont you like it Peter? I asked. Yes I like eet very much thank
you, Peter said. I got it just for you! I said as I watched the ID bracelet get passed around
and the people other than Peter were putting it on their wrists as if it were theirs and
opening it to reveal the woman that really only Peter was supposed to see. That woman is
just for you, I said, she is for you to take back to Africa with you. Peter laughed again and
my Uncle Bob laughed again and everyone laughed again. Maybe you will marry a woman
like that, I said, and then you can come back here for good. And again everyone laughed
although I was being serious, very serious, and then finally Peter put on the ID bracelet and as
far as I know he never took it off again and no one else ever wore it again and he took it back

11

to Africa with him, this ID bracelet that I desperately wanted him to have and with it the
picture of the woman I said he should marry, Marilyn Monroe, still inside.
After that day at the fair, Peter went back to Africa. I dont know this for sure, but I
assume this was true. He went back to Africa, back on the river, not the Mississippi River but
back on the African river, and even though I know now there is no African River there is
something called the African River, I just dont know what that is. In any case he was not
mine any more, he was back in Africa, but on his wrist he had my ID bracelet, and so he was
still mine in that way. Peter was still mine, I hoped, because I loved him and thats what I
hoped. I never did see Peter again, that I know. And I was not to know if he kept the ID
bracelet or if he ever would come back or what the African River really was. And if I knew I
am not sure I would remember anyway. I remembered some things but not all things of this
day, this first day that I can say I remember of my life.
But I remember that it was not long after I gave Peter his ID bracelet on this day at the
fair that something changed, suddenly the people around the tables under the fir trees began
acting funny. I was not sure what this acting funny was all about, but it was the kind of
acting funny that kids see but dont understand, something that suddenly doesnt make any
sense. I remember it felt like one of those times when a storm was coming, that kind of
change was happening, and everyone was running and moving to get in and out away from the
storm. But there was no storm in the sky that I could see. And then I remember someone
shouting at me to get to the car and I remember looking around and up at the sky and asking,
Why? because there was no storm in the sky that I could see. But I was not told why, I was
simply told to go to the car. But no one made me go to the car, I was just told to go to the
car, so I did what kids do in this situation, which was nothing. And it was during this moment
of nothing that it happened.

12

That I dont remember it when it happened is not to be unexpected, is not so strange.

To not remember it later is more understandable because I did not remember it the first time,
so why would I remember it the second time except that I was told later it happened and so
could remember it that way. But I do remember looking up at the sky and seeing no storm
and then I remember the ground rolling over onto the sky and the sky rolling over under the
ground and I remember the blood and I do remember the girls crying and I do remember men
saying things that sounded angry and mean and I do remember finally being wrapped in a
blanket and then driving away in the car on my mothers lap, and I remember looking out the
car window looking for him but not seeing him anywhere.
Actually I remember nothing.
Then again, I remember asking But where is Peter? but then again I dont remember
if I asked that at all. I dont remember that, but I remember the blood and that it was my
blood and I remember people crying, and in some ways I dont have to remember all this
happened, I didnt need to be told this happened and so remember it that way, because to
remind me that all this happened there is a scar on my head to remember this by. There is a
scar where the bottle hit me and ended our day at the fair. That mark is there on the top of
my head, I cant see it but I can feel it, and that is as pure and as true as any memory, that
scar.
And of all the people, that bottle happened to hit me in the head, and that is when
the ground rolled over and the sky rolled over and it cut open my scalp and that was when the
blood gushed all over, and the people all around me ran this way and that, and someone one
was crying How could they do this? and someone else said, How could they hit a child with
a bottle? and someone else said, It werent him they was aiming for!

13

And then I remember looking up and asking Where is Peter? as if knowing who him
was when in fact I could not have really known who him was but still the words came out
several times because no one answered me. The bottle had come from somewhere, it had
come out of the sky from a journey of its own, a long journey from beyond this sky, a journey
that began in another sky, I think this now and may have believed it then too, although I do
not know that. But that bottle had come across a sky, from off the horizon, over oceans and
from another land, that bottle had come from as far away as Africa, from so far it came, so
far it traveled and then to have hit me. And then I learned that my friend Peter was gone
forever.
And maybe on this day that I somehow remember I then fell into darkness, a darkness
that may have been hours, that may have become years, because I remember none of this to
tell you the truth, yet because of that scar, because of its place true and pure upon my head,
I do remember Peter to this day. I remember how much I loved him and how on that day long
ago, Peter was my friend from some faraway place, and how he was mine, all mine.

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