“We only threw him outta town ‘cause he was a stranger… Corse, that’s what we tell ourselves anymore; us old timers. The real reason we got ‘em outta here was ‘cause of the color of his skin. He was a black fella, and no one ‘round here was comfortable with that… But that darn… thing he left behind after he left… that… snowman… made us all think a little more ‘bout our way of livin’; our idea’s about acceptance. The only explainable reason for what happened was that it’s some kinda miracle or somthin’ close to it… I don’t know.”
Randy Higgins re-positioned himself in his cheaply made folding chair, which sat on the rickety old porch of his dilapidated home, trying like mad, without success, to get relaxed. The arthritis in his elderly bones weren’t doing a thing to help the situation. Once he was as comfortable as he was going to get, he continued the story, “It was about fifty five or sixty years ago now when it started; either the winter of ’48 or ’49, just around Christmas time. I ‘member there was a good heap of snow on the ground and the kids were out in it playin’. Well… everyone was keepin’ a good eye on them, or so we thought.” Randy paused to reminisce for a moment; his bottom lip quivered slightly, and then went on, “No one’s eye caught the transient black fella that sauntered on in ta town that day.
“It was near Tucker’s Woods, which bordered the far end of Bryant Park, he begun buildin’ this snowman with a group of kids. By the time some of the parents caught sight of this, and went down to get this colored man away from their children, and off our property, the snowman was built.” Randy Higgins stopped, put a hand up to his eyes and wept. “I can’t bring myself to say anymore… it hurts too much.” The crying was persistent; he could no longer carry on the telling of this story…
Therefore, this is about how it all went, the Snowman incident began on December 26, 1949…
…The snow had started to come down, like it was God’s only purpose, the night of Christmas Day, and by the next morning six inches of the white ice had rested on the ground. Children from all around the small town of Tucker’s Grove, Maryland were out sledding, fighting with snowballs, skating, making tunnels in the snow, creating snow angels, and having a fantastic time. Many of the parents of this tight nit community were out having a grand time too, as they kept close watch over their offspring.
Everyone was having such a extraordinary time that no one caught view of the black man who walked over to a group of kids, and began to roll up a ball of snow with aspirations of producing a snowman. Later on, after this event passed, certain people in the community wondered if he had walked in at all; they surmised, by reasoning that no one saw him approach town or the children, that maybe he came to be there due to an unknown; paranormal manner. Nonetheless, the stranger wasn’t noticed and escorted away from town until after the snowman was completed, with a carrot nose, coal eyes, a corn cob pipe, and an old top hat on its head.
Moments after the man was tossed out of Tucker’s Grove, cooperating fully, by the local constable and a few concerned citizens – including a much younger Randy Higgins – a few of the parents wanted to destroy the snowman. For irrational, prejudicial reasons, a number of citizens were cautious about letting the snowman stand. Deep within their psyche – where intelligentsia dissolves into nirvana – they were scared that something so positive; something that the kids looked up to, could be made by a black man. Other, reasonable parents, along with every kid in town, protested this idea, and the snowman, after a long discussion, stayed in tact. Certainly, no one could have imagined just how long that creation would stay put.
Eventually, like all snowfalls, the solid water turned to liquid, and ran away into the ground; into rivers, streams, and creeks. Yet, the snowman stayed put. Nothing melted; even the carrot, which made up its nose, stayed fresh… stayed orange. At first many were apprehensive of this occurrence, but wouldn’t dare do anything, for instance demolish it, in panic that such an act may bring bad luck upon them. Others saw it as some sort of miracle, yet would never utter a word about it due to the shade of the person who was key in effecting it. Anyone, even slightly different then them, could have anything to do with their religious thoughts.
The children, with their innocent minds, rejoiced at the occurrence of a none melting snowman. The main play area switched from the ball field to the far corner of the park; near the snowman, much to most of the parents dismay.
By April, the town’s small group of elected officials met in a secret meeting to decide on how to deal with the ‘snowman’ situation. The number of members who wanted to raze the ‘anomaly’, as they called it, out numbered the members who thought it best to keep it, five to two. Ridiculous ideas centering around an evil influence which the snowman may be having on the children were the arguments of the majority. Yet, an impassioned speech, by one of the minority members, about the ramifications of demolishing something which may very well be an act of God, changed the mind of two of the members. Secretly, they could discuss their religious beliefs along with the stranger’s race. However, eventually, the topic of the color of the person who created the snowman fell by the waist side.
The snowman was allowed to remain. Weeks turned into months and months into years. As time past, everyone’s trepidation subsided, and the total population of Tucker’s Grove accepted the snowman with joyous expressions. The ‘far side’ of Bryant Woods turned into the main area. For a time, the snowman made national news, which brought people from all around America to visit the snowman which would never melt. Mayor Jackson Horton even dedicated July 15th 1950 to the snowman. Even the diehard hold out’s, upon seeing the positive effect the snowman was having on the community, came to love and accept the creation.
Tucker’s Grove Township prospered, both financially and spiritually, because they accepted what was originally abnormal to them. Eight years later, in 1957, after all the fan fair and fun had dwindled away, the snowman just became normal, and that was great. Until one day, during the summer of 1959, when something happened.
Jimmy Weaver, a sixteen year old kid, was coming out of Tucker’s Woods, near where the snowman stood. After a day of picking blackberries down at the brook, Jimmy was quite tired, yet when he observed a tiny stream of water trickling down a patch of dirt into the woods, he stopped dead in his tracks. Knowing it hadn’t rained; nor had there been a storm in more then a week; Jimmy slowly looked up in the direction of the snowman. To his horror, it was in the beginning stages of melting. Dropping the two buckets of blackberries to the ground, he ran into town with the terrible news; shouting it out loud as he ran down Main Street.
Within fifteen minutes, most of the town had gathered in Bryant Woods, around the snowman. Many tears were shed as the snowman disappeared into newly created mud. Part of the sadness could certainly be attributed to the loss of the snowman – after a decade, he was part of the town – but most of the grief, the townspeople would agree, was credited to their memories – their nasty memories – of how they treated the black man who made the snowman. Furthermore, what he created taught them a great deal about acceptance, and how something, which at first could be seen as frightening because it’s so different, could bring a tremendous amount of joy and pleasure.
The End.
56359 Category:(Fiction) Created:(6/26/2008 7:35:00 PM)