GROWING UP
Made-up game was a child’s version of the laborer’s routine.
Making a game of work
During the 1940s, I lived the first seven years of my childhood on the south side of Pittsburgh. One of my favorite ways to enjoy myself was to play “working hard.” I observed the hardworking men in my African American family and I wanted to be like them.
Our house was on Carson Street close to the Jones and Laughlin Steel Co. mill, and very near the railroad tracks. The rough, grassy area near the track bed was peppered with rocks, and occasionally, chips and lumps of coal that fell off uncovered train cars heading to the mill.
This busy, if dreary, industrial environment was my “place of work.” I had to straighten it up! I asked my wonderful grandmother to pack me a lunch, as she faithfully did each morning for the men in the family. My lunch usually would consist of a sandwich sliced diagonally and maybe a cookie or a piece of fruit, each wrapped neatly in waxed paper and packed in a brown paper bag. I also would carry to work an ash shovel and an old galvanized bucket. Then off I went, walking with determination to meet and conquer my challenges of the day.
I would dig dirt and gather rocks, making neat piles. I also collected wood scraps for kindling and bits of coal chips or lumps for our kitchen stove.
After working what I called “my shift” for a while, I would break for lunch. Then it was back to work to finish my busy day.
Eventually, tired and soiled, I walked home feeling pleased with myself.
Climbing the old wooden back steps of our timeworn house, I entered our second-floor kitchen. There, with sincere pride, I proclaimed, “I’m home! I’m home!”