The Last Mile of the Way.<\/a><\/p>\nEverything in this excerpt is true as well as Darius Aidan Gray could remember it.
\nI include a photo of the book with its original cover, because this is Darius\u2019s family. He is the baby.<\/p>\n
The setting is Provo, Utah, 1965. I was in fourth grade at Wasatch Elementary School. Darius had no idea what was awaiting him in Provo as he came to study at Brigham Young University.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Aidan was already using credit at the hotel. Barring a miracle, it wouldn\u2019t take long before he\u2019d be homeless. He had to find some way to survive.<\/p>\n
Now the Hotel Roberts was no Ritz, but it did have a television room, which was something of a luxury in those days. The railway workers would sit on the overstuffed couches and watch \u201cBonanza\u201d or \u201cWhat\u2019s My Line?\u201d Sometimes, a little change would fall from their pockets. The desk clerk gave Aidan permission to go through the cushions after everyone had retired to bed. He could always find at least a penny or two, and soon he had a system for survival.<\/p>\n
A penny would buy a stick of licorice\u2014not the hollow, twisted candy we have nowadays, but the solid black molasses kind. A nickle would buy a small Payday candy bar\u2014salted nuts around sweet nougat. A dime could buy either an extra-large Payday or a small one and five licorice sticks. A quarter could keep him fed on these sugary substitutes for up to a week, though there were days on end when he had nothing at all to assuage his hunger.<\/p>\n
One evening, he found the grocery ad section of a newspaper and took it to his room. He knelt beside his bed, a notebook and pencil next to the advertisements, and wrote out a prayer:<\/p>\n
Lord, I thank you for every good thing you\u2019ve done in my life. I know <\/em>I count on you for every breath I draw, and forgive me if I sound like I\u2019m pitying myself when I tell you I would sure like a plate of steamed carrots and corn with just the right amount of salt. I would like a big chocolate chip cookie and tapioca pudding, like Elsie used to make. Dear Lord, how I would love to sink my teeth into a T-bone steak and fill my stomach with waffles and Mrs. Butterworth\u2019s syrup, which is only seventy-two cents today at Albertsons. Seems like such a few cents, but when you don\u2019t have a cent, it doesn\u2019t matter if it\u2019s seventy-two or a thousand. I know you understand hunger, and Lord, I am hungry. But you know it isn\u2019t just food I want. You know me better than I know myself, and you understand my need. Lord, I want company, and I pray you for a miracle. I pray for a skillet and two sets of knives and forks and spoons so I can cook up a good meal and share it with some- body\u2014anybody\u2014who\u2019d want to share it with me.<\/em><\/p>\nWell, a miracle happened, sure enough. Another Negro man\u2014a Forest Service worker\u2014rented a room at the hotel. He and Aidan became friends with their first handshake, and they made famil- iar conversation. Then this man invited him to the Hi-Spot for a hamburger.<\/p>\n
At first, Aidan hedged, for he couldn\u2019t afford a burger, though it cost only nineteen cents.<\/p>\n
The forest worker said he\u2019d treat, and Aidan tried not to look too pleased or too desperate. \u201cAll right,\u201d he said. \u201cBut next time, I\u2019ll treat you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He could hardly remember what a burger tasted like, though his nose remembered fine. It could smell the meat cooking from a block away.<\/p>\n
At the Hi-Spot counter, a teenager with clumps of mascara around her eyes and lips pale as goat\u2019s milk took their money. She\u00a0smiled, looked them over, smiled again, then asked, \u201cExcuse me, but are you two Negroes?\u201d<\/p>\n
They tried not to look too surprised, then fessed up. \u201cYes ma\u2019am.\u00a0We are.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s okay,\u201d she said. She had a fluty voice and a farmgirl accent. \u201cIt\u2019s just I never met Negros before. Only ones I seen are on television. You two seem like nice guys.\u201d<\/p>\n
The forest worker stifled a laugh, then whispered to Aidan, \u201cYou ever been asked that before?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNope,\u201d Aidan whispered back. His mouth was already watering. French fries. Beef. Fish. Chocolate syrup for milkshakes. Sugary ice cream. His nose was in heaven.<\/p>\n
When he took his first bite of the burger, all his juices clamored from his belly up. Every cell of him remembered food<\/em>. He had never tasted anything so fine except his mama\u2019s mustard greens, and he allowed himself to remember one of her meals in detail and to tell his friend about Elsie\u2019s cooking. For the first time in weeks, he ate his fill, and he ate it with good company.<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Excerpt from The Last Mile of the Way. Everything in this excerpt is true as well as Darius Aidan Gray could remember it. I include a photo of the book with its original cover, because this is Darius\u2019s family. He is the baby. The setting is Provo, Utah, 1965. I was in fourth grade at […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1301,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2606","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n
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<\/a>Excerpt from The Last Mile of the Way.<\/a><\/p>\n