Leaving Lymon: Parts 2–4

“The worst kind," she said. "Po-lice at their house all the time. Those people don’t have no dignity. Don’t even have a church home.”

“He’s petite like his momma, right, Lymon?” Momma pushed me forward some more.

My momma had on her work clothes, a dingy blue dress and lace-up shoes with thick bottoms.

Big boy strutted away like he was President Truman himself.

One day when he opened his satchel, I saw it was filled with books.

First thing, Momma wasn’t none too pleased when I came home toting a big ole guitar case.

“An honest day’s work is what he needs to be doing, not running around to every little juke joint, trying to hustle up coins,” she told my grandpops.

Next thing, I’m sitting in the office listening to talk about “consequences.”

First two days, I left same as always, but then one day when I snuck back to the apartment, Robert caught me home, hit me good then told my momma she was “raising a juvenile delinquent.”

First two days, I left same as always, but then one day when I snuck back to the apartment, Robert caught me home, hit me good then told my momma she was “raising a juvenile delinquent.”

I made out the words Weary Blues by Langston something. I know Langston’s country boy’s real name, but I ain’t used it since he got to Haines. Don’t intend to neither.

I made out the words Weary Blues by Langston something. I know Langston’s country boy’s real name, but I ain’t used it since he got to Haines. Don’t intend to neither.

“It appears that there is very little parental control in the boy’s home. The court believes, that given the gravity of the charges, it is in the best interest of this minor to be remanded to the Arthur J. Audy Home for a period of four months...”

“It appears that there is very little parental control in the boy’s home. The court believes, that given the gravity of the charges, it is in the best interest of this minor to be remanded to the Arthur J. Audy Home for a period of four months...”

“Sure are. But the folks here said you got two more months you got to stay and then they can release you to my custody.”

“Well, I know you’re not sad to be leaving this place, but I’m sad to see you leave, Lymon. You’ve been a huge asset to our band and—”

“Well, you inherited a lot of talent from your grandfather I suspect.”
“And my daddy,” I reminded him.

Mr. Eugene turned on the radio and turned the button past all the talking and the static till he got to music.

They weren’t the best singers, but their voices were loud and deep, and the congregation clapped and threw their hands up in the air just the same.

When service ended and Reverend Lawson said his last words of the Benediction, I made my way out of the pew.