Maggie and Mr. Hank

As he stared into the living room, the compressor on the fridge kicked in, reminding him of the food. This was the spring of 1948, and the chattering of the compressor always kind of frustrated him. It sat up there on top like an 18-cylinder double-row radial on a Bear Cat fighter, but he could never get it to hum like the engines that could stand that plane on its tail. He gave it a shove with the pad of his thumb to no consequence. Then he patted it with his finger tips. It went right on humpin' and jumpin'.

He laughed. Mr. Hank was not very high on white folks, but the fridge always reminded him of Commander Mitch out at the Naval Air Station. The Man trusted him with engines on the flight line, and had slyly helped him moonlight the refrigerator when the officer's club was being remodeled.

-- Got to admit I like and trust him. We can have it out and get on doin' it.

The compressor suddenly stopped jitter-bugging and jarred Mr. Hank into remembering the food. He cautiously opened the door and removed the cheese and peppers and rice and pork and beans so that they wouldn't skin burn when he stirred them in the old black iron skillet. Then across the room to a cabinet where he got the special sauce that his mother had taught him how to make. That memory jerked him, and he almost dropped the bottle.

-- Shit Man, Henry Calhoun Blake. What are you doin' here playin' at bein' a cook. Just fix the airplanes and take Maggie to bed.

He blew the diesel and gasoline gunk and the sinus scabs out of his head and into his hand and flushed them down the drain.

-- Sweet Jesus! Lord God A'mighty! My mother did have a strange sense of humor and history. She named me for Patrick Henry, an apostle of freedom who owned slaves. Then she named me for John Caldwell Calhoun, a slave owner who asserted the right to go to hell in your own way.

He took a sip of the sour mash.

-- Then she married that man Blake who turned out to be my father. Oh, they humpted it good from what I could hear through the wall, but I swear she mostly married him for that name. Hell, I had two Blakes as fathers: the one who screwed her in bed and the one who made love to her in her head. That old English crazy that she used to read to me every night. Remembering, he quoted aloud:

"My mother bore me in the southern wild,

And I am black, but O my soul is white."

Table of Contents

• Introduction

1. Maggie and Mr. Hank
2. The Reverend
3. Squalls Along the Flight Line
4. Flying Home to Church
5. A Visit with The Judge
6. Communion
7. Afterthoughts
8. Monday Morning With The Admiral
9. Into the Dining Room
10. On Toward Walking the Streets
11. Glimpses of An Election
12. The Dream and The Reality of Violence
13. The Admiral Loses More Than a Few Good Men
14. Down That Lonesome Road

• Cast of Characters
• Credits and Acknowledgements