The Glass Top Coffin (standard:drama, 2253 words) [4/12] show all parts
Author: Stephen-Carver Byrd	Added: Dec 31 2002	Views/Reads: 2466/1776	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
***Part 4*** Old Black Men And Bottle Dreaming

“THE GLASS TOP COFFIN” 

***Part 4*** Old Black Men And Bottle Dreaming 

By Stephen Bryan (HurricaneWarning) 

“Say boy,” said Mr. Moore, peeking at his large pocket watch. “You paid
for that soda and snack almost thirty minutes ago, isn't your belly 
telling you something?” Jordan spread his arms backwards, stretched 
big, then rocked himself to his feet. He walked to the large red drink 
box sitting close to the back of the store. The box was comprised of 
two sections. The left side was for soda pop and the right side was for 
beer and wine only. Mr. Moore kept them carefully marked. Jordan took 
hold of the large black handle on the soda pop side, opened the heavy 
lid and swished his hand around in the ice-cold water. A faint scent of 
rust emanated into the air. In a few seconds, he had found the familiar 
shape of his particular brand and pulled the bottle out like an ice 
fisherman. Before he popped the top off, he carefully dried the bottle 
and his hands on a clean, white towel that hung over the drink box. Mr. 
Moore did not intend to have his floor drippy. Jordan snatched a bag of 
pork rinds then headed for the screen door. Mr. Moore had made his way 
to the back of the store and was busily feeding the live fishing worms. 


Outside there was an empty vegetable box that Jordan kept stored around
the left corner of the grocery. He pulled it around front and sat 
beneath the store's big open window. Pulling a large pork rind out of 
the bag, he crunched into it. Brown crumbs sprinkled to his stomach and 
then bounced to the ground like polluted snowflakes. Two ease-dropping 
crows flew in and landed a few feet away. Jordan kicked some gravel at 
them and they fluttered back. He leaned his head easily against the 
storefront, staring blankly into the big open fields. The hot June sun 
was beginning to lower in the west sky, and a dark statuette of the 
grocery silently crept across the road and into the endless miles of 
tobacco. The huge tobacco plants waved and bowed in a lazy breeze. 
Jordan looked intently into the bowing plants. Up and down, up and down 
they bowed. It reminded him of the old black men in tattered overalls 
he sometimes passed along the road. They would always remove their 
straw hats, smile genuinely and bow, always bowing, their old dark eyes 
never leaving you. 

Jordan hated this. He felt as if he were being treated as a god or king,
which was the last thing he wanted. Always bowing, their old dark eyes 
never leaving you. Always bowing. He wanted to stop and scream. Stop 
that damn bowing to me! Jordan remembered once having ask his mother 
about this. She had explained that it was just a deeply rooted 
tradition of the very old colored people and that they were the only 
ones who still practiced it. They came from a time that is totally out 
of place with today's world, she had explained. It was just a sign of 
courtesy and respect. Jordan still protested and his mother explained 
that it most likely would deeply hurt their feelings if they were told 
to stop. Her advice was to politely nod, say hello and keep walking. 
They always bowed, up and down, smiling genuinely, holding their straw 
hat over their heart, their old dark eyes never leaving you. 

The old south was all but “Gone With The Wind” during the early summer
of 1963, but there were many pockets still left if you looked hard 
enough. In this deep, rich tobacco country “The “Wind” had forfeited to 
just a faint breeze and even that breeze would soon exhaust itself 
within the very near future. 

In the old days, the days of slavery, there were no traditional
plantations in this area. It was very much the way it is now; the more 
successful farmers lived in spacious white homes usually wrapped by a 
large veranda. Built nearby were several small, tin roof cabin-like 
structures for the colored farmhand families. This way of life had been 
passed down through many generations, even after slavery was abolished. 
It was a beautiful world in its own regard. It was relaxed, easy-going 
and most of all, accepted by all. 

Jordan cracked a large pork rind into, popped half of it into his mouth
then threw the other half to the two crows who had been waiting 
patiently for a handout. The birds attacked it with a sense of 
vengeance. Each gained an equal piece and took to the air. 



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