Music in My Heart: My Journey with Melody

I’ve never had a waitress be mean to me before, so I tell Melody and Yvonne I don’t want to go in. Melody doesn’t either, and asks if we can go to the soda fountain at Barthwell’s instead, since Yvonne always says we should support shops owned by Black people.

Yvonne sighs. She does want to support them, but if they only ever shopped at those places, nothing would change. Businesses like this one would keep treating Black people poorly, and that’s not okay.

After a pause, Yvonne says we should just go home. Mom is making food for the volunteers, and we can help her. Melody and I stay quiet on the walk back to the church. Did we disappoint Yvonne by not going in? Maybe. But at least we can still help, by making food with Melody’s mom.

Back home, we stand at the kitchen counter helping Yvonne and Melody’s mom make bologna and cheese sandwiches. I add lettuce, and Melody adds tomatoes, while Lila sits at the counter reading. When Melody asks why Lila is already studying, Lila admits she’s just looking at her new American History book, not studying it. Melody’s mother reminds Melody to focus on her own work and wrap the sandwiches tightly so the tomato juice doesn’t leak.

Melody says the tomatoes are juicy since she grew them herself, along with the lettuce from the garden out back. Yvonne says the vegetables will feed a lot of volunteers, and Melody nods proudly. Then she spots Lila sniffing the pages of her book and jokes that Lila wants to eat it instead of a sandwich. Lila laughs and admits she loves the smell of books. I know exactly how that feels too.

Yvonne says the volunteers teaching at the Freedom Schools in Mississippi could’ve used books like that. They never had good materials to work with. Melody’s mom says it’s true in Detroit too. Her school is finally getting materials that teach real Black history, not a pretty picture painted over slavery. They’ve waited a long time for those books.

As I wrap my last sandwich, I think back to fourth grade, when we spent all of February learning Black history. I did a report on Frederick Douglass, who escaped slavery and became a great writer and leader. What if I’d never learned about him, or Harriet Tubman, or the Underground Railroad? A whole chunk of history would be missing.

I wash my hands and wait for Melody at the table. When Lila takes Bo outside, I flip through her new book to the index and look for Douglass under the Ds. His name isn’t there. I check the Ts for Tubman too, and find nothing. When Lila comes back, I close the book too quickly, and she asks what I saw. I don’t know how to tell her it’s not what I saw. It’s what I didn’t see.