General

"Name's General," he said.
We shake and he goes on to say
that he was born somewhere between
the towns of Memphis and Atlanta
back in 1955. And on a train -
it says so on the paperwork His mama
didn't have a thing except the ticket
in her hand, the boy-child in her belly.
When the nurse asked if she could
name him, ('cause she couldn't have a child
herself and thought his name should
be passed on, some man from generations
past who did some good). And Mama said
alright, but didn't realize that since the nurse
was used to thinking of the man as
General, that's what she wrote, or maybe typed.
His mama wasn't happy, and the nurse apologized,
but General it stayed, his mama
not so disappointed she was willing
(and she surely wasn't able) to pay out
the price to change it. So here he is,
a tall black man who bears a Union soldier's
name, born in the South. He's gotten every job
he wanted, crediting the name. Not
because of heritage, or confidence the title
General might grant (no pun
intended) but the fact that everyone
who hears it, likes the story, and
they share a laugh; 'next thing you
know, he's hired. And even though
his crazy wife has left him and he's
now retired, it's still a damn fine story,
and he tells it very well.



(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015