Bump

“Bump”, said the 10-year-old boy as the ’55 Chevy station wagon rolled down the highway at 55 miles per hour. The car went “bump” a half second later. “Bump” said the boy as another dark patch appeared on the highway on the road to the beach where everything was wonderful. The car went “bump” and the trailer went “bump” a half second later. "bump bump" “Bump” said the 10-year-old boy when he could see from the backseat that there was another black patch on the pavement just ahead, because it was obvious. “Bump bump” said the car and trailer a half second later. “Bump” said the 10-year-old boy because he could see that every bump on the highway jerked another drop of black oil off of the bottom of the thousands of trucks and cars that drove this highway. Each drop a black stain on the pavement. He stopped saying; “bump” because no one was noticing.

“Bump” said the 11-year-old boy the next year as his friends’ dad and four children, one friend each, rode down the highway to the beach where everything was wonderful. A bump lifted the car and half second later “Bump”, said the boy to himself. The same group drove on the same highway to the same beach where he would not see a single black person. “Bump” said the boy one or two more times when he saw the black spots. Didn’t anyone else see? “Bump” said the 12-year-old boy to himself as his sixth-grade class learned about the Civil War from the perspective of Jim Crow America; and this was the state of Maryland, not Mississippi. “Bump” he said to himself as his class “celebrated” the Centennial of the Civil War and over one half of his classmates chose the South in a mock debate. Why say anything aloud if people can’t even hear it? “Bump” said the 16-year-old boy as the first black students were admitted to his high school; two girls and one boy. “Bump, Bump, Bump!” said the boy to himself as he realized that those three students were all high achievers (even though the white students didn’t seem to notice and the jocks made a "pet" of Vernon). And certainly the faculty and principal never said anything. Maybe they couldn’t see anything. Maybe they couldn’t say anything in a high school just 10 miles west of Cecil County, cradle of the Maryland KKK. Maybe they said it to themselves because they knew that no one was listening. Or maybe some of them were racist. “Bump”, said the 20 something man as he attended college where there were black athletes but very few black students. “Bump! Bump!” said the 38-year-old man when he attended his high school reunion and the small statured black man and his six foot tall blond wife attended. He and Vernon shared memories of high school life. “Bump”, said the 78-year-old man as he remembered the black spots on the road to the beach when he was ten because he could see that every road bump caused oil to spot the road where everyone could see it and ignore it. “Bump”.