“Read the book, don’t wait for the movie”. Presently both can be experienced with “The Help”. The book and the movie are popular, especially in our “neck of the woods”. The book was set in the Greater Jackson area and the movie was filmed in the Mississippi delta community of Greenwood.
Set in the mid-twentieth century, “The Help” is a story of the racial and societal tensions and dynamics that have haunted the American landscape, particularly the deep south, for generations.
“The Help” is a story of what might be identified as a generation of secondary slavery. It is also a story of resiliency of the human spirit. It shows that the heart will seek to rise above adversity and oppression with which it is sometimes bridled.
My parents were not of substantial fiscal resources. My mother and father were both in the work force. However, my parents found it necessary provide child care and household support throughout my early childhood. Although memories are sparse, “The Help” in my family has given me images and experiences that are vivid in my mind’s eye.
Maggie “helped” my Mom and Dad. I have not thought to ask when Maggie started “helping” my family. She was present in my earliest memories. Memories of her remain into my early elementary years. She performed household duties such as cleaning and laundry. She also provided childcare. As the youngest of four children I was its most direct recipient
My memory of Maggie is immune to the drama and dynamics of adulthood. I know that her time with my family was not without some tension and conflict. However, she is now frozen in my “childhood eyes” and has coalesced into figure that remains above reproach. She remains as a mother figure to me.
In birth order and character I have served well as “the baby”. If memory serves me correctly Maggie regularly referred to me in some derivative as “the baby”. Growing up being “the baby” was not cherished. My life is now at mid-point and I wear the moniker “the baby” as a badge of honor.
Maggie, whether knowingly or unknowingly, served as an integral part of my defense strategy in my sometimes misguided role as a “sibling terrorist”. Younger siblings sometime employ covert and subversive actions to counteract the regime of oppression that the “cast system of birth order” brings.
I waged guerrilla warfare on my siblings. My siblings were older and bigger so I took it upon myself to address this environmental discrepancy by provoking them to adverse and counter-productive responses. I’d “drive them to the brink of their endurance”. (see “Brink Driving”)
When they would get to their “brink”, my siblings would retaliate. I would then retreat to “The Help”, fall behind the defensive line of her behind, and watch as she would defend the injustice of the “bigger-older” attack on the “younger-smaller” innocence. At the time it felt wonderful.
I am still amazed at my stubborn short-sightedness and even rank stupidity. Maggie was not always present. I could not always retreat behind the “behind”. I paid and sometimes I paid dearly. You know...it taken years for me to realize my siblings were not necessarily mean, I was however necessarily obnoxious.
I have novel memories of “The Help”. Maggie was not to be disturbed when she watched her “soaps”. She regularly needed a “BC Powder” and I was sent to fetch one from the store on the other side of our block. Yes..I would go as a young child...by myself...around the corner...out of sight... to the store to purchase Maggie a “BC Powder” and “pop”.
I recall how Maggie would iron clothes with starch. She would mix the starch in a 12oz Coke bottle. It had a top that could be inserted and the top would sprinkle the starch water on the clothes for proper ironing. I recall her need to “warm” during the cold months. She would back up to the spot heater in our living room, hike her skirt just a bit, and warm herself.
I still feel the security. I now realize her security was fragile. Truth be known, she was probably as scared of life as me. Yet, for me, I was sheltered. I had physical and emotional shelter provided by loving parents. Part of their provision for their “baby” was “The Help”.
Set in the mid-twentieth century, “The Help” is a story of the racial and societal tensions and dynamics that have haunted the American landscape, particularly the deep south, for generations.
“The Help” is a story of what might be identified as a generation of secondary slavery. It is also a story of resiliency of the human spirit. It shows that the heart will seek to rise above adversity and oppression with which it is sometimes bridled.
My parents were not of substantial fiscal resources. My mother and father were both in the work force. However, my parents found it necessary provide child care and household support throughout my early childhood. Although memories are sparse, “The Help” in my family has given me images and experiences that are vivid in my mind’s eye.
Maggie “helped” my Mom and Dad. I have not thought to ask when Maggie started “helping” my family. She was present in my earliest memories. Memories of her remain into my early elementary years. She performed household duties such as cleaning and laundry. She also provided childcare. As the youngest of four children I was its most direct recipient
My memory of Maggie is immune to the drama and dynamics of adulthood. I know that her time with my family was not without some tension and conflict. However, she is now frozen in my “childhood eyes” and has coalesced into figure that remains above reproach. She remains as a mother figure to me.
In birth order and character I have served well as “the baby”. If memory serves me correctly Maggie regularly referred to me in some derivative as “the baby”. Growing up being “the baby” was not cherished. My life is now at mid-point and I wear the moniker “the baby” as a badge of honor.
Maggie, whether knowingly or unknowingly, served as an integral part of my defense strategy in my sometimes misguided role as a “sibling terrorist”. Younger siblings sometime employ covert and subversive actions to counteract the regime of oppression that the “cast system of birth order” brings.
I waged guerrilla warfare on my siblings. My siblings were older and bigger so I took it upon myself to address this environmental discrepancy by provoking them to adverse and counter-productive responses. I’d “drive them to the brink of their endurance”. (see “Brink Driving”)
When they would get to their “brink”, my siblings would retaliate. I would then retreat to “The Help”, fall behind the defensive line of her behind, and watch as she would defend the injustice of the “bigger-older” attack on the “younger-smaller” innocence. At the time it felt wonderful.
I am still amazed at my stubborn short-sightedness and even rank stupidity. Maggie was not always present. I could not always retreat behind the “behind”. I paid and sometimes I paid dearly. You know...it taken years for me to realize my siblings were not necessarily mean, I was however necessarily obnoxious.
I have novel memories of “The Help”. Maggie was not to be disturbed when she watched her “soaps”. She regularly needed a “BC Powder” and I was sent to fetch one from the store on the other side of our block. Yes..I would go as a young child...by myself...around the corner...out of sight... to the store to purchase Maggie a “BC Powder” and “pop”.
I recall how Maggie would iron clothes with starch. She would mix the starch in a 12oz Coke bottle. It had a top that could be inserted and the top would sprinkle the starch water on the clothes for proper ironing. I recall her need to “warm” during the cold months. She would back up to the spot heater in our living room, hike her skirt just a bit, and warm herself.
I still feel the security. I now realize her security was fragile. Truth be known, she was probably as scared of life as me. Yet, for me, I was sheltered. I had physical and emotional shelter provided by loving parents. Part of their provision for their “baby” was “The Help”.
