OLD GRAY HAIR

a story by Nichelle S. Montgomery

I hate funerals. My Uncle Rickey was the best though. So, I had to come. He was a jolly, burly, black man, whose laugh always sounded like he was trying to get something out. It was infectious. I remember when I was a little girl. I use to climb up on his shoulder and pull out his gray hairs. For each gray hair I pulled, he gave me a quarter. So, I just pulled enough so I could buy some ice cream for me and my cousins, Annie and Willie. He use to laugh and say, “Little bits” I’m gonna be bald by the time you’re done. Even though my name is Letrice, he never called me that. Most people called me Leti, but not him. I was his “Little bits”. While I was busy pulling gray hairs, he would read me his stories he kept in his little Black Book. The stories were short, but funny. Uncle Rickey loved reading them to me. We would laugh and I could tell that time we spent together every weekend really made his day. I loved it too. It was like that for years, until all his hair went gray.

I still visited him every other weekend, but instead of pulling his gray hairs, I would cut them. I was going to Barber school and Uncle Rickey got all the free haircuts he could stand. He didn’t mind though. He got so excited when he’d see me coming and couldn’t wait to read me his latest story from his little Black Book. I couldn’t wait either. I would tell him about school and fire up the clippers. He was a captive audience. Then, he would read me a story. To him, I could tell they were magical. I was mesmerized and we’d end the day with ice cream.

Now, I’m here, at his repast with a bunch of relatives I haven’t seen since I could fit on his shoulders. Eating a bunch of his favorite foods, listening to my aunts and uncles tell stories about him. My cousins and I hang out near the drink table. We catch up on each other’s lives and knock back a few shots just to get through the day. My cousin Annie is a fashionista. She made a killing off a new hair care product called, “Nappy Grow”. I always thought she and I would go into business some day, but after the money started flowing we haven’t spoken until now. That’s what money does to some people. Now, my cousin Willie on the other hand seems to always be down on his luck. Apparently, he’s been toying with many “Get Rich Quick” schemes over the years. It drove him to drink. I think he’s borderline alcoholic. He looks like he’s just holding it together.

Suddenly, an argument breaks out in the kitchen. My Aunt Ruth decides she wants Uncle Rickey’s china tea set given to him from their mother. My Aunt Flo doesn’t want it, but she doesn’t want Aunt Ruth to have it either. They start yelling and Aunt Ruth accidentally drops it. The women fall to their knees and start crying. Their husbands pick them up and they leave the house. My cousins and I are left there to clean up the mess. Willie grabs the broom. I pick up the big pieces and put them in the trash. Annie throws her hands up and informs us she’s got to be somewhere. Willie and I share a look. She says goodbye and leaves the house.

My other aunts and uncles start to look through the drawers and the cupboards. I don’t know why, but it made me mad. Willie and I finished cleaning up the china and watched them scavenge through all my Uncle Rickey’s things. I started to say something, but Willie held me back. He makes the point that we would end up taking many of his things to Goodwill anyway. Finally, I had enough when My Uncle Leroy picked up Uncle Rickey’s little Black Book. I grabbed it from him and said, “I’ll take that”! He lets it go and tells my other Uncle to check upstairs. I said to Willie, “What are they looking for”? He expresses it’s what families do after someone dies. They always think they’ll find some money in the house. I agreed that I could see that, if he was rich. My Uncle Rickey was barely getting by.

I remember, because I asked him to help me with Barber School once. He said, he would be happy to, but all he could give me was his gray hair. It was all he owned. I laughed and said, I’d take it, because I really needed a head to practice on. I remember giving him a high top fade once and then, a faux hawk. He just smiled and said, “You’ll own your own shop one day. I just hope I’m there to see it, with my gray hairs and all”. He said it so much I believed him. It’s been all I could think of, until now. I couldn’t wait to see his face when he walked into my new shop as a customer.

Willie and I decide to have another drink before we hit the road at the kitchen table. I flipped through Uncle Rickey’s little Black Book. I started laughing and Willie urged me to let him in on the joke. I read him the story that Uncle Ricky told me when I was little. It was about him falling into the outhouse when he was little and couldn’t climb out. When he did get out, his mother hosed him down before she would let him back into the house. We started laughing hysterically. It was then when my eyes started to tear up for the first time. I guess, I realized in that moment I would not ever hear another one of his crazy stories. I was so grateful for that little Black Book.

My Uncles finally came downstairs carrying everything that wasn’t nailed down. Willie and I were having our last drink. My Uncles leave the house. I flipped to the end of Uncle Rickey’s book. There’s a message just for me on the last page. It reads: “Hey Little bits! If you’re reading this there’s no more old gray hairs except one. I left it for you on my nightstand. It’s almost as old as you. Make sure you pluck it to remind you of our time together”. Willie decides to leave. I told him I’d turn off the lights and lock up after I go get what he left me.

Uncle Rickey’s room is ransacked. My eyes fill up with tears. I can’t believe what they’ve done to his room place. I move over toward the nightstand, but there’s nothing there except a picture of Uncle Rickey and me on his shoulders. I sit down on the bed and take one last look around. I decide to get going. I trip over one of his slippers and fall to the floor. I notice a ceramic gray rabbit under the bed. I smile and grab the rabbit. There’s an inscription on the bottom. It reads: “Old Gray Hair”. I smile to myself and leave with it tucked under my arm along with the picture.

The next day, I sit in my chair on the porch listening to the birds sing, sipping on some sweet tea. I stare at the ceramic rabbit from Uncle Rickey’s place and flip through his little Black Book to the end. I read the passage he wrote to me over and over again. All at once it hit me, so I pick up the rabbit and examine it. I shake it. It sounds like there is something inside. I notice that the head twists off. I dump it and there’s a key inside. It's for a safety deposit box. It says, United Bank on it.

A few hours later, I find myself at the bank. Inside the deposit box, there is twenty thousand dollars and a note that says, “Little bits, here are the rest of the Quarters I saved for you over the years. Create some of your own stories with every old gray hair that the Lord blesses you with. I only wish I was there to see it”.

Two months later, I opened my own Barbershop called, “Uncle Rickeys”. Our picture hangs over my first Barber chair with that ceramic rabbit on a shelf underneath with a sign that reads: “Every Old Gray Hair Has A Story... Every Old Gray Hair is Priceless”.

THE END