In the Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinson: April–June

It belonged to Joseph, who sat behind her in class. His hair was always slicked down and scientifically parted in the middle. His belly protruded just enough for his hands to rest comfortably upon it.

At last it was Joseph’s turn, and she was next. Sidling to the edge of her seat, she waited, so sure of her success that she was not even nervous.

Shirley pretended to share their merriment, but tears welled in her throat and she could only manage a weak smile.

Soon she stood like a forlorn scarecrow under the pelting rain.

Soon she stood like a forlorn scarecrow under the pelting rain.

For whenever she complained, Mother would say, “Always be worthy, my daughter, of your good fortune. Born to an illustrious clan from the ancient civilization of China, you now live in the land of plenty and opportunity. By your conduct show that you deserve to enjoy the best of both worlds.”

This hoary tidbit found its way to the dinner table almost as frequently as the odious glass of milk.

This hoary tidbit found its way to the dinner table almost as frequently as the odious glass of milk.

She had never met the Señora before, but had often seen a sinister shadow rocking back and forth behind billowing lace curtains, back and forth into the night.

She eked out the words as if squeezing dregs from a squashed tube of stale toothpaste.

Without a word, the Señora grimaced and out came a set of upper and lower teeth, which she then casually set on the music stand.

Just when Shirley thought the ordeal was ended, Señora Rodriguez left the room and returned with a green bird in a cage.

On and on until the notes blended into a melody, a melody so compelling that Shirley and the Señora began to sway from side to side and sing along.

Out in the sunlight the air was balmy, and through skies of palest sapphire sailed clouds of gossamer silk.

Out in the sunlight the air was balmy, and through skies of palest sapphire sailed clouds of gossamer silk.

One thing for sure, she told herself, even if the entire team fell upon their knees and knocked their heads at her feet in three reverent kow-tows, she would refuse to join them.

One thing for sure, she told herself, even if the entire team fell upon their knees and knocked their heads at her feet in three reverent kow-tows, she would refuse to join them.

Mabel was a formidable sight. She was the tallest and the strongest and the scariest girl in all of the fifth grade.

The station was empty except for a friendly policeman at the desk, who smiled and scratched his head throughout Father’s explanation. After a few feeble attempts to interrogate her, he handed her a lollipop and sent the family home.

“And in the end, only his son lived. For the sons of all the inconstant neighbors, being sound of body, were forced into military service and one by one perished in a futile battle for a greedy emperor.”

The cloakroom stood empty. Gone, the sweaters, slickers and galoshes.

Shirley’s voice was lost in the chorus.
“I pledge a lesson to the frog of the United States of America, and to the wee puppet for witches’ hands. One Asian, in the vestibule, with little tea and just rice for all.”

Tommy jumped in. “That’s easy. ’Cause your eyes are in front, and your ears are off to the side.” To prove his point, he wiggled his ears, which framed his disarming smile like the handles of a fancy soup bowl.

“Then why I’m called Jackie Robinson?”
Mrs. Rappaport looked mystified. “Who calls you Jackie Robinson?”

“Who is dodgers?” Shirley asked.
That question, like a wayward torch in a roomful of firecrackers, sparked answers from everyone. “De Bums!”

Mrs. Rappaport clapped her hands for order. The girls quieted down first, followed reluctantly by the boys.

“That’s better. Participation is welcome, but one at a time. Let’s do talk about baseball!”
“Yay!” shouted the class.
“And let’s combine it with civics too!”

“I mean, is there something special about baseball that fits the special kind of people we are and the special kind of country America is?” Mrs. Rappaport tilted her head to one side, inviting a response. When none came, she sighed a sigh so fraught with disappointment that it sounded as if her heart were breaking.

But within the frail, birdlike body of Mrs. Rappaport was the spirit of a dragon capable of tackling the heavens and earth.

Unlike Grandfather’s stories, which quieted the warring spirits within her with the softness of moonlight or the lyric timbre of a lone flute, Mrs. Rappaport’s speech thrilled her like sunlight and trumpets.

“In the life of our nation, each man is a citizen of the United States, but he has the right to pursue his own happiness. For no matter what his race, religion or creed, be he pauper or president, he has the right to speak his mind, to live as he wishes within the law, to elect our officials and stand for office, to excel...."

“In the life of our nation, each man is a citizen of the United States, but he has the right to pursue his own happiness. For no matter what his race, religion or creed, be he pauper or president, he has the right to speak his mind, to live as he wishes within the law, to elect our officials and stand for office, to excel...."

“This year, Jackie Robinson is at bat. He stands for himself, for Americans of every hue, for an America that honors fair play...."

Jackie Robinson is the grandson of a slave, the son of a sharecropper, raised in poverty by a lone mother who took in ironing and washing.

For despite hostility and injustice, Jackie Robinson went to college, excelled in all sports, served his country in war. And now, Jackie Robinson is at bat in the big leagues.