Like Rain on Parked Cars, Chapter 12 – Don’ Matter

Mother with sick child,
Copyright © Good Boy Picture Company/Getty Image,
Courtesy of Parents Magazine https://www.parents.com

“I will lift up my eyes to the hills — From whence comes my help?” (Ps. 121: 1).

Jonathan lay listlessly on the bed, his skin hot and dry to the touch.  Aretha and I sat concerned on either side of the baby boy, the bedspread rumpled, the bed virtually the only piece of furniture in the small, third floor walk-up.

“I think you should call the doctor, Aretha.  He’s very hot.”

“I called the docta’ befo’.”

“What did he say?”

“Babies can get high temp’achu’s.”

“Maybe you should try bathing him in some cool water to bring the temperature down.”

No response.

“Didn’t the doctor prescribe anything?”

“No.”

“Can you give Jonathan something over the counter for babies?”

“I aw’ ready did.”

“I think you should try calling again.  Or take him to an emergency room.”

Aretha found her cell phone, and redialed.  Thankfully, Jonathan recovered.

Racial bias can play a role in the evaluation and treatment of medical conditions among the poor [1].  Whether that was the case here, I do not know.  But the evidence for such bias existed long before the distorted views of critical race theory or Woke ideology were ever popularized [2][3A].

A Good Mother Without Support

Aretha did not need me to tell her how to be a good mother.  She held the baby, and rocked him.  She nursed him when he was hungry.  She took him for his shots, and comforted him afterwards.  She read and sang to him.

She sat alone in the apartment with him for endless hours, gazing out into the street.

What Aretha needed was a support system.  Her own mother, drawn to the excitement and volatility of street life, would disappear for days, and could not be relied on for child care in these early years of Jonathan’s life.

Aretha was, as a result, trapped.  She might take the baby to the grocery store with her, but could not leave him to attend classes or find work.

Some mothers in the same position would party through the night, in search of escape, leaving their children alone or handing them off to any willing neighbor.  Aretha refused to do that.

Unable to afford a vehicle, Aretha had to take public transportation.  That could mean waiting an hour for the next street car, if she missed her intended one, all the while huddling against the cold, holding the baby in a carrier in her arms.

I tried to help Aretha find child care.  Several Christian organizations had put together a directory of community services.  Aretha found these still beyond her means, to the extent she had the energy to inquire.

The situation drained Aretha.  She was no longer the girl I had known, full of sparkle and life.  A photo of Aretha in yellow cap and gown, still stood on my desk.  But I rarely saw that smile any more.

I could remember waiting for Aretha at the famous Philadelphia “Clothespin,” a whimsical ten ton steel sculpture by Claes Oldenburg located at 15^th and Market Streets in Center City.  She would come running up from the subway station, fearful she had missed me, her eyes dark and shining.

Whatever I proposed we do in those earlier days, Aretha would shrug contentedly.  “Don’ matter.”  She was happy just to be with me.  Now that phrase had taken on a different meaning.

An Absent Father and Distant Siblings

Jonathan’s father did his best to help at first.  He bought Jonathan toys, a snowsuit, a bed of his own.

But the couple drifted apart.  For one thing, Jonathan’s father wanted more children.  Aretha adamantly refused to become pregnant again.  “I tol’ him if he wants mo’, he betta’ go elsewhere.”  By the time Jonathan was able to walk, he had the first of several half-siblings by different mothers.

For another thing, Aretha learned Jonathan’s father was considerably older than he had represented himself to be.   He, also, became involved in illegal activity.  Aretha feared even to leave Jonathan with him for a few hours.

At Her Aunt’s

Aretha did live for awhile with her aunt.

I recall meeting that aunt for the first time.  I had managed to locate the building on West 56^th Street, off Chestnut, and was about to knock tentatively on the screen door.

A middle-aged African American woman stood on the sidewalk nearby, with a scowl on her face.  Fiercely defensive, she called out to me, “Wha’ chu’ want?”

“I’m looking for Aretha.  My name is Anna.  I’m her mentor.”  The words were barely out of my mouth before the woman’s scowl melted into a smile, and I found myself in her embrace.

The home we entered was equally welcoming, filled to the rafters with family photos, and overstuffed furniture.

Aretha’s aunt was a practical nurse, with a slim but steady income.  During Aretha’s pregnancy, her aunt had urged Aretha to take up the same profession.

Aretha’s two grown cousins and their children lived in the house, as well.  That left little room for an infant.

Aretha’s aunt did not ask her to leave, even after Jonathan was born.  The decision was Aretha’s.  She worried that her aunt was holding back state funds meant for Aretha’s upkeep.

I cannot speak to the truth of this.  Aretha, I know, felt that appearances were deceptive, that her primary value to this aunt lay in those state checks.  That hurt Aretha.  Surely, however, the aunt was entitled to some portion of the funds.  She had provided housing; had put food on the table.

The row house did not, in fact, belong to Aretha’s aunt, I later learned.  It was rented.  The aunt planned for over twenty years to purchase the home, but died suddenly at age fifty of complications from high blood pressure and other illnesses she had concealed from family members.

Marked disparities in life expectancy exist in the United States depending on race and income level [3B][4].  Multiple factors feed into this, including crime, low quality diet, chronic stress, and limited access to health care.

In any event, on the aunt’s death, her daughters were forced to seek housing elsewhere.  Aretha was by then gone.

—

[1]  National Academies, “Minorities More Likely to Receive Lower-Quality Healthcare, Regardless of Income and Insurance Coverage”, 3/20/02, https://www.nationalacademies.org/news/2002/03/minorities-more-likely-to-receive-lower-quality-health-care-regardless-of-income-and-insurance-coverage.

[2]  National Coalition of STD Directors, “The History of Racism in Health Care”, https://www.ncsddc.org/the-history-of-racism-in-health-care/.

[3A and 3B]     National Institutes of Health, National Library of Medicine, National Center for Biotechnology Information, “Understanding and Addressing Racial Disparities in Health Care” by David Williams PhD and Toni Rucker PhD, Summer 2000, https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4194634/.

[4]  National Institutes of Health, “Marked Disparities in Life Expectancy by Education, Poverty Level, Occupation, and Housing Tenure in the United States, 1997-2014” by Gopal Singh et al, 12/20/20, https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC7792745/.

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