Thumb Suckers Come in All Colors: Thoughts, Memories and Feelings of Life in This Colorless World

By Dorris A. Dutch

Thumb Suckers Come in All Colors is about the struggles of just plain folks and their children growing up in a world full of adversities and what can happen to those, no matter the color of their skin, who are weighed down by the guilt put upon them by the world in which they live in.
Thumb Suckers Come in All Colors describes how family dysfunction can affect children. As they reach adulthood, they may not be able to overcome the demons of their childhood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456742928

Dorris A. Dutch

I was born on May 7, 1939, given the name Dorris Ann Dutch, raised and attended public schools, in Washington, the District of Columbia. Early on, I knew that my life would be full of challenges and I prepared myself for those that surely would come my way. I graduated from Dunbar High in 1957, which was then a college preparatory school. While at Dunbar, I became a member of the Alpha Omega Delta Sorority, consisting of ten teen-age girls at the Baker’s Dozen Youth Center. Not fortunate to attend a higher learning institution, I worked at many odd jobs but always kept what the teachers at Dunbar taught me in the forefront of my abilities to acquire more learning with hands on approaches. In 1962, after doing volunteer work at Children’s Hospital, I landed a job processing charts in the medical records department. I then attended the Manpower Development Training School where I became proficient in typing. Thereafter, I took the civil service written examination and past with a score of 86.5. This training and my being able to past the test opened the door to a career for me in December 1964, in the Federal Government starting as a GS-3. Within two years of working for the U.S. Coast Guard, I received an adopted suggestion monetary award and certificate. In 1971, I received a monetary award from the Secretary of Transportation for my diligent work in transforming the DOT and GSA telephone directory system into a more workable product. In 1974 as a parent participant in Workshops for Careers in the Arts, George Washington University, run of the “The Lion and the Jewel” I received a letter of appreciation from the Administrative Director, Michaele C. Christian. I was President, Vice President and chairperson of the Trinity College Upward Bound Parent Advisory Committee (1973- 1975). I received a certificate of achievement from the Association of Government Accountants for satisfactory completion of the Accounting and Financial Management Course in 1977. My biographical data is in Marquis “Who’s Who of American Women Fourteenth edition 1985 – 1986. My practical understanding of business lead me to become a businessperson and I was Director of Small world Productions (1978- 1984). I received a monetary award from the Mayor’s Committee to Promote Washington for my efforts in arranging a founder’s day picnic for the community. In 1988, I successfully completed the Secretary of the Department Transportation (Elizabeth Doyle) Seminar for Prospective Women Managers in Austin Texas. I received the District of Columbia Council Resolution Recognition of 1993 (number 10-148) for outstanding services in working with the Orange Hat Patrol in an effort to deter illegal drug trafficking throughout the local neighborhoods. In addition, in 1993, I received a monetary award for my design of the logo for the Office of Information Technology at the Federal Aviation Administration and presented, with a plaque of the design upon my retirement effective May 3, 1994. I retired from the Federal government after nearly thirty years of service. Throughout the years of my career as a civil servant, being able to catch hold of the system, I maintained my ability to “keep A Pluggin Away” as the great poet Paul Lawrence Dunbar wrote. I was able to climb the ladder of adversity and happily retired at the GS-13 grade level. In 1996, I received a letter of congratulations for a job well done from the Office of the Director of Public Works for my efforts in organizing the neighborhood cleanup. In my life time and since retirement I have traveled to London England (United States International University) and stayed at the facility where the movie “Goodbye Mr. Chips” was filmed, Paris, Nice, Venice, Italy, Rome, Brussels, Barbados, Cancun, Mexico, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, Acapulco, Mexico, Antigua, the Caribbean islands, and various cities and states throughout the United States. I have one daughter, Doretha Johnson, who assists with my pleasure trips.

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Contents

Introduction

Part One

Reflections—Journey and the Banjar

Exodus

Daddy-Who

Duchess

Part Two

Kate

The Will

Part Three

Lil

Part Four

Rest in Peace

Sibling Not Foe

Part Five

Wasted Talents

Part Six

Welcome Home

Part Seven

The Camp

Pains of Joy

Part Eight

Who’s Who

Part Nine

Nightmarish

Part Ten

A Path to Death

Keeping the Promise

Homicide

Part Eleven

Endless Love

Part Twelve

Dizzy aka Doc

Better Days Ahead

Part Thirteen

A Whole New World

Part Fourteen

Who Preys on Who

Annlisa

Detective Moe

Other Faces

Behind The Story

About the Author

Epilogue

July 4th Headliner

The Washington Daily News

12-year-old colored girl hit at sixth and K Street, NE. She is in undetermined condition at Casualty Hospital.

Introduction

On this cold rainy Thursday, November 12, 1992, I am, once again, Home Alone. In spite of me, left alone without regard for how I feel about it seems to make no difference to anyone other than me. I have lived my life in a constant state of being left alone, hanging out there on that fragile and lonely limb of life — yet through it all, I have been able, with many blessings, to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

My journey down life’s bumpy road has taken me from hand me downs to the fine threads of store bought materials. Constantly I think about the internal hills that I had to climb and the many challenges that I had to face before I could embrace life and feel good about myself.

Being in this boundless space of quiet gives me the opportunity and freedom to meditate about the difficulties I had in getting from point A to point B in a world filled with many adversities of life. This quiet moment allows me to retreat and think about the extent of the struggle that I had to face before I could get to point B as I embraced each challenge along the way.

This drawback brings me to a time when mental and physical pain and suffering was an everyday part of my life. My childhood ghosts visit me and those painful voices of days gone by haunt me as I remain in this empty lonely space. The stillness does not allow me to escape or forget the bad days for I could never greet my tomorrows as if there were happy yesterdays.

Those painful voices appear as a phantom within this space and a constant reminder of the physical and emotional traumas of life. I ponder about how I managed to make it through each new day and how I was able to visualize a better tomorrow and hide the pain of yesterday.

As I drift away to those dark and troublesome times, I give thanks to the almighty that I had the strength and insight to endure the many adversities that surely came my way. I am beholden to the heavenly father that I had the sense to know that things can change for the better with time. I am grateful that I have been able to come to grips with my inner feelings as well as my understanding of myself as a person.

I can say Amen for having courage to hold on to that special so very special gift from God, the most profound person in my life, as I did attain motherhood, and for who I am as a friend. Most of all, I give thanks to the almighty that I weathered the atrocity of my childhood and have a fruitful adult life that opened my eyes to better days. As I am able to tell this story and express deep appreciation to my buddy who, in spite of the odds, was steadfast and stayed the course throughout the years.

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Dorris Ann Dutch

Part One

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Reflections—Journey and the Banjar

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When I begin to mirror my life, I feel grateful for the precious moments of freedom that have enabled me to let my mind soar with endless thought. These are moments when I take that mental voyage into the past. I envision myself imbedded deep inside my mother’s womb just waiting for that breath of fresh air and newfound life. Somehow, I know that it would not be easy for me as I embarked down that lonely corridor to acquire my space in the outside world.

I take that excursion through the fallopian tube, and I bring with me the nucleus of my daddy that would give fertility a new name. I am ready for a new world, embrace life as if it is mine, and mine alone for all time. I inhale the misery as if it were sweet jasmine and accept the pain as if it were feathers stroking my very being. I reach that resting place suspended in space until the force of courage pushes me on. The agonies of birth become second nature to me as I prepare for life upon earth.

I wait with patience as Liz, in her delicate state, tried just this one time during her in and out relationship with Boris, the man she married, to calm his rage and heated temper over what she thought was some foolish crap game. Her attempt to stop him and his childhood friend he would call Jake the snake from arguing over something so trivial turned the situation and her life upside down. In her condition and for her safety she then stood several feet back and watched the goings on. Boris and Jake often played the dice game and had arguments before, but something else was in the works on this particular night of the full moon. The argument heated up and got completely out of hand as her husband continued down the losing path.

The folks who gathered in the area and those who lost money in the game as well stood back wide-eyed as they watched the remaining players go after each other with sucker name-calling. The shouting of SOB’s and MF’s escalated and the alley arena behind the rooming house at 2024 eight street, northwest, got crowded as more people assembled. Everybody who lived near and around the neighborhood alley at eight and U street enjoyed a good free for all fun and game fight.

Sometimes folks would instigate or say things in order to start a fight between the players. No one had to pay to see the game or fight but would put money up for the one that they thought would win, as this helped to pay the bills.

However, on this blistering spring night in May, the bets were on as usual and then the situation turned very ugly. Hell broke loose as friend became foe and the price of anger and hostility had to be paid.

I lay uneasy in Liz’s belly feeling her stress of being nearly nine months pregnant. By now, I am ready to burst out as she tried to calm her husband. In his state of rage, he got so angry about losing his money that he took out his fury on her. He raised his foot and within inches nearly kicked me right out of her stomach.

After Jake, being the man that he was, came to her defense, Boris got even more furious and completely out of control. He accused him of being affectionate towards and wanting Liz for himself. Jake was only trying to stop him from being verbally abusive and hostile towards her in the situation. One word led to another, the two long time friends pulled out their knives, and the fight to the death was on. Each one cursed at the other as their knives clashed as though they were gladiators in an arena, and Boris got a very bad cut across his face. Jake went down to the ground with one strike of Boris’ knife to his chest. He lay there grasping for life as the blood sprouted from him as though he was a fountain.

Suddenly, somebody in the crowd yelled get the cops, this man is hurt badly. People begin to scatter about and return to their homes, as nobody wanted to tell the police about the gambling.

The sight of Liz seeing her husband cut so badly and his long time friend laying there in a pool of blood gasping for air made her labor pain energize. By the time the cops and ambulance arrived, Jake lay there without a prayer, as he was stone cold dead. The young nine-year-old kid, Boris’ cousin, made his way through the crowd and told the cops that he saw the whole thing. He was in a mental state of not believing what he had actually witnessed.

Boris was lucky that an innocent child was able to tell what he knew of the situation. His testimony, at the hearing, helped Boris, as he was able to go on with his life. In addition, statements taken from other witnesses further made this tragedy a matter of self-defense; however, down the line he would pay for this sinful act, as those who live by the sword, so he shall also perish by the sword.

Suffering from the anguish of this dreadful fight, Liz was off to Freedman’s hospital. She was in labor and ready to give birth to an eager ball headed Colored baby girl. At last, old doc Bailey hit my buttocks with his huge black hand, and I let out such a yell, as though my lungs would burst.

I knew at that instant, as I was with new life’s air, that I would be able, in a strange way, to lick bad luck, as it would surely come my way. I arrived brave, balanced, and confident. I face the world, no longer protected by Liz’s womb or her physical self. I emerge with the frailty and insight of my mama and the strength and shrewdness of my daddy.

A year or so after my first birthday, Pops, to the fourth degree, got him in big trouble with the law and spent several years away from our family. Hell we, or at least I, did not even know his name. I never did know the real reason why he went to jail and there was no mention of it to any of the kids.

I suppose it was for flimflamming, sham, or pimping around since Liz did mention that he was pretty much a lady’s man and that he and his friend would play sucker tricks on gullible folks all the time. They would take sheets of paper, cut it dollar size, and roll it up with a few ten-dollar bills as to make it look like a big roll of tens. Somehow, they would find a fool and tell them to hold on to the roll and they would fabricate some sort of story in exchange for their money.

Boris continued down the losing path and got into drugs. This lifestyle may have been his way of releasing his inner pain of not having a father figure in his childhood, or just using jail time as a way of getting away from responsibility and the pain of losing his best friend by his own hands.

Jail time, (if truth were to be told) is why there is a five-year gap between my older brother and sister. No sooner, than he got back on the beat, he got Liz pregnant every year up to my birth. I did not really identify with him as my daddy until I was nearly ten years old.

Looking ahead, I question myself as to how and why I am able to overcome my own emptiness about my very being, and realize that I am a child blessed by those that have come before me. For, without my parents no matter the path they chose, I, without their being, would not have the intellect to endure this life. I arrive here, seven pounds, six ounces, on the seventh, a wonderful spring day in the month of May. I embrace life, knowing that I was not a child of love but a child that just happened for the sake of love.

Exodus

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Peering through the looking glass of life, I rebound to a time just before grade school. I find myself drifting to a place of pleasant times. However, we lived in a grim situation. I think that I was about three, maybe four, when my elder brother carelessly and with such malice hit me upside the head with a pillow and I went flying into the iron bedpost.

He said that he was playing a game, and did not mean to hurt me. This kind of excuse went over just find with Liz, as she was not around when it occurred. A few days later, my forehead swelled so badly as puss began to seep out. Finally, they took me to Children’s Hospital where I received stitches and the works. I was for a time blinded by this so-called game playing on big bro’s part. This was the corporal punishment start of his evilness and sadistic so-called game playing with my other siblings and me.

None of the elders seemed to be suspect to his wrongful intentions upon us little ones as he never got questioned or received punishment for any of his misdoings as far as I can remember. Liz, as I reflect back, just let whatever he did roll right off her back as though it meant nothing to her. She was young, unwise, did