Journey: Jeremiah Overstreet from Bondage to Freedom

By Xlibris US

Following tragedy, Jeremiah leaves New Orleans and embarks on a frequently painful and action-filled journey, hoping to escape his sense of loss and recover his tormented soul. Journey takes Jeremiah through towns filled with interesting and sometimes humorous characters, who become a part of his awakening experience.

There is a place from which we all have come. There is also a place to which we all will go. We cannot change where we came from, but we can influence where we go. The means to make this change is called journey. Many events and circumstances attempt to affect the outcome, but ultimately, we are responsible for our own journey. We travel the road, not knowing what lies before us, but we travel with the strength and spirit to write the ending. The goal is not the earths treasures. The goal is finding our meaning and giving back to the life we were given.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499075670

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

As I sat on the edge of the boxcar floor with my legs dangling out of the opening, I began to get my bearings. I wondered which direction the train would take. I didn’t care much which way it went as long as it took me away from the pain. I wasn’t thinking or planning, just escaping. I’m not sure why escaping was better, not even sure it was. I carried Marie in my heart and she was heavy, so very heavy. When alive, she was so light, like a butterfly resting on a daisy. Alive, she made me want to fly with her in my arms. In death, even though she is but memories, her weight was unbearable. Breathing was difficult and looking ahead even more difficult. It was to be a long hard journey.

Everyone who has lost someone knows the pain I feel. It’s a pain that goes from your throat through your chest, through your heart and your soul. It lands in your stomach and just lies there. It won’t go away; it just eats at your very being, chews you up, and leaves the remains for the maggots.

The train began a slow wide arc to the left. We were heading west. The Greater New Orleans Bridge over the Mississippi lay ahead. Texas was in the far distance. I began to wonder if I would make it over the bridge, much less to Texas. The Mississippi could swallow me up and end the pain. Would I meet Marie on the other side of this existence? Certainly not as I knew her.

As the train slowly climbed the bridge, I looked at the river far below. The muddy Mississippi—dirty, dark brown river with waves lapping against the barges, the current carrying the dirt, water, and residue of a nation with it. The river carried many a story in this residue. Would my story be any different, this story of love, loss, and dreams unfulfilled? It’s hard to give up the life I had with Marie, knowing my life would never be the same or as good.

The train reached the top of the bridge and stopped. My opportunity to end it all was at hand. I stood up and cried out, Marie, Marie, Marie! over and over. Tears running down my face, I was ready to jump but Marie wouldn’t let me. From deep in my heart, I heard her say, Jeremiah, you’re the toughest man alive. You must live to fight again and love once more.

No, Marie, I could never love again. I only love you. I am worthless without you. Don’t you know I can’t live without you?

I leaned from the boxcar and looked at the world around me. Now was the time…but the time passed. I moved back inside the boxcar as the train started up again and began its descent to the West Bank. I realized that I would somehow live with the pain, the hurt, and the loss.

We passed through south Louisiana. The beauty could take your breath away. The bayous, the oak trees with moss hanging on the branches, flowers everywhere and wildlife darting through the woods. This is the land I had come to love. This is the first place I truly called home. This is the place I fell in love. None of that matters now. I left all that matters in a graveyard in the Garden District of New Orleans.

After a couple of long slow hours, the train pulled into a siding. This was going to be a tedious ride to nowhere. After about an hour, a black man hopped up into my boxcar. Mind if I join ya’?

No. It’s a free country. This boxcar don’t belong to me. Where you goin’?

Oh, just a little ways. I’m headed over to Lafayette or Abbeville. I hear there’s a lot of oilfield work and I need to work. Couldn’t find much in New Orleans, at least not anything that paid decent. Where you headed?

I don’t know. I’m just headed.

You ain’t runnin’ from the law, are ya?

Nope, I’m just runnin’. Don’t know where and don’t really care.

You runnin’ from New Orleans? It treat you bad?

Yeah, real bad. I don’t know if I can get far enough away.

Well, I always found that when you run from somethin’, you wind up runnin’ to somethin’. Hope that somethin’ you run to treats you better than what you left. By the way, my name is Jones, Johnny Jones. People call me JJ. What’s your name or do you even have a name?

"Yeah, I got a name, Jeremiah Overstreet, but people just call me ‘Street’.

Well Street, it’s good to meet you.

Yeah, likewise.

As we talked, the train started moving again. It didn’t last long, though. We stopped again. We were across the street from a café, Happy Day Diner, the sign over the door said. I didn’t feel like talking so much but I did feel like eating. I hadn’t had anything in a day. I asked my new friend, If I give you a couple dollars, you want to go across the street and get us sandwiches and a cup of coffee? You can leave your stuff here. I’ll watch it and I’ll buy the lunch.

What do ya’ want?"

I don’t care. Anythin’. And a large hot, dark roast coffee.

As I waited for JJ, I thought about things besides Marie. Talkin’ to JJ felt good to me, loosened me up a little. I looked at the money I had. Before I left New Orleans, I got the money I had in my room plus a couple of shirts and some underwear. I had enough money to live on for a while if I was careful. I had some more money in the Whitney National Bank that I could get if I had to. Alphonse made me open an account back a year ago. Good thing, I guess.

The train started moving again just as JJ came running out of the café. The faster he ran, the faster the train picked up speed. JJ threw the sandwiches up in the boxcar and I leaned out of the car and stretched my arm out. He caught it with one hand as he held the coffee with the other. I swung him up and he climbed in, barely. We had the food and only lost a little coffee thanks to the lids on the cups and JJ’s agility.

You’re pretty fast and had some good moves with all that stuff in your hands.

Yeah, well, I played some football back in Simmesport, where I grew up. I was pretty good, too. Had a scholarship offer from Grambling but the scholarship didn’t pay enough and my parents were too poor to help me, what with raisin’ nine kids and all. We were tenant farmers and times were rough. All I could do was start workin’ after I got out of high school.

I couldn’t figure out why the colored folks were looked down upon so much and had such a hard time. Most of the ones I’d met were pretty good people. This here JJ would have done just fine with Louie, Toutant, and my other friends. In fact ’ol JJ was doing a pretty good job of taking my mind off Marie for a little while.

When we rolled into Lafayette, JJ took leave of me. We shook hands and wished each other good luck. While the train changed engines, I got some food and a couple cold Falstaffs to take with me. Thought they might help move the ride along some. One thing about that Falstaff, it could make you take a leak. A guy was lucky. He could stand in the opening of the boxcar and just piss in the wind. A gal traveling this way would have some difficulty trying to take a leak. She could fall out pretty easy. Thinking about that put the first smile on my face since Marie died.

After we left Lafayette, we continued our journey across south Louisiana. We passed through Lake Charles and soon crossed the Sabine River. We were in Texas. I saw a billboard between the tracks and the road advertising some new singer named Janis Joplin. The sign said she was coming home for a concert. She looked interesting—wild shirt and long, crazy, curly hair. If she sang like she looked, she might be pretty entertaining.

Soon we pulled into Houston. I had been on this train for a day and a half. I wanted to get to San Antonio and head north or northwest. New Mexico sounded good. Santa Fe sounded real good. Take the freight train to San Antonio and hitchhike from there. That was my plan.

As the train readied for the trip to San Antonio, a couple drifters hopped up into my boxcar—sleazy, scowling guys with chips on their shoulders. The taller of the two was the leader and seemed to be smarter than the other one, who had a droopy eye and a scar down his cheek. Another guy hopped on and all of a sudden we were like in a hobo club car. I introduced myself just to get some conversation going. Too much quiet breeds distrust and bad thoughts. I impulsively felt for my knife.

The guy by himself was ready to talk. People call me ‘Slewfoot’.

How’d you get a name like Slewfoot? I asked.

"I’ll tell you, Mister. What’d you call yourself, Street? Mr. Street, I grew up in Wyoming. My grandma and grandpa raised me. My ma died of TB and my daddy just up and ran off, so my grandma and grandpa took me in.

My grandpa and me were up in the Tetons huntin’ in the middle of winter when a blue norther’ swept through. Awful like. Talk about cold! Say, are you really interested in this story?

Of course, I am. These other two don’t have much to say so I like listenin’ to you.

Well, the snow kept comin’. All the snow trapped us. Couldn’t get down the mountain. It got colder and colder. Grandpa was gettin’ older and wasn’t in the best of health, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He kept givin’ me his warm gear, wouldn’t let me turn him down. Grandpa died from that cold on the mountain. Some rangers found me a couple days later and brought me to a hospital; I was okay ’cept for losin’ most of my toes to the frostbite. I walk funny now so I got the name Slewfoot".

My grandma was broken up over losin’ Grandpa and wanted to move down to Denver to be with her sister. I didn’t want to go, so I just took off. I was fourteen and ready to be on my own anyway.

Man, you started out almost as young as me. What have you been doin’ since then? Just driftin?

Mostly. Hard to get a job and keep a job when you have trouble just walkin’ and doin’ stuff on your feet.

Where you headed now?

El Paso. I met a guy in Tulsa once when I was workin’ behind the counter at a hardware store. He told me if I ever got out to El Paso he could probably set me up with a job. He has a business supplyin’ stuff to the Army at Ft. Bliss.

Good for you. Hope it works out.

After that conversation, we all settled down and didn’t talk much. The two sleazy guys were muttering and talking between themselves. Finally, the one who seemed to have the most brains asked me, What you got in that bag of yours?

I told him, My stuff, my personal things.

Why don’t you let us take a look? Might be somethin’ we need.

Well, my friend, it’s my stuff and it’s gonna’ stay my stuff and I don’t need to show it to ya’ or share it with ya’.

The one not talkin’, who seemed sort of short between the ears, smiled. He said, Better listen to my friend, Pete, or it might get unpleasant for you.

Let me tell you, my friends, I mean you no harm. I’m just travelin’ and I got no bones to pick. Y’all just need to relax and let it go.

The smarter one said, I told you, buddy, you might have somethin’ I need. Let me see your goddamn bag or we’re gonna’ make trouble for you.

You’re not gonna’ see my bag and there’s no reason to make trouble.

By this time, we were all standing and facing off. Then he pulled a knife and said, Let me have the bag.

How many times do I have to tell you that you ain’t gettin’ my bag?

He waved the knife at me. The little guy smiled again and had a gleam in his good eye. He said, I tole ya’, ya’ better listen to him, Mister.

I stepped forward and said, Let’s cut this shit out. We don’t need this. We all got someplace to go and somethin’ to do.

I’m doin’ it right now. He swung at me again with his knife.

I stepped aside, pulled my knife out, and crouched a little so as to make a more difficult target. I engaged the blade to show him what I had. We don’t have to do this. Let’s all calm down.

I want that bag. He swung at me again. I spun and grazed him on the shoulder, hoping he would back off. The train hit a rough spot as he lunged at me again. I could see blood coming through his shirt. Again he swung wildly as I lost balance. He came for me swinging like a mad man. I ducked as he flew past me and hit the wall of the boxcar. Screaming, he lunged again. I blocked his arm as he tried to plunge his knife into my chest. Turning with my feet firmly planted, I stabbed him in the stomach.

He fell, blood gushing. Blood was everywhere. I leaned over him knowing he was going to die. Just then, his buddy came after me from behind. Slewfoot dove in front of him and tripped him up. He fell to the floor of the boxcar and, as he did, he impaled himself with his own knife.

Slewfoot and I looked at the two dead bodies, the two dead idiots. I thanked Slewfoot for saving my life and he thanked me for whatever. We knew we couldn’t have these two dead, sleazy bastards in the car if we came to a stop and someone checked the boxcar. We’d both be sent up to the big house.

I asked Slewfoot, What are we gonna’ do?

Slewfoot said, You kick that body outta’ the car and I’ll kick this one out.

With that done, we both laid out next to the wall exhausted. I had just killed a man for the first time in my life. All the fights, all the tough spots, I never had to kill before. It didn’t feel good. My stomach hurt and my head ached. Marie would not like what just went down.

As we sat there catching our breath, Slewfoot asked me where I learned to handle a knife so good. I explained, I’ve never known too many Mexicans. They seemed nice enough, but moody. I met a guy named Carlos in a cantina in El Paso a few years back. Some Mexicans took to messin’ with me. It got serious. I hit a couple of them, but I was far outnumbered. For some reason Carlos came to my rescue. He liked to help the underdog, I guess. He pulled his knife so fast you couldn’t see what he was doin’. It was like he was puttin’ warm butter on hot toast. It didn’t take but a couple of minutes and those guys were out the door.

Afterwards, we were talkin’ and he told me I wouldn’t survive to make twenty-one unless I developed some skills to protect myself. Carlos trained me every evenin’ after work until he was convinced I could take care of myself. He taught me how to pull open and attack with a switchblade before most men could pull a knife out of their pocket. Yeah, that talent has helped keep my insides on the inside. He helped me pick out this knife I carry and the rest, my friend, is history. Carlos was a friend, a good friend.

Soon, we arrived in San Antonio. After we stopped, I said, So long to Slewfoot, thanked him, and wished him well. As I walked off, I thought, what has mankind come to that this kind of shit goes on? We have these conflicts, these attempts to dominate another person for no real reason. Marie would say, Jeremiah, this is not how it is supposed to be. I thought, Marie, this is not how it’s supposed to be, but this is how it is.

I was very confused about my feelings after the confrontation on the train. I was also very hungry so I went looking for a place to eat. I found a small restaurant called Jalisco Rosalinda. Mexican food sounded good, so I went in. The stucco walls were painted in a turquoise color and trimmed in a chili pepper red. A young lady greeted me with a warm smile and welcome. I decided I liked this place even before I ordered.

The waitress brought the menu and I ordered enchiladas with black beans, Mexican rice, and guacamole. I also decided on a Mexican beer. Tecate it was.