The Plaid Scarf

By Sheila Solomon Shotwell

It's 1964. Gladine and Sarah Mae just want to see A Hard Day's Night together and have sleepovers. But it's against the law for races to mix in Selma, Alabama. Sarah Mae is determined to invite Gladine to her bat mitzvah.

It's 2019. Johanna is embarrassed to have an "indie bat mit

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sheila Shotwell
• Release date: Aug 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9780999422564

Sheila Solomon Shotwell

Sheila Solomon Shotwell is a writer, and also an actor who has performed in children's television, commercials, on stage, and an improv troupe. Her favorite role was Mona in Come Back To The Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean. She has taught in Jewish education and has been a nursing assistant, bookseller, reading specialist and an improv teacher. She was outreach presenter for the Grand Rapids Children's Museum. She has been published in Lilith Magazine, Jewish Currents, Zeek, Advance, Display, Voices, and BUST. Her passions are music, particularly blues, reading, antiques and vintage clothes. She has five grandchildren and lives with her husband, Gregg in Grand Rapids, Michigan. They also consider Clarksdale, Mississippi their second home. Her first novel was Gone Before Spring.

Book preview

Johanna - 2018

Okay, Jo, hurry up. Bubbe’s expecting you at four-thirty and it’s four-twenty now. I’ll be out in the car.

Johanna sat on the edge of her bed and sent a quick text to her best friend.

Johanna: Remind me again why I’m doing this.

Lili: Tons of reasons. Mostly because I want to come to it. 

Her mom blew the horn. Johanna sighed and put the phone in the pocket of her back-pack. She stopped at the mirror to check a blemish on her chin that had practically announced its arrival during Chinese class. 

Before walking out the door, she yanked her hoodie over her head and tossed it onto the couch where it landed with the sleeves inside out. The late September day felt like summer. 

What are you examining there? her mom asked as Johanna looked in the mirror on the visor.

This giant zit. I could feel it coming for three days.

"Oh, yeah. It does kind of resemble the Angry Red Planet."

Thanks a lot. Isn’t that the movie Jacob always watches with Bubbe?

One of many.

"I wish all I had to do with Bubbe was watch old horror movies."

Look, Jo. You know this means the whole world to her. And I promise it will be more fun than you think. Keep in mind your brother has to do this in a year and a half.

I’ve already got way too much homework. How am I supposed to fit Hebrew in on top of everything else?

I did it, her mom said. Lots of my friends did it.

It sure would be nice if I had a choice in the matter. I can’t believe you’re forcing me to do this. 

Johanna’s mom pulled her Prius into the driveway of her childhood home. A brick bungalow over a hundred years old. I have some errands. I’ll be back in an hour.

Do I really need to start this already?

Come on, Jo. You’ve been in school for three weeks. That was the deal. You want pizza for dinner?

Fine! 

Johanna felt funny walking into Bubbe and Bumpa’s house for anything other than a holiday or a board game night when they listened to the Saturday blues show on the radio. Sometimes Bubbe made everybody stop the game and wait while she danced in the dining room. When Johanna and Jacob were younger, they’d sometimes dance with her. And when Robert Johnson came on during games, Bubbe would make everybody stop playing and bow their heads.

You got any Vernor’s, Bubbe? Johanna asked on her way to the fridge.

Of course I do, Bubbe answered. I’ve never given a Hebrew lesson without Vernor's.

Foam from the ginger ale covered Johanna’s lip all the way up to her nose. The soda burned going down her throat. I love these, Johanna said, holding up the green metal tumbler. Especially since they can’t break and I’m such a klutz.

Well, you’re not the one who broke the Fiesta Ware. Bubbe sighed.

Johanna’s brother Jacob had dropped a pitcher on Rosh Hashanah and Bubbe had almost cried since it belonged to her grandmother. 

Yeah, Aunt Deena would have a heart attack, Johanna called over her shoulder on the way to the bathroom. 

Johanna’s great aunt who died a few months earlier, at the age of ninety-six, was always pleased the family Fiesta Ware was used on holidays. 

Hey, Bubbe, how come the paper dolls are still in their Rosh Hashanah clothes?

Well, because.The high holidays aren’t over yet. 

Johanna picked up the 1940s brunette paper doll and adjusted her hat. I always hate it when you take off their beach outfits because it means school starts soon.

Yup, they’ll be in ski wear before we know it, Bubbe said. But it’s glorious outside today, so let’s do this on the porch.

Johanna followed Bubbe through the den and glanced at the Leave It To Beaver stuff and the old Nancy Drew collection. She tried to imagine being a new student who didn’t know Bubbe. What would she think of a sixty-year-old lady in a vintage house dress and Doc Martens if she didn’t know her? Plus all the old furniture and tchotchkes? Bubbe’s word for knick-knacks. Not to mention paper dolls staring at you in the bathroom. Bubbe was unlike anyone else’s grandma. She was Bubbe, on a path all her own. Johanna loved it all. Even though she gave her mom a hard time about her bat mitzvah lessons starting, she knew Bubbe would make it as fun and interesting as possible. 

Johanna plopped down on the glider and leaned back on a bark cloth cushion. She knew it was bark cloth because that was something else Bubbe collected. Johanna liked it too, and they always searched for it when they went antiquing together.

So, how long has it been since you tutored somebody, Bubbe?

Bubbe’s chihuahua, Bernie, jumped up and nestled between them.

Let’s see, Morrie was my last student. So I guess about three years. You went to his bar mitzvah, remember? But don’t worry. I haven’t lost my touch.

Oh, I’m not worried. Do you miss doing it all the time?

This is much better. It gives me time to teach my improv classes, write poetry and…(Bubbe patted the cushion) hunt for bark cloth. 

Yeah, Mom totally agrees, Johanna said. "She likes the havurah way better than the temple."

Your mother was never happy about going to religious school or services at temple.  But I ran the school and tutored for a lot of years, so she didn’t have much choice. She made a couple of lifetime friends, though.

Johanna wondered for about two seconds if she would have made lifetime friends at the temple. But she knew it wouldn’t be worth it because the havurah was  more than enough religion. Bubbe set a thin, blue book on Johanna’s lap called,  Let’s Review Hebrew.

Ready?

Gladine - 1964

Gladine folded the pillowcase in half and pressed the iron down. She loved the smell of the cotton when the steam rose up. 

Your mama’s gonna take the apple fritters out in a minute, Sarah Mae said, poking her head around the corner of the laundry room. You want to eat some out back on the swing?

I can’t, Gladine said.I got this whole pile to do before we go home.

Your mama can do it on Monday. We don’t need all that stuff ironed right now.

Here they are, girls, Gladine’s mama called from the kitchen. Go ahead with Sarah Mae, Gladine. You need to have a little fun on a Saturday.

Gladine shrugged and turned the iron off. She was surprised but happy to quit ironing.

The girls carried their apple fritters outside, wrapped in paper napkins, and headed toward the glider which sat between two live oaks in the back yard. The Spanish moss swung softly in the breeze.

I love your mama’s apple fritters better than almost anything else, Sarah Mae said. You’re so lucky. She cooks and bakes like a dream.

Gladine blew on her apple fritter.She never has time to bake at our house. 

"I know. She’s so busy all the time at our house. But you’re lucky anyway."

Gladine looked down at her faded peach-colored pants that came from the donation box at her church. When she glanced at Sarah Mae’s crisp new outfit of mint green culottes and matching striped blouse, she didn’t feel so lucky. Sarah Mae’s daddy owned a whole department store. Gladine’s daddy left for a trip to Chicago four years ago, and never came back.

You wouldn’t believe what our rabbi said this morning, Sarah Mae said.

I might, but I might not. What’d he say? 

He said I should have a bat mitzvah. He said more and more girls up north have them now and maybe I should be the first girl in Selma to have one.

What is it, anyway?

It’s like a bar mitzvah. Remember when my brother had his? It’s like that, but for girls. Because bat is daughter, and bar is son. Daughter of the Commandments. Son of the Commandments.

So, you gonna do it? Gladine asked. Or have one?  Or however you say it. 

Sarah Mae snickered. I don’t know. I know he asked me because he thinks my mama’s so modern and everything. You know how she was passing out papers for colored folks to vote and all that. He calls her the temple trendsetter.

Gladine felt scared when Sarah Mae talked about stuff like colored folks voting and colored folks needing to have more rights. She listened to her mama too much, if you asked Gladine. Seemed like Mrs. Fine was stirring up trouble more and more lately. 

Plus that, I’d have to learn Hebrew real good and read from the Torah and maybe chant the Haftorah.

Chant the what? Gladine asked.

The Haftorah. It’s like the sacred books. The Torah’s your old testament.

All by yourself, you do this?

Yeah, by myself. Not like confirmation that you do with your whole class. We do that in tenth grade. This is all by your lonesome. But there’s always a big party after.

A big party with a lot of presents, I suppose?

Gladine remembered two years ago when Sarah Mae’s brother, Ben, had his bar mitzvah. He got so many fancy writing pens, that he gave one to Gladine’s mama. She saved it special in the top drawer of her dresser and only used it for important things. Gladine took it out sometimes when her mama wasn’t home.

I think you should listen to your rabbi, Gladine said. If Jewish girls up north do these, you’re the best person to start it down here.

Sarah Mae shrugged.I don’t know. Maybe.

You are kind of modern like your mama. You always know about the latest fashions and music and stuff about rocket ships and all that. You even knew about that first woman in space.

Valentina Tereshkova. That’s just because I wrote a report on her last year.

Well, still. I think your rabbi’s right. And you know my mama will bake all your favorite stuff for it.

Sarah Mae held up her last bite. Well, there you go. If a bat mitzvah can get Inez to make apple fritters, then I guess that’s a good enough reason to have one.

Gladine nearly jumped out of her chair when Granny started pounding her cane in the other room.

Mama dabbed her forehead with a hanky. Go help her, Gladine. That picture must be rollin’ again.

Granny sat in her chair across from the TV set. The electric fan blew on her from the coffee table. 

Wiggle those rabbit ears, Gladine. I wanna hear this news. They talkin’ about that votin’ mess again.

Gladine squeezed the tin-foil on the rabbit ears and slapped the side of the set. The rolling stopped. Mama walked in and handed Granny a cup of coffee.

You should hear them talk about this votin’ business, Inez, Granny said. Don’t you let that boss lady start up with you. There’s gonna be trouble. You just wait.

Chester, you better get a move on or you’ll be late, Mama called out to Gladine’s older brother.

I can’t find two socks that go together, he yelled down the stairs. 

Gladine sat back down at the kitchen table, with her little brother, Cedric. His elbows were on the table and his face was resting in his hands.

What’re you down in the dumps about? she asked him as she poured puffed wheat into a bowl.

I hate school, that’s what. I got a headache. I should stay home. 

You got a headache like I got a hundred dollars, Mama said from the back porch. She  pulled Chester’s socks off the little clothesline which was strung up from rail to rail.  Gladine knew Mama was extra tired this morning because the twin bed across from hers hadn’t been slept in. Gladine covered her up with a sheet last night after she fell asleep watching The Andy Griffith Show. Her old saying about there weren’t enough hours in the day seemed truer and truer lately. Especially since Granny’s rheumatism got worse. Gladine had never paid much attention to how much cooking and housework Granny did. 

Chester rushed in, grabbed the socks from the counter and ran back up the stairs. Gladine thought he acted like he had some kind of fire to put out lately. 

It’s awful quiet out here. Granny stood in the doorway leaning on her cane.

Mama held up a piece of bread. You ready for some toast, Ma? Another cup of coffee?

Granny slowly pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. She rubbed her thumb over the chip in the porcelain table top. What’s got you worried, Inez? I can tell there’s somethin’ on your mind.

Oh, it’s nothin’, Ma. Miz Fine talks about her girl, Sarah Mae having a big shindig at their temple place. You know like her son did. A bar mitzvah you call it. Remember? I’m just recollectin’ what that was like and all the company they had.

A big deal like that for her daughter? Hmm..all right, then. I guess that’s gonna be plenty of extra work for you. When’s she plannin’ on it?"

Oh, not until spring, I think. But, I’m just a little tired. What do you want on your toast?

Granny pointed her spoon at Gladine. I guess you’re gonna need some cookin’ and housework lessons.

Gladine helps me out plenty at the Fines’, Ma, Mama said. Most every Saturday. She can iron real good, make biscuits. Last week she polished up the silverware.

Your mama’s gonna need lots of extra help the next few months, what with that Sarah Mae havin’ a whatever you call it.

A bat mitzvah, Gladine said. It means daughter of the commandments.

Well, well, Granny said. Listen to you. How do you know so much about it?

Sarah Mae told me.

Hmpf. Well, you best get home right after school and help me get our dinner started.

Granny, I can’t today. I’m goin’ straight to the library after school and we got leftover greens and hoppin’ John. 

Gladine, Granny said, You need to stay clear of the library. How many times have I told you that?

Mama untied her apron and hung it on a hook. Ma, the library’s been desegregated for over a year. She has every right to go to there. 

Granny threw her napkin down. It’s not safe, I tell you. What with that white man rippin’ up his library card, you don’t know what’s gonna happen. You just get your books and come straight home.

Granny, I’m goin’ with Sheralee and the twins. We need to look in the encyclopedias for our reports.

Can’t you use the encyclopedias at school? Granny asked.

Chester walked into the kitchen laughing. You should see the those encyclopedias. Half the pages aren’t even in ‘em anymore. Some don’t even have covers. He buttered a piece of bread, rolled it up and shoved it into his mouth.

Well, Mama said. Just don’t sit in the chairs at the library.

Granny brushed the crumbs from her toast into her hand. She can’t. They put them in the basement so the whites and coloreds couldn’t sit together. You know that.

Not anymore, Granny, Gladine said. Mrs. Blalock raised a fuss, and they brought them all back up. Now anybody can sit wherever they want.

That Miz Blalock’s a troublemaker, you ask me. Granny nodded toward Mama. Just like your Miz Fine. It was a whole lot better when you just went to the colored window and got your books from that library maid, Annie Molette.

Mama put the pitcher of powdered milk back in the ice box. Things are changin’, Ma. You just have to face it.

No, I don’t, Granny grumbled.

Chester kissed Mama’s cheek. I gotta go, Mama. He kissed Granny’s cheek.

Mama opened the drawer and handed him a hammer. Before you go, Son, go on out to the back porch and hammer down that nail that’s stickin’ up. Somebody like your granny or me is gonna get hurt real bad. I been askin' you for over a week now.

Chester heaved a sigh and let the screen door slam behind him.

And tuck your shirt in, young man.

Wish I could just hammer nails, Gladine said.

Mama put her hand on her hip. Scuse me? 

I just mean I’d rather hammer down nails than make biscuits and iron pillowcases. But don’t worry, Mama, I’ll do it. I’ll make biscuits and iron pillowcases.

So, anyway, Sheralee, Evaline said. You told us you’d pick a subject. How come you forgot? 

I just couldn’t think of one. Sheralee stopped walking and pulled a tiny flower from the hedge. She tucked it behind her ear. Y’all coulda thought up your own.

Who cares, Evie? Gladine said. So we got one assigned to us. So what?

Evaline pointed her chin up like she always did when she was getting bossy. Well, it’s so boring. Who cares about crop rotation, anyway?

It’ll be okay, Evie. Edna, her twin, always tried to smooth things over.

Gladine decided to change the subject. Y’all shoulda heard my Granny goin’ on this mornin’ about us bein’ at the library.

What’d she say about it? Evaline asked.

Oh, you know. About us havin’ no business bein’ there.

Doesn’t she know that all changed? Sheralee asked. We got every right to be there now. My daddy brought home a whole stack of books, just last week.

Well, she’s mostly worried about us stickin’ around the tables, lookin’ at stuff.

They walked up the library steps past two older white ladies wearing hats and gloves. Gladine was sure the ladies stepped further toward the railing to avoid brushing up against them. When they got inside, Gladine glanced over to the study area. The white people were all at tables by the windows. Colored people sat at one table on the far end. Without discussing it, the girls walked over to the second furthest empty table from where the whites were sitting. Several of them glanced over as they pulled out their chairs. 

We better get the C encyclopedias, Gladine said.

Can we bring them over here? Edna asked.  Edna looked more scared than usual, and she was scared most of the time. 

Maybe we should ask if there’s other books about crop rotation, Evaline whispered.

Shh.

They looked sideways where an older white man was turned toward them with his finger to his lips. Gladine glanced over to the information desk and saw Miss Molette was sitting behind it. She was the library maid who used to work at the colored window.

I’ll go ask Miss Molette, she whispered and walked over to the information desk where a small sign said Annie Molette, Library Assistant. That sounded a whole lot better than library maid. Gladine just knew they’d never have called a white lady a library maid.

Miss Molette, my granny says hello to you.

Does she now? Remind me who’s your granny.

Sapphire Jones.

Oh, yes. Miz Jones always came by for her detective stories. I don’t see her anymore. She’s not doing poorly now, is she?

Well, she’s got the rheumatism, but she also liked it better when it was just you at the window. You know.

I guess she’s not one for progress, but I am sorry to hear about her ailment. You tell her hello for me…what was your name again?

I didn’t say it. It’s Gladine and I’m here with my school report group. We wondered if you could help us find books about crop rotation.

"Gladine. Now I remember your pretty name. And I’d be glad to help."  

Gladine followed Miss Molette toward another part of the library and held her arms out as she handed three books to her.